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kirishimas-manly-eyeliner · 3 years

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A full, entire list of headcanons for a day with:

1. ☼ waking up with him ☼6am-8am

i don’t know about y’all, but i like to headcanon that todoroki’s morning face is absolutely adorable 🥺

he doesn’t wake up like mr. perfect whenever you see him, but since it’s so early in the morning, his cheeks are just- so- squishyyyy

he looks like a fricken baby with the softest expressions ever

he stares at you and grins, still lying down and stretching his arms out

todoroki doesn’t look at his phone first thing in the morning, or even go to wash his face once he wakes up

the very first thing he does when he wakes up is to gently wrap his arms around your still body, as he kisses your scalp and holds you in the quiet of the morning

he likes to stare at your face, so calm and just so… at peace

he caresses his hand on your cheek before kissing your nose 🥺🥺

he wakes you up in such a gentle way that it’s just not even funny omfg-

i like to imagine that he opens up the curtains for gentle light first, and opens up the window for a cool wave of air

he takes your hand, “good morning, princess.”

“‘morning, my prince, but can we have like,, five more minutes-”

“i already know five minutes is the same thing as ten minutes for you. we should get up while we can.”

“alright, fine, but good morning to you too,”

his hair is ruffled in this ADORABLE WAY that makes my heART SIMPLY COMBUST

for breakfast, i LiKE tO tHiNK tHaT hE TakEs BaCon AnD sLapS iT oN hiMsELf-

i’m only like,, half-kidding, but uGH PLEASE GIVE HIM SOME SOBA AND LET HIM DO THE REST

man’s got everything handled, don’t worry ‘bout it 😌😌

for morning training, it starts as early as 7 in the morning

it’s nothing too intense, more of just him doing yoga

OMGWFHFIUHLIUF TODOROKI WOULD EITHER SLAY AT YOGA OR JUST SUCK IN GENERAL

NO IN-BETWEEN AT ALL

he literally looks like a fricken stick trying to bend and he’s just so awkward and flustured like ????

or either, man’s is SLAYING IT and hitting that tree pose, absolutely nailing the downward dog and killing it with the cobra

you laugh at him as he smiles, and expect him to do the,, lil,, lingering touches if y’all know what i mean ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

you had to buy multiple yoga mats because he ended up singeing them all on accident when he got flustered

and yes, his left side sets on fire when he’s flustered, and that is just the softest thing

2. ☏ [2/5] going to online school with him ☏ 8am-12pm, 2pm-4pm

todoroki makes sure that you focus, which is kinda a problem if you’re like me

…and you just don’t focus-

dw though, because if you ever zone out, man’s will be sure to be prepared because he can and will force you into getting focused again

he promises you a kith whenever you finish a class 🥺🥺❤️

“i love you, but i really don’t want to do this today.”

(honestly, i would like to headcanon that you probably do online school with rolling chairs, so you’re probably gonna be spinning whenever you get bored)

“and i love you, but here we are, my love. the day will be over before you know it,” he brings out the softest smile ever before cupping your face and pecking your nose

since todoroki has online class as well, he sits next to you to be able to hold your hand off-camera beCAUSE YAS

if you two ever get caught, his left side literally lights tf up

you thought man’s would be cool and collected the whole time, but NOPE HE’S JUST AS FLUSTURED AS YOU BABY

but you put it aside and say you were just petting your cat

todoroki also most definitely has some sort of fancy candle or a spray or whatever that he uses to stay focused

once or twice, he’ll most definitely spray way too much, so in one instance you had to go outside

in the backyard

and do your homework there as the wind blew all of your printed papers away

but anyways-

todoroki is on the top of his game to make sure that yOU STAY HYDRATED

IF YOU’RE READING THIS GO DRINK SOME WATER YOU MALNOURISHED AND DEHYDRATED ANGEL

he smiles at you whenever he sees that you’re stuck, and the way his eyebrows furrow in such a cute way just fricken asdfghjklkmnbvcxzaqwertyujhgcwjvhhviu

if you ever get burnt out, he plants a kiss on your forehead and holds you until you have to go to your next class, and gets you a wet towel to just feel better and *sparkles* fresher

oh and FIGHT ME, he most definitely opens up the doors and uses natural light rather than turning the lights on

if you ever feel frustrated or just feel too overhwhelmed, he takes your hand and asks you to breathe with him before pulling you into a hug

he would be such a good companion for online school, please keep him 🥺

3. ♨ lunch + study sessions with todoroki ♨ 12-1pm

SOBA

IF YOU CAME HERE AND EXPECTED SMTHN ELSE YOU CONFUSE ME

hear me out, todoroki literally makes the best soba in the world

expect him to use his quirk and make it colder bc no one wants warm soba

especially todoroki 😠😠❤️❤️

while you’re taking a nap or you’re trying to catch up on your homework, man’s is making absolute magic in the kitchen

when he calls you into the kitchen to eat, everything is set in such an aesthetically pleasing way

“todo, you made this?”

he’ll grin and say quietly, “no, my love. someone attacked and came in and made this and left through the window.”

he’s such a dork sometimes we love that

you also take a lot of photos before you eat, and the way your eyes light up fills him with so much happiness

“how does it taste?”

“you’re making me sound like i’m on master chef or something, one second, i’m still taking the photo!”

but when you do eat it, every time, even when you might not like it– you compliment him

and he literally acts like a child in that time and i think that’s ADORABLE

as for the study sessions, he makes sure that you actually focus instead of wasting the hour you guys have together

and even if you don’t want to, he drags your butt from where you were procrastinating

“it’s out of love.”

“out of love? babe i was having such a nice nap, are you kidding me?”

todoroki just grins as he opens up the windows for ventilation to study

i like to headcanon that he honestly probably listens to classical music when he studies

he despises jazz

i should literally make a list of headcanons for class 1a and their music taste-

he sends you little texts whenever he sees you get bored and go on your phone

4. ☼ ☽ [4/5] showers with todoroki + cuddling ☾☼5-8pm

you had a long day at work, and you were just getting things ready and preparing to go to bed

tired and exhausted, your body trudged towards into the bath for a much needed shower

you rubbed your eyes, drained and exhausted as your eyes locked with todoroki’s

…wait, todoroki’s?

“ah! i’m so sorry, i didn’t mean to, just-”

he peeks his head through the shower door, “no, i don’t mind it. care to join me?”

“i- wha?”

but come on, how could you reject something like this? you stepped into the shower before goin’ like “JEEZ WHY’S IT SO COLD????”

todoroki just stares at you, insanely confused, “…what do you mean?”

“you should at least raise the temperature a little, if that’s okay with you?”

being honest, todoroki genuinely forgot that cold showers weren’t a universal thing– it was only then that he realized, since the tea kettle incident, he’d almost by-default take cold showers

but he’d honestly do anything for you, so he raises the temperature as he holds you, his skin soft and the shower finally beginning to steam up a bit

todoroki uses the best shampoo smell in the entire world

just imagine the best scent in the entire world, but at first, you could only find a hint of it, and you thought that what you could smell was all you had

but then WABAM, one day an entire jackpot just shows up with everything

that’s what it feels like showering with todoroki

honestly, the man’s there whenever you need him

definitely loves to play with your hair in the shower, his hands are somehow so soft as he kisses your scalp

but shoto tries his best not to take too many peeks, and if he does he apologizes lmao

OH OH and he most definitely uses your lotion on one instance, so this one time when you saw him come out of the shower you’re just like,, “is that,, my lotion?”

he just stares and nods. “yeah.”

you laugh as you cup his face in your hands, “it smells good, i like it. but keep in mind i have to pay for that-”

he probably says it’s fine and uses endeavor’s credit card

even when you’re in the shower though and he sees your body for the first time, he flushes like crazy

what is this feeling??

he might see your stretch marks, he might see your scars, your acne, whatever it is you’re insecure about, but he gingerly and just so carefully kisses them all

“you’re… beautiful.”

for cuddling, he probably does the same thing– he holds your hand, and if he notices your scars, he kisses them and pulls you in closer to his chest

ALSO LIKE JEEZ MAN’S IS TOUCH STARVED

PLEASE GIVE HIM CUDDLES OMFG

please kiss his scar btw, he might be kind of sensitive about it, but it definitely makes him feel less insecure about it

he might be honestly going on his phone and looking through the news, or he might be looking at cooking videos ngl-

*cough cough soba*

he caresses your cheek, expect him to not know how to act at first

but then he decides to try making the first move and spoons you

bUT LIKE- I CAN SEE HIM AS THE LIL’ SPOON 😭

you make him so insanely happy

5. dating todoroki would include…

hate to break it to y’all’s, but man’s takes an eternity to ask you out

he probably went to the bakusquad for love advice

the poor bby is so confused, and at first, he’s convinced he has a disease

“i think… i’m allergic to y/n.”

(he’s still with the bakusquad,) “what do you mean?” denki honestly be tapping his pencil as he stares at todoroki

“whenever i go near them– i end up feeling weird, i suppose. i get nervous. i don’t know why though. i feel oddly giddy when i talk to them. should i get it checked out?”

at this point, mina and denki’s efforts to hide in laughs are in vain

when they actually burst out, they end up laughing so hard that they get tears in their eyes

todoroki is so confused, “???????”

sero def joins in with the drama, “i-” he stops to snort, “todoroki, have you ever heard of a crush?”

todoroki stands, dumbfounded for a solid minute before his ENTIRE left side just starts toasting

“i… i do like y/n. i like y/n. i like y/n. i like y/n.”

POOR BABY GOES CRAZY and repeats that statement for a solid minute yet again

he’s very confused and flustered at the same time

todoroki honestly tries asking the entire class what to do for his date, and everyone is saying something completely different:

“a movie theatre, kero.”

“an at-home dinner, maybe? you can save money-”

“study dates are very important.”

“✨ take her to the disco ✨“

“go to the amusement park!”

“maybe you two can just have a walk around town?”

“go to a strip clu-”

“SHUT UP MINETA-”

at the end of the day, todoroki’s left more confused than he ever was before, so he just decides to go for it all on his own

after a few more hours of contemplating his date and life choices, he decides how to ask you and where to take you

once he musters the courage, he asks you to meet him after class

you’re lowkey confused, but definitely giddy to be able to meet your crush again

at first, todoroki had this entire speech planned, but the moment he saw you, he stopped and forgot all of his words

“uh, do you want to eat food?”

took a while for you to realize what he was implying, and the way he was flushing and looking at the floor was just so soft and you nodded–

“you mean– go on a date?”

todoroki, still very much hiding his face, nods

“haha, i’d love to! where should we go?”

it takes him a while to compose himself again as he stares at you,

“would the ice skating rink be okay?”

so that day, that’s just what you did :DD

at first, todoroki’s kind of scared to hold your hand in case he ends up getting too caught up in himself

but eventually, you let him know that you don’t really mind as you head over to the rink

Elsa Todoroki for 2021™

man’s is a NATURAL

he be gliding everywhere, and you can see him for a split second, smiling as he skates around so fricken gracefully and i think that’s adorable

todoroki laughs into your ear as he pulls you in to help you balance

you two were skating normally, until you were suprised in the back of the rink as you fell over

“are you okay?”

“yeah, i’m good, don’t worry about it-!”

he pulls you up, his hands firm against yours

for a split second, you make eye contact for a few seconds too long

he finds himself lost in them, as he tightens the grip on your hands, your body still leaning against his arms as if you were in mid-salsa dance

he gazes into your eyes, before thinking: “this is the person. this is the person that i want to spend my whole life, an entire life with– they’re so strong, caring, kind… and there’s so much more to them than i thought.”

…before pressing his lips onto yours, and suddenly, everything stops

your mind is empty and blank, when you realize:

shoto todoroki is kissing you

and you were kissing him back.

you almost forget that breathing is a thing before you realize that you were nearly out of breath as todoroki pulled away before kissing you again, his hands cupping your face as you pulled closer against his chest

when you finish, you see that parts of his jacket were smoking after the kiss

literally smoking

“that was… that was… wow.”

todoroki laughs, “wow was right, a word i’d use.”

you’re about to talk again, when you hear screaming and cheering in the background

“LET’S!! GO!! Y/N!! AND!! TODO!! ROKI!!”

and yas– the entire bakusquad, willingly or unwillingly followed you there

even if it was a lot, todoroki’s happier than ever as he kisses you again

and all you could say?

that day the best day of your life.

thank you for making it this far, love!! this will be a continued series with bakugo + izuku coming up next, stay tuned :) to join my taglist for the next few characters, click here ^^

taglist: @cherry-cake-pies, @xuxisushi-1

#FINALLY FINISHED IT WUFHWLIUFHIUF #WHY IS IT SO HARD WRITING FOR TODOROKI???#PLS GIVE ADVICE #todoroki x reader #todoroki x gn!reader #todoroki hcs #mha hcs #shoto todoroki hcs #please reblog! <3 ^^;;;;#shoto todoroki headcanons #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #todoroki x you #todoroki

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fleetingpieces · 3 years

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My One in a Million Chapter 4

Tagging @donttouchmycarrots and @sunflowerfox87 who I still can’t believe wanted to be tagged 🥺

Thank you so much everyone for your support ❤️

And as always, thank you @inloveoknutzy and Nayla for proofreading, you guys are the best ❤️

My One in a Million Masterlist

Chapter 4 - Morning routines

The feeling of the earth on his bare feet. Long nights playing video games with his friends. Streaming for his fans. Slow sunsets and starry nights. Having the gang at his flat all the time. Relaxing bubble baths. Sunday lunch with the Potters. Making the people who doubted him shove their words up their asses.

Those were all things Sirius Black loved.

Having his brother drilling him at 7 am on an otherwise perfect Friday morning was most definitely not one of them. Not at all.

“I told you a thousand times already, and I’ll say it again one last time. I am not. Going. To that stupid. Fucking. Dinner,” he practically yelled over the phone.

There was a tired sigh on the other end of the line.

“Sirius, please. Could you stop thinking only about yourself for once? They want you to come.” A short pause. “I want you to come.”

Sirius grunted lowly, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“No, Reg. I gave them too much already. I can’t keep giving them more. I’m sorry.” He hung up before Regulus could get another word in and raked both hands through his hair.

Manipulative pieces of crap. They ‘wanted him to come’? What a fucking pile of shit. They had never wanted him there, they only wanted whatever they could get from him, asking for more, more and more, until they could suck him dry. They wouldn’t even be bothering with him if he was of no use to them.

Saying no to Regulus was the hard part. Knowing they were using him precisely because of this, that Regulus himself was using it against him, was almost like a knife twisting in his gut.

It hurt.

It hurt so fucking much, because Sirius still cared about him. He was still his little brother, despite the decisions they had both taken for their lives. But Regulus didn’t see it that way.

Sirius started pacing up and down his room, rubbing a hand through his face as his other went instinctively to his back pocket to grab a pack of cigarettes. He hated feeling like this, hated the push and pull that came with his family’s relationships; craving the acceptance of his own blood, wanting to be close to his brother, but also feeling like he needed to get as far from them as he could. Why couldn’t they understand he didn’t want anything to do with the company? Heck, he didn’t want anything to do with most of them, he only kept some sort of contact because of Regulus. Even if his brother didn’t really want anything to do with him.

A flash of pain slashed him in the middle of his chest, and Sirius stormed off to the balcony, a fag already between his lips.

Lighting it up felt like lifting some of the weight off his shoulders. He pictured all of his problems in his head and imagined exhaling them with the smoke, drifting away in the morning sky until there was nothing left of them.

Sirius snorted. He wished it was that easy to get rid of all his worries, but his brother’s voice kept whispering in his ears, no matter how many times he watched the smoke dissipate in front of his face, mixing with words that were not Reg’s but still sounded in his voice. Stop thinking about yourself. You’re such a disappointment. We gave you so much, and this is how you repay us? You don’t care about me. You don’t care, you don’t care, you don’t care.

“Ugh, fuck,” Sirius grunted as he leaned on the rail and let his head hang low, pressing his forehead against the cold metal.

A low sound reached him through the fog of noises in his head. It was a song he’d never heard before, its rhythm slow and calming, and Sirius tried to focus on that to clear his mind and make the voice shut up.

He raised his head, looking at the place where it was coming from, only to be faced with a sight that almost made him drop his cigarette six floors down.

The new neighbor, Remus, was behind the glass doors of his balcony, standing on top of a yoga mat, wearing a black tank top and a pair of grey shorts that were dangerously hiking up his thighs in the position he was currently in.

His arms were stretched on top of his head, his toned muscles making the veins in his arms pop, and his broad shoulders working with the slow movements he was making. There was such a peaceful air about him. His eyes were closed and the sun was drawing golden lines that flitted through his hair as he bent down at the waist to touch the floor, leaving his back exposed.

The freckles on Remus shoulders disappeared below the t-shirt, and Sirius desperately wanted to know just how far they reached. He swallowed thickly, unable to look away. It was mesmerizing to watch Remus transition between poses, his lithe body flowing like water. He briefly wondered if the man was as pliable in other ways, but when his heart rate started quickening, Sirius decided he should stop being a creep and allow his neighbor the privacy he deserved. Before he could tear his eyes away though, a black shadow darted into the room and tackled Remus to the floor.

