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enchantedsugden · 3 years

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what happens to a love that’s not new? chapter 2

ao3 link

a/n: there's a very brief mention of aaron's scars in this chapter.

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“Hiya.” Aaron whispers as he walks into his bedroom. Robert’s already in bed, hair flat against his forehead and Aaron feels like something is tugging at his heartstrings. He almost lost this and he still could. Since they got together properly, a lot had been thrown at them.

“Hiya.” Robert whispers back, smiling as Aaron crawls into bed next to him.

Aaron breathes out, choosing his words carefully. “Thank you for today Rob- getting through to Liv, after what she’s done you didn’t have to.” He’s referring to Robert going to find Liv and bringing her home even after she reported him to the police.

“I know quite a bit about being a troublesome teenager, one who’s hurting.” He says and Aaron watches him as something flickers across his face. He knows only a little about Robert’s teenage years in the village, hasn’t ever wanted to push him but he knows that Robert’s been through a lot, that he was hurting too.

He simply nods before adding, “yeah me too I guess- but honestly thank you.”

Robert just nods in answer.

“You will be fine, you’re not going to go anywhere.” Aaron continues, the idea of Robert going to prison almost unbearable.

Robert shrugs before saying, “If I do end up going to prison- I had it coming, I told Liv that too. You and I both know I’ve done my fair share of bad stuff over the years.”

Aaron gulps, of course he knows but still, he can’t bear the thought of Robert going inside for this.

“But this- Robert all you did was try and help me.”

What he’d said to Liv had been the truth, one that he sometimes found hard to accept and to feel deserving of but true nonetheless. Everything Robert had done was because he loved him. He couldn’t go down for this.

“It will be fine.” Robert says, mirroring Aaron’s previous positivity, Aaron isn’t sure if he buys it. All he does know is that he would do everything to keep Robert with him. He isn’t going to lose him, he simply can't.

“Thank you for trying with Liv.” Aaron emphasises again, just needs Robert to know that he appreciates all this, doesn’t take it for granted. After their conversation a few days ago things had gotten better, until Liv had reported Robert to the police and things between them had been tense again.

“She apologised too.” Robert says, repeating what he had said earlier in the pub and Aaron nods, hopes that from now on things are finally going to get easier, especially now Robert and Liv are actually starting to get on, now Liv started to accept Robert’s place in his life.

He looks at Robert, taking him in. It’s scary how used he is already to having him next to him in bed, how much he misses Robert when he’s not sleeping next to him.

Not for the first time he wonders about asking Robert to move in with him- or even get a new place but he feels it’s too soon, that maybe they are still too fragile. But at least he’s got him here.

Often he will catch Robert looking at him, all smiles and sparkling eyes and he knows he gets that same look. It’s almost unimaginable that they weren’t able to do that last year, that he had to keep his love for Robert to himself.

The both of them aren’t big on PDA but it’s amazing not to have to worry about how he’s acting around Robert and he knows his boyfriend feels the same. He still finds himself surprised at how touchy-feely the older man is.

He’s proud of Robert. He just hasn’t told him yet, doesn’t know if he should, if it might make Robert clam up. He admires him for how far he’s come with coming to terms with his sexuality. It’s something Robert hasn’t really spoken about but if he wants to, Aaron will wait until he’s ready.

Robert looks at him, as he grabs his book that’s fallen in between them. Aaron laughs, giving him a nod that says that Robert can go back to reading now.

Having Robert sleeping next to him almost every night is not the only novelty, watching Robert’s night-time routine is another one. Aaron had known Robert loved reading even when they were still a secret, he wouldn’t often see him reading though- he just saw the books piled up on Robert’s nightstand.

The week he stayed over at Home Farm he had seen Robert reading but when Aaron had asked him what it was about he had just shaken his head, dismissing it. Now Aaron knows that it wasn’t because Robert didn’t want to talk to him but he didn’t think Aaron would be interested.

Now, when Robert’s reading a book he enjoys, Aaron will know about it. Robert will give him a running commentary as he’s reading and Aaron has found that he enjoys listening to his boyfriend's comments despite not being into reading fiction himself.

When Aaron thinks about the future he sees Robert right there next to him, and whenever he does, it still shocks him. Having Robert beside him had for so long been something that Aaron never let himself think about as it was never something he thought he would get.

He’s never going to leave Chrissie.

Don’t you want to be more than a bit on the side?

He was the one who kept me going. He remembers yelling this at his mum and thinks about how true it was back then and how it continues to be.

Robert had kept him going these past few months, had made him feel more normal and kept him believing that he could get through it, that he would get justice.

Aaron got strength from Robert and he had never had that before with anyone.

“What are you thinking about?” Robert’s asking, getting Aaron out of his own head. He’s watching him, giving Aaron his undivided attention. It’s one of the many things Aaron loves about his boyfriend- his ability to make Aaron feel so special and loved. Aaron hopes he does the same for Robert.

He's still looking at Aaron, kind eyes gazing at him. He loves Robert likes this and it gives him a special thrill that he's the only one who gets to see the older man like this. He loves this bubble that they are able to create together.

It’s still hard for Aaron to completely forget Robert’s fallen face as he yelled at him to get out of his life. He wants to make Robert smile.

“You.” He says, smiling.

“Oh? All good things, I hope.” Robert says, eyes twinkling.

“Only good things.” Aaron answers, appreciates the way Robert doesn’t press him further.

He can hear Charity and his mum chatting downstairs, probably getting ready to close up.

He once again imagines them both in their own place, he's sure that it will happen in the near future.

“You sleepy?” Robert asks gently after Aaron lets out a big yawn.

“A little I suppose.” He mumbles and Robert smiles, puts away his book.

“You can continue if you want.” Aaron protests but Robert shakes his head. “Nah it’s fine, am quite tired actually.”

He goes to lie down properly and Aaron lets himself fall against Robert’s chest. He will never tire of this, still isn’t quite used to it if he’s totally honest. The fact that he can let himself fall asleep next to Robert, that he’s not going to wake up to an empty bed or that it’s him that has to leave soon.

Robert’s hand rests on Aaron’s stomach, then his thumb is stroking his bare skin. It’s not meant to lead to anything, it’s just comforting. Before Aaron can change his mind he tells Robert so. Robert smiles that smile that’s just reserved for Aaron and presses a kiss on the top of his head.

It had worried Aaron when they had just gotten back together, that he wouldn’t feel comfortable giving Robert his all after some of the things he had said- had seen that same anxiety reflected in Robert’s eyes those first few nights that Robert had stayed over.

But they had taken it slowly, Robert knowing exactly when Aaron was ready and not letting him push himself too much.

It had been perfect, that first time after a long time and Robert had made him feel comfortable, managed to make him think and feel differently about the scars on his body.

Aaron brings his hand down to where Robert’s resting, intertwines their fingers.

He suddenly remembers the photos he was looking at earlier, the ones of family holidays.

A few days away would be the perfect opportunity to spend some time together and more importantly, it could distract Robert from thoughts of going to prison.

He’s about to suggest it when he realises his boyfriend is already fast asleep. He squeezes his hand gently.

He will ask tomorrow.

#fairly short but quite sweet #mary writes fic

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iliveiloveiwrite · 4 years

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Fire Burn and Cauldron Bubble

A/N: A Draco fic no-one asked for! I’m rereading A Discovery of Witches so it’s got me inspired. I don’t plan to post anything over the weekend, I want a couple of days off before I post every day next week. This wasn't requested but I was inspired, so I hope you enjoy!

Title: Macbeth, Act 4: Scene 1

Summary: Draco needs a new stockist.

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Fem!Reader

Warnings: FLUFF - SO MUCH FLUFF.

Word count: 2.2k

Of all the avenues of employment open to Draco Malfoy after his graduation from Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry, he surprised everyone by staying on at the school to apprentice under Professor Slughorn.

Horace Slughorn had retired once before and was eager to do so again; already fantasising about his golden years in the countryside. Draco Malfoy was his first and only choice for successor to his post – his grades in class rivalling those of Hermione Granger.

Draco’s training took two years where in that time he became able to rattle off ever potion ingredient and method just from hearing the very name of the potion.

Three years into his career and his first year teaching without Slughorn at his side, Draco’s stockist retires – also desiring a life in the country.

It leaves him in a lurch.

He spends an entire month of his summer holiday researching potion shops before discovering one off the beaten track in Diagon Alley – closer to muggle London than the rest of the shops. So much so that the shop wasn’t protected by the enchantments surrounding Diagon Alley and as a result, the shop seemed to have a steady stream of muggle customers.

Draco enters Cauldron Bubble and is immediately taken back by the sheer amount of stock. Potion ingredients, materials for poppets, prayer candles are just a few of the items that catch his attention. The intoxicating scent of myrrh and sweet orange washes over him. A heady smell that soon opens up to more delicate notes such as vanilla and tansy.

Draco doesn’t immediately seek out the items on his list, but instead walks slowly around the shop, committing it all to memory. There are shelves of books dedicated to the craft of potion brewing but also in the art of divination; particularly tarot readings and palmistry. The entire back wall of the shop is dedicated to what could be hundreds of small draws; each filled with their named herb or plant.

He wanders through the store, feeling entirely at ease with the idea of spending the rest of his day here, discovering the shop’s deepest secrets.

A voice greets him as he finishes his circuit of the small shop, “How can I help you today?”

Draco smiles in greeting, “I’m hoping you have these ingredients,” he says, handing you his long list.

You read over the list, “I do. I have all of these – would you like to take them now or would you like them delivered…” you trail off, looking at him for his name.

“Draco Malfoy. I’m the Potions Professor at Hogwarts.”

“Draco,” You confirm, “I can get these for you now unless you’d like them sent to Hogwarts?”

“Now is fine,” he smiles, “I’m intrigued by your collection if I’m honest.”

You laugh, nodding knowingly, “It’s my pride and joy.”

Draco agrees, leaning on the counter, “It’s bigger than my stockroom if I’m being honest.”

“Now that makes me even happier.” You declare, pointing at the Professor.

The ingredients take time to be collected, but the silence that should be awkward, isn’t. It’s filled with conversation after conversation about the curriculum at Hogwarts and how long Cauldron Bubble has been open.

Draco admits to himself, as you finish tying the final string bow on his parcels, that he feels a little sad about leaving. He had enjoyed his time with you regardless of how short it had been; he felt as if he knew you. He felt as if he could form a friendship with you.

You hand him his parcels in a paper bag, smiling, “I hope to see you again soon,” you say in goodbye.

Draco smiles at you, “I hope to come back soon.” He offers as his parting.

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On a bleak January morning, Draco walks into your shop, stamping his feet to get the last of the sharp, winter cold out of his body.

“To what do I owe this pleasure?” You smile.

Draco grins in reply, handing over his list, “Another stock up.”

“Another? You came in before Christmas as I remember.” You smirk at the blonde-haired man, “Did someone miss me?”

Draco blushes, stuttering out his answer, “The… the students have had a few weeks off, they’ll have fallen into old habits with potion ingredients.”

You laugh, “You are one smoother thinker, Draco. It’s a good job I knew you were coming; I have your usual stock set aside.” You read down his list, checking you have everything put away, but you stop at one item. “Agrimony?”

“It’s coming up to Valentine’s Day.” Draco offers as explanation.

One of the properties of Agrimony is that it can break enchantments. Draco uses the yellow flower in his antidote for love potions. He frowns at the thought of how much antidote he would have to brew for those on the receiving end of an unwanted love potion. If he could ban any potion, it would be Amortentia. Not that he didn’t believe in love or anything along those lines, but the effects of Amortentia are never real and the aftermath is often worse than being under its spell.

Through his last two Valentine’s Days at Hogwarts as Potions Professor, he had to comfort countless students through the aftermath of the potion as well as deduct house points and hand out detentions to the students who think it funny to unknowingly drug a fellow student.

In his antidote for students, Draco also sprinkles in the petals of Feverfew and Boneset to ensure protection from enchantments or a broken heart, Draco never knows but he makes sure that his students are protected, nonetheless.

You nod at Draco, understanding the need for a potion to break enchantments through this particular holiday. “Here’s your Agrimony as well as your usual stock, is there anything else you need?”

Draco thinks it over, “I better stock up on Boneset, Feverfew, and Adder’s Tongue too.”

You raise an eyebrow, “It’s a very thorough potion you’re making here, Draco.”

He nods, “Too many students are drugged with the Amortentia potion and little is done to control it so I do what I can to protect any student I can.”

“That’s a wonderful thing to do, Draco.” You say quietly; touched by his words.

“I don’t just make potions with the plants and herbs. I make charms to go in their bags and to hang in their rooms too. Anything to protect.” Draco states; thinking back to a group of fifth year girls who had become targets by a group of sixth year boys; each girl suffering through a love potion before coming down from its high. Draco had made sure they each had a charm to carry in their bag as well as a vial of the antidote should one of them ingest the potion again.

You nod silently; overcome by the emotion in his words. You know then and there just how dedicated Draco was to his profession and the students he sees every day. You hand him his bag of herbs and plants with a smile which he returns before walking to the door.

He’s almost out the door when your voice calls out again, “Draco, I know we don’t know each other very well except for when you need to fill your stockroom, but you’re a good teacher and a good man – you know that right?”

He turns to you with his hand on the door handle; silver lining his eyes, “Thank you.” He whispers before opening the door and leaving.

-----

Your words play on his mind through the week leading up to Valentine’s Day and the week after the holiday too. He spends all of his spare time in the hospital wing with Madame Pomfrey; offering the antidote and words of comfort to each and every student that come in with symptoms of being drugged with Amortentia.

From Madame Pomfrey’s ceaseless ranting through those two weeks, Draco knows that she feels just as strongly about the need to rid the world of a potion like Amortentia.

Draco starts to think of you more and more, especially after each visit to Cauldron Bubbles where you go through his ingredient list with the practiced precision of a Potioneer.

His feelings for you really do take him by surprise. It comes with elation as he finally has a name for the butterflies in his stomach and the racing of his heart whenever he thinks of your smile or your focused look as you check and recheck the ingredients on the list.

He starts to visit Cauldron Bubble more often; making his way through the Professors at Hogwarts to see if they may possibly need something for their class. Professor Trelawney always has something for him to pick up, and Draco feels the urge to apologise to her for every time he was rude to her when he was a teenager.

Draco’s feelings for you only increase with each visit. He craves to see your face light up when he walks in the door; the bell above the door announcing his arrival. The light flirting with each visit was pushing him towards something more.

If only he could think of how to tell you.

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Draco ropes Madame Pomfrey into his plans to woo you; though she doesn’t necessarily know that

“Please, Poppy, you must have something you need to stock up on… I mean Madame Pomfrey,” Draco corrects when he meets her glare.

She raises an eyebrow, unimpressed with the former student, “You’re awfully interested in my stock cupboard, Mr. Malfoy. Whatever for?”

“Call it my New Year’s Resolution.”

“It’s May,” Madame Pomfrey nonchalantly reminds him, replacing the water jugs at the side of each hospital bed.

“Of the New Year,” Draco emphasises, following her, “And mine is to help more. So are you sure there is nothing I can’t get you?”

Madame Pomfrey sighs, bustling back to her desk. She notes down a few ingredients, “I’m running low on these herbs and plants for a tea I brew so you can get these for me.”

Draco beams, taking the list, even going so far as to kiss Madame Pomfrey on the cheek before sprinting back to his private quarters where he can floo to Diagon Alley… and to you.

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“Draco!” You call, “Back already? You aren’t due another visit for oh… another week or so.” Your eyes alight with mirth as you pick fun at the Professor.

He blushes, waving his list in the air, “Sent on an errand by Madame Pomfrey.”

“Don’t keep it to yourself! Hand it over, let’s see what Madame Pomfrey needs.” You cover your mouth to stifle the laugh as you read over the list from Draco, “Madame Pomfrey gave you this list did she?”

“Handed it to me herself, why?”

“Draco, to say you’re a Potions Professor, you can be quite dense.”

He frowns; you laugh at his puzzled expression. “Madame Pomfrey sent you to get the ingredients for a tea that curbs the menstrual cycle. A form of contraception.”

Draco doesn’t need to look into a mirror to know he’s blushing; he can feel the heat radiating from his cheeks – he’s sure it could heat his own cauldron. “Ah,” he begins, “Well, that’s a very responsible thing to have in a school like Hogwarts, wouldn’t you say?”

You nod, “Very much so. Madame Pomfrey to be admired.”

“Yes, I agree.”

“And you as well. For being her humble servant for this task.”

Draco rubs his hand across the back of his neck. “It was nothing. Truthfully, I pestered her until she gave me a list of ingredients.”

“Now why would you do that?”

“To see you,” He admits, eyes shining with truth.

“You pestered the Matron of Hogwarts for a list of ingredients… all to see me?”

He nods silently. Your eyes crinkle with your smile, “That has to be the cutest thing anyone has ever done for me. How long have you been coming here to see me as well as to get potion ingredients?”

Some part of Draco wants to scream as he admits, “Since January.”

“That long?” You ask, eyes wide.

He nods again.

“Why didn’t you just ask me to dinner?”

“I didn’t want to offend you and lose you as my stockist.”

You laugh, “I’ve been waiting for you to ask me out since January you know?”

“No, I didn’t know.” He almost shouts; hating the fact that he could have been dating you all this time but was too scared to make a move.

“And you wouldn’t lose me as your stockist even if we did date.”

“No?”

“Haven’t you noticed that I’ve been undercharging you for your ingredients?”

Draco does the quick math in his head; thinking of how healthy his department budget had been when he handed it in to McGonagall back in March. “No… I didn’t notice.”

You nod your head slowly, “That was my way of flirting as well as the open ended questions.”

Draco rubs a hand over his face, “I can’t believe we’ve been dancing around each other for this long.”

Laughing you make your way from behind the counter. You pull his hands from his face, keeping them in yours, “Hey Draco, want to go to dinner with me?”

He grins down at you; letting the joy run through his body, “I’d love to.”

******

General (HP) taglist: @chaotic-fae-queen @obsessedwithrandomthings @harrypotter289 @dreamer821 @kalimagik @heloisedaphnebrightmore @nebulablakemurphy @the-hufflefluffwriter @figlia--della--luna @bforbroadway @idont-knowrn

Draco Malfoy taglist: @the--queen-of-hell @obxmxybxnk @obx-beach

#draco malfoy x reader #Draco Malfoy #draco malfoy fanfiction #draco malfoy fanfic #draco lucius malfoy #draco malfoy one shot #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy x y/n #draco x reader #draco x you #draco fanfiction #draco x y/n #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter fanfic #draco fluff #draco fanfic #draco malfoy fluff #harry potter imagines

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dclsbaby · 3 years

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mykonos-crossed lovers (part ii) 🦋

🎶 playlist for part ii

prologue

part i

part iii

part iv

Summary: When you drunkenly book a girls trip to a tropical Greek island to help mend your broken heart, you would never for a second think it will take you exactly to where he is. Him. A tale of the right person at the wrong time, an overused cliché made into plots of movies you never thought would live through in your reality. Two people, still madly in love with each other, hearts still broken, suppressed by the alcohol and distractions consumed on this trip. Will they let their egos get in the way, protect what’s left of their already broken hearts, or will let their hearts speak?

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: angst angst and more angst

Author’s Note: part 2 is finally out! thank you so much for the continued love on MCL, i can't accurately put into words how much it means to me seeing all the positive responses! i hope i haven't upset you too much on last chapter’s cliffhanger, and if so, i hope this one makes up for it a little bit 🤍 please let me know what you think! xx

Gif:

***

“It’s funny, I’ve flown out to this island to forget you, yet here you are. I can’t ever get away from you can I?” Dom asks, rather rhetorically. Shocked, you turn your head and see your ex standing in front of you, in Mykonos, of all places. You cringed at his honesty, but you can’t say you didn’t escape to the warmer climates for the same reason. “Hi, Dom,” you smile at him. “The boys are here?” you ignore his initial remark. “Yeah, Mase, Davo, and Ben are sat there,” he gestures to a table close by yours. “Luke’s flying out tomorrow”, he says. “So the full team,” you comment. “It seems you’re in for quite a holiday then,” you add.

He walks ahead to stand next to you, his toned arms resting on the white border, dangerously close to yours and he takes in the view you’ve been absorbing. Silence fills the space between you two. A little to quiet for both of your likings, you could’ve sworn you heard your heart beat out of your chest. You decide to break the silence.

“So, how’ve you been?” you asked, voice a little shaky, unsure if you even wanted to know. You looked up at Dom, and caught him sniggering at the question. “Never better,” he raises his eyebrows. “Got my call-up, ball finding the back of the net week in week out, all’s well. You?” he shifts his body to look at you. “Well,” you pause to face him. “I’m on a tropical island with my girls, away from work and grey British skies, so I’m enjoying it,” you replied.

“British Vogue is it?” he asks. You landed the job a couple of months after your breakup. It was the job you needed to make a life out of yourself, to have a career you loved. It was a job you left him for. So, to say that you were good at it was an understatement. If you had to endure the pain of a devastating heartbreak for your career, it had to mean everything to you. And it was. It had been your dream job for as long as you could remember, you have always loved fashion, and this love was complemented when you began dating your ex who has an eccentric fashion sense, always straying away from the mainstream mediocrity, which somehow, he always pulls off. It’s a gift.

“Yeah, how’d you know?”, you were curious. “Mum’s told me about it, she’s proud of you, by the way,” he stops to look at you. “Sounds like a big deal,” he says as he lets out a small smile. It’s the first time he’s ever shown some warmth since the conversation started. You smile back at him and nodded. “It’s been my dream since forever, if you remember,” you look up at him. “And that’s lovely from your mum, do let her know that I miss her,” your heart warms thought of his mum. “Of course you do, you two would gang up on me whenever she’s around,” Dom chuckles. “Only because we both know how obnoxious you could be,” you joke. “Obnoxious enough for you to break my heart I see,” he jokes as he smiles at you sadly. “I d-didn’t mean it like that,” you feel terrible. “I know, I was messing with you,” he lied. A part of him wants you to know that his heart is still broken.

Two people, former lovers, with so much shared memories, once each other’s worlds, reunite in unexpected circumstances.

“I miss you, you know,” Dom says. Your head turns to face him as you try to catch a look of his eyes that are looking down on his fingers. Standing at 6’2, you had to crane your neck to properly look at him. A painfully gorgeous man, his green-hazel eyes still shine so bright despite the evening sky, lips so full waiting to be touched, his curly locks tied up in a bun only to accentuate his perfectly sculpted jaws. He is so beautiful, the pain so visceral, so intense.

***flashback***

“It’s not fair,” your best friend said. “You two would make the most gorgeous babies,” you and Dom chuckled at her comment. “When they’ve got a mother with a face like this I’d imagine it to be difficult to not produce beautiful babies,” Dom says as he cups your face and plants a kiss on your forehead. “You did not just say ‘produce’!” you move away from him, jokingly made a disgusted face and laughed at his choice of words.

