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elsanna-shenanigans · 2 years

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April Contest Submission #26: Brazen

Words: ca. 5,000 Setting: mAU Lemon: no Content: mild drug references, implied homophobia

It was a regular, sunny Thursday morning when the whole debacle started. Nothing out of the ordinary. The train was on time. My blueberry and cream-cheese bagel was fresh and delicious, and I shovelled it down at my desk, clicking away through banal emails about company fun-runs, goodbye-parties for employees I’d never met and rambling updates from the CEO.

I was working out the front with Hans, which was never ideal. Still irritated by his comment last week about women being natural manipulators, I told myself he was just “compassion fatigued”, grit my teeth, and chose to face the day with a positive attitude. That’s all I could do, right?

Hans set his enormous protein shake down on the desk and leaned back in his chair, sighing loudly. “Oh my god, you’ll never guess what happened at the gym this morning.”

I put on my best smile and began to click through random pages on our database, looking at yesterday’s notes, trying to look a bit busy and hoping he would get the hint. Listening to Hans’ gym-bro stories was more tedious than uploading invoices into the finance system.

“So, there I was, just wiping down my bench, and this ridiculously hot chick comes up to me, like, seriously, you would not believe the honka-bazonkas on this bird-”

His story was mercifully cut short by the buzzer signalling to us that someone had entered. We both leaned back to see a girl in the entry-way, looking lost and confused. They all look like that when they’re new, and judging by the school uniform, tear stains on her cheeks, and the way her eyes flickered around in uncertainty, this was most definitely her first rodeo.

“Check out Little Miss Grammar School over there.”

I sighed, disappointed but not surprised that he couldn’t even wait five minutes before judging the poor kid. “She looks pretty upset.”

“Probably because Daddy won’t buy her a new pony.”

I looked over at Hans, irritated with him before it was even nine o-clock. Typical. “Didn’t you go to Trottington Boys College?”

“Yeah, that’s how I know.” He gave me a smirk, and I just wanted to punch his stupid face. “She’ll be back home before lunchtime. Guarantee it.”

I sighed again, not in the mood to bother arguing, and went to greet the girl. Her bright red hair dangled in girlish plaits over her shoulders, and her school-bag was practically bursting at the seams. A planned runaway, perhaps? Or possibly just stuffed full with school stuff. Laptop, textbooks, maybe sports-gear. She looked young, and I prayed she was over eighteen, and it wouldn’t end up being a matter for police and child protection. That’s always such a gruelling process.

“Hey there.” I said. “What’s your name?”

“Hi.” She reminded me of a little baby fox, or a kitten or something criminally innocent with those big, wide eyes. Secretly, I hoped Hans was right, as irritating as it would be. The homelessness system would chew this girl up and spit her right out. “I’m Anna.”

“What brings you in here so bright and early this morning, Anna?”

“My parents kicked me out.” She sniffled and wiped her nose on her sleeve. Up close, I could see that her fancy uniform was in fact quite dirty. Her skirt was crumpled, like she might have slept in it. There were a few sauce stains on her jumper and she didn’t smell too crash-hot, either. This girl, it seemed, was the real deal. “On Monday.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.” I told her, and I meant it. I always did. It never ceased to baffle me how quick parents could be to cast out their own flesh and blood. My own included. Ten years later, it still stings. “Can you tell me a bit about what’s happened?”

“They told me not to come back, that they couldn’t even look at me. They won’t even let me get my clothes or my charger or anything!” Anna broke down into tears at this point, as they often do. I brought her into one of our small, cosy counselling rooms and sat with her while the tears poured, and my curiosity piqued. What could have caused such a dramatic family breakdown? She seemed like a nice kid. Drugs, perhaps? Pregnancy?

I made her a bowl of Coco Pops, and offered her a coffee but she didn’t drink coffee apparently. Only hot chocolate.

Bless.

After she was fed and watered, and the tears had stopped at least for a moment, I had to get down to business. I sat across from her and took out my notebook, “So my name is Kristoff, and I’ll be doing your assessment today.”

I found out she had just turned eighteen - thank goodness - and had been sleeping in a cheap motel for the last few nights, paid for by her girlfriend’s leftover Christmas money. Immediately, my heart went out. I have a soft spot for the queer kids. I know how hard it can be.

She even showed me the text messages from her parents. Heart breaking, but good to know, should Hans come trying to pick her story apart.

Dad: We don’t know where we went wrong as parents but we cannot have you under our roof, especially with the younger kids around. They don’t need to see that filth.

Where am I supposed to go???

Dad: If you two are so grown up, you can figure it out yourselves.

Are you seriously kicking me out in the street?? Over a KISS??

Dad: Actions have consequences.

Yikes. I couldn’t believe there were people in this day and age who were still so closed-minded. I was determined to help her. To keep both of them safe. “So where’s your girlfriend staying? Does she need emergency accommodation as well?”

“She’s at uni today.”

“Yeah?” Damn, I hoped I hadn’t been too quick to make assumptions. Maybe the reason the parents had reacted so badly was due to age, rather than gender. “How old is she?”

“Twenty.”

Whew.

“She’s studying music down at Southbank. She has class this morning, but she’ll meet me here after. She’s, like, a music prodigy. She studies so hard and composes amazing songs. And she plays about sixteen instruments. She picks them up so easily, it’s like magic.”

Her face lit up when she talked about her girlfriend. Eyes shining like a cartoon character stumbling across a treasure chest. Noticing that the tears were gone, I encouraged her to continue, “How did you guys meet?”

“We met at church, actually.” Anna chuckled to herself, acknowledging the irony. “Our families know each other. I’ve loved her since I can remember.”

=x=

The girlfriend, Elsa, arrived in the afternoon. I recognised her straight away standing from Anna’s waxing poetic descriptions. The long, pale-blonde braid. Eyes “the colour of an ocean storm”. Okay, so the violin case might have also been a clue. Unlike her rambling lover, she gave short, curt answers. Part of my job is to make young people feel safe, to get a general story of their lives, but all I managed to discern was that her parents were religious. Fairly well off - she’d gone to the same private school as Anna. Didn’t seem particularly worldly. No job. Not a lot of friends or much of a support network. Poor thing was obviously anxious. She played with her braid throughout the whole appointment and looked down at her lap, shoulders hunched like they were carrying the weight of the world. She told me she was diagnosed with General Anxiety Disorder and took medication daily. Pretty normal stuff. We were just about finished when she burst into tears, and told me, “It’s all my fault. I’ve let her down. I’ve let her down. How could I let this happen!”

“It’ll be okay,” I tried to reassure her. “We’ll sort something out. None of this is your fault, Elsa.”

“It is.” She looked at me with pleading eyes. “It is my job to look after her.”

I didn’t bother arguing. Not now. It was first love - it was going to be a little melodramatic.

After Anna had collected some less conspicuous clothes, and the two of them took some food and toiletries for the road, I booked them in one of the less seedy hotels for the night and hoped for the best.

And that’s how it went for the next few weeks as they cycled through the system, like any other kids, slowly crawling their way up the waitlists for youth refuge.

They came in now and then for food, toothpaste, to wash their clothes, and collect their mail. As relaxed as anyone in their situation could be. Well, Anna was. She was a ray of sunshine, once she got over the initial shock, and we all enjoyed chatting to her and hearing about all her escapades. Hopes and dreams. She managed to transition to TAFE rather cheerfully, and was cautiously confident about finishing her high school certificate. Sometimes she even serenaded us with the little old ukulele we keep in reception. I suspected she may have tried marijuana a few times in the alley behind our building with the other kids. I had to gently redirect her, on one of these occasions, from eating Nutella out of the jar. Apart from that there were no incidents.

Anna was freer with her affection. A more expressive person in general, I figured. Elsa was more… businesslike. Tense and serious, a girl of few words. Her back was straight as a board, and she only smiled when she was looking at her girlfriend. She sometimes stiffened, gulped, and looked from side to side as though someone might catch and punish them.

I couldn’t help but wonder just how badly her parents had reacted.

=x=

“There’s something fishy about them.”

Hans was truly getting on my last nerve. He was from a youth justice background, and brought more punitive values with him. Always poking holes in clients’ stories, turning them away because they called up too late, or had a meltdown, or used another service. Or because they had a nice watch or a pair of shoes or a hat, something special to them they hadn’t hocked yet. Heaven forbid they keep one piece of their identity, one nice thing, before being deserving of help.

“What’s fishy about them?” I asked, not particularly engaged.

“Well, they went to the same school, right?”

“Yeah, that’s…” I rolled my eyes, “a pretty common way for kids to meet each other.”

“So, they come from these nice, middle-class families and went to this nice school, but they don’t have a single friend or relative between them who can help them out?”

It took all I had to bite my tongue. I didn’t want to just shout ‘homophobia!’ at the drop of a hat, being the only gay dude in the organisation.

But he really seemed to have it in for these poor girls.

“Obviously not,” I said, trying not to clench my jaw, “or they wouldn’t be here. Do you think it’s fun bouncing from one shitty hotel or short-term refuge to another for months on end? Do you think they just do it for kicks?”

“Maybe.” He shrugged and chugged his protein shake.

I came to the conclusion that he was jealous. Poor dude was constantly bulking and curling and getting facial peels or whatever, reading books and watching tutorials about how to pick up women. Swiping Tinder and Bumble and Match every spare minute. To no avail.

And these girls had just found each other without even trying. They were always so affectionate. Not in a gross, horny-teen, eating-each-other’s faces-way. But stolen kisses on cheeks, heads in each other’s laps, stroking each other’s faces and gazing lovingly into each other’s eyes kind of way.

It was so cute I almost died.

=x=

Elsa was late to her appointment, which was unlike her. She’d been crying, as well, which very much was like her.

I took her into a counselling room, where she explained she’d had to defer from university. Lost her scholarship, which was supposed to be paid to her in a month - her grades permitting. She’d been planning on using it for a rental deposit. The school had been letting her use hire-instruments to practise but it just wasn’t practical. She couldn’t cart them around. The hotels weren’t safe - a violin she’d been using had been stolen, and now she had a debt.

“I’m so sorry that happened to you, Elsa.” I felt responsible. It’s the hardest part of this job, the lack of options, the feeling of letting these kids down, constantly. But I swallowed it down and tried to reassure her. “It’ll be okay, though. You’ve got your whole future ahead of you. This isn’t the end.”

“That was our way out!” She was prone to catastrophizing. But in her defence, I guess, she was homeless. “I’ve sent my resume out to a hundred places in the last two weeks and heard nothing! We were counting on this money- I was counting on this money. I’m the worst- I feel like I’m ruining her life.”

I glanced over my shoulder, through the window, to the front space. Anna was smiling, pointing to the TV, chatting away with another client with a hot chocolate in hand. The situation wasn’t ideal, but ruining her life may have been a bit dramatic.

“Anna’s family are the ones to blame for putting her in this situation. They’re the ones who should be looking after her.” I said, with a bubble of irritation swelling in my chest, trying not to project my own feelings from my own life. “It’s not your responsibility. You’re only twenty. You’re doing great, supporting each other.”

“You don’t understand.” She looked down at her lap, tears dripping from her eyes. Nothing unusual. Of course we don’t understand, us silly workers. No one understands. She wiped her eyes, sobbed a little more, and repeated, “you don’t understand.”

I thought I understood. But she was right. I didn’t. Not yet.

=x=

Neither Elsa nor Anna was at the top of the refuge waitlist yet, but when the spots came up - 2x female, low mental health needs, low or no alcohol or drug use - I couldn’t help myself. I sent off two referrals, quickly, without getting the okay from my team or boss.

It was busy as usual. No one would notice. And I’m allowed to have favourites, okay? It’s not like they’re my kids. And how often do we get two spots in the same refuge?

Suzie noticed. She looked over at me, scrolling through the daily referrals and sipping on a mug of tea, and pointed out that we don’t usually house young couples together. It’s policy. Most of them are too unstable, then there’s all the drama if they break up. In general, it’s a recipe for disaster.

“Yeah,” I scratched the back of my head, trying not to look guilty.

But they’re so cute together, I didn’t say.

“But I think it’s probably one of the healthier relationships we’ve seen come through these doors.”

Suzie agreed with a chuckle, and Dave, too, who had been eavesdropping in the next cubicle, apparently. They wouldn’t be cycling through this system, month after month, year after year, with no end in sight. Like so many of our clients. This would just be a blip on the radar. They had bright futures ahead of them.

The only one who didn’t agree was Hans.

=x=

I didn’t hear from them for a couple of months. In my line of work, this is a good thing. I assumed it meant things were going well at the refuge. I didn’t see why they wouldn’t be. Anna was engaged in education. Elsa spending every waking hour looking for work. Neither using hard drugs, which, in this sector, is short of a miracle.

I hadn’t exactly forgotten about them. You don’t just forget about favourites, in this job. You always wonder what happened to them, how they’re doing, and usually you never find out. But let’s say, they weren’t at the forefront of my mind. The only thing was a phone call that Suzie took, I only heard briefly about it. The refuge called, asking for our health team to write a quick script for Elsa. Her refills had run out, or something, and she apparently didn’t know how to contact her psychiatrist. Looking back, I guess, it did seem a bit out of character, given how conscientious she came across. But she’d been through a lot. Psychiatrists take leave, or move to different practices. Her parents might have dealt with all that stuff before. All sorts of reasonable explanations. Suzie was following up, and I put them out of my mind again, hoping they were doing well. No reason to think they weren’t.

=x=

“Sisters.”

Hans stood in front of me, arms crossed, a stupid smirk on his face like the cat who ate the canary. I’d been in the middle of writing a long-ass case note and truthfully, I had no fucking clue what he was talking about. Probably another one of his weird fetishes. A made up gym story. “What do you want, Hans?”

“They’re sisters.” He said again, as though that meant anything, slamming a few sheets of paper onto my desk. “I told you there was something fishy about them. I knew it in my bones. And I thought it was weird that Elsa didn’t know how to contact her own psychiatrist, I mean, we know she’s not stupid.”

“You’re the one who sounds stupid right now. Or- or crazy! I’ve scanned their ID into the system, they have different last names. Anna Aren. Elsa-”

“-So anyway,” he cut me off, “I did some digging. Found a record at Southeast Mental Health services-”

“-Elsa didn’t sign the consent form for us to contact other services-”

“-Elsa Aren. She took her mother’s name, Frost, after the parents divorced. Cheeky little shit only gave us her school ID. It’s still Aren on all her official records. I even called the school, because I thought it had to be a mistake, but apparently it was a whole thing. Everyone knew about it. That’s why they have no friends or anything. I knew something didn’t add up.”

My heart sank. My stomach dropped. I didn’t know what to think. I got up, wordlessly, and headed to the kitchen. It was too early for this shit. I needed coffee, and a minute to think.

At first, I felt betrayed, I’ll admit. I know you can’t get too invested in the clients, but it’s a matter of pride in the job. I thought I’d built a connection. I thought they trusted me. I thought I’d made them feel safe. But they’d lied to me for months-

“Yeah, I know! Sisters! Gross, right?” Hans had followed, apparently, and was sharing this new juicy gossip with the whole goddamn office. Suddenly, the omission felt a lot less personal.

“Hans.” I stopped him in the kitchen, blocking the door. “What are you doing? This is confidential information, not one of your stupid gym stories.”

“My gym stories are fucking lit-”

“-I’m serious! Do you think this is funny? That kind of stigma’s no joke. The story spreads around and it could really fuck things up for them.”

“I kinda think it already has, bro. Maybe they should have thought about that before bumping donuts.”

I breathed out angrily through my nose, with any potential replies crashing into each other in my head, still kind of in shock. Still not sure how I felt about the whole thing. A bit grossed out, to be honest, and then a bit shitty with myself because my job is specifically to not judge young people with all sorts of strange and uncomfortable life stories.

“Hans, they’re my clients. Just, promise me you’ll tone it down, okay? Don’t go blabbing all about this. Or I’ll tell the boss you watch porn on the clock.”

“Yeah, alright, whatever.”

I saw a flicker of recognition in his eyes. That I meant business. He was already on a series of warnings from HR for constantly eating Suzie’s food out of the fridge, and making fun of Dave’s male pattern baldness, and probably a bunch of other stuff I didn’t know about. He couldn’t afford another.

But I still couldn’t shake the unease.

=x=

Unease bubbled into a panic in my throat the next time I saw Anna, in reception, arguing with Hans. Her voice was rising higher and higher with stress, as he stood there with his weight on one hip, that smug look on his stupid face. From what I could gather, he was turning her away.

My heart sank as I took in the details. She’d lost weight. Had dark circles under her eyes. Hair was a bit greasy, shoved into a messy ponytail and her clothes had that worn-for-a-few-days look. “Kristoff!” She budged past him, toward me, with pleading eyes, “I really need a housing appointment. We only need a few nights somewhere, Elsa’s getting paid on Thursday, she’s just started a job in a house factory! I mean, a box-house. A warehouse where they make boxes-”

“-Whoa, whoa, whoa, slow down,” I told her, but she didn’t slow down. She kept rambling on at a million miles an hour, a stress response for her. I reverted to our default question. Bringing it back to basics. The reason we’re here. “Where did you sleep last night?”

“McDonalds.”

I gave Hans a scathing look and took her aside for a quick chat. She told me she and Elsa had been kicked out of the refuge, and claimed she didn’t know why - but in my heart, in my bones, I knew.

And in her eyes, I knew she knew.

Still, it seemed a little harsh to kick them out onto the street. Of course, some kind of therapeutic intervention would be expected, but I know for a fact they’d dealt with much more challenging behavioural problems than sisters dating each other. Both girls had been nothing but polite, friendly and agreeable in my experience. A little heavy on the PDA, sometimes (in hindsight, rather brazen), but they’d sprung apart whenever I’d cleared my throat pointedly at them. So I decided to call the refuge and have a chat. Suss it out. See if they wouldn’t rethink it.

Just as I suspected. They were contacted by “one of our workers,” (no guesses who) who told them about the… the nature of the girls’ relationship. They were concerned, obviously. Referred them both to BrighterWays Family Therapy Centre and created a plan to transition Elsa to an adult refuge, when a spot eventually came up. In the meantime, they’d booked her into Sandy Shore Motel.

Yikes. Colloquially known as “stabby-shore”, it wouldn’t have been my first choice for her. Or for anyone, really. But there are only so many places that take bookings from a homelessness service. Most prefer to avoid the risk.

So Elsa packed her bags contritely, the refuge-worker told me, and Anna stood there in tears, like her sister-lover was going off to war or something. Distraught. Begging them to reconsider. Standing in the rain as Elsa’s bus rolled away. She almost stayed behind. Almost. She lasted two nights after that, then she was gone.

In between one client punching a hole in the wall and another nodding off on smack, I struggled to find the time for her appointment and could see Anna growing more restless. Pacing around and texting furiously. Drinking cheap coffee after cheap coffee in our little paper cups - she drank coffee, now, apparently. “Sorry it’s taken me so long,” I said to her, and I truly was sorry. “Why don’t you head downstairs with some fresh clothes and take a shower. I’ll just finish up this handover with the health team and then we’ll do your appointment, okay?”

“You have showers here?” She was stunned, as though I’d just told her we have dragons here.

“Sure do.” I led her downstairs and opened a cabinet full of soaps, shampoos, body washes, moisturisers and the likes, and she stared like it was a pot of gold. “Take whatever you like.”

After her shower, Anna looked (and smelled) much fresher. But she was still agitated. Picking at her chipped nail polish and shifting in her seat. Eyes darting around the counselling room which suddenly felt very small.

“Anna, you’re still welcome at the refuge.”

“No, I’m not.”

“I just spoke to the worker, they’ll have you back-”

“-No, you don’t understand! I can’t go back there. They… they see me differently, now.”

“Yeah?” Honestly, at this point, I was just curious if she would come out and say it. “Why’s that?”

She was balled up in the chair, looking as small and vulnerable as the day we met. Worse, in fact, because she looked ashamed now. “I think you already know.”

“About you and Elsa?” I said. “Yeah. Look, Anna, I can’t imagine what it’s been like carrying this secret. And after the way it was received back home, I totally get why you’re having some reservations. But the workers aren’t going to judge you-”

“-you say that, but you weren’t there, Kristoff! You didn’t see the way they look at me now, with revulsion and disgust in their eyes. And how they talk to me, all careful, like I’m some kind of ticking time-bomb.”

I nodded, hoping that wasn’t true. Knowing it probably was.

“Would you be open to looking at other refuges?”

“I can’t leave Elsa there in that shitty place all by herself. It’s scary! And it’s…” Anna sighed. Her jaw tightened. There was none of the previous light in her eyes. None of the cheekiness in her face. “It’s hard for us to be apart.”

I went to argue, having heard this sentiment so many times before from young couples who felt like the world would end if they couldn’t be joined at the hip twenty-four-seven. But something stopped me. The fact that they were sisters, not just girlfriends, is what stopped me. My brain was still imploding, to be fair. Trying to make sense of it.

“We shared a room, back home.” Anna continued. “Not because the house was small. There was a spare room. Two spare rooms, actually. And a sunroom. We just… preferred it that way. I’ve spent all of two nights without her in my whole life and I-” she paused and shook her head, “It was like I couldn’t breathe. And knowing she felt the same, just…”

She trailed off.

“Anna…” I waited for her to meet my eyes, and I could see that any trust left was hanging by a thread. “This isn’t going to be easy.”

“I know.” All traces of teen melodrama now faded away, there was only solemn understanding in her voice. A wisdom beyond her years. “But it’s true love.”

I pursed my lips, listening. It wasn’t that I approved of it exactly. And I didn’t understand, not really. But I could see that there was a devotion there. A willingness to make sacrifices, to give up everything for each other, to take this path less trodden. The path of uncertainty. Of risk. And what can I say? Something about that, well, it moved me.

Unfortunately, I knew my boss would make no concessions for true love. If they kept using the service there would have to be some kind of meeting about it. They would be booked separately, would be expected to engage in some kind of therapy, the likes. I told her this. I didn’t want to make promises I couldn’t keep.

In the end, I booked her for three nights, like she asked, and practically begged her to come in next week, anyway, even if they had a place to stay. For a welfare check. I even promised her a Target voucher. The kids love Target vouchers.

“Yeah, yeah.” She said without looking me in the eye. Checking her phone. “For sure. We’ll keep in touch. Anyway, I’d better go figure out how to find this hotel. Elsa’s finished work. It’s cold. She’s waiting for me.”

Of course she was

I never heard from them again.

Not for lack of trying. I called the other housing services, refuges, everywhere, trying to follow up. I called SouthEast Mental Health. I called the BrighterWays family therapy centre, and all the other family therapy centres, too. I called their phones, of course, but Elsa never picked up and I think Anna changed her number.

I won’t lie, it haunts me a little. Two girls, out there, in the big scary city. One meagre income. No support. Shit all street smarts. The only solace, I guess, is that I know they’ve got each other.

=x=

“Well, Mr Bjorgman, you’re quite the storyteller.” The CEO of CityCare looks down briefly at his bulky, expensive-looking watch, sitting across from me in a small, soundproof room, in his crisp, pressed suit.

“Well, it was quite a story.” I say, wondering if that’s a dig at my truthfulness. Wondering if I’ll be reprimanded for bumping the girls up the waitlist. Suddenly feeling the urge to scrutinise all my decisions. Should I have done more digging? Noticed that something was off? Showed less favouritism? “I still don’t know if they’re, like, still alive? Or…”

“Have there any other breaches in client-confidentiality that you know of?” He ignores my question, as his hard-faced assistant keeps typing on her little laptop.

“No.” I shake my head. “Is there a reason why you’re looking into this, now? Has something happened, have they made a complaint?”

“We can’t reveal anything about the investigation at this point.”

“Right.” My heart thumps. I have a sinking feeling in my gut. I want to ask again, if they’re okay, but I bite my tongue.

“Mr Bjorgman, you mentioned Mr Westergaard accessing pornogrphic material on the job. Can you tell us more about that?”

I take a deep sigh, and a sip of my water. It’s going to be a long afternoon.

#elsanna #april 2022 contest #prompt: home #submission #cw: homophobia

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semisgroupie · 3 years

Text

Third Time's The Charm

Club Member!Taichi x Fem. Reader

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: fingering (f!receiving), exhibitionism (Oikawa watches), condom usage (i know, crazy right?), praise, many many check ins, safe word mention, characters are college aged (both seniors in college so 21/22)

A/N: this is my submission for the @hqintheclub Haikyuu University Sex Club collab! Read the rest of the works here! I am so thankful for this network and to contribute to the collab, I hope this does a good job in conveying safe sex practices. Also a huge huge thank you to @meiansmistress for beta-reading!!! Yes the safe word is a little tribute to what Taichi does in the timeskip.

Once Shinsuke called the end of the meeting, Kawanishi stood up and made his way to the front of the room with his clipboard in hand.

“Alright my fellow club members, I’m just going to go over the statistics before the end of the month, who need to go for their STD tests and the notes I took from this meeting.” He adjusted his glasses and flipped through the papers. “Okay, so some recommendations from this meeting are, ‘buy scented toilet paper’ by Tooru. Yeah, not happening.”

A whine came from the back of the meeting room.

“Dude, why not? You know how girls have to pee after sex? They could have something that smells good while they do it!” Tooru’s eyes lit up offering his proposal, just like every other month, only to have it shut down again.

“Buy scented candles or something for your smelly bathroom.” Chuckles and snickers erupted in the room while Tooru sat back and pouted like a child. Kawanishi went through the rest of the recommendations and other areas of concern before moving onto the last topic.

“Okay, so for the fun part. Time to see who has had the most and least sex this month.” The room went dead silent as Kawanishi went over the log book. He did a onceover of the totals before looking at the group.

“So the lucky guy with the most amount of happy customers is… Osamu with eighteen.”

“Huh? ‘Samu? He isn’t even here! Not even a member.” Atsumu huffed and kept on ranting and raving about his brother until Kawanishi interrupted him.

“Actually, he’s an unofficial/official member who does not need to really attend meetings since we haven’t properly officiated his membership. But we definitely need to do that since he’s definitely bringing popularity to the club. Next is Mr. Chairperson Tooru and Mr. President Shinsuke both tying in with twelve happy ladies. Congratulations to the both of you. So, now the two least are—well you guys shouldn’t be surprised as these results have been consistent for a while now. But in good spirit, it’s me with two and Keiji with one.”

A shrug came from Keiji as the results were read. Kawanishi felt the same way, it got annoying every single time he had to read the results. They both knew they had to get laid but Kawanishi had his eye on a special someone.

The meeting was called to an end and Kawanishi made his way to his room to get ready for his chemistry lab. There was only one thing circling in his brain—he had to raise his number, but how? There was that one person he wanted but he wasn’t even sure if she even had plans to use the services the club provided, let alone choose him.

You were Kawanishi’s cute little lab partner. Always looking at him with bright doe eyes and always greeting him with a huge smile. You were too cute, too innocent to use the sex club. Kawanishi was sure of that. You probably even had a boyfriend so any hope he had for you was gone.

That was until he overheard you talking to your friends.

You were huffing and complaining about your sex life as you stood in front of the lab room—well, lack of sex in your life. You had a cute pout on your face as you rambled on, completely unaware of Kawanishi eavesdropping on such a private conversation.

“My toys aren’t even as enjoyable anymore! I just give up halfway through because it's the same thing over and over, I’m tired of it! And there’s absolutely no way I’m going to find a random guy on Tinder because he could be a creep or just horrible at sex.”

You sighed and started scrolling through your phone while your friend started thinking about what you said. Kawanishi recognized her, he knew her name started with a J and she was with Osamu last week. He remembered her moaning—well, screams—of Osamu’s name. As Kawanishi shook the thought from his head, “J” spoke.

“Remember that hook up I told you about last week?” She waited for you to nod before she continued speaking, “Well, there’s a website I met him off of. I’ll give it to you now and check it out. I think I saw a picture of your lab partner on the site. But check it out and let me know who you pick. Enjoy your class!”

You gave her a quick thanks before walking into the lab room, getting your goggles and supplies as Kawanishi soon followed. You made small conversation but every time you snuck a glance at him, you couldn’t see him as the type to be a part of the university’s sex club. Jay probably got him confused with someone else but for some reason you couldn’t wait until you got back to your apartment.

You just had to make sure. It was just curiosity. Well, that was what you kept telling yourself when you opened up your laptop and typed the web address in. You were met with the website, seeing the names of all the members and things that they specialized in. While you were scrolling through, your eyes widened and your heart dropped to your stomach.

Secretary: Taichi Kawanishi Specialty: Fingering

“Holy shit. It’s him.”

You read the name over and over again. Maybe it was just the lack of sleep finally getting to you or maybe it was because you unknowingly inhaled some drug that caused you to hallucinate and see his name. No matter how many times you refreshed the screen and rubbed your eyes, nothing changed. His name was still there and so was his specialty.

“Fingering? Well, he does have nice fingers. They are very long.”

You started thinking about his slim fingers, wondering how they would feel on your skin, grazing your most sensitive parts, but before you got too deep in thought you snapped yourself out of it. This was your lab partner! Not some pornstar or prostitute. Not some rando you met on a dating site. You would see him again if you decided to go through with it. How would that change how you two interacted with each other? Would it bring unnecessary tension?

You had this back and forth with yourself all night. You finally made your decision when you couldn’t get yourself off, the toy on your clit no longer bringing the same satisfaction it used to. With a huff you grabbed your laptop and went back to the website. Once the page loaded, you looked through all the guys and their specialties.

“Corsetry? What is that?”

You looked through the rest of the other specialties and you were equally intrigued and confused. You went back to Kawanishi and stared at his name. You didn’t want to ruin anything but you couldn’t stand this any longer—you needed a good fuck and you needed it badly.

“Fuck it.”

You scheduled an appointment with him, Saturday evening, a time where the site said he would be free. You put your laptop away and went to sleep.

The next morning Kawanishi woke up to frantic knocking on his door. He rolled out of bed and opened the door to be welcomed by Tooru.

“Dude, what the fuck? Did someone die?”

“No but check your phone, someone has been scheduled for tomorrow evening.”

Kawanishi rolled his eyes and checked his phone, the notification woke him up.

“Y/N scheduled me for tomorrow evening?”

“Don’t worry my friend. I will get you condoms. But aren’t you glad I sent you for STD testing on Monday? You can thank me later.”

The rest of the day went by normally, then Kawanishi remembered one of the main rules.

“New members and members who fuck the least need to fuck in front of an official club member.”

Kawanishi went to some of the other guys first, but Keiji and Koutarou both said they couldn’t. Shinsuke had to visit his grandmother and some of the other club members were occupied. That left only one person.

“Tooru, are you busy tomorrow evening?”

Tooru thought for a few seconds then shook his head. He furrowed his eyebrows in a silent question as to why he would be needed tomorrow evening.

“You forgot the rule, didn’t you?” Tooru kept a confused look and shrugged his shoulders.

Kawanishi pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed before continuing. Only if anyone else was free. He would take anyone at this moment over Tooru.

“People who fuck the least in the club need to fuck in front of an official member, and everyone one else is busy so I’m asking you.”

A smile grew on Tooru’s face as he got up and wrapped his arm around Kawanishi’s shoulder.

“Oh my friend, don’t make me seem like I’m the last choice—“

“—you are.”

“Ouch, anyways I’ll be glad to watch. Do you need any tips? All the girls have left with a smile on their face after a night with me. You know I would’ve never thought I’d say this but you should’ve gone to Seijoh or maybe I should’ve gone to Shiratorizawa… I would have gotten you laid all the time, or at least done a better job than stupid Ushiwaka, you wouldn’t have had this little dry spout you’re having now—hey!”

Kawanishi removed Tooru’s arm and walked out of his room.

“Thanks for doing it, I don’t need your help though. If you try coaching me, I don’t care what I’m doing, I will throw you out of the room myself.”

Kawanishi spent the rest of the night and most of the day Saturday organizing his room, making it neat and stuffing his mini fridge with drinks and snacks. When it was time for you to come over, he waited for you in front of the club house.

As he waited, his nerves were getting the best of him. He hadn’t felt this nervous since he lost his virginity. Before he could really start worrying, he saw you approaching, giving him a small wave before you could greet him with a hug.

“Hey, well first off, thank you for choosing me for this. I should explain that we will have someone watch us, so if that makes you uncomfortable I completely understand. It’s just a rule we have for the club and I can show you the rule book if you need me to once we get to my room.”

“It’s okay. If you don’t mind me asking, who will it be?”

Before Kawanishi could answer your question the man in question wrapped his arms around the both of you.

“Hello you two! I shouldn’t need to introduce myself but I’m Tooru and—oh! I recognize you, Y/N right? I think we had biology together last year. You saved my ass so many times with your notes. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure Kawanishi here treats you right—ow!”

Kawanishi pinched Tooru’s side and gave him a mean side eye.

“Tooru, remember what I told you yesterday.”

Tooru raised his hands in surrender at Kawanishi’s warning and you couldn’t help but laugh at the interaction. The sound of your laughter helped calm Kawanishi down a bit. He just had to get it through his mind that you were just a regular person with needs just like him, and he was going to help you satisfy those needs.

Light conversation was shared between the three of you as you all walked to his room. Once you crossed the threshold of his bedroom, Kawanishi took your hand as he led you to the bed and sat next to you. You rested your hand on top of his and offered him a shy smile, leaning in slowly.

“C-can I kiss you Kawanishi?”

He cupped your cheek and closed the distance between the both of you. Your lips felt so soft against his and he couldn’t stop himself from deepening the kiss. His hand moved to squeeze the fat of your thigh that was exposed by the skirt you were wearing. He broke away from the kiss to sit against his headboard, patting his thighs.

“Come on, come sit on my lap, pretty girl and we can get started. If you feel uncomfortable, your safe word is mojito. Once you say it, I will stop whatever I’m doing and we can just cuddle or do whatever you want, okay?”

You settled yourself on his lap with a meek “yes” before leaning back in to kiss him. Tooru was sitting on the spare chair in the room, scrolling on his phone. It was adorable to see you get so shy. You were always so confident and so outspoken, but once Kawanishi got you inside his room you crawled into a little shell.

He pulled you down to kiss you this time as his hands wandered over your body. His hands moved over your clothed breasts, squeezing them softly, making whimpers leave your lips. He moved his hands lower to your ass, squishing the flesh, and when you bucked your hips into his he gave it a light smack, swallowing the moan that left you. He pulled away to look at you.

“Can I touch you some more? I just want you to feel really good for me.”

“P-please touch me, w-want more.”

He smirked at your stuttering—it made this even more enjoyable. He leaned in and trailed kisses from your lips to your jaw and neck, your hips bucking more. You were so sensitive he couldn’t wait to see how you would react to his fingers. His hand trailed up your thigh and his thumb grazed against your panties. You bit down on your lip, trying to hide your moans.

It was embarrassing to you how quickly you were falling apart; he hadn’t even touched your skin for more than a few seconds and you already felt like once his fingers touched your bare pussy, you would cum.

Kawanishi licked your neck as he slid your panties to the side.

“Are you ready? I’ll go nice and slow for you.” He spoke into the skin of your neck as his fingers rubbed your slick folds.

“Yes, please.”

Your head dropped to his shoulder once he slid his middle finger inside you, moving slowly. He hissed at the way your cunt swallowed his finger, thinking about how it would feel once his cock was buried inside you. He sped up his thrusts, your muffled moans and whimpers encouraging his actions further. He slipped another finger in, leaning back to see your expressions as you quickly lifted your head from his shoulder.

Your jaw went slack as moans kept falling from your mouth, your hips bucking into his hand as you got lost in the pleasure, chasing your orgasm. His fingers were so long and hit so deep. They felt so good, better than any toy you had used in the past month or so. You were embarrassingly close to your orgasm after only a short time.

“Ka-Kawanishi, ‘m close!”

“I know, just cum for me, okay? Cum all over my fingers, let me know how good I’m making you feel.”

He thrusted his fingers faster, using his thumb to rub your clit. He rubbed your back with his free hand while watching all your expressions. Your hands made their way to his shirt, balling the fabric in your fists as you came undone on his fingers with a moan of his name. He slowed his fingers down to help you relax, making sure he wasn’t overstimulating you.

