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wheelsup · 3 years

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the taming of the shrew | two

if i be waspish, best beware my sting

after some setbacks, penelope is willing to do anything to get you back on board. but has spencer already ruined things?

A/N: hello! im so sorry that this posting schedule is super inconsistent. the more i thought about this chapter, the less i liked the more technical aspects of it. but! i hope you enjoy to plot aspect of it nonetheless <3 thanks for reading!

category: fluff, slow burn series, spencer reid x fem!reader

wc: 4.4k

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Since that phone call with Penelope, she’d been over nearly every night for a week with plates of treats and onslaughts of apologies. Each time she came knocking, you told her there was no amount of persuasion that could change your mind. And yet the following night, she’d be there, a new type of pastry in hand and a new set of reasons why Spencer was worth the trouble.

First, she brought blueberry muffins and reasoned that deep below that prickly exterior, he really was everything she promised –– sweet and caring. But that must be deep, deep down. Like, The Lost City of Atlantis, deep down, because you didn’t expect it to surface any time soon.

Then, she brought fudge brownies and explained that his behavior wasn’t personal –– he was getting snippy with everyone lately. And while you maintained that anybody would have a hard time getting along with Spencer, you were absolutely positive that it was now impossible for you.

Quite frankly, it wasn’t just Spencer who was unwilling to play nice. You hated him. More than you’ve ever hated a stranger.

You wished him a lifetime riddled with minor inconveniences that would drive him to the edge of insanity. You wanted him to miss all his trains by just a quarter of a minute; close enough so that he could see it leave the platform, knowing he almost made it on. You wanted him to constantly feel like he was about to sneeze. You wanted his socks to be perpetually wet, and if he should happen to put on a dry pair? You hoped he stepped in a puddle.

That was all you could think about as you laid out on your couch, munching on one of Penelope’s lemon bars while she paced around your apartment. She kept going on and on advertising Spencer to you. As annoying as it was, she was also saving you a ton on groceries that week.

For the most part, you filtered her out. Not a single word that came out of her mouth was believable anymore, especially not when she was talking about Spencer. Despite what Penelope thought of him, you saw in him what she refused to accept.

As her speech came to a close, she looked at you like she expected a response to dignify her prattling.

“Give it a rest, Penelope. He’s a lost cause,” you laughed dryly. “He doesn’t need –– nor does he want –– anyone in his life.” At the very least, he definitely didn’t want you.

“Yes, that’s the problem!” If you’d been listening to her, you would’ve heard her saying the same thing. “He doesn’t want to date!”

Your head just about exploded when she said that.

There had been countless, fruitless conversations about this, and all along she saw the gaping hole in her supposedly airtight plan?

“If he doesn’t want to DATE, then WHAT was the point of this?!” Your fingers pressed the bridge of your nose; you suddenly felt a headache coming on. Funny how it always happened around the time of day that Penelope came to visit.

Penelope stopped pacing. She stalked over to your couch, picked your legs up by your ankle, and moved them to make space for herself. You begrudgingly sat upright as she took her place beside you.

“Because he’s not himself anymore. He’s not open like he used to be. Not to the people who care about him the most, and certainly not to the world.”

Penelope toyed with the hem of her dress, distracting herself from her quivering lip before pressing on, “Spencer Reid has always wanted love. And it’s not right that he no longer believes he can have it.”

You hadn’t seen Penelope look so desperate until now. It was concerning. Because what could make her look so hopeless? What could make Spencer so hopeless?

“Penelope, I don’t know what’s wrong with your little friend, but… there’s a lot more bubbling inside him than you’re letting on.”

She chewed up the insides of her cheeks, wincing to herself at your incredibly accurate claim.

“You are hiding something, aren’t you?” You narrowed your eyes on her. You were no detective, or whatever exactly her team did, but she was just awful at concealing her thoughts.

“It’s not my story to tell,” she murmured.

She could already feel herself about to give it away and doubled down her mental defenses against it. Focusing extra hard on keeping Spencer’s privacy intact. If only you knew her track record with secrets, you’d be proud of her for staying quiet this long.

“What isn’t your story?”

“That his girlfriend died last year.”

She spilled it before she even realized what she was saying. You’d just asked so nonchalantly that she forgot she was talking aloud. Penelope turned purple, terrified now that the whole truth was out there.

You couldn’t even take satisfaction in the fact that your trick worked. You were just as mortified as Penelope, and if you weren’t already sitting down, you knew you’d need to. You assumed there was something deeper going on with him, you didn’t think it was a dead girlfriend. That was some Nicholas Sparks shit.

“He pretends like he’s fine but I know he’s not. And if he found a way to move on, maybe he’d start feeling as okay as he claims to be,” she sniffled before snot could run from her nose, tears lining the rims of her eyes. “I know I should’ve given you the full picture, but I didn’t think you’d go for it if you knew…”

You were too floored to process it all right away. This added a whole new layer of complicated to an already uneasy arrangement.

“Well, I know you’re right about one thing. I would’ve said no.”

She gave you a set of pleading eyes, praying you’d see where she was coming from.

“I know,” she whispered defeatedly. “But maybe... now that you know, you can understand why he acts out the way he does.”

“Penelope, I can’t just… make someone move on, or –– or get them to believe in love! Especially when it’s fake.”

How on Earth did she expect you to pull that off? Did that guy from A Walk to Remember move on when Mandy Moore died? You hadn’t seen the ending of the movie, but you assumed not.

“I’m sorry, this is just… a lot bigger than the favor I thought it was ––”

“What if I could return it?” she cut in. The gears in her head started to turn, figuring ways to patch up the holes she made.

“There’s nothing I need from you.”

That couldn’t be true. Penelope looked around the room and it didn’t take her long to think of it.

“I can help you sell your art,” she tempted, gesturing to the scattered canvases. “You make all your income from this, right?”

You didn’t want to give any fuel to her fire, but you nodded. “What if… what if you didn’t have to settle for local buyers? What if I told you that you could make way more money selling them to the whole world?”

You chortled at her idea.

You were a local artist, through and through. Your art got put in local galleries and sold to local buyers. Nothing more, and that was fine with you. You realized it a long time ago that it was just a pipe dream to think you’d be more.

“I’m serious! You could get a separate painting studio, and stop living in one? Huh?” She wrapped her hand around your shoulder, waving the other in the air, urging you to picture it with her. “Imagine this: a kitchen that’s separate from your living room. A bed, inside it’s own four walls, and more than twelve feet from where you cook your meals.”

Pushing aside her so blatantly insulting your apartment, if that were a possibility, you’d want nothing more. But it already sounded foolish and you hadn’t even heard how she planned to pull it off.

“Penelope, I’m fine where I am. I make the money I need, and that’s... it’s fine.”

She gave you a pointed look. “You know, I can hack all search engine results to make sure you are what comes up first anytime someone enters the word ‘painting’, right?

An airy chuckle left your lips. Of course she could. You patted her thigh twice and stood up, prompting her to follow you to your door –– hopefully, so she can show herself to the other side of it. “Still no, Pen.”

“Just take some time to think about it!” Her voice carried through the wood as you shut it on her.

There was this one bench in Kenilworth Park – the one that overlooks the crystal clear pond – that you’d always been able to rely on to fix any problem.

There was hidden magic in the bushes that sprawled out from the edges of the water, surrounded by spiky green blades of overgrown grass. A simplicity you loved in baby ducklings paddling into the tiny body of water, swimming close together so they don’t get lost in, what seems to them, a whole ocean. And clarity provided by the freshest air in the world, under the shade of the big oak trees on a late summer afternoon.

But at the present, none of that came close to being enough.

The artist’s block started off as a minor inconvenience, but without your permission, had stretched into weeks of steadily declining motivation. Each new idea felt even worse than the last, and you were acutely aware that there would come a point where you’d officially hit maximum capacity for how awful they could get.

Still, that didn’t seem to light a fire under you. You happily coexisted with the blank pages of your sketchbook. Staring down at them, laying open on your lap in their stark-white glory, you felt like you were playing a waiting game. If you stared long and hard enough, maybe they’d flinch.

Unfortunately, you never got to find out who won, because your phone rang inside your pocket. As if the caller had interrupted an incredible genius at work (which couldn’t be farther from the truth), you hastily raised the phone to your ear, slamming your sketchbook shut.

“Hello?” Your voice wasn’t as kind as it could be for someone with nothing better to be doing. Two seconds later, you learned who was calling and came to regret it.

“Hi, This is Rebecca from District Arts, calling with a message from Andre ––”

“Oh, hi!” you tried to walk back your previous tone, straightening up in your seat and pitching your voice higher, “Yeah, I’ve been waiting to hear from him!”

While Rebecca intimidated you, Andre happened to be your closest friend at the gallery. He worked closely with the artists to curate their collection and help them make sales.

“Does he want to sort out what to set the opening bid prices at for my new pieces?” A handful of days ago, you sent him pictures of your new work and were waiting to hear his thoughts. You’d always been able to trust his opinion, and a vote of confidence from him might be just the thing to inspire you.

“Uhm…” There was a criminally long pause on the other side of the line, ended by Rebecca’s weary inhale. “Unfortunately, we’re calling to inform you that your pieces will not be included in the next rotation.”

For a minute, you weren’t sure what to make of what she said. You’d never heard those words before.

“What – what do you mean?” you laughed nervously. She probably misspoke. Perks of friendship aside, Andre always included you in sets.

“Ugh, let me just get him…” her voice faded away as she put the phone down.

That wasn’t exactly the reassuring statement you were looking for. In the time it took for the call to switch hands, your confusion finally melted in. And then quickly boiled into anger.

The District Arts gallery changed their entire collection every two months. The pieces shown accepted rolling bids throughout the full eight weeks, finally selling at the end of term to their highest offer. After that, the pieces got taken down, sent to happy new owners, and the entire gallery reset with entirely new works.

So if you missed one rotation, that meant waiting two months to get back in.

“Andre, how am I just cut from the gallery!” you barked before he could get a word in. If he didn’t like your work, he could’ve just said so.

“No one said that ––”

“Okay, let me rephrase.” You pinched the bridge of your nose, something you found yourself doing quite frequently lately, and took a deep breath in and out. It was seemingly just for show because it did absolutely nothing to calm you down. “Why wouldn’t you put me in the next set? I’m in all of them!”

“I know you are!” He sounded just as upset. “It’s just that… we give you the biggest space we have, because you always manage to fill it up. But this time… I’m not so sure you can.”

“That’s ridiculous,” you scoffed. “What makes you say that?” You asked that, but you knew.

“You’ve only finished three pieces… I’m worried how you’ll deliver seven more before we set up.”

“But… it’s four weeks away, I could do ––”

“And it took you four weeks to make what you have... I’m sorry. We couldn’t take that gamble.”

He took your silence as an opportunity to turn off the work talk and speak, just friend to friend.

“You know that I trust you and I’d hold that spot if I could. But, I also know what you’re going through right now, and… I don’t know, maybe letting yourself rest would be a good thing?”

Your heart paused. By, “knowing what you’re going through”, you assumed he didn’t mean the little artist’s block.

“If you’re implying that I can’t do my job because of what happened with Cyrus –”

“I’m not, I’m not....” he backtracked as quickly as he could. “But take another look at the paintings you showed me and tell me if they feel like you.”

Even if he was right, you wanted to fight him. You wanted to cry. You wanted to beg that you didn’t need that big space; you were willing to downsize and just turn in the three that you had. Even if they got shoved into the corner where hardly anybody bothered to look. You just couldn’t afford to go two months without the income.

But even with tears beading up, you realized that the gallery couldn’t afford it either. They needed to bring in money and you couldn’t do that for them this time. So they were right to go to someone who can.

“Right,” you sniffled, recollecting yourself so he can’t hear the shakiness in your voice. “I understand. It’s a big risk, like you said… It’s for the better.”

Andre tried to thank you for being understanding and spewed some sort of encouragement. The words flew over your head. You managed to toss in a few ‘mhmm’s and ‘sure’s at the right places to coast you along until the call finally ended.

As soon as it went dead, you dropped your phone to the side and brought your hands to your face, rubbing them furiously over your cheeks. Your fingertips pressed hard into your eyelids, trying to forcibly reabsorb the tears threatening to spill.

It almost worked, until you tried to breathe.

A full sob escaped in that one gulp of air and you succumbed to it. But the loud crunching noise of some pedestrian walking over the falling leaves destroyed your sense of privacy, and you quickly wiped away all signs of your breakdown. The crunching stopped just short of your bench and on instinct you flicked your eyes up to see who the intruder was.

You did a double take. It was him. That fucking asshole.

He was standing there, looking dumber than you could even remember, with his hands in his coat pockets and a curious look on his face as he watched you cry. Tucking your sketchbook under your arm in haste, you made it a point to stand up with as much aggression as possible, rolling your eyes at him.

“Don’t worry, I’m leaving,” you barked. “No need to yell at me this time.”

You bristled past him, barely refraining yourself from checking his shoulder as payback. You wanted to believe you were better than him, but it did sound incredibly tempting. He stood there for a moment before turning on his heel and following you.

“Wait,” he groaned.

You didn’t listen, neither stopping nor slowing down.

“I said wait,” he huffed as he caught up to you, popping up at your side and jogging along as you kept going.

“Yeah, because I need to listen to a guy who yells at strangers in bookstores.”

Now that you’d brought up the elephant in the room, your feet started moving even faster, working double time to get you away from him.

Damn the fact that he had those long legs. He didn’t even break a sweat trying to keep up. He was inescapable.

“Well, if you waited like I asked, you would’ve gotten an apology for the ––”

“Gee, thanks!” you yelled, stopping for only a second to turn to him and give him a mocking bow of your head, hands clasped together like you were praising at his altar. “I was waiting with bated breath for that! Thank you, kind sir, for now my life can go on.”

“Look, I’m actually sorry,” he snapped. Then in realizing the irony, softened his voice, “I’m sorry for being rude. I was having a bad day… not that that’s an excuse.”

You stared at him blankly, just watching his mouth moving quickly and waiting until it finally stopped.

“Did you need something?”

“Did you… did you not hear what I just said?!”

“No, sorry,” you smiled, voice sweet like sugar. “My ears filter bullshit. Wanna try again?”

He scoffed, looking away like he couldn’t believe you before stepping even closer. “What’s your problem?”

“Me!? The fuck –– what the fuck is your problem?” You turned and stormed off again, seething at his audacity. Spencer just couldn’t relent his annoying tendencies and followed yet again.

“My problem is that I’m trying to be nice, and you’re not letting me!”

You got a good, hard laugh out of that. “Okay, first of all, having to apologize for yelling at me and pushing me isn’t exactly the best starting point for the journey of becoming a nice person.”

“Like I said, I was having a bad day.”

Under your breath, you muttered, “Well, I hope this one’s even worse.”

“Why are you such a ––” He stopped himself from finishing that thought. Even in his worst mood, he wouldn’t cross that line.

But he didn’t need to finish it, you knew exactly where he wanted to take it. The soles of your shoes scraped against the loose gravel as you came to a grinding halt, ears ringing.

“A what?” You turned to face him, a sarcastic smile on your face growing wider as he started to shrink more and more. You got up close in his face, daring him to say what he really wanted to. So he could reinforce your belief in exactly the type of person he was. “A what?”

Spencer pursed his lips and shook his head, refusing to say it no matter how much you challenged him. If he wasn’t going to have the balls to say it, you decided to take it upon yourself.

“Tell you what, you keep thinking about it and get back to me the next time you’re in a cunty mood.”

The word he was thinking of was probably not as bad, but you had a habit of escalating things. Even if you took this one too far, you didn’t care.

Before you tried to take off again, Spencer’s hand flew to your elbow. He tugged you back, forcing you to turn around and face him. He didn’t know his own strength; without any resistance, you came stumbling into his chest, at risk of falling over if it weren’t for his tight grip on your arm.

It took you a beat to push him away with both your hands on his chest, vocalizing your disgust for being so close to him.

“Can you stop trying to disagree with me for a second? I’m trying to tell you that you’re right, I was being a… well, you know…” He avoided the word. Apparently ‘cunt’ was where he drew the line. “I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve it.”

Your nostrils were still flared and blood hot as ever, but he made you pause. He looked sincere, if not a little tinged with guilt as well. You were suspicious of it.

“You saw me crying and felt bad, didn’t you?”

He laughed darkly. “Well, I saw you, yes. Did I feel bad? No.”

“Oh, my God,” you growled, berating yourself for getting close to believing he might be capable of decency.

“I’m joking! I’m joking.” He squeezed your elbow twice in earnest. “I did feel bad, but that’s not why I wanted to say it.”

“Okay.” You weren’t ready to give him a real smile, so you flattened your lips into a thin line and nodded once slowly, and left it at that.

You still weren’t a fan, but the apology did dampen some of the resentment. Maybe he wasn’t the worst person alive. You’d settle for saying top ten most annoying, instead.

Minutes later, you came to the startling realization that he was still on the path, just two paces behind you. You flinched when you saw him out of the corner of your eye, not expecting him to still be here.

“Uhm. Where are you… why are you still following me?”

“I’m not. My car’s that way,” he gestured to the parking lot at the end of the long walkway. “I forgot my loaf for the ducks.” He didn’t mean to offer that information up, it just slipped out. He could practically see your smug expression coming before it even got there.

“You’re not supposed to feed bread to the ducks. It’s bad for them.”

“I don’t.” He didn’t care to explain this to you, but he couldn’t have you thinking he was any less competent than he really was. “It’s a special bread made from water and seeds that were ground into flour. It’s duck-safe.”

“They make duck-safe bread?” Now that was something you’d never heard before.

“No… I make duck-safe bread,” he said softly under his breath.

You didn’t know how else you were supposed to react to that besides laughing wildly.

“You make it?” He nodded like you were the crazy one here. As if he wasn’t the one spending his spare time grinding up seeds and baking loaves of bread for ducks, donning a frilly pink apron and oven mitts as he did so. At least that’s how you imagined it. “Why not just feed them the seeds?”

“Because, loose seeds will sink in the water and can potentially clog waterbeds and cause foreign bacteria growth in the pond.”

“So you… hand-make the seeds into a little loaf of bread so it doesn't do that?”

He confirmed. You pondered silently for a moment, then absolutely had to ask, “You ever eaten the duck bread before?”

Spencer was caught off guard by that question. His cheeks deepened to a rosy color.

“Yeah, well, it was the house so…” he laughed nervously and stared at his sneakers. “It’s actually not too bad.”

You weren’t entirely surprised by that. You remembered what his grocery basket looked like, and given those same options, you probably would’ve tried the duck bread too. Still, you cracked the smallest of grins at knowing he makes bread for ducks. The one, sole redeeming fact you’ve learned about Spencer.

You reached your car first, and Spencer stopped in front of it with you.

“I’m actually sorry, you know,” he whispered once more, hand resting at the top of your car door as you opened it. He wasn’t talking about the incident at the bookstore.

“Yeah…” For a while you were so busy being angry at Spencer that you forgot about your own problems.

He noticed your nose was still red around the edges, eyes still a little bleary. “Are you okay, by the way?” His voice was too soft, too genuine.

You shook your head no.

“Is there anything I can do?” You shook your head again. And then you had an awful thought.

You knew he was just offering to help just to say it, because that’s how people react when you say you’re not okay even if they don’t care. But there actually was something he could do for you… Something that Penelope could do.