Later that night as you two were tucked in bed, you drift off into a daydream which caught Dom’s attention. “What are you thinking of in that little head of yours babe?” he asked. You softly smile at him. “You really think we’d have babies?” you asked as you look at him. “What do you mean?” he asks, shifting his body so it’s resting on his side, with his knuckles supporting his head up. “I mean, is this where we are headed?”, you clarified. Dom runs his fingers through your hair. “I absolutely wouldn’t mind having babies with you,” he pauses as he moves closer to you. “I want no one else more than you, to be the mother of my children, my partner through it all,” he looks at you with loving eyes. “You mean it?” you asked, a little surprised at his honesty. “I’ve never meant anything more in my life,” he says as he pulls your body closer to his.

***

Dreams of starting a family with who you thought was the love of your life quickly shatter as you realise where you were; stood in front of him, both with hearts that need mending.

“Don’t do this,” you quietly say as you stare into his eyes. “What? It’s true,” he shrugs. “I miss you and I thought you should know. You should know how much you’re hurting me by not being with me,” Dom confesses. The alcohol has definitely kicked in, Dom thought to himself. Liquid courage got him pouring out the subconscious thoughts he’d never unlock without a little help. “Dom, please. You don’t mean it, you don’t know what you’re talking about,” you close your eyes for a second. “You’ve had a lot to drink, you should go be with the guys,” you say as you take your arms off the wall. “Come, I’ll take you back,” you say as you lightly push his elbow to lead the way.

“What more do I have to do to show you that I am still in love with you? Fuck’s sake,” he says as he mutters the last two words. He quickly turns around to face you, shocking you in the process as you drop your arm. “I don’t know, Dom, maybe not have tabloids put pictures of you and different girls on its covers I’d assume?” you sarcastically said, referencing to the covers you have seen of him from the week before.

Dom cringed at your comment and shakes his head. “You seriously can’t believe what those tabloids say-they blow things out of proportion!” he says as he flails his arm out of frustration. “And did you expect me not to see other people? What was I supposed to do, sit and mope around, waiting for you to come back to me? Please, do enlighten me!” he encourages. “Tell me how I can get over you because I am desperate to get you out of my fucking head,” he rants angrily, loud enough to get the attention of several guests.

He pauses to catch his breath. Before opening his mouth again to spill his suppressed thoughts.

“You were my heart, my soul, my whole fucking body—my entire life revolved around you!” he yelled, not as loud, but his frustration was emphasised as he stresses every syllable. Every bit of pride he held onto dissipates, showing his true feelings that still held onto you.

Offended, you retaliated. “You act as if I didn’t do the same for you! But I’m not stood here telling you how much I’ve missed you after I’ve fucked about with random guys!” you replied, matching his volume.

“I’ve never fucked anyone since you, so don’t ever fucking accuse me of that,” he says in disgust. “And you have no right to tell me how I should cope, when you left me! You were the one who left!”, he points at you repeatedly. “You left me with nothing,” he says nearly out of breath, and drops his arms to his sides.

“It surely didn’t seem like it when you go through girls like they’re some kind of pitstop!” you angrily responded. “I was fucking hurt! You fucking broke me! I was sad and desperate, give me a fucking break!” he says as he brings his hands to his forehead. “And don’t act so innocent,” he spits out. You give him a confused face, unsure as to what he meant. “I know you’ve been out with him,” he emphasises. “Yeah, our friends talk,” he states the obvious.

You knew who he was talking about. The friend he fell out with, another footballer friend. Things got too competitive, the words exchanged at the end of a match too harsh to redeem with a handshake. The same friend who could’ve sworn he chatted you up first, but you and Dom’s connection was too strong to deny. Of course, it was nothing like he insinuated. His friend, or, former friend, rather, had dipped his toes into the world of fashion, which caught the attention of your seniors. They assigned you to an interview with him, knowing your connections in the sporting industry and knowledge of it, as you dated a footballer after all. “Th-that was nothing,” you shake your head in disbelief, shocked at what you’re being accused of. “Bullshit,” he curses. He still remembers the day he saw you two on the news. Dominic Calvert-Lewin’s Ex Moves On with His England Teammate?, the headline says. Beneath it were pictures of his former friend sitting opposite you, as you two enjoy each other’s company at his favourite breakfast place in London. It is your favourite too. He recalls trying to ignore the jealousy, he tried to stop reading gossip sites that had the tendency to over-exaggerate, but he couldn’t. It made him angry, so angry, he threw his phone across the room and smashed it into a wall, its screen shattering. Sick and nauseous, he ran to the bathroom and dunk his head into a toilet bowl, dispensing the contents of that day’s breakfast. The effect you had on him was still potent and undying.

Your conversation was interrupted when you feel a hand wrap its fingers around the back of your arm, surprising you as you jump a little. “Hi, hun, everything okay?”, asked two of your friends, who spotted you as they were making their way to the bathroom. You nodded and gave them a smile, “I’m okay,” you whispered. They were beyond shocked to have seen Dom, but they knew better than to mention the obvious. “Give us a shout if you need anything,” your other friend says softly. You nodded. Your friends waved at Dom, then walked to where they were headed, which Dom did the same before you two returned to your conversation.

You take a deep breath before speaking. “You know I never meant to hurt you, Dom,” you look at him with sad eyes. “You know why I had to end things with you, I honestly thought you understood,” you say as you try your best to blink the tears away. “No, I never understood, and I still fucking don’t,” he says as his large hand grips the surface of the wall.

“None of this makes any sense to me! I understand that it is important for you to prioritise your career, be in control of your life or whatever it was you said,” he throws a hand up. “But I will never understand why you had to sacrifice me in the process, of all things,” he replies with absolute honesty. “So, what? You expect me to drop every possibility of starting a career instead, and invest all my time and energy in you?” you ask in disbelief. “That’s not fair, Dom!” you argue.

Dom throws his head back out of frustration as you cross your arms. “I would’ve fully supported you every step of the way, given you the space you needed, anything!” he responds. “But instead you left, and took my entire life with you,” he argues back, panting as he tried to catch his breath. “You didn’t have to leave,” he quietly says.

You two look at each other in silence, both feeling the pain the other endured. The pain heavy, overwhelming, a sinking feeling.

“I wasn’t trying to compromise you,” you say softly. “I had felt so detached from myself and made you the centre of my life and I was fucking terrified, Dom,” you try to justify yourself. “Had you left me at any point, I wouldn’t have survived it,” you sigh.

“Had I left you? How could you ever assume that? You think I am strong enough to be apart from you for even just a day? For fuck’s sake,” he curses as he closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose out of frustration.

“I never said you would, I said if you did,” you clarify.

“So, you’re saying you left me purely due to a hypothetical scenario? Come fucking on. Don’t you fucking get it?,” he pauses. “You left me because you were afraid you couldn’t live without me, when that was never the case to begin with. If anything, it was the other way around,” he mutters the last sentence, just enough for you to hear.

“What?”, you asked, looking up at him.

“If one of us were to be too attached to the other person, it would be me. I’m not even fucking ashamed to admit that. I’m just pissed you assumed I could ever leave you. And that you broke my heart,” he reveals, a little too much for his liking but he didn’t care. You had to know.

“I-I never knew you were this upset,” you reply, still trying to process what he just said. “Clearly,” Dom says with sarcasm. “All you do is assume,” he comments. “That’s not fair,” you respond. “None of this is,” he quickly says. “I’m sorry I hurt you, I hope you know I would never intentionally do anything to make you feel that way,” you try to assure him. “Yeah okay,” he looks away.

Silence fills the room once again. What used to only be comfortable silence between you two turned into awkward, deafening silence. Silence between two people still in love with one another, both stubborn, both hotheaded, both their egos in the way.

You hated this. You wanted out. Your heart could no longer handle the different coexisting emotions, the sadness, anger, exasperation, confusion, equally intense, equally felt. It was all too much.

“I-I think I’m just going to go, it’s been lovely to see you, I'm sorry again Dom, truly. Have a great-“, “You’re fucking joking,” he cuts you off and shakes his head. You sigh, surprised at this interruption. “What now, Dom?” you asked, a little agitated.

“You’re leaving? After I’ve poured my heart out to you? Fucking pathetic that,” he said angrily. “What else was I supposed to say, Dom! I told you I was sorry, I told you I didn’t mean to hurt you! What more do you want?”, you responded with aggravation.

“YOU! I want you! How could you be so dense? Honestly, fuck this—you broke my fucking heart and I am not going to let you walk away from me again,” he gestures angrily. “This time I’m leaving you, have a great fucking night,” he says as he storms off, taking half of your heart with him.

At that moment, it felt as though every effort you had put into moving on, all your self-care nights, girls night outs, mental health days, music playlists of happy songs, immersing yourself in work, suddenly meant nothing. All your efforts were countered, destroyed after seeing him again for the first time in months. All you could do was stand there and watch him leave you standing alone, under the blue Mykonos sky with the most breathtaking view of the island, whilst heartbroken once again. The perfect irony.

You were left in shock. You could see Dom walking through the crowd where everybody was partying from your peripheral vision. It took him way too quickly for your liking to wrap his arms around a certain blonde-haired girl in a blue dress you recognised from tabloid pictures. You feel a sharp pain in your chest from a sight you never wanted to see. You knew you had no right to feel this way since you were the one who left, but it hurt you nonetheless.

Two things could’ve come out of this scenario. You could a) suck it up, take three straight tequila shots and party the night away with your girls, who are increasingly growing concerned about your whereabouts, or b) you could call it a night and figure your heart out.

After moments of deliberation, you chose the latter option. The intense conversation you had with Dom was too emotionally draining for you to continue on. Seeing your ex on the exact trip you booked with your girls to remedy your heartache, listening to him tell you how much you’ve broken his heart, how he wants you, but proceed to wrap his arms around another girl minutes after, all in one night... you could not bear it all. You quietly made a swift exit and made sure to text your girls’ group chat as you’re walking.

Babes, I’m heading back to the villa. Rough night. Details tomorrow. Will leave some paracetamol on the counter. Be safe and have a blast! Love you. X

You took the furthest route towards the exit door away from the party scene, not giving your friends a chance to even stop you. You wrap your arms around your body, holding yourself together as your heart crumbles. The only affection you could seek from is yourself. The pain of growth slowly paying off, as you manage to at least leave the scene in one piece.

However, despite extra efforts to not get noticed, Dom caught you slipping out of the club.

You stood outside the breezy Mykonos night and waited for your taxi to come. What just happened? You thought to yourself. You were a bit tipsy from the drinks, your tired body making you feel a little delirious. It seemed like it was all a dream, a nightmare perhaps, but it isn’t. That actually happened. You inhale the fresh air, and pace your breathing to calm your nerves. The background music spilling from the narrow gaps of the doors slowly fade as you close your eyes and focus on your peace.

Peaceful silence suddenly interrupted by a loud sound of doors bursting open.

What the fuck was that? you thought to yourself as you turn your head towards the loud noise. Your heart nearly stopped when you saw Dom clumsily stumble through the door. “What are you doing?” you asked, completely taken aback. “I saw you walk out,” he says out of breath. “And I know you like to go on walks to clear your head. I was making sure you weren’t, this isn’t the place where you could do that safely,” he continued. “I know, I’m waiting for a taxi,” you say quietly. Dom nodded. “Okay,” he looks away. “Be safe,” he says as he looks at you one last time. You look at him with a sad smile and nod.

As Dom retreats back into the club, he had to hold his chest, clutching where his heart is to contain the pain of seeing you force a smile at him, it was too intense, he couldn’t bear it. He wanted nothing more than to pull you into his arms and tell you again how in love with you he is, but he knows his heart can’t take another heartache.

So Dom does what he does best, fake a smile, join his friends, and power through the night despite the building anxiety of being away from you. He feels sick to his stomach and would love nothing more than to call it a night. He goes on to reject every girl who threw themselves at him left and right, which Mason took notice of.

“Mate you okay? You don’t seem like yourself,” asks Mason. “(Y/N). She’s here. Well, she was,” Dom says. “Here? In Mykonos?”, Mason asks in disbelief. Dom nods his head. “Shit. What happened?” asked his concerned friend. “Told her she broke my heart. I lost my head. Told her I want her, then walked away,” muttered Dom as he looks down to play with his fingers. “Mate, I mean, do you still want her? Even after everything you went through?” Mason asks carefully, cautious to push any buttons.

Dom takes a deep breath.

“There is nothing in this life I want more than her,” he spills, looking at his friend dead in the eye.

“You know what you have to do, Dom.” Mason says.

#dominic calvert lewin #dominic calvert lewin imagine #dominic calvert lewin imagines #dominic calvert lewin blurb #mclfic

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thedeevirus · 3 years

Text

Nygmobblepot Ficlet; ‘The Direct Approach’

And now for a break in your holiday cheer; an angsty Nygmobblepot fic featuring Batman. Hope you all enjoy! ***

The candles flickered and Oswald felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise. On the wall in front of him loomed a foreboding silhouette.

‘Let me guess’, Oswald said, not turning around, ‘He’s not coming. You couldn’t have shown up to tell me that any sooner?’

‘Where’s Riddler?’ the dark figure asked quietly.

Oswald took a sip of whiskey to moisten his throat. Even though he and the so-called Batman had an arrangement, a truce of sorts, the vigilante remained an intimidating figure. He was grateful he had given the staff the night off. The last thing he needed was more traumatised bouncers and waiters.

‘Merry Christmas to you too’, he replied, ‘Help yourself, there’s plenty’.

Batman didn’t even seem to notice the lavish (albeit increasingly cold) feast laid out in front of Oswald as he walked into the Penguin’s line of view. Oswald avoided Batman’s hard stare and distracted himself by mentally listing the items displayed on the table; a turkey with stuffing, mashed potatoes, cranberry sauce-

‘Where. Is. Riddler?’

‘I. Heard. You. The. First. Time’, Oswald said, irritated at Batman’s theatrics, ‘He’s exactly where he promised me that he wouldn’t be, at the exact time he promised he would be here enjoying this little dinner I spent all afternoon preparing’.

He scowled at the table. Okay his personal chef had prepared it but Oswald had paid him handsomely for the privilege and he had set the table himself. Fat lot of good it had done. They had only started celebrating Christmas at Ed’s suggestion in the first place. Oswald hadn’t done it since his mother had passed years ago. She had insisted on putting up a tree every year. Despite being raised Jewish, she had loved the lights, proclaiming, ‘So twinkly! So beautiful! Like a storybook!’ Another person he loved missing from the table. Oswald’s frustration finally gave him the courage to glare at Batman directly.

‘Couldn’t you have taken one night off?!’

‘He’s taken hostages’.

‘Nobody I know’, Oswald shrugged, ‘Try again’.

Batman’s eyes lingered on the tall ice sculpture Oswald had selected as a centrepiece for the table. The carved leaping penguin’s eyes seemed to widen under the ‘Dark Knight’s’ threatening glare and the long neck (already melting) suddenly seemed very fragile and the head very heavy. Batman’s leathery fists tightened.

‘Look, can we at least discuss this civilly?’ Oswald said, half rising as he understood the threat, ‘I’m sure we can come to an arrangement. ‘Tis the season of goodwill after all’.

‘What do you want?’ Batman asked, folding his arms.

‘I’ll tell you where Ed is, you get the hostages then you let him go’, Oswald said, ‘He comes here to me and you leave us alone. A Christmas amnesty’.

‘Not both of you’.

‘Then no deal’, Oswald sniffed haughtily, even as his mind raced to come up with an alternative solution, ‘I’m sure he’s sent you one of his envelopes so you’d better get deciphering. Before it’s too late’.

Batman threw something onto the table. A blackened piece of card. Oswald picked it up and could just about make out the GCPD address on it written in Ed’s handwriting. Oswald’s heart sank.

‘It was disguised as a Christmas bonus paycheque. Two officers are in the hospital. I can’t ignore this’.

Oswald gritted his teeth. It was part of their deal. Oswald would not target the GCPD and Batman would turn a blind eye to some of his ‘less savoury’ activities. Oswald had made Ed promise to avoid the GCPD as well, omitting the part about Batman and instead emphasising the logic of such a position. Why attract that level of attention? Why pain a target on your back? It had taken a long conversation but Ed had finally promised Oswald that he wouldn’t target the GCPD. He had promised. Oswald dropped his gaze and inadvertently caught sight of Ed’s empty chair at the table. Just like he had promised he would never miss another dinner.

Batman extended a hand for the card and Oswald exploded, flinging it at him.

‘And whose fault is that?! Up until you started lurking on rooftops, he was stable! Oh fine maybe not ‘stable’ but at least he listened to me! Kept things low key! But now beating you is all he cares about!’

‘I don’t have time for his games’, Batman growled dismissively.

Oswald threw his whiskey glass at the wall. It shattered, casting crystalline fragments around like Christmas confetti. Batman did not react which only made Oswald angrier.

‘You think I haven’t told him that?! You and I both know there are far worse things for you to occupy yourself with now instead of Ed. Gotham was always crazy but ever since you flew back into town, it’s gotten worse than ever!’

Oswald’s words rang throughout the Iceberg Lounge. He stiffened, realising what he had just admitted. He bit his tongue, furious that he had left his ace in the hole slip out but conscious that the only move was to keep going.

‘Oh, do I detect surprise beneath the mask?’ he teased with a confidence he did not feel, ‘Yes. I know who you really are. Only one person would have enough money to waste on nonsense like this. And be crazy enough to waste it on Gotham’.

Oswald knew he was bluffing. Batman’s face (what he could see of it) had remained completely impassive. He might as well have been made of stone. Oswald knew from experience that his punches certainly felt like it.

‘You seem sure of your theory’, Batman said.

The corner of his mouth had kinked. Oswald didn’t know if it was a smile or not. He also didn’t know if it was a good or bad thing.

Oswald laughed bitterly.

‘Don’t worry, I know nobody will ever believe me. I’m not like Ed. I have nothing to prove and I know when I’m outgunned. Besides, if you are who I think you are, I always had a soft spot for you. We’re both orphans after all. Though we seem to have coped with that in drastically different ways’.

Batman’s ‘smile’ vanished.

‘You said you could keep Nygma under control’, he said, the barest hint of accusation in his tone.

Oswald was surprised to feel shame filling the pit of his stomach at Batman’s disappointed air. He filled another glass with whiskey and knocked it back in one swig. The damned holidays always made him sentimental.

‘I used to be able to’, he said quietly, ‘He was taking his medication and we set time aside for date…’ He sniffed hard and chuckled. ‘Why am I even telling you this? It’s not like you care’.

‘I care about innocent people getting hurt. Maybe assuming you would too is giving you too much credit but you obviously care about Nygma. Get him to stop these games and he gets the same deal you do’.

Oswald shook his head, looking defeated.

‘I haven’t told him about our little arrangement. He’ll never agree to help you. And he won’t stop. It’s who he is. He’s a genius. He’s the Riddler’.

‘Who hasn’t figured out you’re working with me’.

Oswald slammed the glass down, stung by the taunt. And by his own dishonesty. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Ed! It was just…easier to be flexible. You had to be practical in this town! There were rules! At least there used to be. Oswald still had rules.

‘Only because he trusts me! I can’t betray him! I won’t!’

Oswald bit his lip. His voice had cracked treacherously. He inhaled and exhaled slowly. He needed to regain control. Needed to maintain his dignity.

‘If you love him, you need to put his needs before your own. He needs help’.

Oswald turned away. His eyes were moist. He cursed his decision to only use the table candles for illumination. He knew now how Ed could hate Batman so much. Hate him being right.

‘You save people’, Oswald said though gritted teeth, ‘Can you save him?’

‘He belongs in Arkham’.

The tone was gentler than Oswald knew he deserved but he couldn’t prevent a shuddering sigh from escaping his mouth. Hearing the same thought that had been building and building for weeks spoken aloud was jarring. Was Batman telepathic? There were stranger things in Gotham.

Oswald’s artificial eye ached. It always did when he was stressed and it and it had been getting worse. Just like Ed’s delusions had been getting worse. The obsessions, hallucinations, irritability, lack of self-care, insomnia… Oswald had found his meds in the trash that morning. Unopened for the last two weeks. Ed had sworn he had been taking them. It turned out they were both liars. Oswald looked at Batman and realised with horror that Batman was waiting for Oswald’s response. For his permission. And Oswald’s skin crawled at the relief he felt.

‘Is it true that y-that the Wayne Foundation has changed things there?’ Oswald asked.

He locked eyes with Batman. Searching them. He wasn’t sure if he was looking for honesty or the opposite. He had the awful feeling he was just looking for some way out. Something to help him do what he had to. He loved Ed. He did. But he wasn’t what Ed needed right now.

‘Yes’.

Oswald could endure Ed’s resentment. Even his hate. He had been on the receiving end before. He could do it again. He would do it a thousand times as long as Ed was safe. His artificial eye impossibly pulsed in its socket. He struggled to stop his eye twitching.

‘Do you trust the people there?’

‘Yes’.

‘And-and you promise he won’t get hurt? I know he’ll try to hurt you but he’s not a fighter and you know that so please don’t-‘

Batman held up a gloved hand. Oswald blinked hard as the metallic knuckles on the material caught the light.

‘I promise I won’t hurt him’, Batman said.

Oswald was startled to find he believed it. And heartbroken that he could believe that more than anything Ed had said recently.

He sat back down in his chair, both hands clasped around his now empty glass.

‘He’s hiding in the old Gotham Gazette office in The Narrows’, Oswald said robotically, ‘There are tripwires at the entrance and the vents are mined but the passcode to his bunker is 1690. Apparently, it’s when the first issue of Publick Occurrences was published‘.

Batman lifted his arm and began to input what Oswald assumed were coordinates into a hidden compartment in the suit. There was an affirmative beep. To Oswald it sounded like a death knell. He leant down hard on his knees. They were shaking.

‘He’ll know you told me’, Batman said.

Oswald sneered at the subtle concern in Batman’s voice. Oh now he cared?! How touching. Nobody else did.

‘How? You going to tell him?’

‘No’.

‘Then he’ll just assume you figured it out’, Oswald shrugged savagely, ‘He always says you’re the world’s greatest detective. High praise. Though I’m sure some of those fancy toys give you an edge’.

‘He doesn’t share your theory about who I really am?’

‘The answer’s too obvious for him to accept. The one time I told him about it, he thought I was making a joke at his expense. Now get out of here. He gets antsy when he thinks he’s being ignored and I have a mess to clean up’.

Oswald turned away, signalling that the exchange was over. He leant his elbows on the table, feeling tired and drained.

‘I’ll arrange visitation rights for you’.

‘I’m sure you’ll come up with some way for me to return the favour’, Oswald snarled, ‘Now for the last time, get out’.

Why couldn’t Batman just leave him alone?! What else did he expect Oswald to do?! Wasn’t Ed enough for him?! The only person Oswald cared about?! Did he want him gift wrapped?!

‘No need. I know how it feels to miss someone on Christmas’.

Oswald did not reply and he did not try to catch Batman leaving as he usually did. There was no point.