“You did such a good job for me. You look so beautiful when you cum. So good for me. Are you okay?”

“Yes I’m fine,” you reply breathlessly.

“We can stop here. All I care about is you cumming. I could continue fingering you until my fingers turn pruney if you want or I could get you some snacks and water and just talk.”

You shook your head; you couldn’t leave him hard. You wanted to fuck him, and the snacks and drinks could always come later.

“I-I want to fuck you. I want you to feel good too.”

“Don’t worry about me, this is all about you and your pleasure. I’m here for you, okay?”

You nodded as he reached over for a condom on his nightstand. You lifted yourself off his lap slightly to remove your panties and skirt as he pulled off his sweatpants and boxers, revealing how hard he was.

“Okay, so how do you want to do this? I want you to be comfortable and enjoy yourself.”

“I want to ride you.”

You sat yourself on his thigh as he opened the foil package and rolled the condom onto his cock, pinching the tip of it. Once it was on, he placed his hands on your hips to help you guide you down on his cock. His grip tightened, feeling your warmth envelop his cock and fighting the urge to just thrust up into you. He moved you down slowly until you bottomed out.

“You did amazing, now take your time. I’ll help guide your hips so you don’t go too fast.”

You placed your hands on his shoulders as you slowly bounced yourself on his cock, the tip brushing against your g-spot over and over again. Praises kept falling from Kawanishi’s lips as moans kept coming out from yours. Tooru couldn’t help but start palming himself over his sweatpants at the sight of you and Kawanishi, your sweet moans and cries filling the room. Your hands went under your shirt, freeing your breasts from the confines of your bra. You played with and teased your nipples, adding extra stimulation to the pleasure you were already feeling.

The closer you got to your orgasm, the more your legs shook, making him take more control. He bounced you up and down on his cock, thrusting his hips up to meet yours. You felt so good around him and the sight of you playing with your nipples turned him on even more. If he thought you looked beautiful when you were fucking yourself on his fingers, you looked like a goddess now. Your pussy clenched his cock tighter and tighter with each thrust, signalling to him that your orgasm was approaching.

“Cum for me Y/N, cum for me. I know you’re close, I feel you clenching me so tightly. Come on and cum for me.”

Once the soft commands were spoken, you came around his cock, your eyes clenched shut as your jaw went slack letting out a silent moan. As you were riding out your orgasm Kawanishi couldn’t keep his eyes off of you. Small beads of sweat rolled down your neck and you finally opened your eyes to make eye contact with him. You leaned down and connected your lips with his once more.

Kawanishi kept thrusting until he filled up the condom with his cum. Once he felt you relax around him, he lifted you up slowly and laid you down on the bed, covering you with a blanket. He pulled the condom off, tying a knot and throwing it out in the trash can in his room. He nodded at Tooru, giving him the signal to leave, and so he did with a wink and a wave.

Kawanishi reached out for your hand and helped you get up as he walked you to the bathroom.

“I just need you to go to the bathroom and then we could watch something.”

You did your business and left the bathroom with a small smile on your face.

“Is there any way we could have this happen again? I don’t know if you guys can have regulars or if it's against the rules.”

Kawanishi chuckled and walked you back to his bed.

“We have no rules about regulars and I’d love to do this with you again.”

He kissed you on the forehead and handed you a water bottle to drink from before laying down next to you.

As he laid down next to you, talking about a random topic you brought up, he finally understood when people said the third time's the charm. He couldn’t have asked for a better person to raise his total to three.

#taichi kawanishi smut #hq taichi smut #hq smut #haikyuu smut #tw exhibitionism #sex ed collab #hqintheclub

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wandsandwheezes · 3 years

Text

Fake It | Weasley Twins | CH2

one //

Warnings | Mature themes, fake relationships, secret relationships, love, sex, drama, angst, fluff, other chapters include smut 18+

Summary // Fred Weasley has been set up to publicly date Y/N, London's best Quidditch Seeker in order to drum up some publicity. Y/N however has a different ginger man on her mind; George Weasley.

creds to @vogueweasley for the moodboard<3

The warmth on your skin as George's arm lazily draped over your side, truly was a feeling you could get used to. Shamelessly it was your fourth night in a row you'd spent in his bed, a part of you longed for you to wake up in his arms every morning. George was not a heavy sleeper, easily disrupted by anyone and anything, perhaps the only way he'd ever sleep through the night was when he'd passed out drunk. Having seen just how affectionate he gets after a few too many shots, you were glad you hadn't been at the fire whisky fuelled celebrations.

Sneaking around with George was much easier at Hogwarts, no cameras, no fame, no interruptions; just kisses and evenings together. Part of the reason you and George had such a good time together in Muggle London was that more often than not, you were just a normal couple, free to kiss and hold each other in front of everyone. He pulled you from bed early that morning to take you on a surprise trip before your training that evening.

He'd gotten you to wrap up warm and comfy in an attempt to block out the freezing British winter winds. The ten minute walk from your home to the Embankment was full of conversations about all of the gorgeous Christmas displays, you even begged him to let you put up the Christmas tree early in the house, giving in when you looked at him with your puppy dog eyes, "I'm so whipped, aren't I?" he laughed, fingers interlocking with yours as you walked. His eyes trailed across the river before an Idea popped into his head, he nodded towards the London Eye, sat proudly across the river in all of its glory. "What do you say, Princess? Fancy heading up there for a bit?"

Your eyes were beaming the minute the wheel started spinning. You'd managed to get a pod all to yourselves, a rare opportunity, but one you grasped with two hands, laughing as he picked you up and spun you round and around. "We should run." you spoke softly, hand running through his hair gently as you looked into his eyes. "For you, I would." he murmured, catching your lips for a long kiss, it wasn't quick or fiery, just a deep, long passionate kiss. He took his time with you because he had it, there wasn't any rush here, no chance of being caught or stopped. His kiss said a thousand words about the way he loved you.

Looking out over London's bustling city with your head in George's chest made you realise just how perfect a life with him was. When there were no cameras, no press, no fakery and especially no Cherry in sight, It was easy to feel every beat of his heart, as they synced together beating as one. You were tracing circles on the back of his hand taking in every curve of his knuckles and the beauty of every sporadic freckle. Only you could differentiate the touch of your lover so distinctly, you felt him in the way he curled his fingertips up when he cupped your jaw, or how his arm would wrap around your waist with enough strength that made you feel protected.

"Where would we go if we ran?" You mumbled softly, your small fingers slotting through the gaps between his own. "Remote Indonesia…" he joked, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. "I'd go anywhere with you, My Love, one day we won't have to run, I Just wish eighteen year old me had enough balls to say he loved you and then we wouldn't be in this mess." you shook your head, pulling his arms around you tighter as you snuggled into his hold, "Don't you dare, George, It's you and me forever, no matter what, right?" he hummed contently, pulling your hand up to press a gentle kiss to your knuckles, trailing kisses up your arm to your neck between every word. "Forever, and ever, and ever, and ever…"

You'd just stumbled your way into your dorm, arm still in a sling after a pretty nasty accident, a bludger to the ribcage never did a girl any good. A box of chocolates lay on your bed, as well as a note.

Words aren't enough to tell you how sorry I am, I'll make it up to you, I promise . Get well soon, Y/N <3

-G

Locking eyes with George from across the great hall as you sat with your friends and he with his, he was looking at you with pleading, guilty glances. It really wasn't George's fault that the bludger hit you, sure he hit it, but you were on rival teams and that was the danger of the game. If the fact that he was the first at your side when you struck the floor should've made it obvious, but the fact that you were struggling to breathe and you couldn't move much really over shone the moment.

You were sat in the room of requirement, in front of the roaring fire, staring directly at each other. You were only a month into the relationship and It wasn't awkward, just unfamiliar, he wasn't sure if he could touch you or hold you, let alone kiss the pain away. Instead he settled for holding your hand, thumb brushing over the back of it comfortably.

"You need to stop blaming yourself George,"

"But I hurt you, and I-"

"Shh, baby, the massive Iron ball hurt me… It’s all part of the game." You had now leant forward to crawl onto your knees, kneeling before him, you pressed your lips to his, making him forget about his bewitching thoughts, now only focused on you.

"I'm going to protect you." George stated so matter-of-factly, that it made you recoil slightly. It was tough words from a 16 year old. He caught your expression, "I'm serious. It's going to be me and you, Forever." You were blushing, he made you feel like the only girl in the world.

"No matter what?" You questioned.

"Forever, no matter what."

After your impromptu date, George made his way to the shop and you went back to his to grab your phone, and get ready for practice. You'd left it there, the time away from the pinging and buzzing from Cherry's latest update

or her next best opportunity. You were unsurprised by the 30 odd messages from your Publicist rambling on, but one stuck out like a sore thumb. Fred. 'shit' you thought, 'I've gone and missed something.' hesitantly opening the message to see just one message.

>> are you gonna head by the shop today? No worries if not, I know you're busy x

<< I’ll try and pop in before practice, if not… coffee tomorrow? :)

You contemplated how your reply sounded while you stripped from your clothes to pull on your branded activewear, a picture caught your eye, the Gryffindor quidditch team, captained by Oliver Wood in Harry’s first year. They all looked so young and eager to get out onto the field. A devilish idea crept into your mind and you found yourself rooting through George’s drawers, finding exactly what you had set out for. You pulled on the old Gryffindor quidditch sweater, observing yourself in the mirror, It was odd to see yourself in the deep maroon and orange after years of donning the silver and green. You picked up your phone, sending George a quick text.

<< Meet me down the alley by B&B… I need to show you something. I’ll be 5 x

>> I won’t ask ;) x

You wrapped your coat around your shoulders, slinging your duffel over your arm before grabbing your wand, apperating just up Knockturn Alley. you checked over your shoulder, hoping not to be caught, you passed Bourgin and Burkes, spotting the boy with fiery red hair standing down the secluded alley.

“What did you need to show me then, trouble?” he joked leaning against the wall, steam billowing from his lips from the bitter cold. You smirked, unzipping your coat to show him the knitted sweater. “Is that-” you cut him off with a nod, fingertips reaching to zip your jacket back up, but his strong hands catch your wrists, pinning you against the wall. “Take it off or I’ll rip it off.” he was half joking, smirking down at you as you rolled your eyes. He caught your lips in a hurried kiss, his hand leaving your wrist to cup the side of your face.

Even with your eyes closed you noticed the bright flash, a flash you knew all too well. You’d been caught. Thinking quickly on your toes, you put on your signature giggle, pushing George’s chest away while whispering a soft ‘play along’, as your eyes caught his, you bat your eyelashes. “Freddie, stop it will you?” he tried his hardest not to laugh, as he backed up holding his hands up in defeat. “I can’t hold my girl from her practice any longer.” the small group of paparazzi were begging for another kiss, or at least more interaction, you dragged George away from the scene, “show’s over I’m afraid folks!” the cameras continued to rapidly flash as you quickly apperated him away from the scene to his office.

“That’s gonna be the front page tomorrow,” you sighed as you slumped into his desk chair, throwing your bag to the floor, “Cheryl is going to murder me in broad daylight,” He was gently rubbing your shoulder, before he leaned down pressing a kiss to your forehead. “We’ll fix it, baby.” he reassured you, tilting your chin up to look at him. “Forever.” the word that quickly became your ‘I love you’. You stood and pulled off the jumper, as well as your jacket, handing him back what was his. “Make sure to take it home will you? We can have some fun later with it,” you smirked, picking up your bag and sending him a wink before apperating to practice.

Cherry’s deep red car was outside of the stadium, you dreaded the conversation that was about to happen, contemplating just bolting out of there. ‘Better to face her head on than piss her off’ you thought, taking a deep breath to calm yourself down before opening up the door and climbing into the passenger seat with a smile. “You should’ve said you were swinging by and I would’ve showered, I feel bad stinking up your car!” you joked, trying your best to sound surprised by her visit as you pulled your duffel onto your lap.

“Good news, You’ll be the front cover of the prophet tomorrow.” you gasped, a smile on your lips, “I am?” she laughed, tapping away on her phone, pulling up a picture, “Yeah it’s you and Fred… locking lips. Care to explain what happened to the ‘no kissing’ rule” You took the phone thrust into your face by your publicist, looking at the picture snapped just a few hours prior. You had to admit George did look pretty sexy in the position he was caught in, you looked over at her with pleading eyes. “I’d love to congratulate you, but that’s not Fred you’re kissing, is it?”

You cocked your eyebrow at her, “Who else would it be? Of course it’s Freddi- wait you don’t think that’s George do you?” you laughed, pressing your lips together, to stop the full laugh erupting. “Don’t let Fred hear you say that, he gets funny about people mistaking him for George, you know.” she looked back at you blankly, clearly unappreciative of your laughter. “Come on Cherry, what reason would I have to be kissing George?” you tried to think of a reason around the ‘no kissing rule’ “The only reason I don’t like kissing Fred at events is because I don’t want it to seem fake, I’m obviously not adverse to kissing him, I just like to do it in private, He is an attractive man after all.” Cheryl was now squinting at you, she sighed however, pulling her phone back out of your hands.

“You’re right, why would It be George?” she adds, pulling the car out of it’s parking space, “Here, I’ll drop you home, you need a shower desperately.” you laughed pulling out your phone, seeing a text from both of the twins.

>> Let me know when you’re on your way home, I’ll stick the shower on for us ;) x

>> Coffee tomorrow it is! :)

When you jump out of the car, Cherry rolls down her window, to speak to you. “I want a nice kiss like that for the product launch.” you go to protest but she cuts you off. “Make it happen.” and with that she was away in the wind.

Today was a close call, almost too close for comfort. You and George needed to be more careful, and harder yet, you had to keep that copy of the Daily Prophet out of Fred’s eyeshot.

// TO BE CONTINUED // Chapter Three >>>>>

taglist // @starlightweasley @slytherinsunrise @gcdric @theweasleysredhair @whiz-bangs78 @weasleysflowr @vogueweasley @minty-malfoy @vivianweasley @feetoffthetablee @thisismynerdyself @rip-us @witch-and-a-half @sarcasticallywitty15 @pandaxnienke @loony-loopy-lupinn @pigwidgexn@starkidpotty @mrmoonyy @mackaywhore @softlyqoos @colorfulprofessornickelangel @fandomscombine @satellitespidey @txtdreamss @aaannabbanana @kaylahmarie

#Fake It Fic #george weasley fic #ginger hair #george weasley #george weasley x reader #fred and george #fred weasley #fred weasley fic #fred weasley x reader #weasley twins #harry potter fic #harry potter #harry potter writing #harry potter smut

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outofsstyles · 4 years

Text

WILDEST DREAMS

a/n: soo I’ve been working on this for a little while now and I’m very excited to share it with you al!! This piece is inspired by Taylor Swift’s music video for her song Wildest Dreams. If you’ve never seen the video, or don’t remember it really well, I recommend you watch it *after* reading the story so you don’t get it spoiled! If you’re interested then you can watch it by clicking *right here!!*

Word count: 17.2k Rated: M, mature

You agree to help your friend on her film project and Harry is playing your love interest.

“You’ve been frowning a lot and haven’t said a single word in the past five minutes, what’s wrong?” You looked up to your quiet roommate sitting opposite to where you stood near the kitchen counter.

A playlist you both had made months ago, meant only for cooking days, as Nia had instructed, played faintly in the background. You hummed along to the melody of a song you didn’t really know the name of, but had listened to it enough to mumble the lyrics, as you focused on cutting banana slices.

Nia was the one who brought up trying out a new fruit smoothie recipe she had found while scrolling around on Pinterest. She was pretty excited after coming home with the groceries, ready to start the process. Which is why seeing her sitting quietly as she glared at her phone was a big sign that something was wrong.

“I think Jordan is about to pull out on us,” she groaned loudly, locking her phone and throwing it on the counter, running her hands on her face, “I can’t believe this is happening a week before filming starts.”

“Oh, that’s not good news” you said, looking back at your friend’s defeated state in front of you as you threw the banana slices into the blender. “What happened?”

“He said he decided to go with his cousin to Ibiza.” Her arms muffled her voice as she lied on top of them, sighing once again, “this is the third one that leaves, I might as well just cancel the entire thing and fail this class.”

You rolled your eyes lightly at her, shaking your head as you listened to her dramatic reactions. Being her friend for as long as you have, you knew how stressed Nia got with a project, specially something she was passionate about. She was always too hard on herself, trying to push everything to be as perfect as possible, which is a good thing when you focused on the ultimate results. But she often tended to over-stress herself, and that’s what makes you worry.

With this one in particular, you could tell how excited she was from the day her teacher assigned it. She came back home and rambled for hours on end about making her first film. Which is why when she begged you to be part of it, and you couldn’t find it in your heart to say no.

It was a small production after all, it just being Nia and her partner Evan, whom you have known had gotten close to her in the past months. She assured it would a rather simple concept, with only two characters. The trickiest part being the fact that they would film it out of town, in a camp house that belonged to Nia’s aunt. You had agreed to it to make her happy, and with her promise of buying you chocolate muffins. Most uni students, however, didn’t seem as keen to sacrifice a week of their spring break as you were.

“You’re being dramatic Nia,” you reassured, turning on the blender and cringing at the loud noise that took over the place. “Maybe they just read on the script that they would have to kiss me a couple of times and got too nervous about it,” you tried to humor, raising your voice a bit before turning the processor off. Nia looked back at you with a serious expression, making you scoff, “calm down, grumpy pants, I’m sure Evan knows someone who can do the role, stop worrying.”

“All I do is worry, you know that,” she sighed, standing up to walk towards the cabinets behind you. She selected two matching cups that she had gotten for your birthday, one had Elsa printed on it, and the other Anna. You smiled as she placed them on the counter, knowing you always thought matching friendship objects were silly, but Nia loved it, so you loved it too. She looked vaguely at the blender, letting her shoulder weight down. “At least we have a banana smoothie.”

“And something else!” You said, jumping on your feet to get to the fridge and retrieved a tupperware. You held it in her direction and smiled, “leftover spaghetti from Joe’s!” you exclaimed, attempting to brighten her mood. She looked back at you, grabbing the container from your hands, as she tried to fight back a smile.

“Yes, how could I forget the leftover spaghetti?”

As the days passed by, the both of you had gotten more stressed out. Nia was still worried about everything related to her film project. With the days passing by and no one to fill the other role on the script, she found herself on a daily cycle of stress breakdowns.

Just two days after your former cast partner dropped out on the project to spend his week on the busy beaches of Ibiza, she had bought three different boxes of hair dyes. And as you helped her turn her hair into a light shade of pink, she cried about how everything seemed to go wrong in her life.

Meanwhile, you had been struggling to fight your procrastination tendencies and try to finish as much work as possible before spring break. A task that was showing itself to be extremely difficult, considering your mind seemed more focused on binge watching true crime shows on YouTube.

The blank document stared back at you from your computer screen, as you wished that if you looked at it for long enough, the essay would somehow write itself. Writing a couple of words but soon deleting them and going back to an empty page, you signed. Why was it so difficult to introduce a topic? You took a sip of the hot drink on the sparkly Cinderella mug you had chosen for the day, another one of Nia’s Disney-related possessions.

You frowned at the blank document, your failure to write a single paragraph still open in front of you. You heard a light knock on your bedroom door, but before you could even say anything, you spotted the already fading pink hair coming into the room.

Nia walked in jumping excitedly, saying your name in little squeals and almost tripping down as she made her way to sit on your bed in front of you. Breathing out, she looked at you with a big smile and messy hair before blurting out.

“We’ve got you a husband!” you stared back at her, arching your eyebrows. You knew she was referring to the role on the film, but you still laughed off at her choice of phrasing. “Evan got someone, it’s like his old friend or something, said he trusts him not to drop out.”

“Well, fourth time’s a charm, I guess?” you smiled at her.

“We’re planning a pizza night this Friday, so we can, you know, set the details and all that.” She properly lied down next to you, playing with the strings on the hem of your pajama shorts. “Also so you two can meet each other, of course, you’re going to be married for a week after all.”

“The way you say it seems like we’re actually doing it,” You laughed, finally closing your computer, and moving down to face her. “We’re just playing characters, Nia.”

“I know, I know… You’re really no fun, aren’t you?” She moved her arm up to support her head and poked you with her free hand as you rolled your eyes at her. “Also, he seems pretty cute, Evan showed me his picture, maybe you two can hit off.”

“I’m sure he is,” you tried not to fall for her attempt on teasing you over someone you don’t even know. Sure, you’ll be playing love interests, but you’ve done this plenty of times before, back on your theatre days. Kissing someone on stage doesn’t mean you have feelings for them in real life, and you knew that pretty well. You sighed, looking down at her, not wanting to engage into this kind of topic.

“Anyway, should we celebrate your new cast member and my inability to write a single sentence about art history?” you changed the subject, trying to distract yourself from your own thoughts. “We could watch Devil Wears Prada and make caramel popcorn.”

Nia gasped dramatically, “these are the most beautiful words I’ve ever heard coming from those pretty lips of yours,” jumping to her feet as she pulled you to stand with her. She then ran out of the room, screaming back, “I’ll get the blankets and you start with the popcorn!”

It’s been years since you’ve known Nia, but yet the dynamic between the two of you has never really changed. You’ve always considered yourself very lucky for having a friend like her in your life. From the day you met her in your English class, it was like seeing someone you had already known your entire life; it was always that easy to be with her.

You two became inseparable from day one.

Looking back, it’s crazy for you to realize how well your high school plans with each other had turned out. Most people you know had those friends in school they only really talked to because they saw them five times a week. But as soon as graduation came by they parted their ways and became only good nostalgic memories for one another. With the two of you, everything just worked out.

You both got into the university you wanted, ready to get matching art degrees. On your second year of college, you moved in together. And halfway through the course, Nia just dropped out to enroll on an eighteen months film school. And that’s when she met Nate.

You always knew she was destined to be that kind of person who just has one great love in her life. Which was funny considering that anyone who spent over five minutes with her and Nate in the same room could swear they would never work together. They just were those kinds of couples who are the polar opposite of each other.

Nia was a little social butterfly, who could start a conversation with anyone about anything. She could talk for hours with the old ladies at the grocery store about how the new brands of beans are just not as good as the ones not as well known. Or chat with the yoga moms about a new reality show that had premiered on Netflix. She loved experimenting on new things, trying out new recipes or mix distinct colors together on her clothes.

Nate, on the other hand, just wasn’t much of a talker at all. Since the start of their relationship, he often stops by at your apartment -wearing a different shade of grey every time - but it would be a lot to say that you two have had a conversation for longer than five minutes. He just mostly kept it to himself.

They balanced each other, which is why they worked so well.

It would be a lie for you to say you didn’t think about having something like that for you. You thought maybe you just weren’t the kind of person to have one meaningful relationship in your life. And that was okay. You’d like to think you’re better off on your own, anyway. But now and then you wondered how it would be to fall asleep in someone’s arms every day.

But you tried your best to keep those thoughts locked away in the back of your head. You knew that for the most part love is not really meant to last, Nia was just part of the lucky few.

The atmosphere in your shared apartment was cozy, as you waited for Evan and his friend to arrive before you started the pizza hangout, as Nia called it.

You both had spent the day tidying up the place, trying to decorate it a bit with some fairy lights and nice pillows you found in your room. It had been a long time since you had done any kind of social gathering in your home, and Nia wanted everything to be perfect. She even insisted on making the pizzas herself, which took most part of the afternoon, and a lot of bossing around on her part.

By the time the food was in the oven and the only thing left to do was wait, her boyfriend joined the two of you.

She was very talkative and bubbly, as she usually is, getting the wine bottles she selected for the evening and placing them on the counter as she chatted with him. It was nice seeing her back do being her usual self after such a stressful week.

You got the right amount of glasses, placing them next to the bottles, as you hummed along to the Declan Mckenna’s voice playing in the background. You weren’t really paying attention to Nia’s babbles, catching a word or two as she rambled about some dolphin documentary she had to watch for one of her classes. Pouring out a glass for yourself, you looked over to Nate who had a puzzled look on his face, as he tried to make sense of whatever rant his girlfriend had going on. You took a sip of your wine, and laughed lightly at yourself at the contrast between the two of them, something you had always found very amusing to observe. But before you could go further into your thoughts, the sound of the buzzer took over the small apartment.

“They’re here!” Nia gushed, as she quickly made her way out of the kitchen to get the front door, yelling back at you to get the pizzas out of the oven.

“Yes, ma’am,” you teased after she left, earning a light chuckle from Nate.

Making your way around the kitchen, you took out kitchen gloves that had figures of little chicks printed on them, giving one last check inside the oven to make sure everything was ready, before opening it and taking out the food. You could hear Nia greeting Evan excitedly in the background, as she rushed him and his friend to come inside. As their voices got closer, you turned your back to the entrance, concentrating on not burning yourself while you placed both pizzas on top of the counter.

“There’s our star!” You heard Evan’s loud voice taking over the kitchen space, making you look over your shoulder and laugh at him.

You turned around while taking off the gloves, as he pulled you into a tight hug, the strong scent of his cologne invading your nostrils. He wasn’t much taller than you, making him being considered short for a man. But his presence in a room was always so loud and bright that he seem much bigger than he actually is. You pulled back and looked at him, suddenly feeling underdressed in your own home. His entire outfit was bright red, being consisted of a jean jacket and silk pants, his eyes matching with vibrant eyeshadow taking over his whole eyelids.

“It’s very nice to see you again Evan,” you smiled at him, his hands still holding onto your shoulders as he looked warmly at you. “It’s been too long! You look fabulous!”

“Oh honey, you flatter me too much! It’s why I love coming here,” he scoffed playfully, coming to your side and wrapping one arm over your shoulder as he guided you. “But tonight is not about me, unfortunately. It’s about the two of you.”

As you finally moved your attention to the kitchen entrance, you realized another presence standing there. A man, who you assumed was Evan’s friend, already smirking down at you as both of you approached him.

You suddenly felt nervous under his stare while you could hear Evan commenting on something you didn’t really pay attention to. You had been taken completely by surprise by the man standing in front of you. Sure, Nia had mentioned to you once or twice that he was good looking, but you were not expecting this.

It was a weird feeling, being this affected by someone you had just met, but you would have to be blind not to notice. His face was beautiful, a sharp jawline contrasting his soft skin, his fingers poked at his bottom lip as he smirked, you could notice the hint of a dimple forming on his cheek. His hair was short, but still long enough to see the shape of slight curls forming in it, some locks falling charmingly against his forehead. But what hit you the most were his eyes, thanks to the dim lighting you couldn’t really tell if they were a shade of forest green or more of a hazel tone, but you could feel your cheeks warming up from the way he watched you as you got closer.

His shoulders were broad, as he was leaning against the entrance, the hand that wasn’t poking at his lip resting inside the pocket of his brown pair of trousers. He wore a blank white shirt, partly tucked in, underneath a beige cardigan. The sleeves had been rolled up to his elbows, making you notice the tattoos hugging the skin of his arms. You felt a curious wish to know how many more you could find under all the layers of clothing..

As you and Evan got closer, he moved from his leaning position to stand tall in front of you. The smile never leaving his lips, and his eyes still watching you closely.

“So, darling, meet Harry,” Evan spoke up, gesturing you towards his friend. “He’s a pest, but I’m sure you’ll get along just fine”

“Way to give a first impression, E,” Harry rolled his eyes at his friend’s teasing, before turning his attention back to you. He moved closer, embracing you into a side hug “S lovely to meet you-”

You quickly cleared your throat, afraid that your voice would give you away, before saying your name. The attempt didn’t really seem to work, as your words came out higher than you had intended. You could feel Nia’s gaze turning to you on the corner of your eye, but tried your best to ignore it. He repeated it, before shooting a smile in your direction, the sound of his deep voice and the way his lips circled around the words making the hairs behind your neck rise.

“Okay! So how about we move this party to the living room?” Nia’s voice broke into the atmosphere. “Everyone can get their wine glasses and make themselves comfortable while y/n and I finish arranging the pizzas.”

She shot you a knowing look, before moving to get the wine bottles and handing them to Nate. Everyone shifted to get their glasses and settle in the other room, leaving you and Nia alone.

You moved to get the knives and looked at the pizzas standing on the counter in front of you, calculating how you could cut out even slices on each. You could see your friend from the corner of your eye leaning on the counter staring directly at you.

“You know you can’t fool me even for a second, miss,” she teased, you could hear the smirk on her voice.

“I’m not doing anything,” you murmured, still not looking in her direction. She scoffed, elbowing you lightly as she mimicked you, saying your name in a high-pitched voice. You shot her a dirty look before shushing her, afraid the guest in the other room could hear her teasing. “I didn’t sound like that!”

“Oh please! You should have seen how you looked at him!” She rolled her eyes at you, “thought you were gonna drop down on your knees right then and there!”

“Nia!” you screamed in a whisper, your cheeks warming up at her words as you pinched her, making her squeal. You quickly shot a look at the entrance to see if anyone might’ve heard her, but they seemed to be enrolled in their own conversation. “Let’s just get this done quickly before they suspect we’re in here for too long.”

“Okay, cheeky girl,” she bit her lip and moved to get a knife to cut one pizza, but still eyeing you with a slight smile, leaning in one last time, “but I told you he was cute.”

Eventually, the two of you finished sorting out the pizza slices and joined everyone in the living room. Nia then rushed to join her boyfriend on the loveseat, leaving the only spot available for you being between Harry and Evan on the couch. She shot you a teasing smile, but you tried your best to ignore it and focus on finishing the wine glass you had poured for yourself earlier.

“Okay, so I’m going to need everyone to eat the food and tell me how good it is,” Nia pointed out to the center table where the pieces of pizza laid upon, “I’ve spent the entire afternoon on these babies, so eat up!”

“You know that I’ve helped you with them, right?” you added, squinting your eyes at her, “some credit wouldn’t hurt.”

“You only laid the toppings on the dough so they would look even,” she snapped back pointing a finger at you, “I did all the hard work, so shush it.”

But before anyone could move to get a slice, Evan was already stretching out his arms to stop you from moving. “Wait a second,” he spoke, “I feel like I’ve watched enough seasons of MasterChef to be the first one to judge.”

“I mean, you are the best critic I know,” Nia pointed, leaning in to get a slice and offering to Evan, “but again, I don’t really know any other critics.” She humored as he took the food, making a show of analyzing it.

Everyone waited expectantly as Evan bit into the pizza slice, keeping a straight face that didn’t reveal much of his opinions. Nia leaned in his direction, nervously biting her bottom lip as she waited for his final verdict.

“You have to be honest,” she warned, observing him, “but know that I can get my feelings hurt pretty easily.”

“I don’t mind that,” Evan finally said, straightening his posture as he looked back to Nia’s waiting eyes, “I’ll say that it’s not the best pizza I’ve ever had,” he announced, “but it works.”

“You know what, I take it,” everyone laughed lightly as Nia visibly released a breath she had been holding in, “It’s not a bad review for a first time.”

The hours went by quickly as you eased into a conversation with everyone. It was nights like this you missed the most when the stress of all the accumulative work weighted on your shoulders. Having a more of a cool night to hangout with a few friends, drinking some wine and chatting about whatever topic came to mind.

As time passed, you could tell Nia and Evan got more agitated, probably due to the amount of wine they had consumed without even realizing. They chatted excitingly about Midsommar, their voices raising a bit too loud. But every time you tried to shush them, jokingly reminding of the neighbors next door, they would soon forget about it again. You watched them babble, giggling when they would get excited on a certain topic and start to trip over a few words.

You also felt lighter because of the alcohol, not as much as them, but still enough so you could feel your chest warmer and your mind a bit dizzy. You still felt an annoying tingle at the pit of your stomach when you felt Harry’s eyes fixating on you when you spoke, or when your hands brushed as you reached for the bottle at the center table. It was silly, and it made you feel like a teenager being in the presence of an attractive boy for the first time.

When it all quiet down eventually, Nia had dragged Evan to her room so he could give an insight on how she could decorate it. It was something she would do now and then, give her room a big renovation so the change in the space could make her more motivated, or something like that. Sometimes, if she felt inspired enough, she would change around the living area or even your own room - when you allowed her, of course.

Nate was still sitting on the loveseat looking like he was about to fall asleep at any moment as he scrolled through his phone. He hadn’t spoken a lot during the night, which wasn’t unusual for him, but he still managed to chat for a bit.

That left you and Harry alone sitting on the main couch, with one person less it left you enough space to cross your legs, making yourself more comfortable. He was sitting on his side, his back resting on the big pillows by the arm of the couch, his chest turned towards you.

You reached for the wine bottle at the center table, realizing there was just a bit left, enough for a last glass for the two of you. “Wanna help me finish it?” You turned to him with the bottle in your hand. He had a smile resting on his lips, as he raised his glass toward you so you could pour the liquid into it. You could tell his eyes were a bit cloudy, but you knew none of you had had enough to be drunk.

“Thank you, love,” he said, the raspiness on his voice as he spoke the pet name making the hairs in the back of your neck rise. You poured yourself the rest of the wine left, emptying the bottle as you settled it back where you got it. “Should we make a toast?”

“Sure,” you replied easily, smiling at him, “what should we toast for?”

He looked away, puckering his lips slightly as he made a puzzled expression, a hand scratching at his chin as if in deep thought. You giggled at his dramatics before he pointed his finger up, his face turning into a big smile. He raised his glass in your direction, as you did the same. “A toast for being husband and wife?”

You chuckled, clinking your glasses together, “that’s fair,” you said, “ ‘s why we’re here after all, isn’t it?” you joked, taking a sip of your drink before settling it down on your lap.

“Sure is,” he mimicked, rising his glass to his lips, a smirk still adorning them as he managed to not break eye contact. He took a small sip before settling his glass back on the table. He scratched the tip of his nose slightly with the side of his finger, before he relaxed back on the couch. “So” he spoke up, bringing your attention to him, “E told me you’re an actual actress,” he raised his eyebrows at you, “made me a bit nervous, love.”

“That right there is a lie,” you chuckled, biting your lip and shaking your head. “I used to do theatre back in the day, haven’t done any acting for years though.”

“A theatre kid, huh?” He laughed as you rolled your eyes jokingly.

“I’m aware we have a poor reputation, yes,” you said, “I reckon we deserve it, but we weren’t that bad, I promise.”

He giggled, making your heart skip a beat at the sound. His smile was something you could easily get used to, the way it formed crinkles in his eyes and the dimples deep on his cheeks. You had to stop yourself for staring too much, moving your gaze to the glass on your lap.

“People are too harsh on theatre kids,” he reassured, “I think it seems pretty fun — only time I did it was when I played Elvis when I was about five, I think.” He added, resting his arm against the couch, his hand just a few inches away from your shoulders. “Had the time o’my life though.”

“You got main character though, that’s impressive,” you expressed, raising a hand to poke at his side playfully. “Have you done anything since your big debut as the king?”

“Can’t say I have, no,” he chuckled, “guess this is my big comeback, maybe I’ll get a call from broadway soon.”

“I’m sure you will!” You giggled, taking another sip from the glass in your hand.

You found it easy to dive into a conversation with him. You were both giggly from the wine, but it still seemed like you could stay like this for hours on end, just talking to each other.

He told you he wasn’t planning on doing the film, considering he never really thought about acting. But when Evan asked him if he could be part of it, he saw how desperate he was to fill the role, so he agreed. It warmed your heart to hear how fondly he spoke about his friend, telling you how willing he was to help, even if it involved doing something out of his comfort zone.

You two bounded over your mutual wish to become teachers. You found out he was studying Literature, a choice that for him as an easy one, considering throughout his life he had always been an avid reader. He said no matter how harsh thing got, he always found an escape between books, you could tell how passionate he was about it as he spoke about his favorite reads.

Eventually, you could hear voices coming closer from Nia’s room, as they seemed to be gushing about the filming that was starting soon.

As Evan came into the room, he made his way to the couch, placing his hand on Harry’s shoulders. “Honey, as much as I wish we could stay here ‘til dawn, I’m afraid we must get going.”

