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falcor-thee-luck-dragon · 3 years

Text

Let Chaos Reign

Chapter 4- People Of Earth

Summary: On the run from the Avengers in your search for a way off Earth, you meet some mortal annoyances along the way until a certain blue eyed human is able to find you wandering in the forest. But can he convince you to come back to the Avenger’s base with him?

Warning: action, blood, fighting, Bucky doing his best, slight fluff

Masterlist - Chapter 3

So Bucky had been thinking.

If finding Y/N was only as easy as looking at her red dot on the tracker, then damn, he could just teleport to her no problem. Unfortunately the worlds technology hasn't yet reached Star Trek technological advancements, nor can he teleport. It's been a long hectic couple days trying to find her which is starting to drive Bucky up a wall, how is she so sneaky? He can literally see her location at all times but yet she's evaded him at all costs without even trying, she doesn't even know a tracker is attached to the inside of her jacket.

And the team, they haven't been much help at all. They've decided to listen to Fury's orders and stay clear of Bucky's mission when it comes to finding the escaped demigod and bringing her back to the Avenger's base. A lot of help they are. At least Steve checks in for updates when he's not getting pulled into a training session by any particular person of the hour. Maybe the tracker doesn't even work. Maybe?

No, it's Stark made. It has to work, this problem is simply Y/N.

Bucky pulls off to the side of the road near a little park in some rural town way outside of New York City where he knows Y/N went through not even twenty-three hours ago. He opens his door, slamming it shut in frustration before taking in a big breath of fresh air. The day is slightly overcast yet he doesn't appear to mind it at all, having the hot sun blaring down upon him never feels very pleasant. Then again, maybe he's just more familiar with colder temperatures.

A crow flies down across the vacant road from him, it ignores Bucky as it jumps onto the road in order to pick at some road kill of a dead flattened squirrel. Bucky reverts his gaze when his eyes soon land upon a bent wooden telephone line further up the road where it looks like a car ran right into it. Wanting to stretch his legs for a bit and feed into his curiosity, Bucky jogs across the street and over to the area of flattened grass and wood splinters.

He observes the wreckage. Its just as he saw from farther away, a splintered post with pieces of wood spread across the grass from the impact. A couple glass chunks shimmer in the few rays of sunlight peeking out from behind the clouds. There are tire marks imprinted into the mudded ground leading up to the post, he crouches down to get a better look at the source of impact.

A dog barks in the background, its legs getting closer and closer to Bucky until a wet slobbery nose finds its way onto Bucky's right arm. The face of a golden retriever greets him as a young man races to the spot looking very embarrassed.

"Trout! Get away from the man, be nice! Be nice! He might not want your kisses!" He shouts desperately, "Trout!"

Bucky pets the friendly dog while his owner runs to their spot before standing to greet him, "He's fine, don't worry about it."

The red faced man smiles shyly, "I'm so sorry. He gets so excited whenever there's a stranger around I just don't understand it."

Bucky shakes his head, "It's fine, really. I like dogs."

The dog sniffs around Bucky's boots before sniffing the skid marks, "Oh I'm Gio by the way, sorry about my boy Trout. I love him but he can be a lot."

"Hi." Mutters Bucky, "I'm James."

"Nice to meet you..oh..Trout drop that piece of wood you nucklehead it's sharp!" The dog stops before dropping the wood, it starts sniffing around the grounds again. Gio looks at Bucky, "It's too bad what happened here, just last night too. Thank God nobody died! It's just unfortunate."

"What happened?"

Gio nods towards the splintered pole, "Some nutcase ran out in front of the guy driving and then bam, he just swerved to miss 'em and ended up totaling his car and getting a bruised collar bone. He's my neighbor. Poor guy, never got a proper look at the idiot who did it either so there's no one to blame."

Bucky's brows furrow, "No one saw who ran in front of your friend?"

Gio stops a second to think harder on the matter, "Hmm...okay wait a second Nick did say this person moved like faster then a frickin' deer. They were here one second and gone the next, right into the woods."

"Where is Nick now? Is he okay?"

"Oh yeah he's fine, just chillin' in his hospital bed for another day until his headache goes away. Guess he also got a concussion or something, some shit luck I tell you."

"Thank you, I gotta go." Says Bucky quickly before turning on his heels and jogging across the street. Leaving a very confused Gio to go run after his dog again.

There's a hefty possibility that Y/N had absolutely nothing to do with anything surrounding that crash, however, Bucky has to know. He pulls into the Westonville Hospital before Winter Soldier sneaking his way inside and now here he stands on the other side of the door to Nick's room, 213. He knocks, a man answers and says to come in, Bucky does. Shutting the door right after.

The man lays upright in bed, sipping on a juice box as he quickly locks eyes with Bucky. "Hello." Says the twenty-something year old, "You a nurse?"

Bucky could have laughed, "No. Just here to ask you a couple questions."

"Listen man, the police already got my statement. I wasn't drunk...nor on anything at the time. I don't do that shit while driving, I wanna stay alive okay?"

"Right." Mutters Bucky, "I just want to know if you saw this person who caused you to wreck."

He eyes Bucky suspiciously, "Dude are you with the FBI or something? Cause the police think I just saw a deer but I'm telling you it wasn't a deer okay?"

"What was it then?"

The man looks from the door then back to Bucky, he makes a waving motion for him to walk closer, "Dude, this was some lady. She was so fast I never even saw her till she was almost road kill...then....and you're not gonna believe me....then I swear to God, she pushed my car." Whispers Nick before nodding, "Dude that's how I went into the pole, she pushed me and I lost control and BAM! Right into a pole. Asshole, my damn car is fucked."

"Do you know what she looked like?" Nick then proceeds to give an accurate description of you and all your beautiful chaotic-ness, who's apparently still not very fond of human transportation vehicles.

Bucky then glances from Nick still rambling about you and what a dickhead you must be, to the window showing the woods and half a parking lot. He can't let you escape him again, you might end up killing someone next time and that absolutely cannot happen.

——

Stupid men! Stupid humans getting in your way! These people are irritating and bothersome, all you wanted was to search for the Ancient One in peace. All you want is to find her and get the fuck off this planet so you can confront your brother and...

"Miss are you okay?" A scratchy voice speaks to you from the car to your left, you turn your head to meet the face of a young woman looking at you with kind eyes, "You need a ride?"

"No."

She gives you a look, your appearance is admittedly more roughed up then you would like, but it's been a rough couple days since your last shower and you're technically on the run from Earth's Avengers. "You sure? I got room in here, and a nice place to stay with food and a shower too. Just tryna be nice to someone who looks like they could use a hand." You look like you could use a hand to the face.

Your brows furrow, she reeks of too much perfume and something else, "What kind of food?" You technically do need a ride and this may be your only chance to get one somewhere away from this place in the middle of nowhere. Also a place to stay for the night would be admittedly very nice considering you've been sleeping in trees and behind people's sheds.

Her eyes light up in surprise, "Anything you want. Just tell me and I got you."

"Good."

She unlocks the door, "Come on in. I'm Ava by the way. Nice to meet you, now I hope you don't mind but back at my place I got a couple roommates. But don't worry they come and go, they won't bother you I promise." You don't believe her, but hop in next to her anyways. She looks like she could use a better friend then whoever she stays with. You can smell at least one of them on her.

She gives you a strange faltering smile when you take notice of a nose piercing; she wears a jacket and jeans, although an odd tattoo showing off some line of numbers keeps itself on her right wrist hidden by some colorful bracelets. All in all she is an attractive woman. But her car is no better then her person, the scent is vulgar and repulsive but you're admittedly too hungry to care. Too much perfume.

The ride to her apartment complex takes about twenty minutes, in this time Ava has explained to you how her favorite food, chicken alfredo, is made. She also won't stop looking at the long mirror above your heads, it's like something keeps drawing her attention but there's nothing behind the car of any important significance. Maybe that's just a human thing?

Eventually she takes a couple turns that passes more street stores, houses, and apartments until she drives near a gas station and takes a left for an apartment building of reddish brick that looks like a shitty castle.

It's nestled within the town, with its rear to a small park, oddly enough she claims you can see the city from the roof. Getting out, you watch as she shuts her door before jogging to the back and pulling out a couple groceries. "Oh hey there, can you get the waters, there's like three packs here but we can come back for them later."

You quickly walk to the back of her trunk and lean down to pick up all three waters with ease, her eyes go big, "Oh wow..okay yeah, that'll work." She shuts the back, you begin following her across the parking lot. Stomach growling.

Her wary eyes fall onto you, "So uh, you lift?"

"No."

She nods, "Cool cool, uh you from around here?"

"No."

"Okay cool, I am, well not originally...I was actually from Arizona but then I ran away when I was thirteen because my home life was pretty shit and then I met my boyfriend Jed and he took me here and..." Her face shifts into a frown before it regains it's half smile once more, "Doesn't matter now I guess, it's not fantastic here...with him. But I got a place to stay and a roof over my head and he gets me anything I want really. So it's not so bad."

You can't help but feel somethings not right with her, and this bothers you deeply, "So uh, how's your lover? Jed."

She frowns, "Oh he's nice....I wouldn't say lover I guess....and he's kinda older then me but it's fine really. You might see him, he comes and goes yunno?"

She opens the glass doors for you to walk inside, the area smells of stale air and smoke, "How old?"

She purses her lips together, "Not that much older, I'm seventeen he's just a little above that. But it works for us, he's got me a nice place and he loves me so that's nice." Her smile falters, you can tell something isn't right here but can't quite place your finger on it.

Ava keeps silent for the rest of the trek upstairs until she leads you down a long hallway to a tall white door reading A8 on the front, a small glass porthole in the center. She gets her keys out, "Try not to touch anything, he doesn't like messes okay? Just uh, follow me okay, he might have a friend here."

"Alright then. Proceed." She gives a little nod before unlocking the door and opening it up to reveal a large apartment as clean as a button, with the exception of a few tall thin glass bottles empty of all liquid laying on the short glass table in the lounging area. A large screen is on showcasing something of little importance to you.

Ava sets the groceries on the kitchen counter before racing over to the short table, "Oh sorry about the mess, please just set the waters down by the trash can. Give me a moment." You look down to find a tall thin metal can, doesn't look like a trash can but you set the three cases of water down anyways.

Standing in the middle of her kitchen she hastily rushes in to drop the bottles in the trash can, "I'll put the stuff away, do you-do you want anything?"

"Whatever gives me enough strength to continue on my journey."

"Right. Yeah okay uh we got," She opens up the fridge, "we got some burritos from last night. And fruit....a lot of beer....you don't want that. Here, I'll heat this up for you okay." She shuts the fridge and takes the assumed burrito to another square object hanging from the wall. She pops open the door before placing the food inside and shutting it.

She turns it on. "What is that device?" You ask a sit makes a strange vacuum sound.

She raises a brow, "A microwave." Voice on the tinge of humor, the microwave beeps and she soon opens it back up. "Here ya go! It's a day old so don't worry, still fresh."

She hands it to you, you look down at the warm thing wrapped in a brown paper, "Appreciated."

Your meal is well received and admittedly pretty delicious, once finished do you walk over to the giant glass window to have a look outside, you can see the tops of many trees and farther away across the greenery lays a city just as Ava had spoken of.

Maybe the Ancient One resides somewhere in there, hidden, but within the ginormous labyrinth of steel, cement, and glass. Farther down the hallway a door swings open and the pattering of bare feet is heard walking down the tiled floors of shiny white. This place really is clean, like a small palace for the mortals.

The man stops at the end of the halls archway though you don't care to look at him, "Ava who's the bitch over there? I thought Jed wasn't buying anymore for a few weeks." Whispers the man to the kind woman, Ava, who stands frozen in the kitchen.

You immediately don't like him, but stay your ground to listen, she whispers back, "She's a friend. Needed somewhere to stay for a day or so."

He walks over to her, "He's gonna be pissed when he sees your new friend here. If she's not here to sell, get her the fuck out before your man comes home tonight."

"Tonight?"

"Yeah tonight. His trip to Vegas ended yesterday, he's on his way. Don't you know how time works?"

She shakes her head, "Guess I just forgot is all. I'll make sure she's gone."

He looks over to give you a proper once over, you can hear his heartbeat quicken, "Not too bad either. Nice ass, she looks good..real good, it's a damn shame she's not here to stay for the fun. I wouldn't mind a couple of rounds with her myself."

Your fists clench, you've had enough of this jabbering animal, "Oh really?" You turn around to watch as his eyes go wide when they take notice of the golden color of your irises, "What filth you spill off of that thing you call a mouth is repulsive and disgusting. Who are you may I ask?"

He quickly retains his swagger once again, he takes a step forward, "I'm Jed's right hand man, Antonio, I run this bitch when he's away and I don't like how you're talking to me."

"I'm not entirely fond of your existence. Leave us, I want to speak with Ava alone."

Antonio's face shows bewildered rejection, "Excuse me?"

You take a threatening step forward, "I don't believe my tongue slipped. You heard me correctly. Leave." He keeps still as a statue, mind still processing your words. Clearly no on had ever bothered to talk to him like this before.

He blinks and points a hand up for emphasis, "No whore tells me what I can and can't do in my own goddamn house!" He immediately rushes past Ava to grab something under the kitchen bar.

She gasps in surprise, "Tony no! Don't do this! Put it away she didn't mean it, she doesn't I swear! I swear!"

He walks back around to shove her into the couch, "Shut up." He throws up his arm to reveal a black hand held object that could be nothing else but a small gun, you stare at it in curiosity, expression interested and unfazed.

He doesn't like that, he tilts the gun at you angrily, "What's up now huh! You ain't telling me to do nothin' I run this fucker up in here! So you're gonna fuckin' listen to me you whore! I'll fu.." Antonio's body stiffens, his eyes go wide as saucers when he realizes he's not able to move, not able to speak.

Hands kept to your sides, you curl the fingers of your right hand to bloodbend this imbecile. Moving this hand to the right, Antonio's grasp is forced open and the gun clatters to the floor. "What are you doing!?" Shouts Ava fearfully.

"Teaching a dog a lesson."

Curling the fingers of your other hand, Antonio is forced to walk in staggered painful steps across the carpet at your will, Ava gasps in fright as she watches your little horror show. "Men don't treat their people like animals, you want to act like a beast. Then you'll be one."

His throat makes a dry crackly sound as he tries to scream when you move your hands to orchestrate a new action, Antonio is forced to his knees where he crawls like a dog across the clean carpet. A frightened man he becomes, his movements choppy and forced, body awkward and stiff as he moves on all fours. Proud of your work, you walk over to the man and crouch down to reach his level, "You see, the universe has created us all for a reason. Whether we are powerful or not, that control we have can be taken as it can be given."

He mumbles a reply that cannot be heard properly even by your hears.

"You know of your power?" He shakes his head as you smirk, "Your strength is built from fear and hatred. That is no way to find your place in the world, that is how tyrants lead."

Drool runs down the side of his mouth as his eyes look up to you pleadingly. "Stop it! You're hurting him!" Shouts Ava.

You give Antonio a pitiful look, "I know. And this creature deserves more then I'm willing him to do, but because you've gained my respect. I will release him." Standing, you flick your hands and Antonio is released from your trance. He coughs and sputters in a curled up heap on the floor like a beaten old dog.

"Pathetic." You mutter dryly as Ava breaths heavily from the couch.

"Wh-what are you?" She whispers, "Are you a witch?"

"No. But I am someone who is done with this place." You give her a respectful tilt of your head, "Ava, I thank you for your hospitality, but I must leave." She watches as you take one last look around the room before walking towards the closed door. Turning the handle you're prepared to exit when she screams. "Antonio no!"

Boom!

The bullet stops three inches from the back of your head, whipping around to face your assailant, he fires two more rounds as you halt the bullets in their tracks. He registers what's happening and quickly chooses to pull the trigger again. As a plethora of steel flies your way, you raise an open palm that causes them all to freeze in place.

The room goes deathly silent before Antonio takes a single step and you've sent all five bullets straight through his vulnerable flesh. Blood flies across the walls as he slumps to the ground while Ava gasps in terror, too afraid to make a sound.

You frown, gaze set on Ava, "I'm sorry I had to do this in front of you. He gave me no choice, but I think this loss will not be mourned over." Your golden eyes flicker back down at the bullet ridden body, "A quick death is more then he deserved. So long Ava, be brave."

The door opens.

"What the fuck happened here?!" Speaks a man most certainly in his late thirties as he sets something on the ground, "Who's this bitch?"

Ava's expression shifts to fear as you let out a tired sigh, eyes set to the man you know as Jed, "An old friend." ——

Crouched down by a river, you rub off flecks of blood that dissipate into the murky water like forgotten memories. You just wanted to eat and rest a while as you gathered your thoughts. But here you are, you've killed two humans and have damaged a couple busses in the process of it all. Not to mention that one car the other night...at least that man kept his life.

This realm is complicated and busy, there's not enough wilderness to hide in and there are certainly too many prying eyes that can catch you with their small square devices easier then you'd like. Thankfully Ava had not seen your rampage on the internet so she wasn't able to instantly recognize you. Then again you weren't wearing your armor.

However your eye color certainly doesn't aid you in finding a way into the city close by, that's still too far for your liking, people will undoubtedly stare. At this point you don't trust a single soul, and anyone close enough to see your face would most likely report you to the authorities in an instant.

Your goal has been thwarted one too many times and that shit does not fly with you one bit. Find the Ancient One, have her open a portal to your realm, and from there kick your brothers ass. It's all very simple, well at least it should be. Stupid Midgardians.

Hrrrrr Hrrrrrrrr! A loud horn blares from within the woods to your back right, twisting around and standing at attention, your fists emit flame when a huge lumbering mass of metal rolls through the trees practically making the ground shake.

It sounds like a tiny thunderstorm, you've never seen anything like it except for when you where in Norway but that vehicle was significantly smaller and less loud. "God this place is insufferable." You mutter, annoyed by the less then peaceful atmosphere of Midgard.

So far you've evaded the watchful eyes of the Avengers for the past three days and have gotten nowhere on your quest for vengeance. And now this thing just adds to your stirred up pot of frustration.

Taking a breath, you decide to wander through the trees until you've found the tracks where that metal vessel was drawing its power from, oddly enough the steel bars attached to plates of wood does not give off energy. Strange.

Figuring it must be the vehicle itself, you sway your mind from pondering the idea as your thoughts drift to that of home and the necklace hidden around your neck. This valued object was your dying mother's, a heirloom of your linage, and a damn powerful piece of jewelry.

But your brother and his wicked ideas, he wanted to use it for his grant thoughts of tyranny and power over the nine realms. A fool, no one could ever claim such a feat, no place needs rules like such from one being calling all the shots. It's madness.

It's insane.

Shaking your head, you keep following down the tracks as you listen to the sounds of cars in the far off distance. Birds chirp and flutter by while minding their business in the forest, although you could have sworn you heard a soft thud in the dirt behind you. A shuffle of stones maybe?

A deer perhaps? No, this is no deer; halting your trek to the city, you place your hands upon your hips before slowly turning around, "I'd expected as much. You are a clever man after all....Bucky."

The dark haired man greets you with a shy grin as he stands there off to the side of the tracks, dressed in casual attire like that when you saw him in Norway. He seems genuinely happy to see you, "I wish I could stay away." Replies Bucky in a playful tone, "But you've killed two human traffickers and I gotta make sure you don't hurt anyone else. Even if they deserve it."

You scoff, "I could end your life right now if I wanted to, kill all your friends next and then burn this world to ash and dust trying to get what I want. No matter the cowards I've killed."

He shrugs, "That sounds harsh. I'd rather you didn't actually, kinda like being alive." He's such a smartass in the best way, yet you hold back a smile to keep your noble aurora about you.

"Fair point I suppose. This Earth may be greatly flawed, but I have no qualms with the people here but that of my own business."

"Right. Your own business, finding the Ancient One and dealing with your brother and all that stuff." Nods Bucky, "Y/N, you know we could help you..."

"I don't need it! I'll find my way through this planet myself. Alone!" You shout, causing the trees to creak and moan from a surplus of wind that blows Bucky's hair about. He knows what you're capable of, but he has to try and persuade you anyways.

He looks almost apprehensive to approach you, "Y/N please. I know we all got off on the wrong foot, probably by a lot. But my friends are good people, we want to help you find what you're looking for. I promise you that." Says Bucky with a pleading look, "No lies. I promise."

You give him a conflicted glare as you think of your options; he found you somehow, he legitimately wants to help, and you desperately need a way off this damn planet. Maybe they do know a way, maybe they'll actually be able to help you, maybe Bucky is truthful?

He goes to take a step forward when you throw a hand out, "Stop." He keeps still as you take a breath, "Bucky, you give me your word?"

"I do."

"Promise!"

Raising his hands up, he gives you a sincere look, "I promise Y/N."

Taking a long moment to think over his words, you finally nod, "Good." He watches as you walk across the tracks until you're within a couple feet of him, he swallows, unsure if you might have just lied and are about to set him on fire. Instead he's relieved when you gift him a tight lipped grin, "Fine then, let us leave this place."

"Awesome.....yeah, okay good...well I'm parked back that way. We can just walk on the tracks instead of through the woods. Easier that way." He takes a couple steps back the way you came, when you don't move does Bucky stop and reach a hand out for you to take, "I'm not going to hurt you Y/N, I promised I'd help you remember?"

"I haven't forgotten." You quickly answer him.

"Good because I intend to keep it." He smiles softly, beautiful stormy blues focused all on you with a gloved hand ready for you to take.

You shake your head before walking past him, "Fine but I'm not shaking your hand."

Bucky chuckles to himself as he watches you practically swagger down the side of the tracks away from him. Quickly does he break from his staring trance to jog over to your side. The two of you walk for a little ways in complete silence until you glance over at him when your curiosity gets the better of you. There's just one tiny question you still need answered, "Well, how'd you find me?"

Bucky holds back a grin, "Your pocket." He points down towards your jackets pocket. Giving him a look of confusion, you reach down and feel inside for whatever he's on about, suddenly your fingers touch something round and metal attached to the inside wall.

Taking a hold of this odd device, you tug it loose before bringing your hand into the open, "What the hell is this?" You ask.

Bucky reaches out to take the object from you, he holds it up, "This. Is a tracker."

"That thing? It's like a thick coin, how does it manage to do such a feat?"

"Technology, radio waves. It's not my design, but with it I was able to follow where you went. Granted you're more elusive with your traveling then I'd first realized, but it did it's job...and now I'm here."

"Yes, now you're here. Maybe you really are braver then I first thought, or just a plain fool. I could have stuck to my word and killed you." You snap your fingers, "Just like that."

He chuckles, "I had a feeling you wouldn't."

"Oh really? What made you assume I would be merciful?"

"When we met for the first time in Norway, and later at the base. You didn't hurt me, well I guess I should say you didn't try and squeeze the life out of me. Or set me on fire.."

"I set your jacket on fire." You point out as he smiles.

"You did. I liked that jacket too." Muses Bucky, "Still, you let me live both times. Even let my friends live too, Y/N, I don't think you're so bad at all."

You hum in thought, "Your words are kind and humbling. But I do not feel worthy of such claims." He has no idea who you are, what you've done. So much he doesn't know.

Bucky frowns, "Why not?"

"I have done nothing but add more chaos to this realm with my existence here, I have been betrayed and for that I was filled with rage taken out on innocent people living their lives. I want to be worthy of what you say I am, but I am not." His heart hurts at your valiantly honest words, if only he could understand completely.