The sympathy in Batman’s words should have infuriated him. Batman’s audacity should have had him reaching for the umbrella gun concealed beneath the table. He should have been wondering if his theory about the vigilante’s true identity was indeed correct.

But he was just too damn tired.

He wanted another drink. He wanted to go to bed and just pass out. He wanted to have never made the stupid dinner in the first place. He wanted Ed. The Ed he loved back. He needed him here. With him.

But he had never gotten what he wanted for Christmas.

#nygmobblepot ficlet #nygmobblepot #edward nygma #Oswald Cobblepot

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wavesofinkdrops · 3 years

Text

Extempore, Ch. I

Read on AO3

Fenris/Dorian (Dragon Age), Rated: T (may get bumped up)

“Maybe Magister Pavus can take a holiday to clear his lungs at the summer home.”

Dorian flashed him a glare. “I don’t take holidays. I don’t get sick, I don’t leave, I don’t take random breaks when the Senate is in session.”

“You also don’t usually find yourself having been replaced into a different body, I presume?” Fenris asked, his voice unamused.

(Magister Pavus, bodyguard Fenris, and a bodyswap thrown on top. All of this promises hell.)

A/N: I do not have an explanation for this fic. It started off as an AU of an AU of an AU that a friend and I were joking about at 2 in the morning. So of course I ended up writing it. This is probably one of the most random fics I've ever written, and I hope you enjoy it!

Warnings: No warnings as of now, some warnings MAY apply in the future for Fenris' or Dorian's traumas that may get covered (this may also bump up the rating). Other than that, none that I can think of!

Chapter I: Opening Act

The starting point:

Magister Dorian Pavus woke up much like any usual morning, albeit entirely on the wrong side of his bed. At the time, this was not such a pressing issue.

Fenris, the elf that the Inquisitor had managed to convince into becoming the Magister’s bodyguard, sank further into the bed that felt like pure silk clouds that morning. This was definitely not a problem.

This all, however, did become a problem when Dorian noticed the flare of pain every slight movement brought in him, as he stretched himself out against the rough cotton pillows and sheets. It became a pressing issue when Fenris sat up, swung his legs over the side of the bed, and noticed the distinct lack of white lines against his skin and the lack of any sort of nightclothes on himself.

The progression:

What followed could briefly be summarised as mayhem. The realisation that somehow, through unknown forces, they had wound up in opposite bodies. Fenris now was trapped in the form of an Altus, a Magister at that, while Dorian inhabited an infamous walking lyrium experiment. It had led to a very interesting confrontation in the “Magister’s” chambers.

There was an incessant sensation that made Dorian feel like crawling out of his skin every passing second. The lyrium lines tugged and tingled at best, the feeling from the Fade strong particularly near Fenris—or rather, the body of a powerful mage, despite the fact that Fenris likely had no idea what to do with the magic at his fingertips. And he knew the familiar tug of the Fade, the way it was just within his reach—how he just wanted to reach out to it, and yet whenever he tried, it just brought a fresh stinging wave through the markings.

Fenris, on the other hand, felt oddly blank. There was no pain, there was nothing constantly on his mind and trying to take over his senses if he just let the chronic pain ever overwhelm him. There was just the presence of the Fade, devoid of its usual sting, and now merely… there. Peaceful, waiting for him. Wanting for him. He was curious to try reaching out in there, to see what it might do, but he was worried about what inexperienced magic use might cause. Both for him and Dorian, who already was laying seemingly in clear discomfort—Fenris doubted that adding to that a mage’s reach into the Fade would help the situation.

So their time that morning progressed with locking themselves up inside the room, Dorian trying to find a way to move past every thought and feeling swarming him like he was stuck in the middle of a wasp’s nest, while Fenris spent time trying to draw a plan and getting used to the moustache tickling his upper lip every second. It also was spent among various bickering arguments, one blaming the other for strange mage magic causing problems on purpose, the other blaming disturbances in the Fade from a breathing magical lyrium battery.

And the current situation?

Their disastrous morning had progressed into a sulking noon, the sun high in the sky. Dorian had taken some elfroot to temporarily ease the pain, since Fenris was not keen enough on trying any stabilising or soothing spells for the markings. They’d settled, Fenris in an armchair, casual robes draped over him, Dorian rubbing his temples in the chair behind the desk in their office.

“Well, we can’t appear like this,” Dorian finally snapped.

Fenris looked up, wanting to make a snide comment at the most obvious remark he’d heard in a while. Instead, he held his tongue, knowing that perhaps arguing with an already-irritated Dorian was not a good idea.

“Maybe Magister Pavus can take a holiday to clear his lungs at the summer home.”

Dorian flashed him a glare. “I don’t take holidays. I don’t get sick, I don’t leave, I don’t take random breaks when the Senate is in session.”

“You also don’t usually find yourself having been replaced into a different body, I presume?” Fenris asked, his voice unamused.

At that, Dorian paused. “I suppose this may be some… extenuating circumstances. I suppose it’s better than showing up and being accused of blood magic by the entire Magisterium.”

Admittedly, he wasn’t the first fan of the idea of losing his unbroken reputation of attendance at the Magisterium, but there was very little that was up to them, if they didn’t want to get discovered. He knew he was far too arrogant to act the appropriate part usually played by Fenris, and he knew that in return, Fenris disliked the Magisters and entire higher government enough to be unwilling to attend any sessions.

Dorian leaned back, eyeing his desk with disinterest. That was, until he noted the sheets of paper neatly stacked in the middle of the desk.

The bill of reforms.

Maker, he’d forgotten about that.

“Fenris,” he turned to the elf with wide eyes. “Fenris, you have to attend the next session.”

Fenris looked up at him, clearly considering Dorian insane.

“You cannot mean that.”

Dorian lifted the first page of the bill. “This bill is being debated on the floor of the Magisterium in five days’ time. I’ve already proposed the bill, I’ve coddled and promised and sweet-talked support for it. I need this reform to pass. Slaves need this reform to pass, Fenris,” Dorian emphasised, as realisation spread vividly onto Fenris’ features. Well, really, they were Dorian’s own, very handsome features, but with a distinctly Fenris expression.

“Fasta vass, I can’t debate the bill.” Fenris stood crossing over to the sheets and eyes skimming through them. “I don’t even understand it.”

Dorian waved him off. “You know the basics of the bill! I consulted you enough when I wrote this that you know what it’s about and what it’s meant to do. We’re perfectly settled on that end. The end we need to work on is getting you to argue it to the Magisters. Many of them see only their own advantages, so it’s just a question of making it seem like this is to their benefit, too.”

“You’ve already got all of this figured out when I haven’t even agreed to do it—can’t we just trust this with Maevaris? Call the Inquisitor, surely she’s seen all kinds of strange magic, including switched bodies?” Fenris picked at something at the end of a sleeve of his robe, the only one he’d been willing to put on.

Dorian pinched the bridge of his nose. “Do you want this bill to be doomed? If it doesn’t pass, it will be either forgotten or purposely blocked by another regulation that they’ll pass in its stead to prevent anything similar coming to the floor again!”

Fenris chewed on the inside of his lip. “I don’t know how you think I’m ever going to speak with the Magisters, let alone convince them of anything. I don’t debate. I prefer to solve things with a sword, it’s much cleaner than the poison in those silver-tongued words.”

“You cannot start a duel in the middle of the Magisterium, Fenris, I have a reputation and policies to protect!”

Fenris eyed him, not as amused as Dorian had seemed to hope that comment would make him. “Your reputation goes above your policies?”

“Of course, the second is nothing without the first. How do you think I would gather support for the bills without my undeniable wit and charm?” He tried for an equally charming smile, but it fell somewhat flat at Fenris’ look.

At that, Fenris scoffed.

“Listen,” Dorian continued, “we don’t have a plethora of options. We have five days from today to figure out what to do.”

“And you want to teach me how to act like a Magister.”

Dorian’s grin turned ominous as his machinations began working. “Oh, I can make you the perfect actor in two days! All I need is a day to cover the bill, really, and then after that, it’s more about making sure you preserve my impeccable reputation!”

Fenris considered the idea for a while. Finally, he leaned back in the chair, arms crossed. “I’ll agree to that.”

“Fantast—”

“ If you agree to train with my sword and act the part of my bodyguard. You’re not the only one with a reputation, and I can assure you, I won’t have a prissy Magister start ruining it.”

“Just who are you calling prissy —”

“That tone is exactly an example of what I mean.”

“I’ll have you know everyone considers my bodyguard a ruthless killer and it wouldn’t do him any harm—”

“That’s my condition, you take it or leave it, Pavus.”

Dorian glared at him. He mulled over it, before sighing as dramatically as he could manage. “If I must!”

#fenris #dorian pavus #dragon age #dragon age ii #dragon age inquisition #fenrian #my writing #fanfic #bodyswap au #i have no explanatuin for this #other than being fenrian trash #extempore

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ultrasofts · 3 years

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OH the bar scene in foreign car. i am still thinking about it...

oh it turns out this is extremely fun and indulgent...

fic link

Lando meets him for a drink in London.

He wasn’t around when Daniel did the rounds in Woking, but he’s in London a week later, and Daniel catches him just before he goes home for Christmas. [lando’s name constantly being mentioned in the previous section, is given further weight by the fact that he wasn’t even around; it’s meant to emphasise just how central he is to the team]

“Welcome to the team,” Lando says, eyebrows raised behind his glass. The bar they’re in is nice, nice enough that Lando should probably have ordered something fancier than a pint. But then, Lando’s wearing a hoodie with his own logo on it, so that’s clearly asking a bit much. [on his beyond the grind episode, lando talked about how much he likes to wear hoodies and making his own merch]

“Cheers,” Daniel says, clinking his glass against Lando’s harder than necessary, grinning at him when some of his beer slops over onto the table. [dan is arguably just as childish as lando, if slightly better-dressed]

“Excited for next year?” he asks, once Lando’s rolled his eyes and cleaned up the mess.

“Of course,” Lando says. “We killed it this year. I hope you are, too.”

“Of course,” Daniel echoes. “Can’t wait to see what you’re gonna bring.”

“God, it’s a bit early for that kind of talk isn’t it?” Lando kicks his leg under the table. “Can’t we just have a drink and not a dick measuring contest?”

Daniel kicks him right back. [more slightly childish behaviour. as much as this fic was trying to play with slightly different characterisations of the two of them, i didn’t want to stray to far from just...them]

“You started it,” he retorts, but they do manage to steer the conversation away from race talk, and towards holiday plans and a bit of paddock gossip.

Daniel’s got a flight first thing though, so after two drinks he stands up and stretches. [most drivers are lightweights imo]

“Alright, I’m going for a piss and then I should head out,” he says.

“Past your bedtime, old man?” Lando asks with a grin. Daniel flips him off.

The bar has bloody nice bathrooms, and Daniel takes an extra moment to check himself out in the big circular mirror hanging over the sinks. Objectively speaking, Daniel’s confident he’s gotten better looking with age [lando's old man comment got to him even if he doesn't make realise it]—hairline notwithstanding [per soup chat rules, no drivers are baldI(ing) in fic unless it's explicitly mentioned. daniel is definitely balding in this fic] —but it’s been a long six months and he looks pretty goddamn tired. He can’t wait to get home and sleep for a week.

“Should we get the bill?” he asks when he gets back to the table, and Lando bounces out of his seat.

“Already paid,” he says. [a little bit of a powerplay from lando, even though actual money is functionally meaningless to these two] “You good to go?”

They wait on the pavement outside for their Ubers. Almost fifteen years based in Europe hasn’t made Daniel any fonder of the continent in winter, and he tucks his nose inside the collar of his jacket against the chill London air. [partly me projecting how much i (an australian) fucking hated living in london in winter, but also meant to function as a reminder that daniel is a little bit of an outsider here….]

Lando looks largely unbothered by it [...in contrast with lando, who is perfectly at home] he’s got his head tipped back, looking up at the sky. London’s far too bright for even a single star to be visible, but Lando looks transfixed anyway. [throughout this scene, lando’s meant to be a bit hard to read, partly because i just think lando is kind of a weird guy who would do things like this, and partly as a way to keep daniel off-balance]

“Thanks for the drink,” Daniel says after a moment, starting to feel ignored.

“No problem.” Lando shrugs.

He looks at Daniel, tipping his head down from the invisible stars to Daniel’s face. Daniel’s aware, all at once, of how close together they’re standing, close enough that he could count Lando’s eyelashes if he wanted to. [just dude things, noticing another man's eyelashes]

“See you next year?” Lando says, and he makes it an actual question, rather than a simple farewell. [It's meant to be a bit ambiguous whether Daniel's reading too much into his tone, since he's a little off balance at the moment, but I'm not sure it comes through as clearly as i meant it to. i tried really hard in this fic, more than i normally would, to stay in dan's pov and let him be as unreliable a narrator as he wanted to]

“You will,” Daniel replies. He can’t resist shifting in closer, right up into Lando’s space until they’re almost touching. [things are suddenly physical, and daniel wants to push to see if lando will back down]

Lando doesn’t back off, only tilts his mouth into a smile and looks Daniel in the eye. [which Lando doesn't, and ups the stakes]

“Can’t wait,” he says. He holds Daniel’s gaze for a beat, and then he looks down at his phone. “My Uber’s here. See you in February.”

And he steps away, hops into the waiting car with a cheery wave, and is gone. [lando gets the last word and the (slightly) dramatic exit]

#redpaint #asks #fic post #ask games

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thecoleopterawithana · 5 years

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Knowing That Love Is To Share

It’s common knowledge within the Beatles fandom that those four Liverpool lads were an acquisitive bunch. And who could blame them, having grown amidst the financial insecurity of a war-torn Liverpool? Even John Lennon, who had inarguably the most comfortable upbringing of them all (middle rather than working-class) didn’t hide his thirst for wealth. In 1963, he was singing this out in their cover of ‘Money (That’s What I Want)’.

John coveted so much the freedom and power afforded by money that he even had dreams about it.

[I once had] one really big one about thousands of half-crowns all around me, and finding lots of money in old houses and just as much of the stuff as you could carry. I could never carry enough. I used to put it in my pockets and in my hands and in sacks, only I could still never carry as much as I wanted.

— John Lennon, interviewed by Alan Smith for New Musical Express: Beatle dreams (22 July 1966).

Curiously, in an early example of John and Paul “sharing in each other’s minds”, John had this dream of finding riches around the time he met Paul, who himself had an incredibly similar one.

The teenage Paul McCartney would love the idea of fame. That’s what he was trying to do, that was the dream. But it’s funny – life gives you minor premonitions. You don’t think of them as premonitions until the dream comes true and then you think, ‘Hey, I wonder if that was a sign.’ I remember when John and I were first hanging out together, I had a dream about digging in the garden with my hands. I’d dreamt that before but I’d never found anything other than an old tin can. But in this dream, I found a gold coin. I kept digging and I found another. And another. The next day I told John about this amazing dream I’d had and he said, ‘That’s funny, I had the same dream.’ So both of us had this dream of finding this treasure. And I suppose you could say it came true.

— Paul McCartney, The Big Issue: Letter to my younger self (16 February 2012).

Of course, the love for the craft itself was there, but they never hid the thrill they got from being able to finally write their wealth into existence.

Somebody said to me, ‘But the Beatles were anti-materialistic.’ That’s a huge myth. John and I literally used to sit down and say, ‘Now let’s write a swimming pool.’ We said it out of innocence. Out of normal, fucking working-class glee that we were able to write a ‘swimming pool.’ For the first time in our lives, we could actually do something and earn money.

— Paul McCartney, interviewed by David Fricke for Rolling Stone (8 February 1990).

I introduce this – their love of money – because it might have made them avaricious when they finally got it. That’s not what happened.

I'll give you all I've got to give If you say you love me, too I may not have a lot to give But what I've got I'll give to you I don't care too much for money Money can't buy me love

— ‘Can’t Buy Me Love’ (1964)

Paul – used to making ends meet from early on – grew up to be fairly money-conscious. This kind of preoccupations had always been on his mind, especially since his mother (who was the main provider for the family) had died.

Being able to get by is a big deal for him.

That’s why I am always overwhelmed by the sweetness of his wonderment at John’s generosity. It is one of my most treasured facets of their relationship.

One day we walked into a sweet shop, and John bought some chocolate. He said, ‘would you like half?’ I said, ‘Wow, you’re willing to share your chocolate with me?’ What a dude! [laughs] The things that stay most in my memory are the smallest things, the ordinary things.

— Paul McCartney, interviewed for Readers Digest (November 2005).

And as good as this quote is, it omits the true significance of this episode. Paul reveals just how much it meant to him in private company.

[Bono’s] like, a student of the Beatles. He’s read every book on the Beatles. He’s seen every bit of film. There’s nothing he doesn’t know. So when Paul stops and says ‘That’s where it happened,’ Bono’s like, ‘That’s where what happened?’ because he thinks he knows everything. And Paul says, ‘That’s where the Beatles started. That’s where John gave me half his chocolate bar.’ And now Bono’s like, ‘What chocolate bar? I’ve never heard of any chocolate bar.’ And Paul says, ‘John had a chocolate bar, and he shared it with me. And he didn’t give me some of his chocolate bar. He didn’t give me a square of his chocolate bar. He didn’t give me a quarter of his chocolate bar. He gave me half of his chocolate bar. And that’s why the Beatles started right there.’

— Matt Damon, interviewed by Tom Junod for Esquire (8 July 2013).

“That’s why the Beatles started.”

I’ve seen it emphasised how Paul was drawn to John because he was impressed by his powerful charisma, his biting wit, his rough teddy looks. But Paul himself has stated over and over that what attracted him to John – what won him over in the end – was the underlying softness. It was the humour and intelligence, yes. But it was also that John’s favourite songs were “Close Your Eyes” (1933) and “Little White Lies” (1930). It was the fact that John gave him not a bit, not a square, not a quarter, but half of his chocolate bar.

I may not have a lot to give but what I've got I'll give to you

These giving gestures would continue on other treasured episodes, like the ‘61 Paris Trip.

And Paul and I also did the same thing, once. We just cancelled. We’d made it, in Liverpool. We were making good money, for those days. I can’t remember what it was – maybe a couple of hundred dollars a week – but enough that you’d have a little extra. You’d have it in your back pocket. And Paul and I just— A relative of mine gave me a hundred pounds, for my birthday, which I’d never seen that much money in me life. Paul and I just cancelled all the engagements, and left for Paris… And George was furious because he needed the money – to work, you know. But that was another time when the group was in debate as whether it would exist or not.

— John Lennon, interviewed by Elliot Mintz (1 January 1976).

John and I went on a trip for his twenty-first birthday. John was from a very middle-class family, which really impressed me because everyone else was from working-class families. To us, John was upper class. His relatives were teachers, dentists, even someone up in Edinburgh in the BBC. It's ironic, he was always very 'fuck you!' and he wrote the song Working Class Hero – in fact, he wasn't at all working class. Anyway, one of John's relatives gave him £100 I would be impressed. And I was his mate, enough said? 'Let's go on holiday.' 'You mean me too? With the hundred quid? Great! I'm part of this windfall.'

[...]

We’d never been there before. We were a bit tired so we checked into a little hotel for the night, intending to go off hitchhiking the next morning. Of course, it was too nice a bed after having hitched so we said, ‘We’ll stay a little longer,’ then we thought, ‘God, Spain is a long way, and we’d have to work to get down there.’ We ended up staying the week in Paris – John was funding it all with his hundred quid.

— Paul McCartney, in The Beatles Anthology (1995).

One night, they went to a concert by France’s only rock'n'roll star, Johnny Hallyday, paying an astronomical seven shillings and sixpence (35p) each for seats at L'Olympia theatre, little dreaming they themselves would soon top the bill there.

— On John and Paul’s trip to Paris. In Philip Norman’s Paul McCartney: The Biography.

Of course, Paul also gave what he could, and that rendered the gift extra special.

JOHN: Paul got me a wimpy [a hamburger] and a coke for my 21st.

PAUL: Mind you, that was back in ‘39!

JOHN: I know! (laughter)

PAUL: (jokingly) They were more expensive.

— Sydney press conference (11 June 1964).

And even later in 1966, despite being extremely hurt by Paul’s extramarital forays into film score composition, John still offered his financial support.

I copped money for ‘Family Way’, the film music that Paul wrote while I was out of the country making How I Won The War. I said to Paul, ‘You’d better keep that,’ and he said ‘Don’t be soft.’ It’s the concept - we inspire each other. We write how we write because of each other. Paul was there for five or ten years and I wouldn’t write like I write now if it weren’t for Paul, and he wouldn’t write like he does if it weren’t for me.

— John Lennon, interviewed by BP Fallon for the Melody Maker (1969).

While they were bound by name (and even before any official contracts were signed) Lennon/McCartney did live by “what’s mine is yours”, everything they created shared 50/50.

As Paul would put it in their beloved “Here There and Everywhere” – Paul’s favourite out of all his songs and the one John favoured most of all out of all the songs he’d heard since he’d been in the scene, as of 1966 – they knew that love is to share.

And even when the sharing stopped, the love continued.

#the beatles #John Lennon #Paul McCartney #McLennon #knowing that love is to share #That attracted me to him #I don't care too much for money #frankly i miss paris #here there and everywhere #the person I actually picked as my partner #macca #johnny #my stuff #meta #(I think about this to make myself happy sometimes when the angst becomes too much...)

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homeboundrunnerfive · 4 years

Text

Zombies Run Secret Santa 2019!

@notforconsumption HAPPY HOLIDAYS FROM YOUR SECRET SANTA! I HOPE YOU LIKE IT! I had this idea about a “5 times...” including Five, Sara and Sam at about 5000 words similar to what I did for Secret Santa last year. But this was too much fun to write, and I couldn’t bear to end it before I felt that it was properly finished, and this piece wanted to be more than 5000 words. So therefore, I make this pledge to you: have this smaller preview of my ZR/pokémon crossover as your present for this Christmas Eve, and send me a scenario that you would like to see added in the final version of this piece and your Secret Santa will make it so! And lastly: big thanks to both you and @runnerzero for organising this wonderful Secret Santa exchange!

Fandom: Zombies, Run! Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Runner Five/Sara Smith Characters: Sam Yao, Sara Smith, Runner Five, Simon Lauchlan, Janine DeLuca, Maxine Myers Additional Tags: Female Runner Five, Spoilers for Season 1, Mild Language, AU - Pokémon, Preview (or: remember that time probably at least a year ago when the fandom discussed the ZR/pokémon crossover?) Summary: Only by the very skin of her fucking teeth does Five make it in through the gates unscathed. Had guards on the wall not opened fire on the faster zoms directly behind her, she might not have made it inside at all. The second the gates close behind her, she actually lays down flat on her stomach to stop herself from vomiting. She has never run that fast before in her entire life, and her vision is flickering a little. The Cubone crawls out of her backpack as she pants heavily into the dirt, and jumps off of her to look around. After a few moments it gives her a sour look, seemingly deeming its new surroundings to be nothing all that special. ”If I had dropped you, this would have been a lot easier for me,” Five mutters to the Cubone. It returns her snarky remark by pulling out the bone and whacking her square in the head.

