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enhypencores · 9 months

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Enhypen: [Sunghoon X y/n]

Genre: Teen Romance/fluff

Prompt: Unrequited love can be an absolute misery especially if it’s first love. Y/N knows that all too well, but she can’t help herself falling for her classmate, the popular figure skater, Park Sunghoon. How do things play out when everyone mistakes her childhood best friend, Ma Ri to be in love with Sunghoon? Will this misunderstanding fuel the truth to the light?

My First Requited Love

“I want to keep liking him, so I won't confess."

The platform buzzed with students yelling and chattering about various things in their flashy cliques whilst waiting for the metro to arrive. The minutes were long and tiresome as the sun sat atop our heads, dispelling immense heat and draining the last bits of our energy.

It was yet another day. Ma Ri and I were using the metro this week since the car broke down again yesterday, and we had no means of transport. The metro zoomed past us in a flash and halted. The gates then swung open. The subway arrived empty with some leftover passengers; however, chaos ensued once the army of impatient and famished brats threw themselves into the carriages. It was no less than a battle, making it inside while holding onto your bag and dignity along the way.

"Why?" Ma Ri pouted, her frown deepening as she noticed my disagreement.

“Because it’s all gonna be over then,” I muttered against her ear, holding onto the pole for dear life as students poured inside, pushing past us. As the sea of shoulders and elbows shoved past her, Ma Ri circled her arms around the pole tighter.

“What’s gonna be over when you refuse to start anything?" She hissed louder than I liked, probably due to the human tug-of-war situation simultaneous to our heated discussion. I passed her a look of discomfort.

"If I tell him and he responds negatively, I will have no choice but to stop liking him,” I muttered, feeling my throat tighten, and she looked up at me with a wave of sadness in her eyes.

“Come on. You are stunning, bright, endearing and passionate. He will like you,” my friend detailed, and I giggled at her sweet compliments.

“If only men were as reasonable as women,” I remarked, and Ma Ri rolled her eyes.

“If he isn’t then you’re better off anyway. Come on y/n, what do you even like so much about that Park Sunghoon?” Her words triggered a flow of memories. What do I like about Park Sunghoon? It was a blur.

I wasn’t always head over heels in love with him. I didn’t even know his name until tenth grade when he became the class president. He was quite tall, so he was made to stand at the back during assembly lineups (tall tier), whereas my growth hormones had yet to sprout. I was always two students away from the front (short tier). I recalled a significant memory from our morning assembly when I turned to look for Ma Ri. The long line of students deflated my energy. Dispiritedly, I looked at the end of the queue where I saw him: the tallest one at the back, under the beaming sunlight, sand-brown eyes seeping into my skin. My cheeks grew warm. It was not the sun. It was Sunghoon.

Ma Ri found out about my crush and excitedly recommended I smuggled information from her older brother, Jake, Sunghoon's close friend from nursery.

Sunghoon was a promising student but more famously known as an athlete. He was a talented figure skater. His programmes were heavily publicised in our school, so I dragged my parents to watch one of his events conducted in Seoul's largest ice skating rink; they thought I wanted to become a skater myself and grew worried. I was the last person to choose a high-intensity sport as my career path, which was true, but I left them wondering.

Under the vast sky, Sunghoon shined brighter than the stars as he ran on ice like it were his very home. He glided and danced, making the world stop and stare. After the performance, I was dazed for quite a while.

Sunghoon was always in the spotlight, but he didn't seem to enjoy it. He kept to himself and only had a few chosen friends. People gravitated towards him, impressed by his charming smile; however, he only spent time with Jay from the other section. No one knew much about his private.

Soon my diary was filled with notes of his presence.

The problem arose when I realised we were graduating high school this year, which ultimately meant moving on. I was not ready to say goodbye to this man.

“God, one of us needs to get a cycle. The subway will trample me," Ma Ri’s grieved tone interrupted my train of thought, frowning at the bulky guy who stood behind her with his sweaty armpits in the air. I pulled her close. “Thirty-five kilometres on cycle?" Throwing a sarcastic glare, I prayed our station would magically arrive sooner.

Ma Ri and I decided to leave early in the morning, so the ride to school was a pleasing experience. We reached the school premises thirty minutes early and decided to get breakfast.

“Jake has been suspicious these days about my constant interest in Sunghoon," Ma Ri grumbled, and I almost spilt the can of iced tea.

“What did you say?” I gasped. It was a surprise Jake hadn’t caught onto the strange questioning already but knowing Jake, he probably didn’t care enough to wonder.

“I just told him I wish to get into figure skating, and Sunghoon is my role model,” Ma Ri muttered defeatedly, and I couldn’t control my laughter. Ma Ri and I were the least likely to participate in sports.

“Laugh all you want. It won’t be funny when I tell him what’s really up,” she threatened with a smirk.

My laughter died down immediately. “You won’t dare!” I yelled.

From the corner of my eyes, I noticed two tall men entering the cafeteria. My heart palpitated, noticing his familiar dark hair. Sunghoon walked inside, his shirt neatly buttoned and blazer resting at the back of his shoulder, hanging on by a finger. He chuckled at something his friend Jay said, then his gaze wandered and found mine.

His eyes grew a little as he registered my presence. My heart dropped low into my stomach, his gaze making every hair on my body stand. The words flowing out of Ma Ri’s mouth grew foreign as I tuned out every other stimulus except him. He gazed at us for a moment before approaching the counter.

“Two chicken sandwiches and a lemon iced tea.” His morning voice was brittle, liberating ecstatic butterflies in my stomach. The iced tea suddenly had more meaning. I held it closer to my chest and chugged it down.

“You’re so ridiculous,” Ma Ri’s shrill voice interrupted my hurling emotions, and I sat up attentively.

“Shut it.” I glanced up, only to find him seated on the table before us. He sat, facing me, and his friend had his back to us. I suddenly felt cautious and looked away, fidgeting with the empty can.

“Why’s he here early?” I mumbled, trying to find an excuse to not meet his gaze again.

Ma Ri tugged at her lower lip. “I’m not sure. Maybe he has practice?” She replied hesitantly.

Then another guy came jogging inside. I looked up, and my jaw almost dropped. “Ma Ri…” I drawled, and she curiously looked behind.

Her eyes grew double their size.

Jake in our campus?

Ma Ri and I exchanged a confused frown.

“Sunghoon, I’m here, mate,” Jake announced excitedly, and Sunghoon expectantly stood up to hug the blonde man.

“You’ve got some nerve showing up half an hour late with that stupid smile,” Sunghoon glared, and his pink lips tugged into a charming smile.

“Bro, I ran from school to take the metro," he claimed. His loose tie, undone laces and messy hair were proof of his insistence.

“Jake, what’re you doing here?” I didn’t realise when Ma Ri had thrown back her chair and walked up to Jake pointedly. His eyes seemed to lighten up as he noticed his sister.

“Thank god you are here. I thought I’d have to search the entire campus. Oh, hi, y/n,” Jake greeted, his kind smile growing wider. “Thank you for accompanying Ma Ri at the metro." He rubbed the back of his neck, grinning my way.

I quickly got up, matching Ma Ri’s steps. "Oh, not a problem. I have to take the metro anyways since the car is acting up," I responded. I noticed Sunghoon and Jay pass each other a look before they looked back at us blankly.

“Jake, you haven’t answered. Why’re you at my school?" Ma Ri questioned, her brows furrowing with curiosity.

"To introduce the two of you," Jake chimed and motioned his hands towards Sunghoon and Ma Ri. "She has many questions about your lifestyle because she suddenly wishes to get into figure skating even though I have never seen an ounce of athleticism from her. I don’t know why she can't just approach you, but assuming she feels threatened by your popularity, I humbly request you to please befriend her.”

Silence.

The next few moments were the slowest moments of my life. I felt the thunderous waves of fury radiating from Ma Ri. Sunghoon stared at the siblings dumbfounded while the third friend, Jay, laughed like a maniac. The humiliation of the encounter struck hard as Ma Ri almost tumbled Jake to the ground, and his screams reverberated throughout the cafeteria. I attempted to pull Ma Ri off as Sunghoon rushed to help up a traumatised Jake.

“You’re dead meat when I get home!” Ma Ri rattled, and Jake almost punched her in the face.

“You like him so just tell him and stop bothering me! Sunghoon this Sunghoon that- he will give you all your answers!” Jake, the smug bastard, gave her a tangy smile whilst Ma Ri swore to rip his head off.

“Excuse us,” I quickly spat and hurriedly pulled Ma Ri out of the cafeteria after a million more insults were thrown both ways.

“Do you believe this guy is my brother? He’s so stupid! I can’t believe he said that shit right in front of Sunghoon,” Ma Ri sprang to fight, but I held her down, hugging her chest.

“Stop!” I yelped, holding onto her. When she finally calmed down, I let go and sat her down on the bench next to the water cooler.

Both of us remained quiet for a while. Tension seized my chest as I tried to ease my frantic thoughts. Jake’s words lingered in my head. I tried to imagine Sunghoon’s reaction. For now, he seemed taken aback. What if he believed those words and assumed Ma Ri liked him? Would he like her back?

It took me months to even look him in the eyes. When we passed by in the hallway, those bashful glances felt like they would appease me for a lifetime. At the moment, though, I imagined him thinking of my friend, and my chest tightened. Those glances could not possibly last me a lifetime.

"He won't think of me that way. I will explain it to him," Ma Ri mumbled, her eyes drenched with guilt. I felt my eyes burn. Ma Ri was stunning, uplifting and passionate. If Sunghoon didn't like her, he would be a fool.

“Ma Ri.” I wrapped my hands around hers, and my throat tightened as tears marred my vision.

"You don’t need to clarify anything."

Maybe this was a wake-up call. I had believed one day I would have enough courage to meet his eyes and confess my heart, but I never could. Sunghoon would always only be a name in my diary.

“Y/n…”

I smiled tightly and rubbed my palm against hers reassuringly.

"It doesn’t matter, Ma Ri."

I got up quickly, blinking away the tears, and Ma Ri followed suit, frowning deeply with a hesitant glance. Just then, the trio walked out of the cafeteria. Habitually, my eyes found him before anyone. Sunghoon had a strange look on his face, his lips downturned and gaze distracted. He almost looked angry.

When he noticed us, he paused. I expected him to look for Ma Ri, but his gaze spotted me like the north of a compass. I felt a weird surge of emotions in my chest like blusterous waves crashing against the shore.

I forced myself to look away. Jake carried a sour expression, his smile tight, and I deliberated whether to feel curious about their secret discussion. Jay, the only normal one, waddled beside them, running fingers through his slick hair as he stared at us with a suspicious smirk.

"Time for class," I squealed, a little too excitedly and ran away with Ma Ri chasing behind.

My day was spent overthinking. The lectures went over my head because of the morning affair, not to mention the stares passed my way from Sunghoon. He was two rows away, but I felt his presence overwhelm my cognition. I didn’t understand why he kept looking my way when Jake had seemingly exposed Ma Ri and not me.

Ma Ri also spent half the day passing sweet smiles. I felt a tinge of guilt for getting her involved in this mess, so I smiled back brightly and hoped she would forgive me. She attempted to talk about the issue and even brought up confessing to Sunghoon, but I shut her requests down.

Truth be told, I was afraid. If Sunghoon believed Ma Ri liked him, he might compare me with my best friend. I wasn't exceptionally pretty like Ma Ri. They probably complemented each other better. I would rather never be an option to begin with than become a source of discomfort.

By the end of the day, I was mentally drained. I grabbed my bag and pushed against the door to look around for Ma Ri. She had left for the locker room to get her novel. I waited for a couple of minutes and then decided to find her. I walked down the hallway and pushed the door open.

I froze against the open door. My lips parted as if to speak, but I couldn’t even feel myself breathing. The strange tension in my chest seemed to unwind, and my heart plummeted like a sinking ship. Ma Ri stood against her locker, gazing up at Sunghoon.

As a wide-eyed Ma Ri noticed my intrusion, she quickly called out to me. Sunghoon turned in a flash with furrowed brows. His gaze tensed, and he stepped away, his eyes burning into my soul. He opened his mouth to say something but decided against it.

Seeing the taller two gazing at one another felt like they were out of a rom-com. They were the picture-perfect couple. My world was discombobulating. If I stayed there any longer, I would bawl right before them.

"I’ll go alone today.”

I turned on my heel and dashed away.

I heard my name. It wasn't Ma Ri. It was Sunghoon's gravelly voice calling out to me. I heard a slight commotion, but my emotions drove me farther from the two. I didn't want assurance or sympathy. I wanted to get myself together before my heart really broke.

I didn’t stop even after I safely made it out of the school’s premises. My body craved insurgence, breaking out of its cage to run till I felt the anxiety break off like autumn leaves. I ran downtown and stopped once I was standing at the metro station. Students were scattered around in groups, awaiting the subway.

I heaved as I leaned against a magazine stall, desperately gulping down air. Closing my eyes, I felt my head throb with tension. I smoothed my fingers against my temple. Soon the wind felt cool against my skin. A few moments flaunted by when the sudden zoom of the subway boomed inside the premises. Alert, I stood upright and rushed to step closer to the door.

The students beside me were more passionate. A few shoves drove me back, and I pressed my lips tight unimpressed. As the doors opened wide, bunch of students jumped inside, along with some feistier ones from behind me. I clutched onto my bag and trudged forward, hoping I wouldn’t get pushed back by the sea of men.

I managed to land inside, but the next challenge was to find balance and avoid tall men. It proved harder than I expected as I was sandwiched between a bulky man with his back against my chest and the other end of the train. I couldn’t breathe, let alone stand. I tried pushing him forward, but that only triggered the traffic to lean back. I felt like I’d get trampled.

The wind was knocked out of me when suddenly someone grabbed my wrist and yanked me to the far right, towards a pole. I gasped as the person pressed flat against my back heaved, and the rumbles vibrated against my frame. I was ready to scream murder at this stranger when I jerked around.

My jaw dropped.

Park Sunghoon?

Every cell in my body seemed to grow cold. The world shifted, and my vision grew hazy. Why was Sunghoon here?

He gave me a stern look and then a slight nod as if reassuring me of his presence. I felt my heartbeat escalate, so I turned back around, facing the pole. Through the mirrored windows, I inspected his features. He was heaving against my frame, so he probably ran like a lunatic to catch up to me. His tie was limp around the neck, and his hair was a mess with sweat dripping down the strands like water droplets. His eyes were cold like ice. I had only seen them shine on the rink.

He caught my gaze, and something in his orbs flicked. He suddenly shifted closer. He grabbed my hand, and I almost winced at the sudden warmth of his skin. He secured mine on the pole with his fingers lingering. The chill of the metal and the contrasting warmth of his fingers made me think this was an illusion.

He protectively guided the other arm around me so no elbows brushed my arm. He inspected my surroundings, and when he felt at ease, he sighed deeply against my neck.

I shivered inwardly.

“You’re not riding this alone again,” he spat with a quirked brow.

I gulped and nodded reluctantly.

“Why’re you here?” I asked, and he pretended to hear nothing, avoiding my eyes.

“Sunghoon.” I frowned.

His eyes met mine instantly. His lips twisted into a lopsided smile. “You don’t call me by my name often,”

“What do I call you?” I mumbled, pondering upon his words.

“Class rep. It got annoying after grade ten.”

I turned around at light’s speed, catching him off guard. His playful smile dropped, and he quickly edged closer, drawing his arms around my waist, leaving no space for bystanders. I stared, trying to figure him out.

“Did you even know my name back then?” I mumbled into his chest as he was way taller.

His lips tightened, and he stared at me with a strange intensity. Then he widened the space occupied by his legs, covering my body with his and brushed a strand of hair from my eyes.

“I’ve known your name since you arrived at my class.”

What?

My lips parted in disbelief. He surveyed my bewildered expression and chuckled like he had just told me a silly pun.

When I arrived at his class.

So… when we were in middle school?

Grade 8.

A station arrived, and Sunghoon grabbed my hand. The doors flew open and as some people started exiting, Sunghoon pulled me along.

“This isn’t my-”

“I know.” He shrugged, dragging me through the unknown station.

My surroundings were a blur since my brain had stopped working. He knew my name in grade eight. He had noticed me when I wouldn’t have been able to point out if this guy was even a student in my class.

What did any of this mean?

Why was my heart fluttering like I was cascading down a cloud nine?

We ran through the alley, climbed stairs, and then headed out into the sunshine. I thought he’d finally settle down and explain the chaos; however, Sunghoon released a short breath, his gaze wandering from left to right. Deciding which path to take, he ran left while holding onto my arm. I tried matching his speed, but my legs weren’t as long. My steps faltered, struggling to keep up.

He noticed my struggle, and his strides shortened. Soon he had slowed down completely, downgrading to a walk.

I sighed in relief, slowing my pace with him. I was currently panting, fanning my red face to cool down. It was embarrassing because even though we had run the same distance, Sunghoon was breathing just fine whilst onlookers might mistake my gasps for running a marathon.

Sunghoon’s chuckle was fuel to fire, and I withheld the urge to roll my eyes. “Everyone isn't blessed with long legs,” I gritted every syllable.

An innocent smile deluded his lips as he twisted the ring on his index finger with his thumb. “I know. You were always at the front during assembly,” he reminisced.

“And you were always at the back,” I added.

He looked up, stopping in his tracks. His playful smile had dropped. His eyes carried a glint of longing like he was lost in a haze. Vrooms and beeps surrounding us dulled as I felt my heart thump hard. He edged close, his breathing heavy.

“That distance irritated me.”

It was barely a whisper, yet I heard him as clearly as the beating of my heart. Despite my widened eyes, parted lips and taut frame, he still decided to step closer. His arm circled my waist, pulling me into him, and he rested his forehead against mine. The scent of clean soap morphed with a luxurious cologne overpowered my senses, and it took me a minute to register our close proximity. The contact invoked a deep fire in my abdomen, and my heart thudded so hard against my chest that I was sure he could hear the rumbles.

“I want to make it clear. I was with Ma Ri to tell her I like you.” He sucked in a breath. “I couldn’t tell you in grade nine, ten or eleven. I couldn’t have told you now either if I didn’t find out about Jake’s crush on you,” he rasped, screwing his eyes shut in frustration.

My world was spinning.

Park Sunghoon had a crush on me back in middle school? Wait, he has a crush on me. My heart was pounding to the extent I feared it would tear out of my chest and land in his palms.

Wait… Jake?

My lips parted in confusion.

Sunghoon spoke up again. “When Jake told me, it was like the world screaming at me to get it together and hold onto you,” his ragged breaths fell against my mouth, making my insides quiver. "Jay told me girls like leaders, so I became the class president. I advertised my ice skating events at school to catch your attention and didn't sleep all night after seeing you in the audience. I even dragged Jay to the library because you liked spending lunchtime there. When I discovered Jake's sister was your friend, I visited him more often for soccer despite my hatred for the sport- hoping to catch a glimpse of you. On our trip to Icheon, I noticed your obsession with red velvet cakes, so I got one for your birthday last year only to share it with my sister. You drink iced tea, so I started to get it myself. It used to taste bitter, but I can’t start my day without it anymore."

My heart was in my throat, my mouth agape as I registered his words and their meanings. It was true; I noticed Sunghoon after he became class president. Ice skating adverts were posted on the school noticeboard, and knowing that he was a participant encouraged me to go. I once visited Ma Ri's place at the weekend to learn how to crotchet where I encountered Sunghoon in the kitchen, getting juice for himself. I had instantly thought of it as fate and began visiting her place more often for numerous excuses. I did love red velvet cakes and iced tea. The fact that Sunghoon knew simple details about me made my heart relish and throb. My eyes stung. The one person I liked throughout school and college was confessing to me. I had thought of him as an unrequited love, but we were always in harmony. My feet quivered as I brought my hands to cup his jaw. His gaze widened at the soft contact.

"I would beg Ma Ri to ask Jake for your favourite colour, hobbies and future career options, which made him think Ma Ri liked you," I confessed, and his eyes widened in disbelief.

"I bought my first skating gear last year, wishing someday to wear them by your side. You were textbook smart, so I got Ma Ri to tutor me before grade ten exams because I didn't want to look stupid, ranking in the lower tier. I know you like macrons, so I baked them for your birthday last year and intentionally left them at Ma Ri's because Jake had planned a birthday party for you, which meant you would definitely try them."

With every word passing my mouth, his face grew hotter and his eyes wider. He was visibly baffled, just like me. He parted his lips and shut them, feeling at a loss for words. The silence cradled my heart and ate at my insides. Then something in his gaze flicked; the shock had subsided, replaced with a dark, rapturous fire.

Suddenly, he was tugging me into his embrace, his nose rubbing against mine like we were one. His tall frame towered mine as he stared into my eyes, then my lips like a starved beast finally eyeing its first bite. The world around me melted when his red lips finally captured mine, and he released a short breath of relief. His lips were smooth, like candy floss, but not as overly sweet. He pecked mine gently at first, but then a frustrated groan escaped his mouth, and he sucked my lips into his, parting them to kiss deeper. His scent and taste drove my senses haywire, and I wrapped my arms around his neck, feeling my knees fall weak.

Amid the kiss, a smile aligned his lips, and I parted, feeling my head in the clouds. "You liked me in grade ten?" His words were hushed as if saying them aloud might make them untrue. I bashfully looked away.

"By the way, you make amazing macrons," he mumbled, and my heart felt so full, I dreaded it would burst. He placed his hand under my chin and brought it up to meet his eyes. A warm breath escaped him as if he had been holding it in forever, maybe since the day he liked me, and he covered his mouth with mine desperately.

The kiss told me this was the beginning of something beautiful, my first requited love.

When I reached home, many messages awaited me.

Maria<3

Thus proved: my best friend can never have an unrequited love story because she is the most gorgeous person ever.

PS: don’t worry about Jake. He will get over it when he sees you thriving with Sunghoon. <33

PS 2: please tell Sunghoon I don’t like him. he chased after you before I could explain anything :/

PS 3: if he makes you cry, I will hurt his entire family.

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zorilleerrant · 9 months

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Hi, just saw the word prompt thing? I don't know if you're still doing them or taking them, but if you are, would you mind something with either 25: Hair or 27: Sick with Bruce and/or Jason? Thank you so much! Love your writing ❤️❤️❤️

(absolutely still taking them! see this is the problem with reblogging everything in a row instead of in a queue because that post is like three hours old or something)

"I'm not sick," Jason says, once the coughing fit is over, trying to shove himself away from Bruce without stumbling over. If he falls while Bruce is watching, Bruce will know he's lying, and then he's done for. The thought only occurs to him when he's already leaning against Bruce's shoulder.

"I know you're not, Champ," Bruce says, and it's ridiculous hearing that tone of voice when he's full on Batman mode, the cowl on with smudges of greasepaint all across his eyelids, wrapping the cape around him like when he was small. It doesn't work. The cape back then was soft, quilted one patch at a time by Alfred's careful hand, and warm enough to keep at least the chill of Gotham's winds howling over rooftops at bay. Now it's the thinnest nanofiber metamaterial Jason's ever seen, soft as silk but not half as warm.

It's a nice night. He's only cold because he has the flu, but Jason always wears a mask, so why is that his fucking problem? Nothing's supposed to be able to get through the filters. Not even whatever has Bruce so wary, using dad voice even through his gas mask. "I'm fine. There's just a problem with the filters." Is there a problem with the filters? He was coughing earlier, and something smelled deep maroon and ominous. The people shuffling around the building - no one left inside, but not so far removed yet - are coughing, too. Speaking in strange voices, like they don't know what they're saying themselves. Their faces screw up when they try to talk.

"Jaylad? Are you with me?" Bruce says, pulling Jason's full weight against his chest, as if they're not in front of a crowd right now, cameras pointed at them from all sides. Jason barely refrains from shoving him away, feeling like a little kid trying not to get hugged at school again, and aware that most of the reason he's not pushing is that he doesn't have the energy, and he needs something to balance his weight on anyhow. "How much of that stuff did you breathe in? Here, list off your siblings, will you? I don't know who's behind this new toxin, but we'll find them."

"No one's behind it," Jason says, completely ignoring Bruce's instruction, and fuck him for trying to give it, anyway, Jason is fine. "Look around at the fucking building, B, it was a science fair. It was an accident. No one was behind - okay, actually, that's a lie, Black Mask is behind it, but it's not exactly like you can throw him off a roof over it, so." Jason can throw him off a roof. Maybe. Once he gets a good night's sleep, at least. Oh, fuck, sleep sounds good, right about now. If only Bruce would hurry up and get him to the Batmobile. Of course, if he says that, Batman's going to worry. Like an asshole.