With his declaration, everyone moved around to gather the dishes splattered across the center table to put it all at the kitchen counter. After some insisting -mostly on Harry’s part- on helping with cleaning, you convinced them you two could handle the task just fine. And they were the guests, after all.

Finally, you said your goodbyes, pulling Evan on a small hug, assuring him you’d do your best to do his script justice.

And as you came to face Harry, he leaned into a hug, giving you a last kiss on the cheek, before telling you how lovely it had been to meet you.

You had woken up with your door opening abruptly, making you jump a bit from the sudden change in the peaceful atmosphere from your deep slumber. Before you could process the situation in hand, Nia was already pulling out the covers and spitting out words at a faster pace than you could comprehend in your mind state.

“Get up already! We are very late,” She urged as you lazily scratched at your eyes before sitting up to look at her. “Evan is going to kill us!” She cried out.

Your head pounded slightly, making you search for your water bottle previously prompted by yourself the night before, knowing you would need it in the morning. You reached for it in your nightstand, taking big gulps as you watched amusingly Nia run around your room picking random clothes and throwing it in a duffel bag you had just noticed.

Resting the bottle down on your lap, you yawned lightly, still in the process of waking up. “Calm down Ni,” you mumbled, “We still have time, we’re only leaving at like, two.”

She looked back at you as if you had just slapped her across the face, your shirt falling partly from her hand. “It’s already one,” she informed, making your eyes bulge as you reached to check on your phone, confirming as it read 1:16pm. “We don’t even have our bags packed AND we got a sink full of dishes to wash.”

The minutes after that were rushed, as you two did your best to get ready as fast as possible. Mentally slapping yourself for leaving everything for the last minute, but still managing to pack your bag in record speed.

But as time passed and the list of things to do was still far from over, Nia phoned Evan and let him know you would need a few more hours to be ready to leave. To say he wasn’t the happiest about the news was an understanding, but there wasn’t much he could do about it.

A couple hours later you were finally packed, and after a quick stop to shop for road trip snacks you were off on the road.

You left much later than planned, and even if it wasn’t that much of a long drive, it was still 3 hours until you got there. The ride itself was mostly quiet, except from Lorde’s Melodrama playing softly in the background. You hummed along to the words, but apart from that there wasn’t a lot of talking between the two of you, all due to the limited amount of sleep you got from the previous night.

As you got closer, the scenery of open grass camps and blooming flowers at the peak of spring was a peaceful change of scene from the busy city streets you were used to. And when you finally got to the house, the sun was almost setting on the horizon. The sky being a satisfying mixture of blue and orange. There was a car already parked in, and as you got closer, you could see two figures sitting on the front stairs.

Getting out of the car, you quickly made your way to where they stood. “Have you been waiting long?” Nia asked as you got closer to them.

“Longer than I was planning to, I’ll say that,” Evan replied, taking off his sunglasses to greet you.

Harry came up from behind him, looking incredibly cozy wearing a knitted cream sweater. It took everything in you not to nuzzle on him as he met you with a quick embrace. You had to focus on keeping your breathing steady as you looked up at him when you parted. The sun coming from behind you doing wonders as it hit his face perfectly. His eyes were the prettiest shade of green as he smiled down at you before moving to greet Nia.

“We’ve been here fo’ ten minutes, don’t listen to him,” he assured with a small laugh.

The house itself was much bigger than you expected, it wasn’t huge, by any means, but you had pictured a small cottage with barely any space for the four of you. The place, however, was big enough for you to have your privacy but still small enough to feel cozy and welcoming.

You quickly found there were three rooms, and despite you arguing you didn’t mind sharing one with Nia, considering you two lived together, she still insisted that you and Harry had your own bedrooms. It was her way of thanking you for agreeing to help them.

After you got established in your respective room, you met everyone down at the kitchen. The place was loud with chatter as they played around while making dinner. Nia seemed to boss the boys around to cut the vegetables properly, as she concentrated on figuring out how to work the old stove. They laughed lightly as she cussed under her breath in frustration after another failed attempt. You watched quietly for a moment, before joining in to help her.

You finally turned the stove on with the help of a few matches you found laying on the counter, being able to cook with no more trouble. It was already getting late when you finished eating and gathered the dishes to lay them on the sink. Still, Nia insisted on watching one of the movies she had carefully selected on her extended collections of DvDs to bring with her.

You decided to make yourself some tea while the rest of them moved around to arrange themselves for the movie night. After offering if anyone else wanted a cup as well, you were met with Harry’s warm smile as he accepted shyly.

Soon enough everyone settled down on the big couch to watch the movie. Evan took his place on one of the armchairs, while Harry opted to sit by the end of the couch, setting his legs on the footrest in front of him. As you walked in with your mugs, he gazed up at you, shooting a soft smile and muttering a quick ‘thank you’ as you handed him his drink.

He patted the spot next to him, indicating for you to sit, to which you happily obliged.

“Wanna share?” he asked, holding up a blanket that lied at the arm of the couch. “There’s jus’ three of ‘em.”

“Sure,” you replied, moving to pull the blanket, so it was covering the two of you. You knew very well you could always get an extra one from one of the bedrooms, but you would never bring yourself to suggest it.

Finally, Nia entered the room with a small pack of m&m’s on one of her hands and the DvD case for ‘Love Actually’ on the other. She was quick to insert it on the player before settling down next to you. Pulling out the leftover blanket for herself, she lied down to rest her head comfortably on top of your legs.

It didn’t take long until she fell in deep slumber, cuddling up on your lap as soft snores left her lips. You pouted slightly down at her. The poor thing was exhausted from driving all the way, and the bad night of sleep the day before.

As the movie progressed, you could feel your eyelids getting heavier as well, the words coming from Keira Knightley’s mouth becoming more of a background noise as you fought to keep yourself awake. But before you could doze off, you felt Harry shifting slightly next to you. Suddenly feeling his arm hugging your shoulders, as he gently pulled you closer.

You moved your head to look at him but before you could say anything he shushed you softly and pulled you back in. “ ‘S fine, love,” he whispered, “can see that you’re tired.”

And with a half-woken mind and heavy eyelids you laid back on his shoulder and allowed yourself to snooze.

You woke up with him shifting again from under you, opening your eyes slowly to find the end credits rolling up the screen in front of you. You yawned lightly before sitting up, being careful not to wake a still-very-much-asleep Nia on your lap.

“Sorry,” you heard Harry say as you scratched at your eyes, “didn’t mean to wake you.”

“It’s fine,” you assured, your voice a bit raspy from your nap, “would have to happen, eventually.” You looked down at the unconscious girl lying on you, knowing you had to get her to bed so she could sleep properly. “We should wake her.”

“Want me to carry her to her room?” he asked.

“I think she’ll be okay,” you replied, gently calling her name so she could slowly wake up.

Surely, it didn’t take a lot of coaxing to get her eyelid to flutter open, as she lazily rose from her sleep.

You helped her to her room, afraid she’d trip down the stair in her hazy state of mind, still half asleep as she dragged her feet across the floor.

As soon as she laid down in her bed, you made your way back to the kitchen to fix yourself a glass of water so you could go to sleep.

It surprised you to find Harry still awake as you entered the space; he looked up at you from his position leaning on the counter with his phone in his hand. Quickly placing it in his back pocket as he saw you coming in, giving you a slight smile. “Thought you’d gone to bed.”

You reached for the cabinet Nia had pointed you to earlier where the cups were placed, picking one with little thought and closing it. “Just came here for a glass of water,” you spoke, moving the cup under the tap, “always have one next to my bed, y’know, in case I get thirsty and stuff.” You shook your head slightly, not wanting to ramble about the benefits of staying hydrated during the night just to make a conversation.

“Smart girl,” he joked, causing you to chuckle as you felt blush creeping out on your cheeks. You could see him coming closer to stand next to you from the corner of your eye, which didn’t help the tingly feeling forming at the pit of your stomach. “Excited fo’ tomorrow?” he asked, crossing his arms on top of the counter as he leaned next to you.

“Guess I am,” you answered, looking up at him and finding he was closer than you had realized. You smiled nervously as you met his eyes gazing down at you, before clearing your throat lightly. “What about you?”

“To be honest ‘m a bit nervous, love,” he confessed.

“Why’s that?”

“I mean,” he started, his eyes still fixed on you, “ ‘s not every day I get to pretend ‘m married to a pretty girl like you.”

You could feel your heart skip a beat as he reached one of his hands to move a strand of your hair behind your ear. He kept his hand on your cheek just as his eyes seemed to gaze down at your lips, so subtly that it felt like you might’ve imagined it.

The silence in the room was loud as you could almost hear your heartbeat pounding in your ears, as he leaned down just barely, getting closer to you. He looked down one more time at your lips, this time making sure you realized the unspoken question behind that action. You suddenly felt water pouring through your fingers, as the forgotten cup in your hand overflowed. This caused you to jump back a bit, quickly turning the tap off and resting the glass on the counter.

“Oh my god,” you squeak, reaching out for a towel right next to the sink to dry your hand. “I’m sorry, that was-” you chuckled, glancing at Harry who seemed to watch you with an amused expression. “That was awkward, sorry.”

“No need to apologize,” He assured, picking the full glass and moving it in the counter so it was out of your reach. “ ‘t was actually quite cute,” he moved closer to you again, reaching his hand to hold at your jawline.

You held back your breath as you felt his own hitting the top of your upper lip, your noses brushing slightly.

“Been wanting to do this fo’ a bit now, love,” he spoke a bit above a whisper, his deep voice sending chills down your spine and making you grab at his sweater, ”would you let me?” his thumb caressed your cheek lovingly, “would you let me kiss you?”

You could feel your heart beating strongly against your rib cages, swallowing hard as you looked up at him. He was watching you closely, his dark emerald irises gazing down at you as your lips barely brushed. You nodded at him, trying to pull him closer.

“Use your words, darling,” he insisted, not budging from his position. “Wanna hear you say it.”

“Please, Harry I-” you moved your hand to grasp on his waist, “just —kiss me.”

Giving a satisfied hum, he finally leaned down, closing the space between the two of you. His hand remained stroking your cheek softly, as the other sneaked under your neck.

He moved his lips ever so slightly, his cupid bow founding its way above your inner lip, sucking on it gently. The kiss was teasingly slow, making you hyper aware of all of your senses. Your hands feeling the soft fabric of his sweater, grabbing at it as if asking for more.

He moved the hand on your neck, pulling gently at your hair, making you angle your head up a bit. As his tongue poked to lick at your bottom lip, you opened your mouth, deepening the kiss.

You stayed like this for a while, pressed against the kitchen wall as you enjoyed the taste of each other.

When you pulled back, he splattered a few kisses along your cheek, giving one last peck on your mouth before pulling back.

“As much as I don’t want to end this now,” he muttered, moving his hand, so they were both holding your cheeks, “We should get some sleep fo’ tomorrow.”

“We should,” you agreed.

“We’ll get the chance to do this again,” he said, making you bite down a smile at the innuendo behind his words.

He gave you one last kiss before pulling away completely, reaching for the glass of water you had already forgotten about on the counter and handing it to you.

You walked back to your rooms without saying a word, but still sharing glances and smiles along the way. And as you got to your respective rooms, you whispered quiet good nights before parting ways and closing the door behind you.

The days that followed were rushed, considering the filming had officially started. You two barely had the chance to be alone again, which was disappointing. But still you couldn’t find yourself time to miss the feel of having his soft lips against yours, considering the scenes you had with each other. What you did miss was being able to kiss him without it being written in a piece of paper, or having someone from outside tell you to. You missed the intimacy of feeling his tongue meet your own and having his hands pulling you close as you both craved for more. You missed the shared secret between just the two of you, that was knowing how it felt to have him all to yourself.

It was discomforting, earning for someone you barely even know. Jumping into a feeling you know there’s no way can end well. You both were playing characters. Lovers, yes, but it was all pretend. It didn’t help that he was so good at it. In front of the cameras he would be so loving that you often wondered how much of it was just part of the act.

It was subtle things that made you think of it, like a glance across the room between takes. Him leaning close to you every time they called you to watch back something you had just recorded. Or when he sucked in your lip during a scene, so softly you could barely notice but still made your heart skip a beat.

But as much as it was nice to pretend that you two had some shared secret, you knew that the most likely scenario was that he was just doing his work and being friendly. So you tried your best to convince yourself that all of it was just your mind playing tricks, this way you could prevent yourself from inevitably getting hurt. That encounter in the kitchen was most likely his way of making things less awkward to when you inevitably would have to do it in front of a camera. That was it, nothing more.

It seemed to have worked pretty well, you two had the chemistry Evan hoped for when he wrote his script. Nia kept teasing you with every given opportunity. You didn’t tell her about the late night kitchen situation, but you knew she could sense the ‘chemistry’ was not simply because you two were just that good at acting. No one was complaining though, considering everything was going so smoothly they suspected it could be wrapped up even earlier than expected.

Every time they would mention the possibility, you found yourself wishing deep down something would set you back on the schedule. You felt bad for it, and you never voice your inner thoughts, but you knew wrapping up early meant going home early, and you were getting a bit too comfortable getting to act all loved up on camera.

As if some kind of outer force had listened to your wishes, just as you were halfway throughout the week, mother nature seemed to be your biggest ally.

You had just woken up with the annoying tune of your alarm clock, one you had chosen for finding it soothing at first. But you soon found that those sounds are not meant to feel soothing at all, as it woke you from your deep slumber. You were quick to turn it off before rubbing your eyes softly and enjoying the warmth of your bed for a few more minutes. You could hear the gentle sounds of raindrops hitting your window, but barely paid any attention to it as you rose lazily, stretching your arms above your head.

Making your way down the stairs you first noticed Evan standing by the big window in the living room, looking out with a hand resting on his hip and the other one holding a mug. Behind him, in one of the armchairs, sat Harry, also drinking out of a mug as he read a book quietly. But as if he felt your presence as you got to the bottom of the staircase, he looked up, smiling at you as you made your way into the room.

“G’morning,” he spoke, alerting the man by the window of your presence as he turned around to look at you.

“Good morning,” you said back, before realizing the worried expression on Evan’s face, “is everything okay?”

“A disaster just happened, honey, look out the windows!” he snapped, gesturing behind him where you could see the rain hitting the glass. The sky was dark with clouds, suggesting it was just the beginning of the storm that was to come. You looked back with a puzzled expression, knowing the weather was not the best, but as far as you remembered you had already shot all the scenes you needed outside. Evan rolled his eyes, “our natural light is gone, honey, it’s too dark to shoot!” he barked.

“Hey, no need to yell at her like tha’,” Harry looked back at his friend, attempting to calm him down, “ ‘s fine, we were early on schedule anyway, one day is not gonna delay it.”

He shot a look at Harry, his hand finding its way back on his waist as he let out a deep breath. “I’m sorry, this is just incredibly frustrating.”

You smiled at him to assure it was fine, knowing how much stress he was putting on because of this project. “Doesn’t Nia have one of those light things you were using the other day to make the scene brighter?” You suggested.

Evan sighed, “that’s a reflector, it just— well, reflects the light, we would need the sun for it to work, and seems like she’s not showing her face anytime soon,” he weightened his shoulders down, clearly feeling defeated. “I guess today is our off day — we should use it to pray for sunlight tomorrow, otherwise I’m pulling my hair off.”

When Nia woke up, you could tell she was not happy at all with the news that filming had to be cancelled for the time being. She spent the whole breakfast whining and crying about the poor weather. You tried your best to console her, but knowing your friend you knew her dramatics showed off when she worried about something. She tended to overthink every scenario that could go wrong, which did nothing to help the pressure she put on herself.

The day went on as eventless as it possibly could, the rain outside just seeming to get angrier as time passed by. You did your best to distract Nia from her own head, asking her about the recent documentaries she had watched, knowing she could go on tangents for hours. You talked about crime shows you have started before filming and shared different theories you had on them. You even listened to her deep analysis of trashy reality shows she loved to watch and always tried to drag you to get into it.

You talked and talked with no end, considering there wasn’t much else to do. Nia’s aunt hated computers and refused to install any kind of wifi, leaving you with a shitty connection that barely loaded a five-minute video.

As the evening came by, and the raindrops still hit angrily at the windows, you decided to watch another movie — this time it was Evan’s choice of Freaky Friday.

You volunteered to grab the blankets from the cabinets on the second floor, while Nia excitedly announced she would make popcorn for everyone.

Quickly moving along the hallway, you made your way in front of the doors and opened them. You could hear footsteps coming up the stairs as you tiptoed to reach the top shelf where the soft blanket you had used the first night lied on top of.

“Need help?” You heard a voice approach, looking over your shoulder to find Harry walking towards you with an amused expression on his face. You nodded, chuckling as you quickly stepped out of the way to allow him to take your place. He reached up, easily retrieving the blanket and giving it to you.

“Thank you,” you muttered, looking up at him for a moment.

“No problem, darlin’,” he said, fetching two other blankets before closing one door with a swing of his hip. You closed the other one with a small giggle. You started to quietly move along towards the staircase when he cleared his throat, causing you to look up at him. He kept his gaze down before speaking softly, “After the movie, think I’ll go back to my room a bit early,” he looked at you for a moment, “ ‘f you want to join me.”

You stopped walking to look at him arching your eyebrows surprised, not expecting this kind of proposal at this moment. He stopped a step ahead of you, staring back with nervous eyes and shooting you a shy smile. “I’m not saying we have to do anything, I just-” he spluttered, “just wanted to be with you, without the camera and stuff.”

You smiled at him, “of course,” you voiced, “sounds nice.”

Shortly, you found yourself in the same position as the first day. Sharing a blanket with Harry, but this time Nia was wide awake next to you with a bucket of popcorn plopped on her lap. Some people would consider her to be the worst kind of person to watch movies with, considering she would always get too excited and comment on every scene she could. You had gotten so used to it with time, that it felt weird watching a movie without her voice interrupting a scene every five minutes.

It got hard to concentrate on this one in particular, and not because of Nia’s speaking over the lines, but the sudden feeling of Harry’s hand resting on your knee halfway through it. Your legs were crossed on top of the couch, making part of it rest slightly on top of his as he eased his thumb over your skin.

As time passed, he moved his hand up a bit, finding its final place on your inner thigh, causing goosebumps to arise on the back of your neck as he caressed it softly. You caught yourself holding your breath multiple times, something he was also probably aware of, considering the position of his arm on the side of your chest.

The tension between you two was almost palpable as the end credits rolled up. At that point you had prompted yourself to lean your head on his shoulders. He grasped your skin slightly before removing his hand and motioning his position to get up, making you pull back from him.

“‘m going back to my room now,” he announced as he got up, shooting you a knowing look, “g’night.”

You stayed back for a few minutes so as not to look too suspicious, folding up the blanket you had used and scrolling through your phone for a bit. Not long after you excused yourself, climbing the stairs two steps at a time.

You found him in the hallway, leaning in on the wall right next to his door as he looked down on his phone. As he felt your presence he gazed up, grinning softly before bringing his finger above his lips as to warn you to stay quiet.

The two rushed inside his room, trying to be as quiet as possible, considering your friends downstairs could come up at any second. He closed the door behind him, looking right at you as he leaned back. His room was similar to yours, the difference being a few more clothes lying on top of the small couch standing at the corner. The curtains hanging on the big windows were pushed open, allowing the moonlight from the now-clear sky to illuminate the place.

Your breath got caught in your throat as you stared back at him, meeting his dark irises. He started stepping closer to you until he could lean his forehead against yours. His hands found their way caressing your jawline, one of them going as far as to pulling lightly on the hair above your neck. You held your breath, gazing up at him as you waited for his next move.

He smiled lazily, brushing his nose against your softly before placing a peck to the corner of your lips. He was teasing you, his hand leaving your hair to find its way down your body, paying special attention to the side of your breast before placing itself holding your waist.

You swallowed dryly, feeling your heart speed up as you pulled him closer, wanting desperately to close the space between the two of you. Too scared that your voice would give out your desperation, you moved one of your hands to the back of his neck and pulled him in. He didn’t think twice before finally closing the space and allowing you to feel his lips against yours.

The kiss started slow, both of you still trying to figure it out how it was to taste each other like this. His lips were soft, moving teasingly as he sucked on your bottom lip. Your hand pulled his hair gently, causing him to whine into mouth, licking at your tongue as he deepened the kiss. The hand on your waist moved up, caressing the side of your breast softly as he tried to pull you in as close as possible.

He started easing you backwards, considering neither of you were willing to break the kiss to watch where you were going. You felt the mattress of his bed hitting the back of your knees. You allowed him to lay you into the bed, parting for a moment so you could move upwards, laying your head on the pillows. Shortly enough he joined you, placing his elbows on both sides of your head, not wasting any time before closing the space between your mouths again.

The two of you stayed like this for a while. Slowly kissing each other, as your arm found its way back behind his neck and one of his hand caressed your cheek. You could get used to this, with him being the only thing you could sense. His taste. His touch. His scent.

He was all you could think about.

When you finally pulled back, you could see his red, puffy lips even with the limited amount of lighting going into the room.

He looked into your eyes for a moment, “you look so pretty like this, darling,” he murmured, his voice just above a whisper, sending chills down your spine. “Could eat you up.”

A small whimper left your mouth, as he dove back in to spread kissed along your cheek and down your throat. You bit hard into your lip and swallowed back a moan as he sucked in a spot right below your jawline. You could feel him grinding his hips down on your tights, making you aware of the growing bulge inside his sweats.

You placed your hand on his shoulders, pushing him gently and disconnecting him from your neck. He pulled back, looking back at you with a puzzled look. You kept pushing him until his shoulders hit the mattress, reverting the previous position you both were in, as you stranded his waist.

Looking down at him, you wanted so badly to discover his body, to make him feel good. So you took the same position he had on you. Placing your lips against his neck and running your tongue against it, sucking in his skin. You kept doing it as your hand smoothed down his body, finding the hem of his shirt and lifting it enough so you could scratch at his love handles. He gave you a small moan, a sound so delicious to hear you that made you want to swallow him whole.

Both his hands found their place on your waist, pressing you down so you could feel his need between your tights. You quickly pulled your head from his neck, giving him a soft peck on the lips.

“Please, love, just-” he grunted, looking up at you with pleading eyes. “Just do something, please, I-“

His hands gripped tightly on your waist as you rolled your hips against him. Neither of you could contain your moans as you repeated the movement, even fully clothed his bulge rubbed deliciously against the place you needed it the most.

You leaned down again, this time pushing his shirt up as you made your way down his body, splattering open-mouthed kisses along his warm chest. You paid a special mind to the tattoos you met along the way, sucking spots over the wings of a butterfly inked on his stomach. As you licked along the leaves of the ferns that adorned his love handles, you felt one of his hands tangling in your hair, his hips rising slightly as he whimpered.

“A bit impatient, you are,” you spoke, feeling his belly tighten as you placed a playful bite under his belly button, causing another moan to leave his lips.

“Darlin’, please,” he whined, “Just- fuck, just need you right now.”

You decided not to tease him for too long, considering you needed it just as much as he did. Finally, you moved down once more to place a kiss above the hard on over his pants. He lifted his head, watching your every move as his hand that was placed on your hair pushed some strands away from your forehead. You wrapped your hand around the hem of his sweats, rising your eyebrows at him as you felt he wasn’t wearing any underpants. The thought of having such easy access to him making you press your thighs together, feeling your wetness already damping your underwear

Slowly, you bit your bottom lip, keeping your gaze focused on him as you moved his sweats down, he raised his hips as to help you out. Once his cock was fully out, you stared back down at it lying proudly against his stomach. You ran your fingers gently along his length, causing him to hold his breath, his abdomen tightening once more. He was definitely bigger than anyone you had ever been with, causing your mouth to water a bit and your thighs to press together once again at the thought of fully having him.

You could feel him peering down at you as you wrapped your hands around the base and applied the smallest amount of pressure. The precum was already escaping from the tip and sliding down the tiniest bit.

Moving your head forward you looked back at his waiting eyes, spitting on top of the head as you moved your hand up caressing it. This time he gave you an actual moan, throwing his head back at the pillows behind him.

Looking down at him, you didn’t know where to place your lips first, wanting to bite and lick every part of his body. Finally deciding on sucking a spot on his thigh, right next to where rested an ink of a tiger head.

You kept the movement of your hand, twisting it and applying more pressure eventually as you watched him shift around under you. He raised his hips slightly as he pleaded under his breath for more, his hand firmly on top of your head as the other was thrown above his own.

You moved your thumb to run across his slit, caressing the head with a flick of your wrist as you moved your mouth to place kisses at the base. At this point he became a moaning mess, throwing his arm over his mouth as to muffle the sounds while you licked up his shaft.

“God- fuck- such a good girl,” he moaned on his arm, moving it out of the way so he could look down at you. “Doing so good, you feel so good- shit.”

Smiling at him, you jerked him off a couple of times before resting your hand at the base so you could replace it with your mouth.

You licked around his head, giving it a small kiss before you moved down as far as you could go. He cried out, tightening his grip on your hair and moving his hips up to meet your movements as you sucked on him.

He was desperate to reach his climax, and you were desperate to see him cum undone under your touch. So you started speeding up, your mouth licking at his veins, your hand helping you as you moved it along his dick. He was cursing and moaning over you, pleading for you not to stop. You kept moving your hand as you licked at his head once more before detaching so you could look up at him with pleading eyes.

“Almost there?” you asked, having him nod frantically at you, “will you let me have a taste?”

That seemed to do it for him, as he pushed your head back down, making you attach your lips to his head as you felt him shoot his load inside your mouth. You milked him as he came down from his high, feeling his softness on your lips as you swallowed down.

You sat up and looked down at his hazy eyes while he calmed down with heavy breaths. He adjusted his sweats quickly before moving himself up to pull you in for a frantic kiss. “God, darling, you’re a dream,” he spoke between kisses, his hands gripping at your waist as he positioned you to lie on top of him, moving one of them under your shirt, pulling it up slowly.

You quickly placed your hand on top of his stopping him from going further as you detached from him. He furrowed his brows at you. “I should go back to my room,” you said, “got an early day tomorrow.”

He gave you a puzzled look, “but you still haven’t- “

“it’s okay,” you interrupted, moving to get up from his bed, suddenly feeling nervous under his gaze, “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay? Good night!”

You left his room before he could protest, wanting to slap yourself from running away like this.

The next morning was thankfully much brighter than the one before, with sunlight shining through the windows at the earliest hours. You didn’t get a lot of sleep, tossing and turning around, replaying the previous night in your head. The thought of what could’ve happened if you had stayed imprinted itself in your mind. You started to overthink it. What did he even think of you? After running away like that?

Your thoughts consumed you as you sat in of the stools in the kitchen by yourself, for the first time being the first to be awake. Your coffee running cold by the minute, as you frowned to yourself, taking a sip every so often.

It didn’t take long until you didn’t find yourself alone anymore, having Evan join you as he happily cheered about the nice weather. You nodded along to him, not really in the mood for talking as you anxiously poked at your nails.

It was when you walked towards the sink to wash your used mug that you saw Harry walking into the kitchen. His hair messy and his eyes sleepy, making you annoyed at how charming he managed to look even after just getting out of bed.

He greeted you with a raspiness to his voice, his eyes lingering on you a moment too long as he smirked before moving to the cabinets. He stood next to you while you washed the dishes, grabbing himself a bowl while he worked on his breakfast.

Yours arms would brush every so often as you moved while doing your tasks, making you gaze at him. He kept a grin sitting on his face as he casually made a conversation with Evan, his dimple poking out the smallest bit, but still not looking back at you.

As soon as you were finished you left for your bedroom so you could get ready for the day, but not before sparing one last glance at Harry. This time his eyes were already trained on you as he chewed slowly his fruit salad. You felt your cheeks getting a bit warm from the eye contact, making you look down and leave the room with a speeding heart.

The work started early, as you ran around to keep up with the schedule after losing one day of productivity.

Harry seemed to be in it for teasing you. His touches lingered longer than needed. His kisses were harsher, the need behind them being almost palpable. His gaze on you told you something you couldn’t really tell exactly what it was. Lust? Desire? You weren’t entirely sure, but every time you caught him watching you felt a warmth take over your face.

In one occasion, between takes, as Nia and Evan discussed the best position for the camera considering her broken tripod. You stood awkwardly waiting for their instructions as you played with the hem of your dress. You could feel him staring closely, looking up to find him with the same smirk he gave you in the morning. He looked quickly over your friends who were still trying to figure out the problem before leaning up close to you “Still haven’t let me have a taste, love,” he said quiet enough to that just you could hear, the words sending a chill down your spine and making your core twitch as you glanced back at him.

That same night, after you announced you’d tuck yourself in, just as you changed into your pajama shorts, you heard a soft knock on your door. You opened up to see his darkened irises staring back at you as he quietly let himself in. And within a few minutes he found his place between your legs, your hand gripping tightly at his curls as you moaned into your pillow.

The following day wasn’t much different, starting with a tight filming schedule that was coming to a close end. An exchanging of glances across the room and yearning touches with underlying motives behind them. Ending with you lurking into his room at the dark hours of the night, craving-filled touched and muffled moans.

The wrap up of the film was welcomed with a bittersweet feeling settling itself in the pit of your stomach. Knowing as much as you were glad everything had gone as smoothly as possible during this week, it was time to leave it all behind.

You were nervous about how it would be with Harry after you got home. Was this the start of something that could potentially become a warm and beautiful feeling? Or was it just a lust-filled affair that would end as quickly as it had started? It made you anxious to think about it, not wanting to let go of it just yet.

Nia walked into the living room with two champagne bottles that had been brought up for this exact moment. The atmosphere was filled with chatter as everyone celebrated the end of the hard work.

You were dressed in the fanciest clothes you had brought on your rushed-packed bag, which consisted itself in a black blouse and a loose pair of pants you stole from Nia’s wardrobe a couple weeks prior. But you once again could not compete with Evan’s sense of style, as he seemed right out of a cover with a hot pink turtleneck under a sparkly black dress that hung all the way to his feet.

But you still couldn’t keep your eyes off of him.

You watched as he laughed along at something that had been said, his eyes meeting yours for a moment before fixing on Nia as she offered to serve him the champagne she had just opened.

He looked so good.

Like you, he didn’t opt for a very glam look, wearing a simple graphic white tee with a rainbow printed on it, and a simple pair of checked trousers. But as plain as someone could argue it was, he still managed to look incredibly inviting, which made it harder for you not to latch yourself onto him.

You were coming into your sixth or seventh glass when it all died down. Your head was fuzzy, and you felt giggly as you cheered along with everyone about the successful week you had. Nia had already gone back to her room. She didn’t drink as much considering she would have to drive early in the morning, wanting to leave most of the celebration for the premiere day.

The glances stolen between you and Harry were getting more frequent, the longing in each other's eyes visible with the effect of the alcohol.

He had you pressed up against your bedroom door as he sucked in your bottom lip harshly. His hands gripped at your waist tightly, putting his weight against you.

You wrapped your hand around his neck as the other pulled at his shirt desperately with the need of having him close. You felt overwhelmed by him in the nicest way. Having his hips pressing against your own, making you open your tights slightly as you felt his arousal straining on his trousers.

You whimpered into his mouth at the feeling, suddenly needing him as close as possible. You could tell his desperation matched your own by the way his hand pressed on the side of your body and his mouth moved against you. His groans getting lost in your throat every time you tangled your fingers on his roots, pulling at it.

“You’re gonna kill me like this, baby,” he breathed out, his lips moving against your wanting ones, “so fuckin’beautiful.”

You tried to keep your shaky hands steady as they travelled down his chest, scratching as his tummy lightly under his shirt before you began pulling it up. He detached from you to quickly reach over his shoulders and pull it off completely. He didn’t waste any time bringing his hand to unbutton your blouse, peppering kisses along your lips as he moved it down your shoulders, only to be met with your bare breasts underneath.

“Fuck me,” he groaned staring down at you, attaching your lips once again as he pulled you from the door as he fiddled with the zipper of your pants. You stumbled on each other's arms across the floor until you were met with the plush feeling of the bedcovers on the back of your thighs.

You stepped out of your pants as they got loose around your waist and fell damply to the floor, allowing Harry to push you gently into the mattress. He quickly got rid of his own trousers, wasting no time before towering above you, connecting your mouths once again.

It was like no matter how close you were, it still wasn’t good enough to satisfy the craving you had. You still wanted more. Needed more.

He was fully licking into you, his hands gripping your tights as he rolled his hips to meet yours. You moaned in unison at the feeling of your arousals meeting deliciously as he repeated the movement once more before parting your mouths so he could spread kisses along your neck.

“Harry,” you breathed out his name, dragging your nails along his back as you moved your hips up eagerly.

He moved his head from your neck o hover above yours, licking his lips teasingly as he looked down at you with dark eyes. He moved one of his hands to caress your cheek lovingly, as the other found your breast, his thumb grazing over your nipple. “Can I have a taste, baby?” he leaned his forehead against your, not breaking eye contact, “just a fo’a bit, then you can have me.”

You nodded frantically, brushing your nose against his. He gave you one last peck on the lips before moving down again to lick down at your skin. He pressed open-mouthed kisses at your chest, sucking harshly between your breasts. His tongue moved along your belly, craving his finger into it playfully like you had done to him, making you squeal above him.

He finally settled down between your thighs, his hand gripping at them to keep it apart before moving teasingly slow to the hem of your underwear. Your breath got caught in your throat as you moved up to lean on your elbows, gazing at him, hyper-aware of his every move.

He looked up, grinning like a devil, before moving his face down to nose gently at your mound. Pulling away, he pressed his hands on your sides, sliding your underwear off your legs as you helped him, raising your hips slightly.

You whimpered as you felt him kiss along your inner thigh, meeting your middle as licked you once. Your hips raised impatiently, making him smirk at you again before completely diving in.

You got lost in the pleasure as he licked his tongue into you, letting yourself fall back in the cushions behind your head. Your hand moved to grip at his hair tightly as he sucked in your clit, making you yelp and call out his name. His mouth was warm as his saliva mixed with your own wetness every time he licked into you.

Feeling your arousal pooling on your folds, you desperately needed to feel him as close as possible. Wanting every inch of him against you.

You pushed him from you, grabbing at his shoulder so he could move up to face you again. He didn’t protest, spattering quick kisses along the way before pressing his mouth against yours. The taste of champagne still lingering on your tongue mixed with your own taste on his as he licked into your mouth.

“y’taste so good, baby,” he groaned, parting from you as he moved to remove his briefs. The limited amount of light illuminated his face beautifully, making you able to notice the glistening of your juices down his chin. You felt your core twitch at the scene above you, desperate to have him fill you up.

“Please,” you urged him, grabbing at his hips to pull him down.

“Can I have you, darlin’?” His voice was raspy, as he looks down at you with hooded eyes, “‘d you let me?”

Your arousal blurred your mind, your grip on his waist tightened as you raised your hips impatiently, nodding along to his question.

“Have to hear you say it, love,” he spoke, leaning down to place kisses along your neck, “just say it, and you’ll have me.”

“You can have me, please, I-” you moaned desperately, babbling words without thinking, “I need you, please.”

He raised his head from your shoulders, giving you a quick peck before reaching down to guide his length between your folds. Your belly tensed as he rubbed his head against your clit, holding back your breath as he finally slid in you.

“Fuck, you’re wet,” he choked, pushing his hips all the way, allowing you to feel every inch of him fill you up. You breathed out a moan, reaching your hand on his back. “‘s this all fo’ me?”

You whined out a ‘yes’, rolling your hips as a way of urging him to move.

His movements began slow, his cock rubbing heavenly against your walls, making you clench around him. You both moaned and whimpered as your lips brushed.

“Can feel me deep?” He asked, resting his forehead against yours as he pushed his dick all the way in. You nodded, yearning for him to start moving again. “Can feel me in y’belly?”

“H, please,” you begged, gripping your nails on his shoulder blades.”Want you.”

“y’have me,” he kissed you hard before moving again, rolling his hips as he picked up the pace.