— S1M01 The transfer from Mullins Military Base to the smaller settlement of Abel Township is not starting out well. Five is a little disappointed in herself for actually being just the tiniest bit surprised by the fact that every single thing that could have gone wrong today has.

To be fair though, being shot down from the sky with a rocket launcher is a rather uncommon occurrence, so maybe she can’t take the blame for not predicting that one.

Which is a right shame, because what she can predict, Five will prepare for. For example, she knew that that arriving without a pokémon would elicit reactions and she had prepared herself for it. Pity and commiseration from some, assuming it was lost or killed in the chaos of Day Zero. Distain or suspicion from others, trying to rationalise how someone able to secure a spot at Mullins for themselves could be so negligent as to not provide for their pokémon.   Others are just confused at the sight of someone without a pokémon in these trying times. Who wouldn’t want an immune companion to not only protect you, but to also love you and keep your spirits high?

Five had prepared for that eventuality. She had not prepared for parachuting out of a helicopter, nor arriving to Abel in a mad dash chased by one of the faster zoms she’s encountered so far.

Inside the gates she’s greeted proper by three individuals, though a lot of people attempt to quickly wheedle information or supplies off of her the moment she stumbles through the gates

“Hey! Good to see you in the flesh… the totally-unbroken, skin-not-bitten-by-zombies flesh, right? Step back, step back everyone, don’t crowd! Give Runner Five some space!“ She recognises the voice as the man guiding her from the crash to the gates, radio operator Sam Yao. ”You alright there?”

He’s a younger Asian man in his mid-twenties or so, with dark hair and friendly eyes. The vibrant orange colour of his hoodie sticks out in a very striking manner, and a Flaaffy and Minccino is peeking out from behind him. Five feels like he fits the image of what she had imagined someone with his voice would look like. Rather soft, unpretentious and… boyish. The chinchilla-like pokemón looks rather downcast, sitting on top of the Flaaffys woolly head.

Next is an African-American woman in a white lab coat, immediately relieving Five of the CDC files and giving her a bite check before welcoming her to Abel Township. Five catches a glimpse of pale gemstones and notices that the woman, Dr. Myers as she introduces herself, has a rather small Sableye clinging to her hip underneath the lab coat. The pokémon is watching Five cautiously, showing the slightest hint of teeth.

Last is a serious-looking woman with a stern face, dressed in practical clothing. While the doctor is performing Five’s bite check, the woman is speaking quietly with another equally impressive woman, seemingly a bit older, who is accompanied by a weathered Lucario. The older woman is carrying a firearm, discreetly hidden by her loose shirt in a holster strapped to her belt. Five only notices because she has gotten into the habit of looking for threats, no matter the surroundings.

”Welcome to Abel Township. My name is Janine De Luca,” says the serious-looking woman. At her feet, an Umbreon is standing at attention like a guard dog, staring Five down. ”We have much to discuss.”

Five knows better than to hope for good things by now. But so far, so good, she thinks.

— S1M07

Only a few weeks into her transfer, disaster strikes.

Janine De Luca, one of the authorities of Abel Township, had sent her out on a mission to make contact with a member of a supposed rebel group within the neighbouring settlement of New Canton under the guise of picking up a cache of electrical supplies. Unsurprisingly to at least Five, who has learned to expect the worst of every situation given the state of the post-apocalyptic world, the rendezvous ends up with her having to flee for her life in the completely opposite direction of Abel Township while dodging automatic gunfire.

It takes a solid hour of running through extremely taxing natural terrain before Five feels confident that she is out of the woods, and by that point she is out of the scanner range Sam was talking about. Her headset took a hit when she smacked into a low-hanging branch in her hurry, and it seems to have been damaging enough to disable her transmitter. To further emphasise the vulnerability of her situation, the sun has now fully set beyond the western horizon and midnight is closing in. The moon working its way across the starry sky provides some light, but not enough by far.

”Runner Five… I don’t know if you can hear me. Our scanner’s down,” Sams voice starts again over the headset. He’s been checking in periodically, voice growing more and more despondent each time he goes without a response. Something bleats weakly in the background, and Five imagines Sam stroking the soft coat of his Flaaffy as he flips between monitors. ”It never works that well at night anyway, and a couple of bits of equipment have broken down, so… so there’s no way to see where you are. Truth is, I… I don’t even know if you’re alive. Odds aren’t good, right?”

He would have lost sight of her the moment she fled into the dense forest, Five thinks, so for all he knows she could have been shot dead the second she exited his camera coverage. The odds for her survival, as he said, were certainly not optimal.

Mustering what little strength she has left, she forces herself into a slow jog towards a more defensible position to take a much needed rest to catch her breath. On a hill, about half a kilometre away, under the roots of a large tree growing on the incline Five can see something similar to a makeshift burrow. It isn’t ideal, but the surrounding trees are much too bare for her to climb without some sort of equipment, so a dirty hole in the ground to keep her back free will have to do for now. After listening intently for a moment, she feels certain there are no zombies nearby. No groaning moans, no shuffling steps and no crinkling leaves.

”You’re not even my second Runner Five, you know that? You’re my fourth. I guess there’s no better reason you’d make it back than any of the others,” Sam sighs, and Five thinks that even if her transmitter wasn’t smashed, she wouldn’t respond to that. It’s true. She’s no more likely to survive the night that anyone else in her position.

Doesn’t mean she isn’t going to try.

Five pulls the axe from her back, keeping her pack on, before sitting down on the ground and leaning back against one of the thick roots. Her legs are almost numb, and her breaths are still coming out ragged. For the moment she feels very warm, but Five knows the sweat on her skin will soon cool and bring her body temperature down. She can’t allow herself to stay still for more than a few minutes, but that will be all she needs. In her head, she’s already mapping out the route back to Abel.

Something hard hesitantly pokes her lower thigh. Her muscles tense instantly and she chokes up the grip on her axe, bouncing into a defensive crouch.

In the dark, she can only make out two narrowed eyes staring suspiciously at her and a small silhouette sitting further inside the burrow. Whatever poked her has been retracted back into the shadows. Then, a white stick strikes out with lightning speed and hits against the metal head of her axe, sending the smallest of vibrations down into her hands.

The noise isn’t too bad, but it breaks the absolute silence of the woods in a way that puts Five on edge.

She backs up a few steps, standing up as she does, and slowly raises her axe into a batting position. The small figure, interestingly enough, mirrors her movements perfectly.

Chancing a quick look around, Five can’t see anything shambling towards her position, which is good. Whatever tiny little creature drove her out of the burrow seems almost as guarded as she is, holding their little stick poised for another strike. She takes a few moments to carefully study the shape. The very top of the creature would barely reach up to her knees. Humanoid in form, bipedal, gripping what looks like a small bat, and a rather lumpy head with small horns. Too small to be a zombie, and too clever to be an animal.

Five tries to cycle through her passable knowledge of different Pokémon species native to England, and she doesn’t have to think very long before the answer comes to her. She’s invaded the little underground home of a Cubone. From what she can remember, they aren’t very social and prefer to keep to themselves. What she thought was a stick poking her was most likely a bone, then.

”So… I’m just going to keep talking for a while. I mean, for all I know, I could be talking into the ear of a zombie. But, hey —” Sam starts again, and Five slowly reaches up to mute the signal for just a moment to keep her concentration on the situation at hand.

Sinking down to her knees, Five exaggeratedly places the axe down to rest on the leafy ground before raising both hands in a placating manner towards the Cubone. The universal sign for ’I don’t want any trouble.’ Not because she is in the slightest intimidated by this tiny thing, armed as she is, but because any loud noises will draw zombies in and force her to start running before she’s had a chance to catch her breath.

The pokémon doesn’t lower the bone its holding, but takes a few steps forward to the mouth of the burrow. In the moonlight, Five can spot a rather large gash on the left arm stretching all the way down to the hand. Not too deep a cut, but most likely infected by the look of it, and probably rather painful.

It tugs at her heartstrings. The only way for her to survive the night is to make it back home to Abel before they bar the gates, so there is really no reason to be stingy with her rations. Starvation or exposure is not what will kill her. Slowly, as to not startle the Cubone, she combs through her pack until she finds what she’s looking for. A protein bar, the first and only one she's gotten since she was made a runner and therefore prioritised concerning nutrition compared to other assignments in the township.

She unmutes her headset at the reminder of Abel.

Disinfectant or bandages would be better, but snacks is all that she has to offer. The process of opening the wrapper quietly is tedious, but after half a minute she has the bar uncovered in her hand. Most likely expired, since the chocolate coating is cracked and flaking away with every slight jostle, but a treasure all the same. Keeping her palm flat, she holds it out as far as she can from herself and waits for almost a full minute.

The Cubone only stares defiantly, staying firmly put.

”I called you my friend just before, didn’t I?” Sam says through some slight static, sounding a touch less relaxed than he normally does, seemingly about to go off on a more rambling kind of tangent. ”Is that cool with you? I mean… well, I’m definitely not your friend if you’ve gone gray. But I feel like we have a kind of… simpatico… something? Not that we’ve ever really talked. I guess we’re talking now. So… yeah, well, let’s just talk like normal people, like… buddies, or something,”

At least someone wants to be my friends, she thinks sullenly as the pokémon continues giving her the evil eye. Sighing, Five tosses the protein bar towards the Cubone, only slightly wincing at the fact that she threw actual good food on the forest floor before sitting back down. If the pokémon dislikes intruders this much, its behaviour should alert her to any incoming zombies. She figures she’ll be better off taking that little rest here than spending precious time finding another spot, even if she no longer has her back free.

It takes a few moments of apprehensive investigation, but eventually the Cubone starts nibbling on the protein bar while still keeping a watchful eye on her. She mostly ignores it and turns her back to keep lookout of her surroundings, fairly certain the pokémon won’t be bothering her further for the short time she intends to stay.

Unsurprisingly, the minutes pass by much too quickly, and her muscles still scream with complaints as she gets to her feet. The Cubone has finished its snack, and seems to have been emboldened by her tribute. Waddling forward, it sticks its hands down her backpack and starts searching for more treats.

”Get off,” Five mumbles and makes shooing motions. The Cubone pauses to nail her with the most unimpressed look she has ever seen a pokémon make, and continues rooting around. Five’s pretty certain the only thing she has left in there by now is her half-empty bottle of water, but it’s the principle of the thing. She was issued that equipment by Janine, and Five is still very determined to make a good impression on that woman.

She hadn’t tried hard enough back at Mullins. Five will not make the same mistake twice.

”That’s mine, and I’m going,” she says, more firm this time, and grabs the closest strap to pull the backpack away from the Cubone. Before she can even attempt to stop it, the pokémon has not only tugged the pack from her, it has decisively climbed into it and given her an indignant harrumph. It reminds her of a stubborn toddler, which is unfortunate. She doesn’t have very much experience dealing with those kinds of tantrums. Five resists rubbing her temples in frustration.

”It’s mine, and it’s coming with me. Get out.”

They lock eyes, and a silent battle of willpower ensues.

The absolute absurdity of the situation is that Five doesn’t actually have the upper hand here. She needs to get back to Abel before they bar the gates, and it’ll take her a good hour of running in the dark as it is.

Moments pass.

Nothing happens.

”Fine then.” With a forceful yank, she expeditiously tugs the pack onto her back, passenger and all, and secures the hip belt around her waist to balance her centre of gravity with the added weight. It’s not too heavy, but definitely enough to make a difference while running. The head is poking out of the top, giving her a fierce glare. ”You’ll come to see it my way.”

The next hour is a little strange, to say the least. Occasionally, the Cubone will grunt in annoyance and rap at her shoulders with its held bone, but it makes no attempt to get out of the backpack. She fortunately only has to reroute twice after spotting smaller packs of zoms in the distance, and during those tenser moments the pokémon is surprisingly quiet. Sam continues checking in, making either morbid or hilarious monologues in her headset. For some bizarre reason, it does keep her spirits up. If he’s still talking to her, it means the gates haven’t been barred yet. Even if his chosen topics for conversation are disheartening for the most part.

When she gets close enough to Abel to see the light on top the tower guiding her back home, she’s picked up quite a trail of zombies, despite her attempts to circumvent any encounters.

”— but I’ve gotta be honest… we’re losing hope here.” Five is now only registering bits and pieces of what Sam is talking about, mostly concerned about keeping a safe distance ahead of her groaning pursuers. ”A couple of zoms have arrived at the gates, and that usually means the bigger horde is on its way. Maybe only a few minutes ‘til we bar the gate.”

That, however, she does hear loud and clear.

It means she’s still got a chance. All she has to do to make it is run fast enough.

Only by the very skin of her fucking teeth does Five make it in through the gates unscathed. Had guards on the wall not opened fire on the faster zoms directly behind her, she might not have made it inside at all. The second the gates close behind her, she actually lays down flat on her stomach to stop herself from vomiting. She has never run that fast before in her entire life, and her vision is flickering a little.

The Cubone crawls out of her backpack as she pants heavily into the dirt, and jumps off of her to look around. After a few moments it gives her a sour look, seemingly deeming its new surroundings to be nothing all that special.

”If I had dropped you, this would have been a lot easier for me,” Five mutters to the Cubone. It returns her snarky remark by pulling out the bone and whacking her square in the head.

— S1M10

Five is having a tough time figuring the new Cubone out, and the pokémon seems to actively be trying to infuriate her.

While bringing it into the township had been no issue with Janine, the question of ownership and training was apparently of more import. No rogue inhabitants in her township, she had said. Five had not been particularly adamant about claiming the Cubone for herself, given the apparent distaste of her the pokémon seemed to harbour. It almost seemed like whenever an opportunity to obstruct her presented itself, the Cubone would take it and then give her a smug look afterwards. So it seemed the safer bet to place it in the communal building rather than with her.

But after a few days, it was perfectly clear the Cubone was not fine with living in the communal building, nor socialising with the other collectively owned pokémon. The sharp, angry cries throughout the nights attracted zombies to such a degree that they actually had to send runners on emergency missions for ammunition to keep up.

A few people did try to befriend the Cubone, but to no avail. All attempts were rebuffed, with varying degrees of violence and threatening behaviour. Simon suffered a rather unfortunate injury to his groin trying to charm the pokémon, both scaring and upsetting his own tenderhearted Sylveon. After that incident, there weren’t many volunteers.

So now the responsibility has once again circled around to Five.

Things are not going well. The only two things she has managed to understand is that the Cubone is a male, and that it seems to dislike everything and everyone. It seems content to follow her around at a distance, but makes a scene when she tries to get close. Strangely enough, it seems to have no problem climbing onto her back whenever the pokémon feels like it. Touching that is not initiated by the Cubone, though, is out of the question, prompting wild swings with the bone. Any conversation or commands are met with glowering or growling. In short, the Cubone is completely dominating her, her life and all their interactions at his own very unpredictable whims.

Many people offered her tips, all delivered in a rather delicate manner as to not imply any incompetence on her part which Five feels is more or less unnecessary at this point. Chris McShell had given her a long and detailed lecture on abstract pokémon psychology. Evan gave her different training exercises to establish respect and dominance, demonstrating them to her with his impressively obedient Growlithe Bonnie. Jody and Sam offered a plethora of bonding exercises, most of which just seemed to be different forms of cuddling. Five did not point out that neither of their pokémon come equipped with their very own weapons, and simply enjoyed watching Jody hugging her soft and sweet Audino.

In the end though, all suggestions proved to be equally useless.

Presently, Five is sitting on the ground with her back against the wall of the mess hall. Cubone is sitting a few meters away, and a silent battle of wills is raging.

They’ve been at it for days. The pokémon is as stubborn — possibly even more so — than Five.

”I don’t want to do this,” Five says, fingers playing with the laces of her trainers. ”I’m tired. If you don’t like me, leave. If you don’t like this place, leave.”

She’s ignored very pointedly by Cubone, who is drawing something in the dirt with its bone. From Five’s poor perspective on the ground it looks like nothing but squiggly lines.

”Things are a certain way in Abel. You’ll have to find a place. You can’t have things your way here.”

Narrowed eyes glare at her from beneath the large skull adorning its head, and if looks could kill, she’d be more dead than the corpses shambling outside the walls. At least she knows Cubone understands her, even if all that she receives in return for her words are defiance. The pokémon resolutely turns its back on her with a familiar harrumph, continuing to draw in the dirt.

”I would have thought you’d be better at this than you are. I’m surprised, Five. And that doesn’t happen too often, you know,” Sara grins, raising an eyebrow and crossing her arms. By her side her companion Lucario does the same, and the two of them just radiate an aura of smugness.

Five scrambles to her feet and locks her arms behind her back in a courteous manner, feeling incredibly stiff and awkward about the forced formality. It’s still a little early to act too casual with superiors in Five’s opinion, even though her military ID has been recovered and Sara herself has expressed in so many words how laughable this kind of ”boot-licking” behaviour looked on someone as physically imposing as Five. Yet, she snaps into place on instinct. Cubone flinches violently as she moves suddenly to break their staring match, and turns to glare suspiciously at the newcomers with narrowed eyes.

”I apologise,” replies Five, keeping her eyes on her trainers. ”I am having more difficulty that I would have thought.”

”The difference really is night and day, wouldn’t you agree, Donal? Like a roaring lion and a cowering house cat. It really is frustrating,” Sara says offhandedly to her companion, before pointedly leaning her head to catch Five’s gaze as she does so. ”We do things differently here, Five, and I don’t want to have to go through this little song and dance every time I see you inside the gates. This is not Mullins. Act like a normal human being. No one is going to have you shot in your sleep for mouthing off or slouching. So please, honey, at ease, now.”

Chancing a quick glance, Five catches Sara’s eyes. They are brown, filled with mirth and just deep enough to hide something seriously menacing behind those twinkles of amusement. There’s a layer of subtext that Five has become quite adept at understanding at this point, even though there are few women Five has met that are quite as contradictory as Sara Smith.

Two sides of the same coin show their faces whenever she speaks. The gentle but stern reminder that Five won’t be shot in her sleep for mouthing off also serves as a warning to remind her that other things might be enough to earn her a bullet in the back of the head. The complimentary comparison to the king of the jungle during missions is also a barbed statement about her positively spineless behaviour within the walls of Abel Township.

”I understand.”

Sara lets out a small chuckle. ”Slow learner, and stubborn to boot. That’s fine, Five. Not entirely unlike this Cubone here, judging by the way things are going,” she says, turning to her Lucario to share a look. ”Donal and I never had these problems, did we?”

It’s difficult to pinpoint why, but the comment strikes a raw nerve within Five. Perhaps its her lifelong habit of people-pleasing that takes offence at her obvious failure, or her very frail yet still very much alive ego taking a targeted hit from someone she very much admires, or perhaps it is simply the drop that makes the cup run over for whatever reason. Either way, Sara’s words have found purchase beneath Five’s armor and like a frightened animal she strikes out on instinct, barely registering the words as they pass her lips.

”Military issue espionage pokémon are trained from birth in obedience, I’ve read. Must make training a breeze. But that has nothing to do with you, I’m sure,” Five bites out while keeping her eyes to the ground. Later, she will regret giving lip to one of the more influential and possibly lethal figures of the township, but for now Five is wallowing in self-pity and unable to care about the intricate policies of the apocalypse. Even though she has technically been officially encouraged several times to be slightly less deferential in public as to not attract attention to Project Greenshoot.

Sara gives her a sly smile, eyes twinkling. ”None of your concern, now is it? What I will say is that you are going about this the wrong way. Of course, I could give you a few pointers. Unless you prefer to continue this hopeless exercise in frustration. Up to you.”

Five reigns herself in, says nothing this time. Every single time she has opens her dumb mouth things turn sour, sooner or later.

”Lucario are an extremely capable and skilled pokémon species, and exceptionally rare at that. They are omnivores, though meat is very much preferable. Usually they live in smaller packs in the deep mountains away from the hustle and bustle of civilisation, and their unique ability to read and manipulate auras is unparalleled. Highly intelligent, my darling Donal more so than most I would say, able to understand and even communicate complex, abstract concepts. Most Lucario seem to have a natural sense of justice, and will react badly when training is not mutually beneficial to trainer and pokémon.” The Lucario has left her side to circle around the hesitant Cubone with a calculating look on its face as Sara speaks. ”This is just the smallest piece of knowledge that I have about the species of my pokémon. Useless information for you, of course. And yet, I keep droning on and on about all the things that I know, and you don’t. Seems like quite a dull thing to do in this kind of sticky situation, no?”

Five quickly schools her face into a more neutral expression, having unconsciously tightened her lips into the slightest scowl during Sara’s monologue.

”You don’t know anything about the Cubone species, so let’s skip that entire lecture for now. I’m sure a capable runner like yourself will be able to get your hands on that kind of information without having to bruise your ego asking me for it. So let’s look at what you do know instead, hm?” Sara continues, ignoring the low growl coming from Cubone as Lucario stops to study it. ”You intruded on an injured Cubone’s territory after nightfall, where he was all alone in a ditch far from both people and pokémon. You fed him scraps, and he climbed into your backpack and refused to be left behind. Strange thing, I’ll give you that. Here at Abel, he seems… let’s just call it displeased for lack of more polite terms, to be in the communal building. In other words, he doesn’t mingle well with strangers. Other people that have tried to gain his favour and trust have gotten nothing but sullen stares and the occasional light beating. Wherever you go, he follows at a distance, and grows defensive when you try to get close.”

It is becoming increasingly obvious where Sara is going with this guessing game to Five, and the impending conclusion is not something she is inclined to take to heart at this point in time. Maybe at all. In the zombie apocalypse, people can die whenever, so if Five’s lucky she’ll be grey before she’ll have to face her own flaws.

”I could give you my take on things, of course. Standing by my side is a disciplined and loyal pokémon, and you’ve got an armoured little gremlin following you around like a shadow, beating you with a stick whenever he damn well feels like it. You have to admit that’s funny.”

There’s a long pause, and it is almost enough to make sweat start beading at Five’s forehead but her lips won’t move. What admission Sara wants her to come to is not difficult to understand, but the strings of correct words dancing through her brain don’t seem to make their way down to her mouth.

Pride and shame battle fiercely within her. Five is locked between feeling completely unable to admit to any kind of vulnerability, while also simultaneously terrified to portray herself as devoid of empathy. Her tongue feels heavy and swollen resting behind flat teeth that aren’t sharp enough to tear through flesh and bone.

A few seconds pass that are long enough to draw every single breath of air from her lungs.

The result is pathetic. Absolute silence.

”It’s referred to as the lonely pokémon, did you know? Curious thing, in my opinion.” Sara inspects her fingernails in a very pointed manner, before catching Five’s eyes in a way that makes it clear she is not to look away.

It makes her squirm, and a knot is growing in her stomach.

”Alarmed at the thought of having a companion that is similar enough to you that it might actually understand and know you?” Sara’s voice is teasing at the surface, but sharp and calculating beneath it. ”Or maybe you simply don’t want a pokémon that is like you because you think you, and by extension it, is broken and bad?”