“Uh, no but…” you fixed your hair and tucked it behind your ear, seamlessly switching to a flirtier voice. “If you still feel bad about the other day, you’re welcome to make it up to me.”

Spencer cocked his head to the side, unsure of how he could do that.

“Hang out with me sometime.”

“H-hang out?” You could tell that it flustered him, even if he tried to play it off. He swallowed thickly, nose twitching and brows scrunched together.

“Relax, I really do just mean hang out.” You were lying through your teeth. He didn’t need to know that.

As if he didn’t want to think about it for a second longer and just get out of this conversation as quickly as possible, he agreed without thinking it through. He didn’t even ask why an almost complete stranger would want to hang out with him.

You stuck your hand out, expecting him to hand over his cell so you could put your contact into it. He rocked on the balls of his feet, watching as you input your contact and sent yourself a text on his phone.

“Hi, this is…” you read out your message as you typed, pausing at just the right place. “What’s your name by the way?”

“Oh-uh, I’m Spencer.”

A devilish grin took over your face, hidden from his view while you were looking down at the screen. He was going to be easy to fool.

agh! im still not in love with how this chapter is turning out, but it came to a point where i just had to stop fiddling with it and just post it. any feedback or comments about this story is very much appreciated 💕

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toshis-switch · 3 years

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many of y'all asked for a part 2 to this fic, so here you go! i was gonna make it even more angsty but this is fix-it fluff.

leave a reply/reblog or send an ask and tell me what you think!! i haven't gotten any asks yet n i'm kinda lonely so :(

word count: 1.1k

summary: you find tsukishima at the same park you had left him at when you broke up with him.

warnings: cursing, joking about cults, joking about sex, tsukki is stubborn but is in love with you, this shit is so cheesy too omg i'm giving nicholas sparks a run for his money. i tried to make this as gender neutral as possible but may have implications of a fem!reader

he shouldn’t have let you go. that was his first regret.

he should have been there for you more often and should have seen how tired you were. but for once, he decided to be selfish; he kept you in his life because he really did need you. does need you.

kei doesn’t function all too well after you leave him; after all, how does one function well after the one person that they let themself fall in love with leave them?

he doesn’t blame you at all for the demise of your relationship, though. it was his fault, anyways—though it didn’t mean that he couldn’t mourn it, either.

he walks through the same park every day, reflecting on what he would have done differently. not just on the day you broke up with him, no, but throughout your relationship. he thinks about how he could have picked up snacks for you when he knew you’d studied for hours without breaks, how he could have given you more of his sweaters, how he could have held you closer instead of pushing you away. he thinks about what could have been instead of what actually happened because it’s embarrassing. it embarrassed him how bad of a boyfriend he was.

he doesn’t really expect to see you again; if he had been neglected the way you were, he’d avoid you at all costs too. but when he sees you walking in front of him in the park (because after all this time, he could still tell it was you by the back of your head) he doesn’t know what to do.

you feel someone’s gaze on you, and you turn around to make sure you’re not being followed by anyone. you don’t expect to see tsukishima. and you honestly don’t know if you want to. you make eye contact with him and he immediately looks away, scratching the back of his neck.

neither of you know what to do. you’d both thought about this moment in the nine months that it’s been since you had last seen each other, but the thousands of scenarios that pop into your head when you can’t sleep suddenly vanish like vapor out of thin air.

i can’t let this opportunity go to waste, you think to yourself.

i shouldn’t let her be hurt by me again, he thinks to himself, at the same time.

so when he starts to walk away, you sprint after him, calling out his name. his eyes widen as he turns around and you crash into him before he steadies you.

“you shouldn’t run after me like that, people will think i’m harassing you. plus, you never had the greatest balance,” he says, his hands still on your biceps. “i should go.”

“no, tsukki, stay.” you catch your breath. “i didn’t just run seven miles-”

“it was half a block, dumbass-”

“-seven miles, just for you to ignore me.” you chuckle nervously. “what, am i still not enough for you to stay?” your murmur. “was i ever?”

“you were more than enough for me.” he clears his throat before continuing. “you were more than i deserved. and i knew that. and maybe that’s why i didn’t treat you well. i needed you to be mad at me for something so that you would finally become imperfect, because i knew i didn’t deserve someone as perfect as you. but you never did lose your patience with me until that day. you did so well, y/n.”

your breath hitches in your throat. tsukishima had never said anything like this to you before; it was out of character for him to not use his insults as a way to protect himself. and not only was he not insulting you, but he was choosing to be vulnerable with you.

you don’t really know how you feel. do you cry? should your heart be racing?

“i can’t help but feel like if we get together again, i’ll hurt you. and i don’t want to hurt you because you definitely don’t deserve that, either.”

“but you deserve to be taken care of, tsukki. i don’t mind being the one to take care of you and to support you.”

“i can’t give you what you want, y/n. you know that.”

“how can you not give me what i want when you’re what i want?”

tsukki was never one to be speechless, though you never failed to make him feel like that. he felt like a character in a teen movie, like his heart would beat out of his chest or it would just stop entirely.

“you don’t mean that, y/n.”

you take his hand again, sandwiching it with yours. “i do. i really mean it, kei. i want to try again. i know you’ve changed and i want to give us another shot because even though i may have been hurt at times, i never doubted that you ever loved me.”

“i’m not good for you, y/n.” he takes his hand from your grip but you pull it back.

“tell me, then. tell me that you don’t love me. tell me that you don’t want me back in your life, tell me that you don’t want us to be back together. tell me and i’ll never talk to you again.”

he scoffs. “don’t make me do that, y/n. i’ve never lied to you before, and i’m certainly not going to start now.”

“so?”

“so what?”

”are you gonna ask me to be your s/o again or not?”

is he really going to fight himself again? why does he keep himself from getting what he wants?

he starts to play with his fingers, swallowing. “didn’t you have me go through a whole courting phase where we got to know each other despite already being friends? i want to get that again since you’re so sure i’ve changed or whatever.”

you smile at him, playfully rolling your eyes. “fine, if you insist. you’re paying, though.”

“oh, uh, can i take that back, then?”

you elbow him in the side as he puts his arm around you.

“you do realize that you’ve fallen right into my trap, right?” you tell him. “i’ve been looking for virgin blood to sacrifice. i joined a cult after we broke up.”

“you should know very well that i’m not a virgin.”

your eyes widen as you hit him harder. “tsukishima kei, if you don’t shut the fuck up right now-”

“you’ll what, huh? you wanna kiss me so bad-”

you cut him off by doing just that.

“there,” you murmur after pulling away. “kindly shut the fuck up now and take me home, yeah?”

his eyes are still wide as he nods at you. god, how could he have fallen for you more?

#tsukki x reader #tsukishima x reader #tsukishima kei x reader #tsukishima angst #tsukishima fluff #haikyuu angst #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu!! angst #hq angst #hq x you #hq fluff #tsukki angst #tsukki fluff #tsukki x you #tsukishima x you #hq x y/n

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babygirl-diaz · 3 years

Note

Imagine some bad guy breaking into sambucky's house in the middle of the night to try to kill Captain America only to find himself slammed into a wall by a very tired super soldier threatening to break rules number 1 and 2 if he wakes Sam up

(Here ya go anon. Hope you like it! This ended up being pure crack.)

Bucky’s eyes popped open when he heard something falling in the living room.

Beside him, Sam sleepily groaned, “What was that?”

“Nothing,” Bucky whispered. It wasn’t nothing. There was someone definitely in the house. Bucky could hear them, but he didn’t want to worry his boyfriend. “Go back to sleep.” He leaned over to kiss the top of Sam’s head, who snuggled into the comforter. Bucky got out of the bed and headed over to the living room where, as expected, he found a man, dressed in all black with a knife in hand. It was obvious the man wasn’t the brightest bulb in the box because there was nothing stealthy about him. The man saw Bucky and tried to attack him, but Bucky easily dodged his blow and instead grabbed him by the throat and pinned him to the wall behind them.

He yawned. This wasn’t even a challenge. “I’ve been trying to be a good boy and not break rules 1 and 2 but people like you make it so hard.”

The man struggled against his grip, flapping like a fish out of water.

Bucky couldn’t help but laugh at that. “You’re not even worth the effort.” He let the man go who came at him with the knife, but Bucky dodged him again, got behind him, and kicked him. However, before the man could fall to the ground with a thud, Bucky grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him back. “You wake up my boyfriend and I will have to break those rules.”

“What rules?” The man asked nervously.

“Well,” Bucky wrapped an arm around his shoulder, “I’m glad you asked.” He said like he was talking to a friend. “Rule number 1 is Don’t do anything illegal and Rule number 2 is Nobody gets hurt.”

“Isn’t Rule 2 just part of Rule 1?” The man wondered out loud.

“You’re smarter than you look,” Bucky noted. “That’s what I told my therapist, but she didn’t seem to agree.”

“Maybe you need a new therapist?” The man suggested.

“You know what, my friend, you might be right. What’s your name?”

“Gary.”

Bucky burst out laughing at that. “Gary? Seriously? They sent a guy named Gary to attack Captain America?”

“They sent me to kill him,” the man replied awkwardly.

Bucky felt a sudden spark of anger rise through him and he tightened his arm around the man- Gary’s shoulder and pulled him closer. “You wanna tell me who sent you, or should I beat it out of you?”

“I- I can’t tell you. They’ll kill me,” Gary replied nervously.

“And if you don’t tell me then I’ll kill you.”

“You won’t.” Bucky could feel Gary was shaking like a leaf but he still said, “You’re not a bad person.”

“Well, when someone comes around threatening the love of my life, I become a bad person.” Bucky takes the tactical knife from Gary and pushed him down on the couch. The man fell back and stared up at Bucky in horror.

“Now tell me, who sent you?” Bucky flipped the knife and pressed it to Gary’s neck.

The lights suddenly came on. “What is going on here?”

Bucky heard Sam’s voice and sighed, moving away from the other man. “Great. Now look at what you did. You woke him up,”.

“Bucky?” Sam looked between Bucky and Gary. Confusion was written all over his face. “Who’s your friend?”

“This is Gary,” Bucky introduced him.

“Hi, Gary…” Sam replied awkwardly and waved at him. “What is Gary doing here at 2 in the morning, Buck?”

“Gary here came here to kill you,” Bucky replied without sugarcoating it.

Sam’s eyes widened at that. “What?”

“Yes… and he was about to tell me who sent him. Right, Gary?”

“I can’t tell you that.”

Without warning, Bucky slashed Gary across the chest with the knife. Gary screeched. It wasn’t a deep cut. Just a shallow one to remind him that Bucky was serious. .

“Bucky! No!” Sam rushed over to them and pulled the knife out of Bucky’s hand. “Shit, he’s bleeding. What is wrong with you?”

“What part of he came here to kill you did you miss?”

“That doesn’t mean that you get to kill him!” Sam chastised him. “I’ll get the first aid box.”

Sam returned from the bathroom with the first aid box and sat on the couch beside Gary. “Lemme see,” he said

Gary shook his head, still clutching onto his chest.

“I won’t hurt you, I promise.”

Gary probably saw the sincerity in Sam’s eyes and removed his hand.

Bucky tried hard not to growl when Sam helped Gary roll up his shirt. He didn’t like his boyfriend touching some strange man. A strange man who came here to KILL HIM.

“Well, it’s not a deep cut.” Sam threw a glare in Bucky’s direction.

“I knew what I was doing.” Bucky shrugged.

“Don’t look so proud. You still broke the rules, Bucky.”

“Those rules are stupid,” Bucky argued. “Gary agrees. Right, Gary?”

Gary gulped when Bucky looked at him and nodded immediately.

“Do you have to do that?” Bucky asked when he saw Sam cleaning up Gary’s wound. “I mean, he could do it himself. You don’t have to touch him.”

Sam glared at him again, and Bucky threw his hands up in surrender. “Fine, I won’t interfere.”

“So you wanna tell us who sent you?” Sam asked as he put the bandage on Gary’s wound.

“They’ll kill me if I do,” Gary replied.

“We can help you,” Sam tried to assure him. “Get you into witness protection.”

“You will do that?” Gary sounded surprised. Bucky wasn’t. Bucky was used to his boyfriend’s ways. “But I tried to kill you.”

“Well, I am guessing they didn’t leave you with much of a choice,” Sam replied. “You don’t seem like a bad guy.”

Gary pulled his shirt down and said, “It’s Nicholas Alexander. He sent me to kill you.”

“Nicholas Alexander?” Bucky inquired.

“He’s this up-and-coming gangster. He wants to show everyone that he’s a serious player so he wanted to take out Captain America..”

“I’ve met him,” Sam replied. “He’s kind of an idiot.”

“Well, it makes sense. He wouldn’t go after you if he was smart,” Buck chimed in.

“He’s not the smartest, but he’s still dangerous. I’d watch my 6 if I were you,” Gary told Sam.

“He doesn’t have to. I will watch it for him,” Bucky informed him.

***

They sent Gary away with the cops, and Sam made a call to get him into witness protection. With that sorted, they returned to their room, where Bucky immediately pulled his boyfriend into his arms.

“Hey, don’t go all sappy on me, old man,” Sam teased, patting Bucky on the back.

When they pulled apart, Bucky cupped Sam’s face with his hands. “Move in with me.”

“What?” Sam’s eyes widened.

“There are people trying to kill you and I wanna make sure that I am always there to protect you.”

“I don’t need your protection, Buck. I can look out for myself,” Sam replied, taking a step back.

“I know you can, baby, but I just wanna make sure that you’re okay.”

“Fine, then you move in with me,” Sam replied.

“They know where you live. It’s safer if you move in with me.”

“I’ll think about it. For now, can we please go back to bed?”

#SamBucky #TFATWS #crack fic

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puckngrind · 4 years

Text

The Gorgeous Coffee Stranger- M. Barzal

Warning: some swearing but mostly fluff

Word Count: 1,143

Moving to New York was slightly terrifying but once you settled in you realized you were home. Your routine was the same, you went out with your new coworkers for drinks, you explored the city like a tourist on the weekends or an off day.

It was a normal Saturday in early October. You went for a jog which was more like a quick walk to your favorite coffee shop around the corner. Ordered your usual and went to go pay. Your wallet was not safely zipped in your pocket and you cringe realizing you never grabbed it before locking your door.

“I... I... I don’t have my wallet.” You look up and the annoyed barista and go to back up. Running your shoulder into a solid chest. You mumble in sheer embarrassment. Then you heard this strangers voice.

“Here, it’s on me. Add my usual too please.” His smooth, deep voice echos in your ears as he leans around your stunned body to swipe his card.

“Thank you.” You whispered then looked up at the man who looked like he just walked out of the pages of the latest Nicholas Sparks novel. He smiled slightly as he placed his wallet back in sweatshirt.

“It’s really no trouble at all.” His words danced in your ears.

“How can I repay you?” You finally collected your thoughts. His smile reached his eyes and his hand ran through his gorgeous dark locks.

“Enjoy your coffee that’s all.” He reaches for both of your cups and dashed out the door.

You thought about the kindness of the gorgeous stranger the next time you walked into the coffee shop. This time with your wallet in hand and a mission to be a tourist in your new city. Your closest coworker suggested the Met since you hadn’t been yet. You strolled through the different exhibitions. You stopped at a statue of Perseus lost in thought on why it looked familiar. Was it in a movie? So much so that you didn’t hear the other person enter the area.

“Lightning Thief right?” A deep voice that you recognized comes from your left side causing you to jump. “Shit. Sorry.” You turn to see the gorgeous stranger from the coffee shop feet from you.

“OH! How? You.” You stammer out and a smile reaches his eyes as he runs his hands through the hair that makes even women envious.

“Hi! How was your coffee?” He smirks.

“Delicious. Did the job. Thank you.” You shift you weight and struggle finding where to place your hands on your body.

“Hi, I’m Mat. Coffee stranger. And you are?” His hand reaches into you space and you look at it then your body reaches without your brain and places your hand in his.

“Hi, I’m (y/n).” You almost whisper feeling his strong yet gentle grip around your fingers.

“Nice to put a name with the face.” He chuckles. “So you come here often?” He points to the surroundings.

“Nope, first time. New New Yorker trying to be a tourist while I acclimate.” You feel the heat in your cheeks as your eyes meet his again.

“Well then, (y/n), this isn’t my first time, can I show you around?” Mat holds out his elbow for you to grab and you just stare at him. “Call this paying me back for coffee?” He jokes. You take his elbow and make small talk as you take in the rest of the museum. When you are both ready to leave he leans in to whisper. “So, (y/n), is it too forward to ask you for your number? You know, in case you have a city question or forget your wallet.” His smile is shy and his eyes have a sweetness to them.

“Sure.” You nod your head and he slips his phone into your hands. You type away adding a coffee emoji to the end of your name and hand it back to you. He laughs when he sees and types out a text so you have his.

It was months since you saw Mat at the Met. He texted you a few times with suggestions of New York things you should try and you thanked him. You got tickets from work for a Islanders game. While you were not a huge hockey fan the idea of going to a NHL game and sitting super close with your new work bestie seemed fun for a Friday night. When the team skates out for a warmups you see a very familiar face. There was no way so you pulled out your phone and texted Mat.

You: Forward question, what are you doing tonight?

You flip your phone between your fingers and keep the light conversation with your friend. The team skated off and you feel a buzz on your phone.

Mat: I’m working late but could you meet me for drinks near the Barclays Center

Your mouth dropped open.

You: Sure, I’m actually super close with a friend. Text me when you are done working.

You enjoyed the game. Mat scored and you celebrated with everyone around you. Mat texted you a restaurant and time about 5 minutes after the final horn sounded. You said goodbye to your friend and headed that direction. Mat was right on time. Hair wet, dress shirt with the top few buttons undone, and expensive looking pants and shoes with a tailored coat.

“Hey (y/n)! He greeted you and opened the door. “You look great.” he took in your very comfortable appearance.

“I feel very underdressed.” You deadpan tone apparent.

“Don’t be. I’m over dressed but didn’t want to go home.” He lead you to the table and pulls out your seat. He orders a bottle of wine and asks if you want to split an appetizer. You agree and he sits back.

“So, work?” You took a sip of your water.

“Yeah.” His hand runs across his neck and you can see he’s holding back.

“Tough competition but your score there at the end was nice.” You try to hide your smirk as you see him almost spit out the water he was sipping on. “What?” he spat out making you laugh.

“You are Mat Barzal, yes? I felt like a complete idiot when I show up to the game tonight to see you skating around.” You lean against your hand and stare at him.

“Well, yes. I am.” He stares at you searching your eyes. “Does that change anything?” His question was honest.

“Nope.” You popped the p and he smiles. “Still the gorgeous strange who saved the day with coffee months ago.”

“Good.” He sips his wine. “Wait, gorgeous, huh?”

“Yes.” You aren’t sure where your confidence was coming from but you had it.

“Good to know.” He nods. “Good to know.” You both laugh in unison as the food arrives.