The air around you was hot as you threw your head back with the delicious feeling of him hitting the spot inside of you. He was addicting. The salty taste of his skin. The touch of his hands gripping on your sides. The smell of his cologne faintly mixed with sweat. The sound of his skin meeting yours. It made you earn for him in every possible way.

You felt your wetness dripping out of you as he pulled your leg up to your chest, allowing him to effectively hit deeper spots. The new position made a cramp start to creep up on your thight, but you ignored it to focus on the way his hips met yours.

Time seemed to pass like a blur as you pleasured each other, but soon enough you felt your orgasm building up. His thrusts became more frequent and smooth as he felt you clench more around him.

“that’s it, baby - fuck,” he grunted, moving his hand down to flicker your clit, causing to arch your back, moaning loudly. “Wanna feel you come for me.”

His cross necklace dangled over you as he watched you closely. You kept your gaze locked on his as you felt the feeling deep in your tummy take over your entire body. A moan got stuck in your throat as you opened your mouth to an ‘O’ shape, digging your nails further on his shoulders as you reached your high.

Getting home, you soon realized that throughout the week you had been so lost in your feelings with Harry that you didn’t even think of asking him for his phone number.

The month that followed passed by surprisingly quickly. During the first week you were swiftly thrown back again into your old reality of course essays and textbooks. You hadn’t heard a word from Harry, and the most frustrating part is that he seemed to have settled his place inside your thoughts. You tried asking about him to Nia once or twice again, but every time she seemed to come up with vague answers and change the subject, so you figured she had other things to worry about.

It was a disappointing end, to say the least. Even knowing from the start that being let down was the most possible outcome, it didn’t hurt any less. You often wondered if it had been something you’d done that made him pull away, or if he just wasn’t in it from the start.

By the second week you had gotten a job at a tiny local cafe you used to go after class to study and eat cinnamon rolls. That’s when time starting to rush by, as you found yourself busy through most of your day. Nia was working more than you’ve ever seen her. You two barely talked as she spent most of her time with Evan or inside her room editing. And as the week at the camp house got further away, it started to almost seem like you had imagined all of it.

Having a lot of distractions helped, but you never seemed to push the thought of a certain curly-haired boy completely away. Sometimes during a tedious lesson you would daydream about the feeling of his lips against yours. Or right before you fell asleep you would think about the taste of his skin, how strong his hand were gripping on your thighs. Maybe even at work. When there wasn’t a lot of movement, you could almost hear the sound of his voice.

It was aggravating, the effect he left on you. It got to a point where you got angry; sometimes at him but sometimes at yourself. He was the one who had gone after you, and yet he was the one who disappeared. But again, he didn’t really owe you anything, and that’s what’s frustrating. You were the one who allowed him; you knew from the start that you would get hurt but you still went for it, anyway.

As you got closer to the premiere night that was planned, you started to get anxious. You would catch yourself daydreaming more often, not being as focused as you were. You even started picking your nails again, which is a habit you thought you’d kick it a long time ago. But truth to be told, you were nervous.

The thought about seeing him again made your heart race. You wished that you could somehow find a way not to go. Maybe ask Nia if the two of you could have a private viewing. You had even thought about bribing her with making your mom’s brownie recipe. But you already knew the answer before you even suggested it. This was an important night for her, and you would be there to support it.

You were overthinking this. Was it going to be awkward when you met him? How would you even greet him? Would he kiss you? Would he ignore you? Should you ignore him? All the scenarios in your head made you want to throw up and run away.

When the two of you finally arrived, you were greeted by a cheerful Evan, who jokingly teased you for being late. As you got into his house, you found a bigger group than you expected. It seemed like you and Nia were the last ones to arrive, as there was around ten other people in there. Some of them you recognized from being Nia’s friends, others you had never seen, but none was the one you earned to see the most.

Evan guided you across the living room area, “I’ll show you the kitchen so you two can get some drinks,” He held up his glass as he spoke. Gesturing to the entrance of the room, “We’ll start everything in around ten minutes, so get ready.”

As you entered the kitchen behind Nia, you could feel her stiffen her posture a bit, before looking back at you. You frowned lightly at her, confused by her behaviour, gazing inside the room and finding immediately a pair of green eyes already watching you. It made you think back to the first time you were in this exact position, except in your own kitchen. This time, however, he was the one to approach you.

He looked really good, which did nothing to help the butterflies flying relentlessly in your stomach. He was in all black, a buttoned up shirt with a few buttons open, exposing a bit of the skin on his chest where a silver necklace laid upon. You swallowed dryly at the sight of his hand running swiftly through his hair, with a ring hugging each one of his fingers.

As he got close, he greeted Nia first, giving her a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek, before turning his attention back to you. He shot you a shy smile, before embracing you into a hug. You didn’t really know if it was your mind playing tricks but you felt him a bit hesitant as he greeted you and placed a kiss on your cheek. Pulling away, he cleared his throat, running his hand again through his hair, he almost seemed… nervous?

“‘S nice seeing you again,” he mumbled, “this uhm… ‘s my girlfriend, Jess.”

You could felt your heart drop with his words as you finally noticed a smiley girl coming to his side.

She wasn’t much taller than you, her red hair pulled back in a perfect ponytail. She matched him with a small black dress that annoyingly hugged her body in all the right ways. You could barely register her greeting you, as you tried your best to keep a straight face to hide the shock that took over your body. You felt a heaviness at the pit of your stomach, a feeling so distressful that made you want to scream as an attempt to make it go away.

You didn’t pay a lot of attention as Nia made a conversation with the girl, knowing that’s what she did best. You kept your gaze directed to Harry, your eyes asking a million questions - you didn’t even think you wanted to know the answers to. But he kept his eyes locked on the floor, eventually looking up at the girl in his arms as she seemed to mention him. But never meeting your own. Her hand was caressing his chest lovingly while his found their way on her waist, keeping her close.

“I think I’ll get something to drink,” you announced, realizing you might’ve interrupted the conversation as they stopped talking. You turned to Nia, “do you want something?”

She looked back at you with sorry eyes, “I should go with you,” she quickly turned back to the girl, “It was lovely meeting you, Jess.”

“Oh! Sure,” she smiled brightly at you two, her hand moving to rest on Harry’s chest, “we should go get our seats as well, right, babe?”

You left the scene as quickly as you could, not wanting to hear any more of it. Looking at all the drink options on top of the counter, you tried to think which one could get you drunk enough to stop feeling hurt over someone you spent just a week with, but still sober enough so that you could pretend everything was fine. Before you realized, Nia was standing next to you, getting two plastic pink cups before she stared at you with guilty-filled eyes.

“I should’ve just told you about it,” she sighed, “I didn’t want to make you sad, but looking back it was probably best if you already knew.”

You turned your head to look at her, “so you knew it all along?” You swallowed the lump in your throat as you felt it close once again.

“Evan told me like a few days after we got back!” She rushed, “I don’t know if they were together while we were filming.”

You took a deep breath, knowing Nia was probably blaming herself for putting you into this situation. But you knew it wasn’t her fault, she would never purposely put you in this position if she knew about it before.

“You know what, it’s fine,” you tried your best to cover up the hurt and gave her a weak smile, “it’s not your fault Ni. It’s okay. I’m fine.”

She pulled you into a tight hug, “I’m sorry, bubba,” she said, “let’s get you something to drink so you can enjoy this party like the star you are!”

The two of you decided on the vodka mixed with watermelon juice, something you had never even thought of trying before but seemed to be ideal to handle the situation you found yourself in. You walked back to the living area, where people were already beginning to settle on the chairs.

Following Nia, you prompted yourself on a seat at the edge closest to the door, opposite to where Harry sat with the girl. His girl. You thought bitterly, taking a big sip from your cup and cringing at the strong taste.

There was a speech you didn’t pay much attention to before they started the film, only giving a slight smile when you realized the mention of your name.

Before you knew it, the lights were out and your face took over the screen.

It was harder than you thought it would be. Looking up at the scenes you had with Harry, knowing everything that happened behind the cameras. Knowing every touch and every kiss felt more than just playing a character. You knew the actual feeling of having him to yourself. But now staring at it right in front of you, it just left a sour taste in your mouth.

You finished your drink barely ten minutes into the film, the feeling of your chest aching starting to become overwhelming as you watched your shared kiss on the big screen. You could feel your throat close once more, your eyes watering a bit.

“I’m gonna get some air,” you whispered to Nia sitting next to you, who gave you a sympathetic smile as you got up. You glimpsed quickly to Harry who had his eyes trained on you, the girl next to him leaning to whisper something in his ear.

You could feel the tears falling down stubbornly as you left the room. Standing in the hallway, you made the decision to turn to the front door instead of the back, not wanting to face anyone with reddish eyes.

You left the house, picking your phone with shaky hands as you managed to call a ride home, sighing in relief as your screen told you it was just about three minutes away.

You heard the door open behind you as stood on the sidewalk hugging yourself to get some warmth on the chilly night. You tried your best to swallow back your tears as you turned around, expecting to find Nia looking at you with pitiful eyes.

To your surprise, the person standing there was Harry, looking like a deer caught in the headlights as he took in your tearful eyes. He spoke your name in a soft voice, causing you to look away.

“Don’t-” you interrupted, raising your hand at him, “I don’t wanna hear it.”

He frowned at you, not wanting to upset you more. “I’m sorry,” he hesitated, taking a step forward.

Your phone buzzed in your hand, as you watched your ride pulling in front of you. You looked back at him, “I’m sorry too,” you said before moving to enter the car.

You spared him one last glance through the window as the driver pulled away.

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #harry styles smut #harry styles writing #harry styles fanfic #wildest dreams #writing #fanfic #Reader x Harry #my writing

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master-sass-blast · 3 years

Text

Children of the Gods: Part Three, Chapter Two.

I had to input every single italic you see in this fic by hand because Tumblr doesn’t hold text format when I paste it innnnnn. *pained smile*

Please give this chapter some love, because that was fucking painful to do.

Summary: The aftermath of capturing Allison proves messy -both in dealing with the teen's evident trauma, and in all the skeletons in various closets that get unleashed soon after.

Pairing(s): Piotr Rasputin x Reader, Nathan Summers x Wade Wilson, Frank Castle x Karen Page, and Alexandra Rasputin x Nikolai Rasputin.

Rating: M for gun violence, depictions of death and injuries, depictions of emotional trauma, and gratuitous use of the word “fuck.”

Word count: 8.9k.

Set after “Children of the Gods: Part Three, Chapter One.”

Taglist: @marvel-is-perfection, @chromecutie, @super-darkcloudstudent, @girl-obsessed-with-things, @leo-writer, @emma-frxst, @sadstone-s

“What the hell were you thinking!”

“Ooh, careful there, Doohan,” Wade snarks, head rolling to indicate he’s rolling his eyes. “Get any more agitated and you’ll be saying all the no-no words.”

Scott scowls at Wade. “Stuff it, Wilson.”

“Every damn night, laser pointer.”

A mixture of grimaces, sighs, and groans go up through the crowd.

You’re all gathered in the medical wing of Xavier’s –the X-Force and nearly all of the X-Men. Allison’s off being examined by Dr. McCoy and Alyssa –to make sure she’s stable enough to be taken out of the handcuffs and the suppression band—and Frank and Karen are sequestered in a separate room until it's clear how everything's going to shake out.

Because, naturally, there’s been a wrench thrown in the situation.

Or maybe the whole damn toolbox, you mentally amend as Wade and Scott resume arguing.

“We cannot harbor a mob criminal here—”

“She’s thirteen, Summers!” Wade snaps. The eyes on his mask narrow into slits. “She’s not a criminal –and her parents’ choice don’t automatically make her guilty!”

“Murder, illegal theft and possession of firearms, assault, stalking, kidnapping,” Scott starts listing, ticking off each of Allison’s misdeeds on his fingers.

“She lost her family,” Nathan interjects, voice going to gravel. “Where the fuck were all of you when she needed support? Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do?”

The room goes silent. Many of the X-Men members look away or hang their heads slightly.

“We had no way of knowing that Allison was a mutant,” Ororo speaks up. “Without the proper information, we can’t help. It’s unfortunate, yes, but out of our control all the same.”

“But you know now,” Wade argues. “You knew with Russell. You knew with all the kids at Essex house. You turned your back on him and those kids, just like you’re turning your back on Allison now.” He scoffs, disgusted. “Same shit, different day. You’re all a bunch of cowardly cocksuckers.”

“We do have limits,” Professor Xavier speaks up from his chair. “Russell and the other members of Essex house were considered wards of the state. Legally, that meant Essex house had custody of them until they turned eighteen. We wrote petitions. We did as much as we could to bring attention to the issue. Unfortunately, it got swept under the rug or stonewalled by anti-mutant members of the legal system. As for Allison…” He sighs. “Taking in wards with criminal connections put the school at risk. Not just for fear of retaliation –as would certainly be a risk with Miss Ricci’s connections to the mafia—but also our funding and licensing. As an orphaned mutant, she is certainly deserving of our help—” he pauses to glare sternly at Scott and a few of the more stubborn, self-righteous members present “—but we have to consider the needs of our other residents and students, too.”

“I think we’re overlooking that Allison is here right now,” Jean pipes up. “Whether or not she stays with us is one thing, but we need to decide what to do for at least the next forty-eight hours.”

“She stays here,” you say automatically. “As far as we know, she has no other guardians, potentially even nowhere to go. I don’t think it’s gonna kill us to give her a bed and some food to eat.”

“Absolutely not,” Scott fires back –and, behind him, Angel and Iceman nod. “She’s far too aggressive to possibly put the students at risk.”

“She’s agitated and traumatized,” you reason, “but that doesn’t mean she’s going to lash out at people left and right.”

“Doesn’t she have a guardian of sorts?” Neena pipes up. “Artemis? Has anyone gotten ahold of them?”

“We reached out with the number Miss Ricci gave us,” Xavier explains. “The call picked up, but there wasn’t any verbal response for the duration of the call.”

Well, that bodes well. “What about her attorney?” you ask. “If we can’t keep her here, wouldn’t her attorney be able to arrange some sort of safe place for her to stay.”

“Thus far, we haven’t been able to reach her attorney.”

And that bodes even worse. You fight the urge to sigh or roll your eyes, and instead mentally curse monkey wrenches and whoever thought to invent the damn things.

“For the time being, I’ve contacted some of our external resources” –the glance Xavier shoots at both you and Piotr tells you that it’s your uncle and Alexandra—“to help with matters until the dust settles. They should be arriving soon, so—”

There’s a loud crash from down the hall, the sound of glass shattering, and an angry screech that sounds suspiciously like, “Fuck you, Castle!”

You give into the urge to sigh before booking it towards the sound of chaos and rage. Great. Now it’s an entire toolshed.

***

Subduing Allison this time, at least, is easier for several reasons.

First, she’s still wearing the repression cuff on her wrist. Without her powers –without a way to pop in and out of this existence, specifically—she’s much easier to catch.

Second, she’s tired. It’s not just the bags under her eyes or the sweat glistening at her furrowed brow. She’s stumbling unevenly, panting as she tries to exact her revenge.

Third, Illyana happens to show up at the exact same time with your uncle and Alexandra (and Nikolai as well, though he has less involvement in the “subduing process”).

Alex reacts fastest. She hooks one strong arm around Allison’s waist, then scoops her away from Karen and a hangdog-looking Frank. “Alright, that’s enough.”

Allison, however, doesn’t seem to agree. (Though whether it’s due to general teenage contrariness or trauma-induced rage, the jury’s still out.

…Actually, it’s probably both.)

“You don’t even get it, Castle!” Allison snaps with a manic grin, eyes wide and haunted. “You killed a good man. My dad was getting out! He was going to testify against them—”

Alex clamps a hand over the teen’s mouth, making her cut herself off with a garbled grunt. “I said enough.”

Allison thrashes in the older woman’s iron-clad grasp –to no avail, unsurprisingly. Her face scrunches up, then her jaw starts flexing. There’s a moment where her expression goes slack when Alex doesn’t react, then her nose scrunches up again and her jaw starts working harder.

Alex sighs, then starts carrying Allison back down the hall (she’s astonishingly unfazed by been chomped down on). “Come on. Let’s get you calmed down, malen’kiy.”

At the other end of the hall, Neena pokes her head into the fray. “Someone who calls herself Artemis is at the front door.”

Professor Xavier nods, then says, “Please escort her back to Miss Ricci’s room,” before wheeling after Alex and Artemis.

You look between Neena and the Professor –then, in the interest of going where you’re actually allowed to be (and not being bored out of your mind because you’ll be literally shut out of the room), you head towards the foyer.

…

“Do you think Frank was set up to stop the trial?”

Your uncle shrugs; the two of you have taken up a spot at the back of the room, where you can watch things unfold and gossip like the two old ladies you are in spirit. “It’s possible. It’s also possible that it was retribution for Allison being a mutant. The Ricci syndicate is notoriously… intolerant.”

You grimace. You certainly understand just how far people will go against their own flesh and blood for intolerance’s sake. “Blood and water.”

Your uncle nods, expression equally sour. “You fucking said it, punk.”

There’s not much point in hashing it out any further –both from the standpoint of “forbidden knowledge” and digging up old trauma—so you settle back into watching Artemis go through the mandatory security check.

She’s tall, with broad shoulders. Her hair’s dark, just starting to streak with silver at the temples, and her eyes are deep, intense, borderline black color. Her nose is slightly crooked –comes with the territory in this walk of life—and she’s dressed in black motorcycle wear and combat boots.

She honestly looks so fucking familiar.

You frown, brows pinching together as you try and place her face in your memory. Failing your own abilities at recollection, you lean over and whisper, “Is she one of your team members? I swear I’ve seen her before.”

“Uh –no,” your uncle replies (and it’s too fast and shaky, but you’re too caught up in figuring out whom the fuck you’re looking at to notice). “I mean –everyone has a doppelganger, right?”

“I guess.” You squint at Artemis, as though physically narrowing your eyes will help your brain puzzle things out—

And then Alex strides into the foyer –wiping the hand that Allison bit, and if you look close enough you’re pretty sure you can still see a few bloody teeth marks—and the cloud of confusion lifts from your mind.

“Oh!” you gasp quietly. “That’s why she looks familiar! She looks like Alex.” You look from the Rasputin matriarch, to the other black-leather clad woman, then back again. “She looks… a lot like Alex, actually.” You laugh softly –coincidence is a hell of a thing—then keep rambling when your uncle doesn’t say anything. “Two women who love the color black and carry enough weapons on their person to stock an army. You’d think the universe broke the mold with Alex, huh?”

Your uncle shifts from foot to foot next to you, but says nothing.

“You really weren’t kidding about the whole ‘doppelganger’ thing, huh.” You cock your head to one side, then frown as another epiphany starts growing in your mind. “Actually… she kind of looks like you, too.”

Your uncle makes a quiet, pained choking noise. “Punk—”

“Yeah, she’s got more of your build…”

“Punk.”

“And her lower lip has that weird lopsided curve like yours—”

“Punk—”

You peer closer at Artemis’s face. “Actually, her nose looks like you took yours and Alex’s and mashed them together—”

“Punk.”

You finally look up at him and take in the pale, wide-eyed, tight-lipped expression on his face. “What?” When he doesn’t say anything, you look at Artemis, then Alex, and then back at him—

Oh God.

Holy fucking shit.

You stare up at your uncle, agape. “Wait a second –you and—”

“Okay, shut the fuck up!” he hisses, panicked, before dragging you out of the foyer and into the nearest hallway.

“You and Alex had a baby,” you blurt –albeit in a voice no louder than a harsh whisper. “Artemis is your and her lovechild!”

He winces, then holds up his hands. “I can explain—”

“I don’t think you can!” you hiss. “Why didn’t you tell me that I have a cousin who happens to be my husband’s half fucking sister! Oh God, does Piotr know? Do any of the Rasputins know?”

“I…” He trails off, then cringes. He rubs the back of his neck. “I’m not sure, actually.”

You stare up at him, dumbfounded. “You’re not sure. How are you not sure? Nick knows who you are –what, you think Alex just kept a whole child from his knowledge—”

“I mean, he probably knows that there was a baby at one point—”

“The baby is in this fucking house!” you snap in a quiet growl, arms flailing wildly. “She’s a full grown adult who probably pays taxes and has a 401k going! Why wouldn’t Alex tell her husband—”

“Look,” your uncle interjects, cutting you off. “As far as Alex knows… she thinks she’s… dead?”

You gape. Then, as quietly as you can manage (given the circumstances), you exclaim, “What the fuck!”

“Keep your voice down!” your uncle hisses, gesturing wildly in panic. He looks over his shoulder, then when he’s certain no one overheard you, he sighs and looks back to you. “Look, it’s a long story—”

“I’m sure it fucking is!” You cross your arms over your chest when he winces. “How is it that you know your secret lovechild is alive, but Alex doesn’t? What, did she just abandon her?”

“No, no—”

“Didn’t think so. So what the fuck happened?”

He sighs, shoulder slumping, and runs one hand through his already disheveled hair. “Look –long story short, the people who ‘made’ Alex took the baby—”

“Artemis. Her daughter. Your daughter.”

He purses his lips, but concedes with a nod. “They took her away after she was born and told Alex she was dead –and that’s actually what prompted her to get out, but that’s another story for another day—”

“Okay, hang on a second.” You squeeze your eyes shut and hold up one hand. “Alex thinks her baby is dead –probably one of the most traumatic things in her whole life. You’ve known that she’s alive…” You open your eyes again and fix your uncle with a stern stare. “Okay, how long have you known for?”

He grimaces and shifts uncomfortably. “…well, the US took her, but she didn’t present early, so they turned her loose into the foster system because she didn’t have potential as an ‘asset’—”

“How fucking long?”

He ducks his head, carefully avoiding your gaze. “…tracked her down when she was ten.”

Your eyes widen –and then you slug him in the shoulder. “You fucking colossal asshole!”

He panics again, motioning for you to keep it down while checking over his shoulder. “Shut the fuck up!”

“No! Not only have you lied to Alex for decades—”

“She never asked—”

“A lie by omission is still a fucking lie!” you snap in a gravelly whisper. “So, not only did you lie to her, but you also abandoned your daughter to the mercies of the US foster care system!”

“My life wasn’t safe to keep a kid around!” he hisses back at you. “I couldn’t take care of you, and I couldn’t take care of her! If anything, it was safer for her if the government thought I didn’t know she was alive!”

You sigh, pinch the bridge of your nose, and wave dismissively with your other hand. “Okay –fine. That still doesn’t justify the whole lying thing, but whatever. Does Artemis know that you and Alex are her parents?”

“…Yes. She tracked me down when she was in her twenties and I told her the truth.”

“Well, it sounds like determination runs in the family,” you mutter. “But at least you two have kept in touch…” You look up, see your uncle’s grimace, and sigh. “You didn’t keep in touch with her.”

He shoves his hands in his jacket pockets. “I didn’t know how to handle it.”

“Pretty sure ‘not like that’ is a good answer.” You sigh again, then shrug and put your hands on your hips. “Well, you’ve probably solved your own problem. She’ll probably just tell Alex who she is just to spite you, assuming she got the ‘petty vengeance’ gene too.”

Your uncle’s eyebrows spike to his hairline, and his expression goes through the five stages of grief in a matter of seconds. “She –she can’t—”

“She can and she probably will.”

He hunches over, crouching, and grips the back of his head. “Shitfuckshitfuckshitfuckshitfuck—”

“Myshka?”

You and your uncle both jump, then whirl in unison and give your husband your best convincing, “we’re totally not talking about long lost, hidden family members and other poor life choices” smiles that you can each manage.

(Consider that you don’t look like you just shit your pants, you win.)

Piotr’s forehead wrinkles with concern. “What… is everything alright?”

“Just fine, baby,” you assure him, subtly kicking your uncle so he relaxes. “Just talking about what happens next.”

Piotr nods after a moment, likely picking up on that whatever’s going on right now isn’t life or death and that you’ll fill him in later. “I actually came to find you,” he says, gesturing to your uncle. “Professor Xavier still cannot reach Allison’s lawyer. He has asked for your assistance.”

“Right. Absolutely. On it,” your uncle says with a none-too-convincing smile. He shoots your husband a pair of finger guns, then books it out of the hall and towards the medical wing of the mansion.

Piotr stares after him, then shoots you a confused frown. “Is he okay?”

You shrug. “He’s doing about his usual.” You decide to further sidestep the issue by ambling over to him and giving him a gentle hug. “How are you?” Are doing okay?”

Piotr wraps his arms around you and kisses the top of your head. “I am fine now. Just a little sore.”

“Me too.” You nuzzle your cheek against his burly chest. “We really should invest in that hot tub we keep talking about getting. It’d be great for post-mission recovery.”

“Hot tubs are expensive, myshka,” he chuckles.

“Yes, but we’re not getting any younger. It’d be a good investment in taking care of our bodies.” You tilt your head back and grin up at him. “I thought you were all about that life.”

He sighs and shakes his head, feigning exasperation, but his amused smile is a dead giveaway. “Whatever shall I do with you, myshka?”

You grin wider. “You could kiss me.”

Piotr grins back, then dips his head and presses his lips against yours—

Mikhail appears next to you out of thin air. “Ah. Gross. Big meeting is happening. All hands on deck.”

Piotr rolls his eyes when his elder brother teleports away once more, then looks back down at you and strokes your cheek with his thumb. “Sorry about that.”

“It’s fine, baby.” You unwind your arms from his massive trunk of a torso, then slide your fingers between his as the two of you walk towards the medical wing.

…

“—I am telling you, Charles, not being able to reach this kid’s lawyer is a bad fucking sign.”

You and Piotr walk into a conference room to find your uncle and Professor Xavier locked in a heated argument.

Wade, Nate, and Neena are leaning against the table to watch, occasionally leaning over to whisper bits of commentary to each other (or, in Wade’s case, speak at normal volume).

In the corner of the room, where a couple of armchairs are positioned, Nikolai sits with his two other children; they’re speaking in hushed Russian, but none of them seem too concerned about everything else going on.

“As I previously stated,” Xavier says, words clipped, “we cannot release Miss Ricci without speaking first to her attorney. The X-Men operate as a special law enforcement service, and failure to comply with criminal and civil statutes will have enormous consequences for the Institute—”

“There’s going to be a bunch of fucking ‘enormous consequences’ for the Institute,” your uncle interrupts, growling through clenched teeth, “if you don’t evacuate this building right fucking now! Fuck’s sake, Charles –you hired me as a security advisor; just listen to me.”

Piotr frowns and curls one hand over your shoulder. “What is happening?”

“What’s happening,” a new, strong, feminine voice interjects from the hall, “is that we’re leaving.” Artemis shoulders past your husband –a feat not easily achieved by many—with Allison in tow, then holds up the teen’s arm that has the repression cuff still attached. She glares at Xavier (and God, she really looks like Alex when she does that), then spits out through gritted, bared teeth, “Get this fucking thing off my kid.”

There’s a longsuffering sigh in the hall, and then Alex steps into the doorway. “She has that cuff on for her own safety –as I already told you—”

Artemis whirls, face contorted by a vicious scowl, and snaps, “I didn’t fucking ask for you input!”

(Boy, if that doesn’t just scream ‘repressed trauma and mommy issues.’)

Your uncle looks like he’s about to pass out again, but Alex seems remarkably nonplussed. She merely raises one eyebrow at Artemis, as if to say ‘that’s all you got?’

There’s no way she knows, you think as you watch the two stare each other down. Not with how much she cares about her kids. There’s no fucking way—

“Actually, we’ve got bigger problems,” your uncle pipes up, voice quavering slightly before he clears his throat. “We can’t reach your kid’s shark.”

“They have other clients,” Artemis retorts, upper lip curling in a derisive sneer. Her dark eyes smolder with barely constrained hatred as she tosses a withering glance in his direction (daddy issues, too, this chick won the whole lottery). “Or maybe they got stuck in traffic.”

Your uncle narrows his eyes at that (and now the two of them look so much alike, overcome by ire as they are). “You cannot possibly be that fucking stupid.”

Artemis sucks a breath through her teeth, eyes widening with rage and hurt. “You fucking dick—”

In the corner of the room, Illyana bolts upright before going stock still. Then, she gasps and reaches out towards her mother. “Mama!”

(The way Artemis’s face mars with a pained grimace makes your heart ache.)

Alex tenses, eyes glowing gold as she starts scanning the horizon (presumably checking for heat signatures). “Gde?”

The room goes quiet –and then you hear it.

The sound of engines rumbling –multiple engines—and car wheels crunching against gravel. Doors thumping open and shut, followed by footsteps. Hushed voices.

You scamper over to the nearest window and float up, just enough to see several men clad in black and Kevlar and carrying rifles stalking towards the front door and around the sides of the house in groups. “Guys with guns. Lots of them.”

“Then get down!” Nate hisses before yanking you back from the window.

“Lights out,” Alex orders before hitting the switch herself. “Get everyone to a reinforced room.”

“There’s a safe room at the end of the hall,” Xavier says before wheeling himself towards the door.

Allison clings to Artemis’s sleeve, much like a baby koala. “What’s going on? What’s going to happen?”

“Go with the Professor,” Artemis says. She quickly –but gently—frees her arm, then clasps the teen’s face with both hands. “Look at me. Listen to the Professor, and stay put until I come get you. Okay?”

Allison’s forehead puckers, and her lower lip starts trembling. “But—”

“Is alright,” Nikolai interjects with a kind, reassuring smile. He gently ushers Allison towards the door, then down the hall before she can protest further.

A few doors down, Karen pokes her head out of the room where she and Frank have holed up. She frowns as she takes in the chaos. “What’s going on?”

“Mafia men with guns!” Wade chirps as he half-skips, half-jogs towards the mansion’s entryway. “Tell your boy to suit up!”

“There’s a safe room at the end of the hall,” Neena adds as she runs after Wade.

Frank squeezes around Karen and kisses her temple before falling in line behind the two assassins.

You step to the side so Karen can run past you, then turn and press a hasty kiss against Piotr’s cheek. “Love you.”

He kisses your cheek in return, equally as brief. “Ya tozhe tebya lyublyu.”

And then the two of you run towards the danger bearing down on your home.

***

In all the firefights you’ve been in, there’s always this moment of silence. A calm before the storm. A moment where everything goes still, while both sides wait for the other to make a move.

You duck behind a wall as the mafia gunmen continue hammering away at the front door, tucking yourself in a shadow. Your stomach tenses, breathing going quick and hard as your mind starts putting a plan together. Don’t want to risk collapsing part of the house by doing a pressure vacuum. Best option is to probably knock them to the ground so the others can jump them.

The door rattles. The wooden portal splits on one side, sending jagged splinters poking out into the air.

You slow your breathing, forcing yourself into a calm, focused state. Wait for them to get past the entryway so you can hit as many of them as possible.

In the back of the house, near the kitchen, you hear glass shatter.

They’re in. You clench your fists at your sides, watching as the front door slowly gives way. Three… two… one…

The door breaks open, swinging inwards as the first gunmen step into the foyer—

And then the door snaps off its hinges and slams into the men, taking them out like bowling pins.

Strike, a small, inane part of your brain giggles.

Shouts go up through the house. You can hear the sounds of rushed footsteps, shattering glass, and what sounds like people being bodyslammed through tables (and, given the type of people fighting for your side, it just might be that). Gunfire pierces the air –and is accompanied by the telltale, metallic plinks of the bullets ricocheting off your husband’s armor.

Angry screams emanate from the front step. Men barge in, firing down the hall, towards some unseen target (likely Alex or Nate, given the door trick).

You wait until as many men are piled into the foyer as possible, then send down a downdraft that blows out the windows on either side of the door.

The gunmen tumble to the floor, swearing in a mixture of English and Italian.

Nate, Wade, and Neena swoop in. They descend upon the mafia men like a pack of wolves, breaking bones, dislocating joints, and cracking skulls as they disarm –and, in some cases “un-alive”—the gunmen.

“It’s raining men!” Wade sings as he runs one of his katanas through the gut of one assailant. “Hallelujah! It’s raining men!” He ramps off a nearby wall, then t-bags another man before stabbing him through the temple. “Amen!”

You crouch, tracking the movement of the scuffle. You tense when you see a couple of the men jump Nathan, then charge towards the railing and dive over when a few more try to break past to run down the hallway. You flip in the air, land in the hallway ahead of them, and unleash a blast of wind right in their faces.

The mafia men fly out through the front door. They sail over half the front drive, then bounce off the gravel surface and roll several times before coming to a stop.

You let out a harsh breath, then dart down the hall towards the kitchen when you hear glass shattering and the sound of Frank bellowing angrily.

The kitchen and rec room are a mess. Glass shards from shattered windows coat the floor, glittering before being crushed underfoot. Doors are cracked from having people slammed into them. The rec room couch is overturned –and is sagging suspiciously on one side, hinting at a cracked frame. The entertainment system is shattered, with smoking bullet holes littering the TV, speakers, and media systems.

Frank has one of the guys pinned down over the sink. He’s snarling as he uses the lip of the sink to choke the guy out. There’s blood smeared his lips and chins, trailing back up to his chin.

Another gunman stalks in through the dining room, gun trained on Frank’s head.

You whip a blast of air at the second man, sending him sailing into the wall so hard the drywall cracks.

He drops to the ground, unconscious.

There’s some terrified shrieking –and then a gunman is punted up and out of the basement stairwell. He sails through the kitchen window headfirst, crumpling in a heap in the hedges outside.

Your husband storms up the staircase, teeth bared in an angry snarl. The waning daylight glints off his metal exterior, almost making him look like some sort of avenging angel. He stops short when he sees you, though; his irate expression vanishes, replaced by concern. “Ty v poryadke?”

You manage a smile and flash him a thumbs up—

And then a truck with a Gatling gun strapped to the roof rolls up to the back door.

“Get down!” Frank hollers before tackling you to the ground behind the kitchen island.

The room explodes into chaos. Bullets plow into the walls, sending up spurts of drywall dust in their wake. Wooden doorframes and floorboards crack, unleashing cascades of splinters in every direction. Glass shatters, raining down upon everything in its reach.

Frank positions himself over you, shielding you as fragmented bullets rain down upon your both. He cups your head with his hands, doing his best to protect you from the hellfire.

Over the din, you can just make out a loud, angry bellow –and then the sound of bullets hitting metal. Heavy, deliberate stomps make the floor shake.

The gunfire cuts off. A shriek pierces the air just before you hear what sounds like a car being tossed into a tree.

(As you’ll discover later, that’s precisely what you heard.)

Frank lifts his head, then carefully rolls off you. He crouches next to you and holds out a hand. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” Your ears are ringing, and you’re pretty sure you’ve got glass shards and splinters in your hair, but you’ve been worse. You take his hand, flinching when you hear the sound of more gunfire outside.

Frank peers over the lip of the island. “Reinforcements. At least five more cars headed our way.”

You suck in a breath. “Piotr—”

“Is holding his own for now,” Frank says.

“I’m gonna help him,” you rasp out. “Make sure everyone in the house that’s not on our side… stays down. And that we’ve still got all our people.”

Frank nods, then runs off towards the foyer.

You catch your breath, then creep towards the back door (better safe than sorry). You flatten yourself against the wall next to the doorway, then peer around the broken frame.

Piotr’s facing off against the new influx of cars. He’s got one hand on the hood of one Range Rover, arm extended out like he’s fending off a five-year-old. With his other hand, he flips another SUV over, causing the thing to land on its roof and putting the vehicle squarely out of commission.

Your stomach sinks when five more Range Rovers tear across the lawn, leaving deep, muddy tracks in their wake –and are followed by three more trucks with Gatling guns attached to the roofs. You sprint out the door, take a flying leap over Piotr, then send out a shockwave of air when you land on the ground.

A few of the cars fly backwards, rolling across the lawn like tumbleweeds. A majority of them, however, manage to stay upright or bump into each other and recover.

Your eyes widen when one of the Gatling gun operators aims directly at you. Shit.

Piotr leaps in front of you, whirling so his back is to the gun. He curls his body over yours, shielding you as gunfire rains down on you both.