The knot settles firmly in the centre of Five’s stomach, making her feel ill.

Suddenly, a loud horn blares through the silence for one short signal, followed by Janine’s voice booming over the intercoms accompanied by gunshots in the distance. ”Calling Runner Five! Or Runner Eight! Or both. Runner Five and Runner Eight, report to the gates!”

Only seconds after that, Janine’s voice starts filtering through her headset, which Five quickly pulls up over her ears to listen properly. Sara has already done the same, and motions for Five to follow over her shoulder as she and her pokémon turn to jog towards the gates. ”Runner Five and Runner Eight, urgent assignment! Sam’s on a rest period, but we’ve discovered a traitor in the camp. We need you to chase her down before she gets away!”

”Copy that, Janine. On my way,” Sara answers, and turns to shout at Five over her shoulder. ”Come on, Five, let’s get going. And don’t you worry, we’ll save this little game of ours for a later date.”

Five takes off after her, only stumbling on the first step.

From this perspective up above as she passes them by, the scribbles Cubone made in the dirt earlier looks like a pair of vaguely humanoid, thick figures, one larger and one smaller, both wearing bulky helmets.

After a few seconds, a quick pattering behind Five gives her a moment to prepare before a heavy weight lands on her back and small hands claw into her shoulders like vices. She steadies herself and starts running.

— S1M19

The ceremony for Chris McShell is held on a foggy day, and the dim skies accurately reflect the mood of the runners returning from the forest walking through the gates. Most are met by their pokémon at the gates, thankful for whatever comfort they are given.

Five is silently thankful that Chris was one of the few in the township to not have a pokémon. She is feeling raw as it is, and the thought of watching a confused companion looking for someone that’s not coming back cuts like a knife. Without words, her Cubone crawls into her arms and settles in, filling her with warmth. It’s not enough to thaw the small pinprick of cold somewhere deep inside her chest, but it feels marginally better.

She listened to him die. Sam didn’t cut the feed.

Somewhere in the world, he might have had a daughter waiting for him. More likely is that he will be joining her amongst the dead.

Five showers without really taking notice of the icy temperature. The stiff sensations in her limbs actually makes it easier to remember that she does inhabit a body, and that she is here. Every time her boots hit the ground she becomes more heavy and solid, grounding her in reality. Her Cubone is shadowing her every step, for once not climbing over her frame to take a seat on her shoulders like he usually does. Strangely enough, Five thinks, the weight on her shoulders feels heavier than usual even so.

The bell rings, and Five follows routinely. A haze has settled over her mind, and it’s enough to dull her senses to the person quickly approaching her from the left. Sara catches her by the arm as she walks mindlessly to the mess hall, holding her firmly enough to not be easily brushed off. Her Lucario walks up behind Sara, and the usual silent staring contest ensues between their two pokémon.

”Hey there, Five,” Sara greets her, and the little sparkle in her eye is familiar enough to let Five know that she’s got a mission. ”I won’t keep you for too long. We’re expected, after all.”

Squinting at the last rays of the evening sun, Sara takes her sweet time before continuing as the light illuminates her rugged features. A breeze moves past the four of them, and Five feels like an ancient statue. Like someone that has been rooted in place for millennia, muscles of heavy stone, growing moss and collecting dirt.

”It feels good not to be the only one left who knows my boys’ faces. We remember them, don’t we Donal?” Sara says fondly, and her Lucario looks away from Cubone to respond with a short nod. There’s a faraway look in her eyes, and it takes Five a moment to actually register the words. It’s not every day that Sara speaks of her family, let alone her sons. ”Someone must, I should think.”

There’s a beat, and Five waits. She has learned that Sara usually takes her time setting the mood before getting to her point when she doles out her wisdom.

Sara exhales evenly, letting her hand fall from Five’s arm after clapping her on the shoulder. ”If you’re the only one thinking about them sitting all alone in your room, it’s mourning. But if you’ve got someone to share the memories with, you’re celebrating them. That’s my take on it, anyway.”

Furrowing her brow just the tiniest bit, Five tries to put the pieces together. It could be that she is being admonished for isolating herself with her grief, but that is an unfair assumption. Sara can’t have missed that she caught Five as she was going to the mess hall, where the atmosphere of loss is the thickest. She pulls her arms closer to her sides, jaw clenching slightly with tension.

Sara tilts her head, and gives her a look that Five can’t discern the intent behind, before nodding towards the ramshackle building. ”Don’t just be there, Five. Be present. It’s bad at first, I’ll give you that much. But it’s better in the long run.”

Turning on her heel with her Lucario following close behind, Sara leaves Five in the dust as she casually strolls through the doorway. Five stares intently at the ground, unwilling to risk meeting Sara’s eyes should she glance back for one last look.

Her advice is not lost on Five, and in most circumstances it would be marvellous and healthy advice. But for Five, it’s only words in the wind. She’s not strong enough to be present in the face of this kind of grief. There’s barely enough left of her inside to keep her going through the days as it is. There is no energy nor will left to spare on mental health after the taxing realities of the zombie apocalypse.

Looking down at her solid feet, planted on the ground, there is Cubone looking back up at her with solemn eyes.

She won’t do be able to do what Sara is asking, she thinks as she bends down to scoop her pokémon up into her arms. It’s not even worth trying.

Five still walks into the mess hall, though. Her chest is warmer, and the Cubone clings to her shirt.

#zombies run #@notforconsumption #zr secret santa #yoooo so i hope this is at least enough to make you a little more merry this christmas #i tried to be overtly shippy but i just....... can't???? with five and sara #so it is subtle but it's there #the piece in itself is NOT christmas-y #and i'm rambling #but i hope you like it anyway

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ofheroesandvillains · 5 years

Text

A Series of (Un)Fortunate Events - Bucky Barnes/Reader

Hi everyone! Just want to wish a Merry Christmas to everyone who celebrates it, and I hope those who don’t have a great break! You’re all awesome, and if I don’t post in the next week, I hope 2019 is the best darn year of your lives! :D

Words: 6.2k Warnings: None Summary: Bucky is finding it hard to tell you how he feels, so he takes it upon himself to sabotage your dates until he no longer can. Basically, Bucky is a little shit. I was reading The Bad Beginning and I couldn’t help myself.

Please let me know if you see any mistakes, I’m too lazy to read through it a third time! My bad.

(Gif not mine!)

It had been a long week.

Work was always busier around the holiday period, and your already lacking social life was threatening to become non-existent if things continued at this rate. But that’s what being an adult was, wasn’t it? Working all day and praying no one would bother you so you could chill in your underwear and watch TV all night. Maybe that was just you…

But today was different. The first weekend you had off in three weeks and you were finally catching up with the overgrown toddlers you called friends. You had to hand it to them though, they were the most supportive friends you could ask for, and you didn’t think you’d have the patience to listen to them rant about their shitty co-workers the way you did.

Bucky and Sam argued like an old married couple most of the time, but at least they knew how to make you laugh and take your mind off of things for a while. It was early in the afternoon and you were all sitting in your usual spots in the lounge room, drinks in hand. Sam always sat in one of the armchairs, he claimed it was the comfier of the two, despite the fact that they were identical. So naturally, Bucky would always steal it whenever he got the chance and Sam would end up grumbling under his breath about it for a solid half hour.

On the days that Bucky was feeling generous, he’d sit beside you on the couch instead. Today was one of those days.

“Look, all I’m saying is that without the serum, it wouldn’t even be a contest.”

Bucky rolled his eyes.

“Oh please, the serum enhances the good and the bad. You’re bad enough without it, with it you’d be pathetic.”

Sam scoffed, jerking his head back in disbelief. “We both know that’s a lie. Help me out here, Y/N.”

You looked up wide-eyed at the mention of your name to find both of them staring at you expectantly.

“Uh…I-I-“ Your gaze flickered between them, as if an answer would miraculously dangle itself in front of you.

“You weren’t even paying attention.” Sam pursed his lips with a faux glare.

“I’m sorry!” You laughed, shoving Bucky’s shoulder when he shot you a tsk tsk. “Hey, you can’t blame me for zoning out whenever you two bicker like children.”

Sam cocked a brow. “You’re really gonna sit there and pretend you weren’t thinking about work?”

“Insulting our intelligence like that…” Bucky trailed off with a severe shake of his head, but the way his lips eventually twitched up cancelled it out.

You smiled, hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay, I know. I’m the worst, I’m sorry!”

Sam opened his mouth, no doubt ready to reassure you that you were, in fact, the worst. But it snapped shut just as quickly, and he appraised you for a moment. Your brows furrowed, and all Bucky could offer when you looked to him for help was an equally confused shrug.

A sudden idea had struck Sam, and he did well to keep the glee off of his face.

“You know what you need to do?”

You hesitated. “What’s that?”

“Go on a date.”

Frowning in contemplation, you missed the high-browed look Sam sent a scowling Bucky over the rim of his cup.

“A date?”

“Yeah!” Sam smiled, it looked reassuring, but you had no idea how much joy he was taking in seeing Bucky so livid.

“Think about it, you’re always working, don’t you deserve a night out on the town with some good company?”

“Or,” Bucky emphasised, “maybe a night in with good company, watch some movies and eat some takeout? Nat did mention that new mov-“

“Ah, come on, man! Let the girl live a little!” Sam winked with a smile. “You’re cooped up inside all day, go out, have fun…” He wiggled his eyebrows.

“You don’t need to go out to have fun.” Bucky added with a nonchalant shrug, but Sam was waiting for his white-knuckled grip to finally shatter his glass.

“True,” Sam nodded slowly in agreement, “but at least think about it? You gotta have guys trippin’ over their feet just to ask you out.”

“Oh yeah, I practically have to tear them off me.“ You rolled your eyes with a small smile.

“Alright, smartass. All I’m saying is that you deserve a good guy, and any man would be lucky to have you.” Sam pointed out, putting his jokes aside for a moment.

You considered his words with a silent sigh. Any man, huh? You didn’t want any man, you just wanted one in particular. But you couldn’t keep hiding yourself away in the hopes that he would one day magically sprout feelings for you.

“You know what?” You clapped your hands together with a newfound determination. “You’re right. I’m going to go call the girls and see if they’re up for a night out.”

Sam watched you leave with a self-satisfied smile, before turning to look at Bucky. He’d been glaring at Sam ever since he made the suggestion.

“What?”

“You know what.” Bucky shot back with a scoff. “That was low and you know it.”

Sam raised his hands in surrender. “Hey man, you don’t want her finding a random guy to hook up with-“

“Hook up with?!” Bucky spluttered, wide-eyed.

“-then you better go tell her how you feel.”

“You’re an asshole, you know that?”

“It’s why they pay me the big bucks.”

Bucky rolled his eyes.

“It’s not that easy.”

“C’mon man, how hard can it be? You walk up to her and you tell her you like her, damn.” Sam tsked with a shake of his head.

“There’s got to be another way…” Bucky squinted in thought.

“There’s no other way.” Sam rolled his eyes but Bucky was already planning, ignoring the ‘such a drama queen’ comment Sam mumbled into his glass before taking another sip.

He paused, glass hovering just before his lips when he noticed the way Bucky straightened. Oh man, he knew that look.

“Whatever it is, no.”

A lazy smirk answered his pointed look.

“You don’t even know what I’m thinking.”

“I don’t need to know, that stupid look on your face tells me everything.”

Bucky scoffed.

“I’m telling you, man, it’s a bad idea.” Sam warned.

“I got this.”

Bucky shot up from the couch with a new bounce in his step.

“Wha- Hey! Come on!” Sam jumped in his seat at the sudden movement, his drink sloshing over the sides of his glass. “At least tell me what it is!”

But Bucky was already out the door. Sam shook his head in exasperation, this wasn’t what he intended to happen when he suggested you go out. He just wanted to help his friend muster up the courage to finally tell you how he felt. Bucky wasn’t even a shy guy so he had no idea why this was such a big deal for him. Either way, he had a feeling he had just made your life a hell of a lot harder.

With a scoff, he threw back the rest of his drink.

“Damn dumbass.”

That had been two days ago and things didn’t quite go according to plan. The girls were busy but Natasha reassured your that she’d make it up to you. Today you were preparing to head out once more. You had a date. Your first date in a long time, but somehow Natasha had convinced you to go to dinner with the barista that worked in the cafe you always dragged Bucky to before work.

The redhead had seen first hand the way the barista would light up at the sight of you, only to dim when he noticed the pale glare pinned on him whenever he even attempted to flirt or flatter.

There were two things you were completely unaware of though…

The first was that Natasha had been the one to visit the cafe and casually mention that you were single as soon as he - Brian, he told her his name was - asked her how you were doing. He recognised your friends and always asked about you no matter what, it didn’t take a genius to figure out he was very interested. The only thing that had been stopping him was Bucky Barnes. The man he was certain you were dating, at least until Natasha reassured him. He asked you out the very next day, despite the fact that a tense Bucky was standing right beside you as he did so.

Brian could have sworn that for a minute there, Bucky was mentally picturing all of the ways he’d like to kill him, but he must have been imagining it. Why else would the man offer to help him?

That was the second thing you were unaware of. The moment you stepped into the bathroom, Bucky had swiftly headed over to Brian and offered him a charming -albeit, entirely fake- smile.

“Look, you seem like a nice guy, Brandon-“

“Brian-“

“So I feel like I should tell you before your date…”

“Tell me what?” He looked concerned. Good, Bucky thought.

“Y/N, she’s a great girl, really…” Bucky trailed off with a forced grimace. “But she can be a little, overwhelming.”

“She has this habit,” he shook his head fondly, “likes to plan things real early, weddings, kids, the whole nine yards, ya know?”

“What?” Misinterpreting Brian’s surprise as dismay, Bucky felt his lips turn in a satisfied smile. “No way! I do the exact same thing.”

“You- you do?” Bucky faltered, and he couldn’t figure out if Brian was genuinely gushing or if he was just messing with him. The very idea made Bucky want to cringe.

Brian nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah! I like to be prepared, you know, just in case? I mean, my last girlfriend dumped me because she said it was way too soon, but two months quickly turns into two years, right?”

“…right.” Bucky nodded slowly.

“But thanks, man. For a second there I thought you were…you know…” He shot Bucky a pointed look.

“Huh?”

“I mean, she’s beautiful, and you’re always with her,” Brian shrugged, “I thought you might get jealous or something and stake your claim, but thanks for the tip!” He grinned.

Now Bucky thought of himself as a relatively nice guy, and even though Brian wasn’t wrong about his jealousy, hearing him mention it had done him absolutely no favours. After realising that his plans for foiling your date had backfired and that Brian wouldn’t go running if he thought you were some clingy girlfriend, Bucky was willing to walk away and reassess the situation. Maybe he would even let the little punk take you out. But the mere mention of jealousy was enough to have it rear its ugly head, and he could not let his pride take that hit.

So he forced a wide smile. “No problem, man. Y/N loves guys that aren’t afraid to share, the sooner the better!”

Brian’s attention peaked. “You think so?”

“Sure do. Hell, I wouldn’t even bother waiting. Bring it up during your date if you can,” Bucky urged, “you don’t want her thinking you’re not on the same page.”

Brian nodded as if it made perfect sense. Bucky had no idea how anyone could think so. One thing was for certain, if he couldn’t take Brian out of the equation, he’d take you out of it instead.

So here you were, sitting in a dimly lit restaurant with Brian the Barista. It was a nice place, somewhere you hadn’t been before, but with a cosiness that calmed your nerves. It helped that the food was also great. Brian had been easy to talk to so far, asking all sorts of questions about you - some of which you had tactfully dodged, but overall it was going relatively well.

Until it wasn’t.

Brian had been looking forward to your date all day. Despite his nerves, he was glad that he finally had a chance to win you over. His ex only broke up with him a few weeks ago, but he told himself it wasn’t cheating or anything if he just appreciated you from afar. For months he’d watch you come and go with your friends, usually Bucky, and he could never really gather the courage to talk to you when your silent protector was present. So he was more than surprised that Bucky himself had given him advice to win you over.

“So, do you, uh, like kids?”

You paused mid-bite, looking at him in confusion.

“Kids?” The question caught you off guard. “Yeah, I guess, I mean-“

“Me too! I love kids, they’re great.” He shot you a knowing smile that you couldn’t quite decipher. Why the hell was he looking at you like he was in on some big secret?

“Right…”

“I always told my grandma that I’d name my first daughter after her - Marlene. What do you think?”

You stared at him blankly for a moment, dread creeping up on you when you realised the direction this conversation was going in.

“Oh, um, that’s really…something.” You forced a smile, nodding at his enthusiasm.

“Right!” He agreed, “I actually have a list of names if you want to see them, wait, I know I have it here somewhere…”

Your smiled melted away into horror as soon as he started digging into the pockets of his jacket.

“Nope, that’s the honeymoon destinations…” He jokingly rolled his eyes at his own silliness.

Your forced chuckle sounded a little hysterical even to your own ears. “Honeymoon destinations…in your left pocket. Of course.”

You downed your glass of wine in one go.

The crinkle of paper and the accompanying ‘Aha!’ was all it took for you to understand that it was going to be a loooong night.

The slamming of the front door alerted Sam and Bucky that you’d returned from your date, and a glance at the clock told Sam that you were a lot earlier than expected. It wasn’t uncommon for the two of them to hang out in your apartment, someone had to babysit your cat and they were always more than willing to raid your fridge and watch TV.

“How’d it go?” Sam shouted from his usual armchair, but you breezed past with a groan. “That well, huh?”

The door to your room snapped shut, and Sam’s attention shot over to Bucky, chuckling in his spot on the couch.

“Man, you are stone cold, you know that?”

“I’m just doing what has to be done for the greater good.” Bucky held his hands up like he was doing the world some big favour, earning a scoff from Sam.

“Greater good, my ass.”

“Oh come on, she would have hated him in the end anyway, I was just saving them both from future heartbreak.”

“You don’t know that.” Sam pointed out matter-off-factly.

Bucky’s brows shot up knowingly, as if to say ‘really?’ and Sam didn’t even bother commenting because as much as he hated to admit it, Bucky was right. He had told Sam all about Brandon the clingy Barista, and as much as he didn’t agree with Bucky’s methods, exposing the man’s clinginess was probably for the best.

The door to your room was thrown open, and their attention was quick to turn to you instead of Bucky’s scheming. Long gone was the pretty dress and make-up, making way for sweatpants and the maroon shirt Bucky had been trying to find for the past month.

You heaved a loud sigh, slumping on the couch beside him and letting your head fall onto his shoulder. Sam was shaking his head as soon as your eyes slipped shut and Bucky’s arm slipped around your waist. He shrugged innocently, and you finally decided to speak up.

“You were right. That was terrible, I should’ve just stayed in.”

Never one to back down from a challenge, Sam was quick to reply before Bucky could agree with you.

“What? No way, one bad date doesn’t mean anything. Girl, you get back on that horse and try again.”

Bucky’s eyes narrowed dangerously, but Sam simply returned his innocent shrug with a smug smile.

“Ugh, I don’t want to think about it right now. What are we watching?”

You tried to stay positive, knowing that Sam had a point, you couldn’t quit after one bad date. You couldn’t expect to find Mr Right straight away. Even though you’d already convinced yourself that Mr Right had been found long ago, he just didn’t think you were his Miss Right. Either way, things did not get any better in the dating department. In fact, they only got worse.

After Brian the Barista, came Jim, who was (much to Bucky’s amusement) the owner of a local gym. He seemed nice at first, if a little self-centred, but he made up for it with a wicked sense of humour. Not to mention, he was pretty great to look at. Jim’s downfall was his competitive nature.

He’d taken you to a fair and was hellbent on winning you the biggest stuffed toy available. Even if it meant snatching it out of a 6-year-old’s hands. The kid’s dad was a former marine, and when he and Jim had finished their shooting game at the same time, they both wanted the same toy. The marine for his kid, and Jim for you - because for some wild reason, he was convinced that you loved a winner. You said it was absolutely fine, there was nothing you could do with a giant stuffed Captain America anyway (he was also convinced you loved Captain America - you had no idea where he got all of these ideas), and you definitely weren’t keen on letting Sam and Bucky see a plush of their best friend sitting in your room. You’d absolutely never hear the end of it.

But Jim wouldn’t relent. He earned that toy and he was one hell of a sore loser. When he snatched Plush Cap out of the kid’s hands you knew it was over (and it was all going so well, you mentally lamented), and you spent the rest of your date waiting at the hospital to see if the marine’s right hook did any permanent damage.

After Gym owner Jim, came Rebound Robert.

He was an accountant for some big firm in Manhattan. Robert was a smart guy, offering fun facts and intelligent conversation that you really appreciated, but he was also a little too serious. He barely had a sense of humour, and the cute little bar you’d taken him to didn’t impress him one bit - you could tell by the way he grimaced as his eyes flickered around the room, but he was too polite to outwardly say anything. You always came here with Bucky (who was the one who suggested the bar in the first place - after all, ‘who doesn’t like a drink or two?’) and Sam, sometimes even Steve when he wasn’t busy, it was a place that had become close to your heart, even if it wasn’t some flashy high-end bar in the centre of Manhattan.

But you knew that everyone had their own tastes, and it wasn’t entirely fair to judge Robert for his - not when you were annoyed about him doing the same thing to you.

After an hour or so you realised that there was a sadness to him that he did well to hide, until he no longer could.

He was a lightweight it seemed, and two drinks was all it took to have him divulging all of his secrets. Including the ex he was caught up on. You listened to him reveal that she was the love of his life and that he missed her so much, offering a light pat on the back and a ‘there, there’ when necessary. Just as he was starting to pull himself together, wiping his nose on his sleeve and taking a deep, shuddering breath, against absolutely all odds, the very woman in question strolled into the bar.

Robert bawled at the sight of her, and you were suddenly entirely sure that someone out there had it out for you. Love just wasn’t on the cards.

After making sure Rebound Robert got home safely, you made your way home and slipped into bed. If you couldn’t find love, you thought, you’d have to just wait for it to find you.

Nat finally organised a night out for everyone a week later. You were surprised that she invited the boys after Wanda kept mentioning how excited she was for a girl’s night out. But you didn’t really mind. You weren’t looking for another date any time soon, so you were looking forward to spending time with your friends, regardless.

Natasha had naturally kept the details of the evening to herself. Even Sam had no idea what she was planning.

“Has he finally caved?”

Sam jumped at the sound of her voice beside him.

“Damn, lady. You can’t sneak up on a man like that!” He scolded, eyes wide.

Natasha simply smirked.

“To answer your question: hell no.” Sam scoffed. “He’s been sabotaging all of her dates.”

Natasha snorted in amusement. It was amazing to see Bucky Barnes, local ladies man, reduced to a nervous teenager because of a woman.

“So much for your grand plan.” She cocked a brow and Sam looked back at her, affronted.

“Hey, how was I supposed to know? He was meant to freak out, get jealous, then tell her - like any normal person would. Not my fault he’s a stubborn asshole.” Sam shook his head at the very thought of the lengths Bucky was going to.

