#she shaves her brows off for sport at this point

[servospawn]

I'm not really into showing my WIPs because Perfectionist ™ .. but I have been working on Natalija the last few days so here's where I am currently. Yes she's still a ginger but I can't be bothered with the red swatches in this game atm & realistically she does dye her hair from time to time like her papa used to.

#ts4 #sims 4 #the sims 4 #oc: natalija #oc: portrait #oc: wip #she looks so tired #she shaves her brows off for sport at this point #panda is still side eyeing #i imagine him sitting at his desk with a scorecard in his hand and its like a 5 written on it in his hand writing

[pastel-peach-writes]

Arm Wrestling | Adora x Reader

PLOT: Y/n’s cockiness got her in a tough position. Now she has to face the consequences thanks to their best friend Glimmer. 

WARNINGS: Female Reader with She/They pronouns.  

Y/n sighed, walking into the gym with their white duffle bag with black accents slung over their shoulder. She was currently being forced to work out with a trainer due to a bet she lost with her best friend Glimmer.

“Oh come on, glitter! I’m not that out of shape.” Y/n claims, throwing a potato chip/crisps into their mouth. Glimmer furrowed her brows together, a crease forming in between her eyebrows. “Are you kidding me? Frosta beat you in an arm wrestle!” She exclaims. Y/n pointed a finger at her. “Hey, she’s a kid and I let her win.” “No, she’s a kid and you’re out of shape.”

“Alright, fine.” Y/n said putting down the bag of chips/crisps and dusting her fingers free from the salt and oily residue the chips/crisps left behind. “If I’m so weak, I challenge you to an arm wrestle duel. If I win, you have to admit I’m super strong and make me Angella’s secret brownie cookie surprise whenever I want to for a month.”

With a scoff, Glimmer put a hand on her hip. “And if I win?” “Then I have to go to a gym, twice a week, for two months wITh a trainer.” Glimmer smirked.

“Bring it on.” … The rest was history.

Y/n couldn’t believe she lost. She had that game in the bag! She didn’t know the 4’11 girl could be so strong. Looks are SO deceiving. Luckily, Glimmer was nice and hired her a trainer she’s known for years and let Y/n use her private gym for the sake of potential humiliation. Isn’t Glimmer… sO kind?

The best friend looked around the gym. It had spongey white flooring with gold and black specs, walls that were covered in body length mirrors, all the equipment any gym rat could think of, and of course the colors pink and purple splattered here and there. Not to mention the overly ‘motivating’ quotes that were slapped onto the walls.

‘Go for it!’ ‘Be the best you you can be!’ ‘You got this!’

The sight made Y/n sick.

“It’s a bit much, right?” A voice boomed from behind Y/n, making them jump out of their skin a little as she turned on her heels to see the face that matched the voice. The tall and muscular stranger let out a small laugh. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.” She said putting her hands out. “Glimmer and Angella mean well.” The stranger said walking past Y/n.

“I just think they don’t personally work out in here. Maybe in their rooms or at some.. mother-daughter yoga class.” The blonde haired girl joked. Y/n studied this stranger. Fair skin, blue eyes, blonde hair that was shaved on the sides and back yet leaving the top and front short and flowy. And don’t get them started on their figure.

Thick muscular thighs, defined calves, couple abs could be seen on her stomach, and those arms. Whoa, her arms. Y/n’s never seen such muscles look so manly.. yet feminine on a girl before. It made Y/n feel queasy, but excited. Yet, scared but thrilled. She had no clue what was going on.

The unnamed girl cocked a brow with a smug smirk on her face as she crossed her arms. “If you’re done staring,” she hummed. “I think we should start working now.” Y/n blinked out of their trance. “What- Oh, God— I’m so sorry- Yes, uh, let’s train.” She said scurrying over to the wall that had the benches and water coolers. They threw off their bag and made sure their hair was as out of the way as possible with a headband/hairtie.

The trainer laughed at her reaction. “Oh my gosh, I was just teasing!” She chuckles, covering her mouth with her hand. “You’re cute though. The name’s Adora.” She sent her a smile with closed eyes. Y/n stepped up to her after getting themselves prepared. “Ah, thanks for the compliment. I’m Y/n, by the way.” With the introductions out the way, Adora and Y/n began their training.

Y/n couldn’t get over how attractive Adora looked in her white sports bra with a gold hem. Or her matching leggings with gold stripes down the side. Not forgetting about her hair either. The way some strands stuck to her forehead as she sweat or the way it would floof up after Adora ruffled it.

“Okay okay, stop.” Adora said turning off the stationary bicycle. “You’re daydreaming again.” She said with a small sigh, putting her hand on her hip as her other arm leaned against the machine. “You okay? Glimmer told me you were more the ambitious and determined type when it came to things like this.”

“Yeah, when pretty ladies aren’t there to distract me.” Muttered Y/n with a chuckle. “Hm? What was that?” Adora leaned in, facing her left ear toward Y/n. “I said,” They began, leaning close to Adora’s ear. “I don’t want to do this machine!” Adora blinked in surprise, her mouth agape. “That’s so not what you said… and we can’t switch machines just because we don’t like it. If that was the case, I would never EVER use the death machine we call a treadmill.”

Attempting to get off but being stopped by Adora, Y/n whined. “But I really don’t want to work out. Please Adora, spare me. I’m just doing this for a bet! I don’t need to get shredded like you.”

“Oh is that so?” She asked, unwrapping her arms from the girl’s waist as she pulled back to look at her. “Alright then, arm wrestle me.” Y/n swallowed thickly. “Uh,” They stammered. “N-No, its fine. I say we go back to this machin—“

“Arm wrestle me, Y/n. Now.”

With a sigh, they began to get off the bicycle. Adora stepped back to allow them to come off. The two of them walked over to the benches and sat on their knees. Adora took a towel from her bag, placed it on the bench and then put her elbow down. Y/n wrapped their hand around hers with a clap and a sigh of regret.

“Alright, no using the other hand or taunting language. First arm down loses. Got it?” Adora looked at Y/n with another raised brow. She seemed to do that quite often. Y/n nodded.

“Yeah, I got it.”

After a countdown of three, the two began arm wrestling. Well, more so Y/n began. Adora just let her arm sit there as she watched her trainee with a satisfied smirk. Y/n wasn’t sitting flat on their knees anymore, they were sitting on top of them. Their face scrunched up as a vein began to pop out their forehead. A few grunts and pants were heard here and there. “You having fun there?”

Y/n grunted. “I thought there was no taunting language…” “Oh hon, this isn’t taunting. I’m legitimately asking a question.” Adora said as a matter-of-fact. With a huff, Y/n leaned forward in hopes to get more leverage. “If you want to put an end to this, all you have to do is promise that there won’t be anymore complaining for the duration of our training. This includes the next two months.”

The bargain was tempting, but Y/n wasn’t going down with a fight.

Adora hummed. “Oh, still trying are we?” She said as she felt a sudden umph in Y/n’s adrenaline. “You can try all you want to. No one’s ever won an arm wrestle with me before.” She said taking a leg out from under her to rest her other arm’s forearm on her thigh. “But, as you wish.”

Y/n averted their gaze to look at Adora. She wasn’t entirely sure of the definition of manspreading, but whatever Adora was doing seemed like the definition to her. Adora nodded in acknowledgment. “Ya done yet?” She asked looking at her manicured hand. It wasn’t much. Just trimmed nails that were clean and had a top coat on top. A small whimper was heard as Y/n went back to pushing on Adora’s arm. It began to move, much more than it did before, but it was still quaint.

She looked back at Adora and nodded excessively. They wanted this to be OVER.

The blonde winked at her, sitting back on her knees with a satisfied sigh. In seconds, Y/n’s arm was flat on the bench. “OH THANK GOD!” They called out, letting their arm straighten out as she rested her head on it to relax. She broke more sweat trying to defeat Adora than during the 45 minutes of training! “That was torture.”

Adora giggled. “For you, maybe. For me, it was like watching a baby bird try to fly for the first time.” She sat back on her hand and brought a leg up, resting her arm on her knee. “You ready to resume training? Since you lost, there’s no complaining whatsoever.” With a defeated sigh, Y/n looked at her with tired eyes. “Fine. But I will win.”

The blonde shrugged. “Sure you will.” She ruffled their hair (or patted their head), before getting up to head to the stationary bicycle again. “Come on,” she clapped her hands together. “Let’s go!” Groaning was heard before Y/n got up again to finish their workout.

Next time, they should learn from their past mistakes… but if losing to Adora meant spending more time with her and holding her hand, so be it. Y/n would lose over and over for her.

WC: 1,750

#spop adora #adora x reader #adora x fem!reader #adora fanfic #SheRa and the Princesses of Power #shera fanfic #shera x reader #she/they reader #spop fanfic #buff adora #smug adora #author is big simp for buff and cocky adora oops

[notbleachtea]

Birthday Night

With my birthday coming up I had some ideas in my head lol.

Word Count: 2000

SFW fluff and angst

Just wanted to post this already so if you like it any want me to continue a not sfw version, let me know!

Legend:

Joseph, Kakyoin, Polnareff, Avdol, Reader, Jotaro

It’s been a couple of weeks now since you’ve started this journey with the others. You were just glad they agreed to let you join them so you could pay back DIO for trying to control you by implanting a flesh bud in your brain. Your 18th birthday was fast approaching, only a few days away, but you really didn’t want to make a big deal of it. There were more important things on the agenda and you didn’t want to waste their time. You thought about telling Jotaro but you didn't want to make things uncomfortable between the two of you. You didn't really know where you stood with him. You talked to him all the time, but it seemed he never made any moves.

Things have been kind of slow this week and you all had some free time on your hands. You just went along with Jotaro wherever he wanted to go and the others all pretended they had other things that they wanted to check out. Once you two were gone…

“So tomorrow is y/n’s birthday.”

“How’d you figure that one out?”

“Well when we first encountered her I asked the SWF to run a background check on her and I noticed her birthday was fast approaching.”

“Oui! We should do something as a thank you!”

“What do you think she would want?”

They all smirk and look at each other.

“Heh, Jotaro.”

“You don’t say?”

“Isn't it obvious she's fallen for him? And I'm damn near certain he's taken a liking to her, I've never heard him talk half as much.”

“So let's set them up on a date! We could trick Jotaro into admitting his feelings for y/n.”

“How do you suppose we do that?”

The gang discusses possible scenarios before deciding what was best. They all went out shopping for presents while you were still out with Jotaro. They went to countless stores to pick out the best outfit they could for you. After much deliberation, they all agreed on the perfect set. They were so excited to shower you with gifts and celebratory smiles. They needed this. The journey has already been so difficult, they just needed a small chance to cheer up.

“Okay everyone, let's rest up here tonight, we've got a big day tomorrow.”

You go along just thinking tomorrow will be another long day of travel. You were ready for some much needed sleep.

Usually you share a room with one of the guys, but for some reason they put you up in your own room for the time being. It was kind of nce to have a little bit of peace and quiet.

The following morning you wake up, a little sad to be honest. It's your big day after all and you have no one to knowingly share it with. Maybe some breakfast with the boys will cheer you up.

Once the six of you all gathered around the table, Joseph stood up to make an announcement.

“It's been a tough journey so far, but who doesn't like to have a little fun?”

“Good grief old man, stop wasting our time already.”

“So as a thank you y/n, we all decided to pick you up a gift for your birthday.”

Jotaro quickly tries to cover his eyes with his hat, but not before you could see the oh shit look he put on.

Polnareff gifts you a pair of gorgeous black heels with gold accessories.

“My oh my y/n these would look so amazing on your already lustrous legs.”

Avdol picked out a matching black and gold crossbody handbag so you can pair the two.

“It’s much easier to keep all the things you need most nearby in this y/n”

Kakyoin was excited to give you his gift next, which was a small bottle of strawberry perfume and a tube of lipgloss in the matching flavor.

Joseph was last to pick up a box. He handed it to you with such a mischievous smile, he could hardly wait for you to open it.

“It’s gorgeous Mr. Joestar! I really don’t deserve this.”

“It was no trouble at all y/n! You fight so hard and you only turn 18 once. I really insist.”

You can see that there are no other boxes left around the table with just Jotaro left sitting in silence.

After a little bit of small talk it seems like everyone is ready to go back to their rooms for the day and get ready.

“Why don't you try on all that new stuff for us y/n? I'm sure that'd cheer everyone up a bit.”

Only moments after getting back to your room you heard a knock on your door. You walk over and look out the peephole, you only see a tall broad chest, but you'd recognize it anywhere. You open the door up for Jotaro.

“Hey, don’t be all sad or whatever because I didn't get you anything.”

“It's okay Jotaro, I really wasn't expecting anything today.”

“It's not that I forgot, I just didn't know it was your birthday.”

“I didn't tell anyone, so I don't know how they fou-”

“So I'm taking you out tonight.”

“You’re what?” your heart jumps and your eyebrows raise in question.

“I'm taking you out to dinner tonight, on me, so you have something to do in your new clothes.”

It didn't matter the circumstances to you. You were just happy he was agreeing to do something alone with you.

You took the next few hours for yourself to really get ready. You took a nice bath, gave your legs a fresh shave, and wrapped your hair up so it would fall into perfect curls when it dried.

You threw on your new gown. It felt so soft against your freshly cleaned body. You were kind of amazed at how perfect it fit you too. You never really dabbled too much into makeup, so for tonight you just put on some mascara, cleaned up your brows and sported the new lipgloss gifted to you by Kakyoin. All that was left was your heels and a spritz of perfume.

Jotaro shows up at your door exactly at the exact time he said he would pick you up. He hides his blushing face underneath his hat,

“Looks like you're ready to go on time for once.”

You grab your new purse and chase after him, already halfway down the hallway.

You couldn't make it out of the lobby without the others catching you first, exactly what Jotaro was trying to avoid.

“Mon cheri! What did I say about those legs! You look like a true vision of beauty mon amor.”

“You smell just like fresh strawberries y/n. I wonder if your lip gloss tastes just as good as you smell, even though I would much rather prefer cherries.”

Jotaro notices you starting to blush and the whole room can sense the brooding scowl he's just put out towards the two.

Avdol and Joseph compliment you on how you look in your new dress and insist on taking a photo of the two of you like they’re proud parents.

“Good grief just get it over with,” Jotaro snaps, knowing he has every intention of getting that photo for himself later.

While out on the town, Jotaro insists you hold his arm. He says he doesn't want anyone getting the wrong idea about you from your clothes and try to touch you.

As scary as he made it sound, you were just as happy to hold his large arm.

With you being this close to him, he couldn't help but breath in your intoxicating perfume. He made it clear to Kakyoin in the past that he prefers strawberries, especially over cherries, so he was sure they were all up to something from the start.

Jotaro takes you to a nice looking place. There's no way it doesn't cost a fortune to eat here.

“Dont worry about it, I can handle it,” he says,picking up on how nervous you already were.

“All right, this way for the young couple.”

“We're not together,” Jotaro snaps.

“My apologies, my good sir.”

While it was true you were not together, it still hurt your feelings for him to say that, especially so quickly.

It kind of sets your mood for the rest of the night. You were thrilled he took you out, but it just didn't feel good knowing you wanted more than him, thinking this was just a pity dinner.

After your meal arrived you tried to start up some small talk. Usually your conversations are so deep and easy, but this felt like pulling teeth.

You set your cutlery down in a sophisticated huff.

“You know what Jotaro, I'm just going to go back to my room. I appreciate you trying to take me out for my birthday, but it's clear you don't want to be here.”

You began to stand up and he grabbed your wrists and sits you back down.

“Y/n, I wanted to take you out.”

“You're not even looking at me when I talk to you Jotaro, just take me back.”

You start walking back to the hotel at a quick pace and trip over yourself on the brick paved streets. You're not used to walking in heels after all. You pick yourself up and try to continue walking on, but it appears you've sprained your ankle. You're too stubborn to admit that though and keep on.

Jotaro scoops you up with no hesitation and with such ease. You're still mad at him, but thankful to not have to walk back at the moment.

“Y/n, please calm down, let's take you back and get some ice for your ankle.”

You didn't say anything the whole way back. You didn't need to. The message was loud and clear by the expression you wore on your face.

It was starting to get too much for him to handle. He was already embarrassed having to carry you like this through the city, keeping his hands close to your rear so you wouldn't flash everyone in your short dress. He couldn't escape the sweet smell of you either, only further clouding his judgement.

Jotaro takes you up to your hotel room and sits you down on your bed. At this point you're over the night.

“I'm going to get ice. Don't move.”

You just sat there in a mixture of silence yet excitement by the strict demand he just spit at you.

Jotaro came back, kneeling on the floor before you, delicately lifting up your ankle and setting an ice pack atop it. He looked up into your sad eyes, he had to know what that lip gloss tasted like. It's only fair. You'd been pursing your lips out at him all day anyway.

“I'm looking at you now.”

“What?”

“I said, I'm looking at you now y/n, and I have been looking at you all night.”

Jotaro, still kneeling on the floor in front of you,

“I can't take my eyes off of you, it's not fair. How am I supposed to act normal in public when you go and dress like this?”

He stands up to steal a long awaited kiss from your lips. You didn't have time to think about it, you just naturally kissed him right back with as much want.

Breaking from the kiss,

“Jotaro I-,”

“I've wanted to do that for so long, y/n.”

“Do it again.”

Without a second thought, Jotaro plants another kiss on your shining lips. He places one hand on the back of your neck and the other on your hip, guiding you to lay backwards on the bed, never breaking the kiss, his large body now towering over you. You don't want to stop and you don't want him to stop.

“Y/n, let me show you how I really feel this time.”

#jjba jotaro #jojo #jotaro x reader #jjba #jjba part 3 #stardust crusaders #jotaro kujo x reader #jotaro kujo #jojosbizzareadventure #jojo jotaro

[moonbeambucky]

Hey Neighbor (Part 18)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader Word Count: 5308 Warnings: fluff

Summary: You had a plan and then life came along with one of its own. With your future almost derailed you worked hard to get yourself back on track and finally everything seemed to be going right… that is, until your new neighbor moved in.

A/N: Wedding weekend starts now and I know you’re all very excited! Feedback is always appreciated!

HEY NEIGHBOR PART 17 | HEY NEIGHBOR MASTERLIST

Sweat trickles down your temple as you climb up the stairs from the subway, inhaling a deep breath of fresh air. It was a little thick but a thousand times better than the overwhelming stench of sweat and other odors from those that didn’t understand the concept of deodorant. The sun was pounding on you for the rest of the walk home, as your heart and mind raced, calculating if there was enough time to pack and eat something before you had to leave. This weekend may not bring a reprieve from the heat but at least things would be able to slow down.

In preparation for the wedding this weekend you had been working as much as possible, spending most of Memorial Day at the hospital to get a jump on making up for some hours, and getting to Stark Industries a bit early each day in order to get your proposals for an upcoming project completed. You weren’t drowning yourself in work to avoid Bucky, nope, that definitely wasn’t it.

Technically you weren’t avoiding him, he kept in touch during the week through messages, making sure you were all set for this weekend. When he asked if you wanted to grab food you told him the truth, that you couldn’t because you were too exhausted. If he asked last week you would have gone out with him despite your exhaustion but ever since you witnessed one of Bucky’s thousand hookups in your face this past weekend you weren’t in any mood to see him.

It was better to keep the distance, allowing the time you spent apart to let the logical side of your brain take the reins from your heart and stop it from falling for someone you know you shouldn’t. None of this was new. You knew exactly who Bucky was before you even met him, hearing the revolving door of women screaming out every night. He was a nice person, a good friend, but someone to date? Never.

Bucky: hey.. the trains @ 4:19 so you wanna head out a quarter to?

Somehow he always texts when you’re thinking about him… or maybe you just think about him too much.

You responded quickly, taking advantage of the time you didn’t think you had to make something quickly. In between bites of a sandwich you ran around your apartment, gathering together the things you would need through Sunday.

“Fuck!” you barked in response to the knock at your door. It wasn’t even three o’clock, did you read Bucky’s text wrong?

With worry settling on your brow you opened the door, relieved to find Wanda standing there instead.

“How’d you get in?” you asked curiously, letting her inside your apartment.

“Hello Wanda. How was moving, Wanda?” she said, mocking with sarcasm.

Your hands came up in playful defense, “Sorry, sorry.” You laughed, giving Wanda a real greeting as you pulled her in for a hug. “I’m sorry I haven’t checked in. How was moving? Are you all settled in at Sam’s?”

“Hell no,” she laughed, making herself comfortable on your couch. “Unpacking is like fighting a hydra, empty one box and two more take its place.”

You offered her something to drink along with your services to help unpack her never ending boxes when you get back.

“That would be great!” she said, taking the glass from your hand. “Anyway, Clint let me in because you didn’t respond to my texts. I thought maybe Bucky was here and you might have been… busy.”

The smirk her mouth pulled into made you roll your eyes. “Wanda, no… just no. There is nothing between me and Bucky, okay? You saw that girl last weekend. That’s what he wants. One and done, nothing more.”

Her lips pressed together as her head shook ever so slightly. “Mmmhmm.” With a hand digging in her bag she spoke, “Well, all I’m saying is you should be prepared, just in case.”

Wanda threw whatever she pulled out of her bag towards you. Catching the small box in your hands your eyes widened at the logo. “Condoms? Really?” you huffed, throwing them back at her.

“What? I want you to be safe!”

You turned away from her, taking a moment to compose yourself. Wanda didn’t know how bad you were feeling this week, you really were too exhausted to reach out to anyone. Maybe if you had a chance to speak she would have known not to joke about you and Bucky.

It’s not completely unreasonable, the idea that you could have sex with him but you didn’t want to be another girl on his mile long list. You wanted something he could never give, and the fact that your hopes were up and subsequently crushed in front of you didn’t make any of this easier.

“Take those back Wan, I promise you I won’t be needing them.”

“Fine,” she huffed.

Wanda helped you go over what you packed to make sure you hadn’t forgotten anything.

“Toothbrush, toothpaste, deodorant, razor…”

“Oh shit, yes. Gotta shave my legs tomorrow.” You grabbed the bag that held your toiletries, taking it to the bathroom with you to pack your razor and anything else you might have forgotten.

Wanda looked over your bag pulling out the clutch you packed, staring at the glittery reflection of sunlight on your walls. “You should wrap this in something,” she called out, waiting for you to return towards the bed. “If not, the glitter will get everywhere.”

She made a good point. You searched through your closet for something you could place in it and handed it to her, thankful that your dress was still hanging up and unaffected by the ubiquitous glimmering speckles.

“Oh shit I almost forgot!” Wanda went back into her bag to dig out something you actually wanted.

She handed you a beautiful gold necklace meant to wear down the open back of your dress, with four diamonds spaced out evenly along the dainty chain. “You’re going to look incredible. Bucky won’t be able to keep his– ”

“Wanda! Nothing is going to happen between me and Bucky!” you shouted, cringing at the fact that he probably heard you through the walls. With a groan you squeezed your fists tightly, releasing them with a heavy breath. “Those condoms better be in your bag, okay? I’m serious.”

She pulled the box from her bag, scrunching her face with her tongue slightly sticking out at you. A smile broke the hardened look on your face, you could never stay mad at her. Before she left Wanda hugged you, wishing you a nice weekend and thankfully she didn’t mention Bucky anymore.

Everything but your dress was packed so you texted Bucky to let him know you were ready. He was bringing a garment bag for his suit so he offered to put your dress in there as well. A few minutes later you heard the knock at your door and remembering you locked it after Wanda left you had to open it up for him.

“Oh my god!” you gasped, staring wide-eyed at Bucky who sported a new look– short hair!

His head hung down, scrunching his eyes shut to avoid any more of your reaction. He hadn’t cut his hair in years and honestly he never really planned on it but something changed over the week and Bucky knew exactly what it was.

Last weekend surrounded by all of his friends who were happily coupled up really showed Bucky what he was missing and the run in with Whitney reinforced everything about how he’s been living his life and what he wants to change. Bucky wanted a relationship and he was desperate to start one with you.

He couldn’t believe that after all these years of screwing around and closing off his heart that he was able to find someone he could trust with his heart. It’s a crazy thought, for Bucky Barnes, the man who thought he’d live life as a bachelor to have these desires but he couldn’t deny the truth any longer. His revelation came with a need for change.

If Bucky wanted a fresh start he needed to let go of the past, cutting away the dead ends in more than one way. He deleted all the numbers from his phone from the girls he has no interest in sleeping with any more. He deleted the apps from his phone because he didn’t want to meet anyone else, he already found the perfect person and he was sure he had seen sparks in your eyes, the same ones that set off fireworks inside of him anytime you were together.

But this weekend wasn’t going to be about convincing you to date him. He was genuinely happy to have you as a companion to his cousin’s wedding but if there is something between you (and Bucky really hopes his suspicions are true) he would let things happen naturally. And if it’s not meant to be he’ll be there like he always was, as your friend that wants to see you happy, no matter how badly it hurts.

“You cut your hair!”

He grimaced, clenching his teeth together with worry. “You hate it right?” He ran his hand through the short crop, what used to be long strands now a fluff of brown on top of his head.

“No, no, I think it looks great. It’s just… you look so different!” His anxious smile made you clarify your words. “You look great Bucky, honestly. I really like it, I just have to get used to it.”

The soft smile on your face reassured Bucky that his haircut wasn’t a mistake. Deleting apps is one thing but he couldn’t reattach his hair.

You placed your dress in his garment bag, still a mystery to Bucky as it was wrapped in white plastic and then you were off to Penn Station. A large crowd rushed down to the platform of the Long Island Railroad when the train was announced and you had to walk fast down to a further train car to get seats.

Bucky hung the garment bag on the rack above before settling down beside you. He was all prepared with tickets on his phone, declining your offer to pay him. He insisted everything was on him this weekend since you were his guest so you didn’t argue much.

During the long train ride Bucky began to tell you about the people whose wedding you were attending. His cousin Scott was marrying Hope Van Dyne, the daughter of his new employer.

“This is Scott’s second marriage actually. He got divorced after he went to prison.” Your eyebrow quirked at Bucky’s remark. “Scott found out his company was stealing from customers so he hacked their system to pay ‘em back. He did a good thing, shouldn’t have gone to jail in my opinion but anyway, it didn’t help his marriage, ‘specially since he couldn’t see much of his little girl.”

Scott had a daughter named Cassie who he was now able to see regularly since he and his ex Maggie had reconciled and according to Scott she’s going to be the cutest flower girl ever. Bucky isn’t sure how many people would be at the wedding, only that it was taking place on the North Shore of Long Island in a beautiful venue off the water. The hotel Bucky found was about twenty minutes away, something moderate and comfortable for the weekend.

“So, my parents offered to drive us to the wedding, if that’s okay, but I’m assuming they’ll leave early so we’ll probably have to Uber it on the way back.”

“Yeah that’s fine,” you replied. “I was going to meet them at the wedding anyway so we might as well get the awkward introductions out of the way first.”

“About that…” Bucky rubbed the back of his neck, feeling goosebumps prick at his skin. “They actually wanted to pick us up from the train and go for dinner.” He turned to face you, biting his lip as he tried to sense how you were feeling about it. “I can tell them no if you don’t want to.”

Bucky appeared to be more nervous than you’ve ever seen him before and it finally hit you why, he’s never had his parents meet anyone before. Do they know about his lifestyle? Running through women like fire through a haystack. Your curiosity took the lead, wanting to see Bucky sweat a little under the heat of his parents' possible interrogation.

“No, I’d love to!” you answered, trying to hide the sly smile that started to creep its way on your face.

“Cool, yeah…” Bucky responded with failing confidence at trying to hide the fact that he wished you would have declined.. “I’ll text them now.”

More people filed into the train at the next stop, sharply dressed white collar workers looking to get a jump on the weekend even if it was just before rush hour. A man squeezed into the seat beside Bucky, making him encroach on your space a little.

You could tell he was uncomfortable in the middle seat, his muscles stiffening to keep his legs as close together as possible and also not play accidental footsie with the woman in front of him. By shifting your body you were able to give Bucky a little more space at the cost of getting closer, leaning into his shoulder.

With a few more adjustments you both found a comfortable position though Bucky can’t say his nerves had gotten any better. You spent most of the ride that way leaving Bucky’s brain to imagine several scenarios of you snuggling close to him; his arm tucked around you, his lips leaving a trail of soft kisses from your temple, down your cheek until he reached those perfect lips.

“Is that our stop?” you asked, breaking him from the trance where he was indulged in fantasies.

“Uh yeah, comin’ up.”

Grabbing your bags you made your way towards the doors waiting to exit. Bucky checked his phone, finding a message from his parents that were already there. He sucked his bottom lip into his mouth, his stomach sinking like an anchor as he realized what was about to happen, and worse he hadn’t told you something important.

You began walking ahead of him down the stairs from the platform and Bucky rushed behind. With his hand on your shoulder you turned around to find worry written all over his face. “I have a confession to make. He sighed, “My– ”

“James!” A soft bubbly voice called out and Bucky turned his head to find a woman on the next block waving both arms in the air and calling him over.

“James?” you questioned under your breath as you walked over to the woman who was clearly his mom.

She was half a foot shorter than him, with shoulder length hair that reminded you of Bucky’s but with a slightly brighter color. Her eyes crinkled with her mouth opening to a huge grin.

“Your hair!” she exclaimed, cupping both sides of his face to examine his new look up close. “You look so handsome.”

She lifted her heels to bring herself closer to him and Bucky met her halfway for the distance so she could give him a kiss on the cheek. You stood there smiling as you watched the cute exchange.

When they pulled apart her gaze came to you, another smile stretching across her face. “James, aren’t you going to introduce us?”

Bucky cleared his throat nervously, “Uh, yeah sorry Mom, this is Y/N. Y/N, this is my mom Winifred.”

“Call me Winnie dear. It’s a pleasure to meet you, James told us all about you.”

“Oh really?” you replied, cocking your head towards James who clearly had some explaining to do.

