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radiant-reid · 1 year

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Eleventh Hour

Summary: Spencer's about to move across the country, until his ex-girlfriend gives him some news

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader (angst then fluff)

Word Count: 2.1k

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This is not how it's supposed to go.

Or maybe it is.

College relationships are tricky, tumultuous, and the tangling of lives of two changing people. Although it makes her seem cliche, Y/n thought Spencer was different, and she would stick with that opinion to the end. He was wiser than any other college boy and more mature.

Whether they are the right people for each other or not, it's not the right time.

Their breakup wasn't sad, per se. They're both realists for the most part, and ending their relationship was on the horizon for a while. In the final semester of her senior year and Spencer's last semester of all his years of degree-collecting, their lives are about to go in such different ways that being together will cause more problems, making them sacrifice parts of their lives they don't want to.

So it's uncomplicated and much more pragmatic.

But a dangerous touch of hope comes with being a romantic. Those feelings make it hard to hand back each other's things, tell their friends and families, and sleep alone again.

Spencer's realism and romanticism work inversely, the former getting stronger as the latter gets weaker. It's why he never expected her to call.

Now he's sitting in front of her, frowning because something's really wrong. She hadn't looked so distraught when they broke up, but tears prick her eyes while her stomach threatens to evict her lunch.

"What's wrong?" He asks. He would never be able to stop caring about her, and he figures it would take a monster to not care about her after speaking to her just once. It could be about her mom or dad or a friend.

Y/n knew she had to tell him when she found out. Morally, it was the right thing to do, and Spencer deserves to know. Just because it was an easy choice to make doesn't make it easy to do. As soon as she tells him, everything changes between them again. They've gone from strangers to lovers to strangers, and now they're going to be something else. Whatever they're going to be, it's up to Spencer, and there's going to be very little she can do to change his mind about how he feels for her.

She keeps playing with her fingers in her lap, failing to reach the threshold of confidence needed to look at him. "This is... shit- I don't even know how to tell you this, Spence." She admits, heart pounding in her chest.

That makes Spencer even more puzzled. What could she really need to tell him a month post-breakup that was so life-changing. "It's okay." He assures her.

He's back to that old shyness she used to find endearing. She knows it because she can see his itching and resisting to touch her hand. "I'm pregnant." She confesses, biting her bottom lip.

"You're what?" He spits back.

Yeah, it was life-changing news. Earth-shattering.

He's spiraling like he never has before because, holy shit, it's news that he's never heard before. It's news he didn't expect to hear ever, honestly. And not from her, that's for sure.

"Pregnant." She repeats, so it'll sink in quicker. "And I'm sorry."

"It's not your...fault." He tells her, although he doesn't seem genuine.

There's upset in his features, and against her better judgment, she pushes it. "What are you thinking?"

"That I don't want a baby." He snaps, standing up as the realization hits him like a freight train.

It catches her off guard. Majorly. Spencer never, ever speaks to anyone in a tone that short, let alone her. And it makes her want to cry because she needs someone. She had hoped it would be him. Whether it's the new hormones or him being in front of her again, there's a longing for the connection they walked away from.

Her inner romantic wanted him to jump at the chance to have a baby with her, promise they could work things out, and the immense love she's been feeling for him wasn't one-sided.

"Y/n, I can't have a baby. I'm about to move across the country tomorrow." He declares.

It's categorically cold, just factual. That makes it the most heartbreaking.

She actually can't believe what she's hearing. They're young and not together, but she thought he might care a little bit more about the baby that's 50% him and growing inside her. Maybe he isn't as different as she hoped.

"That's why you broke up with me?" She asks, tears clouding her vision.

He doesn't do what she expects, and she's starting to think it's downright stupid that she ever thought he'd wrap his arms around her until she stopped crying. And why is she crying all the goddamn time now?

"Don't do that." He says sternly. "It was mutual."

"It's not now." She informs him, wiping up her tears angrily.

Spencer stops for a moment, taking a breath to avoid saying something he can't take back, something that might ruin his chance at ever getting to meet his child.

"We can't get back together just because we're having a baby." He reminds her. "You have to know that."

Y/n bites her lip, nodding. "Yeah. So this is just me telling you. We can forget everything else."

He's not sure he wants to do that now that she's being so upfront about it, but he's not going to be that contradictory. "Thanks." He whispers. "Whatever you need, let me know. Not that-"

She cuts him off, getting up from the couch and opening the door. One thing- along with the fact he doesn't want to be part of their lives- that she didn't want to hear about is him pledging money, thinking it's the same thing as love or time. "I know." She says, somehow able to get her following words out without crying. "Call me if you ever want to meet an adorable baby."

That makes it real, and his stomach flips in a new but not terrible way. Once she shuts the door on him, he stands there on her apartment step for a whole minute, wondering if he should go back and fix the fuck-up he's just created.

There's not much more crying Y/n can do. She's got a plan, a job lined up for once she gets a degree, and friends who love her. Her baby won't have a dad, though, because she'll never be able to love and trust someone like she does Spencer.

Unless someone has taken Spencer's phone, he's calling her early that morning. Something compels her to answer. "This isn't sending the right message." She answers the call, joking to relieve the tension from her major confession less than 12 hours ago.

"I need to send a different message." He confesses, confusing her. She's not going to let herself believe it's good until there's no doubt. "Can you meet me?"

"On this coast." She agrees. It's for her baby, she reminds herself. A baby who deserves a dad, even if he breaks their mom's heart.

"My apartment?" He suggests.

She sighs, resisting the urge to sob about the place she used to spend so much time at. "I can't. Not when your stuff is packed up."

"Some of it's yours." He tells her. "But I can come to you."

That's worse, she decides. She can't have a replay of last night. His apartment will look generic without any mementos in it.

"No, I'll come to you." She decides. "Soon?"

"Whenever you're ready." He assures her, bouncing his knees up and down nervously.

She's not sure what she's doing, and she knows she's dumb for fixing her hair and putting on makeup, but she does it anyway. Then she's out the door before she can rethink her poor decision.

"Coffee?" Spencer offers once she walks in and takes off her shoes.

The walls are bare, and there are no books in the bookcase. It's not Spencer at all which doesn't make her feel better.

Y/n shakes her head. "I can't."

"Fuck, right. Sorry." He stammers out his words. "Do you want to sit?"

She doesn't know what she's doing there, so she nods, sitting down on a couch they'd fucked on so many times it wasn't appropriate. He doesn't follow suit. "Why am I here, Spencer?" She asks.

He snaps out of the trance he's in. "Oh, yeah. Hold on." He requests, walking off before she can ask any more questions.

Every second he's away, she gets more and more in her head until that feeling of wanting to be sick is too overwhelming. "I, uh, should go, you know? I'm sure you've got stuff to do." She fails for an excuse, but she knows she has to get out of there before she's in tears on his couch, looking even more pathetic than she does now.

"Please." Spencer walks back into the room with a box. A box with yellow and white horizontal stripes on it that she's sure is new. "Can you just open this?"

"The person going away doesn't give the gift." She shakes her head, rejecting the gift. "Don't make this hard for me."

His heart breaks seeing her trying not to cry, the sweetest person he knows who thinks he's running away. "Please."

Those fucking puppy dog eyes. She takes the lid off the box cautiously because she's terrified and takes out the contents. A baby onesie with an FBI logo on it. It's the first onesie she's ever held, and it has her crying.

"What are you doing?" She asks between tears.

"Trying to stop making decisions that'll ruin my life." He tells her, sitting on the ottoman in front of her. "Like I did a month ago."

She frowns. "Yeah?"

"Oh my god, yes." He assures her, crying a little himself. He's feeling the pressure because he cannot mess this apology up. "Y/n, I should have fought to be with you because you're worth fighting for. You always will be. I shouldn't have let you go then, and I will do anything it takes for you to not walk now."

"You're not getting on a plane?" She recalls what he said before, safeguarding her heart.

He shakes his head. "Not today. And not ever if you don't want me to." He informs her.

She's honestly gobsmacked with so many questions in her mind and no idea what order to ask them. "I want this baby." She mumbles, unsure about if it's going to put him off.

"I'm terrified." He confesses. "My dad was... lousy, at best, so I don't know how to be a father, but I'll learn. I'll read every book there is." He promises. "I acted like an asshole, and I'm so sorry. I got that." He nods to the onesie she's gripping tightly. "Because I promise I will do anything to be in your and the baby's life."

"Is this a hint?" She wonders, reading over the logo.

Spencer chuckles, nodding. "Not very subtle." He admits. "I'm supposed to be going to live in DC and work at the Behavioural Analysis Unit in Quantico, but I'll quit before I even start to stay here if that's what you want to do."

She thinks it over for a moment, but the decision is pretty easy. Sure, Spencer can get a job anywhere with his brains and degrees, but he wants to help people. "Let's do it." She agrees, smile widening.

"Do what?" He asks, caught off guard.

"I can't be without you." She tells him, reaching out to touch his hand softly, testing the boundary. "I've tried, and it's the worst. I want you in my life. Let's move to DC."

"We don't have to." He reminds her quickly.

She shakes her head. "We can have a fresh start." She reminds him. "We're following these dreams together as a team."

Spencer leans forward to cup her cheeks, wiping up her tears. "I'll do anything to make it up to you." He promises.

"Pack my stuff." She jokes, feeling his breath on her face as he laughs with her.

"Can I kiss you now?" He asks desperately, earning a nod from Y/n. He dives in quickly, missing feeling so close to her. His lips are gentle on hers, like he's worried about breaking her. When he pulls back, he nods at the box. "Finish opening it." He suggests.

She does, crying a little again when she sees the teeny tiny converse and teddy bears. "This is perfect." She mumbles.

He beams at the praise and her. "You're perfect. I'm just lucky."

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hollymartinswrites · 2 months

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Say Hi by HollyMartins

[ao3]

Summary:

In the mall food court, Lee Russell bumps into someone from his very recent past.

TW: Lee Russell comments on teen's weight because of course he would.

Notes:

So I’m on a Walton Goggins kick because of Fallout and I binged Vice Principals, not expecting for the amoral, selfish, dishonest, evil, sometimes arsonist that is Lee Russell to worm his way into my heart.

I don’t condone any of his actions but man, do I enjoy watching him do them. And I can’t believe there isn’t more fic about this show. Maybe the Ghoulggins renaissance will help.

Anyway, the Spring Break episode broke me when Janelle called him Uncle Lee and he gave her a kiss and said it was so good to see her. Was he lying? Probably. Do I like to believe he had a genuine soft spot for her because of Neal? Yes. Did I expect Lee Russell to be the catalyst out of my writing slump of nearly two years? No way in hell.

And now with new edits.

"Uncle Lee!"

Lee freezes, his good hand clenching around the styrofoam cup of diet soda. Thank God he had left his table of coworkers early and is now mercifully alone.

A hand touches his arm and he flinches but forces a smile as Janelle steps in front of him.

"I thought it was you," she says breathlessly, smiling.

"It's me, sweetheart," he replies, the term of endearment rolling off his tongue like it used to. He stops himself from hugging her, however. "Look at you. Looks like you finally did lose some weight."

Janelle rolls her eyes before observing, "I haven't seen you in forever."

Lee swallows. Maybe she doesn't know. Maybe she thinks he and her dad are still the best of friends and they regularly meet to bullshit and laugh and get on each other's fucking nerves.

"I've been busy," he lies. "What with the physical therapy, and now this promotion. Being a regional manager is just as hard as being a principal. I don't know who are bigger pieces of shit, high school students, customers, or corporate."

Janelle glances down at his gloved hand and he frowns.

"But do you like your job?" she asks instead.

"Course I do. I finally have a nice discount on shit I actually want to buy. You know how much I hated going to Staples."

Janelle smiles tightly and goes quiet, both very much aware that Lee has never stepped foot inside a Staples in his life. He hopes a friend of hers will pop up and whisk her away to Spencer's or Claire's or wherever the fuck teenage girls hang out in at a mall. But as the silence stretches towards awkwardness, he has no choice but to clear his throat.

"So, how's school?"

Fuck.

Janelle shrugs.

"It's okay," she admits. "The teachers aren't bad and I made some new friends. Wish Dad was still there, though."

Something in Lee's chest twists and he looks down at the sticky, outdated, and frankly ugly as shit tiles of the food court.

"Wish you were there, too."

Lee's head snaps up so fast he knows he'll have to make another visit to his acupuncturist soon. That twisty feeling in his chest tightens as he sees the wistful look on Janelle's face. He tries to offer a smile again but it feels uncomfortable on his face. Fuck. He used to be good at bullshit.

"You wouldn't want that," he insists. "Wouldn't want the other students being judgy pricks because you have an in with the principals, right?"

Janelle shrugs again. Lee has never been one for comforting but he feels a need to put his arm around her. He very nearly does until he remembers he's still holding a half-empty cup of tepid soda. And he's not about to bring his fucked up arm near her. Later, he'll wonder if this was one of those profound moments in a teenager's life where they could really use some guidance or understanding or even just some fucking acknowledgement. He has no idea because all he can bring himself to do is offer her his discount anytime she comes into his store. At this, she actually laughs.

"No offense, Uncle Lee," she says, wrinkling her nose, "but your store isn't really my style."

"Oh, and this is?" he asks, motioning at her outfit with the soda. She laughs again. Lee relaxes. This is easy. This is familiar. "What'd you do, go dumpster diving at Goodwill?"

Janelle just shakes her head and rolls her eyes again, a smirk on her face. At least she gets his sense of humor. Suddenly, a voice calls her name and Lee turns to see three teenage girls heading their way. Thank God.

"I gotta go," she says. "We gotta catch a movie."

"Alright," he says and steps out of her way, allowing her to walk past him.

"See ya," she says over her shoulder. "I'll tell Dad you said hi."

"Yeah," Lee sighs as she rushes towards her friends. "Yeah, you tell him."

#vice principals #lee russell #walton goggins #neal gamby #janelle gamby #hbo vice principals #holly martins writes

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robinofgothamcity · 3 years

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♡ "the next time i see you, it'll be in hell" / "you're the best thing that's ever happened to me"

♡ pairing: connor kent (superboy/RotS) x fem! reader

♡ note: not checked for grammar or spelling mistakes / i was listening to 'esa hembra es mala' by gloria trevi so if you do speak spanish, that's a song rec while you read this fic. if you don't, listen to 'hermit the frog' by marina instead!

"connor please, you're giving ME a headache and it's only seven in the morning," his friend, jake, spoke as his hands covered his face, "wait, shut up, who is that?" connor asked, seeing you with a few friends.

jake sighed, "that's ( your name )," he spoke softly, "she's friends with everyone here. some like her, some can't stand her. it all depends on how she feels with you." you were schools resident 'popular' girl and had a bit of a following among your class.

"i'm gonna go talk to her," connor said. his friends eyes widened, "connor no!" jake screamed, grabbing his friend and pulling him back, "she's a complete bitch, don't do it!" jake exclaimed as he could tell that everything he was saying was going over connor's head.

you fixed the newspaper that had superboy's face plastered on the cover, "i just think that superboy could beat robin if i'm being honest. PLUS he's attractive because you can actually see his face," the day old conversation between you and your friends about who was the better sidekick struck up again and anyone who knew you knew how much you adored superboy.

"hey ladies," you turned to look at the boy, confused on who he was as you had never seen him around school. you gave him a small smile, "uh, hi?" you asked, "do i know you?"

the boy who approached you was wearing sunglasses which threw you off considering your school didn't allow anyone to wear them inside the building. you looked to his other friend, recognizing him as someone you had in your Calc class.

"just wanted to introduce myself, i'm connor," he said, giving you a sly smirk. you shook his hand, half awkwardly, "please i'm ( your name )," you replied as you saw the way connor gave jake a wink, "is there something you wanted or?" you asked again, not knowing why he was still here.

"no, just wanted to say hi to my future girlfriend," you let out a laugh, catching everyone off guard, "please, as if," you replied as you grabbed your friends and walked away, kind of taken back by the new boy.

"he was kinda cute," one of your friends said as you rolled your eyes, "uh, not really? kinda weird if you ask me," you replied, looking down at the newspaper, "well, i'm going to class, see ya," you said, walked towards your AP Lit class.

you sat down in the front, immediately talking to the friends you had in the class. it wasn't even five minutes later when connor entered the class, immediately smirking when he saw you. you growled, instantly annoyed at his expression.

"ah, so you've met the resident new boy?" you nodded as your friend giggled, "he's really nice. made more than a friends already," she said as you shrugged, "okay and? he had a lot of nerve coming up to me and telling me i'd be his future girlfriend," you replied.

she let out a belting laugh, "yeah, he told meghan from fifth period the same thing," you saw connor walking up to your desk and before he could make himself comfortable next to you, you instantly put your leg on the chair, "don't even think about it," you said, not even looking at him, "the desk in the back is available though," you smirked as you watched your teacher roll her eyes at your attitude.

connor bent down to your level, "don't gotta be so hostile, sweetheart, i know you like me," he whispered before getting up and leaving.

your friend, looked at you, laughing at disbelief at both of your attitudes. you rolled your eyes, trying to pay attention to the discussion as you could feel connor's eyes on you almost the entire time.

throughout the weeks and going into months, your relationship with connor didn't change. he arguably became the biggest pain your ass from the beginning of the day until the final bell rang. he managed to befriend a few of your friends which meant that you were around him at times.

you sipped your coffee as you were reading the newest article on superboy, "ah, ah, ah, what do we have here?" connor asked, taking the magazine from your hand, "superboy fan, huh?" he scanned the cover, a smug smirk coming onto his face as you snatched the magazine back.

"yeah, someone who's actually useful in life," you replied as he walked with you to your locker. he had never saw the inside of it and taken back by the amount of photos you had....of him, "aww, don't be that way, sweetheart! maybe one day superboy will actually give you a chance," he joked.

your annoyance instantly shot up as you slammed your locker and walking away, "see ya later sweetie!" he screamed. you stopped in the middle of the hall and flicked him off, "the next time i'll see you, it'll be in hell!" you yelled, storming off to class.

you walked into class, sitting down as your friend, henry, walked up to you, "hey babe," he said, a warm feeling crossing your face at the term of endearment, "hey henry, what're you up to?" you asked, seeing him looking at you, a bit nervously now.

"i was wondering if you were free-," before henry could say anything else, connor walked up behind him and tapping him on the shoulder. he had heard the conversation between the two of you and knew exactly where it was heading, "uh, she's not interested, better luck next time," connor stated, surprising henry with his sudden angry attitude.

henry knowing he didn't want to risk the chance of getting his ass kicked walked away from the conversation as you stared at connor with rage in your eyes, "what do you want?" you seethed as you saw connor's smirk playing on his face, "you weren't actually entertaining him, were you?" he asked in disbelief, "i literally hate you with every ounce of my being," you blurted, finally sick of connor's attitude.

his mouth hung open as you got up from the desk, "do me a favor and PLEASE leave me alone, that's all i ask," you stated as you walked out of class and deciding to ditch for the rest of the day.

"told you she was gonna blow up," jake informed as he sat down in his seat, connor still standing in place, taking in everything you had said. he knew he was being a bit of an ass but he didn't know you were that angry with him.

connor knew he had to make this up. he genuinely did like you and he didn't want to ruin his chances with you because of his shitty attitude. throughout the class period, he picked his brain for ideas until sirens went off in his head.

SUPERBOY.

he knew you were practically in love with his alter ego and he knew he could use superboy as a way to persuade you into giving him another chance. that is if he played his cards right.

you reluctantly showed up the next day, trying to avoid connor as best as you could. you were talking with a few friends, gossiping about the fight that superboy and robin had against a few low level villains in metropolis last night.

"hey, look at connor," jake whispered, seeing his friend practically beat up. you were taken back by his appearance as he had a few bruises on his arms and legs, "are you okay?" jake asked connor.

connor shook his head slowly, his body still recovering from the night before, "what were yall talking about?" he asked, trying to redirect the conversation. everyone looked to you, "someone was gushing about superboy, so please, if you'd continue," meghan said playfully.

"oh shut up, like you don't have robin posters all over your room," you retorted as you watched connor struggling to stay upright, "all i'm saying is that superboy remains the best sidekick there is. did you see the way he walked out of that fight scratchless and look at robin, he nearly died," you continued.

meghan instantly retorted as you noticed how eerily silent connor had became. you turned over to him, about to say something sarcastic towards him until he flopped on top of you, passing out completely. you looked down at him, "connor?" you whispered, "hey connor, wake up," you whispered, shaking him a bit.