"Believe me Y/N, you aren't nearly as bad as you think you are. There's been way worse people throughout history here before you ever showed up."

"I believe your words though my personal occurrence's chance to lessen these people compared to what I have done centuries ago. Do not misinterpret all of what I speak, I understand there are always beings harming others for their own sick pleasure, however I did not frighten for enjoyment. Quite the opposite."

He could just about give up his metal arm forever just to know what the hell you're talking about. What kind of life did you live before all of this? Bucky soon takes out a small square device with his one gloved hand, "I trust your word on that. And hopefully we're able to help you...I just gotta get us a ride out of here first." He turns on a black screen and slides his finger across to unlock, "I have where I parked pin pointed via another tracker."

"You don't recall where you've come from?"

"Yeah, I mean no..no, I do remember the direction I came in, it's just I was running so fast to find you I forget exactly where my car is. Don't worry this will only take a moment."

Holding back a grin at the way he muddles around on that screen of his, you divert your gaze elsewhere to look around at the trees and other various greenery spread about as usual on a planet such as this one. It's fascinating, almost like that of your home world in Vanaheim. How you miss that place. The vast mountains spread throughout the landscape, huge lumbering trees taller then the cellphone towers you've passed, and great skies of blue where dragons fly at will.

Suddenly a stick cracks in the trees to your right, you turn while Bucky pays little attention, a crow flies out and into the blue sky it goes. Easy now, just a bird, nothing more. The wind picks up for a second and you can almost catch the scent of sulfur when a ball of fire erupts from the trees ready to kill.

The spherical flame screams towards you and Bucky, who's by now dropped his phone onto the tracks, "Y/N watch out!" He shouts fearfully, hand gripping onto your shoulder as you keep a strong fearless stance to the approaching flame.

Throwing a hand out, you divert the ball into the gravel where it bursts like a small firework, rocks flying everywhere as you stand at the ready for whatever happens next. "Y/N! What the hell was that!" Shouts Bucky.

"A scout. I think one of my brother's loyalists found me."

"A scou..." Another ball of flame soars towards the two of you and then another right behind it as you maneuver your body to deflect each of them in quick succession when out of the scorched trees does a smirking woman reveal herself. Her smile is proud and wicked, taller then Bucky she stands and impeccably strong she appears.

She wears armor closely resembling your own, but instead of blues, silver, and white. Her armor is black and red, silver replaced with shimmering obsidian as she walks into the evening light. Her eyes flicker gold like your own, she tilts her head at you, "Princess Y/N of Vanaheim. An honor to meet you, truly." She bows with mockery, you immediately despise her.

"What dog is this who speaks to me?"

She grimaces, "Aüla, master of flame, Phoenix of Vanaheim, I am here to bring what stolen jewelry lays upon your neck. What belongs to King Leyondros." She points a sharp nailed finger to your neck, "That, is a house Lavpranthus family heirloom."

"You think I was born yesterday? That incompetent tyrant who dare claim himself as king does not deserve what treasure I possess. He is barely a brother to me now, and you, what business do you serve?"

She smirks, gifting Bucky with a wink as she wiggles her fingers with flame, "He's sent his best out to find your whereabouts since he's exiled you. I just happened to be lucky enough to land on Midgard where wouldn't you know it, here keeps the banished Princess herself. I couldn't be more fortunate." She opens up her palm like a needy child, "Now Y/N, the object I so desire."

"You will die trying."

She holds up a threatening fist of hot flame, "I will be bathed in riches! I will be loved! King Leyondros will welcome his champion with open arms as I present him with the necklace stolen by his traitor sister! With grand tidings of her annihilation!"

You share a dark look with Aüle as you step in front of Bucky, "I do not care to know what bargaining from the beasts of this realm you made to find me. And I certainly do not care for the false promises my brother has warped into your mind, you cannot take my life and you cannot have this necklace."

She calls flame into both hands, "Then I'll take it off your burnt corpse!" She thrusts her hands forward causing a burst of hot orange flames to shoot like dragon fire straight for yourself and Bucky.

Anticipating this action, you create a wall of your own fire that shatters her advances, you turn to the wide eyed brunette, "Bucky forgive me for not handling this sooner. I hadn't realized she was here."

"It's fine." Mumbles Bucky, chest rising and falling with heavy breaths as he stares fearfully at the angry woman spewing fire at you still.

Focused back on Aüla, she suddenly begins creating whips of flame that crack and slash at the air. She throws a whip towards Bucky but you're able to deflect it easily, in retaliation of her advances, you thrust a burst of dusty wind knocking her backwards.

She tumbles across the gravel like a discarded sack of potatoes, jumping gracefully down from the high point of the tracks, you land nearby this hellfire spawn who staggers to her feet. Rubbing the dust from out of her eyes, she coughs, "Foul play Princess, I should have guessed you'd cheap shot."

"You still believe you're leaving here with my necklace?"

Leaving her charcoal stained eyes be, she opens her palms to flame, "Well I certainly don't intend on perishing at your hand. I will get what I came for."

You throw a quizzical look, is she insane? Not wanting to ponder her mental stability, you use the gravel to crawl it up to her knees where it fuses and roots itself into the ground, she flails her arms trying to regain balance. Angered by this, Aüla clenches her fists, tightly hugging them to her chest as she concentrates.

A small orange glow emits from the center of her chest before she screams while opening her arms to the sky and with that her whole body erupts with flame like that of a Phoenix reborn. Tree branches and leaves alike are burnt and singed nearby while her anchor is melted. Aüla levitates freely now, body a mass of hot flames as she stares furiously down at you with eyes of black charcoal.

"Behold the Phoenix! Now you will obey by law of the one true king!" Fire is thrown like thin arrows towards your face, again, easily deflected into the gravel below.

She chuckles darkly, thrusting a hand of intense flame that causes you to fall backwards across the ground. Pushing yourself up by the pads of your hands, she takes this vulnerable moment to race after Bucky with wings of fire.

Face contorted like a melted candle, her arms open wide as she prepares to embrace Bucky to the flames. Jumping up, you bend your arms, moving them in opposite directions on a linear path to conjure some type of protection. Aüla slams into an enchanted force field of dark blues that sends her flailing backwards like a bursting firework.

Regaining her balance, she levitates, scowling in disgust, "You? Would protect this mortal man?"

Your gaze falls onto Bucky, he's standing there, expression fearful and wide as he looks at you desperately. You take a step forward, "I will."

"But why? He is nothing compared to you, to us, he's simply an insect on a leaf."

"He is someone who has showed me more kindness in the last couple days then some of my own people have in the past hundred years!" You shout furiously before using your magic to paralyze her like you did with Wanda and Vision.

She struggles to move but all efforts are unfruitful, "Do not! Don't. You. Dare!" She screams as you take another fearless step towards her, raising your hands in a beautiful fluid motion, her obsidian irises flash with terror.

"Aüla, Phoenix of Vanaheim, I admire your efforts and valor. But I am not so merciful when my life as been threatened, as someone of these nine realms with some type of authority still. I, Y/N Lavpranthus of Vanaheim, condemn you to die." Your golden eyes flash with a noble flair of judgment while your hands sway like subtle waves on a beach.

"No. No. Nooo..." Her screams are eradicated when a burst of water consumes her entire vessel, she sizzles and smokes as you draw the river water away to reveal nothing but discarded broken armor. She never even noticed you were doing this.

As a plethora of water dissipates into steam from where she once stood, more liquid fills through the cracks in the gravel while you slowly wander over to the dark spot stained onto the center tracks. Kneeling down, you pick up an obsidian gauntlet cracked down the middle curve. "Who was that?" Asks Bucky from behind you.

"One of my brothers scouts. His best fire-bender.." You study the intricate markings that dance like vines around the metalwork, "..a phoenix in human form."

There is a long pause before he asks, "Why are you being hunted Y/N?"

You sigh, head bowed to the earth, "It's a long story."

Bucky frowns down at you, he's not sure what to do, but he knows you're deeply troubled by whatever events have led you to this point. A comforting hand rests upon your shoulder, "You don't have to tell me now. But I think we should go."

Dropping the broken gauntlet onto the dark stained wood, you stand, "Perhaps you're right. Who knows what else lurks in the shadows waiting to pounce. I'd rather not have you injured on my behalf."

Bucky shares a lopsided grin, "Appreciated. Now come on, I know the way home." Directs Bucky as the two of you begin walking down the tracks for wherever he speaks of.

Maybe these people aren't as bad as you'd first thought, unfortunately there are still evils that are desperate to find you. Until that time comes again.

Tagged: @buckylokisimp @diegos-butt @minigranger @bibliophilewednesday @holyhumorliteraturelight @lilacs-lavender @a-girl-who-loves-disney @bizarrebibitch @starkssnarks @vikingqueen28 @jmstz @thehornytitties @staygoldsquatchling02 @cleverzonkwombatsludge @mischiefmanaged71 @noragracebrewer @atomicpersonacheesecake @thescarlettvvitch @shawnartmendes

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #the winter soldier #the winter soldier x you #the winter soldier x y/n #the winter soldier x reader #fanfiction #fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #series #bucky barnes series #my work

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gallavictorious · 3 years

Note

Could you share more thoughts about the intro and the possibility of aftercare?

Hello, nonnie! I like you! XD

Starting off with why this whole moment reeks of aftercare potential: consider the way that Ian's entire focus is on Mickey, watching him – watching over him – with that small, fond smile on his face, while Mickey is, unusually, not paying Ian any real attention, but is seemingly slightly lost in content (un)thought instead, like he's happy but maybe a little bit out of it? (Hello, subspace.) And then Ian's immediate and rather aggressive reaction when We, The Intruder appears; he gets up to physcially chase us out and close the door (protective much, dom top daddy?) while Mickey remains quiet on the bed, uncharacteristically passive. What other possibility is there but aftercare?

… yeah, okay, I'm sure there are ways to read this scene that does not involve Ian taking care of Mickey while Mickey's coming down from a scene, but I'm personally not really seeing it, you know? Terribly limited imagination, me. 😏

Anyway. While the canonicity of the intros is... well, isn't... I think there's quite a bit of potential in blithely ignoring that to instead try to determine exactly when this moment – that absolutely did happen! – takes place. Just makes for some interesting possbilities, you know?

See, we know that they're in their new place and that they haven't switched the air mattress for Ian's old one yet; that gives us only a very few nights to play with. (Bear with me, I'm halfway sure it's worth sorting this out.)

The morning of 11x11 has very strong first morning in a new flat vibes (with Ian wanting to check out the amenities and Mickey wanting to sort out the practical shit) and given Mickey's general unhappiness with moving, I just don't see them getting up to that sort of stuff on the eve they moved in. Then all of 11x11 takes place during one single day and the last we see of Ian and Mickey then is them getting handsy in their old room. Prior to 11x12 I rather thought they'd spend that night at the Gallagher house, but Mickey noting that they came there to get some of Ian's stuff when Ian has the gall to protest him stealing Debbie's potato masher in 11x12 suggests they arrived there in the morning for that express purpose and thus can be assumed to have spent the night (their second on the West Side) in their own apartment. Considering that they pick up Ian's old mattress and the intro happens with them on the air mattress, I'd argue that we can confidently place that sweet scene either on the night between 11x11 or, possibly, on the night after the anniversary party. (Because they'd want to install the proper mattress as quickly as possibly, sure, but if they don't go home between picking it up and the party I doubt they'll be in the right state to get it up and into their bedroom once they finally stagger home that night.)

Of these two options, I'm leaning towards the former, i.e. the night following them making up and agreeing to stay on the West Side. (After the party I see them being very eager and a bit drunk and not really interested in anything advanced – which would admittedly explain why they might, say, forget their keys in the lock and leave the door open, allowing a concerned neighbor to wander into their apartment. Anyway, I imagine a lot of highly enthusiastic but not necessarily very imaginative sex that night.)

And it's just rather easy to picture it right after 11x11, you know? They're in their old room, kissing and kissing; Mickey has shifted to straddle Ian's thighs. After a little while Ian pulls back, just a little.

”Wanna take this back to our place?” he says and Mickey might have asked if they have to do it right now when things were just about to get real interesting, but he sees the hopeful look on Ian's face so he just smiles: ”Sure.”

So they drive back – home – and maybe they don't say all that much to each other on the way? Things are not tense, not anymore, not at all, but there's something between then; something almost shy, maybe; expectant. As they park the car and move up the stairs Mickey can feel Ian sneaking glance after glance at him and the moment they're through the door, Ian grabs hold of his shoulder and pushes him against the wall, kissing him, kissing him, and pouring all of himself and all of his love for Mickey into that kiss.

Mickey smiles widely into it, the way he often does. He has his hands on Ian's arms and after a while he tries to push back, going for that old back and forth they so often engage in, but Ian doesn't budge at all. He holds Mickey in place, gaze steady and sure and intent as he pulls back just slightly to look at his husband.

Mickey raises one eyebrow, because, oh, okay, it's like that, huh? A particular and familiar shiver runs through his body, anticipation mingling with glee and raw desire. Bring it the fuck on.

Ian brings it the fuck on. Maybe there are restraints and long, slow, deliberate but very loving teasing. Maybe there's dirty words and commands and endearments murmured while pale fingers twists sharply in dark hair. Maybe they have fun playing barbarian and put upon husband putting him in his place. Either way, Ian's entire focus is on Mickey and all the things that make Mickey feel good. It's a very particular sort of makeup sex, perhaps, but that's what it is, really. Or... maybe it's less Ian trying to make amends and more him assuring Mickey, in the language they've both always understood perfectly, that Mickey is seen and known and loved for all that he is, and that he'll always be centre of Ian's world. No need to change; no need to hide.

Once they're (un)done, Ian helps Mickey to his feet. (I believe it's @whatwouldmickeydo who noted that they can't well get up to anything very energetic at all on that unreliable air mattress [and who also wrote a fic I think might interest you, nonnie!], so they've probably been getting busy elsewhere? In the kitchen maybe, where there are convenient counters. Not like they're unused to fucking in places other than the bedroom, so they make do.) Holds him steady against his chest with one arm while he pours him a glass of water with the other. Runs his hand down Mickey's naked back while he drinks.

”You good?” Ian asks once the glass is empty, but Mickey just grunts something intellligble and buries his face in Ian's shoulder. Not incapable of speech, you see; just utterly uninterested in it at the moment.

Ian smiles, privately, fondly, and presses a soft kiss to his husband's damp hair before helping him into their bedroom (after grabbing a convenient chocolate bar for when Mickey starts coming back to himself). Wipes them both down; brings out two pairs of clean boxers; guides Mickey down onto the mattress, never once breaking physical contact.

If there are marks that need seeing to, they are seen to. There are words of reassurance and praise and love. There are little pecks pressed to Mickey's swollen and slack lips, gentle fingers brushing over his face, a blanket pulled up to cover them both. Ian puts his arm across Mickey's chest in half an embrace and smiles as Mickey's hand shifts to rest on it. They lie there, Mickey still floating on feeling so very safe and sore and cherished, and Ian watching him like he's the only person that matters in the whole world; the only person that exists.

(At least until Mickey blinks a few times and stretches his neck from side to side, giving Ian a very much present look as he notes something along the lines of damn gallagher, couldn't you have pulled this shit last night, I'd've been out like a fucking candle and Ian snorts and retorts that he's not out like a fucking candle now so shut up and have some chocolate asshole ❤️)

Those are some of my thoughts, nonnie. Thank you for asking. <3

#the ways i love thinking about this...#11x11 #gallavich #meta ficlet #asks

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howtowhumpyourhiccup · 4 years

Text

Whumptober Day 15: Your Blood On My Lips

Summary: Written for Whumptober Day 15. Set in a Modern Vampire AU. A human/vampire relationship is taboo amongst vampires as it endangers the long-kept secret of their existence and as a result, humans simply don't survive these relationships for long. After spending the last five years with Astrid, it finally catches up with him, too.

Rating: Mature

Characters: Hiccup, Astrid

Pairing: Hiccstrid

Words: 4 204

Fandom: How to Train Your Dragon

Prompt: "Magical Healing”

Whumpee: Hiccup

Author’s Notes: Written for the Whumptober prompt "Magical Healing" because that is technically what happens here, which is why it's not an actual death fic.

Was really excited to get this one done when I first started it, but then I suddenly lost motivation for it and finished it TODAY. Hopefully, it won't be too obvious. :'D

But hey! I reached the halfway point of Whumptober! That's exciting!

Constructive criticism is appreciated!

Enjoy!

Ao3

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Long after midnight, Hiccup is still up and awake. Having been working on an art commission at this hour, he straightens in his chair and stretches his back before following that up by rubbing the back of his neck.

He's so stiff and he shouldn't still be up at this hour as there is plenty of time for him to be working on this paid commission. It's supposed to be a digital art piece of a dragon that he'd promised by the end of the week.

But then again, that isn't the only reason why he hasn't gone to bed yet as there is still one other reason why.

He's waiting for someone, the love of his life, and she should be here soon.

As a matter of fact, she just got home. He can tell by the soft opening and closing of the front door of their shared apartment, but that is about the only way he can tell. And all because she wants him to know when she's home instead of sneaking up on him like some kind of intruder. Thankfully, those days are far behind them.

He doesn't hear her footsteps in the hallway or the door to their living room opening.

"You're still up." He just hears her voice and feels her hands glide down from his shoulders followed by a peck on the top of his head as she stands behind him.

"You're back!" Hiccup remarks happily and looks up to face Astrid, his girlfriend. His hands are on hers. Hers are quite cool while his are always warm, something she quite likes.

"I am. Not as early as I intended to be, but I'm here now." She tells him, smiling.

"You know you don't need to wait up for me."

"I know I don't, which doesn't mean that I won't." He tells her in return and a kiss is placed on his lips this time. He returns it because how can he not.

They break apart and smile. Her piercingly blue eyes that almost seem to glow gaze down at him while strands of her hair fall down from the sides of her face.

"You are adorable when you look at me as if you're lovesick," Astrid tells him, similarly as engrossed in his beauty as he is caught in hers. Her fingers run through his hair, playing with the wild locks. It's from the dragon-riding, though Toothless isn't allowed to leave the Dragon Sanctuary he lives on.

"As if?" He asks and takes her hand into his own.

Astrid smiles down at him, but then it falters just a tad bit as something pops into her mind, like a reminder. She bites her bottom lip, both out of growing excitement and a slight bit of guilt.

As they haven't changed position at all, Hiccup can't help but notice.

"Hey, I recognize that face. You know you can ask, right? I'm feeling better." He tells her, his neck starting to hurt from all it's been through this evening.

"And you know that I don't want to take more than necessary." She responds, reminding him of her vow to never take more than she needs to, though she hungers.

"But you need it. I can see that you do." His hand strokes her forearm, which is just as cold as her hand is, just as cold as the rest of her is.

She can't argue with him on that. She's been feeling a little weak, a little under the weather, and that means she needs to feed. She needs blood and Hiccup is always ready to offer up his own.

She's a vampire, has been at least for the past couple of decades, maybe a century. She doesn't really care how long it's been, she hasn't cared about time ever since she got turned. Not until she met Hiccup about five years ago when he was 20 years old.

"You're welcome to my blood, you always are." Hiccup tells her, encouraging her to take care of her needs.

"Okay, fine, if you're being this insistent." Astrid straightens and moves to his front. Her eyes never leave his as she walks with a look of both love and a deep desire in them.

Hiccup watches her with slight nervousness, never quite certain what to expect from her. He's been through this a million times by now, but it's still a little bit of a surprise every time. It's her method, that's what changes every time just a bit.

This night, she goes for the direct approach, climbing up on his desk chair with him and straddling his lap. She presses their bodies together and then their foreheads. She can almost feel his pulse against her unmoving chest.

"Thank you for always welcoming me." Astrid thanks him, more grateful than she can ever express.

Smiling, Hiccup wraps his arms around her.

"Of course, I love you." He shrugs, feeling like this is only natural. She'll always be welcome to their home and to him.

Astrid places a peck on his lips, another one he returns, and then she places a hand on his jawline while he cocks his head to the side at the same time. It happens so smoothly, it tells of how many times they've done this before.

Licking the front of her teeth and then her lips, her fangs grow in the excitement of what she's about to do. Bringing her mouth closer to his neck, she lets those fangs caress his neck, forcing him to take a deep breath.

Gently grasping his hair, Astrid pulls his head to the side and places feathery kisses on the side of his neck, taking her time before she bites down and makes her fangs sink into his flesh.

They dig into his neck and Hiccup's body naturally jumps at the pain. He's still holding onto her, hands on her hips to keep himself grounded, as his blood leaves his body to feed and strengthen her. He can feel it leaving him, can feel her draining him. He knows better than to fear for his life, but the instinct to escape from her remains.

He can't deny the rush this gives him, however. It's like jumping from a cliff without ever needing to leave the comfort of his own home. His heart is pounding, it's pounding so loud. But then, he's already full of bitemarks, so he's not unfamiliar with this sensation and he expects it, anticipates it.

There are more than one on the sides of his throat, one side having a few more than the other. One on a shoulder that was put there simply for fun during a moment much more intimate than this. His wrists carry a few of these marks, too, and there is even one mark on a thigh of his. That spot, like his shoulder, wouldn't provide Astrid with any blood either and had been put there purely out of lust.

She likes seeing those marks on him and they will probably stay there for the remainder of his life. They've taken to calling them lovebites and it isn't far from the truth.

Astrid's eyes closed, she can feel him trembling beneath her, can detect his quickened pulse, can hear the barely repressed moans of pain, discomfort, and enjoyment. Hopefully, the neighbors can't hear them like last time.

He doesn't have a bite kink, not quite, but there is still something he's getting out of this. Something only Astrid can give him. There is something intimate about this, something only the two of them can have.

Once fed and back to her original strength, Astrid leaves his neck, and her tongue licks at the blood escaping from the bite mark. She can feel the rush in her body as her significant other's blood revitalizes her.

"Are you okay?" She asks, whispering in his ear, and feels Hiccup nod.

Pulling back, she gazes at his slightly paler complexion, the sweat on his brow, the shivering of his body, the blood running down his neck in a thin line and nearly reaching the collar of his shirt.

She's always liked seeing him this way, trembling beneath her and his blood staining his skin. But only like this, when it's something he has welcomed her to.

Seeing the look in her eyes, Hiccup lets out a breathy chuckle.

"You are such a sadist." He tells her.

"Hiccup, you know I don't do this without you telling me it's okay," Astrid responds with a laugh of her own. And then she leans down again and rubs her nose against his.

"Besides if this makes me a sadist, what exactly does that make you?" She asks, her voice low. Hiccup smiles up at her.

"Tired, for one!" Astrid returns it and moves off him.

"You need some help getting to bed?" She offers, holding a hand of his as she figures he won't be getting up when he feels so weak. Not with his prosthetic.

"I would like to get to the couch. It's movie night!"

"It's almost 3 am," Astrid argues. No way are they pulling another all-nighter, if he even makes it that far.

"Perfect time for a movie, then!" Hiccup insists on having one. There aren't a lot of things a vampire-human couple can do without drawing attention to themselves. So when a movie night arrives, Hiccup looks forward to having them.

Ah, dork. it's the only thing Astrid can think as she relents.

"Fine, movie night." She sighs, knowing he'll be out like a light in less than half an hour.