Bucky swiftly changed the topic as he saw his father’s SUV approaching the curb. As he opened the passenger door for his mother you wondered if he was showing off or not. Then again Bucky had no reason to try and impress you. Your friendship from the start has been completely platonic, except for a shared kiss on New Years.

Considering the first encounter you had, where you awkwardly told him his “guests” were always so loud, Bucky had probably figured there was no point in barking up that tree with you. And he was right, there wasn’t. You’re not interested in becoming another notch on his belt.

Bucky’s father George turned around to greet you after you settled in and he bore a striking resemblance to Bucky, sharp jawline, cleft chin and piercing blue eyes. His smile was different though, still a very warm and friendly one but there was always something about the way Bucky smiled that makes your heart skip a beat. Made. It used to do that but not anymore.

In no time you were at a diner, being seated next to Bucky in a booth across from his parents. Right away they began asking about The September Foundation; apparently Bucky really has told them a lot about you.

“That sounds like a wonderful opportunity to enrich so many young lives,” Winnie said.

“And speaking from the social work field, it’s a great alternative to keep kids active and away from harmful situations. A lot of the programs are STEM based but since that doesn’t appeal to everyone I’ve also worked out a homework help program, where kids can connect with a teacher on-site or through video conferences for extra help.”

Lost in the joy of discussing your work you completely missed the way Bucky was staring at you, seeing your face shine brighter than the sun. Winnie didn’t miss it though, as her eyes flitted over towards Bucky’s, catching him in the act which caused him to look away as an embarrassing shade of pink dusted his cheeks.

“October is our official opening even though we were aiming for September, not because of the name but to coincide with the start of the school year. Though we plan on keeping it open all year round, if we can get the donations of course.”

A proud smile spread across George’s face, as if he was listening to the accomplishments of his own child, “I have no doubt that you will.”

Bucky’s blush deepened knowing you had his parents' approval, not that he meant for this. He told them you were just friends, neighbors, that’s all, nothing more. Despite the details of your life he couldn’t help but tell them; how incredibly devoted you were to helping people, how smart, talented and funny you are… how beautiful. Yeah, he may have let that one slip out but it didn’t matter, you were only friends, sadly.

His thoughts were interrupted by a server coming around to take everyone’s order and thankfully the conversation had changed to his sibling Rebecca, giving his cheeks time to return to their normal shade.

“They’re coming tomorrow, right?” Bucky asked.

“Flying out in the morning and has to be back for work Monday,” Winnie began, “Rebecca was just promoted to Director of Avian Care.”

“That’s great ma.”

“It is, but it means they’ll be even busier than before, so next time when they’re in town James you better stop what you’re doing and come over. It’s bad enough you didn’t come over for Thanks– ”

Bucky interrupted with a vomit of sounds to stop his mom from completing her sentence, revealing the lies he had told everyone about his plans for Thanksgiving. “I promise from now on when Bex is in town I will always make time to see them, okay?”

Nervous inflection took over and he cleared his throat, taking a sip of water to clear it away. An opportunity to change the subject had come up as his mom took out her phone.

“You got a new one?” he asked, nudging his chin towards the device in her hands.

“She didn’t need it,” George added, ranting about the high price. “Your mom thinks she’s a photographer now.”

Winnie playfully nudged his arm, cracking a smile as she told him to knock it off. “I can become one if I want to. The camera has a lot of new features... if only I can figure out how to use them.”

You and Bucky shared a smile, an unspoken look that remembered previous conversations about your parents and technology.

“Hang on, let me try something,” Winnie whispered quietly under her breath and before you realized it she had taken a picture. “Look how good that came out!” she beamed, showing off her phone to George who smirked.

She revealed the image to you and Bucky, the moment you just shared, gazing at each other with a smile that shined all the way through your eyes. A lump settled in the back of your throat as you stared at the picture; somehow seeing it from an outside perspective opened your eyes to the truth. The feelings you had for Bucky were written all over your face, no matter how much you tried to hide them and the fact that his expression mirrored yours made you feel conflicted.

His parents knew things about your life that you never expected him to share with them. Does he do that with all his friends? Probably, right? Because you were just his friend. Bucky doesn’t date, you repeat in your mind over and over. But friends don’t look at each other like that.

The jarring thoughts battled in your mind as you stood silently, an innocent bystander in the war for truth with your heart on the line. Looking back at George and Winnie didn’t help at all, not when he leaned in to peck a kiss on his wife’s lips, crinkles surrounding his eyes as he looked at Winnie in a similar manner, the way lovers see each other.

As dinner finished his parents insisted on picking up the check, and after another short drive they dropped you off at the hotel, with plans to speak tomorrow before picking you up. Walking into a hotel with Bucky was something you never expected to be doing but you tried to keep the awkwardness inside.

“Uh, hi,” Bucky said to the man behind the counter, placing his bag on the ground, still holding the garment bag over his shoulder. “Checking in, James Barnes.”

How can you even think Bucky likes you if he wasn’t even telling you his real name? Your thoughts were interrupted seeing Bucky struggle to take out his wallet with only one hand. You offered to hold the garment bag as he handled the check in process.

“Alright Mr. Barnes, we have you staying for two nights. Check out is eleven, breakfast is available in our lobby from six to nine-thirty. Your room is number 342. If you need anything please don’t hesitate to call the front desk.”

He thanked the man and took back the garment bag from your hand as you walked towards the elevators, stepping inside as the doors opened with a ding. He pressed the button for the third floor, looking around everywhere but to you. The silence was quickly broken as you spoke.

“So… James is it?” You turned towards him as a smirk pulled at your lips.

He sighed, smiling as he shook his head. “I knew this was coming.” He swiped at his chin, chuckling under his breath before he began. “My name is James but no one calls me that. Well, except for my parents.”

“So where did Bucky come from? Is that your stage name?” you teased.

“Ha ha,” he said dryly. “I grew up with a friend named James and since my middle name is Buchanan I sorta became Bucky.” A boyish smile crossed his face.

The door opened and Bucky followed your lead to find the room. The card unlocked the door and you stepped inside happily surprised that there were in fact two beds. You didn’t think Bucky lied when he said he was booking this but the scenario did play in your mind. There must have been a mistake and now there’s only one bed, I guess we’ll have to share. At least Bucky didn’t pull anything scummy like that.

The garment bag was hung in the closet and then you threw your bags onto the bed closest to the window, laying back on the moderately soft blanket that was meticulously tucked in.

“You up for a walk?” Bucky’s question prompted you to lean back on your elbows. “There’s a CVS down the block, I wanted to grab some drinks and stuff.”

“Yeah, sure.”

You popped up from the bed, ready to go, taking the extra room key to place in your bag just in case. The white and red illuminated sign was visible from when you stepped out onto the street, and beyond it was a beautiful sunset, the fiery orange sky licked at the clouds above, with blue trickling through like a stream of water.

“I’m in the mood for chips, you want some?” Bucky asked, as you entered the store.

“Yeah, chips sound good and maybe cookies?”

The exaggerated batting of your eyelashes combined with the innocent smile that stretched along your face made Bucky let out a chuckle of laughter.

“Fine, but you’re eating the cookies in your bed. I don’t want crumbs in mine.”

“Oh and chips don’t make crumbs? I guarantee you’ll get tiny flecks of potato chips all over that bed.”

“No, you’re wrong Y/N,” he said, placing his hand on your shoulder, “‘Cause I’m getting Doritos.”

You laughed along with him, browsing the aisles until you found what you needed. Doritos, chewy chocolate chip cookies, a few protein bars and a small package of almonds (to stay healthy of course), along with some Gatorade and flavored water, split between a few bags, with Bucky carrying the heavier items.

“My water’s going to explode if you keep swinging the bag like that Bucky.”

With a mischievous gleam in his eye he said, “Oh, like this?” He shook the bag that held the carbonated water as you pleaded for him to stop.

“I’m gonna make you open it!” you said through laughter.

You didn’t, insisting that it would be fine if you let it sit until tomorrow, but it did mean Bucky would have to share his Gatorade tonight. He poured two cups, placing them on the nightstand in between the beds and tossed the package of cookies onto your bed.

Opening up your bag you pulled out pajamas, along with a bag of toiletries you took to the bathroom to set out. While you were in the bathroom Bucky got comfortable, toeing off his sneakers, and changing out of jeans into loose basketball shorts. He kept his t-shirt on even though he felt a little hot.

He saw your reflection in the mirrored closet opposite the bathroom door, smiling as he noticed your pajamas, a plain shirt, not too loose worn with pink cropped bottoms decorated with happy smiling faces on all types of breakfast foods; a smiling stack of pancakes with a syrup spilling over the edge, a happy frosted donut, bacon and eggs holding hands with beaming smiles.

“You have to wear those when we get breakfast,” he said, a smile pulling even wider across his face the closer you got.

“No way!” you laughed. “You wear ‘em.”

“I think I will,” Bucky grinned.

Propping up the pillows on your bed, you sat back, pulling back the foil of the package to take out a cookie. The remote was on your side so you flipped through the channels to find anything that might keep you both entertained.

The bag of Bucky’s chips crinkled as he opened them, digging his hand in the bag. It wasn’t long after that he craved something sweet. “Cookie?” he asked, sucking the orange powder off his fingers.

“I thought you didn’t want crumbs in your bed.” You raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah yeah… well I like cookies more than I hate crumbs.”

A smile tugged at your lips. “Fine, but only if I can have some Doritos.”

Bucky scooted over from the center of the bed. “Fine, c’mere. Might as well have just one bed covered in crumbs.”

You smiled, tossing the remote to him as you climbed out of your bed and into his. Only when you were sitting so close did you realize how weird this felt. It shouldn’t though, you’ve been close to Bucky before, closer even, but since you’ve acknowledged your feelings you’ve become more aware of how being near him makes goosebumps prickle across your skin.

But this was nothing, just an easier way to share snacks. Nothing more.

“Go back!” you said, as Bucky was flipping through channels. “Look! It’s you!”

The Music Man was on, Bucky’s namesake for when he first moved in. Bucky looked past your finger that was pointing towards the screen towards the main character “Professor” Harold Hill.

“You think I’m a con man?” he questioned, his brows furrowing as his lips pulled down into a sad pout.

Though he looked concerned you saw the smallest twitch in the corner of his lips and decided to tease him some more.

“You didn’t even tell me your real name so…”

His frown broke out into admitted laughter. As Bucky stared at the way your smile reached your eyes he felt his own lips form a soft one, letting out a sigh that made his heart skip a beat. “You know it now.”

The gaze between you was held for longer than you should have let it, your heart urging you to lean in and press your lips to his again, to feel the sweet relief of the way his soft lips caressed your own. Against your wishes you felt your eyes break contact with his for a brief moment, glancing at his lips, your tongue delicately sneaking out to wet your lips… that is until your mind took control of the reins again.

Clearing your throat you dug your hand into the Doritos, keeping your mouth busy in a different way and Bucky shrugged off whatever was about to happen. He grabbed a few chips for himself, knowing he was not going to push you into something you didn’t want.

A hint of tension lingered in the air but Bucky diffused it quickly, joking, “And anyway, Harold Hill can’t even read music so that was a pretty poor choice of a name to call me.”

A smile eased its way onto your face again. “Well I didn’t call you Harold Hill, I called you the Music Man, which was a shorter way of saying ‘my annoying new neighbor that plays every instrument known to man through our thin walls every night.’”

“Not every instrument.”

You chuckled. “Right, right. You don’t do horns.”

Bucky laughed back, the boyish smile on his face retreating slowly as he asked, “Am I still annoying?”

Your answer was halted as you appraised him, eyes narrowed, lips pursed tightly in an attempt to make him nervous, but you couldn’t hold a straight face for very long.

Breaking out into a smile you couldn’t hide the truth, “No, definitely not.”

It’s amazing how far you’ve come with Bucky, from silently cursing him out in your mind everyday to forming a friendship, one close enough that brought you to this situation that has your heart and mind dueling in a battle for the path you should take.

Sleep didn’t come easy that night, when all you wanted to do was hop into Bucky’s bed, lay your head on his chest and cuddle. Instead you wrapped the blanket around yourself and rolled over, knowing that no matter what side won a part of you would still lose.

PART 19

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes series

[earthboundscenarios]

♥ High school ♥

sc plot : 4 new students, attractive point of views

wc : 1694

add-on : basically you in my life without the kids from earthbound

Play song while reading for best experience!

Enjoy!

I sighed as I clutched my backpack. Another boring day

Is life always gonna be this boring?

I hopped off the school bus and made my way towards the giant public school with the crowd

" Where do you want me to set this Ms. Mills? " I looked over to my calculus teacher and she pointed towards her front desk. I nodded and got up. Earning a few snickers from the girls in the back.

" Put some pants on, girl. "

Maria said sarcastically.

I laughed.

I was wearing my favorite oversized black sweater on top of my shorts which aren't buttshorts. I hated the girls in the back.

Fucking assholes.

I heard some new students were coming today. I looked over to my best friend Neila , the desk beside mine. She just gave me a shrug and went back to work. I sighed and made my way to the front of the room, feeling some eyes on me, I dropped the work on Ms. Mills' s desk and returned to my desk at the corner of the room, leaning against the wall facing the whole class from the side.

I heard a scoff beside me so I turned. One of my friends named

RJ

had the desk in front of me, and held up his assignment in my face. 95%. I pushed it away and he looked at me with a smug grin. " What'd you get? " He asked with a mix of curiosity and assholism in his voice. I rolled my eyes, smiled, and pulled out my sketchbook. I opened it and looked at my anime sketches trying to ignore RJ laughing before turning back to the side of the room and return talking to his other friend Riley.

After a few minutes , I leant over my desk and tapped on RJ's shoulder. He turned halfway and replied with a half piercing glare in the corner of his eyes. I gasped exaggeratedly which made him turn all the way around facing me with a ' Really? How lame ' look. This time it was my turn to shove something in his face.

My sketchbook.

He grabbed it without actually looking at what was on the page and was about to get up and throw it out into the trash but as he was getting up

" Please RJ, please please please I'm serious just this onceeeee. " I said startling him and after a minute he sighed and mumbled something under his breath and sat back down bringing the sketchbook up near his face so he can actually examine it.

" What the fuck is this? " He looked up at me with the most pissed off look ever.

I grinned devilishly at him and pointed to the page that was being revealed. " You, getting bombed and shot by some mini guns in your favorite game warzone. Like it? " I asked raising my brows like a idiot trying to be funny.

He sighed, face palmed, set my sketchbook back on my desk and turned around pretending I didn't even exist.

Wow thanks, I mouthed and laughed to myself. Neila looked at me with a thumbs up and mouthed, "draw me and garmadon". Which made me nod historically thinking about the movie of her fictional 174 year old husbando from Ninjago.

Suddenly the door was met with a knock which caused some of us to be at ease and started instantly whisper-chatting as this gave us a chance to, while the teacher would go to the door and open it, expecting it to be a kid or a teacher I sighed and relaxed in my chair a little more putting one of my airpods in my ear again and hit play, starting to play my favorite playlist. The teacher did certainly open the door and I was correct.

Or was I

The teacher turned back to us,

" Alright everyone, these are going to be our new students. "

Everyone's attention glided back to the teacher and the door that was slightly opened.

4 kids walked in after a moment or two. 3 boys and 1 girl. They looked completely different then what I had pictured. The 3 guys looked very different compared to each other aswell. One was dressed very nice, another very casual, and one... genie styled...? The girl dressed very pretty though. Definitely got all the boys attention too. Some people snickered. Guessing it was the girls.

Assholes.

" Please introduce yourselves to the class " Ms. Mills nodded to the group of kids. The kid in the blue and red baseball cap looked really excited to, while the girl looked quite shy, so did the kid in the nerdish glasses, but the guy in the white robe looked very chill.

" Heyo! I'm Ness. A pleasure to be here! "

Ness said tilting his cap sideways like, as if he's greeting someone, which looked really cute.

I did hear some girls kya in the back. But I ignored them.

Ness was 5"8. He had black and short messy hair above it was a red and blue cap with a pin, he also wore a red and white high school sports like jacket, assuming that it was the schools jacket he went to before he came here, and underneath it was a blue and yellow shirt. A nice and tidy pair of jeans, white socks tucked in and his sport like jacket was matching with his sport like red and white shoes. He looked very casual but manly.

All this time I was thinking, he was scanning the room while some people asked some questions. But what I didn't notice is that he eventually laid his eyes on me. I felt my face heat up in a few seconds. He grinned at me widely.

He looks Fun.

Once Ness looked back to the class and finished answering some other random questions, he stepped aside and the next one stepped up,

The girl was up next.

" H-Hi! My name is Paula! I hope that we can all get along! " Paula exclaimed with a small curtsy holding the tips of each end of her skirt like dress. Some boys laughed and stared at her recent antics. Their was a audible whistle in the background which caused Paula to squirm a bit with her hands and shuffle her feet around. But people just laughed it off. Jeez, the pressure here.

Paula was 5"4. She had blueberry blue eyes, vibrant blonde hair, bangs that went to her eyebrows, her hair was wavy and tied in a long ponytail with a small red bow. She also had makeup on, not too much, just a bright red lipstick and mascara. She also wore a white turtle neck and over top was a strapped pink dress but the length was like a skirt. It also had a tiny teddy bear icon on it at the bottom. She wore knee high white socks and red low heels.

She nodded her head and then she quickly looked away and hid behind Ness, he obviously laughed, causing her to hide her eyes behind her bangs and a small but noticeable blushed crept on her face which was very cute. She looks adorable.

She peeked over his shoulder and watched as the next one stepped up.

The nerdish boy.

He stepped up very awkwardly which was hilariously cute.

" Uh, Hi. I'm Jeff... I u-uh.. like guns? " This caused the whole room to go quiet which turned to loud laughter erupting from everyone's mouths. I looked over to Neila , she looked like she felt bad for the poor guy. Then to Rj, who was laughing with the rest of them. I felt bad for Jeff

Jeff was 5"7. He wore his hair nice and neatly placed, he had a slightly visible mustache, his eyes covered by his glasses. He wore a long white collar top and over it a green woolen tank top sweater, a nice red bow aswell but placed in the middle of where the collar parts. He had navy blue jeans around his waist that held up tight with a plain black belt and brown classic shoes. He also had pink and blue socks you assumed his mother forced him to wear. He also had a brown backpack around his shoulders. In back which looked like a satellite.

Cool

He looked very shy but it was cute

Now it was the genies turn

He looked very chill, he lightly placed a hand on Jeff's right shoulder as if he was there to support him and they both nodded. Jeff shuffled behind the genie man and the genie man stepped up.

Hands was placed in his pockets he looked up to the classroom with a unreadable expression. The classroom was very quiet at times like these. Then he had a polite smile plastered on his face. " G'day to you all, The Name is Poo. "

was all Poo said with a nod and kept his mouth shut as if he didn't care. Some snickered at his name. Although his smile was still set on his face he didn't really care for it,

he was trying to be as polite as possible.

Poo was 6"1. He had jet black colored eyes, a slightly visible mustache like Jeff, and a tied mini black beard at the bottom of his chin. His hair was shaved off though it was a buzz cut and he had some hair in the front popping out and a tied ponytail in the back. He also had a single hoop on his left ear. He wore a sleeveless like, white body suit, type of robe and a black belt around it. He wore blue big but thin wristbands and white socks with black genie like shoes.

I smiled in enthusiasm which he had noticed and nodded to me before stepping back to join the others. He looks sexy.

I shook my head at those thoughts. Maybe I can go talk to them later I thought and smiled to myself before looking back to my sketchbook.

#me #my life #earthbound #ness #mother 2 #ness paula jeff poo #highschool #anime #youtube #scenario #what if #x reader #one piece #tumblr #trending #1:03am #school morning #foryou #story #wattpad #fanfic #anime / manga #anime icons #fanart #op x reader #art #my story

[a-simple-imagine]

Run Away With Me

Synopsis: Every moment shared with Charlie Weasley is an adventure all it’s own. How you wish to spend every moment together and all it takes is to run away. 

Pairing: Charlie Weasley x fem!reader

Words: 6.3k+

A/N - Every year I post a story on my birthday and today’s the day I turn a year older. Usually these stories are pretty sad but this year I wrote something a little softer so here is my birthday present for you guys, I hope you enjoy it. 

1. A Stolen Kiss

A bright-eyed and clueless young student, excited to be attending a school of magic. Nobody else in your family had magic so it was a big surprise when you received a letter alongside a weird lady who looked like she just stepped out of the early 1920s. Sat between your parents, the older woman explained the entire situation much to your excitement and your parents' confusion.

 Diagon alley had been your first experience of all things magical; it had been like stepping into another world instead of just any old street in London. There were book shops lined with all kinds of books, some were bigger than your head while others were tiny. A shop that sold weird and kinda gross jars full of who knows what. There was a place that only sold brooms but according to the list you had read like a hundred times, first years weren't allowed their own brooms. You spent what felt like a lifetime at Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions getting fitted for robes. Your parents were utterly fascinated by all the different styles and kept asking questions that made the experience so much longer than it really needed to be. You'd never had a pet before, but after a lot of begging they let you pick out a cat; he was a small Persian cat. Not quite a kitten but not quite fully grown. Checking off each item as you went along, you were exhausted by the end of it. There was even enough time for a trip to Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour where you had enjoyed a cone of strawberries and cream with sprinkles on top. All that was left on your list was a wand. Peeling gold letters rested over the door of a shop that read: Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C. Stepping inside it was a tiny little store with no costumers. Thousands of narrow boxes lined the walls all the way up to the ceiling. It didn't take long for the weird old man to give you a wand that felt warm in your hand. Unlike the other disasters that came at the result of you waving various wands, a stream of red and gold sparks shoot out the end of this one like a mini firework. The wand chooses the wizard whatever the hell that meant. All ready and packed for Hogwarts, you were really giddy to go. Your mother cried as she waved you off to boarding school but you couldn't sit still. The train ride took hours and it was a little lonely considering you didn't know anyone but as soon as you entered the castle you knew it was exactly where you were meant to be. The building was massive and practically oozed magic and mystery through each brick. The pictures, much to your surprise, were moving on their own. Hogwarts had four houses and each student had to sit on a tall stool, put on a funny talking hat which would decide ultimately where they belong.

The very first friend you made was Nymphadora Tonks but only because she was in all of your classes and by some twist of fate you always ended up seated together. She was a sweet girl with pink hair and a talent for mischief. There was never a dull moment with you two. Then there was Charlie Weasley. Ever since that brisk day in October when he had ridden in clumsily on his white horse to save the day, the two of you had been the best of friends. You were still getting used to all your different classes. Potions class, however, was proving the most difficult. Too many ingredients and types to get used to. Not to mention Snape was just... mean. The task had been to prepare a simple Wiggenweld Potion; a powerful healing potion that can be used to heal injuries, or reverse the effects of a Sleeping Draught. The book was open on the desk as you carefully followed the instructions until.... poof. All the confidence you'd gained since arriving disappeared as Snape scolded you in front of everyone for messing up. Charlie had swooped in to take the blame landing himself in late-night detention. On the other hand, you got to leave with your tail between your legs and a few house points shaved off the total. And yet even his small act of kindness wasn't enough to capture your affection at least not at first. For the little version of yourself was infatuated with another Weasley. An older Weasley.

The nerves of a handful of students could be felt by anyone sat in the great hall for breakfast. Tonks is sat beside you running butter over a piece of toast. Stifling a yawn, Charlie takes a seat across from the two of you sporting a jumper of Gryffindor red and gold.

"Good morning," You flash your cheeriest, half-asleep smile bringing your spoon of Cheeri Owls to your lips. "Nervous?"

"A little," He was looking especially pale today suggesting he was more than just a little.

"You should be," Tonks perks up. "It's only the last game of the season and all hope rides on the seeker,"

"No pressure then," Charlie huffs out a dull laugh. The boy excelled in his position as the Gryffindor seeker but there was no way to determine how he'd play today when he was carrying the hopes and dreams of his teammates and entire house.

"You should eat something," You suggest, pushing a bowl of assorted fruit forward. There was little you could to make him feel better except take his spot but that wasn't allowed. You also probably wouldn't be that good. "Might make you feel better?"

"I'm too nervous to eat," He insisted but he still took an apple; rolling the red fruit between his palms.

"Win or lose you're still number one in our heart, right Tonks?" Elbowing her gently, you shovel another spoonful of 'O' shapes into your mouth.

"Sure," she shrugs. "If you want we can jinx the other team's seeker? I've been practising."

"Or... how much time do we have? I can get one of the older students to brew some Felix Felicis." You play along. "Nothing like a little liquid luck to win a game."

"You both know that's not allowed," Charlie took a large bite of his apple.

"When has Tonks ever cared about rules," Sometimes you wish she did care, you probably wouldn't have ended up in detention so many times alongside her.

"Thanks but no," he took another bite. "We have to win fair and square."

The conversation drifted from nerves to lost spells and planned practical jokes. Charlie seemed to relax a little the more he spoke. Maybe all he needed was a distraction to cheer him up.

"We need to take a trip to Hogsmeade" Tonk announces. "I'm out of dungbombs."

"Urgh- you and that silly joke shop." You can't help but roll your eyes but it was all good-natured. Despite hardly ever buying anything yourself, you spent an awful lot of time at Zonko's infamous little joke shop. "I could do with a trip outside the castle though. You should come too Charlie and maybe... you could ask Bill if he wants to come?"

"You're still gushing over Bill," Now it was Tonks turn to elbow you playfully, her lips curling up into a tantalising smirk.

"I do not gush over him," you state firmly, brows knitting together in a frown. You didn't appreciate being made fun. Bill was older, wiser and always made time to show you kindness. He made your little heart flutter whenever you saw him and Tonks took every opportunity to tease you about it. "I just thought It'd be nice is all. Wouldn't you agree, Charlie?"

"If you want him to come, ask him yourself." He responds, taking a large gulp of his juice.

"She won't because she has a crush."

"I don't have a crush Nymphadora- stop it," It was infinitely more embarrassing talking about this with Charlie sat at the table. "Don't ask him then, I don't care."

"Yes you do," Placing her arm around your shoulder, she pulls you into her side. "Because you're in love-"

"I am not!" You snap, pushing out of her grip.

"I'll see you guys later." The two of you share a look as Charlie disappears without another word. It was probably just pregame nerves.

"You know what? I think I'll get some frogspawn soap too and put it in the prefects' bathroom." Typical Tonks.

You'd come to learn through your time at Hogwarts that Quidditch was the most popular sport among wizards. And each house had their own team who compete for a trophy and bragging rights. Today was the final game thankfully. Gryffindor vs. Slytherin. Apparently, it came down to these two a lot. As the Gryffindor team filter out of the changing rooms, you slip inside to find Charlie sitting on a little bench.

"Guess who?" You sing-song, slapping your hands over his eyes but only briefly. He turns to look at you with an almost sour expression.

"What are you doing here?"

"I came to support you," you reply soft, offering a smile he couldn't even see as he turned away.

"You're not supposed to be in here," Had you done something to upset him? Surely not. This was the first time you were seeing him since breakfast so there hadn't been a moment for you to mess things up and yet, his voice held an icy chill.

"Guess Tonks is rubbing off on me?" You jest, looking around the room. It was empty apart from you two. Bags and clothes scattered across benches or half shoved into lockers. A chalkboard stood in the corner with drawings you couldn't understand. "I just wanted to see how you were doing before the big game, is all. We were worried about you."

"You were worried about me," He repeats slowly, looking up at you. "I thought you hated quidditch."

"I still do," Your shoulders rise in a little shrug. "It's silly. Doesn't matter how hard the team works or how many goals it's pretty much all decided by how good the seeker is so why even have goals?"

"Score enough goals before the snitch is caught and anyone could win," He perks up. "You just don't understand how good and exciting it is."

Your lips curl up in appreciation for Charlie Weasley and his love for quidditch. It didn't possess the sparkle that came along when he talks about dragons but it was still nice to see him liven up. "Then go out there and show me how exciting it is,"

You stand under the spotlight of his gaze as he seemingly takes in your choice of attire; wearing the Gryffindor colours with pride to show your support. You even let Tonks paint your face after she promised not to draw genitalia. "Do you really think we're gonna win? What if I mess up and everyone hates me?"

"Then you mess up and everyone hates you," You shrug a little. "But that's not gonna happen and you know why?" His head shakes slowly. "It's because you're the best seeker at this school Charles Weasley." You place your hands on either side of his shoulders. "And I believe in you."

"How does that help me?" With your index finger under his chin, you force him to meet your eyes.

"Because I'm never wrong."

"That doesn't sound right." He tries to look away but you stop him.

"But it is," You offer a reassuring smile; one full of determination. "You've got this Charlie. So come on before you miss the game entirely."

The cheers outside were seemingly growing louder by the second. With a deep breath, Charlie stands up, grabbing his broom. "You're staying to watch, right?"

"Of course. Tonks is up in the stands too." Taking his hand, you lead the way out of the tent. "Consider us your good luck charms." Charlie brings the both of you to an abrupt stop before you even reach the opening of the tent, pulling you back to him. "What's up?"

The peppering of freckles that covered Charlie's face was even more vibrant against the rose pink blush. You squeeze his hand a little hoping it makes him feel better. And then it happens. The crowd grows silent in your ear but only for a moment as Charlie's surprisingly soft lips crash clumsily against yours. "For good luck," his whispers; his hand slipping from yours as he leaves you dumbfounded.

"He okay?" Tonks asks as you return from your trip.

"Yeah... still nervous," You reply, sitting down beside her. "It's his first big game after all."

"Are you okay?" The crowd erupts into cheers as the Gryffindor team flys in first. You're almost too embarrassed to look for Charlie; worried about what you might find so you keep your head down. "You look like you've just seen a troll or something?"

"Mhmm," you hum, forcing yourself to watch the Slytherin team as they enter. Why had Charlie kissed you? Did it mean he liked you or was he just messing around? Your head swirled with possibilities.

"You want a sweet?" Your friend offers as the game finally starts. It takes you a second to register but you smile, reaching into the little bag she was holding only to come to a stop.

"They're not gonna burn my tongue off or something are they?"