Misleading the Barista.

Telling the Gym Junkie that you loved a man who would fight for you.

Paying the Accountant’s ex just to walk into a damn bar, of all things.

Sam really had no idea how Bucky managed to find out the apparent flaws that all of these guys had, but if anyone could do it, it was Bucky Barnes. Or Natasha Romanoff, now that he thought about it. But he knew this was all Barnes.

“Fair.” Natasha conceded. “If you’re done scheming, how about you let me take the lead this time?”

Sam perked up at the offer. Her plans usually worked, sure they were morally ambiguous most of the time, but these were desperate times and Bucky wasn’t exactly acting like a saint where your dates were involved.

“You have a plan?”

Natasha shot him her characteristic smirk.

“Something like that.”

Sam only realised just how far Nat was willing to go when she invited Steve and Bucky along with them to the bar. It was one of the most amusing things he’d seen in a long time. Bucky Barnes was not one to panic. He’d been through too much in his long life to be surprised by anything nowadays, but this was something else.

“Steve? I thought you were in Bulgaria?”

Sam, Steve and Nat had already been waiting in a booth when Bucky arrived, all nursing beers.

Steve greeted his best friend with a smile. “Got back this morning. Thought I’d join you tonight.”

Bucky grinned at the prospect, sliding into the booth beside him as Sam and Nat chatted across from them. They saw each other all the time, but missions had been taking Steve away an awful lot recently. It gave him more time to bond (bicker) with Sam, and spend with you. So he was excited to see Steve after weeks of no contact. That was, until he asked a question Bucky never thought he would hear him ask.

“Hey, I know you know Y/N better than most, I was just wondering if you could tell me what kind of food she likes best?” Steve asked lowly.

Bucky’s brows furrowed in confusion.

“Food? Uh, she not that fussy, really…why?”

Steve looked somewhat sheepish and Bucky felt a red flag go up in his mind.

“I was thinking of asking her out on a date.”

The words just weren’t registering and all chatter at the table suddenly stopped. Natasha and Sam shared a look as Bucky opened and closed his mouth like a fish.

“Wha…d-date?” Bucky felt his heart race, hoping no one noticed the way his breathing picked up. “You? You and- and Y/N? On a date?”

Steve frowned in concern, reaching out to grasp Bucky’s shoulder. “You okay, Buck?”

The question seemed to snap Bucky out of his little episode, and he forced a smile. “Huh? Yeah, yeah of course. I’m great. Listen, I’m gonna go get a drink, anyone need a refill?”

He was out of his seat in a split second.

Steve sighed, sending a flat glare across the table when he heard the snickering.

“You two are insane, you know that? I can’t believe I agreed to this, did you see his face?” Steve frowned at the thought. Bucky looked devastated, and while Nat’s idea of finally forcing him to pluck up the courage and ask you on a date sounded effective earlier, he was regretting agreeing to it after that reaction.

“Relax, Steve. That just proves that it’s working.” Natasha offered a half-shrug. She knew Bucky would never ruin one of Steve’s dates, the only chance he had of doing so was to prevent it from happening in the first place.

On the other side of the room, you and Wanda had just arrived.

Honestly, the longer you were there, the more relieved you were that Bucky, Sam and Steve were too. Wanda had always been a lightweight, and even if you knew Natasha could handle any drunken assholes heading her way, there was an extra sense of safety that the boys offered. You knew they wouldn’t let anything happen to any of you as long as they were around.

So you really shouldn’t have been surprised that at the first sign of trouble, Bucky was storming his way over to you like a steam train. You’d just gone up to order another round when you felt a hand on the small of your back. At first you smiled, looking over your shoulder and expecting to see either one of the girls or Bucky. Steve would blush ten different shades before touching a woman he wasn’t ‘going steady with’, as he called it, and Sam was too lazy to leave his seat.

But that smile was wiped a way as quick as it had come the moment you noticed a stranger standing beside you. He was decent-looking, but that didn’t excuse the fact that he was making you uncomfortable. He didn’t quite seem to understand that.

“You can put her drink on my tab.”

You turned, hoping his hand would drop as you backed out of his reach. Apparently he couldn’t take a hint, letting it slip to your waist instead.

“Oh, um, that’s not necessary…”

“Please, I insist.”

“No, really, I-“

He held up a hand to cut you off, and you blinked, wide-eyed at the audacity.

“Tell you what, you can make it up to me by joining me at my table.” He offered with a charming smile.

Apparently your loud scoff wasn’t what he was expecting.

“Are you kidding?” You knocked his arm away from you, finally losing your patience with playing nice. What the hell was it with all the men in this city?!

“Excus-“

You turned back to the bartender with an apologetic smile. “You can leave those on my tab, thanks.”

Opting for a hasty retreat before Mr Control Freak decided he didn’t like your tone, you turned to head back to the girls. You yelped when your forearm was jerked back by his harsh grip, and he looked absolutely thunderous when you were forced to face him. His hold only tightened when you tried to jerk away, and you winced at the feeling of his fingers digging into your bones.

“You listen to me, you little - ahh!”

A strong hand clamped down on his wrist, and he quickly dropped your own as if it had burnt him. Thank god for Bucky Barnes, you thought, rubbing the sore skin of your arm. It was rare to see Bucky angry. He was a level-headed person most days, and he never took his anger out on those who hadn’t earned it. The worst he had let you see was his irritation, which usually appeared whenever Sam joined you.

“Apologise.”

If that chilling glare was pinned on you, you’d do anything and everything he asked of you. It was strange to see eyes that completely captivated you so full of threat - so cold and distant and dangerous.

“W-what?” Mr Control Freak was already grimacing at the pain shooting through his arm, but you could see his knees buckle when Bucky’s cybernetic arm whirred.

“I said, apologise.” He replied lowly.

“I-I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”

Bucky’s jaw clenched when he noticed the way you were clutching your arm to your chest, eyes glassy and frowning, but he wouldn’t let you see his rage. No, not you.

“Why don’t you head on over to Steve, doll, I’ll be there in a minute.” He offered softly with a warm smile but his eyes were hard as steel when they flickered back over to Mr Control Freak.

Bucky realised that the incident hadn’t gone unnoticed, the whole table was on its feet with Natasha weaving her way over. She wrapped an arm around your shoulders and sent a dark glare the asshole’s way before shepherding you away.

Bucky’s smile fell the moment you left.

“I’m gonna be real honest with you man, I’d kill every last person in this bar for that woman.” The man’s eyes widened. “You touch her or any other woman like that again, hell, you ever even think about it, and you’ll be the first on my list. Understand?”

It was the closest to polite that Bucky could get right now, and considering he wanted to break this guy in half for laying his hands on you, he knew the repercussions would be severe in such a public place. The best he could do was make sure it never happened again.

“Yes, I-I understand.”

“Good. Go,” Bucky pushed the man’s arm away a little harsher than necessary, “I don’t want to see you here again.”

He stumbled over his own feet in his rush to leave.

Bucky found you on the balcony of the two-storey bar. It wasn’t anything too special, the chaos of New York’s streets could be heard wherever you sat, and the skyscrapers blocked any kind of view you might have, but it was a nice place to just sit and breathe.

It was also a great place for Bucky to calm down after the altercation inside. Steve had sent him your way as soon as Nat had returned to the table. Apparently you wanted some alone time.

That surprised Bucky. Not that you wanted to be alone, but that Steve wasn’t offering to go find you instead. The look he shared with Sam and Natasha raised his suspicion, but that wasn’t Bucky’s priority at the time.

“Go get her, pal.” Steve had said.

And he did.

You didn’t send him away, choosing instead to thank him and release all of the pent up emotion you’d been storing for the past month. He listened, guilt hitting for the first time, as you questioned your self-worth after a line of crappy dates. That was never his intention. He never wanted you to doubt yourself, he just wanted to show you that none of those guys deserved you. Did he? Probably not, but there wasn’t a damn person in the world who loved you more than he did.

“I just don’t get it! Is there even a single guy in New York who isn’t a low-key asshole? Or just…just- ugh! I mean, am I asking too much? Am I the problem?” You threw your hands up in exasperation, but Bucky didn’t even get the chance to reply before you continued. “I just want to find a good guy, someone that gets me, and makes me happy. Someone like-!” Your brain managed to catch up with your mouth just in time, and you snapped it shut.

Bucky’s eyes were on you as quick as a whip, never one to miss any of the details.

“Like…?” He prompted.

Your shoulders slumped at the question. Like you, you dork.

“Like…Ryan Reynolds.” You threw out the first name you could think of with a shrug, earning an amused snort from Bucky.

He knew you weren’t exactly telling the truth, despite your genuine love for Ryan Reynolds, but you were grateful he didn’t call you out on it.

“Believe it or not, there are still some good guys out there.” Bucky offered a soft smile. “Take Steve for example…”

Your brows furrowed. “Steve?”

Bucky chuckled at the way your face scrunched up in confusion. “Yeah, I mean, can you name a guy nicer than Steve?”

He didn’t even know why he was asking. There was no one better than Steve, he knew that and he’d fight anyone who ever dared to disagree. Despite not wanting to hear you tell him how great you thought Steve was, especially after finding out Steve was interested in pursuing you (his chest tightened at the very thought), he needed to know. All this time he had spent believing Sam, believing that you may have returned his feelings. Only to what? Find out that perhaps you didn’t want someone like him at all. Why would you, when you could have someone like Steve instead?

There was even a selfish part of him that wanted you to disagree, to tell him that there was only one man for you and that it wasn’t Steve. Right now it didn’t seem as unlikely as he would have originally thought, not if he was reading you right.

“Well, no…but he’s not-“ You shook your head, cutting yourself off once more.

“Not what?”

“Not…Ryan Reynolds.” You finished lamely, drawing another laugh from Bucky.

“Y’know, doll, I’m starting to think ‘Ryan Reynolds’ is code for something.” He cocked a knowing brow, peeking at you from the corner of his eye and smiling when you scowled.

A beat of silence passed between the two of you, both content to just enjoy the fresh (or as fresh as New York could offer) air and each other’s presence. There was a strange sense of anticipation within you, one that burned just as bright as the newfound hope in Bucky.

“I should head back inside, the girls are probably wondering where I am.”

If she goes in there, she’s Steve’s, he reminded himself.

He listened as you got up to leave, each step reverberating in his head and urging him to say something.

“We should go out some time.” Oh geez, not that.

You came to an abrupt halt and though he wasn’t looking at you, he just knew you’d turned to look at him, wondering if you had heard him right. With a silent sigh, he turned in his seat to face you. No more running, Barnes.

Maybe there really wasn’t any other way.

“We- we are out?”

He cracked a fond smile, and shook his head. Only you could ask what he meant without actually asking what he meant.

“I was thinking something a little more…private.” His eyes darted to the floor, nerves finally settling in.

“Maybe a night in with good company, finally watch that movie Nat keeps raving about?” His voice had dropped lower, suddenly unsure of how you’d reply, but hoping you’d understand what he was trying to tell you. His eyes met your own and you felt like someone had knocked the air out of you.

A night in with good company - you remembered the conversation you had with Sam weeks ago. The way Bucky seemed to disapprove when he suggested you start dating. You never would have guessed that there was a reason for it, at least not this reason.

“Just…me and you?”

“Yeah, just us.” He nodded with a small smile.

“I-I’d like that.” You bit your lip to keep your grin in check, but the warm look in his eyes as he watched you, told you that you hadn’t quite succeeded.

His smile quickly turned into a smug smirk as he walked over. “You can tell me all about your crush on ‘Ryan Reynolds’,” he shot you a knowing look, “and I might just show you that there’s one man left in New York that can make you happy.”

You rolled your eyes at his teasing, giving his shoulder a light shove. He took it in stride, throwing an arm around your shoulders with a laugh.

“You’re a jerk, you know that?”

“You kidding? Steve only tells me every day.”

You joined him in laughing as you made your way back to your friends.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky x reader #Bucky Barnes #marvel

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waif-of-the-night · 5 years

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Death Takes A Holiday

Part 2

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A/n: I recently added an ‘ask away’ tab to my account so go ahead and ask me anything. I’ll be more than happy to answer!

You woke up with a throbbing pain in your head and a concerned Dean sitting by your side. You looked around the familiar motel room while you sat up straight watching as Sam entered the room asking if you were alright. “I’m fine. Might have a concussion.” You whispered. He offered some aspirin but you passed on them. “So, demons, huh?” you clutched your head as you rose from the bed and sat on the edge. “So much for miracles.” Dean scoffed from behind you. “Wait, what happened with Alastair?” you asked, not remembering how you three got away. “Yeah, what did happen back there?” Dean repeated, as much confused as you. Sam sighed at his brother, “I told you, he tried to fling me or whatever and it didn’t work so he bailed.” Dean expressed his suspicion for why Alastair couldn’t fling him. “He chucked you pretty good last time.” He raised a suspicion . “Got no idea.” Sam answered and turned to whatever he was doing but was interrupted by Dean, “Sam, do me a favour. If you’re gonna keep your little secrets, I can’t really stop you. But just don’t treat me like an idiot okay?” Your stare alternated between the two men and you mentally decided to stay out of this. “What? Dean, I’m not keeping any secrets.” Sam replied. Dean just stared at him for a second then muttered a ‘whatever’, letting the topic go. “So did you go back to q-and-a the dead kid?” “Didn’t have to.” The younger brother answered as he lifted his notebook from the table, “Bobby did some digging.” “What’d he find?” you asked as he took a seat before you. “He thinks you’re right.” He said to you, “Local reaper’s gone. Not just gone—kidnapped.” “By demons? Why?” Dean uttered. You shared the same question when Sam asked the two of you to listen to what he read from the notebook. “And he bloodied death under the newborn sky – sweet to taste, but bitter when once devoured.” “What does that even mean?” your eyebrows knotted in confusion. “Well, it’s from a very rare, very obscure version...of revelations.” Sam closed his notebook. “Which means what I think it means?” Dean raised a doubt. “Basically, if you kill a reaper under the solstice moon—tomorrow night by the way – you got yourself a broken seal.” He explained and you immediately asked, “But how do you ice a reaper? You can’t kill death.” “I don’t know. Maybe demons can.” Sam replied which got the three of you wondering where the hell angels were in all this. “Well, looks like we’re gonna have to take care of this one ourselves.” Dean sighed. “But what are we gonna do? Just swing in and save the friendly neighbourhood reaper?” Sam huffed. To even think of doing this seemed farfetched but it wasn’t like any of you had a better idea than Dean’s. “But reapers are invisible. The only people who can see them are the dead and the dying.” “Well,” you chimed in with an idea, “If ghosts are the only ones that can see them... then we become ghosts.” You noticed both of their faces, conveying the same expressions of amusement, to which you replied in a small side smile. “You do have a concussion.” Sam declared. “It sounds crazy, I know—” you were stopped before you completed. “It is crazy.” Dean emphasised but looked like he was on board, “How?” Your smile widened when you realised that the both of them were ready to go through your crazy idea. -------- Shortly after you had told them what you had in mind, Dean left to get Pamela, leaving you with Sam. You kept yourself busy with research but Sam had seen you all day and knew that something was obviously going on. He had told Dean that it was because of what happened with the siren but he couldn’t have been sure without asking, so he decided to get sure. “Is everything okay?” he asked as he took a seat near you at the small motel table, taking you a little by surprise. “Of course.” You muttered, without making any eye contact which made it clear to him that it wasn’t. He shut the laptop slowly and put it away so your eyes finally met his. “(y/n), I’ve been watching you all day. There’s something off, I can tell.” “Its...” you whispered, for once wanting to ask him more about what happened earlier, about what you heard in the diner, but instead shook your head and muttered, “It’s nothing.” “Look, you’ve listened to me and been there for me when I’ve needed it, so just...know that you can talk to me.” He had the softest eyes you had seen anyone have and you just didn’t have it in you to lie to him, so you talked. “It’s just...” a sigh left your mouth as you tried to find the words to explain what was going on within your head, “everything. It’s like everyone around me knows things that I don’t, things about me—like Alastair.” “What about him?” “He said he was surprised to see me helping an angel, almost like he knew something about me that I don’t. He knew my name even when I had never met him before. And Cas...” “Cas? What did he say?” “He didn’t...he didn’t say anything but ever since he’s met me, he looks at me with these soft eyes, like I’m gonna break and I know that he knows something. I’m just...I’m sick of people keeping these secrets.” Your eyes finally landed on his again while his never left you. He wanted to comfort you but didn’t know what to say so he just held your hand firmly, telling you that he was there for you in this. You gave him a sad smile but before any of you could say anything more; Dean entered the room with Pamela. “Alright, which one of you geniuses came up with astral projection?” was the first thing she said to the three of you. You and Sam rose up from where you sat to welcome her. You three and Pamela had argued for a good fifteen minute or so before she finally agreed to help you with the projection out of moral obligation towards saving the world. Soon she started setting you three up for the thing and chanted a series of words in your ears while you three lay on your back with your eyes closed. When she was done, you opened your eyes and sat up, feeling no change and thinking that the projection didn’t work till you looked back at your body laying on the bed, eyes closed. You turned towards your side to see the same happened with the boys, meaning that Pamela was successful and now you three were officially ghosts. Without wasting much time, you headed outside to find the reaper. Dean and Sam walked beside you when a woman approaching towards you from your right jogged right through Dean, unfazed. “That was wild.” He grinned at you and Sam before impulsively shoving his hand through Sam, earning a bitch face from him. “Am I making you uncomfortable?” he asked to which his brother’s only reply was, “Get out of me.” You rolled your eyes at the two of them and walked past them as they followed behind. You three scouted the town for hours but couldn’t find anything even slightly demon-y. You were almost done with it when Sam noticed something in a house window to your left. “Hey, hey, 3 o’clock.” He nudged you and Dean to look at the window. “Kid in the window.” He cleared as the two of you noticed, “Am I crazy or is he looking at us?” “It’s cause we’ve seen him before.” you answered. “In the newspaper. Cole Griffith, the last person to die in this town.” As you completed your sentence, the kid disappeared from the window. You and the boys took this as your cue to go in and investigate the house. You followed the boys towards the room who’s window the kid had been looking out of, but before you could enter, you saw a woman running out of the room and then a ball thrown to your direction. “Stop!” Dean shouted at the kid, or more specifically, the kid’s ghost, who was throwing the balls. “How are you doing that?” “Who are you?” Cole asked the three of you, his voice sounded scared so you decided to calm him first. “Relax, Cole. It’s okay.” You said to him. “How do you know my name?” he questioned you. “Look,” Sam took a cautious step forward, “this isn’t gonna be easy to hear, but, you’re dead. You’re a spirit, us too.” “Yeah, thanks haley joel. I know I’m dead.” The kid scoffed. “What do you want?” You told him that you just wanted to talk so naturally his next question was what you wanted to talk about. The kid led you to the dining hall where you and the boys sat with him while he told you how he died and became a ghost. The cold air caused an asthma attack. He said that when he died, a creepy old dude in a black suit came for him and asked him to go with him. You and the boys understood that that must’ve been the reaper. And then he told how the black smoke entered and got rid of the reaper. Cole didn’t know where the black smoke went, but he did know where it was. You were just about to ask him where, when the lights in the house started flickering and a fearful Cole whispered, “They’re back.” And disappeared before your eyes. You felt a thick gust of wind enter when Sam muttered, “Another reaper.” And followed it to the stairs as you and Dean did the same. “Hey! Hey! Wait! We need to talk to you!” Dean yelled at the reaper before a young dark haired woman walked down the stairs in front of you. She instantly recognized Dean and repeated his name but Dean didn’t seem to remember her. A brief conversation led you to know that Dean had died once before he went to hell and this was the reaper who came for him at that time. Her name was Tessa. Tessa was adamant at reaping Cole’s soul but somehow you and Dean managed to persuade her from reaping until you had found Alastair and solved whatever the hell was going on. She agreed but she warned that whenever she starts reaping again, she will start with the kid. Sam said he’ll go talk to Cole to get him to tell where the smoke was. “Wait, wait, wait, wait.” Your words made Sam stop in his tracks and turn back to you, “What are you going to say to him?” “Whatever I have to.” Was all he answered before he was gone to find him. You offered to keep a look out for demons or any threats while Sam was talking to the kid, leaving Dean alone with the reaper Tessa. “Where did you find her?” Tessa asked Dean as she folded her arms and bobbed her head in your direction, making it clear to him who she was referring to. “That’s (y/n),” Dean answered as his gaze momentarily shifted to where you stood near the doorway, “She’s a friend, a hunter.” An eyebrow raised on Tessa’s face before she let her arms hand loose, “A piece of advice, seeing how we go way back, stay away from that girl Dean.” “What? Why would you say that?” “I’m a reaper Dean, I see souls. So, trust me when I say it’s for your own good that you stay away from her.” “Yeah I get that you see souls,” Dean answered in hushed tones, “but what do you see, that’s what I want to know. What is so different about her? What is she?” “I don’t know.” Tessa replied coldly. “I don’t know what she is, but let me explain something else. Human souls are one of the most powerful sources of energy in this universe but as you know, humans cannot channel that raw power. Now, imagine a human who can.” Dean wasn’t sure what that even meant for you, or for them but before he could ask more from her, Sam entered with Cole and you joined too. “Tell them what you told me.” Sam said to Cole. Tessa said hi to him and assured him that she wasn’t going to hurt him before he finally spoke. “I saw the black smoke at my funeral.” He spoke up. “At the cemetery?” You questioned. “At the funeral home. It was everywhere.” It didn’t take a minute after the words left him mouth that the lights started flickering again. Dean asked Tessa if this was her doing but she denied and before anyone could think, thick black smoke flooded the house making it impossible for anyone to see anything. The smoke cleared in a minute but Tessa was gone along with it. It was clear to you lot that you couldn’t face this the way you were. So you decided you were going to learn ghost methods of fighting from Cole before stepping into the funeral home.

forever tags: @roonyxx @jessikared97 @itslizabitch8021

#supernatural #Supernatural fanfic #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fandom #Iris writes #supernatural rewrite #spn #dean winchester x reader #sam winchester x reader #iris rambles #ask me anything

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isitovers · 5 years

Note

1)Hi Fiona, sorry this chapter review has taken so long (over a week, I think)! It took me longer to read the chapter because of actual life things and it’s taken me longer to write the actual review because of life things. But I’m here now which means I can give it to you on your Birthday (Happy Birthday!!!!). So this chapter started out with a nice little scene between Harry, Karlie, and Taylor. I think it does a really good job of emphasizing what you were trying to do with Karlie’s character

2) Here she’s clearly trying to nudge Harry in the direction of realizing that Taylor is writing about him (sort of) while trying to get Taylor to admit that she is basing her romantic characters off of Harry. It’s also the first big mention of Taylor’s book that becomes bigger in later chapters. And Karlie gets to witness Haylor being super cute and domestic!! Then we get to go into the lovely moments of the July 4th weekend (as an Australian this holiday is literally meaningless to me

3) but I love it for Taylor). I love that we get the little summaries (not the best description but I can’t think of a better word currently lol) of what he did with Jared and the other guys from work at the start of the weekend where he apparently got a new tattoo??? At least he likes it lol. I really love how you had him kind of embrace the irony of a brit being there on American independence day and like of course everyone would make fun of him for it.