#mat barzal #mathew barzal #mat barzal fic #gorgeous coffee stranger fic #k's one shots #Isles very own Disney Prince

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artificialqueens · 3 years

Text

Maybe You're My Enemy (Diamond Chaney) - Ortega

a/n: hey, hi, hello! welcome to the first canon compliant thing i have written since 2017, i am *~ petrified! ~* . i had to write something to fix these two though after the events of episode 8 because i just love them dearly (and the fact in the subsequent episode Lawrence just dropped in the fact they’d shared a bed didn’t help this at all). thank you so much to @purecamp for reading it over and reassuring me it’s not a heap of shit (so if it turns out that it is then just blame her xo). also the song it’s set to is enemy by Charli XCX in case u want to get the immersive vibes!

fic summary: On one side of Scotland, Lawrence disappears from social media. On the other, Ellie reflects.

***

They say, “Keep your friends close”

But you’re closer, I love when you’re here

I’m so far away sometimes, I’m distant, yeah

The sky is grey. The clouds are grey. The stagnant water of the quay is grey, and so’s the metal rail that Ellie’s holding on to as he narrows his eyes, tries to stop the wind from hitting them and making him tear up.

As if the wind would be the only reason.

He brings his gaze into focus on the HMS Unicorn, sat in the water in front of him like some massive whale that’s been planted in a bathtub. It’s a fucking ugly ship; a glorified tugboat on steroids with a big bowsprit sticking out at the front all out of place, but he likes the little bust of the once-white unicorn that sticks out from under it. Ellie remembers getting brought here for a school trip in Primary 3, pointing to the unicorn all excited and getting laughed at by the boys in his class that he knew were going to grow up to be the ones that gave the teachers lip and got suspended in high school.

He remembers that Bryce made up the fact that one of the boys had “said the f word” in the gift shop later that day, just so Ellie could have the satisfaction of watching them get screamed at by their teacher. Ellie still fucking loves him for that.

Ellie thinks the unicorn is out of place in all this grey. He remembers the time he did his unicorn mix when he opened for Willam, how nervous he’d been and messaging Lawrence about it and getting a “this you coming out to me as a furry?” in return which made him laugh and forget why he’d even been nervous in the first place. He can’t help the smile the memory brings to his face even if he wants to.

And he wants to.

Lawrence always could make him smile, get a laugh from him even when he didn’t feel like it. He remembers with a blow to his heart what Lawrence had said on the show- “you’re not terribly funny? Like you don’t have…zinger-y punchlines?” - and how Tia had laughed and Ellie had wanted so much to bite back but didn’t.

Because he always could draw a laugh out of Lawrence. Granted he was usually laughing at him rather than with him, but Ellie could still put a smile on his face by acting dumb, saying things that Lawrence would subsequently repeat in a screech of disbelief that would always make Ellie laugh harder anyway. He’d always self-impose ridiculous dares on himself in front of him: in Hive, “here, what if I did the entire shot rainbow?”, in Nandos, “d’you think I could do the wing roulette by myself?”, in Glasgow on the Subway on the way to a gig, “dare me to get off at Ibrox and I’ll go to the Louden Tavern dressed like this?”. Ellie had been used to being the class clown for Lawrence, the jester for the queen.

Or maybe just a fool.

Ellie’s always hated the colour grey.

You might help me, intimacy

I’ll admit, I’m scared

Maybe, maybe you can reach me, yeah

His surroundings turn to silver as he shoves his hands in his pockets, heads towards the V&A museum that’s still glinting despite the lack of sunlight. He’s stopped by two teenage girls that are polite and shy and squeaky-voiced as they ask for a photo- he supposes that’s what he gets when he goes out wearing the pink and purple fur coat with the hearts on it. Ellie forces a smile and thanks them for supporting him and they tell him he’s their favourite in return.

After they walk away he thinks they must have been lying, but then he feels the frown etch itself onto his face as he shakes his head. The self-doubt is a hangover from filming that he needs to shake off.

He squints at the museum as he walks past, fleetingly thinks about going in and looking at some of the old fashion to cheer him up. A’whora’s promised to go with him when he’s eventually allowed to come up to visit, and Ellie snorts at the idea of the fashion queen of the London scene in Dundee. The thought of A’whora’s reaction to the Wellgate shopping centre- the Credit Union, the B&M, the Jobcentre Plus- puts the first smile on his face he’s had in days.

Lawrence had gone round the museum with him too, when Ellie had dropped him off at the train station the day after a gig and they’d been killing time. It had been weird to just dick about like that together the first few times. Weird the fact there was no makeup, glue and wigs, no alcohol or gay anthems to yell over. Just two boys walking around a museum together. Like a date.

Ellie makes a face before he even realises. Not this.

The first time they did all of it together was weird. Just like everything Lawrence had written. Nandos, cinema, staying at his. That last one especially. Ellie can still remember the way he’d stared up at the bumpy ceiling from his position on Lawrence’s couch in the pitch dark, street lamps from outside casting shadows through the blinds. The room was too cold and the blanket was too small and he hadn’t slept a wink but he’d still do it all over again.

The first time they’d both lain on Lawrence’s bed the morning after the night before, cracking up at Scottish You Laugh You Lose compilations on Youtube and Ellie being unable to help the tears that streamed down his face at Lawrence imitating “big shoe, big shoeeee!”. The way they’d been close and the way their arms had touched and the way Ellie had felt ridiculous for the way his heart was hammering. Just a friend.

The first time they’d found each other under the dark lights of CCs when they’d both been through in Edinburgh to support Alice by chance. The way Ellie’s heart had lit up like a firework when he saw him. The way they’d laced their fingers together without even having to ask permission first, the way everything just seemed to be as simple as tequila rose shots and pink lights and leaning against the wall as they smoked outside.

The way everything else had just happened so easily.

Ellie squeezes his eyes shut before he can realise what he’s doing. The memories have forced their way in, kicked down a door in his head that he’d been sure he’d bolted shut.

He needs to change the locks.

Maybe you’re my enemy

Now I’ve finally let you come a little close to me,

Maybe you’re my enemy

You’re the only one who knows the way I’m really feelin’

Ellie is in the same Stitch onesie he’s been shrugging on since the last episode aired. It stinks. He’s joked to A'whora that he can probably smell him through the phone, and A'whora’s asked if he just sweats out Mango Loco Monster. Ellie makes some joke about wringing out his clothes into a pint glass if he did, which makes A'whora retch on camera.

He’s glad they made up at least. They didn’t have too much of a choice, to be fair. Apart from the way they get on so well, their bond and their friendship, A'whora’s the only other one who knows what it’s like to be in Ellie’s situation.

Except A'whora never stabbed Tayce in the back.

“You should talk to him,” A'whora insists, bringing the whole sorry situation up in a pause where Ellie must have looked as if he was about to make a vodka bleach mixer.

Ellie looks pointedly back at him through the screen. “I’ve been telling you to talk to Tayce for months.”

He watches A'whora pull an awkward face and he’s satisfied he’s hit a nerve. “That’s different though. You and Lawrence don’t live together.”

“Yeah. Least I wasn’t stupid enough to move in with someone I fancied, how’s that going for you?”

A'whora splutters a laugh that doesn’t quite meet his eyes. Ellie feels guilty all over again. He feels like that’s his default these days. “Sorry, chick, I shouldn’t have-”

“No, I mean. It’s fine. Just have to act as if I’m not in love with the bitch every time I’m around her, it’s not hard,” A'whora deadpans.

Ellie frowns. “You know Tayce feels the same. Everyone knows it.”

“No I don’t,” A'whora says instantly back to him, shaking his head and dissolving momentarily into pixels. “Besides, even if she did, like…it’s easier if she didn’t, y'know? All this…publicity, every move getting analysed. It’s easier to just…not.”

Ellie narrows his eyes. “You’re doing a smashing job making the case for me and Lawrence.”

“You know what I mean! You don’t get people asking where Lawrence is in every live you do. You don’t get people going through the show fucking…frame by frame and then editing every time you breathe around each other together and setting it to a bloody Little Mix song.”

Ellie bursts out laughing and starts singing Black Magic down the phone to him, which makes A'whora look pointedly at him before clearly being unable to hold it for long and instead laughing with him.

Both their laughter dies down and Ellie watches as A'whora smiles sadly, sincerely. “He’s worth the risk, Els.”

“Oh my God, prison. Who the fuck are you, Nicholas Sparks?”

The reference flies over A'whora's head and Ellie starts explaining the plot of the A Walk to Remember, steering the conversation out of the waters it had become marooned in, the captain of his very own HMS Unicorn.

He feels more like he’s aboard the Titanic with every message that goes unread.

Now it’s really clear to me

You could do a little damage, you could cut me deeper

“It didn’t get you a badge though, was it worth it?”

Ellie’s asked himself that every day since the episode aired. Since he made the decision, pretty much. Financially? Yes it was. It’s pretty well-known at this point in the grand scheme of Drag Race that with each week you’re on the likelihood of securing more bookings is increased, and now with his slot at Drag Fest he feels as if he’s hit the jackpot.

Everything else? Not so much.

Ellie still feels his stomach drop if he thinks enough about that untucked, which he does all the time. Too much, in fact. The aggression in Lawrence’s voice which Ellie knew all too well was a manifestation of hurt on so many levels. The way Lawrence chose the conflict that Ellie wished he could have avoided. The way Lawrence left his feelings bare while Ellie couldn’t trust himself to do the same in case he said something he might regret.

The fact Lawrence had thought Ellie had set him up to fail was maybe what hurt the most, though. Ellie had wanted to ask him how he thought he’d be able to do that after everything they’d been through together. He’d tried to tell him he didn’t think it was possible for him to fail at something he shines at. He’d wanted to grab Lawrence’s pink fucking headpiece and bash him over the head with it until he realised that he’s Lawrence fucking Chaney, he is the Scottish drag queen. Lawrence is the one who will say something at a gig one week and it’ll be common drag parlance across the country by the next. Lawrence is the one getting booked by the BBC Social to make educational videos. Lawrence is the one on posters across Glasgow, for fuck’s sake.

Ellie might not have been thinking about the worst case scenario in that moment, but only because he genuinely didn’t think there could be one.

After all, he’d had his opportunity to sabotage Lawrence. Ellie remembers the first day when the producers had wanted to set up the Scottish queen rivalry, asked for something shady they could use as a soundbite. The way he’d sought out Lawrence on a smoke break and told him about the situation and reassured him that he hadn’t given them anything, and the way Lawrence had just smiled back at him, softly and genuinely, and told Ellie he’d done the same. The way they’d minutely linked pinkies together before breaking them and walking back inside as if they’d barely shared so much as a glance, neither of them wanting to draw any suspicion their way.

And he could’ve been harsher in that untucked if he’d wanted. Could’ve said how for someone that was meant to care so much about friendship and sisterhood, Lawrence had been doing a great job shitting on him from a great height about his lack of challenge wins and his run on the show.

But he didn’t, because…well. He knows why.

Because the knowledge that he’d hurt Lawrence and lost his trust had done more damage than any joke Lawrence made at his expense could ever do.

Ellie goes live on the Tuesday afternoon. A comment on the chat reads, “are u A’whora and Lawrence still friends???”

“Yeah, me and A’whora are still friends!” Ellie bats the comment away with a fake smile.

He’ll blame his lack of comprehension skills if he’s asked about it.

I feel guilty, I feel nervous, I feel certain now

Maybe, maybe you can reach me

He doesn’t know what possesses him to do it.

Maybe it’s when he wakes up on Friday and Lawrence’s Twitter isn’t loading. Maybe it’s when he reads the other Scottish girls condemning the fans, the word fatphobia leaping out, grabbing Ellie’s heart and wrenching it tight.

Surely not this?

Ellie searches Twitter and what he finds makes him feel ill. He doesn’t know what he had expected- he’d known the frantic tweet urging the fans to be kind that he’d typed out before he went to sleep hadn’t exactly been going to create world peace overnight- but he hadn’t expected any of this. Everyone loves Lawrence, surely.

Although perhaps he’s just talking from experience.

Maybe it’s when he shoots Lawrence a message that goes unopened. In all honesty Ellie doesn’t blame him. A flimsy sentiment about hoping he’s okay that clocks in at under 250 characters isn’t going to cut it, and he’s grateful when Bimini, with all their empathy and ability to read a situation as clear as day, texts him and tells him that Lawrence has replied to them and he’s…well, he’s managing.

Maybe it’s when Ellie goes live with A’whora and he manages to mention Lawrence entirely too many times. A cry for attention or an old habit that’s dying hard? He can’t tell. Perhaps it’s both.

It’s definitely got something to do with the Facebook post.

Whatever it is, Ellie finds himself stuffing any old random items of clothing in a backpack and hoping it makes an outfit, shoving the spare key into the soil of the plant pot outside his front door and texting Anne to tell her where it is in case…fuck knows, the flat goes on fire while he’s away or something. He looks up the train times as he’s on his way to the station; a terrible decision, really, as when he’s still fifteen minutes away he discovers there’s one in ten. Somehow he manages to make it to the station with just a minute to spare and his heart lifts to find that the ticket barriers are open, so he dashes through them and hurtles onto the train that’s waiting at the platform. He catches his breath as he slumps into a table seat, having to take his mask off for a couple of seconds just so he can breathe properly. The way his heart is going at the rate the train’s about to isn’t helping.

The chimes of the train announcement cut through his attempts at slowing his heart down, and the little robotic woman’s voice confirms that his ridiculous, spur-of-the-moment decision is actually happening.

“This is Dundee. This train is for Glasgow Queen Street.”

Because this is all so last minute, but he needs to see Lawrence. He’s apologised probably ten times by now but he knows he needs to make it eleven. He knows (he hopes) that Lawrence needs that eleventh time too. He knows that Lawrence needs Ellie’s persistence, knows that it’s all just an attempt at self-preservation. Lawrence’s attempts at shutting Ellie out are just inviting him to bring a battering ram. At least, he hopes. But like A’whora had said…he’s worth the risk.

The train starts moving, and even if he wanted to back out now he couldn’t.

So cold at the surface, I’m scared of nothin’

Underneath, I’m nervous

Can you reach me?

Ellie waits for the subway at Buchanan Street and his glazed-over eyes focus on a massive poster of Lawrence on the platform opposite. He briefly considers throwing himself under the next train.

The journey down had passed somehow in the blink of an eye and also agonisingly slowly. Too much time to sit and stare out of the window but not enough time to figure out what he’s going to say. He still doesn’t know. He’d said it all those months ago, he’s said it through texts and DMs. This time feels different, though. This time is different. This time there’s no cameras or runners or pink tables, or distance between them or tension at the fact nothing had aired yet.

It’s going to be the pair of them and Lawrence’s flat. Just like it’s been so many times before.

Ellie thinks he’ll probably just open his mouth, say whatever gets there first and hope it hits the right notes; a terrible decision arrived upon as a result of the lack of any other option. His mind is a messed up ball of television static, a knotted yarn of white noise that he can’t find the end of. He feels as if it’s made of the noise the train makes as it screams into the station, metal on metal and the low whoosh of the wind through the tunnel and the rickety shaking of the doors as they slide open and people stream off.

He picks up his bag and sinks down into the horrifically patterned upholstery of the seats, settling himself in for the journey. The little metal tin can of a train doesn’t take long to fire through the seven stops before Govan and with each one that passes Ellie can feel his nerves spiking and his mouth growing dry.

What if Lawrence isn’t even in? What if it’s all got too much and he’s gone back to Helensburgh for the foreseeable? Ellie could get a train up there, he supposes; he’s already on this side of the country, although he doesn’t know if Lawrence would appreciate the gesture or call the police on him.

Ellie concludes it would be worth it anyway.

He emerges from the Subway and the grey seems to hit him all over again, seeping into his clothes and forcing him to fight through the sadness that hits him like a wave. There’s a little beam of sunshine fighting to escape the clouds though, and Ellie hopes it’s some form of pathetic fallacy. Or whatever that one about the weather matching your feelings was. Fucked if he ever paid attention in Nat 5 English.

The streets of red brick tenements feel like pens of hostility as he passes windows that serve as frames for Union Jacks and Red Hand of Ulster flags. Even being raised in a Christian household doesn’t equip him to identify with this form of religion; where the disciples are football players and the gods are flags and the hymns are about killing Catholics. Ellie has always worried about Lawrence living here, told him as much, but he’s always been met with a bark of a laugh back and some comment about how he’s only saying that because he’s lived such a sheltered little life in Dundee and wouldn’t last five minutes trying to inhabit Glasgow and all its cheerful sectarianism. Lawrence has always had a very blythe attitude to the whole thing, and Ellie remembers when he’d held his hand on the way back from the Subway in full drag after a gig like it was nothing, the way some dick in an orange and blue scarf had shouted at them from across the street and Lawrence had just yelled back with an “awrite, babes?” as if he had a death wish.

Which is what makes this whole thing so grim. The Lawrence who drunkenly and sarcastically greets bigots at three in the morning from across the street doesn’t marry up with the Lawrence that’s holed up in his flat in the face of negativity. Ellie supposes that one homophobic Rangers fan is one homophobic Rangers fan, but Twitter can seem like the whole world’s population, and if Lawrence thinks the world hates him just because he’s reacted to something that was Ellie’s fault…

He feels his gut wrench.

Ellie turns into Lawrence’s street and feels ill. He could always go home. Turn and walk back to the Subway, train back to Queen Street, back to Dundee, back to the flat. Like nothing had ever happened. Like he hadn’t even consciously made the decision, like it was all a dream.

He sleepwalks to Lawrence’s close door anyway, just like he knew he would.

His hand shakes as he presses the buzzer too hard, and the panic rises in his throat as the seconds pass agonisingly slowly. When there’s a crackle from the intercom, he freezes in fear.

“Hello?”

It’s Kiko’s voice. Of course his flatmate had to be the one to answer, drag out the humiliation of the whole thing. Ellie can hear the shake to his voice as he replies.

“Hey, it’s Ellie.”

“…Ellie?”

He chooses to ignore the disbelief, acts as if it’s normal for him to have travelled across the country to turn up on Lawrence’s doorstep in the middle of a pandemic when there’s a travel ban in place. He’s considering this essential travel anyway.

“Is Lawrence in at all?”

Kiko, for her part, seems to pick up on the way the whole visit is masquerading as routine. In the split second before she replies, Ellie finds himself holding his breath. He steels himself, prepares for a “no, he’s actually…”, to send him back to Dundee like a crumpled sheet of paper tossed into a bin.

So Ellie feels like his throat’s going to close up when Kiko replies down the intercom. “Yeah, two secs. I’ll buzz you up.”

The dread settles in his gut like a weight as the buzzer rings out into the street, harsh and loud and doing nothing for Ellie’s derailed train of thought. He pushes on the door, takes his first step into the close and the echo seems to hit him deep in his chest. He finds himself wishing Lawrence lives four up but he’s only on the first floor, and as Ellie puts his foot on the first step of the staircase he keeps his eyes trained on the stairs because he knows the moment he looks up he’s going to see somebody standing there holding the door open and even though he’s had hours to prepare himself, weeks even, he’s not ready for that in the slightest.

And when he finally brings his gaze onto the front door with four steps to go, he’s not ready for the way the sight of Lawrence almost knocks him straight back down again. He’s slumped against the doorframe and has very clearly not slept- since when, Ellie couldn’t guess. A black hoodie is swamping him and a pair of navy sweatpants are doing the same, making him seem smaller than he already is. The sight of his hair up in that tiny bun hurts Ellie’s heart because it makes him want to smile, reminds him of the Lawrence he’d dick about in the workroom and the smoking area and the hotel corridors with before it all went so wrong. His arms are folded and he’s looking at the tiles on the landing floor until Ellie reaches the doorway, shifts awkwardly.