"Black Mask?" Bruce says, in horror, finally moving them in the direction of the car, finally moving Jason out of the way of paramedics that he's absolutely certain would demand to take his temperature and then the jig would be up. "What the hell does he have to do with any of it? How long has he been running this plot?" Oh, sure, once you bring Roman up, Bruce is all invested again. Couldn't have just listened when Jason said the sprinkler systems needed to be double checked. 'Oh we just checked them last week' last week before the last villain siphoned toxins through them again, yeah. Some detective.

"Well, it's not about to help to fight crime at him, B, I assure you, all of his horrifying chemicals are perfectly legal," Jason says, climbing into the chair and reclining it so he can lie down and never get up again. He almost can't hear himself over the roar of the Batmobile's engine. "Some idiot posts a video about how you can hack the blush, soak it in alcohol and precipitate out the metallic component. You know the new bronze and silver ones? Yeah. Well, if you're not careful, you know. I was checking to see if it's made of Nth metal. Some precocious teens beat me to it, I guess."

"That can't possibly be legal," Bruce says, taking a curve a little bit slower than Jason would've expected him to, even on the drive home, even while they're having a totally civil conversation and Jason hasn't yet resorted to trying to bite him. "There are all sorts of regulations on strange metals. We voted on a referendum last week! And you're telling me he's doing this through his company? To, what, entice kids to accidentally cobble together bombs?"

"He doesn't fucking care about the kids, Bruce. I don't even know if he knows - like the advertising isn't even aiming at them, it's aiming at, fuck, celebrities and influencers and shit, he probably doesn't even know it can do this or he'd be selling the shit to Wall," Jason says, tiredly, words that would be mumbled through his hands if his helmet weren't beaming them straight to Bruce's earpiece. "He just found a way to pawn off his trash to the rest of his company, and told them to come up with profits. And they did! Like you always say, crime doesn't fucking pay, eh?"

"Okay. I very much do not want Amanda Waller to get her hands on this. You really think that's his long term plan?" Jason shuts his eyes, not that Bruce can tell under the mask. Because, like, did he fucking say that? Bruce never listens when Jason tries to explain in completely straightforward English - or any other fucking thing - what is going on in Gotham. He missed the limited edition pretzels, too. Asshole. A warm gust of wind blows across his face and Jason realizes that, at some point while he wasn't responding, Bruce pulled his helmet off. Undoing all the latches silently and everything. He's saying something soothing.

Jason ignores him. Wiggles his mouth a little; it's always easier talking when you don't have to aim directly at the mic. He's used to it enough it's reflexive by this point, but it still makes his jaw sore. "Yo, you know the mayor's get kickbacks, even the new one - I mean, I didn't ask him personally, so his kickback may be, like, his own head - there's no such thing as a regulation with no loopholes in Gotham." And then the kids try to mix it up and test out cool new properties, two projects get too close to each other, someone's baking soda volcano sets of a chain reaction or whatever happened in there. The sprinklers took a beat too long to set themselves in motion, Jason knows that part for sure.

"Jay, kiddo, you sound like you swallowed an entire sheep worth of steel wool," Bruce says, in that grudging way where he's trying to show emotion the way Leslie taught him to, but he sucks at it, because Alfie's British and never made proper expressions when he was a kid. Only the thing is he's turned the car to whisper mode and Jason can barely feel the rumble of the engines now, and Bruce's hand is stroking through his hair, and he could probably fall asleep, moving car or no. "Let's get you some of Alfred's soup."

"Yeah," Jason says, even though Bruce is right for once in his life, and Jason's voice does sound a thousand times more like sandpaper now that his voice modulator is gone. "Alfred is the one that misses me, sure thing old man." Actually, who Jason really needs to talk to is Lucius. Maybe over the phone, so as not to get him sick. Because if one thing will piss Roman off it's a fucking hostile takeover. Plus then they can hoard the metal to, whatever, build a Batspaceship or who knows what, like that part matters.

Bruce's hand stills, fingertips still cool against Jason's skull, and they just breathe like that for a few moments, in sync and slow, their heart rates slowing to rest, just the way he used to after a panic attack, even though Jason's pretty sure neither of them are panicking, unless Bruce cares a lot more than he assumed about a flu he's pretty sure he's mostly over anyway. Bruce squeezes his neck a little too hard, and hesitates before he opens the door. "Alfred does miss you."

#look i said something #my writing #batman #fanfic #jason todd #prompt game link in replies #this might be a little more Batdad than you were looking for but I see the word 'sick' and hey that's what happens #thank you for this ask I think this is the first time someone's sent a writing prompt for any of the ask games I collect #(btw all old ones are still open if anyone can find them but you'll definitely have to remind me of what they are)#(also I may have to learn to do shorter responses. I can write microfiction real good I swear)

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lightsovermonaco · 3 years

Text

His Good Sweater: Chapter 13

Masterlist

Thanks to @acollectionofficsandshit for being my bestie and beta reading! This would have never happened without her ❤ Make sure you read Roman Profile, set in the same universe!

Word Count: 6.7k

Recommended song: "Cupid’s Chokehold/Breakfast in America” by Gym Class Heroes

"I have to go."

"Can't you stay five more minutes?"

"I wish."

"Come on, just a few more minutes to cuddle." Pierre flings back the fluffy duvet and holds out a hand. "Please?"

"I have an exam," you say with a sigh but bend to press a kiss to his upturned palm. "I can't skip."

Pierre groans and slings an arm over his eyes. "What am I supposed to do all day?"

"I don't have a sim but I have an old PlayStation you're more than welcome to use. I think I still have one or two games."

"That won't keep me busy."

"I'm sure you'll find something. Just stay out of trouble okay? I'd like to get my security deposit back when I finally move out of this hellhole."

"Okay," Pierre grumbles, sitting up to give you a quick kiss. "What time are you getting back?"

"Four. We can go out to dinner or something." You smooth a hand over his hair, smiling lightly. "Or we can go for a picnic and take a walk through Saint James Park."

"Sounds like a plan." He turns his head to kiss your palm. "I'll be counting down the minutes."

You roll your eyes but your smile contradicts the sass. "I'll be home before you know it. Love you, champion."

"I love you too, mon coeur."

He was endlessly grateful for how easily the two of you had fallen back into each other. When he had shown up at your doorstep he had expected there to be awkward pauses and minutes of tense silence, but there had been blissfully little of either. As the days bleed into each other, your relationship only gets steadier, closer and closer to what it used to be. Maybe it was because you had been the one to break the silence or maybe it was because he had thrown himself into his career into someone's bed- whatever the reason, it didn’t matter. He was simply grateful to be welcomed back into your life. He didn't plan on leaving any time soon.

Pierre allows himself a half hour of lounging in bed before forcing himself to get up and shower. Off weeks were hard; all he wanted to do was rest and recharge but he still had to follow his workout regimen and sleep schedule or he risked falling out of the habit, making it that much harder to get back in the groove come race week.

First order of business: clean the clutter you had shoved in closets and the spare room prior to his arrival the day before. Folding the three baskets of clean laundry took an hour, washing dishes another thirty minutes, and vacuuming the entire flat took twenty. Once the counters are spotless and there isn’t a stray sock to be found, he takes stock of your pantry and notes what staples you were running low on.

Two hours later he trudges back up the three flights of stairs to your apartment, arms laden with reusable bags packed to the gills with food. His legs burn and he's slightly winded from the excursion; at least that could count as his work out for the day.

He's just about to start slicing vegetables for dinner when his phone chimes with a text from his PR agent, Sylvie.

You're supposed to be in an interview now. Where are you?

"Oh shit." He scrambles for his laptop which of course was dead. He manages to plug it in at the dining room table and angle it so the background is mostly neutral, just a band poster framed behind him. He checks his hair before logging into the interview.

"There's the star," the interviewer says, far too chipper to be entirely genuine.

"Sorry, I was having connection issues." He queues up his signature sweetheart smile that gets him out of any squabbles. It works, the woman's irritation melting into a more easy expression.

"Let's just get right into it. Since we're low on time I'll jump right in, if you don't mind."

Pierre leans back. He had an inkling where this was headed. "By all means, please."

"We just saw news of your deal with Christian Horner- if you take seventh in this year's drivers championship, it looks like you're at Red Bull Racing next year. How does that feel after being publicly demoted mid-season in 2019?"

A smirk tugs at Pierre's lips. He had known this exact question was coming. He had debated how to answer it without starting waves and still remaining truthful. If there was one thing he prided himself on, it was his ability to be diplomatic when others may have let their egos get in the way.

"Obviously I'm grateful that Red Bull has recognized the hard work I've been putting in at Alpha Tauri," he starts. "I think I've been able to push the car as far as I can but I still have pace in me, personally. So moving into the Red Bull would let me loose, so to speak, and give me a chance to prove that Red Bull is where I belong."

"Right, you have had quite a spectacular season so far with a race win under your belt and a few podiums for good measure. What do you attribute that success to? Why is it so different now in an Alpha Tauri versus that coveted second Red Bull seat?"

Pierre purses his lips. The answer he was expected to give wasn't one he was willing to voice. Instead he opts for neutral. "I've been able to focus and hone my driving this season. I've found a groove that works for me and with it has come an insane amount of confidence, which is something I struggled with for awhile after going back to Torro Rosso. I think it's really just that I'm finally comfortable in the car and with my team and that makes a huge difference."

"Thank you for that," the journalist says and Pierre nods. "Shifting gears, I have a few questions about your personal life if you don't mind."

This was the part he always dreads. Questions were often prying and he had to subtly skirt around them in a way that offered a satisfying answer without giving away too much. It was an art he liked to think he had perfected over the years but still didn't enjoy.

"As long as you don't mind me staying silent if I don't want to answer."

The woman laughs, the sound sharp and grating. "Of course. Unless I can bribe you into giving me an exclusive."

"Likely not. But you ask the right questions and we'll see."

"You've been seen hanging around a certain London neighborhood lately- that wouldn't have anything to do with you and your lovely lady, would it?"

He had been waiting for that one, too. When the two of you had returned from Red Bull headquarters he had noticed the man taking pictures across the street. He hadn't said anything to you at the time because really, there was no point in getting you worked up when he had a plan to handle it.

The question played right into his hand, in fact.

Pierre sits forward, folding his hands in front of him. "Actually yes. We recently got back together and if you'll let me, I would like to make a request."

The woman leans back and checks her notes. "Well it's not quite what I had planned but please," she gives a flourish with a hand, "you have the floor."

"I know driver's personal lives are something that a lot of people are interested in and that's great. I don't mind sharing things with my fans or letting them get the inside scoop, but there's some things I would rather be left alone. My relationship is one of them. I know you all took note that she hasn't been around the past couple months and if I'm being honest, it's because of comments and press coverage that invaded her privacy. I think some people forgot she was more than just a name on a screen."

Pen poised to take notes, the interviewer prompts, "You said you had a request?"

He doesn’t stop to assess the damage he had already undoubtedly done. Sylvie was probably already on the phone doing damage control with every news outlet she could get her hands on, if her muted and black square at the bottom of the screen was an indication.

"All I'm asking is that you leave her alone. If you have questions or comments you have to make, just direct them at me. Don't follow her around asking about me. Don't comment on her posts unless you're capable of being a decent human. Just… let her live her life in peace."

Maybe he was a love sick fool, but honestly he didn't care if he lost some support from fans. If they had such strong opinions on his personal life, he would be better off without them anyway. And his team could cut him and even if he was unable to secure a seat in Formula 1 after next season, he would survive.

But if he lost you again, he would be broken. It had taken being apart from you for him to realize it and he'd be damned if he was ever disconnected from you like that again.

"That's quite the speech."

Pierre shrugs. "It was. She's the most important thing in my life, right up there with racing.” Now that he had started down the road of truth, he found it impossible to hold his tongue. “I lost her once because people couldn't be bothered to remember that their words have consequences. I won't let it happen again."

"So you see yourself with her for a long time then?" The woman's eyes glitter with the potential of getting an even juicer tidbit from him.

Pierre’s jaw sets, muscles feathering. "That's not something I'm prepared to discuss."

The woman purses her lips and tips her head to the side. There was clearly more she wanted to say. "Well, I have to thank you for what you've given me here. My boss is gonna love the exclusive. I won't push any further. Thanks for your comments, Pierre."

"Thanks for actually being respectful."

“We aren’t all monsters.” The woman shrugs. “I can’t say I haven’t had my moments but I try to be straightforward.”

“Right, yeah. I get that you have a job to do.”

“Anyway. I look forward to seeing what you can do the rest of this season. Good luck.”

He signs off and instantly anxiety washes over him. If she twisted his words he was screwed. Sylvie would be on the phone as soon as the article was printed, no doubt trying to soothe sponsors and investors. She'd give him an earful about being respectful and not poking the bear but he'd tune it out like he always did.

The sooner he got away from Red Bull, the better.

Instead of dwelling on it he busies himself with cooking. It was one of his guilty pleasures. He always requested a full kitchen when he was staying anywhere more than a few days so that if he had the chance to make a home-cooked meal, he had the option. For tonight he had selected his favorite recipe. Parmesan-Cesar chicken wasn't normally something you would ever touch with a ten foot pole but as long as he was making it, Pierre knew you'd at least give it a try.

Music blasting in the background, Pierre sings along quietly as he unpacks the rest of the ingredients and gets to work. He does a little spin between the island and the sink, rinsing the dishes and putting them right in the dishwasher as he uses them. A clean kitchen is the mark of a great chef, his mom had told him, drilling the phrase into him when he was young.

In the middle of cutting potatoes Pierre gets a call. He only has an hour until you're home so he doesn't bother stopping, just puts it on speaker and continues measuring spices.

"Hey Daniel."

"Heard you're in London," Daniel says, Australian accent thick. "And a little birdie told me you and your lady got back together."

"We did," Pierre says, a smile splitting his face. "Finally."

"Thank god, now I don't have to listen to your drunk woe-is-me rambling anymore."

Pierre laughs and sets aside the measuring spoons. "It's not that bad."

"Oh please." Pierre could practically hear the eyes rolling. "The number of times I had to send an uber to a bar after a grand prix is insane. Charles and I should be entitled to financial compensation with the amount of babysitting we've been doing."

"I can handle myself!"

"Not after a martini you can't."

He was right there. "Is there a point to this conversation?"

"Oh right- I'm actually in town today too, got some stuff to shoot for McLaren before we head to Austria for the race next week. You guys wanna come out with us tonight? We're heading to a bar or two."

"I actually had something planned-"

"She already said she's coming!" Dan's girlfriend shouts in the background.

“Well then why even ask me?”

“To be polite,” Daniel offers with a laugh. “We’re meeting at the rooftop bar at the Trafalgar hotel at seven. That give you enough time to do whatever you had planned that’s apparently more important than seeing your best mates?”

“We’ll be there,” Pierre says and hangs up. He finishes seasoning the potatoes and pops them in the oven, finally getting a chance to sit while they cook alongside the main course.

He's on his feet a few minutes later, decluttering the last bits of mess around your flat. It was clear it hadn't had a decent cleaning in quite awhile- hopefully you'd keep it tidy now that the effort had been made. The guys would tease him endlessly if they found out he was acting like a housewife.

You arrive home just as he’s setting the table. “God, it smells amazing in here.”

“Salut, mon amour.” Hands full with hot dishes, he settles for a kiss to your cheek. “I made dinner.”

“And you cleaned,” you observe. “You were a busy boy.”

“Pyry would kill me if he found out I was laying around all day. I had to do something.”

You hang your backpack on the hook behind the door and take a seat at the table. “Well remind me to thank him again when I see him. This looks delicious.”

Pierre grins over his shoulder at you. “Me or the food?”

You throw your head back and laugh, loud and unrestrained. “The food, you goof.”

Pierre quirks a brow. "Is that the honest answer?"

"Okay, maybe both."

The meal is filled with your ramblings about your exam and your new hobby- this month it was hiking. You went into detail about all the few trails in the city you’d been on as well as the more challenging ones that dotted the countryside. Pierre just nods along as you talk, already planning on staying up late to learn what he could about the topic so he could be a better conversation partner.

The pair of you work together to tidy the kitchen and put away any leftovers. “Did you bring something semi nice to wear tonight or do we have to make a quick trip to the store?”

“I’ve got some Tauri stuff I can wear. And not just team gear,” he adds when you groan. “You know that cream sweater you love? The one with the logo debossed on the front? I’ve got that.”

“Oh,” you say before biting your lip. Your eyes trail down his frame and back up like you’re imagining it on him. A tingle travels up his spine under your assessing gaze. If you kept that up, neither of you would make it out of the apartment tonight. “My favorite. Yeah, wear that. It’ll be on my floor by the end of the night.”

Pierre places his hands on your waist and grins. “Will it? And what will be on the floor from your closet, hm?”

“Your favorite dress.”

“The orange one?” He realizes half a second too late that you would never know how much he adored that dress from the gala. It had hugged your curves in all the right places and left your back exposed, which would leave him free to trace patterns on your soft skin whenever he pleased. He had missed out on worshipping you in it that night and he wouldn’t mind the opportunity to do so now.

You roll your eyes. “I can’t wear that to a bar.”

“Says who?” Pierre nuzzles his face against your neck, breathing you in. A light undercurrent of sweat from your walk home from classes mingles with the usual bright scent of you, only serving to rile him up further. Never in a million years would he have guessed that a simple scent could do him in, and yet here he was, completely wrapped up in yours.

“Says me.” You sigh, tipping your head to the side when Pierre’s nose grazes your skin.

His lips follow until he reaches your jaw before he pulls back. “What one are you wearing then?”

“Does it matter?” You cross your arms, the smirk playing on your kissable lips tempting him.

“I have to mentally prepare myself.” And if whatever you chose was too sexy, he would need to get his handsiness out of his system before the pair of you met up with Daniel and his girlfriend. The last thing he needed was to be on the front of some seedy gossip column when his plan was to ease back into it.

You smile up at him, broad and unrestrained as if knowing your answer would affect him greatly. “The cobalt blue one that makes you stutter.”

The dress in question was just as form fitting as the orange one, but shorter and decidedly more distracting. It fell mid thigh and the spaghetti straps left your shoulders exposed, which coupled with the low back displayed a downright sinful amount of skin. You had worn it at a Torro Rosso event a couple years back and he had scarcely been able to get a full sentence out around you all night.

“That one’s a close second.” He follows you to your room, leaving you to hunt through the closet while he digs through his suitcase, thankful that he had the foresight to check out of his hotel on the way back from Red Bull and bring his things here.

Because there was no way in hell he was missing a second of being by your side while he was in town. Every moment had to count when he had no idea when he would be able to sleep next to you again, not when the season was nearly over and there were two double headers between now and winter break. When so many variables stood between him and you, he had no problem prioritizing you over a routine workout or a full night’s rest.

Pierre changes into the sweater and a pair of dark skinny jeans well before you emerge from the bathroom. He doesn’t bother responding to Dan’s text that includes an address and reminds him to be on time, instead opting to scroll through his instagram feed. He likes a handful of posts from his fellow drivers, including one of Max actually smiling at something off camera.

“Well?”

Pierre’s head snaps up at the sound of your voice. The phone falls from his hand when he drags his eyes over your body, head to toe and back again.

Oh, he was so fucked.

Maybe it was selfish, but with your hair done like that, the barest brush of makeup lining your eyes and in that stunningly blue dress, he didn’t want any other man to have the privilege of laying their eyes on you.

No, you were all his.

The moment you’re within reach, Pierre places his hands on the back of your thighs, just beneath the curve of your barely covered ass. You chuckle and tap your fingers under his chin. “Close your mouth; you’ll catch flies.”

“Just so you know, if you wear that dress I can’t be held liable for my actions.” Up to and including scaring off anyone that wasn’t Daniel or his girlfriend. No one else deserved to be blessed with your radiance. Hell, he didn’t deserve it, and yet here you stood.

“We’ll see about that.”

**********

Daniel and his girlfriend had already made their way through a round of drinks by the time you arrive. It wasn’t Pierre’s fault he couldn’t keep his hands off you and wound up getting distracted on the drive over.

"Late as always," she greets, kissing your cheek. "Dan got us here fifteen minutes early because he wanted the table with the best view."

"Like our names wouldn't have gotten us the table if we asked," Pierre says, wrapping Daniel in a one-armed hug before kissing his girl’s cheek in a traditional French greeting. "The view is pretty great though."

You were already leaning on the glass partition, hands curled over the edge and undoubtedly leaving behind fingerprints on the pristine surface, completely unfazed by the fact that the other patrons were staring. You had eyes only for the London skyline and Trafalgar square lit up below. The bar with its white marble tabletops and strict dress code was absolutely not a place that you should be standing on your tiptoes for a better view, but there was no way he could condemn you when your face lit up like that.

Pierre just places a hand on the small of your back and shoots a look at the bartender currently glaring in your direction, daring the smartly dressed man to say anything. He only raises a brow and resumes filling drink orders.

"You guys know how to pick a place," you say, "I could stand here all night."

"Right," Daniel's girlfriend says, rolling her eyes at Pierre who shrugs as if to say what do you want me to do? He was powerless to deny you anything that brought you a semblance of joy; your smile was everything to him. “Love, why don’t you come tell us about uni? You’re the only one of us currently enrolled, and I’m sure the boys would love to hear about all the drama.”

You and Pierre share a secret grin. You shake your head but allow him to guide you back to the cocktail table. “Drama? I’m an engineering major. The closest thing we have to drama is someone grossly miscalculating a structural load.”

Dan shoots Pierre a mischievous grin. “I heard Stroll might be moving next year-”

Both you and Daniel’s girlfriend groan at the same time. “No racing talk when we’re around tonight,” she says. “I’ve heard enough lately.”

“What’s new in the publishing world?” You ask, leaning into Pierre when he wraps an arm around you. He only half listens to her explain the so-called “top secret” project she’s currently working on, instead opting to get drunk on you.

The light breeze filtering through the surrounding buildings ruffles your hair. You lift a hand absentmindedly to tuck it behind your ear in an attempt to keep it out of your face. Everything you do is amazing to him, snagging his attention even when he should be listening to whatever it was his friends were saying. Your gravity was simply too strong to bother resisting.

“Enough talk,” Daniel’s girlfriend says, waving a hand. “You need a drink, and I want to dance. Let’s go.” Before Pierre can protest, she’s dragging you away to the glass top bar. You throw an apologetic glance over your shoulder and Pierre just winks. He was fine watching you from afar for now.

Pierre’s gaze drops to your perky ass when you lean in to let the bartender know what you want, likely shouting to be heard over the music, your dress riding up a bit with the movement. For having such a strict dress code, this place sure did feel like an upper class club.

You hook your thumb over a shoulder, the bartender’s gaze darting to Pierre before the man nods. The only explanation you offer is a wink, followed by a note on a cocktail napkin and a beer delivered a few minutes later by a server.

This is supposed to be the best beer they have. Just try it.

Leave it to you to constantly push him outside his comfort zone. Pierre tentatively sniffs the foamy glass and shrugs before taking a sip. Not bad, but he still preferred his usual whiskey.

Setting the glass down, Pierre turns back to Daniel. “Congrats on extending your contract with McLaren by the way. Should give you a decent shot at keeping up with the big boys and landing some serious points.”

“Seems like most of us are moving around, doesn’t it? Sainz to Ferrari, Seb to Aston Martin... The only one with any sort of long term commitment is Max and now me I guess.”

“And Charles,” Pierre adds. “He’s stuck in that red monstrosity for the foreseeable future.”

Daniel laughs, taking a swig from his glass. “And you’re moving too, huh? Austria should be interesting,” Daniel remarks, watching the girls at the bar nursing their own drinks. “What with the news of your new contract breaking and all.”

“Potential contract,” Pierre corrects. “Not for sure yet.”

Daniel scoffs. “Come on mate. You won’t have any problem getting up to seventh by the end of the season. Perez is slipping and the news that his seat is in jeopardy will only help your cause.”

Pierre takes a sip of his amber beer and nods. “I’m sure Perez doesn’t appreciate it, but he’s always been a good sport.” You catch Pierre’s eye and lift your fresh flute of champagne in a mock salute. Dan’s girlfriend drags you out on the dancefloor and immediately spins you. Your laugh is nearly audible, the memory of it fresh in Pierre’s mind as he watches you.

