#so if hairdressers could not open for a few more months until it gets past my shoulders

[opalimagines]

Request: Love, here’s another request: 92 for Rick. You decide to give him a haircut because it’s been so long since he’s had one. But you give him the works, shampoo, conditioner, cut and blow dry.

Requested by @writing2sirvive

Reader: Neutral

92. Cutting their hair for them.

"You need a haircut, babe."

You had realized before that it was getting a little longer than usual, but it didn't really hit you until that night as you sat on the couch, playing with his soft hair and rubbing his head to soothe him.

Rick looked up at you from your lap, the very place he'd been resting his head since he returned home. It had been quite a long day, so your gentle attention was desperately needed. "Yeah, I know, but I've been so busy lately."

Between college classes, his part time auto shop job, and his membership in the JSA, it was a wonder he even had time to sleep. Getting his hair cut was the last thing on his mind most of the time.

"I can do it for you," you said, stroking his cheek affectionately. When you still lived at home, you were basically your family's personal hairdresser. You couldn't remember exactly how it started, but you had always been surprisingly good at it.

"You hate when people ask you to do their hair."

"No, I hate when they expect me to do it." You began combing your fingers through his hair again. "Besides, you didn't ask. I offered."

"I guess you did." Rick gave you a small smile. "Okay."

You carefully urged him to move his head from your lap so you could stand. "Let me set up the bathroom really quick."

Rick sat up and stared after you as you opened up the hall closet and took out a few towels. "You meant right now?"

"Why not? It's the perfect time."

Rick could admit that this was the best opportunity to get it done so he wouldn't have to worry for another month and a half or so, but he missed your comforting touch already. He just didn't realize until you pulled him into the bathroom a few minutes later that you planned to do more than cut his hair. You directed him to sit in front of the tub, where you set up a spot to wash his hair. "You don't have to do all of this..."

"I know," you said, kneeling down next to where you wanted him, "but you deserve it, Rick."

The moment you wet his hair and began methodically rubbing the shampoo in, any reservations he might have held completely disappeared. You had washed his hair for him a few times in the past, whenever any injuries kept him from being able to lift his arms to do it, and he forgot how nice it felt. He closed his eyes and patiently let you work, because he trusted you.

Rick was a little disappointed when you rinsed and towel dried his hair, then had him move to sit on the toilet lid. You wrapped another towel around his shoulders and grabbed the scissors and comb from your kit. The two of you talked as you cut bits of his hair, the scissors gently snipping.

He shouldn't have been surprised when you blow dried his hair, nor when you used a little product to style it in his usual way. It was late and he didn't plan on going out anywhere, you just did it because you could. "Okay, I'm done. Ready to see it?"

Rick nodded and stood up, letting you push him to the bathroom mirror. You had both hands on his shoulders and he could see your proud grin in the reflection. "What do you think?"

In spite of realizing that you knew your way around a pair of scissors, he was still a little surprised when he took in your work, perhaps because it was your first time doing it for him. "It looks really good." He turned around and somehow your smile grew even wider. "Thank you."

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and leaned in for a quick kiss.

"Anytime..."

#rick tyler imagine #rick tyler x reader #dc comics imagine #dc imagine #dc x reader #stargirl imagine #stargirl x reader #my fics**

[radiosandrecordings]

Part of you needs a haircut so goddamn badly. Part of you is weirdly kind of glad you can’t get a haircut because it gives you an excuse to have long hair which you like but won’t let yourself have for gender reason because you would be read as Girl, but that excuse would be taken away if you had the option to get a haircut because then it becomes an active choice to have long hair instead of circumstance.

You are transmasc in lockdown

#My Post #I want long hair but I want long hair in a GNC way YKNOW #/I/ would think of it as GNC but other people would be like ‘ah. woman.’ #so if hairdressers could not open for a few more months until it gets past my shoulders #but I can still go ‘ahaha quarantine hair Y’know how it is can’t wait to cut it’ #that’d be great

[watchmegetobsessed]

Update - Harry Styles

i’ve been deep inmy harry feels and this thought just wouldn’t leave me alone so i had to write it. im thinking about starting a taglist for harry, i think i’ll write more about him in the future. let me know if you’d be interested in the taglist!

word count: ~5.9k

masterlist

Sequel: The best present

Harry is not that into YouTube videos, has never really been, which is kind of ironic seeing the number of videos on the internet that is about him. The man himself who makes everyone talk online feels weird seeing someone talking on his screen, looking into his soul as if they were right there with him. But today he felt the sudden urge to be like his peers and get lost in random rambling videos from strangers, who felt the need to put themselves out there.

He has made a mean cup of tea for himself, made himself comfortable on his couch with his laptop balancing on his thighs and now is opening up his browser to unwind in an unusual way. As YouTube opens in front of his tired eyes, he stops when he tries to type in the keywords he is searching for. What is he looking for really? He thinks to himself trying to remember what he heard from his friends when they talked about funny or interesting videos. One thing is for sure, he is trying to avoid watching videos of himself in any content. He has had enough of him for the day, it’s time to focus on someone else, even if he doesn’t know the person.

He scrolls through several pages of many different keywords until he settles for a video where a girl talks about how her latest moving day went. Starting off Harry feels weird listening to her talk about such personal things as where her bed went in her room, how she packed all her stuff to fit them in the boxes, but soon enough this feeling settles and he starts to realize it’s kind of relaxing.

It doesn’t take too long for him to fall down a rabbit hole and by the time his tea empties out from his cup he is intensely watching a guy rant about his boss at Subway while doing a mukbang. The latter is a new discovery for Harry, he has never heard of it before, but he can see why some people find it satisfying.

The video ends, Harry checks the time and sees that it’s already after midnight and he hasn’t even realized how fast time flew by.

“Alright, just one more,” he mumbles to himself scrolling down the column of the recommended videos until his eyes stop at one particular upload at the very bottom.

July update for my Sammy, ready the title and an eye-catchingly beautiful girl is smiling from the thumbnail. He finds her breathtaking, the lack of makeup, the worn out hoodie she is wearing and the many various plants in the background makes it appear she is sitting in the middle of the forest.

Harry finds himself clicking on the video before he could even decide consciously to watch it. The screen loads and the girl appears in front of him, this time in a much larger size.

“Hi Sammy, welcome back to our channel,” she starts with an angelic little laugh as she pulls her shoulders up to her ears as if the camera is making her shy. She has no reason to be shy, Harry thinks to himself. His second thought is about Sammy, he is one lucky guy to know this angel and have her think about him. “It’s Y/N here, your one and only sister,” she adds.

Sister. The word brings Harry relief and he is surprised to feel this way, but he has no time to think anything of it because she starts talking again.

“Here is my July update, I’m sorry I’m a little late, but we got back from Oregon yesterday. Aunt Ella is sending you kisses and hugs, she missed you at the barbeque, or maybe it was just your helping hand at the grill,” she chuckles to herself, probably recalling the memory.

Harry has no idea who Aunt Ella is or where she lives in Oregon, but the way she talks about it makes him feel like he is part of the family a little.

Y/N carries on and starts talking about everything that has happened in July. Painting the shed at her parents’ home, buying a new armchair, one her cat absolutely adores and refuses to sleep anywhere else now, she went to the hairdresser to get a trim, but not too much. She tells about her plans for August, how she is thinking about going to the farmers’ market more often, and she has been playing with the idea of adopting another cat.

“I think Henry has been feeling a little lonely lately. He could use a buddy,” she tells the camera, her eyes moving to the side from where a weak but moody meow can be heard as an answer. “Yeah, I think he agrees,” she chuckles and Harry finds himself smiling at the screen.

At the end of the video she asks a few questions from Sammy, how he has been doing, if his wrist feels any better, even asks about a friend called Matthew. Harry wonders if she has ever gotten the answers to her questions and where Sammy saw this video. What is he doing that made her want to do an update on YouTube?

When the video ends Harry clicks on her profile faster than he would willingly admit to anyone and it’s like he opened the gate to paradise. Tens and maybe hundreds of videos are queuing on her page, monthly updates, birthday wishes, short story times about family gatherings, news and happenings in her life.

Harry gets lost in her tales. He watches video after video, noticing the smallest details about her, almost mentally taking notes about her updates, finding anything and everything she talks about so interesting as if he knew those people and places she mentions. He comes to realization that Sammy is her older brother who is serving somewhere in the military. Y/N is making the videos to update him about her life even if she knows most of them doesn’t get to him until weeks later, but it doesn’t seem to bother her. He also learns that Sammy sends them back lengthy emails once a month and always ends them with a joke they made up with his mates at the army. Y/N loves them even when they're not even funny, she never fails to mention that she smiled reading them.

Hours pass by and the rising Sun peeks inside the window pulling Harry back to his own reality, shocked that he just spent the whole night watching her videos and didn’t even realize how deep he has gotten in her life. Lucky for him he has nothing planned until the afternoon, so shutting his laptop he sets it aside and heads straight to bed, but lying between his silky sheets he catches himself staring out the window, wondering what Y/N might be doing right now. From what he collected she lives somewhere in Spokane and has family in Seattle and Portland, which puts her quite a few time zones behind him. He finds the thought of them going to bed at the same time despite the distance a little funny. He lies in bed for quite some time before he finally drifts off to sleep with a particular girl on his mind, who doesn’t even know he is thinking about her.

 “Do you think you can fall for someone you have never met?”

Harry’s question catches Mitch a little off-guard, but he is kind of used to his random bits of thoughts. Pouring some sugar into his coffee he follows the wondering singer to a free table in the corner.

“Isn’t it what all your fans feel?” he answers with a question, earning a surprised look from Harry. He hasn’t thought about this side, now the situation is kind of ironic, he supposes.

“Y’re right,” he nods stirring his coffee around in the small cup.

“Want to let me in on your thoughts?”

Harry feels a little shy to admit how he has watched all of her videos in the past few days, 207 to be exact and now he feels an oddly deep connection to this girl he has never even seen outside of a screen. Last night he dug up her Instagam profile, and even though she is not posting as frequently as she does on her channel, it was a refreshing change to see her in different settings. Chilling at a lake, having drinks with her friends, playing with her parents’ puppy, it amazed him that she has a whole life outside that small portion she lets him see in her videos.

Hesitantly, but he tells his friend about his latest hobby, if it’s not too weird to call it that, while his friend patiently listens and nods along his words while sipping on his morning coffee.

“D’you think I’m crazy?” Harry sighs leaning back in his seat, looking at his friend and colleague for validation that he hasn’t lost his mind entirely.

“Definitely not,” he chuckles shaking his head. “It’s like falling for that girl in school you know so much about but never really met.”

“Only that I’m stalkin’ this poor girl.”

“This is not stalking. We both know it’s far from that.” Harry nods with slight relief that his situation doesn’t seem as bad as he has been feeling lately. “Have you gotten in touch with her?”

“And what am I supposed to do? Comment on her video that I think her cat’s a cutie and I watched all her videos in three days ‘cuz I think she’s beautiful and I find her voice soothing?”

Mitch lets out a soft chuckle at the oddly specific answer he just gave and finds it amusing how interested his friend has grown about someone in such a short time.

“Maybe phrase it a little different.”

“So you do think I should reach out?”

“I don’t see why you shouldn’t. Use your personal YouTube, leave her a nice comment. Maybe she’ll reply.”

“And then what?”

“I don’t know, Harry,” he chuckles. “Just go with it and you’ll see. You are obviously interested in her, it’s better than just sit and watch her videos.”

Harry agrees. It wouldn’t hurt to try to reach out to her, possibly in a not too creepy way. Maybe just a sweet comment on one of her videos and if she replies… Well, he doesn’t know what comes after, but he’ll figure it out.

 Y/N updates regularly. Usually once a week and mostly it’s Sunday when a new video gets uploaded. This next Sunday Harry finds himself checking her page occasionally through the day to see if there’s a new update, but it seems like she is missing today. Right until he is driving home and gets a notification from the app.

Y/N has just uploaded a new video! It reads and Harry’s heart beats a tad bit faster. He thinks about pulling over to see it right away, but he tells himself that would be a bit too much, so he is forced to wait until he is in the comfort of his home.

Finally sitting on his couch he opens up his laptop and clicks on the video that has the title: September update.

Y/N sits in her usual spot, Henry in her arms as she is gently stroking his head with a warm smile on her face.

“Hi Sammy! Welcome back to our channel,” she greets him with her usual words and Harry loves how she calls the channel theirs. “This is my September update, even though not much has happened,” she breathes out, eyes wandering to the window besides her and Harry wonders what she sees from her window every day. Does she live in the city? Is it an apartment or a house with a backyard? Are there any trees or does her room have a terrible view, maybe just another house next to hers?

She starts her talk about the month, which she spent mostly with working, a little shopping and meeting her friends. She tells him about her planned trip to the local shelter to see possible new kittens to add to her household and Harry feels himself growing excited about it. He even thinks about what kind of cat he can see get along well with Henry even though he has never even met him.

“Anyway, mom and dad miss you, I miss you too. I loved your joke about ducks in your latest email,” she chuckles sweetly, bringing a smile to Harry’s face as well. “Mom is excited to see you at Christmas, our cousins will come to Portland as well. Maya can’t wait to play Jenga with you, she said she’s been practicing.”

The video soon ends as Y/N tells Sammy how much she loves him and eventually turns the camera off.

He straight away moves the cursor to the beginning of the video and as she starts talking again he scrolls down to the comment section that’s entirely empty. There are only two views on her video, usually a hundred is the max, but she doesn’t seem to care about the views, it’s more about the message.

He clicks to type a comment, but his hands stop above the keyboard as he tries to think of what to write. Mitch was right about taking a chance at reaching out, but what is he supposed to write exactly? Everything that comes to his mind sounds so creepy and scary, and he knows it’s weird that he formed such a deep connection to an unknown girl online. At last he starts typing.

“Hi Y/N! I’ve stumbled across your videos the other day. Love how you keep your brother updated, it’s such a nice gesture. I hope life treats you and Sammy well, you truly deserve it. Good luck with finding a buddy for Henry! Love, an admirer of yours, H.”

He reads it back several times, deleting then retyping it again until he decides to just go with it. A rush of adrenaline washes over his body when he sends the comment and it’s officially out there. Secretly he wishes she would reply right away, but moments pass by, then moments turn into minutes and nothing happens. His comment stands there alone and he has to realize that maybe she will never even reply or even see it.

It doesn’t matter, he tells himself as he shuts the laptop down and goes on to do his things, but he finds his thoughts wander over to her from time to time.

He has a busy day ahead of him the next day, quite a few meetings and a fitting. He checks back for a reply in the morning, but it slips his mind the moment he leaves from home and his phone rings right away. Throughout the day he basically barely has time to check his emails, his other notifications are just sitting patiently on the bar, waiting for him to acknowledge them. It’s way past five in the afternoon when he finally have some time for himself after his fitting. He is sitting in his car, people walk past him without even realizing who is sitting behind the tinted windows. Scrolling down he gets rid of everything that doesn’t seem urgent until his eyes stop at one particular notification.

“Y/N replied to your comment,” he reads it out loud, just to make it real, as if he is seeing it wrong and saying it with his own mouth brings it to life. He quickly taps on it and the familiar video opens up and while Y/N starts talking again the screen jumps down to the comments where, in fact, there is a reply from her.

“Dear H! Thank you for your heartfelt comment! I always forget it’s not just my family who sees these videos, but I’m happy you found them interesting enough to watch a few of them.”

“A few?” Harry huffs to himself feeling a little ridiculous he has watched all of them.

“I hope I didn’t bore you too much. Thank you for the well wishes for me, my brother and Henry too. He is sending his love to you. Y/N xx”

The comment was posted three hours ago. The thought that she has acknowledged his existence with not only reading but also replying to his comment brings him extreme joy. He reads her words over and over again, looking for any clue that would give away that she found his comment weird, but it seems like she was more surprised and happy that someone else saw her video besides her brother. Harry starts to type his reply without hesitation.

“Bore me? You saved me from watching another “what’s in my bag” video the other day. It was a pleasant change. I love your plants, by the way. Your room always gives off the most relaxed vibes. It reminded me I should have more of them in my home. H”

Harry smiles to himself posting his comment, the fear of appearing like a stalker long gone from him, the interaction is making his inside blossom from joy. For his biggest surprise a reply appears just a few minutes away and Harry reads Y/N’s new lines with deep hunger.

“Those videos suck the life out of me every time! I might be having a problem with buying too many plants, but I can’t help myself. They truly bring peace to me just by looking at them. I’m glad you are planning on buying some more, you won’t regret it!”

Harry is dying to reply, but he doesn’t want to look too eager and needy, so he opts for just liking her comment to let her know he read it and agrees. He locks his phone and puts it aside with the widest smile on his face as he starts his car and leaves his parking spot.

Two weeks pass by. In those two weeks Y/N uploads two more videos, one about her time with her grandparents, for a change it was filmed at their home and they even said hello in it. Harry feels wholesome seeing her with her granny and grandpa, it’s clear she cares a lot about them. The other video is just a short one where she has met some of Sammy’s old high school friends and she had a check in from them, sending a sweet message to him through the video. Harry doesn’t doubt how much these little things mean to Sammy, even if he doesn’t get to see them right away. Seeing Y/N alone boosts his mood every time she uploads a new video, he can only imagine how they make Sammy feel.

He leaves comments on her videos without a second thought and she replies to all of them, a lot of the time almost immediately. These are the highlights of his days without exception. Knowing that she has anything to do with him just fascinates him and he is starting to realize what his fans feel towards him on a different level. Whenever he sees the notification that she has replied to what he wrote or that she uploaded a new video he flies right to her page to check it, no matter what he is doing. Some of their comment threads turn out pretty lengthy, almost like a chat conversation and it has Harry wonder how they could maybe move it to somewhere else from the comment section.

He wants to ask for her number, but figures it wouldn’t be the best idea. Regardless of how much he enjoys their short little conversations, the situation is still weird and complicated and he doesn’t want to forget that.

But he is pleasantly surprised when she brings it up herself, to move the conversation to somewhere else.

“Would love to discuss that more with you. Up for exchanging IG names?” her question reads and he blinks a few before he fully comprehends that she wants to talk to him more in private. However there’s no way he can send her his real Instagram profile and making a fake one would be way too suspicious. Opening up the private messages he sends her a short, but informative message.

“I don’t use Instagram, but feel free to text me,” and then his phone number.

He sits at the dinner table anxiously, waiting for his phone to light up from a new text, and just a few minutes later it finally comes.

“Hi! It’s Y/N,” he reads from the notification and he saves the number right away.

“Hello! Save me as Harry. I haven’t even told you my name yet, how rude of me!” he replies chuckling to himself.

“Will let it slip this time. Harry. What a nice name!”

“Is it what you thought about from the H?”

“It was one of my theories. The other one was Hayes, but Harry fits you better.”

“You haven’t even seen me, how do you know what name fits me?”

“I don’t know. You had a vibe. There are many great Harries in the world, you seemed to fit between them!”

Harry wonders if she is thinking about him without even knowing that… it is him. He wants to ask her, but decides not to. Instead, he is enjoying that he can now reach her immediately and not through a comment section. He never thought this would actually happen.

 The texts never stop. They have so much to talk about! Their entire life to share, millions of thoughts and so much to discuss! Harry is not proud of the time he has spent with his eyes glued to his phone, but he wouldn’t miss a chance to talk to her for anything. Their friends are not blind to the change in him, but Mitch is the only one with a guess about why he has gotten so addicted to his phone.

“Is it the girl from the videos?” he asks Harry one time when they are at the studio, having lunch break. Different food boxes are scattered around them, on the table and the couch. Harry’s phone just light up from a text and he immediately dropped his lunch to type a response.

He glances up at his friend with a shy smile nodding his head. He hasn’t talked about his newly funded friendship with Y/N yet, it feels like as if he tells it to anyone it might evaporate into just a dream.

“So you reached out, huh?”

“I did,” he nods returning to his food once his message is sent. “She’s great.”

“Does she know who she is talking to?” Harry’s lack of answer tells enough about the truth to Mitch. “You can’t hide forever, especially if you are planning on meeting her.”

“I know,” he answers shortly. “But I just don’t know how I could even bring it up to her without sounding like a mad man.”

“She’ll need proof.”

“M’not ready to show m’self to her. What if it changes everything?”

“Then it wasn’t worth it,” he simply tells him.

Deep down Harry knows it’s the truth, but he is not ready to be robbed from the joy she is bringing him. He has never felt such a deep connection to anyone before and they haven’t even met. It’s just a version of her he is seeing on the screen, not her real self. But it feels real to him and he wants to keep this reality to himself for just a little longer.

 “I wish I could hear your voice, Harry. You are one big mystery to me, you know that?”

He forgets to breathe for a moment as he reads her message, lying in bed one evening, getting ready to sleep, but he wanted to check in with her before ending the day.

“You know so much about me already,” he types back.

“Not enough, I feel like. Sometimes I’m afraid Nev and Max are about to show up at my door and tell me that I’ve been catfished.”

He chuckles at her words, though he completely understands her fear.

“What do you want from me then?”

“Send me a voice message so I know you are real. That would put my suspicion to sleep. For a while…”

Harry hesitates for a long time until he decides just one voice message couldn’t hurt. Just a short one where his voice is not that recognizable so his cover won’t be over immediately.

“Good night, Y/N,” he tells into his phone and then send the recording to her.

He watches the status change from delivered to read and a couple of minutes go by before she finally responds.

“Thank you. Now I know that you are real. I hope I’ll hear your voice in real life one day.”

“I hope that too.”

 His time spent undercover is coming to an end and he knows it’ll happen soon. It’s been weeks since they started chatting, almost an entire month and she’s been hinting her will to see his face and though he has been putting it off, he knows it has to happen.

Fate is playing under his hands, because he is traveling to Seattle for a few days, exactly when Y/N is traveling there to visit her parents.

“I hope you know you can’t leave without meeting finally,” she wrote when she found out they are going to be in the same city.

“It never even crossed my mind!” he wrote back chuckling to himself, however it brought him extreme anxiety that he is now going to be forced to come clean about who he really is.

He spends his whole flight to Seattle making up possible outcomes for their first official meeting. Not all of them end well and it’s just fueling his fear that he might lose her for not telling her the entire truth.

But she is a smart girl, she’ll see your reasoning, he tells himself, however he can’t entirely convince himself that it will be the case.

In hopes of squeezing in more than just one meeting into the weekend they agreed to meet almost first thing after he lands. So after checking into his hotel he heads into the city to finally meet her in real life in a local café she suggested for the occasion. Arriving to the place he is running a little late and she already texted him she’ll be waiting for him inside. Harry is wearing a beanie with shades to try to keep up his cover and it seems to be working, no one has approached him yet.

Stepping inside the cozy looking place his eyes roam around and immediately finds her sitting in the corner, pouring sugar into her coffee, not even paying attention to the door at the moment, but truth is she’s been intensely staring at it in the past ten minutes she has been there.

Harry takes a deep breath and nods to himself before heading in her way, hands shaking nervously as he stops at her table.

She glances up at him with innocent eyes, a smile spreads across her face as she sees that her mysterious Harry has arrived and she doesn’t recognize her until he finally takes his sunglasses off.

Harry watches her face turn from happiness to surprise then utter shock as she realizes who is standing in front of him.

“You are… my Harry?” she asks, confusion laced through her voice and Harry can’t ignore how she called him her Harry. He likes the ring of it.

“M’orry if it’s a little too much f’you, I really didn’t know how to tell ya.”

Keeping his eyes on her he pulls out the other chair at the table and takes a seat across her while she is still staring at him with a shocked and puzzled expression sitting on her face. Then she looks around in suspicion as he wiggles his coat off his arms, before her eyes settle on him once again.

