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aitarose · 3 years

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AKAIBARA (T.KUROO) pairing: kuroo tetsurou x fem!reader

synopsis: he was everything, her entire world. y/n didn’t know love without kuroo, but she also didn’t know if he knew any love for her—any love at all.

word count: 5.6k

genre: hanahaki au, unrequited love, mutual pining, fluff, angst

warnings: blood, mentions of death, terminal illness?

notes: this is for my muse, lina-chan, since she’s my love—and i catered y/n to her exact personality traits..so you’re welcome loser-chan!

↳ DIRECTORY

Nine petals and counting.

Y/N rested her hands on the sides of the vinyl bathroom sink, head tilted downwards, towards the view of red. Solids and liquids approached the drain, a mix of flowers and blood escaping from her body.

Ten, eleven, twelve. It was unstoppable, the amount of love she was losing, the amount of strength she had to go on. Her legs felt weak, frail in comparison to her usual tenacity and vigor on the side of the court.

She hadn’t been able to manage the volleyball team in weeks, nearing months. Her physical health had wavered, forcing her to resign from her post. Forcing her responsibilities on their coach, her boys having to fend for themselves for the first time since she was fifteen.

Loneliness was all Y/N knew, though she was still an avid student and classmate. It was all she’d felt in the past days, isolated from her friends, her classmates, even him.

Even Kuroo.

It wasn’t that she wanted to be apart from him, from his humor, his laugh, the overwhelming feeling of warmth that he brought to her life. He was her sun amongst Toyko’s sea of stars—but he couldn’t see her like this.

He couldn’t see the blood stains, the coughing fits, the garden of flowers that grew from her throat. She was a mess and he was him, the very person that caused her this horrid disease. The very person that she loved more than anyone in the entire world.

Hanahaki wasn’t uncommon in their town, nearly a quarter of Nekoma High suffered from it in some type of way. It was truly an enigma, a confusion turned infection that made no sense to the human mind.

Y/N had tried to re-work her diagnosis for years, since the first few weeks she’d had it—and despite her knowledge of anatomy and biology, there was no solution to her dilemma, there was no true scientific cure.

And over time, she and Kuroo had come to realize that. While they worked and worked for a way to rid her of the thorns, there was nothing they could do as he didn’t know who her love was.

He didn’t know that no matter how many nights he stayed up beside her, chin rested over her shoulder, arms wrapped around her torso—no matter how much he tried to relieve her of her pain, he only made it worse.

He wanted to help, she knew that he wanted to help in any way that he could—but it was no use. All he’d ever be able to do is watch in sympathy as she’d run out of their classroom and back into the hole that was the public girl’s restroom.

Kuroo was the best person Y/N knew, which was all the more reason that he had to stay out, that he needed to give her space during this time. The disaster that was hanahaki couldn’t infiltrate his life, Y/N wouldn’t let it, he didn’t deserve the pressure—the pressure of loving her.

Thirteen, fourteen, to nothing.

Relief began to overcome her lungs, oxygen filling her veins, the thorn-covered vines retreated back to the place in which they came. It was as if the sun had finally showered through the clouds, giving Y/N the light that she so desperately needed.

Her flowers were strange in comparison to the stories she and Kuroo had read online. Rather than continuous, straight lines of blood and blossoms—her roses were sporadic and unpredictable.

There’d be times where she’d be stuck in the restroom for the entirety of the day, throwing up due to her rib cage cramping and rolling over itself—or she’d be perfectly fine, with all the energy in the world.

Those days were her favorite. The day’s where she and Kuroo would scream at the top of their lungs. Where he’d spin her around and wrap her up in the tightest hug he could muster. Where he’d smile at her as if she wasn’t only his best friend—as if he loved her.

But he didn’t. He didn’t love her, not in the way she wanted at least.

A light sigh escaped Y/N’s lips, her quivering body stilling as she finally took a look towards her reflection. She’d been staring at the pile of scarlet for nearly a half-an-hour, trying her best not to lose count of her trauma.

Fifteen petals was all it took to uproot her day, dwindle her time with Kuroo down to nothing. It was embarrassing, truly.—that her soul was controlled by a mere rose.

Color slowly returned to her cheeks, flushed shades of pink mocking her with their rosy hue, red lighting up the tip of her nose. Her eyes were weary, blurry from the amount of tears she’d shed, the same tears that had meshed with the running tap water.

Taking a deep breath, Y/N let go of the sink. She let go of the safety of her reflection, the safety of knowing that she was the only person who’d ever see herself this way, completely derailed by love.

Stepping into the real world, the world of judgement from classmates and concerned advisors, she hastily left the bathroom—only for a large, calloused hand to wrap itself around her forearm.

As she rolled her eyes, turning to face her captor, Y/N raised her palm and flicked her best friend right between his eyebrows. “You waited?” She suppressed a grin, stifling a laugh at the sight of his mocking pout.

“Seems like fan behavior to me, Kuroo.”

He frowned at her words, picking her up with ease as he made his way down the now empty hallways. Y/N squealed, despite being used to his relentless strength, there would never be a time in which she’d expect him to throw her over his shoulder.

Holding her legs whilst supporting her waist, he nodded with a troublesome smile at any of their classmates who’d so happened to remain after the school bell had rung—to which they’d respond with a simple shake of the head, amused at the sight of Nekoma High’s infamous best friends.

“Fan behavior, huh?” Kuroo spun dramatically as they reached the parking lot, nearly throwing Y/N into the passenger seat of his car, her designated spot. The place where no person, not even Kenma, was allowed to sit.

He instinctively buckled her seatbelt, knowing that she must’ve felt weak and nauseous due to the stress her body had been under only ten minutes prior, before settling himself behind the wheel.