You grit your teeth, grunting. You can feel the impact of the gunfire resonating through your husband’s metal body. Worry clutches at your heart when Piotr lets out sharp, ragged groans; he’s largely invulnerable in his armor, not to mention his sense of touch is severely dulled, but you know that with shit like this he’s still feeling some sort of pain –and there’s nothing you can do. You’re both pinned down, and as powerful as your shockwaves are, they’re not enough to stop or even skew the trajectory of a bullet—

Blue light washes over both of you. The sound of the gunfire wanes, replaced by warbling, pinging noises instead.

You peer around Piotr’s side to see Illyana standing between the two of you and the oncoming cars. She has her arms outstretched, palms facing the onslaught of adversaries. A shimmering, sky blue shield with various magical incantations floating through it surrounds all of you, stretching into the sky for at least forty feet.

Illyana grunts. She’s being shoved backwards from the force of impact from the bullets. Her feet are digging into the ground, leaving ruts as she tries to hold her stance. “We need new plan!”

“How about ‘stay alive?’” Piotr shouts back as he digs shrapnel out of the grooves on his arms.

Wade, Neena, Nate, and Frank come barreling out the back door, faces streaked with soot and blood. They dive for the ground, covering the backs of their heads and necks with their hands—

An explosion goes off inside the mansion. The shockwave shatters windows on both the first and second floor, blowing out window frames and trim.

Piotr covers your body with his once more. He cups your head with his hand, shielding you from the falling debris and the worst of the shockwave.

You cough and hack as smoke billows out the broken windows and doors. You do your best to make a vortex to suck the smoke away and send it up into the air. Your lungs burn, and your ears are ringing like a bell from all the gunfire and the explosion—

Four more gunmen emerge from the smoke pouring out the back door.

You snarl, then whip blasts of air at them, slamming them into the exterior walls of the house.

One of them goes down, while the other three are merely stunned.

Mikhail comes barreling out next. He lets out a guttural battle cry, then sucker punches one of the men in the back of the head before aiming a blast of rust colored energy at another’s gut.

The man screams as he sails into the air, arcing over the tree line and disappearing somewhere in the canopies.

The third man aims his gun at Mikhail –then staggers and drops to the ground when a beam of golden energy sears through his chest.

Alex storms out of the smoke with Artemis and your uncle trailing close behind her. She glares down the remaining gunmen and cars, teeth bared in a vicious snarl. Blood is flecked across her face and spattered over her leather jacket. “House is clear!”

“Yeah, except now we’re about to be cleared out!” Wade hollers back. “As in, ‘all sales final, no returns, no exchanges!’”

“If we could make plan,” Illyana screams, voice strained with the effort of holding the shield, “would be very great!”

You look over to Alex –and see her eyes widen. You whirl towards the gunmen just in time to see one of them aim a rocket launcher at all of you. “Oh, for the love of—”

The first hit is technically deflected by Illyana’s shield, insomuch that the projectile and the shield both shatter the moment they meet. The force of the magic breaking sends out a shockwave of blue energy that flies backwards into all of you, knocking those who managed to get up back off their feet and stunning the rest of you.

You groan, head reeling. Your vision clears slowly, casting double images when you move too quickly. Shit.

You can make out Piotr, just next to you. He’s lying face down on the lawn, grunting and moving in slow, clumsy movements. He turns his head, brow furrowing when he sees you, and reaches out towards you.

You extend your hand to grab his –but he’s just out of your reach, no matter how far you strain. Your body feels heavy with fatigue and pain; everything inside you is screaming to get up, to fight, to keep moving because death is knocking right on your door, and you’ll be damned if this is how you go out—

Alex recovers first –no surprise there. She shoves herself to her feet, seething and growling like a feral beast. She hurls a blast of energy at one of the cars –and, from the sounds of the carnage, makes a direct hit. She storms towards the sea of mafia men like an avenging angel, hell bound on vengeance and blood.

Audible gasps go up from the amassed assassins.

You lift your head to see several of the gunmen backing away from the mansion and crossing themselves with shaking hands. You chalk it up to Alex being Alex, and make to drop your head back against the ground once more—

And then you see Allison standing in the ruined doorway.

She’s glaring down the gunmen with a viciousness that doesn’t suit the youthful roundness of her face. Her brows are knit together, and her mouth is twisted into an ugly scowl. Her eyes are glowing a brilliant shade of blue and give off little wisps of azure colored smoke. Her skin and hair are smoking as well, creating an aura around her body. Blood drips down from her nose and onto her shirt –which is stained with ash and soot. There are burn marks and indents on her wrists from where the repression cuff and the handcuffs used to be, respectively, but the restraints themselves are gone.

The ground begins to shake. Two patches of cerulean light appear underneath the grass, growing larger until they form swirling vortexes of magical energy. The ground begins to crumble at the edges of the portals, eroding away and growing wider until they make gaping tunnels that channel so deeply into the earth there’s no telling how far they truly go.

You recoil when the smell of sulfur and smoke blenches forth from the tunnels. Shit, did she hit a gas line? Fucking dammit, like this day can get any worse—

Echoing, blood-chilling howls emanate from the tunnels.

Your eyes widen –and then your heart starts working overtime when you see two, then four massive hellhounds (like the ones Allison summoned at the mall) crawl out of the tunnels.

Shrieks of terror sound from the gunmen. Several take off running, while others try to shoot the beasts.

The hounds snap and snarl at the gunmen, then charge at the group. Two of them go off after the runners, while the other two start lunging after the assassins like they’re rabbits.

You stare at the chaos in disbelief –and then a set of strong hands grab you underneath the arms.

“Get up.” You uncle tugs you to your feet, keeping you steady when you stumble. “You can’t be in the flow of traffic for this.”

Behind you, Allison is panting like she’s run a marathon. The aura of blue smoke is growing around her, trailing into the air and floating over the ground. Veins of light spread across her face and arms, glowing the same shade of vibrant blue as her eyes. Her breathing grows louder and more ragged, until she’s growling and shaking with each exhale— and then she screams.

Much like the first confrontation in the cemetery, all those months ago, the scream unleashes a shockwave of blue energy. This time, though, the shockwave is far from a decoy for escape. It washes over you, the X-Force, your uncle, the other Rasputins, Frank, and Artemis harmlessly enough –then slams into the mafia forces and vehicles like the wall of a hurricane.

Alex charges after the shockwave, carefully trailing behind it. She waits until it clears the first line of gunmen, then slams her fist into the face of the man closest to her. She blocks his attempt to strike her, then twists his arm –dislocating the shoulder, which makes him shriek in pain. Then, she wrenches his rifle away from him. She shoots him once in the center of his forehead, then turns the firearm on his fellow men and keeps firing.

Mikhail and Artemis go after the one surviving Gatling gun. Mikhail teleports onto the truck bed; he sweeps the back of one man’s jacket over his head, effectively blinding him, then kicks the other man present in the balls before shoving him over the side of the truck.

Artemis, on the other hand, stops a few feet away from the truck. She uses her telekinesis to rip the Gatling gun off its mount, then yanks the driver out through the windscreen –headfirst, no less—and dumps him on the lawn.

He doesn’t get back up.

“Come on,” your uncle says, pointing towards the further reaches of the property, where some of the gunmen are still trying to outrun the hellhounds. “Let’s give the dogs a helping hand.”

The two of you reach out, creating a wind current that slices through the air and slams into the stragglers.

The men careen into nearby hedges –and the hellhounds have it from there.

The familiar sonic blast of Nathan’s gun rips through the air. The shot slams into the last remaining SUV, rendering the vehicle to little more than glass shards and mangled metal.

The back lawn and gardens fall silent, save for the sounds of groans of pain and the hellhounds chewing on various gunmen.

Mikhail takes a fall off the back of the truck bed. He flops onto the ruined grass below, limbs splaying like a rag doll’s. “Alright. Is time for nap. Wake me… never.”

Illyana scoffs from where she’s sat next to a smoldering bush. She picks up a nearby stone, then chucks it at her eldest brother’s head (and hits her target, no less). “There is still clean up. Bezdel'nik.”

Mikhail flips her off, then groans as he rubs the bridge of his nose.

“She’s right,” Alex lectures her eldest as she picks her way through the carnage. She nudges one body with the toe of her combat boot, then shoots him through the temple when he groans.

“Mama!” Piotr gapes at her, expression scandalized. He sputters, looking between her and the body at her feet.

“Chto? Vy khotite yego zhivym? Chtoby on mog dolozhit' svoim khozyayevam? Chtoby on mog obrushit' adskiy ogon' na etu shkolu i vsekh, kogo vy lyubite? No –no.” She holds up her index finger and stares sternly at Piotr when he tries to argue. “You do not leave enemies on your six o’clock, medvezhonok. First rule of survival.”

Piotr swallows hard, then says softly, “X-Men do not kill.”

Alex shrugs. “And I am not an X-Man.”

“We’ll handle it,” Nathan says. He holds his hand out for Alex’s rifle, nodding when she hands it to him after a moment’s hesitation.

(Wade and Frank are already working their way through the sea of dead and wounded. Frank’s traversing the chaos methodically, sticking to minimal shots to kill the survivors, while Wade’s alternating between singing “Dancing Queen” and getting post-mortem revenge.

“You shot my dick off inside!” Wade gasps as he peers down at a –slightly chewed on—corpse. “Extra bullets for you!” He then shoots the dead body several times before resuming his pitchy serenade.)

“What now?” Allison asks, staring out at the carnage with a slightly shocked expression.

“‘What now?’” Artemis repeats, laughing incredulously. She stomps towards Allison, pulling a pack of tissues out of her inner jacket pocket. “What the hell are you even doing out here? You were supposed to stay in the safe room—”

“They had cameras in there,” Allison says with a roll of her eyes, as if that justifies her decision to join the fracas. “You guys were getting your asses kicked.”

“We would’ve handled it.”

“Yeah, except you weren’t,” Allison fires back. She scrunches up her face when Artemis starts wiping the blood off her face, but otherwise takes the mothering without any complaint.

“It’s not your responsibility to deal with this shit,” Artemis says, voice and expression softening for a moment. She cleans up Allison’s face –then scowls. “And where the fuck are your cuffs? How did you even get out of them?”

Allison shrugs. “I used my powers to short the repression cuff out and ash it off.”

Illyana’s, Alex’s, and your uncle’s heads all snap around to stare at Allison.

“Are you kidding me?” Artemis hisses through clenched teeth. “You could’ve fucking killed yourself!”

“Or caused magical paradox that ripped hole in space-time continuum,” Illyana snaps.

“Ruptured blood vessels in your brain and caused an aneurysm, made the cuff deliver a lethal electrical shock, turned your magic against your own body and rendered yourself to ash,” your uncle continues, ticking off items on his fingers.

“Well, I didn’t do any of that!” Allison snarls, glaring at the others while Artemis keeps cleaning up her face. “And I made sure you losers won the fight –so fuck off!”

“Get her something to eat and drink,” Alex says. “Her blood sugar is bound to be low after pulling a stunt like that.”

Artemis glares at Alex and opens her mouth to respond—

Across the yard, Wade lets out a pained shriek. “My balls are not fetch toys! Bad Fido! Bad!”

Your eyes widen as you watch one of the hellhounds swing Wade around by his legs. You bite down on your lip, holding in a shock-induced laugh.

“Where’s this mutt’s off-switch –hey, hey! No!” Wade wriggles in the hellhound’s mouth, panicking as another beast bounds towards him. “My spine is not a tug toy! Can someone get rid of Fido and Rufus before they rip me in half!”

Allison snorts –then, before anyone can stop her, holds out her hand and flicks her wrist.

All four hellhounds melt back into the ground, disappearing to the depths of hell from whence they came.

Artemis swears under her breath, then catches the teen when she stumbles. She moves frantically, grabbing more tissues as blood starts pouring out of Allison’s nose once more. “You fucking idiot. Why the fuck did you do that? When are you going to fucking learn that you’re not invincible—”

Allison lets out a sharp, hoarse laugh –then passes out.

…

The wreckage inside the mansion is heartbreaking.

You stare at the ruined furniture, the scorched walls, the splintered doors, the ruined rec room and kitchen, and you have to wonder what was the fucking point?

Part of you understands that the mafia came prepared for war; they were going up against powerful mutants, so –naturally—they would want to be prepared. Having the strongest, most powerful weapons available increased their chances of success. Logically –from a strictly tactical standpoint—it makes sense.

Glass crunches under your shoes. You stare down at a litany of fallen picture frames, heart wrenching as you stare at the ruined pictures of graduates, students, and workers inside. We’re just a school. We work with kids. What was the point of trying to wipe us out?

Piotr ambles up behind you. He puts his arms around your shoulders and kisses the top of your head. “Cleaners and repairmen will be here in less than one hour.”

You feel numb. You place your hand on his arm. “That’s good.”

“We have back ups of pictures,” he murmurs. He kisses your cheek. “Insurance to cover replacing damaged items. We will be fine.”

“I know.” You sigh, leaning back against your husband’s chest. “We’re just a school. What… what was the point? Why try to wipe us out?”

“I do not know.” Piotr kisses your other cheek, hugging you reassuringly. “Perhaps they believed we knew information about ‘family business.’ Or that we were protecting Allison for some reason.”

“She’s just a kid,” you argue, voice breaking as your grief and exhaustion wells up and threatens to overtake you. “She’s only thirteen…”

Piotr says nothing, merely holds you closer.

You sigh—

And then a door slams. Hurried stomps echo down the hall. There’s creaking as a door opens again, followed by more footsteps and exasperated shouts.

Allison storms past you and Piotr, heading towards the kitchen. Her jaw is set, fists clenched at her sides.

You and Piotr look at each other –then follow after her, if only to be sure that nothing else is going to explode today.

She slams her hands down on the island counter –and, on the opposite side, Frank and Karen both flinch and stare at her warily.

Allison glares at Frank, jaw working convulsively. Her shoulders heave with each breath she takes. Her eyes shine with unshed tears, making the bags underneath seem darker and deeper by comparison. She trembles, expression flickering wildly between grief, white hot rage, and the neutral mask she’s trying so desperately to hold. She sucks in a breath that sounds more like a pained sob, then stares Frank down and spits out through gritted teeth, “You leave my people alone, I leave yours alone. Deal?”

Frank sighs. He nods, expression heavy with grief and eyes shining with remorse. “Yeah, kid. You got a deal.”

Allison clenches the edge of the island so hard her hands go white. She lets out a strangled, angry laugh as the tears finally start to fall. She ducks her head briefly, then glares back up at Frank. “I fucking hate you.”

Frank grimaces, but nods and says, “I know kid. It’s okay. And for what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

“That ain’t worth shit.”

“I know… believe me, I know.”

Artemis –who’d previously been watching at the kitchen threshold—steps forward and puts her arm around Allison’s shoulders. “Come on, sweetheart. Let’s go.”

Allison clenches her teeth together, but still lets out a choked sob. She presses her lips together, looking around the room to try and regain her composure, to stop the flow of tears. She manages a deep breath, then takes one last look at Frank and snarls, “If I have to see your fucking face again, I’m ripping out your guts,” before storming out of the room.

Frank, to his credit, doesn’t respond (though you suspect he feels too guilty to even consider arguing). He merely hangs his head, expression that of a kicked dog.

Karen leans against him. She interlocks her fingers with his, murmuring in his ear (likely about how it isn’t his fault, and while it looks like that may technically be the case, you’re glad you don’t have to walk the spider’s silk of a line those facts lie upon).

What a shitshow.

Piotr puts an arm around your shoulders and gently leads you out of the kitchen. “Come on, myshka. Let’s go find spot to rest.”

…

Frank and Karen leave shortly after “making the deal” with Allison.

Allison and Artemis hang back for a bit to talk to Xavier. You don’t get all the gorey details but from what you can tell, it’s essentially an offer to help train Allison’s powers so she doesn’t hurt herself rolled in with a warning to keep her nose clean, stay on the straight and narrow, etcetera etcetera.

The sun’s just starting its descent from the sky before the two of them walk out of the meeting room.

Allison is wearing Artemis’s jacket and looks downright haggard.

Artemis has her arm around the teen and is gently guiding her while she talks to Xavier (though, perhaps the term “talk” is too generous, considering most of her responses are nods or terse, one-to-two word replies).

The rest of the Rasputin family, you, Piotr, and your uncle are all gathered in the foyer to make sure Allison and Artemis leave without too much trouble (or causing more trouble themselves).

Your uncle is sweating bullets and looks like he just shit his pants; he’s glancing between Alex and their daughter so fast it’s a miracle he hasn’t given himself a headache yet.

Now or never, you think, watching him with pursed lips. Tell your secrets before they’re told for you.

Alex kneels down next to Allison. “Are you okay?”

Allison’s gaze doesn’t leave the floor. “The fuck do you think?”

She quirks her mouth to the side. “Not all that good.” Alex ducks her head lower, trying to catch Allison’s gaze. “You remember what we talked about?”

Allison’s eyes narrow. She moves her gaze away from Alex. “Go to hell. I know what I know.”

“Sometimes… it’s better to not,” Alex says. She stares at Allison for a moment longer, then pats her shoulder before standing and walking away.

Artemis stares after Alex, expression morphing rapidly between fury and shock. She sputters for a moment before snapping, “What –that’s all you have to fucking say?”

Alex pauses, turning slightly so she can see Artemis. She raises one eyebrow, otherwise looking unbothered. “Is there something else I should be saying?”

“You don’t have anything to say to me?” Artemis presses, crossing her arms over her chest. “Nothing at all?”

“Is there something you want me to say to you?” Alex fires back, smirking slightly.

Artemis stares at Alex for a long, hard moment. She shakes her head, eyes welling up with tears, then turns her glare onto your uncle. “You really didn’t fucking tell her.”

“What?” Alex’s expression sobers, going wary as she looks between your uncle and Artemis. “What didn’t you—”

“This really isn’t the time or place—” Your uncle tries.

And here it goes.

“I’ve gotta do all the work, then,” Artemis snarls with a vicious smile. “Yeah, I guess that makes sense, considering I’m not your favorite,” she tacks on with an angry glare towards you. She storms towards Alex, one hand outstretched, with a cruel, angry smile stretched across her face. “Hey, mom. How’s it going?”

Alex’s eyes widen. She stares at Artemis, eyes tracking over the younger woman’s face. “What…”

“You fucking heard me.”

Illyana, Piotr, and Mikhail look at each other, then at Alex, then at Nikolai. They explode into confused Russian, gesturing between their parents, Artemis, and your uncle—

Realization dawns in Alex’s dark eyes. Her expression trembles, tears welling up in her eyes as she stares at Artemis’s face.

And then she uses her telekinesis to yank your uncle over and decks him.

#sass writes #piotr rasputin x reader #colossus x reader #nathan summers x wade wilson #frank castle x karen page #alexandra rasputin x nikolai rasputin #love me some soap opera style drama #and frankly so does marvel #and honestly if marvel can have whatever tf infinity war and endgame were i can have this #probably shouldn't have built alex's whole backstory and have it be outside the scope of this series bUT OH WELL #deadpool fanfiction #x men fanfiction

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collecting-stories · 4 years

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Dear Diary - JJ Maybank

Request: Hi!! I have a fluffy fic request if u dont mind - JJ and y/n are best friends, but y/n has a huge crush on him and she writes abt it in her diary a lot. One day JJ accidentally sees a page where she is rambling abt him, and he's very happy cos he loves her too, but never told her anything as he was afraid of a possible rejection. So he starts giving her massive hints re: his feelings and then they eventually confess their love to each other. ❤

Request: can I have one with JJ please? Where the reader is in love with JJ but thinking he is in love with Kie or someone else. JJ loves the reader but is to scared to telling her. Can you make this with angst and fluffy? Thank you ❤️❤️

Outer Banks Masterlist

✰ ✰ ✰ ✰

The first and only time that you had worked up the courage to tell JJ that you had a crush on him you were fourteen. Just finished ninth grade, a little shier than the rest of your friends, excited about the summer, and harboring a monumental crush on your best friend. You had hoped, stupidly, that he liked you back and had eagerly pulled him aside during a party to tell him that you liked him.

“Well?” And when he didn’t answer you back after a minute, just looking back over his shoulder to your friend group, to Kiara, you started to get nervous. This had been all wrong.

“I just, don’t think I like you like that.” JJ replied, looking back at you, eyes apologetic, “Sorry, I think we’re awesome friends.”

“Yeah, friends.” You nodded, “that’s fine.”

“I just-” he glanced at Kiara again, laughing at something John B was saying.

“It’s okay, seriously, it’s good.” You promised, knowing full well that you were lying to him. It wasn’t okay and you were slowly realizing that the ache you felt from not telling him was not worse than the absolute heartbreak you felt now, standing there knowing that he didn’t like you. That you were just a friend and that’s all you ever would be.

Crushes are peculiar things though and you no matter how hard you tried you couldn’t shake yours. JJ was impossible to avoid, even if you had truly wanted to, but you did what you could to lessen the amount of time you spent with him. That first summer after you told him it was like he was everywhere you went. Like the universe was constantly reminding you of your failed attempt at love, putting JJ in your way no matter what you were doing. At a party, surfing with Pope, at your house, at the Chateau, it was like he was always around. The only option you saw for yourself was to distance yourself from the pogues too.

And you did, because it worked. Staying away helped ease the heartache. Polite hellos and the occasional fishing trip with Pope or John B, you kept your distance from JJ and Kiara by proxy, terrified that you would hear something you didn’t want to if you stayed close. But even after three years and purposeful distance your crush didn’t lessen.

The only thing that seemed to ease your mind was journaling. You’d been keeping journals for as long as you could remember, documenting moments in time that you thought you wanted to look back on someday. Good moments like parties and every time JJ said a single syllable to you and bad times, like how you knew he didn’t like you and you were positive he liked Kiara.

The bell above the door of the smoothie shop you worked at rang as JJ and Pope walked in and you pushed your journal away from you before they could get a glimpse. “Hey stranger,” JJ grinned as he walked over, leaning against the counter.

You could feel your heart beat pick up at the close proximity and caught the knowing smile that Pope gave you over JJ’s shoulder. “Hey,”

“I feel like I never see you.” He said, eyeing the board, “can I get a blue mango smoothie?”

“We just saw each other on Friday.” You offered, moving away from him to make the smoothie he asked for. He’d talk his way out of paying for it until either you or Pope fronted the bill, something you were used to when he did come around.

Every couple of weeks, for a least the last year and half when JJ realized that you and he seemed to be drifting apart, he started dropping in at your work, looking for you. Sometimes you saw him before he saw you, ducking into the back and getting a co-worker to wait on him. But sometimes, like today, it was slow and you were the only one in the shop.

“Barely, I offered you a beer and then I didn’t see you for the rest of the night.”

“Oh, I guess,” you shrugged, “I was talking to some guy from school.”

“What about?”

“Uh...none of your business.” You replied.

Pope laughed at your back and forth, grabbing a water bottle from the refrigerator by the counter, “I hate to ditch but I promised my dad I’d run groceries for him. Don’t let him talk you into paying for that!”

“I pay for my drinks!” JJ called as Pope backed out of the store, waving at you. “I pay for my drinks.” He repeated, turning back to face you.

“Okay.”

“So I was thinking,” he started to say, cut off by the whirring of the blender. You glanced back and frowned at him, shrugging about the noise before turning back. You were hoping he would leave once he’d gotten the smoothie, drawn away by something else. When the blender cut off finally and you took it out of it’s holder JJ continued on, seemingly unphased, “I was thinking you haven’t been out on the boat with us in a while.”

“I guess not,” you had steered clear of any group activities since you told him you liked him. An incredible feat considering you were turning eighteen soon and you’d been fourteen then. “I work a lot though.”

“Take a day off.”

“I’ll try.” You offered, passing the smoothie across the counter to him. JJ reached out for it, hand brushing yours and smiling like he knew what his smile did to you. “Maybe saturday...if you guys are going.” It didn’t take much to wear you down.

“Saturday’s good.” He nodded, taking a sip, “hey-”

“You forgot your wallet.”

“No, I had my wallet...but it was in Pope’s pocket. Cause we switched shorts earlier, cause his got a stain on them and he didn’t want to wear those to wor-”

“Are you trying to sell me a story right now?” You laughed, “we may not hang out all the time J but I’ve known you long enough, I can tell you’re lying.”

“I’ve fooled you once or twice.”

“Name a time.” You laughed, punching in the employee discount for the smoothie before swiping your own credit card.

JJ bit down on his bottom lip, eyes narrowing slightly as he looked at you, more serious than the playful nature of the conversation called for, as if he was thinking about something he’d said before. Finally, he shook his head, smiling and tapping the counter, “I’ll see you on Saturday.”

You were right, JJ knew he couldn’t lie to you but that didn’t mean that he had never tried. He had lied to you once, in the seventeen years that the two of you were friends, and actually pulled it off. And he’d regretted it ever since.

As promised, because you lacked the ability to resist JJ, you showed up to the Chateau in the morning on Saturday. He was already out on the jetty, throwing fishing gear in the Pogue, just in case.

“Does that cooler have person food or fish food?” You called, walking up to him. You handed you backpack to him and let him help you on board. When you stepped down he didn’t move away, crowding your space and looking down at you. You looked away quickly, though you didn’t miss the way he licked his lips as you skirted passed him.

“Neither,” JJ finally said, popping the top up so you could look inside, “it’s all beer baby.”

You laughed, shaking your head at him. “I shouldn’t be surprised I guess. Where’s everyone else?”

“Pope and John B have work and Kie said she’s busy...sorry.”

“That’s okay, we can hang out.” You replied, shrugging, trying to calm your nerves as you stepped over some reels to sit down.

“Exactly.” JJ agreed.

In complete honesty he had texted John B after seeing you in the smoothie shop, asking if he could take the boat out on Saturday and, if asked, John B could pretend that he was super busy. He hadn’t really put anymore planning into this then that, despite Kiara telling him that he should. The last thing JJ wanted was to make you feel cornered or worse, to have you find out that he knew that you still liked him.

It was an accident, really. A rather happy one, on his end. He’d been at a party with Pope when he noticed your backpack abandoned by the pool. He recognized the pins on the front and went over to grab it, finding a notebook beneath it that had your name on the inside with homemade stickers all over the front.

“What are you doing?” Pope had whispered, leaning passed his best friend to see what JJ was looking at. Pope had seen you with your journal enough times to know exactly what it was. “Put that back.”

“Why? It’s just a notebook...” he replied, voice drifting off as he flipped through the pages, landing on one from the day before. In the dim light of the torches that lined the pool area JJ had caught sight of his name in your handwriting and stopped to read the page. He knew, technically, that it wasn’t a good idea for him to be reading something that you clearly didn’t intend to ever have anyone read, an invasion of privacy, he was sure Kiara would say.

“JJ!” Pope reached around him and grabbed the notebook out of his hand, slapping it closed and shoving it back into your backpack, “dude, don’t read that.”

“Sorry, sorry.” He shook his head, not saying out loud what he had just read. He’d seen it though, that you still liked him. Despite ninth grade and the one great lie that JJ told you. Despite the distance you had manufactured between you and him. You still liked him and JJ was determined to let you know that he liked you too.

He knew that he couldn’t just come out and say it though. How would that go? Him confessing that he read your diary and knew you liked him and guess what it was the incentive he needed because he liked you too but he was so worried about fucking things up that he just insisted on being friends. No, that would never work. You’d be pissed that he had read something he was never meant to. So he let Pope return your backpack and he started a long game of hints. Blatant hints that he was interested, or so he thought but you didn’t seem to realize. You were oblivious that every time he stopped in the smoothie shop or sought you out at parties or invited you to hang out that he was trying to tell you that he liked you.

So he tried the more direct approach. An afternoon on the boat, just the two of you. But that wasn’t working either cause he was listening to you talk about some dumb podcast series your dad was obsessed with and how he would play it top volume throughout the house.

“And the guy said-”

“Oh my god!” JJ groaned. He’d tried sitting close and touching your back and telling you that you looked nice and holding your hand when you stepped on board and you were with him, alone, on the boat, for gods sake.

“What’s the matter?” You asked, a little startled at his sudden outburst.

“You. This.” JJ practically shouted, standing up on the boat suddenly and making it sway a little. “Not...what I mean is...I know I shouldn’t have but I read your diary thing and I know you still like me and I like you.”

“You read my diary? When?”

“At that party like last month,” He said, “did you hear me? I said I like you?”

“I heard you say you read my diary! JJ, that’s my personal thoughts and feelings, I can’t believe you read that!” You were comprehending one part of the conversation at a time and your brain had settled on this. That he had invaded your privacy.

“I didn’t mean too! I opened it and saw my name!”

“You should’ve closed it!”

“Well I didn’t!” He raised his voice to match yours, both of you almost shouting at each other on a boat in the middle of the marsh.

“Oh and what? You read it and thought ‘how pathetic she still likes me’ and now you’ve done all this?”

“Are you kidding me? You think I can even plan something that far in advance? I tried like 12 other ways of telling you I like you! And what are you talking about...I’m telling you I like you!”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Well tough shit cause I do. And I know you like me too cause I read it!” He insisted.

You crossed your arms and looked away from him for a moment, a deep set frown as you thought about what he said. He liked you. “Like...like me, like me?” You asked slowly, looking back at him.

“Yeah.” He replied, shoulders drooping as he relaxed.

“Well I like you too.”

“I know.”

“JJ!” You groaned.

He bit his lower lip as he sat down next to you on the bench, facing you. “So...we both like each other?” He said, grinning.

“It would appear so.” You couldn’t stop yourself from smiling as you twisted to face him. “This doesn’t mean free smoothies though, you owe me like...20 bucks, at least.”

“We’re gonna need to negotiate these terms.”

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bqstqnbruin · 4 years

Text

From the ground up

Alright y’all, a little switch up from the normally scheduled 10 things programming. But this is 8 pages of fluff that was requested based on the Dan + Shay song From the Ground Up.

This is also very inspired by my grandparents who knew each other for 85 years, were married for 66, had 4 children, 13 grandchildren, and currently 10 great grandchildren, so here’s also their story, but it fits with the song, so why not?

Hope you like it! ______________________

Five Years Old

The snow was falling, all the neighborhood boys were gathering in his front yard to start playing. You two had always been friends, meeting when you were three years old and in the same preschool class. You watched from your bedroom window as the boys started throwing snowballs at each other, something you loved doing with your younger brother. You put on all the winter clothing you can find, running downstairs to beg your mom to go across the street to the Jost’s house to play with the boys.

“Have fun sweetie!” your mom calls once you finally wear her down and convince her that you’ll come in as soon as she calls you in for dinner.

Running as fast as your legs can carry you, more and more children aggregating in their yard, it was an all out war between the guys and girls, snowballs flying. The girls were getting pelted, you coming in and throwing snowballs left and right at any boy who stood in your way. One by one, they surrender, until you were the last one standing. You were the almighty five year old, the winner of the snowball fight.

Someone taps you on the shoulder. You turn around to see who it is only to be met with a snowball to the face. The boys around you were laughing as Tyson stood in front of you with a smirk. You wipe the snow off, staring at him for a minute while the girls stayed silent behind you. The snow was still following, a crown of water droplets forming on around his face as the melted snow clinged to his hair. It wasn’t a crush yet, because you didn’t know what that was. But it was something.

The next thing you know, you’ve tackled him down in the snow, grabbing some off the ground and shoving it back in his face. The kids gather around the two of you, watching Tyson struggle to push you off of him, not succeeding until you hear your mom calling your name from across the street.

“Bye, Tyson!” you jump up, running back inside, leaving all the rest of the kids standing there, looking at Tyson’s wet hair, cold red face, and snow covered back while he watched you run and disappear behind your front door.

Seventeen Years Old

“What do you mean that’s when you knew?” you ask him, his laugh coming through the other end of the phone.

“Any girl who wasn’t afraid of beating up a guy who was bigger than her and actually does it well is the girl for me,” he says, referencing the snowball fight all those years ago. “You didn’t care what other guys thought of you: you got hit unfairly and I paid the consequence.”

“Well, yeah, you think I was going to let you get away with that? Also, we were the same size, you were pretty small then” you tease him. “It’s so corny that you fell in love with me when we were five years old.”

“What can I say? I’m a hopeless romantic when it comes to you,” he says, “There’s no one who I would want to be with other than you. The distance thing doesn’t even seem like it’s going to be bad knowing that you’re the one I’m doing it with.”

You feel your insides flutter at his words, wishing that he was there with you now. You two had been together for as long as your moms let you date, spending every moment together that you could. He was your best friend first, your boyfriend second, your forever third. “How are you feeling about going to North Dakota in a few months?” you ask him.

He lets out a long, slightly shaky sigh, “Excited? Nervous?” he tells you, his voice going up at the end of each, “Terrified.”

“It’s a new experience, that’s natural,” you try to reassure him. “You’ve never really done this sort of thing before.”

“Aren’t you nervous about going all the way to Massachusetts?”

Part of you was, part of you wasn’t. You were scared to be away from Tyson, but part of you knew that you would always find your way back to each other, even with the distance between Chestnut Hill and Grand Forks. “About being that far away from home? No, not really.”

“What about being that far away from me?” you hear him squeak out on the other end, barely loud enough for you to really hear the pain that was in his voice.

“I’m not nervous,” you whisper, wishing you could be there with him to physically comfort him, “We’re going to be just fine.”

“How do you know?”

You take a deep breath, knowing that he was going to cry a little if he weren’t already. “We have been best friends since I beat you up that day. No matter what, you’re going to be my best friend. No matter what, I’m going to love you. I don’t care if you’re at UND and I’m at BC. You could go to Sweden and I could end up in New Zealand and I will still always love you.”

You hear him laugh a little, a sniffle followed immediately after. You didn’t need to see his face to know that his nose was red, the goofy grin of his trying to hide the fear that would surely be covering his face.

“Hey, meet me by the gazebo in thirty minutes, ok?” he finally says after what felt like forever sitting there in silence.

“Sure,” you tell him, your phone beeping as a signal that he had hung up. You had no idea what he had planned, but you did as you were told, grabbing your jacket and making your way to meet Tyson. You get there to find him pacing back and forth under the moonlight that was shining down on him. “Hey, babe,” you say, him pulling you in tight for a kiss.

Even though it was summer, the night time brought a cool breeze that sent a shiver through your body even with the jacket on. Tyson takes off his jacket, his favorite one with his name on his back, handing it to you, a smile on his face as he watched you pull it over your head. “So, what are we doing here?”

“This is going to sound crazy,” he starts, knowing that would concern you a little, “but hear me out first. You’re confident that we’ll stay together even being in North Dakota and Massachusetts, but I want to put in stone. Or, I guess, wood,” he says, gesturing to the gazebo.

“What are you talking about?”

“People carve their initials in the wood here all the time. Why don’t we do that, too?”

You smile at him, bending down next to him to watch him carve TJ + YFI/YLI enclosed in a crude heart, next to others that had looked like they had been there for years. “I wonder who all these people are?” you ask, carefully tracing your finger over one that said MR+MD. “I wonder if they’re all still together.”

“Don’t matter,” Tyson shrugs, looking at the way the moonlight dances off your skin, “We’re still together, and I have a feeling we’re going to last.”

Eighteen Years Old

Tyson had no idea you would be there. The College Hockey Showdown was that weekend at Madison Square Garden, the Boston College Eagles playing against the North Dakota Fighting Eagles. One of your roommates was from a small town in southern Connecticut, half an hour outside of the city, so you convinced her to go with you and spend the weekend down there instead of driving the four hours back to Chestnut Hill after the game.

“So, which one is he?” Julie asks as the guys skated onto the ice.

You were in the only section that led you to be surrounded by a sea of maroon and gold, feeling weirdly out of place not wearing team colors but the jacket Tyson gave you that night at the gazebo, which you ended up stealing from him, instead. “Number 17, the curly-haired one,” you point to him as he talks with one of his teammates, his helmet off, making it much easier to see his face.