"take him to the nurse!" jake yelled at you as you grabbed connor by the arm and pulling him against you, "fuck off, he's heavy as hell," you breathed, trying to steady his weight against you before walking slowly towards the nurse.

you made the walk to the nurse but by the time you made it, connor had woken up, "don't take me to the nurse, please," he whispered, "what are you talking about?" you exclaimed, "you clearly aren't okay and you don't look okay either," you added on.

he steered the two of you to the family bathroom and grabbed the first aid kit, "clean me up here, i really don't want to be questioned right now," he said, nothing cocky or playful in his voice. you sat him on the toilet, bending down to clean his face first, "hey, is everything okay....you know at home?" you asked.

he laughed, shaking his head, "these injuries aren't from my guardians if that's what you're wondering. i kinda got into a fight last night," you stared at him confused, "did you lose or something? these injuries look horrible," you replied.

"course i did, just took a nasty beating before i won," he said as he flinched at the rubbing alcohol hitting his arm. you muttered a sorry as you put a band-aid on a few of his cuts, "listen, i wanted to say sorry for acting like a prick," connor muttered a few minutes later.

you were taken back by his apology, "i knew i was being an ass but please don't take this as me joking but you're actually the best thing that's happened to me since i transferred," you remained silent, not knowing to respond as you put the last band-aid on his knee.

"and if i could have a second chance, that would be super dope, ya know?" he tried to say without sounding nervous, "you better not be joking, kent," you threatened, putting your finger on his chest and shoving him a bit.

connor flinched back in pain as you muttered a sorry, "i'm not joking, i'd really like to take you out for coffee sometime," he asked as he grabbed your hand and gave it a kiss. you agreed as you responded with a kiss on his cheek, "also, i had this lying around my room and figured you'd like it more than i would," he dug into his backpack and gave you a magazine.

your eyes widen seeing what it was. it was the magazine that superboy first appeared in and you had analyzed a few signatures of his to know that it was his signature on the front, "did superboy sign this?" you practically tried to contain your excitement as you ran your finger over the sharpie.

connor nodded, "i met him one time after he saved a few people in metropolis last year and got him to sign the magazine. i figured since you like hm a lot more than i do, you'd take care of it better than i would," overwhelmed with excitement, you grabbed connor by the neck and kissed him.

connor was taken back by the sudden kiss but awkwardly responded with another kiss as you held the magazine close to your chest, "i can't thank you enough for this connor," you whispered, your lips still on his a bit. he chuckled, "just meet me at the coffee shop near the school and that'll suffice," he replied, giving you another kiss before slowly getting up.

"now lets get to our second period before we get marked truant again," he grabbed your hand and held it as softly as possible, "you know how much shit our friends are gonna give us, right?" you said, laughing a bit. connor nodded, "nothing we can't handle," he replied as he squeezed your hand in reassurance.

#dc x reader #dc imagine #dc #superboy x y/n #superboy x reader #superboy imagine #connor kent #connor kent imagine #connor kent x reader #connor kent x you #comics

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nat-20s · 3 years

Text

for @jonmartinweek THE FINAL DAY prompt- Pining/Longing. This one takes place, well, you’ll see

~*~

A Study of Longing, Told in Six Parts

Part 1

Martin wonders if he’ll ever get to a point in his life where kindness doesn’t feel like a shock to the system. It’s already surprising enough when Tim and Sasha invite him for drinks in a genuine offer of friendship, but for that kindness to come from Jon? Martin has no idea what to do with being believed, let alone being protected.

And now here he is, blearily opening his eyes only to find himself staring at a mass of hair. As he sits up and rubs the sleep from his eyes, the shape resolves into the form of one Jonathan Sims. He had apparently fallen asleep with his head cushioned on his arms, against the cot Martin was currently occupying. It’s not an image that Martin can fully process at the moment, so instead he debates whether or not to wake Jon up or quietly get off the cot to let him get some much needed sleep. He decides on the former, both thinking that it would be hell on his back to keep sleeping in that position, and that he would like an explanation.

Hand hovering above Jon’s shoulder, but not fully touching, Martin oh so quietly calls out, “Jon?”

That’s all it takes for Jon’s head to rush up with a gasp, glasses askew, and with the texture of his sleeves pressed in red marks on his face. It is a horribly endearing look. “Hrn?”

Martin opens his mouths, closes it, and waits for Jon to get his bearings. Jon smooths down his (frankly ridiculous) sweater-vest, adjusts his glasses, and slips back on his professional demeanor. “My apologies, Martin, I, ah, must have fallen asleep.”

Glancing to the crappy little digital clock resting on a file box next to him, Martin rolls his eyes. Only Jon could be quite so stuffy at 4:32 in the morning. “No apologies needed. Though, um, was there? Something you needed or..?”

Jon shakes his head and stands up, dusting off imaginary grime. “No, no, nothing like that. I had just, er. I had heard you cry out and I- I wanted to make sure nothing was going on. It appears that it simply a nightmare,so I will be.. taking my leave. Now.”

He doesn’t know what part of himself replies, “Oh! You don’t have to go!,” but he replies it anyway. Jon does that little thoughtful frown at him, which forces him to continue, “I mean, if you wanted the cot. For sleeping. I’ll probably be awake for the rest of the night, so, you know, no skin off my back .”

“Ah. No, that’s quite alright, Martin. Try to get some more sleep, there’s still a long work day ahead.”

Jon doesn’t even wait for a response before turning on his heel and leaving. Martin sort of hates how much he wanted him to stay.

Part 2

Jon is laughing. Jon is terrified, all the damn time, and yet, somehow, he’s laughing. Honestly, he was starting to wonder if he was still capable of it. Martin is gesticulating wildly with his fork, animated in a way that Jon’s only ever seen when in they’re in the middle of a rather silly debate. He thinks this lunch’s topic was something like whether or not snakes were cute? He lost the thread of conversation about half an hour ago, honestly. Covering his mouth, he lets the giggles run through his whole body, shaking his shoulders and heating his core. He feels light, heady, like he’s reminiscing with an old friend and they’re both on the edge of having had too much to drink.

He only wishes he could trust this feeling. He wishes that he could trust Martin, that they were normal coworkers having a normal lunch, that the previous person in Jon’s position had gone into an easy retirement instead of being violently murdered. He wishes he hadn’t read that letter telling him, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that Martin, Martin, who took him to lunch and brought him tea and seemed so very warm in so very cold circumstances, was lying to him.

Jon stops laughing.

Part 3

Of course, the second his body hits the simultaneously stiff and weirdly lumpy motel mattress, his phone goes off. It may only be about 8 pm, but he’s tired, and he’s sore, and he’s had a persistent headcold for the past week for some unholy reason, the last thing he wants to do is talk. However, only about four people have the number to the burner cell, and they’re almost certainly have a purpose behind their call.

Closing his eyes and letting out a sigh that turns into more of a groan, he picks up on the 4th ring. “Hello?”

“Hey, Jon! It’s Martin, I’m not sure if you have my number programmed in that phone, or if it even has caller ID if you do. Anyway, it’s been about a week since I’ve heard anything, and I wanted to make sure you weren’t, y’know, dead or arrested or anything.”

His previously tense and aching muscles all relax, without him consciously deciding to relax them, and a sleepy smile spreads across his face, because some time in the past year he’s become a parody of himself. Yes, maybe he should be more affronted by how much Martin’s tinny voice brings him comfort, but he’s had a rather terrible time of things since...since he began work in the archives, really, and he’s worn down enough that he can admit he misses his friend.

Huh. Friends. They are, aren’t they? Wonder when that happened. (He can guess, something involving a fake CV admission, but he doesn’t feel like it right now.) “Martin, I recognize your voice, no need to introduce yourself.”

“Right! Yes, uh, ‘course..of course you can. Right. Sooo...I take it you’re not dead, then.”

“Correct. I haven’t been arrested, either.” It’s only sort of a comforting lie, so Jon thinks it can be forgiven.

“Good. Great! Yeah, that’s...that’s good.”

The conversation could probably end there. Jon could probably tell Martin good night, and they’d hang up, and Jon could get the sleep he had been so desperately craving not moments ago. Somehow, he thinks that neither of them want that. Scrambling for something to talk about, Jon replies, “Hang on, isn’t it something like 2am over there?”

“It...might be.”

“Martin!”

“What! It’s not like you have a monopoly on bad sleeping habits. Besides, I was up anyway, and I just..”

“Just what?”

“I just missed your voice.”

Oh. Heat rushes to his cheeks, and tears start to prick at the corners of his eyes, and god. He had missed Martin’s voice too. “Really? I know you’ve had to listen to a fair number of tapes lately, thought you might be sick of it by now.”

“No. I mean, I am a bit tired of tapes, honestly, but even the ones that you recorded, that not really your voice, is it? I mean it is, but it doesn’t sound like you when you’re actually, um, you. I wanted..I wanted to hear you.”

Jon’s far too worn out to deal with that sentiment, and the way that it makes his heart clench. So instead of addressing it, he says, “I am very close to being asleep.”

“Oh. Right, sorry, I’ll let you go-”

“No! No. Um. Would you mind staying on the line? Until I’m gone? I-I like hearing your voice. As well.”

“Oh! Sure, yeah, definitely. Anything in particular you want me to talk about?”

“Whatever you like. Something nice?”

“All right. I can do that. Um. Did I tell you about this little yarn shop I found the other day. It’s called ‘Puttin’ on the knitz’, and it’s…”

Jon peacefully drifts off, listening to the voice of the man who he can only admit in moments such as these, he wishes was in this bed, laying beside him.

Part 4

please come back please come back for the love of god come back I can’t believe you’re doing this do you have any idea how stupid this is come back to me come back come back come back

Part 5

There is plenty of things to long for in the apocalypse. A decent cuppa. The relief of actual sleep. Murdering Jonah Magnus. For there not to be a apocalypse. They are grateful, however, to not have to long for each other.

Part 6

Martin comes to without a knife in his hand, or bloodstains on his clothing. Those, under other circumstances, would be good things.

Martin comes to, laying in the grass, without anyone beside him. He barely has the moment to feel agony spike through him before he’s out once more.

There are no Jonathan Sims admitted to the hospital. As far as he can tell, no one was admitted into the hospital at the same time as him, and certainly no one with a stab wound.

There are thousands of ‘Jonathan Sims UK’, typed desperately into a library computer search bar, wielding mostly results about a sport manager and a romance novelist. None of the images are of the right person.

Sometimes Martin puts one foot in front of the other, carefully blank in heart and head. Surviving, even during times that he’s not sure he wants to, is one of his greatest abilities.

Sometimes Martin despairs.

On the worst nights, he tries to call the Lonely back to him, tries to be swallowed whole. It never works. He’s not sure if it’s because the fears aren’t in the reality or if they’re not established enough to have any leverage or if his connection has simply been broken. (He doubts the last reason. He hasn’t been this alone since Tim’s funeral. Even then, Melanie had thrown a few stilted condolences towards him. No one is aware enough of him to give condolences now. He misses Melanie. He misses all of them. He misses Jon like a gaping, bleeding wound misses skin.)

Seven months later, and he has enough money saved and identity built that he moves on to Scotland. The little village they had been adjacent to exists in this reality. Daisy’s cottage does not.

On a whim, he enters the yarn shop. He’s not going to pick anything up, hobbies are the last thing he can focus on, but it’s nice to look. To feel the various textures, to take in the rich variance of colors, to, hopefully be present in his own body, if only for a moment.

Martin steps in. The bell chimes. He’s there. Standing in front of him. Whole. In a cry that’s closer to a gasp, he calls out, “JON!”

Jon turns, looks up at him, recognizes him even before he’s even fully seen him. It’s his Jon, he’s here he’s here he’s here. The callback of “MARTIN!” sounds like it was punched out of him, the start of a sob and a laugh all at once.

In a blink, they’re together, their embrace a tangle of limbs, a collision of lips, a mixture of tears. Martin can’t tell which of them is saying the litany of “thank god thank god thank god” and who’s repeating “it’s you it’s you it’s you.”

It’s Jon that’s telling him, “I knew you had to be here. I knew it, because I kept thinking. Surely. Surely this new universe wouldn’t be so cruel as to allow me to live, but to make me live without you.”

It’s Martin that replies, “I didn’t know. I thought it would be that cruel. Please don’t make me go through that again.”

Jon pulls him in tighter, eliminating the centimeter of space between them. Speaking into Martin’s neck, whispered in fierce devotion, Jon promises, “Never again. Never again. You and me. Together. For the rest of our lives.”

Barely discernible through his sobbing, Martin tells him, “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

~*~

There are people that think that wanting is more worthwhile than having. Martin thinks, frankly, that those people have never been in love.

#jonmartinweek2021 #jonmartin #jon sims #martin blackwood #AHHH this is just over TWO THOUSAND words #i really was like for the last prompt i will not Shut Up lmao #also fun fact! part 4 was specifically designed to not be clear whether it was from jon or martins perspective

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council-of-readers · 3 years

Text

Hate You, Two

Request: Could you do a Spike x reader, where they hate each other, but gradually their feelings change, and they start to fall for each other (neither of them know). Spike could kiss the reader as a confession, it would be much appreciated💖

This is done as a sequel to one of my earlier stories, 'Hate You, Too'. I hope you enjoy!

~•~

That slimy, creepy, no good, stunningly handsome bastard.

When the hell did this happen? Since when were you the type to be left speechless by a guy? By Spike, no less. You hated his guts, and he made it clear the feeling was mutual. When did things change?

No, they didn't. No way. You were a little too tired, probably. You didn't have feelings for him. Nope. Not a chance in hell. Even if he was genuinely funny and gorgeous, he was still a prick. A prick who has tried to kill you, and your friends, on multiple occasions. You'd have to be insane to feeling anything other than loathing for him. So what if the other Scoobies trusted the guy?

Still.

You couldn't stop thinking about that moment. His face was so close to yours, and the way his expression changed...

Dawn waved a hand in front of your face, "Hello? Anybody home?"

"Hm?"

"I wonder who you were thinking of." Dawn smirked. For such a small being she could really get under your skin. This was the third comment she'd made alluding to him in as many hours.

"And I wonder how I got stuck on babysitting duty again."

Dawn stuck her tongue out at you and went back to writing, "Whatever. You know I'm right."

You did, and it bothered you to no end. You couldn't get Spike out of your mind. It didn't stop you from trying, of course, but your thoughts would always creep back to him. You'd been avoiding him for a few weeks now and even that didn't help. He was infectious, and you hated him for it.

The sound of the front door opening took you out of your head for a minute. You looked over your shoulder and waved at Buffy. She smiled back at you and came over to the table.

"Hey, thanks for watching Dawnie for me."

You laughed, "Course! Glad I could help out."

Buffy walked over and ruffled Dawn's hair, earning a protest of, "Hey!" from the younger Summers sister.

"She didn't give you too much trouble, did she?"

You shook your head no, "Nah, she was fine. A little annoying, but no more so than usual," you shot her a grin and Dawn rolled her eyes.

"I wasn't that bad." Dawn said. "We watched a movie," she told Buffy.

Buffy's head was buried in the fridge, looking for a post-slaying snack, "Yeah? Have fun?"

"We did. And, we got some homework done," you said.

She pulled out the milk and walked over to the cupboard to pull out some cereal, " Oh, that's good to hear. I was worried you two were just gonna spend the whole evening chatting."

"Nope, I helped keep her on track. Wanted to make sure you had a stress free evening after patrol."

Buffy gave you a grateful look. It was clear from her appearance that it had been a tough night. Probably a group of vampires or a demon that roughed her up. She didn't seem hurt, though, so you thought it best to just leave her be.

The conversation died down and you took that as your que to leave. You grabbed your keys off the counter right when Buffy spoke up.

"Oh, I forgot to mention. I ran into Spike."

You stopped dead in your tracks. Dawn started giggling.

"Yeah?"

"Mhmm. He asked about you."

"What did he say?"

Dawn giggled harder. She clamped a hand over her mouth in an attempt to stifle them and tried avoided your eyes. She needed to be quiet.

Buffy cocked an eyebrow at both of your reactions to her statement, "Am I missing something?"

"No-"

"They have a crush on Spike."

Dawn was dead meat, and she knew it. After she blurted out your little secret, she put down her homework and sprinted away from the table before you could reprimand her. You groaned and sat down as Buffy motioned for you to do so. She looked concerned, and you honestly couldn't blame her.

You sighed and began to explain, "Listen, it's not quite what Dawnie said," you left a pause in case Buffy wanted to interject, but she stayed silent, "but she's not wrong, either. I don't know. It's complicated."

"He's a vampire. An evil one," she cautioned, reaching out her hand. You took it and squeezed. It wasn't an easy conversation to have, especially given Buffy's history. "But, I'm not surprised."

She let go of your hand before continuing, "He's not hard on the eyes. Not really my type, but I'm not blind. And, I've noticed the tension between you two, lately. You haven't even wanted to be in the same room as him. You bitched at each other before, but you've never avoided him. Not like this. What happened?"

"I don't know." You tossed your arms into the air. "I was walking home, I ran into him, we exchanged insults, and something just... Changed. I don't get it."

She took a breath before looking you in the face, watching your expression, "Do you like him? Like, like like him."

You shrugged, honestly not knowing how to respond.

"If he told you he was into you, how would you feel?" Buffy asked. Your involuntary smile betrayed you, and your friend chuckled sadly, "Guess that's that."

She stood up, and you did, too.

"Listen," Buffy said, "he's evil. I don't approve. But, I'm not going to stop you. If you decide that he's what you want, I'll support you. Even if it goes wrong."

You hugged her tightly. Buffy returned the gesture. She handed you your keys. "Be careful going home. It's one of those nights."

You told her thanks and walked out the door. The lock clicked behind you and the porch light flickered on. Thoughtful, but it wouldn't do you much good. You lived about a block down from her, and though it wasn't far, it was just far enough to make you nervous. If she hadn't been exhausted, you knew Buffy would have walked you home.

You weren't bad at taking care of yourself; it was a necessary skill set for the kind of life you lead. The friends you kept. But you knew enough to know that you should be afraid of the dark.

When you heard footsteps behind you, your heart sank. You gripped your keys tighter, fitting three of them between your fingers and making a fist.

"Feeling a bit feisty, aren't we, love?"

Oh, you so wanted to deck him.

You spun around and scowled at Spike, trying to keep your conversation with Buffy out of your mind. The last thing you needed was for him to have more ammunition to use against you.

"The hell do you want?" You spat.

His cocky grin fell off his face for a second and was replaced by what seemed like genuine hurt. He quickly masked it with an annoyed grimace and clenched his jaw.

With a scoff he pulled a cigarette pack out of his coat pocket, "Aren't you a lovely one to be around."

He stood silently as he tapped one out of the box and fished around for his lighter.

"Help a bloke out?" He flashed his teeth at you again and you had to pray he didn't notice the heat it brought to your cheeks. Now that you knew you had feelings for him, every interaction you'd ever had with Spike was recontextualized. Including this one.

You pulled a lighter out as he placed the cigarette between his lips. His eyes roamed across your body as you lit it for him, making your cheeks burn even more.

Spike nodded his head in thanks and began to walk along side you. You didn't move for a few beats, before deciding you'd rather have him with you than be alone while you walked. It seemed Spike had the same idea.

"Not exactly bright of you to walk home alone. All sorts of nasties out."

You laughed, "So I've heard."

There was silence between you two for a while, and you got the feeling it wasn't just you that felt uncomfortable. It chilled you to think that he might have picked up on your little crush. Buffy was right. He was evil, and he hated you.

That didn't sound right, though. The thought felt more like an anxious fear than an actual reading of the situation.

"You've been avoiding me." He said it like a statement, but you knew it was a question.

You didn't respond.

"I mean, s'not like I've missed you or anythin'. Just that those bloody Scoobies are insufferable on their own."

You stared at him in surprised and he stammered.

"Not that you're any less insufferable. You're just the only one with anything interesting to say."

"Even if it's at your expense?" You asked.

Spike laughed, "Yeah. Least you've got balls," he took a drag off his cigarette before continuing, "I do something extra to tick you off?" He almost sounded sorry.

You stayed silent again.

"Suppose that fits. Well, it's a pity. I like having you around."

It was your turn to smirk, "I thought I was insufferable?"

He didn't have a comeback. It didn't matter much, though, as you were only one house away from your home. You debated thanking him for walking you home, but thought better of it. It surprised you when, as you turned and walked up your steps, Spike didn't keep going straight. He stayed beside you all the way until you got to your door.

You'd never invited him in, and you both knew that wasn't going to change tonight. Even if a part of you wanted to.

"Listen..." Spike said softly. It was a tone you'd never heard him use with you before. "Something changed that night I caught you and the niblet on the way home. Between us."

You could feel his confidence waver and you didn't dare look at him when you spoke.

"What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean, pet."