"No," Her chuckle sounded a little too innocent but you trust her for some reason. Taking a piece of confectionery out of the paper bag.

"Charlie... kissed me." You announce, throwing the sweet into you mouth; face scrunching up when they turn out to be sour. Ten points to Slytherin as they take the lead.

"He what?"

"He... kissed me."

2. Together

Who was Bill Weasley but a distant playground crush after that day. And your time of classrooms and magic lessons came swiftly to an end; how bittersweet it felt to leave a place you loved dearly. A once naive little girl stepping into the unknown now called the Wizarding World Home. Now you would go on to be a healer which was simply a magical doctor although your parents strongly disagreed with the comparison. However proud they were of you there would always be some part of them that wished you had chosen to become a lawyer or 'real' doctor.

Bathed in the warm embrace of the setting sun, you ponder the tranquility in a bed of green grass. The youngest Weasley lay beside you, struggling to keep still as often children do. She was similar to her brother in that way who now paced back and forth a mere few steps away. The invitation had been for dinner but you arrived a little early. The burrow was always such a welcoming place like stepping into a home you used to live in many moons ago; it was cosy and warm and there was no doubt that many lived there. You found your house to be almost the opposite, it always looked like nobody lived there. Immaculate. Polished. Cold.

"Will you stop pacing, you're making me nervous." You call out to your boyfriend, opening your eyes only to squint at the bright light. "What's wrong with you?"

Charlie comes to a stop as you sit up; Ginny mimics you in sitting up but the boy's eyes stay on you. The longer he stared, the more the pit in your stomach grew; what exactly hid behind his blank expression. He normally possessed such a playful warmth but it seemed to have vanished as of late. Plucking a stray purple flower, you enclose it in the palm of your hands. "You know I love dragons right?"

"Of course," Since meeting him, he had probably managed to slip dragons into every conversation you had ever had. It was at a point where you knew far more about dragons than you ever really cared to know. Many found his obsession annoying because that's what he so obviously was, obsessed but you found it enticing. Charming, even. Opening up your hand, a small butterfly with deep plum-purple wings flutters into the air and onto a giggly Ginny's nose. The innocent glee of a child; how those days were gone for you. "What's that got to do with anything?"

"Promise you won't be mad?" It would be foolish to make such a promise when there was no way to guarantee your reaction. Whatever it was must be bad, if he was this worried. Your shoulders rise a little then fall.

"I make no such promises- just tell me."

Charlie took a breath that travelled on the wind to your ears before he blurted out.  "I'm moving to Romania."

"Okay," Is your first reaction while your brain tries to make sense of something it didn't want to hear. "Wait- what?"

"Charlie is moving away to work with big scary dragons," Ginny announces playfully, baring her little hands like claws.

The once small pit grew into a mighty black hole of uncertainty and sadness that threatened to swallow you whole. There had been conversations shared between friends of Charlie wanting to move away to a foreign land, just to finally see a dragon but you had never taken it at face value. Always so convinced it was but a dream rather like those of when you were little and you wished to be a vampire. Technically back then you didn't know they actually existed but still, even now it was never going to come true. Eyes cast upon the second eldest Weasley, he kicks up the grass with his hands buried in the pockets of his pants. "It's the nearest Dragon reserve."

That was something you already knew but it didn't make the decision, at least in your eyes, any less confusing. Instead, it prompted water to well up in your eyes for this was something that affected not only him and his family but your life too. "I... I don't know what to say,"

"Hey Ginny, can you go check if dinner's ready yet?"

"No- why can't you do it?" The bark behind her words was very in character for the fiesty young Weasley. Blinking away the tears, you plaster on the best smile you can muster.

"If you go check on dinner I promise we can play a game later, okay? Exploding snap maybe?"

"Really?" She eyes you suspicious probably because it was a promise you had broken before. Not always for the right reasons but this time it was genuine. Charlie clearly wanted this to be a private conversation or perhaps he was just saving you for the inevitable moment where she asks why you're crying. Ginny scrambles to feet when you nod and skips off towards the gravity-defying house. It still amazed you that the building hadn't fallen yet. Rising to your feet you brush yourself off.

"You know I want nothing more than to work with Dragons and this is the only way I can do that," There was no mistaking the serious tone that came along with his words. It didn't matter what you said there was no changing his mind but you wouldn't do that anyway. It seemed cruel to even try to get him to give up on something so precious and you would never want to do that to him. "I have an opportunity to do something I love and I won't waste it to get some boring job at the ministry."

"I don't expect you too..." You wanted nothing more than to tell him to stay; beg him even. You were fighting against the selfish little devil that was stabbing you in the heart. It was a dull, deep pain in your chest. You wanted Charlie to follow his dreams, you just never expected them to not include you. "It's just a lot to take in."

"I know," The red-headed boy walks ever so slowly over to you, taking both hands in his. His hands had always felt a little rough ever since Hogwarts. You used to complain back then and insist he needed to moisturise but over time you had grown fond of the familiarity. How you wished this tender moment could last forever because it very well might be your last. You're caught off guard when he yanks you forward. You stumble into his chest where he wraps his arms around you like the big teddy bear he was. You breathe in every inch of him like it was the last time. The intoxicating aroma of an early walk in the woods; that fresh earthy smell that really makes you appreciate where you are. You could almost picture the pine trees.

"I feel like I'm losing you," Your words but a whisper, lost on the breeze.

"You're not," His grip around you tightens and suddenly your in the air, spinning around. "You could never get rid of me that easily.

"Charlie," You fight back a smile as you return to the ground; burying your face in the nook of his neck. "What's gonna happen to us?"

"About that-"

"Because I don't know if I can do the whole long-distance thing? So do we break up?" The tears threaten to fall once again as you pull back to get a good look at him. You never wanted to forget the emerald of his eyes or each and every freckle that called his body home. The unusual scare that adorned his eyebrow that was always amusing to look at. If that was his true purpose to break up with you then there would be no stopping the tears when they finally burst through the damn.

"No, I-"

"Because that's a little mean Charlie, you could have at least waited until after dinner. Should have done it first actua-"

You words become mumbled by the palm of his hand which he's placed over your mouth like a seal of protection. "Shush for a minute."

It's hard to resist so you simply don't; sticking your tongue you deliberately lick the palm of his hand but it seems to not phase him whatsoever.

"I'm not breaking up with you, silly," You meet his gaze. "I was kind of thinking you could come with me?"

Reaching up, you yank his hand away. "To Romania?  You've got to be joking."

"Why not?"

Did you even know how to answer that? There were so many reasons why one should not just up and leave to go live in a completely different country with the boy they dated through high school. "I can't just up and leave my family- my mum will be devastated."

"I'll talk to her about it," Charlie hums softly, placing a delicate kiss upon your forehead. "Your mum loves me and she wants you to be happy."

"Dinner's Ready," For such a small girl, Ginny had one big mouth. There was no mistaking her call. However, this whole situation now felt a little... off. Could you even sit through dinner without it all becoming weird?

"We're coming," Charlie yells back; offering up his hand which you reluctantly take and he leads the way back to the house. "You want to be a healer right? You could do that in Romania."

"I guess," You weren't exactly worried about not finding a job.

"You don't have to decide right now," He tells you before you have a chance to speak up again. "Just think about it. I mean the invitation is there and for what it's worth, I'd really like you to come."  

3. Creeping doubts

It took a lot of convincing but despite everything you decided to follow Charlie into the Unknown. Your parents weren't thrilled with the decision but they respected it; they were just worried about what would happen if something went wrong. And as their only child, they would obviously miss you. A lot of time was spent at the burrow that summer before moving to Romania; you were beginning to feel like an honorary Weasley only with the experience of having been a muggle for the first eleven years of your life. It was but a three-hour flight to Romania and your mother had sobbed at the airport. It made you think back to your first time stepping onto the Hogwarts express, leaving your parents behind to go to a magical boarding school in Scotland. It was a peculiar thought but a nice one. One you wished to cherish. Now in a foreign land with no support system behind you other than a boy you had been dating for years, you were ready for a new adventure. And there was officially no doubt in your mind that you would do just about anything for Charlie Weasley.

"It's not much," Charlie sets his suitcase down on the table. "Best I could do, for now, I'm afraid."

"It's fine," It was an old apartment in a building full of what you assumed were muggles. There was a small living room area with an ugly pea-coloured couch nestled against one wall. Beside it was a small coffee table and on the other side of the room was a TV, you weren't convinced actually worked. Then there was the kitchen which was attached to the living room. It had a fridge, a cooker and some cupboards. The only other room was a bedroom that literally only housed a bed in at the moment, then there was a door that leads on to the bathroom. It definitely wasn't much but a crappy apartment was just part of the experience, right? At least that's what you were telling yourself. "it'll feel like home soon enough," You had everything you needed to make this place feel like home right in your suitcase; oh the joys of magic. Patting yourself down, you search for the key to easy unpacking. "Uh... have you seen my wand?"

His head shakes and wears an amused grin. "You remembered to bring it right?"

"Yes," you huff. "I was gonna unpack," Falling back against the wall, you slide down onto the floor which you imagine hasn't been cleaned in a while considering the dust. "It's gonna take so long without my wand- which may actually be in the suitcase now that I think about it."

"Did you forget I'm a wizard too?"

"You do it then," You drop your head back against the wall. "I'm starving."

"actually have you seen my wand?"

You giggle to yourself "You're an idiot,"

"Hey- you lost your wand too." His shadow lingers over you as he comes to join you against the wall. Taking up a seat beside you, your head falls to rest against his shoulder.  

"Can we get pizza? I saw some of those leaflets when we came in so we could order some?"

"Whatever you want, my love."

As time ticks on the pizza box is left discarded in the kitchen as the two of you retire for the night. Who knew not actually unpacking but simply thinking about it while eating pizza on the dirty ground could be so much work. You struggle to hold back a yawn as you snuggle up to him trying to absorb as much of his body heat as you can. All that lay across the two of you were a blanket and this building was next exactly the warmest. "Do you think we'll be okay? "You ponder aloud; it was a question that had been on your mind since agreeing to follow him to Romania. For not many people stay together with their high school loves. What if things fall apart now that you're in the 'real' world? What if this was all just a huge mistake?

"What do you mean?" Always such a simple boy; you wonder how he deals with his anxieties. Did he actually not know what you meant or was he merely putting on a brave face? A once proud Gryffindor suggested that he always looked to be brave above anything else.

"Do you think we'll be okay?" You repeat as if that somehow answers his question but it must have done something because even in the darkness you can just tell he's smiling.

"You worry way too much." Charlie laughs.

"You don't worry enough,"

He lays a kiss upon the top of your head, his hand moving up and down your arm. "It used to be the other way around."

"I was young and reckless back then. "How you missed the days where you ran around the halls of Hogwarts with reckless abandon. Well, not entirely reckless that was more Tonks but things had definitely felt simpler back then.

"You're still young and reckless now, I just have to hear you stress about it afterwards." Charlie taunts, pinching your arm. You recoil at the sharp pain.

"Shush."

"Being in Romania doesn't change anything," He expresses; his voice sounding louder in the quiet darkness. "I loved you back home and I still love you now. I'm really glad you decided to come with me."

Hoping to distract yourself from every worrying thought that clouded your brain you decide it's time to change the subject. "Are you nervous about tomorrow?"

"Getting to work with Dragons all day every day? that's like dream come true."

"A dangerous one," Dragons were perhaps the most vicious creatures around other than humans. As captivating as they were and as much as charlie adored them, you couldn't help but worry about his safety. It seemed no matter the topic this evening you'd find a way to stress yourself out.

"I'll be fine, I'll have you there to patch me up," That he will for you had taken on the role as a healer willing to help out with all the injuries that inevitably come from dealing with dragons. You wouldn't admit it but you weren't quite convinced you were up to the task; you had never actually dealt with dragon-related injuries so this was like diving headfirst into the ocean when you only just learned how to swim in a training pool. "and if not- well, we had a good run."

"Don't joke about that," Nuzzling against his chest, you finally let your eyes close. Today was the start of forever with the one and only Charles Weasley and here he was joking about his ultimate demise.

4. The perfect day

It's peculiar how life can just fall into place. Your odd little world of dragons and leaky apartment buildings just became the norm. You had come to love your work at the reserve, Dragons were actually incredibly cool up close. Not to mention getting to see Charlie work with them after years of never shutting up about them was truly a sight to behold. Every day, it was like taking an excited little boy to his first day of school. His eyes simply lit up whenever he was at work although it was hard explaining his injuries to the neighbours when they were being nosey. You also had to be careful when using magic since you were basically living with muggles and it would be a headache if they ever found out.

With your site blocked by a thin piece of fabric, Charlie guides you carefully forward with his hands skillfully placed upon your arms to steer. This was the first day off the two of you have shared in a long time. Little information was given about your destination other than it being a surprise. With Charlie that could mean just about anything which wasn't always a good thing but you trusted him enough to believe he wasn't leading you into a dragon's den or something. A gentle breeze nipped at the skin of your neck and the ground felt soft under your feet. The gentle singing of a symphony of birds filled the air and the sun beamed down with remarkable easy. All this suggested you were somewhere withdrawn in nature. Charlie had always been one for the great outdoors. There were countless times you had found him sneaking in or out of the forbidden forest back at school.

"Am I going to like this surprise?" You inquire; your anxiety building with each step. You would much prefer to simply know what was going on rather than experience some dramatic reveal especially today of all days. Every year the boy seems to forget that he agreed not to make a big deal.

"I sure hope so," You practically slam into him as she comes to an unexpected standstill. "Because I don't think I can return it."

"Return what? Oh god- can I take my blindfold off?"

As the flimsy fabric skims the length of your face to settle loosely around your neck, your eyes take a minute to adapt. You don't know quite what you were expecting but this was not it. Before you stands a small cottage surrounded by nothing but a wide-open field full of a rainbow of wildflowers. It was a beautiful little house with as much charm and beauty you'd expect from a place out in what seems like the middle of nowhere. It could be described as the perfect place to settle down.

"Surprise!" He was redder than a cherry tomato when he stepped into view. Both arms in the air as a sign of celebration but you were just rather... confused? Whose house was this and why had he brought you all the way out here?

"I don't get it?"

"We've been here for a while now so I thought we should get our own place or like, a better place. One where we don't have to worry about anyone else." His confidence appeared to develop with each word but his face was still powdered in a deep shade of pink. S this was your house? He'd decided to up and move without even consulting you? "So I got us a little cottage in the middle of nowhere. It kinda reminds me of the burrow only, y'know, smaller."

"It's ours?" His excitement is clear on his face and he quickly takes your hand. Pulling you along with him. "And that's not all."

"There's more?" Surely a whole house was enough. You were quite proud of Charlie for picking such a beautiful little place. Come summertime, you could already see yourself sitting among the flowers painting little pictures. You also wouldn't have to worry about muggles. Coming up on the front door, your boyfriend delivers you a little golden key. And with just a tiny degree of fear about what could be on the other side you unlock it. Much to your astonishment and disappointment, nothing is behind the door except the hallway leading inside. Charlie enters first and even as you follow, you half expect someone to jump out.

"I know I agreed not to make a big deal but how could I not?" He opens a door at the end of the hallway that leads to the kitchen. It's not a massive space but it's assuredly not small either, the whole place was already furnished but you recognise the surprise was truly what sat on the table. It was a two-tier cake covered in blue frosting including the words Happy Birthday scrawled across the top followed by your name.

"You... baked?"

"Mum sent it actually," Charlie chortled lightly as he wanders up behind you. Tossing a package of red with multicoloured polka-dots onto the table. "Sent this along too. Reckon it's a jumper or something."

"That was nice of her," You weren't sure of how to react to it all. Birthdays had never really been your thing but you appreciated that Mrs. Weasley had gone out of her way to make you something special.

"And from me..." He trails off and the sound of tiny tracks echo off the walls attended by an adorable yelp. Up to your feet slides an ash grey puppy who was more legs than anything else. It had bright blue eyes and floppy ears.

"You got me a dog?"

"I got us a dog- thought we needed a pet around here. I debated getting a crup but that'd be a disaster if your parents ever decide to visit." Crups were notorious for their dislike of muggles. You never understood why but he was right in his decision. The gesture was sweet but rather odd all things considered but still you smile. It was hard to be mad at something so cute and you weren't just talking about the dog. The puppy sits at your feet, wagging its little tail a mile a minute. There was no denying how adorable it was and at least it wasn't a dragon. Or a murtlap for that matter, those things were ugly. "You don't seem happy... do you not like him? I can take him back?" Kneeling, your hand drifts over the soft fur of the puppy's head. In response, the dog jumps up in an attempt to lick at your face. Your smile grows as you try to get away. "I think he likes you."

"What's his name?"

"Whatever you want? He's a Great Dane by the way." The puppy had calmed down a little and you stare as you ponder the perfect name for an ash grey Great Dane. "How about... Arlo?"

"Arlo?"

"Mhmm," You hum standing up straight. "And I'm plenty happy if not a little overwhelmed. You know how I feel when it comes to my birthday."

"I do," He nods casually. His palms snake around your waist drawing you flush against him "But I never want you to forget that someone cares about you- that I care about you so bloody much."

"I know you do," You give him a quick peck on the lips. "And I'm thankful for that and for all of this."

"Arlo is the perfect name, Happy Birthday" Your lips connect in a beautifully slow embrace that fills your body with warmth and as he pulls away, his forehead comes to rest against yours.  The dog barking as it explores the kitchen. "I'm just so grateful that you decided to run away with me."

#Charlie Weasley x reader #Charlie Weasley #charlie weasley imagine #hogwarts mystery #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction

[kokkoro]

Okay I have a funny prompt for you: Clarke gets a flat tire and doesn’t know how to change it and doesn’t have a ton of money to call someone. She orders a pizza and in the special instructions says she’ll tip $20 if they help her change her flat. Two workers arrive and she thinks it’s gonna be the tall muscled dude (Lincoln) but he’s like oh no, idk I’m not into cars, she’s gonna do it, and out comes Lexa. Clarke is gay the whole time watching her biceps as she works

“Absolutely not.”

“And why the heck not?” Raven asks. “Do you really want to sit on your butt until my 4 o’clock class gets out and I can come save your ass?”

“No,” Clarke says dejectedly, watching cars fly by on the highway.

“Then what’ve you got to lose? The worst that can happen is you're stuck there for another three hours with some pizza.”

“I guess,” Clarke mutters, glancing over her shoulder. She stares at the deflated shape of her rear passenger side tire and exhales a pitiful sigh, bringing up her right hand to rub her forehead.

“Alright, then. Keep me posted, ‘kay?” Raven says. “I’ll check in on you during break.”

“Please,” Clarke replies, but it’s quiet and lost to the wind the second Raven hangs up the line. And with nothing but the highway and her thoughts, it only takes a minute for Clarke to google the nearest pizza place.

Polis Pizzeria. Just fifteen minutes away despite being in the next town over, and Clarke’s pleasantly surprised to find there’s even a deal for a five dollar small two topping pizza when purchased in pairs. It’s easy enough to pay for with the little bit of money still left in her checking and altogether manages to scrounge up 20 and change from various nooks of her car. A couple of ones under the seat, one ten and a five in the glove compartment, and then another random dollar bill in between the center console and the passenger seat. Combined with what was left in her wallet, it gives her the necessary courage to press the order button, this short note in the comments section stating a nice tip for anyone willing and able to change a tire. 

Two small pizzas and a Pepsi later, Clarke opens up the passenger door of her beat up sedan and waits, scrolling through various feeds on her phone and ignoring the way her car rattles as cars fly by on the highway. A little bit of a breeze filters through the open windows, cooling the otherwise warm interior as the sun overhead finally begins its descent. Autumn could not come fast enough.

Clarke catches sight of the red hatchback in her rearview mirror what feels like a second too late. Taken off guard, she scrambles to right herself from her recline with her feet kicked up onto the dash and loses her phone somewhere in between the seats. She hears a door behind her close, and manages to pull herself upright onto solid ground just in time to see a tall muscular man most likely only a year or two older than herself, round the corner of her car holding two boxes of pizza. His smile is warm, his shaved head hidden under a black and red baseball cap sporting a now familiar looking letter P.

“Hey,” Clarke manages, clearing her throat.

“I’m guessing you’re the one with car trouble, huh?” he says, not even bothering to hide the amused quirk to his lips.

“Is it that obvious?” Clarke says, giving an awkward half shrug as the embarrassment takes hold.

He chuckles, handing over the pizza. “We’ve all been there, trust me.”

Clarke cracks a smile, the boxes warm under her arms. “Is this something you do often, then?”

He raises a confused eyebrow, and Clarke's stomach drops. It’s at this point that, if she had been paying more attention, Clarke would have heard the sound of the hatchback trunk as it swings shut. “Do what?”

“Change people’s tires?” Clarke says, voice a pitch high as her heart drops.

The man laughs, reaching up to scratch the back of his head underneath the hat. “I don’t know anything about cars, sorry. I’m not into that kind of thing.” He pulls his hand away, pointing back over his shoulder with his thumb. “That’s why Lexa is here.”

“Lexa?” Clarke repeats, eyes narrowed. She leans to the left to peer around the tall bulky form in front of her, and feels her jaw drop. Just for a second at least, as Clarke takes in the sight of the woman with a hat between her teeth as she deftly gathers up the thick mane of her hair using the reflection in the window.

The heat of the day is already curling the hair near her temples and the woman named Lexa tries unsuccessfully to tuck the pesky strands behind her ears with little success. She gives up, taking the hat from between her teeth and tugging her hair through the back, adjusting the bill until it sits comfortably on her head, shading her eyes. When she turns toward them, picking up the duffel bag near her feet, Clarke scrapes her jaw off the ground, catching a hint of green as Lexa’s eyes dart in her direction.

“Need any help?” the man asks. Lexa snorts, quiet, shaking her head, and Clarke's stomach swoops.

“You’ll just get in the way,” Lexa says as she comes to stand by her coworker. “No offense.”

“None taken.” He waits a second and then, “You two okay if I hang out in the car? I brought a book.”

“No, no, it’s fine, I’m not--” Clarke says, fully aware that the end of this sentence is just as much a mystery to herself as it is to everyone else. Coherency lost somewhere between flustered and too bi to function.

Lexa sets down her bag of tools and they clamber against the pavement near the flat tire. The man nudges her in the shoulder. “I’ll be back at the car then.”

“Sure,” Lexa replies, bending down to pick up the wrench. She squats, and Clarke watches her pop off the five plastic caps covering these large bolts with her free hand. Once they’re all off, she looks right, and Clarke straightens under the stare. “Do you have the car in park?”

Clarke nods.

“Good.” Lexa looks away, lining up the wrench with one of the large bolts. There’s a little bit of force required with the initial twist as Lexa leans into the wrench with her weight and Clarke isn’t blind to the way the veins in her hands and wrist become subtly more pronounced, the muscles in her forearms flexing.

Clarke clears her throat. “You, uh, do this often?”

“You could say that,” Lexa grunts, putting her weight into the next bolt. It loosens and she turns the wrench a couple full rotations before moving on to the next.

The sun seems warmer now, mid afternoon and the breeze all but gone save for the passing cars along the highway. A little bit of shine catches Lexa’s upper lip as she continues to work and she turns her head to wipe it off against her sleeve, the bill of her hat blocking her eyes from view.

“I take it you’ve never done this before?” Lexa asks, her focus elsewhere as she rummages through the bag at her feet.

“Uh, no, not really,” Clarke says, watching as Lexa pulls out a brick from the bag. Satisfied, she gets up to place it diagonally opposite the flat tire before returning to her spot. Squatting down, Lexa rolls up the sleeves of her work shirt, in preparation for what Clarke isn’t sure, but she isn’t going to say no to the view. Especially when the black ink of a tattoo pokes out beneath the sleeve.

“Do you want to learn?”

Clarke blinks, eyes darting up to find Lexa watching, arms draped over her thighs.

“It might save you some money in the future,” Lexa adds, the slightest of smiles at the corner of her lips.

“Sure,” Clarke says, a little breathless. “Yeah, I guess.”

The smile spreads just barely. “You might want to put the pizza down then.”

Clarke looks down at her hands, the warmth from the underside of the boxes seeping into her skin. A blush rushes to her cheeks. “Right.” Clarke turns towards the front passenger seat and the still open door and sets the box inside.

“All set?” Lexa asks once she returns, watching as Clarke crouches down beside her.

Clarke pushes the hair back from her face, brows pulled together. “I’m ready.”

Their knees bump as Lexa shifts, tugging off a hair tie from around her wrist. She offers it wordlessly, and after a second of thought, Clarke holds out her hand. Lexa drops the elastic into her palm.

“Thanks,” Clarke says, reaching back and gathering her hair in a loose bun.

“Don’t mention it.”

Lexa starts off by naming the little bits and pieces, gesturing to each of the tools in her duffel bag and explaining their intended use. She helps Clarke find the appropriate spot underneath the car for the jack using the user’s manual Clarke never thought she’d actually use, and from there, it's relatively simple.

The tire comes off easily once the car is jacked and the rest of the lugnuts are removed, set in a neat little pile by the bag. Lexa does most of the heavy lifting, removing the now flat tire while Clarke attempts to wrangle the spare from the trunk.

She doesn’t get far before Lexa appears in her peripheral.

“I can grab it,” Lexa says, stepping close. A pleasant scent fills Clarke’s nose, their shoulders touching, and it feels far too warm.

Clarke pulls away, and Lexa steps into the now unoccupied space at the back of the car. “All yours,” Clarke replies, but Lexa is already finishing the job, hefting the spare tire from where Clarke had managed to prop it onto the lip of the trunk and up under her arm with a grunt.

Clarke follows without anything else to do, standing by as Lexa fits the new tire into place. “See this?” she says, pointing to a nub along the rim once the tire is fitted back onto the axle. “It’s the air valve. This should always face out.”

Lexa reaches down beside the nearby bag, picking up the lugnuts. She double counts them in her palm and then looks up. “Would you like the honors?”

“Okay,” Clarke says. She takes her place down by Lexa's side, holding out her hands for the bolts. Lexa carefully deposits them into her hands before reaching down for the wrench and with her help, the spare is secured and stable and the car is back on four wheels in no time. Lexa stores her tools back where they belong in her bag, slinging the strap over her shoulder as she stands. She reaches up to tug off the hat, and Clarke has the misfortune (pleasure) of seeing Lexa run her hand through it, scratching at her scalp, before pushing it all over her left shoulder in one curly wave.

“Hey,” Clarke says, the word stumbling from her lips. Lexa looks in her direction and for a second her heart stops. Clarke clears her throat. “Thanks.”

Lexa’s lips tilt upward. “Anytime.”

When she turns to leave, Clarke acts on instinct. “Wait--” She reaches for the first thing within range. Which just so happens to be Lexa’s shirt. There’s a specific kind of mortification that seizes the air in lungs, but she pushes through it. “Wait,” she says more firmly before letting go and bolting back over to the passenger side door. She leans in over the seat, scrounging up the pile of money left in the center console.

She scrambles back outside in a rush, almost knocking her head on the door frame, but Lexa patiently remains where Clarke saw her last. Her shoulders are relaxed and she looks almost bored. It’s the sparkle in her eyes when she catches Clarke's stare that convinces her otherwise.

“Thanks for saving my butt,” Clarke says, handing over the money.

“You don’t need to,” Lexa says, her eyes not leaving Clarke's.

A blush burns gently under her cheeks, pleasant and warm all the way down to her neck. “Uh, yeah I do.”

Lexa’s fingers close around the money, folding the bills in half and then fitting them into the back pocket of her jeans. “Thank you…?”

“Clarke,” she answers.

Lexa’s smile is small but infinitely soft. “Drive safe, Clarke,” she says, and turns around toward the red hatchback idling behind her car.

“Bye,” Clarke replies. It's barely an exhale, lost completely beneath the wind.

--

“You have some explaining to do,” Raven says, startling Clarke where she’s sat at the kitchen table, her phone slipping from her fingers and hitting the table with a loud thunk.

Clarke scoops it back up, quick to close out of the recent calls section of her phone app. “I already told you what happened.”

Raven hums, looking wholly unconvinced as she sets down her laptop bag and various books onto their already crowded table. “And I’ve known you long enough to realize when you’re withholding juicy information.” She takes a seat across from Clarke, and waits what seems like minutes before continuing. “You can’t just mention that a pretty girl showed up to help you change your tire and expect me to leave it at that.”

“Yeah I kinda am.”

“Did you get her number?”

“What?” Clarke blinks. “No, of course not. She was working, I’m not going to do that to her. Besides she’s probably not even gay.”

“She showed up to change your tire, Clarke. And not to stereotype but that’s pretty lesbian of her.”

Clarke rolls her eyes, busying herself by checking through her emails. Nothing holds her attention long enough and she soon finds herself back where started. The Polis Pizzeria number stares back at her and for once in her life Clarke decides not to think.

It’s probably the worst decision of her life.

Even without the phone pressed to her ear, the ringing is undeniable and Raven’s eyebrows shoot up as her eyes dart between the phone and Clarke’s equally surprised face. A second and then two pass and Raven stands up from the table just as Clarke raises the phone up to her ear in time to hear:

“Polis Pizzeria, how can I help you?”

“Yeah, hi, uh...” Clarke swallows, her cheeks burning. A feeling she thought she had long since abandoned back in high school. “I’m looking for Lexa. Is she there? This is Clarke.”

“Speaking.”

It’s like a shot. The sudden nerves that come hurtling back and her palms go clammy with sweat, tongue thick and sticking to the roof of her mouth, and all rational thought decides to leave her in an instant. On the other side of the room Raven falls into an insistent fit of giggles.

“More car trouble?” Lexa says, breaking the awkward, drawn out silence.

“No. I mean, yeah, I--” Clarke swallows around the lump in her throat. Raven wheezes. “Maybe? I don’t know, I--”

Raven lets out a squeak of laughter, and Clarke picks up the closest pen and chucks it in her direction. It unfortunately misses by a wide margin.

“Clarke?” comes Lexa’s voice over the line.