A bright beam overcame his features, practically spreading across his entire face as her eyes met his. “Where to next?” Y/N asked, fingers fiddling with the different radio channels, deciding on a soft indie-station.

“Home.” He replied, taking a hold of the hand she’d placed over the volume nozzle, allowing them to turn up the song together. Though it was brief, him releasing her touch after seconds, it was moments like this where she considered the theory that perhaps she did hold a place in his heart.

She shook her head, forcing the absurd thought away and rolling her eyes once again at the utter ridiculousness that was Kuroo Tetsurou. She leaned back into the soft leather of her seat, deadpanning at his words. “Your home. You act as if I live there.”

“You practically do,” he quipped back with ease, hair pressed against the chair’s headrest, smothering the thick black peaks, “What’s mine is yours, Y/N. There’s nothing I’d ever keep from you.”

“You deserve the world, and I’m going to give you every little bit of this world that I can.”

Her lips pursed into a tight smile, internally punching herself at the sweetness in his voice, the purity that he managed to sop into every word. Looking away from his gorgeous face, gaze retreating to the bustling city around them, Y/N contemplated his promise.

It was impossible, the idea that he’d proposed. The thing that he vowed to her in the mornings, afternoons, and nights. The concept that she always loved to hear roll off of his tongue, but also wanted to throw out her open window.

After all, how would Kuroo ever be able to give her the world—when her world was entirely him?

While his house was practically her second home, Y/N always seemed to notice the residence beside it before anything else.

As they pulled up in the driveway, Kuroo carefully parking his car between the stone gate and his grandfather’s buggy, both of their ears perked to the familiar sound of none other than Kozume Kenma.

“You’re spending the night again?” He questioned peering over the fence, recognizing the extra duffel packed along with Y/N’s school bag. “You were just over last week. You’d think you guys would be sick of each other by now.”

Kuroo shook his head, making his way around the hood and opening the passenger door. “No way, pudding head.” He shouted, resting his elbow on the roof whilst slinging the small pack over his shoulder. “Only thing I’d ever get sick of is your cute little attitude.”

Y/N giggled, squinting her eyes to see the nonchalant expression that was undoubtedly gracing Kenma’s features. She wasn’t exactly close with him, having little to nothing in common other than their giant of a friend, but still held great respect for his dedication.

Dedication as in the value to which he held his friendship with Kuroo.

Though she’d known their captain longer, there were times in which she wasn’t able to be by his side during matches or breakdowns. This usually having to do with her hanahaki forcing her to be immobile.

But it always turned out alright, since Kenma was there. He was always there to help, even when she’d forget to send him a warning text message or quick heads up. He was reliable as he was pessimistic, a truly unconventional friend that Y/N would be grateful for until the very end.

As Kuroo took her bags inside the house, insisting that he had to help even though she claimed that her muscles were feeling perfectly fine, Y/N waved to the younger boy, casually approaching his small figure.

Her steps were small, fallen leaves crunching beneath the soles of her sneakers. Autumn was beautiful this year, the oranges and yellows mixing together like the perfect sunset.

It was complementary, the colors—they reflected the sky in a dream-like synchronization. The last time fall had landed upon Japan, she and Kuroo had spent the entire day nestled together, jumping in the multiple piles of leaves and sipping spiced drinks by the fireplace.

While the memories were happy and nostalgic, they were a distraction. Nothing but recollections of false hope and ideologies that she’d ingrained into her brain as convincing factors that he did indeed love her—that he had just an inch of his heart that was completely reserved for her.

Kenma immediately opened his mouth, interrupting Y/N before she could ask him all about how his school day had gone. Her jaw dropped, the statement being said was unexpected, out of box in the current moment of relaxation.

“You still have hanahaki.” He looked straight into her eyes as if he were challenging her. If Y/N could see into his brain, there was no doubt that the gears would be turning rapidly in synchrony. “You’ve had it for years, Y/N. A normal person would’ve given up by now.”

She frowned, her lips curving into a downward arc, slightly appalled by the bluntness of his words, before furrowing her brows while she came up with an understandable response.

Her relationship with Kenma was civil, never straying from one of acquaintances, but there were sparse moments like this in which he’d blatantly say something personal—something that made her think that he knew more than he was letting on.

“I don’t think my case falls under the normal category.” Y/N whispered, choosing to reply with honesty over falsehood, while both of their gazes fled to Kuroo, who’d cheered as he successfully managed to unlock the front door with his hands full of bags.

“You don’t have to worry about him,” she continued with a love-struck radiance. As if on natural instinct, her legs began to move towards the person that was her heart, abandoning Kenma to his side of the fence.

With one final glance, she saw him nod at her last words. The words that she repeated to herself every time her flowers became too much, every time she needed to remember why she was here in the first place.

“As long as I’m still breathing, he’s got me.” She called out, chest warming at the sight of her little friend’s approval. The approval that meant more to her than any test grade or big win. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Heads up!”

Before she could blink an eye, Y/N’s vision was covered by the thin grey fabric of Kuroo’s massive t-shirt. It draped over her head like a sheet in the night, the smell being clean and comforting, completely and utterly him.

Reaching up to take hold of the borrowed garment, she shoved his chest, feeling the vibrations of laughter rolling off of him in contagious waves. Despite how much he annoyed her, he could be quite amusing at times.

Their dynamic had always been an interesting one. Her being more logical and serious, whilst he was carefree and witty. They weren’t an obvious pair of best friends, but they did have the important things in common.

That being the value of hard work and dedication, whether that came to school assignments or volleyball—they both knew the true meaning of ambition and success, and would do anything to help the other achieve their dreams.