“It’s not an episode of Catfish, right?” she asks making him chuckle.

“It is not, don’t worry.”

“I’m sorry if I’m being weird, but this was literally the last thing I was expecting,” she admits leaning back in her seat. “I believed things like this only happen in movies.”

“Not just there,” he smiles, slowly relieving that she is still sitting there and hasn’t ran out. It’s going way better than he expected.

She needs a little time to put the whole picture together and befriend the thought that she indeed just developed a friendship with Harry Styles through her videos for her brother. The absurdity is still shocking to her, but the more time passes by with him still sitting there, the more she finds peace with it.

Once the shock and surprise is gone they slowly realize they are seeing each other in real life finally. Harry feels overwhelmed, she is even more breathtaking than in her videos and through texts. He is mesmerized by her whole being and could listen to her talk in person forever, he wouldn’t get bored of her.

Time stops existing as they sit at the little café, talking for hours even though that’s all they’ve been doing through texts, but they just can’t get enough of hearing each other, seeing each other’s reaction and be able to see each other and not stare at a screen while talking.

Unfortunately, time never stopped just for the two of them and soon she realizes she needs to head back home. Harry doesn’t want to let go of her just yet so he offers to give her a ride, thanking himself for getting a rental for himself upon arriving. Y/N accepts the offer so the two of them head back to her parents’ home, soaking up the last minutes of their precious time spent together.

“Thank you for today, I really loved meeting you finally,” she smiles at him once they are parked on the driveway.

“I hope I didn’t shock you too much,” he chuckles scratching his chin.

“Just a little,” she admits before they both get out of the car and walking around it she stops in front of him, after a moment of hesitation she opts for a hug that he returns more than happily.

It feels as if her frame was perfectly sculpted to fit in his embrace and Harry can’t imagine how he could go this long without even seeing her in person. He knows it’s gonna be utter misery to be away from her after they leave the city.

“Will I see you before you take off?” she asks letting go of him. Harry looks down at her, the urge to kiss her growing bigger with each passing moment, but he is not sure if it would be appropriate to give it a try on their first time meeting.

“I’m free tomorrow for a lunch,” he tells her and she nods smiling.

“Then I’m free too,” she chuckles.

There’s an awkward moment where they are not sure what else should be done or said and the more they wait the weirder it’s getting so Harry clears his throat as he takes a step back, sad that he has to leave without feeling her lips on his, but he is not trying to be too greedy.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then,” he smiles walking back to his car. Y/N waves after him and sitting back to behind the wheel he takes a moment to himself to collect himself after everything that has happened today. His hands curl around the wheel and he is about to start the car when someone knocks on the window. Y/N is smiling at him through the glass and he rolls it down curiously.

“I just…” she starts hesitantly, her eyes wander down to his lips and Harry knows what’s about to happen, but it still catches him by surprise.

Y/N leans in through the window and presses her lips to Harry’s, capturing them in a sweet, long awaited first kiss they both have been dreaming of for quite a while. Harry smiles into the kiss, bringing his right hand up to cup her cheeks as they stretch the moment for as long as possible. Whenever one pulls back the other brings them back for just one more kiss that turns into two more, then three… It takes a long time for them to finally let go of each other.

“See you later, H,” she smiles backing out of the car and running up to the front door, smiling wildly as she waves in his way one last time before disappearing in the house.

 Lying in bed that evening Harry is scrolling through his Instagram feed when he finally realizes he can now follow her without a worry. He is quick to find her profile again and hit that follow button. He is happy to see she was already following him.

He is just about to put his phone aside and go to bed after such a busy but exciting day when a notification pops up on the screen.

Y/N has just uploaded a new video!

He taps on it quickly and her smiling face greets him from his phone’s screen.

“Hi Sammy! It’s me again. Welcome back to our channel,” she starts with a shy smile. The setting is new this time, he supposes it’s her parents’ home this time. “This is going to be a short video, but I wanted to tell you about something. Or someone.”

Harry’s heart skips a beat when he thinks about where it’s heading. He listens to her voice holding his breath.

“I met someone today. We’ve been talking for a while, but I could finally hug him today. His name is Harry, and he is a wonderful man. I think you two would get along well,” she says with a soft chuckle. “I love spending time with him and I hope he feels the same way. Actually…” Her eyes move up straight to the camera, something she doesn’t do often. She usually stares out the window or plays with Henry while talking. “I think he is watching it right now. Hi Harry!”

“Hello, Beautiful,” he greets her back with a smile as if she could hear him.

“I wanted to tell you how amazing you are making me feel. I hope I didn’t disappoint. I was so nervous to meet you today, I hope I lived up to what you imagined me to be.”

“You were so much better than that,” he answers again.

“Anyway… I hope you feel the same way. You are the first guy I’m talking about in an update, so appreciate it!” she tells him and he chuckles lightly. “I’ll see you soon, H. But until then… Know that I’m thinking about you.”

“M’thinking about you too, Angel.”

“Sammy, I miss you as always. I hope everything is well, can’t wait for your next email. I love you,” she smiles before the video ends.

Harry heads straight to the comments. This time he doesn’t leave a lengthy one, just a short line, but it has everything he wanted to tell her.

“I feel the same way.” The comment reads. Just a few seconds later comes the notification and he smiles sweetly at his phone.

Y/N liked the comment.

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles oneshot #harry styles fluff #harry styles fiction #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry #styles #one direction #harry styles fanfictions

[fairytalesofthewind]

Hello, could I request Bucky Barnes x M!reader?Bucky and the reader have been together for a long time and whenever the reader goes for a mission Bucky only focuses on missing his man. So, Bucky has grown his hair out insanely long due to being so busy and he never notices because he’s always tying it up in a bun. Until the reader comes home one night and while cuddling they take his hair down only to realize how long it is, ending with Bucky racing to find scissors and chopping his hair off back to his shoulders. I know this might seem random and silly but I feel like this is exactly the kind of himbo move Bucky would make haha. I love your writing so so much!! <3

Here’s a short drabble for you ;)

Requests are open!

Bucky had always been raised to look presentable and proper even though he wasn’t gentleman-like. He always had to look put together. His hair had to be gelled back, his posture had to be straight and his mother didn’t allow him to wear dirty clothes. As soon as he had received his uniform, his mother forced him to wear it so he looked more respectable.

So wearing his hair short was kind of how he grew up. It was easy to manage, and even better to look tidy in it. It was also better to fight in. No hair getting in his way was a serious advantage to have.

Now that you have been gone for literal months he had forgotten to take care of his hair. There was no mother pestering him about cutting it. And you weren’t here to make brush it for him when he didn’t feel like it. You weren’t there to cut it for him because he didn’t want to go to a hairdresser.

With no one reminding him of managing his hair, he kind of forgot about it. It kept growing longer and longer. Eventually it grew past his shoulders, beautifully flowing over his back. At the time you arrived back from your mission, it was as long as Wanda’s hair.

He was a bit ashamed of it. He thought maybe you would chastise him for it. Bucky had put his long hair in a bun for the majority of the past months because he found it was easier to live with it that way. And maybe if he put it in a bun, you wouldn’t notice.

You didn’t found out until a few hours after you came back from your mission. You had already spent your day together, you ate dinner together, and eventually you both retired to bed. Laying there, cuddling together, you had the desire to run your hand through his hair. It was an act that you both enjoyed. As you took down his hair out of the bun, you found Bucky freezing up.

He looked up at you with a nervous and almost scared looked. There was an apology right on the tip of his tongue and he was about to mumble it out if not for your gasp of amazement. Instead of chastising him like Bucky expected you would, you completed him.

“You like it?” He asked almost timidly.

“I love it, Buck,” you answered as you combed your hand through his beautiful long locks. “It looks amazing.” He looked so insecure about it, you felt bad about it.

Eventually you fell asleep, and you thought- with your administrations- Bucky also fell asleep. But that wasn’t the case.

You woke up to cursing and the faint sound of scissors snipping. You rushed out of bed, not really sure what kind of scene you would find. You found Bucky in the bathroom, looking caught red handed at your exclaim of his name.

“My sweetest, lovely, dearest prince. I can explain.” Bucky had cut his hair only once before, and he had promised you to never do it again. And here he was, cutting it horribly again.

You had to spent the majority of the night fixing it. Cutting it even again, bettering the clomps of hair he chomped away. You both ended up agreeing that the shoulder length he had attempted to cut it to, looked very good on him.

Thank you for the request! <3

#bucky x male reader #bucky x reader #marvel x reader #marvel x male reader #marvel x you #bucky x you #x male reader #fluff #marvel #bucky #bucky barnes #bucky imagine

[leafs-lover]

If he's lucky I'll let him join

Part 8: Everything's changed

Series Masterlist

A/N: The ending is finally here, don’t hate me too much!

Warnings: Swearing, angst (I think that’s it)

Word Count: 2000

“I uh-“ you bring a hand up to wipe away a stray tear. “I gotta go,” you whisper. Pulling away you practically run to the door.

“He doesn’t want you,” he calls out as you reach the door. Letting go of the handle you turn around, Auston still in the middle of the living room, the exact spot you left him. “You’re going to see him? Fred?” he queries, sensing your next move. Your face contorts and you take a deep breath preparing for his next words.

“I know him, he’s not interested like that, not anymore,” Auston says lightly.

Anymore.

That word stings. When did Fred stop losing interest? Was it when you had the first threesome, or the second? When did he stop wanting you, and how didn’t you notice?

“You’re wrong,” you say yanking the door open and heading down the hall. He is wrong, it has to be. Needs to be.

“Hey,” Fred says opening the door. The smile on his face falls when he sees the devastation written all over yours. “What’s wrong?” he asks, knowing you are more upset than a few hours ago.

He attempts to pull you into his chest but you throw his arms down, stepping around him into his apartment. “Y/N, what happened?” he asks concerned. The large metal door slams shut, the sound echoes through you, the hairs on the nap of your neck standing upright.

“Do you like me?” you ask bluntly.

“Of course I do y/n,” he laughs in disbelief. “I wouldn’t hang out with you if I didn’t.”

“No, but do you like me?” you repeat. “Do you see a future for us? Or am I just an easy lay?”

“You’re not just an easy lay,” he says somewhat disheartened. “You’re a great girl, I love spending time with you.”

That’s not the answer you wanted to hear. That is the answer you have given men before, men have given to you. Normally it’s followed up by some cliché bullshit, “it’s not you it’s me,” or, “I think we’re better off as friends.” It’s the kind of statement used to soften the blow, though it never does.

Sensing there is more you probe him, “but?”

“I just don’t see this being more than what it is,” he shifts awkwardly on his feet, running his hand through his long red hair. With hairdressers and barbershops closed and playoffs approaching, Fred along with a few other players have been growing their hair out. It’s now about an inch and half longer than you have ever seen it before. “I don’t see it…not anymore.”

There it is, that word again. The word that implies you had a future, a potential, but it has been ripped from you. Worse part is you didn’t even know it happened.

“When?” you demand, fighting back your tears. You hear his door gently open, Fred’s eyes snapping up to meet the sound before falling back to you.

“Let’s sit y/n,” he offers. Reaching out for your hand you shake him off.

“No, just answer my question," you plead.

"Y/N," he sighs, eyes flickering over your face.

"When?" You're tone is getting louder, your frustration with the situation, and his inability to explain his feelings, bubbling up. "When did you stop seeing something with me?”

“When you two fucked,” he blurts out, his eyes shifting between you and Auston. “Finding out you two were spending time together, together, just the two of you. I just…I can’t get past it.”

“But it –“

“No, you can’t say it was just sex, or nothing serious y/n, you can’t,” he sighs. Taking a few seconds to compose himself, he continues, “I saw how you both looked at each other at parties last year. I noticed how his breath would catch in his throat when you’d walk in, or how your eyes lingered a little too long on him. It sucked,” he says. His eyes drop to the floor momentarily as if looking at you suddenly hurts, but he finally musters up the courage to meet your gaze once more. Straight faced, Fred’s eyes bore into you with a fear— a vulnerability you’ve never seen before.

“But coming back this season I didn’t really have expectations on us. We hadn’t seen each other much since last March really, we talked a bit but that was it. I didn’t know if we’d kind of pick up where we left off or if it would just be sex. And in the beginning it was just sex, that’s why it didn’t matter when he’d be there too,” he eyes to Auston who is leaning against the door, silently watching the exchange.

“At some point it changed for me and I started to get the idea it did for you too,” his eyes are full of sorrow as they stare at you. “So I ignored the lingering glances when we’d watch movies, or how when we’d make dinner he’d pull you aside for a kiss. I thought it was just a part of the threesomes, and that when he left it was us. Just you and me,” his voice breaks while he fights through the pain.

“I thought you’re mind was solely with me and none of that mattered. Maybe I was in denial, or too blind to see it…But once I found out you two were fucking, that’s when I knew it wasn’t in my head. Some part of you was with him, even if you couldn’t admit it. And honestly if it was anyone else I probably wouldn’t care, but knowing it’s someone you look at that way, I just….no y/n I don’t see a relationship with you, not anymore.”

“I…I’m sorry,” you whine. Frustrated tears trickle down your cheeks as you pull the edge of your hood over your head, wanting to hide your weakness from the room as if somehow it’s judging you.

You have spent the past couple weeks trying to process your feelings for both men, trying to separate them. It’s not an easy task given how you spend so much time with both of them. Internally you have gone back and forth between the two, and you thought it would become glaringly obvious which way you were leaning. Which man your heart was leaning towards.

Hearing Fred, hearing how he doesn’t want you, you realize just how much you want him. How much it is him you want to be with. You realized you never wanted someone as much as you ache for Fred, and it tears you open from the inside out knowing he doesn’t feel the same in return.

“You don’t need to apologize,” he steps forward wrapping his arms around you. “You were allowed to sleep with anybody you wanted, we never talked about it, and we probably should have. Or once I started to feel differently I definitely should have, but you don’t have to apologize, you did nothing wrong.”

That burns. How could you have done nothing wrong, yet you are losing him? If you did nothing wrong he should be yours. Things don’t end if everything goes well.

“Okay,” you croak out, barely managing to find your voice.

He holds you, and for a minute you feel safe. Almost as if the thing you’ve wanted for a year and a half isn’t shattering into a million pieces around you. It almost feels right, you almost feel safe. Your tears scorch your cheeks but pale in comparison to the hollowness in your heart.

He doesn’t let you go, not until you are ready. His heart against your ear calms you down. Each time it thuds, you cry a little less, until finally you have no more tears to shed. Sensing your easing grip on his shirt, he pulls back and places a soft kiss on your forehead. “You two should talk,” he breathes lightly.

Releasing you, he walks away leaving you with Auston. Turning slightly you see him leaning against the wall, having watched the entire exchange. Your eyes sting from the tears but you can still see the despair written on his face.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t give you what you deserve.”

“Can’t or won’t?”

How can he ask you that? Right here and now? He can tell you are crushed by losing Fred, how can he expect you to be so willing to carry on with him as if nothing happened? You’re furious— the pulsating devastation inside your chest borderline unbearable. How you’re still standing is a mystery.

Your voice is barely a whisper as you admit, “I don’t know how to give you what you need.”

“I’m not asking for you to, not today,” he steps forward causing you shoulders to stiffen. “I get your in pain right now, but I’m still here. I want to be here. Whether it’s a week, a month, 3 months. I want to be here, with you,” he smiles at you. “I want you.”

“I…I can’t,” you barely manage a whisper. Gulping you feel tears building behind your eyes. “I can’t do this, I’m sorry.”

You catch a nerve. His eyes turn dark as the muscles begin clenching in his jaw, and he suddenly starts rubbing his hands across his stubble. A nervous tick. He always does that when he’s uncomfortable. Pushing past him you reach for the handle when one of his hands grasps your arm. His grip is tight, likely going to leave marks but he doesn’t care. Leaning down his voice is hollow, “you leave y/n and that’s it. The minute you walk out that door, that’s it.”

His eyes narrow at you, waiting for your response, when you don’t, he suddenly lets go of your bicep. “Auston, I-“

“Are you saying no to now, or no to forever?” he asks. Staring up at him you know he knows the answer, the pain in his eyes tugging on your compassion. You’re relationship with Auston was mostly based on sex, but when you actually sat down and talked to him, confided in him your worries and fears, he listened. He consoled you, comforted you, made you laugh to keep you distracted, but it just isn’t enough.

Fred has always had a piece of your heart, a big piece. It wasn’t until you heard Auston admit his feelings, making summer plans, that you realized he wasn’t the person you wants those plans with. But Fred doesn’t want you, you can’t just forget about the mark he left and move on with Auston. Your heart doesn’t belong to Auston, it belongs to the person who doesn’t want it. You just wish it didn’t take you so long to notice.

“You’ll make some girl really happy one day,” you sniffle wiping away the tears from your eyes.

It’s true, Auston is a great guy, an amazing guy. The blow of losing Fred would only be masked if you had Auston to curl up with at night. He could bandage you up, pick up the pieces. Only problem is he won’t find all the pieces. Or maybe he would one day, but it’s not fair to him to stand by waiting to see what person comes out the other side. And once you do come out, would you still want Auston? Or would his purpose be served now that you were whole?

It’s not fair to string him along, especially if you don’t know if your heart will be his in the end. Everything is going to hurt like hell tomorrow, that much you were sure of, but in the long run, this is for the best. Turning away you grab the handle. This time he doesn’t stop you, this time you walk out the door, and out of both their lives for good.

#auston matthews imagine #auston matthews x reader #auston matthews #auston matthews smut #auston matthews fic #frederik andersen smut #frederik andersen x reader #frederik andersen fic #frederik andersen #freddie andersen #freddie andersen smut #freddie andersen fic #freddie andersen x reader #fred andersen fic #fred andersen x reader #fred andersen smut #fred andersen #if he's lucky i'll let him join #nhl fic #nhl smut #nhl imagines #toronto maple leafs #toronto maple leafs smut #toronto maple leafs fic #toronto maple leafs imagines

[imaginesupply]

Homecoming - Chapter One

Chapter Two can be found here

(Gif’s not my own.)

Summary: The day has arrived, Captain Syverson is going home. For good, this time. He is going home to a civilian life he can hardly remember and a wife he barely knows, with memories of the war still fresh on his mind. Love might not be able to heal everything on its own, but it’s a good start.

Genres: Romance, drama.

Story warnings: Smut (always fully consensual), mentions of PTSD and nightmares and mental health, angst, hurt and comfort, fluff, mentions of war (minor), mentions of cheating (minor), mentions of pregnancy (very minor), police appearance (very minor), violence (very minor).

Notes:

It’s my first time writing for one of Henry’s characters and I’m unsure I did Sy’s character any justice.

This is a Capt. Syverson x OFC (Ada) story, written in 3rd person POV but OFC’s physical description is very limited so it could also be read as Capt. Syverson x Reader, I think.

English is not my first language, so there might be some mistakes. Proofread, but not beta’ed. We die like men and all that.

Timeline is a little wacky: The movie takes place in 2003 and the U.S. forces were withdrawn from Iraq in 2011, but I never set a precise date because I don’t think it’s essential for this story. However, some elements might not be realistic because if we set this story in 2003: Phone cameras  quality was not as good as it’s now, but for the purpose of the chapters, I will need you to imagine you could film great videos with your flip phone haha. Plus, it says Sy is coming back after being deployed for more than three years which makes no sense unless we set this in 2006 or later. I am asking you disregard any time inconsistencies 

Also: I am not American. I only lived in the US for six months and it was in the Midwest, not Texas so please bear with me if I write something stupid.

Finally: This is pretty much a Christmas fic and I intend to post the last chapter (there will be seven in total) on or before Christmas. However, religion is never mentioned in this story and the Christmas-sy elements of this story are limited to family gathering, gift giving and tree decorating.

Chapter One starts after the cut. Let me know if you wish to be tagged in the new chapters.

Chapter One

Chapter warnings: Badly written smut (consensual), marriage awkwardness, alcohol consumption. Maybe OOC Sy, I don’t know. We never saw him being casual.

Sy checked his phone again as he waited for his bag by the baggage carousel. The airport was even busier than usual, it was taking ages and he was impatient to get out of there... and maybe even never set foot in an airport again for the rest of his life.

He read her text again, short and sweet. He sometimes called her that, short and sweet, just to tease her. Ada was considerably shorter than him and full of sugar, when she wanted to be, that was.

'I'm waiting by the gate for you, with a warm cinnabon :) So excited to see you again <3.'

Just then a notification popped up from Harper. It was a photo of the soldier at the airport, finally reunited with his wife and his two rugrats. It made Sy all the more excited to see Ada again, and then as if on cue, his camo bag appeared in the carousel and he groaned with relief.

He stood restless amidst the line, it seemed people in front of him were dragging their feet, but when they noticed his green beret uniform, most parted and let him through. Sy tipped his head gratefully.  

His wife was there, just outside the gate. Sy spotted her instantly in the crowd of people. She was wearing a red dress under her open coat and her hair looked fresh out of the hairdresser. He caught himself grinning at the sight of her. Then, once she spotted him making his way over to her, she started waving her hand excitedly as if there was any way his eyes hadn't already landed on her. He wished he still had his phone in hand to capture this moment for all of eternity, but his memory would have to do, he decided before casting his arms open for his wife. Fuck, did he love her!

°°°

Ada had been biting her nails nervously for the past two hours. She had arrived at the airport way too early. The parking fee would hurt but she couldn't find it in herself to care at this point.

Three weeks ago, she had received a call informing her that her husband and part of his unit had been ambushed. There had been an explosion in some building they were scouting only God knows where.

Only a full week after that did she receive a call from Sy himself. He was coming home. For good, this time. They were sending him home early, a full eight months earlier than what he had originally negotiated with his superiors. She hadn't been prepared for the news. She had spent the days following the call asking herself whether she had heard him right, making sure her mind wasn't playing tricks on her.

Now he was here, stopping right in front of her, his thick arms inviting her right in for a hug. Ada wouldn't have been able to resist the invitation even if she had wanted to. Within a second, she was enveloped in his embrace, her cheek pressed against his chest. She was overjoyed to feel his heartbeat again. Sy kisses the crown of her head before putting her down, his hands never leaving her lower back, his fingers big enough to reach the swell of her bum from there.

They pulled away a few inches to take each other in. His beard has grown a little long, but it was not enough to hide his apparent dimples as he smiled. He looked a little older too, she hadn't seen in seven months, except through a shitty quality facetime call once or twice. Her careful gaze spotted the new scar by his temple, it was the only visible physical evidence of the explosion he had been caught in. She dreaded what she might under his uniform.

Sy caught her eyes and she found herself blushing under his stare. It was always like that the first few hours when he was back, until she got used to his overwhelming presence again and to the fact that this handsome bear of a man was indeed her husband.

"You're looking good, darlin'," Sy grinned, making her spin for him. "I missed you."

Ada couldn’t resist his smile. "I missed you too, Sy." She confessed, handing him the still warm cinnamon roll in its paper bag.

He accepted the pastry with a smile and started eating it immediately but not before throwing his arm around her shoulders as they began making their way to the parking lot. Sy was eager to get her out of the crowd and have her just to him himself.

"So, what's the plan, darlin'?" Sy inquired with mischief to his voice, balling up the paper bag with his free hand and throwing it inside the trash can. "Did you book that hotel with the jacuzzi in the bedroom again?"

It had become a tradition of some sort between them. They would always spend his first night back at that hotel: they'd order some room service and eat in the jacuzzi. Though, usually, they would first end up on together on the bed.

Ada stopped suddenly in her tracks, making him still behind her. She smiled sheepishly. "Don't be mad," she started, his smile falling at once, "but your family is waiting for us in the parking lot. Your mom insisted that we celebrate your homecoming at the restaurant. Something about you missing Thanksgiving just by a couple days."