Her attention returns immediately. “Look, I’m...I’m sorry, I don’t know why I called you.” Clarke stops, dropping her head into her hand. “Do you want your hair tie back?”

Lexa chuckles and somewhere in the background Clarke thinks she hears someone call Lexa’s name.

“How about this,” Lexa says softly, and the sound of that voice in her ear nearly makes Clarke melt. “I’ll give you my number. Feel free to text me if you have any car questions.”

Clarke picks up her head, staring out across the kitchen. “Really?”

“Yes,” Lexa answers, and for some reason Clarke can picture her smiling. “Really.”

#clexa #did i watch a video on how to change your tire to write this? #why yes yes i did #thank fanfiction for finally teaching me how to change a tire #also why tf is this 2.5k words #blah de ba blah #posting this late bc writing's been rough and this probably isn't the best

[mcwriting]

The Marriage Project (7)

IT’S FINALLY HERE! MY FAVORITE CHAPTER OF THIS SERIES!!! Consider it a little Christmas gift from me to y’all :) there’s plenty more to come, but I loveee the vibes of this one so much

Story Masterlist

Word Count: 3491

Warnings: Some language but I’m pretty sure that’s it

% approximately the end of the 2nd week of October %

You stood on the Holland’s front porch Sunday afternoon holding a rust red jumpsuit over one shoulder and your volleyball bag on the other. 

It was nippy out, probably 50-something fahrenheit, but you’d tucked your long sleeved jersey into some black sweats and tossed on your letterman. You had decided to wear your favorite jersey, which was black except for the stripe down each sleeve in your school colors and the white words and number on the torso.

Since you were taking pictures, you straightened your hair again and put on some light makeup to complete the look.

Paddy opened the front door, looking star struck.

“Oh, hey Paddy. How are you?”

He stared up at you, flustered.

“I, um. Good?”

You gave a big smile.

“Good to hear. Mind if I come in? It’s kinda cold out.”

“Oh, yeah. Sure.”

He stepped out of the way and shut the door behind you. Inside, Tom was running around frantically, grabbing various clothing items and stuffing them in a bag. He noticed you as he passed by.

“Hey, y/n. Sorry, just trying to get all my football stuff together. It just came out of the dryer.”

You watched in amusement as he rushed back and forth. Nikki came and stood next to you.

“I love my sons, but they can be a real mess sometimes,” she joked. “Let's go put your things in the car while he gets himself together.”

You set the bag in the back of her SUV and hung the jumpsuit hanger on a loop to prevent it from wrinkling. You were talking in the garage when Tom burst through the door, a duffel bag on his shoulder.

“Okay, sorry. I couldn’t find one of my cleats,” he explained, tossing his own bag in the back. He didn’t yet put on his uniform since the pads would get uncomfortable, so Tom just wore some jeans and a tee for the ride.

“Y/n, do you want to hop in front? I’m sure Tom wouldn’t mind,” Nikki said, raising her eyebrows at her son.

“Are you sure? I don’t mind either way.”

“It’s fine. We can just switch on the way home,” Tom replied. You found it odd that he didn’t press but assumed it had something to do with his mom standing nearby.

With that, you loaded up and started the hour long drive. The time passed quickly as you conversed with Nikki, telling her about your plans for after high school. In the backseat, Tom dabbed a little bit of his mom's foundation over the still-discolored parts of his cheek.

Eventually, you got to a small neighborhood and pulled up to a cute cabin. As you and Tom retrieved your things from the trunk, an elderly couple appeared on the front porch.

“Hey, mom. Hey, dad,” Nikki began, hugging them. She gestured to you, “This is y/n. You might recognize her from Tom’s soccer games and some academic things, she’s on the girls team and very smart.”

You blushed at the compliments.

“Why, yes, I have seen you. It’s nice to meet you, dear. Just call us grandma and grandpa,” Nikki’s mother said as you were shaking hands with her husband. 

She walked up and enveloped you in a hug. As you awkwardly wrapped your own arms around her, you looked over her shoulder to find Tom shrugging sheepishly at you.

She pulled away, holding you at an arm's length.

“Well you are just the prettiest thing, aren’t you?” You blushed at her kindness and thanked her. “Now what are we all doing standing around out here? Come on in! I made cookies while you were on the way so they’re still warm.”

She ushered everyone in, Tom holding open the screen door for the group. Tom directed you to a spare room to set down your bags and hang your jumpsuit while Nikki got her camera things together.

You were sat around the dining room eating cookies discussing the afternoon’s timeline. You and Tom would take your sports pictures, then everyone would eat around five, and then you’d go back out in regular clothes for golden hour at around six.

After a few minutes, Nikki finished getting her lens ready.

“Okay. Tom, why don’t you go put on your football uniform and meet us down at the dock. Y/n, do you need to get anything else for your volleyball pictures?”

You answered yes, walking with Tom to the room to grab your volleyball shoes and ball. You were waiting to take off your sweatpants until you got outside for two reasons: it was cold, and you felt weird about walking around his grandparents’ house in only spandex shorts.

The dock wasn’t far, you could see it from the top of the wooden staircase built into the side of the hill the cabin sat on.

You and Nikki conversed as you walked down, discussing ideas of poses and where you’d stand.

You shimmied out of your sweats once you got to the dock, draping them over a metal chair covered in dead leaves. The cold air gave your legs goosebumps, but you sucked it up. You were just glad you’d remembered to shave your legs above anything else. 

Nikki directed you around some trees, had you toss your hair over your shoulder, and took a few pictures with you in your letterman. It had been about 15 minutes when Tom came down in his football gear, helmet and ball in hand.

“Oh, perfect. Tom, would you mind tossing some leaves for me? I have a neat idea for a shot.”

She had you stand in front of the water and palm the volleyball as Tom sent a handful of leaves in the air around you. You tried a few with a serious expression and some while laughing. After a few more shots that included you sitting on the dock, she had Tom jump in next to you.

“Okay, y/n, I want you to stand with the ball on your right side like that, and then Tom, get on her left and hold the helmet by the facemask,” she pointed around, guiding you. “Good! Okay now y/n, put your weight on your left leg and Tom, raise your chin. Serious faces people!” 

There were clicks and flashes as she continued to direct you in slightly different poses. One cool shot had each of you palming your respective sports balls in front of you.

“Okay, are you good with those, y/n? Is there anything else you want in your jersey before I start working on Tom’s?” 

You shook your head and gestured for her to move on with Tom’s pictures. By now your legs were used to the cold, so you refrained from putting your sweats back on, instead just standing behind Nikki watching Tom model like he’d been doing it his whole life.

Oh right… he has

His mom and he worked together well, as if they were reading each other’s minds. 

You studied the way Tom looked. After all these years, you’d never really looked at him intently enough to see the way he filled out his uniform so well. 

His biceps bulged when he moved his arms to flex for a couple shots, and the tight pants and pads around his legs gave the illusion of massive thigh muscles. As you looked back up, his necklace caught your eye. 

He hadn’t tucked it in completely, instead letting it dangle over his jersey, the red “ruby” glinting in the afternoon sunlight. You smiled at the fact he’d left it on, then looked down at your own hand. You’d forgotten to take yours off, too.

Would it be noticeable in the pictures? Was there a possibility family members would start asking if you’d secretly gotten engaged when you eventually shared the shots online? Maybe, but you decided it wasn’t a big enough deal to worry about. Some had already pestered you Friday at dinner.

You didn’t realize how long you’d been out there when a cowbell began ringing from above you. 

“Oh! That’s mom. Dinner must be about ready. Let’s head back up. I think we got enough, Tom,” Nikki explained.

She started heading up the stairs as you grabbed your ball and sweats, and Tom was waiting for you at the bottom, holding his jersey and pads so he was only left in a compression shirt on top. He started up a few steps ahead of you. 

Woah. His ass looks really nice in those pants was the first thought that popped into your head when you looked up. Oh wait. Shit, what am I saying?

You tried to avoid looking as you continued up the hill. By the time you reached the top, Nikki was already entering the house and Tom was again waiting for you. You passed right by him when he spoke up.

“You’re really gonna go in the house like that?”

You stopped and turned back to face him.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, you really want to walk into the home of my elderly grandparents with your ass hanging out?”

Right. The whole point of the sweats.

You set the volleyball down while you pulled them on.

“Now I’m not going to say that I minded the view or anything but-” you slapped him in the chest before you tugged on the waistband, hopping a little to make them sit just right and tightening the strings, then picked your ball off the ground.

“Don’t be talking about my ass that way! Nasty.”

“Sorry, sorry, I had to say it.” He put his hands up in mock surrender.

“Well if you’re gonna say that, then I’m allowed to do this,” you said, right before giving him a light slap on his own butt and darting to the house.

“Ohhh, I’ll get you for that!” he cried, following you in.

You were both chattering as you entered the dining room, where Nikki and her parents were setting up the tableware.

“Alrighty, we have some roast chicken and potatoes and green beans tonight. Hope you all enjoy!” the older woman said before sitting down. The smell made your stomach growl quietly.

You all made up plates and chowed down. Tom’s grandpa sat at the head of the table, with his wife and daughter on his left, and Tom and you on the right.

You and Tom were talking about school things when his grandma addressed you.

“So, y/n. How long have you and Tom been dating?” 

You furrowed your brows, then looked between Tom and her, an awkward tension filling the room.

“Um, grandma… she isn’t my girlfriend,” Tom said for you. You gave him a light squeeze on the thigh to signify thanks.

“Oh! Oh my goodness I had no idea! You two just seemed so close that I just assumed you were together. Sorry about that!”

You talked a little bit longer as you finished dinner, but now things felt a little uncomfortable. 

What were we doing that seemed couple-y? Could they see our little spat outside?

You took your plates to the kitchen before heading back with Tom to change into your other clothes. Since it was already almost six, you both just changed in the room, backs to each other.

You slid out of your sweats and tugged off the jersey, leaving on the spandex shorts under your jumpsuit since they didn’t show through. It was sleeveless, so you needed to change into a different bra. You glanced behind you quickly to make sure Tom was still turned around.

He was, but he was butt ass naked. You turned back towards the wall quickly, eyes wide. You assumed it had to do with the fact he wore a jockstrap under his uniform, but dear God did he have to take off everything at once?

You were scarred to say the least.

You ripped off one bra and fumbled to put the other one on before sliding the shoulder straps of your outfit on all the way. By the time you were done, Tom was at least wearing jeans and tugging on a white tee.

You finally slipped on some wedges and refixed your hair in the mirror. 

“Ready to head down?” you asked.

“Why don’t you go on without me. I’ll be down here in a few. I need to restyle my hair,” he explained, sliding his own letterman jacket on. 

You accepted that and headed back outside and down the steps where Nikki was waiting, shooting pictures of the lake.

“Oh, I love that color on you, it compliments the autumn theme well,” Nikki said as you began taking pictures. Eventually Tom appeared, too. He had another shirt in hand for when he was done with his letter jacket.

You let them take those pictures real quick, and then Tom changed, buttoning up a flannel that’s colors matched your own outfit. You were sitting on the dock balcony posing when Tom appeared next to his mother, who noticed the coordination immediately.

“This is amazing! Tom, go stand in front of y/n and cross your arms, and y/n, drape an arm over his shoulder… uh huh just like that… yes that’s good!” she directed you.

Tom helped you hop down after a few different shots and you went to stand with Nikki as she took more photos of her son.

The sun was setting quickly, so she was about to call it a night.

“Okay, you two, I just need you to get together for a couple final pictures. Act like you like each other for at least a few minutes.”

You couldn’t help but snort as you stepped up next to Tom, him putting an arm over your shoulder as your arm snaked around his waist. She was taking pictures when Tom muttered out the corner of his mouth,

“Your hand’s a little close there.”

Knowing exactly what he meant, you slid your hand down his back, resting it on top of his butt.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you feigned innocence. 

He gave you a look that said “I’m onto you,” so you did what any rational person would do in that scenario. 

You squeezed his buttcheek. 

It must have scared him or tickled or something, because he about jumped from his skin, jaw dropped.

“Oh I’ll get you for that now!” he exclaimed, picking you up and tossing you over his shoulder.

You squealed and laughed and kicked your legs as one hand traveled along your waist tickling you. In the chaos, you didn’t notice the rapid clicks of the camera shutter. He kept you off the ground for a few more seconds before finally setting you down carefully.

“Rethinking that now?” he asked, eyebrows raised in amusement as you stared up at him, pouting. 

“I’d do it again just to see your jaw hit the floor honestly.”

He rolled his eyes when some lights around the deck kicked on, not adding much brightness to the darkening sky.

“Well that looks like our cue to wrap things up. The lights going up the stairs won’t be much better, and I don’t want anyone to fall,” Nikki explained.

Once again, she headed up first, leaving the two of you somewhat alone. Now that it was dark, the air made you grab your upper arms and shiver.

“Here, put this on,” Tom said, holding up his letter jacket.

“Oh, I’m fine. It’ll only take a minute to get to the house.”

“No seriously, you look like you’re freezing. Plus, I won’t have to carry it,” he joked.

You rolled your eyes and snatched it from his hand, sliding your bare arms into the sleeves. His jacket was at least a size bigger than yours, so it basically swallowed you. He chuckled.

“Come on. I don’t want you getting lost up the stairs since you’ve practically disappeared under my jacket.”

He put his hand between your shoulder blades, guiding you to step ahead of him as the darkness began to set in.

% 

You’d changed back into your sweats and put on a tee and your own letter jacket and were now loading up Nikki’s car to head back home. 

After walking back to the house, you had all sat around and visited a bit longer until realizing it was half past nine and there was an hour’s drive ahead of you.

“Come back anytime, dear. You were a real delight,” Nikki’s mom said, squeezing you into another hug. 

“Thank you, grandma. I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Will you be at Tom’s senior night here in a few weeks? I’d love to see you there,” she said, holding your hands in hers.

“Yeah, I always try to go to the games. I’m hoping to be on homecoming court this year, too, so fingers crossed.”

“Oh, sweetie, if they don’t vote you queen, I’ll personally come count the votes myself,” she joked, shaking her head. 

You laughed and after final goodbyes, climbed into the back seat, expecting Tom to go up front. Instead, he slid into the other side of the back row.

“You can sit up front, Tom. I’m happy to stay back here,” you explained, showing that you’d already buckled in.

“Oh it’s alright. I’ve already sat down, we can both stay.”

You again found it odd that he was willing to do so, but didn’t push the matter.

Having spent most of the afternoon with Tom’s family, you hadn’t looked at your phone much as not to seem rude, so you immediately began responding to snaps and scrolling through social media.

Tom, on the other hand, was watching Tiktoks. 

“Hey, watch this,” he said, unbuckling his seat belt and sliding into the middle spot next to you, refastening himself in.

“You could have just given me your phone,” you said, eyebrows raised.

“Like I could trust you with that.”

He handed over an AirPod and you watched together, laughing. He continued to scroll through his for you page while you looked on. 

After a while, your neck became strained, so you resorted to leaning your head on his shoulder. He didn’t say anything, instead only tilting his cheek to rest on your head as you continued in silence. 

A little bit later, he left the app and went to Spotify, turning on a playlist containing songs with soft beats that made you sleepy. 

You didn’t realize how tired you really were until you were being shaken awake by your nemesis, sitting up straight in realization of what happened. 

“Hey, we’re about to pull into my neighborhood,” he whispered. You just nodded in response, trying to compose yourself.

Nikki pulled into the garage and you began collecting your things from the back.

“Y/n, would you like to stay in the guest room tonight? It’s almost eleven and I wouldn’t want you to feel unsafe going home.”

You thought about it for a moment before realizing you had no extra clothes and well… Tom.

“Oh that’s alright, my house is only 10 minutes away. Thank you though,” you told her as the three of you entered the home. 

Nikki said her goodbyes and disappeared up the stairs for the third time that day, once again leaving you and Tom alone.

“Why don’t I walk you to your car?” Tom offered, opening the front door. You unlocked the car and Tom opened the back door for you to set your things in it. You were about to leave when something popped into your mind.

“Thanks again for clarifying to your grandma earlier. I didn’t want to break her heart but I wasn’t sure how to let her down nicely. She seemed so excited,” you explained.

“Don’t worry about it. I’m pretty sure she would have asked any girl the same question. But she really did like you, grandpa too. He doesn’t quite show it like her.”

“That’s sweet. I enjoyed hanging out with them this evening, and the food was incredible.”

“She does make some of the best food you’ll ever eat, but you should taste grandpa’s grilled steaks. Those are a real treat.”

“Well, you’ll have to bring me again some time. Oh, and thanks for letting me use you as a pillow in the car. I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

You knew your face had turned pink, but you could see Tom’s redden as well.

“Don’t mention it. I actually ended up sleeping for a little bit, too.”

A silence fell around you, so you eventually said your goodbyes and hopped into your driver’s seat. 

You watched in your rearview mirror as Tom stayed standing on his sidewalk until you had driven a few yards off, eventually meandering back to the house.

There was a familiar flutter in your stomach as your lips turned up into a smile.

Maybe he’s not as bad as I always thought.

%

A/N: omg I’m so happy to finally post this y’all have no idea. Hope you enjoyed! As always, feel free to send asks about anything or just say hi!

Send a message or ask if you’d like to be added to my permanent or series taglists so I can verify you’ve been added!

Story tag list: @jackiehollanderr, @one-big-fangirl, @l0lmk, @primadonnasdream, @bookworm06, @thenoddingbunny-blog, @agentnataliahofferson, @spider-babe, @stxfxniexreads,

#The Marriage Project #tom holland #tom holland story #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland imagine #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x you #tom holland x reader #paddy holland

[let-it-raines]

Walking the Baseline (Year 2012)

Chapter Summary: He’s seen her around. Of course he has. They walk in the same circles, play at all of the same combined tournaments, and they have mutual friends. It’s not until they both win the Australian Open and start talking over Instagram that Killian Jones gets to know Emma Swan. He doesn’t expect one message to turn into more, and he certainly doesn’t expect to find himself knowing who Emma is when she’s not got a racket in her hands. 

Even more, he doesn't expect to let her know who he is off the court when that's a secret he holds close to the vest.

Rating: Teen-ish. 

a/n: I told you guys I had more Walking the Baseline coming, and I meant it! I did not expect you guys to be so excited about this universe, but you’re always blowing me away! So, here’s their story for part of the year 2012, four years before the events of Walking the Baseline and the RIO Olympics. 

You do not need to have read the original one-shot to understand. If you haven’t, well, that just means you’ll be surprised with the ending of this collection 😂

Found on AO3: 2012 | 2013 | 2014 | 2015 | 2016 (Part One) | 2016 (Part Two)

-/-

2012.

“You look nice, Swan.”

She’s standing in front of him in a pair of long white paints and a matching white shirt that bares her midriff. Her lips are painted red, her blonde hair long and curled. It’s different to how he usually sees her, but the same can be said for him as he adjusts his jacket sleeves. They spend their lives in athletic wear with sweat an almost constant companion. They do not spend their lives dressed up like this.

“Same to you. How are you not dripping in sweat?”

“Oh, I bloody well am. It’s hidden under the jacket.”

Emma laughs and flips her hair off her neck. “Damn Australian summers. Been trying to kill me since I was eighteen.”

“But now you’re the queen of the court. Congratulations, by the way. That was a damn good match.”

She smiles and adjusts her trophy as he does the same, the flashes of photographers surrounding them and the water behind them. They’ve both done their individual photographs but are now doing promotion for the tournament and Nike, their clothing sponsor. Killian has the beginnings of a long flight today, and Emma has an even longer one to America. He believes she lives in Florida, but it could also be New York. Maybe California. He’ll ask Ariel if she knows, because he already knows she will have the answer to every question he asks. His manager knows everything there is to know about everybody. Somewhere in that brain of hers, Ariel Fisher has a file on Emma Swan that Killian has never bothered to ask about.

It’s not that he’s never been intrigued. She’s a damn good tennis player and a successful one at that. He’s watched her rise to the top of their sport for years now, and while they’ve done a few photo shoots and charity matches together, they’re never talked much outside of a professional capacity. He knows her brother is her coach and she’s close to Ruby Lucas, another player, and he’s read a little about her upbringing. That’s something she keeps close to the vest, but he gets it. He does the same thing. That isn’t the easiest when you’re on the world’s stage like they are. Now, everyone has to know the details of personal lives of athletes, and it makes staying private difficult when you have to brand yourself to get sponsors. Killian would rather run for five hours over doing an interview, especially now that he’s given twenty interviews since the championship last night.

It’s media overload in every way.

“Congratulations to you. I may have slept through half your match, but what I saw was good.”

“Thanks,” Killian laughs, scratching his chin. “I’m terrified that if I sit down, I won’t be able to get back up.”

“Oh, that’s definitely a risk. David had to slide me out of the bed this morning. I’m only wearing this because I was too lazy to shave. I was pretty sure I’d have to have help.”

He bites his tongue to keep from making the comment he wants to make and turns back to the camera, smiling and nodding, following the rest of the instructions. He and Emma are quickly pulled in different directions to finish out their obligations, and before he knows it, he’s on a plane, flying away from Australia. It’s been a month since he’s been home, and Oxshott has never seemed so good even if there is no one at home waiting to greet him.

-/-

Killian grabs a sweater from the shelf, pulling it over his shoulders, and heads downstairs where he fixes himself a cup of tea and settles on his couch, his television playing in the background. It’s been a long day. His first day back training after a week break nearly killed his knees, but that’s over now. He’s put in his time on the court and at the gym, and no one is going to bother him for the rest of the day. He’s muted Ariel’s name in his phone, and if she really needs him, she’ll call him from Eric’s phone.

God does he hope she doesn’t need him tonight.

Nemo better not either because Killian does not want to see his coach’s face again until early tomorrow morning.

Despite his sweater, he’s still chilled. Going from an Australian summer to a British winter is quite the adjustment. It’s nearly as bad as the jetlag.

Killian’s phone dings in his hand, and he dreads what message he’s surely gotten. He expects it to be Ariel from Eric’s phone, but it’s an Instagram message.

@EmmaSwan: Whoever said @KillianJones was photogenic needs to take a serious look at these photos.

He looks at the photographs, and it’s a series of horribly awkward faces he’s made. He remembers this moment of the shoot. A bug kept trying to fly into his mouth, and at one point, it succeeded. Emma looks great in them, laughing with a bright smile, and she’s right: there’s no part of him that’s photogenic there.

@KillianJones: So you’re saying there are people out there who think I’m photogenic?

Her reply comes instantly.

@EmmaSwan: Well, there were! ;)

Killian laughs and then clicks on her profile, scrolling through. She has several pictures from her win, a few training videos, but mostly it’s pictures of her with some of the women she’s friends with on tour or her brother and sister-in-law. His page is so different in that it’s made up of a majority of tennis photos. He doesn’t share much about his personal life there because there isn’t much to share lately, and when there was, he didn’t want the world to know who he was dating. They did, of course. There were few ways to hide it all when he had photographers literally hiding in bushes, but he imagines if it was a relationship he truly held sacred, he would find a way to keep it hidden away.

Milah was the last person he would have wanted that with, but she was a fan of the attention. She still is if what he sees around is any indication. She married some older man who is worth millions, but other than that, Killian tries not to keep up with her. Some days it goes better than others, but being disconnected from the world does help.

Social media definitely doesn’t.

And after looking at Emma’s profile a little more carefully, he realizes her profile is more private than he thought. In some way, every photo that has a person in it relates back to tennis.

Killian exits out of the app and goes to the link Ariel sent him of all the photos from his shoot with Emma. He clicks on it and tries to find one where she looks bad. It takes awhile, damn gorgeous woman, but he eventually finds one where the wind blew her hair in front of her and she’s making an awful face. It’s perfect, and Killian quickly saves it and a nicer photo to his phone before uploading them to Instagram.

@KillianJones: @EmmaSwan, if only your serve was as big as your hair.

@EmmaSwan direct messaged you.

@EmmaSwan: My serve stats are better than your serve stats.

@KillianJones: Lies.

@EmmaSwan: Okay, well, my hair is also better than your hair.

@KillianJones: Eh, I wouldn’t say that either.

@EmmaSwan: My ass is better than your ass.

@KillianJones: Now, I will fully agree with that.

@EmmaSwan: Isn’t it, like, midnight in England? What are you doing up, old man?

@KillianJones: Watching TV and having a cuppa. Truly exciting times here.

@EmmaSwan has added a picture to this chat.

It’s a shot of her legs, her feet resting on the court. There’s a pool of sweat underneath her, and he is not jealous. It’s February, and while he knows she lives in south Florida – he did ask Ariel – it shouldn’t be warm enough for anyone to sweat that much unless they put in a massive amount of effort.

He must be getting old for this game if just thinking about that makes him want to retire, but there’s no way in hell that’s happening anytime soon. He told Liam he would play until he no longer had a passion for the game.

That hasn’t happened yet.

@EmmaSwan: I’m making my mark on this court. I cannot wait to be in my pajamas watching TV tonight. If I can get up from this chair.

@KillianJones: I’m sure you can slide home in that lovely pool of sweat.

@EmmaSwan: Honestly, I have thought about it.

@EmmaSwan: I’ve got to practice my shitty serve, but I’ll think of smacking your face every time I do it. I’m sure my numbers will be higher than ever.

@KillianJones: Anything I can do to help.

-/-

“How do you eat your strawberries?”

“With my fingers,” Killian says, arching his brow at such a ridiculous question.

“You’re supposed to say with cream.”

Killian spins around behind him, and he immediately sees Emma Swan walking toward him. He hasn’t seen her in months as the tours haven’t had a joint tournament since Australia, but they’ve been chatting pretty regularly over Instagram. He’s never liked the app, but it’s one of his most used ones now.

“Excuse me, lass?”

“You’re doing a promotion for Wimbledon, idiot. They want all of us to say we eat our strawberries with cream.”

“I actually don’t love the cream.”

Emma mock gasps, covering her chest with her hands, before stepping up to him and giving him a quick hug he’s sure is for the cameras surrounding them. “Well, they should kick you out of England for saying something like that.”

“Believe me, they’ve tried, but I chained myself to the ground to keep it from happening.”

“I’m sure we could find you a place here if we had to.”

“Your place?” Killian jokes.

“In your dreams, Jones.” Emma widens her smile before turning to the camera. “I’d eat my strawberries with cream, just in case you want to use me for the promotions instead of this shameful excuse for a Brit.”

“Actually,” the producer behind the camera says, “we have a game that we’d love for the two of you to play together if you want. We usually don’t have two of the bigger names up here at once.”

“What’s the game?” Emma asks.

“It’s basically beer pong.”

Emma tilts her head back with laughter and claps her hands together. “Oh, I’m good at this. You’re going down, Jones.”

“Nice to see your competitive spirit doesn’t die off the court.”

“It never does.”

Emma shrugs and walks over to where they have a ping pong table set up on the roof of this building. Killian gets to travel a lot of beautiful places for his job, and while he doesn’t get to explore a lot of them, he does get to take in the view. He’ll never get over the oasis that is Palm Springs with its mountains going as far as the eye can see with palm trees and lush vegetation filling in so many other gaps. There’s a hell of a lot of desert, but considering Killian only goes between the tournament and his hotel, he doesn’t see that. For him, it’s all about the oasis.

“You ready?” Emma asks as they settle at opposite ends of the table. “It’s going to be a challenge to beat me.”

He winks and leans forward, hovering over the cups of water. “I do so love a challenge.”

-/-

“I mean, I wouldn’t say that you had a bad reputation.”

Killian rolls his eyes and toes his trainers off, kicking them across his hotel room in Monte Carlo. He pulls his phone away from his ear and puts it on speaker so he can change clothes while Emma talks.

“Then what would you say, love?”

He imagines she shrugs, and if he wasn’t disgustingly sweaty despite his shower at the club, he’d video call her instead of this. “I would say you had a colorful reputation.”

“For fuck’s sake, that’s the same thing.”

“No, no, it’s not,” Emma sighs. “It’s…”

“Swan, I was on the verge of getting all my sponsorships taken away at the age of twenty-two. I’d barely gotten started, and I nearly fucked it all up by drinking too much and being enough of an idiot to do it in public.”

“And now you’re England’s poster boy for all sports, so at least from a publicity standpoint, it’s all okay.”

She’s right. He knows she’s right, and he appreciates being talked down after an awful contract negotiation with one of his sponsors and what will surely be an equally awful conversation with Ariel later. They decided that they suddenly had issues with some shit he pulled six years ago, and he’s tired of having to explain himself to people.

His fucking brother died, and Killian didn’t handle it well. How is anyone supposed to handle that, let alone a twenty-two-year-old whose only family was that brother? It was too much, and while he didn’t tank his career, he did derail it, drinking and sleeping around and making horrible choices for his body. There are times when he still wants to do that, but he knows better now. His grief is private, and the world will never see it again unless it’s on his terms.

“My brother’s life was taken because of a drunk driver, and, you know, I’d give up all the sponsorships to have him back. I’d give it all up. And I know I did a piss poor job at dealing with my grief by getting drunk just like the man who killed him, even if I never got behind the wheel, but what was I supposed to do? It hurt too much to not be dulled.”

The other end is silent, and he focuses on his own breathing. It’s heavy now, and he can feel his heart thumping. He hates this feeling. He hates talking about his past, and he damn well hates having to talk about Liam like this.

He’s got no fucking clue why he’s talking about it with Emma, but she called right after the meeting and he spilled his guts out of frustration.

“I never met your brother,” Emma says so quietly he can barely hear her, “but if he was anything like mine, I can guarantee that he’d be proud of you for getting through it and continuing to move forward. Life sucks, Jones, and we all deal with those sucky moments in different ways. I, for one, eat massive amounts of icing and candy. I have an entire stash in a drawer in my bathroom so David can’t find it and scold me for it.”

Killian huffs and reaches up to yank his shirt off before falling back on the bed. He tugs on his hair before blowing it off his cheek. He needs a haircut.

“You keep icing in your bathroom? That seems unsanitary.”

“I promise it’s very secure.”