Opening the door to the guest bathroom, Y/N slipped Kuroo’s shirt over the tank top she’d been wearing, stripping herself of her undergarments beneath the endless fabric. She tossed her clothes into her duffel, zipping it tightly and placing it on the floor.

The Kuroo household was a place she was comfortable in, having been friends with the boy for nearly all of her life. It wasn’t uncommon for her to stop by and stay for dinner or overnight, considering his family adored her and considered her one of their own.

In their first year of high school, she’d spent a total of one-hundred and twenty nights wrapped up in his arms before his grandparents had decided to permanently mark the guest bedroom as her’s.

Though she’d grown accustomed to the warmth of her best friend’s comforter, Y/N did have to admit that it was nice to have her own space. Her own space that also gave her the luxury of having the person she loved only one wall away.

As she dug through the right-hand drawer for the toothbrush and toothpaste that she always stored in the case that she’d be staying overnight, a rhythm of knocks ricocheted off of the hard wood.

“You ready?” She called out, walking past the sliding shower doors and turning the small door-knob. “I was just about to brush my teeth,” her words continued, stopping as she came face-to-face with her favorite giant.

His smile was cheeky, mischief seemingly on his mind as he held up his own set of tools. “You waited for me, Y/N?” A sly smirk crept on his face, her words from earlier coming back to bite her in the butt. “Seems a little like fan behavior to me.”

Rolling her eyes, Y/N stepped aside, making room for his ginormous body in the quaint bathroom. The countertop wasn’t exactly large, having just enough space for the two of them to stand beside one another with their arms touching as they looked into their reflections.

Her eyes seemed distant, even to herself. The usual livelihood that inhabited her irises was absent, replaced with fragments of the person she once was, the person that had been overshadowed by dirt and disease.

Resentment was the only emotion she displayed, hatred for the pathetic reasoning behind her pain, the putrid dreams she wished would come true—but as Y/N looked away from the stress and worry, she saw him. She saw Kuroo.

Unlike her, his gaze wasn’t resting on himself. His eyes weren’t immediately attracted to his own appearance, choosing to lay on Y/N instead. His neck was angled down, a soft expression gracing his face while he simply admired her.

While he admired her like a boy in love.

They held eye contact for a brief moment, neither one wanting to end the intimate interaction, before he broke away. He snapped out of his trance, hands subconsciously reaching for the tube of toothpaste that had been forgotten by both minds.

As they began to brush their teeth, Kuroo played troublemaker. Whether that meant making faces or mimicking Y/N’s actions, he found endless ways to humor her, wanting to see the smile on her face as she flipped him off.

The laughter wheezing from her lips was infectious, her body doubling over, forcing heavy chuckles from her love as well. It was a sight to see, two high schoolers in a minimal-sized bathroom, overcome with a fit of giggles—but that was simply them. It was simply Y/N and Kuroo.

With a mouth full of foam, she leaned past him and over the sink, expecting to see a mix of bubbles and white—only to be gifted with the mood-killing sight of blood and blossoms.

She choked, gasping for air as the small roses fell from her throat. “Please,” she cried, gripping the ledge of the counter with a killer grasp, gesturing for Kuroo to leave the room. “I can’t breathe.”

But he didn’t listen, he didn’t leave. He didn’t cover his eyes and walk away like he normally did, respecting her wishes that he would never see her like this—like a complete and utter mess.

As her airway began to clear, her smiles turned to frowns, embarrassed of what he’d seen, the proof of her never-ending infatuation. However, Kuroo didn’t seem phased. He glanced at the flowers as if they were nothing, as if they weren’t a foul sight in itself.

He turned the faucet on, washing them away from her view, forcing the spray roses to dissolve and wither above the drain—and for some odd reason, Y/N’s heart hurt at his actions.

It was the first time in months that he’d been present during one of her uproars. The first time in months that he had to see what she went through on a nearly daily basis, and he didn’t even blink an eye.

He looked at the physical representation of her love like it didn’t matter, like it was a pest that he had to kill. Like an unintentional rejection that his instincts dictated, a rejection that she feared for every moment of every day.

“I’m sorry.” Y/N muttered, refusing to meet the concern in his gaze. She squeezed her eyes shut, blocking out the inevitable judgement that she expected to come from his way—only to feel his rough hand take a hold of her chin, tilting it upwards towards his face.

Nothing was said, no remarks came from his end. Instead, he wordlessly stole the hand towel that’d been hanging on the shower door and dabbed away the blood that had soaked into the skin beneath her lips.

He was unreadable.

No matter how hard she tried to analyze his thoughts, his actions, his posture; a blank canvas was all she’d painted. She wanted to keep apologizing for the things that were out of her control, but as she opened her mouth to speak, he interrupted with a question that she’d never expected to hear.

“If it weren’t for your hanahaki,” he began, brows furrowed in concentration, not allowing Y/N to pin-point what he was so focused on, if it was the disease or herself. “Do you think you’d know that you love them?”

“You know, your person?”

Her response was momentary, the gears in her brain working on overtime as she tried to find the meaning behind his words. Why the sudden curiosity? Did he have hanahaki? Was there someone he loved?

Clearing her throat, making sure that there was no evidence of her accident, Y/N began to speak slowly. “Being in love is more than just a disease, Kuroo. It can’t be dimmed down to a single flower or infection.”

“I love him enough to put myself through pressure every day. I love him so much that it physically hurts me to think about him. He brings a light to this darkness that no other person can outshine—”

“—and I’d never give up on him.” Glass covered her eyes, tears struggling to roll down her cheeks as her peripheral vision grew blurry. In the midst of her tangent, Kuroo had pressed Y/N against his chest, rubbing her back in soft circles.