“Mate, have you been listening to a word I’ve said?”

“I’m sorry, what?”

Daniel shakes his head and drains his drink. “I really don’t know how it took you two this long to come together. You’ve been dancing around each other for years but neither of you would admit it.”

“I could say the same about you two.”

Daniel shrugs. “Fair point. At least we got it all worked out in a weekend though.”

Pierre rolls his eyes and shoves his friend’s shoulder. “Whatever. Not all of us can have a perfect love story.”

The grin Daniel shoots Pierre is pure sunshine. “How long are you planning on waiting before you ask her to marry you?”

“What?” Pierre sputters, nearly choking on air. “Who said anything about marriage?”

“Oh come on,” Dan says, rolling his eyes. “We all know it’s coming eventually.”

Pierre would be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about it. But he wasn’t sure if it was the time for a proposal, not when you had just gotten back together. The last thing he wanted to do was go through the pain of losing you again because he was too forward.

“One day at a time,” Pierre says finally, dragging himself back to earth. “I just got her back a few days ago. I don't want to scare her off by proposing just yet.”

“Right. Well you might want to get a ring on that hand sooner rather than later,” Daniel notes, gesturing to the two men who had approached the girls. “How long are we gonna let that go on before we step in?” Neither of you paid the men any attention, instead enjoying each other’s company, but the men’s eyes roaming over your body sets Pierre on edge.

“They can handle themselves,” Pierre remarks, shifting on his feet. The weak attempt at self assurance didn’t do much to negate the red tinting his vision. “They’re fine.”

“Her sharp tongue will hold them at bay,” Daniel says, winking at his girlfriend. “For a while at least.” Props to Daniel for possessing inhuman amounts of restraint, but Pierre’s muscles were coiled and ready to interject at the first sign of trouble.

He has to pause to remind himself he doesn't own you. You could make your own decisions about who you spoke with and who you entertained as long as he was the one to take you home. He didn't care if you wanted to flirt; he knew it meant nothing and if you got a free drink out if it then so be it. But those were the rules: flirting, no touching. He'd step in if need be if someone took it too far.

But that didn't mean he had to enjoy it.

Pierre watches tight lipped as you politely chat with the man, your body language closed off and dismissive. Pierre hates that you even speak a word to him. He knows it shouldn’t bother him because he trusts you, but the stranger is a wild card. Pierre watches like a hawk as the man inches ever closer, slowly interesting himself into your personal space. He waits for you to take a step back, to grant him that silent permission to come over and insert himself in the conversation and get his hands on you, this proving you weren't on the market.

One of the men shouts something at you over the music and you leer back at him, clearly disgusted at whatever he had said. Whirling on him, you open your mouth, likely to snap out a profanity lined retort, when his hand latches onto your arm.

"Oh, fuck no."

Half a second later, Pierre is stalking across the dance floor, no thoughts other than teaching the asshole a lesson. His hands are already curled into fists, ready to swing if the man hadn't moved by the time he arrived. Tolerating someone hitting on you was one thing, but blatantly ignoring the clear dismissals and laying a hand on you? No way in hell was he standing by and letting that happen.

The resounding crack of your open hand hitting the man’s face has pride swelling in Pierre’s chest. That’s my girl. You’d solved the problem before he’d even arrived. You jab a finger in the man’s face, Daniel’s girlfriend right there with you to back you up.

“Fuck off,” you were saying as Pierre approached, “or do you need to go back to kindergarten and learn to keep your hands to yourself? Maybe next time you’ll think twice before laying a hand on a taken woman- or any woman, for that matter.”

Driving your point home, Pierre slips an arm around your waist and pulls you in until your back is flush to his chest. You crane your neck up, the tense muscles beneath his fingertips and the fury contorting your features confirming just how rattled you are.

The lines creasing your brow are soothed away when you realize who holds you. You open your mouth to say something but Pierre places a hand on your throat, thumb and forefinger framing your jaw as he cuts you off with a kiss, his eyes locked on the guy still standing off to the side holding his cheek.

You taste like the champagne you’d been sipping all night. It’s the only thought in his head outside of the jealousy licking through his veins like wildfire as he claims you then and there in front of the crowd. Mine, his heart sings. He flexes his fingers, taking advantage of your surprised gasp to slide his tongue against yours. Mine, mine, mine.

Pierre lets you be the one to break away, lips curling in a smug, kiss-swollen smile as you address the men. “In case you still don’t get the picture, I’m not interested. And neither is she.” You jerk your chin, indicating your friend and Daniel, who had indeed followed Pierre and since mirrored his possessive stance, one arm wrapped tightly around his own girlfriend.

The two men reluctantly slink away after mumbling something unintelligible but undoubtedly indecent. It had been a week and a half since he had been on track and he had plenty of pent up aggression to get out. He didn’t normally opt for using someone’s face as a punching back as a stress reliever, but rulers were made to be broken. Your hand splayed on Pierre’s chest is all that stops him from following and asking them to repeat themselves.

“Just let me hit him,” Pierre says, voice far more level and put together than he had expected it to be. “Just one punch. That’s all I would need.” His knuckles smart like he had already connected them to the man’s face.

“And let you throw away your contract? I don’t think so. The last thing you need is a blurry photo of you knocking someone’s teeth in hitting the front page of every gossip mag in the country. I’m fine, so you can cut the bravado.”

“Yeah, I hear you.”

“I was wondering how long you were gonna leave us out here,” you say, trying to regain Pierre’s attention. When it doesn’t work, you grasp his stubbled chin and force him to look at you. “I didn’t expect to be stranded for so long.”

The eye contact is what finally calms his racing thoughts. Seeing the trust reflected in your face is enough to have his grip on your waist loosening to allow you to face him. “Someone convinced me you could fend for yourself. And while it seems that’s true, I couldn’t stand it anymore.”

Your satisfied hum is swallowed by the pounding bass but Pierre feels it rumble in his chest. “Sometimes even a queen needs saving.”

Though his point had long since been proven, Pierre’s hand slides down your back to rest on your ass nonetheless. “I knew you going out looking like this would cause trouble.”

You tip your head to the side, feigning innocence as you press your hips to his. You grin, noticing the hard on that had been bothering him all night. “Looking like what?”

“Drop dead fucking gorgeous,” he says, accentuating his point by sliding his hand up your thigh and under the hem of your dress. “You know I’m tearing this off you the second we get home, right?”

“Why do you think I wore it?”

The sound that escapes him is primal and possessive. The presence of bystanders does nothing to prevent him from palming your ass and kneading the flesh. He presses his lips to your neck and mumbles between kisses, “To torture me.”

You push lightly at his chest, laughing although your eyes dart around the space in search of cameras. Old habits were hard to break. “That may have been part of my motivation. But you’ll have to wait. I haven’t seen Dan in forever and I would actually like to have a conversation with him before we sneak off somewhere.”

At least you knew he wouldn’t be able to wait until you got home to get between your legs. “Fine,” he grumbles, hands settling on your hips. “Only because I love you.”

You beam up at him. “Love you too.”

Arm still slung around your waist, Pierre nods at Daniel and follows the other couple back to the table.

After two more drinks, you and Daniel's girlfriend are singing along to the music in lilting, off key voices, simply enjoying the night air. A stray breeze catches your hair just as you turn to look at Pierre and his heart damn near leaps out of his chest.

To his credit, Pierre’s cheeks are rosy from more than just the charged glances you throw at him as the night wears on. He was on his fourth beer, far more than he usually drank these days, and the buzzing in his head was becoming increasingly hard to ignore. When he has to squint to tell the time on his watch, he figured that was enough.

"I should probably get going mate," Pierre says, turning to Daniel. "Early flight."

Daniel laughs and beacons for the girls. He kisses his girlfriend's cheek when she returns with you in tow. "Are we leaving already?" You pout, and Pierre had half a mind to stay simply have your smile make an encore appearance.

"Car coming," he murmurs, dipping his head to give you a proper kiss. God, you were stunning in that dress- he might not be able to string together words coherently, but he knew that much.

"Fine." You cross your arms for a split second to convey your feelings on the matter before wrapping your friends in a hug and saying your goodbyes.

Pierre's hand is already on your ass before you're in the uber. Get a few drinks in the boy and he let his guard down. You laugh and pull out of his embrace to usher him into the sleek black suv. If he had been coherent, he probably would have chatted with the driver about the specs of the engine or maybe even racing if he was a fan. Instead the ride is filled with stolen touches and sloppy, wet kisses to your neck.

"I can't wait till we're home," he mumbles. "You're gorgeous. How did I snag you? You're so far out of my league. No way should you be with me."

"I have a thing for guys that go fast in circles on the weekends."

"Really?" Pierre frowns. "Should I be worried?"

"No. You're the only one I have eyes for." His head is fuzzier than when you left the bar but your laugh breaks through, his stomach flipping at the melody of it. "And we are home."

Pierre blinks, realizing he does indeed stand in your kitchen, with no recollection of climbing the three flights of stairs between the street and your flat. "Oh. When did that happen?"

"After I half dragged you up the stairs." You bend over to undo the straps of your heels, giving him the perfect view. He lets out a whistle that ends in a hiccup.

"Take me to bed, lover," he says in what he thinks is a husky voice. It should be impossible for you to resist.

You roll your eyes and wrap an arm around his middle. "That's the plan. I'll take you to bed, strip you out of that sweater, and you'll be asleep before your head hits the pillow."

"Nnnnnno," he protests, hand sliding down your exposed back to settle at the base of your spine. "I wanna make the most of tonight. I leave tomorrow."

"You don't leave until noon," you point out. "Plenty of time to nurse your hangover and have fun before then, after you drink some water and get some sleep."

"But baby-"

"No buts. Do as I say or I'll send you off tomorrow without a goodbye kiss."

Even in his half drunken state he knew it was a swiss cheese lie, spotted with holes and completely stale. You'd never let him leave without a kiss goodbye because neither of you knew if it would be the last time. He was a race car driver after all, and that came with risks.

But he sighs anyways and slips off the cream sweater, letting it fall to the floor. At least one of you kept their promises.

After confirming he was settled into bed, you retreat to the bathroom. His heart aches at the absence, even though you're mere feet away with nothing but a thin door separating the two of you. He registers the sound of the tap turning on and your soft, off key humming of the last song he remembered hearing before getting out of the uber.

"Mon amour," he croons when you re-emerge in a set of silk pajamas. He reaches out his hands for you and you slide under the covers, immediately slotting your body against his. A leg hitches over his hip, tugging him closer until your middles touch.

"Mmm," he mumbles, nuzzling into your neck. "Je t'aime. Tu es l'amour de ma vie et nous vivons d'amour et d'eau fraîche."

"I have no idea what you're saying," you whisper, running your fingers through his hair. "But I like it. Feel free to keep going."

"Tes baisers sont du feu et je fond à ton toucher." He presses his lips to your neck before resuming his mumbled French. "Je pense toujours à toi. Je veux être avec toi pour toujours. Tu as mon cœur et je ne voudrais pas qu'il en soit autrement."

"I like the sound of that." You press a soft, sweet kiss to his forehead. God, that tenderness was why he loved you. That, and your personality, and your eyes, and your… everything. "Dormir, my love. I'll be here to listen to your pretty words in the morning."

The single word of his mother tongue on your lips has him smiling. "Oui, tu le feras. Parce que tu es à moi et je suis à toi."

@seasidetom @flashcal @limp-wrist-max @sunshinesewis @lifeofzoemichael @ninuffi @perfectfantasies22 @lamboleglerg @ladyperceval @0forgottenparadise0 @evie-pr @avsensio @ninuffi @lu-morningstar @ggaslyp1 @swiftyhowlz

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nooneelsecomesclose17 · 2 years

Text

And goodness knows he didn't want a lot

Just time for one more fic where I unapologetically throw Chas under a bus.

Slightly altered canon...kayak boy was nothing more than a few drinks, and Liv is just somewhere else because I can't be doing with all that drama...and a couple of things happened a bit earlier than on the show.

Day 29

(AO3 link)

Aaron was freezing, standing in the queue for prison visiting was tedious especially in winter. Not that he would've missed it. After not hearing from Robert for nearly two years he'd jumped at the chance to see him when the visiting order landed in the letterbox.

He'd no idea what had prompted the sudden change of heart, Robert had sent divorce papers, it'd all gone through, so he was curious. He hadn't told anyone where he was going. telling his Mum he was visiting mates in London. The lecture he'd get if she knew where he was, was something he was more than keen to avoid.

He was nervous, his mind going over all the reasons Robert had got in touch, the worst case scenarios all he could imagine.

Finally the line began to move and before long he was at the gateway. He handed over the letter expecting to be let straight through.

"You've had a wasted trip pal." The guard told him already looking at the person behind him in the line.

"Hang on, I've got a visiting order. Robert Sugden."

"Like I said, you've had a wasted trip. He ain't here."

"Popped to the shops has he? He's serving life!"

"Not any more. He was released three days ago, now if you don't mind..."

"Well, where is he now then?" He couldn't believe it. After all this time, he was so close to seeing Robert and he'd gone. "Is there someone I can talk to? Where did he go..."

"Once they leave here they ain't our problem." Aaron stood his ground and the man sighed. "There's a place in Ryde, sometimes prisoners go there for a few days when they first get out...don't let on I told you, cost me my job."

"Thank you."

He went back to the car. half worried that Robert might be in some kind of halfway house with who knows who, and half furious that his ex-husband had let him drive all the way from Yorkshire two days before Christmas for no reason.

_____

He looks at the building in front of him and shoves his hands in his pockets. It looks tired and he can only imagine what the inside is like. He doesn't even know if he's in there hopes he won't, but if he's not then he's no idea where he is and that thought is even worse.

When he spots someone coming out he rushes inside, has to know one way or another, There's a desk with a bored looking guy behind it.

"I'm looking for Robert Sugden."

"Who's asking?"

"I'm..." He hesitated, he wasn't his husband anymore, and besides he wasn't going to advertise it anyway, he wasn't stupid. "I’m a mate. Is he here or not?"

"Room 10. Second floor, third on the right."

He finds it easy enough hesitating as he stands at the door. He'd never thought he'd see him again after he'd sent the papers and now...he had no idea what to expect. How was he out? After he'd rejected Vic's plea to appeal they'd both resigned themselves to Robert serving his full sentence. what had changed, and more importantly, how had Robert changed.

Aaron wasn't stupid, he knew he would've changed, it was inevitable. Even the shortest sentence had an effect and Robert had been looking at fourteen years. What would he be like?

He shook herself, he wasn't going to find out just standing here. All he had to do was knock on the door and he'd have the answer, so why couldn't he do it.

When he'd received the visiting order a part of him had hoped it might be the start of a reconciliation but now he wasn't so sure. Robert hadn't let him know he was out, hadn't cancelled the visit. He didn't know what to think.

Taking a deep breath he raises his hand and knocks on the door.

"Who is it?" He gasps at hearing Robert's voice after so long albeit muffled by the door.

"It's me." The few seconds it takes him to open the door last an age, but then he's there and Aaron can't breathe.

He’s different, of course he is. Aaron had imagined his husband in many situations but never in a million years did he expect to see him sporting a man bun or a beard. Aside from that and what looked like a slightly leaner body than before he looked just the same.

“Aren’t you going to say anything?” He asks after the silence goes on for an age.

“Like what?”

“Like why you sent me a visiting order two weeks ago and had me drive all this way only to be told you weren’t there. Do you know what went through my head? I thought the worst Robert!”

“They would’ve called you if anything had happened.”

“That’s meant to make me feel better is it? Why did you send it, the visiting order?” Robert doesn’t answer. “Well? Why didn’t you tell me you were getting out? Why didn’t you just come home.”

“Not home anymore is it?”

“Robert…”

“There’s a cafe down the road.” He goes quiet again and Aaron’s on the verge of leaving when he speaks again. “Meet me there in ten minutes.” With that he closes the door leaving Aaron standing there.

_____

He finds the cafe with ease and sits by the window waiting for Robert. Part of him wonders if he’ll even show up. He hadn’t exactly looked pleased to see him and he couldn’t work out why. He was the one who’d made contact, had made the first move so to speak, so why act this way when he turned up. It made no sense at all.

He’s on his second cup of tea when he sees him, standing outside as if working out whether to go in or not. Finally he walks in, blowing on his hands to warm them. He doesn’t take his eyes off him as he goes to order before sitting opposite him.

“Are you going to give me some answers now?” He wishes he wasn’t so sharp with him, but he can’t help it, his mind is all over the place, no idea what Robert’s thinking.

“I’m sorry if it’s all too much trouble for you Aaron.”

“What? Of course it’s not. I’m just confused. You sent me a visiting order. Do you know how happy I was to get that? Two years Robert, two years I’ve waited to hear from you, and then when I do, I get here and find you gone. I just…I don’t understand.”

“Why did you come? After so long.”

“You asked me to.”

“And that’s all it took? I divorced you, didn’t even talk to you, why would you even give me the time of day.”

“You know why, unless prison has completely addled your brain.”

“But…the way I treated you…”

“Maybe it’s me who’s addled then. You know why I’m here, but I don’t know why you’re here, why you didn’t come home.”

“I told you, it’s not home anymore.”

“Of course it is. All you had to do was come back.”

“Everyone’s moved on, maybe it’s better everyone just forgets about me.”

“Because it’s that simple.” Aaron scoffed. “Ok, so if that’s how you feel, why send me a visiting order? Why not just disappear.”

Robert doesn’t say anything, just stirs his tea over and over until Aaron’s had enough, and covers his hand with his own to stop him.

“I’m not going anywhere, whatever you tell me.”

“It was, I don’t know, about three months ago, not that long after Vic told me about him, my solicitor came back to me, said there was a chance, just a chance, but I should take it.” Aaron goes to interrupt but a look from Robert stops him. “I should’ve jumped at it, but…I called you, one afternoon, to tell you or I don’t know, maybe I wanted you to tell me what to do.”

“I didn’t get any call.”

“I know. Your Mum answered, as soon as I asked for you she went off at me, saying I should leave you alone, that I’d ruined your life…well you can imagine.” He can, all too well, he’d heard versions of it for the last two years. “So I didn’t tell you anything, but I let my solicitor do his thing, thinking it would come to nothing, but here I am.”

“I wish you’d called again, or the yard. I would’ve been there, in court, you know that.”

“Your Mum said you were with someone, um, Ben? I don’t know but she made it sound like you were happy, and I wasn’t going to mess that up. I've messed up enough of your life.”

Aaron can’t help swearing under his breath. “Ben was no one and she knew that. We had a few drinks and he helped me out with Liv a couple of times, but that was it. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“So…why send me the visit then?”

“For old times sake I suppose. Maybe a part of me still wondered.” He smiles then, that little smile of his that Aaron has missed so much.

“And yet you didn’t tell me you’d been released.”

“Yeah well.” He looks down at the table, as if he can’t meet Aaron’s gaze. “Maybe I needed to know…if you came to the prison, if you were willing to visit me there…”

“So it was a test?”

“Maybe…probably. I don’t think I was thinking straight. Maybe I thought…I knew you’d be there if I was free, maybe my mind was playing tricks on me, I needed to know you’d be there no matter what.”

“I would’ve been. I would’ve been there the whole time if you hadn’t cut me off. Surely you know that.”

“Of course I did, that’s partly why I did things the way I did. But after two years, and what your Mum said, I guess I needed to know that it was still true. Sorry.”

“Don’t apologise. I can see why…it’s just such a mess. You know I’ve forgiven her so much over the years, but this…not anymore.”

“I didn’t do this to cause trouble between you.”

“I know. None of this is your fault. It’s her, always sticking her nose in, deciding what’s best for me. Well not any more.” Robert sighs, smiling a little at his tone. “I mean it.”

“She’s your Mum.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t give her the right to interfere in my life. If you hadn’t sent me the visit…if you’d spoken to her and…you could’ve gone off on your own and I’d never have known. That’s unforgivable.” Robert can’t help it, the laughter bursting out of him. “Stop laughing. I mean it.”

“I have no doubt. I missed you so much.” He reaches over and takes his hand. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have let you go to the prison like that. Me of all people should’ve known how it felt to turn up and not be allowed in.”

“It’s alright. It was just a shock that’s all. I found you, didn’t I? Can’t keep away from you, can I?”

“So what now?”

“Well I don’t know about you but I’m starving. So…breakfast?”

“It’s lunchtime.”

“So?” He taps the menu, a little bit dogeared but he doesn’t care. “All day breakfast, see? You bring me to some proper classy places mate.”

“Not your mate.” Aaron rolls his eyes at him. “Fine, breakfast. And after that?”

“Home, and no arguments. It’s your home, Robert. Everyone else can do one if they don’t like it. It hasn’t been the same without you…come home with me.” He says, tightening his hold on his hands, echoing his words from years before. “We’re going to spend Christmas together and everything else can wait.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I mean…if that’s what you want?”

“More than anything.”

“There is just one thing that needs sorting.” He starts looking straight at him, watching as his face turns to worry. “The hair, and the beard. What on earth were you thinking?”

_____

“So what now?” Robert asks, sitting back in his chair, sliding his cutlery together, the plate clean after polishing off the full English he and Aaron had ordered. “Wow that was good, not as good as yours mind.”

“Flatterer.” Aaron smiles. “Now, well it’s up to you. If it were up to me we’d grab your stuff and go home on the next ferry, but like I say it’s up to you.”

“I want to…it’s just…facing everyone. Your family, Vic, and then there’s Wendy.”

“It’s no consolation I know, but when it all came out about Luke she did help Vic out. Maybe we can just ignore her.” Robert nodded, but he didn’t have Aaron’s confidence. “As for my family, it’s really only Mum, and you leave her to me.”

“You make it sound so simple.”

“It’s not, I know it’s not. I know how difficult it is to go home after getting out, even if the worst for me was a few months. But you’ve got me, you’ve got Vic, and god help me Nicola and Jimmy. We’re all going to be there for you.”

“Yeah.”

“But if you don’t want to go back then we can find a decent hotel and hole up there until we decide what to do.��

“I can’t drag you away from them at Christmas.”

“You’re not. All I care about right now is you. Two years, Robert, two years we’ve got to make up for.”

Robert doesn’t say anything, just stares out of the window at the dull gray skies, the sea murky and rough. Aaron lets him, gives him time to make his own decision. He knows only too well that you don’t get that luxury in prison. He takes the time to really look at him, the dim light in the hostel hiding the new lines on his face, the dark circles around his eyes. Underneath he knew his Robert was still in there, despite everything, he just had to be patient.

“I want to get off this island.”

“Ok.”

“I want to go back and have this last two years to never have happened.” He covers Robert’s hand with his own at that. “And I know I can’t, but everyone’s going to be looking, watching, judging. I don’t want everyone thinking I’m this animal.”

“Hey, no one thinks that. There’s not a person in that village who wouldn’t have done the same in your situation, me included. And you know what, anyone who does say anything is going to have to deal with me.”

“My bodyguard eh?”

“If you want. Not sure this is the place to be talking about your fantasies though.” He winks, happy when it makes Robert smile. “It’s not going to be easy I know that, but we can be a family again, and it will get easier.”

“Ok.” Aaron blinks. “Ok, we’ll go home.”

_____

They’re nearly to Hotten when Robert wakes. He’d fallen asleep not long after they got onto the motorway, head resting against one of Aaron’s hoodies against the car window. Aaron hadn’t the heart to wake him, just gazing over every so often to make sure he was ok. He looked so peaceful.

It hadn’t taken long to go back to the hostel and collect Robert’s stuff, just a small bag. He’d looked embarrassed when he’d packed it in mere minutes but Aaron had shook his head, it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except the fact that he was there.

They’d not talked much other than Aaron filling him in on bits of village gossip, staying away from anything too heavy or to do with family, and in return Robert offered nothing about his time in prison. It seemed like they both wanted to keep everything pleasant enough at least for the time being.

“How long was I out.”

“A few hours. Hotten turn’s coming up soon. Anywhere you want to stop off on the way?”

“Is this your way of telling me, again, that I need a haircut?” He’d mentioned it a fair few times during the journey before he’d fallen asleep. He didn’t care really, it was just so alien to see Robert like that.

“No…well yeah, but I meant clothes or anything. I mean your stuff is still at home, but…”

“But what?”