The term of endearment, usually said in condescension, actually felt endearing this time. Genuine. Your heart was beating loudly in your chest.

You swallowed and dared a glance at his face. He was wearing the same expression he had on that night. You still couldn't quite place it.

His look changed again to one of minor distress.

"I don't have the words right now," he put forward, "but I can't leave things like this."

Your thoughts were racing as he took a step closer towards you. Everything was spinning and you couldn't be sure if this was even happening. It all felt so surreal. When he kissed you, your world fell apart. Everything shattered around you and you were left floating there. Alone. With Spike. And it felt okay.

When he pulled away, a little, "Oh," was all you could manage.

He cocked his head, "That a bad 'oh' or a good 'oh'?"

"Good."

Spike dropped his cigarette and put it out with the heel of his boot. He looked at you with that same soft expression, "Good."

#starting off with a pun is #a choice #that i made #its a funny title though even if its not grammatically correct #anyways heres the long awaited sequel #spike x reader #btvs #btvs x reader #buffy the vampire slayer #spike btvs x reader #spike x you #buffy summers #dawn summers #spike btvs

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honeytae · 3 years

Text

I’ll always be here to pick up the pieces.

hi my loves! this is just a very very soft piece revolving around the reader having a bad day and jimin being the thoughtful sweetheart he is. but like, if i’m honest, it was just an excuse to write tooth rotting fluff for our sweet angel jimin lol i hope you all enjoy it :) tags: @ahgasearmyfan, @hoseokayy, @jjlovr2015 genre: fluff

word count: 2.2k

Jimin’s clutch on the wooden spoon loosened at the sound of a key entering the lock on the front door, eyes darting from the pot on the stovetop to the digital display of the time, confirming that you were home from work with the familiar order of numbers in front of him.

Leaning over the top of the pot to sniff at the meal he’d been working on, he pulled away with a single nod to himself, deeming it good enough for you to eat after your long day. Already having an inkling that it had not been your best, he was fully prepared for you to come home in search of some rest and relaxation.

And it seemed he was right; it was clear that you were not in a good mood.

It was clear from the loud huff past your lips as you slammed the door behind you and the thud of your bag making impact with the hardwood floor echoing throughout the apartment, further proving his suspicion that today has completely sucked for you.

It was hard to miss the hunch of your tensed shoulders as you walked into the kitchen to join him, the loose wrap of your arms around his slim waist and lazy peck of your lips to his back making him frown sympathetically.

“Hi, dove.” He cooed at you, stretching his arms behind him to wrap around your body, neck straining as he tried to get a glimpse of you to no avail.

You mumbled an incoherent greeting back to him, nuzzling your face further into his body as you closed your eyes.

“Bad day?” He asked gently, hearing you sigh behind him at the question.

“How’d you guess?” You mumbled tiredly into his shirt, Jimin swiftly turning around in your haphazard grip to face you.

“Your texts kind of gave it away. You didn’t sound like your usual self.” He frowned, you humming as your shoulders raised in a tired shrug.

“We don’t have to talk about it, baby. Just wanna make you feel better, you know?” He tipped his head adorably, looking much like a puppy with his wide eyes eagerly awaiting the release of your true emotions.

“Thank you.” You whispered softly, leaning in to plant a kiss to his soft cheek, a noticeable quirk in the man’s lips at the action.

“Now, what can I do to help?” He asked softly, genuine in his ask as he stared at you, surveying every dampened feature with a sad gleam in his eye.

“Can I just have a hug?” You smiled shyly, Jimin beaming as he quickly wrapped his arms around your back, pulling you into his chest as you set your arms over his shoulders, folding them behind his neck with a grin.

“I can do that.” He replied happily, feeling your previously tensed shoulders sag more and more with each moment in his arms.

You sighed into his neck as you nuzzled into the warm skin, the comforting feeling of his hands soothing up and down your spine causing you to go lax in his hold.

“You always give the best hugs.” You exhaled, Jimin chuckling as he dropped his lips against your shoulder in a quick kiss.

“You know, Taehyung says that as well. I think you two are trying to give me a big head.” He joked, pulling you in tighter with his hands pressed to your back.

You laughed at his words, moving your face so that your forehead was pressed to the center of his chest, fingers on his neck lightly tracing over the hair at his nape.

“Thank you.” You repeated, Jimin humming in response before he pressed repetitive kisses to the side of your head, the way his lips puckered against your hair over and over again nearly causing you to melt in his grip.

“Of course.” He responded, pulling back slightly to look at you with a soft smile.

He seemed to be studying your face, assessing the emotions written in your expression with a concentrated gaze.

“Don’t worry, I’m not gonna cry.” You chuckled, Jimin scoffing with a roll of his eyes as he locked his arms around you tighter, leaning his forehead onto yours.

“You can cry. You can always cry with me.” He smiled warmly at you, the giggle escaping your lips making his eyes shine at you in adoration.

“I know.” You responded softly, closing your eyes at the feeling of his lips pursing against your cheeks, moving up to plant gentle kisses to your tired eyelids.

“I just want to make you feel better. And sometimes crying is the perfect way to do that.” He shrugged, causing you to gently smile at him before pressing your lips to his.

“You’re cute.” You explained the sudden action, Jimin’s cheeks darkening at your words as he tried to suppress a smile at the unexpected praise.

With a final peck to his bottom lip, you began to pull yourself back from him, although not fighting the reassuring gesture of Jimin’s fingers entangling with your own.

“I’m alright, Chim, just tired. I should start dinner, though. Can you grab the frying pan that I bought last week? I’ve been trying to use it but haven’t gotten the chance and-”

“No, no, I made dinner.” He stopped your rambling, your eyebrows raising in surprise at the words as you shot him a confused look.

It wasn’t that Jimin was a bad cook, per say. He was no michelin trained chef, that was for sure, but he was decent enough.

The thing with Jimin was that he liked companionship. Every experience was heightened if he got to do it with you, so almost all nights that he made dinner, he waited for you so that he could cook while chatting to you about your day as you sat across the room from him, fondly watching his every move.

The majority of the time, you ended up helping him, as there were common mishaps that often left him in need of some guidance. “How long was I supposed to leave that on for?” and “When did that start boiling?”, each question causing you to get up and stand beside him at the oven, helping him transfer the pots with a gentle smirk.

This was new.

“I don’t know, it might suck, but I just didn’t want you to have to worry about cooking and I just kinda wanted to take something off your list and, yeah,” He finished his rambling, gesturing with a throw of his hand to the dish behind him on the stove, you curiously leaning over to look at the food you’d completely missed upon entering the room before pulling back with a gasp.

“Is that- How did you make that?” You asked in shock, completely astonished at the pot sitting atop the burner, not only something Jimin had never made before but something you hadn’t even attempted to make yourself.

Your favorite childhood dinner.

“I, well,” He hesitated, smiling bashfully when you raised your eyebrows at him and his stuttered speech, “I kind of got the recipe from your mom.”

And you swore in that moment, if you hadn’t been completely head over heels for the man before, you were definitely fully whipped for him now.

“You,” You paused, entirely endeared as he shuffled nervously in front of you, your expression unreadable as you opened and closed your mouth in a loss for words.

Jimin’s utmost consideration and love shined through in many, many ways. But this gesture was a whole new level.

You couldn’t imagine how long he’d spent making it; it was a classic family recipe, and even your mother, who’d perfected it decades ago, couldn’t get it done and ready to eat for a few hours.

“Okay,” you started, feeling tears prick at your eyeballs as you looked at the dish, switching your focus from the stove top to your boyfriend whose eyes softened immediately at the sight of your eyes welling up with unshed tears.

“I know I said I wasn’t going to cry, but now you’re being really fucking cute and I don’t think I can hold it back anymore.” Your voice wavered as you spoke, immediately putting Jimin into action as his arms pulled you into his chest.

“Oh, dove. I love you.” He soothed into your hair, pressing a kiss to the spot as your tears spilled out onto his neck.

You didn’t even know how long you were standing there in his arms, concentrating on the circling of his palm on your spine in order to comfort yourself.

His whispered small assurances to you slowly coaxed your tears to stop falling, picking your head up from his chest and meeting his big brown eyes, slightly creased in worry as he cupped your face, tracing his thumbs over the skin underneath your eyes.

“What happened today? You wanna talk about it?” He asked softly, worry etched into his features as your back shook underneath his hand in your effort to control your cries.

Jimin’s eyes eagerly locked with your own in a way that told you he was trying to get you to let him in, studying your irises as if they would relay all your problems to him.

“Maybe later. I just wanna be with you right now.” You pouted, Jimin nodding in understanding before leaning down to kiss your forehead.

You nearly caved into another sob as he moved his hand from your spine to your face, fingers gathering the strands of hair that had stuck to your wet cheeks and soothing them back behind your ears.

The sweet gesture had you tearing up again, sniffling back the salty liquid threatening to spill over your cheeks again as Jimin gently scratched his fingernails against your scalp.

“Shit, I got your shirt wet.” You mumbled as your eyes locked onto the dark patch on his t-shirt, Jimin scoffing at your words as he widened his eyes at you.

“Is it my shirt we should be worried about right now?” He asked, eyebrows raised in amusement as you nodded adamantly.

“Yeah. That’s expensive.” You justified your answer, Jimin rolling his eyes with a fond smile as he pulled you into another hug.

“You’re silly.” He kissed your temple, beginning to sway you slightly side to side.

“Chim.” You mumbled softly, the man humming in response.

“Do you know how much I love you?” You pulled your head back, Jimin’s eyes softening at your words, hand resting underneath your jaw so that his thumb could swipe across your chin affectionately.

“I do. But I love you more.” He replied childishly, your sigh of annoyance causing his giggles to fill the kitchen.

“Seriously, Jimin. Thank you so much.” You spoke genuinely, Jimin smiling as he nodded with a slight tint of pink on his cheeks.

“Let’s get you fed, angel.”

Reaching for a plate, he scooped a portion out onto it, gently handing it off to you. You surprised him with a kiss to his cheek in thanks, smiling at the skin heating in a blush before you turned around to sit on one of the chairs placed at your kitchen island.

“I’m too lazy to set up the table.” You explained as you sat down with a huff, grabbing your fork as Jimin carried his own plate to where you sat.

“This works, baby.” He reassured you, taking the seat next to you and leaning his cheek on his palm in order to watch you scoop up a forkful, his eyebrows nervously shooting up as you raised it to your mouth.

He waited expectantly for your review, eyes surveying you as your mouth began to move in chewing motions.

You hummed around the food in approval, eyes widening in surprise before a closed mouthed smile spread across your cheeks.

“Jimin, this is amazing. Are you sure my mom didn’t make this? Holy crap.” You said, gathering another forkful as Jimin blushed at your praise.

“Is it really?” He wondered, you responding by putting your full fork at his lips, his mouth parting to allow you to feed him the dish he’d worked so hard on.

You waited for his reaction as he took the food off of the fork, bobbing his head from side to side as he chewed, swallowing with a shrug.

“Not bad.” He commented modestly, your eyes widening as you shook your head, negating his answer.

“Not bad? Jimin, this is just like the original. You’re amazing.” You said, the man’s cheeks once again glowing red at your praise before turning his face to plant a kiss to your lips.

“You’re amazing.” He emphasized, eyes looking deeply into your own in an attempt to plant the compliment in your head.

With a sigh, you ducked your head to his neck, kissing the spot of skin underneath his ear in a silent response to his words.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you, Chim.” You mumbled, his arm wrapping around your back as he soothingly ran his palm along the expanse of your spine.

“You’ll always have me, dove. I’ll always be here to pick up the pieces.” He replied softly, smiling at you when you lifted your head from his shoulder.

“Thank you.” You whispered, Jimin playfully tapping the tip of his pointer finger against your bottom lip in response.

“Alright, now eat up. I have to call your mom after this to properly admire her hard work.”

You giggled at that, turning back to your food and obediently picking up your fork to continue eating, Jimin mirroring your actions.

206 notes · View notes

qianoir · 3 years

Text

After Midnight 2 - Rhiannon

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: college dropout!Ten (WayV) x fem!reader

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: non-idol au, angst with fluff on top

𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: 13+

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: cursing (censored), lying, family problems, mentions death of reader's father, romance, this part determines the reader’s age but feel free to ignore

♡ 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.5k

𝐓𝐚𝐠 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭: @staysstrays

Preview < 1 < 2

𝟏𝟎:𝟎𝟎 𝐀𝐌

Should I call him? No! What if it wasn't meant for me? Idiot, there was no one else in the café of course it was meant for you! What if it's a prank? It's probably the number to a McDonald’s or something. And if it's not..? What if he never comes into the café again?

You woke up in a freezing cold room with an acquainted boy named "Ten Lee" on your mind, contemplatively staring into his napkin before finally deciding to text him.

You typed the 11 digits into your phone.

Ok... now what do I say?

Hi Ten, this is Y/N from Décalcomanie.

Hi Ten, this is Y|

Why do I even care about this so much? It's just a text and for all I know this kid could be some kind of siren-vampire trying to seduce me with song lyrics at nighttime.. is that even possible?

Hi Mr. Lee this is Y/N from Décalcomanie.

Why so formal? Oh God I sent it..

It’s done.

You grabbed a towel and prepared a quick shower before continuing the rest of the morning. Intruding thoughts about Mr. Lee fill your mind under the water.. like.. why does he only visit the café at night? Your prior superstitious suspicions about him being a vampire fall back in mind.

At least if I get to be a vampire I can live this timeline as a doctor and make my mom happy, then be a dancer for eternity.

As much as you did not know about Ten, you still knew quite a bit about him. His favorite combination at the café is an iced Americano with pandan cake, his favorite color is black— you assume since it's the only color his outfits consist of, and he has a younger sister, which you found out after hearing him say 妹妹 over the phone one night.

The loud text notification sounds throughout the bathroom and you nearly slip trying to quickly finish your shower to check the new message.

Mom (Work)

My daughter! Your grandmother is sick, I am going to Incheon to bring her medicine and groceries so I need you to open the café today. I should be back to take over at 2 o’clock. Be careful on your own!

Unwrapping your body of your towel to dress into a nice outfit, you sighed knowing your Saturday would be another day spent on your sore feet. The café opens at 11 AM so you would only be working an extra few hours, but you hoped your mom would let you take a slice of delicacy home for the filial overtime.

“Aya!”

Another loud notification tone beamed from your phone, forcing your name brooch to prick at your fingertip. The screen luminated with an unknown number.

Contact Not Found

hihi Y/N! no need to be so formal with me! I'm only from ‘96 :)

Contact ‘TEN’ Added

TEN

are you free today? I was wondering if you wanted to get coffee and ice cream, if you're not sick of the smell yet ;p

You frowned remembering the plans your mother made for your day.

Y/N

I'm so sorry Ten my mom wants me to work opening for the café today :(

Figuring that was your ending, you packed a bag full of necessities for the day and walked to Décalcomanie.

TEN

why don't I come over there? the café serves bingsoo this time of year right? it’s barely the afternoon, not many people will be dining. we could still hang out if you’re down?

Butterflies soared in your stomach just like they do every night at 11:59 PM.

Y/N

Yeah that sounds perfect :)

TEN

okk see you soon!

Eek!

It felt so weird to think of seeing him in the daytime, especially after just mentally accusing him of being a bloodsucker.

Upon your entrance, the café was soon bright with morning light and you patiently awaited Ten’s arrival. Nearly an hour had gone by and there was no sign of him. You didn't think he would flake out, but you barely know each other so why wouldn't he?

Ten was right; it was pretty empty here this morning. You bent forward to hand one of the regular old women her tea in the Décalcomanie’s prettiest teacup upon your mother’s request of the best service for all of her regular customers.

The bell chimed with an open door. Your eyes blinked to the woman's upturned phone by her saucer.

𝟏𝟏:𝟓𝟗 𝐀𝐌

Could it be? You laughed at the irony in the thought, but when you looked up from the woman’s table, a rice cake cheeked boy stood across from you.

"I'm here!" He announced to the entire floor.

You bowed a greeting like you do for every customer and ushered him to the bar, "Sit down over here." where he sat in front of your standing form. "What type of bingsoo have you come in for, sir?" You teased.

"Coconut with vanilla ice cream! And.. two spoons?"

You blushed at the thought of sharing subtle intimacy with the fine young man before your eyes. You had only just met him, but you saw no harm in sharing a dessert with him as you would do with friends.. if you had them.

Nodding and running off to make the icy dessert, you heard the ripple of a writing pen. From the corner of your eye, peeked Ten orchestrating an English poem onto a stray napkin, his brown bangs falling on the bridge of his nose. These little actions made your heart jump; his passion for various styles of music felt so endearing to you.

You paid for the grandiose bowl of sugar and presented it to Ten. His phone lit up with a notification and you took notice of his wallpaper: Him with a disgusted looking boy that he was French kissing on the cheek. I'm not judging but.. whomst?

"Who's that?" You asked, handing him a spoon, taking another for yourself.

He glanced at his phone and blushed, breaking out in quiet giggles.

"That's my friend, Yangyang. We really enjoy our time together."

You hummed and smiled. They seem to have a good friendship, but you were still curious to know more about this Yangyang guy.

"So you attend university?" Ten asked before shoveling a high spoon of ice flakes into his mouth.

"I'm a sophomore at SNU." You replied, mirroring his bold eating style.

Ten spoke with surprised eyes, "Really!? That's a fancy school. Wow～ you must be really smart."

"Not really.. I'm studying dance. All I do is move my feet."

"I'm a dancer, too! It's a really hard and beautiful art, you shouldn't sell yourself short for being a part of it." He genuinely advised.

You looked down after thanking him for his kind words, suddenly feeling very bashful. "How old are you, by the way? You calling me Mr. Lee this morning is all I've been thinking about." You both laughed.

"I'm 20, turning 21 this year.” He nodded. "You're from ‘00? Yangyang is the same age as you!" He exclaims.

"I’ve never met someone my age! How many friends do you have?"

"I have a few, but I’m closest to a specific six and we all live together."

"It must be nice to have so many friends. It’s been a little difficult for me to make friends this semester.." You stirred some melted ice cream around your side of the bowl, suddenly feeling very lonely in Ten’s personal presence.

"You should come over sometime! We love new friends!" He was pleading with his eyes for you to agree.

"Oh.. I don't want to intrude-" "No really! We would love to have your company. Here..." He flipped over the napkin he was previously writing on and scribbled a short address on it, sliding it over to you.

"You should come by tomorrow evening. 5 o'clock if it works for you." Ten says before finishing off the last bit of flavored dairy in the bowl.

You scanned over the inked napkin in your hand.

97 Saemunanro, Sinmunno 1 il-ga, Jongnogu, Seoul

"It's apartment number 117. Just call me when you get there because we may not be able to hear your knocks over the screaming." You looked at him in slight concern, but he only smiled in return.

Ten took out his card to pay for the bingsoo, but you stopped him. "Oh I already paid for the both of us!"

"Aww you didn't have to," Ten frowned, but handed me $20 anyways, "Here take this at least. A tip for my favorite barista." He winked and ran out of the café before you could protest.

"REMEMBER 5 O'CLOCK!"

Ten shouted, bumping into a man, who cursed at him, profusely bowing on the way out. You shook your head at his silliness and flipped the napkin over to a pretty poem.

She is like a cat in the dark and then

she is the darkness

She rules her life like a fine skylark

and when the sky is starless

To Be Continued…

Rhiannon by Fleetwood Mac

𝘲𝘪𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘪𝘳

#wayv x reader #ten x reader #nct x reader #wayv imagines #wayv angst #wayv fluff #ten imagines #ten angst #ten fluff

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oliverwvvd · 3 years

Text

the devil in me, part ii

Back to writing these two, inevitably, at long last. This is for the lovely anon who dropped by and mentioned this one, despite it having been years since the last post. This is slightly trigger heavy, so sorry if the triggers contain spoilers, but people's mental health comes first so they can choose whether or not to engage with the content.

This is part of a series. You can find part one here.

pairing: Marcus Flint x Oliver Wood

premise: When Marcus wakes again in the endless white of St Mungo's, Oliver is still there, and his wand is still gone. Marcus thinks it's about debts owed, or at least, that's what he's trying to tell himself. Whatever other reasons might keep Oliver Wood at his bedside aren't remotely within a framework he's equipped to handle. [possible triggers: severe PTSD, hospitals, battle situations, Legilimency, implied invasion of the mind, implied intention not to survive]

When he wakes, one needle is back in his arm and Marcus’ first inclination is to be pissed off about it. Of course it is. Being angry is the best alternative, sublimation for all of the other emotions he should be feeling and isn’t. He doesn’t need any St Mungo’s trained therapist to tell him about that, mainly because it’s deliberate on his part.