Sy groaned, thinking about the evening that now expected him. He'd been flying for God knows how many hours, all he wanted was a warm bath and Ada whichever way she'd let him have her, not a damn dinner party.

"I'm sorry, Sy."

He shook his head and leaned down to kiss her forehead again. "Don't worry, darlin'. I know it ain’t your fault."

As soon as they reached the open-air parking lot, Sy's nephew and niece start running up to him, having escaped their parents' grasp. His family was waiting for him with cheers and a 'welcome home, soldier' banner. Sy hated that kind of attention and she found it cringy as well, but she had been unable to stop his mother. Ada watched him hug the kids and lift them up into the air, making them laugh as she walked up to the machine to pay the fee.

Her hand trembled as she inserted the ticket into the slot, missing the opening a few times. She was happy - no, scratch that - she was ecstatic to have her husband back. It's just that, could you really say 'back' when there was never truly a 'before', a 'there'?

They had met when he was already deployed, but on a short leave back in Austin. They spent three weeks together, got married and he returned to Iraq. Since then, the longest stretch of time they had been together had been twenty days. Neither of them had ever gotten settled into married life and now he was 'back'. For good. Which was wonderful and foreign and overwhelming all at once.

Ada paid the fee and returned to join them, finding Sy hugging his mother. She smiled at the sight. She walked over to greet her sister-in-law and her husband, confirming that they'd meet up at the restaurant. With that, she went to the car, deciding to give Sy some more time with his family, and herself an occasion to take a few breaths and calm her buzzing heart.

"You didn't tell me my mom had gotten herself a boyfriend." Sy grumbled immediately as he sat down next to her in the car, putting on his seatbelt.

Ada turned on the engine and backed out of the spot. "I knew you wouldn't like it," she defended before casting a side glance at him. "Besides, I figured it wasn't my place to tell you."

Sy hummed noncommittally, removing his cap to rake his hand through his cropped hair.

"Though, as much as I don't exactly like your mother," Ada added quietly, "she's been on her own ever since your dad passed a couple years ago. With your father gone and you away, she must have felt lonely.”

°°°

Sy spent the rest of the drive mulling over her words in his head. The fuck was that supposed to mean? As soon as a woman feels lonely, she takes up a boyfriend?! Was Ada lonely too while he was away and… He wanted to ask if she was implying anything but then one look at her and he decided against it. Breathing out deeply, he forces himself to relax. He was just stressed out and on edge.

It was inevitable that things would have changed while he had been away. That was something he thought about frequently late at night when he got to be alone. Still, he hoped things hadn’t changed all too much. Ada still looked just as she had on their road trip to Vegas, focused on the road but leaning back on her seat, just one hand on the wheel with a grin on her lips. His wife loved driving.

"You got your nails done." Sy commented, already hoping the whole dinner thing would be over quickly so that he could go home with her.

Ada turned to him with a chuckle for a second, wriggling her graceful fingers and red painted nails, her wedding band reflecting the light. "I wanted to look pretty for you."

Sy huffed. "You always look pretty to me, Ada," he said and then watched her scoff.

"Or maybe, I just wanted to make sure I'd be able to scratch you up nicely," she wife winked.

Yeah, this dinner thing couldn't be over fast enough.

°°°

Ada saw him eat so much over dinner, she couldn’t help but wonder if he was going to be sick later. And, of course, the double serving of smoked ribs had to be accompanied with generous amounts of beer and whisky. She didn0t blame him, though. Out of curiosity, she once researched what they ate while on deployment and it looked anything but tasty. If she had been in his shoes, she'd have been eating her own weight in pizza and brownies right now.  

It also didn’t help that his brother-in-law and his mom's new boyfriend, Phil from the hardware store, kept asking him about Baqubah and even touching on the subject of the explosion. It was obvious how uncomfortable the subject made him, his grip tightening around his knife and his jaw tensing up so tightly, she could imagine his teeth grinding.

So, Sy kept asking for refills, raising his glass, and giving them vague answers, but it seemed they didn't get the hint. At least, the subject changed when his sister interrupted the conversation to announce she was expecting again. A little girl.

Ada used the moments of cheer that followed to excuse herself from the table and go to the restroom. She was still somewhat nervous and her face was damp. She would have given anything for a glass of scotch at that moment but she was driving tonight.

Helen, Sy's mom appeared right behind her just as she was washing her hands. She hoped the woman would just disappear inside a stall but she wasn’t that lucky.

"Jack is back." Helen stated, arms crossed. A shiver ran through Ada's spine, damn she hated that woman. "For good."

Ada dried her hands with a paper towel, looking back at her mother-in-law through the mirror. "He is."

"Now's the time to prove yourself to this family and show us that Sy was right in marrying you.”

Before Ada could ask what the hell that was supposed to mean, Helen finally disappeared inside a stall. Rolling her eyes, Ada went to leave the restrooms when Helen decides to add some more venom. "Maybe a good start would be calling him by his first name, as a wife would."

°°°

"When do you start at Camp Mabry?" Ada asked, looking away from the steering wheel to glance at him for a second. Sy looked exhausted, not that she could she blame him after three different flights and a seemingly endless dinner. They had finally called it a night once the kids had started getting fussy.

"January 15th." He replied. "But they want me to stop by before then to have a look around the base and sign the contract."

"You're going to boss the hell out of the new recruits," Ada laughed, getting him to lighten up and even chuckle.

"You'd be surprised to know I'm actually a fair and considerate captain," Sy defended himself.

Next to him, Ada huffed as she tried stiffing the bubble of laughter, trying not miss the right exit off the main road.

"I just value discipline and compliance a lot," he added, his tone growing teasing.

This time, she was unable to stop her laugh. "Believe me, I know you do."

The drive was a short one to their house in the suburbs and she was soon parking her in their driveaway.

Ada fumbled with the key as she tried opening the front door, nervousness setting back in as she felt Sy standing behind her, holding his duffel bag. He followed in quickly after her, once she had finally managed to open the door.

"Welcome home, captain!" Ada cheered in her silliest tone as he discarded his bag on the floor.

Then, before she could even react, Sy was on her. His arms lifted her up, his body caging hers against the wall before capturing her lips in the most ferocious kiss she could imagine.

Out of instinct, her legs locked around his waist and her hands dug into his shoulders, unwilling to let go of him now that he was finally there. Sy grinned against her lips, amused by her fervour, not that he felt any different.

He broke off the kiss as he pulled them away from the wall, freeing a hand to shrug her coat off her shoulders. "You ain't gonna need that, darlin'," he promised, throwing the coat in the direction of the kitchen, not caring where it landed.

Then his mouth latched on to her throat, forcing a delicious moan out of his wife as he carefully manoeuvred them upstairs, still steady on his feet despite the alcohol. Sy was almost surprised when he pushed open the door to their bedroom with his foot and it didn't squeak, but that thought was fleeting as Ada started rolling her hips against his. Suddenly, nothing else mattered. Not the war, not the explosion or his guilt, only the woman in his arms.

Unceremoniously, he let her fall on the bed, the urgency now flowing through his blood keeping him from doing things the gentleman way. Ada didn't mind, giggling as she unzipped her dress and slid the red thing over her head, along with her bra. Apparently, she had decided to forego panties. Sy stood there, almost mesmerised as he watched her, suddenly not certain if he dared tainting her with his touch but Ada quickly made that decision for him as she got up on her knees.

"A little less staring and a little more undressing, captain," she purred with a smirk, her fingers determined as they made quick work of the buttons on his shirt.

"That's it, darlin'. You're in for it now," Sy roared, pulling her in for another furious kiss before pushing her back against the mattress, making her land on her back as he got undressed in record time. Fuck, was he hard.

"Open up for your captain." Sy ordered and Ada complied instantly, her legs falling open for him as she peered up at him, holding herself up on her elbows and worrying her lower lip between her teeth. "That's a good girl," he praised.

Without losing another second, Sy settled in between her legs, wrapping his strong arms around her thighs and parting them to their limits. He wanted to worship her body the way she deserved, show her exactly just how appreciative he was of her, how much he craved her, but it had been months and Sy was a starving man who had just been presented with the perfect meal.

"Fuck Sy!" Ada screamed out, her back arching off the bed the instant he licked her just where she craved him most. He chuckled against her, marvelling at how wet she already was for him.

She tried closing her legs around his head, rejoicing at the feeling of his beard rubbing against her sensitive skin and never wanting him to leave again, but his arms were too strong for her clenching thighs. She was left defenceless against his assault, with no choice but to obscenely moan her pleasure and let herself cum against his tongue as his thumb expertly massaged her clit.

The coil inside her snapped and her body tensed up before letting go just as suddenly, her now damp back falling back on the mattress. "Fuck, Sy." Ada breathed out, her chest heaving as she tried to reopen her eyes only to find her husband playfully gazing up at her, smirking with her arousal glistening on his beard. The sight alone almost made her cum again. "I'll never let you leave again!"

He smiled in response, placing a kiss on her lower stomach before crawling up her body. "I've no intention to, baby," he promised.

Ada caught a glimpse of his hard, flushed erection as his body slid over hers, realizing in her post-orgasmic haze that she was in for an even bigger treat now. She could taste herself in his mouth as they kissed, his hand slithering behind her back to seize her shoulder and hold her closer. Teasingly, he started rolling his hips, his hard clock rubbing against her slick cunt, coating himself with arousal before finally, he found his way inside her, burying his head next to hers in the pillow.

Ada whimpered as he did so, her eyes tearing up as his clock slid inside her. She had evidently grown unaccustomed to his girth and length in his absence. Sy paused immediately, his muscles tense as he looked at her with concern. “You okay?” She nodded in silence, wanting him to start moving but Sy looked unconvinced, using all his strength to keep still despite his desire to fuck her right into the mattress. Without a warning, Ada tightly wrapped her legs around his hips, making him go deeper. Sy let out a reverberating groan. “God, darlin’. I missed you.”

He started thrusting into her with such vigour, such determination it felt as if he was trying to bury himself so deep inside her, no one would ever be able to pry him away from her again. It did hurt, her cervix was getting battered with each of his hard movements but she found herself enjoying the pain because it was him; it was Sy and he was right there with her, back in her arms, and she could feel his heart beat beneath her fingertips as her hand gripped at his chest.

"Fuck, I'm... I’m," Ada gasped incoherently, her nails now scratching the skin of his back. Sy was sure there would be marks there in the morning which made him enjoy the sensation even more.

"I got you," he rasped. If possible, he pulled her even tighter to him, his pubic bone now rubbing against hers in that delicious way only he was able to do. Her slick walls were now contracting around him, her second orgasm impending. "Fuck," he groaned, his breath coming out in a stutter. "Are you...Can I...?"

Sy didn't have to word it, she knew what he meant. "Cum in me, Sy. Please," she almost begged.

Her words did it. His hips stuttered as he pushed in deep just when his orgasm washed over him, exploding inside her. His face contorted with pleasure and that sight alone had her fast tracking her fall over the figurative edge. He had his face buried on the crook of her neck, muffling his groans and moans against her skin as the dam gave way within her.

°°°

Sy grunted against his pillow, slowly waking up the following morning. He was convinced he was just rousing after a very nice dream and he was ready to toss his alarm clock across the room, furious at the object for interrupting his dream, that for once, had been a good one. With a startle, Sy realized that no blasting alarm had woken him up but the sunlight on his face. Opening his eyes, he felt almost as if on foreign ground. He was home.

As quietly as he could manage, Sy turned around in bed, seeking his wife only to find her side empty. Just at that moment, he heard cursing coming up from the kitchen and scoffed. He’d bet his life Ada was cracking eggs, something she hated.

Feeling rested and in a much more relaxed mood than the previous day, Sy got out of bed and started searching for a pair of boxer briefs so he could go join her downstairs when he caught a sniff of himself. Fuck, did he stink. How Ada hadn’t thrown him out of bed, he didn’t know.

Out of habit, Sy hurried to the en-suite bathroom, wanting to shower as fast as possible before realizing that this time around, it was different. He wasn’t going back, he didn’t have to rush, their time together wasn’t counted. With that in mind, Sy forced himself to take his time, enjoying the act of brushing his teeth in a bathroom that smelled nice and showering with warm water. Ada had purchased his usual brands of shower gel and toothpaste, he noticed, even putting a red bow around his brand-new toothbrush by the sink. Even though he initially wanted to take his time to enjoy it, Sy still ended up rushing as he dried himself with a blue fluffy towel he didn’t recognize from his previous stay. He didn’t bother putting on anything more than his boxer briefs before heading downstairs. If he was lucky, he wouldn’t keep them on for long either.

Sy walked into one of the best sights he had even seen, when he entered the kitchen. Ada was standing in front of the stove, rhythmically tapping the black spatula against her naked thigh as she focused on the eggs and bacon she was preparing. The thin negligee - or whatever she called it, he always forgot - barely covered her ass and that outfit alone was one of the reasons he never minded that she always cracked up the heat so high, he felt like he was back under the hot desert sun.

Silent and stealthy like a predator despite his stature, Sy sneaked up on her from behind and wrapped his arms around her waist, feeling her startle before relaxing once she noticed it was him. She smelled heavenly, Sy thought, resting his chin on the top of her head. "Watcha got cooking, darlin'?"

"Obviously breakfast," she sassed, making him softly pinch her ass in response. Ada squealed and jumped up. "Good morning to you too, Sy," she said but not before slapping the handle of the spatula against his thigh. He decided to let it slide... for now.

"Morning darlin'," he answered, kissing the crown of her head before darting his fingers into the pan and picking up a piece of bacon. It was sizzling hot, but the taste was worth it. He had missed being home! Speaking of being home... "What do you say we take the food and coffee upstairs and have ourselves breakfast in bed?" His tone failed to hide his true intentions.

Ada scoffed, the back of her head rubbing on his hairy chest and she shook her head. "Nice try but I actually intend to feed you. Your mother will have my head if I let you go hungry."

It was Sy's turn to laugh, his hands now roaming her body as she leaned forward to turn off the stove, pressing her ass against his crotch and eliciting a husky groan from him. "I'm hungry enough to eat both breakfast and you, don't worry."

Ada turned around, a huge grin on her angelic face. "Alright, you win. What do you say, we have breakfast, we do the kinky and then go grocery shopping?"

Sy tried hiding his smile but it was a lost cause. He loved it when she talked like that. He loved her, point. "Yes, ma'am."

#henry cavill smut #syverson smut #henry cavill x ofc #syverson x ofc #henry cavill x reader #syverson x reader

[scapegrace74-blog]

Ginger Snap, Epilogue

A/N  As promised, here is the epilogue to Ginger Snap.  It’s been two years since Jamie and Claire first got together as a couple.  Let’s see where they’ve gone on their journey.  The title of this installment is Keep the Home Fires Burning.

Previous chapters are best enjoyed on my AO3 page, because I have a bad habit of going back and editing them after they’ve been posted.

I scrutinized my reflection in the antique glass.  The local hairdresser had collected my curls atop my head in way that both tamed and embellished them, braiding in tendrils of lily of the valley to create an unmerited halo.

Jenny’s double joined me in the mirror, holding a strand of seed pearls.  She carefully lifted them over my head and fidgeted with the clasp.

“These belonged to our Mam, given tae her on her weddin’ day.  I ken she would want ye tae wear them.”

“Jenny,” I breathed, fighting back tears.  “I’d be honoured.”

With a curt nod that indicated her limit for sentimentalism had been reached, my soon-to-be sister-in-law returned to her usual businesslike manner.

“They’re all set outside.  Are ye ready, Claire?”

I took one last glance in the mirror and a sanguine woman looked back.  I’d never been more certain or ready for anything in my life.

“Absolutely.  Let’s do this.”

***

With the proceeds of the sale of Ginger Snap and by combining our life savings, Jenny, Ian, Jamie and I managed to purchase Lallybroch back from their uncle six months ago.  Since then, Jamie spent the workweek in the Highlands, investing sweat equity into the massive endeavour of converting the eighteenth century manor and its outbuildings into a hotel, spa and gourmet restaurant.  On the weekends he joined me in Edinburgh, physically exhausted but blissfully happy.

One such weekend, we had been walking hand-in-hand down Grassmarket when Jamie pulled me towards a nearby shop.  

“Are you thinking of getting a tattoo?” I asked when he didn’t immediately explain our unexpected halt.  He was looking intently through the window, but I got the impression he wasn’t really seeing the designs and various body jewelry on display.

“Aye,” he started out slowly.  “In fact, I was thinkin’ perhaps we both might.  As a symbol, if ye will, of who we are tae one ano’er.”

I’d never before considered getting a tattoo and was tempted to dismiss the idea out of hand, but something about Jamie’s seriousness tempered my response.

“That’s a mighty permanent symbol, Fraser.”  His cobalt eyes sparkled when he looked at me.

“Aye, tis.  What dae ye say, Arsonist?  Are ye ready tae belong tae each other, under our skin like blood and bone, until our lives be done?”

Which was how I became engaged to Jamie in the most unconventional way imaginable, standing in front of a display of Celtic knots and navel rings with tears in my eyes.

***

Downstairs, Lallybroch was a mess of step-ladders, idle carpentry tools and drop clothes.  I stepped around a bucket of half-solidified plaster on my path to the front door.

This hadn’t been the plan.  I was meant to finish my three year contract as a surgeon at the Royal Edinburgh, Jamie was going to oversee the restoration and opening of Lallybroch, and only then were we going to get married.  

Somewhere along the line, we got a bit ahead of ourselves.  I rested my hand against the tiniest hardening of my lower abdomen.  Roughly twelve weeks ahead of ourselves, and counting.

Ironically, it was Jamie who insisted we move up the wedding.  Apparently the few traditional scruples he maintained all converged around children born out of wedlock.

I stood on the steps of the Lallybroch courtyard under a lapis blue sky, staring down an improvised aisle of borrowed chairs and white muslin.  Common wisdom held that it was the bride who was the centrepiece of a wedding, but Jamie took my breath away.  He wore his Fraser tartan, brilliant white shirt and tweed vest, his hair a sea of burnt sugar waves.  His already lean physique now had the consistency of marble, brought about by long days of hard labour.  He stood tall and proud, a lighthouse calling me home to port.

No family accompanied me on my short march to his side.  No violins trilled a romantic tune.  To my left, an arched gateway was clad in ugly scaffolding.

But it was perfect.  Perfect, because I moved forward of my own volition.  Perfect, because the song love sang in my heart was endless.  And perfect, because the man I approached had reminded me to see past the surface of things, to the strength and beauty that lay within.

Jamie greeted me with a watery smile and an outstretched hand.  Where his cuff lifted, I could make out the text of his tattoo, written in my own hand.  He’d chosen his inner wrist, so that he could always see it as he worked.  The words were from his invocation, spoken in a Leith storeroom so many months ago.  

Come, set my life on fire.

I’d given my own tattoo a great deal of thought, that giddy day in Grassmarket.  As a doctor, I didn’t feel comfortable having it visible while I worked.  The text was still more important than the location, and I considered and discarded several options before settling on one that encapsulated the essence of our relationship.  Whispering the words in Jamie’s ear so that he could write them out in his slanted script, I could tell by his gratified look that he appreciated their meaning.

That tattoo was on display to our entire acquaintance as we recited the vows that were both mere formality and eternal promise. Just above the ivory back of my dress, between my scapulae, where wings would grow if I was able to fly.

Hold a space for me to be free.

#my writing #outlander #ginger snap

[headheartbellarke]

LIGHT A FIRE IN MY EYES | Owen Patrick Joyner

PAIRING(S): Charlie Gillespie’s sister!Reader x Owen Patrick Joyner

WARNING(S): fluff, angst

WORDS: 3.4k

SUMMARY: where Y/N is charlie gillespie’s sister, and while living with him and owen, unexpected feelings rise up. (im so bad at these)

READER’S POV

    A rhythmic knock on my bedroom door breaks me out of my trance. I push my glasses further up my nose and close my physics textbook, dropping my pencil between the pages to bookmark it. Pushing myself off the chair, I stretch my arms above my head – I’ve been sitting at my desk for about five hours now, trying to revise everything for my exam tomorrow. I walk over to my door, and unlock it, and I’m greeted by my brother, Charlie. He takes in my appearance and frowns.

     “I thought you were still sleeping. When did you get up?”

     “Uhh…” I trail off, looking behind me at the clock mounted on the wall opposite to me. 10:30 AM.  “About 5, yeah.”

    I turn back and notice my brother widening his eyes. “Are you okay, little one?”

    I’m not a morning person, under no circumstances ever. Growing up, I’ve always been the last person to wake up – Charlie being the first. So, I guess it’s awfully unusual for him to hear this.

     “This is college, honey. You wouldn’t know.” I shrug at him and he grins. I’ve always hated the fact that he got a free pass from college, since he’s an actor.

    That is also the reason why he’s here. We grew up in Canada – Charlie, me, my two other older brothers and my twin sister Meghan. Growing up, Charlie, Meghan and I were inseparable – since we’re closer in age – Charlie’s only two years older than Meghan and me. But I had to leave home for college – I got into Caltech, and that was not an opportunity I was about to give up, even though Charlie protested so many times that I’m apparently the baby of the house and I shouldn’t go to another country alone.

    Now, he’s living with me – he is shooting for his show, Julie and The Phantoms (proud sister, here), and they have a couple of scenes and some recording to do in LA, so he’s staying in my apartment for a week, along with his friend, co-star and roommate back in Vancouver, Owen. Previously, they lived with me for more than a month when they had to go through musical bootcamp or something for the sake of the show. (So proud.)

    That was also when I’d developed a massive crush on Owen.

    Charlie was living with me for a good two weeks when, one day, he took me out to meet the rest of the cast. (Who were all lovely, by the way.) On the drive there, he told me that Owen had been living in a hotel since he’s originally from Oklahoma, and that Charlie’s thinking of asking him to come live with us, if I was okay with that. Of course, I had said yes. I had ample space in my duplex apartment and living alone is boring. So, Charlie introduced me to Owen and we immediately hit it off. Of course, I thought that he was incredibly attractive when we met. But I meet a lot of attractive people at university.

    Then, we started living together, and I realized how amazing Owen actually is. He’s an absolute dork – but he’s also funny, very kind, thoughtful, compassionate, altruistic and so, so nice. Both of us have a lot in common, and there’s always been this unsaid, unacknowledged chemistry between us that a lot of the other cast members had picked up on. (Not my brother, though. He would have killed Owen.) We had so much fun when we were together – he turned everything into an adventure. The best part was that I got to be myself, completely, whenever I was around him. I got to talk about whatever I wanted with him – he never, ever judged me.

    Before they went to Vancouver when production for the show began, we had a last night out with the rest of the cast and a bunch of family members – except the kids. We went to this bar near my college. I was so, so drunk and then I suddenly started feeling queasy and Owen offered to take me home since Charlie was in the same position. There was so much traffic and Owen and I kept singing whatever song was on the radio to pass the time – LA traffic – when we were both leaning across our seats and we started kissing. I remember feeling like I would burst from the happiness and the softness, the affection, the admiration that he had in his eyes when he looked at me.

    Of course, I fell asleep pretty soon after the traffic dissipated and woke up next morning to find him packing for his trip. That was when I’d realized that no matter how much I liked him, we could never be together. First of all, long distance relationships almost never work out, and secondly, he’s my brother’s best friend. That was why I chose to just give him a quick hug goodbye and head to college – without even bothering to drop them off at the airport, or even talking to him.

    He texted and called a couple of times after that, too. But I never responded, never even opened any of his texts – because I knew that once I do that, I would definitely call him. That went on for a week, and the only time we spoke was when he’d texted me from Savannah’s phone: why are you ignoring me? I texted back all the reasons why we couldn’t ever be together, and I didn’t hear from him for another week, until Charlie called me the day before yesterday, telling me that they have a couple of scenes to do in LA, along with some recording stuff, and they’ll stay with me for a few days. I had to approve, or else Charlie might figure out everything.