Tyson had been telling you how nervous the team was about this game: Brock was injured, Trevor was two days shy of a 730 day scoring drought, and the team hadn’t beaten Boston College in 11 years. Not to mention, UND and BC were the two winningest college programs since the 06-07 season, UND having a slight edge over BC, putting that much more pressure on the guys to win this game to help make the gap a little wider. Tyson only rambled off stats about the other team when he was worried about a game against them. It was the first time you would ever be rooting against the college team you had come to love, and only because it involved the boy you love.

“Does he know you’re here?” she asks you, trying to figure out why he wasn’t looking up in the stands for you. When you shake your head no, she picks you up out of your seat, annoying the other Boston College fans while the ones behind you got a good look at the four letters scrawled across your back. “Tyson!” she starts screaming, shaking you in hopes that you would join in with her.

You roll your eyes, knowing that he would be able to hear his name being called once you joined in. You were waiting to see the look on his face when he finally realized you were at the game, so you scream along with her. He hears his name, confused as to where it’s coming from. He looks around the arena, taking what felt like forever to find you. His jaw drops when he sees you, a smile on his face as he frantically waves back at you. He nudges his teammate next to him, pointing up to you. You couldn’t tell what he was saying, but from the joy that covered his face he was excited that you would get to see him play.

The first period goes by, no scoring, not much of anything. The second period was starting, and the blank score on both sides was making you nervous. One of Tyson’s teammates passed him the puck, Tyson taking the opportunity to shoot and scoring his sixth goal of the year. The Garden went crazy, you and Julie the only two in the small section of Boston College fans joining most of the crowd, Tyson pointing right up to you when he skated to the bench. UND went on the power play, his teammate passing him the puck again. At the dot, he fired it past the BC goalie, putting his team up 2-0.

You were overjoyed by Tyson’s game, getting to see him be named first star of the game that UND won 4-3. You manage to sneak your way down to where the boys are, Tyson somehow convincing someone who worked there to let you in once you gave them your name. You saw Tyson giving an interview, the guys passing by him and patting him on the shoulders while he talked. You didn’t hear what they asked him, but you could help but admire him. “That’s part of hockey. There’s going to be momentum swings. We really had to bounce back, but that just shows our character in our team. We’re all warriors in there and I think we proved it tonight.”

The reporter leaves, Tyson turning towards him. He was sweaty, disgusting, smelly, and all of that combined wasn’t enough to stop you from running into his arms as he picked you up in his arms and kissed you for the first time since the day you left. “I can’t believe you’re here!” he practically screams when he puts you down, kissing you again.

“I wanted to surprise you,” you tell him as he goes on about how excited he was that you were there.

“I think you’re a good luck charm,” he says, leading you out of the way from some of the other guys walking around the hallway and plopping you down on the floor. “Hey, I’ve been thinking,” he starts, his voice shaking.

You knew he was nervous by the sound of his voice. You gently squeeze his hand, the smile on his face growing bigger, “Yeah?”

“When you graduate, wherever I’m playing, or even if I’m not, I wanna be living with you.”

“Are you asking me to move in with you after graduation?” you ask him, his sweaty curls moving with his head. “You think we’ll still be together in three and a half years?”

He swallows, looking down at your hands intertwined, sitting on his thigh, “I can’t imagine my life any other way. It’s written on the ground of the gazebo.”

Twenty Two Years Old

You and Tyson were going home for the wedding of one of your cousins. You had been living together for a year now in Colorado, Tyson enjoying his fourth season in the league.

“Hey, can we make a quick pit stop before we head to the reception?” Tyson asks you when you get into the car. Your cousins, Lisa and Brendan get in the back seat, Tyson being deemed the designated driver for the night. You swear you see them smile at each other before looking back at the two of you.

“Yeah, sure, is that alright with you guys?” you ask them, making eye contact through the rearview mirror. They both nod, the four of you talking about the ceremony the entire way to wherever Tyson was taking you. His hands were shaking like he was nervous.

You pull into the park that was down the street from where you grew up. “Come on,” he says, rushing around the car to open the door for you and drag you through the grounds. Lisa and Brendan follow, keeping their distance as Tyson sprinted towards the gazebo.

“We haven’t been here since that night before we left for college,” you observe, looking out over the water that surrounded part of the structure. “Do you think our initials are still here?” you ask him, turning around to find him already on the ground.

“Yeah, right here,” he says, tracing his finger over your initials. He reaches up to pull you down next to him. “Did I ever tell you that my mom's best friend carved hers and her boyfriend's initials here, too?”

“No, do you know which one’s they are?”

He points to the ones by your knees, the same ones you had admired the night Tyson carved you there, MR and MD. “Matthias and Marianne. They’re probably the happiest couple I’ve ever seen.”

You stand back up, not wanting so much of your dress to be on the ground. You look for Lisa and Brendan, who are nowhere in sight. “Hey, where did-” you start, only to be cut off but what you saw in front of you.

Tyson shifted himself to one knee, a small box in his hands with the most gorgeous ring you had ever seen. “I know it’s kind of shitty to be doing this the day of someone else's wedding, but this is the only time I knew we would be here where we first promised to be with each other forever,” he says. You can feel tears welling up in your eyes, suddenly thankful that you had brought makeup with you in your bag for touch ups. “You told me that night that no matter where in the world we were, we would always be together. I want to be together forever. I want to grow old with you, have a family with you, be the father to your children that I never got and be the man your dad always wanted you to end up with. I want to hold you close, protect you, love you. I want to be your husband. Y/N, will you marry me?” he asks, the tears falling down your face.

You shake your head yes, unable to let out more than a happy sob as he slips the ring on your finger, finally hearing Lisa and Brendan screaming as you take Tysons face in your hands and kiss him.

Twenty Four Years Old

You stood in the pink room, trying to rock your little girl to sleep. Tyson should be home at any minute from the road trip, but Viviana had been fussy the entire day. All you wanted was for her to go to sleep so you could go to sleep.

“I’m home,” you hear Tyson call from the doorway of your house, praying that he doesn’t come in yelling while you cradle your ten-month-old daughter in your arms. He appears in the doorway to her room, dropping his bag and tip-toeing up to you. He rubs your arms, kissing you on the cheek before pulling you close to him. He rests his chin on your shoulder, looking down at Viviana. “Can you believe how big she’s gotten?” he whispers to you as she finally nods off to sleep.

You lay her down in her crib, Tyson standing back and admiring how gentle you were with her. He hugs you from behind again, the two of you taking a moment to just look at your daughter. You lead him out of the room, closing her door carefully. “She is so beautiful,” you gush about your daughter even though she was the reason you were perpetually exhuasted.

Tyson hugs you, finally getting the chance to kiss you hello. “She takes after you. The room, though, is very pink.” You can’t help but laugh at the same observation he makes whenever he goes into her room. As soon as you found out you were having a girl, Tyson went overboard, buying every dress he could, little bows, cute socks, anything that looked like it was made for a girl, regardless of color or if it actually conformed to the gender construct, he bought, or convinced his teammates to buy for him so you couldn’t get mad at him for coming home with yet another Avalanche related baby item.

“I was nine months pregnant when you painted that, you know it’s your fault.” The two of you go to your own bedroom, you ready to crawl in bed even though it was the middle of the afternoon. “If she wakes up, can you take care of her?” you ask him, climbing under the sheets.

“Yeah, but before you go to sleep, I think we need to talk.” You look at him, knowing that sentence typically comes with bad news, but Tyson’s face said otherwise. “I know Viviana isn’t even a year old yet, and I know we said we would wait until she was, but I think I’m ready to try for another kid now,” he says, “Only if you are, too, of course.”

You look away from him, a picture of you and him looking down at Viviana right after she was born sitting in the frame on your bedside table. You knew Tyson wanted a big family, you wanted one with him. It was an easy decision: “Can we wait until after I get some sleep?”

The smile on his face grows, excited that you were going to be trying for a bigger family. He plants a soft, sweet kiss on your head as you gently fall to sleep.

Thirty Four Years Old

“Viviana Abigale, come down here!” you call to the birthday girl as your friends and family started showing up at your house. “Tyson, I think Cale and Gabe are here,” you say to your husband, hearing voices of his teammates carrying through your house indicating that Tyson had left the front door open for anyone to just walk in.

You hear your kids running through the house, three sets of feet pounding against the floor as everyone started to show up with gifts and more food.

It was Vivi’s tenth birthday, and Tyson insisted that you have a party to celebrate your oldest child turning double-digits. Part of you thought he just wanted to show off the house now that it was finally put back together after you had it redone, but he did more of the work in preparing. You were worried that would mean having a similar party with Alexander turned ten in two years, or when Jimmy did in four. Anything to have a party to celebrate your family, Tyson was the first to suggest you make it happen.

Soon, your house and yard were filled with everyone you loved, laughing, eating, the kids playing. You watched as Alexander chased Jimmy with one of the hockey sticks Tyson’s mom had kept from when he was little. Tyson must have seen the anxious look on your face, “Don’t worry, he won’t do anything. Alexander is harmless.” You both laugh as he hands you a glass of wine, you swirling around in the glass instead of taking a sip.

“Want to go inside?” you ask him, taking his hand. You set the class down on the counter, Tyson showing a look of confusion by the untouched glass. You lead him to the wall underneath the stairs, looking at all the pictures that were there. The latest school pictures of your three children, a picture of you and Tyson on your wedding day, a picture of the two of you that your mom took when you went to the school dance together when you were in your first year of high school. “God, do you remember that night?”

“I only remember what I was wearing because of that picture and that I wanted to dance only with you,” he says, wrapping his arms around you.

“You were fourteen, there’s no way that’s what you were thinking of,” you tease him. “You danced with me once that night and spent the rest of the night leaning against the wall with the rest of the boys.”

“I didn’t want to embarrass myself in front of you!” he argues back, his face turning red with the embarrassment he didn’t want.

You laugh, giving him a quick kiss, “I beat you up when we were five. Nothing you could do in front of me could be more embarrassing than that.”

The two of you stand there for a little while longer, staring at the pictures that were on the wall of your family. “Hey, Tys?”

“Yeah?”

“When we first got married, how many kids did you think we would have?”

He stops and thinks, knowing that he never explicitly told you, letting you decide how many you ultimately had. “I always wanted four.”

“Are you mad that we only have three?”

He looks at you. “Mad? Of course not.” How could he be mad that you gave him the three most beautiful children he could have asked for. They looked more like you than they did like him, but they definitely had his childish antics down to a t.

“Would you be mad if we had a fourth?”

“Again, of course not,” he says, confused by what you were trying to say. You smile at him, it finally clicking. “You’re-?” he starts, unable to figure out how to express his joy with words. You nod, him pulling you in for a tight hug. “Holy shit!” he screams, “Holy shit, are you serious?”

“There are children, Tys!” you say, laughing as you cover his mouth.

“We’re having another kid,” he says, his eyes lighting up.

“We’re having another kid.”

Fifty One Years Old

“Lucas!” you call to your youngest son, knowing he was the only other person in the house with you. You were trying to make dinner, one of Tyson’s favorite meals for his birthday.

“Yeah, Mom?” your sixteen year old says, not looking up from his phone as he walks into the kitchen.

Your hands were covered with raw meat, mixing everything up to prepare the stuffed burgers. “Can you run to the store and get me another onion?”

Lucas groans, in a typical teenage fashion. “Dad is already at the store getting you basil, can’t you just call him to get it?”

“No, because this is his phone,” you tell him, hitting the screen with your elbow so it doesn’t lock on you since that’s where the recipe is. “And it was parsley. The keys are by the door, there’s cash in my wallet, and yes I expect the receipt and know how much I had to start with,” you say to him.

He rolls his eyes at you, leaving for the store anyway. Lucas drives to the store, muttering to himself that you would send him out when Dad was already there. He laughs as he pulls in next to Dad’s car, knowing that he was bound to run into him while he was there. He wanders through the store, not looking for the onion in the slightest in hopes to find his father and tell him to get it so he can get home and go back to the game he was on with his friends.

Lucas finds Tyson in the spice aisle, standing there with two small bottles in his hands, one parsley, one basil. “She wanted parsley,” he says, startling his dad.

“I couldn’t remember what she said, so thank god you came,” he says, putting the basil back. “What did she send you to get?”

“An onion.” The two of them walk through the store, back to the produce that Lucas had already passed in hopes of getting out of there faster. “Hey, Dad?”

“Yeah, bud?” he asks, examining the pile of onions as he tried to figure out which one would be the one his wife would pick.

“Mom has already sent you here four times this week, and now me twice. Why do you put up with it?” he asks, clearly annoyed.

Tyson laughs, picking up one of the onions and heading to check out. “I would do anything for her, no matter how ridiculous or how many times she asks me to do it.” He looks at his youngest son, the only one who looked more like him than you, “One day, hopefully, you’re going to find someone who you love more than anything on this Earth, and you would do anything in the world to make sure that they stay happy. This is part of what keeps your mother happy, so how could I not do it?”

Eighty Eight Years Old

You look around from the head table, Tyson’s hand in yours as your entire family has overtaken the restaurant. Viviana and her husband had picked you up at your house, telling you that she was taking out to her home for an anniversary dinner. You were instead taken to your favorite restaurant, greeted but your children, your grandchildren, your brother and his family, Kacey and her family, everyone you cared about.

You sit there, listening to your children and some of your grandchildren talk about what it means to be in love. “Dad would drop everything if Mom asked him to do something. There was nothing too ridiculous that she could ask of him.”

“Growing up, it was the stolen looks, Dad looking at Mom with love filling his eyes and her not noticing, or Mom doing the same to Dad, neither of them ever looking at the same time.”

“Look around at everyone here: love between two people creates love between more. We wouldn’t be here today if it weren’t for you.”

Sixty five years.

Four children.

Thirteen grandchildren.

Currently five great grandchildren, two more on the way in a few months.

The perfect life, the perfect husband.

#tyson jost #tyson jost imagine #colorado avalanche #colorado avalanche imagine #avalanche #avalanche imagine #nh #nhl imagine #hockey #hockey imagine

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lonelyyinchicago · 3 years

Text

//tw alcohol addiction//

half an hour to go. remus checked the large clock on the wall again, finding, much to his disappointment, there were still twenty-eight before he could close his little shop.

the bell on the front desk brought him back to earth.

“can i have those two please?”

remus stooped to reach the sheets of tissue paper below. gently fingering the spines of the books, he packaged them quickly and slid them back across the counter.

“£12.99 then please.”

the lady looked slightly miffed as she collected her purchase. remus’ attention had once again been captured by the clock.

five minutes. just five more minutes.

the shop emptied slowly as four thirty drew nearer. pausing from unpacking the new delivery, remus thought he heard raised voices outside.

“anywhere else, okay? i’ll buy you the freaking book anywhere else.”

a softer tone replied to the previous aggression, almost pleading with the other man: “but this one has a cafe too.”

remus shuffled back behind his counter, remaining crouched.

“why are we hiding?” a familiar voice asked in his ear.

“jesus mary.” remus slipped slightly, his hand over his heart. “you scared the shit out of me!”

“sorry.” she crouched next to him. “so why are we down here?”

remus gulped, suddenly embarrassed.

“i-ummm well. i think it’s sirius outsi-”

“he might want to talk after-”

“with someone else.”

mary slid down the wall.

“oh.”

the buzzer went off as the door opened. remus stood up and began organising the small jars of pens and rulers on the front desk.

“let me help” mary said, reaching over to encompass remus’ shaking hands.

a small cough from in front of them caused both remus and mary to look up. they jumped apart when sirius’ eyes floated down to their joined hands.

“can i help you?” remus asked, not caring about the answer.

“i didn’t even want to come in here, you know.”

“i know; i could hear you outside.” remus couldn’t help himself. “he seems nice.”

sirius flinched as a hand grabbed his arm.

“i found the book i wanted. but there are two options with different covers so which do you think i should get?”

sirius looked up at remus before turning around.

“the plain one is nice.”

the man nodded, before walking away to return the second copy.

“i didn’t want to do this” sirius hissed across the counter at remus. “so don’t look at me like that.”

“and what is it we’re doing?” remus asked innocently. “because i just want to finish work and go home. i don’t care about whatever it is that you want.”

sirius stepped back as footsteps became louder.

“just this one?” remus asked.

“errr-”

“there’s a two-for-one on same authors at the moment.”

“give me a minute then” the man said, amd quickly disappeared down an aisle.

“so what’s his name?”

“what’s her name?” sirius fired back.

“mary macdonald - she works in the cafe part of the shop.”

sirius raised an eyebrow.

“we aren’t together; not that it’s any of your business anyway” remus muttered to himself.

there was an awkward silence only broken when the pens remus was fiddling with hit the side of the glass jar.

suddenly the pens were all over the counter as remus’ hand was pulled away and gently cradled by sirius.

remus pulled it straight back and began scooping them up.

“look at me cleaning up another one of your messes” remus heard himself saying.

he snapped his head up to finally look at sirius properly. he didn’t expect to be confronted with dulled eyes and pale cheeks.

“the fuck happened to you?” remus almost laughed before the realisation hit him. “when?” he asked, once again scared to hear sirius’ answer.

“well . .” sirius let out a single laugh. “i properly screwed up on - what was it? - the 16th, you left on the 18th so yeah.”

“two weeks? you’ve been drinking for two weeks?!” the anger that remus had suppressed for eighteen months was threatening to spill. “you were so close.”

“we were close. i only did it for you, because of you.”

“no. don’t you dare pin this on me. i tried-”

for the second time that evening sirius reached across the counter. remus’ fist tightened, but he stayed where he was.

“i’m sorry. i don’t know how many times i can say it.”

“apparently forty-two for the same mistake.”

“you counted? i-wow i’m so sorry.”

“forty-three.” remus smiled through his curls. “i didn’t mean what i said. i just meant that-”

“i know. it was nowhere near 50/50 and it’s draining for you and i” sirius breathed in, “i don’t blame you for leaving.”

remus stood quietly before venturing to say “why don’t you get help? real help. end it forever.”

sirius pulled away sharply.

“no wait” remus rushed around the side of the counter. “i just mean-”

“come with me.”

sirius spoke without hesitation, taking remus by surprise.

“it would be wrong. sirius, i can’t. take-”

“it’s not the same; i want yo-”

“don’t finish that sentence. you have a-a boyfriend.”

sirius looked over his shoulder.

“i want you - i want us back.”

“you have to learn when to stop talking” remus blushed as the other man returned carrying a second novel. “do you want me to wrap that one?”

“yeah that one’s a gift.”

remus’ eyes darted from the book to the couple before him. he cleared his throat loudly.

“£8.99.”

sirius payed, his fingers lingering against remus’ as the cash was exchanged. remus looked up, and shook his head, handing back the pound change.

as sirius’ hand closed tightly around the coin it shook. remus leant across the counter: “you have to tell him.”

“i’ll see you outside” sirius mumbled over his shoulder. he turned to face remus, who was by the door, flipping over the ‘open’ sign.

remus advanced slowly, but even so sirius felt small and vulnerable. meeting him halfway, sirius held out his hands. remus held them in his own, his fingers soft from turning pages and pages of thin paper. sirius gulped, searching the caramel eyes in a desperate way he’d never done before.

“you don’t understand.” sirius’ tears broke free of his dark eyelashes. “i can’t tell, i don’t want t-”

“i understand better than you think. i would have a lot of respect for you if you told him the truth. admit that you need the help love.”

sirius looked up.

“why can’t you understand that I CAN’T.” remus tightened his hold on sirius’ wrists. “would you come with me? if i did it, really got clean, would you come back?”

“you’re rambling. i know you, you’re rambling. i can’t make any promises, and i know you can’t so just- we both know it would be better for you to walk out of here and go home with the guy who’s waiting for you in the rain.”

sirius looked out of the shop’s front window. his hands were still in remus’ as he made eye contact with the man whose tears he was unable to distinguish from the rain. there was a small nod as sirius finally collapsed into remus, who groaned a little at the additional weight.

“that was wrong.”

sirius opened his eyes into remus’.

“i couldn’t tell him. i want to tell you. not just about this, but everything. will you listen?”

“i- sirius.” remus stopped, conflicted. “you have to look after yourself. properly. i can’t do this again.”

“ever?”

“i want to but i-”

sirius dropped remus’ hand and stepped back.

“i know. i’ll be back. in i-don’t-know-how-long but you’ll see, i’m going to do this for you.”

“you can’t” remus shouted after him as sirius entered the wet street, “you have to do it for yourself.”

some extra ✨drabble✨

it was dark when remus woke up, his body twisted uncomfortably between the two cushions on the sofa. he looked around at the microwave clock.

being home alone at half past eleven on a friday night was enough to send remus into a panic.

he burst out the front door, knocking straight into sirius.

“where are you going?”

“i-” remus ran a frantic hand through his hair. “i-i thought you, you’d got into some kind of trouble.”

“trouble?”

“like a-a relapse or something. i don’t know, i was scared!”

sirius breathed out and led remus back inside.

“i told you i’d stay clean - promised.”

remus shrugged.

“people break promises.”

back in the living room, sirius arranged himself in remus’ lap. looking down at his boyfriend, and just scraping his nose, sirius whispered “i’m not breaking this one. i need you. i love you.”

remus sat up taller to connect their lips. the combination of roast potatoes and green tea fused as their mouths collided, gratefully accepting each other. as they separated, remus bit his lips nervously.

“you don’t have to say it” sirius said, wrapping a small curl around his finger. “i get it.”

“shut up, you know i love you” remus said quickly. “it’s just that, i’m proud of you, love. i really am.”

sirius squirmed somewhat at the compliment, his cheeks burning. burying his head in remus’ neck he held on tightly, remus’ warm hands travelling soothingly up his back.

“in less than an hour i’ll be four years sober.”

“and in less than an hour, i’ll be the proudest boyfriend on the planet.”

#harry potter #remus lupin #sirius black #wolfstar #remus x sirius #sirius x remus #muggle au #bookshop #tw: alcholism

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sleepdeprivedheretic · 3 years

Text

Those Shoes (Ch.4)

Song Inspired: Talk Too Much by Coin, and another song in that I listed in the fic.

Tags: @youtubequeens, who brainstormed with me, helping create the story and the cute fluff n’ stuff within it :3

Notes: I know that Thanksgiving is over, but let my over-procrastinating self have this

You couldn’t help but mimic his grin as the two of you stared at the other two’s messy faces. Eijirou’s face was a little messier than Tamaki’s small chocolate mustache.

“Ya’ve got somethin’ on yer face, Bud.” Taishiro grinned at Tamaki’s mock glare, and you couldn’t help but reach over and wipe an oblivious Eijirou’s face with a napkin.

“They’re both so cute.” You couldn’t help but admit out loud.

“Ya should meet their dad.” Taishiro couldn’t help but grin wickedly at Tamaki and your combined unimpressed looks.

“Alright, alright. Soooo, Princess, sorry I didn’t introduce my boys, earlier.” He started, and you quirked and eyebrow.

“How do you even forget to introduce your kids?” You snarked, and he subtly shrunk a little, scratching the back of his head with a sheepish grin as he glanced at the boys, both of their attention were now focused on coloring the free pages that the waitress gave them.

“There’s not an excuse. I guess I was too caught up in the moment of impressin’ ya an’ dancing. I knew that they’re safe with their babysitter, so my mind went to focusing on both earnin’ a living and…ya know.” His words jumbled out in a rush as he looked embarrassed. You decided that at least he did bring you to see them, not keeping you in the dark.

“I think I understand.” You tried, and he let out a breath of relief. Smiling, he took a crayon and started helping Eijirou color in the happy cartoon sun outlined on the coloring page.

“So, are ya good at cookin’? Seein’ that you’re the lunch lady.” He changed the subject, and you indulged him as you didn’t hesitate to grab a blue crayon, finishing up Tamaki’s half-colored sky.

“I’ve learned a few things in dietary. Not just cooking, but sanitizing everything, making sure that each utensil goes in it’s exact spot, and so on.”

“Mmmh. Must be hectic.”

“Not really, I learned some new things to old recipes, such as adding mayo, instead of butter, to make grilled cheese sandwiches.”

It was small talk between the two of you, but you felt calm and warm, the atmosphere being a stark contrast of emotions compared to your night life.

“So, what’s your plans for Thanksgiving?” You asked suddenly as the waitress handed the check to you. He blinked owlishly, caught off guard by the question, but then his eyes lowered to the floor as he put on a faux grin, scratching the back of his head.

“Um…it’s just us.”

“Same here…well, kinda. Usually I don’t celebrate with my mom. She can’t really cook, and she hires dancers to “bring life to the party”.” You rolled your eyes, motioning the quoting with your fingers, and he laughed.

“Every year?”

“With me? Yes.”

“She’s pretty persistent, ain’t she?”

“Annoying, and wanting to retire. Surprised that she didn’t forge a marriage contract with somebody since birth.” You huffed, and he then grinned wickedly.

“Find out eighteen years later, you’re opening up the door to get the newspaper, an’ outta nowhere, Harry Styles is standin’ on your front step.” His body shook with laughter as you choked on your cooling coffee in laughter.

Eijirou and Tamaki stopped their coloring to look at you with worry, but their father winked at them, patting your back as you huffed out the coughing laughter.

“Ya alright?” He offered, and you nodded, cooling down with little huffs of giggles.

“Really?” You stared at him, and he just gave a cocky little smirk, eyes twinkling with a gleeful victory.

“Made ya laugh.” He admitted, his tone a bit softer this time, and your ears couldn’t help but redden, a bit.

“Anyways! I better go. On my days off, I’ve been trying to search for other jobs.” You admitted sheepishly.

He looked reluctant to leave, and you honestly could relate. He nodded. The two of you split the bill, gathering the boys as your little group of four chatted idly, walking outside to part ways.

“I hadda great time, Princess. We should do this more often.” He admitted almost shyly, and you couldn’t help but feel a spark of hope as your stomach fluttered excitedly.

“Yeah, I’d like that.” You found yourself admitting, and once again, he looked at you with an expression of surprise and satisfaction.

“Alright then.” He breathed out, and you felt a smile pull at your lips. A gentle tugging on your pants leg had caught your attention. Eijirou’s hand gripped at your pants leg, Tamaki standing right next to him with a shy expression as the two of them held pieces of paper.

“Please take this.” Tamaki blurted out, shoving his artwork in your direction, Eijirou happily handing his to you. Your eyes widened with surprise at the gestures as a burst of warmth flooded through you at the boy’s gifts. You couldn’t help but lower down, sitting on one knee as you met them eye-level, taking the papers.

“Are these pretty pictures for me?” You asked, already knowing the answer as both boys nodded. You couldn’t help but smile, taking the papers gently.

“Thank you, I’ll put them on my fridge, alright?” You ruffled each boy’s hair gently. A cough broke you out of your spell, and your eyes darted to Taishiro, who in return fed you such a soft look in which contrasted his usual behavior. You couldn’t help but feel the blood rush into your face, neck, and ears as you realized that he was staring. You stood straight up, holding the papers close as you chuckled nervously.

“A-anyways! I gotta go! I’ll see you boys later! Thank you for the lovely pictures!” You stuttered a little at first, embarrassment creeping in on you as you took a short bow before turning to walk away.

“Would ya like to spend Thanksgiving at my place, tomorrow?” You heard him blurt out suddenly in desperation. You stilled, turning to look at him with surprise as he held a hopeful look. Time seemed to still as you calmed down from your expressive state.

“Alright.” You agreed quietly. He rose an eyebrow, face flushed as a smile formed on his lips, his expression silently, yet ironically, seemed to say ‘you adorable flustered thing’.

“Ah. Good. I’ll send ya directions, an’ ya don’t have to bring a dish. Er, ya wanna invite anybody?” He spoke clearly, scratching the back of his head, and you bit your bottom lip in thought, processing that this was indeed happening.

“Alright. I’ll just bring myself, the girls usually come by, but they’d be happy to know that I won’t really be alone.” You rambled out, wincing on how you were just embarrassing yourself, even further. He only smiled, instead.

“’M glad that you’re hangin’ out with me an’ the boys, Chickadee. Food’ll be done, early, so ya can come in anytime ya wanna.” He offered, and you felt your shoulders relax, feeling calm once again.

“Alright.”

……………………..

It wasn’t technically a date, but hell would have to freeze over if he admitted that it wasn’t. He felt an odd mix of calm, yet excited, as if he was in the eye of the storm roaring all around him. He admitted to himself that he might be overthinking things the night before, then again, it’s a very normal human thing to do. He was glad he had reached out, however. You squashed his doubts like an annoying, pesky little bug, and so he was a bit more chipper than usual.

It was four-thirty in the morning, the turkey was roasting, the sweet potatoes simmering into a boil, and he was chewing at the end of a match stick, trying to keep the aroma of the onions from getting into his eyes as he peeled and sliced them. Yesterday, he sent you a quick text where he lived, doing that so he wouldn’t forget, later, as he was busy preparing the meal. Truthfully, he didn’t often make holiday feasts such as this, opting to make smaller dinners for he and the boys, and so his skills were a bit rusty when it came to foods such as a whole turkey in the oven.

He vaguely remembered to stick a syringe full of broth into the thing once every thirty minutes while it was baking, and had to look up the rest of the instructions in fear of wasting a twelve pound turkey. His blood froze when the doorbell rang.

Putting the knife down, he wiped his hands on the towel as he sauntered towards the door, not thinking twice as he unlocked it, swinging it open. No way could it be you, could it?

Although he had his suspicions, he didn’t think that you’d actually arrive this early, neatly dressed in a cotton t-shirt underneath an apron, hair pulled up and out of the way, and you were holding some plastic bags within your grasp.

“No way in hell are you cooking all of that, alone.” Were the first words out of your mouth, and the corner of his twitched upwards.

“Apron looks cute on ya. I did say come in anytime, didn’t I?” He mused, opening the door wider, shuffling out of the way to let you in, despite his surprise. You briefly looked around, noticing the darkened living room, was lit up by the light from the kitchen. It gave you a little glimpse at the many photos of him and his boys, and you couldn’t help but feel as if his home brought a very warm atmosphere to it.

“You have a pretty house.” You didn’t hesitate to speak your mind.

“Thank ya, Darlin’.” He answered as you made your way into the dining room, placing your two plastic bags on top of the kitchen counter. He watched curiously as you emptied them.

You placed a home-made pie on the counter, a can of cool whip sitting next to it from one bag, and in the other, you brought out an assortment of children’s toys. He couldn’t help but smile as you thought about his boys, seeing the soft glint in your eyes as you placed the bubble set, Play-Doh, and other assessments on the living room table.

“They’re spoiled enough, already, ya know.” He chuckled, and you shrugged.

“They can be spoiled, more, then. Alright, where are you at, and what are we making?” You turned your focus on the food, and he obliged you.

Time seemed to drawl on as the two of you were focused on cooking and baking, you giving more helpful directions and tips to prepare the food, and he listening closely, intrigued on the many ways of how to fix the turkey. You pulled the bird out from the oven, opting to doctor it with pineapples and cherries, sticking little toothpicks that held the fruit, into it as he watched in wonder. With a little bit of dressing the baked fowl in small amounts of vanilla extract and brown sugar, he helped you place the heavy meal back into the oven.

To your own amazement, he had his own family recipe of making the sweet potatoes, mashing and stirring the now boiled root vegetables with a dash of garlic, salt, and the tiniest bit of coconut milk. The two of you had the freedom for more personal talk, now that his boys were sound asleep.

“-as ya know, it helps to be a therapist with the job.” The two of you sat at his kitchen table, taking a small break as you wiped the sweat away from your brow, sipping the iced sweet tea slowly as you hummed.

“Nemuri and Yu talk a lot about how some of their customers in the private rooms, only want to talk to somebody.” You relayed the information in your head aloud, and he nodded, popping the sliced pineapple into his mouth.

“Sometimes, it’s easy to open up to somebody who’s seen and knows things. They talk about their secret kinks, pasts, dirty little secrets, an’ ya don’t even have to dance for them, all ya have to do is listen and respond. Some of the “prettier” dancers, could earn twice as less, all because they don’t know how to simply just talk to people.” He said slowly, and you couldn’t help but cover your mouth as a yawn slipped out, he chuckled.

“Ya can sleep on the couch. All’s left is the green bean casserole, an’ the boys will wake up in about in three hours.” He offered. Much to your surprise, you trusted him as you sluggishly moved your body to the plush sofa, not caring if you were still in your apron as you buried your face into one of the couch pillows, humming softly to yourself as sleepiness washed over you.

……………..

He looked at you in amazement, on how fast you seemed to just crash. How long were you up before you had visited, he wondered. He quietly left from the living room, into the bedroom, fetching one of his blankets from the closet, humming as he returned to you, draping it over your now slumbering form. He admit, he was tired, too, but he was fueled by coffee and the sheer happiness that you willingly came over to help and spend time with him and his boys.

He was giddy, now quiet with his thoughts. He smiled to himself, seeing your face pressed into a pillow with a devil-may-care attitude as you slept on your side.

……………………

“Happy Thanksgiving!” His voice rang out cheerfully, and you jolted awake from your slumber. Sunlight filtered through the windows, giving you more of a clear view of his home, yet your attention wasn’t focused on that, right now.

“Happy Thanksgiving!” The two boy’s voices echoed back, and you hazily rubbed your eyes as the delicious aroma of food soaked into the air.

“Ah, you’re awake, huh?” His attention was onto you as you sat up, and immediately, the boy’s attention were onto you, as well.

“You came back!” Eji’s excited voice rang out, first, and Tamaki’s “Ah.” floated towards you. The hyper, black-haired younger brother climbed onto the couch as you rested your feet onto the floor, now noticing the blanket. You eyed Taishiro in question, and he chuckled, almost shyly looking away.

“Couldn’t leave a lady without a blanket. Anyways! Let’s see the parade!” He hastily changed the subject, grabbing the remote and turning on the television. You felt yourself smile a little as he hummed a little too quickly.

“Food’s done, Hon, make yerself at home.” He offered, dragging his attention away from you, to the kitchen. At the thought of food, your stomach rumbled, and you could hear him laugh quietly in the short distance.

“Look! Legos!” Eiji piped up, staring at the parade float, as you fumbled the blanket off of you. After making a short beeline to the bathroom and washing your hands afterwords, you didn’t think twice before making yourself a plate of food, joining the boys and Tai on the couch.

He looked absolutely tired, you couldn’t help but think, looking at the dark circles underneath his eyes. Yet, he kept the friendly atmosphere going, joining in on his son’s awe and joy at the parade, and you couldn’t help but feel warm and joy in the safe environment. You yourself ate quietly, throwing in some facts and opinions as the four of you finished your plates.

“Thank her for the food, as well, Boys. An’ comin’ here ‘round four in the morning, bringin’ ya some gifts.” He changed the subject, earning you a look of awe and respect from the children. Your face felt hot at the attention, and you smiled nervously as they did so, scrambling off to the bag of toys that you’ve brought them, leaving you and Taishiro alone on the couch.

“Thank ya, really. It’s been the most fun holiday we’ve ever really had.” He admitted, wrapping himself up in the blanket as he turned off the television. It felt as if your face never really cooled down, and you looked at him shyly through your lashes.

“It’s not a problem. I had a lot of fun. It’s unfortunate that these holidays seem to end so soon.” You admitted, and he could only nod.

“Ya’ve really been a great help, ya know? It doesn’t seem like much, but their holidays aren’t as long or excitin’, usually. There’s only the three of us, an’ we don’t really have other family to really visit. So, I really hafta thank ya, Sweetheart.” He yawned, letting the information sink in. You bit your lip as you felt your stomach and heart flutter with softness.

“It’s not a problem. Anytime if you want to make plans like this, I’d be more than happy, too.” You rambled out, and then it was his turn to bite his lip.

“I don’t think I can stay up, for long, Darlin’. I work tomorrow night, so I’ll probably see ya then, alright?” He changed the subject, and you could only nod.

“Don’t mean to rush ya off, but I’ll gladly make it up to ya in a show.” He winked, and you rolled your eyes, yet felt yourself smiling.

“Alright, I’ll see you, then.”

……………………..

After she left, he couldn’t help but doze off, waking up now and then to cater to his sons, and then let the feeling of surprise, giddiness, and sheer contentment flood through him. She willingly came to his home, helped him make his and his son’s day more brighter, and left him feeling warm and fuzzy.