“He’s the other half of me, my true equal.” Bitterness was being laced in her tone, the irony of it all settling in. It was unfair. Her describing her everlasting love for the boy she’d do anything for. He was right beside her, and yet he seemed miles away.

“I’d know love for him even if I was healthy. Even if we were strangers, worlds apart.” Choking back the last of her cries, Y/N bit her lip, pushing away the warmth of his chest. “Trust me, Kuroo. You’d know if you were in love.”

For once in his life, he had no words. No comments or remarks that he was dying to say. His only response was a nod of the head, a curt acknowledgement of her feelings, before he turned and said a brief goodnight.

Before he turned and left Y/N with nothing but confusion, thoughts that would keep her restless and awake throughout the night. Itching concerns to creep up her veins and into her dreams.

If only he loved her, then all of this could’ve been avoided. If only he had asked her who her hanahaki was for, then maybe she would’ve confessed. Perhaps she’d be free and untethered from her illness.

But he didn’t ask, and she didn’t confess. All she was left with was broken fragments of care, leftovers of love that she received through twisted questions and wonder.

All she was left with was half of a heart, that would never find its whole.

2AM.

It was nearly two in the morning and Y/N was restless, chasing sleep like it was an everlasting punishment. Slumber being within her grasp, but stolen, kidnapped by the stress and worries that were Kuroo Tetsurou.

Her mind was moving at a million miles per hour, overthinking and overworking the question that he’d asked her in the midst of their nightly routine. The curiosity that had somehow overcome his usual vigor and happiness.

Panic settled in her throat, the feeling of thorns and stems inching their way up her neck and touching her tongue. She needed water, anything that could suppress the punishment for feeling love.

Swinging her legs over the side of the queen-sized mattress, Y/N shivered as her feet touched the cold floor. Her steps were light, trying her best to be completely silent, not wanting to disturb the actual members of the household.

The trip to the kitchen was short. An easy route for her after having taken many midnights trips before, since her hanahaki always seemed to act up whenever she stayed overnight.

Finding a small glass and filling it to the brim with tap water, Y/N gulped it down, savoring every last bit as if there was no other substance on Earth. The liquid ran down her throat, pushing past the vines and forcing them into their home that was her heart.

“You’re up late.”

Y/N jumped, nearly smashing the cup on the counter as the familiar voice of Kuroo’s obaachan crept up from behind her. She sighed, taking a deep breath before facing the old woman.

Her relationship with his family had grown extremely close in the years that they’d known each other. She was practically considered a member of the family, them always wanting her around no matter what the circumstances were.

But she and obaachan were different compared to how she bonded with the Kuroo men. Unlike the others, his grandmother was observant, knowing of the love that Y/N had for her favorite boy. Knowing of the cause of her hanahaki.

“Obaachan.” She greeted her weakly, holding up the glass as an excuse for the timing of their interaction. “I’m sorry if I woke you, I didn’t mean to cause any havoc.”

The old woman simply smiled, approaching Y/N with a loving hand and placing it on her shoulder in comfort. “It’s alright dear,” she squeezed her palm, feeling the younger girl’s struggling heartbeat. “It’s not your fault.”

Y/N grimaced, shaking her head in defeat. “But it is,” she admitted. She’d always take blame for her hanahaki. It was a virus in not only her life, but everyone around her. “It’s my fault that I’m unwell.”

“No, dear.” Obaachan cupped her hands around her cheeks, challenging her eyes, not taking her answer or excuses. A sad smile graced her lips, sorrow in her irises. “You’re not unwell..you’re in love.”

Tears grew from the corners of Y/N’s sockets, waterworks beginning to roll down her cheeks at the familiar feeling of the comforting touch of a Kuroo. She broke down, her walls shattering in front of the only person who understood. The only person who would truly listen.

“Why won’t he love me?” She cried out, pain overtaking her whole body. The pent up emotions were collapsing like tidal waves, storming throughout her heart. “Why won’t I ever deserve him?”

Concern furrowed in the older woman’s brows at the sight of Y/N breaking down. Her grandson’s best friend was one of the strongest people she knew, and knowing that her struggles were this great was indescribably disheartening.

“My Tetsurou has been a caretaker all of his life,” she started, gently speaking in languid sentences, doing her best to keep Y/N’s attention on her and not her pain. “Whether it was for me, my husband, or Kenma—he takes on more responsibility than he can handle.”

“His heart is so big, so full of love for everyone other than himself.” She continued, her words beginning to settle in Y/N’s mind. “And in the midst of that, I don’t think he realizes that he’s capable of experiencing love as well.”

“He doesn’t realize that everything he could ever want is standing right in front of him.”

Obaachan was whispering now, her voice being soft but commanding. It was frightening, the passion that she held for her grandson. The passion that she held for her dreams of his happiness. Her dreams of him finding his true love.

“While love is a chemical feeling, it has no chemical solution.” Y/N swallowed hard, taking in every single thing she was saying. Letting her statements ingrain themselves into her memory. “This disease doesn’t define your future, my dear.”

“Whomever you choose to love will be lucky, Y/N—but I have to say, I truly hope that my Tetsurou has luck on his side.”

It’d been almost a month since the fateful overnight encounter, Obbachan’s words playing on repeat, over and over again until they grew tiresome. The idea that Kuroo could perhaps love her was haunting, terrorizing her very soul.

Despite the shift in their energy, the elephant in the room being his unexpected question and her never ending response, their friendship continued on like normal.

They’d go to school, spend time together afterwards, perhaps even have a sleepover, and repeat. It was all the same, not a thing out of place except for a major detail that couldn’t be explained.