Sirius gripped the rail unconsciously before he realised it was just Remus’ dog, and he was left breathless once more at the image in front of him.

Remus was laughing as the dog nudged him with its head, two of its paws pressed over those powerful shoulders as Remus stroked the fur at its sides. The man’s eyes were crinkled, his curls falling onto his forehead in a tawny mess that was so cute Sirius thought he might die.

Seeing him smiling like that, it reminded Sirius of the Halloween party almost a week ago.

At first, he’d been annoyed about Lily bringing Remus and a stranger into his home, but that was mainly ‘cause Sirius had been on edge about the whole family drama. He had been looking forward to a chill night with his friends, and having outsider eyes at that moment felt like something that would have made him step on eggshells all night to avoid revealing his identity.

But Remus had proved to be as interesting as Sirius had thought him to be the first time they talked, always taking him by surprise with his comments and reactions.

Sirius desperately wanted to know where the hell Remus had learned to play like that. It wasn’t every day that he was beaten by someone that didn’t seem to have a lot of time for games, even if he’d been overly distracted by his toned thigh touching his own leg. Yes, Sirius had had a hard time concentrating, but he hadn’t slacked off. Remus was good. And Sirius wanted to know how.

He was intrigued by the man in so many ways, his interest peaking with every new little thing he noticed: the gaming, the yoga, his weird way of thinking -Sirius chuckled when he remembered how Remus had thought he was a fucking drug dealer-, him showing up at a party wearing a jumper that was a few sizes too big for him, looking so impossibly cuddly and warm; his relationship with his dog, his relationship with that Leo guy.

As Remus nuzzled his nose into the dog’s fur, Sirius thought about the rainbow coloured bracelet on Leo’s wrist. He admired the guy for wearing the flag so proudly, just there in plain sight for everyone to see. Sirius wished he could do the same, to stand tall, out in the open. But the consequences for him were way too high.

A small, annoying part of his brain felt the need to remind him that this didn’t mean Remus liked dudes. But Sirius took comfort in the knowledge that, at the very least, it meant that he was ok with it. That he wouldn’t condemn Sirius for it.

Sirius reached for a new cigarette, even if he was already feeling calmer, and put it between his teeth, taking a second before lighting it. While he played with the flame of his lighter, he wondered how Remus knew about Padfoot. Oh, what he wouldn’t do to know that story.

His heart warmed, not for the first time, at how Remus had defended Padfoot so fiercely, having no idea that he was right there; no idea how much his words meant for Sirius. Remus had understood him incredibly thoroughly for someone that didn’t even know who Padfoot was. That he was sitting right next to him. And Sirius wasn’t sure how to feel about that, but he wanted to find out.

It was no surprise that Remus hadn’t recognized his voice, even though he was clearly a fan. Sirius always hid his accent on his videos to conceal any connection to his family, so his parents wouldn’t intervene and ruin everything.

Suddenly, the music drifting from the room next door changed to a more upbeat one. Remus lifted the black dog up in his arms, something that couldn’t be easy given its size, and hugged it as he started twirling around the room, laughing brightly as he did.

He was dancing.

With his dog.

And the face he was making, like the animal meant the world to him... How could someone you barely knew be so fucking endearing?

Sirius was still staring when Remus turned around and lifted his head, his eyes locking with Sirius’. He stopped mid-turn, the smile slipping from his face. Sirius felt a blush prickling at his cheeks at being caught basically ogling him, but he waved with an awkward smile.

His only answer was a scowl, even if from afar he could tell Remus was blushing too. He set the dog down, glaring at Sirius, who let his hand drop slowly as he watched the man close the curtains in a slash.

Sirius hid his face in his hands, feeling the heat radiate from his cheeks. How could he fuck up so much? Remus would think he was a fucking creep now. Dragging his hands down, Sirius knew he would have to genuinely step up his game if he wanted to get to know this man.

In the afternoon, Sirius was still pondering ways to get more acquainted with Remus, and coming back empty handed. He didn’t want to just show up at one of his classes, he lived right next door for fucks sake! He should be able to find a way to start up a conversation with him, right? Although Sirius had to admit, he hadn’t seen much of the guy since he’d moved in. Of course, Sirius hadn’t exactly been in the right state of mind to notice him.

But life seemed to be on his side, at least this once. Because when he stepped into the coffee shop where he was meeting up with James and Lily, the first thing he saw was a head of tawny curls.

Barely keeping in his glee, Sirius walked towards Remus, figuring he could just say hi. He stopped dead in his tracks though, when he was just a few steps behind him and he realized Remus was humming the lyrics of An Open Letter to Myself.

“I love that song,” he said without thinking. The man had a lovely voice, sweet and a bit sad, and it made his curiosity peak again.

Remus jolted and turned around with surprised eyes and slightly flushed cheeks, but as gold met silver, his eyebrows dropped quickly over his eyes. Sirius was taken aback by the clear hostility in Remus’ features, which made him stutter as he cleared his throat.

“Sorry, I... I saw you and thought... I… uhm... should come and say hi? So...hi,” Sirius said and immediately groaned inwardly at his stupidity. Since when was he this clumsy?

“Hello,” Remus said in a polite, detached tone before he turned away.

Sirius took a minute to rearrange his thoughts while he placed his order right after Remus. They got their drinks at the same time, and before Remus could walk away from the shop, Sirius scrambled for something else to say.

“Your dog is beautiful, what’s its name?”

The corner of Remus’ mouth tickled up at the mention of his pet, but it was pushed down almost instantly.

“Cocoa,” he replied reluctantly, and Sirius almost spit his tea.

“Cocoa? That huge ass dog has a cute name like Cocoa?”

Remus rolled his eyes, but he was almost pouting. “I just really like chocolate, ok? Besides, he’s just a pup,” he said as he moved over to add some sugar to his chai latte. Sirius followed.

“A pup?” he said incredulously. “How is that a pup?!”

Remus huffed. “He’s only about two or three years old.”

Sirius stared at him in disbelief. That dog was already past Remus’ knees, and if what he was saying was right, he was probably going to grow some more.

“Did you adopt him?” he asked, tilting his head, thinking about Remus’ choice of words. He was focusing his whole attention on Remus, and that was probably the only reason why he noticed the slight stutter of his hand as he stirred his drink.

“Yeah,” he said in a breath. Sirius thought that would be the end of the conversation, but then -as if he couldn't help himself- Remus added, “he was very young when I found him. He was abandoned and practically left to die; his previous owners must have thought it was too much trouble to raise a wolfdog, and decided to leave him tied up in the woods instead of being decent human beings and finding him an appropriate home.”

There was such disgust in his voice that Sirius took a step back while his heart melted into a puddle. Of course he rescued dogs. Sirius was starting to wonder if this guy was even real. He’d been so thoroughly captivated by him in such a short time, it was a bit scary. Sirius hadn’t felt like this in a very long time. He hadn’t let himself feel like this, it was too risky, and he knew it would be more sensible to leave Remus alone and stay away from him before things got worse, but he had felt drawn to him ever since the Halloween party.

“That’s awful. No one deserves to be treated like that,” he replied softly against his better judgement. If things got worse, he’d deal with that later.

Remus’ head snapped up, and for a moment it looked like he was drowning. Sirius had no idea what had brought that expression to his face, but the only thought in his mind was how desperately he wanted to erase it.

In hopes of doing so, he tried to change the subject to something lighter. “So, you like games, huh? You really did a number on me the other day. When did you start playing?”

The response he got was not what he’d expected. Remus’ expression hardened, and he turned his gaze away as he discarded the used stick with more force than was probably necessary.

“That’s hardly any of your concern, is it?”

Sirius blinked. And then blinked again. Was he still mad at him?

“Look, I’m really sorry about this morning. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable or anything, I just-”

“You really think this is all just about this morning?” Remus snapped.

“What?” Sirius was confused. What had he done? He’d made a little fun of Remus the first time they talked, but it hadn’t been that bad, had it?

“At least you weren’t smoking into my room today,” Remus added with a huff, which made Sirius frown.

He supposed he did smoke quite close to the edge of their balconies, but by the way Remus was talking, he felt like there was more to it. He tried to think of all the interactions they had had so far, but he couldn’t think of anything that would elicit Remus’ anger. His mind drifted to them sitting on his couch with the NHL game, how their shoulders had bumped together playfully, how Remus had even seemed to be comfortable once he got a controller in his hands. It was the only time Remus had acted in a friendly-ish manner towards him, without the scowl that seemed to be permanently weighing down on his brows. But none of his smiles had actually been directed at him, they had all been shared with Leo.

He smiled a lot around the blond, but whenever he was close to Sirius he seemed to be in a bad mood. Sirius hated that.

“What did I do for you to dislike me so much?”

“If you need to ask, it just shows that it’s not even worth answering you.”

Remus turned around and walked briskly to the door, leaving Sirius completely dumbfounded. The door opened just as Remus was reaching for the handle, and he almost bumped into Lily and James, who were coming in. Sirius watched as he nodded at them with a few words, threw one last glare his way, and disappeared in the afternoon sun.

Lily watched him walk away with a confused expression on her face. She glanced at James who just shrugged, and then she looked directly at Sirius with a deep frown. He seemed to be getting a lot of those lately.

“What was that all about?” she asked when they got next to him.

“He hates me, that’s what it was,” Sirius grumbled.

“Why?”

“I don’t know!” Throwing his hands in the air, Sirius stared at Lily like she held all the answers in the world. “He looks at me like I’m the worst person to ever walk the Earth. What did I do to deserve that?”

Lily winced, and Sirius felt his heart freeze where it had melted on the floor.

“Well, apparently, you haven’t been a very good neighbor, have you?” she said gently. Everything started falling into place then, and Sirius suddenly had a pretty good idea what she was talking about. He could be a very self-absorbed prick after a row with his family.

“What can I do?”

“Maybe you should try apologizing first,” she doubted for a second before she kept going. “I’ve heard you broke something important of his on the day you two met.”

“That was him?!” Sirius asked in astonishment, remembering the day he’d knocked someone over in the hall, and ignoring the few heads that turned his way at his raised voice.

“You’re joking, right? You didn’t know?” When Sirius only shook his head, still speechless, Lily stared at him, bewildered. “Sirius, how could you not know?”

“I was so angry at the time Lily, I barely noticed anything I was doing!” Sirius said in a pleading voice. He glanced at James for support, who looked at him in sympathy and understanding. Sirius rubbed a hand over his face. “I just needed to get out of the flat, I couldn’t stand the sight of Reg with his cold eyes and-” Sirius stopped himself, clenching his fists.

It all came back to him. How Regulus had suddenly turned up at his flat, even though he wasn’t supposed to know the address. Even though he hadn’t visited Sirius’ home in five years.

How Reg had looked at him with such clear disappointment, like Sirius was nothing more than a waste of space, and had told him that he was expected to attend the annual Black Enterprises’ gala and fulfill his duty to the family. How he had stated that it was time he stopped acting like a child, with his foolish, selfish dreams, and took his place in the company.

Sirius had never wanted anything to do with the monster corporation that was Black Enterprises. He hated the way they did business and how they treated people, like anyone outside the Black family was trash.

A hand on his shoulder shook him away from his memories before he could spiral down into the hole he’d been in in the weeks before Halloween. Sirius looked up, and found James’ kind hazel eyes.

“It’s ok Pads,” he whispered. “You’re out of there. They have nothing on you, and you owe them absolutely nothing. I’m sure you can fix this.”

Sirius hoped his friend was right.

#My One in a Million #wolfstar #wolfstar fic #remus x sirius #Sirius Black #Remus Lupin #neighbor!au #yoga!remus #remus #sirius orion black

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wyofabdoms · 3 years

Text

Undercover I Do - Chapter 5

Characters: Javier Peña x female reader

Summary: While on an undercover assignment posing as a married couple, you are attacked and nearly assaulted. Upon waking, all you remember about Javier Peña is what you remembering seeing from two photographs of the two of you posing as the happily married couple. As you struggle to regain your memories, Javi struggles with his own feelings for you.

Rating: Mature (Eventual smut)

Warnings: fake/pretend relationship, married and undercover trope, temporary amnesia, hospitalization, blood and injury, swearing, awkward Javi, unrequited feels, mentions of sex toys, feelings, pining,

Word Count: 3132

Notes: You're released from the hospital, and Javi sets up house. While doing so, he stumbles across a couple of things that make him feel all kinds of ways!

Read on Ao3

You were released from the hospital two days later under the stipulation that you were to rest and were not to return to any kind of active field duty until fully cleared by the doctor and his medical team. Over the course of those two days, some of your memories had seeped back in, like figures appearing through thick fog and slowly taking form and shape. But, it seemed to you, not any of the really important ones were returning. You remembered now some specific events from the last two years of your time as an agent: big busts you had made, critical incidents that had ended badly for your agency, colleagues that had been lost in the line of duty. You had been able to recall many details of your work against the worst of the drug cartels in Colombia from the last two years and even further back...but most memories of things from the past three or four weeks were still a grey void with nothing in them, not even shadows to hint at memories waiting there in the fog.

You were rarely alone at the hospital: if Dixon was not sitting at your bedside, then Javi was there in her place. Between the two of them, you had managed to scrape together some large pieces that were missing about your relationships: you had worked with Dixon earlier in your career in San Diego and when she had risen in ranks and earned a seat down here in the thick of things, she had brought you along with her. You had the feeling that she viewed you as a bit of a protege and you felt confident that the memories you had of her support and backing of you were true. Memories about your relationship with Javi proved to be a bit more difficult to get confirmation on. While both Dixon and Javi were very willing to discuss and confirm anything you asked about your mentor, when you inquired or asked for clarification on your history with your husband, both agents seemed to hesitate for a moment before answering you. Dixon was more guarded than Javi and the older woman would often change the subject as quickly as she could when you asked her about your husband. You got a distinct sense that she did not approve of your marriage to the man you had been partnered with during your time here.

You remembered that was how you had met Javi; you had been assigned as his partner. You remembered the earliest days of working with him: how he had flirted with you and you had rebuffed him, how there had been moments when your partnership had skated the line of something more. But it was only the older memories that seemed to come clearly to you...the closer to present day you came, the emptier your memories became. You had tried to remember when exactly your relationship with Javi had made the jump from work partner to life partner. When and how had the two of you told each other how you felt? And you had zero memories of a proposal, a wedding....no memories at all of how it felt to touch and be touched by the handsome man who spent hours sitting in comfortable silence next to your bed. You couldn’t bring yourself to ask him questions about those things...not yet.

Surprisingly, Dixon was the one who escorted you when you were released. After the older woman saw you carefully buckled into the passenger seat of the car, you inquired as to why Javi wasn’t the one driving you home. Dixon’s eye flickered behind her dark sunglasses, and she mumbled something about him getting your apartment ready for you. She assured you that he would be waiting at your home when you got there.

Your home. For a moment, your stomach sank, thinking about how you would be going back to a place that was foreign to you but was supposed to be a safe haven, a refuge, the home you shared with a husband you were supposed to be in love with. Would you remember any of it? Would anything that you found there help jog anything loose in your memory?

You could only hope.

***

“Fuck!”

Javi growled as he struggled to keep a box from teetering off the pile of other boxes that it was precariously stacked on. His hands were full of his clothes on hangers, halfway between the box he had just removed them from and the clothing pole in the closet. He had been struggling most of the morning with lugging half of his possessions down the two flights of stairs of their shared apartment building and trying to make it appear as though he had lived in this apartment for longer than a few hours. Both he and Dixon had agreed it would be best for her to return to familiar surroundings...but they still needed to keep up the premise that the two of you shared a life together.

Javi had never given much thought to domesticity. The closest he had ever come was Lorraine...and the brief moment of introspection he had had when he had seen her those several years ago at that wedding. Thoughts had crossed his mind then: what would it be like to have a wife, to wear a ring on his finger, to have promised himself to someone forever? To have a future that was shared with another person? To make important decisions with another person and not just on your own? To have 2.5 kids and a house? But he hadn’t spent too much time dwelling on it simply because none of that was really who Javi was, was completely unimaginable to him. He had never once really thought that sort of life would ever be one he would want, much less be able to live. And, quite honestly, he wasn’t all that sure that that kind of life was one that he deserved.

Now, it seemed, life was playing a little gag on him: turns out maybe there WAS a way for him to see if married life was for him...although he did hate the fact that his partner had had to be injured in the process.

One thing he was certain of at the moment, though: if getting married and divvying up and combining possessions was as big a pain in the ass for real as it was for this farce?...Well, that was a strike against matrimony in his opinion.

At first he had merely grabbed a small duffle bag full of items; things he thought he might leave at a woman’s house if he was spending the night or a weekend: a change of clothes, toiletries, firearm. But when he had let himself into her apartment two floors below his in their building, it had struck him that that wasn’t going to be good enough.