“I stuffed it all into bin bags and shoved it into the loft so it might need a wash and iron before it’s any good. Sorry.” He risks a look at him, hoping he’s not angry but he’s smiling.

“S’pose I should be grateful you didn’t burn ‘em given what I did. It’s fine Aaron.”

“Well I did nearly chuck them, but in the end I couldn’t.”

“So, no to the clothes, but if we can find somewhere I’ll get that haircut.”

“There’s always Bernice.” He can’t keep his face serious as he says it, knows Robert would rather let Aaron cut his hair than let his stepsister near him. “I’ll find somewhere. You fancy driving for a bit?”

“Not on here maybe when we’re nearer home…it’s been a while.” Aaron nodded and flicked the indicator to take the Hotten turn.

An hour later Robert gets back into the car, and Aaron does a double take. The beard is gone and Robert’s hair is just how it used to be. If it weren’t for the less than fashionable clothes he could imagine they were just out doing their Christmas shopping.

“Alright?”

“Yeah.” He manages to force out the words, can’t resist reaching out a hand to touch his jaw. “Perfect.”

“Not sure I could ever be called that.”

“Don’t be daft. So, home?”

“Home.”

“You want to drive now?” Robert hesitates and Aaron’s about to tell him it doesn’t matter when he nods.

_____

Robert pulls over just outside the village, staring into the valley covered in darkness, an odd look on his face. “You alright?”

“Yeah, just…didn’t think I’d ever see the place again.” He blinks. “S’pose I thought I’d not come back once I got out…you know if it was the full term. Wouldn’t be anything waiting for me.”

“Yes there would.”

“You really think anyone would wait that long and be bothered about me. Vic would be…well I guess she’d be married, maybe a whole herd of kids, Harry would be a teenager like…Seb.”

“We’ll call Rebecca as soon as we get home. You’re going to see him again Robert, I promise. Even if I have to go to Liverpool myself.”

“Not sure kidnapping him would do much in our favour.”

“I wasn’t talking about him, I meant Ross.” Robert bursts out laughing. They both knew who pulled the strings when it came to Rebecca. “I’m just kidding. Come on, no putting it off.”

Robert starts the engine, driving through the village fast enough not to really see anything, not wanting to see anything or anyone, even if he can’t help slowing as he passes the garage, before he pulls to a stop in the driveway of the house.

“I would’ve waited.” Aaron says quietly. He thinks Robert’s not heard him until he leans over and presses a kiss to his cheek. “However long it took.”

“I knew that, just wouldn’t ever let myself believe it. Easier that way I suppose.”

“Yeah.”

“There’s lights on.” He says looking at the house, not sure what to say. “Liv?”

“No, she’s still in Dublin. Maybe I left them on. I left in a bit of a rush, I was running late. Right come on.”

Robert follows as he unlocks the door, frowning when he hears noises, assuming it’s just from upstairs. When he opens the front door he stops seeing Eve’s pushchair in the hall and then his Mum sat on the sofa, cup of tea in hand.

“Mum, what the hell are you doing here?”

“More to the point, what is he doing here?” Her tea goes everywhere as she jumps to her feet. Robert resists the urge to tell her to watch where she was throwing her tea as it would only wind her up. “Come crawling back have you?”

“Mum I asked you a question. What is going on.”

“You were too wrapped up in him I suppose to see that we’ve lost everything.” He looks back at Robert. “The pub. If you’d been here, if you hadn’t gone running after him you wouldn’t even have to ask.”

“Well I do, so tell me! Then you can tell me why you let yourself into our house without asking!” Just then Paddy comes downstairs holding Eve. The little girl immediately reaches for her brother and he takes her despite his mood. “Hello beautiful. Rob, can you take her.”

“Just a minute…” Paddy starts but Aaron just glares at him.

“Are you going to explain.”

“The pub, there was an explosion. You know we were in Scotland.” He nods, it’d been the one thing he was glad of, being able to get out of the village without endless explanations. “It’s ruined Aaron. We had nowhere to go.”

“So you just let yourselves in here?” Robert asks before he can stop himself, knowing his voice will only wind her up more.

“I don’t answer to you Robert Sugden.”

“No but you do to me. You didn’t even think to ask me? Not even a text?”

“I didn’t think I would have to. You’re my son and we’ve nowhere else to go. You can’t turn us away.”

“Oh I can. After what you’ve done that’s exactly what I can do.” He takes a breath, doesn’t want to upset his sister. “Can’t you stay at the farm with Cain and Moira?”

“They don’t have room. I don’t know what you’re talking about. What have I done?”

“So you don’t remember a phone call a few months back, answering my phone, and I presume deleting the call after so I wouldn’t know anything about it. How could you.”

“Chas?” Paddy looks at her and Aaron rolls his eyes, he knows he’ll be on her side. Once upon a time he could rely on him a hundred percent, but not anymore.

“I’m not going to apologise for stopping him worming his way back in.” She points at Robert and Aaron can tell she’s itching to grab her daughter from him, only him standing in the way is stopping her. “You were happy, you didn’t need him.”

“Yes I did! I always have. You had no right to tell him I was with someone else, none at all.”

“I wasn’t lying!” She spat out. “Give me my daughter. Paddy take her upstairs.” She orders when Robert hands her over. “You were with Ben.”

“For God’s sake Mum, I had a few drinks with him, that’s all. You knew that and yet you spun Robert a pack of lies to keep him away from me. You had no right.”

“I only want…”

“What’s best for me, yeah I’ve heard that before. What you don’t get is, it’s only ever what you think is best for me. If you really cared then it wouldn’t matter what you thought as long as I was happy. If you really cared then you’d know I was miserable without him.”

“He left you Aaron, he killed someone.”

“No he didn’t. He was acquitted of that. It was Luke, you know the guy you all thought was great for Vic, the one you gave a job not weeks after Robert had gone, knowing how much it hurt me to see that family around. But oh no Chas Dingle knows best.”

“Aaron, calm down.”

“No, Rob. If you’d listened to her, if you hadn’t sent that visiting order I would’ve lost you. She would’ve won, again!” He turns back to his Mum. “I’m calling Cain, I don’t want you here.”

“I already told you he doesn’t have the room.”

“Then I’ll call the B&B. I can’t have you here not after this. This is our house.”

“Aaron…we can’t afford that. You know we don’t have any money thanks to Al.”

“Then we’ll pay. I mean it Mum. You’ve interfered one too many times. Robert’s done nothing that any of us wouldn’t do. I’ve done worse, I’ve hurt people when they’ve done nothing, but all of you judged him, tried to turn me against him because it suited you. Well no more. He’s back now and he’s staying.”

“Just like that. He broke your heart and you’re just letting him back in as if nothing has happened. You’re a fool Aaron.”

“Chas that’s enough.”

“I said I don’t answer to you! You always come up smelling of roses, don’t you. No matter what you do, or how many people you hurt.” She turns back to Aaron. “He’ll do it again, break your heart.”

“Maybe, maybe not, but it’s my choice to let him back into my life, not yours. Now, will I ring Cain or pay for the B&B?”

“I can’t believe you’re throwing your sister out onto the streets.” Aaron sees Robert rolling his eyes out of the corner of his eye and wants to smile.

“I’m quite happy for Eve to stay. She doesn’t interfere in my life. But I can’t have you here. I’m sorry about the pub, and I’ll help sort it or whatever, you know that, but until you see that I’m not a child and I don’t need you to run my life then I can’t live in the same house as you.”

“But, Aaron…”

“I think you should go Chas.” Robert says quietly, hand on Aaron’s shoulder for support. “At least for now.”

It’s quiet for a good few minutes before she stomps up the stairs, not even looking at him. Aaron lets out a breath, sinking into a chair.

“Are you alright?” Robert asks, sitting opposite. “You don’t have to do this you know. I can always stop at Vic’s until they can go back to the pub.”

“No! This is your home. I could’ve lost you because of her, and she wouldn’t have cared. She would’ve been pleased.”

“I don’t want to be the reason you and her are at odds.”

“You’re not. Don’t ever think that.” He grabs his hand, sighing as he hears footsteps, getting to his feet.

“Right, well I won’t stay where we’re not wanted.”

“Mum…don’t make it sound like that. You came here without even asking me, made yourself at home. Don’t you even think that’s a bit odd?”

“Do you even care that we’ve lost everything, all of Eve’s toys, our stuff…Gracie’s box.” That makes him stop, he supposed he hadn’t thought.

“I’m sorry about that, but it’s not my fault Mum.” He stands taller, he’s not letting her guilt trip him over that, as if he doesn’t miss her too, as if anything he did could’ve made it better.

“Most sons would help their parents out.” Paddy pipes up.

“Most parents would support the choices their son makes.” He fires back. “I’m not making you homeless. I told you we’d pay for the B&B if there’s nowhere else. I’m sorry Mum, but I can’t deal with you being here.”

She doesn’t say another word, just flounces out of the door, leaving Paddy to carry their bags, and Eve. Aaron waves at his sister, wishes he wasn’t hurting her, but the weight that lifts when Robert closes the door behind them tells him he’s done the right thing.

“Well…that was a hell of a homecoming.” He laughs.

“I’m sorry. I wanted it to be perfect. Just you and me.”

“Well it is now. Your Mum will come round you know, in the end.” Aaron shrugs.

“Maybe. Nothing I can do if she doesn’t. She’s made her choices. So…glad to be home?” Robert nods. “I’m knackered.”

“You should get some sleep, it’s been a long day.” Aaron nods. “I can…I can sleep down here if you want.”

“What? No. Unless you want to.”

“Course not. But…well…”

“Robert, shut up and come to bed. I haven’t got the energy to persuade you. We’ll deal with everything else tomorrow.”

_____

“Aaron…where are you? You wanted this Christmas to be perfect and I’ve been slaving away over this turkey while you’ve been…well who knows where.”

He’d gone out first thing, saying he needed to pick something up, and Robert had just nodded, they’d been playing catch up on everything after the drama of the past few days, but it’d been hours and he can’t help worrying.

After Chas had left, they’d slept for hours, and spent the next day talking, him plucking up the courage to call Rebecca and try to see Seb. He’d not managed it, resolving to do it straight after new year once he was more settled. They’d not ventured out much, he wasn’t up to seeing loads of people, and part of him didn’t want to run into any Dingles. Aaron didn’t need to be made to feel guilty over asking his Mum to leave. The only one they’d seen was Cain, and he’d been surprised that the man was on Aaron’s side, only asking him to give his Mum another chance once everyone had calmed down. Robert wasn’t going to interfere, it was completely up to Aaron what he did.

Sighing, he sits down, resolving not to worry, instead answering his sisters text wishing him a merry Christmas from Portugal. He wished she was here but in a way he was glad he could get used to being home before seeing her. He needed to find his feet again.

“I’m back!” He hears Aaron call and gets to his feet, ready to ask why he hadn’t called when the words die on his lips because walking through the door in front of him is Seb. “I found this little waif, thought he could join us for dinner.”

He can’t speak past the lump in his throat, can only stare at his little boy. He’s grown so much, but he still has the same cheeky smile as he looks up at Aaron.

“Go on mate, say hello to Daddy Robert.” That makes him move, crouching down in front of the little boy.

“Hi. Do you remember me?” He gets a nod and then Seb runs over to hug him and he can only hold on and try and hold back his tears. “How?”

“Turns out even Ross isn’t immune to Christmas spirit. I called yesterday while you were out walking, managed to get Rebecca on a good day, got her to agree, made sure Ross didn’t scupper anything, and arranged to collect him after they’d done presents.”

“I don’t…Aaron!”

“He’s here until the day after tomorrow. Then they both said we’d sort something proper.”

“I don’t deserve you.”

“Shut up.”

“What about…presents…” In the few days they’d had he’d not ordered anything, not wanting to jinx being able to see him at any point and now they had nothing.

“In the boot. I said I was going to the shops yesterday didn’t I? You just assumed I meant the supermarket.” He shakes his head, marvelling at his husband. Technically he wasn’t, he knew, but they’d never needed a piece of paper before, they didn’t now.

“Daddy?” Seb’s voice stops his reply to Aaron.

“Yes mate.”

“You home now?” He looks up at him, eyes wide, thumb in his mouth and he just smiles back.

“Yeah. I’m home now.”

#a fic a day in december #robron fic

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theoreticslut · 3 years

Text

First Christmases & Baking Cookies

pairing: george weasley x reader

requested: yes! ( @rip-us ) // prompt 4 & 41 from holiday prompt list

word count:1.5k

warnings: fluff

A/N: Hi! I really hope you like this <3 Ik its kinda short and i’m sorry. I still think its cute though so hopefully you guys do too?! if you’d like me to take another shot at it I’d be more than happy to. on other topics, thank you so much for requesting stuff! I am still taking requests for anyone that wants to ask for something! I am also doing a 300 follower sleepover so check that out!! I hope you all are still liking my writing; i haven’t posted much original work this week & honestly its solely due to college. I hate this semester so so so much, but i’m just trying to get to the end. anyways, i do have some works that i’m going to try to proof tonight and then queue them for the next week or two. Just bear with me please? i love you guys and hope you keep reading my stuff Xx

Taglist: @justmesadgirl @xuckduck @yikesyikesyikes95 @filipi-yes @aestheticwh0r3 @siredkai @matsuno-nadeshiko @msmarklee1213 @immajustreadwritereblog @msmimimerton @lauren2408 @mischievous-queen @bunnyboo7 @grandeoptimist @kaitlynw011 @daddystevee @slytherinxhunter

^ let me know if you’d like to be added / removed

George sighs, a smile falling on his lips as he walks into your shared apartment. You must have been baking all day while he was at the shop, but he can’t place what exactly. It’s honestly a mix of so many different scents, but to him it smells like home. It smells comfortable.

“Such a happy girl, huh sweetheart?” He hears your voice ring out from the living room, followed by your daughter’s giggles and happy coos.

He can’t help, but let his smile grow. You and your guys’ daughter are the light of his life. It doesn’t matter how terrible his day, the second he can see you two, or even just hear you, he knows that everything will be okay.

Taking off his hat and coat, he hangs them up on the hook beside the door before making his way to the living room where he finds you laying on your side as you tickle your daughter’s stomach while she’s laying on her back on the floor.

“How are my girls doing today?” George asks, smiling down at the two of you.

“Hey, Georgie.” You smile.

“Look who’s home, sweetheart. It’s daddy.”

You smile at your daughters happy giggling as you push yourself up to a sitting position. Carefully you stand up, picking up your daughter once you do.

“How was your day, love?” You ask George as you lean up to kiss him as you hold your daughter against your hip.

“Busy; We had a lot of people come to the store today. It wasn’t bad though.” He smiles, holding you in his one arm while he uses his other to get the attention of your daughter.

“It’s always better coming home to you and mummy though, innit, princess? Daddy loves coming home and seeing his girls.”

You smile as your daughter screeches happily at her father, holding her hands out to him trying to climb into his arms.

He chuckles and grabs her from your arms just as a timer goes off in the kitchen. George looks at you confused as you smile.

You absolutely loved baking during the holidays, mainly because you remember your mum baking a lot every Christmas. You swore she’d make nearly every kind of cookie under the sun. Your favourite, however, were simple frosted sugar cookies. You absolutely loved getting to decorate them....and then eating them.

While you were at hogwarts you didn’t get to bake much, if at all, and it was more than a little upsetting. Baking reminded you of home, so eventually - after getting homesick enough times - you snuck down to the kitchens and asked the house elves if it would be okay for you to bake some cookies. They didn’t mind at all. In fact, you’re pretty sure they loved having someone else there with them.

You and George had actually started dating awhile after he found you baking one weekend in third year. Sure you guys had sort of been friends beforehand, but you got really close after he had joined you that day and you gave him half of the batch of cookies.

After you had started dating, George would join you when you’d go down to the kitchens and you two always had a lot of fun. The first few times you really had to show him what to do, but he eventually figured it out. You two would spend hours making batch after batch of three or four different kinds of cookies.

It’s safe to say his mum was more than surprised when she caught you and him making cookies when you were invited to the burrow the first time over Christmas break in your fourth year. She honestly didn’t know that her son liked to bake, let alone knew how to.

“Are you baking, darling? It smelled delightful in here when I came through the door.” George asks, smiling.

“I am. Made a bunch of sweets for us and the family.” You smile, walking to the kitchen as your husband follows you, your daughter grabbing at his mouth as he playfully tries to eat her hands, drawing more and more giggles from her little body.

“I hope you made a basket just for Ron.” He jokes, tickling gemma’s sides.

You smile as you set a tin in front of him complete with Ron’s name. You had already thought about it and decided it was the best option.

“You didn’t.” George chuckles, breaking out into a grin at your thoughtfulness.

“I did, hun.” You smile, turning away to pull the cookies that were in the oven out.

“I figured since hermione said she only got one or two cookies from the box last year that I’d make them each a separate one this year.” You giggle.

You daughter screeches as her father stopped giving her attention and you chuckle.

“I know, Gemma. Mummy took daddy’s attention, didn’t I?” You giggle, tickling her belly as she smiles, giggling at you.

George chuckles, kissing his daughters head before grabbing your other hand and squeezing it.

You smile at him, squeezing his hand back as you place a quick kiss to his lips.

“Is there anything Gemma and I can help you with, darling?” he asks when you pull away, a small smile on each of your faces as you rest your forehead against his.

One of George’s favourite things to do with you was bake. He loved watching you so focused on your task yet at the same time being able to joke around and look so carefree. He honestly loved having you show him what he needed to do to make good cookies or a cake, and he loved even more when you would praise him when he did something right. It truly warmed his heart when you smiled at him after he had helped you mix the batter or add in ingredients.

Gemma coos when she heard her name and you chuckle, smiling at her as George talks to her.

“That’s right, Gemma. Daddy said your name. Do you wanna help mummy and daddy bake?”

She coos again, giggling and clapping lightly.

“Well, darling?” George asks, looking at you with a smile in his eyes.

“I do want to make a few more cookies.” You admit, giving him a small smile.

“Why don’t you grab the flour for me while I get Gemma in her seat.”

He nods smiling at you as Gemma happily goes to you, reaching for the few strands of hair that hang near your face from your bun.

“Be nice, gemma.” You warn as she tugs on your hair, George chuckling to himself at the pureness of the moment.

He knew you were more than excited to be able to teach Gemma how to bake when she got older. In all honesty, he was excited too. He loved the image of you and him with three little girls baking every Christmas; the girls making a mess, but neither you or him getting upset. Instead you two would help them make even more of a mess and then you’d spend the night cleaning together before sitting down to watch a movie as the kids fall asleep laying across the two of you.

You get Gemma in her high chair, kissing her head as you set some of her toys in the tray. As much as you’d love to get her in with baking, you knew she wouldn’t quite understand it yet. You thought it best if you just gave her a small bowl of flour and water later on for her to mix.

“Here you are, darling. One bag of flour.” George smiles, setting the bag down just hard enough to create a cloud of flour that covers his face and top of his shirt.

“Oh, George.” You frown, trying to hold back your chuckles and smile as you dust off his shirt.

He pouts, wiping at his face as you can’t help but let out a few giggles. he looks so offended even though he’s the one that caused this.

“I guess I should check to make sure the bag is closed tight, huh?” He chuckles, pulling you into a hug as he wipes his face on your shoulder.

“Georgie!” You giggle, not believing he just did that.

“Sharing is caring, darling.” He smirks as you look at the white powder covering your one shoulder.

“You’re lucky I love you.” You tease, working on getting the rest of the ingredients together.

~.~

“Careful, princess. Those cookies are warm.” George says as your daughter reaches for the plate of freshly baked and frosted sugar cookies.

You smile, watching as your husband helps your daughter get a nice warm, covered-in-frosting cookie. Already she’s making a mess out of it, crumbs and frosting sticking to her cheeks and getting all over the counter where she’s sitting.

“They turned out amazing, darling. Seriously, come try one.” George urges, waving you over from your spot in the living room. In the process of cleaning the kitchen after baking, you had tidied up the living room where you took a seat when you were done.

“Open your mouth, darling.”

You chuckle but do as George asks, smiling a bit as he feeds you some cookie.

“Ooh, they did turn out good this time, didn’t they?” You mumble through the cookie, savoring the taste.

George chuckles, kissing your forehead as you grab another cookie from the plate.

“They’re always good, darling. I think you make cookies better than Mum, but don’t tell her I said that.” He giggles, smiling at you as he wipes at his daughter’s face as she shoves more cookie into her mouth.

“Don’t worry, Georgie. I’d never tell.” You smile, placing a kiss on his lips.

This Christmas couldn’t have been anymore perfect, not when it’s your daughter’s first Christmas and you get to share it with George yet again. You could never tire from spending the holidays with your family.

#harry potter #harry potter fluff #harry potter imagine #harry potter fanfiction #george weasley #george wealsey imagine #george weasley x reader #george weasley fluff #george weasley fanfic #dad!george #dad!series #christmas fics #hp imagine #hp fluff #hp fanfic

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seasonsofeverlark · 3 years

Text

$1 Smooches

Author: @alliswell21

Prompt: Everlark and a Kissing Booth [submitted by @mandelion82]

Rating: G

Author’s Note: Modern AU. ~1600 words _____________

“That game was rigged!” Katniss seethed.

“Lower your voice, Brainless! Do you want the carnies to curse you? I don’t, I’m standing right next to you!” Johanna hissed, slapping a hand over Katniss’ mouth.

“I’m sure carnival workers consider that a derogatory term,” Prim sighed, done with her companions silliness.

“Anything is offensive nowadays,” said Johanna, winded, after Katniss shoved her away.

Katniss scowled, giving another shove for good measure, “Cut it out, Johanna!”

Prim rolled her eyes. “You are aware, this is a charity event benefiting the hospital I work for, right? all booths are operated by volunteering hospital employees, which means the ring-the-bottle game wasn’t rigged,” Prim stared pointedly at her sister, “and nobody is getting cursed!” She glared at Johanna next, “Behave!”

There was nothing Katniss hated more than disappointing her baby sister. “I’m sorry, Prim, we’ll be better,” Katniss glared at her friend, “Right Jo?”

“Fine! But I demand a greasy, deep fried treat, and a big sugary drink to go with it!”

“Yay!” Primrose clapped, hooking her slender arms through her sister and friend’s elbows, “Lets have some fun!”

The trio came to a food booth, Prim piped in, “I’ll ordered us a funnel cake and two giant lemonades, you guys go find another game, I don’t mind waiting in line,”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah…and then we can go to the booth my department set up. My favorite nurse in the whole world is manning it!”

Katniss and Johanna walked past the inflatables and the bouncy castle, trying not to bump into families with rambunctious children, and then, they saw a ridiculously loud-excuse-of-an-eyesore-shack painted in pepto pink, decked to the gills with giant red and pink hearts sprouting from every corner of the stand, and a large, white sign crowning the top, announcing: “$1 Smooches”, spelled in blinking light bulbs, with a neon yellow arrow pointing downwards.

“A kissing booth?” Johanna arched her eyebrows, curiously.

The queue to the booth was very long and to Katniss’ surprise, composed mostly by female patrons.

“What. Is. that?!” Gasped Johanna, pointing to the booth while fanning herself with her free hand. Without further comment, Jo grabbed Katniss’ hand and marched straight for the kissing booth line.

“What—?”

“Come on Brainless, I have two singles in my wallet and a tube of chapstick ready for the hunk selling kisses!”

Katniss was momentarily confused, until she saw a muscular man with a boyish, lopsided smile, taking a crisp dollar bill from a very enthusiastic woman; a second later, the man puckered up his pink lips, and leaned forward, just outside the big window of the booth, forearms flexing deliciously against the sleeves of his polo shirt; a wayward curl of his ashy blonde hair fell over his forehead in just the right way.

“Oh!” Katniss gulped, falling into step with her best friend.

The line advanced impressively fast, for how long it was. In a matter of minutes, which was truly appreciated, since nobody particularly enjoyed being sandwiched between the baking sun and the suffocating blacktop of the lot. The girls were second to next line, but Johanna started sneezing uncontrollably, thanks to the cigarette smoke of a passerby.

“Ugh! This is a hospital’s parking lot! A no smoke zone!” Jo rasped angrily, “Here!” She shoved a balled up wad of cash into Katniss’ hands, and before her friend could stop her, she went after the smoking a-hole, to rip him a new one.