The presence of Y/N’s hanahaki was little to none.

Her flowers decreased, the numbers becoming smaller and smaller every single time she took the time to count. The disease that had become a constant in her life had suddenly disappeared, confusing her to a maximum.

She didn’t feel like she’d fallen out of love for Kuroo, there was still a large part of her heart that was reserved for him and only him—yet her roses were invisible, the trips to the bathroom were down to none.

And while those statistics had fallen, the number of quick glances, stolen touches, and late night conversations had increased. She and Kuroo did everything together before, but now it was as if they were inseparable at all times.

It was as if his heart had finally opened up, accepted her presence and locked it into place, never wanting to let it go. Y/N couldn’t determine what had gotten into him, what made the sudden change in behavior.

But her flowers were gone and her love still remained. All that needed to be said was a confession, a confession of the love that she hoped was mutual. The one-sided love that she’d secretly harbored for years on years.

Mindlessly walking down the school hallway, passing by classmates and advisors, Y/N contemplated the future of her and Kuroo’s relationship. The future of her heart and if it would ever find its other half. The other half that so happened to take a hold of her hand at that very moment.

Kuroo seemed on edge, his heartbeat was quick, throbbing against Y/N’s palm as he dragged her towards the closest empty classroom. Without warning he closed the door, drowning out the scattered noises of everyone on the other side of the wall.

“Hey.” He said, breathing heavily. His shoulders were rising and falling, his breaths deep as if he’d just ran a marathon on his path to retrieve her. “I really needed to talk to you.”

Y/N almost toppled over, the strength of his grasp tripping and unbalancing her body. As her vision began to stabilize, wobbly from the sprint, she took notice of the classroom he’d brought her to.

Flowers lined the walls and ceilings, potted plants hanging from the wooden beams and arches. Soil was sprinkled over the floorboards, various footprints etched into the dirt.

He’d taken her to the floriculture classroom—the classroom for the study of flowers.

Silence overcame them for a moment, neither one speaking a single word as they stared deeply into each other’s eyes. Her confession was at the tip of her tongue, ready to be said, ready to be spoken into existence—but Kuroo spoke first.

“I’ve never had it.” He simply said, his mouth pursed and head towering over her. Before she could respond, asking him what in the world he was talking about, he continued. “Hanahaki. I’ve never had it.”

Biting his lips, Kuroo took her hands in his once more. Rubbing her palms with his calloused fingertips, easing away her confusion and speaking his feelings with his entire heart weighed into them.

“All this time, for all these years, I thought that I’d never known love.” His brows furrowed in concentration, and for the first time, Y/N could tell what he was so focused on. It was her.

“I asked you how you knew that you were in love, flowers or not, and the way you described that feeling..it was familiar. It was something that I’d felt before, something that I felt all of the time.”

“Something that I felt all of the time for you.”

Y/N was at a loss for words, the confession that she’d always wanted to say being said to her. The very moment that she’d dreamed of was actually coming true, it was actually happening right in front of her eyes. It wasn’t her imagination—it was real. Kuroo loved her.

The smile spread across her face was more than enough to ease his nerves, her teeth were so bright they could’ve been compared to the sun. He couldn’t help but think of how beautiful she looked, how she was his sun.

“I’m so sorry my love hasn’t been constant, Y/N. It shouldn’t have taken me this long to realize the patterns, how your hanahaki came and went. It was my fault you’ve gone through so much pain.”

“But even here,” he whispered, pulling her close. His arms wrapped themselves around her body, his nose being mere inches away from hers. “With all of the flowers anyone could ever ask for, the only one that matters is you.”

She could feel his breath now, the soft breeze against her cheeks. Her body wanted to surge forward, connect their lips in a final confirmation of their feelings. She wanted the kiss with Kuroo that she’d been waiting for for her entire life.

“I love you.” He admitted, not waiting for her response before pressing his mouth to hers.

His smile could be felt between their lips, moving continuously as if they didn’t need any air to breathe. After all, they really only needed each other—Kuroo was the missing piece to Y/N’s puzzle, her heart was finally whole.

As they broke apart, love radiating off of them in contagious waves, overwhelming the room, igniting the aura—a cheeky grin grew on her new lover’s face.

He plucked a flower from the pot behind her head, presenting it with a laugh at the sight of her rolling her eyes in mock annoyance. Although she found him to be ridiculous, she accepted it gratefully—loving the new chapter that they were about to embark on.

“I heard you like roses?”

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myemergence · 3 years

Text

The Only Reason

Pairing: Ruckley, Russley, Jevan (Josh Russo/ Evan Buckley)

Series: 911 First Kiss Week

Rating: Teen

Summary: Lately, Josh has been celebrating every single ridiculous holiday. It started with Strawberry Rhubarb Pie Day and has quickly progressed into multiple holidays being celebrated each week. Buck finds himself going along with each celebration, until National Fried Chicken Day.

Buck has ideas about which holiday he’d like to celebrate with Josh instead.

Read it on AO3

@nurse-buckley thanks for the beta, love!

“I’m here! Dinner can begin,” Buck announced once he stepped inside Maddie and Chim’s, ignoring the way that Maddie rolled her eyes as he made his way past her.

“Contrary to what you might think, we weren’t waiting on you to start dinner,” Maddie said.

“Ouch, you wound me.” Buck pouted, holding a hand to his heart as he spotted Chimney on the couch with Jee-Yun. “Thankfully there is at least one person here that’s happy to see me.”

“She’s too little to know better, Buck.” Chim waited until Buck took Jee-Yun from his arms before joining Maddie in the kitchen, and Buck trailed behind them.