Her apartment was lived in. Unlike his own, which he realized now seemed a little sterile and cold, her’s was warm and (though not a word he often used in his vocabulary) cozy. She had artwork on the walls, shelves full of books from all different genres...even a few board games and some well-worn records on the record player stand. He spotted a rolled up yoga mat under a bench beneath the window and a couple of handwritten recipes and smiling photos tucked under bright magnets on the refrigerator. Her bedroom smelled of lavender and soft vanilla; the bed was neatly made (again, unlike his own) and dirty clothes resided in a hamper rather than tossed carelessly into a corner. The spare room that served as an office housed neatly organized work related content and photo albums of people from home, holiday decorations stashed under the guest bed; her closet had her clothes neatly organized (by color, who knew!?). He had quickly come to the conclusion that he might need to put a bit more effort into this charade.

So he had proceeded to spend the next several hours being swept into a whirlwind of imagining what a shared space would look like if the two of them were actually married. He had started with the few books he had in his own apartment; a few biographies, some car magazines and a ratty copy of “The Art of War” and “The Hobbit”. He had jammed them onto the neat bookshelves in her living room before returning quickly with some of his own records: some Cumbia records and an Eagles album, which he shuffled in with her own Steely Dan, Creedence Clearwater and Three Dog Night.

He didn’t have much to contribute to the kitchen besides a few bottles of whiskey and a bottle of tequila next to her own bottles of red wine. He had pulled a photo taken when he graduated from high school from his wallet and placed it on the fridge next to one of her with her huge family. He paused a moment to assess the contrast in the two pictures: her in the midst of her five older brothers and parents, all wearing matching Christmas sweaters...him standing bashfully and stiffly next to his dad, who grinned proudly at the camera, one arm awkwardly slung over a teenage Javi’s shoulder. The bathroom didn’t take long, either. He added his razor, a bottle of Old Spice, and his toothbrush and comb; he glanced into the medicine cabinet as he placed his deodorant there and eyed what looked suspiciously like a package of prescription birth control...his mind started to wander and he slammed the cabinet door shut, heading back upstairs to his apartment for another load.

He had strong-armed his clothes still on the hangers into some file boxes to make them easier to carry down the stairs, then had hauled shoes, underthings, suits, jeans, and (what he had not really realized until this moment) a ridiculous amount of the same style shirt in different colors downstairs and was now trying to wedge them into one half of her closet, trying to make it look like they had been there for a while and doing his best to not become buried by the haphazardly stacked boxes. Once the last set of shoes was stuffed into the closet next to a pair of sky high red heels he had never seen her wear before, (he was CERTAIN he would have remembered those) he opened the dresser to shove his socks and underwear into a drawer and gulped. Staring back at him was a drawer full of his partner’s bras and panties.

For a moment he felt like a creep pawing through her underwear drawer, but he steeled himself and carefully nudged the sensible pieces of cotton material to one side of the drawer. As the material shifted, he spotted a brief flash of red lace and something that could be black and leather, but he refused to investigate any further; he could feel his face flushing and his heart pounding harder. He dumped his own underwear into the drawer and shoved it closed, sighing with relief and opening the next one; socks wouldn’t cause his mind to wander into dangerous territory nearly as badly! He carefully shoved the rolls of clothing to the side to make room for his own once again and felt his hand hit something. His breath hitched as he uncovered what was very obviously a vibrator. Next to it was a tube of lube and a small box about the size of a deck of cards. Try as he might, he could not stop himself from carefully tilting open the lid of the box...Javi was quite educated when it came to knowing his way around a woman, but he was clueless as to the purpose or use of the two small colored balls nestled into the velvet inside of the box...although he was pretty sure he at least knew where they were supposed to go.

His mind clouded with images of his partner stretched out on the bed behind him, bringing herself to orgasm using these items and he felt himself harden in his jeans. He let out a puff of air and carefully nudged the items to the other side of the drawer, reburying them beneath the socks as they had been before. He piled in his own footwear, then shakily closed the drawer, still trying to blink away the images playing out in his mind. He wondered what her face would look like as she came apart. What did she sound like? Did she cry out when she reached her peak? What would his name sound like tumbling from her lips in the middle of her climax, what would she taste like…?

He stormed out of the bedroom, furious at himself for going down that path. He felt like a pervert, getting so turned on after snooping through her personal effects. He was angry at Dixon for insisting that they do this; but he was frustrated at himself, more. He shouldn’t be going through her things like this. He splashed some cold water on his face from the kitchen sink and trudged back up to his own apartment, pacing for a while once he got there, trying to both ease his erection as well as determine what else he should bring with him back to her apartment. His eyes settled on the shoulder case that had been retrieved from the house that had been used in the undercover operation. He pulled out the two framed photographs that had been next to “their” bed; the photos that she had referenced when she had first woken up. He stared at them, thinking that if he hadn’t been present at the time they had been taken, he would have believed they were real, too...that they were actual photographs of two people madly in love with each other.

Maybe…

No. He stuck both pictures under his arms, grabbed another box filled with work files, tossed his favorite ashtray and lighter in the box along with one or two small tchotkes, a couple of coasters and a small plastic plant from the window sill, and made one more trip down the stairs. He dispersed the items randomly throughout her apartment, thinking to himself that it at least gave a more unified image of two different people existing within the same space.

He hauled the box of paperwork into her second bedroom converted into an office space and plopped it down on the desk, taking one or two folders and strewing them about the top of the desk, again in stark contrast to her own organized, neat piles. It started to reflect their separate desks at work now, which he found convincing. He sat in the desk chair for a minute and quickly shuffled through the small desk drawers, double checking for anything glaring that might be difficult to explain. As he opened the bottom drawer, his eye caught a blue leather bound notebook. Flipping through it, he saw pages and pages of writing in his partner’s familiar handwriting. As he thumbed through, he was startled to spot his name on one page. He carefully flipped back, scanning the writing and was surprised to find that it actually appeared quite often. He turned a page and began reading from the beginning:

“Everything sometimes feels so incredibly heavy here. The job, the humidity, the pressure of being a woman in this man’s arena. I hate it! I hate that I have to be strong all the damn time. I hate that it feels like I can’t seek the same comforts as other women...even if I have insisted that it be this way. I’m so grateful and proud of myself...most of the time...like 95.5% of the time. The other times, I just wish I could let myself cry when something heartbreaking happens. When someone says something scathing that hurts my feelings at work. When I watch Javi go off to sleep with yet another woman.

Javi. That feels so heavy all of the time, too. I can’t seem to ever level myself out when it comes to him. Some days he drives me absolutely insane and I want nothing more than to bash his face in with a paperweight. Other days, I just want him to put his arms around me and hold me. Not do anything or say anything, just hold me tight…because he is, truthfully, the only single person that I trust.

And yet, am I fooling myself in saying that...in saying that I trust him? Because do I really? If I really trusted him, why don’t I just go to him? He only lives two floors up. Why can’t I knock on his door and fling myself into his arms and kiss him and feel what it’s like to press my body against his? Why can’t I bring myself to do that? Well...probably because I don’t really ACTUALLY trust him...not with that part of myself. Javi is the man I want having my back in a shootout...but is he the man I want to be next to me every night when I fall asleep and every morning when I wake up? I dream about him sometimes...about him being in my bed with me, but we’re usually not sleeping...we’re doing everything but. I dream about it and then I wake up feeling empty because he’s not there, because it wasn’t real. The emptiness is heavy, too...”

Javi clapped the journal shut, feeling his stomach churn. He shouldn’t have read that and guilt thrummed through him. These were her private thoughts; never meant for anyone else but her to read. Once again he felt like an intruder and he loathed himself...Dixon...that asshole Ortiz...for putting both of them in this situation. He dragged a hand over his face, growling low in his throat. He looked down at the box at his feet, still open with a few files and the two photographs staring back up at him. He reached in and took out one framed picture, sitting it upright on the desk: the “engagement” photo. He took the “wedding” picture out and then tossed the journal into the box, carrying both items from the home office. He carefully set up the photo on a bookshelf in the living room, then put the lid back on the box and headed back up the stairs to drop the box off in his apartment and lock up. Before he left, though, he made sure to slip the freshly cleaned gold band onto his left ring finger.

His wife would be coming home any minute now.

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13

#javier peña x reader #javier pena x female reader #narcos #javi #pedro pascal fanfiction #fake marriage #undercover marriage

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queen-of-the-avengers · 3 years

Text

The One

Characters: Sebastian Stan x Suzanne Annucci (second person; you; you’re)

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: fluff, minor freak out about pregnancy and renal disease

Summary: You try to work on your body to become healthier in more ways than one. Sebastian is your coach in more than just fitness--he’s your life coach as well. You can’t imagine yourself with anyone other than him. Your birthday is coming close, but this time, you both have a surprise for each other...

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five

Author’s Note: This is the sixth part of seven parts of the commission for @sea040561.

Your reflection stares back at you, reminding you that you can keep going, that you have more energy inside you. Sebastian stands behind you, giving you a thumbs-up as encouragement that he is always going to support you. You can do this, Suzy. It’s okay one more rep. You got this. You grip the handlebars of the barbell tightly, and with a deep breath, you begin your last rep.

Sebastian stands behind you to spot you in case anything were to happen. You go into a squatting position with the barbell on your shoulders. Holding it there for five seconds, you stand up straight. You repeat this process twelve more times before your body tells you that it needs a break. Sebastian helps you put the barbell back where it’s supposed to, and you practically hobble over to a nearby bench.

“You did so well!” he encourages.

“Thanks,” you chuckle, out of breath.

Ever since you got your new kidney, you wanted to change who you were--physically. You wanted to be more healthy, lost your fat, and gained muscle. You wanted to be healthier mentally and physically. Sebastian practically lept for joy when you asked him for his help. He loves working out, and he never says no to helping someone else better themselves. Of course, he knows when to push you and when to not, and right now, he knows to give you a break. You’ve been working so hard these past five months. Since that night you two had sex for the first time, you realized you needed to make a few changes about yourself.

You’re eating a lot better than you were, even though you were limited on what you could eat before your new kidney. You’re trying a lot of new stuff that Sebastian cooks for you. He loves to use the kitchen for almost anything, so you’re getting five-star meals almost every night. He loves to experiment with food, and you’re his little tester.

He still lives with Chris, but it’s practically your home too. You offered to have Sebastian move in with you to give Chris his own space, but Chris insisted on having you there with the both of them. Some part of you believes that he doesn’t want to let Sebastian go so quickly, but eventually, you two will need to get your own place.

It’s only a matter of time now.

“Want to go one more time? Then we can head home,” Sebastian suggests.

You look at the time in shock at the realization you’ve been at the gym for nearly an hour.

“Yeah, we can go one more time. Do this with me.”

You and Sebastian get up to do the next set together. He’s a good coach, and it’s not with stuff in the gym. He takes you on hiking dates that you absolutely love because you’ve always been a nature lover. To hike through the woods only to come out on top and watch the view is something everyone should experience.

“Are we almost there?” you pant.

You two have been hiking for a while now, and you’re starting to get tired. If Sebastian doesn’t take you to the top soon, then you’re going to melt into a puddle and wash away.

“Yeah, we’re nearly there. Just a few more minutes. You got this.”

He takes your hand and helps you up the rest of the way. The clearing comes into view, and you smile widely at the accomplishment. Before, you could have never done this, so to be able to finish at the top is overwhelming. You’re experiencing things you never got to before, and that makes you want to cry.

“Hey, are you okay?” Sebastian asks when he sees a tear roll down your face.

“I just never thought I’d get to see this in person,” you say.

“You’re seeing it now because you did it. You finished the hike,” he grins.

He wraps his arms around your waist as you two stare at the sunset. The pretty colors reflect off the trees, causing the area to dim in a light pink hue.

“We finished it,” you smile widely.

You tried doing some stuff before your new kidney, but you could only do easy yoga poses to keep your body flexible and used to working out. Your doctor approved of the poses you wanted to do, but now that you are able to do a lot more, Sebastian agreed to do some with you. He’s not a big yoga fan to begin with, but he likes it when he's doing it with you.

We don’t have to do this for long if you don’t want to,” you say as you bring the yoga mats into the living room.

Chris is in his room playing some game, so you and Sebastian will have the living room to yourself. You already popped in the yoga DVD, and all you have to do is hit play.

“I don’t mind doing this with you. I just don’t like doing it alone,” he chuckles.

You two set the mats up, and you hit the play button. You start off easy just to get your body used to bending and flexing before you go into the much harder positions. Since you’ve been doing this before you were healthy, you’re able to do these a lot easier than Sebastian can. He’s able to do the easy positions just fine, but when you get to the intermediate ones, that’s when he has a bit of trouble.

This one is a bit of cliche, but you love to do the Downward Dog pose as it stretches out your calves and your back. Sebastian can do it, but can only hold it for a few seconds before he needs to stop. You can hold it for much longer, which is why you’re still in the position when Sebastian falls back on his yoga mat.

“This is a lot harder than I thought it was going to be,” Sebastian laughs.

“Practice makes perfect, babe,” you laugh.

Sebastian can’t help but stare at your ass. The yoga pants make it looks so round and plump, and the yoga position makes it stick out. You don’t hear anything from him for another thirty seconds, and you peek over at him to see his eyes glued to your ass.

“Having fun?” you ask.

“What?” he mumbles.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” you joke.

“Can I?” he asks seriously.

All you do is laugh.

You’ve been working your ass off to get to where you are now. You used to be two hundred pounds, and now you’re down to one-fifty. It’s not your end goal, but you’re much happier than you were before. It’s all thanks to Sebastian, honestly. He’s the reason you’re alive. He’s the reason you’re healthy. He’s the reason you’re losing this much weight. He’s the reason why you’re so damn happy. You can’t imagine your life without him now.

It’s all because of him, and you can’t ever fully repay him.

The healthier you’ve become, the more you and Sebastian have been active together--in every sense of the word. There’s a lot more to sex than you thought, and you and Sebastian have been exploring every side of it together. It’s been amazing, but the one thing you haven’t prepared for is pregnancy, and you’re it.

Sebastian doesn’t know about the pregnancy, but since your birthday is near, you’re going to tell him then. It’s kind of like giving him a present, but it’s really for both of you. You know he’s planned a romantic dinner, so you’ll tell him then. Your birthday is not for another five days, but Sebastian wanted to have dinner before then. You know he’s just excited to celebrate with you, and you can’t blame him. There will be something special on the actual day, but you’re okay with celebrating it early.

“Sebastian, this is just beautiful,” you comment on the meal he’s prepared.

“Chris helped.”

“Well, I’ll thank him later, then.”

“Happy early birthday,” he grins.

He kisses you slowly, appreciating every inch of your lips.

“I have a present for you,” you whisper against his lips.

“For me? It’s your birthday.”

He grabs the wine and pours you both a glass, and you bite your lip nervously. You have to do this now because it’s going to seem weird if you don’t have the wine.

“Well, it’s for both of us. I just hope you like it.”

You grab the present that contains the two pregnancy sticks you’ve wrapped and hand it over to him. He doesn’t waste any time ripping it open. He’s curious about what it could be, and if there is one thing you know about Sebastian, is that he’s impatient when it comes to receiving presents. He practically tosses the tissue paper on the floor to get to the present, and when he has it in his hands, he just freezes.

It takes him a second for his brain to register just what he has in his hands, and he locks eyes with you. You do see happiness in his eyes, but you see fear masking it from the front. Why would he be scared about this? Does he not want a child? What will happen then?

“Are you okay?” you ask dreadfully.

“You’re pregnant?”

“It’d be a horrible joke if I wasn’t.”

“What if your body can’t handle pushing out a baby? What if you die during birth because you only have one kidney? What if--”

“Sebastian, calm down,” you interrupt, taking his hands in yours. “I’m going to die. Women with one kidney give birth all the time. I’m healthy. This baby is going to be healthy. I’ll be fine.”

“You promise?” he whispers.

“Yes, of course, I do.”

“We’re having a baby?”

“We’re having a baby,” you grin.

“You just totally ruined my present, but that’s okay,” he sniffles.

“What was your present?” you ask and set the tests off to the side.

He does say anything as he reaches into his jacket pocket to retrieve the ring he’s been holding onto for the past few weeks. He’s been trying to find the perfect time to pop the question and what better time to do it now? Chris helped him pick out the perfect ring after they basically raided your jewelry box when you weren't home.

He gets out of his chair and drops to one knee, and your right hand covers your mouth in shock. Tears spill down your cheeks and over your hand, but you ignore them.

“Suzanne, I haven’t been this happy in such a long time, and I knew from the moment I saw you that you would be the one I’d marry. I saw you becoming the mother of my children, I saw a white picket fence and a huge yard with two dogs. I picture dying at your side in our death beds when you’re eighty years old. I picture you by my side through it all, and that can only happy if you say yes. So, will you do me the honor of becoming your husband?”

“Yes,” you chuckle-cry.

He gets up and slides the ring onto your left ring finger, and you pull him in to kiss him. The food has been long forgotten, not even touched. To be honest, you’re not sure if it will ever be touched tonight because you have a lot of things on your mind, but food is not one of them. For example, you’re waiting until the baby is born before you start planning for a wedding because the stress that comes from being pregnant is enough for you to handle. You don’t need to add on the stress that comes with planning a wedding.