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Knowing that vampires exist means knowing that there are vampire communities everywhere and that means knowing that the occasional dirty look he gets is from a vampire who knows he shouldn't even be alive. And since Berk has grown from a small fishing town to a slightly bigger fishing town, that means he knows they are here, too.

And seeing him, well, that just makes some of them so angry.

Because there is a reason why every living human still believes they are made up stories and that's simply because humans don't tend to live for very long after they find out. So why should he be any different?

At the very least, he can take comfort in the fact that he may very well be the record holder for "longest-lived human who knows vampires exist". Not the catchiest title, but a title nonetheless.

It's late one night when he's closing up Gobber's blacksmithing and mechanics shop that he feels like he's being watched. Though always on his guard, he doesn't have any reason to think that there's actually something there. All he has to go on is the tingling feeling of eyes watching his back and making the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

He rolls the garage door down and takes a look behind him, seeing nothing but a streetlight and an empty field as Gobber's is quite isolated. Right next door, there is a gas station, probably the only one in the entire town, but that isn't too comforting.

Seeing nothing behind him, Hiccup decides to take a chance and crouches down to lock the place up with a heavy padlock before heading home for the night.

But then he stands back up and there is a man now standing there, under the light of the nearest streetlight and Hiccup jumps at the sudden appearance. He hadn't heard any footsteps at all.

It's a man, someone he only vaguely recognizes as being from around here. And a vampire, too. The unnatural silence in his sneak gives him away.

"So you're him?" The man asks, no greeting or anything. Never in his entire life, has Hiccup ever heard so much contempt be spoken in three simple words.

Two more people appear and Hiccup only vaguely recognizes them as also being from around here. They definitely dress the part of local vampire. So does Astrid, so maybe that's a vampire thing.

"Hi-him?" He asks, stuttering. He knows that there is no use hiding his growing apprehension from them, they can tell either way.

"Astrid's blood bag."

Hiccup stares at the three, unable to form any sort of meaningful reply. The insult, while on the more unusual side, is not appreciated. It makes him feel like a piece of meat and not as eye candy, but as one meant to be eaten.

Not taking his eyes off them, Hiccup attempts to back away, but hits the garage door and it rattles behind him. They've got him cornered.

"Are you scared?" The one left of him asks as the three stalk closer, nonchalantly approaching as if they aren't planning on ripping his throat out. That or sucking him dry of everything he has.

"When three complete strangers paler than my bleak life expectancy corner me in the wee hours of the night? Not at all!" Hiccup replies, inching towards the shop's door, which he hadn't locked yet.

"Oh look, this one's got jokes, fun." The woman on the right remarks.

"Ah well, what's the point of facing death if you're not going to have at least a little bit of fun? You know, before life flashes before my eyes and I take my very, very last breath." He reaches the door as he talks, planning on diving inside, locking it behind him, and hoping that'll buy him enough time to grab something to defend himself with.

It's not like he's completely unprepared, he's known since Astrid told him what she was that this day, or night, would come.

"Last breath, yes. But it'll take a while." The middle vampire says and as he licks his front teeth and his fangs appear, appear on all of them, Hiccup takes this as his cue that things are about to go down.

As all three of them hiss at him, Hiccup throws the door behind him open, hurrying it closed behind him and locking it. Safe for now.

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

When Hiccup is late that night, Astrid worries. It's not like he hasn't been late before, but knowing the taboo nature of their relationship and those who are against it, she can't help but worry.

She decides to check out Gobber's workshop first, knowing that was where he was supposed to work this afternoon and evening. Sometimes Hiccup can lose himself in a project or job and he needs someone to tear him away from it, she hopes that is what is going on here.

But then she arrives and sees the door to the shop broken open. And if her heart were still beating, it would've stopped.

"Hiccup," She mutters, panic setting in, and she rushes inside. Whether this is a simple burglary or her worst fear come true, she doesn't need to think of her safety. What worries her the most is Hiccup's.

Her worst fear is that vampires are here, that one or more have come to do what Astrid has been refusing to do; finish him off.

She enters the workshop and finds chaos as glass cracks beneath her feet. Not quite like someone ransacked the place in search of valuables, but still messier than she's used to.

"Hiccup?!" Usually, she wouldn't just call out like that, but she can't hear anything and can only conclude that, whatever danger has been here, has already gone.

Hiccup doesn't respond.

So he managed to get away? He's had to, right? Otherwise, this place wouldn't be so quiet and it would be crawling with live vampires.

Is it silly to hope that's what happened? That Hiccup got away and is on his way home now?

But then something catches the corner of her eyes and she looks over, spotting a pair of legs lying on the concrete floor.

The shoes and jeans, they don't look like anything her boyfriend would wear and so she knows that it can't possibly be him, but that only comforts her for so much.

She comes over, caring little for what she thinks can only have been someone with ill-intention, but still needing to take a look as the body may be able to tell her something.

And tell her something it does.

What's lying dead before her in the doorway leading to a small storage area is a male vampire, she can see the fangs and she can see the wooden stake. Though seeing one of the few things that can kill her stuck in another of her kind's chest can still send chills down her spine, what makes her feel cold the most is that only one person could've put that there.

After she told him what she was and that their relationship means others like her might come to kill him, she'd told him to keep a stake, garlic, any and all vampire repellants somewhere closeby. So when she isn't around, he can still protect himself.

He thought it was ridiculous at first, why would anyone be coming for someone as harmless as him? But it turns out he has listened to her concerns.

And clearly, it worked, clearly, he managed to take at least one down by his own hand before he was... So where did he go?

The sound of shuffling and something metal falling to the floor reaches her ear.

"As-Ast-trid?" A wheezy voice reaches her and only because her hearing is exceptional. It's so quiet.

She looks over, gaze traveling deeper into the storage area, and she finds someone lying in a pool of his own blood.

"Hiccup!" She shouts and hurries over, jumping over the dead body to reach him.

He's lying on the ground in a corner, curled up after having slid down from the shelves he was leaning against. She can tell from the red smeared on them.

She kneels by him, helping him when he makes a move to sit up.

"There-there were... There were vampires, three of them. I-"

"Shhh, we'll talk about this later, we need to get you to the hospital." As she's helping him up, getting him to lean onto her and wrapping an arm around his shoulders, she looks at the blood quickly covering her and her clothes.

This time it doesn't make her heart flutter in want and the urge to lick it up and savor every drop of his essence isn't there. Though she's a vampire, all of this blood isn't doing anything for her. As much as she likes the taste of him, this only disturbs her.

There's so much of it.

"Where are you hurt?" She asks, knowing they need to put pressure on the bleeding if they want him to survive. She searches and finds his hand clutching a completely soaked cloth to the side of his throat, exactly where she had bitten him last days earlier.

"Oh no," She gasps and doesn't dare remove his hand to take a peek.

He's not going to make it, she won't get him to a hospital in time. He's already on the verge of bleeding out.

Looking at his face, she can see him slowly blinking, struggling to stay awake.

She's going to lose him. If she doesn't do anything now, he's going to die.

"Hiccup, Babe, I need to hear you say it!" She tells him, reminding him that she can't do anything unless he invites her, too. She has bound herself to this vow after she was turned, she can never break it.

Hiccup gazes up at her, eyes glazing over as he's losing focus.

"Hiccup, you have to give me your consent!" She tells him again.

Slowly, despite his struggles to stay awake, he's going limp in her arms and Astrid watches on in horror, his weight becoming heavier, head resting on her shoulder.

She's losing him.

She's losing him!

But then finally, with his dying breath.

"You're-you're always... You're always w-welcome t... to me." He's giving her his consent. He's agreeing to stepping into this new unknown with her and that is all she needs.

His hand fruitlessly stopping the bleeding falls and his neck is exposed, the horrible wound there is revealed. Astrid leans forward and sinks her teeth into his neck, creating the last bitemark that will ever mark his body. This time not to drink, but to give him a little part of herself that will return him that twinkle in his eyes.

There is no reaction, he doesn't startle like he usually would. There is nothing left inside of him, nothing but the slowly dying embers of his life.

Though the living dead, there are still plenty of tears for her to shed.

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

Days later, they're back in their apartment.

That evening, Astrid managed to bring Hiccup back home and put him to bed after cleaning him, dressing him, and treating his injuries. Not the easiest things to do with a dead weight. She also succeeded in getting back to Gobber's shop and removing the dried blood after hours of intense scrubbing.

But now at home, she's sitting by him, watching him almost every hour of the night. The dark curtains have been closed to keep out as much of the sun as she can.

She has bitten him and this time not just to feed. But turning is a process and it always takes a while. It had taken her an entire week. He hasn't grown stiff yet and that means something has interrupted the decaying process. A good thing, it means that she now has to wait until he wakes up again.

Astrid strokes his pale face with the back of her fingers, caressing his cold skin and feeling guilty for being unable to protect him. They took every measurement they could take and Astrid couldn't stay with him 24/7, but though she knows this, she still feels responsible.

She dressed him in his nightwear as if he's just asleep and his throat is bandaged. She doesn't know how that wound will heal after he's turned.

His wrists, they're tied to the bed as you can never know how a newly turned vampire is going to react. He could be completely fine or he could be mad with hunger. Astrid vaguely remembers having lost control when she first woke up.

Then his eyes open and the moment of truth has finally arrived after five days of waiting. Astrid stands up from her chair to settle on the edge of the bed, leaning over him with a hand on the mattress.

"Astrid?" Though confused at first, his eyes find hers and he says her name.

Astrid is relieved and smiles. For a moment in that shop, she feared she would never get to hear him say her name ever again and she's been dying to hear it since.

"Hey there, how're you feeling." She asks and brushes his hair out of the way.

"I don't know... Weird? I thought I was going to die, but then again, I'm not really alive anymore either, am I?" He asks and Astrid doesn't miss the sad tone in his voice.

They both wanted him to live, but this didn't need to happen. He's going to grieve the loss of his own life. Astrid has been through the exact same thing, there's always a grieving process.

Pulling on his wrists, Hiccup finds them tied and he gives Astrid a look, who responds to with a smile before she unties them. So far Hiccup seems to be in control of himself, it's safe to release him.

"I'm sorry for tying you up. You can never tell how a new vampire is going to react when they wake up." She explains and Hiccup sits up, rubbing his wrists.

He thinks for a moment, hands stilling and ending up on his lap. He feels weird and is suddenly very aware of the lack of beating that's going on inside his chest. He's not breathing either, something he also just realized. He's talking without the need for air. Is there anything about vampires that makes scientifically sense?

"This is going to take some time to get used to, huh?" He asks, confused about his feelings concerning this sudden new life of his. Astrid quietly nods, knowing it will.

They've never talked about turning him before. Though they've had plenty of talks about vampires in general, they never talked about whether he would ever end up being turned or if he would get to grow old as a mortal human. He hasn't even given the matter any thought, so he doesn't know how to feel about this.

He does know something, though. He's grateful to Astrid for saving him.

He takes her hand and holds it in his lap, Astrid squeezes it.

"Thank you for saving me. No matter what happens from now on, I'll always be thankful. I wouldn't be here anymore if it weren't for you." He shares his gratitude with her, gazing at her with all the love his unbeating heart has for her.

They kiss and this time Hiccup's lips are just as cold as hers. She'll miss his warmth, but she also finds that she doesn't mind. He's still with her and that's all that matters.

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im-the-king-of-the-ocean · 4 years

Text

So this started as another Carulia quarantine fic, but then it sat in my drafts for a while and I sort of lost that train of thought completely and it became a character study into Carmen (more or less).

Anyways, enjoy!

Learning Vulnerability

“Sunk your battleship.”

Player splutters his protest over their comms. Carmen smiles. This is the third game they’ve played. They each won one of the previous ones and this is the tie-breaker. So far, Carmen’s winning.

Carmen hears footsteps in the hallway outside the apartment. She focuses on the sound, the rhythm of the steps. She exhales when she recognizes Julia’s stride and Julia’s stride only. Not that she doesn’t trust Jules after their weeks spent together. It’s just, staying in one location this long makes Carmen feel twitchy. Sure, she’s been keeping as low a profile as possible, but she’s still vulnerable. If either A.C.M.E. or V.I.L.E. comes for her here, where she has little backup and resources? Carmen would very much prefer that not to happen.

“Something up?” Player picks up on her distraction.

“Nothing.” Carmen reassures him. She knows he’s one keystroke away from sending a private jet for her, and the only reason he hasn’t yet is respect for her request not to. Carmen doesn’t want Zack, Ivy, or Shadowsan traveling and putting themselves at risk of infection unnecessarily. She can handle herself just fine. No one but Jules and her team knows she’s here. Everything is fine, will be fine.

“It sounds like Julia’s back,” Carmen continues. “I should go.”

They haven’t told Julia about Player yet. He’s the one relatively unknown person on Carmen’s team. They’ve been extremely careful about who they share information about him with. So far, that’s not Julia. Not yet.

“Alright.” On Carmen’s laptop screen, Player sits back in his seat. “Finish the game later?”

“Later.” Carmen closes her laptop.

She stands and tiptoes to the door. Carefully, she places her hands on it, and then presses her ear to the wood. Carmen can hear Julia speaking Mandarin to the old woman who lives across the hall. It takes Carmen a moment to adjust to listening to a different language, but then she recognizes that the conversation is just small talk while Jules passes over the groceries she bought for her neighbor.

This isn’t the bell tower, Carmen reminds herself. She’s been able to trust Julia for weeks. If Julia has been trying to get Carmen to lower her guard, she would have probably made her move by now. It wasn’t Julia’s plan to ambush Carmen in Stockholm either. Chief was the one who made that call. Julia had only wanted to talk.

Carmen steps away. She hesitates, and then returns to the couch. She sits, places her hands in her lap, inhales with her whole frame, and then exhales. Everything is fine. She’s fine.

Trust isn’t something that comes easily to Carmen. Not anymore, at least. She wants it to be. She wants to have a family, people she’s comfortable around no matter what, and she does. It’s just…

The V.I.L.E. faculty were her family too, once upon a time. Carmen had never thought of Coach Brunt quite as a mother, but the woman was affectionate, loving, and arguably spent the most time out of any of them with Carmen while she grew up.

But, Coach Brunt’s affection, Carmen is realizing in hindsight, came with a dash of possessiveness. Coach Brunt had loved her conditionally. When Carmen stopped meeting the requisite conditions, when she turned against V.I.L.E., that was the bitter end of it. Carmen hasn’t admitted it to anyone, but it still hurts. The Faculty had been her family growing up. Carmen knows, technically speaking, she turned against them first, but the fact that they hadn’t really tried to see things from her point of view, that they’d forcibly tried to bring her back into the fold, and then declared her their enemy when they couldn’t, did sting.

She had worth to them as a thief, but not as herself, as Carmen. They’d never been a family, just an evil organization and the daughter of one of their former colleagues who they considered a traitor. Carmen knows she shouldn’t ache this much over it (she’s technically even gotten Shadowsan back, so there’s that), but she still wants a family.

One that won’t betray her.

Carmen wants to believe Zack and Ivy won’t (although they almost left her already once, and she can’t really blame them for that. If returning to racing is what they want, she won’t keep them from it). Neither will Player or Shadowsan (although Player has an entire outside life that she barely knows about and Shadowsan is…well Shadowsan). Carmen hopes Jules won’t, but that already came into question once.

The thing is, Carmen once believed the Faculty would never intentionally try to hurt her too. She despises thinking about it, but a tiny part of her does wonder if the next betrayal is already on its way. If the friends she now considers her family will…

Carmen sighs. She doesn’t want to be like this. She really, really doesn’t want to be like this.

But she’s scared too.

Julia enters the apartment, arms full of groceries, before Carmen’s thoughts can go on any more of a downward spiral. Seeing Julia struggle with juggling to maintain her hold on the grocery bags while closing the door, Carmen gets up to help.

“Thanks.” Julia smiles at Carmen, while handing over one bag with a couple baguettes sticking out. “How was your day?” She leads the way into the kitchen. “For dinner, I was thinking dumplings?”

“Sounds good.” Carmen nods noncommittally. She remains quiet as Julia begins unpacking foods and putting them away in either the fridge or the cupboard.

“You know, if you’d like, you can make them with me?” Julia’s soft smile, and her body language, indicate the offer is a genuine one.

Carmen wants this. She wants the comfortable, safe way it makes her feel.

But, what if this feeling won’t last?

Knowing Jules expects an answer, Carmen doesn’t make eye contact. A part of her wants to run, but a stronger part of her wants to stay, to see what’ll happen. Eventually, Carmen looks up.

“That would be wonderful.”

It’s possible she’ll just be hurt again, but she wants to at least try regardless.

#carmen sandiego netflix #carulia #julethief #carmen sandiego #julia argent #whirls writing

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mortuarybees · 5 years

Note

oh I just sent you an ask and then realized that you answered my question in a previous ask, so ignore me. (Though I do have another question about them getting married or at least choosing to be committed to each other forever). Thank you for this AU though!

THIS GOT LONG I’M SORRY. The chef suggests that this be paired with Mitski’s cover of Let’s Get Married, which actually invented the institution of marriage.

It looks like this:

It’s a balmy Sunday in April, 2014, and Aziraphale’s hands are clasped before him, forehead pressed to his knuckles. He’s nervous; he shouldn’t be, he knows, but he is. The pew is hard and uncomfortable, unforgiving–Crowley would laugh at that, and even as he smiles, the thought makes his stomach clench.

The service ended a while ago, but he likes to remain, reading through the echoing chatter until everyone has gone and he can have a word alone with Her. Praying in a room full of others feels obscene and vulnerable, like leaving the front door open for the neighbors to peak in.

Please, please, please, he thinks. He doesn’t know how long he’s been here, praying, knows that if today is the day, he needs to go home before Crowley gets irritable and worried, but he wants to feel certain, the way Crowley had been.

(It looks like this:

Aziraphale likes gold. Loves gold; he grew up in an ancient and wealthy family, with so much money they’re casual about it, crystals dripping from chandeliers and fine tableware so old it belongs in a museum, and he won’t admit it–not now, especially–but he misses the elegance, the luxuries, misses a wardrobe full of Harris tweed and Burberry and Liberty’s. He likes gold, he would want gold, and Crowley is helpless to do anything but give him what he wants.)

It’s been a long time, Aziraphale thinks. He’s getting older–I’m getting older–he only gets one life. He’s the restless kind, what if he says no?

He asked first, he reminds himself, and then counters it by pointing out that last time, it didn’t mean much, to him. No, that isn’t fair, it meant something, but it wasn’t binding.

He doesn’t need to bind himself to you, he tells himself. He’s committed in every way he can. He’s never been the restless sort when it comes to us.

I’m overthinking this, he thinks, bemused, and as if God agrees with him, he hears the door behind him open, and Crowley’s relieved voice boom, echoing in the empty church and certainly disturbing the bad-humored priest, “Christ, there you are. I thought maybe the Rapture came and the rest of London was too godless to notice.”

Thank you, he prays. Amen. He turns around and smiles. “Crowley, dear. Would you like to sit?”

“Best not,” Crowley says, stopping at the end of the pew Aziraphale occupies. “Surprised I haven’t burst into flames yet, don’t want to push my luck getting comfortable.” He looks around and points at a painting of Saint Sebastian, posed in a rather un-agonized manner. “That why you come here all the time? An excuse to gawk at younger men?”

“Crowley,” he scolds, getting to his feet. He ducks his head to hide his smile and puts his hands in his pockets, toying with the small velvet box inside. “Please, dear, keep from blaspheming inside the church. Besides, you’re far better looking.”

“Damn right,” Crowley huffs, and he takes his arm possessively when he exits the pew, pulling tight against his side. He looks beautiful in the mid-morning light, hazy and soft, hair loose around his face, the stained glass painting colors on his pale face when he squints up at it as they leave. The face of John is mirrored perfectly in the lenses of his dark glasses for just a moment, and Aziraphale wishes he’d ever really tried his hand at art, just to immortalize in rich oil paint the rainbow of light on his face, the Beloved Disciple in his eyes, the swipes of glitter across his cheekbones, the black lace top under his leather jacket, pierced a million times over with all manner of pins over the years; he thinks if he wasn’t at peace before, this picture does it.

“You’re beautiful, darling,” he murmurs when it’s ended, when Crowley tilts his chin down, curls his lip against whatever blasphemy he was certainly thinking and it’s just him again. Just them, and God as far away as She always feels.

“I was kidding, angel,” he says, thumb stroking a reassuring line down his coat sleeve. “Ogle some guy all–” he gestures, quite theatrically– “shot up with arrows if you like. He’s dead, I’m not. I win.”

(It looks like this:

It’s 2000, and Crowley and Aziraphale arrived in London six months prior, alone and uncertain, refugees on a foreign shore. They both grew up in rural villages–wildly different experiences; Aziraphale’s family had an estate and he attended some posh boarding school on the moors, Crowley slept on a bus bench on more than one occasion–and the city is new and frightening and exciting. It seemed like the place for two young queer men to go, newly anointed adults forging a life together.

Aziraphale likes it, Crowley knows he does, he likes the museums, he likes the beautiful old buildings and the British Library, he likes taking walks in the park, and he likes having a home of their own, a home with Crowley. He tells him everyday, a comment here or there with a soft smile. But he’s wounded and mourning; he misses his family, and his new way of life is a bit of a shock. He won’t admit that it hurts, just sniffs and insists he knew it was coming, but Crowley knows him better that that. He loves London, but he can’t help but see the life he’s lost in every crevice of the life he’s found.

Crowley doesn’t believe in divine providence, but if he did, this would be the surest evidence of it: on his way home to their shithole of a flat with his first paycheck in his pocket, he passes the window of an antiques store, and sees it in the window. It catches the afternoon light perfectly and shines gold against the black velvet display; it’s a clunky old-fashioned sort of ring, with angel wings forming the band. Crowley has been thinking hard about this for years now, and it’s absolutely perfect.)

The sunlight outside comes weakly through the clouds, pale but just bright enough to avoid dreariness. Crowley relaxes once they step from the church steps and onto the sidewalk; his first boyfriend broke up with him with a vague and plausibly-deniable note in a cheap bible left on Crowley’s front porch when he returned home from a summer church camp, and Aziraphale thinks he’s always been afraid in the back of his mind that Aziraphale is going to come home from church someday and do the same thing, though he’s never said as much.

“I brought the rolled oats for the ducks,” Crowley says. “Figured we ought to stop in, since we missed last week. Otherwise they might mutiny.”

“Of course, dear,” Aziraphale says, and that had been his plan, but it’s all becoming so terribly real and sudden, isn’t it? He could wait just a little longer–

No, he can’t. They’ve waited long enough.

(It looks like this:

Crowley, ever-charming, talks the proprietor of the antiques shop into setting the ring aside for him. She’s suspicious of him, with his sibilant S and the pins on his leather jacket, but he’s wearing his work uniform, a perfectly respectable red polo shirt and black slacks, and he gives her a down payment and a long and terribly touching story about his college sweetheart that’s mostly true, apart from the gender of the lover in question.