“Hi.”

Lawrence doesn’t quite meet his eyes. It’s a minute detail that hurts Ellie more than he would have expected. He doesn’t reply for a second, then seems to relent. “Hey.”

Another pause. The atmosphere makes Ellie wish he’d worn a thicker jacket.

“You’re not meant to be here, you know. Wee Nicky’s probably had snipers trained on you since you got off the train,” Lawrence says, delivering the quip with a bitter, barbed edge that makes Ellie think it’s less of a joke and more wishful thinking.

“Wouldn’t be any less than I deserve, I’m sure,” Ellie smiles sadly, unable to make it meet his eyes. Lawrence’s expression remains unimpressed.

“So why are you here, then,” he not so much as demands an answer but disinterestedly inquires. Ellie bites his bottom lip before he replies, as if he’s forcing himself to make sure his words are perfect.

“I just came down because…well, I wanted to see how you were. I know the past week must have been shit for you.”

Lawrence raises his eyebrows, his eyes growing wide as if to really drive home to Ellie how much of an understatement he already knows he’s made. “Yeah.”

Ellie sighs, wanting desperately to get the next part right. “And I felt like I needed to say I’m sorry. Y’know, in front of you.”

“You said sorry back when we filmed. We’re over it, it’s fine,” Lawrence says flatly, conveying that everything is not fine.

“It’s not fine, though. I wouldn’t have come down if it was fine. Things haven’t been fine since that day, and like…I miss you, Lawrence, I don’t want to lose you as a friend, or as a sister, or as…” Ellie stumbles, looking to the floor as he tries to articulate the other facet of their relationship. “…whatever else we are. Whatever else we were. I’m sorry for fucking everything up.”

There’s a silence in which the pair of them freeze and hold their breath. Time could very well be standing still for all Ellie knows. He immediately regrets bringing up all of…that. He should’ve kept it to friendship, shouldn’t have added anything on. Before he can overthink any more or begin to backtrack, a small sigh from Lawrence makes him look up.

“I thought you hated me,” he says. His voice is small and the words are unexpected. There’s so much Ellie could say in response. He settles on a joke.

“No, I think you’re a cunt. There’s a difference,” Ellie smiles tightly, the joke tentative. The snort it gets from Lawrence makes his smile grow without him being able to help it. “Was that a good one? Thought I was the unfunniest person on the planet?”

“We weren’t talking about your Bake Off improv,” Lawrence raises his eyebrows as he smirks, and Ellie fakes a wounded laugh.

“Shady cow.”

“I’m sorry,” Lawrence says out of nowhere, his smile gone all of a sudden.

Ellie tries to drag the joke out a little longer, hold onto the sparks they’ve just created. “Nah, it was shit, you’re right.”

“No, Ellie…” Lawrence shakes his head, worrying his lip between his teeth a little. “I am sorry.”

Ellie feels the panic wash over him when he clocks the glisten in his eyes. “It’s fine, girl.”

“It’s not fine. I was a dick to you so many times, no fuckin’ wonder I thought you’d set me up. I would too if I had somebody talking down to me like I did to you,” Lawrence says gravely. His gaze is fixed on his floor and just as Ellie is about to speak he catches sight of two tears that fall onto the red carpet, the darkness akin to blood. His horror grows as Lawrence finally snaps his head up, tears shining in his eyes as he sighs helplessly in a shaky voice. “You’re amazing, Ellie, you’re such a talent, and…fuck, I missed you.”

His words mean more to him that Ellie had expected them to. He doesn’t want to let that show, though, because that’s too much, that means too much for the situation just now and he can deal with that realisation at a later date. For now, Ellie points at him in mock-accusation. “Hey listen, I’m the one that got the train down to come and make a big speech to you and say sorry. Buy your own damn train ticket for that.”

Lawrence’s voice is thick with tears as he lets out a short laugh. “Sorry.”

“Wee bitch. Always have to make everything about you,” Ellie rolls his eyes, getting another teary laugh out of Lawrence and raising his hopes that maybe they’ll be okay.

And then the banks break and Lawrence makes a little choked-up noise, a sob that’s not fully a sob. His eyes meet Ellie’s and they’re full of so much sadness and regret that just looking at them creates a crack in Ellie’s heart, one that matches the crack in Lawrence’s voice as he speaks again.

“This has all been shit to do without you.”

Ellie doesn’t think before opening his arms out, shaking his head affectionately. “Don’t be silly. C’mere.”

When Lawrence immediately opens out his own and they meet each other in the middle and hug tightly, Ellie feels like a balloon that’s been let go and is floating up to the sky.

The clouds aren’t grey.

The way they’re holding each other brings back too many memories. Seeing each other at gigs and feeling butterflies take hold of his stomach. Coming off stage after a number and conveying his pride in him without even having to say a word. Saying goodbye at train stations with disappointment lodging itself in his heart. All the nostalgia makes Ellie want to cry, but he can’t start now. Instead, he breaths a shaky sigh, shakes his head before he speaks.

“You’ve always had me, okay? You’ve always got me. We’ve said sorry now, that’s the end of it. Periodt,” Ellie murmurs against his shoulder, adding on his trademark at the end. The laugh he gets muffled against his chest in return makes him feel lighter.

“I’ve not showered. I definitely stink. You don’t have to keep hugging me, you know.”

“You don’t. I want to,” Ellie says back. He means it.

It’s Lawrence that slides out of the hug first but he’s still standing close as he quickly wipes away his tears, looks Ellie up and down with a smirk on his face. “So where’s your Travelodge, hen?”

Ellie’s sheepish when he makes eye contact with him again, shrugs one strap of the rucksack off before replying. “You know damn well I’ve not booked anywhere.”

“Fuckin’ hell. Right, come on,” Lawrence shakes his head affectionately, stepping back into his hallway and letting Ellie finally cross the threshold to drop his bag like an anchor in the flat. It’s the physical manifestation of the burden finally being lifted off of him, the guilt and the regret melting away in favour of the flutter of his heart and a few small sparks that he wants to put in resin. “I get to choose the film later as reparations. Don’t trust you since you made us watch Cat In The Hat.”

Ellie gives a shocked gasp, genuinely offended. “It’s good!”

“Is it fuck. In fact, just for that I’m going to make you sit through something sci-fi and geeky and you’re gonna hate it,” Lawrence smiles with genuine glee, and Ellie can’t even bring himself to be mad about it. As the pair of them walk through to the living room, Lawrence jumps onto the sofa and fixes Ellie with a look that is clearly meant to be serious but that simultaneously Lawrence can’t commit to and Ellie can’t believe. “You’re sleeping here tonight, by the way.”

Ellie raises his eyebrows as he fakes his agreement, going along with the charade Lawrence is beginning. They both know they’ll end up curled up together on the sofa with neither of them having an explanation for how it’s happened, but at the same time knowing they don’t have to explain themselves. They know that Ellie will end up falling asleep slumped against Lawrence and that he’ll have to gently shake him awake, that he’ll wordlessly offer Ellie a hand to drag him off the couch with and that they’ll go through to Lawrence’s room like always. They know that they’ll wake up tangled together like the sheets and that Ellie will be there for him, that he’ll help Lawrence piece himself back together and they’ll go back to the start. Well, maybe not the start. Perhaps somewhere better.

Ellie keeps his friends close, but Lawrence is something a little bit more. Something a little bit closer.

Baby, you’re my enemy.

#rpdr fanfiction #rpdr uk #ellie diamond #lawrence chaney #ellie x lawrence #a'whora #uk2 #canon compliant #angst #hurt/comfort #song fic #maybe you're my enemy #ortega

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joliepixie · 3 years

Text

I’ve been reading almost everyday since April 16th thanks to the stay at home order. Not that I’m complaining but I feeling like it’s time to return to work if only for my activity level! its become a struggle to remove myself enough to go for a walk or run. Anyways onto the books.

Left to right:

1) I ordered this book when I was in the middle of the Throne of Glass series as a nice book to break up the series (can’t read series books back to back I get bored that way) but also to fulfill the Sarah J. Maas craving I was having without having to invest in a series. I don’t know was expecting with this book but for me it made me realize I’m not that into superhero books... don’t get me wrong it was a good book and I think I gave it 3 stars?? It just didn’t resonate with me. I didn’t much enjoy the characters and I had a hard time believing catwoman was this super badass didn’t lose one fight to anyone type of character that had assassin training. I preferred the early chapters when she was just a kid trying to make a living by fighting I think following that would have been a bit more interesting. Ok Just checked rated it 4 stars... This is why I do these “reviews” cause sometimes I don’t know how I feel about a book till I sit down and start blabbing about it. So yes a 3 star book for me.

2) Ok I have a serious addiction apparently. After reading the Throne of Glass books I wasn’t done with Sarah J. Maas’ writing style yet so with me having a week of uninterrupted home time left and having a serious book hangover I decided to re-read the ACOTAR series again.. probably just the first two because I like the build up to Rhys and Feyra’s relationship. Needless to say other then having to spend the majority of this book with Tamlin I love this book or more specifically the under the mountain trails. Going into the book for the first time last year I wasn’t expecting the trails and being a huge fan of competitions, trails, etc. I was enthralled. Love this book and love the second book even more. Oh and I promise I will be branching out from Sarah J. Maas soon considering I’ve had all her books read and just waiting for breath and sky now.

3) Another re-read/slowly trying to read every book on my bookshelf after a reading slump of 3 years. As I’ve been saying to my friends. I’m weeding out the weak deciding what to keep and what to give away. Anyways, absolutely love this book. Say what you will about Nicholas Sparks but he knows how to tug at the heart strings. When I first read this book I was in highschool and getting through those last 100 pages is tough is a terribly sad type of way. I remember I had to give my dad a hug when he got home after sobbing on the couch for hours. This book broke and I went in knowing this and I spent my entire night crying, let my dad know I loved him, and woke up with sore and puffy eyes so bad that I couldn’t read at all the next day. Regardless of how much I love this book I’m keeping it for the sake of the memories I have with it and as a reminder to let my parents know I love them unconditionally and never stay mad.

4) If you remember I picked this book up on one of my thrifting trips with my friend. Funny story I accidentally bought two copies thinking they were different stories. I have a obsession with Paris (even though I haven’t gone.. just waiting for covid to end so I can get out there) which was the main reason for this purchase and I’m glad I got it. I read this immediately after Kingdom of Ash because I needed something quick and what better then a book of short stories some involving Paris? I loved the majority of the stories in this book and will definitely be re reading a few someday. I tried reading this author other book me Before You when I was really young but being so young I don’t think I appreciated it as much as I should have. After picking up this book and being reacquainted with this authors writing style I think I’ll be trying some of her other books and probably dusting off my old copy of Me Before You.

5) I’ve been having an tough time with thrillers recently where I’ve read a lot that just didn’t sit well with me. This one reminded me why I like thrillers so much. I found this one fast paced and didn’t have to sit through chapter after chapter of the characters drinking while she took her medication. Sometimes I find with thrillers we are always given these characters that are so dependent on there vices which are used against them to make them seem crazy rather then something actually happening which drags on and sometimes used as a crutch in writing do you get what I’m saying? Even though this book did have a bit of this happening it wasn’t used nearly as much as other books and like I said very fast pace. It was neat how there wasn’t a grand reveal but the main character just worked it out on her own. I was happy with the ending as well and thought it ended the book well. All and all I liked this book a lot.

6) Was hoping I could write about book 6, 7, and 8 altogether like last time but I have very different feelings about each book so here we go. I love this book probably just as much as Heir of Fire and Queen of Shadows. I really loved getting to see all the characters interact like Manon joining up with the crew. The skull bay fight with Lysandra was definitely one of my all time favourite scenes and having Dorian slowly master his powers was fun to read as well. My favourite part of this book was definitely Lorcan and Elide parts. Elide was a character that I could give or take when I first met her but she’s slowly become my favourite character and I loved everyone of her chapters as well as the slow building romance with Lorcan. And if you know me you know I have a great hatred for Chaol so this book got a added bonus for not having a single chapter from his perspective!

7) This was a struggle. I looked up if I could just skip this book but unfortunately it had major plot points you couldn’t miss. I was dreading this book. I read a lot of reviews about how people hated Chaol but still really found this book likeable so I went in hoping that would be my experience too. It wasn’t. I actually ended up buying the audiobook because I really couldn’t picture myself sitting and reading this book... it’s not that I hated it I just don’t like chaol and besides Yrene and Borte didn’t really care for any of the characters in this book. I’m glad I listened to it because I definitely needed this story to continue and I really did try not to hate Chaol so much but I just can’t stand him.

8) Ok. The final Throne of Glass book. I gave it 4 stars. The middle three books are my favourite and I will re read over and over this one I don’t see myself going back to it. I have it four starts because I’ve followed these characters through a eight book series and a month of my time. I’ve fallen in love with these characters and there stories, I will always love these character, and of course Elide and Lorcan! Now here’s why I didn’t like this book as much nor think I’ll read it again (other then Lorcan and Elide story.) throughout this book I felt like Rowan became a background character like I’m all for a strong female lead and her doing shit her own way but Rowan was suppose to be her equal and I just felt like he did nothing. Like the final fight he spent the majority of it chasing Aelin? I get it she didn’t have her full powers but she was handling her own couldn’t you do the same? It just didn’t sit right with me that this character that was introduced to us in Heir of Fire that trained Aelin and is her equal was just kind of brushed aside and became this clingy male that spent the majority of the book following Aelin around not doing anything other the pleading her not to leave him. Like what happened to the badass Rowan that I grew to love...? Also was really angered me Aelin losing her powers? What’s up with that?! It just felt so cheap to me.. after again reading about how strong she is and then forging the lock which did nothing by the way what was the point of that anyways, and then she just loses all her power only having a ember left??? I hate when authors do this.. I also felt the scene with Erawan, Maeve, and Aelin was just dull. I was still upset that Aelin wouldn’t get to use her powers against them and in the end it was more of a match of words then a battle just felt a little cheap to me. I was just disappointing , Aelin a character we have come to love and watch grow and get stronger hardly hold her own against Maeve... This book has a all around different feel to it compared to the other books and maybe it’s because it was the final battle and and the final book to the series I was a bit disappointed with it but I did enjoy it and felt a huge accomplishment when I finished the series. Reading that finally few chapters really put me into a hangover knowing it was over and like Aelin felt when everyone was heading home I felt that too. It’s goodbye for now.

#catwomen #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #last song #nicholas sparks #sarah j maas #ruth ware #jojo moyes #Paris for one #Paris #books #book #throne of glass #empire of storms #tower of dawn #kingdom of ash

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lonelyreputation · 4 years

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Beach Tagger

A/N: Hi hi!! Switching up from my usual angst and writing a bit of fluff ☺️ I love reading whatever you all have to say––it brightens up my day! Let me know if you have any requests or just want to chat! I loooooveeee making new friends💗

I’m trying to build up my masterlist so please if you have anything you want to request, my inbox is wide open!!

(come request or chat if you’d like)

Warnings: None :)

Word Count: 4.6K

“And I’m telling you,” you took your bike out of the garage and put the kick stand in place before turning around to face Shawn, “It’ll be less crowded on second street.”

Shawn took hold of the handlebars of your brother’s bike and rolled it out, “But you said that there weren’t any shops or restaurants down that end.”

Once Shawn was out of the garage, you walked over to the electric security pad that had control to open and close the doors. You dialed in the digits of your grandma and grandpa’s birthday and watched the pad light up green as the garage doors began coming down.

“Do you want to get noticed?”

Shawn stood quietly for a few moments. It was day three of your five day mini-vacation visiting your grandma at her beach house and Shawn had yet to be spotted. The two of you were granted privacy with the house being located on the back bay. During the days you could swim, kayak, and paddle board without anyone bothering the two of you––besides your cousins and family.

It was all very serene; lounging around the family bay house, with your boyfriend, that you had spent every summer at. You had given Shawn a tour on the first day of all the essential places you spent most of your time as a kid. You took him by the best pizza shop in town, best ice-cream parlor, the soccer field you had camp at when you were ten, the alley way you turned down when you broke your wrist, and where you had your first job selling popcorn on the boardwalk.

The beach town was something straight out of a Nicholas Sparks novel, a tiny quaint town where everyone knew each other’s business, but that didn’t stop the reality of Shawn’s persona. The first few days of the week were fine, you were able to take Shawn out to the boardwalk without anyone noticing him with his sunglasses and hat, but now it was the weekend. And the weekend meant that everyone from the mainland and bordering states would make the two hour drive down to the beach for a little getaway.

The beach town would be crawling with girls who would no doubt spend every minute of their weekend hunting for Shawn.

Finally, he shrugged his shoulders, “I guess you’re right.”

You didn’t like the dejected tone of his voice. So you left you bike and walked over to him. He was toying with the gear shift on the bike when you placed your hand on top of his, “If we get hungry we can bike down––or even walk––it’s not that far, promise.”

A small smile made its way onto his face as he flipped his hand over to squeeze your hand, “Sounds good.”

“Good,” you smiled as you removed your hand and went back to your bike. You kicked the kick stand up and lifted yourself up on the bike, “It’s like a 3 mile ride––“ Shawn’s jaw dropped, “––It’s all on flat ground!” You defended the mileage and gave him a once over, “And besides, you’re in shape, you can handle it.”

Shawn smirked as he slightly lowered his black sunglasses, “Checking me out, y/n?”

Even though Shawn was your boyfriend, you still blushed profusely, “I––Well, yeah. Yeah, I was.”

Shawn laughed and swung his leg over to the other side of the bike, “Good.” He then lifted himself up and peddled out of your cobblestone driveway and down the street, “Lead the way!”

You rolled your eyes and started peddling fast to catch up to Shawn. It was a little harder for you to speed up than him because you had a cruiser while he had your brother’s mountain bike. And while it was flat land you would be biking on, it was hot out.

Conversation was kept to a minimum biking down the main road, but when you led Shawn down the bike road, you were able to ride side by side and not worry about speeding cars. The bike road was the street over from the main shopping district of the town, so you were able to hear the chatting of people instead of the ocean waves.

Even though you and Shawn were riding in tandem, the conversation was still nonexistent. Shawn would occasionally ask you about certain areas you two had passed and if they had any significance in your childhood. Most of the time you always had a story for a place.

You had soon made it down to second street and just had to ride up the street in order to get to the beach. Waiting at traffic lights annoyed you, so you and Shawn would play “what are the odds” whenever you were stuck at a red light.

Shawn lost a round right when you pulled up to the boardwalk path that led to the beach. He was supposed to drink out of the spicket that beachgoers used to rinse off their sandy shoes.

“Please don’t,” you pleaded with him as you chained both of your bikes to the railing, “I don’t want Andrew calling me up asking me how you got dysentery on your vacation with me.”

Shawn shrugged and placed the two beach chairs on the sidewalk as he hovered over the spicket with a scrunched up nose, “When you lose odds, you lose odds, and if there’s nothing I stand by more it’s the rules to that game.”

You snorted, “That makes me feel confident tin our relationship.”

Shawn whipped his head up with a smile, “Odds are a way of life.”