Chris stands off to the side with a wide smile on his face. All he wanted was some water, but he’s not thinking about that right now. Sebastian told him you were the one for him, and it’s true. He couldn’t find a better person for Sebastian, and he for you.

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#marvel commission #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x ofc #sebastian stan fanfiction #sebastian stan fluff #sebastian stan fanfic #marvel #marvel fan fic #marvel fanfiction #marvel fluff

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floralguccistyles · 4 years

Photo

six: imperial death march

I had always found the bright yellow walls of Doctor Thorne’s office comforting.

My first appointment with Doctor Thorne, the walls had been the first thing I noticed. I had never been to a therapist before, although I probably should have when I was younger. Doctor Thorne wasn’t an intimidating woman by any means, but I think the idea of having to see a therapist was daunting enough for me to be terrified walking into her office on that first day. I had been expecting clinical and sleek. Instead, the walls were yellow, she had colorful art littered around the room, and the chair I sat in was velvet and blue.

I was sitting in that chair now, ankles crossed and body sat up straight to assure her I was listening.

“Has he tried to contact you since?”

Right. The topic of conversation had, inevitably, strayed to Harry. Just as I had gotten over talking about the trauma he caused me in secondary school, he had appeared back into my life, seemingly intent on proving that he had changed. Doctor Thorne didn’t mind. But I did. I felt like I was allowing him to invade into my thoughts. Last session, we had talked about my small bout of insecurity when I had run into Jeff and Glenne, and now we were discussing how I felt when Harry contacted me about the Lord of the Rings books, which had been about two weeks ago.

“No.”

“Do you think you’ll respond if he does?”

I didn’t know the answer to that. Honestly, I think it would depend on my mood. If I was having a good day, I might have replied. It would have been short and not very communicative, but I had told him on his birthday that I hated holding onto this anger and hurt and I had meant it. But I also hadn’t forgotten the many nights I had spent crying over him and his friends. I told Doctor Thorne as much. “I don’t know, honestly. I want to get over this, but...it’s difficult.”

“I’m not expecting you to find it easy. Ultimately, the choice is up to you, Petra. If you decide it’s best for your mental health that you want Harry out of your life, you get to make that choice. If he’s changed, like he said he has, he’ll understand.”

Doctor Thorne was right, as always. Lately, we had been working hard on putting myself first without feeling like it was selfish for me to do so. It was taking some work, but I think with Melody and Doctor Thorne, I was getting better at it.

I left Doctor Thorne’s office with the promise of seeing her two weeks from today. Her office was fifteen minutes from the yoga place Melody and I usually attended, so I usually took the tube there. I would be going to yoga alone today. Melody usually joined me, since she had the time slot right before me at Doctor Thorne’s office, but she had to rush out and get back to work because Trennan had, like usual, messed something up and needed her help. That meant it was me, the tube, and the small cereal bar I had in my purse in for the long haul.

When I walked into 360 Yoga Fitness Center and Spa about twenty minutes later, the woman behind the front desk smiled at me. She was used to me coming every time I had a therapy appointment. She signed me in easily and I made my way into the usual yoga room, setting my mat down on the floor and taking the time before class started to stretch. Melody had texted her apologies for not being able to make it earlier, but I honestly didn’t mind doing yoga alone. I would have preferred having her here with me, but there was something relaxing about it just being me alone with my thoughts.

My phone buzzed quietly from my bag. As there were only a couple people in the room and the instructor wasn’t in yet, I figured it was okay to check it really quickly. Pulling it out of my bag (and remembering to silence the alert vibration while I was at it), I spotted the message from Harry easily enough.

harrystyles: What are you doing today?

He must have had burning ears. I stared at the message for a second, crinkling my nose in distaste. I hadn’t been lying to Doctor Thorne when I had mentioned Harry hadn’t tried to get in contact with me since those messages about Lord of the Rings, but to be completely honest, I didn't expect him to try it again. I had hoped my running into Harry and his new friends might have been a part of my life that was slowly coming to a close, but alas, I guessed wrong.

Not bothering to respond, I tossed my phone back into my bag as the instructor walked in. Hopefully Harry would get the hint that I didn’t exactly want to talk to him.

“Good morning everyone!” My instructor said, much too peppy for my taste but that was because Melody usually made everything a little more palatable. “We’re going to start nice and easy today. Let’s go ahead and do some basic stretches first.”

I was happy that none of the poses during the hour long class were too difficult, like some of them had been in the past. Once the session was over, I packed up my stuff, sweating from every pore I could ever imagine on my body, and pulled out my phone to text Melody that I was on my way to my flat in case she wanted to come over after fixing whatever Trennan had managed to muck up.

harrystyles: It’s important, promise.

I rolled my eyes. Nothing could be more important than the hour-long shower I was going to take when I returned to my flat. The passengers on the tube looked at me with wrinkled noses because I was sure I smelled less than pleasant, but I didn’t care. Once the twenty-three minute ride was done, I hopped out and immediately beelined for my shower, waving quickly to Ms. Wilcox as I passed.

Shedding my clothes almost immediately, I hopped into my shower and started scrubbing my skin vigorously. Melody had a key to the flat, so I wasn’t worried about her not being able to get in if she came around, so I decided to take my time and maybe shave my legs. It had, admittedly, been a while since the task had been done. I had long since been out of actual shaving cream, so I just lathered my generic body wash onto my leg, the smell of vanilla overpowering my senses. My razor was in my hand, dragging up my leg when I heard the knock on the door.

It made me jump, and consequently, cut my leg. It started bleeding almost immediately, and I threw the razor onto my soap dish and started cursing at it. The water cascaded over the cut, providing a little stinging sensation but not nearly enough for it to be super painful.

“Coming!” I shouted, turning off the shower. I wrapped my hair in a towel and threw on my bathrobe. My plasters were in my kitchen cabinet, so my leg would bleed until I could get the door and hobble to the cabinet. “Shit,” I groaned when I stepped out of the shower, nearly slipping on the water that had sloshed onto my floor in my haste to get out.

I made it to my front door with minimal injuries, despite the fact that blood was now dripping down my leg at an alarming rate. When I pulled the door open, I can honestly say that seeing Harry Styles with two iced coffees in his hand was the last thing I expected to see.

“Hi, sorry, I know you probably don’t want to see me, but—” he cut himself off, eyes actually zeroing in on what I was wearing. “What are you doing?”

I narrowed my eyes. “What the bloody hell does it look like I’m doing? I was mid-shower, you asshole.”

“You’re bleeding,” he announced stupidly, his eyes locked on the blood on my leg. It was really unfair how much blood came out of a razor cut. I didn’t even feel the sting of it anymore, but the amount of blood it was producing was as if someone had taken a hammer to it. “What happened?”

“Christ, just come in.” I grabbed his wrist, the one holding the iced coffee with the least amount of liquid in it, and pulled him roughly inside my flat, closing the door behind him. While he stood dumbfounded in my foyer, I made my way to the kitchen and grabbed a plaster. “Why are you here, Harry? And how did you even get my address?” Lifting my leg onto the counter, I wiped the blood away with a wet paper towel.

“You weren’t answering my messages. I asked Bailey for your address.” He appeared in my kitchen suddenly, setting the coffees on the counter. “Is your leg okay?”

And then, with a delicateness I wasn’t aware he would even possess, he gently put his hand on the back of my knee, inspecting the cut. It was starting to turn red with blood again, so he reached out his hand to grab the plaster between my fingers. “Stay still,” he ordered, tongue poking out a little in concentration. He folded back the plastic on the plaster and methodically stuck it to the cut on my shin, patting it with his finger once he was done. “There.”

I didn’t bother saying thanks, due to the fact that I still didn’t know why he was here and I briefly had lost my breath.

“I’m sorry for interrupting your shower, but you weren’t responding and I knew you’d hate me forever if I didn’t tell you. John Williams is at the studio I normally record at, and he wants to meet me.”

It took me a few seconds to process what Harry had said. My thoughts were still on the gentleness in which he had applied the plaster to my cut. When his words did catch up to my brain, my eyes widened. “John Williams is in your studio?”

He nodded enthusiastically. “Jeff’s with him now. But he’s only going to be there for another thirty minutes, so we’ve got to go.”

“John Williams,” I repeated, just to confirm, “as in the guy who did the musical scores for Jaws, Indiana Jones, and the entire Star Wars series?”

“Yes, Petra. So get clothes on and let’s go!”

Normally, I would never voluntarily put myself in a car with Harry Styles. It was setting myself up for nothing but negative emotions and feeling bad about myself. But this was John Williams he was talking about. The guy who single-handedly made some of my favorite movies awesome because of his incredible music scores.

Which is the only reasonable explanation that I shouted “OH MY GOD!” in Harry’s face before making a beeline towards my room.

My hair still had conditioner in it, my legs were only half shaved, and I was pretty sure I hadn’t rinsed all the soap off my arms, but I wasn’t going to let that stop me.

I threw the towel on my head somewhere on the floor of my room and slammed the door shut so I could strip off my bathrobe. I figured with my hair still wet and me generally looking like a wet rat, there would be no problem with wearing casual clothes. Plus, Harry had been in jeans, a graphic shirt, and Vans. Hurriedly drying my legs off so they wouldn’t stick when I tried to slip into jeans, I slid them up and over my thighs with only minimal stomping around. I briefly debated on wearing a Star Wars shirt, but figured that was maybe a little too “crazy fangirl” so I settled on a striped shirt with a bralette under it.

“Petra, we’ve go to go!”

“I haven’t brushed my teeth! I can’t meet John Williams without having brushed my teeth!”

“I have Listerine strips in my car!”

Figuring that was the best I was going to get, I slipped my feet into Vans without even bothering to put socks on (which I would scold myself for later, but John Williams was waiting) and ran into the living room, where Harry was staring at the picture on my little shelf.

It was when my grandmother had come to visit. She had her arms wrapped around me so tightly that I thought I was going to pass out, but I hadn’t ever wanted her to let go. She was a beautiful woman, with dark hair and eyes so brown they almost looked black. “Is that your grandmother?” he asked, touching the corner of the frame reverently, like it was a piece of artwork he needed to preserve.

“Yeah.” I swallowed roughly. I never really looked closely at the picture because it always made my eyes fill with tears. It reminded me that I’d probably never see her again, or see Cuba in my lifetime. “Her name’s Yelina.”

“You look like her.”

I wasn’t emotionally ready to unpack that statement, especially with Harry. “Let’s go.”

Harry drove an ostentatious and expensive looking Mercedes Benz. I couldn’t decide if the color was a very light gray or light blue, but I didn’t pause to debate over it too much before I was yanking the door open and plopping myself down into his passenger seat. He made his way to the driver’s side way too slowly for my taste, but he eventually wiggled into the driver’s seat and handed me the iced coffee he had gotten for me. “I didn’t know what you usually drink, so I just got you the same thing I get.”

It was coffee, but I could taste lots of caramel and vanilla in it as well. It was a little too sweet for my taste, but it would do. Also, the more I drank it, the less I had to talk to Harry. That was a win-win for me.

Harry looked over at me and grinned. “Your hair is still dripping.”

“I look terrible and I’m about to meet John Williams,” I commented, letting out a nervous laugh and taking another long sip of the coffee.

“You look beautiful, Petra.”

I looked over to him and snorted. His mouth turned down at the corners when he heard the sound. “Harry Styles calling me beautiful? Never thought I’d see the day.”

“Yeah, well I was an asshole when I was younger. You’ve always been beautiful.”

The lump in my throat made it hard to talk. So I didn’t try. I simply leaned back in my seat and stared out the window, avoiding Harry’s gaze and the tension that sat between us. His hands gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles were white, and I wondered if he was thinking about all the shit he had said to me when we were younger.

Harry’s studio was about ten minutes away driving, which left us about twenty minutes to meet John. When Harry pulled into the parking lot, I had to restrain myself from throwing the door open before he’d come to a full and complete stop. He handed me a Listerine package and I took two, barely even noticing the stinging taste of the alcohol as I ran my tongue back and forth over them to get them to dissolve faster. Then we were out of the car and walking towards the building, Harry slipping shades on over his face despite the fact that it wasn’t sunny out. I wondered if he knew that putting sunglasses on did nothing to hide his identity.

Jeff was standing in the lobby of the recording studio, standing next to an older gentleman with white hair, a matching white beard, and glasses perched on the tip of his nose. I felt myself stop breathing (and stop walking) and only remembered to inhale when Harry put his hand on my back and pushed me forward slightly. “Jeff,” Harry said, and the two men turned to look at him, “sorry I’m late. You must be John.”

“The man of the hour,” John replied, giving Harry a twinkling smile. I wanted to cry, but figured that would be a bit unprofessional. “I just listened to your solo album. It’s incredible, son. My great-granddaughter is obsessed.”

“It’s an honor to hear you say that, sir,” Harry said, shaking John’s hand. I saw the moment John’s eyes flitted over in my direction and think my soul might have ascended. “This is my friend, Petra. She’s a fan of your work and I knew she’d want to meet you.”

John smiled at me, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Pleasure to meet you, Petra. Are you in the music industry too?”

“I...I run a podcast, actually,” I managed to stutter out.

“How interesting. What about?”

“Various things. Mostly I have guests that worked on big franchise movies or books.”

I didn’t realize Harry hadn’t taken his hand off my back until I felt him squeeze my shoulder reassuringly. I wondered if he could feel me shaking. “Petra’s writing a book herself. Her podcast is absolutely incredible to listen to.”

“I’ll have to listen sometime. You ever talk about Star Wars?”

“We’ve discussed Star Wars a lot. We actually had one of the costume designers on once. It was incredible.”

“Next time I’m here in London I’ll have to drop by. My grandkids listen to podcasts and they’re always trying to get me into new ones.”

“We’d love to have you,” I assured. Inside, I was trying to keep myself from doing something embarrassing.

John and Harry chatted for a little while longer, but it came time for John to leave for the airport to catch his flight back home to America. He shook Harry and Jeff’s hand and even gave me a hug. Harry rolled his eyes behind John’s back when he saw the tears gathering in my eyes, but gave me a smile to assure me that he was just joking about it. Then, John left and the three of us stood in the lobby of Harry’s recording studio in silence for approximately five seconds.

And then I burst into tears.

Jeff looked horrified. If he had grown up with me, he might have known how incredible that moment was for me. As he hadn’t grown up with me, he probably was wondering what the hell was wrong. Harry didn’t hesitate for a single second to grab tissues and press them into my hand so I could wipe away my tears.

“I’m sorry,” I said, directed more towards Jeff since he probably thought I was absolutely crazy.

“You don’t have to be sorry, Petra. It’s overwhelming, I know,” Harry said, rubbing my arm comfortingly.

I hated crying in front of Harry. There was a prickling to my skin, like I was hyper aware he was watching me geek out and be an emotional nerd. He had seen me cry over things when we were younger, and back then he had given me shit about it. Now, he just stared at me and gave me soft smiles. I didn’t know which one was worse. Because at least I expected his taunts. The smiles I didn’t really know what to do with.

“Sorry,” I said again to Jeff after I finished crying. I was sure I looked a sight, with my wet hair and tear-streaked cheeks, but Jeff just smiled.

“S’alright, Petra. You okay?”

I nodded, unable to speak.

“Thanks for inviting us, man. I’m gonna take her home.”

Jeff waved us goodbye and Harry and I left, walking to his car in silence. My coffee was still in there, though it was so cold that none of the ice had melted. I buckled my seatbelt in silence, still feeling like an idiot for crying in front of him but also feeling elated because I had just met John Williams. Harry handed me another tissue that he kept in his middle console and I took it without speaking.

The drive back to my flat was incredibly awkward.

He pulled up to my flat parking structure in record time, but he didn’t make a move to get out of his car. He simply turned off the engine and sat for a little while, giving me time to gather my thoughts. “You okay?” he whispered.

I nodded. “It was...really nice of you to think of me. I appreciate it.”

“Then why do you look like I just told you I was gonna kill your dog?”

I snorted. “I don’t have a dog.”

“You know what I mean, Petra.”

I was embarrassed to tell him, but I knew that after the massive favor he had done for me today, he deserved the truth. “I was embarrassed to cry in front of you, especially about something like that. It just reminded me…”

“Of when you cried reading the last Harry Potter book and I made fun of you,” he answered when I trailed off. “Shit,” he mumbled out, his body slumping into his seat. He threw his hand over the bridge of his nose, pinching it with his index finger and thumb. We sat in silence for a little while longer. “I...I feel so fucking ashamed. How is it that I’ve managed to fuck over someone so completely that they’re afraid to show any emotion?”

“I don’t know,” I whispered, unable to refute his words.

“I’m so fucking sorry. I don’t even know why you came with me today. If I were you I would have given up on me a long time ago.”