The truth is, there are some things which can be easily done without, and some things that can’t. Aziraphale prefers fancy vintages from significant years and miraculous rains in the French countryside, but a £5 bottle from Sainsbury’s won’t ruin New Years. They can buy store brand cereal, the eggs discounted because one of them has been cracked, they can throw Aziraphale’s fancy embroidered throw over the pullout and hang richly dyed moth-eaten curtains from the theater department’s dumpster and pretend it’s the Hotel d’Alsace. But there are some things that must be done right, some things that cannot be done without, and he’s convinced that this is one of them. He could as easily propose with a plastic ring from the coin machine at their favorite bar, but Aziraphale is going to love this ring; even if he says no, pats Crowley on the cheek and says, “How romantic of you dear boy, but that’s not really what’s done, is it?” he’s still going to love it.

He’s secretive and vague about the extra hours and side gigs he takes on to make the payments. Aziraphale notices, he knows he does, he knows him too well not to, and he’s curious and a little alarmed, but he felt bad enough lying about where part of his first paycheck went without having to do it again every month when he stops in to make a payment on the ring.

It takes six months, but she finally hands it over, along with a comment about how she’s thought about it and she thinks it’s really rather noble, what he’s doing, and he best keep to it, best not break this poor girl’s heart, she’s read about people like him, giving it a go with nice girls for a couple years and then skipping out, sticking them with kids and a broken life. He rolls his eyes and says he’ll pass the message along to his boyfriend after he proposes, and saunters out, a skip in his step. It’s perfect; he’ll still wear it every day and admire it on his hand the way Crowley admires it now in the sun, and even if he says no–well, that would be a fine consolation prize.)

There is a bench they’ve been coming to for fifteen years now, so habitually the ducks flock to them when they arrive, flicking oats into the water. Crowley is catching him up on the fight he missed while he was out (the walls are thin and the neighbors provide endless entertainment with their incessant and bafflingly banal bickering; it’s a proper extended universe, their family disputes, and the mother-in-law is visiting, so it’s been an exciting weekend), and Aziraphale is trying to listen, he really is, even though he insists eavesdropping and gossiping aren’t especially neighborly–“oh, come off it, angel, you know they’ve got their ears pressed to the wall when we fight, not to mention when we–” “Crowley!”–but he cant focus on anything but the weight in his pocket.

He’s been putting money away for a year now, ever since legislation to legalize it was introduced last July. He’d known it would take some time to pass, but if they were willing to propose it, it would be soon.

“Alright, what’ve you got squirreled away, huh?” Crowley demands, the dozenth time in a few short minutes his hand has gone to his pocket to ensure it’s still there. “I’m hungry. Was so worried you’d gone off and joined some cultish offshoot I couldn’t eat. Well, a more cultish offshoot. Is the Catholic church an offshoot? Suppose it must be, not like Jesus named a pope–”

“It’s not food, dear,” Aziraphale says, sighing. “And he did, he gave Saint Peter the keys to Heaven and he was bishop of Rome. Blasphemous old serpent.”

“I’m sure they all say that,” Crowley says, waving a hand. He eyes him curiously, flicking a rolled oat so it hits a duck in the head. “What is it then?”

Aziraphale’s heart thuds chaotically in his chest. “Crowley, dearest,” he says, turning to face him. He takes his hand in his, desperate for the anchor, the reassurance. “I love you.”

“Love you too, angel,” Crowley says, looking alarmed. “Are you alright?”

“You love me,” Aziraphale repeats, both wishing desperately he could see Crowley’s eyes, search them, and desperately glad that he can’t. Crowley’s bare eyes are so terribly expressive, the sight of them so intimate, he couldn’t bear it.

“‘Course I do,” he says, with conviction. “More than anything. What’s this about?”

“Crowley, my love,” he says hoarsely, and he kneels on one knee, still clinging to his hand.

(It looks like this:

It’s October in 2000, and it’s been raining like the coming of the second flood for days. Crowley stands at the window, biting his lip and scowling at it, sick of it and about to start refreshing himself on the principles of chaos magic in a bid to end it.

“Crowley, dear, you’re making me nervous,” Aziraphale grumbles from the sofa. He loves a nice rainy day, loves curling up against Crowley with a cup of tea and a book or one of those awful television shows with the flouncy costumes and overwrought acting, but even he is growing tired of being stuck inside all day and getting soaked to the bone on his way to work. “Come sit down, would you?”

“I’m busy,” Crowley mutters.

“You don’t look busy,” Aziraphale says. “It looks like you think you can scowl the rain into submission.”

“Works on the plants,” Crowley tells him, and he knows Aziraphale is rolling his eyes without having to look. He’s half a mind to do away with his idea all together, just do it right here in their cramped little studio, when quite suddenly, the rain lets up to a light mist. He stares at it, jaw slack, for several long moments. When it doesn’t start pick up again, he shouts, “Let’s go for a walk.”

“A walk?” Aziraphale frowns. “In this?”

“It’s just misting and we haven’t gone out properly in days,” Crowley says eagerly. “C'mon, get dressed, I want to go to the park.” He won’t have time to get dressed properly, doesn’t want to risk the return of the storm–which is a crying shame, he had such an outfit planned–but he yanks the pants he knows make his ass look the best out of their dresser and a deep purple blouse with lace around the cuffs Aziraphale once said made him look very royal, stripping out of his pajamas and hopping into them as quickly as he can.

“The park?” Aziraphale puts his book aside. “Well, I suppose I would rather fancy a stroll, stretch my legs–”

“Excellent!” Crowley throws him a horrible pair of houndstooth slacks and the first button down he sees. “Get dressed.”

“Crowley–”

“Dressed!”

“These don’t even match!”

“I don’t care! Get dressed!” He darts to their vanity, staring wild-eyed at his reflection. Eyeliner is smudged raccoon-like around his eyes, but his sunglasses will cover that. He picks up a brush and yanks it violently through his hair. His eyes dart to Aziraphale, taking his sweet time picking out a new button down. “Dressed! Dressed, c'mon!”

“I’m getting there,” he mutters, waving lazily at him. “What do you think, green or white, dear?”

“You look best in blue,” Crowley tells him. He pulls his hair back, then lets it fall again, then pulls the front back and secures it a few pins and a comb he knows Aziraphale likes. He spins around to see Aziraphale quite leisurely buttoning up his shirt. “If you don’t hurry, I’m leaving without you.”

Aziraphale rolls his eyes, but his fingers quicken, and he sits down to tie his oxfords. Crowley hurries to join him, shoving his feet in his boots and lacing them up as quickly as he can. The moment they’re both done, he yanks him up, hauling him to the door, shrugging his leather jacket on and tossing Aziraphale his blazer. “Wait, I’ve got to get my bag–”

“You don’t need your bag,” Crowley insists, and reaches into his pocket to make sure the ring is there.

Aziraphale frets the whole way to the park about how it’s bound to start pouring again any moment, and Crowley rushed him so much he forgot to bring an umbrella, they’re going to get drenched, they forgot bread for the ducks–unaware as they were that one ought not feed a duck bread, for its own sake–and St. James’ Park is positively sodden and it’ll take ages for his wool socks to dry out. Crowley doesn’t care; he links their arms and slogs bravely on to their usual spot, grateful that the heavy rain has cleared it out. The only other people around are a mother and child, some ways off, enjoying the brief respite.

“Angel, I’ve got something to ask you,” he says urgently, and he wrenches his sunglasses off–wait, he forgot, the eyeliner–he slides them back on, then takes them off again; he knows how Aziraphale likes to see his eyes.

“Yes?” Aziraphale looks confused and alarmed, he doesn’t like surprises or irregular reactions. He jumps to the worst every time, starts overthinking every twitch of Crowley’s face, and Crowley loves him, the anxious prat.

“I love you,” he says. “Do you love me?”

“I love you more than words can say, darling, what’s going on?” His eyes search Crowley’s face, his brow furrowed.

“Do you–” he swallows hard. They’ve never talked about this, not really. “You don’t think this is–y'know, a sin, right?” It feels so awkward in his mouth, his tone not weighty enough. The truth is, he’s never really seen what all the fuss was about, why so many other queer people struggled so much to reconcile their lives with the Church. The Church rejected him, so he rejected the Church, and he hasn’t looked back. But it means something to Aziraphale. He doesn’t know if he struggles with it still, but it means something to him. It means a lot to him.

“Oh, Crowley, dear,” he says, his eyes clearing. He touches his cheek, so gently Crowley could scream. “Of course not. This could never be a sin, I’ve been reading–”

Crowley can’t help but bark out a laugh. “Of course you have,” he says, beaming at him. “Of course you have. What have you been reading, angel?”

“Well, Montefiore’s ‘Jesus, the Revelation of God’ points out that Christ’s early life–”

“Flaming homosexual, Jesus was, then?” Crowley asks, unable to smother his unhinged grin, and Aziraphale isn’t sure what he’s so giddy about, but it seems like he can’t help but smile back, a little uncertainly.

“There was John, of course, the Beloved Disciple, and there’s a rather interesting idea about the Wedding at Cana, which is of course in some ideas thought of as a symbolic marriage of Christ to the church, and some–there’s this beautiful German print, of Jesus and John at the wedding, I’ll have to show you–some have suggested that it’s also a more literal marriage between Jesus and John–”

“Christ, angel, you’ll marry me, won’t you?” Crowley breathes, and he kneels.

Aziraphale blinks at him, brow furrowed, his mind clearly trying to catch up to this sudden switch in the topic of conversation. It’s always hard to interrupt one of his rambling little speeches, he gets so invested in them, but Crowley will just have to make it up to him later, let him lecture above him well into the night about apocryphal writings and stained glass and this print or that; right now, he just need to be engaged to this ridiculous man. “Er, what?”

“Marry me,” he says. He had a whole proposal planned, but he’s forgotten it, and it was stupid, anyway. “Marry me, I–” he fumbles in his pocket, pulls the ring out of the little felt bag the proprietor put it in and holds it up like an offering. “I have a ring. Will you marry me, Aziraphale?”

“Are you–” Aziraphale’s eyes are getting wide, his breath coming fast. “Crowley, you’re not joking about this, are you?”

“Why the fuck would I joke about this?” Crowley snaps. “Look, see, I got a ring and everything. Do you like it?”

“Crowley–” Aziraphale gasps, a wet and rough sound. “I–I suppose it would be legal, technically, but I–Crowley, you know how I feel about, about–what do you mean–”

“It’s not legal, I know, but neither is buggery, technically, just can’t be prosecuted, but that’s never stopped us,” he says. He knows, he knows how Aziraphale feels about playing to his assigned gender, even when it’s convenient. “Look, it’s not like Jesus and John had a marriage license, is it?”

And Aziraphale starts crying.)

“Angel,” Crowley says, staring down at him. “The hell are you doing?”

“Ah,” Aziraphale releases his hand to pull the small velvet box out of his pocket, opens it carefully, precisely, and holds it out to him. “Crowley, my dearest, will you marry me?”

“We’re already married, angel,” Crowley whispers, and as if unconsciously, his thumb strokes the tattoo on his left ring finger.

“Well, certainly,” he says. “But it’s legal now, and I know that what the state has to say doesn’t matter much, but you know–well, you remember how it can be, without something legal. Something on paper,. And you don’t have a ring.”

“I have better than a ring,” Crowley says, but his eyes are glittering, fixed on the little black ring in the box, a band of silver around it.

Aziraphale swallows hard. “Crowley, I would really quite like to marry you, officially, dear, if you’ll have me.”

“If I’ll–I swear to somebody, angel, you’re the stupidest genius I’ve ever met,” he swears. “Of course I’ll marry you, you idiot, I–what the fuck does the ring say, Aziraphale?”

He smiles, can’t help but be pleased that he’s noticed. On the inside, in his own hand writing, is You Make Me Live, Dearest, in deference to the song Crowley has, on many occasions, blasted so loud their neighbors have pounded on the wall, practically shouting the lyrics at Aziraphale, hauling him, laughing, into terrible dancing that usually ends up knocking something over. Aziraphale takes a deep breath, and sings very quietly, and off-key, voice wavering (he hasn’t sang since his second puberty; he had a lovely voice, before, he was in a choir, but he hasn’t quite gotten the hang of it since), “Oh, you make me live, whenever this world is cruel to me–”

Crowley grabs him by his lapels and hauls him up into a hungry kiss, passersby be damned.

(It looks like this:

Aziraphale is crying, his face in his hands, and Crowley is frozen on his knees, all his giddy joy slowly leaving him, a hollow humiliation replacing it.

“Angel,” he says, hating how his voice cracks. “Angel, I’m sorry, you don’t have to say yes–you can keep the ring, I want you to have the ring–I won’t–I won’t leave, if you say no–unless you want me to, obviously–” Shit, shit, shit, he didn’t fuck up that bad, did he–

Aziraphale drops his hands, startled, and stares at him. “Why on earth would I want that?” he asks, and he goes to his knees on the wet concrete, pulling the ridiculous handkerchief that matches his ridiculous bow tie from his breast pocket, dabs at his eyes, wipes his nose, and puts it in his pocket with a deep breath. “I never–I never thought this would be possible, the way I wanted it,” he says at last. “I never even–considered it, really, I wished, perhaps, but I never–” he stops, and he stares at Crowley with such warmth and love it settles him, a little. He’s not going to turn him out, and that’s really all that matters.

“I just thought, I know you wouldn’t want to do it…officially, so it might not be legal, but maybe–you and me, we could say some vows,” he says. “If you wanted. If you don’t, that’s fine,” and his voice, the goddamn traitor, cracks again on the word.

“Oh, dear, I haven’t said yes, have I?” Aziraphale says, and he smiles, a watery thing, puts his hand on Crowley’s wrist. “Yes, darling, I’d love nothing more than to marry you, I really wouldn’t.”

“Oh,” he says, and a smile begins to form. “Oh. That’s–great, then.”

“You ridiculous thing,” Aziraphale says, beaming, and he throws his arms around him, pressing a soft kiss to his neck. He can feel his lashes flutter against the soft skin there, the slide of warm tears, his breath ghosting across the fine hairs, and he shivers.

“Hey,” he says, nudging him. “Hey. Did you see the ring?”

Aziraphale laughs, leaning back onto his haunches, and wipes at his eyes. “The ring?”

“Yeah, the ring,” Crowley says, waving it about. He thinks it looks even more impressive in the washed-out grey light, shining like a second sun.

“Crowley,” he whispers, seeming to really truly notice it for the first time. “Where–where did you get this?” His hands hover around it, reverent, as if he’s afraid to touch it.

“An antiques shop,” he says proudly. “Give me your hand.”

“How did you afford it?” he asks wonderingly, and he lets Crowley take his hand in his, slide it onto his finger, smiles at his little sigh of relief when it fits.

“Saved up,” he says. “That’s, er. What I’ve been doing, going out.”

“I was curious,” Aziraphale says, and his eyes well up again. “Oh, darling, all this time, you’ve been working?”

“Wanted you to have the best,” he says. “Look, see, they’re angel wings.” He runs a finger around the band, beaming at it. “You like it?”

“Crowley, my dear, I love it more than I can say,” he says fervently, and he puts a hand on his cheek again, leans in to give him a chaste, brief kiss. “Let’s go home,” he suggests. “I’ll thank you properly.”

Crowley leaps to his feet, bringing Aziraphale with him, and they don’t quite run to the bus stop, but it’s a very close thing, giggling like drunk teenagers sneaking out late, laughter peeling through the park when Crowley’s poorly laced boots send them tumbling, arms linked, into the grass.)

It looks like this:

It’s 2000, and it’s 2014, and they run home from the bus stop in a sudden downpour of rain, having forgotten umbrellas, absent-minded and distracted by more important things. A leather jacket is shed onto the floor, a tweed coat thrown in the vague direction of a coat rack; Crowley throws Aziraphale’s suspenders off his shoulders with pleased gusto, a tie, belt, shirts, hit the floor with abandon, sunglasses are placed very delicately somewhere safe. Crowley pulls at Aziraphale’s binder insistently, in 2000, yanks his white undershirt over his head in 2014; oxfords and combat boots are tossed and hit the walls and floor; they stumble over their pants as they try to take them off without stopping, without taking their hands off each other for even a moment, and the old bed creaks when they tumble onto it. The headboard cracks against the wall, knocks the crucifix loose, and the thud is followed by shaking laughter overtaken by gasps, and cries, and fervent declarations, hands clasped, mouths sliding inelegantly together. I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you; and they’re both thinking with desperate and delighted devotion, my husband, my husband, my husband.

#Sorry This Is So Long #i got carried away #look i had to fit in two proposals #thank you for asking im love human au #henry speaks #ineffable husbands #good omens #human au #Anonymous #can you tell i was raised protestant and very much not catholic #apologies to my catholic friends for any errors on that front #hi im henry a gay christian and very emotional about it #henry writes

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yandere-daydreams · 5 years

Note

Bnha Yandere Couples. Go wild.

Oh lovely, you’ve never made me happier.

Let’s start with everyone’s favorite couple, Kirishima and Bakugo. They’ve already been together for years by the time you come into the equation, so for a while, you might feel like an outsider. A stranger, intruding on something private. But these charming, loving boys will do their best to make you feel welcomed. I mean, they care about you! They’d never want you to feel excluded in your own relationship. And with this kind of mentality, some bad habits are bound to form.

Hands around your waist whenever you step out of the house, a growing insistence that they escort you everywhere and anywhere, Kirishima’s soft kisses and brutal grip whenever you try to leave the house alone, Bakugo’s needy whines whenever either of you pays attention to someone else… it’ll be cute, until it’s oh-so suddenly not.

One day, you might just stumble out of bed wondering where either of your boyfriends ran off to. Images of a late-night emergency or a murdered neighbor will swim through your head, only making you more relieved when you find Kirishima sitting at the kitchen table, idly scrolling through his phone while Bakugo rubs the sleep out of his eyes, standing a few feet to the side and whispering about something you can’t hear.

“Come back to bed,” You’ll say, draping over Kirishima’s shoulders, your eyes still closed, if only for dramatic effect. “It’s cold without you guys, I’m lonely.”

When neither of them responds, you’ll sigh, opening your eyes and narrowing them at the small device. When your vision clears enough to see, you’ll almost wish you didn’t. Images of chains, ropes, electric collars decorate the screen, all listed with prices from a dealer you won’t recognize. You won’t have much time to dwell on the subject, as Bakugo will take the cue to sweep you off your feet, letting out a forced laugh and clambering to say something.

“Guess you found out earlier than you should’ve,” He’ll chuckle, looking towards Kirishima for help. The redhead, with a smile so bright you’ll want to believe it’s genuine, will be by your side in a moment, clinging to Bakugo’s side. “We were going to surprise you, but we’re getting a dog! Isn’t that great?”

You’ll nod along, but you won’t be convinced. If you’re smart, you won’t bring up Bakugo’s fur allergy, or the fact that Kirishima could never keep a puppy a secret.

You won’t bring up the new deadbolt on your bedroom door, either, or that you could swear it wasn’t there when you went to bed.

With Shinsou and Kaminari, however, it’ll be a different story. They’ve only been together for a few months, since according to Kaminari, Shinsou was just so distant when they first met. And with the disillusion of their honeymoon phase, they might be having a little trouble. Keeping Shinsou locked in a basement until he stopped calling Kaminari ‘delusional’ and ‘a stalker’ probably wasn’t the best choice, now that he thinks about it.

But Kaminari knows how to make things better! You’re the object of Shinsou’s affection, so bringing you home will surely make him happier. It helps that you’re still friends with Kaminari, so when he asks you to come over and stay for dinner, you won’t suspect anything until you’re fighting to stay conscious and cursing him out. You screamed so loudly, but Kaminari knew it would be worth it. As long as his Shinsou is happy.

Don’t worry, they’ll treat you so well. You’ll be spoiled rotten, dressed up, treated like royalty, and when you’re playing-nice, neither of them will lay a hand on you. Sure, Shinsou’s a little… clingy, always touching you and saying how you must love him now (considering your current situation), and Kaminari treats you more like a pet, always baby-talking and locking you in a kennel whenever you get too defiant. But, it’s not that bad, as long as you give-in easily.

“You really like ‘em, don’t you?” Kaminari will ask, ruffling your hair as his counterpart digs his face further into your neck. You’ll be in Shinsou’s lap, holding back tears and trying to ignore the chafe of the perimeter-collar around your neck. “Trying to replace me already?”

“Absolutely,” Shinsou’ll answer, without hesitation. And yet, there’s a playful chide to his voice. Like his imprisonment didn’t matter anymore, as long as he had something cute and submissive to hold. He’ll sigh dreamily, looking up to Kaminari with a small smile. “Seriously, thank you. My kitten’s happy to be with me, too. Aren’t you, (Y/n)?”

“Y-Yes,” You’ll stutter out, not knowing what else to do. The memories of Kaminari dragging you back down to that small, freezing room will still be fresh, those of Shinsou’s pent-up tears and that humiliating leash even more recent. Gently, Kaminari’s nails will brush over your scalp. A reward, for making his lover happy. When you whimper, starting to tear up, neither of them will care. Shinsou will just hold you closer, and Kaminari will slot himself next to both of you, asking about the new series Shinsou had started while he was away.

Shinsou does love you, and in a way, Kaminari loves you too. But… it’s a hopeless, obsessive situation. And desperate times call for desperate measures.

Last but certainly not least, there’s Shoto and Izuku. They’ve been together for a while now, and between Izuku’s rough childhood and Shoto’s problems with a certain fatherly figure, there’s no room for boundaries, let alone secrets. That was never a problem until you, the peppy new assistant of their joint-agency, comes into the picture.

The moment Izuku sees you, he knows you’re meant to be together. Shoto isn’t much better, seeing his boyfriend’s obsession as yet another adorable quirk. And he won’t lie, Shoto likes the idea of keeping you for himself and Izuku to enjoy. Don’t be surprised when you suddenly get promoted to their personal assistant, or when Izuku excitedly starts showing you pictures of yourself. You would be flattered, if you remembered when he took them. Or if they weren’t so… suggestive.

You’ll be pulled into their office every time they have the chance, for either some light kissing or dry-humping on Shoto’s desk. They’ll invite themselves over to your apartment, running into you whenever you’re out with friends, insisting that you take your lunch breaks with one or both of them… it’s suffocating, to say the least. Normally, you’d be able to skip town and file a restraining order, but they have their ways of keeping you around.

“Wait, Midoriya, not now,” You’ll complain, pushing him away. But, he’s a Pro-Hero. If he wants to kiss your neck and keep you pinned against his office’s window, he’s going to kiss you. Still, he’ll frown, hesitating for a moment. “Haven’t you missed me?”

“Of course, babe,” Shoto will call over, not bothering to get up. He’ll be sitting back lazily in his desk chair, exhausted from his latest mission. With a smirk plastered across his lips, he’ll continue. “You’re just shy. Pretty little things need affection, right?”

You’ll bare your teeth, growling and trying to keep Izuku away, but his passion is easily renewed. While he sucks and licks at your neck, making up for so much lost time, Shoto’s eyes will never leave you. At least he’ll sit up, even if his chin is still propped on his fist. “I mean, you were giving yourself quite a lot of affection last night, weren’t you? I thought you’d be tired from your shift, but you always find a way to surprise us.” Finally, he’ll stand, cupping your cheek as soon as he gets close enough. “Izuku made sure to save the footage, like always. You wouldn’t want all those shallow friends of yours to find out you’re doing our job, would you?”

Silently, you’ll shake your head, blushing despite yourself. Izuku chooses that moment to tug at the collar of your shirt, beaming up at you. His gaze will flicker towards Shoto, but returning back to you all-too-quickly. “We’re always happy to take care of you!”