With a roll of your eyes, you plucked your backpack out of the wicker basket attached to your bike and slung it over your shoulders, “C’mon, we’re wasting time and it’s a stupid game please don’t––Shawn! That is disgusting!”

He was only hunched over for less than a second before he turned the water off and wiped the water on his mouth off with the back of his hand, “That was pure salt water.”

“No shit,” you walked up to him and smacked him in the middle of his chest, “We’re next to the beach.”

With no response to his stupidity, Shawn took hold of your hand as he bent down to grab the handles of the beach chairs you would be using. The two of you walked up the sandy boardwalk ramp and you were prepared to see a beach tagger sitting in a chair at the bottom fo the ramp.

You were expecting to see a beach tagger that you knew. One of your friends who lives in the beach town year round had worked the second street beach location for the past year and a half. But he wasn’t sitting in the navy blue chair designated for beach taggers. There was a teenage girl who looked to be sixteen.

Immediately your hands began to sweat and Shawn looked down at you curiously. You chalked it up to being hot from the bike ride and just needing to get in the water. He seemed to believe it.

It felt like walking to the beach tagger took ages, but in reality it was a ten second walk down the ramp. She was reading a book and didn’t pay attention to you two at all, “Do you need to buy a day tag?”

You shook your head, “Uh––No. We have season passes––here,” you brought up the strings of your back pack where you had two beach tags pinned.

The girl dog eared her book and looked up at you before looking at the passes, “You’re good to––“ her abrupt stop to her sentence made you wince. You knew she looked up again at you. And you knew that she looked up at your boyfriend, not expecting to see Shawn Mendes, “…Go.” She cautiously finished up her sentence.

“Cool, right, yeah––Thanks.” You took off down the dunes and dragged Shawn along.

“What are you––Slow down,” Shawn whined as he kicked up some sand. You slowed down a bit, but as you did, you turned your head over your shoulder and saw the teenage beach tagger not engrossed in her book like she had been before. She was rapidly typing on her phone.

You knew she was telling someone she saw Shawn when she turned her head and made eye contact with you. Her smile was giddy, and you couldn’t blame her. Working as a beach tagger was literally sitting and do nothing for hours. It was boring. And now she had just seen Shawn, a musical performer that you assumed she liked, and it had probably made her entire summer.

“She noticed you,” You muttered under your breath as you and Shawn found a good place to set up your chairs.

Shawn unfolded a chair and pushed it into the sand,“Hm?”

“The beach tagger,” you nudged your head over in the direction you had just come from as you unbuttoned your shorts and flung the t-shirt over your head. You took the sun tan lotion out of your backpack, “She noticed you and she’s telling people she saw you.”

Shawn rolled his eyes as he got the second chair in place and took the sun tan lotion from you, “So what?”

“So,” you stressed as Shawn began rubbing the lotion in on your back, “People will find out that you’re here and mob you.” Your eyes involuntarily closed as you felt Shawn’s hands work deep on your shoulder blades, “We did so well the past few days.”

Shawn laughed as he brought his hands on your shoulders, lifting your bikini straps so he could get sun tan lotion under them, “We were cooped up in your house for three days.”

“We still went out and did stuff!” You exclaimed as Shawn glided his arms down your arms to wipe away any excess sun tan lotion. Your breath grew shallower as he slid his hands slowly down to your hands and played with your fingers. He intertwined your hands and pulled your back into his chest.

Shawn then crossed your tangled arms over your stomach as he leaned down to rest his chin on your shoulder, “I don’t care,” he kissed your cheek, “I like being in public with you.”

His breath was hot as he hung over your ear for a split second before untangling one of his hands and trailing it up the front of your stomach, “Although…If she hadn’t seen us maybe we could’ve been a bit more…” he let his sentence trail off and your eyes widened when you felt Shawn’s fingertips lightly graze under your bikini top.

“I think your mother would absolutely cut your head off if she saw any pictures like that in any publication.”

Shawn let out an overdramatic sigh as he removed his fingers the under part of your top piece and hooked his arm around your waist, “I know,” he squeezed you tight, “Such a shame.”

You laughed and untangled yourself from him. You picked up the sunscreen and squirted some lotion into your hand, “Now, if there’s one thing Andrew will call me up about, it’ll be because of how burnt you got.”

With no response, because Shawn knew you were right on that one, he turned around and bent his knees so you could lather up his back. You took longer than necessary, wanting to spend more than necessary feeling every crevice of his back. By the time you had applied three coats to him and told him almost done for the seventh time, you knew it was time to stop.

The next few minutes the two of you applied sunscreen to your face, arms, legs, and Shawn insisted he get your stomach. Can’t ever be too prepared for the sun, he said, you could always miss a spot.

And you never denied having Shawn’s hands roam your body.

It was just after twelve, with the sun being at its hottest point during the day, and all you wanted to do was jump in the ocean. The smell of the salt water and squawk of the seagulls mocked you for not being allowed in.

“You have to let it soak in,” Shawn berated you, “You grew up on the water, don’t you know that?”

“I do,” you grumbled as you leaned back into your chair, “I just feel really sticky from the sun tan lotion.”

Shawn muttered something about you being needy and you kicked sand his way. After a few more moments of sitting down, Shawn stood up and held his hands out for you to take, “Up.”

You didn’t question his simple command and reached your hands out to grasp onto him. When your hands connected you couldn’t ignore the jolt of electricity that still zipped through your veins like the first time you had ever touched him.

He dropped one of your hands, but kept the other hand held tight in his. Just like you had told him, there was barley anyone on the second street beach. It was more residential up this way of the town and all of the weekenders went to the main strip of the boardwalk to have easy access to food, bathrooms, and mini golf.

You meandered down toward the ocean and walked up to where the ocean waves just met the shore line. The two of you just stood there, watching the tide bring in little broken shells and then take them back out to the ocean. After a few moments, Shawn squeezed your hand and the two fo you began walking along the shallow part of the water.

“Thought we had to wait to get wet,” You chuckled as the waves barely covered your feet for ten seconds.

Shawn kicked some water, “Needed to cool off, plus, I think our feet are fine.”

You hummed in response, not knowing what else to say.

Conversation was never pressured in your relationship. The two of you prided yourselves on enjoying each others company more than anything else. But there was something off with this offbeat silence of ocean waves.

“Talk to me,” You nudged his shoulder with yours and looked up at him. He looked down at you with a fond smile, “Something’s up.”

Shawn nudged your shoulder back and chuckled, “I’m fine.”

You rolled your eyes, “Did you really just pull the I’m fine card with me?” Your tone was light hearted, but when Shawn’s unnerving silence carried on, you changed your tone to one more of concern, “Are you nervous for tour?”

“Will you miss me at all?”

Shawn didn’t miss a beat with his response. It was as if he had the question echoing around his head all day and was just waiting for the right time to bring it up. The point of the mini-vacation was to spend as much time with Shawn before he jetted off to Europe to embark on a summer tour. He had already completed his rehearsals so right after this weekend was done, he would be flying to New York City to meet up with Andrew and the rest of his crew, and then flying over to Amsterdam.

You had met Shawn through a mutual friend at university when he happened to show up at one of the house parties. And since then, the two of you were constantly together; whether it be on FaceTime, phone calls, texting–literally anything. Right from the start Shawn had expressed interest in you and wanted to skip the whole friends first phase.

He was impatient, but it was a decision that you agreed with. His personality was infectious and his laugh was addicting. You didn’t want to waste any time pretending like you weren’t interested in him.

That was October and it was now the first week of June. The only time you experienced Shawn on tour was for his Jingle Bell tour run in December. And while he was just in the United States, it was still complicated to keep up with his schedule and tour demands. It was early on in your relationship that you had to learn to adapt to his lifestyle. He thought it made him undesirable, but it made you appreciate being in his presence and seeing his smile a million times more.

But a European tour was different. This was day after day for months on end with an intense time zone difference. It was going to be difficult, you didn’t lie to yourself about that, but you were confident enough in your relationship that it wouldn’t change anything.

So when Shawn instantly asked you––will you miss me at all––at all––In the least confident voice you had ever heard come from his mouth, you felt your heart get carried away with the tide.

“I––Of course I’ll miss you,” you spoke in a strained voice, not liking whenever this topic was brought up, “I––I’ll miss you everyday, Shawn, but you’re going to have so much fun.” You squeezed his hand.

He sighed and ran a hand through his curls. One of them bouncing back in place, “I know…I know…I just––I don’t know.”

“Hey,” you stopped walking. It took Shawn a few seconds before he was pulled back since he was continuing walking down the beach and you came to a standstill. You squeezed his hand and spoke softly, “We have a plan, we’ve talked about this.”

Shawn kept his eyes trained out toward the ocean’s horizon, a far off look in his eyes; pain.

“I know––I don’t even know why I said that––Just, forget it. It’s not important.” He went to start walking, but again, he was pulled back by your hands still being connected and you standing still, “Y/n…”

You tugged on his hand again until he stood next to you. Both of you were now looking out into the unknown ocean, “It’ll be hard,” you gulped and Shawn responded with a monotone yeah, “But we can do it. It’ll be hard, but we’ve done some distance before, this is just a bit…longer,” you realized that what you were saying wasn’t really helping the situation.

You sighed, “I’ll always pick up your calls.”

“What if you’re at your internship?” He fired back.

“Then I might not answer it,” you answered honestly, “But––I’ll say I have take a bathroom break and then I’m all yours for fifteen minutes.”

“Fifteen minutes?” It was the first time Shawn broke concentration with the ocean and stared at you with wide eyes, “That’s a fucking long bathroom break.”

You shrugged and offered him a soft closed lipped smile, “I’ll just say it was a terrible shit.”

Shawn tilted his head back in laughter. His eyes were shut tight and his mouth let out a laugh so pleasing that you wished to be the only one to hear it for the rest of time, “They’ll never let you go to the bathroom again––Or––Or they’ll have you clean it up.”

Again, you shrugged and smiled up at him, “Worth it if I get to talk to you.”

“Even if I have to hang up like thirty seconds later?” Shawn’s voice returned to its anxious state, “Even if you call back like right after I call and I don’t pick up––“

“It’s all worth it,” you leaned into his side and brought a hand around his waist. He slung an arm around your shoulder and pulled you close, “Even if I get your voicemail.”

“I’ll miss you,” Shawn spoke lowly. The raw tone of passion and honesty that he held in his voice sent chills down your spine that made you want to wrap yourself in a blanket in the middle of summer, “I’ve––I don’t think I’ve missed anymore more than you before and I haven’t even left yet.”

You never felt a smile overtake your face just like the one you had plastered on your face right now, “Good,” you were sure your smile was blinding the sun, “Because I love you too much for you not to miss–––“

You cut yourself off faster than the thought left your lips. I love you too much. You had been in a relationship for around eight months––close to a year––and the two of you knew that you loved each other, but it’s just never been spoke out loud before. Shawn knew your reservations with that word and respected it. It wasn’t that you didn’t believe in love, or had a bad history with an ex-partner, but it was the commitment that the word brought out. It was commitment that this relationship had potential to be something more than just boyfriend and girlfriend.

Love was the closet thing that the world had to magic; it seemed too dangerous to throw around something so magnificent in power.

Your mouth went dry, “I––Well, you––You’re gonna be gone for so long and I––You better not miss Brian more than me or we’ll have a serious issue––But like, I get he’s your best friend, but I’m your girlfriend––Eh––Hold on, that sounded really possessive and weird because like––I like Brian and I like your friends––Your whole world shouldn’t revolve around me––“

“I love you, too.”

“Because if it revolved around me, then we wouldn’t have a healthy relationship and––What?”

Shawn tilted his head and shifted your body so that you were in front of him, eyes locked, “I love you.”

“You––What?” It was the second time Shawn spoke those words to you, but you still couldn’t process the information.

“I love–––“

Your eyes closed as your heart opened up, waiting for Shawn to kiss you after telling you he loved you again. His lips softly touched yours before he was interrupted from finishing the sentence you wanted to hear from him and only him for the rest of your life.

“Are––Are you Shawn Mendes?”

It was a bit of an awkward situation. Shawn had his hands on your waist and your hands were flat against his muscular chest. His lips were still hovering yours and he let out an annoyed sigh as he continued rubbing his thumb softly over your hip.

Reluctantly, he pulled away and plastered on a smile that you knew was a bit forced.

“Hey, yeah––I’m Shawn,” He introduced himself as he still kept an arm thrown over your shoulder, “And what are your names?”

The three teenage girls all looked at each other silently screaming about how they couldn’t believe they had run into Shawn Mendes in their tiny beach town. You always enjoyed being present when fans met Shawn. You loved how they looked at him like he hung the moon in the sky, but you were pretty sure you looked at him the same way too.

Shawn conversed with the fans for a few minutes, asking their recommendations for places to go in town, where their favorite mini golf was, and telling them all what he had done the past few days in town. Of course they brought up the dreaded topic of tour and you felt Shawn tense up as he sputtered out his media trained response; it’s my favorite part of the job, I can’t wait to get back out and see everyone again. While that statement was true, you knew that he was more apprehensive about this tour and what leaving you behind meant.

You took their pictures individually with Shawn and then a group picture of the four of them. One of them asked for a picture with you, which you politely declined.

“It was really nice meeting you girls,” Shawn flashed his signature smile, “But could you hold off on posting those for a few days? I’m really trying to stay low key and relax before tour.”

They all nodded their head vigorously––Of course, Shawn–––We wouldn’t want to invade your privacy, Shawn––We’re just so thankful you took time to talk to us, Shawn––We totally get that you want to spend time with Y/n, Shawn.

Their last statement made you smile.

The girls walked off holding onto each other’s wrist whispering––Did that really just happen?! Shawn Mendes?! Here?!––and you grinned up at Shawn who was already beaming down at you.

“You just made their day.”

“Ah,” Shawn tsked, “You just made my day.”

You rolled your eyes and shrugged his arm off your shoulder and began to walk away in embarrassment. Of course you were going to talk about what had slipped through your lips just moments ago, you wanted to talk about it, but you didn’t want any teasing from Shawn.

“Hey,” Shawn whined as he managed to grab your hand before you were too far away. He pulled you back into him and resumed the position you found yourselves in before the polite fans not-so-politely interrupted your moment.

His hands felt soothing on your roasting hot skin, “I love you.”

His nose brushed yours softly as you let your eyes flutter close and let out a content sigh, “I love you, too.”

And just like that, you felt as if everything aligned perfectly in the world. Everything in your world felt complete. The sun shinned with a new meaning, the salt water air smelled sweeter, and the thumping of your heart beat with a new purpose.

You loved Shawn Mendes.

His lips touched yours lightly, no more than they did just before the girls interrupted, admittedly, you expected more of a kiss for saying I love you for the first time to each other.

“Remember; you told me you loved me five seconds ago,” Shawn rushed out in a whisper.

You opened your eyes, “Wha––“ but before you could register anything, you felt Shawn grab your waist as he hoisted you over his shoulder. You felt his shoulder collide with your stomach and your vision of his face was replaced with his swim trunks. You weren’t that upset about that part.

But as soon as stereotypical thoughts of your partner’s butt came into mind, you felt the cold ocean water hit the back of your calves. You managed to lean up slightly and hook your legs around Shawn’s torso. His musical laugh rang through your ears once more as he adjusted his hands to grip the bottom of your thighs that clung to him for dear life.

You wrapped your arms tightly around him as you nuzzled your face into his neck and shrieked, “Shawn! Don’t you––“

Before you could finish your sentence, Shawn let both of you be consumed by the salty ocean water. The temperature of the water didn’t feel remotely as bad as it had before now that your whole body had been in the water, but it was still not a pleasant surprise.

Once Shawn lifted both of you up for air, you smacked his shoulder, “Why did you do that?!”

Shawn shrugged, “I don’t know,” he offered you a guilty smile, “But you love me, so it’s alright.”

You opened your mouth, but couldn’t find anything to rebuttal that statement. You loved the way his eyes glistened under the sun. You loved the way his wet hair stuck to the sides of his face. You loved the way he listened to the nonessential details of your life. You loved the way Shawn put his best work forth in music, family, life, and with you.

So, yeah, you couldn’t be mad at him. You weren’t mad at him.

You loved him quite a lot.

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thoughtsaboutshows · 4 years

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Fluffy Ask

@kh5160 asked for “Soulmate shit, it’s hardcore as hell.”

Sabrina sat down at their typical lunch table at Baxter High, noticing she was interrupting a lively conversation between her friends.

“What are we talking about?” She asked them.

“Mr. Presley’s lesson in Culture and Lore today.” Theo responded, a blatant smile on his face.

“Which was?” Sabrina raised her eyebrows in question.

“Soulmate shit, it’s hardcore as hell.” Roz responded with a giggle. It was then that Sabrina noticed that Harvey was quiet and not participating into the conversation, the topics of soulmates still an uncomfortable one for him since their breakup.

The idea of soulmates was something that was taught and ingrained in the minds of the Greendale Youth from a young age. Tradition and religion stated that one shared a mark with their soulmate, one only the two could see. Soulmates could mean anything. The connection could be romantic, platonic, or you could be spit-fire enemies. Your souls connected as destined to fight forever.

Sabrina had been delighted when she first noticed that she and Harvey shared the tiny blob on their shoulders. How lucky she was, that her soulmate was someone she knew and not halfway around the world. They were giddy, and when they were old enough they jumped into a relationship, convinced their soul connection was one of romance.

What Harvey didn’t know but would later find out, is that soulmates aren’t limited to mortal beings. The celestials or Satan or whoever also gifted these indelible marks to witches and warlocks. Though witches’ soul marks are a bit different, not usually attached to ideas of Romance but one of lust and power. But they had them all the same. Which is how Sabrina ended with a second secret mark on her wrist in the shape of a crescent moon the morning after her Dark Baptism.

It startled her when she woke up then next morning to find not only had her hair turned the shade of moonlight itself, but an image of it was apparent on her wrist. She didn’t understand, she had a soulmate. Her best friend Harvey who had broken up with her after he found out she was a witch. After she tried to bring Tommy back from the dead because, well, she’d do anything for her soulmate.

She ran to her aunts, begging her for answers. What did it mean? Why did she have two soul marks? How did she have two soul marks? Hilda and Zelda checked with her about a million times to make sure it was a soul mark she was seeing, and not sharpie or a bruise.

“You, cousin, have two soulmates.” Ambrose stated in the living room after dinner later that night.

With Ambrose’s help, who had been studying soul marks in depth since his house arrest, they came to the conclusion that she had two soul marks because she had two natures. One witch, one mortal. It also meant that she had two soulmates. There was another person out there, a magical being, with a crescent moon on their wrist. She didn’t know exactly how to feel. Harvey hadn’t been a Romantic soulmate, maybe this one could. But she shrugged the thought off, knowing what witches and warlocks were like, but it didn’t completely leave his mind.

So on her very first day at the Academy Sabrina couldn’t decide whether she should try and hide or flaunt her new soul mark, the one on her wrist a lot more visible than the one on her shoulder. She knew there were witches and warlocks all over the world, but a small part of her thought she’d get lucky again and find her soulmate close by. But she also worried what that soulmate would expect of her once they met. Surely not romance, like she wanted. And she wasn’t one to just give her body away, even to Harvey. Even to her soulmate. She decided she wouldn’t flaunt it, but she wouldn’t hide it either.