    They arrived yesterday, and I think that I’ve done a pretty good job of ignoring him so far.

    Charlie’s voice breaks me out of my train of thoughts. “You have exams or what?”

    I nod. “Applied physics, tomorrow. Are you going out?” I ask, pointing at his dark blue jeans.

     “Madi and I are writing this song together. You’ll love it.”

    I smile at him. “If I’m not the first one to hear it –”

    He hums, a chuckle escaping him. I lean against the doorframe, as he continues, “Owen just woke up. He doesn’t start his scenes until tomorrow, so I told him to take care of you today, while I’m away.”

    I ignore the way my heart skips a beat at the mere mention of his name and flatten my lips. “I’m 19, Charlie, I can –”

     “Take care of yourself, blah blah blah. I don’t care.”

    I roll my eyes, and playfully shove him forward. He stumbles a few steps backwards and furrows his brows at me. “Ouch!”

     “Are you taking my car?”

    He nods. “Where –”

     “In the magnetic key holder on the fridge.”

     “Okay, sis.” He smiles at me, leaning forward to ruffle my hair – which makes it even messier than it already was. “Go away!” I grumble, trying to pat his hand away. “Never!” He calls out, turning toward the kitchen to grab the keys.

    I shake my head and laugh. “Love you!”

    He shouts back, without looking behind at me. “Love you most!”

****

    The delicious smell of pancakes reminds me of the fact that I haven’t eaten since last night. I drag my feet to the kitchen, mentally preparing myself for the person I’m about to encounter in there.

     “Uh, hi…” I hesitantly call out, entering the kitchen – and notice a very shirtless Owen, with his very shirtless back turned towards me. He turns around at the sound of my voice, and a few strands of golden blonde hair fall across his eyes. I long to reach my hand across and push those away.

    Instead, he himself does that as his eyes flit over me, and a look of pain flashes through his eyes. I hate that I’m the cause of that.

     “I was wondering how you would ignore me when we’re living in the same apartment.”

     “I deserve that.” I walk over to the stove to stand beside him.

    He ignores me and goes back to flipping golden brown pancakes which smell amazing, but all I can focus on is the curve of his back, the hollow space between his collarbones, and the way his hands grip on the pan a little too hard. I feel a warmth course through my body and find myself missing the way he used to wrap his arms around me from behind in the mornings when Charlie was still asleep.

     “Owen,” I whisper, and he inhales sharply at that. “Please. I don’t want things to be like this – I don’t want us to be like this.”

    He uses his spatula to lift the pancake and puts it atop other pancakes on a plate beside the stove and turns it off. He turns around to face me, biting his lip and I think I just had an aneurysm because of the intensity of his gaze.

    He sighs, leaning against the counter. “Y/N. You made it pretty clear that there would never be an ‘us.’”

     “I know. But we can still be friends, right? Like we were before… everything.”

     “See, that’s the thing. I can’t. Y/N, do you have any idea what you’ve put me through for the past two weeks?” He snaps.

     “Do you have any idea what I’ve been through?” I reply, hotly. “Owen, it broke me inside to ask you to stay away. Do you have any idea how much I care about you?”

     “No! I don’t, because you don’t talk to me, Y/N.”

     “I told you, there is no point in doing long distance –”

     “That’s bullshit, Y/N, and you know it, too. I think you’re just too scared to be with me because you think that I’d break your heart, leave you alone or hurt you. But that’s the thing, Y/N – I won’t do any of that to you, because that’s exactly what you’re doing to me.” He crosses his arms across his chest.

    I breathe out shakily, running a hand through my curls. “That’s not true –”

    Owen scoffs. “Please, Y/N. I know you.”

    I lower my eyes from his because I can’t handle the way he’s looking at me.

     “Y/N, do you know how fucking hard the past week’s been for me? I can’t even talk to anyone about it, because the only person I wanna talk to is your brother and we all know what will happen if I do that. He’s my best friend, and I’ve been lying to him for weeks, pretending that I like this hairdresser, when in reality, I’m head over heels for his sister. I can’t tell him that I can’t stop thinking about her, and that she’s the only person that can calm me down when I get anxious on set. I can’t tell him that she’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and it’s killing me inside to not talk to her!”

    He finishes, breathing out heavily. I look at his eyes and notice that they’re gleaming.

     “Wait, what hairdresser?”

    He scoffs, annoyed. “Seriously, Y/N?”

    I shrug and breathe deeply, trying to stop myself from taking his hands in my own. “You know, there are so many guys at school that ask me out, but I can’t go out with any of them, because guess what, they’re not you. I like you so much, Owen, so, so much, but I can’t do anything about it – because you’re right. I’m scared. I’m terrified that you’ll leave me, because I haven’t felt this way about anyone in a really long time. I’m so scared that one day you’ll wake up and realize that I’m not who you want anymore. I’m scared that maybe you’ll hurt me or meet someone else in Vancouver. I’m scared about so many things because that’s exactly how much I care about you, Owen!”

    I take a step further and we are standing mere inches apart. I can feel him breathe out raggedly and see the curve of his nose and his darkened eyes flickering to my lips.

     “I would never, ever do that to you, Y/N. You mean a lot to me. Please, please believe me.” He whispers out, and I tell myself to stop, to turn back, to go into my room but instead I just stand there and watch him exhale out, and I know he’s feeling anxious. I lift a hand to his face and cup his cheek in the palm of my hand and he leans his face onto my hand, resting his right hand over mine. The gesture calms the both of us down, and I know, in that moment, that I believe him. That he, us – is a risk worth taking.

     “Your hands are so cold.” He whispers. I nod. “Yours are warm.”

    Both of us stand there, in the kitchen, trying to make sense of what just happened – trying to hold on to this moment. A silence engulfs the both of us, as I sort through my thoughts.

     “Owen,” I whisper. He flicks his eyes to mine. “Promise me you won’t do any of that.”

    He raises his left hand, jutting out his little finger. I raise my other hand too, and he wraps his little finger around mine and whispers back, “Pinkie promise.”

     “Okay.” I whisper, neither of us daring to uncurl our fingers or look anywhere else.

     “Promise me that you wouldn’t leave me for some future tech billionaire.”

    I scrunch my face up at that. “What? No!”

     “Promise me you’d call –”

     “Every single day, Owen. You too.”

    Both of us nod together, and he lifts his other hand to tuck a curl that had previously escaped from my actually-messy-and-not-cute bun. “You’re so beautiful.”

    I smile, and a tear escapes my eyes – Owen rubbing it away with his thumb. I lean forward, standing on my tiptoes and rest my hands against his bare chest for support as I press my lips to his. He smiles against the kiss, and I feel as if a zoo has gone wild in my stomach. I feel warmth and happiness course through my veins as Owen deepens the kiss, the intense longing in the both of us for each other clawing its way out to the surface. It’s almost as if I’m drinking water for the first time in a week. He tastes like banana pancakes, chocolate syrup and everything good in the world. I press myself against him, wrapping my arms around neck while he does the same around my torso. It frightens me a little how well our bodies fit against each other – but it makes me feel strong knowing that I have an amazing person who genuinely cares about me.

****

CHARLIE’S POV

    Charlie unlocked the door to his sister’s apartment, mentally noting to remind her of the fact that her car desperately needs a wash. He enters the foyer, and drops the keys in a bowl, kicking off his shoes.

    Suddenly, he pauses, noticing how incredibly quiet the apartment is – which is unlike Y/N. She always has music blasting or the TV running – she hates the quiet. He quickly walks into the living room and almost screams in surprise.

    His little sister and his best friend are curled up on the sofa, their backs towards him. Y/N is lying on Owen’s chest and she has an arm wrapped around his torso while Owen’s arms are interlocked at the front, holding her against his body. Their tangled legs peek from underneath the quilt that Charlie and Y/N’s mother knit for her youngest daughter last Christmas. She laughs at something that Owen whispers into her ear, and he presses a kiss to her forehead, and they look at each other with so much adoration that Charlie has to look away.

    He sighs, mentally cursing himself for being so, so stupid. How could he have ignored the signs? Charlie remembers Y/N and Owen meeting, both in a daze, both smiling a little too much and Y/N walking with a skip in her steps. He remembers them talking for hours on end, binging Brooklyn 99 on weekends, and always hanging out with each other whenever they went to the same parties. He remembers that morning three weeks ago when he’d woken up late, and gone to the kitchen only to find the duo springing apart from each other, both erupting in a flurry of coughs and laughs, as if he’d just walked on them robbing a bank – Owen had explained that he had apparently broken a glass. He remembers the way Owen would look at her, as if she had just done something miraculous. He remembers the way Y/N would look at his best friend, as if he was made of everything good in the world.

    Most of all, he remembers how Owen sulked whenever he was alone back in Vancouver. He remembers how Owen constantly declined to go out with that cute hairdresser. He remembers how Owen sometimes seemed out of it. He remembers how Owen would sprint whenever Charlie called his sister. He remembers how Owen would keep checking his phone every few minutes in between takes.

    Charlie also remembers his sister asking about how Owen is when they talked on the phone, and how her voice seemed like she was asking something that was forbidden, something that was evil. He remembers how she would always hang up the phone whenever she heard Owen’s voice. He remembers her always declining his invites to go to Vancouver.

    How could he have been so dumb? The signs were right there. He lived with Owen, for god’s sake! Charlie feels an array of emotions. He’s always hated Y/N’s choice in men, despised anyone putting their hands on his baby sister’s body.

    But, to see them like this – to see Y/N look so safe, so comfortable in Owen’s arms, he can’t help but feel relief flood into his system. Because he knows his best friend, and he knows what kind of person he is. And now, he thinks just how much sense they make together. Sure, Owen is kind of stupid, reckless, impulsive, and clumsy – but so is Y/N – well, she’s not stupid, he thinks. She’s the smartest person in their family. But she has a fire within her – and his best friend matches that fire. Charlie thinks of the fact that they complement each other so nicely, both are caring, passionate, and kind-hearted. Of course, they would fall for each other. It just makes so much sense – they make so much sense.

    Still, Charlie feels hurt that neither of them bothered to tell him about it. (even though he won’t admit it, it’s understandable, really – considering the way he’s bugged his sister about her previous relationships.)

    He clears his throat and the duo on the couch jump apart, both flushed and with their eyes widened. Owen stands up, moving away from couch, while Y/N looks at her brother as if he’s a ghost.

    A silence falls over the apartment. Y/N finally says, “How’d you – how’d you get in?”

    He shrugs. “I had a spare key.”

    Owen looks between his girlfriend and his best friend, with widened eyes. “Charlie, I’m so sorry –”

    Suddenly, Charlie laughs, swatting at the air. “Pfft. You think I’m gonna be the weird brother who kills his best friend for dating his sister? Come on, this isn’t a TV show. I’m actually really happy for you guys – I ignored all the signs these past weeks, but I see them now. Of course, it’s really weird for me, but I love the both of you so much. Owen, relax, I’m not gonna kill you. Dude. Just don’t kiss or anything in front of me, cause that’s gross. Ew. You know what, don’t do that at all. And I’ll kill you, Owen, if you ever hurt her, I swear. I’ll put poison in your waffles. I just don’t understand why –”

    Charlie is cut off by his sister tackling him in a hug. He wraps his arms around her body, as she whispers, “I love you, big brother.”

    He murmurs, “Love you most, little one.” He catches Owen’s eye who looks at him with gratefulness and a little smile.

 **** 

READ ON AO3 WITH OC!

drop an ask or a message to be in my jatp taglist!! requests also open <3

#owen patrick joyner #owen joyner #julie and the phantoms #alex jatp #charlie gillespie #charlie gillespie's sister #ao3 #julie and the phantoms fanfiction #jatp fanfic #fantoms #owen joyner fanfiction #owen joyner fanfic #owen patrick joyner fanfic #owen patrick joyner fanfiction #madison reyes #jeremy shada #kenny ortega #savannah lee may #juke #julie molina #luke patterson #booboo stewart #willex #willie jatp #julie x luke #Owen joyner imagine #Owen patrick joyner imagine #Owen joyner x reader #Owen patrick joyner x reader

[awanderingdeal]

Never too late - 4 - 5

A continuation of Leo and Regulus' attempts (antics) to give Regulus the childhood he never had.

CW: All content warnings relate to Part 5: piercings and food talk

Please message me if you feel I need to add any content warnings

Rating: T

Previous and future chapters can be found on my masterlist

Credit for the sweater universe and the characters within it go to @lumosinlove. What a hero.

4. Take photos! Candids, selfies and posed group shots. They’ll hold the best memories.

“Merde, what are you doing?” Logan asked, resting his head on Leo's shoulder as he peered at the laptop.

Leo grinned, tipping his head back slightly so he could press a kiss against Logan’s cheek, “I’m getting inspiration.”

“That cleared a grand total of nothing up,” Logan huffed, circling the sofa so that he could flop next to Leo. “Oh my God, no. I thought I had deleted everything from back then” he groaned, reaching to close the lid of the device.

Leo swatted his hand away with a scowl. “First of all, I am offended that you never told me that you used to have bangs,” he gestured to the image of a young Logan on the screen, laughter bubbling in chest. “Second, I think you may have caught most yours, but you failed to check your tagged photos.”

Logan sighed again, apparently resigning himself to the fact Leo was going to trawl through the photos no matter what. “Is there at least a reason that you are torturing me like this?” he asked, curling into Leo’s side.

“It started off as me finding inspiration for classic high school photos to take with Reg, but now I’m just looking at how adorable you were at 14.” Leo chuckled.

***

“I want to be on the top!” James yelled, earning a snigger from Finn.

“No, Logan needs to go on the top, he’s the smallest and I’m not breaking my back for you idiots,” Kasey said from where he was braced on all fours.

“He’s actually very heavy. Like a tiny ball of muscle,” Finn said. Logan seemed conflicted as to whether he should be thanking his boyfriend or reprimanding him, the confused frown making Leo smile, but he figured he should intervene before a full on argument broke out.

“Maybe we should ask Regulus where he wants to go? These are his photos after all,” Leo suggested, turning his gaze onto the man in question.

Regulus threw his hands up, shaking his head. “I was coerced into this madness,” he defended. “But if I must participate then I want to go on top. At least then I don’t get squashed when this goes wrong.”

“O, yee of little faith,” Thomas scoffed, making a dramatic show of stretching his limbs.

“I’m retiring after this season, I’m too old for this,” Dumo groaned as he joined Kasey on the floor.

“You say this every season,” Kuny laughed, taking the spot next to Pascal and nudging him in the shoulder.

“Alright, Cap. I think you better go on the base too,” Leo said, laughing at the scowl he earned. It appeared that Sirius had been trying to make himself blend into the cushions in the hopes he might get out of the photo, but Leo wasn’t about to let him off that easily. “For Reg?”

“Regulus doesn’t even…” Sirius began to argue, but he was interrupted by his brother’s low chuckle.

“I have suddenly changed my mind. Come on Sirius, don’t be a spoil sport,” Regulus teased.

Sirius opened his mouth to start a rebuttal, but all that came out was a resigned sigh, and the man heaved himself to his feet, getting a loud cheer from the rest of the team. Once he had taken his spot, the rest of the pyramid seemed to form easily. James, Remus, Leo, Logan and Finn all climbed on, until eventually it was Regulus’s turn. With a little help from Timmy and Olli, the man managed to take his place at the top of the pyramid.

“Okay, Sergei, take the photo,” Leo instructed, feeling parts of the pyramid begin to shake.

“Which button is -” Sergei asked, before a semblance of a smile crossed his face. “Oh, found it.” Just as the words left Sergei’s mouth, Leo found himself tumbling to the floor, several of his team mates on top of him, a chorus of grumbling in several different languages erupting as they clutched various body parts.

“If anybody has broken anything, I am not explaining this to Coach,” Sirius declared, from under James and Finn.

“Did you at least get the photo?” Dumo asked.

“No, we need to do again,” Sergei grinned, a groan reverberating around the room from the rest of the team.

***

Regulus wiped his hand across his cheek so subtly that he nearly missed it, but the redness in his eyes was obvious.

“Are you crying?” Leo asked quietly, feeling the muscles 0f his forehead tense into a concerned frown.

“I’m fine,” Regulus said, blinking rapidly, shutting the scrapbook perched on his lap with a little more force than necessary. Leo had spent hours compiling the photos taken over the last few months into it: the forming a pyramid, two dozen or so polaroids taken at various events, a fair few with peace signs; the transition of Regulus slowly becoming more comfortable with the action obvious with each one, another was a take on the classic shoe circle only with hockey skates. Somehow James had snuck several selfies of himself into the mix.

“No, Reggie, what’s the matter?” Leo pulled the book from Regulus’s hands and put it on the coffee table, turning so that he could face his friend more easily.

Regulus shrugged, playing with the sleeve of his shirt, a nervous habit Leo had picked up on over the past few months. “I...I just never really had any friends in high school. It’s kind of hard when you’re taught to see everybody as competition, you know? So, I don’t really have any photos that aren’t stuffy family portraits or media shots. I didn’t realise that bothered me until now.”

Leo bundled Regulus into a hug, his friend making a disgruntled sound as he found himself pressed against Leo’s chest. “Just accept it,” Leo huffed, wondering how he had managed to find himself saddled with so many emotionally constipated hockey (or ex-hockey) players.

5. Find your style - change your hair, get a new piercing, buy a new outfit. Go wild!

“Hey, Reg,” Finn waved, mumbling through a mouthful of cheese.

“Harzy! Do you know how much that cheese cost?” Logan scolded, his expression somewhat more horrified than Leo would deem reasonable, “Please respect it.”

Leo grabbed his jacket, patting the pocket to ensure his wallet was inside. He rarely used his physical cards anymore, but it gave him far too much anxiety to rely on just his phone. “We’re leaving now. Try not to kill each other while we’re gone. It would be tragic to lose both of my boyfriends in one day,” he said, dropping a kiss first on to Finn’s cheek and then Logan’s.

“Bye Reg,” Finn waved again.

***

“Thank you,” Leo smiled at the cashier as he took his purchases from them. He looked down, noting that between the two of them they had amassed nearly twenty bags. Leo wasn’t usually one to spend money frivolously, but he had found himself swept away by Reg’s enthusiasm. Apparently when he wasn’t being stuffed into tight button ups and tailored pants, Regulus really rather enjoyed fashion. Finn would have been proud of the multiple pairs of trainers they had acquired so far. Still, they probably had enough for today.

Before Leo had a chance to suggest a change of activities, Regulus beat him to it. “Do you want to get some food?” he asked, the grumble of Leo’s stomach answering the question with no need for any words. Regulus laughed, “I’ll take that as a yes. Are you good to get Thai?”

Somehow over the course of filling their stomachs with curry and Pad Thai, an innocent comment about how Regulus would look cute with a piercing resulted in them walking into the nearest studio that had decent reviews. Regulus had changed into one of his new outfits: a loose black and white striped shirt, a pair of black pants cuffed at the legs and chunky white sneakers because his old outfit was deemed unsuitable for getting a piercing in.

Leo had just finished up getting his lip done, pamphlet of aftercare instructions clutched in his hand, and was waiting for Regulus to come out of his room. The boy had refused to tell him what exactly he was going to get done, and the anticipation was killing him. A few minutes later, Regulus pushed out the door to the small room and Leo’s eye was immediately drawn to the light catching Regulus’ eyebrow.

“Oh my God!” Leo exclaimed, wincing as the movement sent a surge of pain through his lip. “You look so good,” he added, moving to inspect the barbell peeking through Regulus’ brow.

“Thanks,” Regulus blushed at the approval. “Yours is cool too. Logan and Finn are going to freak out.”

“They sure are,” Leo chuckled. “Alright, I’ll settle this and then I’ll drop you back home?”

***

“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this,” Regulus scowled, reading the instructions on the back of the box of dye for what Leo was sure was the fiftieth time.

“I told you, you haven’t been a teenager unless you have made some questionable fashion choices,” Leo countered. “Except I’m going to look amazing with blue hair so it’s not really questionable.”

“Well, it can’t be worse than this anyway, right?” Regulus grimaced, gesturing to his bleached blond hair.

“Noughties boy band members would be jealous,” Leo laughed.

“It’s a shame it is neither the noughties anymore, nor am I a boy band member,” Regulus replied, shoving the box into Leo’s hands. “Just do it.”

A little over an hour later, Leo was nudging Reg in front of the mirror. “Okay, this was definitely not a mistake! We look amazing. I am taking up a career in hairdressing if I get injured,” Leo declared, holding his hand out for a high five. Whilst Regulus did return it, it was less enthusiastic than Leo had been going for. “You don’t like it?”

“No, I like it,” Regulus shook his head, dragging his fingers along the short sides. The cut wasn’t that different to what it had been before, other than a slightly more dramatic fade. “Just feels weird. My parents would die if they could see me.”

“Well, I think we look badass,” Leo said, running his hand through his own blue hair. He’d left the front long and floppy, deciding to go wild and undercut the back. “Come here, let me take a photo.”

Leo was glad that Regulus had finally learned that while he was not one to throw a tantrum, he did have his ways of getting what he wanted and it was easier for everyone if Regulus just compiled most of the time. The post had barely been up on their Instagram pages for more than 3 minutes when Leo’s phone began to vibrate, Logan’s flashing onto the screen.

“Regulus! Why did my little brother just call to tell me that he wants to dye his hair blue?” Remus yelled up the stairs as Leo picked the call up.

And if drug stores all over the country sold out of blue hair dye the next day? Well, Leo guessed there were worse trends to have started.

#Leo Knut #Regulus Black #Sweater weather #lumosinlove #cw: piercings #cw: food #rating: t

[fumbling-fanfics]

Nestor Oceteva x Reader - Walk In's Welcome

Paring: Nestor Oceteva and Reader

Warnings: None really, there is a mention of blood. Nestor being cute

*********************************************

I have a part 2 to this sort of in progress...if people even care about part 1.

I don't recall any requests for tags, so I'm copying from an old fic.

Please let me know what you think. Ans yes, there will probably be smut in part 2

******************************************************

"Your man's here" Clara's sing-song tone was accompanied by a nudge that was delivered so hard it nearly sent your phone flying onto the salon floor.

With a quick fumble, you recovered your phone in your hands and looked up. Nestor Oceteva was walking through the salon door, his familiar yellow glasses on. You said nothing to Clara not wanting to give her any more reason to tease you.

As usual the mood in the salon immediately changed, everyone spoke a little quieter. Waiting to hear what he would say. Your cousin, Ava, looked at you in the reflection of the mirror as she stood at a salon chair, braiding a client's hair. You slightly nodded at her as you slid off the stool behind the front counter.

***

When your cousin had asked you to help her out 18 months ago, you said yes without hesitation. You too were close, almost like sisters and itbwas only weekends which you had free.

While Ava did the hair and the hiring of other hairdresser's, you mainly saw to the book keeping, counting the money and keeping the shop tidy. 

You'd slightly been promoted to children's hairdresser - after offering to step in and simply braid a young girl's hair at the desperate peel of the mother. From then on the other girls in the shop were more than happy to pass the children client's your way.

And then Nestor walked in one day. Everyone, including you, knew of him and who he worked for. It was no secret. 

The atmosphere changed as he stepped into the shop and up the desk in the reception area. When you first looked up at him, he hesitated but didn't remove his yellow glasses.

Your cousin, Ava, stepped up beside you to hear what he had to say. After all it was her business. 

"You got anyone who can do these again" he pointed to his hair. You looked to all the stations in the salon, the girls who were working were all suddenly very quiet, heads down, nothing to say or once. 