“Jee loves her Uncle Buck.” Chim smirked at Maddie and she let out a small laugh, then opened the oven to check on the chicken. Buck frowned at their obvious teasing before looking down at his niece. “Don’t you, sweetheart?” She cooed up at him, and Buck smiled at her.

“I honestly don’t know how either one of you gets anything done with this adorable little face to look at.”

When neither one of them responded, Buck looked up and found both of them watching him.

“What?” Buck asked with a pinched brow.

Chimney grinned. “She has you wrapped around her finger already.”

Buck rolled his eyes, then spotted several pies on the kitchen island. “Um, Jee hitting the sweets already?”

“No, those would be courtesy of Josh. Didn’t you hear that he has been celebrating everything lately?”

Buck pressed his lips together. “What do you mean by everything, Mads?”

“It started with Applesauce Cake Day, then the other day was Strawberry Rhubarb Pie Day. He made half a dozen for dispatch, and we only finished two of them. If you couldn’t tell that already by the number of pies that are on the counter, I brought the leftovers home… and you’re not even seeing the one that Chim polished off last night.”

“Well, I’m not gonna complain because they’re delicious,” Chim commented, as he finished preparing the salad.

“Maybe, but it’s also the reason that dinner tonight is so vegetable heavy. He should be celebrating National Vegetable Day instead.”

A short while later they finished up dinner, and Buck was helping Chim with the dishes, while Maddie got Jee-Yun ready for bed, feeding her in the living room.

“So, do you know if Josh is joining us later?” Buck asked casually, wiping down the plate.

Chimney tilted his head to the side a little to look at Buck more completely, holding another dripping plate. “Any particular reason you ask?” Buck shrugged, trying to go for casually interested but knowing he’d been utterly failing at it lately.

“I just wasn’t sure if I was going to be taking just your money, or his too.”

“You won’t be taking anyone’s money, because we know if Maddie is playing that she’s going to slaughter us all.” Buck laughed, knowing that Chimney was right, as he added the plate to the pile on the counter. “And to answer your question, he said he’d be over around 8, so you’ve got 5 minutes, give or take.”

Josh arrived a few minutes later, and Maddie met him at the door before leading him inside. Jee-Yun had already been put to bed, much to Josh’s disappointment. “I can’t believe you put her to bed before I got here.”

“Well next time get here earlier,” Maddie said with a roll of her eyes.

“I was busy, Maddie.”

Buck couldn’t help the teasing smile that spread across his face. “Were you baking more pies?”

“No,” Josh said, “it’s not Strawberry Rhubarb Pie Day anymore.” He raised an eyebrow.

“So you’re saying if we finish these off that you’re not going to make more?” Chim asked.

“That is exactly what I’m saying,” Josh replied with a laugh.

“Sorry, Chim.” Buck glanced over at his brother-in-law who sat beside him at the table, pouting. “I tried.”

“Howie!” Maddie scolded, smacking his arm lightly with exasperation. “I swear I’m going to make Buck take all of the leftovers to his place.”

And if Josh made them, Buck really wouldn’t mind.

Buck walked into Josh’s house and was immediately hit with the overwhelming aroma of coconut. Josh had been planning to host a spa day at his place for a week now, with both Buck and Maddie coming over to reap the benefits of yet another celebration day, but Buck hadn’t been prepared to be hit by a wall of coconut.

Buck hated coconut, the smell and taste of it— but even more than that, the texture of shredded coconut was enough to gag about. Thankfully he was just there for a spa day, so he wouldn’t need to worry about that at least.

“I, uh, brought over some sliced cucumbers, even though Maddie said you didn’t need anything for today. She always uses these when she does a mask.”

“Too bad she won’t be here to benefit from them,” Josh said ruefully, to which Buck raised his eyebrow. “She had to bail, said Chimney had to work, and Jee had an appointment that she couldn’t miss.”

“She—” is a liar, Buck finished in his head, fighting off a frown. What the hell? “She’s really gonna miss out, huh?”

“Yeah, I mean I really catered today around things I know Maddie likes, but…” Josh trailed off with a sheepish smile and shrugged. “I hope it’s not a total waste.”

“I’m sure everything is perfect.” Buck paused, glancing around to see if he could tell what Josh had set up. “So I smell coconut, what is that from?”

“Everything,” Josh answered with a laugh. “It’s National Coconut Day. So naturally, we’re celebrating with everything coconut. Follow me.”

Coconut. Everything.

He was going to kill Maddie.

“I just finished making some pina coladas if you want one?” Josh offered, adding a pineapple wedge to the rim of two glasses before holding one out to Buck.

“A little fancier than my usual beer, but I think I can be a little adventurous today.” Buck chuckled, taking the drink from Josh’s outstretched hand. He ignored the jolt that he felt when Josh’s fingers brushed against his. “Thank you.”

Josh grabbed a drink of his own before casting a glance in Buck’s direction. “I don’t think that being adventurous is really a stretch for you.” Josh paused, then added. “I seem to remember more than one rescue, particularly the ones that Maddie was freaking out about because they were risky.”

Buck shrugged his shoulders, wearing a sheepish smile as he followed Josh towards the living room. “That’s my job.”

Josh laughed, sitting down on the couch and shifting his body so that he was angled towards Buck. “So are you saying that it’s more adventurous for you to drink a pina colada than to rush into a burning building, or rappelling off the side of a cliff?”

Buck laughed lightly, feeling his cheeks warm, while his mind was on an endless loop of I hate coconut. Maybe it hadn’t exactly been adventurous of Buck to drink the pina colada, but for the effort that Josh had put into the day, he couldn’t let him down by telling him he hated everything coconut. He brought the drink up to his lips, taking a small sip before answering, trying not to react to the sudden taste flooding his tongue.