Katniss found herself at the front of line very suddenly, and the man beckoned her forward, lopsided grin, so inviting, she stepped up without consciously deciding to.

The man studied her quizzically for a moment, “Hello, there,” he greeted, “Are you an employee at Panem General, or are you a guest? You look familiar,” he said.

“Guest,” Katniss answered, a little too fast. She stepped backwards, rethinking her situation, the woman directly behind her, gave her a weak push forward, to keep her from stepping on her toes.

The man looked at the ball of cash in Katniss’ hands and smiled brightly. “Would you like to make a donation to Panem General’s pediatric wing? Every dollar counts,” he said softly.

Katniss nodded bashfully, not really understanding his words, too preoccupied with how velvety soft the man’s voice was. She handed him the whole wad, which apparently was $5 in crinkled $1 bills.

The guy took only one, and placed the rest of the money on the counter, next to Katniss’ hand, before leaning forward to brush his lips against Katniss’.

There was no telling how long the kiss lasted, but judging by the aggravated buzzing of complaints coming from behind Katniss, it had been long enough to warrant an annoyed calling out.

“Hey! Stop holding up the smooches!”

Katniss opened her eyes, shifting down to the ball of her feet. She hadn’t realized she’d closed her eyes and stretched on the tip of her toes during her kiss. She stared at the guy, who looked slightly dazed as he admired her back; his smile seemed even more crooked than before.

“Oh my gosh, you found our booth!” Prim cried out, startling Katniss. “Oh, and you met nurse Mellark!”

“What?!” The crowd behind Katniss grew restless and annoyed by the second. “I haven’t met any nurses—“

Katniss peered back at the booth suspiciously, expecting to see this nurse her sister spoke so much about, but the only person currently in the booth was the kissable blonde man, watching his sister with arched brows and surprise in his deep blue eyes.

“Hi, Peeta!” Prim waved, the guy in the booth waved back, but the next person in line stood in front of him, blocking his view.

“Wait…” Katniss pulled Prim further out, before the mob of angry women throttled them, “That man is nurse Mellark?” She asked, pointing back as discreetly as she could; the man was looking at them with badly veiled concern, while still trying to do his job, as host of the smooching booth. “You mean to tell me, the handsome man kissing half the fair is the nurse Mellark you’re always gushing about, with the home baked cookies and the cute little drawings for the oncology patients?” Her gray eyes x-rayed her sister.

“Uh, yeah,” Prim sounded a bit too nonchalant. “He’s amazing, let me tell you,” she sort of mumbled, studying her cuticles.

“Hey! What did I miss?” Johanna came back munching on a box of nachos, swimming in melted cheese. “Oooh! Elephant ear!” She said, snatching the funnel cake Prim was holding awkwardly.

“Primrose forgot to mention that her most favorite nurse in the whole world is a HE!” Katniss snapped.

“What?!”

“What’s so wrong about that? Men can be nurses,” Prim shrugged.

“But you didn’t tell me he was a man!”

“Well, you didn’t tell me you were a sexist pig, Katniss.”

“I am not!”

Johanna giggled, stuffing her face with fair food.

“Nurse Mellark is a great care provider who loves children and does his absolute best to bring joy during the worst time of our patients’ lives…What does it matter if he’s a guy? He’s great! What did you expect anyway?” Prim countered defensively, stubbornly.

“I don’t know! An elderly lady, with lots of motherly wisdom or something… I mean, every time you talked about nurse Mellark, you mentioned delicious homemade pastries, and finger paints, and sweet bedtime stories… I never pictured nurse Mellark to be so…”

“Manly,” Johanna finished, looking at the man in the booth, dreamily, finally having caught on. “He’s more of a tall tree trunk I’d like to climb like a koala bear in heat… now where’s my cash, brainless, my lips are ready for some smacking,”

“Johanna!” Katniss growled, but her friend waved her off. A thought occurred to her just then. “Prim…” Katniss whispered into her sister’s ear, “Are you…okay with this?” She said motioning to the 20 or so women in line. “Are you okay with all these people kissing nurse Mellark?”

Primrose’s lips twitched, “Why wouldn’t I be? This booth was sort of my idea… it was actually more about Doctor Odair selling the kisses, but nurse Mellark was very good sport, volunteering, ” She rolled her blue eyes.

“Mmm… I just thought, maybe you had a thing for him?”

“For Peeta?!” Prim said loudly, before laughing hysterically.

Katniss’ eyes shifted everywhere, and to her chagrin, the man in question— Peeta, apparently— looked up at his name.

“Not so loud!” Katniss hissed, but got interrupted by a booming voice.

“Ladies, it is time for me to take a break.” Announced nurse Mellark— Peeta— A chorus of disgruntled patrons filled the air, but the man raised his hands placatingly, “Not to worry everyone, my pinch hitter, Doctor Odair, is ready to take over!”

As if by magic, the most attractive man Katniss had ever seen in her life— besides the beautiful male nurse, of course— popped from beside nurse Mellark and a collective swooning sigh rapped over the small crowd.

Prim laughed. “Come on, I’ll introduce you guys properly. You’re going to love Peeta!”

“Hell no! I’m paying double for the new guy! You gals go ahead,” Johanna called, wolf whistling at the newcomer, waving two dollar bills in the air.

A moment later, Prim had dragged Katniss to meet her most favorite nurse, secretly crossing her fingers as she made introductions…she thought Peeta and Katniss were perfect for each other, and she wholeheartedly hoped they would kick it off right away, so when she was wrinkly and white haired, she could tell her grand nephews and nieces the story of how their grandma paid a dollar to kiss their grandpa for the very first time.

#everlark #everlark fanfiction #winter 2021 #Valentine’s Day #alliswell21 #submission #prompt

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sbtlns · 3 years

Text

Tiny Dancer

Warnings: smut (!) kind of a crack fic

A/N: so uh we all agree that the finale was trash right? aight just checkin. anyways i reality shifted when i had a high fever and lived a version of this so i figured i would make yall live it too. part two?

Castiel’s cheeks flushed as you moved to straddle the naked angel. His hand moved instinctively to your waist, holding you close as you leaned down to nip at his ear. He groaned at your action, sending a new wave of heat to your core. You continued your ministrations, nipping and sucking at the tender parts of his neck while the debauched angel squirmed beneath you. “y/n,” he said in a strained voice. You stopped your actions to look down at him, meeting his desperate look. You cocked an eyebrow, prompting him to spit it out. “Please,” he strained, raising his hips to meet yours. Deciding you had tortured him enough, you raised your hips slightly and reached beneath you to align him with your entrance. Before you sunk down on him, you gave him one more ‘are-you-sure?’ type of look. He nodded vehemently and you smiled to yourself, returning your focus to his hardened member slightly probing your entrance. You lowered yourself onto him slowly, savoring the way he stretched you out. He moaned a string of your name, each seeming more urgent. “Cas,” you gasped. “y/n.....Y/N.....Y/N!”

You shot up in bed, the sound of Dean yelling your name and pounding on your door startling you to say the least. “Yeah?” you croaked, trying to regain your composure. Dean sighed from the other side of the door, finally, he thought, only took five minutes. “We’ve got a case. Map Room in 5,” he said gruffly. Sensing your annoyance, he added, “Sam made coffee.”

With the promise of coffee, you begrudgingly got out of your bed, shoving the remnants of your dream to the back corner of your mind. You had known Cas for quite some time now, long enough to know that he doesn’t understand human feelings well, let alone romantic feelings. That’s why you decided to try and bury the small crush you had developed for him, which was becoming increasingly harder with the dreams you had been having recently.

Sighing, you got dressed and made your way to the Map Room where you were met with a grumpy looking Dean and a smiling Sam. “Coffee,” Sam said, reaching from his seat to hand you a fresh mug. You were about to thank him when Dean cut you off, “I said 5, not 7.” You threw him a bitch face before turning back to Sam and mouthing thank you, and he smiled in response. You sat down across from Sam as Cas walked in, looking a bit flustered.

“Sorry I’m late, I was caught up in another matter,” he rushed, making his way through the room to join you at the table. “ ‘S alright, Cas, no sweat,” Dean replied, sitting down with a grunt, across from you and Castiel. “Hold up, I got here before Cas why does he get a ‘no worries Cas,’” you mocked in a high pitched voice, “while I get a ‘how dare you be two minutes late,’” you said in you best gruff Dean voice. Sam almost spit out his coffee, earning a huff of annoyance from Dean. “Maybe because Cas didn’t make me bang on his door for five minutes while he was off in dreamland” he countered. Your face blushed at the mention of dreaming, trying not to think of the hot sex scene you had just dreamt about the angel next to you. “Whatever” you huffed, “let’s just get on to the case, yeah?”

Sam nodded, pulling up his laptop. “So get this, reports of cattle mutilations, power outages, and now three missing persons reports all in y/h/t. I’m thinking demons. What about you guys?” Dean nodded, sipping at his coffee. “Sounds like our kinda thing” he replied. Castiel nodded silently in agreement. Sam turned to face you, “y/n, thoughts?” Your heart was beating fast and you were sure your cheeks were red. Sam looked at you with furrowed brows. “Hey, you good?” he asked concerned. You forced a smile and nodded, realizing now that the three men were all staring at you. You cleared your throat before saying, “Yeah, it’s just...that’s my hometown is all.” You sighed, “You’re right, sounds like demons though,” you added quickly before taking another sip of coffee. The three men shared a quick glance.

“Um,” Sam started uneasily, “You gonna be okay taking this case?” he asked genuinely. You hadn’t shared much about your past with the boys, nodding and laughing at the stories about their past they told you and quickly changing the subject before anyone could ask about yours. You nodded curtly, raising the mug to your lips again. Memories of your past filled your mind, not totally unpleasant, but enough to make you uneasy about returning to your hometown. You were silently hoping that you could get in kill whatever douchebag demons were causing havoc, and get out without having to deal with anything dealing with your old job.

Sam didn’t seem convinced. “You sure? I mean we could always call Garth and see-” “I’m sure,” you cut him off. You stood from your chair abruptly, causing the legs to squeak unpleasantly. “I’ll get packed and meet you guys in the garage,” you said before turning on your heel and making your way to your room. You grabbed a bag and filled it with the essentials, glancing at the pair of cowboy boots sitting long ignored in your closet. You sighed to yourself, remembering happier moments from your old job, before management became a shit show. Feeling nostalgic, you decided to throw the boots in your bag before zipping it and heading to the garage.

The boys were already chatting by the car when you made your way to the garage. You threw your bag in the trunk, closed it, and climbed in the back of Baby, the boys following suit. On the drive to your hometown, Dean sheepishly handed you a stack of cassettes, his way of apologizing for earlier. You beamed back at him and picked out your favorites, handing them to Sam to queue up. Not before long, your eyelids grew heavy and you drifted off to sleep in the backseat.

Dean must’ve hit a bump, because you woke up with a start, disoriented for a moment. It took a second for you to realize that in your sleep, you had laid your head on Castiel’s shoulder, close enough to him so that you were practically draped along his side. You quickly scrambled back to your side of the car, not missing the soft smile and forlorn look Cas had given you. “Oh look, sleeping beauty’s awake,” Dean joked. You stuck your tongue out at him, settling back into your seat. “So y/n, we found out that all three vics have something in common, they’re all regulars at some place called The Saloon” Sam filled you in, placing a Southern drawl on the name of your past employer.

Your blood ran ice cold and you stared back at him with wide eyes. He was still smiling, pleased with himself for his accent, when he realized you were panicking. The smile dropped from his face. “What’s wrong?” he asked, drawing Dean and Castiel’s attention. Dean shot you a confused glance from the rearview. “What’s wrong princess? Don’t like linedancing?” he joked. You gulped. “Um,” you started. “I uh...” you cleared your throat. “I used to work there,” you mumbled. Sam raised his eyebrows in amusement and Dean fought back a laugh. “Wha-you,” he wheezed, struggling not to burst out laughing. “Our very own tiny dancer, huh?” he mused. You huffed and crossed your arms across your chest, cheeks burning red. Sam turned back around in his seat, holding his laughter in with a smile. Castiel broke the silence, “I don’t understand, is it shameful to dance in a line?” With that, the boys couldn’t hold it in any longer and burst out into fits of laughter.

The rest of the drive wasn’t too bad, besides Dean’s off-tune humming of Elton John’s Tiny Dancer. You pulled into town and checked into the nearest motel, silently thanking the universe that Dean had booked two separate rooms. You might have offed yourself then and there if you had to spend another night listening to Sam’s snores. After settling in, you got dressed in your FBI best and met back by the car. The four of you drove to The Saloon, you becoming more and more anxious the closer you got. Dean pulled up to the gravel lot and took in the building with an amazed look. He kept his eyes on the building as he got out of the car, “Oh ho ho, get look at this,” he said incredulously. Before you stood a massive red barn with a huge blinking neon sign of a half naked woman riding a bull with a lasso spinning in her hand.

“Yeah yeah, let’s just get this over with,” you huffed, pushing past him and walking into the bar. The familiar scent of beer and cigarettes hit you the second you walked in, taking in the sight of the huge stage in front of you along. A few girls were dancing on stage, with a handful of customers sitting and watching. You heard the door open behind you as the boys stepped in and sighed before turning to face them. Dean looked like a kid on Christmas smiling widely and looking around the bar, while Sam scanned the room looking for the owners. Cas stood in place, staring perplexed at the women dancing. You followed his gaze to the stage where one of the girls was swinging her hips slowly and deliberately to the beat of the song. You turned back to him, his head cocked to the side as he mumbled, “Well that’s inappropriate.”

Trying to hide the blush creeping to your cheeks, you quickly turned back around, just in time to see your old manager strutting towards you. You took a deep breath, ready for the coming bullshit. “Well well well,” he said with a smug smirk on his face. “If it isn’t Miss Daisy Duke herself.” You felt your cheeks get hot and heard Dean snort. “I’m sorry,” Dean said, looking at you like this was too good to be true. “Daisy Duke?” he repeated. Your cheeks were burning by this point, praying that the floor would open up and swallow you whole.

“That’s right,” your old manager said in his chill inducing Southern drawl. “You know how it goes, ‘nice legs...daisy dukes...makes a man go-’” he whistled, finishing the line and turning your cheeks an even deeper red. “Miss Daisy here was our pride and joy,” he said, turning to Dean. “Best dance this bar has ever seen,” he finished, turning back to you. He smiled devilishly at you, humming in contentment. “To what do I owe the pleasure, Miss Daisy?” he asked sickeningly sweetly. Fighting to hold on to whatever shred of dignity you had left, you pulled out your fake badge and held it up. “It’s Agent Jett now, thanks,” you spat, flashing it in his face before putting it back in your jacket pocket. He squinted back at you. Sam cleared his throat in attempt to break the tension before telling him about the missing persons reports. Your old boss soaked in the information Sam was giving him, but stayed silent, still squinting at you.

Sam looked uncomfortably between the two of you before clearing his throat again and asking, “Do you have any security cameras that might have caught anything? Any possible witnesses?” Your old boss shifted his glance to Sam and replied, “Maybe.” Sam stared back, waiting for him to continue. When he didn’t, Dean cut in. “Maybe?” he asked gruffly with an eyebrow cocked. Your old boss nodded, pursing his lips together. “Depends,” he stated simply, crossing his arms. You could tell Dean was losing his patience quickly because he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “On what?” he asked, voice tight. Your old boss simply shrugged. “On if Miss Daisy will give us another show tonight.”

Your jaw dropped open. Did he say what you thought he said? Sam, Dean, and Cas all turned to stare at you, trying to gauge your reaction. Dean looking more amused than anything, and Sam trying to see whether or not he had to step in between you. “I’m sorry, what?” you croaked. Your old boss gave you the same devilish smile that sent chills down your spine. “I said,” he took another step closer to you, “I’ll talk...if you would grace The Saloon with one last dance. For old time’s sake.” The three boys looked at you expectingly. You looked incredulously among them. “You can’t be serious,” you protested.

He was. You found yourself back in your motel room, changing out of your FBI clothes and into your shortest denim shorts and your most revealing tanktop. You silently cursed yourself for packing your boots, as it seemingly jinxed you into your current situation. After you were changed, you fell back into your old routine of hair and makeup, becoming almost unrecognizable in the mirror. As you were applying the last bit of hairspray, you heard a knock at your door. “Y/n, we gotta go!” you heard Dean yell. Sighing, you slipped into your boots, took one last look in the mirror, and summoned the courage to open the door.

When you opened the door, it took them a second to react, all three reacting differently. Sam looked at you with raised brows and an amused smile, Dean whistled, and Castiel’s eyes widened before slowly trailing down your body. You felt yourself blush under his scrutiny, until it became unbearable and you snapped your fingers in his face. “My eyes are up here buddy,” you feigned anger, startling him from his trance. “I-uh m-my apologies, y/n” he stumbled over his words, looking down at his feet. Dean laughed and clapped his shoulder before walking towards Baby.

The drive over was silent, with the occasional ‘heh’ from Dean, as he thought about the ridiculousness of this day. You dreaded every mile he drove closer to the bar, wondering why Castiel couldn’t have just used his angel powers to make your old boss cough up whatever info he had. You sighed as Dean pulled up to the bar once again and begrudgingly opened your car door. “Did you guys really have to come?” you whined, trying to stall. “Of course we did princess. What if the demons are here tonight?” Dean said with a smirk. You rolled your eyes at the excuse. Sam turned to you with a look of pity. “Seriously though, y/n, if you’re uncomfortable at any point just say the word. We’ll leave and we can find another way to get the information,” he said and smiled softly. You nodded and sighed before making your way into the barn.

You opened the door and to your dismay, the place was packed. You groaned as you stepped further in before you made eye contact with one of your old coworkers. “Y/n?” she said shocked, a huge smile forming on her face. “Jimmy said you were coming but I didn’t believe him, no one did,” she said before pulling you into a huge hug. You relaxed into the hug, her being one of the very few people in town that you still kept in contact with. “Yeah well,” you said pulling back. “One night only kinda thing,” you finished, choosing to ignore the way her and Dean were eye-fucking next to you. She turned her attention back to you and took your hand. “Well, we better get you stage ready, Jimmy’s queuing up your signature!” she said excitedly, pulling you away. You threw a quick glance behind you at the boys before realization dawned on you. “Hey!” you yelled back to them, getting their attention. “Do NOT sit in this section!” you tried to point to the front left, but your friend was pulling you too fast and they just gave you confused looks.

Before you knew it, you were back stage, pacing with anxiety. You heard the current song stop and you dreaded what was coming. “Ladies and gentlemen,” you heard Jimmy’s chilling voice draw out. “Please give a big Saloon welcome...returning back to the stage... Miss Daisy Duke!” You shoved your nerves down and forced a smile before strutting out on stage. You quickly fell back into your old routine, strutting around the stage and swaying your hips to your opening music. One dance and that’s all you said to yourself. You knew that from the song Jimmy had chosen, your signature, that in the middle of the routine you would have to go down to the audience and dance for whoever the spotlight shown on. You continued your dance, praying that the boys had listened to you and had chosen anywhere else to sit. As the part of the song drew closer, you scanned the audience to gauge about who you would be giving a lapdance to. Dean raised his hand to catch your scanning eyes, with the biggest smile you’d ever seen on him. You rolled your eyes before realizing that they hadn’t taken your warning and had sat in that section.

You shot him a death glare before turning back to your dance, hoping that the spotlight would shine on anyone but them. The drunken cheers and whistles from the crowd were just about the only thing keeping you from running off stage and straight to the motel. You heard the cue in the music, prompting you to saunter down the main steps and into the audience. Sighing to yourself, you grabbed the mic and made your way to the steps. The music stopped, prompting your lines. “Gentlemen,” you said with your best honeyed Southern accent. “It’s one of your lucky nights” you finished, and the music started back up. You felt all eyes on you and tried to keep yourself from freaking out as you continued your routine. You heard the third cue in the music as the spotlight came down. You held your breath, praying that it would land anywhere but where it did. To your horror, it landed on Castiel.

Fuck you thought. The angel looked utterly confused, looking up and around him, completely thrown off by the sudden wash of light encompassing him. If it was possible, Dean’s smile grew even wider as he excitedly looked to Cas and clapped him on the shoulder. Castiel looked at him through furrowed brows, before following his gaze to you. You locked eyes with the bewildered angel, walking over to him as sexy as you could. A surge of confidence filled you when you saw his Adam’s apple bob and his jaw clench. In accordance with your routine, you walked right up to Castiel and kneeled in front of him, gently nudging his knees apart so you could settle between them. Castiel looked down at you with wide eyes, throat bobbing once more.

“And what might your name be, handsome?” you said into the mic, part of the routine. You held the mic out to Cas, which made him even more confused as he stared into your eyes, searching for any clue as to why you were asking for his name. The music was stopped again, waiting for his reply. Dean elbowed him, prompting him to answer. “Uh... Cas-Castiel,” he finally spat out. You mouthed a quick I’m so sorry and gave him an apologetic look before standing up and saying “Well, Castiel, I’ve got a special treat for you.” The music came back on and you handed the mic off to a stagehand, before turning back to Cas.

With the spotlight still on him, you sauntered over to Castiel, swaying your hips to the music along the way. He sat unnaturally still, legs still apart from when you spread them, just barely exposing the small bulge beginning to form in his pants. You felt heat pool in your core at the sight, struggling to keep your focus on the routine. You made your way back in front of him, before turning away from him to swing your hips to the music. Turning back around, you saw him watching your movements closely, his once bright blue eyes now dark, pupils blown out from lust. You swallowed before placing your hands on his shoulders and climbing onto his lap. This surprised him, as his breath caught in his throat and his hands flew instinctively to your hips. You leaned in to whisper “don’t touch, the bodyguards won’t allow it.” He ripped hands off of you as if your skin burned him and he looked up at you with wide eyes.

You began grinding against him, moving your hips to the music and gaining more drunken cheers, one distinctively from Dean, earning him a smack on the back of his head from his younger brother. Castiel couldn’t care less about the audience, you had his undivided attention. He couldn’t help the noises coming from the back of his throat, nor could he seem to keep his vessel under control. His hands twitched at his sides, desperate to touch you. You felt him becoming harder and harder, making it more difficult for you to stay focused on your routine. You climbed off his lap, danced in front of him some more, and then sat back down, this time facing away from him. You ground you ass against his hardened member, earning a low moan from the angel. You felt your panties dampening, enjoying this just as much as he was. You continued grinding against him to the music, the crowd continuing to cheer, and Castiel continuing to squirm beneath you.

Once more, you stood up from him, danced more of your routine, and straddled the utterly debauched angel. You worked hard to avoid eye contact, but slipped up and locked eyes with Castiel. To your delight, he donned the same desperate look from the dream you had earlier that morning. You shifted your hips to grind against him, causing his head to fall back to his shoulders and his mouth to part slightly. More heat pooled in your core the more you ground against him, a coil starting to form in your belly. Fuck you thought to yourself. Luckily, the fourth and final cue came in the music, signaling your return to the stage. You breathed a sigh of relief, climbed off of him, and pecked his cheek before sauntering back to the stage to finish the song. From the stage, you watched Castiel shift uncomfortably in his seat, trying and failing to conceal his tented slacks.

Finally, the song ended and you blew a kiss to the crowd before skipping off stage, thankful to be done. While you were chatting with some of the girls, Dean came to get you, trying to hide his amusement as he told you Sam had gotten the tapes from Jimmy. You breathed a sigh of relief, glad that this night was over. Dean walked you back out to the car, where Sam and Cas were waiting. Cas looked up hearing footsteps, and his eyes widened when they met yours. He quickly looked down and avoided your stare until you got back to the car. The four of you got in silently and sat for a moment before you heard Dean breathe in as if he was about to say something.

“Don’t,” you said quickly. “I don’t want to hear anything about tonight ever again. Capiche?” Dean muttered something under his breath and Sam gave you a tight nod, eager to also forget the events of the night. You took a deep breath and turned to Cas. “Castiel,” you began, and you could’ve sworn you saw him flinch at your words. “I really am sorry. I wasn’t expecting it to land on you, I told you three not to sit there..” you trailed off. He couldn’t meet your gaze. Instead he nodded and replied, “Our apologies for not realizing your meaning.” His eyes momentarily flicked up to yours before landing back down into his lap. You followed his gaze, and he seemingly noticed, as he once again shifted in his seat, trying to conceal the still obvious bulge.

This was going to be a fun ride back.