"Probably not for a while, how long you got?" Ava asked, adjusting the synthetic braiding hair on her shoulder a little.

"How long I gotta wait?" Ava looked around her shop herself. "Maybe a few hours at least" she looked apologetically at him. He sighed.

"I can do it, it'll mean no one will be up here, but I can do it" Ava looked at you in surprise. 

You smiled at Nestor. "Take a seat over there" you pointed to a chair in the waiting room section. He nodded and did as you asked.

"Y/n, are you sure" Ava stepped in front of you as you slid off the stool. She seemed worried.

"Yeah, it's fine" you smiled and stepped past Ava. Everyone in the shop watched you as you walked towards Nestor.

"Did you want a wash as well?" Nestor paused and then nodded. "Yeah"

You directed Nestor into the wash chair towards the back. You draped a towel around his neck and the salon across his front and got him settled in the wash chair.

"Do you use anything in particular on your hair?" You asked your undid the first braid. Nestor shook his head. "Use whatever" he shrugged. He removed his glasses and tucked them under the salon gown.

And it started from there. Every 2 or 3 weeks Nestor would turn up at the shop. You take him through to the back, undo his braids, wash and condition his hair, and re braid his hair.

Nestor enjoyed the whole process. He'd been to hairdresser's before, but this shop and this experience was different. He especially loved when you washed hair. 

He loved how you made the water perfect temperature.

He loved how your fingers felt when you really got stuck in and massaged his scalp. It was sometimes too good.

He loved when you leaned over him, you smelt so nice. He was jealous of whoever got to smell you and be that close.

He loved when you did the parting down the middle of his hair. How you took at least 5 minutes to get it straight - sometimes asking for another opinion from one of the other girls or your cousin. Even though it was perfect.

He loved how you braided his hair damp, taking time to work in moisturiser. How your fingers felt against his scalp and running through his hair.

He loved how you worked in silence, giving him a break. He was free to just lay back and listen to the low sound of whatever music was playing. Or even sleep a little.

He especially loved that time he turned up a week early and when you washed his hair the water ran a dried blood red brown. He watched your face for an expression when you paused. "That's not mine" he mumbled. "Okay, so long as you're good" he nodded and closed his eyes. No one had asked if he was okay. No one but you.

He hated the end, when you'd finished braiding his hair and your hands fell away from his head. Sometimes he wanted to say he didn't like it so he could have you do it again. But he realised that was a silly idea and would get you into trouble no doubt.

***

As you tidied up and Nestor sorted himself out to pay and leave, he took the courage to ask you 1 of 2 questions he'd been dying to ask you for a while now.

"Don't you have a chair up front, like the other girls?" While your cousin's salon had 14 seats out in the main area, and 5 sinks for washing, you never did Nestor's hair out in one of the front seats. It was always done in a back seat, past the washing sinks.

"Technically I'm not a hairdresser" you laughed. Nestor frowned, confused. If you weren't a hairdresser what had you been doing for the last 6 months.

"I'm only meant to be helping my cousin out with the books and when it's busy really. I only kind of got lumped doing kids hair because no one else really has patients for them but I like them" you tossed the used towels into the used basket on the industrial washer.

"Ava employed a barber for a minute, until they started messing around and then his pregnant girlfriend showed up. She almost trashed the shop. Anyway, Ava never replaced him, and it's the only chair free so I use it. Plus the kids can play their games or shows as loud as they want back here and not bother anyone" Nestor had more questions now but was silenced by the arrival of one of your other usual clients.

"I maded you this" Aaron shouted waving a piece of paper in the air and he ran towards you through the shop. Not wanting to hold you up any longer Nestor slipped you the money he owed, winked at you and left.

He'd never winked at you before, and he even wondered why he did it.

***

Without a word Nestor walked through the salon to the back like he's done a million times before. He took his usual seat and waited for you to follow.

Nestor undid his blazer and shrugged it off. He took off his waistcoat too, just leaving his gun holster on. He took a seat in the chair "Could you trim my hair today too?" You paused, hands still on his shoulders over the towel, a little worried at the new request.

"I've never trimmed hair before" you frowned. "I think we'd have to do it dry"

The trim wasn't as terrifying as you expected. You just went with it, cutting to get rid of split ends.

It was a quiet day so when Nestor left, you took a seat up behind the front counter. Just as you were about to ring up the money the door chimed and Nestor walked back in.

"Can I ask you a question, and don't feel like you have to say yes or anything?"

"Yeah, sure…"

"Erm, I was...I was just wondering if you wanted to go for a drink and something to eat? When your finished, later"

You paused, your heart rate increasing. Heat flushing to your cheeks. Nestors, shifted on the spot. You mouth was a little dry.

"Of course. That would be really nice" you smiled. 

With a smile himself, he nodded slowly and then left the salon. Again.

Ava appeared behind you at the counter.  "What happened, why did he come back in? Did he leave something?"

You pressed 'sale' on the register, entered the amount Nestor had given you and pressed enter. The register chimed and the cash tray shot out. You added the money and closed the cash tray.

"No...he asked me if I wanted to go for a drink" 

Ava looked at you and for a split second it was like time stood still. She slowly opened her mouth, but you interrupted her.

"It's fine. I said yes. I want to too" Ava's shock turned into a devious smirk.

"Oh, gurl! You like like him" she whispered the last part, looking over her shoulder.

"Don't tell any of these bitches here, they'll sell you down the river quick" she clicked her fingers.

"Use my place to get ready...and if you want you can take him back there too" Ava poked your ribs with a laugh.

You grabbed her hand "I'm not doing that! I think I like him, so I'm definitely not doing it" you whispered.

*******************************************************

Tags:

@ellixthea @lovelymari4 @chaneajoyyy @honeychicana @beaminglife @amelatonin @themyscxiras @my-rosegold-soul @lady-olive-oil @jojolu @endless00paradise @est1887 @cajunpeach @melinda-january @profoundlynerdywolf @deathonyourtongue @designerwriterchic @itsbqueenthings @alicesfracturedmirror @joebob15274 @write-fromthe-start @islanddgal @tarashari-tfp @dc41896 @princess-evans-addict @amethyst-dreams-and-candy-canes @c-qcat @crushed-pink-petals-writes

#nestor oceteva #nestor oceteva x reader #nestor oceteva imagine #nestor oceteva fanfic #mayans mc #mayans mc fanfic #poc oc #woc oc

[insfiringyou]

BTS - Going Solo (Part One) - Jimin x Ara

Contains: Angst. *Potential trigger warning for descriptions of panic attacks*

Set a few months following their scene in ‘Private Moments’, Ara is faced with a decision which will change the course of her future. 

(Part Two will be uploaded soon, after a few fics focusing on some of the other members.)

You can find out more about our headcanon universe and ongoing storyline here and more about our headcanon girlfriends here.

To read each member & their girlfriend’s headcanon universe fics in order, follow the links here: RM   /   Jin /   Suga /   J-Hope   /   Jimin   /   V   /   Jungkook & our full masterlist of fanart and fanfictions can be found here

If you wish to follow all member’s storylines in chronological order from the beginning, you can find them listed here.

Content below the cut

‘Jimin,

We just spoke, and you asked if I was happy. I think I am. At least most days.’

Ara typed slowly. Her nails had just been manicured and were longer than she was used to. The sound of acrylics against the keyboard rang through the small hotel room. 

‘When I’m with you I can feel really happy. You can be so sweet and loving and I appreciate you always check up on me - to make sure I’m okay. Touring is hard. You know it better than anybody else, and you tried to prepare me for it.’

She gave a soft sigh, knowing no one else would hear. The words were spilling out of her fingers before her brain had time to catch up, though she knew based on experience she would eventually work out what she was trying to say. The room was dark and the white glow from the word document was starting to make her eyes water. The contact lenses had been in all day and were getting on her nerves. Still, she persevered. She could remove them once she had finished. 

‘I’ve been asked to renew my contract.’

She stopped typing, heart thudding, and realised she felt scared. Her hand moved automatically to her stomach and she exhaled slowly before taking a deep, drawn out breath. She had been practicing and it had gotten easier. At first she would panic, and find her chest rising and falling like crazy, on the verge of hyperventilation, but soon she learned the trick; it was her stomach which was supposed to be moving, not her chest. Her cheeks were a little warm and she knew it was shame she was feeling, not embarrassment. She hadn’t told him yet, despite having known for over a week. Tentatively, she continued, fingers picking up speed as she became used to the sensation of the new nails. 

‘You remember me telling you the first was on a trial basis, based on sales. Well - whatever target they set for us, we must have hit it. Even you have noticed the increase in publicity lately...the T.V appearances. They’ve asked me to film a reality show. I don’t know what they’re expecting.’

Her brow furrowed, wondering...

‘I guess they might have asked you too?’

The laptop stayed silent for a long time and she rested her hands against the small, cheap desk as she gazed at the screen. Her mind suddenly seemed blank and she felt stupid. She would never send the document to Jimin, just as she hadn’t sent the ones she had written before; three month’s worth of unopened, worthless ramblings saved in some obscure folder on her desktop, trapped in the harddrive somewhere between her acoustic recordings and photographs of hairstyles she had saved from Pinterest. She often wondered why she even bothered to save them. Her counsellor had told her, time and time again, that keeping a diary would be helpful. She could record her mood swings and track her periods, along with keeping count of what she ate; wholegrains made her bloated, red food colourings brought out a rash. She sometimes worried she might be lactose intolerant, though could handle it in coffee. That type of thing. She kept it up at first; bashfully bringing the sparkly diary into the small office she visited once a month and reciting what she had written to the man opposite. He would nod sympathetically as she spoke, making a comment from time to time; asking how she felt about what she had put. But the company was paying him to do this; all the girls went, and she sometimes wondered if it was the food diary he was really interested in. If her manager was keeping track, making sure she and the other members were not overdoing it on the full-fat salad dressing and milky lattes. 

The diary entries began to dwindle and, not long after her last week-long visit back to Seoul, the meaningless letters on her laptop started. They were usually addressed to Jimin, though she had written several to her father and one to her brother. She wasn’t good with words; she had been told that often enough at school when she would have to read out loud from the book of the week in Literature, or come up with an argument in Business Studies. Her mouth would stumble and she’d turn red, both ashamed and humiliated, until the teacher inevitably took pity on her and told her to sit back down. Writing in private was much easier, especially when she knew no one but her would see.

‘I don’t know how to feel.’

The cursor hovered, blinking at the end of the last line. There was a heavy knock at the door and Ara jumped, hands automatically reaching for the laptop lid, before a familiar female voice called out.

“Ara? Are you coming?”

She quickly gathered herself, clicking the save icon at the top of the screen. The company had arranged a group meal in the restaurant downstairs, though she had forgotten, her mind distracted by more pressing thoughts.

“In a minute…I just need to change my lenses.” She called back, moving her finger against the touchpad as a pop-up appeared. She selected the save button once more, mouth twisting as she read the title in the little window: ‘Untitled #12.’ She wondered if she would ever get around to renaming them properly.

***

“Your hair has so much texture. I wish mine were thicker.”

Ara murmured in reply before catching the young stylist’s reflection in the mirror and realising how rude she must have sounded. Da-eun had come to the company some months before and was undeniably sweet. Too sweet, Ara sometimes thought, for the business she was in. The other makeup artists and hairdressers loved to keep one ear to the wall, in case there was a chance of promotion or, she rather cynically suspected, a way to increase their pay by selling gossip, but Da-eun didn’t seem like that. At least not yet.

After a moment’s hesitation, Ara smiled into the glass at the figure behind her. “I’m glad I have you to do it for me. The roots are a nightmare!”

Da-eun returned the smile and seemed to relax, but a curious expression still played on her features as she ran the straightener gently across the dyed tips of hair. “Are you tired?”

“I didn’t get much sleep.” Ara confirmed, briefly closing her eyes. Da-eun knew not to press her, but she couldn’t help but worry the younger woman might know more than she was letting on. They had shared hotel rooms in the past and, perhaps it was the stylist's instinct, used to paying close attention to detail, but she always seemed to tell when something was amiss. It was frustrating sometimes. 

“I looked at the schedule. You’re not going on set until last so you’ll have time to rest before you go out.” Da-eun murmured helpfully. Ara nodded, relieved. It occurred to her, not for the first time, that Da-eun should quit while she could; while she was still young and hopeful and kind. 

“I just don’t have the energy right now…” Ara sighed as she felt her hair being released. The younger woman finished working the ends and unplugged the device from the dressing room table. 

“Did you sign the contract yet?” 

Her voice was inquisitive and a little optimistic. Ara had never asked, but there was always the chance that Da-eun’s contract was somehow tied to her own; that if the group were to disband, she might lose her job. Ara shook her head lightly.

“No.”

Da-eun raised an eyebrow. “Are you having second thoughts?”

“I just haven’t had time to read it properly.” She said, truthfully. “It’s come around sooner than I thought…”

The stylist moved forward, reaching for the set of hairbrushes on the counter, before selecting the biggest. She teased through the ends of hair with her short fingers before brushing lightly along the bleached roots, smoothing the locks. 

“There’s been rumours.” The younger woman said, voice suddenly low as though she were worried about being overheard. A thick curtain set apart the dressing room from the photography studio, but it was always possible someone was listening. 

Ara blinked, tensing a little. “What?”

Da-eun smiled gently. “That you’re making a solo album.”

“Oh…” The older woman wasn’t sure what she had expected, but this news took her by surprise. “I wasn’t planning on it.” She shrugged.

“That’s a relief.” Da-eun beamed with a small laugh. “I’m looking forward to going home soon. Aren’t you?”

Ara opened her mouth to speak, not sure what she was going to say, but the curtain beside them drew apart suddenly; startling them both. 

“Oh! Costume change…” Da-eun exclaimed, setting down the brush and turning to accommodate the older woman who had just entered. Mimi was a year older than Ara and usually less prone to accidents, but the leather strap on her camisole suggested a wardrobe malfunction which needed attending to at once.

“Sorry to interrupt…” The other woman murmured apologetically, gesturing to Da-eun. “Could you fix this for me?”

“Sure.” She nodded, stepping away.

Ara’s phone had vibrated against her thigh twenty minutes before but she hadn’t wanted to risk opening the text, especially with someone standing over her shoulder. As Da-eun seated Mimi in the rotating chair on the opposite side of the room to take a look at her costume, Ara took the moment to slip the device from her pocket and flick through the recent notifications. Unsurprisingly, it had been Jimin who had texted and she read the sentence a couple of times before returning it to her pocket.

‘Two more weeks. I’m looking forward to seeing you. It’s been too long.’ 

***

Ara sipped from the glass, the cool water clearing her throat and offering a much needed refreshment from the events of the day. Her voice had become raspy from singing, but luckily she didn’t need it to type. 

‘Jimin,

I was cleaning my closet before we went on tour and found the dress I was wearing on the night we met.’

She found herself smiling, a little longingly, at the memory, a strange anecdote coming to mind.

‘It still has a Daiquiri stain on the hem and it’s too big for me now. I don’t know why I’m saving it.’

The thought made her sad, somehow. 

‘I wonder if you remember that night as clearly as I do. I didn’t want to leave. I knew you were with someone else, but I didn’t care.’

A deep frown played on her otherwise gentle features.

‘Does that make me a bad person?’

It wasn’t until she read the line back, she realised the thought had never occurred to her before. Not once in five years. She wondered why it suddenly seemed to matter. With a sigh, she continued, committing her trail of thoughts to the page.

‘You told me it was over the next time we met, and I believed you, but part of me wondered if you’d go back to her, once you knew how inexperienced I was. I guess I know how you feel sometimes. The whole thing has taken me by surprise as well. I never felt like anyone would want me.’

Her chest ached as she typed the final sentence; overwhelmed by emotion. It was true that the compliments and flirty glances she often received were met with an automatic but fleeting sense of glee. It felt novel, after so long of feeling like she didn’t deserve it. It sometimes still felt that way; back in the hotel room, after the cheers of the crowd had faded. She had brought the subject up with her company counsellor who had laughed it off, explaining that everyone suffered with imposter syndrome from time to time; she wasn’t the first and wouldn’t be the last. On the matter of flirting, she had kept that one to herself. It felt too personal and she was sure it would come across as vain. Occasionally it was unwarranted; the older mens’ eyes moving down her legs when she took to the stage in a short skirt back in Seoul, or the way she jumped in alarm when someone once slipped their hand down the back of her jeans while she stood tightly packed in an elevator in Osaka. But other times she found her heart racing and stomach churning; not thinking of Jimin until she tucked herself in bed at night. A pretty, tall waitress brushing her hand as she handed over the bill in a Thai restaurant, or the hotel doorman who had helped her move her luggage earlier in the week and smiled kindly at her in the lobby. She knew Jimin, of all people, would understand. She had seen the way he played the audience, like he had a secret to share with them all. Early in their relationship it had made her crazy; the way he seemed to flirt with anyone he came into contact with, often without even realising. But now the tables had turned. He would understand; but she wasn’t sure he would accept it. 

She glanced a warily at the shadowy corner of the room where an oversized bouquet of red roses sat on the dresser. They had arrived earlier to the hotel room, along with a postcard sized letter from her manager. He had been unable to make the trip to Taiwan but was waiting for her in Tokyo; the contract was ready, whenever she was ready to sign. The flowers seemed like a bribe; the gesture leaving a sour taste in her mouth. She wondered if the other two girls had received any, or if the privilege was all hers. 

The sound of her ringtone, a chirpy, summer tune, alerted her to the fact that an hour had already passed and it was getting late. She quickly swiped the screen and raised it to her ear, not wanting to wake up the neighbours.

“Hello?”

There was a pause before Jimin spoke. “How are you?” 

“Good.” She squinted at her watch with a frown. “What time is it there?”

“2am.”

“Shouldn’t you be in bed?” She asked, a little baffled. He hadn’t called her this late in a while.

“I only just got in. There was a company dinner.” He explained. “What are you up to?”

She hesitated. “Just thinking.”

He laughed, softly mocking her. “Just thinking?”

She shook her head, dismissing it. “Oh, it’s nothing…I was drying my hair.” She lied, fingering the ends of the bone-dry locks in an automatic response. “Da-eun dyed the tips purple for the photoshoot.”

“I liked the pink.” He groaned, a little sulkily.

“They thought purple would fit better with the concept photos.” She mumbled deflatedly. “It’s not really my choice.”

“You could change it when you come home.” He said hopefully. She heard the flirtatious grin in his voice and could picture his smile on the other end. “They can’t do anything about it once your contract has ended.” 

“Maybe.” 

She sounded distant and he noticed the change at once.

“Are you okay?” 

She closed her eyes tightly, temporarily blocking out the glare from the laptop screen. “I’m fine. It’s just been a long day.”

“Did you take a look at the brochures I emailed you?”

“I haven’t had time. I’m sure whatever you pick will be fine.” She knew she sounded a little irritated but was unable to mask it. The weight of the day suddenly seemed to dawn on her and she wanted nothing more than to go to bed. The last thing she wanted to talk about was moving house. 

“I’d really like you to help.” He argued lightly. “There’s a three bedroom going for sale on the Han River. Yoongi says it’s a good deal.”

Ara sighed. “I’m sure he’s right.”

A pause. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I wish you’d stop asking.” She pleaded, feeling on the verge of tears. Jimin seemed to hear the tremor in her voice and thought for a long moment before he spoke, tentatively.

“Maybe you should ask the doctor to change your medication again.”

Ara clutched the phone tightly. “It’s fine.” She tried to smile, hoping it would show in her voice. “I’m feeling much better, just tired.”

“Is that a side effect?” 

He sounded concerned and she nodded to herself, though she knew full well she hadn’t taken the time to read the little leaflet properly. “Probably. Maybe I just need some sleep.”

“Okay.” He agreed, though she sensed his trepidation. “I’d better go then.”

He sounded disappointed and Ara felt guilty once more. “I’m sorry Jimin.” She apologised softly. “It really was nice that you called. It’s just these time zones…”

“I understand.” 

She wondered if he did. Her eyes felt damp beneath her heavy, false eyelashes, making them itch. “I’ll talk to you soon.”

***

She had forgotten her contact lenses and had to rummage through her Birkin to retrieve her reading glasses. They felt strange on her nose and she wondered how she had ever made it through high school wearing them. At least she had been given a moment’s peace to read through the contract. The office overlooked Ueno Station and the rush of traffic below would be too distracting had someone also been watching her. 

‘As a permanent member of the label you should not bring the company into disrepute…’

She read carefully, though the paperwork seemed much larger than the last one she had signed. Some of the phrases looked familiar, such as the declaration of her dedication to being a ‘brand ambassador’, but others were definitely new. Her gaze hovered over one line:

‘...should not jeopardize future success…not limited to personal relationships, controversial thought or opinion including strong ties to political associations, ideologies or groups.’

She expected no less, particularly after Mimi was caught on camera reading a Betty Friedan book. The first part was more complicated and she wondered if Jimin’s management had asked something similar of him. 

With a sigh, she continued down the page, skimming the text now but picking up on key words which seemed important, ‘Maintain a visible and transparent social media presence….Agree to the screening and management of said accounts with the view of protecting our artists and their wellbeing.’

By the time she reached the end, it did not seem to matter and there was a strange comfort in realising this. The past three years had been carefully planned, organised, operated; her future written for her from the moment she stepped foot on stage for the first time. The moments of quiet between shows, or during her increasingly short stays back in Seoul, only seemed to complicate things further. Her thoughts were a mess whenever she stopped to breathe for a moment, and maybe it was easier to shut them off altogether; to give over all control and decision-making to someone else than to try and deal with them all herself. 

The fountain pen was heavier than she expected as she picked it off the table. It had the company brand embossed on the side in gold-leaf which seemed to reflect the fading light outside as the sun set below the concrete structure of the art museum to the West. Slowly, she signed her name on the final page; the ink blotting a little as she moved aside the bound file and repeated the motion on the second copy. The second attempt was neater as she grew used to the feel of the pen in her hand. There was a knack to it; just like many of the things she had grown to learn in her adult life; underwear should be washed on the delicate cycle, t-shirts should be turned inside out before they are ironed, glasses should not be left in the sink too long, should they smash. She had an assistant to do those things now, and her clothes were mostly dry cleaned these days. 

She neatened the piles of paper and put the lid back on the pen, so the ink wouldn’t dry. The first contract had been signed in black Biro, which hadn’t come with such demands. Reaching down, she picked up her black handbag and carefully folded her personal copy, slipping it between her lipstick and glasses case before adding the pen. She had probably paid for it anyway; in her own way. The green light on her phone was blinking and she slid it from the pouch in the lining. The text had arrived while she was in the meeting, which is why she hadn’t heard her phone go off. Her thumb paused over the messenger button for a moment, before she tapped the screen lightly; Jimin’s name and picture coming into view in the little window above the text. 

‘One more week! :)’

***

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[neo-culture-mafia]

Skincare (n.jm)

— Warnings: flirty jaemin all over

— Genre: fluffy, friendstolovers!au (almost a enemiestolovers!au tbh)

— Words: 3.7k

— Summary: “Jaemin has been trying to get your attention for a few months. He misses your friendship, but since he decided to also confess his hidden feelings towards you too, he’s been trying to get you to go on a date with him as well, which is not the easiest thing to do when you are the biggest moody he knows.”

“You know I won’t stop this until you say "yes", right?” Jaemin walked faster till he could block your way. The son of a bitch had a smirk on his face while he stared at you with his tilted head. How dared him to appeal to cuteness? You had to fight against the desire to punch it out of his face. “Come on, just say you'll go have dinner with me. It’s just one date, it will be fun.”

This was the third time in a week. You were starting to lose your patience with him.