4) But at the same time you didn’t overdo it. But mainly (and I know I say this like every chapter lol) the 4th of July party really showed that Harry is now a central part of their little group. He has his own dynamic going on with all the different members. Like obviously he’s still closest with Taylor but there’s no denying that he’s actually friends with everyone (maybe not Sam but all well).

5) And as you also kind of touched on how it’s a central part of why he’s starting to feel a lot more at home in NYC even if he doesn’t actually think of it as home. Also I love the moment when Taylor’s painting little things on Harry and she just straight up starts sitting on Harry’s lap!! I can only imagine that was kind of uncomfortable for everyone else there. And Harry’s just like ‘yeah, if i was her boyfriend I’d probably be uncomfortable with this too but I’m not her boyfriend...

6) So fuck you, sam!!’ Jhvgv I love it so much. The next scene with the fire alarm going off in the middle of the night is weirdly one of my favourite scenes. Nothing all that important story wise happens but it’s just so simple it’s beautiful. The image of Taylor shoving Olivia into Harry’s arms in the middle of the night as they do the fire drill is so domestic and sweet. Also I love how you managed to sprinkle in some sexual stuff in this totally non-sexual moment.

7) Harry complimenting her glasses, Taylor commenting on his pubes, Taylor not wearing a bra and purposely showing Harry her Victoria’s secret shorts. And I love that Harry desperately wanted to tell her what he thought of the shorts, Taylor desperately wanted to know what he thought of her shorts, and I’m still just desperately waiting for them to start making out. Seriously though, I love those little moments because it just shows how much Taylor’s feeling this attraction too.

8) And we really get to go into some of Tay’s insecurities as well (eg. the glasses) which shows us some even bigger issues in her relationship with Sam. Like Sam’s never outright said that he doesn’t like her in glasses but she also clearly doesn’t feel comfortable enough around him to be her true self. Which is a serious problem in a long term relationship. Then in the last scene we have Harry coming back for a sweaty run when taylor wants to hang out.

9) And of course, because Harry can’t help himself, he pops a boner in the shower but manages to stop himself from jerking off because she’s literally in the next room. Love that self control, Harry! But then we just get a nice low key dinner between the two of them where we learn that of course Harry doesn’t get uncomfortable with the mention of periods because he grew up around women. And of course, then they watch my best friend’s wedding (which is the movie you were referring to I think??)

10) which is nice but it also leads to something important. For the first time (i think) he fully admits to himself that in his ideal future he’s in a serious relationship with Taylor where they get married. I feel like before he’s kind of admitted that yeah he’s attracted to her, or that he has a crush on her, or that he’d kind of like their relationship to be different, but here I think is when he first says to himself yes, that is what I want.

11) Anyways, by the time I actually send this to you it won’t be your birthday anymore (boo!) but I hope you had an amazing day! Also, I just wanna say, that I’m writing these reviews not only because I love Home and I wanna talk about it but because I hope it might help with your muse to keep writing! Because I love your haylor writing so much! Whether it’s a full length fic or a smutty one shot, it’s always amazing and I hope that you can write more!

12) Anyways, I loved this chapter and I can’t wait to do the next (it’s a big one I think). Also just wanted to say that writing these reviews out on my laptop is so weird because it means I have to log out of my account to send you the full thing. This has nothing to do with anything but it's just weird because I usually just send messages on my phone lol

oh gosh no need to apologise for that!! I completely understand and I hope you're doing okay! thank you as well, I actually had a really nice birthday which I wasn't expecting!

okay I know I say this like every time but I should really reread home because clearly I've forgotten everything that happens sjfjdjdj anyways!!

the fourth of july party was a bit weird for me actually, not just because of the obvious of not being an american but that it was one of those scenes I'd been looking forward to writing, I had all these plans for it so theoretically it should've been easy to write, but when I actually got up to it I got stuck. for ages. but eventually I pushed through it and playing around with taylor doing things she shouldn't was a lot of fun. her sitting on his lap? completely unnecessary. I regret nothing (and neither does she!). harry being invited emphasised his place within the group but at the same time it's never going to be the same as back home.

now that you mention it I think the fire alarm scene is one that I did go back and read at some point just for fun because I really liked it too. I just went back and read it now out of curiosity (the amount of reads on home though I'm crying!!!!) and I still enjoy it, their dynamic in this fic is definitely one of my favourites I've worked on. the glasses thing was only a small thing I wanted to slide in as something to show that her and sam's relationship wasn't perfect. they loved each other, but they weren't completely compatible and again I thought it would be good to have some build up for later.

the next bit I think was a combination of two ideas I had, since I came up with a lot of different plots for them and having the shower thing and the period thing together just made it easier for me to include stuff I wanted. there generally is a point to everything that's included, even if it's as simple as I think it's fun, and the latter part of that scene showed how much he cared. and why was she surprised? has no guy been that chill about it before? doesn't sam do things like that for her during that time of the month? we don't know. to be completely honest I didn't have a specific movie I was referencing, I just made up a basic plot I figured was an actual movie lmao. also "he wanted to marry his best friend, too. if only she knew." I'm now crying

I appreciate it very much!! I love getting to revisit my fave fic and it is motivating me to write more for us to talk about, so thanks as always!!

#the problem now is iwanna keep reading instead of being productive ajdjd #also if you've got a notepad app you can use that! it's what i use for my replies on mobile and it works for me #anonymous #answered

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fireproof-harry · 5 years

Text

Game. Set. Match. OR Tennis!Harry

The one where Harry’s a superstar tennis player and you’re just the friend from back home.

Type: fluff, bit of angst

Word count: 2.5k

“...and young Styles hits it into the net again.” A sigh from the crowd follows as Harry falls another game behind.

It’s the second set of the AusOpen quarter finals. Harry’s already lost the first set and will most likely lose the second, but that’s not what’s on his mind. With his body aching, sweat dripping everywhere, all he can think about is the fact that she’s not here.

—

Y/N feels horrible. She’s never missed a game.

Her eyes keep glancing to the corner of the pub where the TV is playing the match live. She can’t see the score from where she is but she can tell that he’s losing. Badly.

Focus! she tells herself. Here she is on a lovely night out with a lovely nice man talking about nice things that aren’t tennis!

But every time Y/N tries to focus on the blue eyes of her dinner partner all she can think about is the blue court she’d rather be watching... and how she much prefers green eyes anyway. She’s not supposed to be thinking about those eyes though. Not after the other night.

“And then I did my new backhand trick - you know the one I showed you last week? - and he didn’t have a chance!” Harry was always chatty after a good training session and this day was no different. Bouncing a tennis ball along the pavement as they walked through the park, Harry was animatedly describing (and reenacting) his last hour as Y/N nodded along and ooh-ed and ahh-ed on cue.

“So I’m feeling pretty confident for Tuesday,” he finished.

“That’s great H,” Y/N said, flashing him a quick smile.

It’s not that Y/N didn’t like hearing about Harry’s training, it’s just that Harry trained a lot. And talked about it a lot. Not just the training but everything tennis. Ever since Harry had turned pro it was like there suddenly wasn’t any time for any of their old hobbies or discussion points. No more Harry Potter movie marathons or debates about Marvel vs DC. Just tennis. And while it was great to see Harry gain some hard earned success, she couldn’t remember the last time Harry asked her about her and truly listened to the answer without bouncing a ball or rewatching one of his games in the background. And this trip to Australia was just the icing on the cake. You’d decided to take a stand.

“Actually H, about the match on Tuesday...” you started, “I might be a little late.”

“Late?” Harry asked, turning to you, “you’re never late.”

“Yeah well I have something on and I’m sure it will probably finish early or you know I can just leave but I’m just letting you know that I’ll be a little late is all.”

“What for?” Oh shit. Now this is not where you wanted to go. You were hoping he would just half listen and nod and move on.

“I have a date,” you blurt out.

“A date?” Harry stopped walking.

“Yes.”

“What do you mean you have a date?” Harry asked, scoffing as though it was the most ridiculous idea in the world.

“Exactly that!” replied Y/N indignantly. “Why do you sound so surprised? Didn’t think anyone would want to take me out?”

“What? No...I’m just.. you never ... I didn’t know you were looking to date anyone right now,” Harry stuttered.

“It’s recent,” Y/N answered vaguely, hoping to put an end to this already embarrassing conversation. Y/N and Harry didn’t talk about this stuff. Ever. They could talk for hours about anything and everything but when it came to dating, they led separate lives and pretended not to care about the others. Until now.

“Where’d you meet him?” Harry asked, his full attention now completely on Y/N.

The truth is - Y/N met him on a dating app. She hasn’t been out with anyone in ages and she thought what better time to try out a dating app when on the other side of the world? And Lo and behold one of her first matches was a strapping young Aussie whose abs certainly made up for his apparent affinity for beer (Y/N was not a beer drinker). You couldn’t tell Harry this though as he probably wouldn’t see this as important and easy to cancel... and desperate?

“A café,” you lied, “I’d forgotten to bring my Australian money and he offered to pay for my drink,” you made up wildly.

“He seemed really nice and we got talking and now we’re going on a date,” you finished, fingers crossed inside your jacket pocket.

“Oh,” Harry replied, starting to walk again. You continued in silence for another moment before Harry stopped again.

“But he could be a serial killer!” He exclaimed. “You don’t know him! How do you know what his intentions are?”

“Harry I hardly think he’s a serial killer! He seemed really nice and we-“

“Well maybe not a serial killer but he probably only asked you out because he wants to get into your pants!”

“Oh right I get it. You think the only possibly reason someone might ask me out is to have sex with me?” You fired back.

“No I didn’t say-”

“That’s exactly what you were saying!”

“It was not!”

“Was too!”

The hustle and bustle of the park carried on around you and the two childhood best friends stood face to face, cheeks flushed, in the middle of the path.

“What I was trying say...” Harry started, “is that you’re a very um... attractive woman and that might lead some jerk guy to ask you out with ..um.. not so good intentions!” Harry smiled, seemingly proud of the way he was able to turn that around. “I’m just trying to look out for you Y/N.”

“I can look after myself,” you reply, sick of Harry’s know-it-all attitude.

“Well I just don’t see why you would want to go on a date with some random guy when you ... had a prior commitment anyway.”

“Harry, I told you I’m only going to be a little late!”

“Well maybe you shouldn’t even bother.”

“What?”

“I don’t want to.. get in the way of your ‘date’,” he said, using finger quotation marks to emphasise date.

“But I always go,” you reply, hurt.

“Well maybe you shouldn’t,” Harry said, staring at the ground.

“Well maybe I won’t,” you retorted.

Harry looked back up to see if you were serious. He didn’t actually think you wouldn’t come. Like you said, you always came.

“Well...” he started when he saw no glimpse of humour in your eyes. “A true friend would come,” he blurted out.

Your jaw dropped.

“Don’t get me started on what a true friend should do,” you bit back, feeling the anger swell inside you. “How dare you! I have been the best fucking friend to you!”

Harry stepped back, surprised at your outburst. But you weren’t done. All those feelings of neglect and hurt were flying through your brain and suddenly you couldn’t stop them coming out.

“I have been by your side through thick and thin! I have been at every match, heard every training debrief, come with you to fucking Australia! I’ve missed work and cancelled holidays to make sure I can be there for you and the one time I want to take a bit of time to myself - to go on a date - of which I haven’t been on in quite awhile I must say! Not that you would know because you never ask - you can’t be a little supportive? No! Because it’s all about you. It’s the Harry show! Well I say no! I won’t give up my life to tennis like you!”

—

And now here Y/N was. Sitting in a pub, opposite a lovely guy but unable to forget the image of Harry’s wide eyes and open mouth as she walked away.

—

Harry was so fucked. He felt like utter shit. He’d been having trouble sleeping ever since Y/N had exploded at the park the other day. This was entirely her fault. But also... it was entirely his. He knew it. He had hurt her. He’d got so caught up in the game, in himself, that he hadn’t even thought to really check in with Y/N about how she was, if she was okay, if she needed him. Of course Y/N was allowed to go on dates. He didn’t mind.

“Ugh!” He hit the ball into the net... again. He couldn’t lie to himself. This felt wrong. A part of him had always kinda hoped that one day something might happen between him and Y/N. Something wonderful. And now he’d messed it all up and she’d chosen some random guy over him. Just when he needed her the most.

—

“And then they refused to give our bond back! It was so lame.”

Y/N sighed. Mr Cute-Aussie was turning out to be not-so-cute! Did he really think that telling her about some lads holiday weekend where they trashed their Airbnb was supposed to impress her? Harry would never have done something like that. A true gentleman - whenever he tripped over anything or knocked something over (those giraffe legs are a hazard) he would be bending over backwards to get whatever fixed.

Y/N’s eyes drifted over to the screen again just in time to see Harry hit the ball into the net. He looked so angry, so hurt, like the ball was personally breaking his heart. She could see his eyes glance over to his coaches box where Y/N normally sat, only to look down even more disheartened and in that moment Y/N realised he was looking for her. He couldn’t focus on the ball because he was upset with her. And the fact that she wasn’t there.

“Don’t you think?” The Aussie added, realising his date’s focus had drifted elsewhere. But Y/N had had enough.

“Actually no. You trashed it. You should pay. Now if you will excuse me, there’s somewhere I need to be.” And with that she picked up her bag, threw some cash on the table, and walked out.

What was she thinking! How could she have let this happen? How could she have even considered the idea that supporting Harry wasn’t important. They may have fought and he maybe a bit of a jerk sometimes but they were best friends. She loved him. And no Aussie was going to change that. No guy could.

“Holy shit. I love him,” Y/N said out loud, stopping in the middle of the path.

Y/N quickly struck out her hand to wave down a taxi and jumped in. She was going to fix this.

—

It was half way through the third set. Harry was about 20 minutes away from losing the match and being kicked out of the tournament. And honestly, he couldn’t even find it within himself to care. All he wanted now was to go to bed. And cry a little maybe. He wasn’t normally such a sore loser but he’d never lost her before.

Out of habit he glanced to her usual spot in the crowd as he bounced the ball preparing to serve. And then he froze.

She was there. Y/N was sitting right there. It felt like the whole arena was holding there breath as he locked eyes with her across the court. She had one hand over her heart as he saw her mouth those three words that he thought he’d lost all chance of hearing from her lips. I love you.

Someone was saying something and suddenly everything came back into focus. The ref was telling him to hurry up and he remembered where he was. He threw the ball into the air and hit it as hard as he could across the court. Ace.

—

“And what a match we have here at Rod Laver Arena tonight. The young Brit started off slow but has completely turned around the game! After losing the first two sets I thought he was a goner for sure. What do you think, Jim?”

“Absolutely. But as we have seen something has changed within him and he’s had a wave of ..I don’t even know what! Just when we thought it was over he won that third set and then the fourth! And now he’s smiling. He’s positively beaming as he smashes one ace after another.”

“Yes, and I’ve heard a rumour that it all may be something to do with a new addition to his box. People have been going back through the footage and we think that the change in young Styles behaviour might have something to do with the young girl now sitting there as she wasn’t there to begin with.”

“Well, whatever it is, it’s working!”

—

Y/N was freaking out. Harry was suddenly playing brilliantly and had taken the last set to a final tie-breaker. Harry has just got in-front and needed to win this point to win. Her hands wouldn’t stop sweating as she watched on, trying to send waves of love and support into Harry’s head as he set up to serve for the match.

“Ohhh,” the crowd sighed. Harry’s first serve had gone straight into the net. Fault.

You can do this, Y/N repeated over and over in her head.

—

Harry took a deep breath and sneaked one more glance up at Y/N before throwing the ball into the air.

It was the longest rally yet. Across the court he ran back and forth, up and down until finally his opponent hit one right over his head. Running to chase it, Harry stopped thinking and let his body take over. His arm reached out and just caught the ball before it’s second bounce, whacking it between his legs back across the court. Cheering erupted and Harry thought he must’ve missed but when he turned around he could see British flags being waved in the air and Y/N jumping up and down in her seat. He had won.

—

He couldn’t stop moving the whole post-match interview. All he wanted to do was get to her and now he was finally moving through the corridors backstage, shrugging off people trying to congratulate him.

And then there she was. She was running towards him and his legs started moving before his brain could catch up and then she was in his arms.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“No, I’m sorry. I was the jerk - I should’ve been looking out for you - I’m so sorry.”

They parted a bit to look each other in the face. Harry pressed his forehead against hers.

“I love you.”

“Harry!” Y/N gasped. And then laughed. Her smile becoming wider and wider.

“What? It’s true! I had to tell you, I’m so- what’s so funny?“

“No Harry!” Y/N started, trying to wipe the frown lines off Harry’s face. “I was about to say that!”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Harry’s grin was back in full swing as his eyes lowered to Y/N’s lips.

“Alrighty then,” he whispered before pressing his lips to hers.

The end.

This is my first time writing on here so please let me know what you think!

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southsideserpentsblog · 6 years

Text

Health Class AU//part 2

Summary: Sweet Pea and Gwen (OC) are in the same health class and over the holidays are assigned to look after a robotic baby. Gwen doesn't like Sweet Pea and they just so happened to be paired up...

Warnings: swearing, angst

Part 1 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

I sat in the living room with the robotic baby sitting in its carrier on the floor. It had cried at least three times since I got home and I wanted nothing more than to throw it in a bin in Greendale.

My parents were still home and were busy packing their suitcases for their business trip. As my mum walked past me, in her six inch heels and cocktail dress, she kissed my cheek. "Again, I'm really sorry you can't come with us," she said.

"It's okay. You've done it before," I muttered.

"Alright. We're off. We'll be back in two weeks."

The walked out the front door and minutes later, a car pulled out of the driveway. I looked at the baby and it's glass eyes stared back at me. "What do you want to do?" I asked it. "Do you like movies?"

I was more asking myself than the baby and when the room fell quiet, I realised this is what my holidays were gonna consist of. Dead silence and robotic baby. What a holiday to remember.

"I want to watch a movie. But your daddy said he's stopping by around six and it'd be rude for me to watch a movie without him."

The baby's eyes stared blankly.

"Why the fuck am I talking to you? You're not even real."

I walked to the kitchen and pull out all the ingredients to make a pizza base. Tediously, I tied my apron on and started measuring out my ingredients. The door bell chimed through the house and I hurried to the front door. On the other side, Sweet Pea stood with his leather jacket on and his hair its usual dark mess. "Hunny, I'm home," he joked.

I closed the door in his face. He knocked on the door and I reopened it, shooting him a condescending look.

"Hey, Gwen."

"That's better. Come on in Sweet Pea," I replied.

He walked into the house and slipped his shoes off at the door. I walked back to the kitchen and resumed making pizza base. Sweet Pea sat on the other side of the counter and looked around my house. "You have a really nice house," he said.

I snickered. "Yeah? Well, it's not exactly a home."

His eyebrows furrowed. "What do you mean?"

I shrugged. "Just is."

He nodded his head and looked around. The living room started on the other side of the dining table and the living, dining and kitchen were all joined together in a long room. "So where's my baby?" Sweet Pea asked.

I nodded towards the other end of the room. "Over there. In front of the fireplace."

He looked over as I stared down at the dough I was kneading. It was becoming sticky and I needed more flour. "Sweets, can you put some flour on this?" I asked.

Flour sprinkled onto the dough and I rubbed my hands together, getting dough that was stuck off them. Sweet Pea chuckled and I looked up at him to be met with a cloud of flour. He roared with laughter and I couldn't help the smile that spread across my face.

"Sweets! You are so dead!" I yelled.

I threw flour into his face and laughed. He grabbed the bag and stood up, holding it. "I'm not sure you want this, Gwen," he muttered.

I grinned and opened the pantry, grabbing a new bag. "Are you sure you want this?"

His smile dropped and I opened the bag. I grabbed a handful. He did the same. We stood across from each other on the bench and stared at each other. I tossed the handful of flour at him to be met with my own and I reached into the bag and grabbed more. Flour flew across the room and covered every surface as we threw it at each other.

He ducked down and I hopped into the counter, crawling across to peak over the other side. He sat on the floor, the flour covering the top half of him and his black pants with patches of white. "Hey," I whispered.

He looked up at me and I dumped the bag of flour on him. Howling with laughter, I rolled onto my back and held my stomach. I didn't notice him stand up until his top half was hunched over my head. His eyes bore into mine and my laughing seized to exist when our eyes connected.

I gulped. He licked his lips and looked down at mine. My palms became clammy and I slowly sat up. "We should probably get cleaned up," I said, wanting to get away from him.

He scratched the back of his head. "Gwen?" he said.

"I'll look after the pizza. You go have a shower. It's at the end of the hall and to the left."

"Gwen."

"What?" I struggled to look at him but when I met his sincere eyes, I felt my heart seize.

"Do you want me to stay the night?"

My mouth opened and I tried to speak. "Ye-Yeah. If you want to. There's two spare bedrooms."

He nodded his head and made his way to the bathroom. I breathed in deeply and completed the pizza base, putting it on the tray. After putting the pizza base into the oven, I started to clean down the bench. Sweet Pea walked into the kitchen with damp hair and a white singlet that emphasised his muscular arms. "What kind of pizza do you want?" he asked.

"Um... Whatever. I'm not fussy," I replied.

He nodded his head. "Alright. Go have a shower. I'll take care of this."

I looked at him and his dark eyes met mine. "Are you serious?"

"Yes. Now move your butt."

My eyebrows furrowed and as I walked to the bathroom, I grew more confused. What the fuck?

I grabbed a clean set of clothes, a pair of cotton shorts and a loose top, before heading to the shower. The water was still warm from when Sweet Pea showered and I sighed as it washed over my body. The flour stuck to my body and I tediously washed it out, not wanting to see Sweet Pea just yet.

I stepped out of the shower and dried myself off. Slipping on the shorts and top, I left the bathroom and walked to the kitchen. The room was spotless and the pizza was covered in topping. Sweet Pea looked up at me and he smiled. "Hope you like meat lovers. It's all I could find," he said.

"My favourite," I replied. "You cleaned the kitchen."

"I hope it's up to your standard."

"Better than what the maid does."

"You have a maid?" He pulled the pizza out of the oven and placed it on the stove.

"Yeah. Marie-Anne. She's really nice."

He nodded his head. "You said your parents weren't here for the two weeks. How come?"

"Business trip."

"Business trip? Can't they spend time with their daughter for five seconds." He raised an eyebrow at me.

I chuckled. "Yeah." I paused and thought about what I was gonna say to not reveal too much. "They're busy people."

He leaned on the counter and his eyes bore into mine. "There's more to it than that."

My breath got caught and I got off my seat. "Do you want to watch a movie?"

He straightened up and watched me as I opened a hidden door to the theatre room that was to the right of him. I walked in and turned the projector on. Connecting my laptop, I opened the file with my movies and displayed it on the wall.