I wanted to. I wanted to be angry with him, to stomp out of his car and slam his door shut and never speak to him again. I wanted to talk to Melody and call him a raging twat and curse the ground he walked on. But I thought of today, of how he had gone out of his way to introduce me to John Williams. I thought of him sitting alone in his house, watching the Lord of the Rings trilogy and I thought of him sending me those flowers after my disastrous date with Peter.

“I want to,” I decided to tell him. He deserved honesty. “But...I think deep down, I do know you’ve changed. It’s just going to take a long time to get over the past. I’ve been talking about it with my therapist.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. We’ve been discussing ways to help with my self-esteem and confidence. We're trying to work on forgiveness too. She says that I should only let you back into my life if I’m sure that it’s a good idea.”

“She sounds like a smart lady.”

“She’s the best.” I looked over to him, finding his eyes already on me. “It’s taking me time, Harry. It’s as much me as it is you. I’ve got to feel confident enough to let go of the past. But...I really appreciate today. And I appreciate you trying.”

He nodded. “I’m proud of you, going to therapy and all that.”

“Thanks. I just need to work on being proud of myself.”

I unlocked the door and opened it up, grabbing my iced coffee cup so I wouldn’t leave the trash in his car. “Thanks for thinking of me today. I’ll see you later, yeah?”

“See you soon, Petra.”

Once I shut the door, he started the car back up and backed out of my flat complex. I stupidly watched his car drive away before I walked away.

When Melody had first told me about Cassandra and Vera, I had thought she was exaggerating. I figured no roommate could really be as awful as Melody was making them out to be. The first time I had met them, I was optimistic that they would prove Melody was just being picky about friends.

She hadn’t been.

I had only been to Melody’s flat a handful of times, due to the fact that mostly, we spent our time at my place. Her flat was more grandiose than mine, with three big rooms and two bathrooms, but it was cramped with Cassandra and Vera’s things. I couldn’t even see a touch of Melody in the foyer of the flat, which was where I was standing because when Vera had lazily answered the door, she had given me the barest of greetings before gesturing me inside and retreating back to her room. I could hear Cassandra prattling around in the kitchen, but couldn’t see her because I hadn’t actually been invited inside and unlike Melody being comfortable at my place, I wasn’t comfortable at hers.

“Melody’s coming,” Vera said, appearing almost out of thin air. In the two minutes she’d been done, she’d changed into leggings and a workout tank, but her eyes still looked sleepy, like she’d much rather go back to bed. “Cassandra’s making smoothies if you want some.” Before I could express my gratitude and politely decline, Vera whispered, “They’re shit. She puts kale in them.”

“Oh.”

Melody came out of her room and I don’t think I’d ever been so grateful to see someone in my life. I hated talking to Vera and Cassandra. At least Derek, Vera’s creepy boyfriend, wasn’t here to stare at my boobs. “We’re headed out. Please don’t set the flat on fire.”

Vera sneered, an ugly expression on a rather pretty girl. She had pretty auburn hair that verged more on brown than red until she was in the sun (which was rare in London). She had moved from Canada to go to school in London because her boyfriend had already completed his first year of uni. She was taller than me but shorter than Cassandra and had hazel eyes. “I’m not a child, Melody,” Vera snapped.

“Who’s there?” I heard Cassandra ask from the kitchen. She trailed into view, clad in nothing but tiny pajama shorts and a tank top that had a strap falling off her shoulder. Cassandra could have been a supermodel if she’d wanted to be. She was toned from playing volleyball since she could walk and had long blonde hair. The second her eyes landed on me, her mouth dropped open. “Oh my God, Petra! Is it true?”

“What?” I asked dumbly.

Cassandra rushed over to me with the speed only she and Usain Bolt could possess. “Is it true you’re dating Harry Styles?” she screeched. I think I may have lost hearing in my ear. “You’re everywhere! People got pictures of you in his car yesterday. Everyone’s trying to find out who Harry’s new mystery girl is, but the second I saw the photo, I knew it was you.”

“You were with the raging twat yesterday?” Melody asked, raising an eyebrow.

Cassandra tried to say “he’s not a raging twat!” at the same time Vera snorted out a laugh. Meanwhile, I was processing what Cassandra was saying.

There were pictures of me with Harry. I knew logically there were probably paparazzi that followed him around everywhere because of his career, but I hadn’t even thought of the possibility that we had been photographed. “Can you show me the pictures?” I asked Cassandra, who eagerly nodded and pulled out her phone, scrolling through twitter. #HarryStylesMysteryGirl was trending.

“Christ, Petra,” Melody mumbled under her breath as we scrolled through the Twitter tag. “Do you know how many people have to be tweeting about that to get it trending?”

I didn’t want to know.

Melody seemed to sense I was either going to pass out or throw Cassandra’s phone across the room, so she gently pried it out of my fingers and handed it back to her roommate. “Right, well, we’ve got to head out. See you later,” Melody told her two roommates, grabbing me by the elbow and tugging me towards the door.

“Say hi to Harry for me, will you? And if you could get his autograph, that would be ace!” Cassandra called before the door to Melody’s flat shut behind her.

“You see what I have to deal with?” Melody asked, pinching the bridge of her nose. We stood there in silence for a couple of seconds before she eventually let out a deep breath. “Okay. Want to start at the beginning?”

That’s what I loved about Melody. She let me explain things at my own pace. I told her about the events leading up to the pictures that had apparently been taken of us, on our way to meet John Williams. I told her about the weird moment Harry had bandaged my cut and how he knew my grandmother’s name was Yelina. I also told her about our (technically second) hesitant truce with one another before he had driven off.

She listened quietly. And then, she sighed. “I know it seems like he’s trying, Petra. And maybe he really is. But you’ve got to be careful, okay? The things he and his friends said about you...those aren’t things someone easily comes back from. If his fans knew about some of the stuff he’d allowed that dick Nathan to say, they’d burn him alive. And now there’s pictures of you out there and fans are nasty.”

“I promise I’m being careful.”

“That’s all I can ask for. Also, don’t go on Twitter for a while. At least until the hashtag dies down. I don’t want you to see anything negative.”

Another thing I hadn’t thought about. If fans saw the picture of me with Harry, I knew most of them would be supportive even if there was absolutely nothing going on and there would never be anything going on. But some fans would be nasty and make fun of me simply because they were jealous. This was a promise I could easily make to Melody. “I won’t.”

“Good. Now can we go get food? I’m starving.”

We stared at each other for a moment before we started laughing. It was always nice to know Melody and I were usually on the same wavelength.

My phone beeping woke me up.

I had been folding laundry on my couch while the old Wonder Woman show played on the telly. I guess mid-fold I had fallen asleep on my couch, which would explain why the piles of clothes I had worked so hard on now looked like clumpy messes. The telly was still on, but it was some other show now and my phone was lit up on the table in front of me. I blearily glanced at the time, cursing when I realized I had fallen asleep around seven and therefore probably wouldn’t be going back to sleep anytime soon, since it was already one in the morning.

harrystyles: I’m so sorry Petra.

Blinking, I tried to go over in my head what he had to be sorry for (besides the obvious). Why? I typed back, still feeling a little sleepy and more than a little confused.

harrystyles: They got pictures of us and found out your name. You’re all over Twitter.

I had known they had pictures of me, but last I checked I was still the “mystery girl.” Despite the promise to Melody, I opened up Twitter and saw my name was trending. I didn’t dare click on it for fear that I would find nasty tweets that I didn’t need to see.

harrystyles: I totally understand if you’re upset.

Not your fault, I typed back. I figured if he was feeling bad enough to message me about it at one in the morning, I should at least cut him a little slack. Plus, my message was true. It wasn’t his fault. He had been in such a rush to get me to John that he had forgotten, for a moment, who he was and what the consequences of that were.

harrystyles: Still. You okay?

I’m fine, I replied. Don’t worry about it.

harrystyles: I just don’t want this to ruin our chances of ever being friends.

For Christ’s sake, Styles, stop blaming yourself. Don’t you have better things to do at one in the morning?

He never responded, but I assumed he had fallen asleep. As for me, I decided to finish up the laundry, fixing up my piles that had been crushed underneath my back. It was a rare night when Melody wasn’t staying at my place, so the flat felt quiet without her there. Once I finished up with my piles, I walked them down to my room, glancing down at my phone when it beeped again.

harrystyles: I’m outside.

Outside where?

harrystyles: Your place, obviously.

Sure enough, I heard a knock on my door fifteen seconds later. When I looked out my window, there was a different car in the lot than the Mercedes. I guess it made sense that he would have more than one, but seeing another expensive car made me wonder just how much money Harry made doing his music. I padded my way over to my front door, opening it up. I was sure I looked a mess, with my glasses askew on my nose and my hair in a terrible messy bun that resembled a rat’s nest more than hair, but I couldn’t bring myself to care. It wasn’t like I was bombarding someone at one in the morning.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” I asked, crossing my arms over my chest.

“I wanted to make sure you really weren’t mad at me.” He had one hand slung in the pocket of his joggers and was wearing a black sweatshirt that actually looked really comfortable. His other hand was behind his back.

“You couldn’t have done that at a normal time of day?”

“I figured we were both up. I brought you something.”

Raising a brow, I waited until he pulled his hand out from behind his back. Once he did, my tired eyes widened. In his hands was a tiny little potted succulent, a pretty green flower that also looked like a cactus. He shoved it into my hands like he was a nervous teenage boy, the hand that was holding it immediately retreating back into his pocket.

“I know you liked the other flowers and this one is harder to kill,” he explained.

“I didn’t kill the other one!” I was slightly offended. Did he think I just went around killing plants? “I’m a great plant mum.”

His small dimple appeared when he lifted the corner of his mouth in a grin. “Well I didn’t know that and I didn’t want it dying on you.” I moved to put the little succulent on the table near my front door. “You’re really okay with the Twitter thing?”

“It’s not ideal,” I said, shrugging my shoulders, “but there’s nothing we can do about it now.”

“I know your own Instagram’s on private, but try not to post anything too personal to the Alien Crossing account. Don’t look on Twitter. I don’t know if you already have or not, but sometimes people say nasty things.”

“Harry, believe it or not, I’ve got practice with people saying shitty things about me in regards to you.”

I said the sentence without really thinking about it. I think I had meant it offhandedly, like a kind of last minute joke or something, but I knew the second it left my mouth that it was the wrong thing to say. His shoulders slumped, like he was a helium balloon that someone was slowly draining, and the grin dropped from his face almost immediately. “Right,” he said in a cold voice. “I’d better go. Just wanted to check in.”

Even with our small truce, we still found a way to fuck things up. His reaction made me annoyed. What right did he have to that kind of reaction? He was the one who had said the shitty things about me. He didn’t deserve to feel chagrined when I tried to make a joke out of it. “Probably,” I said stiffly, my voice a couple of degrees colder.

He opened his mouth like he was going to say something, but thought better of it. Without so much as another blink in my direction, he turned on his heel and walked back to his car.

I had to remind myself to unclench my jaw as I closed my front door. I don’t know why his reaction had made me so angry, but it was just a reminder that Harry Styles, at his core, was selfish. He only cared about himself and how my actions made him feel. How I made him uncomfortable when I brought up how awful he had been. My steps were heavy with anger when I marched back to my room, opening up my laptop with a little more force than necessary.

Here’s something one should know about me. When I felt like I was being attacked or I had made someone upset, instead of trying to cheer myself up, I wanted to know all the nasty things people were thinking about me. Doctor Thorne called this “bad validation.” Like if Harry thought I was being mean for making that joke, suddenly I had to see someone else saying my voice sounded annoying on AC. It was like this terrible reassurance that I so badly didn’t want to seek out, but I couldn’t help it.

Which was why I opened Twitter.

My name was the first trending hashtag.

I had never once Googled myself. Googling myself felt weird. Also, I had never really had a reason to. While AC was popular, it wasn’t so popular that I could walk in the street and be recognized. Mostly, it was my voice that people recognized. This meant that I had never really seen people commenting on my appearance, which was why most of my self-confidence issues were about my actions and personality.

Until now.

She looks way too plain to be seen with him. Please tell me they aren’t dating.

Gross. She looks like a drowned dog.

Who the fuck is this bitch? And why does she go out in public looking like that?

I slammed my computer shut.

My room was silent, save for my angry breathing and the beating of my heart. Standing stiffly from my desk chair, I walked back out into my living room and to my couch, where I still had some piles of clothes that needed to be put away.

The echeveria plant stared back at me when I looked up at it.

I didn’t like the fact that my heart stuttered a little when I looked at it. It just reminded me that he had come, at one in the morning, to make sure I was okay. And then everything had gone wrong, like everything in my life inevitably did. Forcing myself to walk over to it, I picked up the tiny white pot it was in and set it next to my shelf, where I had the picture of my grandmother.

And then I sat on my couch and tried not to cry as I folded the rest of my laundry.

#ac #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles ou #1dff

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crimsonbluemoon · 4 years

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Working For Love: A TerrorMoo Story 5/17

Happy Sunday! I’m still feeling gross, but good enough to get this chapter out. So I hope you enjoy this one and the next one coming out at 7pm tonight.

Previous Part

Start from the beginning

Having Mini as a friend was dangerous.

Brock stared at his name written in Craig’s loopy handwriting on the sign up for yoga, unsure what emotion to settle on. Anger, confusion, and shock were on the top of the list, though anxiety had been making a steady incline when he realized who the instructor for the 4pm class was.

“No way.”

“He’s already seen we’re signed up,” Craig said, tugging on Brock’s arm to pull him away from the gym’s bulletin board. Much to Brock’s fear, they didn’t move toward the treadmills, passing his comfort zone when they stepped into another part of the gym. Brock had never had a reason to go beyond the stretching corner, as he’d only learned recently about the classes offered. He hadn’t lied to Brian when he said he’d look over the different exercise programs; he practically stared at the schedule every night before going to bed. Each time he would look at the next day’s classes, pick out which one he would attend, and go to bed with the confidence of starting the next step to his weight loss. Fourteen pounds had been shed during the first two months, and Brock didn’t want to let himself slow down. But by the time morning hit his bed the next day, sleep had claimed his courage and he found himself on the treadmill yet again.

Then Hurricane Mini happened, and Brock didn’t have a choice.

“I don’t know the first thing about yoga,” Brock said, knowing that his attempt to escape the class would be blissfully ignored by his friend. Mini, with no hint of sympathy, pushed through the door of the classroom with confidence that a beginner shouldn’t have had.

“That’s why we’re here to learn. And honestly, does this look like a competitive group?” In truth, Craig was right; there were only women now milling around the room, and none of them could be younger than 50. It was a weird comfort of sorts, knowing there wouldn’t be other men to judge him and the way his arms sagged in certain positions.

“I’m only trying one class, Mini.”

“One class? I just read a sign that said we get a free smoothie after class; I’m going to live here.” The women didn’t seem to mind them joining, some even cooing at the ‘cute younger men’ making the room brighter. Brock sputtered while Craig preened at the compliments, letting the women even pinch his cheeks. It took far longer than it should have to drag Mini to the back corner of the room, laying out the new mats his friend had bought for the class. Craig didn’t look happy to be ‘shoved into a corner’, but he didn’t get a chance to voice his complaint when the door of the room swung open again.

“Hey ladies, welcome back.” Brian’s grin was infectious when he walked to the front of the room. Brock could nearly see the hearts growing in the women’s eyes when he walked by them, though his face went red after realizing their gazes drifted a little lower than he’d expected. From the snort of laughter Mini gave out, he’d caught on to the women’s interest too. Brian’s legs were covered by compression pants, leaving little to the imagination. The sleeveless top didn’t make it any easier to keep Brock’s stomach from flipping, and he dropped his eyes to where his hands had started to smooth out his mat. He swore he heard a mini whistle to the right of him, making him nearly choke on his spit at the confidence of the women.

“He really knows how to make an entrance, huh?” Mini’s whisper made Brock send him a warning glare, palms a little rougher in their pushing of mat.

“Stop staring, he’s not a painting.”

“He is definitely a work of art.” The response wasn’t from Mini, but from the woman (she had to be his grandmother’s age!) a few feet in front of them. Brock wanted to melt into his mat when he looked back up at Brian, hating that parts of him (he wasn’t saying which) really did appreciate Brian’s beauty. But this was his friend now, someone he had started to really like. He didn’t want to just see his physical aspects and-

“Let’s start off with our downward facing dog to get stretched out.” Okay, his thighs looked really good in that position. Brock wanted to say he was better than the women in the room, that he didn’t take a few extra seconds of watching Brian’s muscles flow into the position before even thinking of pulling his jaw back up from the floor. He really wanted to say that.

But he only remembered how to move when Mini poked him in the side to show everyone else had started their yoga pose.

Embarrassment filled his stomach when he hurried into the stance, but luckily any more distracting thoughts of how nice Brian’s skin looked against the dark green of his tank top was lost when realizing something else terrifying; Brock didn’t have balance. Mini, despite being a mess in life, was quickly picking up on the intricacies of yoga without much guidance. Brock wanted to flow into it as easily as his friend, or even the women who were twice his age. But Brock’s body had been shifting over the past couple months, and muscle and weight in different places left him off-kilter. He hated that he toppled over during the triangle pose, and that he couldn’t fully bend for the seated forward fold. He felt his stomach roll over itself in the position, and the shame and self-doubt roared through him while he ducked his head between his biceps and squeezed his eyes closed. Yoga was meant to be relaxing and inspiring, wasn’t it?