Sabrina knew it was going to be a weird day. She knew most of the students at the Academy hated her and balked at her existence. She expected the harrowing and the jokes. And she expected to eat alone at lunch. But she didn’t.

She hadn’t expected the warlock, Nicholas Scratch and big man on campus, to ask to join her. He was handsome, his hair curled and perfectly messy. His dark eyes were inviting and his smile was tilted slightly, and he was smiling at her. She’d seen him around growing up and at the few Coven events she attended. She was curious about him and how he always seemed a little different than the rest. He’d flirted with her but she'd rarely reciprocated, and he’d always been curious about her relationship with Harvey. He wondered about what it was like to have a Romantic soulmate. He wondered about what it was like to find your soulmate period.

“Have a seat, Nick.” Sabrina commented with a smile as he waited or her to allow him to sit down. “It’s good to see you again.”

“So how’s your first day going?” He asked her as he cut into his chicken. It was bland so he reached for the salt. She had the same idea as she reached for it too while explaining that she was annoyed at her class list, but excited for conjuring.

Sabrina couldn’t ignore the jolt of heat she felt on her wrist and her eyes darted to their joined hands. She noticed then that the edge of her sweater was pulled up slightly revealing a liver of her pale skin, and revealing her soul mark. Nick’s eyes darted to it too and cleared his throat, shoving his hands in his pockets. But not before Sabrina caught a small glimpse of her own.

She thought her brain may have been playing tricks on her but as she replayed the moment in her brain later in the day, she couldn’t deny what she’d seen. On his right wrist, just like her own, was a small crescent moon.

She didn’t know how to bring it up, and he didn’t either. The soulmate thing isn’t something you can just bring up. It was delicate, and Sabrina had been lucky with Harvey. He was sweet and innocent and didn’t make her feel embarrassed when they talked about it.

Nick was a firestorm. He was unpredictable and every time he touched her shoulder or leaned over her desk when she was studying in the library she felt like she couldn’t breathe. But she took notice that she missed the tense air when they went their separate ways. Nick had been struggling too. He’d been wrestling with his crush on her that just seemed to grow by the day, and found that he was smelling her lavender lotion even in his dreams.

Shortly before Lupercalia she couldn’t take it anymore. Nick had been dropping subtle hints about trying to match with her for it and spending it with someone special. And while the thought of it sent her positively humming with anticipation, she couldn’t be his partner without knowing. She had to know.

She didn’t knock as she barged in his bedroom, she never had, since the two had started their friendship. He had just gotten out of the shower and sweatpants hung low on his sweatpants and it was the first time she had seen him without a shirt. A blush creeped to her face and she kept her eyes on his. And off his chest and his wrist.

“Spellman, what are you-” She asked her as he took in her wide-eyed expression.

“Nick, I need to know.” She said and played with her long-sleeved sweater, trying to find the word. “You’ve been talking about Lupercalia and I think I’d like to go with you but before we do any of that, I need to know-”

“Sabrina, breathe.” He walked towards her and resisted tucking her hair behind her ears. “What do you need to know?”

“I noticed something my first day at the Academy. After my Dark Baptism. On your wrist.” Sabrina got out and Nick’s eyes went wide, recognizing what she was saying. She started to lift her sleeve.

“Wait.” Nick stopped her with his left hand on her arm before meeting her eyes. He hesitantly lifted his hand to push her hair behind her ear, giving in to his desire from before. And then in slow motion and quickly at the same time, he kissed her. Like the firestorm he was, Nick’s lips on hers set her ablaze and she couldn’t help but trail her hands up his chest, leaving sparks in her place.

When they pulled apart Nick’s hands were on her waist and hers were buried in his hair. They sat in that moment for a while, foreheads pressed together and breathing each other in. He smelled fresh from his shower and she smelled like lavender.

“Why did you do that, Nick?” She finally asked.

“It didn’t matter.” He answered her. “It doesn’t matter what’s on your wrist and what’s on mine. I wanted to kiss you because you’re you, and not because we have the same Satan-given mark on our body.”

Sabrina responded by kissing him again, distracting him with her lips while she reached down and grabbed his hand.

“That’s very romantic. But I still want to know.”

“I figured you would.” Nick smirked at her in response and willingly turned his wrist over.

And there it was. On the inside of his right wrist was a small mark in the shape of a crescent moon. Nick noted her soft smile, it was good news. He grabbed her hand then from where it was resting at the back of his neck and to look at her wrist. He smiled wide when he noticed the mark was identical to his and brought it to his lips to kiss it gently. Her eyes fluttered closed at the soft gesture and she let out a deep breath.

“Oh, praise Satan.” Nick murmured against her skin. She giggled before biting her lip and looking up at him.

“I thought it didn’t matter.” Sabrina quipped and ran her hands up and down his chest again.

“It doesn’t.” He leaned in to peck her once, unable to refrain from kissing her now that he’d finally done it. “But I’m glad I don’t have to fight anyone for your hand.”

“My hand?” She raised her eyebrows at her.

“Uhhh, not that you or your hand belong to me because I’m your soulmate.” Nick tried to save face. “Just that I’m glad you are…”

He stopped rambling when he heard her giggling again.

“I’m glad too, Nick.” She pulled him in for another kiss. This one tender and deep. He hummed against her lips. “So Lupercalia? Feel like spending it with your soulmate?”

“Lupercalia.” Nick answered, lifting her wrist to kiss the crescent moon again. “And every day after that.”

#nabrina #fluffy asks #Chilling Adventures of Sabrina #Nicholas Scratch #sabrina spellman

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raysofcrosby · 4 years

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LITTLE DO YOU KNOW PT. 8

"𝘋𝘪𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘢 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵...𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨? 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘴 𝘥𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘥?" ━ 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐧 𝐌𝐚𝐭𝐬𝐨𝐧, 𝐒𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫

gif credit (x)

series masterlist

requested: yes | no

warnings: implied smut, otherwise some slight fluff and angst.

word count: 4,916 [i barely proofread this bc lack of sleep so plz dont h8 me]

authors note: phew ok i was a little scared that i wouldn’t get this out before sunday, but i literally forced myself to sit down and write (both as a way to destress and get this done) and voila, i finished! i hope you guys enjoy it, and as always, i love everyone for reblogging and liking! i love seeing your tags, and hearing what you guys think about the series! i hope you enjoy and without further ado, here’s part 8!

Your last few weeks with Tyler felt like you were living on cloud 9. As usual, you and Kennedy switched off on nights of who got the dorm room, so more often than not, you'd been at Tyler's. In those few weeks, while you were dedicated to studying and preparing for finals week, Tyler often pulled his charm and managed to get you away from studying for an hour or two, and as he put it, christen every surface in the house with you, though honestly, you wouldn't have been surprised if he had done that before. None of that mattered, his past didn't matter and neither did his former hookups because he was here with you. You went to bed with him almost every night either cuddling into his side, him cuddling you or the both of you cuddling with the dogs.

Literal Cloud 9.

But that easy lifestyle came to a pause as finals week loomed over you, Kennedy and your entire campus. Luckily for you, you only had three finals. One final on the first day, a final the morning before tonight's game and then one on Monday. Your first two finals you felt as if you aced them– their courses were an easy A and you never struggled or felt stressed whenever it came to studying or writing papers for them. Your last final, however, was the one you were the most worried about– and quite frankly, spent the most time studying.

Stupid Physiology and Anatomy.

You were determined to lock yourself away in the library after the game tonight to study for Monday, but as usual, Tyler invited you over, even offering to help you study. You accepted and like always, he picked you up from your dorm and took you home. Of course, not failing to stop at the grocery store so you guys could pick up some quick ingredients to make yourselves mini pizzas while you studied. A study break, Tyler called it. Though, while more tomato sauce ended up on the counter and ingredients were tossed around– and your pizzas turned out a little crispy...it was a fun distraction, one that you were grateful Tyler planned and one that he knew you desperately needed.

However, when dinner came and went, you plopped down onto the couch in his living room and broke out your study cards You set them out all around you and started to plan out where you'd start when Tyler came down and plopped beside you. You were suspicious at first because you could feel him staring at you from the corner of his eye, but you brushed it off. It wasn't until you felt him creep his hands around your waist and press a kiss against your neck, did you realize what he was trying to do.

"No, Tyler. I have to study!"

He pressed another kiss to your neck, higher this time before pulling away and pouting at you. "It's anatomy, I like to think that you know enough about that."

You laughed, turning at him and poking him in the chest with a card. "Not the point Seguin. How am I supposed to for sure know what a–" you took a glimpse at the card. "Epiglottis is, if I don't study?"

Tyler looked off and mumbled to himself before looking back at you. "That's the thingy that stops food and water from getting into your lungs, right?"

You flipped the card over, reading a definition that summed up what Tyler had said. "Lucky guess."

"No, not lucky guess," he pulled you closer to him. "If I know what any of this fancy stuff means, then you do too. Because I only know it from helping you study, which no offense...is a shit ton, ya nerd."

You sighed, staring down at the card and feeling his eyes burn holes into your head. "Tyler..."

"Pleaseeeeee?" He started to squeeze your sides before tickling your waist. You smacked at his hands, trying to get them away and failing. "Please, please, please?"

He lied you down onto the couch and you sighed, smacking his chest with your card. "Fine."

He leaned down and kissed you before pulling away and sitting up, taking off his shirt. He looked down at you and wiggled his eyebrows. "If you're so torn up about not studying...you could always study me?"

You smiled, reaching up and wrapping your arms around him and tugging him down closer to you, nudging your nose against his own. "Studying can wait."

❒❒❒❒

Your studying session took you from downstairs on his living room couch, to upstairs on the theatre couch. While Tyler had managed to strip you from your clothing downstairs, he carried you upstairs, fully clothed and even offering you a pair of boxers and a shirt because 'it was only fair for what I have planned next.'

What he had planned next, of course, was studying...but a studying game he made fun. He'd help you study your cards by using reading them to you and if you couldn't tell him the definition and point out where the card belonged, then you'd have to strip (see how unfair?) And for every 15 cards you got right, he'd strip. Of course, Tyler being Tyler started to pout when you were still dressed in his t-shirt and boxers and he was left with nothing but 1 card left and his boxers. When you got that last card correct and he had to full-on strip, he was even more upset. Though, he didn't let that fully show until after he congratulated you on being smart and reassuring you that you'd ace this final.

And of course, you rewarded him with some good ole fun since he helped you study for a while, but then after that, it was back to studying again. And that was the routine: Study, break, study– just like that. Now, the two of you were relaxing on the couch. He was sitting up and you were lying down, your head rested on his thigh, the both of you covered with your shared blanket as he rubbed your arm with one hand and played with your hair with the other one.

"You know, for someone who played 65 minutes of intense hockey...you sure do have a lot of pent up energy," you turned your head and looked up at him. "four times in three hours is...a little aggressive."

His childlike smile took over his face as his smugness crept in. "If you keep moving your head, it's going to be five times." He leaned down and kissed you before sitting back up. "Let me guess. Was Cole a one and done, kind of guy?"

You felt a little embarrassed to reveal your past sex life to Tyler, especially since you knew how much he disliked Cole, but that soon eased. "More like once a week and that stopped before summer."

Tyler burst into laughter and you felt yourself at ease when the vibration from his chest echoed throughout his body. You could listen to him laugh for hours on end and never get tired. "No wonder why you're able to keep up with me." He poked at your nose, "you've got pent up energy too."

You laughed and swatted his hand away, sticking your tongue out at him. "It's all fun and games until you break a hip, Seguin."

"Eh, I don't see that happening anytime soon," he smiles, nodding back down at his lap.

You roll your eyes and look up at him. "Better calm down boy, because we've still got some studying to do."

"If it leads us back to where we are right now, then I'm perfectly okay with that." He smiled and you reached an arm up and cradled the left side of his face. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to your nose and then your lips, resting his forehead against your own. "I think I could stay like this forever."

"Oh, I'm sure you'd love to have me in your lap forever, Seguin." You joked, looking at him.

Only then did you see the look in his eyes that you'd never really noticed before. It was a soft, tender look, one that you'd only seen in movies or described in the Nicholas Sparks books your brothers teased you about. "Well yeah, but no...I meant–"

A creak, following by a thud caught your attention and you were silently curing whatever it was that interrupted whatever Tyler was about to confess. "Did your front door just open?" You asked, pulling away from Tyler and looking towards the open theatre room door.

"Hey Seggy, it's just me! Are you here?" Oh shit, you knew that voice anywhere...it was Jamie.

"Oh fuck!" Tyler grunted, scrambling off of the couch and standing up quickly, resulting in you falling onto the floor with a thud. "Oh shit, I'm so sorry," He apologized, stepping over you and looking around for his shorts and putting them on.

You reached out for your fallen blanket and wrapped it around your body. "What is he doing here?!"

"I don't know, it's almost 1 A.M." He whispered back, rushing towards the door and turning back to you. "Just...stay here."

No sooner than he disappeared around the corner and down the stairs, did you take in your surroundings. You grabbed all of your study cards and your notebooks, quickly shoving them beneath the couch. Your heart was racing and it felt like you could pass out at any moment. This was the worst-case scenario– Jamie walking in on you and Tyler before you ever had the opportunity to tell him about your relationship. You'd spent weeks, thinking of this scenario and telling yourself that it wouldn't have a chance of coming true...and yet it was right downstairs. I mean, there's no other way you'd be able to explain exactly why you were naked in Tyler's house.

"Oh, dude did I...interrupt you?" You heard Jamie say as you paused your clean up and moved a little more towards the door to wait for the 'coast is clear' sign.

"What? No...why?" God, could Tyler be any more panicked? Just by the way he stuttered over his reply, was enough for Jamie not to believe it.

"Because there are women's clothes on your couch...unless this bra is yours?"

Your eyes widened as you mentally smacked yourself for ever letting Tyler undress you on his couch. He didn't strip out of his clothes down there, which was evident by the fact that you were the one stranded in a blanket and he was in the comfort of his running shorts.

"Oh uh...yeah, uh..."

"Jesus Tyler, get it together," you whispered, closing your eyes and resting your head against the door frame.

"Dude...are you back with Maisy again?"

"WHAT? No...why would you think that?"

Jamie paused and it killed you not to know why he did. "SMU? Is this her sweatshirt?"

You could feel yourself begin to sweat as the fear of Jamie recognizing anything down there as yours, set in. He even bought you that sweatshirt your freshman year move in! What if he recognized it as yours? Did Tyler had the capability to play it off as you leaving it here from the last time you watched the dogs? Honestly...probably not.

"Oh Uhm," Tyler cleared his throat, once, twice...and a third time. "No, it's not Maisy's."

"Let me guess," Jamie sighed, probably tossing your sweatshirt onto the back of the couch. "You found another hot girl from SMU then?"

"Well, yeah she's pretty hot," Tyler replied, and you could tell by the way that he ended his statement, that he was smiling and you couldn't help but wonder if you should be flattered that Tyler said you were hot or scared of your current situation.

"Dude, you've got to stay away from the college girls! No college girl is worth the drama, even if she's smoking hot. I mean, did you ever listen to Y/N and her Cole drama? Or the drama from this last year? You're wanting to put up with more of that?"

"But–"

"Anyway," your brother sighed. "Y/N asked me to come by sometime to pick up her Psychology or Anatomy book or whatever. I guess she left it here when she sat the dogs last week. She's been so busy with finals, so she forgot it and I forgot to come by before the game today. But I'm with Bish checking up on their house so since we're in the neighborhood, I thought I'd stop by."

Now you really wanted to smack yourself. In the mess and stress of finals and hanging out with Tyler and the pups, you completely forgot that you had asked Jamie to stop by and pick up your book. Though, in your defense...you weren't supposed to be here anyway.

"The Physiology and Anatomy one?" Tyler must have seen the confused look on Jamie's face, so he cleared his throat. "She's been complaining about that course whenever she tapes up my ankles– huge bore of a book. Do you know where she left it? I can grab–"

"No, no. You go back to your girl." Jamie patted Tyler on the shoulder, "she told me where she left it. I'll just grab it and go."

You could hear Jamie's footsteps come up the stairs and it was like you were frozen in place. You had told him it was in the theatre, which is where you did most of your studying at Tyler's. When your eyes scanned the room, you saw it lying on the left side of the couch, right on top of the small side table. You considered running across the room and shoving it under the couch until you focused in on how close their footsteps were.

"No, really...I can grab it for you. You wouldn't want to leave Bish in the car!" Tyler said, obviously trying to prevent Jamie from coming up the stairs.

"He's not a dog, Segs. Plus the A.C. is on...I think he's good. Now really, you go back to your girl, I'm a big boy. I can find a college textbook."

There were no good places to hide in the theatre room and you could feel the panic in your chest only continue to rise. There was not enough time to book it across the hall and into Tyler's room without risking being seen and identified by Jamie. You looked to your right and saw the little crook that Tyler's door made, rest up against his entertainment center. A designing flaw you'd pointed out to him many times– but not one Tyler cared too much about to fix. Right now, you felt like hugging that stupid flaw, because it was about to become your saving grace.

You quickly opened the door and ducked into the space, pulling the door right behind you and casting you in the crook. Just as you went to peek through the crack to see if they were near...they walked into the room. You held your breath as you saw Tyler relax a little bit, knowing that you had managed to hide just in time. You moved away from the crack in the door, pressing yourself against the wall as you heard the two of them move around.

"She said it was in here somewhere...."

"Are you sure she left it here? I haven't seen it."

"I mean," Jamie paused, digging into his sweatshirt pocket for his phone. "She texted me yesterday saying that she desperately needed it and forgot it in the theatre. But she's also really stressed...so it's possible."

"Great! Then maybe she just–"

"I just thought that I'd come and check, just in case. Acing these finals means a lot to her. Plus Jordie and I are planning a huge Hawaii trip for her and Kennedy after graduation. So I just don't want her to stress herself out too bad and ruin her chances at getting a good grade...just because of this book."

You felt a twinge of guilty hit your chest hard. Jordie and Jamie were currently planning an amazing trip for you and your best friend...and you were not only hiding the biggest secret from them but also currently hiding behind a door...naked and wrapped in a blanket.

"HA!" Jamie yelled, scaring you and almost causing you to jump and knee the entertainment center. "I found it! Physiology and Anatomy, perfect!"

"Huh, I guess she really did leave it." What a liar, since the two of you were just using that book for a guideline to your cards.

"Hey, do you know that your entertainment center is completely blocking your door?"

Oh no. Oh no, no, no.

Your heart was hammering against your chest as you closed your eyes and prayed that Jamie would stay as far away from your location as possible.

"I mean, either you need to get this door realigned or figure out a better place for your entertainment center, man. This door closes too fast?" You watched in horror as Jamie's fingers curled around the upper side of the door. He tugged it towards him, revealing you and your hiding space as his attention was all on Tyler. "It could really damage it."

You looked at Tyler as you gulped, sending him a helpless look. His eyes were wide and staring in your direction, as Jamie held all of his focus on Tyler. "Why do you look like you've seen a–" Jamie finally turned to you, "Y/N?"

You were speechless. The moment you opened your mouth to explain, your throat dried and it was as if you forgot how to speak. You could see Jamie was still trying to register in his brain why you were there. You watched helplessly as his eyes traveled down to your blanket before coming right back up. It was scary, watching his eyes gloss over and darken all at once– something that only happened whenever he was really angry...or on the ice.