“Jumping into action at the scene when someone needs to be saved, that’s just instinct kicking in,” Buck explained, setting his glass on the coffee table, letting his gaze settle on Josh.

“That’s because you’re a hero,” Josh stated, setting his own glass down. “And heroes deserve to be pampered.”

“Josh, I’m not a hero,” he argued.

“I seem to remember watching you, trapped under a fire rig just doing your job and responding to a call, then in the months that followed you fought with everything you had to get back out there. Saved hundreds of people when you were off-duty during the tsunami. I could go on,” Josh said, “if you want.”

“Um,” Buck cleared his throat, running a hand over the back of his neck as Josh explained why he thought Buck was a hero. He shook his head a little. “That won’t be necessary.”

“In that case, I’ll be right back. Make yourself at home.”

Buck tried not to let his mind linger too long on how the atmosphere at Josh’s felt different today, more intimate without Maddie’s presence. She was always there, as a buffer, keeping Buck from making a fool of himself in front of Josh. Yet today, there was nobody to save Buck from himself.

Josh came back a few minutes later, setting a round container on the table and the sliced cucumber beside them. He told Buck to go wash his face before they got started, and when Buck returned, Josh set a pillow on the couch.

“Lay down,” Josh instructed.

Buck hesitated for a moment before laying down, resting his head on the pillow. “You know, we could do yours first—I know this is more your thing with Maddie, and I—”

“Anybody ever tell you that you’re argumentative?” Josh looked down at him, mouth turned up in amusement.

Buck rolled his eyes, watching as Josh grabbed the pouffe to sit on, his expression turning more focused as he moved the coffee table closer, making sure that what he needed was in reach. “Usually they just tell me I’m a terrible listener.”

“Close your eyes and relax.” Buck hesitated as he looked up at Josh, watching as Josh’s smile turned into a grin. “You know, they’re not wrong.”

“You always invite guys over and then call them argumentative and bad listeners?” Buck asked, finally closing his eyes.

“And they say I’m the dramatic one,” Josh teased. Buck heard him shuffle around on the table, then a moment later Josh’s voice again. “I’m going to put a warm washcloth on your face first. Just relax with it for a minute.”

The heat from the washcloth felt soothing against his skin, and Buck felt himself relaxing more, despite how this afternoon came to be just him and Josh having a spa day at home. Josh’s fingers brushed against his forehead a minute later, removing the cooling washcloth from his skin.

“So, what’s your skin regimen like anyway?”

“Uh,” Buck laughed softly. “Usually just soap and water. I don’t really have a skin regimen.”

“Well that’s offensive.” Josh’s eyes widened comically as he looked down at Buck. “First of all, that’s so bad for your skin, especially given that you deal with smoke exposure on a regular basis, not to mention the sweat. Second of all, it looks like you take great care of your skin… which is unfair, given that you absolutely do not.”

“Are you going to convert me into a skin care enthusiast?”

“I see that sarcasm is definitely a Buckley family trait.” Josh glared at him playfully. “I’m going to apply the mask now. It’s just avocado, coconut oil and some nutmeg. It’s supposed to be great for anti-aging and really moisturizing, not that your naturally flawless skin needs it.” Josh’s gaze flickered away from his, grabbing the container from the table, collecting the paste onto a brush before moving closer.

“I was really not expecting a green mask. You’re going to make me look like Maddie all those times I teased her when we were growing up,” Buck said.

Josh laughed, beginning to spread it over Buck’s skin, making Buck close his eyes again. It only took a minute before Buck’s face was thoroughly covered and Josh moved away with the container.

“Just relax for about fifteen minutes, and then we’ll get you cleaned up,” Josh said. He returned a few seconds later, setting something cool over each of his eyes, which Buck could only assume were the cucumbers.

Buck became more conscious of his breathing as the minutes passed by, the quiet of Josh’s home surrounding him. “15 minutes up yet?” Buck mumbled, not even sure if Josh was still in the room.

“Uh, just about,” Josh answered. “I’ll get you cleaned up in just another minute.” There was another stretch of silence until Buck heard the shutter of a camera, quickly followed by rapid tapping.

“Josh?”

“Just a second, Buck.”

“Josh, what are you—” Buck removed the cucumbers from over his eyes, finding Josh standing not too far away with a mischievous smile on his face. “You can’t take a picture of me like this.” Buck gaped at him.

“I mean, I already did,” Josh said with a little laugh that lit up his entire face. “And I might have accidentally sent it to your sister.”

“Accidentally?”

“Maybe intentionally.”

“You have no idea what you’ve done. I’m never going to hear the end of this. She’s going to show Chimney, and it’ll circulate around the firehouse. Hell, Chim and Hen will probably blow up the picture and post it all around the station,” Buck finished dramatically, groaning as he sat back.

Josh smirked but didn’t say anything else, although his expression made it clear that he had plenty to say. He tapped out another response on his phone before he slipped the phone into his back pocket.

“We should go get your mask cleaned off, before your face is stuck like that permanently.” Buck’s hand shot up to his face and touched the mask, and Josh snorted at the appalled expression on Buck’s face.

“You know, I think my sister has influenced you way too much for your own good.” Buck followed Josh towards the bathroom, stepping into the room and turning on the warm water. Josh grabbed a clean washcloth and handed it to him. Josh disappeared from the doorway, leaving Buck to clean the thick green mask from his face.

Buck looked at his reflection and grimaced. “I can’t believe there’s a picture of me like this floating around,” he muttered. He tried to clean the mask off of his face and to not make a mess but this was… way messier than Buck expected. “Oh my god.” Green sludge covered the sink and the counter, and it was dripping off of Buck’s face like something out of a horror movie.