“For fuck’s sake,” he mutters. “I don’t want painkiller withdrawal on top of everything else. The dosage has to be sky-high for me not to be feeling anything.”

“So you’d rather have the searing amount of pain that makes you pass out within minutes instead? You’re right; being a masochist is a much better idea.”

He closes his eyes. “Why are you still here, again?”

“Waiting for you to take your head out of your arse, though it seems I’ll be in for a long wait.” The tart rejoinder in a lovely, rolling Scottish brogue that he instinctively wants to wrap himself in doesn’t help his temper. Neither does the fact that Oliver is still too earnest despite the familiar barb in the words, as though he thinks he owes Marcus something. The stubborn set to his jaw is familiar too, viewed more than once when facing him on a Quidditch pitch.

It makes Marcus want to push him away for his own safety, because don’t you know what I am? Instead, his gaze is sulky, as though he’s a teenager again in a way he hasn’t been in years, and it’s solely fixed on Oliver. “I don’t like you, and I don’t want you here,” he says, and if that’s not the biggest lie he’s told in the past couple of years, he’s not entirely sure what is.

Oliver shrugs. “That’s too bad, Flint, because I’m not going anywhere.” He’s wearing a poloneck jumper, just like he used to at school when it got to winter weekends out of uniform, and Marcus has the fleeting, horrifying thought that maybe it covers bruises or worse. A second thought just as horrifying resurfaces: he still doesn’t have his wand.

That thought makes him abruptly change the subject. “Alright, Wood, since you’re here, be a good boy and tell me why I don’t have my wand.” It’s not a question. He doesn’t phrase it as one. To punctuate it and make it clear he’s not asking, Marcus opts to verbally twist the knife for good measure. “You owe me. That’s why you’re here, right? To settle the debt. So start talking.” That’s not a question either, because why else Oliver might be there is more than he can possibly handle getting into.

Oliver’s (Wood’s, damn it) expression darkens momentarily, as though he’s about to pick a fight. Marcus wants him to, because at least that would be normal, but he sees it the moment that Oliver registers he’s in a hospital bed all over again, sees the way his gaze turns pained and then the shutters draw closed again so he’s at a loss for what the other is thinking. He doesn’t like it. Oliver was always an open book, no filter, no love lost on his side of the equation. He doesn’t know what this new thing is.

He clears his throat brusquely. “Well?”

Oliver sighs. “They’re concerned about your mental state as well. That’s why you don’t have your wand. They thought you might try something you’d regret.”

Fury is, of course, the quickest and most reliable reaction. “So they thought they’d improve things by taking away the only piece of autonomy I had available to me for months? That’s genius thinking, that is. Who do I need to see to recommend them for promotion?”

Oliver’s lips twitch briefly then, clearly catching the sarcasm, but at the same time seemingly unable to smile at it. That’s fine, because it’s not funny at all.

Marcus exhales a sharp sigh, one that’s less exasperated by this point than unimpressed. “I suppose they thought I’d curse the whole place down, eh?” This time, it is a question, and the smile that goes with it isn’t genuine, it’s mean and sharp-edged. It’s an echo of all the ugly things that have stained his hands and his mind, and it occurs to him that throughout that, Oliver has been the only good thing, a pure thing he’d constructed for himself, a secret he kept that was sometimes the only reason he didn’t give in altogether. Now that’s done and it’s back to reality.

To his consternation, Oliver shakes his head, as though he can sense what Marcus is thinking. “No one believes that after the battle. You threw yourself in the way of someone that would have been dead if you hadn’t, without knowing whether you’d survive.” The words seemed hard for Oliver to speak, as though it was like a demon lived in his throat for as long as they sat there. “They didn’t know if you were going to pull through, the first couple of days.”

An eye-roll is Marcus’ first response to that, and he averts his gaze from Oliver then. “That was sort of the bloody point, Wood.” The words fall heavily in the room between them, but this time it’s not out of malice, it’s from defeat, an admission that he should have kept to himself. The anger hasn’t emptied its well yet, but for the time being, it’s quiet, a savage thing made somnolent again by the fact that he can feel the needle in his arm start to pour more potion into him. Presumably, it’s going to knock him out eventually.

Oliver’s own exhale is shaken, as though Marcus has punched him square in the solar plexus and it hurts, badly. After all these months of silence, it’s as though the casually cruel words aiming to drive him away are doing more damage than even the war has managed to. “Flint, you can’t just…”

Marcus wants to sit up again but the potion, damn it, feels like it’s got him pinned in place. That makes him edgy, makes him feel the cold sweat of panic beginning to prick, and he absolutely will not have a panic attack of any kind in front of an audience. He swallows hard, and Oliver seems unable to finish the sentence. It hangs there between them, unfinished.

That’s the moment that the door creaks open and the healer walks in, oblivious to the conversation that had been happening beforehand. Oliver leans back in the chair beside Marcus’ bed.

Marcus’ lip curls just slightly. “Come to check I’m still breathing?” he asks snidely. “Sorry to disappoint. You can go now, your duty is done.”

The healer does no such thing. “I’d hoped you’d be asleep by now,” he says with a tsk tsk sound that reminds Marcus of the teachers from school whenever he didn’t do his homework correctly. It does nothing to endear the man to him at all. “Evidently we need to increase your dosage. You shouldn’t have ripped those needles out of your arm as soon as you did, but Mr Wood tells me you have a remarkably high tolerance for pain.”

That causes Marcus’ gaze to narrow in Oliver’s direction, and it’s as accusing as it gets.

Oliver, to his credit (the little of it that Marcus is currently willing to give) doesn’t look away. “I’ve been in the Hospital Wing with you multiple times,” is the reminder that unexpectedly arrives, softer than he’s ever deserved. “You never took your painkillers. You always cast Evanesco.”

On the one hand, Marcus’ glare only intensifies, because Oliver’s just ratted him out to the healer. On the other, what does it even mean that Oliver remembers; how there seems to be something dark and sad behind his gaze ever since a few minutes ago. It doesn’t correlate with his real life knowledge of Wood, only the fantasy version he constructed in his head to have a reason to go on, and Marcus is fully aware of how incredibly unhealthy that was and is.

It’s only the healer’s voice that interrupts their charged stare, clearly ready to go for another lecture. “Well, there will be no hiding painkillers here. What were you thinking, taking those out? Did you just not realise the degree of damage you took?” It isn’t an indignant pair of questions, instead asked with the tone of someone who wants to understand the subject they are studying. It presses all of the wrong buttons for Marcus, and he endures it in silence until he can’t.

This is the moment he snaps. But it isn’t like every other time he’s lost his temper. No, this is different; his voice is surprisingly quiet and unsteady when he speaks. “Why does everyone want to know what I’m thinking suddenly? I’ve just spent the last two years having my mind pulled apart at a moment’s notice. All that I want is for everyone to stop trying to get into my head because I don’t want anyone in there ever again. Got it? It’s none of your business what I’m thinking.”

Dimly, he registers that Oliver has gone pale as he starts to understand what Marcus means. The healer looks appalled, because evidently, this was something undetectable while he was unconscious, and he’s beyond lashing out, because this has hit places he doesn’t want to go.

“Get out.” The words are quieter still, and there’s a flat, dulled down, deadly note to them.

Even half-conscious on a bed, drugged by the potion, it leaves to question what Marcus is capable of, the one thing no one has dared to think about so far. It’s a weak threat, but his voice carries all of it, like it’s every atom of a star at the moment of destruction.

The healer leaves. Oliver doesn’t, because Oliver hasn’t learned to be afraid of him, even though he should have.

When Marcus looks at him again, he thinks that he sees Oliver flinch, just a little around the eyes, and he knows he’s going to say something unforgivable if he isn’t left alone. “I meant you as well.” The words are empty. You need to go before I do any more things that I regret, and I can’t live with any more.

Oliver doesn’t listen. Instead, he does something that Marcus can handle even less. He climbs onto the bed and rests there next to him, close enough for Marcus to feel him breathe. “You’re really not a good listener, Flint. I already told you. I’m not leaving.”

Marcus’ hands suddenly feel too heavy, utterly ineffectual when he tries to raise them to push Wood right off the bed. Land on his arse. That’ll show him. Instead, his head starts to nod forward, and Oliver, the scheming bastard, must have known that the potion would take effect soon, had kept him talking until he had no choice but to go back to sleep again.

He’s so angry. He’s exhausted. He’s repeating the same cycle, inescapable, stuck on a loop of his own making. There’s wool against his face, something warm against his back. Oliver’s voice is there, he can feel it rumble in his chest, but the words don’t even register. It’s a warm sound, like copper and firelight, and it’s the last thing in his dwindling awareness before the world is lost altogether.

The frightening part is that he’s starting to want to wake up again.

That wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

#the devil in me #ol writes things #flintwood #flintwoodnet #marcus flint #oliver wood #marcus x oliver

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thewayshedreamed · 4 years

Text

Open Secrets— Nessian AU

Prompt submission by Nonnie— Reverse fake dating au where everyone thinks you’re dating and you’re keeping it a secret, but you’re not.

Thanks to whoever submitted this prompt! I’d originally completed this prompt for Feysand, but I struggled between that one and this one! Thanks to @awesomelena555 and @bookstantrash for encouraging me to post the Nessian version too!

——————————————————————————

Nesta pulled up to Rhysand and Feyre’s new home about 30 minutes after their house-warming party had begun. It was certainly a little out of character of her, being that she was someone who considered five minutes early as “on time”. It wasn’t really her fault. Elain had called her right before she pulled into their neighborhood to let her know they had drastically underestimated the amount of alcohol they would need for all the guests. Nesta had driven a little past the neighborhood to make the supplemental booze run, and she was about to walk into this party a hero.

She slipped into the party, aiming to keep a low profile. She absolutely hated arriving somewhere and being the sudden center of attention, so she was hoping to avoid that. The party was split; half indoors and half outdoors, making it all the easier for her.

She took inventory of her surroundings as she made her way toward the kitchen. There were several small groups sprinkled around in conversation, and some were outside playing yard games or drinking games. She already felt hungover just watching them.

Her eyes landed on Rhys, Azriel, and Cassian. They were off to the side, all sipping on drinks, and talking enthusiastically with each other. She noticed Cassian seemed to be on the receiving end of whatever hell they were giving, if his rigid posture and frequent eye rolling was any indication. She chuckled a little at that; he probably had that coming.

He excused himself abruptly from the conversation, tossing his beer bottle into a trash can a few feet away. He walked toward the house, and Nesta quickly directed her attention back to unloading the beer and liquor to wherever it needed to be stored in the kitchen. She heard the sliding glass door open, then close, followed by heavy footsteps walking through the kitchen.

“Hey, Nes! When did you get here?” He threw an arm around her shoulders, giving her a side-hug while she worked.

It seemed like such a small thing to most, but the fact that she and Cassian had made it to this point impressed her. With the way things had started when they’d originally met, things looked bleak for them on the friendship front. She wasn’t sure when his snark and cocky demeanor shifted from infuriating to endearing, but she had come to learn that those traits were such a tiny part of who he was. All of that considered, she leaned in to the casual side-hug, not wanting to take their progress for granted.

“Just now, actually. I haven’t even finished unloading the car.”

”Damn, sweetheart. How much booze did you bring?!” He grabbed a beer from the fridge and opened it as he leaned back on the counter.

”Probably not enough if we’re sharing with the likes of you,” she teased. She felt a small tap between her shoulder blades, followed by a ping sound. She turned around to see Cassian’s beer cap sliding across the floor. That little shit actually threw his beer cap at her.

She glared at him and was met with a sideways smirk on his face. He broke into a laugh when she didn’t back down and rocked forward to push himself off the counter.

“Sorry, sweetheart. I’ll make it up to you by helping you unload the car. Keep me company?” he requested.

”Fine. On the way you can tell me what your friends were giving you shit about outside. I’m starting to think maybe you earned it,” she taunted.

The cadence of his steps was interrupted just a fraction by her question, but he recovered quickly enough.

”Actually, I don’t know that I did this time.”

”Well now I’m definitely intrigued.”

He hesitated for several seconds, his jaw working as he thought through what to say next.

“I’m not sure I should tell you,” he stated, as he opened the backseat of her car. He grabbed the rest of the drinks before shutting her car door firmly.

“That makes me want to know even more, Cassian.”

”Okay, fine. But just remember that you wanted this. And you can’t be mad or get weird about it.”

His disclaimer gave her pause, but she nodded her head anyway. Curiosity won this round.

“For whatever reason, they have their minds made up that you and I are seeing each other and are trying to keep it on the down low. I’m still not entirely sure why they think we would keep it under wraps if we were involved, but that’s their theory right now.” His words came out in a rush as if he was trying to get it over with and pretend they never had the conversation.

Nesta merely blinked several times before replying, “Hm. Okay. So I get that they didn’t tell you why they think we’d hide it, but did they at least say why they think we’re a thing in the first place?”

Cassian rolled his eyes as he unloaded the remaining drinks into the refrigerator.

“Who the fuck knows with those two? All I remember them saying was something about how we have way too much tension between us and how we went from hating each other to being friendly overnight.” He took a swig of his beer.

”So, since we’re nice to each other now, we’re fucking?” There was no frustration in her tone. She was actually a little amused at how faulty the logic was.

Cassian choked on his beer; the result of not being prepared for that question coming from Nesta, of all people. He coughed into his elbow several times before he recovered.

“Caught me off guard, sorry. Yes, apparently, but I told them to knock it off.”

She was lost in thought for several seconds. “This could be fun,” she mused.

”What could be fun?” His confusion was obvious all over his face.

“The more we try to prove them wrong, the more they’re going to think they’re right. So why not just lean into it and have a little fun messing with them.”

”Oo. I like this. Get them all riled up about it and let them down later. I can’t say I’d hate to watch them squirm a little,” he replied.

”Exactly. But if we do this, we have to commit. We can’t question each other in front of anyone else, or the whole thing is shot,” she warned. “If we feel like we’re not on the same page, we reconvene here and make our way back out there once we figure it out.”

He smiled at her, a true broad smile, with the gleam of mischief in his hazel eyes. “You’re a wicked little woman, Archeron. I love it.”

——————————————————————————

They walked from the kitchen together, breaking apart once Nesta started making her rounds to greet everyone. Cassian walked back over to his friends, who were both clearly amused with themselves even still. He wanted to throttle both of them.

“What took you so long, Cass?” Rhys asked, a cocky little half smile on his face.

”Helped Nesta unload all the booze out of her car.” He took a long swig of his beer. “Don’t you say a fucking word, you prick.”

”Wouldn’t dream of it,” Rhys replied, earning a laugh from Azriel.

Both of them looked over his shoulder just as he felt someone approach him from behind. He felt a small hand rest on his bicep, turning him slightly toward them.

“Hey, Cass,” Nesta beamed up at him, and he swore his heart stopped. “I never said thank you for helping me.” She glanced down at her hand, and quickly drew it away to put it in her back pocket. She looked down at the ground and cleared her throat before looking at him again. “So, thank you. I owe you one.”

Wow, she was good. She looked every bit the part of someone who lost her bearings and was caught being affectionate. His returning smile was genuine.

“Of course. Happy to do it,” he replied, as she turned her attention to greet Rhysand and Azriel.

She walked away to make her next stop in greetings, and he made sure to watch her go for just a second longer than necessary. When he turned his attention back to the guys, they were smirking at each other like the smug bastards they were. This was going to be too easy.

——————————————————————————

The next couple of hours progressed in a similar fashion. Surprisingly, they stayed on the same page without much effort, playing off of each other from one scenario to the next. They gravitated to each other when their paths happened to cross, but they kept their interactions short. If someone walked up on them, they slipped away somewhat awkwardly as if they were guilty of something they shouldn’t be doing. They easily slipped small, seemingly intimate actions into each interaction whenever they knew Rhys or Azriel was nearby. Nesta would rest her hand on Cassian’s forearm briefly as they laughed. Cassian would shove her with his shoulder in passing, earning a playful scolding from Nesta. A couple of times when they were standing in a small group, Nesta would subtly grab Cassian’s drink to take a sip and hand it back as if it were second nature. In response, Cassian would rub his thumb absent-mindedly over where her lips had touched the rim. By this point, Rhys and Azriel were nearly bursting with their desire to call them out on their behavior.

They partnered up for a couple of games, making it a point to stand an arm’s length apart. However, occasionally when things would go their way, they would engage in a celebratory hug and simultaneously spring apart to their original places like they forgot themselves. Nesta decided they worked incredibly well together despite being such an unlikely alliance. They won the second game and celebrated with loud cheers and a high five. Nesta caught Cassian’s eye briefly, muttering “Kitchen, in 5” through her smile.

She made her way there and busied herself with refilling her drink. Right on time, she heard Cassian’s heavy footfall entering the kitchen. She turned around, meeting his amused expression with one of her own.

”Hey! Everything okay? Am I not reading this right?” he asked.

“No, no, no. You’re great. I just wanted to talk without eyes on us for a second to see how you think things are going. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve caught Rhys and Azriel glancing over at us,” she said through a chuckle. His shoulders seemed to relax at her reassurance.

He responded with a laugh of his own. “Oh, they’re crawling out of their skin. Especially Rhys. It kills him when he thinks he’s right but can’t say anything.”

”That’s definitely like him,” Nesta joked.

Around Cassian’s shoulder, she saw Azriel through the glass door approaching the house. She glanced up at her partner-in-crime with a conspiratorial grin across her face.

“Hug me. Hurry— make it good.” He did as he was told, looping an arm around her waist and cradling her head to his chest. “When you hear the door open, back up.”

A few more seconds passed before they heard the long slide of the glass door as Azriel pulled it open. Cassian made a show of tensing and pulling away quickly, clearing his throat. Nesta shoved her hands into her back pockets as she had done several times over the course of the day when she was “caught” touching her rumored lover.

“Well, hey guys. How’s it going?” Azriel asked with a cocky, sideways smile.

Cassian mumbled something about needing the restroom and quickly fled the premises, leaving Nesta to brave Azriel alone. He’d definitely be paying for that one.

“Good. I needed a little break from outside. Got a little overwhelmed with all the hustle and bustle.”

”Mm. Understandable,” he replied, grabbing another beer from the fridge and turning toward her. “What was all that about? With Cass?”

”What was what?”

“Nesta. All the hugging I had the misfortune of walking in on. What’s going on with you two?” He leaned back onto the counter, crossing one ankle over the other and putting his free hand in his front pocket.

It took her a second to gather her thoughts before she decided she didn’t particularly care for being the only flustered one around here. Additionally, she was annoyed that Azriel seemed so cocksure about his position, as if Nesta were totally oblivious to all the questioning he and Rhys had done earlier. Granted, as far as they knew, she was, but that was neither here nor there.

It was time for the tables to start turning, even if she hadn’t had the chance to discuss it with Cassian yet. However, if he were that concerned about it, he wouldn’t have completely abandoned her to deal with Azriel. He was along for the ride now and would have to go with the flow.

Azriel wasn’t one to be easily flustered, that much Nesta knew. She knew she wouldn’t be able to be incredibly subtle because he would see right through it. She also knew he wasn’t above continuing to point on the flaws in her logic if she were to get caught in that web. She had to be decisive, creative, and she had to commit.

She walked over a little closer to him, facing him and propping her hip on the counter next to where he was leaning. She looked up into his face, and he eyed her suspiciously, an apprehensive look dawning over his features. Perfect.

“So, that’s in then. You’ve cracked our code?” she asked quietly.

”I wouldn’t call what you two have a ‘code’, Nes.” Arrogant bastard. Any doubt or guilt she’d felt for deceiving her friends had officially dwindled to zero. Azriel’s response had served her in that way, at least. She inched slightly closer to him, running her fingertips from his forearm down to his wrist, where his hand met his pocket.

“Then you knew we were going to talk to you? What gave it away?” she whispered, looping her fingers around the sensitive underside of his wrist.

Azriel’s eyes widened, glancing to her hand and back up to her face quickly. She watched his throat bob as he swallowed.

”You hardly need my permission, Nesta,” he responded.

She brought her other hand to cup his shoulder, leaning into him a little more. She could feel his entire body tense as if moving too quickly would provoke her to attack. He took an extra long pull from his beer.

“I disagree. Cassian and I both insisted that we talk to you together.”

It was at that moment that her co-conspirator returned from his bathroom trip. She watched as he scanned the situation, noting her hands on Azriel’s arm and shoulder. He pulled his lips into a curious smile.

“The two of you look cozy. I thought we were talking to him together, sweetheart,” he said, playing off of the comment he’d overheard.

He moved to the spot on the other side of Azriel, shooting her a questioning look when Azriel’s attention was turned away from him. Nesta’s face gave nothing away as she let out a soft laugh, shaking her head at Cassian with affectionate exasperation.