“Breaking my heart won't be fun, so, I pass.” You tapped his chest twice before giving him a forced smile and bumping into his shoulder when you walked past him.

You heard him take a deep breath and the first thing that crossed your mind was “Finally.”, but did you speak too soon? Hell yeah. A second later he went after you again.

“I'm not gonna break your heart, why you think I would do that?” You heard his voice right behind you. You could literally hear him smiling when he spoke. What on earth could make that boy just leave you alone?

“You're bad news, Jaemin.” You turned to face him, making the boy stop walking. “I've been there, done that and now I just don't want to do it all again when I know exactly where it takes. There is too much negativity in our work already, have you looked around?” You mentioned everywhere around you two. "I don’t need more negativity in my love life as well. Besides, I’m seeing someone tonight.”

“Bullshit.” Jaemin chuckled, expecting that your attitude would change, but when he saw you remained still, his smile disappeared. “Wait, for real? Who are you seeing?”

“I'm seeing myself.” You replied, with a now sincere smile on your face. “I spend too much time on missions, I’m taking the night off to take care of myself. Just leave me alone, okay? Go practice, punch some people, set the whole place on fire,” You started to list all the things he could do, counting each one of them with your fingers. “I DON'T CARE, just go live your life!” You pointed your finger at him before turning your back at him and continuing your path, smiling at yourself when you sensed no one following you.

                                                            ...

“Just a second!” You said after you heard someone knocking on your door. You had just finished your bath and there was still a towel on your head, involving in your hair. You thought about quickly drying your hair with it before going to the door, but when you heard knocking again, you just rolled your eyes, imagining that it has to be Jeno looking for his games again. “Jeno, I've already told you I did not take your games, go ask someone else.”

Knock. Knock. Knock. Again.

And then it started to become louder.

And noisy.

And annoying.

“OKAY, FINE! I'll let you scan my room if that makes you stop slamming--” You stopped yourself when you opened the door and saw Jaemin, leaning against your wall.

He automatically smiled when he saw your face.

You automatically wanted to punch his face. 

You had no makeup on and a freaking towel on your head! This had to be Jaemin's worst move ever. 

“Before you ask or curse at me, I'm seeing someone tonight.” He proudly announced.

Great, he came here to brag about his newer conquer. Or the most foolish girl in the base. You would much rather him doing this than following you around like he was your shadow, so you thought you could go along with.

“Oh, really? That is amazing, who is the idiot?” You faked an excited tone, as you smiled at him, leaning your head against your door.

“You.” His smile grew bigger as your smile faded away. “I mean, you’re not an idiot, I’m just seeing “yourself” tonight.” He motioned the quotation marks with his fingers, reminding you of the words you had said earlier. The next thing you knew, he was in your room.

You closed your door with the biggest scowl on your face. Just when you thought you had ended this nonsense. Jaemin went straight to your bed, letting a few plastic bags laying there as he started to take out a bunch of products.

''Excuse me, but this is my room and I do not remember inviting you over." You started your lecture, in crossing arms as the boy pretty much ignored you. "Hello?" Your voice tone went higher, making him stare at you and restrain himself from giggling, letting just a small smile appear on his lips as he went back to ignore you.

He wanted to laugh at you, and you were not feeling it today. 

"Jaemin, what the hell? I thought I told you to leave me alone! What are you even doing here?!" You exploded, clearly annoyed as both of your hands went to your head. You were on the edge of beating him all up and the thought of hearing Taeyong's lecture after it didn't even bother you. Listening to Taeyong's "You can't beat family up." speech would be damn worth it.

"What type of facial cleanser do you like the most? One with salicylic acid or one with aloe vera?" He looked at you for the first time since he had entered your room, showing you two cleansers on his hands. You were, again, shocked and angry at his capacity of acting normally. "Don't stare at me like that, you said the reason why you couldn't go onal a date with me was that you were taking care of yourself tonight, so I also decided to take care of myself, with you." He smiled at the end of the sentence, turning back his attention to the plastic bag, and taking a few more items out of there.

Unexpected wasn't even the beginning to explain how that situation felt for you. You wanted to feel shy about being only in your pajamas and no bra on. You wanted to feel angry at his persistence. You wanted to feel ashamed for having no makeup on. You wanted to stain his ridiculous pink hair into red with his blood...

"I didn't know what type of moisturizer you liked the most, so I brought one of each. A serum, an eye cream, an essence... I don't really know what they do. I barely know how to wash my face properly." he added, giving himself a little chuckle and still acting like everything was okay.

You wanted to yell at him. Punch, kick, scratch his whole face, broke a few of his bones... but at the end of the day, you knew it wouldn't work, so you decided to try the easy way. You sat down on your bed and watched Jaemin while he finished his apparently enjoyable process of putting all of those products on your bed — you also took this time to calm yourself down as well — and when he finished, he sat on your bed and looked at you.

"Jae, I thought I'd made myself clear earlier. Why are you here?" You questioned in the calmest voice tone you could.

"I told you, I'm here to take care of myself."

"Why don't you just take care of yourself in your room?" You asked, mentally scolding yourself for sounding a little rude. You were trying the easy way, so no snapping at him.

"Because I've just realized I don't really know how to. Look at this amount of products, I don't use half of them and to be honest, I didn’t even know they existed in the first place! So I thought maybe you could teach me."

"And what makes you so sure that I know how to use these? Just because I'm a woman you think I'm obliged to know how to do it?”

"Of course not. I overheard you teaching Jisung how to use a facemask and I thought maybe you would know how to help me." He explained, taking a sheet of facemask and swinging for you to see it, but your stare remained only on his face. "This is not a date. This is just two childhood friends doing a skincare routine together." he reassured you, pointing at a picture frame with an old photo of you, him and the others on it.

"No second intentions?" You asked him. 

"Not at all. My only focus here is learning how to... How do they say? How to chemical exfoliate my face?" His face twisted at how weird that sounded like. "I think I might have skipped a few chemistry classes, I would die without knowing I can apply something like NaCl to my face."

"You really don't know shit about this, do you?" You asked, not believing that you were actually considering not kicking the pink-haired boy out of your room. 

You watched him shrugged and for a moment, you really tried to remember the last time you had cultivated your friendship with him, and although it seemed like a dumb question to make, the awareness that it brought made you feel guilty: You couldn't even remember the last time you and your childhood friend had done something together. You have avoided him so badly for the past few months that you completely ignored the fact that the two of you are still friends. 

"Okay." 

"Okay?" He asked in shock. 

"Okay." You repeated the small word, silently hoping that you wouldn't regret that decision. When Jaemin started to celebrate, you took your pillow and pointed at him. "But if you try anything else, I'll suffocate you." You threatened him with the most serious expression you could pull off.

"Suffocate me from kissing? Oh, I wouldn't mind being out of breath for that." Jaemin smirked at you, quickly pulling the pillow from you before you could throw it at him, causing you to give him your usual death stare that burned his whole face. "I know, I know, no flirting. I will not do it again, I promise."

                                                          ...

"So, you're not that bad of a hairdresser yourself, huh?" You amazed at the view of your own image in the mirror. Jaemin was putting your blowdryer back to its place in your closet; however, he came back in a heartbeat when he heard you complimenting him. He had to make you he wasn't going crazy and listening to non-existent words. "You actually managed not to destroy my hair completely, I'm surprised."

"Excuse me, sweetie?" Jaemin inquired in an offended tone. "Have you seen this little masterpiece right on top of my head? If I didn't know how to take care of it, I would be walking around with my hair looking like Jeno's burned pasta." 

"Ew. You didn't have to go there." Your disgusted face at the mention of Jeno’s attempt of cooking made Jaemin laugh. It was nice to be around you again, he missed you, but before he could say anything about it, he started to check on his face mask on your bathroom's mirror. "I think this is almost dry, should I take it off and wash my face?" He wondered at himself, making your eyes go wide-open when he finished his sentence. "What? No, no, no! You can't wash all the moisture away." "Then what do I do?" "Stay still." You demanded as you walked closer to him.

You couldn't remember the last time you had been this close to Jaemin. Maybe when you were 13? 15? To be honest, you didn’t even remember how nice it was to have him around. You two had become so busy with the mafia schedules and missions, that every time the boys wanted to get together and chill a little, you would say you were tired, which means: You hadn’t had spent time with any of your friends for about some years. And every time one of them tried to talk to you about something, you’d be annoyed. Just like you did with Jeno about his lost games.

The award of the best friend of the year? You weren’t getting it.

As your mind was drowning with those thoughts, you spaced out as your hands massaged Jaemin's entire face with the lotion that had remained on his face from the sheet mask.

When did he become so tall? You quietly wondered to yourself.

Your hands were gently sliding through his entire face and when you decided to bring a little bit of the lotion down to his neck, you really regretted that decision. How have you not noticed his jawline before?

“Ooo, that's nice.” Jaemin let a deep breath get off of his lips, tilting his head to the side, so you could continue pressing your hands to his neck.

“They say the warmth in our hands helps our skin to better absorb the product.” You addressed.

He’s... handsome.

YOU COULD NOT BELIEVE THAT YOU WERE THINKING THOSE WORDS. But you were. And the worst part? You were also enjoying the moment. With him. With Na Jaemin. The stubborn boy who had annoyed you for months asking you for a chance. A chance you had thought he didn’t deserve. But who were you to determine whether he deserved or not when you didn’t even know who he truly was anymore? He wasn't the same from years ago and neither was you.

"Thank you." You were shaken up from your thoughts by the feel of Jaemin's hand touching yours, that was still placed on his neck. He was smiling at you, and dammit, even his smile was beautiful. Did that boy have any flaws at all? "I really was missing out a lot from this whole skincare thing. I’m glad you taught me how to do it.” He chuckled, getting up from the small chair you had to bring to your bathroom earlier so he could blowdry your hair properly.

You literally had forced him to seat down so you could massage his face with the remaining lotion. And you didn't notice it. You were too busy getting drunk from the smell of his perfume. It smelled nice.

And you were indeed going crazy. You even shook your head trying to stop yourself from thinking too much, but what Jaemin did next forced you to make a decision about these thoughts.

"Well, time to leave." He announced, taking up the chair from the floor and leaving you almost heartbroken behind. You... didn't want him to leave.

As confused as someone in your situation could be, you followed the boy out of your room and watched Jaemin packing up his many skincare products back to his plastic bags, debating if you should say the words that were crossing through your mind. 

Would you regret it? Probably. 

“Unless you want to stay and eat some snacks with me.”

Jaemin froze.

“Are you serious?” he asked, which surprised you who had thought he was going to make a little comment with that damn smirk on his face.

“Yeah, I always keep some snacks in my room in case I want to watch tv shows or movies at night.” You shrugged, trying to act like it wasn't a big deal. “What do you say?”

                                                           ...

"I still can't believe you eat these!" Jaemin exclaimed, weirdly staring at all the Twix on your bed. "What do you mean by that? You're eating them too!" You pointed at his mouth full of chocolate, making Jaemin almost spit everything out as he contained his laugh by placing his hand on his lips.

"In my defense," He started, after swallowing. "I didn't want to offend you by turning down your invitation, but I can't leave this room without pointing your 5-year-old taste for chocolate." 

"I'm glad you didn't point out the fact that I still watch cartoons because then I would have to punch your face." You stated, causing Jaemin to really feel offended and to look at you like you had three more other heads on your neck. "What? Never! Just for you to know, I think Adventure Time is the best cartoon ever and I do not trust anyone who says otherwise." 

"Bow down to the king's wise words!" You exclaimed, pretending to bow down, and proceeding to laugh when Jaemin waved at you in slow motion. 

“As much as I would love to tease you about the fact that you just called me king, I should probably get going, it’s past midnight already.” Jaemin announced after checking on his watch. “And you’re probably tired so I should no longer annoy you.”

“You surprisingly didn’t annoy me tonight.” You replied, repressing the urge to laugh at Jaemin’s shocked expression. “Not as much as usual.” His face literally dropped.

“I knew something was coming.” He whined and rolled his eyes at you. “Why can’t you just admit that you enjoyed my company?” He questioned, with a serious look on his face.

“Because, if I admit that, I will have to apologize for being a bitch to you earlier,” You started. “which I’m really sorry for, by the way. I shouldn’t have said I didn’t care about what you do, you’re my friend and I do care about everything that happens to you.”

Jaemin listened to every single of my words with attention and when in the end he didn't show any type of reaction, you started to regret what you'd said.

"There's nothing to apologize for. We're cool." He shrugged, giving me a big warm smile as he took the last chocolate bar from my bed and pointed it to me. "Besides, if you intended to take me to your bed, you've picked the easiest way to do it. How could I say no to snacks AND chocolate on your bed? It almost feels like I'm daydreaming." He added with a grin on his face, quickly unpacking the last chocolate and putting half of it in his mouth and offering me the other half. "Peace offer?"

"No." You forced a smile and before he could see it coming, you moved quickly and pushed him out of your bed, causing him to fall and push you with him. Result? You were lying on top of him. And as surprising as it may sound, you didn't care or panicked as much as you thought you would.

"Sorry, field reflexes." He apologized and for the very first time, you noticed his cheeks turning into pink pigment. 

Na Jaemin was blushing. He just couldn’t get any more adorable than that.

"Is that dinner still available? I would take it as a peace offer." You wondered, staring right at Jaemin's lips. You mentally scolded yourself from looking too straight-forward, but your eyes just couldn't focus anywhere else, not from this close.

"So, let me see if I got this right, I've spent the last hours being threatened of death, only for you to accept to go on a date with me in the end?" He asked, with a confused but cute expression.

“No, you’ve spent last hours proving me wrong about you. I haven’t been exactly the friend of the year-” “Years.” He faked coughing, giving an innocent smile right after it. “Okay, YEARS.” You rolled your eyes at him, not believing that you were really having that conversation in THAT position. “But what I’m trying to say is, I know I haven’t been around much aside from missions, and tonight you remembered me that you can still be resting while having a friend around, but since it’s been a while since the last time we actually had a proper conversation, I guess it's time for us to get to know each other again.” You finished, finally noticing how his hands on your waist were causing you a tickle feeling. Along with some insisting butterflies who were starting to appear in your stomach.

“Does that mean I have a chance with you?” Jaemin asserted, with a smile on his face.

Yes.

“No, it means I’m giving you the chance to earn that chance.” You faked an excited tone as Jaemin face literally dropped, you had no choice but to laugh at that point.

“Not what I aimed at, but I'll take it, especially after you I’ve seen you laugh like this.”

He just knew how to say the right thing. You didn't know if you hated or liked him for it. 

“Soooo, can you get up? I mean, I can totally move you away from the top of me, but I’m too scared that if I accidentally touch your butt, I might not survive till our date.” He forced a chuckle and putting his hands up next to his head.

"You're not wrong, but," You gave him a quick slap on his face, causing the boy to instantly touch his forehead and letting an "Ouch." out of his mouth. "this, is for you even thinking of touching my booty." you warned him, before sitting on his belly and getting yourself on your feet right after it. 

"I don't even want to ask what would you do if I'd thought about kissing you..." he murmured, sitting on the floor as he caressed his forehead. "which I didn't. I'm a gentleman, so, no need to merciless murder me." Jaemin quickly completed when he felt your stare burning on his head.

You wanted to laugh at him, SO BAD. But he did have a point: He had been hours alone with you, and not even for a second he attempted anything or looked at you differently. He respected you, and you appreciated that.

"So, see you tomorrow?" you casually asked him after opening your door. "Yes, if you don't change your mind till there." Jaemin bickered, making you roll your eyes at him. 

You somehow felt a mixture of feelings: You deep down didn't want to let him go since you had enjoyed his company, but at the same time, you were excited to see what was about to come next. You wanted whatever the future had planned for you, and that was a feeling you weren't familiar with.

"Just don't make me change my mind then." You snapped with a little smile on your face. "I'll try." Jaemin smiled back at you, turning his back and then starting to walk. 

(1) Text Message from Jaemin: "I'll try not to change your mind about tomorrow's date. Just hope I can change your mind about going out on a second date (yeah, I know your immediate answer will be "no" to this one)."

#admin💫 #yes you all im a fool for jaemin #nothing new #nct #nct dream #nct mafia au #nct dream mafia au #na jaemin #jaemin fic #jaemin imagines #jaemin soft hours #jaemin timestamps #jaemin blurbs #jaemin fluff #jaemin drabbles #friends to lovers #nct writing #nct imagine #nct dream imagine #nct dream fluff #nct fluff

[stylesharrys]

shawn chooses to quarantine with his fake girlfriend | part two

The past two days have been radio silence from his side. Your messages have gone unread and phone calls unanswered. You haven’t seen anything else of the pair on social media and you’re beginning to grow upset.

It was only two days ago that you told him how you were feeling about the whole matter, about how alone you feel and how much you miss him... and now he’s completely blanking you?

You’ve been moping all day, teary-eyed and all when you FaceTimed your Mom and sister earlier. You’ve relaxed in the bath and smeared a face mask on your skin, even went as far as shaving your legs and plucking your brows. You’ve needed the self-care, to have a little pamper to make yourself feel better.

But now you’re back in Shawn’s Harvard sweater with a pair of panties, your hair braided out of your face and you’re eating a small bowl of fruit on the couch while the first season of The Vampire Diaries plays out on the TV.

It only makes you miss Shawn more. It‘s a show you used to watch together. Maybe if you weren’t so invested in what Caroline was saying, or if you hadn’t been isolated alone for so long, the knocking on your front door wouldn’t have scared you so much.

You think you’ve hallucinated it, that you’re so lonely you’ve started imagining people knocking at your door. But there’s another knock, louder this time, and you’re sure someone’s actually there.

Your blanket is wrapped around your body as you open the door, peering your head from behind it. He’s standing there, bloodshot eyes and disgustingly long hair. Your heart skips multiple beats and you can’t believe your eyes.

Your mind is swimming but he’s holding his hands up in a form of surrender and he’s got no bags with him. “I managed to get the last flight out. I’ve been tested, baby. I don’t have it or any symptoms,” he tells you. You’re about to jump into his arms when he takes a step back and shakes his head.

“I’ve been on a long flight and near other people. Let me shower and change my clothes first, okay?” He asks and you know it’s paining him. Shawn’s fighting the tears in his eyes at the sight of you, the realisation of how long he’s actually been away from you. 

But you can’t find the strength to hold back the tears, you let them well and well until they spill over the edge. Opening the door wider, Shawn walks in, eyes still locked on yours as he makes his way to the bathroom. You follow him to the bedroom where he walks through to the bathroom. 

You watch his lean body strip from his clothes as you sit on the lid of the toilet seat, vision blurry with tears as he showers the past few months away. Neither of you say anything, you just bask in the silence of one another’s company. Shawn’s letting his muscles relax at the scent of his home and you’re trying to remind yourself that this is real, that he’s really here. 

It’s a good fifteen minutes before he’s coming out of the shower and wrapping a towel pathetically around his waist. His chest is still dripping as he turns to you but the blanket is on the floor and you’re crashing your body into his as he holds you. 

“You’re home,” you cry into his chest, arms tight around his middle and Shawn coos you through his own tears. “I’m home, baby. Not going anywhere, I swear. Staying right here by your side, okay?” he reassures you, kissing the top of your head. 

You reach up, palming at his cheeks and pressing your soft lips against his chapped ones. His face is prickly against your sensitive skin and you pull away too quickly for his liking, reaching for the cabinet above the sink and handing him his razor with welling eyes. 

“Please,” you whisper, bottom lip pouted out. He doesn’t argue with you, just takes the razor and smears a generous amount of shaving cream over his face. He knows you’re staring at his stupid hair while he does it, and he isn’t surprised that you leave the room and come back in with a chair dragging behind you and a pair of scissors and an electric razor in your hand. 

“Don’t look at me like that, you know I used to be a hairdresser when I left school,” you remind him, tears still welling and he nods when he dries off his smooth face and sits for you. You’re getting ready to cut the awful locks off when he pulls you on his lap and kisses you feverishly. 

“Can’t pull away from me now,” he mumbles against your sweet lips and you hum, eyes fluttering closed as you try to move as close to him as you possibly can. “Want my Shawn back,” you confess breathlessly, tugging softly at his curls and he nods, hint of amusement in his eyes. 

“I’m all yours honey, go for it,” he tells you, sitting back and closing his eyes. You brush his hair out, taking sections between your fingers and snipping generously. He gets a little nervous when you turn on the clippers, the buzzing loud in his ears as you swipe up from the back of his neck. 

Within 10 minutes, he’s your old Shawn. Short hair on the sides and back but still enough to give a little tug on, and you left a generous amount of curls on top. You brush off the excess hair and move the towel from around him that had served as a barrier from the locks matting on his skin. 

Your heart swells at the sight of him and you’re crying again, entire body trembling because this is your Shawn. Short-haired, freshly shaven, happy at home, Shawn.

“Baby...” he breathes softly, pulling you into his lap and you curl into his hold, face buried in his neck as you sob. “You’re home,” you repeat like a mantra and he continues to coo you. 

Somewhere between your silent sobs and occasional hiccups, he carried your both to the couch. He’s wearing a pair of boxers now and the blanket from the bathroom is draped over your bodies as you lay on the sofa, chest to chest.

“I’m sorry,” he admits when he notices you’ve calmed down. You peer up at him with furrowed brows. “I should’ve come home as soon as things got weird, I shouldn’t have gone to Malibu, I shouldn’t have been trying to sell that bullshit during this whole thing. Fuck,” he breathes, shaking his head; angry with himself. You stay quiet. 

“When I realised we it wouldn’t just be these two weeks isolating, it freaked me out. We don’t know how long this is gonna last, how long I wouldn’t have seen you for... they say it could be six months in some places before any ounce of normalcy starts to take form. I can’t go six months without you.” 

You wait a beat, thoughts nagging at your head. “I don’t want you to do this PR shit anymore,” you admit in a small voice, wincing inwardly as you await his reply. Shawn exhales deeply and swallows. “Neither do I,” his words surprise you and you gaze up at him in shock. 

He shakes his head. “It’s all bullshit and she wants to sell it while a real-life, world-wide pandemic is on our hands. It’s too much and it’s bullshit. And I know you don’t like it, baby, I know you’ve never liked this, I can’t keep doing it to us anymore,” he pulls you closer, tears bubbling over his eyes and you reach up to wipe them away, frowning. 

“You’re gonna be in so much shit... but you’re right. And let’s be honest, no one actually fucking believes it. Fans figured out we were together a week before you started this PR, and I know she’s your friend, but she sucks this shit dry ‘cause it’s the only attention she gets from the public.”

Shawn doesn’t say anything but you know he’s agreeing with you. He leans down and his warm lips softly envelop yours, keeping you close as he kisses you so tenderly you think you might explode. Your fingers tangle in his freshly cut hair, pulling him closer as you hook a leg around his waist.

Shawn’s hands are sprawled across your back, your chest pressed tightly against his and when you finally pull away to catch your breath, he rests his forehead against yours and lets himself relax under your touch. 

“Your pillow was starting to lose its scent of you, y’know. Think you came home just in time, and at least now I’ll actually sleep at night,” you joke softly but Shawn frowns deep. “You’re not sleeping?” he asks, voice soft with an echo of concern. 

You gnaw on the inside of your cheek, slowly shrugging a shoulder. “Can’t sleep when you’re halfway across the world and I don’t know when you’re coming home,” you tell him. You didn’t mean for it to upset him, but he feels the guilt bubble in the pit of his stomach.

“But you’re home now, and cuddling you is better than cuddling your pillow,” you remind him as you kiss his lips again. As much as you don’t want to move, when his stomach growls against yours, you force yourself to sit up and not let him pull you back down to you. 