You can either let the advances of two psychotic Heroes go unreported, or have your entire life ripped up and torn to shreds. The choice is obvious. Although, complete self-destruction might become a little more appealing when you see the room they have set up. It’s so safe, so cozy… it’d be even better if they got rid of the cameras… and the chains.

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carmenlire · 4 years

Text

Meet Me in the Stacks Ch. 3

read from beginning

read on ao3

As soon as Yoongi hears the overhead announcement that the library is officially closed, he’s shutting down his computer at the reference desk and heading towards the back to grab his things. It’s one of the last Sundays of the season that they’re open and he’s eager to enjoy the end of his weekend before coming back to work for another six straight days.

He passes by Taehyung who’d been assigned to the computer area for today’s shift and winces a little as he sees his coworker helping three different people print while trying to hurry them along as quickly and subtly as possible.

When Yoongi gets to their workroom, Jin and Jimin are already packed up and ready to head out.

“Is Namjoon at the restaurant already?”

Jimin laughs as he types something on his phone. “Of course. He rode his bike there and already put in his name for a table. We should be seated as soon as we get there. Hobi-hyung just drove straight to the restaurant on his way back into town so he'll be there, too.”

Groaning, Yoongi makes sure he has his wallet and keys before shuffling over to the door. “Thank God. I’m hungry and need to vent.”

“Ah, Yoongi-chi, what pissed you off today?”

Grumbling as he opens the door and still sees Taehyung helping the last patron, Yoongi just mutters, “I’ll tell everyone later.”

Jin and Jimin hum in understanding, knowing that they never talk shit about patrons when they’re at work and can be overheard.

The three of them leave through the staff entrance at the back, Jimin making eye contact with Tae to make sure he knows where they’ll be waiting, and Yoongi squints at the bright early evening sunshine.

It’s a little past five o’clock but it’s still warm. Yoongi feels a little like a bat or a particularly grubby mole as his eyes literally burn at the brightness.

Jimin sees his suffering and has the audacity to laugh. “Hyung, you should get out more, enjoy the fresh air. You look like a baby vampire.”

Yoongi snorts. “Fuck off, Jimin,” he retorts absently.

Thankfully, it’s not too much more before Taehyung comes tumbling out of the staff entrance.

“Oh my God,” he whispers, looking like he’d just stared death in the face. “I didn’t think I’d ever make it out of there.”

Everyone laughs in commiseration at their friend’s dramatics. “We were losing hope too,” Jin snickers before patting him on the shoulder. “But you’re free now and Yoongi’s about to start eating his foot so let's get to the restaurant.”

They decide to walk since it’s such a nice day and not for the first time, Yoongi begrudgingly admits that he really does love living in a small town where everything is within walking distance. The library is just a few blocks from Main Street, closer to the school, and Main Street is chock full of small businesses-- everything from a coffee shop to the soap store that he spends way too much at every time he visits to a world-famous toy store that makes their little corner of the world especially hectic during the Holidays.

There are a dozen restaurants, each with their own specialty, and Yoongi is glad that Namjoon had chosen the barbeque place for his week’s pick. The six of them go out every Sunday evening for what they’ve taken to calling family dinners and while he’ll never admit it aloud, Yoongi loves this little tradition of theirs.

It’s a pleasant walk, less than fifteen minutes, and Namjoon’s bike is clearly visible near the front. When everyone walks in, they see Hoseok and Namjoon at their favorite table in the corner. A messy few minutes later as everyone settles, and Yoongi breathes a sigh of relief at sitting down and being off the clock and away from hell, at least for the next fifteen hours.

“So,” Taehyung starts, skimming over a menu he could probably recite at this point. “How was your weekend, Hoseok-hyung?”

Hoseok grins, taking a sip of his coke that he must’ve ordered before everyone else arrived. “It was wonderful, Tae-ah. I’m glad I put in for this weekend off. Going back home was fun, especially since the weather was so nice, and my mom sent me back with enough food to feed an army.”

“Well, we know where to stop by for dinner this week, don’t we,” Jimin asks and Hoseok groans good-naturedly.

“I’m glad you had a good time, even if you left the rest of us to suffer in your stead,” Taehyung says solemnly and Namjoon snorts.

“What happened this afternoon, Tae? I know Yoongi texted me last night about how awful things were at closing yesterday but you look, no offense, a little wrung out.”

Yoongi interjects before Taehyung can reply. “You act like you don’t remember how Saturdays used to be. If we’re not dead then it’s Bedlam. Just because you’re management now doesn’t mean you should be so impervious to the plights of your staff. After all, if it weren’t for us common librarians--”

Everyone, including Namjoon, groans at the familiar spiel. “Stop bullshitting, hyung. Did I not cover the desk all week with you last month when Jin took off and we were short staffed in the evenings? And did I not have to calm down Cerano when he almost went nuclear at the prospect of, God forbid, having to pay for his 132 single-sided color prints?”

Grumbling, Yoongi just rolls his eyes. “At least you didn’t get hit on by a woman looking old enough to be your grandmother yesterday. And I couldn’t very well offend her delicate sensibilities and tell her I was gay as fuck, so I just had to smile as she had the audacity to pinch my cheeks and call me a goddamn dumpling. When I tell you that I’m entitled to financial compensation--”

“The union pays a fair wage, you know,” Jimin breaks in mildly and Yoongi just glares at the flagrant disrespect.

Before things can get any more out of hand, though, Namjoon calms everyone down. “Well, it’s good to know that the building’s still standing and that my department is making me proud even when I’m not there.”

Everyone scoffs and as the topic turns to talking about potential plans for the group to go on a weekend trip together over the summer, Yoongi reflects that he’s really quite glad he took this job in a small town a few years ago.

Yoongi hadn’t always known what he wanted to do. He’d majored in history in college-- minoring in a few other areas that caught his interest-- but knew he didn’t have the patience to pursue his Ph.D. and become a professor. He’d always had fond memories of his own library back home, though, of reading any book he could get his hands on, of his mom taking him every week when he was still young enough to participate in children’s programs.

As graduation had started looming, Yoongi had applied for an internship at a research library and had fallen in love. He loved learning and helping others find what they wanted made him feel good, like he was making a difference, even if it was such a small one. As soon as his last semester had began and his internship had wrapped up for the summer, he’d started applying for Masters programs in Library Science and had learned very quickly that there is a lot that goes into making libraries run smoothly and stay relevant to the masses.

He’d been roommates with Seokjin and Namjoon during college and while he’d wandered from library to library for a few years, trying different types of institutions to see what fit and what didn't, his old roommates had started as entry level librarians in a small town a couple of hours away from university.

The three of them had stayed in touch and Yoongi had treated them to a celebratory dinner whenever Namjoon was promoted to first assistant manager and then manager of the adult services department. Seokjin, for his part, was content enough in his role, tending to his collections and away from the pressure of dealing with the director directly and having to make all those big grand strategic plans for their department and library at large.

Namjoon thrived in his new role and when he’d reached out to Yoongi, let him know that someone was retiring and they’d have a spot open, Yoongi hadn’t hesitated to apply.

His best friend hadn’t been part of the interview committee and all around, that made things easier. He’d been offered the job the next day, started within a month, and had quickly found himself surrounded by idiots.

He loved it.

Yoongi’s been at the library for a few years now and while the whole department is full of dumbasses, they have the highest circulation of any neighboring library and Namjoon keeps them all in line with firm but fluid leadership.

Moving to a new town is always nerve wracking but Yoongi likes to think that he’s settled into things. He had Namjoon and Seokjin but his other coworkers in the department became fast friends, welcoming him with open arms. Of course, he’d heard stories about Hobi and Jimin and Taehyung-- but they had heard stories too and they had seemed to be friends almost before he even started his new position.

All in all, things were good. Yoongi didn’t absolutely hate his job, he had good friends, and he lived in a quiet neighbourhood with a bustling town life that he rarely participated in but knew he could if he did.

Yoongi’s thoughts break off as he hears Jimin’s peel of laughter. Tuning back into the conversation, he hears Hoseok exclaim, “You should see the way Yoongi turns red whenever he comes up to the desk. I thought his ears were gonna catch fire the last time he helped him.”

Glaring, Yoongi demands, “What the hell are you cretins talking about now?”

It’s Namjoon who laughs. “Everyone was filling me in on your admirer. I can’t believe you’ve had to tell him where the computers are six times and you haven’t lost your patience yet. It must be love,” he teases with a grin and Yoongi plots murder.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Joon-ah,” he says stiffly and resolutely ignores the fact that it’s getting a little warm in the restaurant.

Thankfully, everyone simmers down as the waitress comes by with drinks-- Hoseok and Namjoon ordered for everyone while they were waiting-- and it’s time to order food.

That only eats up so much time though and soon enough, Yoongi’s back in the hot seat and cursing his existence for moving here and landing himself with a bunch of idiots.

“So hyung,” Taehyung starts with a wide smile. “Have you gotten Jungkook’s number yet?”

Yoongi just narrows his eyes. “How do you know his name?”

Taehyung waves the question away. “Oh, we’re getting to be friends,” he answers airily.

Jimin giggles and it’s a little concerning how devious it sounds. “Sometimes he comes in and you’re not there so we got to talking one day when Taehyungie and I were at the desk together. He really is cute, isn’t he?”

Feeling like he’s chewing glass, Yoongi grits out, “I guess if you’re into that kind of thing.”

“And are you into that,” Hoseok asks with an infuriating smirk. “You know, tall and toned and with those tattoos--”

“The way his hair falls into his eyes,” Jin adds dreamily. “The way he dresses like he wants to tell you to fuck off but then he speaks and he’s the cutest, most polite thing you ever saw--”

Yoongi tries to keep from smiling but sees from the way Namjoon’s eyes sharpen as he watches him and knows he’s not being as subtle as he’d like. Knowing that he has to say something, all Yoongi can manage is, “So maybe I think he’s attractive. That doesn’t mean anything’s going to happen.”

“And why not,” Jimin asks, genuinely curious. “You like him, he likes you--”

“How on earth can you know that,” Yoongi cuts in flatly. “He’s never done anything to show he’s interested in me as more than the librarian who knows where the copier is.”

He’s stunned when the entire table groans in unison.

“You have got to be kidding me,” Hoseok asks, looking a little put-out. “As if Jungkook doesn’t make a beeline towards you whenever he comes to the library.”

“Like he doesn’t know exactly where everything is by now and like he isn’t a reasonably well-adjusted adult who could figure things out by himself but still asks you for help just so he can bask in your grumpy little gremlin presence for a few minutes--”

“Wait what,” Yoongi breaks in, shocked. “What do you mean he knows where everything is? Every time he comes in, he needs directions.”

“Yeah, from you,” Seokjin says pointedly.

“If he doesn’t see you at the reference desk, he doesn’t even look at us,” Taehyung adds. “At least before I introduced myself and pulled him into a conversation. The most we ever got from him was a wave and a little smile.”

From his periphery, Yoongi sees Namjoon open his mouth and he closes his eyes in defeat, knows that his friend is about to put the final nail in the coffin that has been Yoongi’s frankly impressive ability to downplay his feelings and any hope that they might be reciprocated.

He’s right.

Namjoon looks sheepish as he adds his two cents. “If this is who I think we’re talking about, I’ve seen him around.”

Looking intrigued, Hoseok prompts, “Do tell.”

With a wary glance in Yoongi’s direction, like Namjoon is afraid he’ll just lunge across the table to shut him up, Namjoon explains, “I was walking back from a managers meeting and saw someone in the New Nonfiction section? He was a little distracted looking at the cover of a book and someone bumped into him. He was admittedly pretty hot so I wasn’t running back to my office like I usually am--”

Jin snorts but Namjoon merely plods on, neck a little warm, “Anyway, I heard the patron who bumped into him ask if he knew where the scanner was and Jungkook told them. I was ready to step in but he had it handled. A few minutes later after I talked to Jimin-ah at the computer desk, I looked up and he was actually helping the old woman scan her papers.”

Nodding along like it confirms everything they’ve been saying, Hoseok looks smug. “He’s not only a gentlemen but he knows how to use technology.”

Jin stabs into his starter salad that's just been placed in front of him before pointing his fork with a cherry tomato hanging off the end at Yoongi. “Snap him up before someone else does, Yoongi-chi.”

Taeyhung laughs. “Yeah, you know Jimin and I are always looking--”

“Shut up,” Yoongi pleads quietly as he brings a hand up to his temple. “What the fuck,” he mutters to himself, wondering what Jungkook’s aim is here.

“Isn’t it obvious, hyung,” Namjoon asks, making Yoongi realize he must’ve spoken aloud. “He’s trying to woo you.”

With an unattractive snort, Jin tacks on, “I know it might be hard to believe, but some people think you’re cute.”

Yoongi blinks but Jin doesn’t let him say anything before his tone turns philosophically wry and he’s continuing, “Some people really like the grump look. Admittedly, I didn’t think odds were on that you’d find someone at work when all you do is glare at your computer screen mutinously and whisper under your breath about running away to a fishing village in Florida but here we are and Jungkook seems like a nice enough guy, albeit one who makes me worry about his taste in men, if he likes them so prickly--”

“Oh but hyung,” Taehyung breaks in mischievously, “Have you really seen Yoongi with Jungkook? He turns into a little kitten, I swear--”

“Yah, I’m still your hyung, you brat,” Yoongi interrupts darkly. “Would it kill you to show a little respect?”

“But he’s right, Yoongi.” Jimin would almost look apologetic if it wasn’t for the devilish gleam in his eye. “I’ve seen you stutter when Jungkook asks you a question and as soon as you see him, your whole face lights up. Granted, I don’t think most people would be able to notice but your dourness is only, like at a one out of ten instead of off the charts. He even makes you smile when he’s being adorably awkward, too.”

“Too,” Yoongi repeats, squinting a little.

Taehyung nods solemnly. “You’re a mess around him, Yoongi-hyung.”

“A match made in heaven then,” Hoseok crows and the rest of the table laughs.

Yoongi’s just trying to stop his thoughts from spinning out of control at the fount of information that just dumped all over him. Deciding he needs a quick break to get himself under control, he moves his chair back, merely offering, "I need to go to the restroom," when Jimin looks at him in question.

The group waves him on, having a merry time, and Yoongi rolls his eyes even as he huffs out a fond laugh at their antics, even if they're at his expense.

They come to this restaurant at least once a month-- they all love barbecue a little too much-- and Yoongi's sliding around tables and heading towards the restrooms near the front of the building. He spends a few minutes at the sink, and when he looks at himself in the mirror, he winces seeing that his face definitely didn't hide his reactions to all the ribbing about Jungkook.

He collects himself and feels better as he washes his hands and goes to head back to the table. Swinging open the door, he's passing the hostess stand when he hears someone call out his name. "Yoongi?"

Looking over, Yoongi freezes when he meets Jungkook's eyes. Out of everyone in town, Yoongi despairs, he just just had to run into his crush when he'd just gotten himself back under control. He only hopes that none of his friends are looking over or he'll never hear the end of it.

"Hi, Jungkook," He greets warmly. Not seeing anyone obviously with him, Yoongi asks, "Are you eating alone?"

He's all set to ask Jungkook if he'd like to join him and his friends-- and he knows, he knows, that his friends will have way too much to say if he brings him back to his table but there's a little voice in his head that points out that Jungkook seems pretty new in town and if he's eating out at a restaurant alone, he might like some company and apparently, Jungkook is already friends or at least friendly with the devil twins and it might not even be so bad to eat with Jungkook, to see how he acts with the most important people in Yoongi's life, that he'd love to spend more time with him outside of the library-- but all of his rambling internal wishes are for naught when Jungkook just smiles sheepishly and nods towards where the hostess is walking towards them with a bag.

"I'm just picking up takeout, don't worry."

Yoongi nods, thinking of what he can say to add to the conversation before the silence grows too long and awkward between them. "This is one of the best restaurants in town. Even their takeout is amazing."

Jungkook grins and reaches out for the bag the hostess holds, murmuring his thanks before he turns fully to Yoongi. "I might have a serious weakness for their lamb skewers. I come here like, twice a week at least," he admits with a little laugh and Yoongi doesn't know why, but he's endeared.

"That's what I usually get," Yoongi says and watches Jungkook's eyes light up.

"Really, Yoongi-ssi?" Yoongi nods, feels his face get warmer which is infuriating since he had just cooled down but Jungkook suddenly looks a little nervous as he bites his lip. Finally, looking at Yoongi a little shyly, Jungkook says, "Maybe one of these days we could get lamb skewers together?"

Before Yoongi even has a chance to respond, Jungkook's eyes are widening and he's almost backtracking. "I know that we don't really talk outside of the library and that even when we do, you're always helping me but I thought it might be nice to talk-- outside of your work, sometime. If you wanted to, of course! I don't mean to put you on the spot and I know it must be awkward to have to tell someone who sees you at your work no but please feel free to if you don't want to--"

"Jungkook-ah," Yoongi finally breaks in just for Jungkook to obviously cut himself off and take a deep breath. "I'd like that."

"Yeah," Jungkook asks, hopeful, eyes wide and the hint of a smile curling on his mouth.

Yoongi had mostly talked before he'd let himself think but it's not like this isn't what his friends were just hinting at. He's still loathe to get his hopes up but if this is Jungkook making a move or trying to be friends, then Yoongi definitely doesn't want to discourage that. And while he knows he's a flustered mess, he'd really like to hang out with Jungkook more, especially outside of work. "Yeah," he confirms with a smile of his own, tentative and small, just to watch Jungkook grin.

It's almost blinding. Yoongi loves it.

"Great," Jungkook says. "We'll definitely do that then."

Yoongi can't think of anything to say besides repeating Jungkook again. "Great," he says, abashed and drops his eyes to stare at Jungkook's combat boots.

Looking down, he doesn't see the way Jungkook's gaze softens, turns into something gentler and unforgivably enamored.

It's silent between them for a moment and Yoongi's used up all of his brainpower to get this far so it's a little startling when Jungkook suddenly shifts and lifts his bag a little, apologetic. "It was really great running into you, Yoongi-ssi but I should probably get going before my food gets cold. I'll see you soon?"

Nodding along to whatever Jungkook was saying, Yoongi blinks a little before offering, "Hyung."

Jungkook tilts his head a little, confused, and Yoongi takes a breath. "You can call me hyung. If you want."

This time it's Jungkook's turn to look away, flustered and happy, but he's meeting Yoongi's eyes again a split second later. "Okay, then. Hyung. I'll see you later?"

"Okay, Jungkook-ah. I'll see you later. It was nice running into you like this."

Jungkook waves with his free hand, smile bright as he steps toward the door. "Bye, hyung!"

Yoongi watches him stride past the big window and sighs a little to himself. He doesn't really know what the last five minutes were but he's happy and a little nervous but definitely feeling good.

Knowing that his friends will probably start looking for him soon, he take a deep breath, wills the blush he just knows is high on his cheeks to fade, and walks back to their table.

Everyone smiles at his return and he takes his seat quietly, listening to Hoseok update everyone on how his parents are and what he did this weekend back in his hometown. He's not really paying attention to the conversation though, too wrapped up in what just happened with Jungkook and if it means what he really wants it to mean and how it might connect to what his friends had been telling him before he'd left the table.

There's a pause in the conversation as the waitress brings their meals out and Yoongi debates with himself on bringing Jungkook back up but he wants to be sure, can’t quite stop the hope from sparking but before it starts raging out of control. He just needs one last bit of reassurance.

Taking a deep breath, his quiet voice breaks through the pandemonium that’s his friends making fun of him.

“So he really doesn’t need help,” he asks, out of nowhere, trying to pretend the answer isn’t important to him, like he’s not hinging on his friends’ next words. “He only singles me out?”

Jin’s eyes soften as he looks at him and Yoongi feels both put on the spot but comforted as one of his oldest friends just nods softly. “I’m telling you, Yoongi-yah, Jungkook is at least interested in you.”

“Definitely,” Jimin confirms nodding earnestly. “Did you know that he’s had his office printer set-up for weeks now but still comes to the library to work sometimes? But hyung, if he doesn’t see you then he just wanders in the books for a little while before grabbing one and checking out. He really is just coming to the library for you.”

“Maybe you should give him a chance, hyung,” Taehyung encourages and Yoongi smiles despite himself.

His friends really do mean well even if they’re a pain in his ass most of the time.

“I don’t know,” he says, unsure and not bothering to hide it. “What if I do something, or let myself think something means something, and it turns out he’s just a nice guy who’s polite and I read way too much into things?”

It looks like Hoseok is praying for patience but his voice is soft and nothing but supportive and understanding as he replies, “Then you still put yourself out there and that’s something to be proud of. Plus, you’re both so awkward and nice that it wouldn’t ruin anything. You could at least be friends.”

“As your manager,” Namjoon breaks in and Yoongi stiffens a little wondering if this is going to be one of the times when his friend has to be the bad guy. “I don’t see anything wrong with talking to him outside of the library or even asking him on a date. You’re never presumptuous or pushy, hyung. If he even hinted that he wasn’t into you like that, you’d back up and remain professional. I don’t see any issue with you crushing on a patron.”

The rest of the table cheers now that they have their boss’ approval and Yoongi pretends like he doesn’t feel the same relief.

“Whatever,” he finally says when the expectant looks of his friends starts to be a bit much and he feels like he has to speak. “We’ll see what happens but I’m not in any rush to make a fool of myself.”

“Ah hyung,” Jimin says, wrapping an arm around Yoongi’s shoulders, “You’ll be fine. It’s not like Jungkook doesn’t look ready to bookmark your ass as soon as you give the okay.”

Yoongi chokes, reaching for his water, and all of his friends laugh at his flustered face, rapidly turning red. He hates them, he really does.

But then Seokjin pats his shoulder and deftly turns the topic back to work and how he’d almost gotten into a fight with a group of teenagers who’d called him an ancient hag when he’d merely told them to lower their voices a little, and Namjoon looks like he’s seeing his department demerits flash in front of his eyes and everyone’s laughing as the heat is taken off of Yoongi and he decides that this isn’t so bad, after all.

He doesn’t know if anything will come from his conversation with Jungkook tonight, so he decides not to say anything, doesn’t want to give anyone any more fodder against him-- really doesn’t want his friends to get so excited that it makes him hope, too. He’ll see what happens and maybe he won’t try so hard to hide his feelings.

Ignoring a voice that sounds suspiciously like Jimin telling him that he’s already shit at hiding his feelings, Yoongi forgets about crushes and guys who can be both hot and adorable at the same time and enjoys the rest of his family dinner with his friends, thinking about how his life is made up of small moments like these that all string together to make a pretty good existence, all in all.