#castiel #cas #castiel x reader #cas x reader #castiel x reader smut #castiel fanfiction #supernatural fic #dean winchester #sam winchester #supernatural crack

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kalimagik · 4 years

Text

You Are My Home

Ron Weasley x Reader

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: Abusive father, alcoholism

A/N: This lil fic was requested by @obsessedwithrandomthings <3 Congrats on 300 love! The prompts were “kiss me” and “you make me feel safe.” My requests are OPEN! and there is a prompt list somewhere on my dash if you’d like to request something. I was planning on posting this 2 hours ago, but tumblr got annoying and deleted it from my queue. So reblog, comment, like, all that fun stuff pleasssse! Feedback always welcome! Happy reading!

Not my GIF - credit to owner

Summers at the Burrow were always crazy, but relaxing at the same time. Molly gave her children chores each day, but there was plenty of time for playing quidditch, pranking, and roaming around the muggle village nearby.

While Hogwarts brought excitement and adventure, the Burrow brought time for rejuvenation, well that was when the twins weren’t picking on Ron. But, it was home. It was where he felt the most comfortable, especially when Harry and Hermione were around. Yep, summers at the Burrow were the best place for a kid to grow up.

*Knock, knock, knock*

Being the last one awake, Ron slid off the couch and crept to the door. Ron glanced at the real clock on his way through the kitchen, which read 11:30. Who could be knocking this late at night?

Ron swung the door open to come face to face with Y/N L/N. She was definitely more Ginny’s friend than his, but she was always kind to him and vice versa. And, if he was being honest, he always did have a crush on her. She was so full of life and brightened the lives of everyone who knew her.

“Uhhh, hi. I’m sorry. I was hoping to catch Ginny. But now that I’m realizing what time it is, I realize that that was a silly notion.”

Y/N wouldn’t meet Ron’s eyes, but he could hear the shakiness and uneven vibrato in her voice. When she sniffled, he knew that she had been crying.

“I should go,” she whispered, turning from Ron.

“No, wait. Why don’t you come in. It’s late. I don’t even know how you got here, but it probably wasn’t easy.”

Y/N just nodded and stepped through the doorway. She stood in the kitchen, looking like she didn’t really know what to do, but Ron watched as she timidly wiped her eyes. He knew she was trying to hide whatever she was feeling.

“Are you okay?” Ron blurted out. He couldn’t stand seeing her hear like this.

“I don’t want to bother you with it. Would it be okay if I just waited down here for Ginny? You don’t have to wait up with me, I can just sleep on the couch.”

“No, you can sleep in my room. I’ll sleep on the couch.” If she didn’t want to talk to him, that was fine, but there was no way that he was letting her sleep on that lumpy couch in the living room.

“I don’t want to put you out.” This was not her, not at all.

“You won’t be. I’m sure of it. You may just have to mind the ghoul in the attic,” Ron warned with an airy chuckle. “I’m the room on the top floor. You can’t go any further. Go ahead up. There are t-shirts in the top drawer, you can use one of those for bed.”

Y/N just nodded before turning to walk up the stairs. Before she could get out of Ron’s sight, she paused and looked back at him. “Thank you, Ron,” she said quietly. Even though there weren’t many words, Ron knew that his actions meant the world to her, he could just feel it.

Once he was sure that Y/N was in bed, Ron got comfortable on the couch or as comfortable as he could. He stared at the ceiling wondering why Y/N had just shown up like that. Molly would have no problem with her being there, but it was still strange.

Ron woke up to Ginny, Fred, and George standing over him.

“Good morning, sunshine,” Fred grinned.

“Fall asleep dreaming about a mermaid?” George teased.

“Shove off,” Ron groaned as he rolled over.

“Why are you down here anyways?” Ginny questioned.

At that, Ron shot up, Y/N. “Gin, I think you might want to go up to my room.”

“I’m NOT dealing with the Ghoul again, Ronald.”

“No, no, no. I didn’t sleep down here because of a ghoul. Y/N showed up late last night. She seemed upset. I told her to sleep in my room.” Ginny was out of the room before Ron could even finish his sentence. Her footsteps pounded loudly on the steps. If anyone was still sleeping in the house, they weren’t anymore.

“What do you think that was about?” George wondered out loud.

“Girls are strange beings…” Fred followed, shaking his head.

Ron followed the twins into the kitchen for breakfast, constantly looking at the stairs for Ginny and Y/N’s feet. Breakfast was filled with jokes from the twins and Percy telling them off.

“MUUUUM!” Ginny called from up the stairs, maybe about halfway up.

Ron watched intently for any sign as Molly rushed up the stairs. She didn’t even question it. She had to know that Y/N was in the house by now. Why was he feeling so uneasy about this? Playing with his eggs until Molly emerged again.

“Well dears, it seems that we will be having a guest for the next few weeks,” Molly smiled as she pulled out another plate and set of utensils. “Ronald, you could have woken me up when she arrived last night,” Molly informed him.

“Sorry. You went up so long before she got here,” Ron tried to explain.

“Wittle Ronnikins gave his room up to the pretty girl,” Fred mocked.

“She needed it. You don’t get it.” Ron spat back at him. Ron didn’t know why, but he felt the need to protect her. He needed to pave the path for everything to be alright with her.

“Good morning again,” Ginny said, announcing her re-arrival downstairs.

Ron whipped around fast enough to see Y/N coming down the stairs behind Ginny, smiling timidly at the family she knew so well. This just so wasn’t like her.

“How’d you sleep?” he found himself asking in spite of himself. Maybe he should have just kept quiet.

“Well, thank you. But you can have your bed back. I’m going to stay in with Ginny.” She smiled at him, well what seemed like a genuine smile. Maybe last night was just a fluke and she would be her normal self by this afternoon.

“Y/N, dear. Have some breakfast. I will send an owl to Arthur and tell him to pick up your things.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Weasley.” Something still seemed off about her. Ron looked up slightly, but not enough for his brothers to catch him. He watched her slowly eat the food placed in front of her. He watched the twinge of pain shoot across her face when she turned too quickly to respond to something Percy said. He watched her.

He watched and noticed things in the weeks following the night of her arrival too. She was happier each day, growing more comfortable and relaxed in a way that someone could only do at the Burrow. Ron started spending more time with her too. She would offer to help them all with their chores and some days Ron got lucky. She’d help him all day. She was her playful self. Spraying water at him while they tended to the garden, keeping the clippers out of his reach. It was all the Y/N he was used too.

Ron even got to spend some late nights talking to her. Like him, she was a night owl. She’d stay up until she was practically falling asleep next to him on the couch or outside on the grass. She was at her cutest when she was tired, giggling and trying to keep her eyes open for as long as possible. Ron just adored it.

It was another one of those nights when just Ron and Y/N were still awake with everyone else asleep. Ron sat with his back against the couch and bum on the floor. Y/N had been sitting next to him until she became more tired. She slid towards the floor and laid her head on Ron’s lap, looking up at him.

“You’re beautiful,” he blurted out before he knew what had possessed him. It was just those eyes…Those sleepy, sparkling, beautiful eyes.

“Thank you, Ronald,” Y/N smiled, not really processing what he said.

“Can I ask you something?” Ron continued, not minding that she hadn’t said anything more.

“If you want to ask if you can have a rematch on the quidditch pitch tomorrow, the answer is yes,” she giggled.

“I will take you up on that,” Ron grinned, “but that wasn’t what I was going to ask.”

“Okay, shoot,” Y/N responded as she adjusted on his lap.

“I’ve been wondering this for a while, but when you came here a month or so ago, you were crying. You weren’t yourself. I don’t want to pry or push you, but what was wrong?” Ron felt the confidence leave him as he asked the question. Maybe he should let the reason stay her secret.

Y/N tensed, he could feel it. She was thinking and then sat up, criss cross applesauce, now facing Ron. “I guess I do owe you an explanation, you were so kind to not push me then. I would still be wondering too if I was you.” She rambled. She was still beautiful when she rambled.

“I knew that the Burrow was a safe place. Ginny has always been like a sister to me. I couldn’t be at home anymore. M-my, my dad, he- he drinks…a lot. It’s just me and him at home usually. Mum died when I was little, but I-I think you knew that. Anyways, that’s too much information.”

Y/N took a deep breath before she continued. “So, he drinks. And it just got out of hand that night. I hide it well, bu-but he can hurt me. He doesn’t always use his hands. Sometimes it's with magic, but I was hiding in my room that night. I swear he loves me. He’s my father. I just remind him of mum and it sets him off- I guess? I don’t know. I shouldn’t defend him.” She shook her head as she looked at her hands in her lap.

Ron just took in her words and the grace that she had while telling him her story. How could she be so calm? He felt the rage begin to rise in his chest. No one- No One, should ever want to do anything to harm Y/N. His fists clenched against his sides, but he tried to hide it, even though it could be read clearly across his face.

“But, I managed to get away and grabbed a broom and this is the first place I thought of. Before I knew it, I was at your door and knocking.”

Ron nodded to show he understood and was listening, but he was boiling over.

“I told Ginny the next morning and insisted I tell your mum, even though I didn’t want to. When your mum found out the basis of my situation, she essentially ordered me to stay with you all. I couldn’t say no, but I’m happy she did. This has been one of the best summer holidays I have ever had.” A smile crossed her lips as she thought of the weeks that she had spent in the Burrow.

“You can stay here as long as you want.” Ron told her, straight faced. He didn’t want that man coming anywhere near her again, whether or not he was her father.

“Thanks, Ron. Your mum said the same thing. I like it here…a lot.”

“You can stay here forever even. All school holidays, summer holidays, all of them.”

“I have to go back at some point, Ron.”

“No you don’t,” Ron argued. “You never have too.”

“Okay.” Her words didn’t seem like an agreement, but an understanding. “I’m going to go to bed now, okay? Thank you for listening.” As she stood up, she leaned down to kiss Ron’s cheek. “Good night,” she said softly as she made her way upstairs to Ginny’s room.

Ron sat in the stillness of the living room. He slowly lifted his hand to his cheek. It burned with the blush left from her kiss.

Growing used to the routine with Y/N at the house, Ron adjusted his own to spend even more time with her. Some would even argue that she was starting to spend more time with Ron than with Ginny. They were growing closer and closer and Ron felt like he may combust if his feelings for her grew any larger. He was falling, falling harder than he could ever imagine. His crush was so much more than a crush on the happy, free-spirited girl that was friends with Ginny. He loved that version of her, but also the her he got to know in the evenings and the her that could let loose like no one was watching. He loved all of her.

Then, one morning he woke up later than usual. He’d been kept awake by the soft explosions from the twins’ room and the thoughts about Y/N swirling in his head. When he came down the stairs, Y/N’s bags were all packed at the door.

“What’s going on? Are we going somewhere?” Ron asked as he rubbed his eyes.

“Y/N’s going home.” Ginny replied with a straight face and angry eyes watching the front door closely.

“She’s what? Where is she?”

“Her dad showed up early this morning demanding to see her.” Ginny spit out. Ron could tell she was infuriated.

“Where is she?”

“Outside. He wanted to talk to her.”

“Did anything seem off about him?” Ron’s mind began racing. What if he did something to her? Ron had to be there to protect her.

He flew through the door that Ginny had been watching so intently. He ignored his sister as she called saying that Y/N’s father said not to follow. He tore through the garden that he had tended to so many times with her and past the Weasley’s makeshift quidditch pitch. He ran all the way to the edge of the trees on the property. The moment Y/N spoke, he could pick her voice out of the normal outside noises.

“No. I want to stay here, Dad. Please!”

“You’re coming home. I need your help around the house. You cannot just skirt your responsibilities.” He growled at her.

“I don’t understand. You don’t have to worry about me when I’m here. They’ll take care of me…” she tried to explain.

“I can take care of you just fine. You don’t need to be playing make believe here.”

“Dad. No.” She was standing her ground and Ron was proud of her, he thought maybe he could just watch from a distance just in case. But when he looked at Y/N’s father, something seemed off. He was staggering and stumbling at only 11 o’clock in the morning.

“You are coming home with me, Y/N.” Her dad grabbed her arm harshly.

“Okay, fine, fine,” she conceded. Even from a distance, Ron could see the confidence fade in her eyes just to be replaced by fear. “Just let me go get my stuff.”

“No, we are going now. You humiliated me by having Arthur Weasley show up at MY house to collect your things.”

“Please, dad. My school things are in there. I need them to do my summer work.” Her words became more urgent as though she was trying to calm him down and be reasonable.

“WE ARE GOING NOW!” Y/N tried to pull away, but his grasp was too tight on her wrist. Ron couldn’t take it anymore.

“Let her go!” he yelled.

“This doesn’t concern you,” Y/N’s dad spat in Ron’s direction.

“Ron, it’s really okay,” Y/N said, but her eyes pleaded for help.

“I said, let her go.” Ron repeated, closing the distance between him and Y/N.

“She’s my daughter, under the age of 17, and I can do with her as I please.”

Ron’s eyes flickered to where Y/N’s father held her arm. It seemed to be getting tighter. His nails were practically breaking her flesh.

“Dad, that hurts,” she spoke softly to him, but his grip didn’t loosen. Ron could see the pain emanating in her eyes.

“She said she wants to stay here.” Ron gritted through his teeth, losing his cool.

“Let’s go, Y/N.” Her father yanked her arm so hard that Ron was sure her arm would pop out of her socket.

The tears swelled up in her eyes as she held back her audible cries. “Let her go.” Ron was giving her dad one last chance before…

Once Ron spoke, Y/N’s dad only pulled harder. Ron leaped forward, fist aimed at the man holding onto Y/N. He hit him square in the jaw. When Y/N’s dad recoiled, he lost his grip on Y/N, allowing her to break free.

“Are you okay?” he asked, rushing to her side.

“Yeah, just a little sore,” she lied. Ron stood up beside her to face her dad. The man stood a few inches shorter than Ron, so he had to look up to meet Ron’s fiery stare.

“You need to leave now.” Ron spoke as calmly as he could.

By this point, the commotion had drawn the attention of his family inside. Fred, George, and Arthur Weasley were all running to where Ron stood, Ginny running next to Y/N, helping her up.

“Take Y/N back inside, Gin.” Ron said, not breaking eye contact with her father.

“You can’t just hide my daughter from me.” He dared to speak.

“I’m not hiding her. I’m keeping her safe from you now.” Ron was determined to win this one.

“Mr. L/N. Please leave our property,” Mr. Weasley spoke sternly.

Realizing he was outnumbered, Y/N’s father apparated on the spot. Ron turned instantly to go back to the house and check on her. She had been hurt and he just knew it.

“Gin? Ginny?!” Ron called once he was in the house.

He could hear her soft sniffles and Ginny calmly repeating that she would be okay. He turned into the living room to see Y/N on the couch with Ginny holding her arm and his mum fussing over her. As annoying as her fussing could be to him sometimes, he was never more grateful to have her here taking care of Y/N.

Ron could see the silent tears streaming down her face. His heart ached at the sight, she should never ever cry.

“Y/N? Are you okay?” Ron kept his distance, wanting to be respectful of the people buzzing around her.

“She will be alright,” Molly smiled at the girl, standing up. “Just needs some rest, that’s all.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Weasley,” Y/N whispered, not really making eye contact with anyone around her. Ron could tell that she was embarrassed by the whole situation even though she didn’t need to be.

“Why don’t you come rest in my room,” Ginny offered, being the type of friend that knew Y/N wouldn’t want to be the center of attention all day because of this.

“Yeah, that sounds good.”

Ron couldn’t stop pacing around the ground floor. Not even the twins could bring themselves to tease him over his concern, they were concerned too. Y/N took her meals in Ginny’s room with Ginny and Arthur watched the yard, making sure that her father didn’t return.

The family went up to bed with an uneasiness in the air. Ron walked so slowly past Ginny’s room, hoping to maybe catch Y/N going to the bathroom or something, but he didn’t. So, now he lied awake in his bed, listening to the ghoul make a ruckus in the attic.

When the soft knock echoed off his door, Ron flew to answer it. Y/N stood there, small and shivering. “Can I come in?” she asked quietly.

“Yes, yes, of course.” Ron opened the door wider when he realized she hadn’t been up here since the first night she arrived. Y/N stood in the middle of the room, looking utterly unsure about what to do now.

“You want to sit down?” Ron asked motioning to his bed as he took a seat on the floor.

“I don’t want to put you out.” How was she still so polite and thoughtful?

“Sit, Y/N.” Ron offered softly, not wanting to push too hard.

“I just wanted to thank you, for coming out earlier to help me.”

Ron couldn’t stop himself as he grabbed her hand to reassure her that he was there. “You don’t have to go home ever again…”

“I’ve been home, Ron. For months. A home is a place where you are supposed to feel safe and loved and warm.” She looked up from the floor to look at him for the first time since she entered the room. Oh, how beautiful she was. “You make me feel safe, you are my home. And somehow when I was out there today, I just knew you would come…”

She sank onto the floor next to him and all Ron wanted to do was close the space, but he wanted to make sure that she was comfortable above all else. “The Burrow was a safe haven for me,” she continued, “but you, you made every second here amazing. And it may be silly, but I’ve had this crush on you forever.” Y/N broke eye contact as she spoke the words, slightly embarrassed to be telling him this way, but nevertheless she kept going. She wasn’t going to be scared of this anymore. “But, I can’t help but feel like it’s become more than a crush. I-I think I love you, Ron and I just have this feeling that you might feel that same way?”

The words evaded him. How could he express just how much she meant to him?

“Kiss me” was all he managed. The most beautiful smile he had ever seen spread across her face as she leaned forward into him. Ron couldn’t stop himself from pulling her lips to his to close the space faster. He swore he felt sparks as the kiss deepened and became more passionate. This was it. Ron knew that she was it for him.

When they finally pulled apart for air, he studied her beautiful face so closely that he could see every freckle, every line, and every blemish, but even those were beautiful. “I can be your home as long as you need me too,” he spoke against her lips.

“How does forever sound?” she whispered, closing the gap one more time.

Y/N never did have to go back to her father, Ron made sure of that. Ginny was more than happy to let her best friend share her room and keep her things there, but really she snuck up to Ron’s room almost every time they were back at the Burrow.

Forever can seem like an awfully long time, but whenever Ron held her in his arms, forever felt like something he could definitely do, especially for her.

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softbiker · 4 years

Text

Agent 14 Oneshot

Warnings: maybe a couple bad words

Word count: 2.6k

A/N: While this is a continuation of the Steve x Agent 14 series, this particular installment has...almost no Steve lol. Just wanted to warn people before I get in trouble for that. It does, however, feature Agents 41 and 28 (from series written by @nacho-bucky and @kentuckybarnes )! Also, I plan on expanding and posting the full “menu” of custom drinks that 14 makes for her friends, so stay tuned for that! As always, enjoy and let me know what you think! :)

She squeals when the ad pops up as she’s scrolling through Instagram.

There it is, in all its glory, right between yet another engagement photo and a “no filter” celebrity selfie.

The S’mores Frappucino.

A towering frozen swirl of sweet vanilla and creamy milk chocolate, topped with the most mouth-watering promise of all: marshmallow whipped cream. And all of it dusted with a generous sprinkle of crushed graham cracker pieces. It’s enough to make 41 want to lick her phone screen.

With a flailing little backwards somersault, she rolls herself off the couch and bounds down the hallway towards Clint’s room, tie-dye socks slipping on the freshly polished floors.

“Guess what season it is?” She flings the door open with one hand, brandishing her phone in the other, her grin nearly splitting her face as she bounces up on her toes, eager to see his reaction - only to pull up short, a soft frown dragging her lips back down. The room is empty.

“Tweets?” 41 glances around the room, taking stock of the discarded socks and inside-out jeans littering the floor, a pair of her own boots flung to one corner, a plush sea turtle smiling at her from the bed. There’s a Sharing Size bag of peanut M&M’s on the nightstand, next to an open can of Red Bull, leaving a ring on the cover of last month’s Men’s Health which he’d permanently borrowed from Sam. She looks up at the ceiling - typically he leaves a vent open as a point of entry if he’s been…exploring up there. But no dice. Their vent remains screwed in place.

Shoving her phone in the front pocket of her hoodie, she backtracks towards the kitchen, rounding the corner from the hallway and sliding into the room Risky Business-style. A blazing mid-morning sun floods the room with light through the floor-to-ceiling windows, bouncing off of the metalwork backsplash and casting sparkles across the empty table. Hands on her hips, she huffs to herself, wondering where he’s run off to, before the clinking of glass bottles catches her attention.

Sticking up from the open door of the fridge is a vaguely familiar yoga-panted ass, waving in the air as its owner rummages through the shelves and drawers, muttering under her breath.

“Nat?” The red curls bounce in her ponytail as she stands at the sound of 41’s voice.

“Oh, hey, kid,” Nat smiles, propping a hand on her hip. If she’s at all bothered by the fact that her friend and coworker just got an eyeful of her backside, she hides it all with a poker face she probably mastered in super spy kindergarten. “What are you up to?”

“Just looking for Clint.” 41 pouts. She shifts her weight to one leg, scratching at her ankle with the toe of one sock. “You haven’t seen him have you?”

Natasha’s eyebrows flicker up as she closes the refrigerator with her hip.

“Oh - he didn’t tell you?”

“Tell me what?”

“The boys are all out for the day,” she sighs, rolling her eyes to the ceiling. “Some kind of belated bachelor party for Tony - even though he’s been married for a year, he said he missed out on the experience; so he kidnapped all of our male counterparts for the day.” Nat shrugs one shoulder, smirking. “Frankly the concept seems outdated - and sexist. But when has Tony ever listened to me?”

Nat notices the way her shoulders fall, the way her hands roll up inside the sleeves of her hoodie. Poor thing. And she’d come in here looking so excited, too; now her frown settles too deeply at the corners of her lips, eyes cast somewhere on the floor. Abandoning her search for a snack, Nat slides onto a bar stool at the island, propping her chin in one hand.

“You have any plans for today?” she prompts. She’ll deny it till her dying day, but the formerly made-of-marble assassin feels…soft at her core now. No, not her abs - her backflips are as tight as ever; but somewhere behind her ribs, deeper than her muscles, there’s a marshmallowy give to her now - the press of fingers could leave a dent on her.

And that’s why, God help her, she couldn’t stand the sight of 41’s frown. Couldn’t endure the downcast disappointment in her gaze. Couldn’t walk away from her halfhearted, sighing shrug.

“Not really,” 41 mumbles, licking her bottom lip. “I was just gonna see if Clint wanted to go get Starbucks with me. They’ve got the S’mores drink now.”

Pulling her phone from where it’s tucked into the waistband of her yoga pants, Nat quickly swipes through her messages and pulls up a group chat named ‘No Boys Allowed’.

I’m so gonna regret this, she thinks, but she types up her proposal anyway and taps send. Time to assemble.

***********

The bell over the door dings cheerfully, and 14 fights her inner groan long enough to yell over her shoulder, “Welcome to Starbucks!” She doesn’t turn from the drink in her hands, too afraid of spilling the milk (again) and having to remake this caramel macchiato. Gaze intent on the cup in her hands, she drizzles the sides with caramel, watching the sticky sweet goop glide down the walls of the cup. Satisfied that this should meet the customer’s request for “extra, extra caramel”, she reaches for her milk jug, glancing up from the machine where her espresso shots are queueing.

41 waves ecstatically when she meets her gaze over the espresso machine, a suspiciously casual Nat smirking over her shoulder. Wanda is following close behind them, hands shoved in the pockets of a denim jacket, despite the summer heat. Maria is already standing in front of the register, eyeing the menu, with 28 next to her, a pair of dark sunglasses pushed up on top of her head.

14 blinks.

With quick, nimble fingers, she finishes the drink in front of her and sets it up on the mobile order stand, awaiting the customer. Chase, the barista who should be covering front, is nowhere to be seen; but she doesn’t have any other drinks waiting, so she strides up to the register, tilting a curious brow at her friends.

“Ladies,” 14 smiles, tilting her head to one side. “This is…a nice surprise? A kidnapping? A mission?”

“Relax,” Maria says, punctuated with a good-natured eye roll. “We’re just here for the coffee.”

“Oh, sure,” 14 crosses her arms, leaning a hip against the front counter. “You guys are a little short-staffed, aren’t you? Where’s all the testosterone?”