Killian hums and more silence falls between them. He doesn’t feel the need to fill it, but he does anyway. “I live alone, so I think I may not need to hide my icing stash. I’d have to get one first.”

“Cream cheese is the way to go. It’s, like, two dollars and all the calories are so worth it.”

“Have you ever considered making it at home?”

“I would give myself food poisoning. I can’t really cook.”

“No?”

“Absolutely not. Never learned how to do anything past the basics, and I’m not home enough to try. When I do, Mary Margaret always takes over so I don’t get food poisoning.”

“Where are we together next? Rome?”

“Madrid,” Emma sighs, and he hears a dog bark in the background. He’s sure she doesn’t have a dog, but maybe someone she’s with has one. Or she’s walking around her neighborhood. He never did ask what she was doing. Instead, he immediately started bitching about his sponsor meeting, and then they ended up here. Most of their conversations veer off track, so it’s nothing he isn’t used to. “I get there Monday.”

“I think the same unless I lose early here.”

“You best not. I have money on you.”

“Well, that’s a good way to get yourself suspended.”

Emma laughs, and Killian stretches out on the bed, flexing his feet. “Well, if you don’t tell anyone, I think I’ll be okay.”

“I swear I shall not say a word. Also, Swan, I don’t think we’ll have access to a kitchen in Madrid, but when we get to Rome, I’ll cook you something.”

“If I’m in Rome, I’m not wasting a dinner on your cooking.”

“We can eat two dinners then,” Killian suggests.

“I like that idea.” The dog barks again in the background, louder this time. “I have to go. My neighbor’s dog is walking over this way, and I have to give him my full attention.”

“Bye, love.”

“Talk to you later, Jones!”

The phone goes silent, and Killian closes his eyes. It’s been a rough day for a myriad of reasons, and all he wants is to sleep. His call with Emma has calmed him, as they usually do, but that’s something he often doesn’t like admitting to himself.

Getting involved with Emma would be complicated, and Killian isn’t sure he can do complicated anymore.

His phone buzzes, and he opens one eye to look at the message.

Ariel Fisher: I’m coming to talk to you because you stormed off.

Ariel Fisher: I have the key to your room, so make sure you’re dressed.

Ariel Fisher: I’m bringing dinner, so I know you at least kind of want to see me.

Killian Jones: I’m in the nude, and I’m not changing for you.

Ariel Fisher: It’s nothing I haven’t seen before.

Killian Jones: That is your fault for walking into my bathroom without knocking.

-/-

Killian wins in Monte Carlo, and it feels good to have a trophy for the first time since late January. It’s only April now, and he’s only played three tournaments since Australia. Yet, he had higher expectations for himself for this year. It’s a great year by anyone’s standards, but Killian has really focused on his training this year. He wants another record year like two years ago, and if he keeps this momentum going, maybe he can do that.

That year, he’d worked off the motivation of heartbreak. This year, he’s trying to work off the motivation of doing something for himself.

Whatever keeps him in the game.

Whatever keeps him loving what he does like Liam asked him to do.

-/-

The thing about Killian’s job is that he’s constantly surrounded by bloody people. From when he’s playing a match to doing press to sitting in the living room of the houses and apartments he rents for some tournaments when he doesn’t want to stay in a hotel. Sometimes the only times he has to think are when he’s on court, which is ridiculous because that’s when he’s surrounded by the most people and is supposed to be focusing on his plan for the next point.

Tonight, Killian had planned on having Emma over for dinner, but Ariel, Eric, Will, and Rob have all shown up and are sitting on his couch watching the television and he’s desperately trying to get Emma to pick up her phone before she arrives. He’s sure Nemo and Al could show up any second by the way things are going.

“Hello?”

“Swan!”

“Hey, I was just about to get a car from the hotel to your place. Everything okay?”

Killian sighs and massages his fingers over his forehead. “It seems my team and my mates have decided they’re spending the night with me, so if you want to stay at the hotel, I would understand.”

“Oh?”

“Aye. Of course, you can still come if you want.”

“Is there still going to be food?”

“Absolutely, but I don’t think I’ll be cooking it.”

“Then I’m coming,” Emma laughs. “Would you mind if I brought some people over as well? I can pay for their dinners.”

“The more the merrier,” Killian says, even if that is not how he intended his night to go. “See you soon, love.”

Killian walks back to the living area and settles down in an armchair, bracing himself for the onslaught of questions he’s about to get. “Emma Swan is coming over for dinner. She’s bringing people with her. I don’t know who yet, but I know she is.”

Slowly, everyone turns and stares at him, and Killian is already dreading everything about tonight.

“Why the fuck is Emma Swan coming over?” Will asks as everyone else nods. “I didn’t even know you knew her.”

“How would I not know her?”

“Oi, you know what I meant! You know her, but you know her in a way that has you say hello in the hallways, not that you invite her and her mates over to take our food.”

“You were not invited here tonight, Scarlet.”

“I am always invited.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Ariel sighs, holding her hands up between them. “I need more of an explanation. How did this come about? Are you dating Em – ”

“No, A. Bloody hell, no.” Killian stands from the chair and straightens out his t-shirt. “We got to talking about food one day, and I casually invited her over. Believe it or not, I can have other mates besides you lot.”

“Your personality says otherwise,” Rob teases, and Killian rolls his eyes.

“Alright, alright. What should we get delivered for dinner? A little bit of everything?”

“I still have so many questions,” Ariel tells him.

“I have no more answers. I’m going to order food. You guys can keep watching the match.”

“Isn’t this who you play tomorrow?” Rob asks.

“Mhm, but Nemo will take enough notes and give them to me, so I don’t have to watch the match too closely.”

Killian walks away from the living room and goes through the contacts in his phone for the restaurants he likes, and once he settles on one, he orders several meals for delivery, chatting with the owner and promising her he’ll be in to see the entire team before he leaves Rome.

There’s a knock on the door, and Killian glances out the kitchen window. He can see Emma, Emma’s brother, and her sister-in-law. He was expecting Ruby Lucas and Anna Jergenson, but he shouldn’t be surprised. Her family is nearly always with her.

Ariel gets to the door before he does, hugging and greeting everyone. She knows David and Mary Margaret from constantly working with Mary Margaret over management collaborations, and while this is a large industry, there is always going to be overlap amongst certain people.

“David, nice to see you,” Killian says, walking into the room and taking David’s hand before kissing Mary Margaret’s cheeks. “Mary Margaret, beautiful as ever. Hey, Swan.”

“What? Am I not as beautiful as ever?” she jokes as she embraces him. “I got all dressed up for this. I’m wearing leggings that don’t have any holes in them.”

“I thank you for your effort.” He pulls back and winks. “I’m sorry for the slight change of plans, but I guess I’ll give you food poisoning another day.”

“Can’t wait.”

Killian guides them into the living room, where it’s a mess of greetings and jumbled conversation, and Killian settles himself back in the chair in the corner, watching everyone talk. They’re in the middle of one of the busiest stretches of the season, and it’s nice to have a night where he can relax. He has a match tomorrow and possibly even more depending on how tomorrow goes, but he tries to forget about those. That’s something Killian is still working on. Liam was the one who usually made him forget, and while his mates, many of them under the same pressures, do a damn good job, there are rarely times when his mind doesn’t race with the possibilities of how everything good in his life can slip away.

Killian rents this house in Rome every year because it was Liam’s favorite, so this week is always a particularly difficult one when everything reminds him of his brother.

When the food arrives, Killian spreads it around the kitchen and gets out a few bottles of wine. He won’t drink tonight, but others might want to. They fill their plates and settle back in the living room, the match that was at the forefront now in the background as Rob and Will take the piss out of each other for how badly the mangled the Italian language while asking for directions earlier today.

“I didn’t grow up speaking two languages! I’m still learning!” Will grumbles.

“You trained in Italy for most of your childhood.”

“I have no excuses for Italian, I know. I do speak French pretty well.”

“Oi, and none of us have to wonder why that is,” Rob laughs.

“You’re all wankers.”

“Why does Will know French?” Emma asks him from her seat next to him.

“His girlfriend is from France.”

“Ah,” Emma sighs, picking up a piece of ravioli and putting it in her mouth. “This is delicious. Much better than whatever it was you were planning on cooking.”

“I’m going to prove you wrong one day.”

She shrugs and puts her plate down on the coffee table next to her glass of wine. “If you say so. Where’s the restroom?”

Killian points to the hallway behind the kitchen. “Second door on the right.”

Emma nods and stands from her seat, walking away toward the bathroom. He gets a notification on his watch that he’s got a text from Nemo, and it looks like a long one. Sighing, Killian moves away from the conversation and down the hall to his bedroom so he can text Nemo back. It’s an analysis of his opponent for tomorrow, and Killian skims through it. He’ll read it more in the morning since his match isn’t until the afternoon, but if he doesn’t text Nemo back now, he’ll call until Killian does. The man is a damn good coach, but he can also be high-strung.

The bedroom door clicks behind Killian as he closes it, and at the same time, Emma leaves the bathroom. The two of them are nearly pressed together in the close quarters of the hallway, and Killian aligns himself against one wall while Emma does the same with the other. Still, he can feel her foot brush against his, and he is close enough to see the freckles on her face.

Those freckles are what have himself tilting closer, his breath intertwining with hers, and for every movement he makes, Emma makes an equal one, the voices in the background fading away as Killian focuses on the flutter of Emma’s lashes and the subtle twitch of her lips. He mirrors her, curling up one corner of his mouth and teasingly tapping his lips.

“Please,” she laughs, “you couldn’t handle it.”

“Perhaps you’re the one who couldn’t handle it.”

Emma studies him as heat swirls around them and tickles up his spine, pulling him closer to her. He watches her, waiting to see if she’ll do something, but he expects her to make a joke, to turn away like she sometimes does when things get a little too serious between them when they’re talking in person instead of over the phone. She doesn’t always do that, not when he’s the one sharing, but when it comes to her, she’s more guarded, holding everything deep within.

Emma Swan is constantly subverting expectations, however, so when she pulls on the collar of his shirt and tugs his mouth to hers, he takes a moment to reciprocate.

Bloody fucking hell.

Emma is kissing him.

And she’s damn good at it too. Killian reaches up to thread his fingers through her hair, pulling and tugging until he can take a little of the control back from her. She’s a demanding one, and while he can’t say he minds, he would like a little control too. Her lips are soft, and she tastes of wine and the spices of her ravioli. He could get lost in it all, especially when she moans in response to him backing her up against the wall. Her back arches, and Killian rolls his hips as Emma’s kiss teases him. The friction is fucking amazing, and it would be so easy to take a few steps to the right to his bedroom and…

Suddenly, Emma pulls back, lingering in his space, breath hot against his skin, and Killian can feel a smile tugging at his kiss swollen lips.

“That was – ” Killian mutters, leaning in to kiss her again.

“A one-time thing,” Emma quickly tells him, shoving at his chest until he backs away, a mountain of space between them. “I’m going to go back to the living room. Actually, I think I need to go home. I have an early training session tomorrow.”

“Swan – ”

“Thank you for dinner. It was great.”

Then she’s gone, blonde hair falling away, and Killian can’t move from his spot, standing there with his fingers against his lips. He listens to her tell David and Mary Margaret she’s ready to go, listens to her telling everyone goodbye, and then she’s gone, the front door shutting behind her.

What the hell just happened.

And when did he fall halfway in love with Emma Swan?

Fuck.

“What happened to your hair?” Ariel asks when Killian gets the strength in his legs to walk back to the living room.

“Nemo,” he lies. “His analysis for tomorrow had me tugging on it.”

Ariel studies him like she doesn’t believe him, but then she’s back to drinking her wine and talking to Eric, her life going on as normal even when his isn’t.

-/-

He gets blown out of the water in his match the next day.

He can’t compartmentalize his thoughts, putting the personal behind him and the professional in front of him. That’s been the key to all of his success. No matter what’s going on in his personal life, he can always lace up his trainers and take the court, leaving all of that behind him.

Today, it’s like everything that’s happened to him in the past decade has come flooding back, and Killian wants nothing more than the floodgates to stop.

-/-

Emma doesn’t respond to any of his texts.

He pretends it doesn’t bother him as his team leaves Rome and flies to Paris, immediately preparing for Roland Garros. Killian can fuck around at other tournaments on occasion, but he can’t do it at a major. There are only a handful of those to go around, the importance of them will never be lost on him.

Even if sliding across the clay is the last thing he wants to do right now.

“Smaller steps,” Nemo yells from his place on the sidelines. “You’re going to fuck up your ankle if you run like that.”

Killian adjusts his footwork and keeps moving, sweat slicking down his back as the crowds around the practice courts fill in while more players keep showing up. When he sees long blonde hair in her trademark braid three courts over, his step nearly falters.

It doesn’t.

He can’t.

If Emma is going to put distance between the two of them, he’ll let her. He had a life long before he began talking to Emma Swan, and he’ll have one if she never talks to him again.

He’s a liar if he says that his world would be anything other than miserable for awhile.

-/-

Killian crashes out in the quarterfinals of Roland Garros, and he immediately puts it behind him, bracing his shoulders for a month of grass court tournaments in his own country, where the pressure is always highest.

Sometimes it can be suffocating, but he has to do it.

-/-

“Okay, now that you’ve answered all of our questions, we want to show you a little video clip,” Chris McKendry tells him while Killian adjusts the mic resting on his ear.

“It’s never good when you tell me that, Chris.”

She laughs, as fake as always, but Killian goes along with it. “I promise you’ll enjoy this one.”

A producer for ESPN hits play on the video, and Killian keeps his eyes glued to the screen even as someone slides several bowls of strawberries and cream in front of him. The video of he and Emma from California plays on the screen, all of the promotional work the two of them did that day after she took the piss out of him for his answer to how he ate strawberries and cream. Killian forces a smile on his face, not allowing the cameras to see him slip, because this is what he does now. He’s a perfectly polished PR machine. If he’s going to show emotions other than happiness, they’re going to be either on the court or behind the scenes with no cameras rolling. They are certainly not going to be here.

“So, Killian,” Chris laughs as the video rolls, “we thought it would be fun to bring you some strawberries and cream with a spoon to eat them.”

Killian chuckles and takes the spoon, scooping up a large helping of the strawberries and cream and eating it. It’s not bad. He doesn’t like it, but it’s not the worst thing he’s ever had to eat because someone has asked him to. And the faster he plays along, the faster he can get out of here.

“I think I’ve got it right now,” he jokes, “though I know my last answer went viral because I failed all of Britain with it.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say that, but we are giving you this chance to redeem yourself so you can have this crowd behind you for the fortnight. With your draw, I think you might need it.”

“Draws don’t always hold up, but nevertheless Chris, I’m ready for the challenge.”

“You always are.”

-/-

She’s fucking incredible to watch.

She moves with grace but with incredible power underneath her feet and determination set between her brows. Her play gets better with every match she plays, and Killian is mesmerized by it even if he’s been avoiding her matches over the past few weeks. But now she’s on Centre Court, and her match is playing on the screen above his bike where he’s cooling down from his match. There is no avoiding it, and he can’t say he wants to at the minute. He’s obviously a glutton for punishment.

He’s seen her draw, knows that it’s just as difficult as his, and while she might not win here, the Olympics are just around the corner on these same courts. He can’t imagine her not winning at least one of the two.

Then again, he is aware of his bias, but he is also aware of Emma’s skill.

Killian grabs his phone and takes a picture of her match, posting it on his Twitter, which Ariel has told him he has to use more since he “needs to interact with people online.”

@KillianJones: She’s graceful like a swan but also just as vicious. What a match to watch on my cool down. @Emmaswan is the type of player every kid should try to emulate when they pick up a racket

It’s an olive branch.

If she doesn’t take it, Killian will be fine. He may have fallen hard and fast, but that doesn’t mean Emma did. She is free to take things at her own pace, whatever that may mean for the two of them.

-/-

@emmaswan mentioned you in a tweet.

Killian swipes across his screen and opens Twitter, where he sees a picture of yesterday’s match. It’s from high above in what is obviously a private room, but it’s still clearly him on court, pumping his fist after a big point, the crowd standing all around.

@EmmaSwan: @KillianJones, I don’t think any of these people like you. You should try to get them on your side.

He laughs and falls back on his couch. He’s not well liked in a lot of places, but in his home country, he knows that as long as he’s winning, he has the country behind him.

No pressure.

@KillianJones: @EmmaSwan maybe you could help me out. How do I get the crowd to like me?

@EmmaSwan: @KillianJones cook them a home-cooked meal. It’s the way to everyone’s heart.

Killian nearly drops his phone. She’s joking. She has to be. This is the first time he’s so much as talked to Emma in weeks, and she either doesn’t realize the magnitude of her words or is sending him a clear message.

Emma has never cared much for subtly.

He closes out of Twitter and texts her, hoping he’s not fucking up the olive branch she took by snapping it in half.

Killian Jones: I’m making salmon tonight. It’s just me here tonight. I promise. Do you want to come over for dinner?

Emma Swan: How good is your salmon?

Killian Jones: It’s good.

Emma Swan: I’ll be there.

-/-

Emma Swan walks into his home like she belongs there. She steps inside his front door, removes her trainers, and easily walks to him in the kitchen, propping her hip against the counter while he prepares dinner. They talk, mostly about work, and Killian tries to act as unaffected by her presence as possible. The last time they were this close to each other, he had Emma pressed up against a wall. It’s been over a month since then with very little communication, and Killian constantly feels like a bucket of ice has been dropped over him.

He still doesn’t believe she’s here when he is clearly having a conversation with her.

They eat dinner on his couch, the television turned low in the background, and the conversation stays stilted. If Killian is honest, he wants to sink into the cushions and have this night be over with, but he knows better. Either this night firmly cuts the ties between them, or it ties the string back together.

He knows which one he wants, but he dare not speak for Emma.

“This is really good,” Emma says as she scoops up some of her remaining salad. “Thanks for cooking.”

“Thanks for coming over.”

“It’s a really nice place. I bet it must be nice to be able to stay home for a month while still working.”

“Yeah, it is.” Silence falls between them again, but it’s not comfortable, not like it used to be. “Look, Swan, I – ”

She holds up her hands and places the plate in front of her on his coffee table before twisting around and crossing her legs under her on the couch. “Don’t.”

“Pardon?”

“Don’t say it. Don’t apologize for doing something wrong when I’m the one who made out with you and then ran away. I fucked things up between us, and I don’t know how to fix it.”

“Do you want to fix it?” he suggests, knowing the line he walks is thin.

Emma shrugs, sheepish smile on her lips. “I don’t know. I don’t – I mean, I like…you’re…we’re…I don’t know, Killian. I am obviously not the most emotionally aware person, but I care. I care about my family, my friends…you. I care about you. Like, a lot, which was unexpected.” She leans forward and buries her face in her hands, all of her words coming out muffled. “I don’t know how I can do this without messing things up between us where we’ll be avoiding each other while having to walk the same circles.”

Killian arches his brow and stifles his laugh. He shouldn’t be laughing. This isn’t funny, but there is something comical about it.

“What I’m hearing is that you fancy me.”

Emma peeks out from behind her hands, and she glowers at him. “Seriously?”

Killian shrugs and leans forward, grabbing her hands and slowly intertwining their fingers. “I have no bloody idea what I’m doing either, and I don’t mean to upset you Emma. I really don’t. But we make quite the team. I think it would be foolish not to try, but I’ll do whatever you want.”

“That’s really fucking unfair to make me make the decision.”

“If I did, you would find a way to turn it around on me.”

She digs her nails into his palm, but he doesn’t flinch. “Asshole.”

“I would agree with that assessment most of the time.”

Emma rolls her eyes, but there’s also determination there, green, blue, and gold all mixed together to create the emotions hidden just below the surface. “We don’t tell anyone. Like, no one. I don’t like my private life to be public, and if we tell other people, it’ll become public. I’m already risking a hell of a lot possibly being with someone who I’ll have to see on tour if things get fucked up, so I want a safety net even if this doesn’t solve every issue.”

“You’re a romantic.” She parts her lips to protest, and he squeezes her hands, leaning forward and lingering in her space, closing half the gap. “But I agree with you, wholeheartedly. I was with this woman, and – ”

“We don’t have to talk about our pasts right now. I’ve got a match at one tomorrow, so we sure as hell don’t have time to get through everything. I’m also not entirely sure I trust you with everything yet.”

“You shouldn’t,” Killian half jokes as his lips ghost over hers, “but I hope to earn it.”

“Good,” Emma whispers, wrapping her arms around Killian’s neck and pulling him those final few inches toward her until her lips are softly gliding over his, pulling him under as pleasure trickles up his spine.

Good. This is all damn good.

They have no idea what they’re getting into, but Killian can’t wait to figure it all out.

-/-

-/-

tag list (you can be added/removed at any time: @qualitycoffeethings​ @mrtinski​ @klynn-stormz​ @scarletslippers​ @jonirobinson64​ @snowbellewells​ @therealstartraveller776​ @thejollyroger-writer​ @sherifemma​ @galaxyzxstark​ @galadriel26​ @idristardis​ @karenfrommisthaven​ @teamhook​ @spartanguard​ @searchingwardrobes​ @jamif​ @shireness-says​ @ultimiflos​ @nikkiemms​ @onepunintendid​ @bluewildcatfanatic​ @superchocovian​ @killianswannn​ @carpedzem​ @captainkillianswanjones​ @mayquita​ @mariakov81​ @jennjenn615​ @onceuponaprincessworld​ @a-faekindagirl​ @scientificapricot​ @xellewoods​ @ultraluckycatnd​ @stahlop​ @kmomof4​ @tiganasummertree​ @singersdd​ @tornadoamy​ @cluttermind​ @lfh1226-linda​ @itsfabianadocarmo​ @iam2307​ @capthamm​ @ilovemesomekillianjones​ @kktabjones​ @jonesfandomfanatic​ @ouatxxxxx​

#walking the baseline #walking the baseline series #cs fic #cs ff #cs fanfic #captain swan fic #captain swan ff #captain swan fanfic #Captain Swan

[starlordsandrockets]

My Babysitter’s a Guardian

summary: (Star-Lord x reader) Y/N had fought alongside the Guardians and watched as they slipped away after Thanos snapped his fingers. But watching Peter slip away was the hardest of all. When Tony tells you there’s a way to get Peter back, you butt heads with the strong headed Stark.

a/n: i tried so hard to write a quick fluffy imagine that was requested. also i’m not sure if i will start taking requests but my brain created this plot & it was all i could think about. i hope you enjoy (even though it’s a little sad)

“Pew pew, pow,” You shouted to a giggling Morgan Stark. The two of you had found yourself playing Guardians for the second time today, “How are you so strong,” you call out in your best villain voice, your tone was nasally and irritated.

“Because I’m the legendary Star-Lord,” the small brunette beamed as she pretended to fly around the lakeside cabin’s living room.

The sound of rocks under tires directed your attention off of the mini hero and onto the familiar silver car that waited outside. Your eyes found Tony’s as you both gave each other a look. Confirming that both of you knew exactly who would be on the front doorstep, “Oh, Star-Lord, you win,” you shifted, back into Morgan’s make believe space battle, “let’s go retrieve your prize from mommy in the kitchen,” you coaxed her into your arms, scooping her up. Nodding, you left Tony alone in the living room. The large armchair he sat in felt small under the cabin’s high ceiling.

Five years ago you would have told the world your hostility towards Tony Stark. How out of all the Guardians, you and Stark butted heads since the moment he met you. 

After Tony, Nebula and you had almost perished in the Milano, your relationship with the hard headed Stark had changed. But you guessed that any near death experience could make you see the good in a person and that same logic applied to the, small, heart of Tony Stark. At times, the two of you still find your way into many arguments, but you push it aside for his daughter.

Morgan Stark was Tony’s cliche ray of sunshine in the looming years of darkness that sat over your and Tony’s heads. Tony had asked you to help out around their new cabin when they moved in and not long after he had asked you to babysit their new daughter. Tony finally found his purpose and hoped to give you some purpose as well.

“Time heals all wounds” Pepper would tell you night after night with a nervous smile, knowing that she was lucky. Her and Tony did not lose each other to the snap. They did not have to watch each other slip away, to feel their loved one physically leave their touch like dust in the wind.

You could still hear your desperate voice playing in your ears like a bad recording as your hands grabbed at Peter Quill’s worn jacket, pulling him close to you. Almost hoping to escape with him, unable to fathom a world without him in it.

“Where’s Tony,” Pepper’s voice brought you back to your post-snap reality. You found yourself studying a small vase of forget-me-nots that you and Morgan had picked by the lake. Morgan was sitting by your side, a cookie entering your vision as it sat in her small hands.

“Natasha and Steve are outside,” you spoke under your breath as you stared at the baby blue flowers as if they were Peter’s blue eyes, “and I think,” you paused as you tried to recall the third individual that stepped out of the car, “Ant-Man, maybe,”

“What about Star-Lord,” Morgan giggled as she pretended to fly your cookie around the kitchen from where she sat. You felt your heart sink as the small girl spoke of the man you missed more each day that he was gone, “I want to meet Uncle Star-Lord,” Morgan whined before she was cut off by her mother’s short voice.

“Morgan H.,” her tone made the girl jump, “why,” her voice softened as she met your eyes, “why don’t you save your father from Aunt Natasha and Uncle Steve,” she smiled, “and Scott,”

“But, Aunt Y/N,” Morgan frowned, her bottom lip plumping and her brows furrowed. She watched her mother point her finger and she obeyed. Setting down the cookie that sat between her fingers, she climbed out of the adult kitchen chair and headed outside.

“Y/N, I’m sorry,” Pepper started to speak, unable to meet your gaze, “you’ve filled her head with stories about the Guardians and she’s ecstatic,” Pepper smiled as she folded a stray towel that sat on the countertop, “I even caught her trying to turn herself blue, I’m lucky she didn’t try shaving her head,” she laughed, allowing your lips to attempt a smile.

“You’re a lucky woman, Pepper Potts,” was all you could muster, jealousy laced each word that fell from your lips. The Starks had it all and they had each other, and part of you hated them for it.

“I know, Y/N,” Pepper spoke, her hand setting down the towel on the counter with force, “how many times do I have to say I’m sorry,” she was tired of your stubbornness, “I’ll say it as many times as you need me to Y/N, but it won’t bring him back,” she almost shouted, her eyes finally meeting the blank expression that sat on your face.

Placing your hands on the table’s cool wooden surface, you pushed out the wooden chair. Without a response, you left Pepper alone with her lingering words that still seemed to bounce around in your head.

Making your way into the living room you heard Tony close the door as Morgan’s small feet tapped against the wooden floor, “They didn’t even stay around for a hello,” you asked Tony, meeting his tired eyes. His hand traveled down his face from where he rubbed his temples.

“Time travel,” Tony laughed as his eyes found Morgan as she ran to your side, “those idiots want to mess with time travel,”

“Idiots,” Morgan snickered from behind you, making you smile.

“And it’s possible,” you asked with a spark of hope. Hope that began to claw its way up from the pit that weighed down your heart.

“I can’t risk it,” Tony whispered, his voice tense, “risk, this,” he gestured towards you and Morgan, “This was my chance,” he watched as you placed your hand on Morgan’s back, pushing her towards the kitchen, which she ran to willingly.

“Where’s my chance Stark,” your voice matched his tone but rang a little louder in the silent cabin, “my chance was left behind, when we let him snap his fingers,”

“Really,” Tony laughed, “because last time I checked, your chance,” he emphasized, recalling Peter’s outburst that he claimed was responsible for your loss, “did this to himself and half of the population,” Tony watched as you ran your fingers through your messy hair. Approaching him you almost laughed.

“You should be damn glad that you have Morgan,” you spoke through your teeth as you looked up at him, closing the space between the two of you that stood in the large room, “because if not, I’d kill you,” Turning, you left Tony and put on your best act for Morgan, telling her an early goodbye.

**

He did it.

You stared at Tony over an early cup of coffee by the lake. Tony Stark, the man who was famous for not having a heart made your heart begin to race.

“And if it doesn’t work,” you blurted, words spilling into your coffee. You met Tony’s tired eyes, his dark circles kept the two of you company.

“Well I can only hope you die trying,” Tony toyed. A pause fell between the two of you. The still lake rippling by your feet, “then again Morgan wouldn’t talk to me if you did,” he smiled against the thick rimmed mug, “so it looks like it has to work, because if it doesn’t,” Tony took a deep breath, the natural air filled his lungs, “she’ll never get to meet Uncle Star-Lord,” he breathed out, “and thanks for that,” Tony spoke cockily, brows furrowed. He had lived through countless months of Star-Lord’s name spilling out of Morgan’s mile-a-minute mouth.

“That’s just karma, Tony,” you smiled, this time your smile was genuine.

***

Suddenly your world came crumbling down.

Wiping your arm across your broken nose, blood stained your skin as tears began to wash it away. For once in your life, you were tired of fighting. Letting out a scream, you squeezed your way out of the building that came crashing down, and that is when you saw him. Standing besides all that was left of the Avengers, your eyes locked onto Thanos as he sat on the battlefield, almost looking defeated. 

Tony took in your current appearance. Your black shirt sporting more holes than usual as it sat under your black leather jacket. You had ripped the right sleeve in your attempt to free yourself from the Avengers Compound that had been destroyed around you, by Thanos, trapping you all inside. Your bare skin was covered in blood and bruises, “Where’s the stones,” Tony heard you ask, your throat trembled as you met his eyes.

“Somewhere under all this,” Tony gestured, “All I know is he doesn't have them,” he watched your chest heave, a sigh of relief flaring your bloody nostrils.

“Let’s keep it that way,” you told the three men that stood by your side, “are the others,” you swallowed, not wanting to accept the loss of anyone else you surrounded yourself with.

“Clawing their way out, they’ll be okay,” Steve assured you, attempting a smile as Thor placed his hand on your shoulder.

“They’ve seen worse,” the god spoke as a thunder crack echoed his words, “and I know for a fact, so have you” he joked, attempting to lighten the mood.

You and Thor had always gotten along since he struck the Milano. His charm and way of life captivated you, filling endless nights with interesting conversation. Nothing would have ever come between you and Thor, you were Peter’s and his alone. But something about the god sparked all of Peter’s insecurities.