So how come Brock felt so clumsy and obtuse?

“Your heels aren’t set right, Brocky.” Brian’s voice pulled him out of his negative headspace, chasing away the thoughts with a soft smile and a slow offered palm. “Is it okay if I show you something?”

“Oh, um, ye-yes.” Brock had seen Brian fix other’s poses throughout the session, which he was sure some of the women messed up on purpose just to be corrected. This was a normal, routine touch given from an instructor to his student. But Brock could still feel the weird way his sweatpants cut into the fat around his hips, and he nearly flinched when Brian’s hand moved to his ankle.

“When you do the bridge pose, it’s focusing on opening up your chest while stretching your neck and spine. If you don’t have your feet placed under your knees properly, you won’t get that channel to breathe properly.” Brian’s hands didn’t seem bothered by the extra weight when they travelled up his calf to his hip, gentle in guiding Brock’s body into the bridge position. The momentum shifted Brock’s weight, and though doing the pose in the way Brian presented it felt better, Brock wasn’t sure his lungs could breathe with the warm hand on his waist. “This is also a good one to use to help with rising anxiety or if you’re having digestive problems.”

“It’s gonna help with something rising, that’s for sure.” Mini’s muttered answer didn’t help Brock’s butterflies, and he tried to keep his composure when glancing up to Brian and forcing out a smile.

“Thanks.” The slight pat on Brock’s hip before Brian pulled away nearly made him collapse in the pose, though he held on. Craig, however, had no problem in crumpling to the floor in laughter, and even some of the women sent bemused smiles and giggles Brock’s way when switching into the half-moon pose. Brian didn’t acknowledge any of the commotion, which Brock was grateful for, and he managed to finish the rest of the yoga class without embarrassing himself further. The hour had been more exhausting than he’d expected, but his muscles buzzed with a happy tiredness when he pushed out of their final pose to roll up the mats.

“That was so nice. I needed this.” Craig chirped out with a pep in his step, rolling his mat to the back of his neck before flopping his forearms around it. “You ready for a strawberry mango surprise? Martha says she can get us extra strawberries if we get there before the other women.”

“Only if you want rum in your smoothie.” Brian’s teasing tone pulled Brock’s attention behind him, seeing the trainer grin and step into their space. “Those women just use yoga as an excuse to drink booze before 5 pm, though they make sure to sneak their nips in when Tyler’s not around.”

“Why wasn’t I born a middle-aged married woman? They sound like so much fun.” The wistful sigh of Mini made Brock laugh and shake his head before turning his attention back to Brian.

“Thank you for the class, it was really nice.”

“No problem. Trying out different types of exercise will help keep your body from getting used to your style of working out, so take as many classes as you can. Which is why I came over to begin with.” Brock showed his confusion with a tilt of his head, catching the small twitch of something (affection couldn’t be the right word) of his lips while he smiled. “When Craig signed you two up, he put your name first. That technically means that you’re my 100th member to sign up for yoga this month.”

“I’m feeling there’s a prize for this, and I’m never putting you first again, Brock.” Mini’s humor didn’t help some of Brock’s uneasy energy when he pushed his weight between his two feet, hoping not to show his discomfort from the attention.

“It just means you get a private training session with me that you can cash in anytime. It can be another yoga hour or something else in the gym, but it’s tailored to what you wanna focus on.” The explanation had Brock’s hearth lodging itself into his throat while his stomach dropped out onto the floor, and he wasn’t sure which reaction to focus on.

“O-oh, that’s um… that’s nice, but Mini wrote the names so-”

“He’ll take it.” Craig cut in without hesitation, leaving no time for Brock to put up a fight. “Unless my free lesson is with a smoothie cocktail or run by a grumpy and preferably half-naked gym owner, I ain’t interested. It’d just go to waste on me. Take him whenever you want after smoothie hour. Brock’s all yours, and I meant that every way you can think of.”

“Mini-”

“And if that yoga lessons happens in your bed, well-”

“We’re going now!” Brock shoved Craig’s back with his mat to get the meddling menace away from Brian, sure his face would explode from the dirty implication. He glanced back before the door could swing closed behind him, catching the pleased smirk Brian wore when he waved. Brock’s ears could produce steam from how embarrassed he was. Mini’s grin didn’t leave his face for the rest of the day, sharing hi-fives and catty whistles with the yoga women when retelling his ‘deed for society’. Brock wanted to drown him in the blueberry passion smoothie Sheila presented him.

Having Mini as a friend wasn’t just dangerous; it was going to kill him.

And this is the first chapter released today. I love the Mini/Brock dynamic in this chapter. I cannot stress that enough <3. But I hope you enjoyed, please like, reblog, and let me know what you think!

#Terrormoo #Soft boys #Terroriser #Moo Snuckle #<3 #Crimson drabblez

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mattzerella-sticks · 5 years

Text

Drop the Act (Dean/Cas, Sam-centric fic, Post-Canon, 3.5k)

After defeating the Empty, Sam thought all the surprises were done for. Cas was saved, was human, and the Winchesters were a complete family unit doing what they do best: hunting monsters and saving people. He didn't account for his brother and angel best friend to manage one final surprise after coming back from a routine hunt in Florida.

But that's what happens when you don't see what's been happening right in front of you for a year.

(Love to my #SPNFamily)

(Link to ao3)

Sam enjoyed the Bunker these past two weeks while Dean and Cas were away. It was a vacation filled with dusty archives and suspenseful podcasts, eating when he wanted to and not having to put his research away while he did it.

There were a few interruptions, like phone calls from his mom checking in. Making sure Sam didn’t neglect basic care for translating more texts. He was offended when Mary suggested he take a night off and step out from the underground. So Sam wouldn’t become, in her words, a ‘hermit’.

His entire time alone wasn’t spent holed away from the world; Sam jogged in the early mornings – when he remembered to sleep at a normal time. And every other day he’d set aside a half-hour for yoga among the trees. Mary still wasn’t satisfied at that, remarking how little he interacted with others in his downtime. Rolling his eyes, Sam told her he hadn’t any need. The kitchen was well stocked before Dean left, and unlike his brother Sam learned how to control his portions.

Sam wasn’t avoiding people; he found no need to seek others out. But when they came, he didn’t turn them away. Even with Dean and Cas out, Jack stayed with him. He, too, was uninvited from the hunt. They left each other alone for the most part, both busy with their own things. If he saw Jack, though, he wouldn’t ignore him. Sam invited his angelic son along with him the other day when he took interest with his yoga mat. Jack didn’t get farther than the warrior pose, but he had fun with it.

So Sam had no problem being around people. He just appreciated his alone time, especially after a rough couple of months. Drowning in back-to-back hunts, he needed to lock himself down and recharge his batteries. Dean and Cas finding their own hunt, one he wasn’t asked to go on, was a sign. The peace and quiet lifted Sam’s spirits. He wasn’t bombarded with loud music, the clatter of pots and pans, distracting chatter and loud, suspicious noises at strange times. Wherever those two went, a commotion was hanging overhead like heavy, dark clouds.

When he heard the slam of the Bunker door though, he knew his serenity was shattered. He shut his book with a sigh, glancing up as Dean and Cas descended the staircase with suitcases in hand.

The hunt was in Florida, closer to Miami than Orlando. Now back in Kansas, they still looked ready for the beach. Dean wore a calm t-shirt of a muted grey color, a complete opposite to Cas’s loud rainbow colored Hawaiian shirt. They both also had on board shorts and flip-flops. Sunglasses were loss in the bird’s nest of Cas’s dark hair while Dean’s was hidden by his backwards cap. The entire walk down the stairs, the two bickered with relaxed grins stretched across their tan faces. Cas’s skin was even more bronzed than usual, while Dean’s body shone with star-like freckles.

Even after a year, Sam found Cas a strange sight when out of his holy tax accountant armor. Picking out a wardrobe was one of the many things Dean taught Cas after becoming human. He didn’t mind, sticking by their friend’s side through it all. He forgot much of what he already learned for his first stint, and the process the second time around was anything but easy. Dean’s resolve never wavered, helping Cas develop his routines and explore his tastes. “What I should have done the first time around,” Dean said.

“Hey guys,” Sam waved at them, “Didn’t know you were coming back so soon.”

Dean nodded, dropping his stuff at the head of the table. “Yeah, sorry ‘bout that. We kinda lost track of time and forgot to call…”

“To be fair,” Cas said laying his own luggage beside Dean’s, “I assumed Dean had already done so before we left the motel.”

He rolled his eyes. “When could I have? I wasn’t out of your sight that entire morning.” Dean sat, continuing. “Besides, I thought I told you to text Sam when we stopped for the night in Illinois?”

“That’s your fault,” Cas told him, taking the chair to Dean’s left for himself. “My thumb hit the wrong button because of somebody –“

“Oh like that was a problem for you,” Dean cut him off, beaming. Cas matched it in intensity, their smiles glowing with radiant bliss.

Sam cleared his throat, dragging their attention to him before the pull between them was too strong. “I’m glad you’re both home,” he said, glancing between the two, “the Bunker hasn’t been the same since you left…”

Dean nudged Cas, chuckling. “That’s moose-talk for he wanted a few more days without us.”

Glaring, Sam decided to not snag the bait. Instead, he asked them to share how the hunt went. They were tightlipped with the details over the phone, really only connecting with him through text. Sam’s digitization made accessing the Bunker’s resources much easier, but also took away any help he could offer.

They told the story in halves, both of them interrupting the other at the oddest times with little facts and quips. It was hard to follow along at times, but Sam understood the gist of it.

A shifter was targeting couples involved with a retreat program built to counsel married couples through communication problems. Sam snuck in a quick jab, wondering that if this hunt happened maybe years earlier things would have been different.

“Yuck it up,” Dean scoffs, “But some of that shit was actually helpful… if you wanted to be some kind of new age freak in touch with your emotions.”

“Anyway,” Cas course corrected, knocking shoulders with Dean, “we managed to sign up before the next session began so we could investigate.”

“Turns out Cas asks questions better when he’s out of the Fed suit.”

Sam stifles back a chuckle after Cas smacks Dean on the shoulder with a soft thwack. “At least I was asking questions. Half the time you were either on the beach or by the pool –“

“It sucked enough that there was a shifter there, I was trying to make the most of our trip.”

“We still managed to enjoy ourselves, after taking care of the monster…”

Dean sighed, scratching at his neck. “Yeah that’s true.”

Sam looked between the two, brow raised. “So, how did you take care of it?”

The hunt barely lasted longer than three days, the extended time because Dean and Cas had trouble testing the staff with silver. Dean pouted, “Seriously, using the rings was a good start until you get called in to a session with a therapist about commitment and cheating.” He waggled his fingers, flashing the silver band towards him. Sam spied Cas’s hand resting on the table, wearing a similar ring.

Cas smiled at Dean, eyes shining with warmth. “Although I did enjoy your very passionate defense when she assumed you took our marriage as seriously as a… what did she say? ‘Like a teen does his curfew’?”

“She was bonkers,” Dean growled, “Just wanted to separate us, get us out of the way. Figured… since she was the shifter.”

“She was?” Sam asked, “Did you gank her right then?”

“We didn’t realize until later,” he said, “Much later.”

Dean and Cas got into an argument after the meeting with the therapist. He was hurt and blowing off steam, and by doing that drew unwanted attention their way. “It didn’t matter what she or any of them thought,” Cas told them, “We were there for one thing –“

“I didn’t take that well either,” Dean admitted, sheepishly darting his eyes back and forth between Cas and the table. “Stormed off to be alone for awhile… mainly sat by the surf and watched it tickle my toes.”

“While I involved myself in the activities,” Cas said, “Until Dean came to apologize.”

Sam eyes his friend, “That… sounds ominous.”

Dean chuckled, “That’s because it wasn’t me.”

The shifter decided to corner Cas on his way to the pottery lesson, dragging him away to a hidden alcove. Fake Dean took every measure to appear reticent, and quoted a lot of their history back at Cas. He shrugged at Sam. “She did her research.” Cas was ready to forgive Dean, waiting for him to take the first step. It was only when she suggested they seal their argument with some make-up sex did Cas figure out it wasn’t Dean.

Sam rolled his eyes. It wasn’t the first time a monster read more into his brother’s relationship with their friend. And for once it played to their benefit. He shot off a quick prayer that Dean got used to those types of digs. Before, he would scowl for days and butch it up. Now any mention brought out a wry chuckle and a soft look. Sam couldn’t imagine his brother would have been okay faking a relationship with another man a decade ago. He’s really grown, becoming comfortable with his sexuality.

“I stabbed her in the heart when she tried unbuttoning my pants,” Cas said.

Dean leaned into him and smirked. “And that’s when I found them.”

Sam spluttered. “You did?”

“Oh yeah, was walking, working up the courage to see Cas and… let’s just say it didn’t make me feel better stumbling on that.”

“You knew what it was, though,” Cas comforted him, hand disappearing under the table, “All the times I said I wanted to kill you meant nothing in that moment.”

“Oh yeah that moment…”

Sam watched them slip into another one of their moods. Where Dean stared at Cas, and vice versa. Nothing could pierce the veil created when both men communicated with only their eyes. When they started these, Sam felt left out. He wanted that closeness, where someone could know what he was feeling with a single glance. Through the years he got over it, though. What Dean and Cas shared couldn’t be replicated. Now all he felt was a fond annoyance. In the early years, he could count these special interactions with both hands. But then that number grew exponentially. After they got Cas back from the Empty, it rocketed near infinity. Sam knew why.

Dean and Cas were best friends, the former angel an official Winchester brother. Losing him after Lucifer stabbed him was like cutting off a limb. The Empty, two limbs. In the ceremony freeing Cas from that void, Dean vowed to never let any power come between them. His conviction, a powerful magic in itself, forced the Empty into slumber. Not before it shrouded the two as the final words were spoken. They broke the curse hanging over them, and all it cost was Cas’s grace.

“I don’t need it, not anymore,” he said, once they settled back in the Bunker, “Not when I have my family.”

Sam cleared his throat, breaking their intense focus. Back for less than an hour, and he had his fill of them. He asked what happened for the rest of the hunt. “You wrapped it up so quickly… but you were there longer?”

“Dude, we were in Florida,” Dean said, “Vacation.”

“Seriously?”

“Hell yeah,” his brother grinned, teeth sharp and white. “Do you know there are nude beaches in Florida –“

“Gross, I don’t want to hear it –“

“It’s just the human body, Sam.”

“Whatever.”

Dean turned to Cas. “I think he’s gotten his fill of us already.”

“Then we might as well unpack,” Cas sighed, standing, “I’m feeling kind of ripe.” As he stood, Dean did as well; the reason being their joined hands, as Sam noticed. He gaped at them, unnoticed. “I’d kill for a shower right now.”

“Well I hope not me,” Dean joked, leading them away.

Before they could get too far, Sam found his voice. “Guys?” he yelped, voice cracking near the end. Dean and Cas glanced back, free hands hovering over their bags. “What are you… what’s going on?”

“We’re heading to our room, Sam,” Dean said, “What else does it look like?” Whispering to Cas, he talked from the corner of his mouth. “Someone had his nose in the books too long…”

“Our room?” Sam parroted, “What are…” In an instant his face shifted, smoothing out into a familiar expression. He set the tired lines of his bitch face to radiate the most annoyance with his brother’s actions. “Okay, I get it. Ha ha… good one.”

“Okay, now you’re starting to freak me out,” Dean stepped closer worryingly, “Talk to me Sammy. Tell me what’s the matter.”

“That shifter sure got you wrong,” Sam muttered, returning to his book, “You sure seem committed to this bit.”

“What ‘bit’?”

“Seriously, Dean, the case is over. You and Cas can drop the married act now.” He wanted to finish the chapter. It’s difficult when his brother and friend are glaring at him with righteous fury. If he didn’t already know Cas lost his powers, he’d be very concerned for his well-being. “What?”

“Sam,” Cas started, “Dean and I are married.”

The bombshell that dropped before him sounded suspiciously like his book slipping through his fingers. It was a contest, which would blink first him or them. Sam waited for the ringing in his ears stop before asking. “W-what?”

All fight drained from Dean and Cas, each sneaking looks at each other before shooting Sam twin looks of concern. “Sam,” Dean tried, reaching a hand out, “are you okay –“

“I should be asking you that,” Sam leapt to his feet, eyeing him for any clues. “Were you sure it was only a shifter. This isn’t like a spell or anything?” He dragged his fingers across Dean’s chest, as if a hex bag was taped there like a recording device.

Dean bat his hands away. “Dude, the hell? No there weren’t any witches. Me and Cas are married.”

“You’re serious?” Sam asked them, eyes wide, “You guys got married in Florida?”

“No, Sam,” Cas said, “Dean and I have been married for a while… we celebrated our anniversary in Florida.”