“You took a little while, and I wasn’t sure when we would be able to get him alone again. I hadn’t said anything to him yet. Not without you.”

”Well, don’t let me stop you. By all means, love, carry on,” he said, using a flat palm gesture forward. He gave her a full smile in return, and she noted how much it softened his features. He truly was quite beautiful, in a rough, raw sort of way.

She peered up at Azriel, waiting until he looked down at her.

“You mentioned me and Cassian, but it’s not what you think. At least, not exactly.” He gave her a confused look. She decided to continue before she lost her nerve with this last-minute plan. She turned her gaze to Cassian for the briefest of seconds before looking back at Azriel.

“I don’t really know how to ask this properly, so I’m just going to go for it, I guess. I know you think we’re sleeping together and it’s some kind of secret. But honestly, we wouldn’t care to be secretive about just us. We’re adults. But, we wanted to be respectful of you in the event you were okay with this.”

She could see Cassian hanging on her every word beside Azriel, just as naive to what she was going to suggest. She took a breath before finishing in a low rasp, sounding way more confident than she felt. It was all for the mission, she told herself.

“We wanted to know if you’d join us, Az.” She watched as his eyes nearly popped out of his head, hurrying to finish. “I know, I know. Probably out of nowhere, but we agreed we would give you some time to think. And it doesn’t have to be an ongoing thing if you want to try and see how it goes. No hard feelings either way, seriously.”

She moved her gaze to meet Cassian’s, whose hazel eyes were also threatening to launch from their sockets. He mastered himself quickly, his timing perfect, since Azriel was snapping his head toward him.

”What the fuck is happening? What the fuck is this?” He was looking back and forth between them, begging for an explanation or an escape route.

Nesta feared that maybe she had made an executive call that Cassian wasn’t good with carrying through. To her surprise, he lifted one of his large hands to cup Azriel’s cheek, keeping his face turned toward him.

”Az, it’s okay.” He subtly rubbed his thumb over Azriel’s cheek, and Nesta had to bite her cheek to keep from giggling. “You don’t have to say anything now. It’s just... I trust you. And if I’m going to do this, it makes the most sense for it to be with someone who knows me like you do. Plus, you were first on Nesta’s list.”

She shot him a heated glare, knowing he was throwing her under the bus as revenge for keeping him out of the loop. She supposed she had earned that.

Azriel shot from his position, walking to the other side of the kitchen. He set his beer down and braced both of his large hands on the countertop. His head was hanging forward as he took deep breaths, and they heard him mutter a low, “What the fuck?”

Nesta and Cassian had both oriented toward him, their backs now toward the counter. They were standing shoulder to shoulder, Cassian with his hands in his pockets and Nesta with her arms crossed. She grabbed her drink she’d refilled earlier to take a sip before offering some to Cassian.

Ariel’s head lifted slightly as he fixed his gaze on the wall in front of him.

“Why do people always ask me to be part of their threesomes?” he whispered to no one in particular. Nesta and Cassian turned their heads toward each other, both of their brows raised in question. How often was this happening to Azriel?

He turned around to face them again, his brown furrowed in concentration.

“Az, don’t overextend yourself for our benefit,” Cassian joked. “I didn’t realize we were two of many.”

”Fuck off, Cass.” He rubbed his temples in impatience. “Can I ask, why me?”

Nesta didn’t miss a beat. They’d tortured him enough, and she was ready to reveal the truth.

“Well, seeing as you and Rhysand feel so comfortable as to insert yourselves into other’s affairs, we figured you may appreciate a front-row seat,” she replied dryly.

Cassian snorted a laugh and looked down at her with something like admiration. He bumped her shoulder with his for good measure.

“You’re messing with me?” Azriel demanded incredulously. Cassian broke out into a full laugh at that.

“Indeed. Nothing gets by you, Az,” he responded.

”We have been all day,” Nesta interjected. “You two were quick to lean in to your theory.” She couldn’t hide her laugh this time.

Azriel stood there, dumbfounded and speechless. His eyes scanned both of their faces and darkened as he noted their amusement.

“What the hell is wrong with you? You can’t just go around asking people to join you in threesomes!”

”Don’t be upset, man. You’ll always be my first choice,” Cassian teased.

Azriel’s eyes locked onto his, showing a strong promise of violence if this conversation didn’t change direction.

“Oh, stop it. Both of you. Cassian, stop antagonizing Azriel. And you.” She pointed her finger to where Azriel stood. “You think I didn’t know about you and Rhysand’s little theories about me and Cassian? All because we dared be nice to each other?”

She gave him a chance to respond. He didn’t.

“I’ve seen every single smirk you two have exchanged anytime we were within 10 feet of each other, so sure that you were right about us. We fed every bit of it to you on a platter, and you were too quick to believe what you wanted. Well, let this,” she gestured with her finger in a circle, “be a reminder that things aren’t always as they seem. And stop theorizing on your friend’s sex life. You know better than anyone that his arrogance would have him giving you the details for less than this.”

“Hey!” Cassian complained. “I’m on your side.”

Azriel lifted both of his hands in surrender, breathing a low chuckle before he spoke.

“I don’t know whether I’m more relieved by the truth or pissed off that you two did this to us all damn day. But either way, you’re right, Nesta. It’s really not our business, and we’ve been know-it-all little pricks all day long. I’m sorry. Truly.” He moved forward, holding out his arms in offer of a group hug. They accepted, Nesta gripping each of them around the waist and Cassian wrapping around both of their shoulders.

Just before they let go, Cassian nuzzled his face into Azriel’s neck, earning a curse from Azriel as he playfully pushed him away. Nesta threw her head back in a laugh, relieved, yet disappointed, that their game had come to an end.

——————————————————————————

Later that evening, what remained of their little gathering had moved inside to continue the festivities. Someone had suggested Twister, and Cassian had offered to referee and work the spinner. He was way too fucking big for this game.

“Right hand, blue!” he called.

He watched as his friends scrambled to find the closest blue space, bickering as if it were life or death. He laughed as he watched Rhysand and Nesta battle over the same blue space. The latter ended up sprawled on her ass by the time the turn was over. She huffed her frustration and landed a firm poke to Rhysand’s ribs before stalking over to the couch by Cassian.

“Cheap shot, demon witch,” Rhysand called after her. The masked affection in his tone was obvious, but she shot him a vulgar gesture all the same.

“Don’t be a sore loser, sweetheart,” he teased, as she plopped down on the couch next to him. “You got yours earlier tonight when Azriel filled him in on our ruse.”

“That’s totally different,” she insisted.

He called out the next position, watching intently for any foul play. He heard her quiet voice from next to him and had to fight the urge to turn to her.

“You know, I had a lot of fun with you today,” she said.

“I did, too. We made a good team,” he replied.

He rested a hand above her knee absent-mindedly, pulling it away just as quickly to flick the spinner for the next turn. Apparently, their day of shenanigans had lowered any reservations he had about making physical contact with her. His palm seemed to burn slightly where he’d touched her.

“Right foot, green!” he called.

She dropped her voice just a bit lower so that only he could hear over the mixed sounds in the room.

“Did it make you even a little curious? I guess all that pretending had me thinking of what it would be like if we...” she trailed off.

He couldn’t fight his glance at her this time. He took note of her bottom lip between her teeth and the slight blush across her cheeks. That was the second time tonight that he had been struck dumb by how beautiful she was.

He fought to turn his face away from hers to initiate the next turn. He called out the next position before answering her as nonchalantly as possible.

“Curiosity hit me well before tonight, sweetheart.” His heart thundered slightly at the admission.

Out of the corner of his eye, he watched as she reached for his phone on the cushion between them. She handed it to him when she was prompted with the lock screen, and he mindlessly typed in his code. She worked for a second, locked his phone, and placed it back into its original position before reaching for her own.

He had to settle a disagreement between Mor and Feyre about hand placement before he was able to turn his attention back to Nesta. Why the fuck had he ever volunteered for this?

He unlocked his phone to see that his messaging app was open. There was an outgoing message to a number he didn’t recognize. Upon opening it, all the message said was, “Cassian.”

He glanced over at Nesta, watching as she stopped typing and locked her own phone. Within seconds, his phone vibrated with an incoming message from that unknown number. Nesta’s number.

He scanned the message, realization dawning on him within seconds. She’d sent him her home address followed by four simple words. “No pressure. No expectations.”

Before he could say anything at all, Nesta stood from the couch, reaching her arms over her head in a long stretch. His mouth went dry looking at the lines her body made as she did so.

“Alright, guys. It’s past my bedtime. I’m out,” she called as she blew kisses to her sisters.

She grabbed her things, slid her feet into her shoes, and made her way toward the door. She lingered for half a second to give Cassian a small smile. Just like that, she was gone, leaving Cassian to finish what seemed like it could be the longest Twister game in all of eternity.

——————————————————————————

Kind of already have a part 2 swimming around in my head for this one, so that may be a thing soon!

Feel free to keep the prompts coming, and let me know if you have a particular pairing or mood in mind ☺️

If you’d like to be added to my tag list, you can comment, shoot me an ask, or reblog! I’ll be happy to add you!

Tags (Masterlist):

@polireader // @justgiu12 // @hizqueen4life // @sis-it-dont-add-up // @b00kworm // @bookstantrash // @gisellefigue08 // @maastrash // @superspiritfestival // @girl-who-reads-the-books

#nessian #nessian au #nessian fanfic #nesta #cassian #acotar #acomaf #acowar

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halothenthehorns · 3 years

Text

All in the Family

Chapter 140: The Slug Club

Twilight mist still hung in the air around them, and the deserted station left an odd taste in their mouth as the scarlet train hung behind them without moving off for once. Steam was still pumping out of it, there were even a few pets waiting on the ground cooing or hissing at them for their owners sudden departure as the eight of them landed in Hogsmeade station.

Peter had landed painfully on a bench and didn’t feel up to moving. Regulus stumbled into seemingly nothing to him, though thankfully the Thesteral only gave him a look of mild annoyance and didn’t take a snap. The dejected look he gave James and Sirius before stalking onto the train to be alone was heart wrenching to Peter, but he really didn’t know how to help with this one, he still had his own issues to work out with those two idiots, even if he had thought the prank had its merits and could have been funny under better circumstances.

Spotting the book down in the tracks of the train, he swallowed uncomfortably and watched for several extra moments to make sure it wasn’t going to spontaneously try to run him over as he eased himself down and darted back up with his prize in hand before following Regulus in even if he didn’t know what he was going to say.

There was only one compartment with all the curtains drawn, and Regulus was sitting inside chewing on his cheek so hard Peter had to fight the urge to tell him not to bite through his face.

He sat down across from him and opened the book with a whispered, “thanks.” Regulus smiled and nodded while Peter started, but kept pausing for extra breath than was needed just in case, offering company but silence at least for whatever Regulus wanted.

Things had been going so well there for a moment, Regulus wanted to sob on his new friend's shoulder like a child. He’d really thought Sirius was trying to rekindle some old familial bonds with the two games and asking after him, but he couldn’t get the look not really Sirius had given him out of his head, and his brother hadn’t even apologized! Like he should be laughing the whole thing off like Potter had clearly wanted to back in the shop, obviously annoyed as piss at him still. Even Peter had clearly found the whole thing funny, but at least he was restraining himself from saying so and acting normal.

Regulus listened as Harry’s friends blew off Harry’s aspersions of Draco being a Death Eater though and at least found that of some interest. Harry and his mates got into fights every year it seemed over something or other, maybe he really was still being a child hoping his brother would just go back to agreeing with him about everything. He could still get along with him even if they had a different idea of what was fun now.

He was not going to be like his parents, he genuinely regretted now losing his temper and he shouldn’t expect Sirius to act exactly how he wanted him to at all times or he would be just like them. He’d either take his brother as is or not at all, and he still wasn’t sure which yet.

Frank was still detailing for Lily exactly what the invisible horse looked like as she ran her hand in wonder over the silky main she couldn’t see. They weren’t covered in blood, so the thestral gave no indication it even cared they were there anymore than Trevor hopping past them.

They were blatantly ignoring Potter as he amused himself setting up some fireworks he’d filched from the last location, because setting those off was really the best way to make everything better apparently, even if none of them would deny enjoying the show when he did.

When they saw Alice coming over though from her landing, she gave Frank a careful look and whispered, “please try to talk some sense into her,” and left them to it, going a few carriages over and then inside of one.

“Are you two really mad at me I don’t agree with you?” Alice asked in surprise as she watched the display. They’d once even agreed with her to try interacting with them more before Snape’s not too distant future hurt Lily so bad, and Sirius’ future had imploded their lives again.

“No,” he said at once, taking her hand. “She just has no confidence in herself, telling Snape off for so many years and him never listening to her, she doesn't think you can help them anymore than I do. I still don't understand why you bothered," Frank told her, aware of how harsh he sounded, but he worried his kindhearted girlfriend was going to be quickly abused by that arse. Agreeing to not avoid them didn’t feel the same as involving themselves in their lives like she was now actively trying to do.

"What Harry said really bothered him Frank," Alice patiently explained, not letting his tone affect hers one bit. "Then, this future, it's really getting to him, and with his mates still all on the ropes, I think it wouldn't hurt to offer an olive branch. He listened too, he was quite polite back there in the kitchen."

"So he knows how to charm people, we know that from only getting half the detentions he should," Frank shook his head. "I'm still on Lily's side, if you keep indulging them they'll never learn."

"They're not exactly figuring it out for themselves at this rate," she smiled. "Going round in circles like they are, trying to make everybody laugh rather than talking it out. Regulus and Potter aren't shooting each other looks anymore, I think they cleared the air and that helped a bit. I don't regret it," she finished sincerely.

He sighed in defeat, he knew he couldn't really stop her nor was he going to actively try even if he did disapprove, but tried one last time, "thought you were staying out of it?"

"I am, as much as they ask me to," she shrugged. "James didn't, he was very attentive and open even if he didn't say much."

Frank kissed her temple and squeezed her hand but let it drop as he pulled her over to the carriage Lily had gone into, piling in themselves and listening avidly to the new Slug Club.

Sirius came over to lean casually against the same carriage as him like Remus wasn't obviously still pissed at him. Sirius clucked his tongue when he received no acknowledgment, he’d given up a front row seat to those fireworks for this, but said cheerfully, "Prongs thinks I slipped you a love potion, it's perfect right? You'd be a little grumpy if I did, and now you have an excuse for your excellent flirting and groping techniques."

"Flattery doesn't get you everywhere Sirius," he grumbled, even if he did turn his head around so he could see the eye roll that earned.

Sirius just preened at the attention, as usual. Why did he have to have a crush on the biggest prat at Hogwarts again? He smiled then, that one he only ever used in the dorms for them, and was still leaning against his shoulder. Sirius had done something he explicitly hadn’t wanted to, just for him in all this, so the real question should have been what had he done to deserve such a kind hearted friend.

"Here," Sirius suddenly dug something out of his pocket and handed him a bit of parchment. "My bucket list. Would you relax and think about having some fun for once!"

Remus gazed down and felt himself flush just a bit, some of this was quite raunchy and he had no idea what at least one of those was. He meant to fold it up carefully and put it in his own pocket as a show of good fun at least, already trying to plan in his head how to subtly get Sirius off the idea he didn't need others. Padfoot really was doing his best to mature from just an impulsive hot-head, which had been endearing enough for how fun that unpredictable side could be even with the downfalls of it. This new mature thing he was trying was somehow even more- his fingers didn’t finish the first crease as he realized there was writing on the other side and flipped it over. His stomach dropped.

"That's a list of others you could hook up with too," Sirius leaned casually against his shoulder and began jabbing at a few names, some of them even surprised him. "The ones I check marked I've personally been with, just in case that bugs you too for some reason, but the others I'm pretty confident about from reliable sources. I could give you a list of gals too, if you want."

Traitorous tears pricked at the corner of his eyes and he quickly crumpled it up, shoving it into his pocket without looking at Sirius or anyone. Merlin he was being such a nancy, Sirius had never been subtle in his life about his many hook ups and he'd never given one indication to Remus that would change just because they were doing it now!

Sirius did care about him, just not the way he wanted, and he would just have to live with that. It was more than he'd ever dreamed in his life he could even have friends when he came to this school, what the hell was he even doing risking that on a fling?

He cleared his throat and was very pleased with himself when he sounded perfectly normal. "Thanks Padfoot. Do you mind, I'm trying to pay attention to what Malfoy's up to?"

Sirius shrugged and left Remus to his thoughts, he had more than enough fun shouting abuse at the top of his lungs at what that Slytherin did to his godson anyways as he joined James to gaze up at the fireworks.

#Harry Potter #HP #HBP #fanfiction #reading the books #wolfstar #Jilly #James Potter #Marauders #Remus Lupin #Sirius Black #Regulus Black #Peter Pettigrew #Alice Smith #Frank Longbottom #Lily Evans

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juliettecxi · 3 years

Text

@fantasylitnet Quest 01 : Secret Courtier → @firestarsandseneschals

Title: The Stakeout

Fandom: Carry on by Rainbow Rowell

Ship: Snowbaz

Genre: Idiots Enemies to lovers, Detective au, alternate universe, fluff

Warnings: Swearing, drug mention, sad attempts at portraying sexual tension, minor portrayals of gun usage and police work, kissing that’s mostly described with big words of passion, Not proofread (let me know if I missed anything.)

A/N: Here it is! and I hope you liked this mess!

Read on AO3

Summary: Two detectives on a stakeout, who hate each other with a passion, while being passionately in love with each other at the same time.

“WHAT! Why do you hate me!”

This was the first thing NYPD detective Penelope Bunce heard as she entered the bullpen. It seemed to be coming from the captain’s office. As she sat at her desk, she saw two heads, one with brown curly hair, and another with long black hair, moving wildly with aggressive arm movements.

Snow and Pitch were at it again.

“WHAT! Why do you hate me!” Simon Snow fumed at the captain, who let out a sigh and plopped back down on his chair.

“Sir, If I may.” said the voice of Satan’s descendant himself, Basilton Grimm Pitch. “Personally, I feel that detective Snow would be a hindrance in the smooth sailing of the mission, and you know how it could affect the whole operation.”

That son of a bitch.

“If I may sir.” Simon interrupted, receiving an annoyed huff from Pitch. “I believe what detective Pitch was trying to express with poor word choices is that he’s a pompous prick with no teamwork skills and disregards your judgement.” “That is not what I said Snow!” Baz turned and yelled, eyes wide. “And honestly.” he continued, “No one could ever work with you, you absolute moron, sometimes I wonder how Bunce gets through the day and manages to do anything with you as a partner!”.

“I’m an amazing partner!” Simon retorted lamely.

Damn him and his inability to come up with good comebacks.

“Enough the two of you!” the Captain said sternly (Although to Simon it sounded like a cry for help. He couldn’t blame him, Baz was a lot to handle.) “You will go on this stakeout, together. And you will bust this drug deal. Take a department mandated car and be at the location on time, and if this fails because you two couldn’t work together for five, fucking, minutes.” He looked at them both. “I will not be easy on you.”

“Yes sir!” “Message received!” Simon and Baz said at the same time, and turned on their heel and left, nudging each other in the ribs as they left the captain’s office, and Simon heard the captain let out a sigh of relief.

Simon was washing his hands after using the toilet (he wasn’t an animal) when he looked at himself in the mirror. He needed a haircut. His thick brown curls were growing out, and as much as Simon would’ve totally rocked the Brian May look, it probably wouldn’t look good at work.

Oh well.

There was someone else who looked stunning in long hair. Baz. Simon dreamed of carding his fingers through it, and using it to pull him closer. He smiled. Why did he always yearn what he couldn’t have? Baz was a fever dream, someone who could only live in his imagination. Someone who didn’t hate him, and someone who loved him. Most people would say Simon should confess, he thought so too, but what was the point in confessing to someone who hated you with half his being? Simon was only pretending, but he knew Baz was genuine.

No. he could never know.

Baz looked up from his paperwork as Simon walked over to his desk next to Bunce and sat down. He said something to her, and she laughed. Baz sighed, and looked back at his work.

Snow was someone who intrigued Baz, and had a special place in his head and heart. He hadn’t realized it at first, but all it took was a “Merry Christmas.” and a small smile from him, and Baz knew he had fallen, hard.

As someone who was shitty with emotions, Baz didn’t know how to interact with Simon properly without looking like an idiot, and had ended up giving the impression that he hated him. And Baz did hate him, hated him for making him fall for someone he couldn’t have. Hated him for making him fall in love with someone who felt the opposite of love and everything that went with it for him. But despite it all, he still loved. It was like an inextinguishable flame, and Snow would never feel the same, he hated him. Baz was only pretending, but he knew Simon was genuine.