“Looking for a certain star-spangled specimen?” Nat pipes up. Their group has clustered around the register in a close semicircle. “Boys’ day out. Some kind of adventure that will probably land Tony in the doghouse…but then again, he’s partying with a couple centenarians, so how bad could it be?”

“You’d be surprised,” 28 mutters with a quirk of her eyebrows.

In front of a group of super spies, superheroes, and super intelligent women, 14 fights to put on the best poker face she’s ever had in her life. At the mention of Steve - as well as the news he wouldn’t be joining them - Nat watches her closely; the only sign of her disappointment is the way she purses her lips, eyes flicking towards the door as though she might prove them wrong. And then it’s gone, her eyes turning back to her friends, a beaming, nose-scrunching smile fixed on her face.

“That sounds awful,” she giggles. “But very on-brand for Tony.”

A chorus of assent from the ladies, rolling their eyes and scoffing at the endless supply of evidence they have to that fact.

“Alright so…what can I get you?” 14 prompts. As much as she’d like to stand here, chatting with her friends, she’s still on the clock for another hour and a half - and there’s work to be done. Maybe it stings, chafes her heart a little, that this little outing doesn’t quite include her; that she’ll make their drinks and then they’ll leave, and then more drinks for more people for the rest of her shift. But these customers are more pleasant than most, and it’s not as though she won’t see them later, so she shoves down her insecurity and taps at the screen of the register, opening her till.

“Well we were thinking…” Wanda starts, glancing at Natasha. The two share an amused smirk that 14 doesn’t like at all. “…that maybe you could surprise us?”

“Except me!” 41 raises her hand, bouncing up on the balls of her feet. “I haven’t had a S’mores yet this year, I need one! Please?”

Stunned, 14 looks around the group, cocking one eyebrow.

“So…one S’mores, and then - you all want to be surprised?” What a request - she didn’t trust anyone to make a drink for her…that could really backfire.

“Well, you know us,” Nat shrugged. “You know what we like, what we hate, what we won’t drink…”

“Besides, it never hurts to try something new,” Maria smirks.

Teeth sinking into her bottom lip, a slow smile spreads across 14’s face.

“Alright, ladies, say no more-”

It takes her little more than a minute to line up her plan, squinting at each of her friends in concentration, a Sharpie poised to mark each cup, labeled with a name in her characteristic block-print scrawl. They crane their necks over the tops of the machines, trying to see behind the bar and guess what she’s whipping up back there. Ingredients flit through her hands, shaken into one cup, then exchanged for something else for the next. Syrups, cinnamon, juices, toppings. They try and fail to keep it all straight from one cup to the next, but she’s too fast, hands reaching between two drinks at once.

Finally, with a last look over her shoulder, goofily sticking her tongue from the corner of her mouth, she piles 41’s coveted marshmallow whip on top of her drink and sprinkles the graham cracker topping with a generous hand. 41 barely contains her squeal as she grabs 28’s elbow and points at it.

“That one’s mine! Doesn’t it look amazing?”

One by one, she lines up the drinks at the end of the bar, turning the cups so each name is properly shown.

“Alright, so what am I in for?” Maria cautiously waves her drink under her nose, letting the steam waft up from the small opening in the lid. Hers is a hot drink, its contents concealed in a thick paper cup proudly bearing the same green logo as its cardboard sleeve.

“I thought you wanted to be surprised?” 14 smirks, sliding 41’s frappucino across the bar into her glitter-nailed hands. 28 grabs hers as well, a refreshingly cold…something - she plunges in a straw and swirls the ice as she examines the pale pink color of the drink.

“Well, bottoms up girls,” Nat shrugs, inspecting the layer of foam on top of her drink before raising it to her lips. Wanda taps her cup with 41’s before tipping hers up as well. Standing behind the bar, a rag in her hands, 14 gnaws on her lip as she watches them sip her creations. She shifts her feet as she waits for the verdict.

“Wow.” Wanda’s brows shoot up, tongue flicking over her lip. “This is really good.”

“Yeah,” Maria agrees, going in for her second taste.

“Don’t know why you sound surprised,” 41 says around her straw and a mouthful of whipped cream. “Everything she makes is delicious.”

“Oh, thanks,” 14 brushes off the compliments with a one-shouldered shrug. “If you like it I’ll give you the recipe, so you can order it again?”

Various noises of agreement, all enthusiastic, all from full mouths. She smiles, grabs a blank receipt paper from the register and a pen from the pocket of her apron.

“Okay, so yours Wanda is a double dirty chai with cinnamon…”

***********

Folding her apron over one arm, 14 releases her hair from its butterfly clip and reaches for her backpack. She keeps a spare change of clothes folded neatly in the bottom, in case she has to run errands after work and can’t go out covered in coffee and syrup. The bathroom is empty and she ducks inside, slipping into a pair of cutoff shorts and and a tie-dye t-shirt; her faithful sneakers can make it through work and life, thankfully, so she wiggles her feet back into them, not bothering to untie the laces.

It’s been a long day. And a glance at her watch tells her it’s only…1:09 p.m.

Backpack on one shoulder, sunglasses perched on her head, she makes her way back out of the café, pausing at the end of the bar to get her drink.

“Here, girl.” Jade, the barista who made her drink, smiles as she hands her a straw. “You look like you need this.”

“I feel like I need this.” 14 smiles back as she jams her straw into the cup and takes the first sip. Iced blonde americano, 2 pumps toffee nut, a splash of sweet cream. She makes a small noise of pleasure - hits the spot every time.

“See you tomorrow!” she waves to her coworkers as she backs out the door, dropping her sunglasses down to her face as she steps into the unrelenting summer sun. Not two steps out the door, turning to the street, and she nearly bumps into-

“Nat?”

“Hey, long time no see.” Nat wiggles her fingers in a mocking little wave. The rest of their posse is clustered around a couple of bistro tables haphazardly shoved together outside the café.

“What…you guys are still here?” 14 cocks her head to the side. It’s been over an hour and a half at least, their drinks are sitting empty on the tables in front of them. She had assumed they’d be long gone.

“Well, duh,” 41 grins. “We’re going to lunch! And then - oh, we should get pedicures!”

“Oh, can we go to that new Thai place?” Wanda asks, leaning her elbows on the table. “It’s only a couple blocks down from here.”

“God, the things I would do for some egg rolls right about now-” Maria agrees, patting her stomach.

They start to stand from their tables, the metal chairs scraping loudly against concrete, and 28 gathers the empty cups to throw away in the trash cans next to the door. The group shuffles and chatters, eager at the prospect of lunch; purses and wallets are snatched up, phones tucked back into pockets. Wanda leads the way as they march off in pursuit of pad thai and egg rolls, the rest of the group falling in behind her on the sidewalk. Even in the early afternoon heat, they link arms and laugh and stand too close together, sharing giggles and gossip.

Nat lightly bumps 14 with her shoulder, her green eyes gone pale and glittering in the sun.

“You didn’t really think we’d eat and run on you?” she smirks. “Come on, I’m starving.”

14 ducks her head and grins.

“Just one second-” she says, sliding her phone from her back pocket. She snaps a picture of her drink, then smiles at Nat. “Okay, now we’re good.”

Nat rolls her eyes.

“Wow, that was so basic-”

“Shut up.”

A few minutes later, sitting in a blessedly air-conditioned Thai restaurant, she captions the photo ‘new drink for you to try next time - I highly recommend it’ and hits send.

Somewhere across town, shoved cheek by jowl with his buddies in the back of a stretch limo, the interior vibrating with music and lit with flashing LEDs, a super soldier smiles at his phone.

#agent 14 #steve rogers x agent 14 #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers fic

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aethelflaedladyofmercia · 4 years

Text

Of Poetry and Valentines

I’ve decided that even though I may not participate in every day of @ineffablehusbandsweek I might as well at least write a story for prompt #1.

1. Valentine’s Day -- (3,400 words)

Chocolate Love-A Cake.

Million Heart Cheesecake.

Mint-To-Be Chocolate Candies.

Some sort of cupcake simply titled Heart of the Batter.

Crowley had been standing in Aziraphale’s favorite bakery for over forty-five minutes. He’d stopped even trying to hold up the queue, which now simply flowed around him

Even the pastries without disgustingly twee names were covered in little frosting hearts and other nonsense. Not to mention all that pink.

“Are you ready to order yet?” asked the girl behind the till, handing yet another customer an absurdly elaborate confection that represented exactly six pounds and thirteen pence worth of I love you.

“Nh,” Crowley said, glancing at the coffee list. The flavors of the month started with Cupid Cappuccino and it went downhill fast from there. “Euh.”

“I’ll give you five more minutes,” she said, with far more chirpy good cheer than was strictly necessary.

The streets of Soho had been transformed. Paper hearts and cupids in every window; massive displays of roses, orchids, tulips and lilies spilled out in front of every shop, regardless of what they sold; even the nearest pub was covered in bright pink garlands and little red fairy lights.

Did no one in this district have even an ounce of self-respect?

Crowley stepped up to the Bentley and groaned. Someone had tied a red heart balloon to the wing mirror of every car on the street. Someone else had stuck little pink animal and flower shapes all over the windscreens.

The Bentley now sported a paper rabbit with Some bunny loves you! scrawled across it, as well as a large paper flower reading:

Roses are red

Violets are blue

Here’s a Valentine

Just for you!

He pulled them both off and shredded them to confetti, yet all the tiny pieces still managed to look like little hearts. The balloon he transformed into a pink-and-red football and kicked it as far down the street as he could.

Crowley slammed the door of the Bentley as he climbed in, and angrily shoved one of his favorite Wagner CDs into the player. Of course, what emerged was not the prelude to Das Rheingold but Queen’s “Crazy Little Thing Called Love.”

He slapped the radio off and glared at the dashboard. “Cut that out. I swear to Someone, if you even try and pull that on me today…”

Leaving the threat to hang in the air, he turned the radio back on and skipped to the second song, which was now “March of the Black Queen.”

“Better,” he muttered, and pulled away from the kerb.

Aziraphale had never taken to Valentine’s Day, no more than any other saint’s feast day, in any case. He hadn’t commented at all when, almost six centuries ago, it had been co-opted by certain European courts as a day of romance.

Crowley, on the other hand, dove right into it, reveled in it: the poetry, the elaborate tournaments, the sighing tales of courtly love. He was in his element.

After all, a celebration of love might be considered Heavenly, but a day devoted to pageantry and dramatic empty gestures? With an undercurrent of lust masked by a noble myth of pure adoration? That sounded downright demonic.

At least, that’s what he told Head Office. Humans, as always, did ninety percent of the work. Crowley simply observed and dropped a few well-placed suggestions. The poetry got worse, the eloquent love declarations more empty.

By 1800, the exchange of awful verse and sappy greetings in mid-February had become so entrenched in English society that printers had begun to mass-produce cards for the holiday. By 1835, thousands of Valentines – store bought or handmade – were sent through the post every year.

A few more whispered words into the right ears. In 1840, postal rates across the kingdom dropped, and the first postage stamp was introduced. The next February, four hundred thousand Valentines Day cards were mailed all around the country – and, thanks to the changes in the postal system, they could now be sent anonymously.

On the thirteenth of February, 1841, an envelope was delivered to A.Z. Fell & Co. Bookshop – there was no sender’s address, no salutation, just a number and street name, hastily scribbled. Inside was a simple piece of white card, covered enthusiastically but inexpertly with white lace; pasted in the center, framed by a heart, was a printed image, a bouquet of red roses and blue forget-me-nots. Below, a bit of gold ribbon surrounded a single word: Devotion.

“I don’t know, Angel,” Crowley grumbled when Aziraphale showed it to him. “Could be anyone. Could be one of your customers. Maybe one of them has a thing for rude shopkeepers.”

“I don’t think so,” Aziraphale said, turning the card over to study the pattern of the lace. “There’s something very familiar about it…”

“Familiar?” Crowley demanded sharply.

“I mean, the sender is being very familiar with the recipient. As if they’d known each other a long time.” He ran his finger across the single word. “Perhaps it was misdirected?”

“Nrg.” Crowley shrugged.

In 1842, another envelope arrived. This one held a pre-printed card, a single flower on a pink-and-gold background. A bright red heart, tucked behind a pink ribbon, carried the message:

Paeonia, symbol of happiness sublime

Wilt thou be my Valentine?

More pre-printed cards followed.

In 1843, two birds built a nest, filled with hearts instead of eggs.

In 1846, a couple strolling through a watercolor landscape under the words Valentine Greetings.

In 1849, a little girl in a white dress with a basket of roses, and the words With True Love.

In 1852, the angels started appearing. The first was surrounded by morning glories and gold filigree. Loving Greeting.

1853 brought back the lace and forget-me-nots, surrounding a winged figure wrapped in lace and gauze and little else. With Love and Devotion.

In 1854, a chubby cupid crossed a serene lake in a white-and-gold boat filled with pink roses; a line of white swans bridled with more roses pulled it along. Love’s Message to my Valentine.

“They’re just pre-printed messages,” Crowley pointed out in 1856. “They don’t mean anything. Whoever sent it probably just picked one that looked nice.”

“Oh, no, there’s real feeling behind it, I’m sure. Look at this.” It was the most elaborate yet: white lace, roses, hearts, a dove delivering a heart-covered envelope to a little angel, white ribbon framing a poem, tied in a perfect bow.

Crowley rolled his whole head in an exaggerated gesture. “Trying way too hard,” was all he said.

“Are you jealous?” Aziraphale asked with a grin.

“Jealous? What, that you get sappy misdirected mail? No, I’m fine without.”

Aziraphale pursed his lips, studying first Crowley, then the card. “Sixteen years? Without missing one? Surely it must be intentional.”

“Angel, a million of those are sent every year. There has to be some mistakes in all that.”

“Perhaps you’re right…” His eyes ran across the poem one more time.

May this bow of white

Which gives delight

And which I send to you

A token be

Of love divine

Oh, will’t thou be

My Valentine?

“Truly horrible verse,” Crowley muttered. “Does that even scan?”

1857 saw the return of the hand-made cards. Skillfully cut paper, lace, ribbons, flowers – sometimes painted, sometimes embroidered onto linen. Pre-made pieces, painstakingly glued together with endearing imperfection. The messages were short, but hand-written: To My Star. Valentine Greeting. Love Always.

“They have different handwriting,” Crowley pointed out. “Different senders.”

“I suppose,” Aziraphale conceded. “Unless the sender is disguising their handwriting.”

“Wh-what? Why would anyone do that?”

“I don’t know. But look – all the ribbons are pasted on exactly the same way.”

Crowley squinted at three different cards. “I don’t see it,” he said flatly. “I think it’s your imagination. Do you want a secret admirer?”

“No,” Aziraphale started slowly, glancing at Crowley from the corner of his eyes. “No, on the whole I’d rather have an admirer I knew.”

“Mh. Why do you keep those, anyway?”

“Oh, I love a mystery.” Aziraphale felt the grin slide across his face. “Anonymous cards, mailed to my shop every Valentines Day for almost twenty years? Simply irresistible, wouldn’t you say?”

Crowley, apparently, had nothing at all to say.

In 1862, the poetry returned, pre-printed again but at least somewhat better verse. Around a watercolor that was possibly meant to depict Romeo and Juliet:

I may wander over land and sea

Pass many days away from thee

Yet my heart can never rove

From thee, my own, my love.

Aziraphale professed it was his favorite yet, but Crowley only scowled.

The greatest shock was the card that arrived in 1864.

Aziraphale had not expected anything that year. The envelope sat in his hands, as simple and anonymous as all the others. Inside, a heart-shaped card framing an almost embarrassingly cute cat.

This little kitten,

Valentine,

Has come to ask you

To be mine.

He suddenly realized he had made a grave miscalculation. If these cards were still arriving after…after certain recent developments…that could only mean…

Well. At least Crowley was no longer around to realize what a foolish conclusion he’d jumped to.

Another print arrived in 1865, a young lady holding a tulip to her nose.

Oh! Would I were the flower that sips

The honied kisses from your lips.

My Darling Valentine.

The card tumbled from his trembling fingers.

Why? Why did he even bother opening it? Why did he keep them even now?

Aziraphale grabbed all twenty-five Valentine’s Day cards and thrust them into a box. He found a spot on the highest shelf of the bookcase furthest from the door, tucked the box into a corner so gloomy even he could barely spot it. He was absolutely determined to forget any cards had ever arrived.

The envelope that arrived in 1866 was tucked, unopened, into a thick volume of Greek philosophy and pushed back onto a dusty shelf. Aziraphale swore no matter how many more arrived, he would never look.

But, as if a spell were broken, no more Valentines were delivered after that. And the last one remained unopened for over seventy-five years.

Until, two nights after a certain incident in a church, he found it again, hands shaking from the exertion of the search, from the unnamed emotions racing through him.

The card inside was gold and silver lace, simple yet elegant in a way he hadn’t remembered the others being. There was an earnest charm to the way the edges didn’t quite line up to the white paper underneath. In the center, a printed poem, surrounded by hand-painted flowers in more varieties than Aziraphale could name.

Valentine –

Fain would I guard thee through life’s desert drear

And fling around thee love to soothe and cheer

For thee I live might I but call thee mine

I’d be forever thy own Valentine.

He didn’t know how it was possible, but only one being in all Creation would send such a poem.

Aziraphale sat down on the floor of his shop. The tears he’d been holding in for two days finally began to fall.

After Crowley woke from his extended nap, he was disgusted to find how the holiday had spiraled out of control, how it only grew worse with every passing decade. Chocolates. Jewelry. Mass-market commercialization. It became a million-pound industry, and eventually a billion-pound one. Where once hopeful lovers could send a chintzy greeting card for a few pennies, the fools now spent a week’s pay – or more – on useless trinkets, somehow convinced it would ensure a return of affection.

And the engagements! The diamond rings, the elaborate proposals.

It was an absolute mockery of the cheap, empty exchange of sentiments he had spent so long cultivating. Was nothing sacred?

He was sure the Americans were to blame.

And yet now, when the holiday was devoid even of the anti-meaning Crowley had worked so hard to endow it with, now Aziraphale took notice? Now he began decorating his shop with angels even more absurd than the ones he usually collected? Now he put vases full of dried flowers on every table – roses and carnations and tulips in pink and red and white?

Every year, the traditions grew worse, yet Aziraphale only embraced the holiday more.

The Apocalypse had come and gone. The world had changed. For eight months they’d stood on the cusp of…something.

It was absurd. They each knew how the other felt – there was no denying it at this point – but somehow, after six thousand years, Crowley suddenly couldn’t find a way to say the words. Now it was Aziraphale waiting patiently on him, and if that wasn’t embarrassing, he didn’t know what was.

He just needed the right time. He’d hoped Valentine’s Day could be it.

But here it was, the fourteenth of February, and all Crowley felt was fed up. He couldn’t bring himself to buy the overpriced flowers, the punfully-named treats, even a racy gag gift (of which there was never any shortage in Soho). It just felt…empty.

He walked into the bookshop and prepared to disappoint his angel.

Aziraphale had set up a garland of sorts, too, but not paper flowers or bright red crepe paper. Across the two pillars nearest the door – where no one entering the shop could miss them, let alone Crowley – hanging from a string, were twenty-six Victorian Valentine’s Day cards.

Some were handmade – clumsy and uneven. Some were pre-printed – cheap, mass-produced. All were just a little tacky, but in the light of the shop, they seemed to glow with love.

“Ah! You’re here.” Aziraphale emerged with a pile of 19th-century romance novels, which he proceeded to arrange on the front table, to more easily chase customers away from them. “How do you like my decorating?”

“Oh. Uh. You. You kept those.”

“Naturally.” He didn’t even turn away from his task. “They were sent by someone very important to me.”

Crowley gulped. “You worked that out, then?”

“Yes, dear, in 1843.” Aziraphale chuckled, standing a copy of Wuthering Heights on the top of his display.

“Uh…Nh…” Crowley felt his face getting very warm. “You could have said –”

“I assumed, at the time, this was the beginning of some very elaborate prank on your part, and I was curious to see where it might go.”

“You – you said it was a mystery!”

“Yes, that was me playing along.” Satisfied with his display, Aziraphale turned back. “Now, if we’re finally going to talk about this, I do have a question.”

Crowley shoved his hands into his pockets and shuffled his feet. No avoiding this, it seemed. “Fine. Right. I wanted to tell you how I felt, but it was…it was too much. Too big.” He looked at the ceiling as he talked, the walls, anywhere but at the angel who was now watching him with rapt attention. “You’d just reject it, and I didn’t want that kind of…y’know. So I just – I devalued what it means to say…that…on Valentine’s Day. Made it cheap and easy and meaningless so that when I told you, maybe it wouldn’t seem so big. Maybe you’d be able to accept it. Or at least maybe the rejection wouldn’t hurt as much.”

Soft footsteps across the floorboards, and Aziraphale’s hand on his cheek, drawing his face back down to meet that blue gaze.

“I know. I worked that out, oh, seventy years ago.”

“You what?”

“Once I understood how you felt, well, it seemed rather obvious. I also know why it never worked.”

Crowley hadn’t felt this completely lost since the night the world had almost ended. He reached up and grasped Aziraphale’s hand for balance. “Please…enlighten me.”

“Crowley, dear. A meaningless bit of frippery bought for a few pennies? A quiet I love you disguised as a joke? That’s not who you are. You need a big, grand show of affection, a blazing banner across the sky, or it won’t ever feel real to you. So even when I told you I liked the cards, you couldn’t bring yourself to say anything. The holiday was all wrong.”

“Thanks,” Crowley grumbled.

“Well, I was going to say something when you next sent me a card, only you never did. And so I, well, I decided to encourage the humans to, as you say, ‘go bigger.’ I thought you wouldn’t be able to resist a culture of grand romantic gestures. Only I’m not very subtle and it got rather out of hand.”

Behind his glasses, Crowley blinked.

“So…all – all that,” Crowley waved a hand at the window. “All that was you?”

“Oh, yes.” He smiled apologetically, though the bastard had probably never been sorry a day in his life. “The holiday generally, and also more specifically the state of Soho just now. I’ve been rather giddy lately and it seems to have gone contagious.”

Crowley thought of everything the day had come to mean – the heart-shaped sweets, the over-the-top dinners, flowers that cost as much as an outfit, jewelry that cost as much as a car. Piles of gifts of every description, sky-diving marriage proposals, holiday getaways to Paris or Florence or tiny cottages in snow-filled forests.

“Aziraphale,” he laughed, found he couldn’t stop laughing. “Angel! You…you made a whole holiday of big, stupid, over-the-top romantic gestures for me?”

“Only because you started it.” He slipped his arms around Crowley’s neck, pulling them together, resting his head on Crowley’s shoulder. “Happy Valentine’s Day, dear.”

Crowley wrapped his arms around Aziraphale’s hips, pressing their bodies close. The words he wanted to say danced on the edge of his tongue, waiting for the right moment. Not yet, not yet. Instead he asked, “Didn’t you have a question?”

“Ah, yes. How did you do it?” Aziraphale pulled back enough to look up at his eyes. “The last three cards arrived while you were asleep.”

“Oh! That’s easy enough.” His hands found their way into Aziraphale’s and, without anyone needing to suggest it out loud, they walked together to the back room and the well-worn sofa, where a bottle of wine waited for them. “I didn’t want to lose my nerve, so I would buy and send the cards five at a time. I gave the post office instructions to mail them one per year. I told myself each time, ‘After the last card, I’ll say it out loud.’ But, well, I always wound up buying more cards.”

Aziaphale froze two steps away from the sofa. “Are you saying you haven’t bought me a Valentine since 1861? This is outrageous.”

Crowley rolled his eyes, flinging himself down and pulling Aziraphale after him. “Have you seen what passes for romantic verse these days? Pathetic. I’m not going to pay…five pounds or whatever it is for that nonsense.”

“Mmm.” Aziraphale shifted to lean against him, flashing another bastard smile. “I suppose the card selection has been disappointing lately. Still, an angel likes a little poetry now and again.”

“Poetry, is it?” Crowley pulled off his glasses and tossed them aside so he could meet that breathtaking blue gaze straight on. Caught one of Aziraphale’s hands and held it to his chest.

Women have loved before as I love now;

At least, in lively chronicles of the past –

Of Irish waters by a Cornish prow

Or Trojan waters by a Spartan mast

Much to their cost invaded – here and there,

Hunting the amorous line, skimming the rest,

I find some woman bearing as I bear

Love like a burning city in the breast.