"Bish and Jordie were right...weren't they?" He turned to Tyler and you already knew what was going to happen. "You're sleeping with my sister?"

Tyler opened his mouth to speak, stuttering to come up with an answer at first as he looked at you over Jamie's shoulder. "Listen, Chubbs it's not–"

In a flashing moment, Jamie swung at Tyler, landing a solid hit right on Tyler's eye. "Are you sleeping with my fucking sister, Tyler?"

You pushed past Jamie and rushed to Tyler's side, tugging your blanket tighter against your body before placing yourself in between the two grown men. "Jamie, stop!" You yelled, your voice cracking since your throat had been so dry.

You turned your attention to Tyler, who was just nodding you off as you brushed your thumb against the warm red spot beneath his left eye. "Jesus Christ," Jamie scoffed, shaking his head as he rested both hands on top of his head. "Jordie and Bish were right. You two are...you're..."

You've always heard the phrase of someone 'turning green' whenever they were going to be sick, but you never understood it until you looked at Jamie in this very moment. The look in his eyes and his expression on his face said it all– he looked as if he could throw up at any moment. He went to say something again, closing his mouth before turning away from you and Tyler and rushing out of the room.

"Jamie!" You called out, turning to Tyler who just nodded at you to go after him.

"Jamie, stop!" This time you screamed, feeling the desperation practically leaking from you as you held the blanket tight against your body and ran down the steps after your older brother. "Please, stop!"

Yet his steps hadn't faulted and he kept the same pace and his back to you. He didn't need to turn around for you to understand just how mad he was. You could feel the anger radiating off of him as he came to a stop at the front door. "Jamie, please..." You cried, not even realizing that tears had started to fall down your cheeks until you heard yourself speak.

He kept his back turned to you for what felt like hours but was only seconds. "When?" He asked, finally turning to you, his look of anger still plastered on his face. "When did this all start?"

"I-I mean I've had feelings for him for a while and we-we've been flirting and–"

"When did you start having sex with him? Halloween?" The loud and harsh tone of his voice, startled you back a few steps and for the first time, you were scared of your brother.

"N-no! Not until I broke up with Cole." He turned away from you again, this time grabbing the doorknob and you reached out for his arm, grasping onto his sweatshirt sleeve. "P-please, Jamie just...listen, please."

Jamie starts to turn the knob, ignoring you before he took a deep breath and sighed, turning back to face you with a look of hurt written all over his face. "I just...I don't get it! Don't you know his reputation, Y/N?" He asked, his left hand waving towards the stairs. "It's not a lie! He sleeps with girls all the time, it's who he is!"

You tugged the blanket tighter, letting your grip on his sweatshirt sleeve fall. "It's different with me J. I...I think I–"

Before you were even able to confess your feelings, Jamie brushed them off with an aggressive scoff. "Don't even say it, Y/N. Do you really think that you love him? That he loves you?" His voice was getting higher and if you could shrink into the floor, you would. "He's not even capable of loving someone, Y/N! And you–" he drops a hand at you, shaking his head. "You're just a kid."

"I'm almost 22-years-old, Jamie. I'm not that little girl with pigtails following you, Jenny and Jordie around like a puppy. I'm a big girl capable of making decisions and I know what I feel!"

Jamie just stared at you as you felt your confidence start to dwindle off, just as fast as it appeared. But then you saw it, a small moment in his eyes where his anger subsided and he seemed to be taking in your statement. Maybe this was it, maybe he wouldn't brush off your feelings for Tyler like it's a pre-school crush, and actually take you seriously. For that moment, he was the big brother that you went to for so many years when you skinned your knee and needed someone to hold your hand while your mom drowned the wound in hydrogen peroxide.

And no sooner than that moment opened up, it closed off again the moment his eyes wandered off of you and to the area behind you. His eyes glossed over and darkened once again, pushing your comforting big brother aside. "You asked me about Maisy? Well, there's a reason why he never let her post anything. Because she was nothing more than a hookup. A piece of ass that he could call when he was lonely and needed to get laid." His eyes wandered back down to your blanket and you pulled it tighter against you as he looked you back in the eye. "What makes you think that you're any different than her?"

He turned back towards the door, only for a moment before turning back and looking at you. "I'm down with you." His eyes looked over your shoulder. "Both of you."

He opened the door and walked out, slamming it hard behind him. "Jamie!" You cried out, staring at Tyler's front door, knowing that going after him was not an option. When you went to take a deep breath, sobs escaped from the back of your throat and your legs felt like buckling beneath your weight.

You turned around to see Tyler standing there and looking somber, dressed up in sweats and a t-shirt, which was a whole different outfit from when he answered the door. His eye was starting to swell and it only served as a reminder of everything that had just happened in minutes. He places your clothes in a neat pile and looked at you, taking in your tears. You walked towards him, wrapping your arms around him and feeling him return your embrace...only somehow, he felt distant.

You pulled out of his arms and sniffled, wiping your cheeks on to your arm as he pulled the blanket tight against you, again. "I think you should leave. I can go pack up your backpack and call you an uber."

It was as if he drove a stake through your chest with those two sentences. You nodded, only because if you were to speak, you'd let out more sobs you were holding. He handed you your clothes before disappearing up the stairs.

The moment he was out of view, you made your way to the downstairs bathroom and locked yourself inside of it, letting your sobs escape. You played the details in your mind: Jamie's face, the spite in his words. How distant and cold Tyler just seemed to you. Like he was brushing you off as just another random hook-up with his uber comment when normally you'd be staying the night or he offered to drive you back to campus.

As you got dressed and splashed water onto your face, you took in your reflection. You hadn't realized just how hard you had been crying until now. Your face was flushed and your eyes swollen and red. You splashed some more water onto your face before drying it off with a towel, leaning against the counter and letting your head drop.

Everything has changed.

❒❒❒❒

"Have a good night Ma'am and whatever it is that has you so upset...I'm sorry." Your uber driver, a friendly elder man said, giving you a soft smile and offering you a candy cane from his candy bowl.

You smiled, sniffling as you took one. "Thank you and I'm sorry for being such a mess."

"Oh don't apologize. I remember what it was like being your age. It's a difficult time, and I'm sorry if I'm just overstepping here...but young men at this age? Wouldn't be able to see the women of their dreams if she was standing right in front of his face. So don't let him get you down and you just go ahead and focus on school and being your best self? Okay?"

You nodded, closing the door and watching as he drove away. You adjusted your backpack on your shoulders and stuff the candy cane into your sweatshirt pocket, wiping your cheeks on your sleeves. You hadn't stopped crying the moment you got into your uber. Hell, it was a miracle you had managed to stop crying when Tyler came to get you from the bathroom.

He had knocked on the door, giving you only seconds to collect yourself and grab the blanket before opening the door to him saying: 'The uber is here'

And all you were able to say was 'Okay.'

The walk from the bathroom to his front door was awkward– you just followed behind him like a lost puppy, trading his blanket for your backpack. He had opened the front door and you walked outside, expecting him to follow after you– only when you turned around, he was rested in the doorway and nodding his head at the end of his driveway. You couldn't think of anything to say except for– "See you"

And all he did was nod and watch you walk down the driveway. When you got to your uber, you turned around to wave at him, only to have your heart sink into your stomach when you noticed that the door was closed. That's what started your endless tears in the uber. He didn't even bother to make sure that you were safe getting into the uber and didn't even bother to shoot you a text to ask you to text him when you got to your dorm.

Speaking of which, walking to your dorm right now at almost 2 A.M. felt like an extreme walk of shame, though since it was finals week...maybe you could pass it off as you coming back from a hardcore study session that just caused you to spiral into a mental breakdown. When you got to your room, you opened it and walked in to see Kennedy and Big Rig chilling on her bed, watching Netflix.

"Hey babe, how did studying go?" When she turned to look at you, she immediately took in your appearance, tossing off her blankets as you made your way to your bed.

You dropped your backpack onto the floor, keeping your face hidden from them and trying to best to keep your cool. But the moment Kennedy started to rub your back, your bottom lip started to quiver and you let out a sob. You heard Big Rig shift in Kennedy's bed as he paused their show and you kept your back to the both of them as you climbed up onto your bed.

"Am I kicking his ass?" Big Rig asked, causing you to let out another sob and you saw Kennedy wave him off as she rested her arms on your knees.

"What's wrong, Y/N?" She asked, tapping her finger against one of your knees and causing you to look at her.

You sniffled again and looked at both of them through teary eyes. "Jamie knows."

#tyler seguin imagine #tyler seguin one shot #tyler seguin writing #nhl imagine #nhl one shot #nhl writing #hockey imagine #hockey one shot #hockey writing #ldyk fic #my writing

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bitchassbucky · 5 years

Text

Ｒｅｃｉｐｒｏｃａｔｉｏｎ

📎Word Count: 1.9k

📎Warning/s: smut, angst, unreciprocated feelings. (r-18! please don’t read if you’re not 18+)

📎A/N: requested by anon. this is a re-upload since the first version was a fuckin’ mess I can’t fix. Look past that and enjoy :)

📎Masterlist || Ask || AFTERDARK

📎Part Two: Parasitism

Soft, angelic moans can be heard from Bucky’s messy room, the moonlight penetrating the hardwood floors of the rented home. Quiet groans and muffled moans are all that they can muster up at 3:09 in the morning, the street below them is not aware of the molding of the bodies that is happening just mere four floors above them. Life goes on for the people downstairs.

As Y/N licks up a wet stripe on the underside of Bucky’s thick cock, he can’t help but to roll his eyes towards his head and sigh deeply, “shit. Yeah, just like that.” A rough groan was pulled through his throat when he felt her nails gently scraping against his right thigh, he has always wondered what her hands felt like outside the bedroom.

Y/N continued her actions on Bucky, his soft moans encouraging her to go even deeper down his length. Her right hand running up and down his thigh, lightly touching since she knew that will make him twitch and leak in her warm mouth. Y/N watches Bucky intently while she’s bobbing up and down his shaft, she watches how his nose crunches up with surprise when she uses little teeth on him, and she absolutely loves it when he tries not to moan as she massages his sack.

Bucky taps her jaw as he felt his lower stomach tightening, he badly wants to finish in her. He wants to hear the obscure, wet sounds coming from her as he continues to fuck her into the mattress. “Stop, baby. I’m not gonna last if you keep doing that.” His stormy eyes soft over her fucked-out features; swollen lips, half-lidded eyes, messy hair. She looks like 3 AM but he looks at her like he’s watching a sunset.

“You love it,” Y/N parted her lips as she brings Bucky’s hands on her face, kissing each knuckle. She was still clothed, wearing her black cotton bra and underwear, at least, all the while Bucky sat in front of her in his unabashed glory. Vulnerability, whether or not physically, comes with a price for her, and she’s rather not paying.

“I know, I know. I just wanna make tonight last.” His heart swells when he catches her smiling, it was a small smile. A polite one. The kind that you reserve for people you don’t really know.

“Good luck with that.” Y/N retorts. She didn’t give Bucky a chance to say his own sassy response, she immediately plants her painted lips on Bucky. Bucky shifted onto a more inviting position as Y/N moves herself to sit on his lap. For a moment, the only sound in the room is their heavy breaths and the soft squeak of the mattress as Y/N grinds on Bucky’s hardened cock.

Bucky reciprocates her hungry kisses with soft ones. Patient. Loving. Warm. “Why don’t we keep it slow tonight, baby? Huh? Keep it slow.” He said in between kisses, his hands roaming around her body, memorizing every soft curve and natural bumps.

“I want you,” Y/N stops kissing Bucky and coddled his stubbly, tired, handsome face in her hands, “to fuck me.”

Bucky gives her what she wants. She knows that he can’t say no to her, at least in bed as much as she knew of. Y/N and Bucky’s relationship isn’t exactly a Nicholas Sparks novel, it’s mutualism, they both benefit from one another. She’s satiated and he’s relieved, their adventures in the sheets always end in the morning, to continue when one of them needs a companion through the dark night.

Bucky gives her what she wants. She’s a panting mess under him, her eyes wild as her mouth chants his name like a litany. Her pussy clenching as he thrust into her, over and over and over. The skin-on-skin contact, hurried moans, and Bucky’s name are the sounds of their early morn. Overcast clouds have blocked the sun’s early rays as the sky painted itself light to dark.

More, more, more.

Fuck, Bucky. Yes, like that.

I’m coming.

Bucky gives her what she wants. Y/N has been spent, her pussy glistening with his come in the early morning and Bucky’s ridiculous string lights. Her chest heaves, regulating her breaths, coming down from the high Bucky gave her moments earlier, but she knows he’s not done yet. Not until she’s on his face, gripping his mane and screaming in pure bliss until her throat is raw.

Bucky gives her what she wants. His eyes search for any hesitation as he pulls her close to him, “you okay?” His voice laced with lust and sleep, always sincere. She just nods, her eyes brimming up with passion.

“Always.” Y/N says.

She’s always okay when she has her weight upon Bucky’s face, grinding and pushing her sex down to his sinful mouth, he doesn’t mind his own taste when it’s dripping from her. He doesn’t mind the sting on his scalp when she pulls his hair when he hits the right spot. Again and again and again, until she’s all spent and heavenly above him.

She doesn’t mind the burning sensation on her inner thighs from Bucky’s stubble. She loves it, in fact. It’s her only physical reminder of what transpired while she was at Bucky’s.

The dawn breaks into a cloudy morning, the orange-tinged the sky like how orange juice tainted the white carpet. It was ugly for her, she’s not made for the mornings. She was made for the nights; dark, cold, and buzzing neon lights. But to him, she was a whole day, from when the birds sing their songs to the farewell beep of a friend’s car.

Y/N never stays once the sun shines through his blinds, but it was overcast today and he had hope.

She started to pick up her discarded clothes from his hardwood floor when he spoke up, “stay. It might rain today.”

“No, that’s okay.” Y/N said as she put on her panties, setting them on her hips. “I’m gonna use your shower, that okay?”

“Yeah, of course,” Bucky said as he laid on his unmade bed, the upper half of his naked body resting on his headboard while the other half is draped with his sheets. He looks outside, there’s no blinding sun in sight.

“Are you sure? The clouds look pretty heavy and-” Bucky’s speech was interrupted by her request to get a towel. Of course, Bucky gives her what she wants.

Bucky sets the towel upon the sink, he tries not to look through the frosted glass where he can make out your naked body. He had seen her naked a thousand times before and earlier but he feels ashamed to intrude on a private moment.

“I see you looking.” Y/N’s voice is playful behind the glass, he can hear the warm water pelting off of her and onto the cold tiles.

“Sorry, just wanted to give you the towel.” He smiled sheepishly as if she could see him.

“It’s okay. Thank you.” Y/N said as she continues to wash herself using his soap. If she were to be honest, she likes the coconut and shea butter shampoo he had, the peppermint face scrub, and the vanilla body soap. It smells like him, like home. But she keeps using the generic smelling soap.

Freshly washed skin and dampened hair, she looks like morning now. Gone are the dark eyeliner and the deep crimson lipstick that painted both of them. She’s wearing the black wrap dress from the night before, glad that she bought an extra pair of underwear to go home to provide modesty as if she didn’t have sex on an empty opera balcony once.

She fucking hates that word. Modesty. She can fuck around all she wants and still have herself intact. Fuck modesty.

Y/N saw the used sheets on the corner of his room but Bucky is nowhere to be found, she wanted to help him with making the bed they just fucked on. She wanted to help him wash off her evidence from a crime she didn’t commit.

She wanted to stay in the morning while the sun shines but she can’t.

She doesn’t want to.

Bucky eases himself back to his room and sees Y/N in the dress from the night before, with her bag on her shoulders, holding her shoes. He can’t help but smile when he sees the cat socks on her feet, “kitty cat.” He says.

“What?” Y/N knits her eyebrows in thought until she realizes what he meant by ‘kitty cat’.

“Your socks. I like ‘em.” Bucky pointed at her socked feet in amusement. He wants to see this part of her, the part of her moon that likes cat socks and white sneakers.

“Thanks, they were on sale.” Y/N tucks a damp stray hair behind her pierced ear, she wasn’t familiar with the feeling of seeing Bucky’s bedroom in daylight. “It’s getting light out, I better get going.”

“Right, yeah.” Bucky leads her out of the bedroom like she hasn’t done that a million times in the dark. She always leaves just before the sun breaks over the horizon, her presence only known with a sticky note stuck to his bedside table. But their adventures ran late last night, and hence why she left with the sun in her eyes.

Y/N takes a polite sip of coffee before she looks at her wrist adorning a small watch, “I really have to go.” She said.

“No worries, Y/N. It’s alright. Stay safe.” Bucky said as he takes a gulp of the scalding coffee. Ignoring the feeling of imminent loneliness at the back of his throat down to his chest. He brushes off the feeling of heat creeping up his face as he looks at the woman leaving, gently shutting his front door close.

She rarely says his name outside of sex, does it taste bitter when I’m not in you? Bucky mulls over that thought over the second cup of coffee. Does my name bite your tongue when I’m not fucking you into the mattress? When I’m not on my knees, ravaging your pussy like a man starving? When I’m twitching and coming around your velvet channel, do you not think of what my name feels like outside of this bedroom? What my name feels like when you call me on a sunny afternoon because you’re bored and you miss me?

Bucky desperately wants to call out her name, when she’s not on her knees, sinfully putting her tongue down his shaft. He wants to call out her name in playful frustration when she’s being annoying over something normal. He wants to call out her name in a loving manner when she’s upset over something stupid he did.

Bucky didn’t realize that he fell deeply into her, not until he saw her outside, in the sunshine, buying flowers and holding a cup of coffee on her other hand.

Bucky didn’t realize that he fell deeply into her, not until he saw her smile sweetly to the elderly lady passing them on the street on the way to a matinée where he fucks her in an empty balcony.

Bucky didn’t realize that he fell deeply into her, not until he saw her curse out a creep for hitting on an obviously underage girl. She went to the girl afterward, asking if she was okay. Her humanity blooms in her soul sometimes, she just wouldn’t show him.

Bucky knows that he’s not the one to unravel the universe beneath her body, for she can only traverse that depth. Bucky knows that he’s not worthy of seeing her naked soul, for she only lets him touch. Bucky knows that he can’t open her heart, for she never lets him in deeper.

Bucky knows that he’s not the one that she stays over after the morning breaks.

415 notes · View notes

springday-aus · 4 years

Text

iKon’s Bobby: The Second Chance

Fic Piece Written by: Admin Grandma of @springday-aus

Moodboard Link: Created By Admin Grandpa

Character Pairing: Y/N [gn] and iKON’s Kim Ji Won (Bobby)

Other Characters: Twice [Momo and Jeongyeon] and ex-soulmate!Jisoo [Blackpink]

Genre: romance, little angst (if you squint hard enough), soulmate!au with Bobby (timer + words of the first exchange)

Type: one-shot writing piece

Word Count: approx. 4k

Plot Summary: everyone has a destined soulmate, which can be found through a timer and the words of their first exchange. It was created by the gods to help the humans, in leading a less-chaotic life. Ironically enough, this whole soulmate fiasco is unneeded chaos you would rather live without.

⤷ Alternatively: who the hell says “oh, shit” to their soulmate when they first meet?