#my writing #meet me in the stacks #mmits #idk if i've actually posted this on here yet but here we go #better late than never i guess lol #yoonkook fic #yoonkook au

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lottiesfics · 5 years

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Remebering Sunday (dd)

A/N: 100% Based on Remembering Sunday by All Time Low :)

word count: 2,037

"I'm really glad you were able to come for breakfast Davey," Her voice was quiet, using the pet name she had used for the past 3 years. She loved him with all of her heart, he had something she always wanted. "Of course Doll, I wouldn't just leave without seeing you," David smiled at her. They've been distant this past few weeks. David was making the big move to Los Angeles with Dom and Mason. (Y/N) had a feeling things would go sour between them, yet she had hope that they'd stay together and once she finished college she'd be right by his side once again. "This breakfast is great!" She giggled. She was trying to emulate the things she did that made 10th grade David fall in love with her. The way she giggled, her smile, the way she smelt of vanilla and coconut. "(Y/N), I think we have to talk." He said, putting his fork down. She nodded, she stared down his cheese eggs like that would change anything. "I love you, you know I do," He started to avoid eye contact, he was looking anywhere else for some kind of release. Like him looking at the plant will make breaking up with the girl he had loved for 3 years any easier. "David, cut the the chase, just pull the plug," She said, closing her eyes. She didn't wanna cry, she didn't wanna upset him anymore. "(Y/N), Please. I want you to be happy and I don't think me being 2,030 miles away will help that. You deserve better, WE deserve better," He said. (Y/N) laughed, "I guess David. It's okay, really, have fun in Los Angeles," She said, pulling out her wallet and throwing a 50 on the table. "Wait! (Y/N)! I don't want the money, I got it!" He said, trying to get her to stop standing up. "No David, your right. I'll maybe see you around," She said. Then she walked, she walked out of his life, right into busy Chicago streets. David sighed, putting his head in his hands. That was 3 years ago, but two years ago since they had last seen each other. Of course, Liza made him happy, she gave him a sense of (Y/N) but nothing would ever be her. David always said he made a mistake. That Sunday, the one with the breakfast, he would never forget. He finished editing his vlog, sighing. "Joe, what do I do? It's been too long for me to love her again," He said. "Well, her and Natale are still good friends right?" Joe asked him. "Yeah, I mean- they were. They spent College together but they haven't talked much since Natalie came out here," David said. "Maybe it’s time to go back to Vernon Hills, back to your roots, think about it David. When was the last time you really slept? The last time you ate anything but chipotle, the last time you weren't alone and drunk at 3 am?" Joe said, uploading the video. "You're right. I could film some-" David started but Joe stopped him. "No camera! Just David. The David the town knew years ago, the David that (Y/N) fell in love with," Joe sighed. "I'm buying a plane ticket right now," David said. "No Natalie or Jason, just you." He said. David sighed and nodded. He got a plane ticket for the next day. With no return trip. He didn't tell anyone he was going beside Natalie and Joe, he let everyone else figure it out for themselves. David didn't really know what he was going for. (Y/N)? His family? Ilya and his friends? Maybe David was finally going for himself! Finally doing something important to him. He boarded the plane, leaning into the window. He wanted someone to ask him where he was going, he wanted any excuse to talk about her. Yet, no one did ask him. This wasn't some 90s romantic movie or 2000s love bullshit, it was his life. It was something he had been living with for 3 years. He got off the plane and the Chigaco air hit him differently. "David!" His Dad yelled out for him. "Hey!" He said, walking down the escalator and giving his Dad a hug. "It's good to see you!" His Dad said. David didn't tell his family how long he was staying for. David didn't really know. He could be here for 48 hours or 48 days. He needed a break, and he knew he did. "Wait, so your telling me you didn't bring your only source of income?" His sister asked him. "Yeah, I thought I'd talk to you guys, see what's going on with everyone," He said, smiling. He knew his biggest goal was to finally formally apologize to (Y/N). Everything looks familiar here to him The buildings, the cars and the faces. Mr.Hendrickson down the block who runs Hendrick's Deli, Mr. and Mrs. Samoa, who run Samoa's Cookies. He loved all those around him and hadn't been here like this in a long time. He knew (Y/N)'s parents lived around the area. David went inside and upstairs to his old room. "We spruced things up a bit since you've been gone, but it's still your room," His Mom laughed. David laughed too. A genuine laugh. He looked at all the old pictures, all the old trophies, things lining the walls of the room that was once a bright green. It felt like she was right next to him, with the picture of the two of them, cap plus gown and all, on the day they graduated. He felt his heart pang as he thought of the girl he loved so dearly. He took the picture off the wall. As the picture fell into his hands, the ring did too. He was going to propose to her that day. But it didn't feel right. Maybe, it was time to change that. He had no real way fo finding her. He didn't have her number, he didn't know anyone who could lead him towards her. What was he to do now? Joe's words were coming back to haunt him. David ran out of his house, to his family's dismay. He had the ring and the picture, running to his neighbors doors asking "Have you seen this girl?" and the usual answer was, "No, I'm sorry David!" He felt lost and confused. Where else could he go? He went to Lakeside Avenue, where the spot was. They'd sneak out in the middle of the night when David got nervous or when she needed to rant about her grades. She always wanted to go to UCLA or Harvard but the money became an issue, so it was off to a state college for her. It was getting late and the sun was starting to set, yet David didn't give up. He made it this far he was not about to give up. He walked up to the last house he could get too. He knocked on the red door, picture in hand, ring in his pocket. A light flickered on in the window. "Don't people understand how late it is?" A deep voice came from inside the house. David wasn't too sure of the time, but he only assumed it was maybe 8 o'clock. "I'm sorry if I woke you, sir," David said. He became nervous. The man was older and wore glasses. Obviously in his relaxing pjs. Little did David know, this was (Y/N)'s favorite professor at her College. The man who convinced her to go to Europe and live out her dreams. "Its 10 pm, what can I do for you?" The man asked David. "I'm sorry for waking you-" "Cut to the chase kid," The professor was figuring out who David was little by little. He heard stories of the "boy who broke her heart". David felt a sting as he said those words. The words circled him just like they did when (Y/N) said them. "Have you seen this girl? I-I really need to talk to her," David held the picture up. The man sighed. "She ran away," He said. David's face dropped. "She what?" "She ran away. She's off to Europe to go follow her dreams, sorry kid. Get some sleep, hope you find her." The man said, shutting the door in David's face. David turned around and walked down the steps. Tears fell down his face. He came out here for her and she's gone. He wondered if this is what she felt that day. How one day could fuck so much up. He went on his next mission, going to Gabriel's house. Gabriel was (Y/N)'s best-friend beside David, and he may have more answers. David went to knock on the door. "Mama! I got it!" David heard from behind the door. "James! Let's go," Gabriel said, closing his door and walking into David. Oh, sh-why are you here?" Gabriel said. "I need to know where (Y/N) is," David said. "Bro, let it go. She's going to Europe. She's doing all the things she's wanted to do since the day you left." Gabriel said. "You don't understand how much this means to me," David said. "Ugh! Hold on." Gabriel said, walking back into his house. He left David for a minute. The darkness engulfing him with thoughts. "Here," Gabriel came back outside with a piece of paper. "She told me if you ever came looking for her, give this to you, she was planning on mailing you when she got to France but I thought I'd give it to you now, since you around David," Gabriel went back inside leaving David with his thoughts. He walked the streets reading. "David, I've felt guilty for 3 years. 3 long long years. I loved you so much, and I didn't believe in love for a long time. Every time I looked at you, there were butterflies. I can't tell you what I've done. I can't bring myself to hurt you as you hurt me. I never meant it, I never meant for it to happen. It just did. I was meaning to tell you that Sunday, but, you broke up with me. I wanted to tell you everything, I wanted to marry you and yet, you didn't feel the same. I'm not coming back, I can't ask for forgiveness but please forgive me. I won't write again, I won't call you because I can't confront you. But you'd expect that from me. I'm mixed up. I don't know what I want, I've been so broken for 3 years and I thought this would be easy but it's not. I've found the beauty in the little things, like the scrapbook I made for you but never gave to you. The rain and how three days after we broke up I stood in it, letting it metaphorically wash you out of my hair and out of my body. I like the metaphors, you like logistics. That's why we never worked. I'm over you now. I'm over it all, or maybe I'm not if I wrote this letter three years later. I'm off in France, keeping an eye on the world with my feet off the ground. It's time to say goodbye David, this is my home now." David started to cry, he felt his bones ache as he read each word. He lost her. He was too busy remembering Sunday that he never acted upon it. "I guess I'll go home now," He shrugged, walking back to his house and getting on a flight to LA for the next day.

#david dobrik #david dobrik smut #david dobrik imagine #david dobrik imagines #vlogsquad #vlog squad imagine #vlogsquad imagine #vlogsquad imagines #vlog squad #vlog squad imagines #david dobrik fluff #david dobrik angst #david dobrik sad #david dobrik x reader #zane hijazi #jeff witteck

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ikemenshakespeare · 5 years

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Day 4: “I know you didn’t ask for this.” w/ Oliver

Original fiction or fanfiction? Fanfiction!

Fandom: Ikemen Revolution

Warnings/Triggers: Drama! Angst! MINOR VIOLENCE! May be triggering for people who have panic attacks.

Authors Note: I tried to write a more desperate MC here because I feel like I could relate to this a lot in my own way. On a side note, I don’t particularly know Oliver’s character to well so I tried to play off the vibe I get from him and then I amplified it to this situation. Give me feedback if you have the time! Thank you, enjoy.

“As the black army promised, they want to keep you safe. However this past week they’ve noticed some unusual activity, someone’s watching you.”

“What do you mean?” I gawked at the two men in front of me. Blanc slowly grabbed my wrists and sat me down at the table.

“MC, What we’re trying to tell you is you’ll have to stay with us for the remainder of your visit here in Cradle. I couldn’t live with myself if anything happened to you, when I heard the news I immediately agreed to let you stay with Oliver and I.” Their words finally began to set in. My body began to shake. Since arriving things were non-stop. It had been about a week now and I’d just started to feel comfortable living with the black army. Now im supposed to leave and stay with a couple random men I just met? Don’t get me wrong, Blanc has been nothing but nice to me but I still hardly know anything about him. And don’t even get me started on the little I do know about Oliver, the main thing being how rude he is to just about everyone.

“N-No! I can’t. I already made a promise to Ray of my own. I told him in exchange for protecting me I would use my ability to deflect magic if they needed me to. How am I supposed to do that if I’m over here?” I jolted up.

“Darling please-” Blanc took hold of my shoulders this time. “Please just sit down. I understand your point but why don’t we try to talk things out a little longer before you rush out the door. Besides, It’s already so late, if you truly decide you can’t stay till the full moon then spending just one night here with us won’t be the end of the world right?” I felt my panic setting in. I didn’t say a word as I sat back down in my chair. I think I might be having a panic attack, I don’t know how much longer I can keep my grip. “Good girl, I’m gonna put on some tea. Oliver, keep MC company while I fix up something to help us sleep calmly tonight.” Oliver let out an exasperated sigh, and with that blanc left the room. Think MC, think... how much would Oliver care if I took this chance to run? The doors right there. I haven’t even said a word to him yet and he already looks exhausted. I’m sure if I just made a run for it he wouldn’t even give chase. I thought a plan at the top of my head. It was now or never. 3... 2.. 1.... RUN! I don’t know where the adrenaline came from but I bolted to the door and unlocked it, just as I opened it and felt the crisp night air on my skin I felt a forceful grip on my forearm.

“Get off of me! GET OFF OF ME!” A blood curdling scream I didn’t even know I possessed ruptured through me. Here it was, I had been building up to this moment since the day I fell through to this world. I’ve been thinking and thinking about how much pressure it would take till I cracked and it had come before my visit was even halfway finished. I was thrown back into the house and onto the floor. I heard the lock click shut again.

“Will you be quite?! If you wake our neighbors I’ll really give you something to scream about!” Oliver ripped me off the ground, forcing me to stand by the collar of my shirt. I fought at him as hard as I could.

“LET GO, LET GO! I don’t wanna be here! LET ME GO!” I knew exactly what I looked like, a raving lunatic, but I didn’t care.

“Oliver! Let go of her. Now!” I had never heard Blanc use that tone of voice before. He was always so proper and kind. This side of him sounded dark, demanding. Oliver dropped his arms from me and to my surprised I stayed standing. Even though physically he’d let me go, I could tell this wasn’t over judging by the look on his face.

“You imbecile! Do you even understand what’s at stake here?! You are a threat to more then one group of people in this country. Do you wish to be killed?! Do you want to throw your life away that badly?!” He was seething. When I finally spoke I couldn’t believe I had formed the words myself.

“Are you kidding me?! You act like I wanted this! Like I want to be here! I DON’T! I want to stay with the black army and keep my promise, then return to London where I belong!” Oliver growled.

“COULD YOU BE ANYMORE OF AN IDIOT?!”

“Oliver! Enough!” This time Oliver placed dominating eyes on Blanc.

“Shut it, rabbit!” Blanc crossed his arms and walked over to my side. I was happy that even as things were now, he still seemed to be on my side. “I know you didn’t ask for this.” He wasn’t yelling anymore. “However, if you think for even one minute that any of us get what we ask for you are WRONG. Things happen everyday Alice. I wouldn’t know where to begin if I had to tell you all the things in my life that I didn’t ask for. But I’m here, and I do what I have to do as a man everyday. We all do what we have to do cause not everything is going to go your way, little girl. So you better grow up quick and get used to it. Cause if you don’t I highly doubt you will survive to do any of those things you said before, even with Blanc and I here to help you.” There was nothing I could say. He gave me one last foul look before heading up the staircase to what I assumed was his bedroom. I could feel the shock starting to set in. My body went weak. I felt my knees go numb as my body collapsed to the ground. I couldn’t get myself together. The tears wouldn’t stop flowing, I felt Blanc’s hands on my back, trying to comfort me. I knew he was talking but I couldn’t hear anything he was saying. I was being devoured by the sadness, by the feeling of defeat. I’d lost my fair shot in the world, and Oliver was right. After a while Blanc walked me to a sofa in the living room. He laid me down with a blanket and I felt myself fall into a deep sleep.

Blanc walked up the staircase and straight to the room with a green door. He knocked but walked in with no answer. “Can you tell me what the point of that was?” Oliver sat at his desk. Working on whatever project was at hand.

“No. But you can tell me what happened down stairs earlier. I have never been so ashamed in my life, that was no way to treat a lady, Oliver.” Blanc was clearly disapproving.

“I care.” His words we’re so unbelievable, Blanc’s jaw almost dropped. “I want her to be happy. I want her to make it back to her world. She was trying to escape and I had to talk some sense into her the only way I knew how.” They weren’t making eye contact. Blanc continued to stare at Oliver’s back, then he sighed.

“Regardless, you have more then an apology to makeup for everything that happened with MC. Make sure that you make things right, starting with going to see her tommorow morning.” Blanc shut the door and left. Oliver went back to work, the image of MC’s broken face never leaving his mind.

#Fictober19 #Oliver Knight #Day 4 #Drama #Angst #Minor Violence #Potential Trigger Warning #Ikemen Revolution #Cybird

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athena1138 · 4 years

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work rant. tl;dr i’m unbelievably tired.

Things are rough. Blatantly. There’s no other way to say it.

My residents have been locked in their rooms for 10 weeks now, the first 2 of those because one of them brought in a rotovirus that spread like wildfire (even to me.)

I get they’re depressed and lonely and tired and jittery. But I’m over it.

We have one lady who’s literally on her death bed because she stopped taking care of herself. Right now I think she has a UTI because she’s getting up to pee four times an hour. It wouldn’t be a problem for us except that she leaves the light on to get back in bed “because she’s worried about falling” (nevermind she has never once fallen in my 7 months working here,) so she pages us to come turn it off. Four times an hour. Tonight, I said I wasn’t having it. The girl before me had almost had a breakdown trying to keep up with her, but this was her first night dealing with it because she’s been off. Not me. I’ve had four nights dealing with this. So tonight, the lady paged around 11:50 for her light. Fine. In and out. There were a lot of dishes left out in the hall from dinner, so I grabbed a cart and started picking them up. Literally 4 minutes after I left her room, she paged again. Nah. No. She can wait until I’m done, because I know it’s her light. She literally only pages for her light. 4 nights and dozens of pages have cemented this fact for me, so I’m not worried about making her wait a few minutes.

It took me 10 minutes to gather all the dishes, get them rinsed, an rack them so they’re ready for washing in the morning. Within those 10 minutes, she paged FOURTEEN TIMES. FOR HER FUCKING LIGHT. I’m trying to be calm. I’m trying not to get mad. She can’t help it. She’s got very bad dementia, she doesn’t realize how often she’s doing it. But holy fucking shit. We’ve tried talking to her daughter, but she won’t do anything. She’s only come in 2x to get her up and walking around. Like, yes, she needs exercise, but she needs to go to a doctor, too. She also needs a night light because she keeps asking us to leave lights on but the only light she can stand is from her window which i still too dark. I’ve tried literally anything else I could think of--oven light, TV on mute, cracking the bathroom door, moving the bullshit little blue light in her bathroom, nothing. No. Daughter won’t get it.

So there’s that.

We also have a resident who is, quite frankly, an asshole. I can’t stand him. He has done nothing but bitch since lockdown started.

What kills me is that it’s not even things that he used to bitch about. Before, he never ever ate kitchen food except breakfast. He ate lunch and dinner from his own food. Well, since lockdown, he has been getting trays. But he’s bitching about the trays. He’s bitching about being given soup he didn’t ask for, about food being gross, about this, about that, and it’s like dude. Don’t fucking order it if you don’t fucking want it. But it’s not just that. He went to the hospital last week and came back today, and he threw a HUGE fit because he’s missing 2 newspapers. Like, he made the girl working cry, and she doesn’t fucking cry. He’s blown up at me before because there was no jelly on his table for breakfast and that’s not even my fucking job, but when I told him that we were out of it, he yelled at me more about “You can’t fucking order enough food for 40 fucking people? What kind of a place is this?” THEN LEAVE. IF YOU’RE SO GODDAMN MISERABLE, LEAVE. Or he’ll come out and look out the front windows at night, which, whatever. Doesn’t bother me much. Except every other night he’ll ask if the storage room is open and I’ll say no, but I can open it for him, and he says no and just goes back to his room. Like??? Why’d you ask???

My favorite guy has always reminded me of No Face because he’s tall and doesn’t really know what’s going on, but these last few weeks, he’s just. I can’t even explain it. It’s like he’s empty. His dementia has gotten so bad. He’s stopped flushing his toilet, we think he’s peeing on his laundry, his speech is almost imperceptible he’s so quiet, he’s lost weight which is scary because he was already so skinny.

We have another dementia dude who had hip surgery a little over a month ago, and his aids are BITCHES. We HATE them. We’ve been fighting with them for weeks. They went fucking 3 weeks without giving him a bath or telling us he wasn’t getting a bath, so his skin is terrible. He’s itchy all the time, so they’re saying that it’s his pain medicine which is causing it, which isn’t true. They’re trying to keep him doped up so they don’t have to deal with him, but since we told our boss about it and he talked to theirs, they all of a sudden don’t want us giving him it anymore. All of a sudden, the pain meds make him itch and “are what caused his dementia” and make him dizzy. But none of that is true. He has other people who come in to help him, plus we see him and we’ve known him for months, and we all see that it’s bullshit. But they’re still here. And they have the gall to tell us how to do our jobs. They’re not nurses, they’re not RAs, they’re just random ass people their boss found. One is a high school dropout (not that there’s anything wrong with that, but considering that she’s talking about medical things, it’s relevant,) and the other thinks she knows what she’s talking about because she drove the bus for our neighboring facility. From which she got fired. For being a dick to her passengers. They’re like, “Well he needs his medicine at 6, not 8.” No, he doesn’t. This is when he’s had it for months. “You need to do this.” McFuckinScuse me? Ohohoh, and the kicker? They’ve been saying he’s “end life” since his surgery. Even though he’s not in pain, even though he’s much, much clearer because he got new anti-psychotic medication, even though he’s so much better now than he ever has been. Like. I’ve never been in a fight. but I’m gonna throw hands.

And we have people bitching about every little thing. Their breakfast arrives cold. Well, you have a microwave, we can’t keep it all hot because we deliver it by floor, not by room. They weren’t abiding the 6-foot-apart rule so we had to take out the furniture in the living room and outside, so they’re acting like children and saying shit like, “Well we’re jut going to sit in our walkers anyway.” Which we can’t do anything to stop them but like. Whatever. We have to spray down our mail and newspapers with our sanitizing gun before we can deliver it, so Every. Single. Morning. we get a phone call from one resident in particular who just angrily demands, “WHERE’S MY PAPER” and then hangs up. EVERY GODDAMN MORNING. LIKE DUDE YOUR FUCKING PAPER WILL BE THERE CALM THE FUCK DOWN.

Do you know how many fucking times we’ve been asked, “Well when is all this gonna end?” At least 5x a day, depending on the shift. I’ve even been asked on the midnight shift a couple of times. We don’t know when it’s going to end. We don’t control when it’s going to end. If you have a complaint, take it to our boss because we’re busy doing 3x the workload for the same fucking pay. One woman comes down every morning at 7:23 to see if the dining room is open yet despite the fact that we’ve told her it won’t be for several more weeks at least, and another lady is literally standing in the hallway for her breakfast before we’ve even started fucking making it.

And it’s just. It’s all day. All day there’s someone bitching about something insignificant, and it’s ridiculous. We have residents forgetting their children’s names, residents struggling to thrive, residents literally on the verge of dying, but everybody else is wasting our time with their petty and childish complaints about things which are meant to protect them, about things that we don’t have the power to change.

I just want to scream. I want to scream and cry and sleep for a solid week. And what makes it worse, what just turns this from a bad situation into a terrible goddamn nightmare is the fact that this is going to have to go on even longer because our government is so caught up in the idea of working us to death to profit itself that we’re opening everything up too fast and all this is going to start all over again.

The RAs are stir crazy, but at least we get to leave. We get to go outside, go home, maybe go hit a drive through or a gas station. When I say people have been locked in their rooms for 10 weeks, I mean people haven’t fucking stepped out into the hallway for 10 weeks. Some have. Some have been to see their neighbors, some have gone out, like they’re allowed (but if they go out, they’re under 14 day quarantine meaning they can’t leave their rooms unless they’re leaving again,) but I don’t think a good 1/3 of these people have even been outside to enjoy the sun. In 10 weeks. 70+ days. So I understand the crabbiness. I do. I don’t appreciate it, especially not directed at us, but I understand it. I’m just. So tired. And there’s so much left to muddle through still.

If I believed in a god, I’d say “God help us when we have to announce our extended lockdown,” but it’s a lawless universe without a master, so there’s no hope. We’re just fucked. We’re all so, so tired.

Please. Just please. Stay home.

#shut up becca #becca's work #becca rants #becca's work rants

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learningtolove05 · 4 years

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Love: A Letter to Myself

What would you do if a guy you recently met asked you to write a love letter to him? Would you dismiss the idea and call him a weirdo or would you entertain him and write the letter? I am clearly writing this essay so you know what I chose. Let me clarify, this is not a conventional teenage I-love-you-so-much-and-I’ll-die-without-you love letter. I hardly even know this guy and we’re not even dating. Which is why it’s a little strange that he asked me to write him a letter to begin with. But it did get me thinking; what the fuck even is love? Movies and songs will tell you that from the instant you see a person, the moment you lay eyes on them, you know. They are the ones you are going to spend the rest of your life with. That is such bullshit. Love is tough, it’s hard work and it requires effort most people are not willing to put in. It’s not instant, it takes time. I’m not saying that love is impossible but it does not come easy, especially for me. I haven't had the hardest life by far, but I also haven't had an easy one. Everything I’ve been through, both good and bad, has not only altered my view on love and how a guy could possibly love me but it has changed how I love myself.