No, he could never know.

Simon was in the gear room, picking the necessary tools for the stakeout. They were leaving in fifteen minutes, and he wanted to make sure they were prepared. “Hey.” said a voice he knew all too well. Baz stood behind him wearing an all black ensemble and it did things to Simon.

He took in a deep breath. “What?” he asked, as nonchalantly and disinterested as possible. “Aren’t you excited.” Baz commented and Simon looked at him in annoyance. “I’m sorry.” he said, and then “Baz! I’m so excited to be stuck in a tiny vehicle with you for the entire night, I can’t wait!” Baz did not look impressed, but then he smirked, and stepped closer. “Are you sure you’d be able to handle being in a tiny vehicle alone with me Snow?” he said and leaned in. Simon leaned back against the table and gulped.

He would’ve been fine with Baz being so close to him, but in different circumstances.

Like his Imagination.

“Cat got your tongue?” Baz asked, and smiled, saccharine sweet.

Simon scoffed. “I was actually wondering if this was what your hypothetical significant other would see. How unfortunate for them.” he said sweetly.

Hey, that comeback was actually quite good!

Baz scowled and placed his arms on the table, on either side of Simon. “Tell me.” he said. “Would you think this was an unfortunate face to see Snow?” All he had to do was lean in a little more, and their lips would touch. Simon’s face heated up. He pushed Baz away with his hand and grabbed the gear bag. “We leave in five.” he said, and walked out, leaving behind an unsatisfied and embarrassed Baz.

They’d arrived at their location twenty minutes ago, and things were going… smoothly. There was still no sign of their perp and both Simon and Baz were becoming very irritable and agitated.

“Chew louder why don’t you?” Baz sneered at Simon, who was munching on a protein bar. Simon turned to Baz, took a big bite of his protein bar, and chewed it slowly with his mouth open, making sure his chewing was extremely loud.

That little shit.

Baz tightened his grip on the binoculars he was using to look out for their perp, Jeffrey Carlson. He was a drug dealer and had become somewhat of a drug lord on these streets, and after months of tracking they were finally able to track him down, which was why Baz had the fortunate misfortune of being stuck in a car with Simon in the night, in front of one of those dingy New York apartment complexes, waiting to apprehend the criminal.

If only he could concentrate.

He couldn’t stop thinking about what happened in the gear room, and what almost would have happened. He let out a sigh and put down his binoculars.

“Hey.”, Snow’s voice cut through his reverie. “Yes Snow?” Baz said. “Why do you hate me? Or dislike me at least?” His eyes widened and he turned to Simon, who looked like he was regretting his question. “You know what,” Simon began, “Forget it, it was a stupid ques-” ‘I don’t hate you.” Baz interrupted, voice small. “It’s,” he took in a deep breath. “It’s complicated.” “So you don’t hate me?” Simon said, and Baz swore he could hear a little smugness in his voice. “Nope.” Baz confirmed, “Quite the opposite actually.” he said, with a nervous laugh. “So..you love me?” Simon said.

What? There was definitely smugness in his tone now.

“Umm, Well.” Baz began. “I don’t hate you either.” Simon said suddenly. “It’s quite the opposite actually.” he said, and wiggled his eyebrows. Baz tried to look unimpressed, but couldn’t hide his endearment. “So, does that mean…” he leaned in closer, and placed a finger on Simon’s lips. “You wouldn’t mind if I-” They heard a dull thud from outside. “Someone fell from the first floor window onto the pavement.” said Simon, eyes wide and alert. They both turned and faced each other. “Carlson.” they said in unison, and got out of the car, guns and gear all at the ready.

Simon was eclectic. Baz didn’t hate him! He would’ve laughed out loud and jumped around if they weren’t chasing a wanted criminal, who seemed to be getting away. “I’ll go left you go right! We’ll corner him!” Baz yelled and Simon held his hand ups in an ‘ok’ sign.

Simon was still running in the direction the perp did. He finally reached an alley. It was empty. Simon did a full three-sixty, just to make sure. He turned around to leave, when a hand wrapped around his neck from behind and pulled him towards it. “Don’t. Move” the voice said. His breath was musky and slightly rancid. “Let me go!” Simon struggled, and he felt a knife placed under his chin.

Shit. Where was Baz?

Baz ran into an alley, hoping the perp hadn’t escaped. The perp and Simon were both there, which would have been great if he wasn’t holding a knife to Simon’s neck.

“Come any closer and I’ll kill him!” yelled Carlson, eyes bloodshot and wild. Baz looked at Simon, who looked extremely frightened even though it was obvious he was trying to look brave.

“Let him go and nobody will have to get hurt.” Baz said, as calm as possible, only for the perp to tighten his grip around Simon. Simon on the other hand, seemed to try and signal something to Baz with his eyes. He looked in the direction he was pointing at. A metal pipe, right on top of the trashcan Snow and the perp were standing next to.

Baz took in a deep breath.

“I’m dropping my gun! Don’t do anything to harm him!” He gently placed down his gun and stepped closer. He was close, but not close enough. “Don’t move!” yelled Carlson, “Or your friend loses his neck!” Simon winced and Baz gulped.

So many things could go wrong.

“Carlson,” he began, ”What made you want to become a..drug lord?” He had no idea where he was going with this. Simon gave him a classic what the fuck face, and the perp just stared at him blankly.

Well, carpe momentum.

Baz reached for the metal pipe, as fast as he could. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing!” screamed Carlson, but before he could react, Baz swung the pipe as hard as he could, and hit him on the head, knocking him out. Simon quickly grasped the knife from Carlson’s lifeless hand before it could accidentally damage him, and stumbled forward before regaining his balance.

The adrenaline was still coursing through Baz’s veins, and before he knew it he was in front of Simon, pushing him back against the alley wall. “I’m going to kiss you now.” he said, and Simon barely had time to nod his head before Baz’s lips came crashing down on his. It was electric and invigorating, and felt like a thousand jolts of current. Simon’s hands reached up and curled around Baz’s neck, and Baz placed his in Simon’s hair, caressing it as they kissed. Simon tilted his head in an attempt to deepen the kiss, and Baz let him. Baz felt like he was flying, fast and high with no restraint, and he relished it all, the feeling of Snow’s mouth on his and the feel of his hair that felt like starlight on his fingertips.

All too soon the kiss was broken by Simon. “We should probably take him into custody before he wakes up again.” he said, and grinned, causing Baz to smile as well.

“Come on Snow.” he said, as he reached down to pick up Carlson. “The sooner we get home the better.” “Why?” Simon asked, smiling

He knew why.

Baz raised an eyebrow at him. “Let’s get going shall we?” he said, with a crooked smile, and off they went, back to the precinct, and then to Baz’s apartment, and the rest, was history.

A/N (2) : phew. That was a long one! Well I hope you liked whatever this was! And if you can, please let me know what you thought! I'd really appreciate feedback!

-Abby 💕

#carry on #simon snow #baz pitch #tyrannus basilton grimm pitch #snowbaz #carry on fanfiction #snowbaz fanfic #snowbaz fanfiction #penelope bunce #rainbow rowell #agatha wellbelove #simon x baz #baz grimm pitch #simon snow salisbury #wayward son #any way the wind blows #fantasylitnet #abby writes

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spideyyroos · 4 years

Text

are you kidding me? - peter parker (soulmate!au) - part 3

pairing: peter parker x stark!female!reader

summary: during your everlasting rivalry against peter parker, you’re unlucky enough to find out that not only is he spider-man (your dad’s new kid), but he is also your soulmate. god help us all. (soulmate au where you have a mark of where your soulmate first touches you)

word count: 2511

requested: yes!

warnings: language, slight angst, stab wound

a/n: GUESS WHOSE BACK BACK BACK BACK AGAIN!!! hey guys! sorry i’ve been mia recently, school has really been piling up on me and i pushed off this part for so long! tbh i think this is gonna be slightly slow burn?? i don’t want to rush anything oof. hope you guys like it :))

THE NEXT DAY

As both Peter and Y/N made their way to school, they communicated to one another on how they should act and when they should tell their individual friends about the whole soulmate ordeal. For the time being, they decided to still hate each other at school--which, technically, they still hadn’t been too fond of each other ever since the previous day. Y/N, being the more stubborn of the two, couldn’t push aside the decade-long rivalry between her and Peter. She was still in denial that he was her soulmate, the one who she would spend the rest of her life with.

Chewing on her lip, Y/N thought about her future with Peter in it. She always knew that he would stick around in her life but never where. After the almost-kiss that they shared last night, she muted her thoughts from him, not wanting to distract while fighting crime. As she did so, she wondered why she cared about the well-being of the boy, not just in academics.

-at Midtown-

As Peter and Y/N made their way to their first period, they cautiously stood at different places from one another when passing through the hallway. Thankfully enough, Ned found Peter and they weaved their way into their history class. Y/N found herself in the class moments after, taking a seat in the back corner to ensure that she could take a nap for the period.

Y/N had always prepared ahead of time for the classes she decided to take naps in. Her phone was programmed to pick up what the teacher was saying during the lecture; later, Y/N would listen and add extra information to her notes (a/n: i suggest this highly; it works super well! :)).

When the lecture started, Y/N was out like a light. She got plenty of sleep the night before, but still preferred to be asleep. Peter, who sat across the room, tried to focus on his notes, but felt the strong urge to stare at her. Similar to Y/N, Peter felt hesitant to feel affections toward his usual enemy. Ever since yesterday, he cringed at how the two treated each other.

Needless to say, these circumstances were more than overwhelming.

-lunch-

After their fifth period Spanish class, Y/N and Peter walked side by side in the hallway. Before they knew it, Flash called out at Peter.

“Hey Penis Parker! What are you doing, flying out of your league?”

“And what would you know, Flash? Last time I checked, your homecoming date left you in the dust to go and grind with some other egotistical prick.”

Flash’s jaw dropped at Y/N’s words and Peter covered his mouth to stifle his laughter. Y/N turned around to face Flash, deadpan--clearly unamused by his ever so endearing nickname for Peter. Then, as if in some world-turning moment, she realized that she had just defended her rival.

Nobody knew that they were soulmates just yet.

She couldn’t let that happen--not now at least.

However, before she could make an excuse for standing up for Peter, Flash suddenly changed his target of ridicule.

“Aw, I’m sorry babe. Do you have a personal score to settle with Lindsey? Or, better yet, come over tonight and we can,” Flash continued to advance towards her and corner Y/N onto a locker, “make up for lost time.” Flash was face-to-face with Y/N, expelling his hot breath over her face. Although Flash was yet another person who knew how to make Y/N’s skin crawl, she decided to swallow the vomit coming up her throat and let herself be “enchanted” with the king of douches.

“Umm...you sure have a way with words, handsome,” Y/N’s mind was screaming at her to kick him in the nuts, but her pride didn’t allow her to let up and run to her only safe space--Peter. She feigned a gleaming smile, letting it hit her eyes. Flash only smirked at his supposed “power” over women, though it repulsed anything that walked--no, breathed--on this very earth. Y/N continued to keep this act up by biting her lip and forcing herself to eye his lips, misshapen and topped with peach fuzz for a mustache. It sent her back to last night with Peter, and she mentally sunk into thoughts of the blessed day when she’d put her guard down and allow herself to love him--woah, wait...what the fuck?

Just as she was about to dwell on her absurd thought, she felt the disgustingly warm body heat in front of her being ripped away and an angry Peter now in front of her. His back was facing her and he held his death grip on Flash, who now looked scared as all hell, was panting from the sudden movement and wide-eyed.

“How about we don’t do that?” Peter threatened, gritting his teeth and shooting daggers at Flash. Y/N walked directly behind Peter and performed the trick as old as time: playing with the angry boy’s hair to calm him down. As she laced her fingers through his wavy hair, Peter fell victim to the affection. He let go of Flash, freeing him to run away from the previously seething Peter--not sparing to look back at the nerd who once could never have the heart to kill a fly.

Y/N grabbed onto Peter’s shoulder and turned him around, hand still interlocked within his curls. Peter’s expression showed pure relaxation, contradicting the near-death that he could have caused. They looked into each other’s eyes, once again letting the rest of the world slip away. Thank God that everyone else had cleared the hallway and went their own ways to the cafeteria. The young Stark filed her hand through his exceptionally soft hair--what conditioner do you use? They chuckled, knowing that only these two could see into her comedic genius. Peter’s eyes wandered her face, taking in her features and mentally noting small details that he would’ve never noticed beforehand. He suddenly cupped her face with his hands and went to lean in, only for Y/N to abruptly rip her contact from him.

“Peter--”

“I’m sorry--”

“Can we just give...give whatever this is--a moment to breathe? Jesus, it’s been a day and now I have to make sure that no one ever hits on me because God forbid Spider-Man’s soulma--” Peter’s hand clamped over Y/N’s mouth, eyes wide and desperate for her to shut up.

“I’m sorry, ok? Now will you stop talking before someone hears?” Y/N shoved his hand off her mouth and made a beeline towards the exit, not dealing with anymore of this bullshit.

Y/N, frustrated and fed up, went home to the complex--this, and she swears by it, was by far the worst week of her life. She wished that she wasn’t so difficult, that she could have been dealt a different soulmate, that she could start over, that she could be anywhere else but here. She made an effort to ignore his thoughts and mute her own. She didn’t want to be burned again. She has always pined after the well-deserved love and freely gave her heart to the people who gave her half-assed compliments--believing that each time would be different. Yet time and time again she would be let down, until she had enough. She sealed her walls with super-glue and rejected any form of genuine interest in her well-being.

-at Avengers complex-

4:56

Peter tried to busy himself with expanding his patrol area, patrol hours, and homework--anything to avoid facing the obvious. He may as well be dead to her, right?

God, no! Don’t ever say that. Just--give me time, alright? This is just...a lot.

Look--we’re adjusting right now. Us even talking is already some sort of sign that we can try to get along. I know you’d prefer to stay at the very least 6 feet apart but--fuck, I’ll be honest--ever since we…connected I’ve been able to see you in a different light--

--pretty sure that’s called being horny--

--will you just...you know what? No. You don’t get to find out what I was going to say. Are you happy now?

Y/N didn’t respond. She just laid on her bed, aggressively staring at her window, hoping that he just might swing by.

It wasn’t long until she felt a searingly white hot pain on her left side. She screamed out in her room, trying to haphazardly relieve some of this unbearable punishment of having a superhero as a soulmate. Tears blurred her vision and she clutched her side, unable to move in fear that she would break her entire body. With as much effort she could put out, she reached for her suit tracking device--jesus christ, what the fuck happened to him?

Y/N saw the spider icon deep in the streets of Queens, at one of the many Mom and Pop restaurants. She saw an update on the suit condition:

OPENING ON LEFT SIDE - COULD BE KNIFE WOUND?

Peter, are you okay? Please get out of there as soon as you can! I’ll call the police right now--OW!

Y/N received a crisp punch to her right cheek, wincing and letting the new tears fall over her face. She tried to stay strong, despite everything hurting so much. She pressed “NOTIFY POLICE” on the device and curled into a ball, hoping the pain would stop soon. Just as she thought it was over, a square kick to the stomach almost caused an upheaval of her last meal. Stars taking over her vision, she fell unconscious onto her bedroom floor.

-meanwhile-

Peter has had his fair share of difficult and strong criminals, but damn! This group was one for the books. Not considering the soulmate tie between himself and Y/N, he fought the band of robbers and took each hit as a grain of salt.

Peter, are you okay? Please get out of there as soon as you can! I’ll call the police right now--OW!

“Oh shit--” Peter mumbled, allowing himself to get punched in the face by the one of the last men standing. Easily knocking him out with his special “pow, pow, POW” combo, as Peter liked to call it.

Unfortunately, before he could safely escape the scene, with the criminals webbed up against the wall, the final “stupidhead” (once again, as Peter liked to call it) attacked him with a swift kick to the stomach.

Shit.

Peter heard the sirens nearly a block away, so he opted to avoid any more conflict by webbing the kicker against the ceiling of the restaurant--stealing away into the city and on the way to the complex.

He remembered the backpack that was so secretly plastered next to the window of Y/N’s bedroom and was quick to change into his street clothes. Practically breaking into her bedroom, Peter was instantly at Y/N’s unconscious side--did her body show where he got hurt also?

Unsure if he was throwing away all of Aunt May’s well-taught respect and manners of “don’t put your hands on a girl unless she says you can and she wants you to,” Peter lifted her shirt to check if she was stabbed as well. Fortunately, either soulmate can have the sensation of pain--not the actual injury itself.

Y/N woke with a start, breaking her eyelids open to see Peter lifting her shirt to check the left side.

“What are you doing?” Y/N flinched away, tearing the material out of his hands.

“I’m sorry--I was checking if you were okay--”

“--people don’t check under other people’s shirts--wait. Am I stabbed?” Y/N went to check herself, only to double take at Peter’s blood stain growing larger by the second.

“Oh my god--stay right there, ok? I’ll go get a first aid kit--holy shit…”

Peter chuckled at her antics, but winced as he realized that...I got stabbed and it’s an open wound and now I’m laughing and oh my god--

“Ok, holyshitok--lay on my bed, please. Lay on your side, with the wound facing me. Also, please take off your shirt,” Y/N took a deep breath, preparing the sutures to properly address the injury. She concentrated, despite her hands shaking horribly.

“This is going to feel even worse than when I start to sew but you can grab onto something if you need,” Y/N softly spoke, ready to clean, with alcohol, around where the knife had tore into his flesh. Peter nodded, unsure what he could grab onto without breaking her concentration. He opted for her bedsheets, which were slightly wrinkled and smelled like the expensive detergent that often surrounds Y/N--what? Why am I--

Y/N hummed in content and smiled to herself as she finished disinfecting and started to sew. Although Peter was used to his clumsy hands dangerously stitching together his deeper injuries, Y/N’s precision and patience to ensure the least amount of pain almost...put him at peace. She would glance over at him to reassure herself that he wasn’t passed out--though that would make the situation far less intimidating. Here he was, Peter Benjamin Parker, shirtless and occasionally bleeding (though it was far less than before), on Y/N M/N Stark’s bed. When she wasn’t looking at him, Peter would steal glances at the young Stark, appreciating her calm nature in such a scenario like this. On the other hand, when he wasn’t staring at her, Y/N would give a side eye to Peter--who was focusing on the small design on the bedsheets. He recognized the R2-D2 and C-3PO duo that continued across the dimensions of the mattress, tracing the dark outline of each character.

“Ok, I’m almost done. I just need to apply the gauze and the skin adhesive,” Y/N stated, quickly exiting the room to go fetch the proper dressings.

When she came back, Peter was still in the same position--but with stilled breathing and relaxed muscles.

Oh my God, he’s asleep. At least the hard part’s over--I think.

Y/N finished the full treatment for the wounds, briefly waking Peter up to tell him to get changed into some loungewear. He barely obliged, grumpy from having been woken up from his short nap. He pouted like a toddler, wanting to return to the “comfy bed with the nice blankets.” Y/N did her best to not laugh, admiring the adorable nature that came with him. He returned to the bed and Y/N made sure that he was comfortable enough without laying directly on top the wounds. She tried her best to be a better person and reluctantly played with his hair, hearing a small “thank you” in response. Peter fell asleep immediately, exhausted from a mentally and emotionally gruelling day.

Y/N watched as he finally relaxed into his sleep, thankful that she could at least help the superhero everyone loved.

Someday, I will love him. Just not now--not yet. I can’t let you in just yet.

taglist: @mega-bi @lordofblamo @sadstrudel @ispiderdudei @everythingsship @learning-howto-be-myselfx3 @annathesillyfriend @mybitchborky @randxmthxughts @dear-selena

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #soulmate!peter parker #soulmate!au #spiderman x reader #spiderman #tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland imagine #peter parker fanfiction #marvel #marvel imagine #tony stark #dad!tony #hi i'm back #it's been like 10 years #spideyyroos writes

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ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes · 4 years

Text

Roguish Women Part 30

Summary: Kate is an American who fled to Paris to escape her past life. Now she's dancing and playing the part of a courtesan at the Moulin Rouge. There she meets Tommy Shelby who thinks she can be useful in expanding his empire. But has he been blinded?

Part 30: Tommy admits what he’s done and Kate welcomes the idea of a home.

Kate laughed because she genuinely thought he was kidding. The Shelbys were no different from the other powerful people she knew. People who were so above the law, none of their arrests actually stuck. The police force was far too easy to bribe, as were jurors and judges. She couldn’t count how many times Frank Wallace was arrested, his rap sheet was endless and contained possibly every violation known to lawyers. He was always in and out of Charles Street jail, knew the warren personally and all the guards by their first names. Often times, Kate would pick Frank up from the short stints of being locked up and he’d always say the same thing.