He’s laying on his back as you adore him, your old Shawn. “I’m gonna make us some of that soup you like so much and then we’re gonna lay in bed and watch The Vampire Diaries and you’re gonna hold me and play with my hair until I fall asleep,” you tell him, poking your finger in his direction and he grins a love-sick grin while nodding his head. 

It’s only seconds later that he’s wrapping his arms around your from behind and bending down to press his face in your neck and pepper gentle kisses on the skin. “I love you so much,” he whispers tenderly, giving your middle a reassuring squeeze. 

A small smile tugs at the corners of your lips and your eyes flutter closed for a moment. “I love you, too.” 

#idk i need something soft with OLD shawn #shawn mendes #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes blurb #imagine shawn mendes #shawn mendes imagines #shawn mendes fluff #shawn mendes angst #shawn mendes x you #shawn mendes x reader #NOT PROOF READ!!!!!

[inkslingersworld]

Zusammen: Part IX

Link to all parts here.

Kagami was not someone who gave up easily, and she wasn’t about to give up on searching for Adrien’s mother just because they hadn’t discovered anything yet, but she found the lack of clues difficult to tolerate. She and Adrien had already covered three days of Emilie’s last week in Paris to no avail - the filming location of what would’ve been her fourth motion picture, the grocery store she’d visited on the Monday before she vanished, the hairdresser, the Louvre, and so on. They were now retracing Emilie’s steps on the Tuesday before her disappearance, which had taken place on Friday of the same week, and Adrien and Kagami still hadn’t uncovered any useful information. However, Kagami was still enjoying herself - she liked walking through the city with Adrien.

“Okay,” said Adrien, trying to sound optimistic as they exited the jewelry store, “I will admit, this isn’t going as smoothly as I’d hoped, but there are still plenty of places that could connect to Mother’s disappearance. It’s only the first day of our investigation.”

“I totally agree,” put in Kagami. “I am getting a bit hungry, though.”

They took a fifteen-minute break to pick up some lunch; with both of their energy and morale levels low, the sandwiches tasted extra good. Once they were finished, Adrien and Kagami discussed how best to proceed.

“Our current approach is working, it’s just that we haven’t found anything yet,” Adrien said.

“Yeah,” acknowledged Kagami. “I think we’re just gonna have to keep patient.”

“Well, it says here that the library’s next,” said Adrien, looking at Emilie’s personal organizer. “We’re pretty close.”

“I’ll say,” Kagami laughed. “It’s literally across the street.”

Adrien turned to the large marble-clad fortress just ahead of them.

“Huh,” he muttered, scratching his chin. “I guess you’re right.”

===========

The inside of the library was vast; bookshelves upon bookshelves stretched across the area, each of them brimmed with volumes of every kind. The help desk looked like a tiny island in the midst of it all, though the librarian didn’t seem to care. She didn’t make any reaction to her surroundings until Adrien and Kagami walked up to her.

“Ah,” she murmured ominously, eyeing the two teenagers from behind a giant tower of books. “I’ve seen you before.”

She pointed a crooked finger at Adrien, making him squirm a little.

“Uh-huh,” said Kagami dismissively, trying to prevent her boyfriend from growing uncomfortable. “We’re wondering if you have the check-out records on hand.”

“May I ask why?” questioned the librarian suspiciously, raising an eyebrow.

“We’re part of an investigation looking into the disappearance of Emilie Agreste,” explained Kagami. “We need to see which books she checked out on Tuesday, May 16 - if she checked out any books.”

“Fine by me,” the librarian drawled. “Do you have Mrs. Agreste’s library card at hand?”

Adrien pulled the card from his pocket and slid it across the desk to the librarian. She picked it up gingerly.

“Wait here.”

Adrien and Kagami watched the librarian shuffle away down one of the canyons of bookshelves. She returned less than five minutes later, a stack of files in her arms, with the library card rested on top.

“These are the complete records of each library book Emilie Agreste ever checked out,” the librarian told them, setting the files down and handing the library card back to Adrien. “She wasn’t a member of the Parisian Public Library System for very long; only for a couple months, in fact. I don’t think she ever really needed to be a member, with her mansion boasting its own library.”

“Thank you,” said Kagami and Adrien at the same time. The librarian smiled slightly.

As they walked off to a nearby table, Adrien asked, “How long do you think this’ll take?”

“Not very long,” Kagami responded shortly. “I doubt that Moreau’s murderer would hang around a public area, so I believe we’ll be safe splitting up inside the building. We don’t need to read the books cover to cover, just flip through them in case your mother left bookmarks or notes or whatever.”

It became apparent that their search would take even less time than Kagami had speculated. Emilie hadn’t checked out a lot of books; Adrien speculated that she only came here for publications not stocked at the mansion’s library. The books varied widely, from acting methods and obscure moments of the country’s past to rare amphibian species and child psychology. It was nearing four o’clock by the time Adrien and Kagami reconvened.

“Anything out of the ordinary?” asked Adrien.

Kagami shrugged. “I found out your mother read a good portion of Joris-Karl Huysmans, but that’s about it.”

Adrien sighed. “How many more books did she check out?”

Kagami looked down at the last remaining unopened file. “Two. The first one’s called Interpreter of Maladies. My mother’s read the Braille version and she told me it was brilliant - that’s high praise coming from the woman who literally tossed Harry Potter in the garbage.”

“Which book?!” Adrien asked, feeling outraged.

“Prisoner of Azkaban,” said Kagami regretfully. “She read the first few pages and just threw it in the trash can - and that’s luxury treatment compared to what she did with Order of the Phoenix. You don’t even wanna know.”

“Good lord, it’s fine she didn’t like them, but at least treat the physical book with a bit respect!” exclaimed Adrien. “Max doesn’t like them either, but you don’t see him chucking them out along with table scraps and whatnot!”

It took a bottle of water and several deep breaths for Adrien to regain control of himself, by which time it was four-thirty. They both knew that in order to remain within the guidelines Inspector Beaumont had set for them, they’d need to get back home within an hour.

“Sorry about that,” Adrien apologized, panting a little. “I got a little carried away. What’s the last book my mother checked out?”

“Let’s see,” said Kagami, flipping the file back open again. “The last book your mother checked out before she disappeared is called -”

Her eyes widened suddenly.

“What?” asked Adrien worriedly. “Which book is it?”

Kagami stared at him fearfully. “It’s called Eternally Intertwined: The Connections Between Magic and Human Emotions.”

Adrien’s heart skipped a beat. For him, the connections between magic and human emotions only related to one thing - Hawk Moth.

“Are... are you positive?” he gulped.

Kagami handed the file over to him. Sure enough, the title she’d just relayed to him was staring him in the face. Right as his eyes finished crossing over the words, Adrien clapped the file shut and strode over to the help desk, Kagami trotting behind him.

“Excuse me?” he asked the librarian, who’d stopped eating her salad to give Adrien her full attention. “I was wondering what you could tell me about this book.”

He placed the file down and tapped the ink with his finger. The librarian made a confused expression.

“Eternally Intertwined: The Connections Between Magic and Human Emotions? I have never heard of such a book,” the librarian admitted. “I’m sure it’s in the catalogue somewhere, though. Let me go check.”

She trundled down a hallway didn’t return until fifteen minutes had passed. The librarian sat back down and turned to Adrien and Kagami.

“Well, I think I’ve just discovered something of use to you,” she said, taking a bite of salad. “Eternally Intertwined was a recent publication back when Emilie Agreste checked it out. It wasn’t in wide circulation; the author, Madeleine Archambault, was a folklorist whose work had been repeatedly discredited for its alleged inaccuracies. Therefore, not many publishing companies were eager to accept her manuscripts. However, Archambault was able to convince a small, local press to give her a contract, entitling her to around ten thousand euros for a dozen books.”

“That’s it?” asked Adrien in surprise. His father had told him before that already published authors usually received more than twice that amount on one book.

“It wasn’t much,” continued the librarian, “but Archambault was desperate for work. She was able to get Eternally Intertwined published in the spring of that year. We only had a single copy in the library system; Emilie Agreste remains the only person to’ve checked it out.”

“How come?” Kagami asked. “It’s been five years since then, surely someone would’ve taken an interest in a book covering that kind of subject matter.”

Adrien nodded in agreement, thinking of Hawk Moth.

“I see where you’re coming from,” said the librarian, “but Eternally Intertwined was a commercial and critical flop. Critics panned it for resembling her previous work, which they said lacked backing evidence. The press Archambault had convinced to publish it rescinded her contract and she hasn’t produced any piece of writing since. Last time anyone had heard from her, she’d been working on a documentary in Alsace.”

She took another bite of her salad before saying, “Even if it’d been a success, no one would’ve checked it out, on account of it not being returned.”

“It wasn’t returned?” said Adrien in surprise.

The librarian shook her head. “Emilie Agreste never got the chance to give it back before she disappeared. But not to worry - Eternally Intertwined included Archambault’s watercolor pictures of objects mentioned in the text, and we have prints of some of those pictures in stock.”

She pointed to a thick roll of parchment paper that Adrien hadn’t noticed. Without a word, he picked it up and brought it to his and Kagami’s table, unrolling it hastily. The watercolor he saw first confirmed his fears.

It depicted two butterflies. One was pure white, the other was black and purple. Beneath the watercolor was a single word.

Akuma.

#inkslingersworld #inkslinger #ml #miraculous au #miraculous #miraculous ladybug #adrien #adrien agreste #kagami #kagami tsurugi #adrigami #adrigami au #adrigami fic #miraculous fanfic #zusammen #zusammen au #zusammen fic #zusammen miraculous #library #librarian #akuma #madeleine archambault #eternally intertwined #emilie #emilie agreste #the connections between magic and human emotions #hawk moth #potterhead #adrien is a potterhead #while tomoe is a potterhater

[nadiestar]

how about human au!moceit where some people (other sides perhaps) only know one half of the couple and assume that his partner is similar to him. so theyre very surprised when they meet the other half of the couple and hes seemingly his polar opposite. bonus points if the people get to see glimpses of a side of the half they know that they never anticipated existed

Hey! Thank you for the request! Sorry it took me so long, it was my first time writing a human au and I hope it's okay^^

I've also put it on AO3

“I can't believe we still haven't met your lucky special someone! How long have you been dating again? Five months?” Roman said dramatically as he walked backwards in front of his bubbly friend.

Patton shrugged his shoulders, his happy expression unfading.

“Stop pestering him about it Roman. He must figuratively be fed up with the topic,” Logan sighed and pulled Roman a little to the side so he didn't walk into a street lamp.

Roman winked as a thank at Logan but then quickly shot back: “Don't talk over Pat! He's able to tell me to shut up about his boyfriend if he needs me to.”

“Have to agree there, Lo,” Patton chimed in cheerily. “And I really don't mind it. He's just such a darling. I love you guys being so curious about him.”

“For being so keen on us asking questions about him, you surely provide very little information about his person. Roman step to the left, there's a mailbox.”

“What? You know plenty about him!” Patton disagreed and turned to the left into the little cafe where they were headed.

“If knowing that he's the cutest, sweetest and most adorable being you ever met counts as plenty, then sure,” Roman said slightly frustrated. “If not, we know kinda nothing about him but that. I mean how does he even look like?”

“What does he do for work?” Logan said and pulled the chair out for Patton at their usual table before he sat down himself.

“Yes, and where does he live? What are his hobbies?”

“Okay, okay! I get it!” Patton appeased and watched his two far too protective and curious friends shut up for the moment.

Just then a waiter came to their table and the three ordered their dinner. It was a tradition for them to come here every Friday and eat together for the last four years. Since then Logan and Patton worked at the same school complex, Patton as homeroom teacher for 2nd graders and Logan as history teacher for 8th graders, and Roman had opened his dance school close to the premises. They had known each other for far longer but only since then they finally got their tight-knitted comradery back.

“I guess you really don’t know that much about him. But I just much rather had you guys meet him directly and ask him all of those questions himself. It doesn’t feel right to talk over him, you know?” Patton explained and gave Logan his puppy eyed look.

That, despite Logan always denying it, had its usual very effective effect and the stern-faced man became lenient.

“It is understandable that you wouldn’t want to talk over him but…” Logan started and shot a look over to Roman who promptly picked the statement up.

“You seem to be so serious about this guy, Patty. And we just want to be sure he’s just amazing enough for you. You really don’t deserve another heartbreak, you know?”

Patton’s smile deflated a bit. Yes, he has been through enough, hadn’t he? Maybe he could let himself have some fun with this, as a treat.

And with that slightly mischievous thought in mind Patton offered to both of his friends now again with smile: “I get that. I could bring him over, now that he’s back from his last job… Ro would you mind if I’d introduce him to you all at the little party you and your brother throw tomorrow?”

Roman was quick to agree and the three dropped the topic in exchange of gossiping about noisy parents they had to deal with the last week.

___

Virgil put the soda down next to the fridge how Remus had instructed. He had brought it along because the hairdresser had asked him too, as he had too little time to go to the store and make everything ready for the party they were had tonight. Well, party was not the right word for it.

It was a little celebration for Remus and Roman, who finally had been able to afford an okay flat and get away from their old neighbourhood. Both had invited their friends and it was a first for Virgil to actually meet his friend’s twin and in extension his friends.

“Anything else I can help you with, Rem?” Virgil asked and leaned against the doorsill as Remus filled some chips in a bowl.

“Nah! You’re good! I think I’ve got everything done for later. Now we can just chill and relax until my brother’s turning up,” Remus said and ushered Virgil into the living room.

Remus came after him in a bit and put the chips in the middle of the coffee table and flopped down on the couch next to Janus. The man with the bowler hat glanced up from his phone, elegantly slid it in his pocket and then addressed his friends.

“Apologize me not helping more,” he said and looked over to Virgil, who pushed Janus’s crutch a little to the right so he could sit down in the beanbag.

“No worries man. After such a long flight anybody’d be tired. And it’s not like I did much more than you,” Virgil responded and barely caught the soda bottle Remus threw over to him.

Remus snickered as Virgil have him a pissed look while Janus smirked. Then the he told Janus: “Also, it’s just nice having you around for this! It will be fun to annoy my goody-two-shoes brother with you!”

Janus grin got a little more mischievous and he wanted to answer when suddenly Virgil took over the word.

“So, who exactly is your brother bringing along? Like are it a lot of people?”

“Don’t fret worrywart. It’s only two guys and the boyfriend of one of them. And he said that the one without boyfriend asked the same thing so I doubt we’re going to be loud and wild tonight.”

“What a pity. And I had hoped I’d be able to show you all my sick dance moves,” Janus deadpanned.

Both snickered at his comment and they chatted for a while as the afternoon progressed. They talked about how Virgil’s thrift store had been going the last month and what kind of people had come to Janus’s readings oversees. As usual a bit of bickering ensued and eventually the conversation reached its usual topic.

“So,” Remus said and wiggled his eyebrows, “how happy has your lover been having you back? Already had time for a quickie?”

Janus rolled his eyes and faltered a bit as he responded: “I’ve only come back yesterday and I was dead beat so – No quickie.”

“Oooh. What a disappointment for your Casanova,” Virgil teased and watched Janus fidgeting in his seat.

“He was quite understanding, thank you very much. And sex is by far not all we do together.”

“Really?” Virgil bounced back and shot an amused look to Remus, who was just as amused by their friend’s defensiveness. “It’s all you ever talk about when it comes to him. So, it’s not our fault for jumping to the assumption that that’s all you too are after.”

Janus mumbled something indistinctively and flicked his hand before he shot Virgil a dooming look, which left Virgil utterly unimpressed.

“He is very dear to me and – well of all partners I had in the bast he certainly is the most remarkable one,” Janus stated but didn’t get any further as the doorbell rang and the door got unlocked by a very loud and energetic Roman who just had gotten home from work.

Janus and Virgil quickly looked over to the tall tanned man. He was just as slim as his brother, dark curly hair and soft brown eyes. He also was smiling but it seemed to be much less demented but a bit more flashing. Also, there was now terrible moustache over his lips which also was a very distinguishing feature for Remus.

“Hello gentlemen! It’s a pleasure to meet you all!” Roman said with a slight bow, turned with an immediate decrease of charm and flair to Remus and asked: “Have you already offered them something to drink? And you didn’t ask them to help out right? They’re our guests!”

“Jeez. You’re acting like mum!” Remus pouted and the two brothers started to bicker for a moment before Roman excused himself and said he had to change clothes.

“He’s quite the character,” Virgil said with furrowed brows as Roman disappeared in the hallway and Remus let out a huff and then a weak laugh.

“Sure is, and it’s a pest. But rather have him around than not.”

All three silently nodded at that and then Remus got up. He asked them if they wanted coffee and went into the kitchen to make some. Meanwhile Roman came back into the living room and properly introduced himself to his two guests. They had met each other before but only in passing, when one of them dropped Remus off after a long night back in the days when he still was working as a barkeeper. In the not so easy days, but that was now over and they could focus on the present.

They got along fairly well, Roman seemed a little stuck up but knowing about Remus’s past both Janus and Virgil could put one and one together and knew that it was probably just a façade he put up until he knew he could trust them well enough. And they could respect that. After a moment Remus joined them again, a coffee for Janus, Virgil and Roman at the ready and a tea for himself. He was quick to poke fun at Roman and Janus had no problem playing into the teasing and getting a few mock-offended gasps from Roman.

“When are your guests coming?” Remus asked Roman and looked over to the clock they had hanging on the wall.

“Lo is always punctual on the minute. Well, maybe a minute earlier or so but he’ll be here at seven. Patty’s gonna be late. He can’t help it,” Roman answered and shrugged.

Remus nodded at the answer and asked if he would come and help him getting dinner ready. Roman agreed and the two let Janus and Virgil entertain themselves for the next few minutes. And one minute before seven the door rang and Remus instructed Virgil out from the kitchen to get the door. With a huff Virgil got up and opened the door.

A black-haired man in a navy polo shirt and dark jeans stood in front of the door and adjusted his glasses as he saw who had opened the door.

“You’re Roman’s friend?” it came from Virgil and the man nodded quickly.

He then added helpfully: “Yes, I’ve met him when he gave a dance course in our school-” He stretched his hand out – “Logan. I assume you are an acquaintance of his brother?”

“Got that right Logan. I’m Virgil. Come in. They’re in the kitchen,” Virgil said hoping to sound not too anxious.

Logan followed and looked at the two strangers in the room. Virgil was a small man with brightly died purple hair, wearing a worn-out sweater with purple patches and black skinny jeans and had apparently known Remus since college, as he soon learnt. The other man, Janus as he introduced himself, was a man of average height and blond hair, wearing a black turtleneck sweater and slacks. Logan recognized him soon as a rather-well known YA author and got into a conversation about literature. Virgil listened amused to their bantering and shot a lopsided grin at Remus when he came out of the kitchen to greet Logan properly.

“Jay, can you come for a second? Roman needs you to taste the sauce to make sure it’s not too spice for your fragile little togue,” Remus asked his friend who got up with a huff.

“I am not fragile!” Janus hissed and walked to the kitchen as Remus rolled his eyes at his dramatics.

“I didn’t say that,” Remus mumbled and then inquired what Logan wanted to drink and brought him some soda from the kitchen.

As Remus gave Logan his drink it rang and he went to get the door.

And as Remus opened the door he was met with the sight of a bubbly, brown-haired man. He smiled widely, had freckles all over his face and a pair of round glasses. He had to look up to him and bobbed on the spot, in his sky blue cat hoodie and light brown jeans with rainbow patches sewed on the knees, and for the first time in very long while Remus found himself thinking that this person just looked objectively adorable.

“Hello! Thank you so much for inviting me to your home!” this cute little man said cheerfully and Remus simply had to smile.

“My pleasure! You’re Patton then?”

For a second the man blinked and then sheepishly rubbed the back of his head.

“Yes, exactly!”

Remus laughed and bid him in. He then wanted to introduce him to Virgil, as Patton suddenly looked over to the hallway with glee in his eyes. Curious he followed the look and saw Janus just walking outside of the kitchen and staring at the newcomer with wide eyes.

“Janny!” Patton exclaimed joyfully, ran to him and gave him a soft hug.

Bedazzled Remus, Virgil and Logan stared at the pair and their bedazzlement only grew as they saw “Jannie’s” flustered face after they parted and heard him stutter: “I didn’t know you were coming too, honey.”

“What are you saying?” Patton laughed and fixed Janus’s collar. “I’ve told you last night before we went to bed that I also was invited to the twins party! You know I’m one of Roman’s best friends!”

“I certainly heard that,” Janus mumbled and Patton promptly put a kiss on Janus’s cheek.

Virgil and Remus stared at Janus. Suave and charming Janus all red and flustered by the words of the human embodiment of a Care Bear. Meanwhile Logan had a hard time realizing that he had just met his year-long friend’s boyfriend and talked with said boyfriend about the value of romance in YA books.

“You’re fucking this muffin of a person?” Remus exclaimed and Logan finally lost it and let his glass drop and spill soda all over the floor.

Roman came right running out of the kitchen as Patton doubled over with laughter and Janus’s face turned a new shade of red.

“And apparently this muffin is quite naughty,” Virgil added with a nervous giggle and got up to help Logan clean up the mess he made.

Meanwhile Janus found his words again and hissed towards Remus: “Would you not speak like this about my partner? He’s not a child.”

“Come on, Janny! It’s fine,” Patton said with a wheeze and nudged his boyfriend’s shoulder. “I love that you apparently only told them about our sex life. You’re such a goofy man.”

“And you never told us that you moved in together!” it came from the agitated Logan who almost let his glass drop again as he gesticulated widely.

“Move in together?! How- What on earth did I just miss?” Roman chimed in and looked between Janus and Patton now finally registering that the former held Patton’s hand tightly.

“Ahh, kiddos! Don’t worry, I would have told you had we done that. Janny just stayed with me, because I picked him up last night and my place is closer to the airport.”

Roman’s mind went blank for a few seconds before he eyed up Janus again and then looked over to Patton and deadpanned: “You’re telling me that this sassy man in black is the most adorable person you’ve ever known? That’s the man? Because if so, quite honestly, I feel offended.”

At that Remus and Virgil started to giggle and the evening continued to be quite entertaining for them all as Janus and Patton uncovered the truth about each other and meanwhile casually extended their circle of shared friends.

___

@aprincehasgotoslay

@varthandi

@sickeningly-deceitful

@sammy-is-obsessed  / @exhaustedfander

@unoriginalgayboyalex

@alexisrealgay

#sanders sides #moceit #romantic moceit #Mims Requests

[rexisnotyourwriter]

by @rexalexander and @postcardsanddaydreaming​

After the Atlanta child murders, the Behavioral Science Unit is as busy as ever. With a new team member by their side, they take on what feels like a growing number of active serial killers as well as continue their interviews of already incarcerated subjects. Bill tries to track down Nancy and Brian with the hopes of repairing his marriage, while Wendy tries to take on a more active role in their research with an eager budding protégé at her side.

Read on AO3

Catch up: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

*If you enjoy this, please like/reblog on tumblr and/or leave kudos/comments on AO3. Your feedback helps keep fic writers writing.*

Notes: As always, thanks to my beta fish @hardythehermitcrab​

Chapter 3: Could You Be The One

The bell rang. Her peers bolted from their desks and flooded the hallway, grabbing at their coats and bags, before running down the hall, towards the door. Towards freedom.

She waited, at least until there were only a few remaining children gathering their belongings, before getting up from her desk. The teacher gave her a smile, but it felt off somehow in a way she couldn’t quite place. She smiled back anyways.

By the time she reached the hall, her coat had been knocked to the floor. A partial footprint was left on the arm. She picked it up and brushed the dust off. The tread marks were still visible. She slung her backpack over her shoulder and went to the washroom.