“Let’s kill him properly this time,” Thor spoke, his cape draped against his armored skin. Heading towards Thanos, you were right by his side.

“As long as there are those that remember what was, there will always be those that are unable to accept what can be. They will resist,” Thanos laughed as he met your eyes, his head shook in disagreement.

“Yep. We're all kinds of stubborn,” Tony spoke, glad to have you by his side.

***

“On your left,” a familiar voice breaks the ringing of your ears. Lowering your shaking blaster, you turned your head to meet Cap’s eyes.

Behind Steve a golden portal appears. Its glowing motion captivates your attention as three figures appear through it. Okoye, Shuri, and Black Panther meet your eyes with relief as their gaze rises to Falcon who flies above their heads.

Falcon is illuminated by dozens of opening, golden rings. Tears sting your eyes and cut skin as they search desperately for your Star-Lord. Locking eyes with Doctor Strange as he descends through a large portal, and suddenly you feel your feet dragging you across the battlefield. Joining Strange, Drax, Mantis, Spider-Man appear, followed by Quill. Stumbling forward, you trip over your own two feet as your tears cloud your vision.

“Is that everyone,” Doctor Strange announces before a giant Ant-Man erupts through the fallen Compound. The ground shook as you looked up to find Professor Hulk, War Machine, and Rocket safe in Ant-Man’s grasp. A relieved laugh broke through your tears as you rose to your feet, your body and heart aching.

Your eyes found Tony as he approached Peter Parker. The two of you locked eyes as you smiled at him, tears cleaning your face of blood and dirt. Tony returned the smile as Parker began to ramble to him, but Tony’s gaze was still locked onto you. As if the world around you slowed down, you watched as Tony pulled Peter Parker into a tight hold.

Turning your head, you watched as Quill’s head turned in every direction, searching for any sign of you, dead or alive. 

Slowly, you backed away from the warm embrace that unfolded feet in front of you. Turning on your heels, you ran towards the back of the fight, forgetting about your aching limbs. The world around you turned into blurred shapes as your eyes stung from dirt and tears, “Peter,” you muttered, out of breath, only loud enough for you to hear. As if he could hear you, his blue eyes found yours.

Your pace slowed as Quill flew towards you, dropping to his feet as he neared your shaking figure, “Y/N,” he shouted. His words rang like a question, as if he was making sure this was not all a dream.

“Peter,” you cried, but for the first time in years, the tears you cried over him were filled with joy. His name was pushed out of your lungs as he embraced you, his body knocking you backwards as he held you in his strong arms.

His hands traveled across your body, as if he was making sure you really stood in front of him. His palms rested against your bruised cheeks as he took in how broken you really were, “Oh sweetheart,” he sighed as he peppered your skin in delicate kisses.

Each kiss hurt more than the last but your heavy heart lightened as you felt Quill in your grasp once again, “Please don’t go,” you whispered as you looked at him. The battlefield around you began to stir, danger approaching the two of you with every passing minute.

“I’ll be right by your side darling,” Quill whispered, planting a kiss on your bloody lips. He felt as you relaxed in his hold, your body melting against his own, “I’ll be fighting by your side, like always,” he assured you. Releasing your cheeks, he raised his hand. You watched as his blue eyes smiled at you before they were concealed by his mask, the glowing red eyes illuminated your face. This time, as Quill stared back at you, all of your wounds disappeared under the red lighting. He felt as you still tugged on his jacket, afraid to once again let him go. You wanted nothing more than to leave the others and to run off with him. Then you remembered all that Tony risked for you to have Quill standing before you after half a decade of him being gone.

“Okay,” you smiled, tears once again clouded your vision. You would stand your ground because in the end, you would be able to see Tony’s face as Morgan met Uncle Star-Lord.

***

You held Morgan in your arms as she buried her head in your neck, the black lace of your dress tickling the small girl’s face. You rubbed her back as Pepper spoke about the legacy and family Tony Stark had left behind, and how he had saved those who he had brought back. Turning your head you found the Guardians who stood farther back on the cabin’s lawn, meeting Quill’s eyes he gave you a soft smile.

On the day of Tony’s death a range of emotions flooded you. Being reunited with Quill fell short as soon as Tony snapped his fingers. Quill’s strong arms held you back as you watched Pepper pull Peter Parker away from Tony. Turning, Parker had found your eyes, falling against your chest he let out heavy sobs. 

Watching as Pepper spoke to Tony with a smile, regret replaced your sadness, Pepper Potts was no longer a lucky woman.

The clearing of a throat brought you back to reality, making you jump, Morgan bouncing in your grasp, “Peter,” his name escaped your lungs in a nervous tone, “sorry,” you smiled shyly, a few tears threatened to trail down your cheeks, “Morgan,” you whispered at the shy girl, her face still hidden, she was confused and almost too young to process what was going on, “Someone’s here to meet you,” you laughed, the threatening tears began to fall, “It’s Uncle Star-Lord,” you whispered in her ear. Suddenly, Morgan perked up, her head escaping your neck.

“Uncle Star-Lord,” Morgan questioned as she met Quill’s blue eyes, her hold tightening from where her arms draped around your neck. Shyness fell over the girl once again as Quill smiled back at her, approaching the two of you, knees bent, meeting Morgan at eye level.

“I heard someone has been pretending to be me when I was away,” Quill huffed, “it wouldn’t be you, now would it,” he watched as Morgan gave him a shy nod, a small smile pressed her lips closed, “so Star-Lord’s your favorite hero, huh,”

“Uhuh,” Morgan smiled, “Y/N’s the villain, and Star-Lord beats her,” she spilled, pretending to shoot her blasters.

“Y/N, a villain,” Quill asked with a smirk, his tone was sarcastic, “how did Star-Lord manage to get caught by a villain,” scooping Morgan out of your arms, you smiled, “Well if you’re Star-Lord, I guess I’ll have to be my favorite superhero,” Quill teased as he held the girl in his strong arms.

“Who’s that,” she asked, desperate to know her new Uncle’s interests. You sighed, knowing now that Quill was around, Morgan had a new favorite.

Quill looked at you, his eyes soft, a whisper left his lips, “Iron Man,” he spilled, “he’s the best superhero, no one can beat Iron Man,”

Morgan pouted her lip, “I want to be Iron Man,” she watched as Quill shook his head, “Uncle Star-Lord,” she whined.

“You win Iron Man,” Quill smiled, “Come on, let’s go get some snacks,” adjusting his hold on Morgan, he led her towards the house as Morgan pretended to fly. You watched as Quill disappeared, along with the others who stood on the cabin’s lawn. Suddenly, you were alone. 

The cabin sat quiet as you stood by the lake, remembering the moment Tony told you that saving everyone might just be possible. The moment he told you that Morgan would not know what to do if you did not make it back alive. Tears clouded your vision as you sat by the lake’s edge, at your feet floated Tony’s arc reactor.

In the distance you could hear Morgan and Quill’s voices as they called out for you.

#marvel fanfic #marvel fic #marvel fanfiction #star lord x reader #star lord fanfic #star lord fanfiction #star-lord x reader #star-lord fanfic #star-lord fic #star-lord fanficiton

[biiscione]

                         verse   /.   dies illa solvet sæclum in favilla                                               (based on scott stewart’s priest)

HUMANS AND VAMPIRES have been at war since the dawn of creation. Vampires were strong, fast, and cunning but humans had their technologies          and the sun. They hid behind city walls during the Night as their enemies hid in their hives, away from Daylight. It isn’t until the fostering of PRIESTS, those gifted with special abilities, and the honing of their vampire hunting skills, that humans are able to combat the vampire menace. By this time, a vampire queen had given life to a human vampire, a HYBRIDA, one that takes both a human and vampire appearance and may walk in the sun. This hybrid sired an army of vampires in their likeness, wreaking more havoc on mortal civilizations. The Holy War comes at the height of power for the Orders of Clerics, especially the Priests, where they are accoladed and commemorated for their sacrifice and prowess, and, ultimately, for the destruction of what was known as the Primordial Hive. The war ends with a victory for Humanity and a near extinction of both ancient vampires and their hybrid descendants. Ancient vampires grovelled and wept in their hives, where, most often, they were hunted down and killed. The hybridae, much to Humanity’s dismay, forced themselves to assimilate to mortal life to survive, but were easily found out by the Priests and, like their kin, killed. Humanity was lulled into a false sense of security and the Priests, for fear they may usurp the Clerics through their virtue, are disbanded, forced into society once more.

GEOGRAPHY   /.   The world, destroyed by years of violence, has been reduced to swamps, forests of crags and plateaus, and deserts of both ice and sand. Cities, while they are large in their own right, are few and far between. Those whose ancestors didn’t settle in the Cities settle in small settlements in the Wastes, granting them freedom from the Church and their oligarchical rule, but they are not afforded the same protections of the walled cities. Most of these towns work to provide sustenance, supplies, and fuel to the resource - starved cities. Some towns are built solely to house the workforce for prisons meant to hold, torture, and experiment on vampires. In the case of vampires, Hives are typically made on the faces of mountains, opposite to Cities built in the center of a vast, barren terrain. HUMANS   /.   CITY - DWELLERS AND THE WASTELANDERS: Pretty standard. Bipedal, squishy things with blood coursing through their veins, beating heart, complex nervous systems. They come in different colors, shapes, and sizes. You get the idea. HUMANS   /.   CLERICS: Members of the oligarchal Order set in charge of human civilizations, highest members of the Church. They hold elections when one of them dies and the newly elected official remains there for life. Such elections are voted by all in the Cities but it really is the wealthy and powerful that have the final say. They hold no special divination skills or affinity for the divine, except for the claim of being able to wield God’s will and free the world of the vampire menace. HUMANS   /.   PRIESTS: A gender neutral term for humans gifted by God. Appear as standard as the aforementioned humans but are marked with a scarlet crucifix above the height of their brow and down their nose. Like Clerics and other clergy, Priests shave their heads, if not to show their humility, to make it easier for them to move in combat. Acute skills in divination, like divine intuition. For example, they can sense another’s presence, vampire or human, without the use of any other human senses. This translates itself as being able to know a vampire’s next move/attack so they may attack first. They manifest Grace to be weightless, to jump great heights or endure terrible falls (think of the Force!). Each Priest may take a liking to a particular weapon but all are equipped with several crucifixes, holy water, and rosaries. HUMANS   /.   THRALLS: Discernable by their sickly pallor and black sclerae, characteristics eerily similar to their vampire masters. They’re pretty low on the ladder and considered as such by both humans and vampires, all for being humans so mad or weak that they’d rather be serfs to vampire overlords. Thralls become such by being ‘TAKEN’ or bitten by a vampire, primordial or hybrid, but do not feed on their master’s blood in return. If they aren’t used as manual labor or for remedial tasks during the day, they are often kept around their masters (mostly imprisoned) to feed on. VAMPIRES   /.   PRIMORDIALS:  Immortal enemies of man since the dawn of time. They are birthed from sacks laid by the Queen of their Hive and are nurtured for a gestation period of about six months. They are hairless, typically mucus - covered beings and while they may stand as humans do, they are quadrupeds. They have translucent, pale skin, flat faces, and long pointed ears (like bats and echolocation). Their eyes are small, black orbs and are often not needed, for their other senses assist them in movement and tracking. Despite being relatively small compared to humans (two-thirds of their average size), they are agile and strong, using their talons and fangs as deadly weapons and come in overwhelming hordes. They typically travel in groups with kin that have similar tasks as them, whether that be hunting, Hive maintenance, or scavenging. They never sire fledglings of their own. VAMPIRES   /.   QUEENS: One in each Hive. She is winged but flightless, sports horns eerily similar to a wide kokoshnik tiara, and has no eyes. Besides this, she looks as her offspring do, pale and slimy. When she first becomes Queen, she mates only with the strongest male of the Hive once, storing his seed for each time she lays eggs... think of ants! The Queen of the Primordial Hive took a great leap in fostering a human and turning them herself but was successful in creating the first human - vampire hybrid, able to traverse the day. If a Queen is killed and not quickly replaced, the Hive will surely die with her, not immediately but death is imminent. VAMPIRES   /.   HYBRIDAE: Immortal hybrids. Can be created by a Hive Queen or sired by another Hybrida. They may shift between two forms but one is able to withstand the sun. The first form is their human form, a form with flesh drained of blood but skin that retains much of the same complexion as when they were mortal. Hybridae typically sport the eyes they had before their turning but, sometimes, they may have the black sclerae of their primordial kin. They experience hair growth like humans do and may sport hairstyles and, if applicable, facial hair that are fashionable in the Cities at the time. Their vampire form is vastly different, standing several feet taller than their weaker, human form and with broad, webbed wings (unlike their sires, they can fly). They sport the leathery skin of their sires, hairless and often damp, though their skin tones range from blue gray to black. When feeding, one may be able to see glowing, crimson veins running along their body, especially in complete darkness. They typically have slit pupils and black sclerae but their irises may change colors according to their Hives’ locations. Long - fanged and long - taloned like their primordial kin, they are even stronger than their sires’ sack - born fledglings. They can unhinge their jaws to feed or use their fangs as weapons, talons often slicing through flesh like butter. They travel with packs of primordials or, more likely, alone as they are often ill - tempered and aggressive. Hybridae may mate with other Hybridae but don’t typically due to their territorial and volatile nature. They can also mate with humans, in either forms, and this gives rise to a new but weaker population of vampire - humans who only possess a human form. By the time the Holy Wars have ended and most of the Hybridae are killed off, their offspring with humans have mostly completely assimilated to life in the Cities. Despite this fact and most not even knowing they are vampire - kin, they are persecuted by the Church and their divine warriors, Priests.

#tw long post #verse /. dies illa solvet sæclum in favilla #a little about the world and key groups in it #can yall tell which group raph falls into??? #ANYWAY #PRIEST BOIZ LETS GOOOO #i'll write up panos and jon's verse description when i wake up from my nap

[joonclouds]

Heat Packs | YoongixReader

You make a scrunchy face at the sandy-haired boy. “Not so bad? All I was, was concerned and he saw fit to make me feel as worthy as the dirt under your shoe.”

“I don’t wear shoes.”

When you raise an eyebrow pointedly at him, Taehyung holds his hands up in mock surrender. “Alright, shoe police, calm down.”

-

Yoongi x Reader (and shoeless friend Taehyung)

Plot: Producer!Yoongi, fluff at the end, kind of enemies to lovers?? arguments to lovers? idk man Yoongi is bad at expressing feelings

Warnings:  It gets a bit hot and heavy at the end but nothing else unless you want to consider cringey fluff as a warning lol

Wordcount: 7.3k

Note: Quarantine is still very inspiring. I am still very bad at naming my fics. producer!Yoongi is *chefs kiss* Hope ya’ll are well x *kisses*

-

It is a Tuesday evening in mid November that you decide you hate Min Yoongi. Hate was a strong word for you. Most of the time you hovered between a state of neutrality to mild displeasure, and sure, you’d been harbouring a (maybe not so subtle) crush on your reclusive boss, but you decide today that it was time to Burn That Ship cause you hate Min Yoongi.

You stand there, heart pounding. From embarrassment or from anger, you can’t really tell at this point - but heck, it wasn’t even your fault. Indignant, that’s what you felt. You had heard a loud bang and crash from his recording studio, and in a moment of panic and concern you’d rushed in to check if everything was okay.

Turns out he was moving his large bass speakers and didn’t need (or deserve, you think huffily) any of your help. Maybe you should have knocked first, but -

“Who the fuck do you think you are? Never heard of knocking?”

See, you were a Badass Bitch™. Which is why now your face is flushing an angry red, mouth open, ready with a snappy comeback. But Badass Bitch™ is also paranoid and doesn’t like confrontations, so she takes a baton and whacks the retort right out of your mouth. So you close your mouth again, stand there silently and look down. And if it could get worse, it does - a prickling at the back of your eyes starts to grow.

“And you’re just going to stand there?” The black-haired boy cocks a brow at you.

“I.. I heard a crash so I just came in to make sure everything was okay and-“

“What is this, your house? Is your name on the outside of the door?”

You wring your hands behind your back and pinch the fleshy part of your palm to ease the growing lump in your throat. No, you refuse to cry in front of him. After three months of working here you’d thought you’d finally wormed your way into the category of “acceptable humans to Min Yoongi”, but clearly you had not. In fact, as of now, you probably didn’t even exist on the Venn diagram.

“I.. No, but… I…”

“Does it. Say your damn name. On. My. Studio. Door.”

You stand there, speechless, mouth opening and closing, looking for something to say. A fat tear starts to pool in your left eye and threatens to spill, but by some miracle you manage to hold it in. Barely.

Yoongi lets out a sharp breath and makes his way across the room, yanking the door wide open.

“The rule here is no one comes into my studio. Get the fuck out.”

-

You are still crying as you sharpen the twentieth coloured pencil on the living room floor you share with a pixie of a girl called Chungha, who sits opposite you with her chin propped on folded knees.

“You should do this for a living, you know. Given how many times you’ve done this already.” She comments

“What, the crying?” You stutter out confusedly between a hiccup and a sniff.

“I meant the pencil sharpening.”

You blow your nose wetly into a tissue. “I can’t help it, okay? I cry. When people. Shout at me.” You choke out the last few sentences in between sobs.

All your admission does is bring forth another wave of tears.

“So who made you cry this time?”

“Min Yoongi. Min. Fucking. Yoongi.” With each syllable you turn the pencil with a newfound gusto, taking some sort of vicarious pleasure in watching the wood getting shaved off in neat strips.

Chungha’s eyes widen. “As in, owner of the studio, Min Yoongi. Your ridiculously elusive, black-clothes-only, don’t-come-into-my-office, hot in a weird way, Min Yoongi?”

You nod aggresively. “I hate him. So much.”

“You don’t mean that.”

You consider locking Chungha in the storeroom.

“Maybe he just had a bad day?” She offers.

“What did I do to deserve this? All I did was check on him in his studio!” In your angst you stop sharpening. You imagine the little plastic sharpener is Yoongi’s stupid head and you hurl it across the carpet.

“I’m sorry he shouted at you.” She pulls a Kleenex out of the box and dabs gently at your face. “Even if he told you not to go in, but you didn’t deserve that. He’s an idiot. Men are idiots.”

“I was just trying to be nice!” You protest, voice rising a good four octaves. “I heard a loud thud so I got worried and I rushed in without thinking, but turns out he was just moving his speakers and he just got so mad and saying all those mean things - “ you trail off slowly as hiccups and sobs leave you incoherent.

“You know how he is, grumpy old man. I’m sure he’ll apologise.” Chungha offers you another tissue. “And honestly my love, there’s no point crying now you’ve already forgiven him so…”

“I. Havent.”

“Tell me that when you next speak to him and aren’t a puddle of mush.”

You fling your snot-stained tissue at her.

—

The next week when your shift comes around, you still show up for work. Even though you are half an hour late from pacing up and down the street outside, considering if you should just not show up to spite him. It took three existential crises, five tears, and many muttered curses about the offending human being, but eventually you find yourself in the lift up to the recording office. You didn’t like to admit it, but you were the type who was quick to anger, but quick to cool.

Though cooling didn’t mean forgiveness. You were good at compartmentalisation and that was exactly what you were going to do.

The idea of not landing yourself in crippling school fee debt was wholly enticing, and to do that you needed this job as an admin at the recording offices. It paid well, and was easy enough. Keep the place clean, stock the pantry, manage the room bookings, make sure no one breaks equipment. Make ramen for customers. Don’t go into Min Yoongi’s studio. Even if he suffered a heart attack and might be dead. Easy.

You steel yourself with a breath and push open the swinging door with gusto, making a beeline for the reception with your head down and eyes trained on your shoes. Just get behind that tall white counter and you’d be safe -

“Oof.”  - if you didn’t first collide with a broad, hoodie-clad chest.

Warm hands grip your shoulders to steady you. “Whoa, watch where you’re going, little pea.”

You smile as you step back to see a familiar face face that takes your breath away. “I didn’t know you were coming in today!”

Taehyung, or Tae, as you had come to know him, was one of the regulars at the studio. A music student with a voice deep and syrupy as honey, and a face just as sweet to match - he made hearts go ba-dump in chests. Even after six months of seeing him three times a week, and the knowledge that he was already (secretly) attached to his art school’s equally pretty-boy dance major, you as a normal human being were still not safe from Tae’s charms.

“Yeah, I had some free time - Jimin’s off putting in extra hours in the dance studio so I figured I’d come here.”

You’re glad for his presence as you go behind the reception and get ready for work.

Tae walks up on the other side of the counter and rests an elbow on it, chin propped in his palm. From behind his long bangs you can see he’s sporting a bit of a twinkle in his eyes. He looks at you expectantly and you’re confused for a moment but it all clicks into place.

You fall into the chair behind the reception and let your head loll back on the backrest, giving him the side-eye. “What is it, Tae?”

He grins mischeviously. “So Yoongi unleashed the kraken on you, huh.”

“If by kraken you mean Mr. Shouty Pants, then yes, the kraken.”

Tae lets out a barking laugh. “Let him off the hook, fisherman. He’s not so bad once you get to know him - he wasn’t always like this, you know.”

You guess is that if that stupid recluse had anything such as a friend, then Taehyung would probably be the closest thing to it. But then again your guess was as good as useless because it was near impossible to not like Tae - he was definintely overly-friendly, but not in a smothering way and boy, did it grow on you. Out of all the people who came and went in the studio, Taehyung and about four other people were the only ones you had ever seen Yoongi say more than three words to in a single sentence. Well, now you were included in that category too, but for very different reasons.

You make a scrunchy face at the sandy-haired boy. “Not so bad? All I was, was concerned and he saw fit to make me feel as worthy as the dirt under your shoe.”

“I don’t wear shoes.”

When you raise an eyebrow pointedly at him, Taehyung holds his hands up in mock surrender. “Alright, shoe police, calm down.”

After a moment, he adds, “are you still angry?”

You sigh in resignation. “Honestly? Not really. I decided I need this job more than my dignity.”

Tae chuckles good-naturedly.

“Oh, by the way could I have the restroom key, Jungkook’s track got rejected again and the idiot’s gone and locked himself in there. Again.”

Bending to look under your table for the right set of keys, you cant help but feel the little worm of resentment wriggle in your heart. “If he were even half decent he’d apologise.” You grumble quietly.

“Looks like he already has.”

“What did you say?” You emerge from under the desk, a little red in the face, and hold the keys out to Tae.

“Thanks!” Tae grins widely at you as he takes the keys and makes in the direction of the hallway, calling out behind him, “Ramen at 9?”

“Choosing to have ramen with me over Jimin? I’m honoured.”  You tease.

Turning back to your desk you notice a little convenience store heat pack with a yellow sticky note that says ‘it’s getting colder’ messily scribbled on it. Tae must have put it there while you were searching for the keys - a right shame he batted for the other team, the boy was so sweet.

“Thank you for the heat pack!”

“Not my doing!” Is his muffled reply from inside the corridors, but you just leave it at that.

—

Taehyung trains his eyes on the mop of black hair sitting in front of him at the audio console. He slowly swings in the spinny chair he’s kneeling backwards in, arms and chin on the high backrest.

After a couple minutes of silence Yoongi turns around.

“Tae I swear. I tolerate you, but if you continue staring at me while spinning in that chair for one more second I will enforce a shoes-on policy on this studio.”

The spinning continues, a playful gleam in the younger boy’s eyes. I call bluff. “When I’m gone, who else will you spill all your admin staff related problems to?”

Yoongi lets out a resigned sigh and pinches the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. Why he chose to let this shoeless, pajama-clad hooligan into his life he would never know.

“This is about ____, isn’t it?”

Taehyung nods. “What you gonna do about it?”

“Nothing.”

He stops spinning in the chair. “Hyung. You didn’t misplace her printing, spill coffee on her notes, make her give out flyers in the rain, put in her pay three days late, or even ask her to make ramen for Jungkook.” (The boy eats four packets in one go.) He lists them all out on his fingers, much to Yoongi’s further annoyance.

“Heck, maybe even collectively doing all of those things might have been better.” He wags an accusing finger in his face, but Yoongi chooses not to acknowledge it. Just like he’s trying not to acknowledge the huge clusterfuck that was this situation with you.

“You made _____ cry. The _____ who waters the stupid plant outside your door and replenishes the bottled water in your personal fridge after you run out because you’re too damn lazy to do it yourself. You’d both die of dehydration if not for her.”

“You both?”

“You and the plant outside, you fucking dumbass, since both of you have so much in common.”

Yoongi slumps deeper into his chair, twiddling with the rings on his fingers uncomfortably. He’s looking at his three computer screens filled with music arrangements but all he can see is your face, hurt and angry. There was a particular point where he saw a tear threaten to escape and he can’t remember feeling like more of an asshole. He’s frustrated that you make him frustrated with your stupid pretty face all crumpled up like that and the fact that he’d been the one to -

“So?” Taehyung asks expectantly.

Yoongi has a defeated look on his face. “I already apologised!”

Taehyung gives him a stare that was equal parts appalled and in disbelief. “With a two dollar heat pack you bought from the convenience store? Which you left on her desk, along with some random post-it and no name. She thinks it’s from me, by the way.”

“She should have been able to tell? ... From the handwriting?”

Taehyung just looks at him.

“I didn’t mean what I said, Tae.” He adds huffily after a short silence. You know why I get so prickly when people come into my studio without permission.”

“Hyung, but ____ doesn’t know that.” He reasons with a softer tone. “I know you like her. If you didn't you’d have fired her on the spot. She’s the best one yet, and pretty, too. I bet if you explained yourself she’d forgive you.”

He hates it, but Taehyung was right when it came to things like this. Your feelings had been hurt and insulted (unjustly so by him) and he didn’t know how to fix it, so he’d just avoided coming out of his room or being at the studio when you were working your shifts. Which had turned out to be an unexpected inconvenience because you were there, manning the reception and running the room bookings more often than he had thought.

“Knew she was trouble from the moment I hired her.” Yoongi grumbles.

“Stop it, old man. You’re just saying that because you like her.”

And indeed you were, all doe-eyed and warm smiles in a floral print dress catching him off guard the day you tentatively pushed the doors of the studio open, asking about the position opening for a receptionist.

Yoongi soon discovered, over the three months you’d been here so far, that you were also a college student struggling to pay her bills, and your shy disposition hid a sharp tongue and intelligent dry wit that had left him chuckling below his breath before he could stop himself. You were definitely trouble, and just his kind.

“After you apologise you should just ask her out already,” tae adds, “she’s totally got a thing going for you."

Yoongi scoffs. “Yes, _____ totally has a thing for me and my winning personality.” He puts his hand on his chin in mock contemplation. “Now I know why she ran off crying. She’s in love with me.”

“I said, after you apologise. Properly. She’ll forgive you.”

“Maybe I can just fire her. Then I don’t have to see her again.” He groans.

“Then I’d never forgive you.”

The words were sharp, but that was just Taehyung. There was somehow always a kindness to everything he did or said, even if it was an unpleasant thing; it had made Yoongi see the error of his ways more than once. The kid was more mature than anyone gave him credit for.  

Tae pushes off the chair and claps an encouraging hand on the older boy’s shoulder before turning to leave the room.

“Just say sorry, Yoongi. It’s not that hard.”

—

The way Dongwon looks at you as he leans on the reception counter makes you uncomfortable. In the kind of way that you can feel his eyes on your face, your throat, your shoulders. It makes you want to take a shower. Not that you were wearing anything revealing. In fact, you are the antithesis of sexy right now in what Chungha liked to call The Nun Outfit - a  white turtleneck knit and a plain black midi skirt that fell to your shins.

Nevertheless, you force a smile out, respecting that this was one of Yoongi's previous work partners. “I’m sorry, but Yoongi specifically told me not to allow any unscheduled reservations today.”

“Come on babe. I left shortly after you arrived, but you know who I am. I just gotta pick something up, and use studio B for a while.”

His usage of the affectionate term on you makes your skin prickle but you shake it off. “Maybe you could leave a message?”

Fumbling at your desk, you reach for a pen and a notepad, pointedly ignoring the way Dongwon is leaning in closer, not sparing you an inch of his scrutiny. “Here, you can use this -"

“Are you fucking him?”

You freeze. “What?"

Dongwon gives you a once over and runs his tongue on the inside of his cheek. You think you’re going to throw up.

“Are you two fucking? Is that why you’re listening to him like a good little - ��

Yoongi is nothing if not a possessive man. So when he catches the tail end of your conversation with Dongwon on his way out to get this third Americano of the day, and sees Dongwon looming over you like you're his next meal, he feels a sharp, intense anger pressing against his chest.

“The heck do you want?” Yoongi is seething as he enters the reception area, but he tames the flames quickly. His tone is deceptively level.

Dongwon looks away from you and a weird expression crosses his face, but it’s schooled quickly. “Yoongi, my man.” He greets emptily.

“I’m just visiting. Seeing how you’re doing.”

“Great.” is Yoongi's clipped reply as he sets his empty cup on the counter and tosses a couple of bills in front of you.

“Im sorry, sajangnim, I told him you said no unscheduled -”

“Iced americano, triple shot.” Yoongi cuts you off. 

He looks at you pointedly, the first time he’s acknowledged you since he had shouted at you a week ago. Under normal circumstances you’d have snapped back about how ‘so we’re only speaking if you need me to be the coffee lady’ but today you just take the money and leave the office, glad to be out of there. You drag your feet, walking as slow as possible to the cafe downstairs and pray the barista takes longer, but there’s only so much time you can kill before you have to go back up. Coming to the end of the corridor you just hope they’re both gone by the time you get back so it saves you the confrontation but -

You stop just before they can see you through the glass door.

"You don't talk to my people that way."

"Your people?" You don't need to see Dongwon's face to know he's sporting a twisted mocking expression.

"What’s the matter, she’s free game if you guys aren’t sleeping together." His leering tone makes you blanch. "With a face like that? She's way out of your league, man, and even if you were fucking, it doesn't mean you can't share - “

Dongwon is cut off when you hear the loud, telling smack of a fist connecting with a face. It is all you can do to not drop the coffee in your hand, the other coming to cover your mouth to muffle a gasp.