“Alright fellas, same time next week?”

It never failed to make Kate laugh.

But no matter how many times Frank was arrested, he was never convicted. He rarely even stood trial.

So, to hear that the Shelbys had been arrested and sentenced to death? It was so outlandish.

But Tommy didn’t look amused.

The smile dropped from Kate’s face. “You’re serious? Tommy, you can’t be fucking serious. What happened?”

His hand slipped under his glasses so he could rub his eyes. He had hoped they might have a bit more time together before everything about the past month came out. Just to have a few days where neither of them had to worry about anything. They could just enjoy each other’s company and make up for the time that had been stolen from them. There would be a time to address the issues in the outside world. There was always time for that. But there never seemed to be enough time for having a decent relationship. Perhaps that was his fault.

“There are things in place…”

Kate hated it when he used that excuse and she knew he knew. And yet, he would always have a plan until the day he died. “I don’t understand what could possibly warrant this.”

“It’s difficult to explain.”

“Try.”

He sighed, forgetting how relentless she could be. “They won’t be hanged. This is to ensure that the Crown cannot hold anything over my head anymore once this is over. I have a letter from the king that puts him in a very difficult place. They’ll want these documents destroyed. So I’ll destroy them once everyone is released from prison.”

Kate fiddled with her mother’s locket, unsure of what to think. “So, you’re getting something out of this.”

“The family is all getting something out of this. Everyone in the company, everyone.

“But they’re the ones in prison.”

“By the time we get back, it will be a few days until their release. Then the matter is done and over with.”

She chewed on her lip. “I trust you know what you’re doing but did you stop to think about what this might do to them. I mean were they even aware of what was going to happen?”

“They couldn’t know. They couldn’t look like accomplices to the matter.”

Kate put a hand over her face. It felt like her life, for a few years, was just a series of tests. Testing her loyalty and love for Tommy. “Maybe I don’t totally understand. Maybe I do, I don’t know. But I worry about what’ll do to your family. I know how important they are to you and how important you are to them. You can’t risk those relationships.”

“They’ll understand once they know everything.”

She gave him a worried look but nodded. She couldn’t help but feel like there was nothing of the matter that was in her control.

~~~~~~~~

Kate had a lot to think about as they disembarked the ship and took the train to Warwickshire.

When they arrived at Arrow House, Tommy kissed her and excused himself to his office.

Kate unpacked the few bits of clothes she had and took out the box that held her ballet shoes. She unraveled the ribbon and picked up the shoes. She finally felt comfortable enough to hold them again. But she wasn’t quite ready to wear them yet. So, she inspected them a bit before returning them back to their usual resting spot and placed the box on a nearby dresser.

She looked around the room Mary had led her to. Kate had a hunch that it wasn’t the master bedroom. In comparison to the size of the house, it was too small to be the master.

Yet, Tommy’s clothes were in the closet, all neatly ironed and hung up in a row.

Kate took a spare hanger to place one of her dresses in the closet. She stepped back to see how it looked beside Tommy’s dress shirts.

Nice, it looked nice.

~~~~~~~~~~

Not too long after, Kate knocked on Tommy’s study door. He allowed her in, the lines of worry on his face softening when he saw her open the door.

“I was hoping someone could drive me into town. I wasn’t able to get my things when I left so I don’t have many clothes to wear.” She explained.

“Of course, do you want me to go with you?” He offered.

“You look busy, I don’t want to intervene.” Kate was hoping he was in the midst of getting everyone out of prison, so, she didn’t want to delay him.

He nodded and reached into his inner jacket pocket for his billfold. He handed her a good-sized wad of cash.

She hesitated. “That’s more than enough.”

He just shrugged but didn’t withdraw the amount.

“Okay.” She took the money, thinking she could just give the remainder back to him when she returned.

“One more thing before you go.”

“Yes?”

“I want you to take your time, aye? There’s no rush for anything here. Get settled and make this your home if you’d like. I want you to be comfortable here. But if it takes some time before you feel at ease, then that’s alright.” He said in a gentle voice, his blue eyes on hers. “I’ll be here for you every step of the way. If you need me to wait, I’ll wait.”

Kate swallowed and felt her eyes prick with tears. When was the last time she had a home? She had lived in so many places but never called any of them home. Tommy was offering her something so valuable. A home.