Sweet Pea walked in with the pizza and two bottles of water. "I'm a horror movie type of guy but I'm down for anything," he said, placing the pizza on the coffee table.

I smiled. "Good. Horror movies is all I watch."

When our eyes met, I thought I saw a twinkle in his eyes and I pursed my lips. Even in low light, he was attractive. The way his dark hair framed his face and his tall figure loomed over me. Even his presence was attractive.

What the fuck.

I looked away from him and rubbed my hands on my shorts. My cheeks were growing warm and I scratched my head. "I-I'm gonna go get the baby-" I stuttered.

"You mean Riley?" He interupted.

"Yep, that's the one." I nervously chuckled. "Alright, I'm going now."

I turned on my heel and walked into the kitchen. Closing the hidden door, I covered my face with my hands and groaned. Sweet Pea. Sweet motherfucking Pea. That fucking asshole.

I walked to the living room and picked up Riley from the carrier. It flopped in my arms and I walked back into the theatre room, using the hallway entrance. Sweet Pea was ready comfortable sitting on the floor when I walked in and he had a movie already chosen. He looked at me and smiled.

I sat down on the couch behind him and crossed my legs, the robotic baby in my lap. Sweet Pea glanced back at me and handed me a bottle of water. "Do you want some pizza?" he asked.

"Yes please," I replied.

He held the tray up for me to grab a slice and I sat back on the couch, stuffing my face with pizza.

Halfway through the movie, Sweet Pea had taken the pizza tray back to the kitchen. He came back in and sat beside me. I found myself gazing towards him, seeing how close he was sitting next to me. My heart was in my throat and I thought I saw his hand move towards me but I wasn't sure.

A scream erupted through the room and I jumped up out of fright, the baby hitting the floor. It screamed louder. Sweet Pea was standing up too. I picked up the baby and walked out of the room with Sweet Pea following. The baby cried and I held it to my chest, muttering to it. Sweet Pea walked over and took it from my arms. He cradled it and the crying died down.

I felt my heart melt and the robotic baby's eyes closed. He placed it in the carrier and turned to me with a small smile. I was stunned. He handled it so well and calmly. His eyes connected with mine and he took a step closer to me. "H-How?" I stuttered as he stepped closer.

I felt his breath on my face and he pulled a strand of hair behind my ear, his hand resting under my chin. "Magic," he whispered and leaned down towards me.

Closing my eyes, I felt his cool breath on my ear. My lips parted and a chill ran down my spine. Oh no.

"Kinda the same magic I'm using to make you fall for me, princess."

My eyes snapped open and I shoved him away from me. "You're a fucking asshole, Pea," I growled.

He laughed. A deep sound that easily vibrated in his chest. Holy moly.

"Stop laughing at me!" I turned away from him and folded my arms over my chest.

"You're adorable, Gwen."

I growled and pouted.

"Admit it, you kinda dig me."

"I do not-" my words were cut short as I turned and saw him sitting on the coffee table. Shirtless.

He grinned at me and stood up. "Cat got your tongue?"

"Shut up."

"Admit it."

"I have nothing to admit." I couldn't keep my eyes on his as his bare torso glistened in the light.

A shit eating grin spread across his face as he sat back down in the coffee table.

I sighed. "What if I do admit? What then? We're gonna kiss? We're gonna go out?"

He smiled. "No. You're not ready."

I raised an eyebrow.

He sighed and leaned his head back. "I could've kissed you in the kitchen. I could've kissed you in the theatre. But you didn't want to and I'm not going to force you into anything."

I nodded slowly and walked towards him. He looked back down at me just as I kneeled in between his legs. "Maybe you're right. Maybe I'm not ready," I whispered.

His eyes flicked to my lips and I pulled my bottom lip into my mouth. "Stop talking."

"Why? I thought you said I wasn't ready? You said you weren't gonna pressure me?" I put my hands on his stomach and ran my hands up his chest.

"Stop talking." He growled and his hand snaked around my waist.

"Make me."

His lips came crashing down on mine.

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makuroshi · 6 years

Text

This fluffy fic is my Eruri Secret Santa gift for @danchou-smith! Your wish list left me open to a lot of options, and I’ve chosen the domestic fluff/humour route (with a tint of smut, of course)... I haven’t written in a long, long while so I’m rusty, but I hope you liked it~ Happy holidays, love :) *Also on AO3

Title: “hello fuck off, i’m erwin”

Ratings: M

Summary:

“I’m an editor now, but I used to work at a calendar factory,” Erwin says, popping a chip into his mouth. “I got sacked.”

Levi’s interest is piqued. “Why?” He asks, curious.

Erwin glances up from his plate, smirking like he’s up to no good. “Because I took a couple of days off,” he says, snickering as if something is so funny.

Levi doesn’t get it.

(or Levi meets the fabled oh-so-perfect Erwin Smith and instantly learns that he’s not always what he seems. He falls in love anyway)

---

“Listen,” Hange says, excitement evident on her face as she leans forward, encroaching into Levi’s space. Levi can already guess what she is going to talk about; she’s been harping on it for days. “I have this friend, you know? That tall blonde guy I went to college with? I was talking about you that day and he’s interested to know more about you.”

“Mike said he smells nice. Wonderful, even.”

“And why the hell should that convince me?!”

“You know how Mike is! He can smell evil from miles away!” Hange swings her arms in an exaggerated gesture and Levi sighs, feeling a headache coming.“I’m telling you, Erwin’s a great guy. Almost impeccable if not for—“ She pauses, as if suddenly remembering something, then brushes it off “Nevermind, just meet him once, please?”

“No.”

“I’ll make my students stay back to clean the classrooms and the office everyday for a month?”

Levi considers, and then- “Deal.”

And that’s how Levi ends up in a family restaurant across the street, on a set-up meeting (not a date) with the one and only Erwin Smith.

Erwin Smith is, to put it simply, insanely attractive. His flawless appearance might be intimidating to some people, but to Levi, nothing turns him on more than a calm and collected man who knows how to keep his suits crease-free and hair perfectly in place. The height is a very much appreciated bonus –the first time Levi hears that they have a good 1’ between them he almost drags the guy straight to bed. Almost.

Throughout their not-date, Levi slowly learns more about Erwin, and with each passing second, he’s solidifying Hange’s claim that he’s Mr. Perfect. Levi can’t believe his luck. But come to think of it… Hange did blurt something about Erwin, right?

“I’m an editor now, but I used to work at a calendar factory,” Erwin says, popping a chip into his mouth. “I got sacked.”

Levi’s interest is piqued. “Why?” He asks, curious.

Erwin glances up from his plate, smirking like he’s up to no good. “Because I took a couple of days off,” he says, snickering as if something is so funny.

Levi doesn’t get it. He replays what Erwin said in his head. ‘I got sacked from a calendar factory because I took some days off—‘

Wow.

“That was… awful,” he deadpans. “You in charge of Reader’s Digest jokes section or something?”

“Economics, actually. But I dabble,” Erwin smirks. Levi wants to punch his face at how beautiful he looks. “

So this is it. This was what Hange had almost let slip. Erwin Smith’s flaw is that he makes terrible jokes. And not just any jokes, he makes… dad jokes.

Uh oh.

“So?” Hange claps a hand on his back when she runs into him the next day. Levi knows she wants to talk, but he doesn’t.

“So what?” He snaps, pressing the red pen onto one of his students’ book so hard that it pokes through it. He looks at the front page. Eren Jaeger. Tough luck, kid.

Hange’s still starry-eyed, ignoring Levi’s distress. “So… with Erwiiiinnn? How’d it go?”

“Mostly amazing but…” Levi replies, pointing an accusatory finger at Hange. “You knew.”

“That he has a dreadful sense of humour? Yeah,” Hange chuckles, shaking her head. “But other than that, isn’t he just your type?” She grins. “Admit it, you’d totally climb him like a tree.”

He’s suddenly reminded of Erwin’s exasperatingly hot physique and shit, that’s a thought he doesn’t need when he has a class to teach in ten.

“Do you think you guys will work out?” Hange asks. Levi closes his eyes and replies, “We’ll see.”

And they work out just fine, it seems. The subsequent dates go well (yes, he can call them dates now), and even though Erwin still sometimes say shit like “Did you hear about the chef, Levi? He pasta away” while they’re eating fucking pasta, Levi is willing to put it past him, especially since he gets to shut Erwin up nicely by riding his dick to oblivion after a particularly flirty night.

Mike smiles knowingly (note, creepily) when Hange and him hangs out on the weekend, and really, who cares about the teasing when Erwin’s such a fantastic fuck?

He has never thought it’d come to this, but somehow one thing leads to another and Levi moves in with Erwin after a year and a half of being together.

The place they get is in a gated neighbourhood, homely and convenient for them both, more so for Levi as the school he works at is within walking distance. Erwin still has to drive to his office, which is not a problem as his job sometimes entails driving around to meetings anyway.

Living with Erwin is surprisingly easy to get used to. They fall into a comfortable routine without much hassles, and life is going really, really great.

But if there’s something Levi has trouble with, it’s Erwin’s work timing.

Erwin’s job as a senior editor should be less taxing than it is currently, considering that he is now rather high up in the food chain. He’s well-respected in the industry, a favourite among the crowd for both his talents and charm; he no longer needs to work his ass off day and night to prove his worth.

Except it’s Erwin we’re talking about. He has always been a bit of an workaholic, not accepting anything less than perfect for the pieces he approve, and that results in him working extra hours, even on the weekends.

It’s not ideal, of course, but Levi manages.

Today is a rare but welcomed occurrence. For the first time in a while, Levi wakes up to Erwin’s broad chest smothering his face, warmth engulfing him in a bone-crushing embrace. He inhales the musky scent that he’s come to love, and runs a hand along Erwin’s strong back, scraping his nails on purpose. He’s sated from last night and still feels floaty and disgustingly happy.

Erwin stirs, eyes still closed. “Morning,” he mumbles.

Levi’s reply is a muffled ‘hmmm’ as he buries his face deeper into the comforting touch. He throws a leg over Erwin’s larger ones under the covers and contemplates sleeping in, before something suddenly crosses his mind.

“What’s wrong?” Erwin asks, plush lips settling on the side of Levi’s head.

“It’s Saturday. We have to take out the trash.”

Erwin groans and draws Levi closer, to his vocal protest. “Can’t we do that another day?”

“And let the maggots breed? No fucking way.” Levi struggles viciously against the hold and breaks free, making his way out of the bedroom. For the lack of better things to do now that the other side of the bed is empty, Erwin reluctantly follows.

Once they’re done with the trash (Levi makes Erwin clean the bin to make up for all the times he had to do it alone), Erwin pleads. “There. Now can we go back inside and cuddle?”

They don’t, in fact, go back inside and cuddle. Instead, Erwin finds himself with a shopping list in a grocery store, crouching in Aisle 5 searching for honey. Levi’s off somewhere to settle the other half of the list, and they agree to meet up at the check-out after twenty minutes.

They don’t get much, after all it’s only the two of them (for now, a voice in Levi’s head says). The cashier, a kid with close-shaved head scans the milk and beams cheerfully at them.

“Would you like your milk in a bag, sir?”

Levi swears he sees it; the mischievous glint in Erwin’s eyes when the cashier asks the question. He cannot anticipate yet what he’s going to say –his mind isn’t as fast as Erwin’s when it comes to this- but he knows it is going to be nothing short of a disaster. Before Levi can kick him in back of the knee in a desperate attempt to rescue their dignities, Erwin has already opened his mouth to speak. Shit, too late. Oh well, at least the kid has to hear this too.

“No thanks, please leave it in the jug!”

Silence.

Erwin grins.

God, Levi wants to die.

He’s so sure that almost everyone within the vicinity had heard that, because Erwin had made it a point to say it with a loud, booming voice. That only happens when he is confident enough that his joke is funny, which is why the current situation is even more painful because absolutely no one is laughing.

Or so Levi thinks.

The kid (‘Connie’, his nametag reads) starts biting his bottom lip, face contorting into a mixture of constipation and holding back a wet fart. Connie’s shoulders are shaking visibly now, grip on the bread he’s scanning tightening (RIP bread), and it’s not long before Levi realizes that he is actually stifling a laugh. A giggle or two escapes him, then all of a sudden, Connie throws his head back and roars in laughter, hitting the counter repeatedly to emphasise just how funny he found that joke. The two young ladies behind them are also covering her face with their hands, probably concealing their own giggles. Erwin is undoubtedly very pleased with himself, glancing back and forth between Connie and Levi as if saying ‘hey look at that, I’m so funny right’ but Levi is not having any of that.

He sends a piercing glare at Connie, who upon seeing Levi’s murderous face resumes scanning the items at the speed of light. They pay, grab the bags and leave the shop in record three minutes twenty seconds

“You scared him!” Erwin says disapprovingly once they reach the parking lot, loading the bags into the car.

Levi jabs Erwin in the hip sharply, reveling in Erwin’s yelp of pain. He rearranges the bags so they fit and slams the trunk shut. “And you embarrassed me.”

“Awww come on, you loved it!”

“Save your dad jokes from when you actually become one.”

Levi can almost feel the world stopping the second he says it. Shit, that wasn’t supposed to come out! He freezes up, and he wants to run away because he knows Erwin will ask about it but he’s trapped in the car

“Levi,” Erwin carefully places a hand on his thigh, a sign that he’s not gonna let this go so easily. “Are you saying you wanna have kids with me?”

“Don’t spin my words, bastard.”

“Do you?” Erwin has a small smile playing on his lips. He is now staring at him like he’s his world, bright blue eyes so fond and tender and holy shit, Levi thinks, I’m really in love with this guy.

“Maybe,” He mutters, gazing outside the window to hide his face, worried of what kind of vulnerable expression he must be doing right now. “Someday.”

After that ‘Carpark Confession’ incident (no thanks Hange for the name), Erwin is visibly more affectionate than before. He steals more kisses from Levi than the norm, and his touches linger a lot, but at least he doesn’t bring it up anymore. Levi takes that as a sign that Erwin understands that he can see them having a future together, which is definitely more than enough. A typical day in their life now goes like this:

“Hey love,” Erwin sets a cup of tea on the table, leaning down to kiss the top of Levi’s head fondly. “How’s your day?”

Levi mutters a soft ‘thanks’ and lifts the cup by the brim, bringing it close to his lips. “They changed the janitor to one that can actually do his job… at least half of the class submitted their homework… and Hange blew up only one test tube instead of the usual five. So, ‘s okay, I guess.” He takes a sip from the tea and marvels in how it’s delicious as always, just the right amount of warmth and sweetness. Erwin’s not a big fan of tea, but boy does he make a good cup.

“Mmmm,” Erwin hums in content, engrossed in reading a magazine. “I got complimented on my driving today,” he says, nonchalant.

At that, Levi’s eyes narrow. Erwin drives like he’s chasing a flight or trying to escape assassins all the time, there’s no way somebody finds that kind of road skills praiseworthy. He turns to face Erwin, who is still avoiding any eye contact. Something’s not right. “Oh really.”

“Yeah, really.” Closing the magazine, Erwin stands up in a subtle hurry that doesn’t escape Levi’s attention. He’s already halfway across the room when he continues. “They left a little note saying ‘parking fine’.”

“Erwin,” Levi growls, expression darkening. “Did you get a ticket again.”

“Oh is that what it meant?” Erwin feigns innocence, laughing nervously. “I thought they were complime--” He doesn’t get the chance to finish his sentence before he bolts up the stairs hysterically, a fuming Levi hot on his tails.

Levi has been away from home for the past week for the annual Sina High team-building camp he’s forced to go as one of the class teachers. He’s convinced the whole bullshit is unnecessary and an utter waste of time, but Principal Pixis insisted that everyone attends and Levi wasn’t in a mood to argue.

So… a week apart from Erwin. The longest they’ve spent apart was four days, when Erwin had to go on a short business trip to Canada. One week is just three days added to that, they should be fine, right?

Right.

There’s a problem though.

He’s horny. So painfully horny.

Before he’d left for the trip, they have not been able to have much sex as Erwin’s sister was in town and had crashed at their house for a few days. So it’s really been two weeks since him and Erwin last fucked, which is downright insane considering how insatiable they both usually are.

Levi tries it with his fingers on one of the nights but it just isn’t the same. It feels good, but nothing like what Erwin offers when he slowly, carefully fingers him open, getting him ready for his cock. Erwin’s just… fills him up nicer and hits him in all the right places, and Levi is almost sobbing with frustration as he chases a weak release alone.

He gets home the next evening, thinking that he can finally get his fill of Erwin again. He opens the door ready to pounce, only to be greeted with an empty house.

Erwin’s working late again.

Levi sighs in disappointment, grudgingly heading towards their room, hoping that he will be back soon.

The rattle of keys wakes him up with a jerk. Desire and excitement coursing through his veins, Levi practically zooms down the stairs, and the instance Erwin appears at the door, Levi tackles and drags him down onto the floor, suitcase and work files be damned. They fall with a thud in a heap of tangled limbs, in the middle of the hallway that has not been swept and mopped for a week. Damn it. He should probably move this to the bedroom where it’s much more hygienic and conducive, but Levi doesn’t think he can stand another minute not having Erwin’s dick in him without spontaneously combusting.

“I’m so fucking horny right now,” Levi hisses, fingers scrambling to clumsily undo the buttons of Erwin’s black coat. He gets to the third button when Erwin chooses that moment to sit up, pressing his growing hard-on into Levi’s bottom in the process, earning a loud filthy moan from the man. “Shit, Erwin,” Levi pants, breathless.

“Levi, what’s gotten into you?” Erwin says, sliding his nimble hands under Levi’s shirt, leaving feathery touches in their wake.

“You, I hope. Preferably right now,” Levi replies, tossing away the coat haphazardly. It lands a little too close to the foot of the stairs, but he can’t care less. Ignoring Erwin’s chuckle, he tears hungrily at the tailored shirt, relishing in the sound of the buttons hitting the floor. He licks a stripe from Erwin’s collarbone down to the top of his pants, tasting the sweat on his heated flesh. “Stop laughing like an idiot and get on to it.”

Erwin is certainly more than happy to oblige. He eagerly helps rid Levi of his pants and watches in awe as Levi’s erection springs free, already red and straining for release.

“You’ve got a lot pent up,” Erwin grumbles, leaning down to blow onto the tip of Levi’s length, coaxing a grunt out of him. “Look at you… So needy like this.” He sneaks a hand behind and slips a finger into Levi’s ass, eyes widening at the realization that he’s already wet and open.

“You’re late. I had to prepare myself,” Levi gasps as Erwin reinserts his finger, playing with the rim of his entrance. His body arches in unabashed pleasure and he can’t fight the carnal urge to push back against Erwin, grinding against him frantically. “Wanted your cock so bad,” he whines.

“Fucking hell, Levi.”

Erwin surges forward to catch Levi’s lips in a frenzied kiss, never letting him go more than a few seconds as he slicks himself up and enters Levi, basking in the obscene sounds of skin hitting skin.

Somewhere between Erwin eating his come out of Levi’s ass and Levi greedily lapping at Erwin’s spent cock, they make it to the bedroom to continue where things are left off, and after both their bodies ache delightfully from the hours and hours of incessant lovemaking, they lay together in silence, catching their breaths.

Levi is thoroughly satisfied and is about drift to a peaceful sleep when he feels Erwin’s big hand caress the back of his neck. He opens his eyes and there he is, grinning cheekily.

“Hey Levi, do you know the difference between a frog and a horny toad?” Oh no. Here it comes. “A frog says ‘ribbit, ribbit’, a horny toad says ‘rub it, rub it’.”

The smug look on his stupid face as he wiggles those godawful eyebrows makes Levi want nothing more than to rip them off and turn them into a doormat. Or a hand towel, Levi hasn’t decided yet.

For now, he settles for smacking the pillow hard into Erwin’s face, yelling at him to go to sleep.

It’s Christmas Eve, also so creatively coined ‘Levi’s Birthday Eve’ by Hange.

Levi’s busy preparing drinks in the kitchen for the party they’ll throw later tonight when his phone buzzes in his pocket, begging for attention. Thinking it’s one of the guys bailing out on the party or asking for directions, he checks it but is puzzled by the caller’s name on the screen.

It’s Erwin.

The guy is literally in the living room, setting up the table.

Levi picks up anyway, knowing that this is just one of Erwin’s demented method of flirting. He’s done this before, once or twice when he’s bored. Levi would humour him if they have the time, but the party is starting soon and they still have some preparations pending. “Why are you calling me?”

“Oh I don’t know…” Hmm, that’s strange. Erwin’s deep voice feels close, like he’s in the same room standing behind him. There’s also a nervous edge to it, which is unbecoming of the usually calm man. “Just felt like-“ Levi hears him both over the phone and in the other ear now. “-giving you a ring.”

Levi turns around sharply and sees Erwin, holding a phone in one hand and hiding the other behind him. He’s about to ask him to quit messing around when Erwin swiftly drops to one knee and holds out a box.

Levi stares, mouth agape.

“You’re fucking kidding me.”

“Knock, knock,” Erwin says, causing Levi to frown. A knock-knock joke, really?

“Erwin what the fuck—“

“Knock. Knock.” He repeats pointedly, sounding almost completely serious if not for the sheer absurdity of the joke and the situation itself.

Letting out a long-suffering sigh, Levi relents. Erwin is on his knee in front of him, looking like whatever Levi says next will either make or break him, and he can’t help but to play along. “Who’s there?”

“Mary.”

Levi’s breath hitches. He knows exactly where this is going. His heart is already going at a thousand miles an hour, threatening to leap right out of his chest, and there’s a lump stuck in his throat but he somehow manages to find his voice.

“Mary who?” He says, still staring down at Erwin though his vision is getting foggy.

Erwin’s lips curve up in a gentle smile, the one that always knocks all air out of Levi’s lungs and makes him want to drop everything to be with him. “Marry me.” He takes one of Levi’s hand into his own and presses a small kiss onto the knuckles, whispering, “Please?”

It’s cheesier than the lasagna they had for lunch -and that’s saying a lot because Erwin had made it with enough mozzarella to make at least three large pizzas, urgh- and a part of him kind of hates Erwin for pulling the stunt when he least expected it, on the Christmas Eve no less. But there is nothing in the world he wants more than to have the fleeting glimpse of Erwin’s face the moment he says ‘yes’ and pulls him in for a kiss be burned into his memories forever.

Oh, Levi thinks as he looks at the clock, remembering the party that’s happening in an hour. Hange and Mike’re gonna have a field day with this.

(Two months into their married life, when Levi asks when his appointment with the dentist is and Erwin answers with a casual “tooth hurt-y”, Levi realizes that he’s stuck with a relentless, irritatingly attractive middle-aged man with a penchant for horribly amusing dad jokes.

And the best part? He wouldn’t want it any other way.)

#eruri #eruri secret santa #erurisecretsanta #danchou-smith #eruri fic #domestic fluff #this is really cheesy im sorry #dad jokes #please reblog/like if you liked it!

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