Warnings: long-ass intro/set-up before Bobby is introduced; mentions of polytheism; profanity

You stare down at the personal time bomb that’s permanently tattooed along your arm. No matter how hard you increasingly stare at it, the time continues to go down—second by second. You already seem to have begrudgingly admitted your fate as you lay your head in between your history textbook.

You’re doomed. Today’s the day. You’re going to meet your soulmate and it doesn’t seem like the gods were willing to push it back any further.

In another world, you would’ve chosen a life without a soulmate bond. You’re happy with the way you’re life is going now. Things are just settling. You’ve finally gotten your own apartment; you have a stable paycheck and you’re actually able to study what interests you. You might be research soulmates, but you weren’t supposed to worry about meeting your new soulmate for another five years. So, why did no one out of nowhere have to invade your life now?

Too preoccupied with your misery, you don’t notice the little chime from the library’s cafe door. Momo enters, looking past the bookshelves and tables for you—her ankle boots quickly clack on the polished wooden floors as she makes her way through.

She spots you in the corner and walks over, dropping her books on the table. “There you are,” she says. “Sit up, you look like you’re dying.” She takes the seat in front of you, taking in the depression cloud that hovers over your head. “You know, you’re in a public space. You could at least have a nervous breakdown at home, like a normal person.”

You groan. “You don’t even know the half of it.”

“Okay, try me. What happened?”

You simply lay out your arm out, displaying the little numbers counting down.

“You’re meeting your soulmate today? That’s great! I thought you had, like, what? Four—or was it five? Five years, right?”

You finally look at her. “It was five years. But, for some odd reason, the time jumped when I made the decision to meet you and Jeongyeon.”

Momo grins at you. “I’m glad I don’t have to deal with that anymore. I think the anxiety would have killed me.”

“Let’s just move on. Did you order anything yet?”

“No, not yet. I’ll go now, since I know you’re not actually dying.” Momo flashes another smile at you, before leaving the table to head towards the counter.

Meanwhile, you sit yourself up and clear the table of your previous set-up. It’s fine—everything’s fine. You’ll just focus on what you’re here for in the first place. You pull out your phone for the recording, as well as a notebook and several colored pens. Once Jeongyeon arrives at noon, you can officially start the interview process. Your research is more centered on abnormal soulmate bonds, but you still need normal couples to compare to—Momo and Jeongyeon are the most normal of couples you happen to know.

You take the last sip of your tea and glance around. The library cafe is supposed to be another study area for university students, but it seems like it’s been overtaken by couples. The open windows allow a bizarre amount of sunlight to pour onto the lovey-dovey atmosphere. Empty cups and plates rest on the occupied tables, and everyone’s eyes sparkle as they look into their sweetheart’s eyes, clearly too invested in whatever the hell they’re talking about. Love: what a gross concept.

Momo comes back, with two coffees in hand and Jeongyeon right behind her. They both settle themselves in the seats facing you, setting down their bags and taking off their jackets.

“Geez, (Y/N),” Jeongyeon says. “Try not to look too disgusted.”

“I can’t help what I feel.”

“Go easy on her,” Momo says. “She’s a bit moodier than usual.”

“Oh?” Jeongyeon turns to you with wide eyes. “Why’s that?”

You visibly grimace, practically retreating back into your shell. Momo chuckles, before answering for you. “(Y/N)’s soulmate meeting is happening today.”

“That’s exciting!”

You let out a laugh, but it’s one of disbelief and slight dread. “No, Jeongyeon. It’s not.”

“Why are you even studying soulmates if you hate them so much?”

“To prove my point.”

“Which is?”

“That love is absolute bullshit,” you say. “Even with the gods involved. You know that divorce rates haven’t entirely diminished, right? My research proves that at least three percent of soulmate bonds don’t actually work out. Seventy percent of soulmates may have succeeded, but ten percent have the possibility of getting reassigned.”

“Yup,” Momo says. “That’s our lil’ ray of sunshine.” Her eyebrows furrow, realizing something. “Isn’t this, like, a conflict of interest? You know, since you and Jisoo ended up splitting—”

“Nope.” You cut her off, refusing to let her bring up that painful memory. “Nope, none at all.”

Momo gives her a pointed look.

“Drink your coffee,” you say to her. You focus your attention elsewhere. You clear your throat, in hopes of moving away from the topic of your first-soulmate rejection. Luckily, the Jisoo incident happened before Jeongyeon joined your little friend group as Momo’s soulmate, but it doesn’t hurt any less because you don’t bring it up often.

You try not to think about Jisoo often, especially since you were basically kids when you’d first met. You don’t think about how you felt when you first saw her on the kickball field in the fourth grade, or how the wind danced with her hair and the light sparkled against her skin. You don’t remember how bright Jisoo’s smile was when you first looked at each other. You don’t think about you practically spent your entire childhood together—up until sophomore year.

You don’t think about how much pain you felt when someone—who you were supposed to be with for the rest of your life—suddenly left you because the gods decided you were no longer meant to be together. You don’t think about how shocked you were when Jisoo dropped their relationship so quickly once her timer reset. You don’t think about how angry you still are whenever you see those stupid teenage soulmate bondings in front of your face, as if the gods are rubbing salt into your wounds.

You don’t think about how Jisoo and stupid Junmyeon got together a bit too quickly, especially when you two had only broken up a week ago. You don’t think about how they were practically showcasing their relationship all throughout the rest of high school. You don’t think about how they’re probably married now, living in some generic neighborhood with their stupid kids and stupid minivan.

Nope, you don’t think about it at all.

Your fists clench, nearly snapping the pen in your hand. Momo sips on her coffee.

Jeongyeon glances between you two before speaking up. “So, why are we here? I think our soulmate bonding went just fine.”

You try to refocus, racking your brain for the right words. “From what I remember, you didn’t have some corny Nicholas Sparks designed meeting. Plus, I’ve known Momo since middle school, so I can ask whatever I want to get the data I need.”

Jeongyeon hums in agreement. Then, she leans towards you with a particular look in her eyes. “You know, there’s conspiracy theories that the government is behind all of this. They all probably drugged our water and all of this is an illusion.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The theories. There’s one that says pollution is to blame. All those harmful chemicals that are up in the air, went into our water, and it’s causing us to hallucinate. The government is using this to cover it up.”

Momo rolls her eyes. “Yeonnie, you think the government’s involved with everything.”

Jeongyeon turns her body towards Momo. “We’re in the presence of an expert—”

“Grad student.”

“—we might as well confirm it.”

“First of all,” you say. “That’s not how this works.” You pause, placing a hand under your chin and the other to twirl your pen. “You two experienced it first-hand, shouldn’t you understand how this works better than I do?”

“Our first exchange was rather generic,” Momo says. “Someone else introduced us. The first words Jeongyeon said to me was literally ‘what up my guy.’”

To prove her point further, she shows the words inscribed on her wrist—written in perfect little cursive, alongside a blank timer that’s clean of numbers in line.

“We met in high school,” Jeongyeon says. “You should’ve known there was gonna be a stupid line on there. It’s not like yours was any better. Do you think I enjoyed having the words ‘I’m sorry, what?” on my wrist?”

“I needed you to repeat the words! I didn’t actually think you’d be my soulmate.”

“Didn’t you hear the chimes, bells—whatever you call them—when I said it? Or the little tingle from your arm?”

“Well, I did. But I needed to confirm it. At least, that’s what I was thinking at the time.”

“You know,” you say. “The whole point of the chimes and the timer tingle, as you called it, is for you to know that that person is your soulmate. The research time assumes the gods made that modification, after the fraud crimes started to go up around the first generation of the soulmate bonds.”

“That was a thing?” Jeongyeon asks.

You nod. “That—that was actually a thing.”

“Wait, (Y/N),” Momo says. “You got a new phrase! What does yours say now?”

The couple stare at you, but you move your arms underneath the table and turn away. In hopes that they wouldn’t be able to hear you, you mutter under your breath. “It says, ‘oh shit.’”

Unfortunately for you, Jeongyeon picks up on it. “Oh shit?”

You nod slowly, feeling yourself sink into your seat, and reconfirming her words. “It says ‘oh shit.’”

“Oh,” Momo says. “Shit.”

You sigh.

“I’m sure it’s not as bad as it seems,” Jeongyeon says.

“Yeah,” Momo says. “Maybe the gods have something special planned for you, especially since they kind of screwed you over the first time.”

You lean back against your chair, your arms wrapping themselves around you tighter. “Let’s just focus back on you two. After this, I just need to go home and stay home. If I’m lucky, nothing will happen and the time will change back to five years.”

Your plans to hole yourself in at home are officially ruined.

After the official interview session, Momo and Jeongyeon were planning on going to the farmers market. However, Jeongyeon had forgotten she’d already made plans with an old friend of hers—something about an engagement and party planning—which is how Momo successfully ropes you into coming with her instead.

“Come on, (Y/N),” Momo says. “They probably have some of those fruits that you like. You don’t even need to worry about meeting your soulmate yet. You have time.”

So, here you are at the farmers market in front of a grape stand. Momo stands over each bundle, inspecting each bunch carefully. Meanwhile, you’re just there, next to her, smiling awkwardly at the lady on the other side of the time from time to time.

For a while, you stand there in silence, but then you finally ask her. “Do I really need to be here?”

“Yes, I’m not like you,” Momo says. “I can’t be alone for a long period of time.”

“You were probably going to be here for a couple of hours max.”

“Still. I don’t like being out alone. You should know this by now.”

“Gods bless for Jeongyeon.”

“Speaking of which,” Momo says, trying to be cautious with her words. “I don’t think you have to worry about your new soulmate.”

“Momo, I really don’t want to talk about this.”

“I know you don’t. But, this could be good for you. You haven’t been the same since Jisoo left and I know you’re still hurt, but it happened in sophomore year. You need to move on...maybe that’s why you’re meeting your new soulmate today.”

“That can still change.”

“I don’t think you should get your hopes up. It’s been years since Jisoo. Face the facts: this is happening today.”

You sigh, knowing Momo isn’t going to let go of the subject. “Well, I still think this whole scheme is bullshit.” You pick at the stems of some of grapes in arm’s reach. “The gods should have left me alone after deciding to pair off Jisoo and Junmyeon together.”

“They’re able to find their happiness. You have the right to find yours too.” Momo stands back up, facing you. “All of this.” She gestures towards your face. “Is more of a reason to push it.”

“But, why?”

“Well, you know what they say.”

“No, I don’t.”

“‘The best way to get over someone is to get under someone else.’”

Momo’s car rolls up in front of your apartment complex. After putting it into park and turning on her blinkers, she looks at you, but you’re already unbuckling yourself from the car seat.

“Have a fun night in with Coconut.”

“Oh, I plan to. And, please let Jeongyeon know I said thanks again for today.”

“Of course.”

With that said, you get out of the car and slam the door shut, ready to wrap yourself in a soft blanket and cuddle with your cat. You’re able to head into the building, only to hear Momo shout from her car window. “Hey! Wait!”

You turn around. “What?”

“Keep me updated on the soulmate thing! Let me know how it goes.”

“Alright, bye.”

“Bye!”

With a wave, you watch Momo’s care drive off. You take notice of a familiar car that rolls up to the building. Gods, it’s your neighbor from across the hall. He has never personally disturbed you, but it wouldn’t hurt anyone if he learned how to properly park his car, play his music at a more appropriate volume, or have less house parties on weeknights. You understand that he’s a more social person, at least more social than you, but still.

What’s his name again? It starts with a B... Brian? Billy? Bob? It’s Bobby! You vaguely remember seeing it on his mailbox. You really should make an effort to know your neighbors better. Someone could be a serial killer and you wouldn’t even know it. You shake your head, taking yourself out of your thoughts.

You enter the building swiftly, in hopes of avoiding Bobby. You walk through the lobby and into the elevator, pressing the button for the sixth floor. As the doors start to close, a hand comes between the doors and you have to suppress a groan.

Bobby’s face pops in with an apologetic smile, but it doesn’t stop you from giving him a couple of choice words in your head. You look away from him, trying not to make eye contact.

Despite being neighbors, you don’t talk to one another. Granted, it’s normal since it’s only been a couple of months since you’ve officially moved in. But, you can’t seem to recall if you’ve actually spoken to him. There’s been the polite smiles, nods, and the occasional waves (and some secret glares you give him from previously mentioned disturbances), but never an actual greeting.

Although, you have heard things. It’s not that you mean to eavesdrop—it just happens. The rooms are close enough and the walls are fairly thin; eavesdropping was bound to occur. One night, you were organizing your data from the previous week, you had overheard one of Bobby’s friends (Junhoe, maybe?) laughing his ass off from across the hall. Long story short, whenever he meets his soulmate, they won’t be thrilled to meet him.

You couldn’t help yourself from glancing down at his arm. It’s fully covered by his shirt’s sleeve, yet the wrist exposes his partner’s oh-so special words: you need to get the fuck off of me. You almost laugh aloud just thinking about it, but you suppress it by biting on your lower lip and focus on the elevator’s floor.

Yeah, he could play his music a bit quieter and learn how to wear less cologne, but you can’t help but feel sorry for the poor guy. You can only imagine what would happen for those words to be uttered.

The elevator stops at the sixth floor and the both of you get off—footsteps matching one another’s. You remain silent as you both make your way to the end of the hall. With another polite smile exchanged to one another, you unlock your door and step into your respective home.

Once you shut the front door, you’re greeted by Coconut. You can’t help but coo at the little ball of white fur that walks between your legs, rubbing his head on your ankles with a soft purr.

“Hi baby, did you miss me?” You pick him up, hugging him against your chest. “It’s just you and me tonight.”

You bounce him a bit in your arms, lost in your own world and that’s when you hear it—a strong bass beat plays in the background. Your face contorts—gods, you’re really praying for his soulmate.

The bright light of the TV shines against the darkness of your living room—well, at least you and your couch. You sit cross-legged with Coconut lying comfortably on your lap, a blanket on your shoulders, and the remote in hand. You go through the movie selection your Netflix account, before debating whether or not if you should watch something else or just bury yourself underneath your sheets to avoid your up-incoming doom.

You could binge-watch a random show for the time to go by quicker, or you could take one of your fifty milligram sleeping pills—which Jeongyeon gave you a while back. One of those suckers is enough to knock you out for the next twelve hours.

If you’re being honest with yourself, you don’t really feel the need to do anything too drastic. You’re prepared to stay in for quite a few days. You’re well-stocked on food and you don’t need to go to the lab until the next week. Also, Coconut doesn’t need to go out, so that means you don’t have to go out. Had you gotten that cute Pomeranian from the shelter instead, you might’ve had to meet your soulmate sooner rather than later.

You find yourself grimacing once more at the thought of having to meet your new soulmate. If the first one didn’t work out, what’s to stop the second one from doing just the same? Granted, you’ve interviewed a lot of couples and most worked out on the second try. Key term: most.

There was that one lady who divorced, at least, three of her soulmates. The gods must have given up after the third try, because she ended up dying alone. You should’ve been left along, just like that lady.

Jisoo is certainly thriving with her new soulmate—you can say whatever you want, but nothing’s stopping you from seeing all the godsforsaken photos on Facebook or Instagram.

Nope. Nope, you’re not dealing with this. You’ve already covered up the timer with some bandage wrap (who knew that the first aid kit would come in handy) to prevent yourself from looking at it all night. Maybe if you sleep now, the would just reset back to five years. That sounds reasonable...right?

No one has ever successfully avoided their soulmate. All throughout history, it shows that timers would just reset. You aren’t trying to avoid your soulmate forever—you’re just trying to avoid whoever your soulmate is now. You were fine with waiting for five years, or even ten. What are the gods thinking? You’re not ready for this. You should’ve been given a warning or something: all of this is just giving you a migraine.

You shut off the TV and move yourself off the couch, despite Coconut’s protesting meows. You move towards the door and the windows, making sure they are securely locked. You might not trying to find your soulmate, but that doesn’t stop the gods from making them coming to you. Shame that there’s nothing you can do about the fire escape; that’s a lost cause.

As you look out the window, you can easily spot out Bobby once again. What is it about today that you’re seeing him all over the place? He’s dressed in more casual war—compared to when you saw him in the elevator. He’s yelling and laughing with some of his friends in plain sight.

“I’m meeting my soulmate today!” He yells. “Whatever happens, happens!”

All of them start to chant like frat boys. “Bar hop! Bar hop! Bar hop!”

Oh dear gods.

You move yourself away from the window and go over your mental checklist again. After securing the locks one more time, you walk over to your bedroom and crawl into the full-sized bed, quickly making yourself familiar with your sheets. Coconut follows shortly after, jumping onto the bed and nuzzling his nose towards you.

Reaching out, you pet him and scratch his chin, then you speak with a soft whisper. “Good night, Coco.”

Someone’s in the living room.

You’re trying to ignore it.

There’s a crash, followed by a couple of swear words, which is followed by another crash.

Coconut has woken up, meowing at the closed door that separates you from possibly experiencing life or death. You bury your head further into the pillow. This—this cannot be happening right now.

You should’ve taken the sleeping pill.

There’s another crash, followed by heavy footsteps, which are now right outside your bedroom door.

That’s when you realize: you didn’t lock the bedroom door. That’s it. You’re going to die.

You swiftly grab your phone from your nightstand and turn it on silent mode, before retreating back underneath the sheets. You can easily call the police if they actually come in, but what if it’s too late?

You don’t bother poking your head out. Instead you cling onto the comforter and try to quiet down your breathing. Is it a burglar? A thief? Or worse? Could it be…?

Meanwhile, Coconut moves himself off the bed and towards the corner, already losing interest in the odd noises. You should’ve gotten the dog.

Your door opens and the footsteps get closer, eventually stopping at the edge of your bed. Your heart drops. What’s this person going to do?

You grunt from the sudden weight being thrown on top of you. Because for some reason, this fool—this complete stranger—has laid himself on top of you. Well, technically, next to you, but his body is spread out—an arm and a leg lays on top of you.

The familiar smell of alcohol hits your nose. That’s definitely vodka.

This idiot is drunk.

Your curiosity gets the best of you and you end up tugging the comforter down, taking a peek at the intruder. You’re met with the view of Bobby. His bangs dangle down, brushing softly against your forehead. Your eyebrows furrow: this can’t be right.

He’s slightly sweaty. His skin looks like he’s shimmering. His eyelashes have an almost perfect curl to them. His cheeks are flushed and his mouth is slightly opened, his natural pink lips are parted to let out his breath. Your heart pounds in your chest, flustered from the close proximity.

You nudge him once.

He doesn’t wake up.

You push him, nearly shoving him off your bed. He finally awakes, cracking an eye at you, only to shut it again with embarrassment written on his face.

“Oh, shit,” he says. He laughs at himself. “I’m in the wrong apartment, aren’t I?”

Your heart stops, feeling the tingle from your arm and the little chimes in your head. Your head spins and you rack your brain, trying to find the words to respond to him. Ironically enough, you can only think of the one phrase you should have been avoiding. “You need to get the fuck off of me.”

48 notes · View notes

bitchassbackup · 3 years

Text

Reciprocation

Word Count: 1.9k

Warning/s: smut, angst, unreciprocated feelings. (r-18! please don’t read if you’re not 18+)

A/N: requested by anon.

this is a re-upload since the first version was a fuckin’ mess I can’t fix. Look past that and enjoy :)

i rly hope this time it works

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