At first it was a mere curiosity to dip his toes in the water, and now he was in too deep, and he hoped that the water wasn’t over his head.

………………………..

It was a simple night, you thought. You briefly acknowledged the dancers, your fellow hostesses, and your mother as you stood in the small circle that your mother had gathered.

“We’re doing something a little different, tonight, Babes. Since it’s nearing December, we’re hitting November off with some Dances. Here’s the ground rules.” She started, and your ears picked up at the sudden change. Your mother only did this a few times within a span of five years or so, to kick things up, she said. Although a rare occurrence, you knew the rules well.

The dancers would make their own set of rules, and choose their partners to dance with for the night. It didn’t matter what the dance was, or if it was simple grinding, all in all, the partners of the dancer were usually of course the audience. The dances, touching, and anything that bent the rules, depended on how much money the audience member threw at their host, who wanted the rules broken.

When you were younger, you thought that it was stupid, wondering why couldn’t these people just hire your mother’s employees with no bouncers in sight, but now you understood.

It was for the thrill, to basically get by with certain things that weren’t “normally” allowed within a club. Such as grinding, groping, and basically waving the finger in the security’s face. Of course, if anything had gotten out of hand, the one initiating the dance, had a call light to light the stage red, alerting security.

Only the ones who really wanted to be touched like that, offered the dances, you knew. Some wouldn’t participate, and it was more than fine. It was a mouse trap, to lure the falsehood of “getting by” with things, or “getting lucky”, the mindset of a player in a casino, your mother told you. It was smart, although very shady, you thought to yourself. Of course, your mother had everybody gathered, telling them the rules, what’s safe and what’s not, and basically, saying that if a person feels as if it’s non-consent, then don’t ever hesitate to press the call light.

“It’s shady, but my employees come first.” She winked. You sighed, getting your food tray ready for the night, eager to see which costume that Taishiro had picked, this time. Of course the dancers were the first ones to know, getting certain costumes ready if they ever wanted to participate in the “lure” game. You couldn’t help but hope that he didn’t want to dance with anybody. The thought was rather selfish, and you knew that he could earn a lot, but it still lurked in your mind.

The night crawled on, the announcer speaking loudly, saying each dancer’s name who wanted to join in on the fun. You didn’t pay much mind to it. All in all, it was just an awkward dancing audience member, grinding their hips against the dancer as the crowd roared, feeling as if they’re watching an off-brand porno.

“-our next Dancer is! Fatigue!!! I wonder who he’ll be swooning in, for the night?” The announcer’s voice cut to you, and in an instant, you felt your blood run a bit cold. Although a little dense, you had to admit the possibility of him revving up a sucker’s money, made you feel a little sick. You beat down those thoughts. He could do what he wanted to do, he was his own person, it didn’t make him any less worth of one.

He had his sons to take care of, and a life to live, you told yourself. The little speck of thought of him calling you, egged you, and you had to stomp that down, as well. Not even the unwanted, flirtatious dancers even dared to call your name in fear of your mother’s playful, sadistic wrath. He couldn’t-

“-the Sugar who’s holdin’ the drink tray.” His voice rang out, and you stopped dead in your tracks, turning to take a good look at him.

His grin was wild, yet his costume was far from it. An echo of oohs and curious mumbling rang throughout the crowd.

True to his nature, he was wearing the orange and black heels that you’ve first seen him in, yet, he was also wearing a ruffled dress shirt, slacks, and although what would seem to be an odd combination of clothing that didn’t fit the club, he wore it very well, and looked very good in it. You jumped a little as you heard cackling, and didn’t really calm down as you knew that it was your mother.

“Alright, this man’s got balls, and although I approved then, I certainly do now. I’ll hold your tray! Enjoy your dance~!” She rambled quickly, not giving you time as she grabbed your tray, and winked before sauntering off. You remained your focus back onto him, your feet moving on their own accord as his look of worry was replaced with relief.

Not as much as you. Although a little surprised, you were very, very relieved that he picked you. Plus, who were you to refuse a gesture from somebody who you were pining for?

“The rules are…” The announcer looked at his paper. “None? Huh, guess he’s changing the ‘no touch’ policy.” She shrugged as she waited for you to walk onto the stage. You felt a lot of curious stares, but it didn’t bother you as you held in a yelp, him tugging you towards him. His hand was holding yours, and the other on your waist.

“Sorry fer embarrassin’ ya like that, Sweetlin’. After everything that’s been goin’ on, I hadda do this. If ya feel uncomfortable, or wanna change your mind, feel free to say so, now. I don’t care if I get boo’d. I just wanna see if ya’d dance with me.” He whispered slowly, and you sighed softly.

“It’s…one way to ask somebody, I guess. Besides, I think the audience can handle a change of atmosphere.” You murmured gently, and he chuckled, squeezing your hand rather gently.

“Plus, it’ll show yer creepy suitors that ya can make yer own decisions. An’ also…” He paused, letting the announcer press play to the song that he’d chose. He ate up the adorable, delectable look on your face, seeing how wide-eyed and cute you were.

It was as if your life had became one of those silly rom-coms that you were one-hundred percent certain would absolutely never happen to you. Somehow, you were wrong. Very wrong. He led you, staring softly down at you as you tried to keep eye contact, face flushing furiously as to much of your sheer disbelief, the audience started whispering, singing, and chanting to the Seagull’s “I Ran So Far Away”.

“-I wanna ask you something important.”

“This is a dream and I have to wake up.” You told him, and he laughed, taking time to pinch your cheek a little.

“This song’s a little ironic, ain’t it?” He grinned, and despite your wild fluttering stomach and increased heartbeat, you nodded, acknowledging the lyrics as your face heated up.

“A little…at first.”

“Must be hard keepin’ yer hands off of me, despite wantin’ to scramble.” He bit out a joke, and you couldn’t help but huff out a bit of laughter, the two of you ignoring the oddly supporting crowd as you gave into the weird, fever dose of reality that life had hit you with, dancing with him to the sway of the classic song. He held you close to him, letting you seep in his warmth as you buried your flushed face into his shirt, feeling his body shake lightly with laughter despite the atmosphere.

Although a little lengthy, the song was beginning to end way too quickly. Breaking away, you looked at him with curiosity as he looked at you with a mix of soft determination.

“What would I like to ask ya, Darlin’, is, would you consider being my partner? Like, uh, a romantic partner?” He stumbled out the words, and your breath caught in your throat.

“Ya don’t have to answer right away! I just wanted to…show ya that I was serious, ya know?” He murmured gently, and you swallowed thickly.

“Yes.” Came out of your lips faster than you’d thought, but you didn’t regret it. He looked down at you with surprise.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Ya know what it entails? Dating a single dad?” He prodded, and you knew.

“I know. I…can’t help but cherish the three of you.” Your ears burned with embarrassment, but it was nothing but the truth. You couldn’t help but like the adorable, flirtatious single dad who did everything in his power to keep his sons safe and loved. Admittedly, you knew that they will be your priority, as well, if you planned on being there in the long run, and you had.

Warm hands cupped your face, as he stared at you with a look of sheer amazement and want.

“Let’s seal it, shall we?” He whispered, and you closed your eyes as he leaned down, pressing his mouth firmly and yet gently against yours, letting the crowd shrill with adoration.

…………….

Not the end! But it took a while. Although I was rather busy, I did want to post this chapter at the end of November <3.

#Taishiro Toyomitsu #Fatgum #Fatgum x reader #Those Shoes #Late Thanksgiving fluff #Fluff in this fic mostly

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quickspinner · 4 years

Text

Motorcycle Fairy - Part 1

Part 2 | Part 3

Planning on a part 2, but seems like we could all use a little pick me up, so here’s the first half today.

Luka had worked a lot of jobs since he was sixteen, but he had to admit working in the motorcycle shop was one of his favorites. He got to see all the merchandise as it came in, he got to see and occasionally touch bikes he would never be able to afford, and the owner was fairer than most of his employers.

Really, there was only one downside, and it was standing at his elbow right now bitching him out. Lula ignored him, continuing his inventory check.

“You’re only here because the old man knows your mom,” sniped Jean.

Luka raised his eyebrows, but didn’t look up from his clipboard. “You’re only here because he’s your dad,” he observed dryly.

“Kiss my ass, Couffaine.”

“Michel doesn’t pay me near enough for that.”

The bell at the door chimed as someone came in.

“I got this one,” Jean said quickly, taking a step towards the door before Luka had even had a chance to turn around. Jean didn’t make it more than that first step before he jerked back from the hold on his collar.

“Oh no you don’t,” growled Michel, the owner, his bushy eyebrows making an angry V over his nose.

Jean scowled. “Aw, come on, Dad, I took the class, what do you want from me?”

“I want you to not turn into a walking sexual harassment complaint every time a woman walks into this store,” Michel grunted. “That’s not even a woman, it’s an underage girl, and I am not going to subject her to you until you can prove to me you took that training seriously. Couffaine, she’s yours. Don’t talk down to her, understand? That’s a potential lifetime customer right there and you better not lose her.”

“Yeah,” Luka said with a half-smile to himself at his boss’s rather practical approach to equality. “Got it.”

“She probably won’t even buy anything,” Jean grumbled. “No way a girl like that knows anything about bikes.”

Luka ignored the lecture he knew Michel was about to deliver on the issue and walked to the front. He had to hunt about a little bit, the girl wasn’t very tall and she’d disappeared in the racks of gear before he got a good look at her.

He found her at a display of women’s helmets, standing on her tiptoes to look at a particular model. Jean kind of had a point; everything about her screamed sweetness and light, and nothing said biker.

Then again Luka’s sister was every inch the sophisticated model, yet she carried a switchblade that she absolutely knew how to use, so Luka knew better than to judge.

“Something I can help you with?” Luka asked, and the girl yelled and jumped away, flailing. Luka had to act fast to grab a rack of gloves that she nearly knocked over. “Sorry,” he said, straightening the rack. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

The boss was right, she looked a couple of years of years younger than Luka at least, which would make her seventeen or eighteen at most. Maybe younger, she had one of those faces where it was hard to tell. She was cute, with a light dusting of freckles across her nose, sweet blue eyes, and a growing blush as she stared at him.

“I’m sorry! I’m so clumsy!” she gasped, shrinking a little.

“Don’t worry about it,” Luka said with an easy smile. “I’m sorry for scaring you. Is there anything in particular you’re looking for or would you just like to browse in peace?”

“Oh!” she said, straightening and pulling a piece of paper out of her pocket. “Umm, I need a helmet. This one, please. Preferably flat black if you have it. It said on the internet that you carry this brand, so, um…” She held out the note for him shyly and he couldn’t help thinking again that she was awfully cute.

Luka smiled almost involuntarily as he took the note and unfolded it. It had the brand name, model, and even the size on it. “Cool, with this, I can go grab it off the shelf in the back no problem.” He looked up at her, smile growing at her excited face. “You can keep looking around if you want or just meet me at the counter. I’ll be right back.”

Luka went to the stock shelves in the back, unsurprised when Michel popped up next to him. “I don’t think it’s for her,” Luka told him absently as he ran a finger down the row of boxes. “But if she knows someone who rides, maybe she’ll get interested in learning.”

“Hmm,” was all Michel said. He didn’t follow as Luka picked up the right box and walked back out front. She wasn’t standing at the counter. Luka set the box down and turned to look around.

“Miss?” Luka called. There was a yelp and a crash from behind one of the racks. Luka sighed and went in the direction of the noise. He found her on the floor surrounded by boxes of road flares that had been artistically stacked a few minutes ago.

“I’m sorry again,” Luka chuckled, reaching down a hand. “I didn’t think I was that scary,” he teased, eyes twinkling.

“Oh, you’re not scary at all, you’re really nice-looking—I mean, you look nice!!” she sputtered as he grinned. “I’m just naturally jumpy,” she sighed as he helped her get to her feet. “And clumsy. My name’s Marinette by the way.” She looked at the boxes on the ground. “I’m so sorry,” she moaned, putting her hands on her head.

“Hey, don’t worry about it,” Luka reassured her, squeezing her shoulder. She looked up at him and he smiled kindly. “Happens all the time. I’ll clean it up after we get you checked out. Did you need anything besides the helmet?”

“No, I don’t think so,” Marinette said, tapping a finger to her lower lip thoughtfully. Luka had to look away. “No, that’s it,” she said more certainly. “For now, at least.”

Luka motioned her to go ahead of him, and then riveted his eyes to the ceiling when he caught himself checking her out as she passed him. She might be cute and maybe definitely kind of hot but Michel sent him to be professional. He was sure Jean was watching somewhere and the last thing he needed was to give the guy more ammo to resent him.

Luka followed Marinette to the counter and put it between them, sliding over to the register.

“May I take a look at it?” Marinette asked.

“Of course.” He opened the box from her and let her turn the helmet in her hands. She ran her fingers over the outside thoughtfully, but didn’t try to put it on.

Luka leaned on the counter admiring her concentrating face. “Is this for you or are you picking it up for someone else?” Luka asked.

“Oh, it’s for my grandmother,” she said brightly, reaching into her purse. She held out a picture of a badass-looking grey-haired woman leaning against a red Misurati. Luka took it, looking closer. A rather younger Marinette, her hair in pigtails, was standing on her tiptoes grinning hugely over the bike’s saddle.

“Nice ride,” Luka grinned, returning the picture. “She looks like a cool person.”

“She’s super cool!” Marinette exclaimed brightly. “She’s always going on all these adventures. Last time she went…” Luka leaned his elbows on the counter as she went on. She was more than cute, animated, effervescent and completely captivating as she told him about her grandmother’s travels. The amount of love and pride pouring out from her as she spoke touched him.

“You must be really close,” Luka observed when she paused for breath.

“Oh, well we—I mean she’s gone so often—but when she’s here—and I mean my grandfather never really—you know what, it’s complicated, and I’ve taken up enough of your time, I can’t believe you even listened to me ramble on, I’m so sorry—“

“Please don’t apologize,” Luka smiled, setting the bag with her purchase on the counter. “I really didn’t mind. I’m sorry if what I said upset you. I just meant that I can see you love your grandmother very much.”

“I really do,” Marinette smiled. “She’s coming through town soon on her way to the races in Le Mans. I’m hoping I can get this painted by then.”

Luka raised his eyebrows slightly. “You’re going to get a custom paint job?”

“Yes!” Marinette said, and then hastily. “I mean no. I’m going to do it myself. I already designed the art for it!” She pulled a book out of her bag and flipped through it before showing him a page with a mock up of the helmet she had purchased. The design on the side featured a fairy sending a beam of light from her wand through a prism which fractured the light into a rainbow. Flowers curled artfully around the main design.

“Wow,” was all Luka could say.

“She calls me her little fairy,” Marinette said, touching the fairy silhouette. “I hope she likes it.”

“I’m sure she will,” Luka looked up from the sketch and smiled. “It looks like it’ll be really special.”

Marinette seemed to glow under his praise, as if he was a friend instead of a random stranger. He kind of wished he was. She seemed like a really cool person. For a moment neither of them said anything. A noise from the back brought Luka back to Earth.

“Well, good luck with your gift,” he said. “And I hope you’ll come back if you need anything else. I really wish I could see the finished piece, it sounds awesome.”

“Oh,” Marinette straightened slightly. “Well...I mean if you’re really interested, I could give you my Instagram? That’s where I usually post things I’ve designed.”

“I’d love that,” Luka smiled, grabbing a post-it pad and a pen from beside the register and sliding it over to her. “I’m sure my boss would like to see it, too.”

Marinette beamed at him and his breath caught for a moment.

“See what?”

Luka jumped slightly as Michel loomed over him. “Ah, Marinette here is an artist. She’s planning to do a design on a helmet for her grandmother.”

“I see. Is Luka helping you get what you need?” the big man said gruffly, clearly (to Luka at least) trying to appear as non threatening as possible.

Marinette’s eyes widened in surprise, but she didn’t look at all afraid of the big tattooed shop owner as she turned that blinding smile up again. “Oh, yes, he’s been very helpful, and here I’ve been taking up his time. Thank you so much Luka!”

“My pleasure,” Luka smiled back, handing her the bag. “See you next time.” He watched her until she was out of the door, and wasn’t even aware of his wistful sigh until Michel’s thick hand landed on his shoulder. “Good job, Luka. Not sure if she’ll be back but good customer service is never wasted, especially if she has relatives that ride. If she does come back, she’s yours.”

“Thanks,” Luka said, hiding his smile by looking down at the post-it. He folded it and tucked it in his pocket. “I better go clean up that stuff she knocked down.”

Michel grunted agreement, and Luka got back to work, humming a new melody as he thought about sky blue eyes and a sunshine smile. He ignored Jean’s disgruntled looks easily.

The next time he had an idle moment, Luka leaned on the counter and pulled the post-it out of his pocket and pulled up Marinette’s Instagram. The profile picture was just a logo with a curly monogrammed M, but Marinette was in the first picture, smiling in front of the Eiffel Tower in a striped top and red beret. “Cute. Very French,” Luka commented to himself, and glanced around quickly to make sure he still wasn’t needed. “Wow,” Luka murmured to himself, flicking through the pictures. “These are cool.” He straightened suddenly. “Holy shit, is that Jagged Stone?” He stared at the picture of the rock star with his arm slung around Marinette’s shoulders, pulling a pair of tricolor Eiffel Tower sunglasses down his nose to wink at the camera. Marinette had a silly-looking, but still adorable, grin as she held up two fingers in a V. The caption said she’d designed the sunglasses for the rocker, and Jagged Stone himself (or at least whoever ran his Instagram account) had commented to endorse her. “Wow.” Luka sighed, leaning back on the counter again. “She’s amazing.” Beautiful and sweet and creative...like, crazy talented, wow. He glanced at the door forlornly and sighed. He hoped he got the chance to see her again.

#quickspins #lukanette #i am lukanette trash i admit it #i'll never not know you #meet-cute #luka couffaine #marinette dupain-cheng #ml fics #miraculousladybug #miraculous ladybug #motorcycle fairy

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harrygroves · 4 years

Text

the time-travelers husband (harringrove)

There was nothing particularly endearing about that Thursday in October. It was quiet, normal, boring.

Billy liked boring. It was when he felt safest in the world. The thrill he got from a mundane afternoon was like what others experienced on roller-coasters.

He was wearing his favorite sweater, the thick, brown one that really made his eyes pop. He couldn’t be bothered with his hair most days and had it tied back, away from his face. The sweater kept the chill of the library to a minimum. But when he was locked in his humidity-controlled box where cataloging took place, he felt the beads of sweat roll down his back.

The library he worked at was the best in the city. It was old, held thousands of books, and he was in charge of the Special Collections. It gave him plenty of time to himself--he was alone most of the time anyways, exactly how he preferred it.

Most people had no need for the types of books he was in charge of. Artists, educators, academics--those were the people he interacted with, the ones who needed tomes of information or old books filled with black-and-white photos and copies of paintings, pages brittle and yellow. All the same, he was called upon infrequently, and that was fine, perfectly fine.

A colleague had requested special-edition biographies on that Thursday and Billy was walking them back towards the front, small steps that clearly indicated he had all the time in the world.

“Yes, Billy will be able to help you with that, he’s our Special Collections librarian.” His coworker said loudly, nodding towards Billy who set the books down as the customer turned.

“Can I help you?” Billy asked politely.

The man was admittedly attractive, around Billy’s age, with a mess of fluffy, brown hair and dark, brown eyes. He had a smattering of moles and his--perfectly pink--mouth was open, eyes widening a smidge, breath seemingly stopped in his chest.

“Billy?” The man whispered, adjusting his shoulder-bag.

“Yes?” Billy replied, confused at the familiarity in the customer’s tone. A tone that suggested the two had shared something special. Life-altering.

“Billy.” The man repeated, walking slowly forward. “It’s you.” His eyes are glassy, like he’s going to cry.

There were a few moments of silence between them and Billy gave a small shake of the head to signify that he was completely lost.

The man let out a short laugh. “Y-you told me this would happen...and I was supposed to act normal but I’m not acting very normal, I--”

Understanding gathers in Billy’s mind. He knows. This guy knows.

Billy reaches out and grabs the man’s shoulder, uncertain but firm as he pulls him away from his colleague, walks with the man towards the quiet rows of books.

“I’m sorry, I really have no idea who you are.” Billy says, aiming for apologetic but it comes out annoyed.

Billy lets his hand fall away from the stranger’s arm when they’re out of ear-shot from other people.

“I’m Steve, Steve Harrington. And--I--you don't know me. Look, I know how odd this must be for you--it’s odd for me but, I...would you like to have dinner with me? I’ll explain everything.”

Steve is looking at him with so much radiance, so much hope, and Billy’s never been looked at like that.

Well, not for years anyways. Not since he was a little boy. An image of his mother flashes through his mind but he clears his throat, shifts on his feet, looks left and right nervously and finds the eyes of his co-worker on them, watching with interest at what appears to be a personal conversation. Billy’s never had a visitor so he can understand the curiosity.

“Billy, we’ve been planning this dinner for a long time.” Steve says this with a toothy grin, like it’s an inside joke.

That feels weird. Billy tries to think of the version of him Steve knows.

Steve’s eyes are too bright, too seeing.

Steve knows him. Very well.

It’s unnerving.

“We have?” Billy raises his eyebrows.

“We’ll go to that diner you love, the one on Marsden, okay?” Steve asks.

Billy swallows roughly. He loves that place.

“Oh...okay.”

Steve looks him over. “You look like you’ve been having a hard time,” he says with concern. “It’s going to be okay.”

Billy can’t breathe.

Steve shakes his head, as if shaking himself out of his thoughts. “Okay, so--yes?”

Billy nods.

“Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow night, alright? Seven?”

Billy just nods again.

Steve gives him another dazzling, toothy smile before turning and practically skipping away.

Billy almost doesn’t go. But at the last possible minute he throws on a clean shirt before disappearing, the clothes crumpling to the ground as he’s taken.

It’s snowing. He’s near a bridge. He’s stark naked.

It’s okay. He’s been here dozens of times. There’s a tall tree surrounded by clumps of bushes that he’s hidden a trash bag full of clothes and blankets in.

Once he’s dressed he watches the road from the bushes, watches the mail truck that starts spinning on black ice, sees his mother’s car unable to stop.

Billy watches their car get tapped, it swings round and round until coming to a stop.

He remembers the feeling of relief, and then the terror in the next moment when he watches as his fingers disappear.

The last thing he remembers of his mother is her concerned face watching him go.

Billy waits calmy. He never gets upset anymore.

A semi barrels into the mail truck, careening both vehicles towards his mother’s car.

And like magic, he watches his five-year old self materialize a few feet away from the bushes.

“Billy!” He shouts, running from his hiding place, throwing the blanket around the younger, naked him.

“Mom! Mom!” His past-self is shouting, watching the fiery mess of cars.

“Hey!, listen to me--listen to me, there’s nothing you can do, okay? Billy!” He shouts at himself. The child stops and looks at him. “You were in the car. Then you were gone and it was two weeks ago and you were reading a book with your mom. Okay? You time-traveled. Just like I did to come to see you. I know this is hard to understand but you will someday. I’m you when you’re all grown-up, okay? It’s not your fault. I know you’re scared but you’ll be okay, I promise.” Billy rubs the kid’s arms. “I have to go.”

It’s the last thing he gets out before he’s gone.

Billy’s late. He gets to the diner half past seven and sees Steve staring at the table, a glass of red wine in front of him, lost in thought.

“Sorry.” Billy huffs out when he reaches the table. “I was, uh. Detained.”

Steve isn’t angry or confused. “Are you alright?” He’s just worried.

Who was this guy?

Gorgeous was what he was. His hair was styled effortlessly, he was wearing a black jacket over a dark, wine-colored shirt and his eyes twinkled in delight.

Billy sat down, feeling sweaty and dirty.

He jumps right into it, cocking an eyebrow. “You do understand why it is I don't know you.”

A waiter comes up and asks Billy what he wants to drink.

“Beer.” Billy replies.

Steve looks confused. “You shouldn’t be drinking.” He says.

The waiter looks back and forth between them. “Beer.” Billy confirms, making stern eye contact with the kid, convincing him wordlessly to slip away.

“Why not?” Billy asks Steve when they’re alone.

“It. It makes you travel.” Steve says in a hushed voice.

“Okay, who are you?” Billy asks.

Steve flushes. “When you’re older, you’ll travel back to when I’m a little boy. For me, I’ve known you since I was six years old. You travel back to see me at the Meadow.” He’s rambling, eyes flicking all over the place, hands gesturing while he talks.

Billy stares at Steve, dumbfounded.

“This is...a lot.” Billy finally says.

Steve looks down at his lap. “I’m sorry. I...you told me to go easy on you and I’m not.”

From his lap, Steve produces a book--a journal, and places it on the table between them. It’s older, the cover bombarded with marker ink and stickers.

“I wrote down every time you came to visit me.” Steve announces proudly.

Billy stares at the book and nods a few times. He looks back up at Steve. “Which I gather I did? Or will do, fairly often.” God he’s thirsty. Where’s the waiter with his beer?

Steve ran a hand through his hair. “The last time I saw you I was eighteen. Seems like you go back to the same places a lot.”

It’s so strange to have someone else talk about this with him. “Yeah, it’s like gravity. Big events pull you in.”

Steve’s eyes sparkle. He leans forward, and in a small, cocky voice he says, “I was a big event.”

#my fic #harringrove #would anyone like a full fic of this?

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equisetumspn · 3 years

Text

Party at Victor’s

”Cas, come on man. It’ll be fun, I promise. Everybody will be there,” Dean pleaded with Castiel. “Listen, I know we said that we would stay at home and watch movies with Sammy and Kevin like we did last year and the year before, but this could be our last chance at celebrating New Year’s with our friends. This time next year everything will be different and maybe people won’t even come home for the holidays. Please?”

Castiel sighed. How could he deny his best friend anything? He never could, and it had only gotten worse in the past year and a half. Ever since he realized that he not only had a crush on his best friend but was in hopelessly love with him.

They had been down by the lake the day that Castiel’s feelings caught up with him. Castiel had been sitting on a blanket, trying to concentrate on his book and listening to Dean and Sam laughing as they had chased each other by the edge of the water. Dean had flopped down on the blanket next to him, water droplets coming off him and landing on the page of Castiel’s book. Castiel had looked up at Dean. The sun had hit him, making his green eyes sparkle in the light and emphasizing his new freckles that had come out in the summer sun. He had said something but Castiel hadn’t heard a word, too distracted by the boy in front of him. It had been like he had never seen Dean before. Dean had needed to repeat himself two times and ask if Castiel had been alright, before Castiel had registered that Dean had been asking about going to go get some ice cream. Castiel had tried to blame being too engrossed in his book and an unexpected plot twist in it, but he hadn’t been sure if Dean had bought it since he had kept looking questioningly all the way to the ice cream stand.

That evening, Castiel had paced back and forth in his room, trying not to panic. Falling in love with his best friend was such a bad idea and it was such a high school cliché that he had felt his cheeks burn red when the realization had hit him all over again. But it wasn’t like he could just as sudden fall out of love with Dean and he didn’t want to risk the friendship, so after he had considered his choices, he had decided to suppress his feelings. It hadn’t been easy, and he had spent the last eighteen months pining and feeling jealous when Dean flirted with someone else or went on a date. He had told himself a million times that he was over it, that it was behind him, but then Dean smiled and Castiel’s breath caught in his throat and his heart flipped in his chest.

“Cas?” Dean was still looking at him with a small smile. Castiel felt the last of his resistance fade away.

“All right let’s go to Victor’s party. But I still want to see that movie.”

“Yes! I’ll ask Sam if they can wait with it until tomorrow. I’ll pick you up at nine, see you then!” Dean bounced out of Castiel’s room. Castiel could hear him scurry down the stairs and then the footsteps stopped and turned back up again. Dean popped his head back into the room “It’s gonna be fun, Cas, I promise!” Dean smiled at him and disappeared again.

Castiel fell down on his bed and buried his head in his pillow. He wished that they could have spent the New Year’s Eve with Dean’s younger brother and his best friend like they had the last few years. Instead of a night filled with popcorn and joking around while watching action movies, he started to mentally prepare himself for a long night filled with loud music, speaking with people he wasn’t particularly fond of, and, worst of all, probably seeing Dean dancing with someone else, maybe kissing them at midnight. Castiel hated the feeling of jealousy. He had no right being possessive of Dean. He told himself yet again that if Dean got together with someone he was going to be happy for him, a true best friend would be happy. He thought of Iago’s line in Othello, the one about the green-eyed monster that feeds on the meat while mocking it and he knew that if he saw Dean kissing someone at midnight, his heart would break and his own green-eyed monster would consume the parts. Castiel sighed again. It was going to be a long night.

*********

Dean turned onto Cas’ street a couple of minutes before nine o’clock. He parked across the street from his house and texted him to let Cas know that he was there. Dean drummed his fingers on the steering wheel to the beat of ‘Ramble On’ that blasted through the Impala. He got so into the song that he didn’t see Cas leave his house and jumped high in his seat when Cas knocked on the window on the driver’s side. Dean leaned over and opened the door on the other side, trying to glare at Cas who laughed at his reaction. It almost worked, until he felt his breath hitch when he saw that underneath the trench coat, Cas was wearing the soft button down in the particular shade of blue that brought out his eyes even more than usual. All of a sudden, he felt way too underdressed in his flannel. He scratched at the back of his neck and lowered the volume on Led Zeppelin.

“Shut up Cas.” He started the car. “So are you ready to party?”

“Um, I guess.”

“Listen buddy, we don’t have many parties left before high school is over, so I’m glad we’re going to this one tonight. But, like, I also know that these aren’t really your thing so if you truly want to leave, you just come tell me. Okay? If it gets too much for you then we leave. Don’t want a repeat of what happened two years ago, okay? Promise you’ll tell me if you need to leave?”

“Dean. I can leave by myself in that case.”

“Nah-uh. That’s not how this friendship works. If you need to leave, we leave together. Capiche?”

Cas gave him a soft smile. “Thank you.”

When they got to the party, the street was filled with parked cars and the music streamed out of the open door as people entered the house. They walked into the kitchen and found Victor distributing drinks to those who’d just arrived.

“’Course Cas.”

“Soda is fine, thank you.” Cas got his drink and left the kitchen, saying something about going to find Aaron to talk about a documentary they both had watched. Dean just shook his head and turned back to Victor.

“Hey Winchester! Good to see you man! Here,” Victor handed Dean a beer. “Novak, you want a beer too? Or a soda? Got plenty of both, and some stronger stuff too.”

“So, Vic, did you have a good time in Aspen? You got back yesterday didn’t you?”

“Yeah, the snow was perfect. It was great actually. It’s nice to spend time with family and do something fun, you know? But there’s like a limit on how much time you can spend with your parents and younger sister before you start to go a little bit crazy. Just glad I convinced them to let me have this paaartyyy!” Victor hollered the last word and the kitchen filled with loud whoops in response.

“So Jo,” Dean said and cocked his head to the side. “Midnight’s getting closer. Any plans on who you’re gonna spend it with?” Dean smiled and wiggled his eyebrows at her.

Dean had a great time. He was only a little bit drunk, the kind that just made the world seem like a happier place and made everyone funnier. He talked with Jess about her plans on becoming a nurse. He checked in with Cas. He stood next to Stevie and cheered for Charlie against Gabriel in what must have been the world’s most equal game of beer pong. Charlie finally won, but it was really close. He checked in with Cas. He danced with Lisa for a bit and then with Benny and Andrea. It was a good evening.

“Seriously Winchester?” Jo leveled him with a flat look. “You and I? Not gonna happen again. We tried that when we were fifteen. It was a total disaster, we even swore to not talk about it again, remember?”

Dean flushed at the memory. It had felt so wrong and things had been really awkward between them for a while after the kissing incident before they had decided to put it behind them. He grimaced. “Yeah, sorry. You’re right.”

“Of course I am. I’m always right. Besides, you and I both know that there’s someone else you want. And have wanted for a really long time.”

“Wh- I… Uh… Wha- What are you talking about?”

“Don’t even try to front, Dean.”

Dean hung his head and looked down at his feet. “Am I really that transparent?” he asked quietly.

“No, you’re not. I don’t think other people know how you feel, but I’ve known you all our lives and I guess I just know how to read you.” Jo squeezed his arm and what she said made Dean feel little more relieved. Maybe the entire school wasn’t laughing at him and his ridiculously huge crush on his best friend behind his back after all?

“Dean don’t worry. I really think it’ll work out. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to go and find Victor before midnight.” Jo winked at him and then she spun on her heel and walked away.

He peaked into the kitchen but the only people there were those needing to refill their drinks. Dean couldn’t find Cas in the dining room where Charlie was obliterating people at pong again, nor among the dancing students in the living room, nor in the den where Aaron and Chuck played a video game that seemed to require a lot of tactics. Dean cursed Victor and his family’s way too big house, making it impossible to find people while he ran up the stairs to the top floor, taking two steps at a time. At the top he met Benny who come out from one of the upstairs bathrooms.

Dean blinked a couple of times, trying to process the last few minutes. Had he really suggested to Jo that they should kiss again? Jo liked Victor? Jo knew about his feelings for Cas? But most importantly, did she really imply that he might have a chance with Cas? He looked around the room and saw that several of his friends were already starting to pair up, even though it was almost ten minutes left until the clock turned twelve. Scanning the room, he realized that he hadn’t seen Cas in a while and he suddenly felt a rush of urgency to find him. Even if he probably wouldn’t be brave enough to kiss him at midnight, he still wanted to spend the last minutes of this year and the first of the next with Cas.

“Benny have you seen Cas lately?”

“I think I saw him walk out into the garden a little while ago.”

“Thanks man!” Dean ran down the stairs again and through the kitchen where Bela smiled dangerously at him and tried to stop him, but he tore past her out the French doors. The doors slammed shut behind him as he stepped out on the patio.

“Cas? Are you here?” Dean squinted out in the garden’s darkness. He walked down the steps onto the lawn. “Cas?” He called again.

“I’m over here Dean.”

Following the sound of his voice, Dean found Cas sitting on a bench by a hedge at the far side of the garden.

“Hiya Cas.”

“Hello Dean.”

“What are you doing out here?” Dean sat down on the bench next to him.

“I just needed some air.”

“Are you not having fun? Are you okay? I told you to come find me if you wanted to leave…”

“No, it’s been fine. I needed a little break, that’s all. It got so loud.” From out here, all that could be heard from the party in the house was the base from the music and the occasional excited yell. “Isn’t it close to midnight now? Shouldn’t you be in there? I bet there are a lot of them who’d want to spend midnight with you Dean.”

As if on cue, the music got quieter.

“Nah. I’d rather be here with you.”

Dean looked at Cas. Loud counting was now coming from the house. Before Dean could second guess himself, he leaned in and pressed his lips to Cas’. He felt Cas tense and Dean wondered if he had done something really, really stupid and ruined everything just because he lacked self-control for a moment, but then Cas melted into him and started to kiss him back. The shouts of ‘Happy New Year’ came from the house. Dean finally tore himself away from Cas’ soft lips and leaned his forehead against Cas’.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.”

“No, you have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.”

Dean lifted his head and looked at Cas. “Wait. What?”

“Dean, I’ve been in love with you since the summer before junior year.”

He couldn’t help the laughter that burst out of him. “Well then I have you beat, Cas. I’ve been in love with you since we were fourteen.”

“Oh. Really?” Cas looked like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“Mhm. Really, really.” They looked at each other and this time neither of them could hold in their laughter.

“Man, we really are a couple of dumbasses!” Dean said and looked at Cas’ eyes, shining with happiness.

“Maybe. I just wish we hadn’t wasted so much time…”

“Yeah, I get what you’re saying. I vote for us stop wasting time then.” Dean leaned in again.

Cas smiled into the kiss and when they broke apart, he asked “So what do we do now?”

“I say we kiss some more, you know, just to make up for lost time and then tomorrow I’m gonna take you on a date. A real one.”

“The first of many.”