She leaned down to kiss him softly. It was still a feeling to get used to, but they had time. Tommy would make sure of that.

~~~~~~~~~

Early one morning, four nooses were put over four necks. But each person walked away alive.

It all occurred before Kate had even woken up. She found the bed empty beside her. She would’ve questioned if Tommy had even slept if it weren’t for the disheveled sheets next to her.

She got up and dressed, donning one of the new skirts and blouses she’d gotten a few days earlier.

“Miss Lynch, would you like some breakfast?” One of the maids asked as Kate came downstairs.

“Maybe just some coffee, thank you.” It was one thing she knew would take some time to get used to. Having people always at the ready to help her with virtually anything was somewhat off-putting. Her entire life, Kate did everything herself. Even at a young age, she had to learn to take care of herself. But she figured it would be something to get used to because she wanted so desperately to make a home with Tommy.

“Of course, ma’am.”

“Is Tommy in?”

“Mr. Shelby went out to the stables. He didn’t say if he was going for a ride or not.”

“That’s alright, thank you,” Kate said and found herself going outside to see if she could find him. The lawns were expansive and she couldn’t even see where the property ended from the back door. She followed the path back to the stables and greeted a few of the young men working around the stables.

It had been some time since Kate had been around horses. She did ride often but attended many races and at one point even owned a racehorse. So, the scent of the stables was familiar and a bit calming to her.

“Tom?” She peered into the nearest stalls to see if he was around.

“I thought you were going to sleep through the entire morning.”

She smiled when she heard his voice from the third stall from the door.

It was endearing to see Tommy around horses. He was dressed down from the three-piece suits he was so fond of. Instead opting for an old button-down shirt and trousers that were from his time as a younger man back in Birmingham. His suspenders were lax by his hips and his dark hair was hidden by his flat cap.

It was Tommy at his simplest form and Kate felt so blessed to see such a vulnerable side to him.

“It’s been a while since I got a good night’s sleep.” She leaned by the stall door.

The large black horse that Tommy was grooming stretched out his neck to greet Kate. She held out her hand to let him sniff her before stroking his nose gently.

“Well, I’m glad you got some sleep here.” It was encouraging to know Kate was already settling into living at Arrow House.

“I didn’t even hear you get up this morning. Were you off early?” She asked.

“Yeah.” He hunched over to pick the horse’s front hoof. “Sorry, I didn’t leave you a note but I figured I’d be back before you woke up.”

“Were you out doing business?” She wondered.

“Yep.” He let go of the horse’s hoof and patted his shoulder. “Polly, John, Arthur, and Michael all walked free.”

A wave of relief washed over Kate. “That’s good news. I should go see them I’ve missed them.”

Tommy looked down, rummaging through the brush box on the floor of the stall. “They might talk to you, but they informed me I wasn’t welcome around them or their families anymore.” He replied. His voice was steady as usual but he sounded grimly disappointed. Perhaps with himself, but she wasn’t positive.

“Because of what happened?” Kate didn’t want to be the person to say it was warranted. She felt slightly removed from the situation because she’d been gone for months.

Tommy nodded; his eyes still downcast. “Maybe you could call Ada to see if they’d be willing to see you. She’s been acting as the buffer between us.” He explained.

“Oh.” Kate hoped the Shelby woman would have some more insight and maybe speak a little more on the matter. She’d never been afraid to call out Tommy when it was necessary.

“I saw you still have your ballet shoes.” He quickly pivoted the conversation away from his family.

“Yes, they were the only thing I took from his apartment when I left.”

“Do you still have interest in joining a company?” He wondered. “There’s an independent group I’ve been donating some money to.”

“I think right now I’d like to just settle in.” Irrational worries arose. Worries that Tommy would keep her separate from Shelby Company Limited perhaps to protect her or to protect himself. After all, the last time he trusted a woman he loved, it interfered with business. But Kate knew that she had a strong presence in his company, especially regarding Alfie and goods going into America. She doubted he would push her out of that operation, she was too good at it. But perhaps after what happened with Polly and the boys, he wanted her to look the other way so it wouldn’t cause doubt in her mind. He didn’t want his actions to affect their relationship. But that wasn’t how Kate lived.

“The ballroom is probably the biggest open space in the house.” He said. “If you want to clear out a bit more furniture so you could practice, just say the word.”

The worries faded from Kate’s mind. He just wanted her to be happy. He remembered what she had said all the way back to the first time they met. When she longed to resume the dream, she lost. Now he was trying to grant that wish. But after everything, Kate wondered if she really could return to that life. It remained to be seen.

“Kate?” Tommy realized the faraway look in her eyes. “I’m sorry you had to come back to this.”

Instinct told her to give a fake smile and brush it off. But she valued the newfound honesty between each other. “I’ve been beginning to figure out that things happen for a reason. If you thought this would protect everyone, then how can I blame you? But you can’t expect them to forgive you so soon. You’ll have to mend those relationships with them.”

Tommy looked disgruntled at the idea. After all he’d done for his family, he thought they would understand. “If they don’t want my apologies then that’s fine. They’re free to do as they wish with the money, I gave them.” He went back to picking his horse’s hooves.

“Tom, please don’t shut them out because they’re not ready to forgive you immediately.” She begged. “You know how precious having family is, don’t waste it.”

“They’re the ones holding a grudge, Kate.”

“Because they feel betrayed.” She unlatched the stall door and stepped inside. “Can’t you see it from their point of view? They feel as though they were used as pawns. You said they didn’t know the plan so they probably thought they would be hanged.”

He let the horse set his hoof back down and he straightened up to face her. “Everything I’ve done for this bloody family has been done in their favor. If they want to pretend, they don’t need me, then fine.”

“But you need them.” She reached up to rub a bit of dirt off his cheek. Her thumb passed over the scar. The one she had tended to in the boat headed for London. It felt like lifetimes ago. “Please, try to work on it.” She implored. “For their sakes, for my sake, for your sake.”

Tommy didn’t promise anything but he kissed her forehead and embraced her. She was definitely the voice of reason in the madhouse of his mind.

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joelmillerthirstqz · 4 years

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Joel’s quiet, at first. Quiet, and seeming to hold himself in tight control. Sprawling across his lap while you dip your tongue into his mouth gets mostly heavy exhales and the feedback of his hands indecisively skimming over you. You assume years of being conscious about noise infiltrated him this deeply until you run the tip of your tongue along the roof of his mouth and he moans, filthy and full of intent. Without hesitation, he rises with you wrapped around his waist, firm grasp making you wonder if he can hold you up in longer, less clothed ways.

Once he’s crowded you up the stairs and into the bed, he can’t seem to shut up. You bask in it, affectionate names and dominant little promises rolling out of him between groans of enjoyment and sharp hisses of self-restraint. It’s all bullshit, but it’s good bullshit and it feels amazing for his breath to tease your ear while he says it. He might just like badgering you for answers, might just want the affirmations you respond with. He likes hearing yes, likes you begging, maybe needs the continuous assurance that you want him the way he’s giving himself.

He likes making you come and feeling you come, and he sits behind you still clothed, curled close with three fingers buried inside of you, feeling every shudder as he works. When he strokes your clit with his thumb and your whole body jerks against him, Joel chuckles warmly into your shoulder and keeps up the pressure.

“Like this?” he asks, needlessly. Your head is thrown back on his shoulder and you’re panting with effort, lost in it and very close. He slows, mouth on your neck. “Hm?”

“Please, Joel,” you flex your hands where you’re hanging on to his thighs.

“This get you close? This what you wanted?” he keeps murmuring, almost below being audible. You grasp a handful of his hair and kiss him instead of responding, getting an impatient grunt. He pulls coated fingers from you and drags them across your folds, hovering. His left hand guides your jaw towards him, holding you fast so he can look in your eyes.

“C’mon,” he urges, kissing you again. You bite his lower lip as he pulls back and his eyes go wide with surprise.

“Don’t you fucking stop,” you grit out, fisting a hand in his shirt.

“Stop this? Like this?” Joel asks, roughly pushing three fingers back into you without caution, seeming satisfied with your cry. He fans his left hand under your chin, though, and asks again. His palm touches the thin skin of your neck, raising goosebumps down your front. Joel doesn’t miss it and his expression darkens.

“This was all you wanted? Going to come for me yet?” Joel quickens his pace, watching you intently. You’re still partially tangled in your jeans, shirt tugged up over your breasts, mouth swollen from colliding with his. You kick off your jeans completely, wobbling with the effort.

“No, fuck, not all,” you twist in his arms, straddling his lap and starting to work through the buttons of his shirt. His mouth is overwhelmingly distracting and intent on making it hard, so he’s pliant under you up to the bottom button but unwilling to take his hands off of you long enough to shrug out of it. You move to his belt, flicking it open as Joel figures how to best not break your kiss. You let him do it, and he shrugs out of his shirt before pulling you against him. The motion reveals the quick agility of his actions, in total control of his body, which you expect from anyone who’s still alive. Joel’s so fucking unassuming about how he looks until he finds a doorframe to dwarf with that lean he does when he’s about to be infuriating.

His heat feels fantastic and the brush of your chests together jolts your fingers back to his jeans, breaking from each other’s mouths to breathe hard. Joel rises to his knees and sets you down on the bed so he can finally get free. You reach for him without meaning to, and he roughly pulls you closer to him by the ankles, hand encircling one comfortably. He fans a large palm over your lower abdomen, holding you fast while he finishes getting out of his pants.

“Please,” you breathe, trying to push your hips up towards his. Joel limits your motion and rubs himself against you without penetrating you.

“Fucking frustrating,” you protest, smacking the arm he’s hooking your leg over. He makes a warm, small noise that you realize is delighted chuckle before sheathing himself fully and fast. You groan together at the sensation and you feel a shiver go through Joel. While you’re scratching your nails along his forearms and over his shoulders, Joel closes his eyes and taps his forehead to yours. You say his name, making tiny circles with your hips as much as having you pinned allowed.

“Close already,” he warns, closing a palm over the wrist opposite the leg he’s got folded up.

“Just from watching?” you ask, honestly a little flattered and even more into him as he nods.

“All of you,” he breathes before kissing you a little more sweetly than you expected. Sure, you felt like you’d been folded in half on every surface in his house in the last week, but it hadn’t been that long and you could both still regard it as really good sex without needing more.

Maybe.

Joel’s kisses are less precise as he turns you, apparently frustrated with the angle after a few strokes of his tongue and joining you fully on the bed.

One hand drags along your flank and he pulls you upright in his lap. From here, he looks up at you with this inscrutable consumed face as you move, and you brace yourself on his shoulders. You notice sparse little freckles across them for the first time and think you may have blushed if not for how flushed you already are with the effort of taking him. You cup his face in one hand as you start to ride him, your eyes rolling shut with the first few times you thrust. He stretches you perfectly and you’re perhaps the best prepared you’ve ever been in your life, so it’s easy to grind down again and again.

When you open your eyes again, Joel’s irises are a faint line around blown-out pupils, pleasure plain on him. You’re about to tease that he’s lost his words all of a sudden, stroking lines at the corner of his eye that only emphasize how lovely they are. How soft they can look.

“C’mon, I wanna feel you come on my cock, sweetheart,” Joel starts in that tone saved for the affirming nonsense he likes to rumble at you. Spilling hopes that you’ll scream for him, intentions to make you do it, stupid meaningless endearments more in context in the world before—all of it sounds like Joel’s wonderful voice and is half-whispered against you even though you feel the sound vibrate through his ribcage.

“Can’t last long the way you feel,” he puts open-mouthed kisses against your throat and you feel him smile when you moan. Joel’s hands are directionless, slipping over sweat-pricked skin anywhere he can reach. You gasp as your thrusts stagger, grinding down hard against his pubic bone and freezing above him between ragged, helpless shakes. You think you’re crying out his name but it’s not even close at this point. Your orgasm breaks fast, molten and wonderful as it spreads throughout you, Joel watching your face raptly.

You haven’t even begun to come down when you register that Joel’s pushed you onto your back, never parting from you as you move. It settles him deeper, and in your oversensitive state you do genuinely cry out.

“Too sensitive?” Joel asks with mock concern, rising to his knees to give a firm thrust fully within you.

You make a noise that could either confirm or deny, so Joel does it again.

“Fuck, Joel!” you protest, thinking back to how overstimulated you made him yesterday, making him come twice in the span of half an hour or so. Oh no.

Joel sucks his thumb before carefully flicking it against your clit, causing your eyes to go wide and your back to arch off the bed. He doesn’t really get cocky in general, but taking in the long line of him above you, his smirk makes you think he’s at least a little pleased with himself. He’s too fucking pretty to need to be this good at pleasing you, but he chases your responses and expressions eagerly, like watching his effect on you is the main thing he’s after. You’re not over the crest of sensitivity, so each strum of his digit against you feels like electricity to your spine.

Joel starts a fast rhythm, and you can tell from how he presses his weight into your hips through his hands that he’s having to keep his composure to fuck you for this long. His dark brow draws together as he pounds into you thoroughly, letting himself fall forward onto his elbows.

You make a long noise as his pace shifts, something about the drag of his cock at this angle exactly what you want. Overstimulation flees, pursued by a roll of what feels like boiling blood through your body as he slams home. You wrap your legs around his hips and hook your ankles, spreading apart for him fully. You chant his name and notice how much he seems to react to you saying it, and your fingertips scrape down his broad back.

Joel kisses you seriously, almost inappropriately adoring for the way you’re currently twitching around his length. The room is feeling oppressively hot but you feel immersed, firmly peaked nipples brushing his chest in the warm space between you. It’s easy to rock together, and you pull him into you with your legs just as much as he pumps into you. Mouth at your ear, he nips the lobe and starts to speak again as you start to slide against each other from the sweat accumulating between your bodies.

“I’m—” you exhale hard, and Joel strokes your temple as he murmurs. He surprises you by gripping your hair close to the scalp, pulling your neck taut. It isn’t even rough; just commanding. The action makes you pulse and start to climax again, hips rolling upward against him as your mouth works without sound.

“That’s it, baby girl, just like that, I’ve got you, keep goin’,” Joel glances up at your expression, eyes squinted shut and pinned gasps hitching every few seconds. He knows he’s holding the perfect angle for you and bites his lip as your cunt contracts in powerful pulses, pulling his cock deeper on instinct.

“…perfect, love how you feel—fuck,” Joel loses his focus as your knees fall open after the crest of your orgasm, waves of pleasure rippling out and reverberating from your extremities, too good to keep your body tense around him.

Letting go, Joel moans as his orgasm hits him, biting your shoulder to hush his own cry. He’s helpless, slamming into you roughly and provoking aftershocks of your orgasm with each jerk of his hips. All you can do is hold on and shake with the impact, endorphins exploding like chain detonation.

Joel falls against you, sure to place most of his weight to the side. Your chest pressed to his, you smile at the high fluttering of his heart, knowing yours matched it moments before. He looks at you with wonder, effects of a significant orgasm plain on his face. You kiss him suddenly, realizing you’re not done with him. You expect boneless neutrality at the worst, but he opens his mouth slowly and takes your head in both hands, languorous and indulgent.

He readjusts to his side and you throw a leg over his hip, somehow deepening your kiss as he goes. It’s sodden with afterglow and you hear Joel make a soft noise, his leg twining with yours. You realize his spend is leaking out of you onto his thigh and inhale sharply.

“Sorry—” you start, trying to figure out how to not ruin the sheets. Joel’s hand digs into your ass and pulls you back towards him, resettling how you were.

“Not done with you,” he says against your mouth, “And I like it,” he admits more quietly, two fingers grazing down the curve of your ass to stroke the place where your body is wet against his leg.

“I may not be able to go anymore,” you caution, sensitive, certainly sore, and due on patrol in the morning.

Joel laughs, sincere mirth reaching his eyes at the thought of fucking again tonight.

“No, I just meant being close,” he clarifies, kissing you again. “I’ll get up in a minute, just—”

You kiss him this time, holding his jaw in your hand. He recovers quickly enough to respond to your tongue enthusiastically, moving deliriously together.

When you need to breathe, and probably only due to that, Joel pecks you softly and strokes your leg.

“Right back,” he says, and you settle into the sheets and let how good that was roll over you. It was so much more intense than being bent over, notwithstanding how deeply satisfying as fucking Joel had been so far. You suspected he truly enjoyed watching his partner but you felt like a star pulling his focus toward you now, central. This felt like you’d run out of words, then Joel hadn’t been able to shut up, which ultimately spent both your physical energy, and you were suspended in kissing him to communicate.

He returns before you can sink too deep, offering you a towel and climbing back into bed alongside you. You poke your head up, identify the laundry and toss expertly, burrowing back into his shoulder and pressing a hand to his heart. He covers it, and you smile against him.

—

Its three in the morning when you realize you’d fallen asleep in his arms and Joel’s mouth is on the nape of your neck. You spend fifteen minutes fucking on your sides wordlessly, sealed together with arms overlapping, grasping at each other with spare consciousness.

—

The room is light when you open your eyes, facing a still-asleep Joel with one of your hands clasped in his. You don’t think before kissing his knuckles softly, drawing a sleepy grunt. His eyes slit open in annoyance before adjusting to you and allowing a smile.

“Want coffee?” Joel mumbles in a sleep-scratchy voice. Your eyes light up.

“Do I have to find some first?” you ask.

“Just downstairs,” he smiles, a little pleased with himself.

He turns at the foot of the stairs to look back up at you as you descend, his shirt falling to the tops of your thighs. Joel’s lips part as he watches you, pulling you into his arms as you meet him on the bottom step, level with his height.

“Looks nice,” he says like he’s trying to be quiet about it, kissing you with your face in his hands.

“Feels nice,” you reply, forehead against his. You trail after him into the kitchen, hand in his, appraising broad shoulders with interest and wishing you didn’t have to be anywhere. Joel moves confidently, something that would be a routine set of motions if coffee wasn’t such a rarity. When he’s finished, he grasps both mugs and pauses before turning to you, taking a breath.

You brace yourself—going too well, knew it couldn’t—

Joel turns, a look on his face close to exasperation. You’d soon learn that’s just his face when he’s forced to think about how he feels.

“Look, I dunno what I’m doin’, but will I see you tonight? When you’re back?” he asks, eyes everywhere but you. He’s not withholding the coffee, but he does seem to have forgotten the mugs in each hand.

You reach out and grasp one with one hand, fingers over his rough hands.

“I’ll leave my keys?” your heart flutters without your permission, the fast intimacy coming casually to you in the face of his frank vulnerability. Joel’s eyes widen and he nods like he’s afraid speaking will put the offer in peril, and almost immediately pivots to making a mental list for the night. Just because you’d seized on readily apparent chemistry doesn’t mean you’d really made a date, yet. You sip the black coffee still in each others’ space, looking at each other closely until you laugh lightly and break the tension, kissing his upturned mouth before going to collect your things for patrol.

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harrysgems · 4 years

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Before Dawn - Part 1

Leah was walking down the street, frustrated and, once again, mad at her brother. The little prick took the car, again. He’d known she would need it this afternoon to pick up their grandma, and he could have perfectly walked to work.

“I’m gonna fucking kill him,” she muttered, feeling the urge to kick something rise to unexpected levels.

Then, she felt something hit her shoulder. Her eyes opened wide as she refused to look.

Please, don’t let it be a pigeon’s… she wouldn’t even dare finish that thought. She finally gathered the courage to take a look at her jacket and, to her relief, it was just a big droplet of water. Probably from one the multiple trees that adorned this street. Only then she became aware of the tapping of the raindrops against the pavement.

“Come on!” she complained, “You gotta be fucking kidding me.”

She pulled her hood over her head and walked faster as she kept her gaze to the floor. The last thing she needed was to trip over something she couldn’t see because her glasses were full of tiny raindrops.

Oh, how she missed the coast of Italy! The weather was warmer over there, and it definitely didn’t rain this much. Why, of course, this was England; the land of humidity and non-stopping rain.

Her mind was elsewhere, roaming her memories of that adorable Italian village, reason why she didn’t see the six feet tall man walking in front of her. At least, not until she collided with his broad back.

“Ouch!” the man groaned.

“Ouch!” she echoed.

“What the hell?”

She lifted her head to get a proper look of him just as he turned around.

“Harry?” she shrieked.

He narrowed his eyes, still upset about the incident, before he actually recognized her.

“Leah?” he asked.

“What are you doing here?” the question left her lips before she could even process the words.

“I could ask the same question,” he chuckled, “Long time no see.”

“Yeah, it feels like ages since we last saw each other,” she smiled sheepishly.

“Seems life’s treating you well,” he jerked his head toward her Italian boots and bag.

“I can’t complain,” she shrugged, “One of my books got published and now I live in a lovely village in the coast of Italy,” she explained, returning the smile he’d just given her, “What about you? I saw you released a new album.”

“Yeah, I did, didn’t I?” he tried to hide how proud he was of his new project, but he just couldn’t, “Have you gotten around to listen to it yet?”

“I’m sorry,” she grimaced, “With Luca and Thor, and Christmas around the corner, I haven’t got much time to spare.”

“Oh, you’ve got a boyfriend,” Harry commented, trying to keep it causal despite feeling a stab of… what was that? Jealousy? Why would he be jealous of Luca? He should be happy for his friend. If they could even consider themselves as friends anymore.

“Oh, no, no, no!” Leah quickly denied, “I wish,” she laughed awkwardly, “Luca is my editor,” she clarified.

“Oh,” Harry mouthed, “So who’s Thor?” he frowned, remembering the name she’d just dropped a few seconds ago and now realizing there was nothing Italian about it.

“My puppy,” Leah smiled wider than she’d ever done whilst revealing that piece of information.

“You’ve got yourself a puppy?” Harry asked, genuinely surprised.

“Mm-hmm,” she confirmed, “A friend of mine found out her dog was pregnant. She couldn’t keep all the puppies, so she asked a few friends if we could keep them. I really didn’t plan to actually adopt one. You know me, I love pups but I’ve never had one at home because my mom’s not very into pets and I was afraid I’d mess up. But when he looked at me with those puppy eyes… Well, I couldn’t say no.”

“And how’s he?”

“He’s the most adorable pup ever,” she said, proudly, “Although we have to work on the biting bit, I’m running out of slippers,” she frowned before they both laughed softly at that last comment.

Harry took a second to finally observe her. She was beaming, even beneath the cold rainy English weather. Her brunet hair was tied in a loose braid, and she still had a light tan to her skin, probably from enjoying the warm sun of the Italian coast. Her face was almost make-up free, except for the light mascara she was wearing. Her cheeks were already rosy due to the cold air, just like the tip of her nose.

He noticed how shiny her lips were; he, then, remembered how obsessed she was with lip balm back in the day. Some things never change, he guessed.

Leah wondered what was going through Harry’s mind. He’d been quiet for longer than expected, but he’d always been one to speak really slowly, so she didn’t think twice about it. The beanie he wore covered most of his hair, although a few curls escaped from its grip. She’d always loved Harry’s curls, even more so when his hair was way longer than it was now.

“How old’s your pup?”

The question startled her. She’d become awestruck remembering how soft those curls felt between her fingertips.

“Four months old,” she answered, still lingering to that memory.

“He’s still such a baby,” Harry blinked twice in awe.

“Yeah, that’s why it is so hard to teach him,” she laughed softly again, “He’s so cute it’s difficult to tell him off.”

“Can I meet him?”

Leah was surprised by Harry’s question. He sure had better things to do than meeting her new baby. Even more after so long they’d spent without even sharing a word with each other.

“Yeah, sure,” she found herself answering before actually think it through.

“Did you bring him here with you?”

She nodded before she added:

“I wasn’t going to leave him alone in Italy. Or with Luca, for that matter,” she grimaced again.

“Is it that bad?” he chuckled.

“He’d have probably tried to put him in a tutu.”

“Oh, poor thing.”

“Yeah, I’m not letting Thor anywhere near Lucca. He may be Italian and have good taste in fashion, but no way is he gonna dress my dog.”

They both laughed at that and afterwards a comfortable silence fell upon the two of them.

“It was nice seeing you, Harry.”

“It was really nice to see you too, Leah.”

“Guess I’ll see you around,” she smiled at him.

“Of course, you still need to introduce me to Thor!” he smiled back at her.

And despite not seeing much due to the raindrops sliding down her glasses and the fact that she was running late to pick her grandma up, the urge to kill his brother had magically gone away. Now she only wanted to smack the back of his neck for being so irresponsible.

┅┅━━━━━━━ ۵ ━━━━━━━┅┅

Leah had been fighting the need to write down everything that crossed her mind. The memories mixed all together and threatened her to become emotionally attached to them once again, after how long it took her to get over those moments.

Hence, when she arrived back home and her grandma was finally sitting on the armchair, she sneaked into her room before anyone else saw her, with her pup right behind her.

“Hello gorgeous!” she called him.

The pup leaned his head to the side, observing her. To be fair, she couldn’t blame him if he ever thought she was crazy. She picked him up from the floor and helped him onto her bed. The pup found his way onto her lap, where he rested peacefully, snuggling his head against her tummy for attention from time to time.

“Ya really like to be pampered, don’t ya, little boy?” she whispered to him whilst scratching the fur behind his ears.

Thor merely rested his head against his paws and closed his eyes, enjoying the feeling of his human giving him the attention he deserved.

“You’re the prettiest thing to ever exist,” she whispered to him again, still scratching his black fur.

After Harry Styles, the voice in her head was loud and clear. And undoubtedly not welcome. She frowned and stopped the movement of her hand, wondering why her subconscious was playing with her like that. The pup lifted his tiny head and snuggled her hand, asking for attention.

“If you weren’t so adorable you wouldn’t get away with everything you want,” she muttered.

The tiny pup yawned and she thought her heart would melt at any given moment because he was way too endearing to be real.

“We’ll have to work on that,” she pointed her index finger at Thor, but he decided it was a good idea to smell it and lick the tip of her finger, “Stop!” she laughed as the pup licked her again, “You’re tickling me,” she kept laughing.

Thor happily barked as his tail wiggled from side to side. He was happy when his human did those strange noises.

┅┅━━━━━━━ ۵ ━━━━━━━┅┅

It was already late in the night, or early in the morning, Leah couldn’t quite tell. She knew she wouldn’t be able to sleep until she poured all of her thoughts and feelings out, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to go down that memory lane.

Despite her initial reluctance, she took her laptop and sat back in her bead. Thor was sleeping beside her and the only sound that could be heard was his even breathing. She smiled broadly. God, how she loved this pup.

She took a deep breath and opened her Notepad. That overwhelming feeling took over her again; she had so much to tell, but she didn’t even know where to begin. How do you summarize years and years and express them in words? Well, she should’ve known; it was no less than her job. But there was an added difficulty when the story to tell was hers.

She began typing the first thing that came to her mind and, after a while, her fingers flew through the keyboard with a mind of their own.

Every word carried emotion, and every sentence pulled out a new memory. Before she knew, she was going down that road again.

┅┅━━━━━━━ ۵ ━━━━━━━┅┅

Harry still couldn’t believe he’d actually seen Leah today. Of course, if he’d even tried to keep in touch, he would’ve known she’d be in town. But he’d been too busy, and she hadn’t tried to reach him either. At least, that was what he’d been telling himself all this time to make himself feel better. Truth was, he regretted every single time he would’ve liked to text her and he didn’t.

They’d known each other for so long, and yet he’d let her slip through his fingers. He knew she’d always considered him her best friend, reason why he didn’t even dare to begin to think how lonely she must’ve felt these past few years.

But he wouldn’t apologize to her, because that would be admitting he was sorry… And he hadn’t done anything wrong. Things just… cooled down. Besides, it was probably too late, anyway.

He turned around in his bed for the hundredth time tonight. Who was he trying to fool? He’d played with her, so many years ago. He’d been such a dick, and there was no way she could forgive him for what he did.

Finally giving up on getting to sleep, Harry took his phone from his bedside table and scrolled through his gallery. He should probably delete some of the pictures in there; there were too many of them, but he felt so attached to those pictures because of the memories they brought back to life…

He found several pictures of teenage Leah partying with his teenage self. They sure knew how to have a good time. A sad smile pulled up on his lips when he saw the picture of that night, right before he made the biggest mistake of his life.

Leah had always told him how she wanted to become a writer, and she sure had talent. Even back then, she always had this habit of thanking him whenever he helped her, no matter whether it was a big favour or just listening to her rant about something. And she did so by writing letters. Well, they weren’t actually letters, because she sent them as a text message, but they were long and emotional enough to make him tear up.

Harry smiled as he remembered that one time they were hanging out at a party, and she was hammered and so, so upset. He was upset too for some reason he’d completely forgotten, and she gave him the most emotional, beautiful, realistic speech no one had ever given him. She obviously didn’t remember anything the following day, but he did.

He believed that was the night everything changed.

He’d always walked her home but, from that night on, he’d treasured those moments when they were alone in the early morning, right before dawn; just the two of them, no rush, walking beside one another in a comfortable silence or laughing about something that had happened at some point in the night. And even after hours of dancing, sweating and drinking, she looked beautiful.

He wondered if she’d gone down this memory lane too, after running into him this morning. Would she think of the same memories he did? Would she even want to think about the moments they’d shared at all?

Another memory hit him as he kept scrolling down the pictures of his gallery. The white dress.

That was a night to remember; at least the tiny bits they could put up together. It was summer and she was wearing that flowy white dress, way too short to bring her home to mother, but damn if she didn’t look sexy in it. They were waiting for someone and he decided to sat down on the stairs, tired of standing up and not moving at all. Two other friends did the same, and no space was left to sit down, so she just clinged to his neck and sat on his lap, a smile on her face asking if it bothered him. Harry limited his answer to wrapping his arms around her waist.

He loved how she always tangled her fingers in his hair, massaging his scalp and tugging softly at his curls. All of them were probably being too loud, laughing too much, because while he was almost falling asleep beneath the touch of her fingers on his hair, he felt drops of water wetting them. Apparently, a pissed off neighbour decided it was a good idea to water the teenagers sitting under his balcony.

She squealed and jumped off of his lap, running away from the water. He followed her shortly after and joined her away from the angry neighbour. It was only then they burst into laughter and left that place.

He didn’t know why, that night he couldn’t keep his hands off her body. Maybe he was being selfish, but he’d just broken things up with Hannah, and he longed for this kind of contact. She hadn’t complained at all, though. The only thing Leah did, was smile sheepishly every time Harry brushed her hair away from her face and brought it behind her ear.

Until they went outside the club and back to the street so their friends could smoke. The night breeze was cool for summer, and he could see her shiver. He wrapped his arms around her once more, bringing her closer to his body, trying to warm her up a little bit while their friends finished their cigarette. She hugged him by the waist and rested her head on his chest. When he asked whether she was cold, the drunk, I’m-no-longer-shy version of Leah told him her ass was cold. Fuck. What was he supposed to do? He was drunk too.

Without actually thinking it twice, his hands flew to her ass and he tried to warm it up, rubbing it. It didn’t seem such a bad idea at the moment, after all, she laughed and thanked him.

Later that night, he remembered, he offered to walk her home again, just like he did every single time they hung out together. Funny story? Both of them were so wasted they ended up walking in the opposite direction until they reached a park across town. She’d tried to warn him several times throughout their walk, but she kept saying her orientation sucked so she just trusted him, because his was better. Well, when drunk, apparently not.

They sat down on the floor, laughing at the stupid situation. They would have to unwalk what they did and then keep going until they reached her house. Leah rested her head against Harry’s shoulder, her whole body shaking from laughter, and they fell back on the floor. She was on top of him, sort of, still laughing uncontrollably. He couldn’t stop laughing either and at some point, before they’d fallen down, he’d hugged her to protect her from hitting the floor.

It was in that moment she raised her head to stare into his green eyes, her face so close to his. She’d tried her best to hold her laugh back, but she couldn’t manage to do so as she told him how hungry she was. He cracked up again, joining her laughter, because he was too, hungry. And as he helped her up, he realised, not only of food.

┅┅━━━━━━━ ۵ ━━━━━━━┅┅

Tears were already streaming down Leah’s face as she typed her last words. She hadn’t allowed herself to dive deeper into those memories because she knew that, as much as she’d love to be her teenage self again, that was not going to happen. Just like things were never going to be as they were back then.

She wiped away a tear, the memory of that night they got lost to finally sat down on a park floor across town in the early morning still vivid in her mind.

They finally found a place to eat breakfast on their way back home. He’d walked her to her front door, as he’d always done, and she desperately wanted him to come inside with her. But he just said goodbye to her, with a kiss on her forehead, as he used to do, and left.

The worst memory of them all wasn’t that at all; the one that she couldn’t let go of, no matter how much it hurt every time she went back there.

They were supposed to meet with a friend who was leaving to live abroad. Same old: go to the pub, have a beer, laugh a bit, go back home. Leah had been ready for a long time now, because Alice, their friend, was always running late.

He’d texted Harry, and he’d told her he was with his mom and some other family members at a pub near his place. Next thing she knew, Anne texted her to join them. She’d always been a lovely woman and, despite Harry was still annoyed that they texted each other, he couldn’t hide it amused him.

They didn’t stay long at the pub, though. Alice called she was heading toward their meeting place, so they headed out too; one of Harry’s younger family members coming along with them. She had to admit it was a fun night.

As expected, Harry walked everyone home and, since him and Leah were the ones that lived closer from each other, they did the whole tour until it was only the two of them, as it had always been.

They barely chatted on their way home; they were both exhausted and cold. Leah’s mind, though, worked at a hundredth miles per hour. She’d been feeling this… pull, toward him, for longer than she’d like to admit and she knew she would regret it if she didn’t do something about it.

Harry was quiet too. He was lost in his own thoughts, and lots of them included Leah, but she didn’t know that in that moment; and she never would.

She tried to bring a topic out, whatever, but she needed to talk to him about something or she would go mad. She was beginning to overthink everything and she knew that never ended well for her.

When they reached her house, instead of leaving straight away, they chatted for a few more minutes. It was cold, but neither seem to bother. Before leaving, as he always did, Harry wrapped his arms around her body and pulled her in for a hug. She rested her head against his chest and sighed. They were completely alone in the street, and she knew she could trust him like she could trust no other. Yet, she was scared and confused and didn’t really know what to do with the bundle of emotions that lived inside her for months now.

It was only then that Leah realised she was still being held by Harry. This time, he’d lingered for longer than he used to, as if he refused to let go. She moved slightly away, their arms still around each other’s, and looked up at him, at those green eyes that trapped her every single time, and felt that pull again. Every bone in her body asked her to kiss him. But she wasn’t brave enough.

She didn’t have to, though. To her surprise, Harry lowered his lips to hers. The kiss took her completely by surprise, reason why she blinked twice before closing her eyes and kissing him back.

When he said goodbye that night, he did it with a kiss on her lips, instead of her forehead.

┅┅━━━━━━━ ۵ ━━━━━━━┅┅

Harry had been tossing and turning for hours. He wanted to text her, but at the same time he was afraid to do so. She’d been so much braver than he’d ever be. Not just because of everything she’d been through, but because she really had the courage to do the things that matter.

He looked through their texts, looking for the one he knew by heart, but refused to delete because it was proof that she ever loved him.

He knew Leah had always had a way with words but even now he could tell how nervous and scared she was when she sent him that text message.

“I still don’t know if I’ll be brave enough to hit the send button once I finish typing this, but here it goes anyway. I don’t know the reason why you kissed me today, and I don’t want to jump to conclusions, but I can’t hide this from you anymore, Harry,” he whispered in the darkness of his room, “I really, really like you. I think I’m falling for you and it scares me to death. Above all because you know I consider you my best friend, and I don’t want to lose you. I’m scared that telling you this might affect our friendship if you don’t feel the same way, but you know I trust you like no other and… who was I supposed to tell if it weren’t you? You know that if it wasn’t you the one I like, Harry, I would’ve told you straight away.”

He paused, taking a deep breath before resuming the message.

“I’m so confused, and I’ve been so confused for a while now. You’re one of the most important people I’ve had in my life. You were there for me when you didn’t even know what was going on, because you knew something was wrong so you decided to offer your shoulder to cry on and ask no questions. I still remember that smile you gave me when you told me ‘when you’re ready’. You’ve really been a constant in my life for the past few years, my pillar, along with Alice. You two are the only people who know the shit that’s been going down in my life these past few months. And I wouldn’t have it any other way. I love you, I’ve already told you a billion times. Just, this time, it means a little bit more than all the others; but I don’t want things to change between us whatever your answer is. I can’t afford to lose you.”

Harry just needed to scroll down a little bit more to see his answer, to reread again, the way he’d rejected her. He damn sure was stupid. And he damn sure didn’t deserve her. He tried his best, he tried to have a lot of tact when he said he couldn’t feel the same way. And it was true, or so he thought in that moment. He’d offered her the space she might have needed, because he knew what it was like to fall for someone who couldn’t feel the same way about you; but he also promised her their relationship would not change. And yet, with time, it did.

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