“God, what the fuck is wrong with you, Yoongi? Who shoved a cactus up your ass?”

There is a brief scuffling noise, and the sound of some pushing and shoving, but quickly, it is quiet again.

“You know I could end your career in one phonecall, right?” You can barely hear Yoongi from where you are, but one thing’s for sure. You’ve never heard him like this before. Angry and menacing.

“I know what you’re here for. I’m not going to fall for it again. I kept quiet to protect the people in Namjoon’s company, but don’t you for one damn moment think I don’t know you’re the stealing bastard who took my demos and used them as your own.”

"And when Namjoon realises what your work is like - ha!" Yoongi snorts. "I was gonna watch you die a slow and public death but I guess that can be sped up."

Suddenly, things click into place with a shrill clarity. You don’t hear Dongwon say anything.

“You. Owe. Me. So you be a good little bitch and apologise to _____ when she comes back, and if you even so much as breathe on the corner of my block again, I’m going to fucking end you.”

“Yoongi you -“

If there was a good time for Badass Bitch™ to make an appearance it would probably be now. So you squeeze your eyes shut and with a deep breath, push open the office door.

“Coffee’s here!” You say a little too brightly, like you didn’t just walk in on an altercation.

Dongwon is trapped against the counter, collar gripped in Yoongi’s fist. He’s sporting a shiner on his cheekbone. Your lip trembles, but you manage to hold it in place. After a tense moment, Yoongi releases his grip with a disgusted exhale. Dongwon brushes himself off, turning away to straighten his shirt.

You place the coffee cup on the counter, turning to Yoongi and holding out a small fist. When he just looks at you, you grab his wrist and deposit some coins in his hand. You notice his knuckles are definitely pink.

“Your change.”

Yoongi ignores you, looking over your head at Dongwon. He opens his mouth like he’s about about to throw a nasty remark, but then closes it again with fire burning in his eyes and turns to leave.

“Oi. You forgot something. ” Yoongi’s tone is dangerous, warning.

Dongwon looks back, eyes still blazing, gaze shifting to you when Yoongi tilts his head in your direction.

He scoffs before pushing the door open, but then as he leaves he spits out begrudgingly, “Sorry, or whatever.”

You stand there in shocked silence for a good full minute before your senses come back to you. You turn to Yoongi again, grabbing his wrist to examine his hand.

“Yoongi, your hand -“ you start, but he’s already yanking it back from your grasp and muttering an angry “I’m fine”, before grabbing his coffee off the counter and heading back into his studio with a slam of his door.

-

If Yoongi’s day could have gotten any worse, it just did. There is a knocking on his door, for the third time in a row now and -

Knock knock knock.

He groans, yanking the door open. If he could get any more pissed off, he does, when he comes face to face with Taehyung.

“The fuck do you want, Tae, I swear if it’s nonsense again -"

"Stop taking your problems out on other people, hyung. Getting real tired of your shit here."

Yoongi groans internally. Tae was right. Again.

"Sorry. Its been a day. Dongwon was here earlier." He explains wearily, and the younger boy softens a little with understanding.

"S'okay. He's gone now?"

"Yeah, left him with a present too." Taehyung eyes Yoongi's hand that rested on the doorframe. He nods a few times, and then shoves a plastic bag into Yoongi’s hands.

“I have a present for you. It’s from ____.”

Your name stuns him for a moment. “Wait. Who?”

“____. She asked me to give it to you. I think she’s too afraid to give it to you herself.”

“What? Why?”

Taehyung doesn’t say anything, just rolls his eyes before walking away. Yoongi shuts the door and slumps back in his chair, hand coming to massage his temples but he winces when he tries to make a fist. His knuckles are an angry, painful red. He definitely hit Dongwon harder than he’d intended.

Sighing, he empties the contents of the little bag onto the table and finds a tube of anti-inflammatory ointment, a roll of bandages, and a little pink post it note. It’s from you. You’ve doodled a smiling caricature of yourself with a tiny speech bubble that says ‘thank you!’.

He picks it up, running a finger over the smiley face and plasters in the top right hand corner.

-

Huddling deeper into your coat as you trudge miserably back down the street in the direction of the studio, you silently thank Tae for the heat packs he’s been leaving you - though he always denies it and you wonder why. Of course it’s just your luck that you left your house keys at the office on the coldest night of the month.

It’s not that Yoongi was avoiding you, you reason to yourself, as you walk, he was always like that. Aside from the first interview, you didn’t get a second glimpse of him till the third week into your new job. And even then you didnt really know what he actually looked like, because his face was always covered with a mask or a black cap pulled low. You heard more about your boss than how much you actually saw him.  

Maybe he just felt embarrassed by the whole two situations? You reason to yourself. Frankly you were over the whole shouting fest. Maybe he just had an off day, so what? (Chungha was right, you were just a little miffed that he didn’t apologise to you, but you guessed he’d redeemed himself). As you round the corner you kick a stray pebble that bounces down the street -

Oh.

You remember the first time you had a Good Look at Yoongi. Not just glimpses of eyes under a cap pulled low, or a flash of his profile as he tugs his hood up over his head. Like, a real proper stare. It was about a month and a half in, when you were heading to water the plants outside his studio before you ended your shift, and caught him working late with the door open.

You had imagined him to have coarse, unrefined features, what with his reclusive, gruff personality. And so you were caught by surprise, when you're greeted with a delicate side profile, strong brows slightly furrowed in concentration as he experiments with different chords on the keyboard with long, elegant fingers. A plush lower lip is worried between a row of clean, straight teeth. It was an unconventional kind of handsomeness, a kind that made you want to look, and look again.

But it's like he knows you're there and looks up. Before you can apologise out of habit, he closes the door in your face, your gaze meeting his for a split second. His eyes are angled with an almost feline quality under long lashes, sharp and guarded. You didn’t know what they guarded, but you felt a curiosity take bud in your chest and it was in that moment you knew you were very much in trouble.

But it is not clear how much trouble you are in. And you thought you were clear of that trouble, given the happenings of the past weeks. But now you realise any chance of being clear of it is now shot to shit when you round the corner of the street and see him crouching at the curb outside the building near a small ball of fur.

He’s playing with a cat.

Softly, the three-coloured cat he’s watching purrs, abandoning the can of tuna in favour of rubbing itself against Yoongi’s shin. He pulls a hand out of his hoodie pocket and reaches down to scratch between its ears. A gentle, endearing smile finds its way onto his face. You feel your heart squeeze.

But like the last time, before you can make your presence known, he looks up. He knows. There’s an expression on his face like he’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t have been.

Yoongi quickly stands up and shoves his hand back into his hoodie pocket as you approach. It is at this point a small logical part of his mind registers that it would be a good time to apologise to you, but for the most part it is a mental re-enactment of a keyboard smash when you give him an unsure smile and a tiny wave. All swaddled in your coat and scarf, you were so cute, and holy shit you were walking over and he had no clue what he was going to say.

“So you’re the one spoiling him.” You murmur as the cat leaves Yoongi to pad over to you.

“Him?” He replies dumbly.

You nod to the meowing ball of fur curling around your ankles. “Him. I named him Jimin.”

“Jimin.” He repeats slowly. “A very human name?”

Yoongi watches you, as you watch the cat, a small smile gracing your face. “He reminds me of a friend of a friend. Small and cute. But has claws. And very clingy once he gets close to you.”

You look up to catch him staring, and he quickly redirects his attention to a streetlamp in the distance. “Yeah, I’ve been feeding him for a couple of weeks now. You’re definitely right about him being clingy.” Yoongi admits sheepishly as he shifts his weight from foot to foot.

Crouching to give Jimin a head scratch, you can sense Yoongi wants to say something. But you reckon he doesn’t know how. You think about giving him a hard time, but you don’t. You figure getting caught feeding a little cat is enough punishment for him.

“Don’t worry, sajangnim. I won’t tell anyone." You say with a little smile. "I’ll keep your image intact.”

Your smile makes his brain short circuit. "What?"

You let out a laugh because this was the most flustered you’d ever seen Yoongi, over a cat, no less! (you were wrong about this) And boy, was it amusing.

It's a light, happy noise and it's so pretty, Yoongi thinks. A pretty laugh for a pretty girl.

"Y'know, your whole brooding, all black, don't talk to me, mysterious guy image." You make a mask gesture over your face and then to him in mock disbelief.

"Playing with cats isn't very on brand of you, but I'll keep that information to myself."

Yoongi laughs then, and he dips his head to try and hide it, but from where you're crouching with Jimin you're treated to a glimpse of the cutest gummy smile that makes your heart turn into mush. You mentally note to prepare yourself for the next time he does that.

Putting your hands on your knees you push yourself back up and you both stand in companionable silence for a little while, watching the little cat go back to his bowl of tuna.

“I’m gonna -“

“Yeah so - “

The expression of mild surprise quickly turns into amusement on Yoongi’s face, and it makes you laugh softly into your palm like a shy fifteen year old. You quirk your head at him. Yoongi feels like it is really unfair for someone to be this cute.

“You first.”

Yoongi rubs the back of his neck with his hand and looks up at you from behind the hair falling in his eyes.

“I’m. Uh.” He stutters. “Realised I never apologised for that day.”

“It’s okay,” you smile reassuringly. “I’m over it.”

“You are?”

“Yeah.” You shrug. “I mean, granted you were a Top Notch Asshole, but I guess it was just a bad day for you.”

“I deserve that. Taehyung told me I should stop taking my anger out on others. Its true.”

“I accept your apology. Everyone has their own… thing.” You say stupidly after not being able to find better words.

“I just have issues sometimes. With... intellectual property.” He gestures vaguely in the air, trying to explain the best he can and you understand that he doesn’t really want to say more.

“I know.”

Yoongi’s brow knits in confusion for a moment before realisation dawns upon him.

“You heard us.”

You nod with a tight smile. “I didn’t mean to.”

Yoongi nods. “You’re not curious?”

“I am.” You consider this for a while, before adding: “but I don’t want to hear it if you don’t want to tell me.”

Yoongi doesn’t say anything, just continues staring at you. He likes that you are perceptive, and that you don’t feel like you’re automatically owed a lengthy explanation (even though he feels like you were). He likes your humour and the way you say things, and how every emotion is displayed so clearly on your face. He used to hate it because he thought it was a lack of tact, but honesty like yours is something he’s recently come to treasure a lot.

His staring makes your skin prickle all over and your cheeks flush, so you look for something to say.

“So all the receptionists who've worked for you become your punching bag, or was it just me?”

“Only the pretty ones.” He's sporting that cheeky gummy smile again.

He thought you were pretty?

It was so cliche, but it made you giggle. "Okay, casanova."

Your laugh dies down and you do this little shrug smile thing at him. In the muted yellow of the lamplight, and the snow starting to fall around you, Yoongi feels his heart stutter.

“Thanks, for the... stuff.” He pulls his other hand out of his hoodie to show you that it’s bandaged.

“Ah, you got them. I’m glad Tae got them to you. I didn’t know if you um.” You pause. “... wanted my company or not.” Yoongi blanches apologetically. “I’m working on it.”

After a moment of silence, you point up at the building. “I gotta get going. I left my house keys in the office. I came back to get them.”

“I think I’ll stay here a little longer.” He looks down at his furry friend working steadily at finishing whatever's in the bowl. “With Jimin.”

A sudden gust of cold, sharp wind cuts by, and you shove your hands deeper into your pockets kept warm by the heat pack Taehyung had given you. You see Yoongi shiver in his hoodie, and in the spur of the moment you fish out the heat pack in your pocket and hold it out to him.

“Take this, if you're gonna be out here. It’s getting colder these days.”

There is an odd expression on Yoongi’s face and he stares weirdly at you for a moment before you go into panic mode.

“Oh no, do you mind that I’ve been holding it before? Oh no I’m sorry. It’s okay, my hands are clean, I wash them often, twice actually with soap and water. I don’t like germs. If you want I also have hand sanitiser - “ you begin digging around hastily in your little sling bag, but freeze when Yoongi’s hands settles over your own.

They are big and warm, and the rough callouse on his palm brushes gently over your knuckles. You can’t help but imagine what they’d feel like on other places of your body. He accepts the heat pack from you, fingers lingering just a little too long - you’re sure of it, you hadn’t imagined that.

“Thank you, ____.” He offers you a half-smile and you can feel your heart flip flop like a fish in your chest.

All of a sudden, self-consciousness hits you in waves, and you school your features, clearing your throat. “I… I’d better get going, sajangnim.”

“Yoongi.”

“What?”

“Call me Yoongi.”

Yoongi finds himself biting the inside of his cheek to stop himself from smiling too wide as he watches you, all flustered as you stutter a mumbled agreement and goodbye, trudging off abruptly in the direction you came. Only to turn back around because you’d gone in the wrong direction instead of going to get your keys. Cute, he thinks to himself. Very cute.

—

The first time you say his name is two weeks later and you’re not used to calling him that, so he really has to drag it out of you. (Not that he didn’t enjoy it, but you best believe he won’t ever let you live it down that you couldn’t bring yourself to drop the honorifics.)

It’s after hours, and he’s leaning against the audio console in his studio, with you standing between his legs. A random demo track of his plays in the background - a simple piano melody, but you don't recognise it. Must be one of the new things he's been working on - there were a lot of them lately. One of them being working up the sexual tension between you two, which had reached a head today, given the position you were in. You were about to burst. Into tears, or flames you didn't know which but you sure as hell were about to find out.

You are eye to eye with Yoongi. An arm around your waist presses you against his chest with nowhere to run, the other hand gently cupping the side of your face. He is terribly close, so warm and smells of soap and the leather jacket he’s wearing.

“Say it properly.”

A little bubble of annoyance rises in your throat at the smug expression on his face. You’re rather cute when you’re frustrated.

“This is blackmail. It’s illegal, you know?” You say huffily. “It’s just a name, why do you have to make life so hard for me? I’m sure you’d know - “

You ramble on, and Yoongi watches you fondly - you weren't much of a talker, but put you in a spot and suddenly you couldn’t stop talking. He’s rather excited to discover more of this side of you. Even your coping mechanisms were cute, and he thinks to himself that he’s pretty much done for.

Yoongi places his index finger under your chin, tipping your head up to meet his gaze and runs the pad of his thumb slowly over your bottom lip. You shut up, and watch him as he watches his finger press into the soft flesh. The guy knew exactly what he was doing, and you were going to let him.

“Kiss me.”

Yoongi tilts his face even nearer, lips hovering dangerously close.

“Not good enough.” He whispers. His breath fans gently across your cheek; it smells like the mint gum he likes to chew on when he’s working on a particularly difficult track.

Yoongi feels your small hands tighten around the lapels of his jacket, and he’s met with a glare that is pleading and dare he say… petulant? He’s wanted to kiss you for a long time, and he’s thought about it a lot. More than is healthy for him, he thinks, but oh, does he want to tease you just a little bit longer.

“Not. Good. Enough.”

“Yoongi, kiss me.”

When Yoongi first kisses you, he does so chastely. He nips delicately at your lips. His own are soft, unhurried and teasing - a tender shadow of a kiss. You can tell he's relaxing, savoring the moment, and like a fog settling in, your world grows hazy with the smell, taste and touch of him.

"There's my girl." Yoongi whispers as he pulls away, his breath mixing with yours. Unintentionally you shift, moving forward for another kiss because he's kissing you but not really kissing you. And unsurprisingly, he stays where he is, just out of reach.

"Kiss me. Properly ", you repeat.

He moves his lips slowly to your jaw and lower; you can feel his laugh through his chest. You crane your neck and let out a breathy "oh god" when Yoongi takes his own sweet time to suck a deep pink bruise into the creamy expanse of skin there. He appraises, with satisfaction, the way his mark looks on you before soothing it with his warm lips and tongue.

"Come on princess," he murmurs against your skin in between licks. "Try again."

The term of endearment he uses on you is your undoing, and he makes a mental note with emphatic exclamation points to revisit this tidbit of information at a later date.

"Yoongi. Kiss me. Please."

And just like that he continues where you two left off, this time with no ounce of teasing or flirting. It's hot and shameless and wanton. Yoongi is no longer gentle. The hand around your waist drops to the curve of your ass, gripping hard and pulling you onto your tiptoes. He slips a thigh between your legs, your hips now flush against his - a delicious pressure you can't get enough of. The other hand palms your breast, rubbing a pebbling nipple through your clothes and the sudden friction makes you gasp. He takes the chance parting of your lips to lick into your mouth, swallowing your soft moans eagerly. You run one of your hands up to the nape of his neck. Carding your fingers through the hair there earns you a low groan, and a heavy, languid swipe of his tongue against yours.

You don’t know how long you spend memorising the taste of him, his hands claiming every possible inch of your skin, but eventually the kiss slows. Yoongi takes your bottom lip between his teeth, biting gently as he pulls away. For a moment all you can hear is the the blood roaring in your ears.

As the both of you catch your breath, Yoongi is just watching you now. The hand that rests on your waist moves up your belly, up your chest. It comes to rest at the base of your throat, thumb one one side and four fingers on the other. Silently, you revel in its weight. The feeling of his rings on your skin makes you shiver a little. Unable to help himself, he squeezes ever so slightly. Like this, he can feel your hummingbird pulse under the pad of his thumb.

Your eyes flutter shut momentarily, but not before you see his eyes light with desire.

You look up at him, and he decides he likes you like this. He really, really likes you like this - soft, pliant, all pressed up against him with your moans and kiss-swollen lips, and for the love of god, begging.  

It’s a bit pathetic how you’ve got him all wrapped around your little finger but he's had enough of teasing and he gets to kiss you now, so he doesn’t care. He smiles widely, closing the distance between his lips and yours again.

-

Six months down the road is the first time he lets you listen to that piano track when it’s finished. You don’t remember it at first, but he’s quick to jolt your memory with a very in depth and very realistic re-enactment.

When you finally get down to listening to it, he plays it off as cool and nonchalant, but you’re attuned to his little mannerisms by now, and the way he’s picking at the skin on his thumb told you this was important. He’s nervous to let you listen to it.

It’s beautiful - a soft piano backing track compliments his husky rap in an unexpected but flawless manner, and the way it builds into a crescendo fills you with raw emotion. Your eyes are wet by the time the last few notes play.

“Yoongi, it’s beautiful.”

He smiles at you, but continues picking at his thumb.

“You don’t think it’s too… different?” He frowns a little. “From my other stuff? Will people like it?”

You walk over to take his face between two of your small hands.  You’re looking at him like he’s your entire world and his heart is going to burst. “ Don’t worry. It’s going to be amazing. It is amazing. You’re amazing.”

In that moment, Yoongi feels invincible. He presses a long, sweet kiss to your lips.

“Some day, I’m going to write a song about you.” he breathes when he pulls away. You beam quietly.

“Music is my first love but you - “ there is a pause as he takes a moment to run a finger across your cheek, so gentle, as if he might break you if he wasn’t careful enough.“ - you are my forever love.”

- 

#joonclouds writes #yoongi #bts yoongi #yoongi fic #bts fic #suga fic #yoongi fluff #producer yoongi makes me feel things

[avaxhunt]

@firehunters

“Ava!” Callie called a little louder and Ava blinked, turning her head to look at her.

“Hm?” The blonde raised her eyebrows inquisitively, clearly having been in another dimension for a while.

“Were you just staring at your husband?” Callie arched an eyebrow and Ava smirked shamelessly.

“For the past half hour?” Vivian furrowed her brows, one hand palmed on the right underside of the huge baby bump she sported at almost seven months into her pregnancy. Danny was kicking particularly hard and right on that spot this morning. Apparently he wasn’t much of a fan of the heat. All three of them had been sitting by the pool sporting their best bikinis that had spent way too long hidden inside drawers. Vivian was plastered with sunscreen, too afraid her stretch marks would get too dark because of the sun. Callie had vintage sunglasses on to protect her blue eyes from the light - Ava should too but the shades kept her from having a good view of her husband. 

“A little longer actually, I started staring when he took off his shirt.” Ava admitted nonchalantly, eyes back on Andrew as he moved around close to the grill while laughing alongside Wesley at something Colin had said. And now the girls were laughing too and Ava looked at them. “What? Can you two blame me? Just look at him.” She pointed at Andrew almost offended her staring was laughed at.

“Yeah, he is a beauty.” Callie had to say it, Andrew truly was. 

“Too hairless for me.” Vivian shrugged and the other two stared at her. “Both of them.” She wagged a finger from Andrew to Colin. “Do they shave? How are they so smooth? Men should have hair. Look at Wes, his beard is all the day down to his Adam’s apple. Daniel will be born with a full head of hair, a baby with a wig.” Vivian simply couldn’t understand, coming from a family of pure Mediterranean blood and living with a man whose manly, hairy chest was deliciously exposed by his shirtlessness at the moment. 

“Genes. All of Andrew’s hair just goes straight above his neck. Not one single hair on his chest but his chin? Not one single bald spot on that perfect stubble. Grows like grass.” Ava had a proud smile on her lips and Vivian chuckled, shaking her head. 

“Same for Colin, just genes. He actually has some hair?” Callie tilted her head lightly as she looked at her fiance from across the pool, sitting straight and folding her legs. “Most of it goes to his head. His hair grows so fast. Same with his beard, trims every week and he’s been getting these gray spots..” Callie looked back at her friends with a devious smirk on her lips and both Ava and Viv sighed longingly.

“I cannot wait for Wes to go gray.” Vivian looked over at Wesley, smiling as he seemed to that felt her eyes on him and faced her direction. 

“No, no, a gray Andrew will be the death of me.” Ava shook her head. He’d just be too sexy. 

#all babies 003

[captainjimothycarter]

For the prompt + trope ask, prompt #5 with royal au for thundershield? Pls?

I have waited far too long and can’t find the prompt you were talking about but let’s just go with royal au?  I think it was “I just needed a change of scenery.”

Please be kind, I rarely write thunder shield. This may not be what you wanted and I am so sorry?? It just came out.

--

The bed was moving. Rocking side to side in a gentle motion that could almost card the young prince back into a well-deserved slumber.

He almost did too, until the memories of the last few days struck him and Steve found himself quickly sitting up. His body screamed in pain, tense muscles moving faster than he should. A wound that had been stitched together tugged and he stilled, not wanting to rip a stitch. His eyes fell to the room - a simple boarding room inside of an elegant boat.

He’d know that symbol carved into the supporting pole anywhere.

Odinson

Groaning, Steve pulled himself to his feet, shoving his feet inside of a pair of worn boots. He got three steps away before it hit him that these were not his clothes. These were elegant, well made, cared for, and stitched with love. They were comfortable and not the clothes he had last remember wearing that were rags by now. 

Looking down at the tights, Steve heaved a soft sigh and shook his head. He needed to get to the bottom of this and stat. 

The rocking made sense as he climbed the stairwell, fingers tracing over hand-carved designs in the walls. He recognized a few designs, a few done by magic, and traced over with a knife to give it that rustic look. It told the story of how the kingdom of Asgard came to be and how they defeated the violent tyranny known as the ice giants and laid claim to the throne. 

A story told to kids to lull them to sleep at night, covered in a blanket of their lies.

The deck was empty of people, no staff, no one manning the boat. He was greeted with great, white sails, the wind pushing them closer to their new destination. An inky black sky welcomed Steve, the smell of the salt in the sea opening his lungs up more than they had been in the slum of the city. For the first time, he felt like he could breathe, that he had some sense of relief.

He leaned into the side of the boat with a heavy sigh, closing his eyes to just enjoy the rocking. How long had he been out? More than a day, he had to guess. His body was sore and aching from that amount of rest. They had to be miles away from home by now. He didn’t even get to say goodbye…

Before the anguishing thought laid on him, Steve jumped when he felt a warm hand lay on his shoulders. His heart lurched into his throat and he turned around to see Thor, the prince, and heir to the throne of Asgard standing above him.

Thor was everything his father wanted him to be - a foot taller than Steve’s 5’4 height, a mass of bulging muscles from spending days in the field, and slaying monsters for sport. His hair was swept from his face and braided back, charms hanging from the few braids that hung around his face. He’d neglected to shave as of recent, stubble growing in around his flushed cheeks. Despite the power this prince held, how he could easily slay Steve by just breathing on him, there was a kindness in his eyes. A softness that had first betrayed Steve and made him fall for the prince. 

And for once, the prince was without his battle adorned armor and his family weapon - a thick hammer that he had named Mjolnir. 

His head tilted to the side as he watched Steve, concern growing in his flushed face at the way Steve started to panic for his breath.

“I’m sorry,” he breathed, frowning slightly. “I thought you had heard me coming. I didn’t mean to scare you. Here, my mother made this for you.”

Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a small jar with a cork lid on it. He pulled the lid off and held it to Steve’s face, letting him breathe in the intense fumes. The smaller blonde choked on the sweet smell of lavender and chamomile, but his panic slowly subsided, his breathing returning to normal.

“Remind me to thank her,” he muttered, watching Thor pack the jar back into his pocket. “Where are we? What in the hell happened?”

It was a question Thor wanted to avoid, his brow pinching as the events of the last few days played over in his head. “I made the necessary decision to save you. You were now safe within Asgard’s walls, so I am taking you elsewhere.”

He wrapped Steve in one arm, leading him away from the ledge to walk slowly around the ship. His eyes lit up at the man controlling the ship - a taller brunette with silver eyes, pointed ears, and a metallic left arm. He made a sound as he ripped from Thor’s arm to throw himself at his best friend, knocking them both to the floor in the process.

Thor’s echoing laugh bounced around them, reminding him of thunder rumbling in the sky. “I see that you have met our new navigator. He was determined not to leave your side, a promise he had made to your mother before she had passed. Promises are dear and sacred to my culture, Steven. I didn’t want to break that bond.”

Steve sat up from Bucky’s arms, trying to pretend he wasn’t crying. “I thought-I thought you...I...left! Odin had said…” He stopped at the anger that flashed across Bucky’s face, following the man’s eyes as Thor shook his head from where he controlled the wheel. 

“Odin doesn’t matter,” Bucky purred, cupping Steve’s face. “You heard your prince - promises matter. Odin won’t stop me from following you. Besides, someone has to stop you from doing something stupid - like attempting to attack a king.”

Steve’s cheeks flushed a shade of pink, the memory slowly ebbing back into his vision. He had attacked Odin with nothing but a simple dagger. But why? Odin controlled the very Kingdom he laid in, even opposing the king meant a death sentence. How was he still alive?

“Father had it coming,” Thor mused in a distraction, pulling Steve and then Bucky up. “Your friend, Friend Bucky, your boyfriend awaits for you in your chambers. The boat can man itself with Loki’s spell still on it, so you may rest. Steven?” 

Steve looped his arm around Thor’s when offered, giving one last confused look to Bucky before he was lead down a set of stairs. He was taken to an empty kitchen, being sat at a sturdy table while Thor went about heating broth and toasting a roll.

“The doctor says you must start light with your meals if you are to get an appetite back. I apologize but the drug my mother was forced to use had knocked you out for a few days now, just to allow your body to heal. You might find yourself struggling for a few days, but he assures me that you will be fine as long as you rest and eat.”

Setting the bowl in front of Steve, he walked around with his goblet and set it between them. One tap of the stem and Steve knew inside was the sweetest glass of boysenberry juice that any soul could want. The magic Thor possessed, however, limited compared to his little brother, still astounded him.

“Thor…” Steve sighed after a few mouthfuls, not wanting to press his luck with his appetite. “What happened? I need to know the full story. Where are we going? Why am I not dead?”

Thor sighed, his shoulders sagging slightly. He took the goblet himself and drank a few sips, making a face at how sweet the content was. “Tis not easy, Steven. You might’ve as your friend says - made a stupid decision but a necessary one. You tried to kill my father.”

He raised his hand to stop Steve’s initial panic, pointing to the bowl. “You eat, I talk.”

“You were not raised a prince, as I was. You were stuck in the far lands, in a small fishing village, correct? But you are a prince. You are the prince that Heimdall has prophecies that I will marry. He has said that I should marry you, a nameless blonde prince at the time, and learn to become a better man, to rule over my people with grace and a firm hand, to be better than my father. You were hidden from me on purpose, my father’s doing. If it wasn’t for Loki, I wouldn’t have found you. And he only found you by mistake when one of your drawings had reached our lands by your friend Barnes.”

“Bucky...joined the military - only way he could be useful, he said.”

“Yes, he attempted to. I’m afraid he didn’t get very far in the processes thanks to my doing. I pulled him from the very school he was attending to track you down with Loki. I should’ve known that we were being followed. When I found you...you were dying. Your wounds had bested you, your health. Loki did all he could with my mother’s knowledge passed onto him. It was touch and go for a while. I stayed by your side. I did things I had never done before, I cleaned your home, I talked to your neighbors and learned about you, about Bucky, I learned to fish and garden, and to assist in your small farm. I learned what it was like to be...not me. Things my father had insisted were below me to learn because my path was royalty and not something a mere farmer should do.

When you started to recover, my father visited. He brought with him trusted soldiers, friends of mine. He attacked you, claimed you were enemy to the kingdom, conspiring with me and Loki to turn against him. You were not in your right mind. You were still delirious with a fever. We tried to argue for your sake, to prove to father that he was wrong. In truth, he is upset that you were found, that the prophecy is becoming true. 

When he went after Bucky, after Bucky’s little sister, you attacked. You are not but ninety pounds and yet you attacked a man who has more power than he knows what to do with. When you touched Odin, you were knocked back by the magic he possesses in that staff. It nearly killed you, fried you from the inside out is what Loki had said. You are correct you say that you should be dead, Steven, but you are not.

Loki and I escaped with you and Bucky. It was only through my friend’s help in keeping Odin distracted and one getting a message back to my mother, Frigga that you were saved. They had lead Odin in the opposite direction, allowing us to return to the castle. Frigga helped you with her best knowledge, putting you to sleep with ancient words. She had planned for this day and had prepared us a ship and crew. She had planned to meet you too, under better circumstances, but this is the best that we can do. She helped us escape in the dead of night. My father lives, but he is now claiming that his only children are enemies and will be killed.”