The stall doors were all open. Empty. She lifted the sleeve of her coat near the sink and ran the tap slightly warm. Then, with a wet paper towel, she gently dabbed at the dirt until it was no longer visible. The sleeve was damp, but she reasoned she should be able to conceal that from her mother until it dried. She pressed a dry paper towel into it as best she could. It would have to do.

She stepped outside into the courtyard, arms crossed to hide her sleeve. Her mother was waiting in the car, ushering for her to hurry. She walked quickly to the car and got in.

“Finally,” her mother muttered. “I was able to switch my hair appointment to,” she looked at the time, “well, now. So, you’re going to have to come along.”

She said nothing, having no choice in the matter. It wasn’t exactly fun, but there were worse things. The dentist, for one. Her arms remained crossed for the remainder of the car ride. Every few minutes, she checked her sleeve. Each time, the dark patch of wet fabric was lighter and lighter.

Her mother turned into a different person as soon as they exited the car and went into the salon. Outside Mother. Outside Mother is attentive, always smiling (except when inappropriate), and does not raise her voice. Outside Mother also never smokes.

The salon was an onslaught of pastel from the pink cushioned chairs to the lime and cream colored walls. Outside Mother gave her name to the woman behind the front counter and apologized for her tardiness. She turned around.

“You can have a seat and do your homework while you wait, okay sweetheart?” Outside Mother told her in her sickly sweet voice.

The girl nodded and took a seat in one of the pink chairs. It wasn’t nearly as comfortable as it looked. She inspected the magazines spread out on the coffee table.

How to make two outfits out of one.

She passed on that knowledge.

There were only a few other people in the salon. Three employees including the woman behind the counter, who couldn’t have been more than twenty years old. She looked like Ingrid Bergman - warm, soft. She glanced over at the girl and smiled. The girl returned the smile, but looked away quickly, embarrassed, but unsure why. There was a sadness behind the woman’s eyes, despite the smile. It was the same way she saw anger behind her mother’s. Fear behind her father’s. She wondered what people saw behind hers, if there was anything to see.

Outside Mother was settled in her chair, the large cone-like contraption hovering above her head, next to another woman. They each casually flipped through a magazine while chatting.

“So, how are Harold and the boys doing? Your eldest must be, what, twelve now?” Outside Mother asked.

“Almost. Johnny will be twelve next month and Simon turned nine in August.”

“Just a year older than our little angel.”

Outside Mother nods towards “her angel”. She could feel their gaze and didn’t look up to meet it.

“Harry got some exciting news recently,” the other woman said.

“Oh really?”

“It’s not public yet, but it’s as good as done. I’m not really supposed to talk about it though.”

Outside Mother gave her an understanding look.

“But -” the other woman continued, “if you can keep a secret.”

“Of course.”

“Well…”

Her voice went softer than could be heard from across the salon. The girl gave up on eavesdropping and took out her notebook and a pencil. She flipped past the pages of her homework to the last clean page of her book and began to draw.

The bell above the door chimed, announcing the entrance of another patron. Her fitted dark blue dress popped out among the soft pastel setting. She didn’t fit the scene, but it was the salon and everyone else in it that suddenly felt out of place in her presence. The woman at the counter acknowledged her. She appeared to be a regular. She turned around and took a seat next to the girl revealing a bold, deep red lip.

The girl continued her drawing. It was an open field with a few flowers. At the center stood a penguin. In the sky, far above the penguin, an assortment of birds were flying. She finished the final details of the wings, added a couple more flowers to the field, then swapped her pencil for her container of colored pencils. The woman in blue watched her as she pulled out a light green pencil and began shading the grass.

“Hmm,” the woman pondered out loud.

The girl paused her coloring briefly, then resumed without looking up.

“I thought penguins lived in the North Pole,” she mused.

“No,” the girl replied. “They live in Antarctica.”

“I see.”

The woman took off her white gloves, plucking the tip of each finger like petals from a daisy.

“Isn’t there snow in Antarctica?” she asked.

“Yes.”

The woman smiled. She was amused.

“This penguin is from Antarctica, but she’s not in Antarctica,” the girl explained.

“Ahh, okay. Why?”

The girl thought for a moment, then shrugged.

“I think she was taken from there when she was very little and doesn’t remember it. She just knows she’s from there and supposed to be there.”

“Couldn’t she go back?”

“No. She can’t fly. Penguins are flightless birds.”

The woman took in the drawing once more, understanding it a little better.

“Is that why she’s all alone?”

The girl didn’t reply. Instead, she switched her green pencil for a yellow one. She colored the insides of the flowers.

“Why don’t some of the other birds come down?”

The girl let out a noise, somewhere between a laugh and a scoff.

“They wouldn’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“Because they can fly,” she replied matter-of-factly.

“Surely they don’t fly all the time. They must need to rest.”

“They do,” she confirmed. “But they never stay.”

“That must get lonely.”

The girl carefully filled in the penguin’s beak with her yellow pencil.

“It does.” She traded the yellow for a black. “She’s used to it.”

The young woman from the counter approached the woman in blue. They were ready for her. She gave one last look to the girl, who looked up this time.

Their eyes met.

They smiled at each other - a real smile, with nothing behind it.

The girl watched the woman in blue follow the hairdresser to her station.

She took out her regular pencil again and added to her picture.

——————————————————–

Wendy spent an inordinate amount of time over the past few weeks sorting through resumes and cover letters for the new secretary position in the BSU. There was more interest in the position than she (or Gunn, for that matter) had anticipated. She was able to get Gregg to help weed out some of the applicants, but he wasn’t as discerning in his decisions as she would’ve been, and found herself having to make further cuts to his “approvals”. The list was narrowed down to eight. Half of them were coming in later that afternoon for interviews, conducted by Wendy and Bill. The rest would be completed the following morning.

Bill sat hunched over a file, cigarette in hand, when Wendy knocked on his partially open door. He looked up at her with tired eyes.

“What are your thoughts?” she asked.

He stared at her, his brow furrowed.

“The applicants,” she clarified.

He let out a deep exhale.

“You haven’t looked at them yet, have you?” It was more of a statement than a question.

Bill shook his head in response to his own forgetfulness.

“I’m sorry. I’ll do that right now.”

“It’s alright. I have questions prepared. It’s more for your benefit.”

“Still.”

He shuffled the stacks of papers and files around his desk in search of the resumes Wendy had given him last week.

“I can make another copy of them,” she offered.

“No, no. I’ve got them here. Somewhere.”

She scanned his workspace, her eyes landing on a familiar looking folder in a tray.

Wendy cleared her throat. Bill looked up.

Her eyes flicked from Bill to the tray. He opened the folder, confirming its contents.

“I’m reading these right now.”

“Okay. Our first interview is at 1pm, so we should be in the meeting room by quarter to. Someone from HR will bring them down.” Wendy saw the look on Bill’s face and… “You forgot those were today.”

“Wendy - ”

“It’s okay, Bill. Really. Like I said, I’ve already reviewed the candidates and prepared questions for the interviews. You just have to show up.”

“I appreciate it, you know. All the work you do.”

She left him with an understanding nod and a polite smile.

Bill snuffed out his cigarette and immediately lit another one.

Holden walked quickly past Wendy, who politely acknowledged his presence, on his way to Bill’s office.

“Bill.”

He exhaled the long drag he just took of his cigarette.

“Yeah?”

“Gunn wants us to help out on those freeway killer cases in California. They found another body a few days ago in the San Bernardino Mountains. He wants us out there tomorrow morning.”

Bill groaned.

“What?” Holden asked.

“Wendy’s not going to be happy.”

“Why?”

“We have those interviews today and tomorrow for the new position.”

“The secretary? Do you really need to be there for those?”

“I’m head of this team, Holden, so yes, it would be good if I was involved in the hiring of a new member.”

“I’m sure she’ll understand. I can talk to her, if you want.”

Bill gave him a look that very clearly said no.

“Those freeway killings. The victims were drugged, raped, and beaten, right?” Bill asked.

“And bound.”

“Another BTK.”

“Not exactly, though. There are distinct differences between them.”

Bill looked at the folder under Holden’s arm.

“Is that -”

“Oh. Yes.”

Holden handed the folder to Bill. It was thick.

Wendy entered the meeting room at 12:45pm sharp with two glasses of water and the tape recorder under her arm. With Bill busy preparing for the last minute trip to California, they both figured it wouldn’t hurt to record the interviews.

Her notebook and list of questions were already on the table. She placed a glass of water at each side in front of the respective chairs, with the tape recorder on her side to the right. She popped open the recorder to double check that there was a blank tape inside. There was.

Wendy had done a fairly good job at screening the applicants. They were all (so far) more or less capable of doing the job, but each with their own weak points.

The first two candidates of the day were internal - both obscene stenographers, women about ten to fifteen years Wendy’s senior. Sandra was up first. She had passable answers to Wendy’s questions, but didn’t seem to fully understand what the BSU was or why it was important. Sharon, the second, was four minutes late and very rattled by it. It could’ve been coincidental, but someone who flusters easily was not the best fit.

The third was a young man named Peter. He was barely old enough to drink, but his resume was strong and he had work and volunteer experience. When asked about his comfort level with disturbing topics, his face went visibly white and clammy as Wendy listed off, in some detail, a few of the types of victims they deal with - those who have been dismembered, raped pre or post-mortem, mutilated, etc. She stopped before he got to the point of gagging and quickly wrapped up the interview.

The final candidate of the day was a much older man, at least sixty, if not older, named Thomas. He reminded Wendy of Gregg in twenty odd years. He was intelligent and experienced, but he had the same air of naivety as Gregg. That lingering aura of having been sheltered from the “evils” of the world as a child, or as they called it, a good Christian upbringing. Thomas was sweet and polite, but showed clear signs of not being able to keep up with the pace that the position would require.

At the end of the interview, Wendy thanked Thomas for his time and walked him to the elevator on her way to Bill’s office. His face was buried in his hand, his elbow resting on the desk.

She knocked softly. He revealed his face.

“I can come back if now’s not a good time.”

“No, now’s fine. I could use a break.”

“First round of interviews are done.”

“And?”

She waffled her head side to side.

“They weren’t bad. Not ideal in varying ways, but some are more...workable than others.”

“It’s a unique gig.”

“I think tomorrow will be better. There are two in particular that should be more promising. Frank Tyler, late 20s, some military experience, so he’s probably not squeamish. He has a degree in philosophy, so he’s educated -”

“And jobless.”

Wendy smirked.

“The other one is Ruth Cairns. She’s a bit young. But she has secretary experience and recently finished her degree in sociology.”

It was Bill’s turn to smirk. “The Boston girl.”

“So you did read the files I gave you.”

“No shame in rooting for one of your own,” he replied, still smiling.

“There’s no nepotism here,” she countered. It came out more defensively than she intended.

“She wasn’t one of your students?”

“No.”

He believed her. “Okay.”

“How’s the studying,” she asked.

Bill sighed.

“It’s a mess, honestly. They’ve gathered every case where a body was found near a highway thinking they must all be connected going back almost ten years. There’s dozens.”

“Better to have more to work from than less.”

He knew she was right. It didn’t make it any less work, though.

“Half of them don’t even remotely fit the MO. They’ve got women, gunshot victims. Some were disposed of in pieces in trash bags. Some appeared to have been thrown out of a moving car.”

Wendy processed the information.

“And the MO is based off of the most recent victims?”

“Starting in ‘79. An unidentified male, 20s, found his head, torso, and left leg in a couple of trash bags behind a gas station in Long Beach. He’d been sodomized with a sock. A couple weeks later, the body of Gregory Wallace Jolley, 20, was found at Lake Arrowhead, emasculated and with his head and legs severed.”

“Pre or post?”

“Post. A few months after that, the decapitated body of 19-year-old Mark Alan Marsh, a Marine, was found near Templin Highway. He was also missing his hands.”

“So, there is a definite pattern of young male victims, late puberty to early adulthood. All white?”

“Yup. Another 19-year-old Marine was found September of last year near the El Toro Marine air base, also in trash bags. Then four months ago, Michael Cluck, 17, was found on the side of Interstate 5 near Goshen, Oregon. Sodomized, beaten, kicked. Cause of death was thirty-one blows to the head with a blunt object. The back of his head was completely destroyed.”

He let out a long breath.

“I’m not even sure this latest one is part of it all.”

“What makes you say that?” she asked.

“Well, he wasn’t dismembered. We’ll know more of the details from the autopsy tomorrow, but they said they found tissue stuffed deep in his nose and rectum.”

“Could we maybe be dealing with a pair? Or perhaps even more than two killers, working together to some extent.”

“Maybe. If we are, they clearly have the same ‘type’.”

“Well, best of luck.”

“Thanks.”

Wendy lingered for a moment in the doorway. Bill could tell why, but all he offered her was a small smile. She nodded, understanding, and left. There was no word from Nancy.

Holden and Bill were relieved to find California not as unbearably hot as Georgia had been, but it still didn’t take long for their previously clean and crisp shirts to become nearly drenched in sweat.

They had studied the crime scene photos on the plane. Christopher Allen Williams, 17, had been missing his socks, shoes, and underwear. There was nothing that indicated any staging in the body placement, and lack of significant animal activity made it unlikely that it had been dragged from anywhere.

An officer was waiting for them when they got to the station. He was somewhere between Holden and Bill’s age with a moustache from the 70s.

“Agent Tench, Agent Ford.” He offered his hand to Bill first, then Holden. “Officer Eddie Zott. Thank you for coming out here.”

“Happy to help,” Bill replied.

“I’ve just got the autopsy report. Here, why don’t we -”

He led them down the air conditioned hall and into one of the empty interrogation rooms. It was not air-conditioned, but there was a single fan in the corner blowing warm air around the room.

Zott put the report on the desk and gave it a read, his lips mouthing along silently. Bill and Holden gave each other a side-eyed glance while they waited for the news.

Zott’s lips stopped moving, and his brow furrowed.

“Well?” Holden asked.

Zott looked up at their expectant faces and slid the report across the table.

“Cause of death was pneumonia induced by aspiration,” Zott explained.

“The tissue paper in his nose. He choked to death on his own mucus,” Holden added.

“And he had phenobarbital and benzodiazepine in his system,” Bill said.

Holden inspected the report for himself, looking particularly at the amount of benzodiazepine detected. It wasn’t an exceptionally high amount. More than what he had been prescribed, but not enough for an overdose. It was the combination of that with the phenobarbital that would cause more of the sedative effects.

“Do we know anything else about the victim?” Bill asked.

Zott smoothed out his moustache and cleared his throat.

“Yeah,” he started.

Bill and Holden waited.

“It, uh, “ Zott continued. “Well, when we were asking around about him, it came to light that he was, a...a working man, if you know what I mean.”

“You mean, he was a prostitute,” Holden confirmed.

Zott nodded.

“What about the other victims? Were any of them prostitutes?”

“Not that we know of. But we didn’t ask specifically about that. As I said, this just happened to come up.”

“See if you can find out,” Bill suggested. “It could be an important factor in finding a motive or pattern.”

Zott nodded, clearly not thrilled at the prospect of going down that rabbit hole.

“Yes, sir.”

Wendy once again prepared for the second day of interviews. The water, her questions, and the tape recorder were all set up with six minutes to spare.

Frank was up first, and he was brought down to the basement at exactly 10am. He wore a well-fitted ochre nailshead suit with a light pink tie that reminded her of something Bill would wear. His hair still had some semblance of a military cut, but grown out and groomed.

“Miss Carr,” he said.

“Dr. Carr,” she corrected.

“My apologies, Dr. Carr.”

She stood up to shake his hand and noticed a copy of Beyond Good and Evil by Friedrich Nietzsche under his other arm.

“I always bring a book with me,” he explained. “I always give myself plenty of time to get places, which leads me with some free time, so.”

Wendy nods in acknowledgement.

“Have you read it?” he asked.

She smiled as they sat down.

“Yes, I have.”

Many times, in fact. But none for pleasure.

“It’s one of my favorites,” he beamed. “I’ve been taking German classes so I can read the original text.”

A real Nietzsche fanboy.

“Jenseits von Gut und Böse,” Wendy replied.

“Sorry?”

Clearly he needed more practice.

The rest of the interview went fairly well, the glaring issue being his devotion to philosophical concepts, and rather basic ones at that. It wasn’t exactly the worst thing, but she could already anticipate him interjecting into psychological conversations with philosophical “well, actually”s. He also made a point more than once to mention that he had no issues with the potentially graphic nature of the position, nor did he feel uncomfortable about the topic of twisted killings in general. In fact, he ended the interview by once again reasserting his comfort level.

Wendy looked at him with a small smile.

“‘He who fights with monsters might take care lest he thereby become a monster’,” she responded.

His eyes beamed at her like a love-struck puppy.

That’s when it hit her. He had reminded her of someone the whole time, but she couldn’t figure out who until he got that look in his eyes.

Holden. He reminded her of Holden.

She thanked him for his time and sent him on his way.

The interview had ended early - he was a fast talker - which gave her enough time to make a cup of coffee before the next candidate arrived.

Interviewing the candidates reminded her of when she was actually able to talk to the inmates for their study. She missed it. There was no way Gunn was going to let her do that again. At least not willingly. Maybe with more secretarial help at Quantico, Bill could convince him of her value in the field.

Her coffee break went by quicker than she thought, and she was soon interrupted by the arrival of the next candidate, Jenny Simms. Her application was unremarkable in the sense that nothing exceptional stood out, but she had all the basic requirements. She had secretary experience, was first aid certified, and volunteered at a homeless shelter since she was a teenager.

Jenny’s answers were all satisfactory. She had a calm demeanor, but was by no means fragile. She didn’t even bat an eye when Wendy described, in detail, some of the more graphic cases they had dealt with. Jenny took it one further and responded with an almost equally grotesque story of a man coming into the shelter with a gangrene leg that he tried to amputate himself with a pocket knife, heavily under the influence of multiple drugs. Plus she referred to her as Dr. Carr right off the bat. Wendy was pleasantly surprised, and marked her down as a front runner.

There was a larger break between interviews this time to account for lunch. She went upstairs to the cafeteria to grab her usual salad. A couple times, when she needed a break from the windowless basement, she stayed in the cafeteria to eat. On more than one occasion, she was approached in her solitude by a man, noticing the absence of a ring on her finger, asking if the seat across from her was taken. They would sit down before allowing her to answer. The daylight wasn’t worth the bother.

Back in her office, she kept a close eye on the clock as she ate her lunch. Today’s salad was half wilted spinach with almonds and blueberries and too much dressing. It was better than the bitter romaine they sometimes had that was drowned in what they called a caesar dressing, but tasted more like ranch with garlic powder. It hardly even qualified as a salad.

Wendy’s phone rang just as she was finishing her lunch. It was Bill.

“I wasn’t sure if you’d answer,” he said. “How’s round two going?”

“Better than yesterday.”

“Sounds hopeful.”

“There’s still two more to go, but I’ve already got a good idea of who I think would fit. I’ll let you listen to the interviews when you get back before I give you my thoughts.”

“Afraid you’ll influence my decision?”

“When have I ever been afraid of that? How’s California?”

“Hot. I’ll take it over Georgia, though.”

“And the case?”

“We thought we had an angle, but it didn’t pan out. The latest victim was a male prostitute, so we were thinking maybe that’s who he’s targeting. Local cops looked further into the other victims and it doesn’t appear that any of them were involved in that.”

“Hmmm. Were any of them suspected homosexuals? Even if they weren’t formally prostituting themselves, there could have been some form of covert sexual exchanges.”

“I can suggest that.”

Wendy heard the ding of the elevator from down the hall.

“I have to go,” she said. “You’re back tomorrow?”

“Yeah.”

“Have a safe flight.”

She hung up the phone and quickly dabbed her mouth with a napkin. She poked her head out into the hall. It was empty. False alarm.

As she walked across to the interview room, a woman who she recognized from the HR department, but not the usual one who had been bringing candidates down, turned the corner at the end of the hall with another woman whom she assumed was Ruth Cairns.

“Oh, I think it must be this way,” the HR woman said. “I get so turned around down here.”

Wendy quickly snuck into the interview room. Thankfully, she had made sure to have it set up before her lunch break.

A moment later, the woman came in with Ruth. She was wearing a red plaid suit with a pleated skirt and double breasted blazer, her auburn hair pulled back in a neat, but loose, bun.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Dr. Carr,” she said, holding out her hand.

Wendy shook her hand.

“Please, have a seat.”

Ruth looked at Wendy as though she was about to say something. She sat down and closed her mouth, but her eyes still had that look.

Wendy tilted her head and looked back at her.

“Is something the matter?” she asked.

Once again, Ruth opened her mouth, but nothing came out at first.

“It’s just,” she started.

Wendy signalled for her to go on. Ruth brought a finger up to her mouth.

“You’ve got a little something in your teeth,” she said.

Wendy felt her face grow warm and hoped it wasn’t showing.

Fucking spinach.

She ran her tongue across the front of her teeth.

Ruth opened her purse and pulled out an ornate silver compact.

“Here,” she offered.

“Thank you.”

Their fingers brushed as Wendy took the compact from her. The soft, innocent touch only made her blush more.

She hid her face behind the compact. It wasn’t as red as it felt, thankfully. She had successfully dislodged the spinach, and gave the rest of her mouth and face a thorough look over before handing the compact back to Ruth, holding it in a way that ensured their fingers would not touch accidentally.

“I know some people don’t like it when you say something, but if it were me, I would want to know. Rather get it dealt with right away then find out later you had a whole conversation with someone like that,” Ruth explained.

Wendy nodded in agreement, despite still being somewhat embarrassed.

She jumped right into the questions to get herself back on track. Some of her answers felt rehearsed. Not wrong, but definitely planned. Others, she seemed surprised by, but answered them acceptably.

“Why do you want this position?” Wendy asked.

“Well,” Ruth started. Wendy could already tell this was one of her prepared answers. “I am hoping to earn money so that I can continue my studies in psychology at grad school. Ideally in Boston, of course. This really seems like the perfect position for me.”

“And what makes you perfect for this position?” Wendy countered.

Ruth looked puzzled by the question.

“I should’ve thought that was obvious,” she replied.

Wendy raised her eyebrows.

“I mean,” Ruth continued. “I have the education. I have the job experience. I spent my summers on my grandfather’s farm helping him slaughter pigs and chickens, so I’ve got a strong stomach.”

Ruth went silent. Wendy looked at her. Both of them waiting for the other to speak.

“And,” Ruth continued. She took a deep breath. “I lied on my application form.”

Wendy sat upright.

“Just about my address. I said I lived here, but I don’t. I’m staying at a hostel. But I’m willing to move here because that’s how much I want this job. That’s how much I wanted a chance at an opportunity to work here. With you.”

Wendy’s eyes narrowed. Did she know this woman?

“I never formally took one of your classes. I didn’t get into any of them while you were still there. But I...I snuck in the back just so I could listen.”

She’s flattered, and a bit in shock. She wasn’t aware her lectures were that high in demand, especially based on some of the lackluster students she’d had over the years.

“‘Time and tide wait for no man’,” Ruth quoted. “Or woman, as the case may be.”

Wendy smiled.

“And wouldn’t you want someone who could not only do the job, and do it well, but also who could take the knowledge they’ve learned and apply it? Can you honestly say any of the other applicants would use this experience to further the work you’re doing even after they’ve left?”

They looked at each other - Wendy still smiling, Ruth worried that she’d blown it.

“You make a good case,” Wendy admitted.

She stood up. Ruth waited a moment before doing the same.

Wendy held out her hand.

“We’ll be in touch.”

Ruth shook her hand and gave her a sad smile, her eyes not meeting Wendy’s. Wendy gave her hand a gentle squeeze, and Ruth looked up to a reassuring smile.

#mindhunteredit #mindhunter fic #mindhunter #op* #a tide in a city #wendy carr #bill tench #holden ford