Throughout history love has been discussed by philosophers, psychologists, poets and artists. Basically everyone. Thousands of movies, books and songs center around the idea that love is the end goal. You meet the person of your dreams and you fall passionately in love with them. The idea always baffled me. Out of the billions of people on this planet how the hell are you supposed to find “the one”? But there isn’t one specific person that’s destined to be with you. If there was you would spend your entire life searching, praying for a chance encounter that could change your life forever. The idea of “the one” is frankly ridiculous. Yet for thousands and thousands of years we have been told that ultimately that’s the key to happiness. Isn’t that insane? Your own personal happiness, your self-worth, is dependent on someone else loving you. I would be lying if I told you that the feeling of being loved isn’t nice. It’s an amazing feeling. But happiness shouldn’t be defined by the love of another person. It has to start with yourself and that is something I’ve always struggled with.

My parents do not have a traditional marriage. My dad is an alcoholic who used to be abusive and my mom is a control freak who blatantly plays favorites and purposefully makes my dad mad. I can count on my hands how many times my parents have told me they love me, and I can count on one hand how many times they’ve hugged me. I probably have seen them kiss maybe three times in my entire life. The idea of a marriage that has love is like the idea of bigfoot to me. It just doesn't exist. I mean they haven’t slept in the same bed for about 14 years. I was five years old the first time I got molested. Let’s call him Tyler. Tyler was my friends dad and my next door neighbor. It first happened when I was staying the night with my friend. He told me that it was a secret and that I would get in trouble if I told anyone. That was the only time I slept at my friends house. The second time was when I was a little older and I understood what was happening. I was too scared to tell anyone. Did you know that suicide is the 2nd leading cause of deaths in children 10-14? Most people wouldn’t think that a child as young as ten would want to kill themself. What do they have to be sad about? How could their life be so miserable at that young of an age that they contemplate ending it all. All I could think was “who would actually care if I did” and I would cry myself to sleep because I didn't have an answer to that question.

Let me be clear about something, I’m not telling you all this to get sympathy. I hate pity and I don’t need it. My first time having sex is something I wish I didn’t have to remember. It’s not something I talk about often so I’ll skip over my whole 18th year. By this point I was beyond self-loathing. But I had my little sister that I had to think of now. So when I was 19 I got a new job as a hostess at a sports bar. I was drinking and smoking a lot and intentionally putting myself in dangerous situations. Then I met someone who I thought was a really good friend. We hung out everyday for over a year, strictly platonic despite his persistent nature. Multiple times throughout our friendship I tried to break it off with him. We had an extremely unhealthy, physically abusive friendship. The last straw was when I was house sitting for a friend and he came over to hangout. Victor would constantly ask me to be his girlfriend, and I would always say no. This time was different. He would not accept no for an answer. He offered me $500 to be his girlfriend for a week and I lost it. Basically he wanted to pay me to have sex with me. I may have hated myself but that was something that I was not comfortable doing at the time. Well Victor didn’t like that I said no and tried to get what he wanted for free. I got away and ran to the kitchen and grabbed a knife screaming at him to get the fuck away from me and out of my life. A week later he sent the photos of me. I shut down completely.

Those next few months were the hardest to stay alive. I was broken and lost. I hated myself. I couldn’t even stand to look at myself in the fucking mirror. I drowned myself in alcohol and mindless sex with guys and girls. My lowest point was when I stole a bottle of prescription pills. I had planned the whole night out. I wrote Lydia and my little sister personalized letters telling them that there was nothing they could have done. That they need to move on and be happy. How could I love myself? It seemed like everyone I met was sent to hurt me. Maybe it was the universe's way of telling me that I’m unlovable. How was someone ever supposed to love me? How is someone supposed to love me? A broken, depressed, used girl with a ton of issues. Yeah that’s exactly what guys want.

Then I met Jon. For a couple months it was nice. I actually believed he loved me and it was something I was not used to. I liked the feeling of being loved so much I didn’t realize how toxic our relationship was. Jon would constantly compare me to other girls, telling me that they're more attractive and that he thinks about them when we fuck. I would obviously get upset and he had the fucking audacity to tell me that my feelings were wrong and I shouldn’t be upset. Don’t get me wrong, I was far from perfect. We just weren’t meant to be together. But he was the first guy to ever show me what love was like. That’s why I kept crawling back to him whenever he would break up with me and then decide he wanted me back. I was dependent on his love because I wanted to be happy, and by myself I was miserable. I didn’t love myself so I needed his love.

I told you this wasn’t your typical love letter. Love is a funny thing, isn’t it? We spend our whole life looking for the security and warmth of another human. In my experience love doesn’t last. Maybe that’s just me being bitter. I know I have a lot I need to work on. I’m still depressed, I still have anxiety, I’m still in the process of learning to love myself. I can’t even imagine someone actually loving me. All I've had to look up to in regards to what is a relationship is like has been my parents, you know how that is, and Tasha and George. And they should definitely not be together. If you're with a person for long enough they're just going to realize that can't deal with your issues or they're just going to stop loving you.

Here's the thing about me, I’ve liked maybe three guys in my entire life. I don’t like the whole emotion thing. It’s always been just sex. To me sex doesn’t come with feelings. It’s strictly used for pleasure and for a way to reassure myself. It’s selfish really. I use it as a way to control what's happened to me. I use it as an outlet, as a way to make me feel better about myself. It’s never been an emotional thing for me. Others don’t like to jump into things too quickly. For instance, look at the guy who I'm (kinda) seeing. We just started hanging out and I have no idea why he wants to continue to see me. He's this dorky lawyer/professor who gets weirdly excited about new collared shirts and sweater combos. It's actually adorable, in a dorky kind of way. He's smart and cute and generous and it's honestly very intimidating. He’s clearly out of my league. I’m just this 24 year old fuck up with messed up views on love waiting for him to tell me that it's over, that I don’t fit in his life.

#love #self love #journey #itshard #loveyourself #self journey #hate #help #self help #where do i even start

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tinyfelthat · 5 years

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Up to Bat: 1

Story page // My ask box

Author’s note: I can’t wait for you guys to read this! I’ve been working really hard on it for a while. Without further ado, here it is:

Chapter 1: Top of the First

Mia is running late. Today is her first day working at her dream job, and she’s running six minutes behind schedule. Six minutes isn’t a lot, but for Mia, it feels like six hours, because she’s wanted a job like this for as long as she can remember. She’s been a numbers geek since she learned to count. She fell in love with baseball as a kid, watching it on television and going to games with her dad, and she fell in love with statistics in college. Putting everything together seemed completely natural, and when she landed this job, she was, in a word, ecstatic.

Somehow, the traffic is light on her route to the stadium, and she makes it there nine minutes ahead of schedule. But she gets lost on her way to the statisticians’ office, and arrives there at 8:33am. She feels a pang of guilt for being three minutes late on her first day, but there’s nothing she can do at this point, so she shrugs it off as best she can. She’s supposed to be there thirty minutes before the official work day begins in order to be shown around the office and for some administrative stuff, anyway. The man who interviewed her for the position is waiting for her. He’s middle-aged, with thinning brown hair and a wide, friendly smile. She can’t remember his name, but she hopes that it won’t be an issue.

“Amelia Simon?” he asks.

“Yes, that’s me,” she replies.

“I don’t know if you remember my name from your interview. You seemed a little overwhelmed by the idea of working here. In any case, I’m Andrew Green, and I’m your new boss. Let me show you around the office.”

“Nice to meet you again, Mr. Green,” Mia smiles at him.

“Please call me Andrew. We’re all friends around here, Amelia.”

“Well, then, please call me Mia. It’s what I prefer.”

“I’ll remember that,” he pauses for a moment for dramatic effect, “Mia.”

Andrew first shows Mia her cubicle, then the break room, followed by the location of the bathrooms, and finally the conference room, where she’ll be for major meetings, including those with players. She fills out some paperwork at her new desk, and brings them to Andrew in his office.

“You seem eager to get started,” Andrew says. “I can already tell you’ll fit in quite well. You’re our newest, fresh out of graduate school. I can’t wait to see what you can do for our statistics team and for the players themselves.”

Mia grins. “I really can’t wait. It’s been my dream to work for a baseball team, any baseball team, for as long as I can remember, and you’re my hometown team. I’d hoped I’d be able to work for this team, but I wasn’t sure there’d be a position for me to take here. And I can be close to my family too! I can’t believe this is real.”

“Well, it is. Take a moment to soak it in, and then we’ll head to your first stat team meeting.”

Mia takes a deep breath in, and holds it. She releases it slowly. “I’m ready,” she tells Andrew.

They walk together to the meeting room, where the rest of the team’s statisticians have gathered.

“This is Mia Simon, everybody. She’s the newest member of our little operation here,” Andrew introduces her, and she waves awkwardly at them.

They go around the room, introducing themselves to Mia. She doesn’t remember any names because she’s nervous meeting so many new people at once, but she tells herself that it’ll be okay and that she’ll learn their names quickly enough.

“Today is a big day!” Andrew announces, once they’ve finished the introductions. “Pitchers and catchers report for their first official Spring Training workouts on Wednesday, and we have lots to do before they get there, because the rest of the team will be arriving on the following Monday.”

Mia puts her hand up, and Andrew points at her to speak. “Will we be meeting with the players during Spring Training at all?”

“Only the senior members of our stat team will travel to Florida to meet with the team during preseason workouts. However, our junior statisticians -- and, yes, that includes you Mia! -- will remain here. You will be meeting with some of the players throughout the regular season, though, again, you will not be traveling with the team at all. You’ll each be looking at and analyzing the stats for several players who are on the roster, or some minor leaguers and non-roster players invited to Spring Training, or a combination of the two. That’ll be all of you, junior and senior statisticians.”

“Okay,” Mia nods her understanding. Another hand goes up, that of a young man who looks to be around her age.

“Yes, Niall?”

“Which cubicle did you give to Mia? The one next to mine?” Andrew nods. “Okay, good.” Niall seems pleased.

The meeting wraps up with instructions on what each statistician should be doing for the next week to prep for the preseason, and they are all given player assignments. Mia is assigned to look at the stats for a couple of non-roster minor leaguers who were invited to Major League Spring Training to compete for a spot on the team, along with Harry Styles, the face of the franchise and star slugger of the team. She thinks this must be wrong, and she goes to approach Andrew, but he is preoccupied with one of the senior statisticians, so she goes back to her cubicle and asks her new cubicle neighbor, Niall.

“It seems like Andrew gave me the wrong instructions,” she tells him, and passes over her papers.

“Nah,” Niall says. “Someone else is ‘actually’ assigned to him. This is just a test to see what you’re made of.”

“Really?” Mia says, relieved. “Thanks for the heads up. I was really worried. I mean, Harry Styles? He’s amazing and I couldn’t help him get better if I tried.”

Niall laughs. “That’s what you think, but even the best players benefit from our help. That’s why we have a job at all. By the way, I’m Niall Horan. I’m the second-newest member of the stat team. I asked if you were in the cubicle next to mine because I wanted to make sure you had somebody young to help navigate you through the first few days.”

“Thanks, Niall. I really appreciate that. I’m Mia Simon, but you already knew that.” She extends her hand, and they shake hands, an unspoken agreement to be friends.

***

One week later, on Mia’s second Monday at the job, she and Niall are sitting in the break room, chatting and finishing their lunches, when Andrew walks in.

“Ah, good. Just the two people I wanted to see,” he says, and clears his throat importantly. “Two of our senior statisticians are really sick. They both have strep throat and are very contagious, and they’ll be out for at least a week. In any case, I need two more people to fly to Florida tomorrow with the group to help explain some stuff to the players and coaches. I was hoping you two youngsters would like to come along to see what Spring Training is all about. In addition, I was hoping some young faces would help the players pay more attention to what we’re saying.”

There is a silence, while the two process what Andrew told them. Then, once it hits them, their mouths drop open. The two look at each other like little kids who were just told by their parents that they’re on their way to Walt Disney World.

“This has to be a mistake,” Mia says after her heart rate slows a little. “Why us?”

“Because you are the only two junior statisticians on the team who haven’t been through any part of the preseason or regular season yet. Niall was hired in October, right after the season ended, since we didn’t make the playoffs. And you were obviously just hired. We wanted to give you an opportunity to see what it would be like, if and when you become senior statisticians. Besides, you two are our best and brightest new additions anyway. I saw what you did with Styles’ stats, Mia. You’ll do great. Don’t worry too much.”

Andrew smiles encouragingly at them. “I’ll let you two go home when you’re done eating and pack. I’ll see you bright and early at the airport, all right? Eight o’clock sharp. We’ll be there for four days, including tomorrow, so keep that in mind.”

***

Back at her apartment, Mia is riddled with anxiety. She doesn’t know what to pack, because she’s never been on a trip quite like this one, so she calls Niall. He picks up on the second ring.

“Hey! What’s up?”

“Hi Niall. I have no idea what to pack for this trip. Do I pack business casual? Or do I pack team apparel? Or do I just pack regular clothes? Help me!”

She knows she sounds a little crazy and desperate, but she doesn’t care. She’s too wrapped up in her own anxiety about meeting members of the team she’s been rooting for as long as she can remember.

“Whoa,” Niall says, a little taken aback. “Calm down a little. It’s just a business trip. I would say pack business casual and maybe put a jersey or two in there as well if you really want to. We’re meeting the team as statisticians, not as fans, you gotta remember that.”

“Right,” Mia grounds herself. “Of course. I’m so dumb. I’m just so excited that I let my emotions get ahead of my logical self. Okay.”

“You gonna be okay now?”

“Yeah, Niall. I think I’ll be fine. Thanks. Bye. See you tomorrow at the airport, eight o’clock sharp.” Mia smiles into the phone, despite her nerves.

“Bye Mia,” Niall says, and hangs up.

Mia tosses a couple of her favorite jerseys into her bag, including one that reads STYLES with a number 10 on the back. He has been her favorite player since he was called up to the majors a few years back. She’s a little overly anxious to meet him, she thinks. She tells herself to calm down. He’s just another person. They’re all just people. Why is this so intimidating?

***

Bright and early the following morning, or rather, dark and early at 6am, Mia rolls out of bed, exhausted, but with a big smile on her face. She’s going to fly down to Florida! She’s going to meet some of her favorite players! And best of all, she’s doing it in an official capacity as a statistician for the team,so they have to listen to her. Admittedly, this makes her a little more nervous, because she has no idea what she’s supposed to say, but she’s too excited to let it bother her.

After showering and getting dressed, she tries to eat a light breakfast, but she’s too nervous to eat. She only manages a few bites of food, so she grabs a banana and a couple of granola bars to take with her. She calls Niall on her way out the door, and gets his voicemail. When she arrives at the terminal at 7:40, she’s greeted by Andrew and two other senior statisticians from the office, Daniel and James. Niall arrives at the gate five minutes before their boarding call, super out of breath, but with a wide smile on his face.

“My alarm didn’t go off,” he says by way of explanation for his sweaty, disheveled self. “In all the excitement yesterday, I must’ve set it for 6:30pm somehow. If it hadn’t been for Mia calling me when she was leaving her apartment, I don’t think I would’ve made it. I’m lucky I live relatively close to the airport.”

“Well, Niall,” Daniel clears his throat and smirks at him. “We’re, um, glad you’re here.” He glances at Mia, who narrows her eyes at him.

“Me too!” Niall agrees, oblivious to the clear venom in Daniel’s voice.

Luckily, their boarding number is called then, before Mia can say anything to Daniel that might damage her career. They are sitting in business class, which is a first for both Mia and Niall. They’re assigned seats are next to each other, which they appreciate. The looks that they’re getting from Daniel and James are unpleasant, to say the least. Mia is a bit uncomfortable when she realizes that she’s the only woman in their group, but then she remembers that it was supposed to be Andrew, James, Daniel, George, and Sue. There aren’t that many women in the office, she realizes, and somehow that calms her enough that she falls right into a deep sleep that carries her all the way to Florida.

***

“Wake up, Mia!” Niall whisper-shouts into her ear.

She sits bolt upright, obviously startled, and then slouches a bit and swats at him. “You scared me!”

“Sorry. I guess I had too much coffee. We’re about to land in Florida, by the way. That’s why I was waking you.”

“Oh, okay, cool.” Mia says, and turns to snuggle back into her comfy seat. But then his words register. “What?! We’re here?!” she squeals, and then, realizing that she’s in public, quiets herself. She’s still bouncing in her seat a little when the pilot announces the time, the weather, and that they’ve arrived.

Mia and Niall catch up with the rest of the group at baggage claim, as they’d rushed off the plane as soon as they could. The two friends get stuck behind a family of six who were blocking the end of the gangway to the plane by taking a selfie with the “Welcome to Orlando” sign. The family is clearly headed to Disney World, but Niall and Mia still think they have the better end of the stick. Once everyone has their luggage, the group gets into a set of two waiting cars. Daniel and James get into the first one, and Andrew insists on getting into the second with Mia and Niall to prepare them for their first full-team meeting.

When they get to the sports complex, the driver tells them that their bags will be brought to their hotel rooms and will be there when they arrive there in the evening. They all nod, and step out of the car. Mia is on autopilot and silent, taking everything in, when they arrive at the fancy boardroom where they’ll be having the meeting. Mia is the last of the group to enter, and when she does, she loses her breath for a moment out of shock. Her eyes sweep the room, looking at all the players, and she locks eyes with Harry Styles.

#1dff #utb #up to bat #14000th post #sorry had to tag that because i'm excited about hitting 14000 #though i'm sure that's not a lot compared to some of you #1dff updates #please leave me nice comments to read in the morning #it's 1am here #so i'm going to go to sleep and hopefully wake up to some comments in the morning

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swanqueeneverafter · 5 years

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What Dreams May Come, Pt.11

Enchanted Forest. Past. (On a dark and stormy night, a farmer returns home to his family.) Ruth: "Well? Well? What happened?" Robert: (Lowering his hood:) "I couldn't get any money for the medicine. I'm sorry, Ruth. I've failed my sons. I failed David and James." (Thunder crashes outside.) Rumplestiltskin: (Stepping out from the shadows:) "David and James. Such strong names, but yet such weak lungs. And good medicine is so expensive nowadays. Perhaps, (Tossing a pouch onto the table:) I can help." Robert: "We have nothing to give you for that." Rumplestiltskin: "Do your boys like bedtime stories? All right, here's one. Once upon a time, there was a king named George. He had great riches, but no son. And then there was a farmer named Robert. Poor as dirt yet he had two sons. Can you guess how this story ends?" Ruth: (Grabbing a knife and pointing it at the imp:) "Get out! Our sons are not for sale." Rumplestiltskin: "Then, they won't survive the winter, dearie. Look, you can either have one healthy son, (Thunder crashes again:) or two dead ones.” Robert: (Placing his hand on top of Ruth’s and lowering the knife:) “There's no other way. We have to do this, Ruth.” Rumplestiltskin: “Wise choice. All we have to do now is decide which son goes to the king. An impossible decision, I know, so let's make it simple. (Holds out a coin:) Heads, I take David. Tails, I'll take James. (Robert takes the coin and tosses it onto the table:) Tails! Prince James it is!” (Rumplestiltskin giggles and lifts the baby from the manger.) Robert: (To James:) “Your father loves you so much.” Ruth: “Oh, my son.” Rumplestiltskin: “Careful with your words. This deal must stay a secret, which means this boy is no longer your son.” (Taking baby James into his arms, Rumplestiltskin disappears in a cloud of purple smoke, while Ruth collapses on the floor in tears.)

Storybrooke. Present. (Broken down at the side of the road, Regina admires the view as Emma attempts to find out what's wrong with the car.) Regina: "So, what's the verdict?" Emma: (Under the hood:) "I think the battery's dead. I don't have any jumper cables but I can give you a ride home if you want?" Regina: "Oh no, I'm in no hurry. It's just the groceries and, (Waves her hand:) They've already been put away." Emma: "Neat trick. (Just when Emma is about to stand, she feels a hand on her backside:) Regina, what are you doing?" Regina: (Smiling, running her hand over the jean-clad derriere:) "Have I ever mentioned that you have an incredibly cute butt?" Emma: (Scoffs, straightens up and closes the hood of the car before turning to face her:) "Yeah well my 'cute butt' and I are on duty so-" Regina: (Flirtatiously:) "That's never stopped you before." Emma: "Come on, seriously, I'm already late and I forgot to charge my phone last night." Regina: "And what if I don't want you to go? What if I want to stand right here and flirt with my wife." Emma: (Smiles:) "I think that could be considered obstruction of justice." Regina: “I don’t think so.” Emma: (Thinks:) “Detaining a police officer?” Regina: “Hm. What would I get for that?” Emma: “I don’t know, a warning?” Regina: (Raising her eyebrow:) “A reprimand, perhaps?” Emma: “Maybe.” Regina: “And if I were to physically detain you?” Emma: (Shrugs, now curious:) “Depends how you were planning on doing that.” Regina: “Well I was thinking, maybe something like this.” (Regina grabs Emma by the lapels and kisses her wife passionately, Regina’s hands travelling down to squeeze the ‘cute’ backside.) Emma: (Pulling away, smiling:) “What has gotten into you?” Regina: (Pouting:) “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten already?” Emma: (Sighs:) “‘Gina... (Thinks:) Hey, here’s an idea. (Thinks again:) No, it’s stupid.” Regina: (Intrigued:) “What is it?” Emma: “Do you wanna, maybe, come shadow me at work? See what I do all day? It could be fun.” Regina: (Smiles:) “Well there is something to that. I mean, as Mayor of Storybrooke, it is vital to know that I can put my full faith behind its Sheriff.” Emma: (Smirks:) “I won’t let you down, Madam Mayor.” (With another wave of her hand, Regina envelops her car in a cloud of smoke and it disappears.) Regina: “We’ll fix the battery later.” Emma: (Nods, extending her hand:) “Shall we?” (Together, they walk hand in hand towards Emma’s car.)

Storybrooke General Hospital. (Rumplestiltskin lies unconscious in a hospital bed. Outside his room, Lily tries calling Emma with little success.) Lily: (Frustratedly:) "Pick up your damn phone, Emma!" David: (Arriving:) "Lily, what happened?" Lily: "Well, details are a little sketchy but it appears Rumplestiltskin and Alice here went all 'good cop, bad cop' and things got out of hand." Alice: (Sitting, shaking her head:) "I can't believe I shot him." David: "Is he gonna be all right?" Lily: "Bullet tore right through him. No lasting damage done. He'll still be out for a few hours before we can question him. Corroborate her story." David: "Alice, what were you doing?" Alice: "Rumplestiltskin and I, we needed answers from Mr Mendell. So, we went for a little drive." David: "Wait, you kidnapped him?" Alice: "We were only supposed to ask him some questions but then I saw the gun in Rumple's car and I thought he wanted me to bring it with us and... it went off." David: "Okay, so far it sounds like an accident, was anyone else hurt?" Alice: "No, just Rumplestiltskin." David: (Nods:) "And where is Greg Mendell now?" Alice: (Shaking her head again:) "I don't know, soon as the gun went off he ran." David: "Well, did you see which direction he went?" Lily: "David..." David: (Snapping:) "Damnit, this is important!" Lily: "Calm. Down." David: "No, I won't calm down. I came here for some answers too. (Holds up the coin:) Greg Mendell had this among his belongings and I wanna know why." Lily: (Frowns:) "A coin? What's the big deal about-" David: "A coin I gave to my father years ago back in the Enchanted Forest. (At Lily’s look:) Yeah. That man may have the answer to what really happened, but now because of these two, I may never find out the truth!" (With a roar of anger, David pushes past Lily along the hallway. Deciding to let him cool off, Lily turns back just in time to see Alice running down the opposite end of the hall and out of sight.) Lily: "Alice! Damnit. (Picking up her phone and dialing again:) Where are you, Emma?"