The air was heavy around them. Steve’s mouth had hung open, every last memory rushing back to him. He had attacked Odin with a simple dagger, it was almost funny compared to how large the man was. He could remember the pain, the muscles in him seizing up, the blinding, white-hot pain that made him wish for death above all else.

He could remember Thor during the time before it, taking care of him, nursing him back to health. Smelling of the rich soil and bringing home Miss Juniper’s fresh-made rolls. He can remember Frigga - the floral, sweet-smelling woman with a kind face and eyes who had risked her life to care for her son’s prince, someone she did not know. Someone she trusted. 

And this boat...being on it for days, while asleep and recovering, despite it, he still felt exhausted with the story in his head. Thor and Loki had risked it all for him - little, old him who has yet to recover from the knowledge that he was a prince and not a simple farmer. 

Silently, Thor rose him from the bench and lead him back to their chambers. He tucked Steve into bed and slid on top of the covers beside him. Thor had crowded him, yes, but it was in a manner that didn’t seem so forceful like he was smothering him. He welcomed his presence and the warmth he brought with him.

“That...I…” Steve sighed as he rolled to his side and looked up at Thor. He was overcome with such emotions from grief to being thankful, to just utter terror of having done something so stupid. He had attacked Odin and for what? Because he was to die anyway so he might as well prove a point. 

“It’s okay,” Thor rumbled in response, dipping his head down to brush his warm lips over the downy soft blonde locks. “You do not need to speak. You have been through something traumatic.”

“No. I...I...thank you.” Steve didn’t know what possessed him to throw himself at Thor, to press his face into his chest, but he was glad he did. The man smelled like the sea, like tanning leather that warmed his body from the inside out. He could feel the man rumble as he purred. 

Feeling the surprisingly smooth hands on his cheek, he looked up to see the prince’s smiling face above his. His lips gently pressed against his and a shock ran through Steve. Every nerve in his body lit up, thrumming to life. He felt alive in a sense he has never felt before.

Exhausted, but alive.

“You deserve a chance at life and not to be burdened by my father and his mistakes.” Leaning up on one arm, Thor sighed and closed his eyes. Exhaustion seemed to melt from his features with Steve so close.

Steve watched him breathe, counting the number of breaths he took. His chest expanding the straining shirt. “You haven’t explained where we are going? We can’t outrun Odin forever and far as I understand, any other kingdom close enough to us is no alley of yours.”

“Hm, that is a good point, but…” The man groaned as he flopped back onto one arm to look down at the scrawny prince with an amount of pride that made Steve start to feel uncomfortable. “We are not heading towards another Kingdom. Legend has spoken of Asgard. Not the kingdom in itself, but a whole new world in the sky. We are to find it.”

Steve’s mouth hung open, perhaps to dismiss this fairy tale. He’s heard about this Asgard in the sky but didn’t believe it. Only children believed such lies. Yet, Thor sounded so sure that he could just nod his head in agreement. 

Silence hung between them, only broken by the crew slowly waking up and causing the ceiling above them to creak. The sound of the water lapping over the side of the boat. Steve rested on Thor’s chest, despite the exhaustion seeping into him, he couldn’t rest. He had questions, but only one remained heavy on his mind.

Thor purred, rumbling in his chest as his hand rubbed up and down the smaller blonde’s back. “Speak, little one. You won’t offend me with your question.”

Steve snorted, giving a roll of his eyes. “I’m not worried about offending you. I just…” He sat up for this, regretting the action because it made him dizzy. “Do you regret it? Any of this? Going against your father? Putting you and Loki in danger?”

A smile pulled on Thor’s lips, lighting up his face. His eyes shined with life in them, lightening reflecting in his vision. “My dear Steven, I regret nothing when it comes to you. Besides, I was overdue for a change of scenery.”

#Thundershield #Thundershield Prompt #SteveThor #Prompt Ask Fic #Nonny Prompt #Royal AU #Sentence Prompt #Skinny Steve Rogers #Skinny Steve and Thor #Prince Steve Rogers #Prince Thor #Odin is an ass #What else is new? #Uh enjoy??? #I don't know where this came from

[adolanables]

Linked - Part 11 (E.D)

Masterlist

The border of Hailette was nearly two hours away from the town center; which was plenty of time for Anna to start panicking. All she could think of was all the ways they would kill her if they got caught. She was also thinking about how heartbroken her parents would be finding out she had left. A part of her hoped her mother would understand, knowing Anna’s life would be so much more fulfilling outside of Hailette. 

“We’re almost there.” Ethan broke the silence, eyes narrowing on the small patrol station up on the road. He felt her tense underneath him, his right hand rubbed circles on her thigh. “Breathe, okay?”

She nodded as they approached the border, her heart dropping to her stomach as she saw the station was manned. Before she could speak, Ethan was reaching back into the duffel bag, giving Anna a warning eye before he pulled a pistol up into his lap. “Not a peep.” He whispered, sliding the gun under his right thigh and rolling down the window. As they approached the station, he rolled the window down, his right hand gripping the pistol tightly. 

“Sir, may I ask what you think you’re doing?” The officer snarled, his hand gripping the gun on his waist. Ethan was grateful there was only one person manning the station right now - he had scoped out the parking lot. Before the officer could move, Ethan was pulling the trigger with the gun aimed at the poor man’s forehead. 

As the sound rang through Anna’s ears and blood splattered onto Ethan’s face, the pair saw the world shift before their eyes. Ethan was quiet, eyes welling up with tears as he turned the safety on and put the gun back in the bag. Truly, they thought they were home-free. As Ethan went to lean into the small room to open the gate, what felt like hundreds of trucks popped into the rearview with lights blazing. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Ethan muttered, wide eyes flicking up to the rearview mirror and back to his wife who looked like she’d just seen a ghost. He didn’t know what to do. Logically, he knew this was a possibility, but he had convinced himself it wasn’t going to happen. Every possible scenario ran through his head; he didn’t have a plan and that terrified him. 

“Ethan, what are we going to do?” With shaky hands, Anna reached over to him to grab his attention. The trucks were speeding down the road and would easily be there in seconds. 

In a split second decision, Ethan reached over his wife for the gun, popped the safety and pointed it at her feet. “Ethan - wait - what are you - ah!” Anna saw red as her entire left leg went numb, vision was black - she was unconscious. As he watched his wife contort in severe pain, knowing it was his own fault, Ethan burst into tears. Not long after, strapped military members were at their windows - eyes wide as they took in Ethan Dolan and a dead security guard.

-

“Mr. Dolan I am so incredibly sorry for the actions of our employee.” Sergeant Daniels sighed, softly sinking down into the seat across from Ethan’s desk at Dolan Industries. “You have to understand why he was concerned with the two of you wanting to leave.”

“I do, Sergeant.” Ethan nodded, letting out a sigh at the pure ignorance of the man in front of him. “I know sir - being drunk doesn’t excuse trying to go on a vacation to Florida.”

“That is one funny explanation.” Sergeant Daniels laughed awkwardly. “Doesn’t excuse him shooting your poor wife - thank God it was just her leg.”

“Thank god.” Ethan agreed, fumbling a pen between his fingers. “Really sorry for keeping you all here so late.”

It was nearing 5AM now - when the guards had approached the car the attitude had instantly changed. Ethan had convinced them that he was inebriated and really just wanted to take his hot wife to Florida. Did they actually believe him? Hard to know, but it seemed like he was getting away with it. Anna had been transferred to the hospital downtown for emergency care and Ethan felt like he was going to vomit as she was loaded into an ambulance. If cheating wasn’t already bad enough, he wasn’t sure she’d ever forgive him for this. 

“It’s not a problem at all sir.” Sergeant Daniels smiled. “Your brother is on his way to give you a ride home.”

-

“What the fuck, Ethan?” Grayson seethed as his twin climbed into his car, blood splattered on his shirt and sporting a new haircut. 

“Grayson, can you promise me you aren’t plotting my demise?” Ethan whispered, eyes darting around as Grayson started to drive.

“Uh… the fuck? Yes?” With furrowed brows and confusion on his face, Grayson looked at his brother like he had two heads. Ethan knew right away he was being honest.

“I’m trusting you to not open your mouth to Kennedy - but I cheated on Anna.” Ethan rolled his eyes as Grayson’s jaw dropped in disgust. “I know. Shitty. But the bitch filmed us and is threatening to release the footage.”

“And that made you want to go to Florida…?” 

“No - jesus - Grayson - we were trying to leave.” Running a hand over his shaved head, he watched Grayson process what he was saying. “If that video gets released Anna’s fucked.”

“Okay, but you might not be?” Grayson argued, hands clenching the steering wheel tightly. “You risked both of your lives just now.” 

“I love her.” Ethan scoffed, folding his arms. “You’d do the same for Kennedy.”

“No I fucking wouldn’t.” Glancing over at his brother with wide eyes. “I love her, but not like that.” He gulped and let out a slow breath. “But if you love Anna that way, then I’m here for you - what do we need to do.”

“Call Craig - first thing in the morning.” Ethan muttered as Grayson dropped him at his front door, he leaned over and hugged his brother tightly. “Thank you, G.”

“I’ll be back here at 10AM.” Grayson nodded, revving the engine as he drove away.

As Ethan laid his head down on his guest room pillow - he couldn’t bear to sleep in their bed alone - he felt sick. He wished he could’ve gone with Anna to the hospital, but they took her away from him so quickly. Surely, she’d be questioned and he hoped she wouldn’t be in any danger. If he had been able to tell her the plan before he shot her, he would have, but he knew they didn’t have time. He had to get to the hospital in the morning before she woke up. 

-

“You owe me big time.” Grayson muttered as Ethan slid into the car the next morning; both had matching eyebags. “Dad is fucking furious - I calmed him down enough to stay home, but Craig is on it.”

“You called dad?” Ethan groaned, tossing his head back as the pair took off to the hospital. 

“No - but Craig did.” Rolling his eyes at his brother, Grayson sped up. “He’s pissed at the entire situation, but whoever’s threatening you is gonna regret it.”

Ethan let the car fall silent as he mulled over his thoughts. The last thing he wanted to do was get his dad involved in the situation, but he knew if anyone was going to protect him, it was his father. The Dolans were nearly untouchable in Hailette; he only hoped Anna would be included. 

-

“Hi, Mr. Dolan.” The polite nurse smiled at the handsome man before her as she guided him down the hallway. “Your wife is in recovery, still a bit groggy. She had some severe hemorrhaging, but aside from scars - her leg is fine.” As they approached the door of her room, the nurse’s face fell slightly. “I’m very sorry sir, but the baby did not make it.”

“What?” Ethan stuttered, brows furrowing as he tried to comprehend what she was saying.

“Yes sir, I am very sorry. We believe she miscarried due to the trauma.” The small lady smiled sympathetically and pushed the door open, smiling softly. 

“Ethan.” Anna croaked as her husband came into view, he looked nearly as awful as she assumed she looked. She knew he shot her, but she was still pretty confused and unable to piece anything together. 

“Anna,” He sighed, bounding towards her and pulling her upper body into his arms. “I’m so sorry.” A wince left her mouth as he gently let her go. Before she could ask him to explain himself, Ethan was sputtering. “I panicked - okay - I’m so sorry, I made up a story. We got drunk and wanted to go to Florida and I said the guard shot you so I shot back.”

“O-Okay.” She nodded, trying to understand, but her mind was clouded with other things. “Ethan, they told me I lost a baby.” Her voice was quiet and soft, barely above a whisper as she looked to her husband to explain. 

“They just told me that as well.” Crouching down on the edge of her bed so he was eye level with her, “I’m so sorry, Anna - this is all my fault.”

“Are we in trouble?” She squeaked, tugging on her fingers nervously. So much had just happened in the last twenty-four hours, she wasn’t sure what to think. The anesthesia still wearing off was not helping her either. 

Shaking his now bald head, Ethan rubbed a soft circle on her wrist. “I don’t think so; we are working to find whoever is threatening us to stop that.” His voice was secure and calming; Anna was grateful he was here, even if she was furious with him. “I think they planned to question you, but I’m going to let them know we lost a child.” 

Anna watched as Ethan’s eyes welled up and he pressed a soft kiss to her hand, sniffling a bit before standing up. “I’m going to let Grayson know the situation and I’ll be back.” He kissed her forehead before walking out of the room briskly.

The only feeling Anna had at the moment was confusion. She had found out Ethan cheated on her, was being blackmailed, tried to escape Hailette, witnessed a murder, got shot by her husband, found out she was pregnant, and lost a baby all in one day. All she wanted to do was go home to sleep in her own bed for hours - maybe even days. 

When Ethan came back into the room, she was asleep again. The nurse helped Ethan with the discharge paper - knowing she should probably keep Mrs. Dolan another night, but Ethan was adamant that they were going home. Grayson helped get Anna into the backseat of his car as Ethan held her tightly into his side. She was awake - just barely - but the combination of exhaustion and pain meds was all too much. 

-

“Ethan Grant - what the fuck were you thinking?” Mr. Dolan’s voice bellowed through the large foyer of Ethan’s grand home. Anna was deeply asleep on pain medicine, so there was no chance of waking her. 

“I wasn’t, father.” Ethan sighed, shutting the door behind his dad and their detective Craig. “I don’t need to be told what I did was stupid.”

“Stupid?” Mr. Dolan chuckled sarcastically as Craig walked into the dining room to speak with Grayson. “What you did was damn near suicidal - and murderous to your poor wife.”

Ethan didn’t respond to his father’s slander knowing everything he said was completely true. Ethan was not acting like a grown man - he needed to grow up. “Yes sir.”

“Craig has a lead.” Grayson spoke from the other room, drawing the argument to a close.

Craig was an older man with gray hair, but he was not to be underestimated. There have been many cases he has worked on for the Dolans over the years and he had never let them down. “How much do you know about your assistant, Jonathan?”

“Uh - not much - he has worked for me for a while?” Lifting an eyebrow at the comment, Ethan folded his arms over his chest. 

“Well - we found the skanky redhead you fucked, offered her some money to snitch. Which she did.” Mr. Dolan snapped. “She’s dead.”

Ethan rubbed a hand over his face in distress and nodded, knowing that was inevitable. The Dolans weren’t going to let some lowless bartender threaten their family. 

“She gave us Jonathan by name - not sure how she’d have that information unless she’s being honest.” Craig shrugged, thumbing through a stack of papers in his lap. “Of course, we are running through every lead; but he’s up there.” Craig cleared his throat again. “Now - we need to discuss your wife.”

“What about her?” Ethan bristled at the mention of Anna. 

“I don’t think we have to worry because of the miscarraige.” Craig emphasized, but held his hands up in caution. “But we need to be sure - if anyone finds out why we are investigating right now she could be in danger.”

“No one lays a hand on her.” Ethan seethed, pointing his finger around the room. “I want her treated like a Dolan.”

“Son - you know that’s not -” Mr. Dolan started.

“I don’t CARE!” Ethan bellowed, jumping out of the chair with his fists clenched by his sides and his face red. “If a SINGLE thing happens to her, it will be as though someone castrated ME. TREAT IT LIKE THAT!” His chest was rising and falling quickly. “I will BURN this country to the ground if a single hair on her head is harmed.”

“Understood.” Craig nodded, shutting the folder in his lap and shooting Mr. Dolan a look that said - let’s get the hell out of here.

#ethan dolan #grayson dolan #the dolan twins #dolan twin fanfic #ethan dolan fanfic #dolan twin au #ethan dolan au #ethan dolan smut #ethan dolan flu #ethan dolan fluf #adolanables #linked!ethan

[kazimakuwabara]

Playing the Part

Summary: Hiei and Kuwabara go under cover for a mission. (A Hieibaraweek story. :> a fake relationship kinda? Maybe? 2600+words)

****

Hiei sipped the wine in his glass and tugged gently at the golden chain in his hands.

The tall, scantily clad, muscular figure joined him on the overstuffed couch, or cushion. The thing Hiei was curled comfortably against was really more of a giant pillow, rather than a couch. Hiei tugged the chain again, guiding the person without words, instructing with a pull of a lead, that he expected the figure to drape themselves around him.

Which, nervously, cautiously, eagerly; they did.

Hiei raked a hand through coppery curls and trailed his fingers down their face until he had their chin. He turned their face, tilting it to view at every angle, and appraised him with a slightly wistful smile. Gorgeous. They were absolutely... exquisite.

‘Now what?’ Kuwabara’s annoyed voice prattled in his head, the pout tangible in Hiei’s mind, though Kuwabara’s face remained placid.

Hiei tugged the chain until Kuwabara fell in his lap, and Hiei set about petting him like he was an overly large cat. His hand roamed down his curls, that spiraled and spilled softly around his crown, so different from that pompadour Kuwabara had sported years ago. Down, down, and down Hiei’s fingers stroked, going down the expanse of Kuwabara’s back, before starting all over again. Even if Kuwabara didn’t wear a pompadour anymore, he still usually slicked his hair up in some style.

Hiei never got to play with Kuwabara’s curls in the light of day.

‘We wait for our target to notice us,’ Hiei answered Kuwabara’s projected thoughts, ‘he’s always looking for slave owners to join his little trafficking club. We find him. Trick him. Stop his human trafficking ring. Murder him and his fellows brutally. Make up an excuse as to why we murdered him. rather than brought him in to Koenma. And then we go home, with you still in this outfit for my personal use. End of story.’

Kuwabara sighed in Hiei’s lap annoyed, and sour.

‘We are not murdering this asshole... even if he deserves it, Hiei.’

“Don’t sound like that my pet… I’ll let you choke on me later,” Hiei said aloud, ignoring Kuwabara’s projected scolding.

Internally his mind reached out and reminded Kuwabara, ‘You must act the part of an obedient slave for this plan to work. Don’t give yourself away by sighing like that!’

‘Who’s plan was this anyway?’ Kuwabara’s mind grouched, as his body shifted to curl and settle against Hiei, tucking himself against Hiei like an adored pet.

‘Kurama’s. You liked it when he pitched it,’ Hiei thought smugly.

He pressed the cool wine glass against Kuwabara’s bare back, and was rewarded with a small gasp and shudder. Hiei’s eyes flashed delighted at the sound, and Kuwabara had to make an effort not to glare at Hiei.

Hiei could tell.

‘I didn’t realize what part I would be playing!’ Kuwabara thought petulantly, while his eyes looked demurely up at Hiei. He licked his lips as if itching to press himself against his master, and it looked rather convincing.

If Kuwabara tried, he was a decent actor.

‘Oh? Would you rather be the master and I the slave?’

When silence answered him, Hiei threw back his head and laughed.

A few of the party-goers looked over, brows raised, and then eyed Hiei’s wine cup. Some sneered and looked away, others continued to stare, while the looked to Kuwabara, eyes slowly scanning the man’s form. Those people would turn the eyes away eventually, they knew they had to.

‘Fool. The person we’re after is a demon. He would not be interested in a human owning a demon, no! He seeks someone likeminded like him, a demon who owns a human. He’s looking for someone who he can either do business with, or who he can sell his stock too. Even Yusuke was aware of that!’ Hiei's chuckling continued through their connected mental link, a power Kuwabara had honed with his friends over the years.

For some reason, even since his teenage years, Kuwabara always was able to reach Hiei the longest and clearest with his telepathy. Their ability to communicate clearly, at great distances, and for long stretches of time was why Koenma had suggested they pair up for this mission, working on the inside while Yusuke and Kuwabara hovered far enough away to be undiscovered, but near enough, if backup was needed.

Kurama supposed it was Hiei’s Jagan that allowed his and Kuwabara’s psychic abilities to connect so strongly. Koenma agreed to this, and offered no guess of his own. Yusuke thought it was just a curse of bad luck, and Kuwabara was stuck working with Hiei, just so he could be laughed at in this awkward situation.

Kuwabara and Hiei had different thoughts about why they could communicate so well, but the only two who knew those reasons were them. And for now, that was how they wanted it to stay, even if others were beginning to suspect.

Hiei idly stroked a hand down Kuwabara’s bare arm, trailing it from his shoulder to his elbow, before beginning the stroke again. It was delightful to openly handle his human like this, and he was beginning to think they should be less secretive about their relationship. If he was allowed to touch his lover so freely, why was he hiding it to begin with?

Kuwabara and Hiei had been altered a little in appearance for this case.

Hiei had allowed his hair to be cut short and style by Shizuru, who had been delighted to work with his hair. It had proven hard for her, but she had been immensely satisfied when she was done. He still had the familiar spike of hair, it just didn’t give him, “an extra half a foot of height,” as Shizuru described it. Hiei had been placed in a fine military-like uniform, in the colors of gold and red. It came with an equally as flashy gold and red cape, one that dragged to the floor. The outfit was not Hiei’s taste, but as Kurama pointed out, that was the point.

Kuwabara, however, was very much dressed to Hiei’s liking.

Kuwabara wore no shirt, and harem pants, but golden glitter had been rubbed into his body to accent his attractiveness, and make his alabaster skin, stand out even more. The golden glitter also served to hide identifiable scars, like ones he received in the Dark tournament. It also, with an ingredient added by Kurama, hid Kuwabara’s scent and made him smell different, like earth, spices, and dried flowers.

Nice, but not the Kuwabara smell Hiei liked to press his nose against in the morning.

‘Citris. Sweat. Rain. Honey,’ Hiei thought, Kuwabara glancing at him slightly confused. Hiei smiled at Kuwabara, and continued to appraise Kuwabara’s new looks.

His hair had been brushed clean of all his hair gel, and styled to one side. He had complained when Shizuru shaved one side of his head, but with his curls flopped over to one side, Hiei rather liked the look. Kuwabara did have shoes, though there were shackled at his ankles, with enough of a chain to allow him to walk. The chain was weak enough for Kuwabara to break in an emergency, but passed as a real chain up close. There was a golden collar at his neck as well; that came with a lead shining like a golden thread. It hummed with spiritual energy seemingly to be ominous and something that could control Kuwabara, but that too, was fake. Kuwabara’s wrists were also bound in the fake chains like his ankles, giving Kuwabara the look of a powerful creature that had been captured and tamed.

It was all very convincing.

The only thing for them to do now, was wait and not blow their carefully crafted covers.

Hiei continued his lengthy pets of Kuwabara’s body, sipping his wine, and eying people around the room, when he wasn’t lustily looking at Kuwabara, trying to make Kuwabara blush. Kuwabara was doing surprisingly well right now... but again... Kuwabara was a pretty good actor.

His “death” at the hands of Toguro, had been very (too) convincing back in the day.

Someone glanced by, a finger stuck out to drag over the shoulder of Kuwabara’s smooth skin. Hiei growled in warning, and the finger withdrew, never even touching the human. Hiei sighed, satisfied with that.

It was nice sitting here like this with Kuwabara.

People were giving him glances, eying Hiei’s possession with envy and desire, but no one dared to approach or take it. The growls scared off the ones who thought they could sneak a casual touch, or meet Kuwabara’s eye. This pleased Hiei to no end. He liked their gazes of greed and jealousy, and liked even more that when they looked at him, they lost the will to challenge Hiei for Kuwabara.

This was a fun game, with something even more exciting rested in his arms.

Hiei sincerely hoped Kuwabara’s look would survive long enough, for Hiei to enjoy it in Kuwabara’s bed.

‘Will you stop petting me!’ Kuwabara’s thoughts seethed, hot and angry bubbles in Hiei’s head.

‘No, we’re playing a part remember?’ Hiei thought back pressing his wine glass to Kuwabara’s lips.

Kuwabara flushed, but let Hiei tilt his chin back and feed him a long pull of wine.

‘You’re enjoying this so much,’ Kuwabara grumbled in Hiei’s head.

Kuwabara’s heart had picked up a beat. He was fighting off his own arousal, which was why he was so grumpy, or so Hiei assumed.

‘Yes. As much as you enjoy looking at me,’ Hiei thought back, taking his glass so Kuwabara wouldn’t choke.

Kuwabara coughed anyways, and his pale cheeks flooded with color.

Ahh, there was the blush Hiei wanted to see. He looked around and felt tension leave his shoulders after a quick scan. He didn’t want to share Kuwabara’s blush with anyone else, that was Hiei’s alone.

Hiei longed to bite the color of those cheeks. Gently, and teasingly. He would trail his lips down Kuwabara cheeks, to his throat, and leave those marks he wasn’t supposed to leave, behind in a sloppy trail. And Kuwabara would moan sweetly, and breathily, a sound Hiei liked very much when Kuwabara was making them. And if Hiei trailed his lips down to Kuwabara’s throat, right near where his shoulder and neck met, he would have Kuwabara moaning and offering himself out like a favorite treat.

‘Stop that! Stop thinking those things, I’m getting all the imagery!’ Kuwabara squeaked inside Hiei’s head, his face scarlet, and eyes wide.

Hiei yanked on Kuwabara’s chains, drawing Kuwabara’s hands closer.

‘Don’t resist now, or the chains will break and give us away,’ Hiei thought teasingly as he leaned for Kuwabara.

Kuwabara’s eyes were still wide, though there was an undeniable eager spark shining inside of them.

‘You’re not really going to…’ Kuwabara’s mind murmured wonderingly, and inside Hiei’s head he saw a memory from Kuwabara’s perspective.

It was of their first kiss, a kiss Kuwabara had placed gently on Hiei’s mouth.

Hiei had been angry and refusing to believe Kuwabara’s feelings, and Kuwabara had steeled himself and kissed the shorter man to prove it. Hiei had brandished his sword at Kuwabara, and yet the human still reached for him for a kiss. Chaste and sweet. Hiei had dropped his weapon, hissing with anger, want, and need at the touch. Kuwabara still kissed him, heat pouring from him waves, his lashes wet, but no tears trailing down his cheeks.

His kiss, soft as it was, had been filled with so much want, desire, need, and most of all love, Hiei had been stunned. Stunned enough to accidentally cut Kuwabara.

Hiei’s blade had left a thin cut along Kuwabara’s collarbone, something that was an even smaller scar now. But Kuwabara’s lips had burned and seared into Hiei leaving the demon desperate for more. A sweet kiss to end his loneliness. A promise Hiei had wanted.

It was a good memory.

Hiei chuckled audibly and kissed Kuwabara firmly.

‘I’m going to kiss you, but not so chastely as that first night,’ Hiei thought hands roaming over his lover’s body greedily.

Kuwabara gasped, hands flexing against Hiei's chest, mouth opening to allow Hiei inside. Their tongues met and it became a duel for dominance. Kuwabara relented, but teased Hiei with his mouth, shyly trying to pull away, with a coy look filled his eyes. Kuwabara was trying to tempt him, and damn it all if he wasn’t doing a good job at it.

One of Hiei’s hands was in Kuwabara’s hair, curling into the curls and gripping him by the root. Kuwabara squirmed, intentionally brushing his thigh against Hiei’s groin, feigning innocence, but full of intent.

Hiei could feel the taunt behind the tease.

Kuwabara’s hands dipped low and slipped inside Hiei’s shirt, trailing upwards.

Hiei broke the kiss to laugh in delight. Kuwabara was feeling so bold. If only he could get Kuwabara to be all over him in public like this again.

‘I’m going to be covered in gold body glitter and everyone is going to know what we do together,’ Hiei thought, before biting Kuwabara’s ear. He breathed in it, heard and felt Kuwabar’s shudder; hissed as he heard Kuwabara’s breath hitching.

‘You want them to know?’ Kuwabara wondered back. his thoughts tinged with lust.

Hiei sank his teeth into Kuwabara’s throat, biting but not yet sucking. ‘You think I don’t?’

“You never stay with me after,” Kuwabara whispered audibly, hands shrinking inside of Hiei’s shirt, no longer tracing upwards.

“You humans and your need to confirm everything with words,” Hiei hissed back in Kuwabara’s ear before his tongue suckled against the shell of said appendage.

Gentler, softer, “I would not have allowed you inside me if I didn’t want you as well. I would have slaked my lust in you only, and never looked at you again. I look at you, I watch you, I want you. But I can’t let others see I cherish you... they’ll take you away just to taunt me. They’ll threaten you...” Hiei’s hands stroked Kuwabara’s back, he was no longer paying attention to the mission.

He was not Kuwabara’s master, he was Hiei. A demon who had fallen hopelessly in love with this lumbering fool who smiled sweetly, and made love like a trained courtesan.

‘I want people to know I want you. I want people to know you’re mine. I’m happy. You make me happy. But I do have enemies... enemies we’ll have to share if we’re out in the open.’ Hiei thought.

‘Bring them on!’ Kuwabara thought defiantly.

Kuwabara’s heartbeat was deliciously fast. He pressed himself to Hiei, the large man yearning to swallow Hiei up and absorb him. Hiei wanted to do the same. Considered having him right here and now, Kuwabara was dressed as a slave. No one would stop him. But that was a foul thing indeed, that was happening to real people, people like Mukuro, people that they were trying to save.

And that alone quieted Hiei’s lust. He sighed a little bitterly.

“Master,” Kuwabara said soft and hot in Hiei’s ear, and Hiei’s attention immediately went back up, “Someone is looking at us,”

‘He’s here,’ Kuwabara thought, all business, and warm lustful feelings tucked back inside again.

Hiei sipped his wine and pressed a sincere kiss to Kuwabara’s temple. They needed to have a real talk later, something Hiei wasn’t looking forward to, and yet was. But if it needed to be done to make Kuwabara understand how Hiei felt, then so be it. And if Hiei needed to accept Kuwabara was in this, as his partner... well Hiei would have to learn.

Hiei did not throw anything away that was worth keeping, and what Kuwabara and he had… well that was worth keeping.

Turning his eyes towards Kuwabara’s line of sight, Hiei settled back in the couch, a hand continuing to stroke Kuwabara's bare arm.

And he waited, ready to get this mission under wraps.

There were better things, and a better person he could be doing right now.

End

#hieikuwabaraweek #yyh #kazifanfic #hiei #kuwabara #heyo why are these getting so longggg #what is wrong with me