“Yeah obviously.” They both smiled into the next kiss.

#destiel #fic #fanfiction #destiel fic #hs au #nye #first kiss #supernatural fiction #i tried to do an fiction #suze says

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searchingforenadi · 4 years

Text

please stop bleeding on the floor

well, this is it, guys - this fic is here to stay, so join me on this disastrous ride!

the brief summary: Your customers won’t stop bleeding in your shop. You realize this might be a problem. (second person!OC, TYL).

xiii.

You spend the next few days finding as many creative ways as you can to use up the fruit: fruit smoothies, fruit jam, candied fruit, fruit cake.

You are now sick of seeing fruit wherever you go.

A pair of customers walk through the front door. It’s Tsuna, you notice, and a young teenage boy with a riot of dark curls.

“Hi,” you greet, giving a polite nod. The teenage boy saunters ahead to check out your display of sweets. “It’s nice to see you again.”

Tsuna smiles, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, nice to see you too.”

“Hey, Tsuna!” the teenage boy calls, pointing eagerly to one of your cakes. “I want this one!”

Tsuna rolls his eyes and says, a little fondly, “Sure, that’s fine.”

You walk over to the display. He’s pointing to your raspberry cake - a new addition from your surplus of fruit.

“Slice or whole?” you ask, and it’s a good business choice because suddenly, the teenage boy whips his head to Tsuna.

“Tsuna - “ he begins pleadingly.

“Slice,” Tsuna says firmly, ignoring how the teenage boy wilts in response.

You give a sympathetic look. It’s not easy being young and fifteen.

Feeling a little more generous (and petty, you are definitely feeling a little petty), you add an extra slice in the to-go box.

“It’s on the house,” you say, handing the box over. The teenage boy accepts it with wide eyes.

“You don’t have to - ” Tsuna begins to say, only for his young companion to cry out -

“Yes! Thank you!”

“You’re welcome,” you say, because teenagers are some of your best customers, and you're banking on this one coming back sometime soon.

You turn to Tsuna, as if the past few minutes never happened, and ask, “And for you?”

He smiles resignedly, waving a hand back and forth. “I’m okay, thank you.”

“What?” the teenage boy asks, aghast. You take the offered cash and hand back some change. “You’re not getting anything?”

“I already told you, Lambo,” Tsuna says, huffing. “Dessert here is too heavy for me.”

Heavy?

“Heavy?” you repeat aloud, unable to stop yourself.

Tsuna pauses.

“That,” he says slowly, eyes moving to the side. “Is not what I meant to say.”

Lambo snickers behind his box of cake.

You don’t question any comments made over your products, you remember, and the violation of your rule has you scowling.

“I mean,” Tsuna continues, a hand moving to tug at the tie around his neck. “I”m used to lighter snacks, since I’m from Japan, and the food there is really different - ”

“Not to say that it’s bad here,” he adds on. “I’m sure everything is really delicious and - ”

“Tsuna,” Lambo says, a gleeful look in his eyes. “You’re rambling.”

“Right,” Tsuna says, somehow a meter farther away than before. He inches closer to the door. “I’ll be outside, Lambo.”

And then he’s gone.

In that silent pause, you decide that today, you have obviously failed as a business owner.

(But you know exactly what he’s talking about. You’ve grown up on tiramisu and red bean mochi because your parents used to haphazardly stuff everything into your mouth.

The reminder makes your chest ache and your stomach growl. You haven’t had taiyaki in years.)

“Ugh,” Lambo says, rolling his eyes. “Why is he always like that?”

You very pointedly do not comment on this conversational trap.

“Stop by sometime,” you tell him instead. “We have specials every day.”

Lambo beams, clutching the box of cake like it’s a lifeline, and that’s when you know you’ll be seeing him soon. “Got it!”

He waves goodbye and you wave back. When the door closes shut, you sigh, viciously mussing up your hair.

There is a lull of quiet. You glance down at the counter, then to your display of desserts, full of decorated cake and bread.

“Heavy, huh,” you breathe out.

You’ve spent years learning how to bake but you’ve never once learned how to make anything from your mom’s home country.

You stare at the counter.

I don’t need to do anything, you think, tapping your fingers on the counter top. It was a harmless comment.

You continue to stare.

Then, with a mutter of defeat, you grab a nearby notebook and pen.

This is probably a sign you should call your mom.

xiv.

You mom is, of course, delighted by your call.

“And what’s the occasion,” she says, in English, very pleasantly. “Are you getting married?”

“Mom, please,” you say. “I’m still in my twenties.”

“And those years will pass by as soon as you blink!” your mom insists. Suddenly, you feel eighteen again, standing against your parents to go to culinary school instead of university.

“I’m surrounded by old people, Mom,” you say instead, because ten more years have taught you the tactic of evade and conquer. “And little kids.”

For the briefest moments, your mind unhelpfully provides several examples of people your age, but you wave it away. The idea of seducing your regulars is so absurd, you hold back a snort.

“Sure, if that’s what you say,” your mom says airily. “Just keep your eyes peeled.”

Safe behind a phone, you roll your eyes. “Yeah, yeah.”

“Anyway, I’m thinking about - ” you pause to consider your next words. It doesn’t seem wise to mention that you feel challenged by a possible member of the local gang and his opinions on your products.

“About expanding my horizons,” you finish, appropriately vague.

“Uh-huh,” your mom says. “Like?”

You shrug. “I realized I haven’t made a lot of the snacks we used to eat years ago. You know, like anmitsu, or dango, or - ”

“Or taiyaki,” she says wryly. “Yes, I know.”

It suddenly hits you that, just like these snacks, you haven’t really thought about the country your mom used to call home.

Does your mom miss it? Does she miss Japan like you miss the States, a dull, aching feeling that you only remember in the early mornings?

Is she upset that you’re here, in Italy, rather than there, in Japan? Has she ever mourned over how you can’t speak Japanese, but chased after Italian instead?

Does she feel like a part of her has forever been left behind?

“Right,” you say, swallowing. “I, uh, I want to try it out. Making them, I mean. I think it’d be fun.”

Your mom laughs, bright and clear.

“Why not?” she asks, and you can hear the approval in her voice. “I could ask your grandma for her recipe on mochi.”

Your nose scrunches. “Mochi? Mochi is so… difficult. I was thinking something easier, like, dango.”

“Sure, you can start there,” you mom says. “I’ll still ask her for the recipe. For dango, just look one up online.”

“Okay,” you say, flipping to a new page in your notebook and sketching out ideas. “I’ll send you pictures when I finish.”

“You should!” your mom says, another laugh bubbling through the speaker. “It’s good that you’re trying.”

You know she doesn’t mean anything by those words. Still, the sting in your chest is unexpected.

“Yeah,” you say, a little hoarsely. “I think it’s time I try a little more now.”

xv.

The recipe for dango calls for rice flour, and that’s a problem, because you don’t have any on you in the shop.

You close for the day and rush to the closest food market - your hours don’t give you much leeway on weekdays.

By the time you return home, the sky is dark and your stomach is ready to riot. You scarf down a quick meal and, rolling up your sleeves, you march into the kitchen, ready to make some dango even if it kills you.

The first time goes terribly. You boil the dango for a little too long and, taking a bite, you make a noise of disgust. The consistency is too tough and you can still taste some flour.

You try again, mixing the ingredients, and remember when you used to eat dango on Saturday afternoons with your mom, when you went to the local Japanese market.

When you try it again, the consistency is better but the dough is too bland.

Your mind turns blank as you chase after the flavor from your childhood memories. By the time you're satisfied, you glance at the time and wince. You should have been in bed two hours ago.

You pack up the remaining dango and shuffle into bed - you can reassess the taste in the morning.

The next day, after setting up the shop and helping out several customers, you try out the latest batch of dango with a fresh palette.

It’s… decent. You pop in another one and realize the texture isn’t always consistent.

The realization that you are now a novice in a field of baking is grating.

“I’ll get it right,” you mutter, to the absolute silence of your shop. “I’ll get it right and then they’ll all be sorry.”

xvi.

A few days later, after you’ve made more dango than you can count, a young teenage boy saunters through the door.

“Hi again,” you say, recognizing the wild set of dark curls. “You were here before, right?”

He grins. “That’s right. I’m Lambo, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you,” you say with a smile.

“We have fresh crepes today, with different fruits, if you’re interested,” you continue, pointing to the special today, written on the board above you. You’re nearly done with the fruit basket and you are determined to get rid of it all today. “There’s raspberry, strawberry, grape - ”

“Grape,” Lambo blurts out, hands gripping a backpack. “I’ll have the grape one.”

He pauses, then adds, a little sheepishly. “Please.”

Your smile widens.

“Crepe with cream and crushed grapes,” you say, accepting his crumpled cash. “You want that to-go?”

“Yeah,” Lambo answers, eyes already drawn to your counter of displayed pastries.

You hold in a laugh and get started on the crepe. A few minutes later, you wrap it up in plastic foil and pass it over.

Lambo accepts it with gleeful eyes.

“Thank you!” he calls, already biting into the crepe.

“No problem,” you say, wiping down your pan. “Stop by again sometime.”

“I will,” Lambo says, like it’s a promise, already halfway down with his crepe. “See you!”

You watch as he leaves the store, his gangly limbs walking past the windows.

Out of nowhere, a terrible idea hits you.

You look down at your tupperware full of dango.

Provoking local criminal authorities, you remind yourself, is a one-way ticket to trouble.

You still can’t stop staring at your dango.

xvii.

That weekend, late in the afternoon, as you’re beginning to close, Yamamoto peeks his head through the front door.

“Sorry!” he says with a grin, a hand on the back of his head. “I’ll come back next time.”

You wave him inside.

“It’s okay,” you say, because you’re not going to turn away one of your pillars of revenue. Yamamoto enters the shop with a smile. “The usual?”

You pause when you get an actual good look at him.

“That would be great,” he says, as if completely ignorant of the tears in his suit and the dirt on his face. A nasty bruise is growing along his jaw, and his arms are carefully wrapped around his side.

Like every other time, you very quickly pull out the tiramisu cake. There’s enough for two more slices and, after a moment, you slide the entire thing into a larger box.

“Oh, you don’t have to,” Yamamoto says, blinking, as he pauses from pulling out some cash. “I don’t think I have enough to cover all of that.”

“It’s on the house,” you tell him firmly, although you would rather ask him to go see a doctor rather than stroll by for some cake.

Yamamoto tilts his head, eyes studying you, before he gives a bright smile.

“Thanks!” he says, taking the box and passing over the money. “I’ll try not to eat them all at - “

He abruptly turns to the side, a hand over his mouth, and lets out a cough. Something red hits skin, and onto your counter as well.

Yamamoto lowers his hand, and you both stare at the blood in silence.

You have several choice words. They begin with - again? - and end somewhere along - I am very tired of cleaning up after you and your suspicious friends.

Instead, because you are very aware of the sword on Yamamoto’s back, you snatch several napkins and silently pass them over.

Yamamoto accepts them, a little bemused.

“Thanks,” he says again, his voice slightly hoarse. His eyes glance down at the droplets of blood on your counter. “Sorry about that.”

“It’s okay,” you tell him, when, in fact, it probably isn’t okay because you’re fairly sure this is a sign of internal bleeding. “It happens.”

Yamamoto laughs, before quickly covering his mouth with the napkins.

“I guess it does,” he says, readjusting the box in his hands. There are little specks of red on the case, and you can only hope Yamamoto won’t just leave them there.

Yamamoto remains silent, for the briefest of moments, eyes trained on you, and smiles again. This time, it’s smaller - quieter.

“I’ll see you later then,” he says, waving his free hand, before exiting the shop.

You wave goodbye again and, as soon as the door closes shut, you release a heavy sigh.

Crouching down, you open the cabinet under the counter and pull out some rags and bleach. You shake the bottle and find, to your dismay, it’s nearly empty. You’re getting good at cleaning up blood.

Minutes later, you stare blankly at your spotless counter.

You… are getting very good at cleaning up blood.

-o-o-o-o-o-

we were so close to having a chapter without any blood D:

this time, no Gokudera, but he’ll have his time soon enough. instead, we now have teenager!Lambo!

our scenes today are a little more tame, but i wanted to expand on MC, to show that they’re their own person, with their own agendas/feelings. (who, also, is often motivated by pettiness and spite.)

#i need better tags for this fic #i don't know what to call it #hope you all enjoy!#katekyo hitman reborn #fanfiction #fanfic #sawada tsunayoshi #yamamoto takeshi #gokudera hayato #lambo bovino #searchingforenadi

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itzagothamcitysiren · 4 years

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Welcome to the Family

and here we are finally, the last chapter of Welcome to the Family. I can’t wait to start posting what I have planned next. Tim is coming and I’m so excited cause he’s just so much fun to write.

Also I made a post about who would be the best actor to portray Damian in this post here. I’d love you’re guys feedback, because after Tim comes Dami and I have no clue who I would want to play him and who to use for gifs for this lol. Help a girl out and give me ya’ll’s opinions.

Love Is a Burning Thing and It Makes a Fiery Ring pt.7

8 MONTHS LATER

“Are you sure you don’t care?”

“Yes, I’m sure.”

“Hmp,” Sam huffed, blowing her hair out of her face as she stared dead ahead of her in frustration. “Are you really sure because I feel like you’re just lying to me to make me not pushy. Or too stop my rambling. Oh my god, you are lying aren’t you? Come on we talked about this-,”

“Sam!” Halley’s nerves busted, pinching the bridge of her nose as she closed her eyes. The box she held underneath her armpit slacking forward a tad as her shoulders slumped in her own frustration. She motioned towards the object that was the subject of their little spat, motioning to it with wide, tired eyes. “For the last time I said its fine, I truly, honestly, deeply and with every fiber of my being do not care if you want the bottom bunk.”

“Right, sorry.” Sam hushed herself, rubbing her neck sheepishly, slowly backing away as if Halley was steaming. She cleared her throat, furrowing her eyebrows when she picked up on Halley’s stance. She motioned about as she tried to defend herself. “I’m not used to having friends!”

“You have friends,” Halley chuckled, moving further into the room, placing the box she had been holding down onto the desk in the corner of the small room.

“Blah, those aren’t real friends.” Sam made a sound of disgust and with a wave of her hand. Her voice then changed to a proud tone. She moved the hand she waved about down, smugly placing it on her hip as she popped it to the side. “They just liked me because I threw awesome parties.”

“They really weren’t that great,” Halley chuckled again as she began to unpack the box, pulling out different books and knick-knacks.

“Okay rude.” Sam pretended to be taken back. She plopped down onto the bed against the wall, letting her hands rest in her lap. She looked up at Halley, who was already busy away as she was intent on unpacking quickly. Sam played with her fingers. “Are you sure you’re okay with top bunk?”

“Oh my god, yes.” Halley let her head fall backwards in annoyance. She pulled it back up and craned her neck to the side so she could look at the girl, she’d become surprisingly good friends with over the summer and fall. “I truly don’t care, Sam.”

“Okay, okay.” Sam raised her hands in honest defeat. “Sorry, I’ve just never had a roommate before. I don’t want to come off pushy or demanding.”

Halley frowned, knowing that it was only about a year ago that that’s how she had viewed the girl and how many people still had. Sam honestly wasn’t that bad, their friendship forming surprisingly quick after their shared moment in the Gotham Academy girl’s room. They didn’t have much in common but there was just something between them that clicked. Halley couldn’t pin point what it was at first, never voicing her inner conflict she had within herself over the new friendship until only a few months ago.

Halley had skipped the fall semester, still not sure of herself and was undecided if she was ready to move on with her life without Jason. They were supposed to be on campus together and she was still trying to move forward. It was when Sam started collage and continued to reach out to Halley, actually wanting to continue the friendship they formed even with her busy school schedule. Sam still made time for her, inviting her to her dorm and even a handful of parties, which during she never abandoned her and stood next to her the entire time.

Halley was still surprised with herself for attending them but Sam had been all to convincing, finally caving and agreeing to let Halley introduce her to Star Wars. Sam was now just as obsessed with the movies as she was. She even started going to the arcade with Halley and Dylan and their group of friends every now and then. The group had also planned a group trip to a big comic convention in Metropolis one weekend.

Sam brought back some sort of comfort and normalcy in Halley’s life and that was what made her click with Sam. Sam made her feel like what a regular eighteen year old girl should feel like. Halley never felt like this before even with Jason. Of course she missed him more than anything but it was nice to just be normal, having given up on being a vigilante ever since the night Bruce fired her. That part of her life was behind her and now she was reborn in a sense.

“And this is the last one,” Dick’s voice snapped Halley out of her thoughts.

She stared down at the book she was holding, placing it down onto the desk before looking up at him. He entered their room, holding one last box. Halley gave him a thankful nod as he placed it down at the foot of the bunk beds. Halley snickered to herself and shook her head, hearing Sam’s sudden change in tone as she thanked Dick. Her crush on Dick had been jarring at first. Halley almost always finding herself regretting inviting Sam over the pair’s apartment as she spent most of the time blushing and stuttering over the blue eyed man.

“So I was thinking we could go grab lunch? You know, celebrate you starting classes. I think that’s what parent’s usually do on drop off day, right?” Dick placed his hands on his hips, his expression pondering. He caught himself and laughed, “I mean I’m not your parent but you know,”

“I’m starving!” Sam cut him off, excitedly. “That’s a great idea Dick, thank you.”

“Cool, let’s go. You guys have all weekend to unpack.” He said clapping his hands together and moved to leave the room first.

Halley rolled her eyes, wanting to unpack first before thinking of food. She had plans tonight. But Dick was right, they did have all weekend to settle in and it wasn’t like they had much to unpack, it was a small room after all. Halley grabbed her bag and room key, following Sam to the door. As she closed and locked it, she raised an eyebrow at Sam, who was unsurprisingly staring after Dick as he walked down the hall.

“That’s a great idea, Dick,” Halley mimicked her friend, pulling the key out of the hole. She tossed it into her bag, zipping it up and adjusting it around her back. “Thank you, Dick.”

“Shush, he’ll hear you.” Sam hissed, gently pushing her aside. “I can’t help that your brother is so hot. Like honestly just look at him.” Sam whispered, staring longingly as they picked up their step to follow him.

Halley didn’t respond, just shaking her head and following the two out of the building and towards the parking lot.

Hours had gone by and the threes lunch date had been long over. Dick was already on his way back to Bludhaven, having given Halley a tearful goodbye only to earn an eye roll from her. She would only be about a half hour away, Dick was just being dramatic she told him. The sun began to set when she finally pried him off of her and got Sam to stop making conversation so she could finally start getting ready for her plans.

When she was sure Sam was deep asleep she quietly climbed down from her bunk, tip toeing as she reached for her shoes. Creeping out of the room in a pair of pants and Jason’s jacket, she made her way back out into the chilly Gotham air. She had barely spent any time in the city since moving to Bludhaven. She’d only go whenever she hung out with Sam and the guys but she hadn’t truly seen the city; not like how she used to see the city.

She walked down the empty streets, keeping her hood up and her hands in her pockets, her pace steady. She cut through streets and side alleys, easily avoiding the people of Gotham’s nightlife as she did so. She reached the subway and took her first train then her second until she was close to where she needed to be and returned to the streets. Looking from side to side as she exited the underground, she made sure the coast was clear before disappearing into an alleyway and into the shadows.

She came to a stop in front of a fire escape, looking side to side once more. When she was absolutely sure she was safe, she hopped up and gripped onto the bars. Pulling herself up, she heaved herself onto the metal, climbing up and up until she was up and on the roof. The cold air made her instantly put her hands back into her pockets, cursing herself for forgetting to bring gloves. Digging them deep in, Halley walked forward, seeing her destination before her.

She sat down, her feet dangling over the edge with Jason’s gargoyle perched besides her. She frowned, but only for a moment, the view before her bringing a smile to her face. Gently, she placed her head to rest against the statue, humming to herself as she shrugged her backpack off. She reached in, pulling out the beat up copy of the first book they had read together, Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone. She been wanting to reread it for a while but never got to it. It also didn’t real right since this was their book. But she let out a breath and opened to the first page, smiling when she saw the familiar handing writing inside.

Jason had always had the habit of writing in his books. He’d underline lines he thought were interesting or important, and scribble notes of thoughts and comments. Halley never understood why and would always tease him for it but now she was thankful that he did it. She felt her eyes water as she caressed her thumb against his first note. She looked up to the gargoyle and sighed again. Turning her attention back down to the book she began to read.

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angelliev · 4 years

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Lover Boy - JJ Maybank x OC - Part Nine - Pogue Style

Word Count: 3.1K

Summary: Aria has the time of her life with JJ and the Pogues.

Warnings: Making out, explosions, implied smut, cursing, and the Pogues doing crazy shit I guess

A/N: I had a blast writing this one. I just love the Pogues and their chaotic energy. Sorry for not posting for a few days. I’m taking my time writing these parts and I’m still trying to figure out where I want this to go. Anyways, I hope you guys enjoy! (Not my GIF. Credits to the owner. I don't own the show or any of the characters.)

Lover Boy Series Masterlist

I’m starting to believe that the past is actually coming back to bite me in the ass. It has been a couple of months of Jennifer being gone. She still calls me occasionally to see how I’m doing along with the family and everyone else. Lately, my parents from my understanding are giving her space. However, they’ve been arguing a lot lately, and when they’re not, they are avoiding each other. I couldn’t help but notice that my dad hasn’t been around the house lately, not that I’m complaining, but it has been making me suspicious. He’s been acting a bit weird lately. He works on the mainland, so normally he’s only here on the weekends, but now here’s rarely ever here.

Today was just another normal day around the house. I’m currently doing homework at the kitchen island, while mom is cooking dinner and talking to Damian. Everything was going just great until the front door slammed shut. All three of us look up in confusion. In charges a very angry Claude. None of got the chance to ask what was wrong before he plucked my phone from my hands and threw it across the room. The sound of a shattered screen could be heard throughout the house.

“What the fuck?!” I yell, which surprises me. Normally I don’t have the guts to yell at my dad. “You lying little bitch!” He shouts. “Claude! What is wrong with you?!” My mom yells. “She has been lying to all of us this whole time!” He shouts. “What the hell are you talking about?” Asked Damian. “I just got off the phone with the private investigator. He knows you dropped Jennifer off at the ferry. He’s seen the text messages between you guys.” His words make me freeze. Everyone’s eyes were on me.

“Are you kidding me? You hired a private investigator to find her? When are you going to take the hint that she doesn’t want to see you?” I spit. “I don’t care what she wants! And I don’t appreciate you going behind my back and helping Jennifer run away.” His eyes filled with rage. “For god’s sake dad, she’s a grown woman! She’s not obligated to live here! She’s finally happy! Just leave her alone!” I quickly gather my things. “You’re not going anywhere. You tell me where she is!” He follows after me. I sprint to my car and lock the doors. I jump high when his body slams against the vehicle.

“This isn’t over! Get out the fucking car right now!” I speed away leaving my dad yelling to the top of his lungs. That man needs some serious help. I pick up the cracked phone. My screen is completely shattered and the phone itself is barely working, much to my dismay. I wanted to call JJ, but that idea was thrown out the window, like my phone, so I just continued to drive towards the chateau hoping that JJ was there.

I pull up to see that the van wasn’t anywhere near the fish shack, but I was more than delighted to see JJ’s bike parked. I check his room, having no luck, so I go outside and follow the sound of music. I find him resting in the hammock, vape in hand, and blanket covering his body from the brisk air. “Hey babe.” I greet him, making his head snap towards me. “Hey, babygirl. Wasn’t expecting to see you. C’mere.” He made room for me and lifted the blanket. “You’re like the best boyfriend ever. You know that?” I snuggle into his warmth. He just smirks. “I know. You moaning my name already says enough.” I lightly smack his chest, before taking a hit from his vape.

“We should runaway together.” I suggest. This catches his attention. “Where did you have in mind beautiful?” I take a couple seconds to think. “Somewhere tropical. Like Spain, Italy, Greece or Monaco. I’ve always wanted to see Europe. We can have a little house on the beach. We can get that dog you’ve always wanted. Fix up that Chevy Camaro. Think about it baby. Wake up to have morning sex, then shower sex, make breakfast, surf all day, have beach sex, drive for a little while, have dinner, then end the night with even more sex.” I ramble on. This makes him laugh. “Someone’s horny. But that does sound nice.”

“Of course, it does. I came up with it.” I let the weed relax my body, enjoying the high. “What brought this on anyways?” He asked curious. “Oh, the usual. My dad being an asshole. Fucking threw my phone across the room.” “What crawled up his ass?” “He found out I helped Jennifer runaway.” I sigh. “How?” “He apparently hired a private investigator, fucking psycho. He’s such a control freak. She’s in her early twenties, if she wants to live in Boston, who cares? Hell, I just turned eighteen and he thinks he has complete control over me still.” I huff.

“I know the feeling babe. Trust me, once we finish school, we’ll be out of here before you know it. We can fuck each other all day with no cock blocking.” The two of us laugh. We let the time pass as we vape and kiss. The kissing soon escalated into a full blown make out session. His tongues slips into my mouth while his hands find my ass making me giggle. I let my hands venture under his shirt, feeling his nicely toned body. “Jesus shit your hands are freezing.” He shivers. “I can think of a few ways to keep each other warm.” I say suggestively, before connecting our lips again. He rolls on top of me, trapping me under him. He attacks my neck with kisses.

“Cool off you two!” A voice interrupts our session, along with a water gun, hitting JJ’s back. The two of us looks up to see the whole group of pogues along with Sarah. “When the hell did this happen?” John B asked, water gun still in his hands. “Oh, you mean the make out session? A few minutes ago.” JJ attempts to dodge the question. “Not that dipshit. You guys dating. How long has that been going on?” JJ’s face scrunched trying to remember. “Like since that get together at Charis’s.” Both Pope and John B’s eyes nearly popped out.

“About time you two came out.” Said Kie. The two clueless boys whip their heads towards her. “You knew?” They asked astonished. “Yeah, so did Sarah and Charis.” “So much for no secrets among pogues.” Muttered Pope. “Sorry to interrupt your guys’ dumbassery, but can I help you? We were kind of in the middle of something.” JJ interrupts. “As a matter of fact, yes. We were planning on doing some stupid shit. You two in? Or are you guys just going to sit here and bump uglies all day?” John B aimed the water gun at us. “Okay! We’ll join you guys! Just put the damn thing down.” We got up from the hammock. “That’s the spirit. Now, get it in the van children.” He smiles. “Spoken like a true pedophile.” Says Pope.

I think it’s fair to say that I was not expecting the day to go like this, but it’s better than going home. “So, what are we doing?” I asked still unclear what the guys were planning. “Well, for starters we’re hitting up the store, Kie and Sarah were nice enough to offer to buy food and drinks, and then the rest is a surprise.” Explains John B. “This should be interesting.” Says JJ. The six of us jump out of the van and stroll our way into the store, ready to terrorize the isles and poor shoppers.

We grab a shopping cart. Sarah jumps into it after calling dibs, earning a glare from the store clerk. We head straight to the candy isle, burying Sarah in M&Ms, Watermelon Sour Patch Kids, Kit Kats, Jolly Ranchers, Skittles, Pop Rocks, Twizzlers, Hubba Bubba and Snickers. “We’re overdosing tonight guys.” Smiles Sarah. We then grab a bunch of chips. Our next stop was the snack isle. John B grabs a shitload of Cheez Its, while Pope grabs fruit snacks. At one point, I had Kie on my shoulders as she attempted to grab a box of Gushers sitting at the top shelf.

“Welp, I think that’s everything guys.” Says Kie, motioning to Sarah, here head the only body part that’s visible due to being buried by all the junk food. “I can’t move guys.” She laughs. As we make our way towards the checkout, we spot Rafe, Kelce and Topper along with more friends talking. JJ gets this brilliant idea to grab the store speaker phone and disguises his voice before announcing, “Paging Topper Thornton. I repeat Topper Thornton. We have your order of extra small condoms ready at the front desk. Thank you.” We all rush to the check-out to pay for our things giggling, before Topper and his friends come to beat our asses. Once we reach the parking lot, we all burst out laughing.

“Did you guys see his face?” JJ asked wheezing as we loaded the groceries into the vehicle. “Maybank! I’m gonna kill you!” We look over to see Rafe, Kelce, Topper and the rest of the crew charging towards us. We all quickly gather into the van, barely escaping from the Kook death squad. “Yo, John B! Slow down a little!” JJ commands before grabbing a snickers and a condom out of his wallet, before opening the side door, to see Topper on our tails.

“Here man have a snickers! Oh, and here’s a much larger condom for you man! Don’t worry you’ll grow into it eventually!” He laughs chucking them at the poor kook. “Screw you dirty pogues!” He yells as we drive off laughing. This is way better than sitting at home. Together we laugh, sang and ate as John B drove us to the surprise location. After a while, we all grew impatient, wondering where the hell he’s taking us, as we look out to see we’re practically out in the middle of nowhere on the island. We finally reach a location, of what looks like an abandoned amusement park.

“Where the hell are we?” Asked JJ, who’s head sat in my lap. “Exactly what it looks like. The OBX Fair Grounds. It’s been abandoned for like over a decade now. It’s the perfect place to do a bunch of stupid shit.” John B smiled feeling accomplished. I must say it was definitely fun to have the whole park to ourselves and boy did we have some fun. Such as, climbing roller coasters that were definitely not stable, venturing into creepy mirror mazes, and drinking on the carousel, while playing a good game of Cards Against Humanity.

As of now, me and the girls are playing another round when the boys came back rolling a bunch of bumper cars. That’s when John B and JJ begin setting them at the top of this small hill. “What the hell are you guys doing?!” I asked bewildered. “We’re gonna race these bad boys down the hill. Winner gets a twenty!” Shouts John B. “I’ll squirt you guys on the way down!” Pope yells holding up the water gun. “I highly recommend you don’t do that!” Yells Sarah. “Don’t worry! Those bushes over there should stop the cars.” Says JJ. It’s at times like this where I wonder how I ended up dating a literal five-year-old. “That doesn’t sound right babe!” I yell. Kie just scoffs. “JJ! I think what your girlfriend is trying to say is that you guys are a bunch of fucking morons!” She yells.

“Fuck off!” Yells JJ, earning an eye roll for Kie. “It’s a miracle that men aren’t extinct, due to the stupid shit they do.” Says Kie, which Sarah and I nod our heads to as we watch the two boys situate their selves in the number carts. “On your mark. Get set…go!” The boys push their cars, speeding down the hill screaming. John B’s car begins to drift. “You’re gonna crash!” Sarah yells to her boyfriend. “No, I’m not!” Not even 3 seconds later, he crashes into a gate, earning a cackle from JJ. “Suck on that loser, better get that twenty-“ JJ doesn’t get to finish his sentence when his car crashes through what looks like a closed off booth. “Dumbass.” Mutters Kie.

“You guys okay?” I asked. The two just got up and whooped. “Let’s do that again!” Shouts John B. “Holy shit! Guys I just found a bunch of fireworks.” JJ grabs one and points at the booth. “Well, what are you waiting for? Let’s light these bad boys up!” JB yells as all the boys run back up to us. “Yes, John B. Let’s let everyone know that we’re setting off fireworks in the abandoned amusement park that we’re currently trespassing.” Kie said in a sarcastic tone.

“How about this, we’ll just set off one, and take the rest of them back home?” Pope suggests. “Those things are like a decade old. Do they even work?” I asked. JJ just smirks. “Only one way to find out.” He says and proceeds to light the rocket. We all stand back as the spark is close to reaching its end, only for the rocket to fall over, aiming for the whole firework shack. “Oh shit!” “Fuck!” “Run!” All of us curse and begin to run the other way. The rocket shoots into the direction of the shack, before exploding. It then sets off a chain reaction, making all the fireworks go off at the same time, exploding the whole firework tent.

The sound of the all the fireworks going off at once and the explosion makes me cover my ears as we all continue to run and scream, attempting to make distance between us and the explosion. It felt like a long time before the sound of exploding fireworks came to a halt. We decide to look back, only to find that the tent had caught on fire, along with some more standing by it. The black smoke begins to cloud the sky. All of us stand there in pure shock.

“What the hell did you do JJ?” Screamed Kie. “That wasn’t my fault! It malfunctioned!” He defended himself. “Guys, not the best time to argue! We need to get the hell out of here! The cops and fire department have probably already been notified of the explosion and fire going on right now! And we’re a ways away from where we parked.” Pope distinguished the conversation. “Let’s haul ass people!” JB shouts and no one hesitates to resume to running.

All of our lungs began to burn, sweat was beading down our bodies, and our legs were close to giving out as we ran across half of the damn park, before reaching the van. That’s when we hear the nearby sirens. “Everyone in?” JB and Sarah look back to make sure no one was left behind. “GO, GO, GO!” We all scream, the van’s tires make a screeching noise and all of us are thrown back as we speed away from the scene. All of us sit back as we try to catch our breath, adrenaline pumping through our veins. JB decides to take a different route, hoping to avoid the authorities.

“Holy shit. Did that seriously just happen?” I asked still in shock, I must be fucking dreaming. This is not how I thought my day would be turning out. “Hell yeah! Pogue style baby! That’s what I’m taking about!” JJ smiles and puts his arm around me. We all began to laugh at how crazy and ridiculous the whole situation was. Our moment is cut off by Sarah’s phone ringing. “Who’s that?” Asked JB. “It’s Charis. Hello?” Sarah puts her on speaker.

“What the fuck did you pyromaniacs do?” Charis’s voice could be heard throughout the van, making all of us giggle. “What are you talking about?” Sarah plays dumb. “I’m talking about that big ass explosion and smoke in the sky that everyone can see!” She shouts. “Oh that? That wasn’t us.” Sarah played it off all nonchalant. “Bullshit.” “Oh, c’mon Charis. Why would we be start going around blowing up shit?” Asked John B. “Why wouldn’t you guys start going around blowing up shit?! And why wasn’t I invited?!” We all started laughing at Charis. “Uh oh, I’m losing signal. I’ll call you back later. Love you. Bye!” Sarah hangs up the phone.

“Is this a normal day for you guys?” I asked. “Pretty much.” Everyone says at the same time. Damn, I should’ve started hanging out with these guys a long time ago. I have never had this much fun in my whole life. The whole way home we all screamed and sang along to our favorite songs, until we pulled up to the chateau. We all exit the vehicle, still pumped up, so we decided to start a bonfire. Despite the fact that we already started one.

We all sat around the fire roasting some hot dogs and marshmallows. I was snuggled into JJ’s lap, blanket wrapped around the two of us. He takes his roasted marshmallow, before smearing some on my cheek. I look up at him before smearing some of mine on his nose. He leans down and crashes his lips against mine in a sweet kiss. “Get a room you two!” JB throws a marshmallow at the two of us. JJ just gives him the finger. He hugs me tighter nuzzling his face into the crook of my neck. “I don’t want you to go home.” He whispers placing a kiss on my neck. “I’m not going back home. At least not tonight. I don’t feel like dealing with my dad and his bullshit.” I yawn before taking a sip of my beer.

“You tired?” He asked. “Nah, the night is still young.” I yawn once more, making him chuckle. “C’mon, let’s go to bed.” He pulls me off the ground, wrapping his arm around me, my arm hooks around his waist. The pogues begin to make moaning noises. “Mm, JJ fuck me.” “Fuck! Right there baby.” “Harder JJ!” “Give me that Big J!” They all teased, earning another finger from JJ. “Night you horny shits.” He waves them off. “Night!” They all say.

The two of us, make our way to his room knocking into stuff, a little drunk. The two of us giggle as he picks me up and kicks the door shut before throwing me onto the bed. We throw our clothes off across the room. “I’m still kinda feeling the adrenaline rush.” He confesses as he litters my breasts with kisses. “Then let’s put that energy to good use.” I suggest, before biting my lip trying to contain my moan when he finds my sweet spot. “Let them hear babygirl. Let the whole world hear. I need to make sure they all know you’re mine.” He kisses my lips. “I’m forever yours.”

#jj maybank #jj maybank imagine #obx netflix #jj x oc

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