Storybrooke Sheriff's Station. (Emma pulls out a stack of papers from the filing cabinet and brings them over to the table where Regina is standing.) Regina: "I can't believe none of this was ever digitised." Emma: "Well, most of these files were created with Dark Curse technology, so..." Regina: "Now is the time to fix it? Seems like busywork to me." Emma: "It is not busywork. It is necessary, and it beats standing around waiting for Greg Mendell to finally leave town." Regina: "Debatable. (Rolling up her sleeve:) Well at least it shouldn't take long." Emma: (Before Regina can use her magic:) "Actually, we're gonna do this without magic. Lily and me, I mean." Regina: "But that'll take you... months." Emma: "Well, Lily wanted to know everything that happened in Storybrooke during the curse. She thinks it'll make her feel closer to the people here somehow and I thought it was a good idea. I'm only gonna put the files in date order then the rest will be down to her." Regina: (Nods:) "Very well. (Looks down at the files for a moment, then gets an evil idea:) You know, we still haven't paid your deputy back for the whole 'Traditional Arendelle Dress' trick she pulled on us." Emma: (Folding her arms:) "I thought you said we looked adorable?" Regina: "That's beside the point." Emma: (Watching her wife closely:) "Uh huh, so what are you thinking?" Regina: "Well, by the looks of her desk, Ms. Page seems to be quite the neat freak." Emma: (Scoffs:) "And you're not?" Regina: (Ignoring this:) "What would you say to making the place a little messy?" (Raising an eyebrow, Emma looks down at Lily's desk then back to Regina, smiling.) Sheriff's Station. Exterior. (Starting with the outside doors, the clunking sound of doors locking can be heard all along the building. As the last door is secured, the blinds on the windows are all rolled down.) Sheriff's Station. Bull Pen. (Returning to the office, we focus on Lily's untouched desk a moment before things go flying. Pens, notebooks and various other stationary are all knocked onto the floor by the bodies of two very naked women.) Emma: (Pausing a moment to check:) "Comfy?" Regina: (Pulling her back down:) "Extremely." Emma: (Kissing Regina's neck:) "We are so bad." Regina: (Chuckles:) "Payback's a b-" (Regina's words are lost as Emma covers her mouth with her own.)

Enchanted Forest. Past. Tavern. (Robert sits alone in a busy tavern, clearly intoxicated. He tosses a coin onto a server's tray.) Server: "You should be spending that on your family. How old is your boy now?" Robert: "David? Six. He's a good lad. He deserves better than me. Give me a drink." (The Server places a tankard in front of him and walks away. Just then, two royal guards enter the tavern.) Guard 1: "All of you cretins on your feet. (Conversations stop:) Show respect for King George!" King George: (Enters as Robert staggers to his feet:) "I know what you're thinking 'What is a neighboring king doing here in this filthy tavern?' You see, my only son, Prince James, has been abducted. Anyone who provides me with information will be rewarded. Anyone who withholds such information will pay dearly." The Farmhouse. (Robert packs for a long journey.) Ruth: "Are you mad?" Robert: "James is our son, He's in trouble and I need to rescue him." Ruth: “Do you think that he's going to want to come back here? To a dying farm and a drunken father?” Robert: (Lifting his bag onto his shoulder:) “I don't know. But I have to try. I have to be better for the boy. (David is now listening upstairs:) I have to stop. (Putting the bag down:) I swear to you, Ruth, fixing this broken family... (Voice breaking:) this is how I finally fix myself. (Hears David coming downstairs:) Hey, there, little man.” David: “Where are you going, Father?” Robert: “Uh I'm going on another supply run.” David: “And when you get back, are you really going to be better?” Robert: (Approaching:) “Yes. I will be better. I'll never touch another drop. And in two weeks, I'll be home, myself again.” David: “Will you take my lucky coin, to keep you safe?” Robert: (Extends his arm:) “Thank you, David. I think I could use a little luck.” (David secures the coin to his father’s wrist with a length of string, and they hug.)

Storybrooke Sheriff's Station. Present. (Standing partially dressed, Emma and Regina stare down at their stained clothing.) Regina: "Who keeps an ink well on their desk in this day and age?" Emma: "Well apparently, Lily did." Regina: "What is she, from the twelfth century or something?" David: (Calling from within the station:) "Emma?!" Regina: "Oh, for the love of..." (Using their magic, both Emma and Regina conjure themselves new outfits just before David enters the bull pen.) David: "Ah, there you are. (Notices the mess:) What happened in here? (Looking around, David misses the anxious glance between Regina and Emma:) It doesn't matter, I don't want to know. Has there been any sighting of Greg Mendell?" Emma: (Confused:) "Greg Mendell?" Regina: "Why would there be, isn't he still in hospital?" David: "Where have you guys been? Lily's been trying to call you." Emma: "Oh, my phone died and I've been here... doing stuff." Regina: (Scoffs:) "I've been called worse." David: (Not really listening:) "Rumplestiltskin's been shot and Mendell's gone into hiding." Emma: "What?" Regina: "Why didn't you lead with that?!" David: "Well, I guess back when I was sheriff, I liked to keep myself better informed." Emma: "Hey." David: (Storms off:) "I'll track him down myself." Emma: "Dad!" Enchanted Forest. Past. The Dark Castle. (Robert, with his bag over his shoulder, enters the Dark One's domain.) Robert: "Six years ago, you took my son. And now I need your help." Rumplestiltskin: (Sitting as his wheel:) "Well, I'm sorry a deal's a deal. Can't give you back the boy." Robert: "I'm not asking for that. But James... he's missing. I want you to help me find him." Rumplestiltskin: "Ah. And what would you offer me for this little feat of magic?" Robert: "I have nothing to offer." Rumplestiltskin: "Not much of a negotiator, are you?" Robert: (Dropping his bag on the floor:) "You owe me." Rumplestiltskin: "So. (Turns from his wheel, darkly:) You finally grew a spine." Robert: (As the Dark One stands and approaches:) "I think I finally became a father. I'd do anything to see my boy and tell him I'm... I'm sorry." Rumplestiltskin: “You know, I don't have time for maudlin stories. And everything has a price. Although I-I could be persuaded to help you in exchange for, uh one hair off your head. Small things can have great power.” Robert: “Fine. It's yours.” Rumplestiltskin: (Giggles and conjures his crystal ball, peering into it:) “Curious. The boy wasn't abducted at all. He ran away. But where he went to you don't want to follow.” Robert: (As the Dark One places the crystal ball onto the table:) “Why? Where is he?” Rumplestiltskin: “In a land built from temptation. And I have an extra ticket in. (The ticket appears in his hand. When Robert goes to grab it:) Unh, hair first. (Robert leans in and snatches the ticket at the same time as the hair is plucked from his head. Giggles:) Our second deal is now complete.” Robert: “Thank you.” Rumplestiltskin: “Mm. (Robert picks up his bag, slings it over his shoulder and leaves, very quickly. Holding up the hair:) ‘Small things can hold great power.’ (Giggles again, tossing the hair away. Sadly:) Someday, may we all be reunited with our sons.”

Storybrooke. Present. Main Street. (Taking refuge in a quiet spot on a rooftop, Alice peers out to see if anyone is around. Seeing only Keith, the former Sheriff of Nottingham walk along the street sipping his coffee, Alice is about to move on when she sees another man across the street aiming a bow. Just as he's about to throw his coffee in the trash, Keith's jacket cuff is pinned to a power line post.) Robin Hood: (Walking angrily towards him:) "Well, fancy that. The Sheriff of Nottingham." Keith: "Oh. Now wait. Look, I'm not that man here. Nobody calls me that in Storybrooke." Robin Hood: "I'm not from Storybrooke. (Punches him to the ground, draws a knife:) You know, I could've killed you with that arrow. (Holding the knife to Keith's throat:) But after all you did to me, I wanted this to be more personal." Regina: (Rounding the corner, walking back from the Sheriff’s office:) "Stop!"

#sq #swanqueen #swan queen

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pinkbubbles-and-bigtroubles · 6 years

Text

Eastside (Girls Talk Boys Part 20)

My love is yours if you're willing to take it Give me your heart 'cause I ain't gonna break it So come away, starting today Start a new life, together in a different place We know that love is how these ideas came to be So baby, run away with me

Warning: Drinking, smoking, sex but this one is pretty PG13

Previous Chapter

First Chapter

(A/N I can’t believe I’m actually at chapter 20 on this. I know this is a long fic and it’s going to keep going for a while. I promise it’ll be worth it y’all)

Calum couldn't remember the last time he'd felt this nervous. He knew he was being ridiculous. This date night was his idea. He knew Camille couldn't care less how much money he spent, but Calum was still stressing out.

“Mate, why are you freaking out?” Ashton was kicked back on the couch trying to find something to watch.

“Because I want to take Camille somewhere really nice and everywhere I've called is booked. I don't want to take her anywhere conventional. I want to impress her, but I have no idea what I'm doing.”

“I don't know what to tell you. I don't go on dates.” Ashton scoffed.

“No just girls day at the spa with a happy ending” Calum snorted not looking up from his phone.

“What was I supposed to do? Camille backed out.” Ashton protested.

“I wouldn't be too sure about that. So what's the deal with you and Cher? Taking over Luke's starting spot?” Calum responded still searching.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Ashton was unexpectedly angry.

“Dude, chill, we all know she and Luke had a friends with benefits deal. Cher is pretty adamant about not wanting a boyfriend. You don't do relationships either so why wouldn't you two have the same arrangement.” Calum finally looked up alarmed.

“It's not the same. Luke let her call the shots. That's not going to happen with me” Ashton was still frowning but his smirk peeked through.

“This should be fun, now can you help me think of something please?” Cal whined.

“Why don't you go ask your next door neighbor?” Ashton asked him. “You know Harry would help you out.”

“I was thinking that, but I really didn't want to have to do it.” Cal rolled his eyes.

“Why not?” Ashton shot back.

“Because he's always right there to save the day” Calum sighed.

“Don't worry about any of that. If Harry wanted to move on Camille he had his chance when we were in Europe. He's your best bet and I know he'd help you if it's for her.” Ashton didn't understand why Cal was being so stubborn.

Calum knocked on the door hating that he had to ask anyone for help. Worse that it was Harry Panty Dropper Styles. Every girl in the complex had a thing for him, and Camille wasn’t immune to his charms. Even worse that he was a genuinely nice guy who seemed to be there for Camille when Calum couldn’t be. Harry looked a bit surprised to see him when he answered.

“Do you have a minute?” Calum was shifting his weight back and forth with nervous tension.

“Sure ” Harry opened the door inviting him in “Haven't seen you around the past few days. Thought maybe you moved out.” Harry grinned at Calum who tried not to blush. “How's Camille?”

“She's good, everything is really good. That's actually why I'm here.” Calum looked up with a frown at hearing Harry say her name.

Harry's smile faded a bit and he crossed his arms. “You're here about Camille? How so?”

“I want to take her on a proper first date. Somewhere nice, something she's not expecting. I was hoping maybe you'd have a suggestion.” Calum stuffed his hands in his pockets.

Harry relaxed and grinned “Actually I think I know just the place. Have you ever heard of Levels?”

“Is that the rooftop bar downtown?” Calum asked.

“Yeah that's that one. It's really posh and has loads of fancy cocktails. You'll have to wear a tie though. They've got a dress code.” Harry raised his eyebrows.

“That's fine. Are you sure we can get in?” Calum was fiddling with his rings.

“Absolutely, the owner is a partner in The Chelsea. He knows Camille helped us out. Since Camille skipped spa day for Cher maybe she'll like this.” Harry trailed off a bit.

“She felt awful about that when she realized. That had nothing to do with me.” Calum didn't know what to say about that.

“She called me the next morning and explained everything. It's fine really. That's just the thing about Camille though.” Harry shook his head.

“What do you mean” Calum was confused.

“Just when you think you have her figured out she surprises you again.” Harry laughed.

Calum couldn't help but join in “She really does.”

“I thought you never wore all black” Cher teased Camille.

Camille shot her a look in the mirror as she stood in her bedroom trying to choose between three dresses. “I am not walking into Levels looking my usual pink tacky mess. The hair is enough thanks.” Camille snapped.

“Attitude” Cher shot back and Camille snorted but backed down. “Sorry I'm just nervous. Seriously though which do you like?” Camille turned to look at her reflection again.

“I like the same one Lucy does. The one with the lace. It fits your curves.” Cher pointed to the one on the bed.

“If you both agree” Camille smiled slipping out of the dress she was wearing. She looked at herself in the mirror. She was wearing shape wear shorts and a black lace long-line bra. Camille had lost some weight in the past couple months down to a size 14. She tried not to let her eyes travel to the flaws. She tried not to hate the girl she saw in the mirror. Camille wanted to see what Calum saw. The way he looked at her made her feel different than she ever had before.

Her lips twitched up when she slid the dress over her head. Smoothing it down she looked at herself again. The dress was black lace on black chiffon. It was elbow length and high necked covering the now fading marks Calum had left behind. Daring lace cutouts revealed her back and cleavage giving her a classy meets sassy appeal. The mullet hem allowed her legs and cute black strappy heels to peek out. Lucy styled her pink hair back and up in a Gibson girl bun that allowed curls to frame her face. Soft neutral makeup with pink highlights and a soft pink lip gloss. Camille hit her pen one last time to calm her nerves knowing Calum would be there any minute.

Camille opened the door to reveal Calum in a single breasted suit in black on black down to the tie and pocket square. He wasn't wearing his necklaces that she could see but did have on his bracelet and rings. She smiled when she glanced down at his boots. His hair was super cute. He'd straightened it, blow drying it up and back giving him a bit of an Elvis vibe that Camille found sexy as hell.

Calum brought her a bouquet of purple tulips, her favorite flower, and a gift of a rose gold/pink tourmaline bracelet. Camille fought back getting too emotional as tears tried their best to overtake her. Calum watched her fight for control and he couldn't deny that lump in his own throat. She looked amazing. Calum felt his nerves bubble back to the surface and the entire ride to the bar was oddly quiet. Neither of them knew quite what to say so it was almost a relief when they pulled up to the valet.

Levels occupied the top two floors of the historic Fairmont hotel. The rooftop bar being reserved for the right people. The whole place had a vintage 1950's and 60’s aesthetic like you'd just stepped in to an episode of Mad Men. They were greeted immediately as Mr Hood and Miss Holloway which caught her by surprise until Herbert, the owner, stopped by their table. Camille recognized him from The Chelsea deal. Calum had a Manhattan and she ordered a Harvey Wallbanger. They were served pigs in a blanket and a selection of cheeses and olives.

They had just started in on the food when Calum saw a familiar face headed their way. Dominic “The Dom” Rivera the A&R for their band.

“Calum how are you? Haven't seen you in a minute” Dom pulled him into a handshake and a hug. Turning to Camille he eyed her up and down before speaking

“I'd heard Calum had a beautiful girlfriend. You must be Ameena. I'm Dom, it's a pleasure to meet you.”

Calum just closed his eyes. This could NOT be happening.

“Actually it's Camille but pleased to meet you Dom” she took his hand without batting an eye.

“I'm usually so good with names” Dom replied shaking his head.

“Right name different girl, it's a recent switch though” Camille leaned in as if she were sharing a secret.

“I'm so sorry” Dom looked panicked.

“Don't be, I'm not” Camille retorted with a smile “so tell me Dom what does A&R do really?”

Calum watched her listen intently while steering Dom back to his own table but in a way that left the older man thoroughly charmed.

“Is it always that easy” Calum asked her.

“What do you mean?” Camille was puzzled.“Handling men, you have a way about it. First Herbert and then Dom. Am I that easy?” He sat back his dark eyes taking her in

.Camille smiled “It's only easy when I don't care what they think” “So you care what I think” he was teasing now.

“Maybe” Camille answered teasing back.Calum moved to kiss her and promptly spilled his drink all over the two of them.

“Shit I am so sorry” he couldn't believe this night just kept getting worse.“It's not a big deal” she reassured him as she cleaned herself up. Calum went outside to smoke and Camille could see he was visibly upset. She finished straightening herself out before getting them both another drink and joining him on the deck.

“Calum, honey what's wrong? You've been jumpy all night. Tell me what's going on.” Camille stood next to him leaning her head on his shoulder.

“I just wanted tonight to be perfect. I wanted us to have an amazing first date. I wanted you to be impressed.” Calum ducked his head away from her.

“Look at me” Camille's voice was soft yet demanding. “Everything is perfect because you're here with me. There's no playbook we have to follow as long as we make each other happy.”

This time Calum set their drinks on the table before he kissed her. Once Calum relaxed the night turned around. Dom invited them over and bought several rounds while keeping them entertained with stories from his time in the music business.

Herbert checked up on them and brought them the Fairmont restaurant's famed beef bourguignon.

Camille wasn't even bothered when Quentin popped up with his agent Brandon Pearcy. Quentin sent over drinks which were graciously accepted. Camille eventually made her way over to say hello. Calum was taken aback until he realized she was looking for an excuse to talk to the agent about a client of his who was looking for a new team.

While they talked Quentin leaned in to speak to Calum “I'm not surprised y'all ended up together. I knew something was up.” Calum pulled back annoyed but then he saw Quentin was smiling at him.“Seriously man not trying to start shit. She's cool I'm glad to see everything is good. The two men shook hands.

“What was all that?” Camille asked him when they got back to their seats.

“I think he gave us his blessing. That was weird.” Calum was irritated. “Do you usually talk to your exes when you're on a date?”

Camille's face dropped “Please don't be like this. I saw my opportunity to talk to Pearcy and I took it. I was thinking about work. Please don't be mad” Camille kissed him on the cheek and he smiled at her. “Jealous boy” Camille winked wiping her lipstick off his face.

“Let's get out of here darling” Calum took her hand. The ride home was relaxed, both of them chatting and joking.

“I am surprised you gave up your spa day for Ashton” Calum told her “I know you live to be pampered.”

“Cher has been pretty bummed since Luke. She needed cheering up, but she owes me.” Camille grumbled but she was smiling.They pulled up to Camille's side of the complex. Calum got out and walked her to her door.

She stopped as she put her keys in the door “I'd invite you in but I've got to be up early. Besides. I'm not the kind of girl who puts out on the first date.” Camille winked at him.

“Oh so you're just assuming there will be a second date, that's confident of you” Calum teased her booping her on the nose.

“Well I was hoping” Camille looked down while peeking up at him playfully “that my crush and I had such a good first date that he'd ask me out again.”Calum took her chin in his hand and tilted her face up towards him.

“You're admitting you have a crush on me that's so sweet, and yes I'd love to take you out on a second date. How about a picnic Monday in the park? Just the three of us.”

“How could I say no to a date with Duke” Camille giggled.

“Anything else your grace?” Calum asked his dark eyes gazing into her soul.

“I was hoping my crush would kiss me goodnight” she whispered.“I was hoping you'd ask” he responded quickly before his mouth was on hers.It was a soft kiss but there was a hunger behind it that tonight at least would go unsatisfied.

Camille worked all weekend and due to female problems didn't have Calum over at all. By the time Monday rolled around Camille was set, ready and dying to see the handsome Aussie. Calum pulled up in his Land Rover and Camille could see Duke happily wagging his tail in the back seat. He'd brought a huge picnic basket and a cooler. There was also a quilt and some pillows thrown in the back.

“You really went all out” Camille was astonished.

“Of course I did Camille darling, it's for you” Calum winked at her but Camille couldn't respond because she was trying not to cry. She regained control by the time they pulled up to the park. Calum grabbed the picnic basket and Duke and headed off to find a spot. Camille stayed behind for a couple minutes because he boss Stephen needed her to respond to his emails about an idea for a promotion. It took her longer than expected, and Calum came back to check on her and get the cooler. She'd just finished up and was reaching for the door handle when thunder and lightning split the sky with a deafening crack and it started pouring rain.

Camille watched as Calum panicked to gather everything up. First getting Duke back to the car.

“Stay right here” he told Camille. “I'll get everything.”

Camille watched him scramble and grab the basket first before going back for the cooler. Throwing both of them in the hatchback before slamming it shut. He yanked open the back door to grab some beach towels to put on his seat while he drove.

Duke sprung up and took off like a shot. Barking and jumping in between raindrops. Calum swore and ran after his dog but the grass was wet and slick and he face planted. Camille gasped but then she heard Calum laugh. Duke trotted over and began to lick Calum's face which only made him laugh harder. He scooped his dog up and they both got in the car.

Camille was equal parts concerned and amused. Calum was soaking wet. His curls were sticking to his forehead and he had grass cuttings stuck all over him.He couldn't stop laughing and pretty soon Camille was cracking up.

He finally caught his breath. “I just wanted to do something nice for you, but I can't catch a break.” Calum shook his head and sighed.

Camille put her hand on his thigh which caught his attention. “Let's go back to your place. Get you guys cleaned up and we'll have a picnic indoors.” Camille leaned in and kissed him feeling the tension leave his body. He started laughing again when she sat back with grass now on her face and in her hair. When they got back to Calum's he rinsed Duke off first. Camille offered to dry him off while Calum took a quick shower.

When he came out he found Camille and Duke playing peekaboo with the towel and Camille's shirt was now soaked. Calum stood there just watching them as his heart fluttered with joy. Then he noticed the picnic. She'd brought everything into that living room and spread out the blanket on the floor with the pillows. Camille walked up to him with Duke on her heels. “I need to dry off a bit where are your towels”

“I'll get you a towel and a shirt” he answered.

“Honey I can't wear your clothes I'm too big” She insisted.

He brought her back a big fluffy towel and his bright red long sleeved button up.

“This won't button” Camille told him.

“I know” he grinned” now get changed while I finish getting set up” The picnic was fabulous. Calum had packed mini veggie wraps and chicken salad croissant sandwiches. Fruit and different cheeses. Dainty little cookies. He'd also brought along wine and champagne. They were both starving so they dove into the food. Calum kept sneaking glances at Camille. She was wearing black leggings, and his shirt hanging open revealing her black bra underneath.

They fed each other, they fed Duke, they talked and stole kisses while they listened to the rain.Calum couldn't remember any other girl making him laugh this much. Camille had never known another guy who listened so intently.

After a couple hours it had just gotten dark. They had finished most of the food. Calum was sitting on the couch with Camille by his side with her legs across his lap when another bolt of lightning hit nearby. The lights flickered before going out. Camille started giggling.

“What's so funny?” Calum asked her.

“If I remember correctly a blackout is how this whole thing got started.” Camille moved so that she was sitting on his lap.

“Oh GOD that night” Calum chuckled. “I literally had to sit down on your bed for ten minutes to not cum in my pants. I hadn't been that sexually frustrated since before I joined the band.”

“Don't think it didn't affect me” Camille felt his arms wrap around her waist.

“You said you'd show me” Calum reminded her. His lips found hers as her fingers tangled in his hair.They spent that night together in the dark. Exploring each other carefully by touch and by sound, illuminated only by the occasional lightning flash. This time the sex was different. It was slow and sweet. Taking breaks to chat and cuddle Calum realized it had become about more than just sex. He hoped he wasn't in over his head.

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