“…What?”

“Yeah,” Dean continued, drawing Cas in closer, “One year. Why do you think we didn’t want anyone else coming with us?”

“Because…because you didn’t need us for the hunt?”

“When we went there was no hunt,” Dean sighed, “Except Winchester luck made it so we had ourselves a working vacation. You’re lucky we managed to salvage what was left so we weren’t coming back cranky. Although… ‘m not feeling too good now.”

“Oh my God, you two… I can’t believe this…” Sam sank back down into his seat, tugging at his hair. “A… a year? How… When?”

“You were there, Sam,” Cas said, “all of you were. Mary, Bobby… Jack, Claire, Jody, Donna and the girls… Chuck –“

“Hold on,” Sam cut him off, “When we dragged your ass back from the Empty?”

“Yeah,” Dean said, “Weren’t you listening when Chuck explained?”

Sam blushed, finding his lap more interesting than the conversation. He remembered when Chuck showed them the parchment. On it was a way to rip Cas’s grace out and put it back into his body. He’d still be connected to the Empty, until the second part purified his body of any connection with the entity. And because of that, the Empty still had Cas’s wings, but his soul belonged to humanity. That’s all Sam thought he needed to know. He tuned Chuck out in favor of going over the scroll himself; confident he would understand it better that way. It was illegible, and Sam was too embarrassed to ask Chuck to clarify.

“But,” Sam tried to save some of his dignity, “You two didn’t really change much. How was I supposed to know all of that was a… wedding ceremony?”

Dean smirked, knocking heads with Cas. “We’re too old to act like animals, ripping our clothes off wherever. Didn’t need to, anyway. Me and Cas were always close… so there wasn’t that big a change. Just more options to express what was already there.”

“Although it was me who stopped Dean from getting too frisky in public areas,” Cas sighed, “He didn’t care if you were to walk in on us.”

“Should’ve let him. I bet there wouldn’t have been any confusion if he saw us –“

“I don’t even want the mental image,” Sam said, face redder than before.

His misery garnered a healthy chuckle from his brother. Dean wiped a tear from his eye, “Oh man, Sammy. How could you not notice for a year? You’re the one who’s always harping on the details. Oh – oh – and you even told me the next time I watch porn to wear headphones? Sam, I haven’t had the need to watch porn for so long you heard me and Cas going at it!”

“Stop!” Sam cried, shoving his hands over his ears, “I’m going to murder you!”

“Please, Sam, not my husband. Only I’m allowed to kill him,” Cas said blandly. His eyes feigned boredom but there was a smirk curling across his face.

“I can’t have been the only one who didn’t know.”

“Know what?” Jack asked, stepping into the room; his frown at Sam’s posture immediately transformed into a smile when noticing Dean and Cas. “Hey! When did you two get back?”

Dean waved his question away, instead asking one of his own. “Jack, me and Cas? What are we?”

“…My dads?”

“No,” he sighed, flashing his hand at him. “What do these rings signify?”

“Oh! That you and Cas are married!”

Sam paled at the answer, Dean’s boastful grin leeching the color from him. “You knew?”

“Of course, Sam,” Jack said, “It was their one year anniversary.”

“This isn’t making any sense,” Sam muttered to himself, “Why didn’t I…”

“Mom was in tears for days, Sam. And you thought Claire was joking when she called me dad? Christ, Chuck gave me his blessing and officiated. Even Amara sent a gift, and it wasn’t dad rising from the grave.” He heard Dean swallow, and then a hand on his shoulder. Sam looked up into his brother’s eyes, any and all mirth gone. “You, uh… you’re okay that me and Cas… that we’re…”

Sam bit back a curse, hating himself for how he was acting. “Of course, Dean. It was… I was shocked is all. I mean… one whole year? And I didn’t even know, didn’t congratulate either of you…”

“I thought you did, for what it’s worth,” Dean said, “‘You look happy, Dean. How does it feel to have a no-strings attached win?’” Those were the exact words Sam said to him after the Empty’s tentacles slithered away. A tear hangs precariously from the corner of Sam’s eyes.

“I meant it,” Sam nodded, “Especially now that I know you and Cas are married. Are in love.” The words sat right on Sam’s tongue. Thinking back, he wasn’t sure how he kept the blindfolds on for so long. Love was the only explanation for the way Dean and Cas looked at each other. For how Cas always has a cup of coffee for Dean ready when he wakes up. For Dean buying books for Cas whenever they head out on hunts, the former angel’s collection already taking up one shelf in the Library. Sam swiped at his eyes, launching himself forward to crush Dean into a hug. “You deserve this, Dean.” Dean muttered something under breath, tugging Cas over with their still joined hands. He opens his vice-like grip long enough to crush the other man in, too. “So do you, Cas.”

“All right, all right,” Dean freed himself, fighting the sweet smile unfurling, “That was enough of a chick-flick moment for today.”

Cas nodded. “Dean is all chick-flicked out. We spent last night marathoning Bridget Jones after I lost the coin flip.”

“Cas,” Dean whined, “You’re my husband. You took a vow to always be on my side.”

“I made no such promise,” Cas chuckled, twining his arms around Dean’s neck, “All I committed to was loving you,” he pecked at Dean’s lips, “cherishing you,” again, “and honoring you,” and again, “until I take my last breath. Nowhere in there did I ‘vow’ to never make fun of you.”

“You’re an ass.”

“Yes, but I’m your ass.”

Sam and Jack exchanged amused glances. “All right,” Sam cut them off before they bickered some more, “We get it. You’re together. You don’t have to prove it anymore.”

“This?” Dean asked, “This ain’t proof. You want proof you can watch us have sex.”

Sam frowned, scrunching his nose up in disgust. “Yuck. I told you Dean, I didn’t want the image of you sticking it to Cas.”

Dean stepped backwards, mouth nearly cracking in half by how wide his grin is. “Other way around, moose brains.” He winked, delighting in the stuttered outrage from his brother.

“Really?!?”

“Of course, Sam,” Cas said, Dean already disappearing down the hallway, “How do you think I knew it wasn’t the real Dean?” The pointed stare brought the flush back onto his cheeks. Cas blipped out of sight after that, his and Dean’s laughter both mocking and comforting.

Sam shook his head, the smile still in place on his face. “You two… made for each other.” He enjoyed his alone time, but always made time for his family. He always will. Things may change, can end or begin anew, but family will be eternal.

#Supernatural #Spn #supernatural fanfiction #Spn fanfic #Sam Winchester #Jack Kline #Dean Winchester #Castiel #Destiel #deancas #destiel fanfiction #destiel fanfic #deancas fanfiction #spnfamily

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haveakookie · 7 years

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Relax - Ch. 1

Yoongi x Yoga Instructor!reader

Chapter I

Warnings: none yet

Word Count: 2,297

Summary: Teaching yoga was something you enjoyed, it made you relaxed and feel in control of yourself and your life. In comes Yoongi, the one that turned it all upside down.

A/N: this is going to be a chaptered fic! please leave me your thoughts, and as always, my ask box is open! ♥

This was the last thing you expected when walking into work today.

“You have private lessons. Sorry, but no one else would take it.” your boss and the owner of the yoga studio you worked at told you with an apologetic smile. No one liked private lessons, yea they may be quieter and simpler, but the people usually getting them are more often than not spoiled, conceited, or both. You sighed and tied up your hair as you headed to the staff change rooms to get ready for what would surely be a draining day.

Pulling your outfit from your locker, you quickly got out of your streetwear and into the black yoga pants and cropped tank top that read ‘STAFF’ on the back. You checked your watch and realized class starts in less that five minutes, giving you barely any time to grab equipment, water, and stretch. Normally you would come up with a lesson plan before class started, but since you were low on time you decided to see what your pupil’s fitness and skill levels were first.

After you shuffled through your work playlist for a song, you dimmed the lights and started stretching. Getting into a couple simple yet relaxing positions to ease your stress. As you were in the Downward Dog, eyes closed and deep breaths entering your lungs, you heard the door slowly creak open. You slowly opened your eyes, and turned your head towards the entrance of the darkened room.

“Hi, come take a seat, I’m your instructor y/n.” You smiled up at the man who walked in, noting the nervous air about him as he sat on the mat in front of you, moving to sit cross-legged. As he sat down, you noticed his sharp features and pouty lips. The stranger’s midnight black hair was messy and you had the sudden urge to run your fingers through it. The sound of a cough brought you out of your thoughts, and you promptly went back into your teaching mode.

“What’s your name, and what made you take these lessons?” you asked the man in front of you softly, meeting his piercing gaze.

“Yoongi. I’m here because some.. Friends of mine decided i needed to relax and de-stress. I’ve never taken yoga before so go easy on me, yea?” Yoongi drawled, rolling his eyes at the mention of his friends. You chuckled at his antics, seeing an unreadable expression cross his face as you began to outline what you wanted to do this lesson to ensure Yoongi was okay with everything and that he had no existing injuries. You went through some breathing techniques with him to start, easing your way into the beginner poses to get Yoongi comfortable with everything. When you saw that his nervousness had seemed to mostly disappear, you started to help him with his poses, pointing out where he needed to fix his posture and showing him examples when he didn’t understand. By the end of your hour long lesson, you felt that Yoongi had a grasp on the basics, and the lesson turned out to not be as painful as you had imagined.

“If you were a little more flexible we could start on some more advanced poses, but we’ll work on that next time.” you helped him up off the floor and handed him a towel, smiling at him as he huffed out a large breath. “Good work today Yoongi, I’ll see you again next week.” you waved goodbye as you exited the room, just noticing that you had worked up a sweat despite not doing a full class alongside Yoongi.

The next few days went by pretty uneventfully. You went to work, taught your usual lessons, then went home. To say you were a homebody was probably an understatement, that’s why when you agreed to go out with some friends, they were surprised.

Since this didn’t happen often, you decided to get dolled up, buying a cute new dress that complimented your figure perfectly and setting your hair in big loose curls. Your job as a yoga instructor doesn’t give you many chances to wear makeup, and though you liked your face clear of any products, you decided that tonight you’re wearing that deep red lipstick you’ve never opened.

“Help please!” you called to your friend who came over to get ready with you, because let’s be honest, you have no idea what you’re doing. She comes over and helps you to dust blush onto your cheeks and put eyeliner on your lids. Soon you’re ready to step out, little black dress sitting almost at your mid-thigh and gold heels making you pray you don’t faceplant tonight (at least not in front of anyone). As you walked out of your apartment, you caught your reflection and were pleased with what you saw, I should try this makeup thing more often, you thought to yourself.

The plus side of going out with your friends was the connections they had in just about every club in the city. You walked straight in with them, no line and no need to pay. The club was playing hip hop and rap all night, apparently there was a well known group performing tonight.

Dragging you into the dance floor, your friends insisted that you danced with them, because who knows when you'll go clubbing again. The few shots you had earlier started to settle in, giving you a nice buzz. Feeling more confident, you allowed yourself to feel the music and swing your hips along to the beat. Your girlfriends cheered you on as you loosened up, gaining the attention of a few people on the dance floor. As you continued to dance, you felt a set of eyes constantly on you, and soon you felt someone tap your shoulder.

“y/n?” the husky voice asked, surprisingly clear despite the booming music filling the space around you. You turned around to meet the person calling you and were surprised to see a familiar face.

“Oh? Yoongi what are you doing here?” you asked, and you saw the smirk on his lips grow with your words. You took in his appearance, and couldn’t help the rush of heat you felt when you saw just how good he looked. He was in all black, snapback on backwards and keeping his black hair out of his face, causing his features to look much stronger. His tight black jeans exposing his knees, black t-shirts exposing his collarbones, and the short sleeves showing off his expensive-looking watch is that a rolex? you wonder as your eyes snap back to his face only to see that you weren’t so subtle in your appraisal of his looks. He signalled for you to follow him to a booth, and you told your friends you’d be right back before following him.

“I’m here for work. Having fun?” Yoongi said with a tilt of his head as he sat down, patting the seat next to him, his eyes scanning over your figure as you took a seat so quickly you thought you had imagined it.

“Yea, just here with some friends to unwind. Did our session help at all?” you asked, suddenly curious to know if you had helped him at all. You watched as he smiled, seemingly to himself and nodded, placing his hands in his front pockets.

“It surprisingly helped a lot, i was able to finish the work I had been stuck on for quite some time now. I’m glad my friends went behind my back and booked it, though i’d never tell them that.” you giggled at his words, but you saw the fondness for his friends as he spoke of them. Before you could ask him the question that’s been on you mind since you started talking, a loud scream of Yoongi’s name pierced the once quiet atmosphere o\the two of you had. You saw Yoongi roll his eyes and bring his (really pretty) hand to his face in an exasperated manner as two men joined your booth, sitting next to you. “What do you two want?” Yoongi asked them, his tone clearly annoyed at their presence.

“Hyung! It’s almost time to go up, but who’s this?” The one with the bright smile asked as he scooted closer to you, hand coming up to rest his head on as he not so subtly looked you up and down. You squirmed under his gaze, not used to this kind of attention, “I’m Hoseok but you can call me-”

“Yah, Jung Hoseok! Stop creeping her out. Guys this is y/n, the yoga instructor for the classes you signed me up for.” He says with a roll of his eyes, shooting you an apologetic look for his friend’s antics. “Y/n, this is Hoseok and Namjoon, the annoying friends I told you about.”

Hoseok proceeded to look offended at the comment while Namjoon just smiled at you in greeting.

“You’re his instructor? Is he doing well or was he too…distracted in class?” His expression suddenly turning mischievous, “my hyung here really enjoyed his class, he told us all about it.” He winks at you and laughs at the disgruntled noise Yoongi lets out. Namjoon also chuckles at his friend’s annoyance and speaks up for the first time since you met.

“We heard you’re a great instructor, please help our stressed out hyung here relax, he definitely needs it.” He smirks at Yoongi and receives what can only be described as a death glare in response. “Come on hyung, we have to go now.” You look at Yoongi confused, wondering where he had to go.

“You’re staying for the performance, right?” He asked you as they stood to leave, you nodded and followed them out, saying goodbye to Hoseok and Namjoon, and telling Yoongi you looked forward to your next lesson. You made your way back to your friends and found that they were right in front of the small stage that was set up, the DJ booth moved to the side to allow more room for the performers. You wondered why everyone including your friends were so excited to see this group, seeing as people aren’t usually this excited for a performance in a club. As soon as the thought crossed your mind, the lights dimmed further and you heard some familiar voices boom over the music that started to play as three figures walked out. The lights went up and you gasped at the sight; there in front of you, with less that a few feet separating you was Yoongi himself, flanked by his two friends as they dove right into their first song. You watched the three men perform, but your eyes kept landing back on the black haired man, the way his whole persona changed as he stood on the stage, rhymed spilling from his lips in the most captivating way, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration and his gestures full of confidence. This didn’t seem like the pouty and annoyed man you had come to know from your few encounters with him

As the performance went on, you couldn’t help but be under his spell, entranced by the passion that obviously flowed within him for rapping, his mouth easily spitting out the words in rapid succession as if they were on fire. During his verse, Yoongi walked to the front of the stage and crouched down, right in front of you. He met your eyes with a powerful gaze and you couldn’t seem to pick your jaw up off the floor long enough to pay attention to the lyrics. By the time you snapped out of your daze you had caught only the tail end of Yoongi’s part, and the lyrics you heard caused your face to heat up as he was still looking at you. You turned your gaze down, flustered and slightly embarrassed that he could pull this reaction out of you as you heard the other two rappers take over. When you looked back up you saw Yoongi was standing up again, moving and jumping around the stage with the other two men, pumping up the audience even more.

Their set finished with deafening screams and applause as they headed backstage, and your friends hounded you for answers about the little show Yoongi put on with you. You explained that you were his yoga instructor, but beyond that you had no idea what happened or what to make of it. In your head, you came to the conclusion that he approached you because he knew you, nothing more. Yea, that had to be it, right? You stayed at the club for a little while longer, and just before you left you heard someone call you.

“It was nice meeting you y/n!” Hoseok called and you turned to wave goodbye. Namjoon gave you a sweet smile and a small wave as he practically dragged the other out. You turned back to meet Yoongi who was standing with a sheepish expression.

“Sorry about those idiots,” he laughed nervously, “but it was nice seeing you, I hope you enjoyed the performance.” Yoongi said, his demeanor a complete 180 from the man that owned the stage not even thirty minutes ago.

“I really enjoyed it, you were great up there,” you beamed, truly meaning what you said, “I’ll see you for our next class right?” you asked, unsure why you felt almost nervous to hear his answer. Yoongi gave you a nod, and waved goodbye before following his friends out. Shortly after you found yourself back home, free from makeup, tight dresses, and painful heels. Normally you would be passing out, but you found that the only thing running through your mind was the husky voice that commanded attention, and the fierce gaze locked on yours.

That’s when you knew you were screwed.

More to come! Please let me know what you think ♥

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the-monster-in-your-wardrobe · 7 years

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Are you so scared of me?