I think however that of all alive

I only in such utter, ancient way

Do suffer love; in me alone survive

The unregenerate passions of a day

When treacherous queens, with death upon the tread,

Heedless and willful, took their knights to bed.

“Oh,” Aziraphale murmured. “Well, that’s hardly appropriate for a card.”

Crowley tried to raise Aziraphale’s hand to his lips, but discovered he was shaking too much. “It’s – You’re probably right. But it’s how I’ve felt. For a very long time.”

Aziraphale pulled his hand back, then leaned in to softly brush his lips against Crowley’s. Hesitant. Shy. But when he finished, he didn’t pull back. Crowley could feel the trembling of Aziraphale’s breath, mirroring his own.

“I love you, too,” his angel whispered. “I hope you know that.”

-- end --

Inspired by the pastries at my local bakery, and by a conversation with @angel-and-serpent

All the Victorian Valentines described are actual cards (I tried to do all vintage, but some may have been replicas/modern cards in “Victorian” style), slightly altered to be easier to describe. I also changed a word or two where the poetry was especially bad.

The final poem is by Edna St. Vincent Millay. I’ve said many times I default write the Husbands as asexual, but then Crowley goes and picks one of the sexy sonnets, so I guess interpret where things go from there as you see fit. (I’m ace myself and not going to try and deny the power of Millay’s sexy sonnets. Look at that thing. I become 5% more allo and 8% gayer every time I read it.)

#ineffable husbands #good omens fanfiction #good omens prime #Aziraphale #crowley #love confessions #valentines day #ineffable husbands week 2020 #poetry #valentines #Edna St. Vincent Millay #oblivious aziraphale #or is he

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luci-cunt · 4 years

Note

Hi, I don't know if you're still doing this, but if you're still taking prompts and have time, could you do 4. Coffe shop AU and 70. Locked in a room for whoever you want in the green creek series? I love your writing

oh absoLUTELY I can do this !!!! Nonnie I love youuuuuuuuu!!!!

4. Coffee shop AU and 70. Locked in a room

I’m vibin Gordo/ Mark lovin’ hours (also I’m thinking a completely human au, just to make it spicy >:)

aight so coffee shop: (god I love these aus)

Instead of a garage Gordo owns a coffee shop, it doubles as a bookstore and it’s kind of a local hot-spot

He’s known for being kind of bitchy and he’ll sass the hell out of you for just about everything you do but he also has every single regular’s order memorized

Queue Mark: his vibe feels to me like... idk he’s just kind of a drifter, he picks up jobs here and there--mostly construction--chills in a town for a few weeks and then packs up and heads out

He comes to Green Creek and the first thing he wants is a sandwich, he’s exhausted from traveling and he’s gonna go collapse into his truck and pass out right after this but first--sandwich

and holy FUCK the barista is cute

until he says Mark stinks

“You smell like spawn of an onion hate fucking a bunch of dead fish”

(yeah he’s just more head over heels)

“well, don’t you have a way with words, really know how to make a guy feel warm and fuzzy”

“I’m not trying to make you warm and fuzzy I’m trying to make you take a shower”

“Can I have your number if I do?”

*not even close to what Gordo had expected him to say* “No--what?? No! fuck off”

“Worth a shot” and then he winks and leaves

and Gordo is PISSED

“The AuDaCiTy of this guy--he thinks he can just come in and--”

“You’re just mad he wasn’t properly intimidated” -Tanner

“Shut up!”

“Oh--the defensive shut up, we got him boys” -Rico

“I hate all of you”

“Hopefully not like you hate Mark, I don’t want your dick” -Chris

*Gordo beating all of them with a wadded up newspaper*

Anyways, Mark coming in becomes kind of a thing(tm)

he’s also very persistently trying to get Gordo’s number

“What if you only think you’re being smooth and you’re actually just being a creepy fucking weirdo” -Gordo

“Then I’ll stop--am I being a creepy fucking weirdo?”

“Get out of my shop”

“That’s not an answer!” *grinning like a fucking idiot*

*Gordo throwing to-go cups at him* “Get out of my shop!”

So this goes on for quite a while, with Mark coming in every single day for almost a month

Gordo loves hates it

One day though, Mark doesn’t come in

The guys tease Gordo for finally managing to scare him off but Gordo isn’t so sure, and--the next day--Mark comes in again

This time very obviously not looking so good and without most of his usual pep

Gordo asks if he got attacked by a bear--trying to pretend like he doesn’t give a shit--but Mark just laughs him off and doesn’t explain, he leaves quick

Gordo mumbles something about a smokebreak and he finds Mark’s truck

It’s parked at the hotel so he pops in, demands to know which room he’s in, and is pointed in that direction

He realizes, about halfway up the stairs, that there might actually be nothing wrong, he could have been reading the situation completely wrong or--

“Gordo?”

Mark’s at the end of the hall, coming out of a room and Gordo glares.

“Fucking ass, I came to--hey! What the hell!?” but that’s just about all he manages to get out because Mark’s dragging him away and into some dark room.

Gordo is not pleased “Get your damn hands off me you--”

“Shh, he can’t see you” Well not that’s just cryptic and creepy as all fuck

“Who??”

“Uh, an.... associate.... of mine”

“Really?”

“Yeah we’re not on very good terms”

Gordo flicks on the lights because fuck you Mark and then he realizes Mark shoved them in the workout room--yeah the one with the swapped lock so you have to have a key to get out.

“Did you bring your key?”

“Uh.... no? Why?”

“Fuck”

Gordo goes to pull out his phone, which luckily is still in his pocket and he calls the front desk, they laugh, and say they’ll send someone up

In the meantime though

“So--you were worried about your favorite customer?”

“My favorite customer is a ninety year old lady who orders a triple shot macchiato and fought in the second world war”

“So--you were worried about your second favorite customer?”

“I hate you”

“You were worried!”

“Fuck off”

Then the door opens, but instead of one of the employees it’s some blond-haired kid who looks remarkably like Mark

“Uh--” the kid says

“Shit” Mark says, which just makes the kid get a shit eating grin

“You’re Gordo aren’t you?”

Gordo just turns and flicks Mark between the eyes “explaination--now”

“I’m Mark’s nephew, Carter, I was just visiting”

“Your nephew is the associate you’re not on good terms with” Gordo says flatly

“Maybe...”

Anyways, turns out Carter can drink Mark under the table which is what happened, so Marks just horrendously hung over

(also while he was drunk he may or may not have rambled a bit about the hot barista--ok he definitely did that)

But on the bright side--the next day when Mark comes in for his sandwich he also gets a to-go cup full of coffee grounds that has a middle finger on it, but, most importantly, Gordo’s number.

<333!!!

Send me some prompts + characters/ ships and I’ll tell ya how I’d mash em!

#green creek #gordo / mark #idk what's there ship name #dumbasses #XDD #fic #luci writes

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sunflowerkiszka · 5 years

Note

Heyyy, from the dialogue prompts can I request 12, 14, & 32 with Jake please?? Thanks🙃

may this be love -jake kiszka imagine

dialogue prompts 12, 14, & 32 w jake

"Play with my hair, you know, like when u do the thing."

"I think you're just in love with me."

"Dance with me."

pairing: jake x reader

A/N IMPORTANT A/N: pls read this whole thing i am begging but PLAY MAY THIS BE LOVE BY THE JIMI HENDRIX EXPERIENCE WHILE READING THIS (when the song actually starts in the story...plz... there will be another A/N when it's time lmao it's the ultimate experience and u will love it hopefully) I LOVE THAT SONG IDK IF U DO OR WILL BUT IT'S SO GOOD & CUTE

and then if u want queue "I Don't Live Today" after "May This Be Love" for the full affect of the story if u want it, i did it and if ur lucky like me the singing in the story will line up with the song as it plays, obviously it just depends on ur reading pace, but ik that some ppl can't focus on reading with another distraction like that,,,, anyways im totally rambling so let's get on w it

---for those who don't have apple music or spotify or a way to run it in the background, i couldn't figure out how to add the songs to this post it was probably a copyright thing but i tried im sry

BUT PLS PLAY IT WHILE READING THIS WHEN THE SONG STARTS IN THE STORY IF U DON'T UR GOING TO JAIL

and ik jake stans jimi so

as he should

genre: FLUFF

word count: around 1.3k

summary: jake had a long day and missed you a lot so when he comes home he just wants to b w u and u guys dance and it's cute as fuck

warnings: FLUFFY AS SHIT

❁

As you pad to your bedroom with a trail of water drops behind you from your shower, you hear keys in jingle in the front door. Jake's home.

You plop onto your bed with a sigh and hear his footsteps coming up the stairs. When he walks through the door he looks exhausted.

"Hey..." you say and turn to him, but he just drops his keys on the dresser and sits next to you on the bed, pulling your torso down with him which makes you giggle.

His head weighs down on your chest and you wrap your arms around his neck. "Long day?" you ask him softly.

He only nods, but you understand. He lives a really fast paced and hectic life: constantly on the road doing shows and interviews, being stopped on the streets wherever he goes, and writing and recording meanwhile trying to keep up with his personal life. It's a lot, but you understand and he's just happy that he has you to keep him on his toes and support him through it all.

"Y/N," he mumbles and you hum in response. "Can you play with my hair, you know, like when you do the thing."

Whenever he gets super clingy it's usually because he's had a rough day and he misses you during all of him. Sometimes when his head was on your chest you'd hold it and brush the hair away from his face with your free hand, then lightly detangle it with your fingers. So you did just that.

After a while you start to get cold considering you're still in just your towel. You assume Jake is sleeping, but when you try to move from under him, he grabs your waist and you laugh, "Jake, I have to get dressed."

He sighs before rolling off of you, but doesn't fully let you go until you're out of his reach. As you look through the drawers you hear him get out of the bed so you turn to see what he's doing. He walks over to the record player next to you on the dresser.

The record you had been playing before you got in the shower was Are You Experienced and Jake smiles when he sees. He carefully moves the arm to cue a song from it. He usually insists on playing vinyls all the way through from the beginning, but he didn't this time.

"Wow," you tease.

The corners of his mouth curl up and his eyes widen a little, "I know."

((A/N: *PLAY THE SONG NOW PLS LMAO*))

As it spins you hear the beginning notes of May This Be Love and you throw your head back while your eyes roll back. You hadn't played this yet today. "I could cry," you say dramatically, but you're kind of serious.

He smiles and reaches his hand out, "Dance with me."

"Jake," you giggle, looking down at your towel still wrapped you.

"Come on," he takes your hand and you try to press your lips together, but your smile won't allow it.

He pulls you to him before resting his hands on the small of your back. You can't stop smiling as he sways you side to side.

"What kind of dancing is this?" you laugh.

"Is this what you want from me?" he asks while starting to spin you around. Your wet hair almost hits his face, but he dodges it and the two of you laugh.

"See, who needs clothes?" he asks, thinking he's proved some sort of point and you roll your eyes.

"Me. You're lucky I'm even doing this right now," you joke. You really wouldn't rather be doing anything else.

"Oh, I know," he laughs.

"Yeah, I don't even like you that much," you say while shaking your head, which contradicts with the wide smile you've had on your face the whole time, "This is a pity dance."

"You're really bad at pretending that you don't like me...I think you're just in love with me," he says with a smug smile while looking you in the eyes and letting his arms hang over your shoulders. You just shake your head and when you look back at him he's still looking at you. "Cause I'm in love with you," he continues.

You cover your face with one hand while the other is around his neck, "Stop," you giggle.

He brings your hand down and chuckles, "What?"

He had told you he loved you before several times, but it was just different whenever he said he was in love with you. It has an entirely different meaning. You always tried to cover the flustered expression or the goofy smile that would spread across your face whenever he'd say it, but he wanted to look at you.

"I have nothing to lose, long as I have you," he starts to sing while pointing a finger in your face, but can't take himself seriously and neither can you. You try to bite it, but he quickly pulls it away before you can.

You put your arms back around his neck, throw your head back, and close your eyes before continuing to sway to the music. "Waterfall, don't ever change your ways, fall with me for a million days, oh, my waterfall," you lightly hum to yourself.

This song reminds you of Jake and makes you emotional everytime. Whenever he's away for a long time and you listen to it, it's still sweet, but really sad to be honest. But right now, with him standing in your arms and reminding you of his love for you, it's the best feeling.

You start to laugh to yourself lightly when you realize your eyes were watering and a couple of tears were threatening to pour out at any moment, which they eventually did. Vulnerability and intimacy wasn't really your thing, but you'd been working on it and getting better. With Jake it was so comfortable and natural; almost scary with how well you two worked together.

"Not to be extra soft or anything...but I love you. And I'm in love with you so.. you were right about something for once," you smile.

Now it's his turn to cover his face. He puts the back of his hand over his eyes and all you could focus on was his wide smile. You laugh at him and poke his cheek to tease him.

You stand on the tips of your toes to place a kiss on the corner of his smile which he didn't expect considering his eyes were covered and his smile widens, if that's even possible.

You uncover his face and intertwine your fingers with his before leaning in again. As the outro intensifies he cups your face in his hands and brings your faces together.

The kiss is soft and sweet and when your smiles get too wide to continue you pull away momentarily only to be pulled back in. His hand finds your waist and he dips you down like you two are in an eighties movie.

You giggle against his lips and he finally pulls away once the song is over.

"You're crazy," you say as you walk back towards the dresser and the next song begins. Your cheeks start to tense up and hurt from the constant smiling. It didn't matter how either of you two were feeling before you saw each other, you'd always end up smiling.

He walks back over to you and as much as you love him, you really want to get dressed, finally.

Instead of stopping you again, he stands behind you and plants a kiss in your neck, "Thank you for that dance."

Even though it may seem stupid and small, you know it cheered him up and he's in a much better mood. He places his chin on your shoulder wraps his arms around your torso, and you place a hand on his cheek. "I wouldn't want to be doing anything else," you admit.

He smiles and kisses your cheek, or rather shoves his face into you, causing you to giggle before he makes his way back to the bed. As you continue to sift through your clothes you find a pair of his joggers in your drawer and you throw them at him in hopes that he'll change into them and get more comfortable.

You guys decided to order pizza for dinner and spent the rest of the night watching stupid movies and laughing together.

It didn't matter what you guys were doing together, but it always involved lots of laughter and smiles.

And you wouldn't rather be doing it with anyone else.

______________________________________________

quick a/n: i know i added "you wouldn't rather be____ anything/anyone else" things but i was using repetition which is a technique for emphasis but i hope i don't just sound like a dummy who can't come up with anything else fff

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supergirlspurgatory · 5 years

Note

Prompt: Alex takes care of Lena after she rescues her from L-Corp (the sneak peek)

Oh geez, I haven’t taken a prompt in ages. But it would be really good to do a warm-up, especially considering ya girl is planning to work on the next chapter of ‘The Cape’ for sure and possibly the next chapter of Thanksgiving Date for Hire this weekend.

_________

Alex stands in the expansive hallway of an apartment building that is way out of her pay grade, even considering the pay raise she had gotten when she was promoted to DEO Director.

She raises her hand to knock on the door.

Then she drops it.

Should she be here?

Is she even close enough friends with Lena, that it’s not going to be weird for her to check on her?

Maybe not.

But, Kara is halfway around the world dealing with her Russian counterpart.

And even if she and Lena aren’t super close, someone tried to kill her sort of friend today, again. Not to mention, she knows Lena well enough to know that even though she promised she would have the cut that she got on her arm during the scuffle checked out, that she most definitely did not, and is probably just treating it with a bottle of top-shelf scotch.

Which is really appealing.

Not to mention, before Kara ‘up, up, and awayed’ she made Alex promise that she would check on Lena.

How the hell did she end up getting talking into babysitting her little sister’s girl crush?

Alex takes a deep breath and bites the bullet. She raps on the door three quick times.

She counts to ten.

No one answers.

She doesn’t hear any movement on the other side of the door.

She raises her fist and raps on the door 3 more times, a little harder this time.

She stands silently for about 10 more seconds. Just when she’s about to pull out her phone and try to decide if she’s going to try and track Lena, she hears some movement. Someone tripping maybe. Definitely, someone tripping as she can her Lena whisper-shout a soft ‘Fuck!’.

She waits another couple of seconds.

‘Lena!’ She shouts through the door. ‘I know you’re in there. I heard you cuss.’

‘Fine. I’m coming.’ She hears Lena yell through the door and moments later the door swings half open.

She is hiding the left side of her body behind the door.

So Alex was right. Lena definitely had not had the cut checked out.

‘Alex!’ Lena says as she slips on the fakest smile Alex has ever seen. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘Oh, not a lot.’ Alex says, ‘Just thought I’d drop by and say hey.’

‘Kara made you promise to come check on me, huh?’

‘Uhmmmm.’ Alex thinks about trying to deny it. But before she continues Lena speaks up.

‘So that’s a yes.’ Lena says.

‘Yup.’

‘Well. You checked on me. I’m here. I’m fine. You don’t have to stick around.’ Lena says, moving to push the door shut.

Alex almost lets her.

But instead, she thrusts her hand out, using her DEO muscle to stop Lena from shutting the door.

‘Nope, I’m not going.’ Alex says. And then she lifts the bag slung over her shoulder. ‘Plus, I brought my medical kit to check out your arm.’

‘Oh that. I already had it checked out. It’s fine. You can seriously go.’ Lena tries again, but when she gives the door a gentle shove, it is proved fruitless as Alex is still holding it open with her hand.

‘No, you didn’t.’ Alex says.

‘How do you know that?’ Lena asks.

‘You’re hiding your arm behind the door.’ Lena looks down at Alex’s explanation.

‘Oh. I guess you’re right.’ Lena says it with a little laugh, and that’s when Alex notices. Lena is definitely a little drunk.

‘Alright superstar,’ Alex starts. ‘Are you going to let me in or what?’

‘Fine,’ Lena relents and swings the door open.

And oh, that's a lot of blood soaking through the sleeve of Lena’s sweater on her bicep.

‘So you didn’t do anything about your arm at all, I see.’ Alex says, trying to be casual.

‘I don’t know what to tell you Alex. I’ve kind of had a stressful day.’ Lena starts. ‘You know, my brother trying to kill me, again, finding out my best friend is an alien, finding out that I accidentally split said best friend in half with a rock that I was dicking around with from her home planet, finding out that my best friend’s other half has been lowkey stalking me, I’ve been a little busy thinking about all of that, wasn’t really too worried about the blood.’

Alex looks over Lena’s shoulder and sees a bottle of Scotch on the counter, mostly empty.

‘Lena was that bottle new today.’ She asks gesturing at it.

‘Oh no.’ Lena responds. ‘I’m not that productive. It was half full.’

That’s better, not much better, but better none the less, Alex thinks.

‘Alright kiddo, let's see that arm.’ Alex says leading Lena over to her counter and sitting her down. ‘Take the sweater off.’

And Lena does.

And oh, Alex was not expecting that.

Lena is just wearing a bra under it.

This is fine.

Alex is just a lesbian, but that doesn’t mean she can’t be professional.

And her cheeks definitely are not flaming red.

She sets her medical kit on the counter and opens it up. She pulls out some gauze pads, a suture kit, a vial of lidocaine, and a syringe.

‘Nope.’ Lena all but shouts.

Alex looks up and sees Lena jumping off of the stool and making her way across the room.

‘What’s wrong superstar?’ Alex asks, and then looks down at her set up, and sees the syringe and needle. ‘Oh, you don’t do needles, huh?’

‘No, I most certainly do not.’ Lena says. ‘Anyway you can do this without that?’

‘Depends, you think you can handle being stabbed like 29 times?’ Alex replied.

‘Oh.’ Is all Lena says.

Alex tries to think of something to distract Lean with. And that’s when she comes up with it. She pulls out her phone and starts to swipe through her videos.

‘You know what the chubby bunny challenge is?’ She asks.

Lena looks at her with confusion.

‘It’s when you stuff marshmallows in your mouth and say chubby bunny with each new mallow.’ Alex explains. ‘I have a video of Kara doing it.’

Lena’s face lights up.

‘Gimme.’ Lena says and makes grabby hands at Alex’s phone as she comes back across the room and settles back on the stool she had vacated.

Alex queues up the video and hands it over.

As Lena watches the video, Alex makes quick work of the lidocaine and the suture kit.

As she stitches Lena up, she glances up to make sure she’s still distracted by the video. Apparently, she wasn’t paying much attention to what Lena was doing, because the video was over, and Lena was paging through the other video’s she had saved of her sister.

‘Is she bench pressing a Humvee in this video?’ Lena asks Alex with wide eyes.

‘Oh, yeah, keep watching it. She ends up balancing it on her pointer finger at the end.’ Lena’s eyes get wide and she looks back down at the phone.

Alex finishes up the stitches and wraps Lena’s arm with a bandage.

‘Do you have an Apple TV?’ Alex asks and Lena nods, ‘I could show you other Kara videos if you want.’

‘Yes, please.’ Lena says and leads her to the living room where there is a giant tv and a sectional couch that may as well be a king sized bed with how deep it is.

They settle into the cushions and Alex starts to play one video after another. Explaining the goofy antics that Kara had gotten them into. There are the videos of Kara demolishing one food challenge after another on the cross country road trip they took last summer. A series of videos that feature Alex throwing herself off of great heights, everything from bridges to buildings, and Kara catching her every time. There are at least 6 different videos of Kara pretending to a food critic as she samples weird ice cream flavors. Lena laughs delightedly at every video.

Before Alex knows it, her lap is full of Lena’s head and she is carding her fingers through the younger girl’s hair.

That’s when it hits Alex, it’s kind of nice to play big sister to someone who isn’t nearly invincible.

After playing 4 different videos showcasing Kara, at DisneyWorld, fawning over princesses, Alex looks down and sure enough, Lena has fallen asleep.

Alex grabs the remote that Lena had left on the couch next to them and switches the tv to Netflix, settling in on a documentary about conspiracy theories.

A few hours later, when Alex feels her self nodding off, she is shaken awake by her phone vibrating on her chest. She picks it up and see’s that it’s Kara.

‘Hey, Sis, what’s up?’ Alex asks answering the call.

‘I just got home. Wanted to see if you checked in on Lena.’

‘Sure did. I’m still over here.’ Alex tells her.

‘Oh good. Is she okay?’ Kara asks.

‘She is now. Passed out cold after watching approximately 72 different videos featuring you.’ Alex tells her.

‘Oh cool. Um, did you talk about the Supergirl thing at all?’ Kara asks.

‘Not really. I mean she said something about it. But she was pretty drunk when I got here. And upset. I stitched up her arm and distracted her.’ Alex tells her. ‘I think you should come over here. Be here when she wakes up.’

‘Okay, I’ll be there shortly.’ And Kara and hangs up the phone.

Alex looks down at the screen. ‘Rude.’ She whispers at it, in reference to Kara hanging up, but before she even gets her phone set back down, she sees movement on the balcony. Apparently, by shortly Kara meant, .03 seconds.

Her little sister lets herself in, and when the door opens, Lena rouses from her sleep. She sits up and see’s Kara walking into the living room.

‘You came home.’ Lena says in a sleep-ridden slur. And like she did with Alex’s phone a couple hours ealier, she makes grabby hands for Kara. Who of course obliges and is at Lena’s side in mere moments.

‘Of course, I did. Was worried about you.’ Kara says as she suddenly has her arms full of Luthor.

With that, Alex decides maybe it’s time to take her leave, and moves to stand up.

But, before she can get even a step away, she is being pulled back down to the couch by Lena who has wrapped her hand around Alex’s wrist.

‘Don’t go.’ Lena says in a haze. ‘Want to have the best Lex here in the moring too.’

Alex decided there is no saying no to that, and settles back on the couch. Next to Kara, who has Lena craddled in her lap.

She would leave, but Lena’s moved her hand from Alex’s wrist and has laced their fingers together.

Her back is going to hate her for this in the morning.

_____

Listen, I feel like the prompt was supposed to be AgentCorp, and yes, I lowkey ship it, and will read it, I am not capable of writing it, because SuperCorp owns my ass.

Also, this is soft as hell and I just want a sister like Alex. Or to be a sister like Alex. I don’t really care one way or the other.

#Supercorp #Lena Luthor #Supergirl #Alex Danvers #Kara Danvers #This is soft and I make no apologies #I love the idea of Alex being big sis #hope you like it #also #I just HC that the Danvers sister do tons of stupid shit and alway record it #I did not proofread this #might post to AO3 later #Anonymous

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