(This takes place towards the end of season 1)

Hei had known that this would happen one day, that section 4 would find a way, just not so soon. And to be honest he had been waiting for it, being weary of it all.

It was just too soon. There was still unfinished business, what with Amber and the recent developments at the gate. Not that he cared about any of that, but Amber had posed a chance to find out about Bai. About what had really happened in South America.

Now he would probably never know.

(***)

Misaki Kirihara was fuming. The plan had been destined to fail, of course, but nobody had listened to her.

“Are you so scared of me, officer?”

She could still hear his voice, coldly mocking their efforts, his speech slurred from the heavy sedatives.

Slamming the gears of her car harder than necessary she sped away from her boss’s office and towards home. She felt her anger rise anew, as she drove down the same route the transport would have taken.

Not all of the plan had been bad of course. They had been in a real advantage for the first time, having a powerful contractor on their side. Why this strange woman had offered her service to the Bureau was still a mystery to Misaki, but her immense powers had finally given her team an opportunity to try and get a hand on other contractors. Especially BK-201.

Misaki huffed.

It could have been so easy, their contractor holding him in place with her ability to change the gravity as she wanted, making it easy to inject the sedative that had been developed by some scientists at the gate. The dose had been heavy enough to bring down an elephant, some part of it even repressing his abilities.

Thinking back the easiness of it had probably been what made the plan fail in the end. As if nobody would notice the huge convoy of police cars heading straight to the complex where section 4 intended to detain BK-201.

Her boss had been adamant to her suggestions, about keeping the team small, making the transport in silence, overall just keeping the whole affair as secretive as possible. The syndicate would find out soon enough as it was.

It had probably been as good as a challenge to the syndicate, parading through the city like that, and naturally they had taken it.

The convoy had been reduced to a confused mess of battered car wrecks by one of those huge trucks crashing right through their midst, about two blocks from where Misaki lived. The car in which they had been transporting BK-201 had been turned upside down and dented so badly they couldn’t even reach the bodies of the two policemen sitting in the front, who had died in the crash, the one in the back being stuck between his seat and the deformed door and moaning in pain.

By the time she had reached the car BK-201 had vanished into the night, leaving only his mask behind.

The area where the crash had happened was still cordoned off, making it almost impossible for Misaki to find a parking spot that wasn’t miles away from her home. The night was freezingly cold and she snuggled deeper into her warm coat as she walked down the small side street. Her anger had cooled somewhat and she let her thoughts wander to the warm bath she would take before finally going to bed.

A clattering sound from a narrow sideway made her look up, but it was just two cats fighting between some containers.

She was about to turn away when something caught her eye. Something that looked like legs sticking out from behind one of the containers.

Quietly drawing her gun she carefully made her way down the alleyway, keeping as much distance as possible from the container as she walked around, aiming her gun at whoever those legs belonged to.

Someone was sitting there, slumped against the container, black coat making him almost invisible in the dark corner, face obscured by a mass of dark unruly hair.

Her stomach dropping she bent down to take a closer look.

Looking back she felt like she had actually known for a long time. Still it made her breath hitch for a moment.

There, laying right before her was BK-201. It was Li.

Forcing herself to draw a breath, her mind started racing. What was she supposed to do? Probably call her team for help.

She crouched down instead, looking him over.

There was a huge gash on his left thigh, the blood soaking his pants had already frozen it to his leg. Probably had cut himself on the broken car window.

Otherwise he looked surprisingly whole, his lower lip being split, but nothing else of consequence.

Keeping her gun aimed at his chest she carefully reached out to feel his pulse.

He drew a surprised breath at the sudden contact and opened his eyes, blinking slowly, looking to be still dazed from the drugs.

The faintest spark of recognition flashed in his clouded eyes as they met hers.

“Come to finish me off?”, he said heavily, his lips barely moving.

He weakly tried to push himself into a more upright position.

“Go on then”, he murmured “do it!”

It was obvious he was barely keeping his eyes open.

Misaki swallowed hard. She couldn’t bring herself to call her team and turn him in. Maybe she would have done it had he been someone else, but this was Li, kind and gentle Li, who had cheered her up after November 11 had died and who had always seemed like he could never harm a fly.

Inwardly scolding herself she pushed her gun back into it’s holster. This was probably the biggest mistake she was ever going to make.

“Do you think you can walk?”

For a long moment he just stared. Then he slowly nodded.

“Come on then. It’s not far, I’ll help you.”

Moving to his left side she grabbed his wrist and, noticing how cold he was, carefully draped his arm over her shoulders.

While he clumsily tried to get his legs under himself she started to slowly pull him upward, the movement causing his black coat to fall open and reveal the long piece of glass jutting from his right shoulder.

Again swallowing hard, she readjusted her grip on him and, drawing a deep breath, started walking, or rather dragging him down the alleyway towards her home.

Somehow they managed the two blocks to her house and the four storeys of the fire escape, evading all security cameras on the way to her flat. By the time they got there Misaki was drenched in sweat her shoulders hurting from the dead weight of Li’s body.

He had barely been able to stay upright, his right arm dangling useless as he let himself be dragged along. How he had managed to get as far as to where she had found him Misaki couldn’t start to imagine.

Kicking the door shut behind them she maneuvered him onto the mat in her living room she had used for her morning yoga session.

In the light he looked a lot worse than he had down in the dark alley. His face was very pale, the dried blood on his forehead standing out in harsh contrast, and his lips had turned blue already.

Moving quickly around her flat Misaki started grabbing clean towels, some bandages she had found in her bathroom cabinet, her portable heater and a few other things.

Setting the heater up close she knelt back down next to him and carefully laid a hand on his cheek, causing him to open his eyes again.

“I need you to sit up for a moment.”, she said.

With Misaki’s help he managed to push himself up with his healthy arm. Moving around him she carefully removed his coat, making him hiss when it brushed the shard in his right shoulder.

Helping him back down, she removed her own coat an rolled up her sleeves. There was no way to remove his tight black shirt without causing him a lot of pain.

“Just cut it off.”, he uttered laboriously.

Looking up she saw his gaze following her every move, his eyes looking less foggy by now.

Nodding slowly she grabbed her kitchen scissors and started cutting through the fabric her fingers brushing lightly over his cold skin

When she had removed his shirt and the top underneath it she took a closer look at the shard protruding from right underneath his collarbone. There was no telling how deep it went or if it had damaged something vital. She would just have to pull it out and hope for the best.

Wrapping a towel around her hand as to not cut herself she cautiously took hold of it, making him grind his teeth in pain.

“Ready?”

“Just do it!”, he snarled between clenched teeth.

Without further hesitation she pulled.

A strangled sound escaped his lips, his eyes screwed shut, the muscles in his neck bulging.

For a moment Misaki could see the white of his collarbone, before the blood started flowing in and she hastily pressed another towel down on it, anxiously looking up.

His face had gone ashen and he was panting hard.

Her fingers shaking slightly, she bent down to put a pressure bandage on the wound.

When she had finished, Li had calmed down a little, his face looking more relaxed and his breathing going more even.

Moving down she started cleaning the cut on his thigh, the blood having thawed by now, and wrapped it up.

Wetting another towel she went back up to his head and froze when she found his dark eyes watching her intently.

“Why are you doing this?”, he asked quietly.

Not knowing what to answer she looked away.

“I don’t know.”, she finally whispered, more to herself.

When she looked up again he had closed his eyes, his breathing becoming more and more even.

Brushing his dark hair aside, she calmly cleaned his face, pausing for a second before dabbing at his split lip almost tenderly.

He sighed softly in his sleep making her smile for the first time this day. She grabbed a blanket and in a sudden urge to be close she lay down beside him, spreading it over the both of them.

What am I doing?, she thought before closing her eyes and wrapping an arm around his chest. Resting her head on his good shoulder she slowly drifted off. When she woke up the next morning he was gone.

He had even taken the bloody towels with him, leaving no trace of ever having been here, except for his lingering scent on the blanket he had wrapped her in.

Smiling sadly to herself she pulled it closer, shutting her eyes again, wanting nothing more than to have him back next to her.

How in the world could this have happened?

_____________________________

Hey guys, there is a part 2 now, you can read it here:

http://the-monster-in-your-wardrobe.tumblr.com/post/166112214003/are-you-so-scared-of-me-pt2

#this is the first thing i wrote in years #and it's for a dead fandom #fml #i love this anime so much #and this has been going around in my head for so long #plus i have a weakness for whump #so pls be gentle #i hope you guys like it #darker than black #dtb #hei #misaki kirihara #bk-201 #shengshun li #oneshot #i wrote this on my phone #long post #fic

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fashiontrendin-blog · 6 years

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How to Wear Gym Clothes to Fancy Places: 4 Outfit Ideas

http://fashion-trendin.com/how-to-wear-gym-clothes-to-fancy-places-4-outfit-ideas/

How to Wear Gym Clothes to Fancy Places: 4 Outfit Ideas

n a not-so-past life, my waking moments were almost entirely punctuated by plyometric pushups and tuck jumps, backbends and pretzel poses of yoga, and isolated polyrhythmic gyrations in African dance class. I lived a life synonymous with activity, a “somatic practitioner,” as pronounced by my first yoga and dance teacher, Anna Leo. But all of that changed when I moved to New York.

The opportunity cost of my tumultuous transition from Atlanta to New York was that, between bouts of sleeping on the sofas of friends and “rooming” with my octogenarian uncle while I put together the pieces of the new life puzzle, downward dog became more like sleeping dog. My athletic routine fell by the wayside so much so that one day I woke up 30 pounds heavier, with a noticeably rounder face and even more domed quads.

And while I suffer no shame at any iteration of my flesh and bones, the changes in my body heralded to me a certain dissipation of my former self’s physical discipline, a discipline that I recalled seeped into other aspects of my being, a certain physical empowerment that bolstered my sense of mental limitlessness as though threading connective tissue in the mind-body. This feeling! It was this feeling that I missed more so than being able to fit into my skirts of yore. And now, having found a semblance of stability in other aspects of my new life, I knew it was time for me to afford myself the luxury of working out (and the necessity of a well-trained mind) again.

And make no mistake, in a city like New York, where fitness classes usually set you back about $40 dollars a session, staying active can be a luxury. (Yes, running outside and dancing to Angélique Kidjo in my birthday suit are free, but I like to mix in group fitness for a multiplicity of reasons.) Besides the fiscal deterrent, there was one other hurdle to overcome: inertia. How does one suddenly disrupt a cycle of lassitude when, even though the mind is willing, the flesh is, in accordance with the laws of physics, simply too weak to break the current state of inactivity? I found two ways.

The first was finding someone to answer to. After I put out an SOS, a friend introduced me to Jahkeen Washington, certified personal trainer and co-founder of Harlem High Intensity Fitness (HIIT) studio JTW FIT. Jah shifted from a nine-year career in the finance industry to become a certified personal trainer after losing a friend to a heart condition. Dedicated to bringing affordable fitness to the Harlem community, his studio offers classes as low as $15 dollars a class. As I find immeasurable value in being able to turn off my brain, so to speak, and have a professional craft an effective routine for me, I reached out to Jah. I knew my partnership with him was the right move from the moment I met him and experienced his easy air of confidence, deep devotion to his cause and a sense of humor that matched mine to a T.

So with that box ticked, the second inertia-busting strategy is why I come to you today on this rather prolix journey: apparel! When I realized that my workout wardrobe had not been updated in some seven or so years, I found myself scouring the web for what was new and exciting in the athletic wear market. All I had to do was perform one search and then sit back and let the oracular algorithms of the internet speak to me. And speak to me they did when an ad for a two-toned unitard flew into my field of vision. I immediately texted my friend Grant. “Need this!” I wrote, not realizing how expensive it was. “This Athluxury, Sis!” he replied. And so the term was born (at least in our little corner of the world; little did we know it was brewing in the Nike-verse as well) and its afterbirth was the idea for this story.

Sticker shock aside, I have always felt strongly about investing in my active gear (which probably explains why seven years on, the same cycling shorts are still making the rounds in my closet): Why shouldn’t the clothes I spend hours shaping my body in aspire as much to form as they do to function? Why should I not search for the same beauty I do in other aspects of my life, in the suits in which I will sweat as I attempt to shape the inner beauty of determination and self-discipline? “Wilt thou deny me the sheer joy of expanding my Spandex repertoire?” I asked my shoulder angel (or devil, depending on one’s vantage point). “I didn’t think so!” I scoffed, quieting and the supernatural being perched atop my medial deltoid.

To my imagination, Athluxury is the kind of athletic gear that espouses a thoughtfulness in design and brand ethos. And, yes, since luxury is a function of time, and time, they say, is money, the pieces I found in my “research” often came with a price tag to match. But they also came with an understanding that they were built to last. And while it is sacrilegious in my personal religion to wear more than 10% Spandex outside the church of the gym, if am spending this much money on athletic wear, I require the clothes to do a few extra things, including water my Meyer lemon tree monthly, take my future Jack Russell Terrier out for walks (twice a day, please) and not least of all, be able to hold their own when styled for everyday life. So here you have it, four Athluxury brands that rekindle my commitment to the active life every time I put them on, also styled for life beyond the sweat.

Ernest Leoty:

A gateway drug, if you will, this cerise and aubergine bodysuit by French startup brand Ernest Leoty was my first foray into the Athluxury world. The brand, which takes its name from a legendary French corset maker who invented the first modern corset in the 1800s, is designed in a sensibility très Parisien. Employing traditional French tailoring and technical activewear seaming, its high performance fabrics are sourced from Italian mills, and take my word for it, these details are apparent from the moment one slips on one of their butter-soft sheaths. Truly a second skin, Ernest Leoty felt like a natural choice for returning to the dance studio where the suppleness of their offerings meant melting, unencumbered, into the movement itself. For life outside the studio, the palette of the bodysuit led me to pair it with a magenta vintage kimono sourced for Harajuku for me by my personal shopper (just kidding, I can’t afford a personal shopper, but I do take advantage of my dear friend, @junebugshpr, a lawyer who moonlights as one). In the folly of my youth, many moons ago, I spent an entire paycheck on the Dior heels you see here, and as for the Tara Jarmon belt, it is my styling “golux” (aka mythical creature that comes to the rescue in all times of need).

VAARA

The entirety of British brand VAARA’s offerings exist in simple yet striking color dualities. Wrought from thick stretch fabric with a swimwear-like smoothness in quality, I found this brand offered a nice intersection between strong support and flexibility for the demands of HIIT training. The unofficial general consensus in the training world is that the Nike Metcon 4, seen here in white, is THE training shoe. You will find no objections on my part. The light blue of the stripe of these leggings is picked up almost exactly in the varying sized polka dots of this wrap-dress-worn-as-a-top from Second Sight. I find a nice interplay between the linearity of the stripe and the circular Kusamaësque dots of the dress. And to finish off the look, I added another pair of “investment” shoes, a well-aged pair of Nicholas Kirkwoods from my closet.

Outdoor Voices

Outdoor Voices is no longer a secret by any stretch of the imagination, and the brand’s popularity is well merited. Its mission statement is to foster people “doing things,” and I appreciate this uncomplicated, sensible approach to the active life. Their design team stems from both fitness and fashion realms so there’s as high an emphasis on aesthetic as there is on performance. Easily recognizable for their color-blocked, mutli-seamed styles, I was pleasantly surprised to find this solid, sanguine color among their offerings, which I tested out for running along with Nike’s Air Zoom Pegasus 35. The real MVP though is this OV men’s sweatshirt, rendered in a knit so cloud-soft I did not wish to ever take it off. Ever the fan of mixing unexpected fabrics, I paired the sweatshirt with an elaborate sequined dress from Erdem (worn as a skirt) and even more scintillation is brought to the mix by the Sophia Webster heels.

No Ka Oi’

According to its website, No Ka Oi’ means “the best” in Hawaiian, but the yoga-focused brand is actually made in Bologna, Italy. Strong color, eclectic fabrics and a plenitude of geometric design is the brand’s calling card. I was all too excited to roll up and strap tight this textured mat from the brand. While I’ve owned the leather mat strap here for about eight years, it has never come in handier than here in New York, where mat rental fees at studios are a real thing and schlepping a mat to class is about more than posturing. The vegetable-tanned leather strap is fashioned by Andrew McTeer who makes everything in his Queens studio, always aiming at as little waste as possible. He based the design of the strap on an antique example he found in France, adapting it for usability.

McTeer’s work, to me, is a paragon of the essence of luxury: While it may (or may not) be reflected in price point, luxury’s real signifier is that it is a labor of love, that thoughtfulness in design is equally reflected in the ethical production. The beauty of the resulting product is then but a little bonus with a great impact. After all, as professor and novelist Muriel Barbery asked, “Where is beauty to be found? In great things that, like everything else, are doomed to die, or in small things that inspire nothing, yet know how to set a jewel of infinity in a single moment?” Finding my way back into the luxury of the gym or dance studio may be a small victory, but no price tag can be placed on how boundless the active life makes me feel.

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Photos by Michelle Kappeler. Follow Jahkeen on Instagram @jah_holla. Follow Natasha on Instagram @natashanyanin

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