“Buck? You doing alright, you’ve been in here for—” Josh’s voice broke off with laughter. “Oh… wow. What is happening here? You—wow. This is a sight.”

“You keep saying that,” Buck said, cutting a glare in his direction, resulting in a green-tinted water dripping onto the counter.

“You are a disaster, Buck. Sit down.” Josh laughed, directing him away from his position in front of the mirror until he was sitting on the closed toilet lid. Josh grabbed a hand towel to wipe at the excess water dripping from Buck’s chin, first. Josh cupped Buck’s chin, gently tilting it until he was looking up at him. Buck swallowed hard as they held each other’s gaze, and the laughter disappeared from the room, replaced instead by a tension that Buck couldn’t quite explain, but made his heart race.

Josh took his time, patting off what was wet enough to wipe from Buck’s face. He worked silently for a few minutes, stopping to rinse off the wash cloth with warm water every so often before focusing his attention on cleaning Buck’s face.

“You know I could do this myself, Josh, I—”

“I don’t mind,” Josh said softly, and tossed the dirty washcloth in the sink before grabbing the clean hand towel he’d laid out before. “Let me just make sure we’ve got it all.”

Buck couldn’t find it in him to look away, mesmerized by Josh’s focus as he cradled Buck’s face, then the way he gently tilted it to the side from where he held Buck’s chin.

“Ah, missed a spot,” Josh said.

The feeling of the warm washcloth being wiped across his brow made his eyes flutter closed. Without his vision, Buck felt like he was suddenly more aware of everything else. The way that Josh smelled, and the fact that Buck could reach out and wrap his arms around the other man due to their closeness. Josh’s fingers still gripped Buck’s chin, moving the towel lightly over Buck’s skin, and dried off the last remnants of water.

“Think we got it all,” Josh whispered into the deafening quiet.

Blinking his eyes back open, he caught Josh’s gaze when they opened. Josh smiled at him, then his eyes settled on the spot just above Buck’s eye, rubbing his thumb over the skin there . In the past, Buck had been self conscious about his birthmark, hating how it made him stand out. But at that moment, as Josh studied it with such intent, Buck was glad to have it. Josh brushed his thumb over the skin a few more times, until their eyes met again. It’s like something clicked into place at the moment their eyes met, yanking Josh out of the intimacy of the moment, his jaw dropping open the tiniest bit as he took a small step back, putting some space between them.

“Well, your skin is perfectly soft now.” Buck forced himself not to frown at the loss of Josh’s touch, his stomach twisting as he fought the desire to reach out and tug Josh closer. “Not that it wasn’t before,” Josh added.

“Thank you for that experience. And for, uh, helping with the clean up,” Buck said. He stood up from where he was seated. “Definitely went above and beyond.”

“It was my pleasure,” he said.

“Well, now it’s my turn to return the favor.” Buck smiled at Josh, trying not to let the way that Josh made him feel when he cradled his face and studied his birthmark like it was some work of art. “But I can’t promise it won’t be an even bigger mess.”

Josh laughed, and the tension between them that had been there for only a few moments dissipated. “I’d expect no less.”

After National Coconut Day, things felt different between Josh and Buck, like somehow their relationship was no longer held together by Maddie. They began to talk regularly as the days passed, they texted and made plans to get together soon. Josh, of course, had another celebration day in mind—and after how the last one had turned out, Buck couldn’t find it in him to necessarily discourage it.

Until he’d learned that it was another food-centered celebration: National Fried Chicken Day. Josh was very invested, sending Buck links to different food blogs and recipes that he’d found on Pinterest to try: a classic southern fried chicken, buttermilk fried chicken, and even a KFC copycat recipe.

The intimacy of their home spa day played on repeat in Buck’s mind, the moment when Josh had cleaned Buck’s face, brushing his thumb tenderly over Buck’s birthmark. He’d thought Josh was going to kiss him, had even hoped that he would. In the minutes that stretched on afterwards, he’d felt disappointed, but shoved that feeling aside to unpack another day. And Buck had decided that maybe today was that day.

Buck sighed, looking at himself in the mirror one last time. He opted for a casual shirt and jeans since it was meant to be a low-key celebration, and grabbed his keys off of the counter on his way out.

Within twenty minutes he arrived at Josh’s door. Josh opened the door in an apron, which was certainly a look. “You’re just on time. I was about ready to get started.”

Buck smiled as he followed Josh inside, back towards the kitchen. He watched as Josh set a pan on the front burner of the stove, then moved fluidly to grab the bottle of the oil.

Now or never, Buckley.

“Step away from the oil, Josh,” Buck said, crossing his arms over his chest.

“What? How am I going to make fried chicken without the oil?” Josh turned his head to look at Buck, who had moved closer now, standing beside him next to the stove.

“You’re not.”

“Buck,” Josh drew his name out slowly, thankfully having not yet turned on the burner, his full attention now on Buck. “We’re here to celebrate National Fried Chicken Day—”

“But your arteries are pleading with you to not do that,” Buck explained. “We could celebrate something else today.”

Josh frowned at Buck’s words. “Like what? You couldn’t have mentioned this days ago? What could we possibly celebrate that we just happen to have everything for?”

Buck trapped his bottom lip between his teeth, then dared to catch Josh’s gaze again. “It’s International Kissing Day.” Of course the only reason Buck wanted to celebrate that with Josh was for the betterment of his health.

“…and how would we celebrate that?”

“The only logical way that I could come up with is that we could kiss.”

A nervous laugh shook out of Josh, and a flush colored his cheeks. “Buck, I’m not going to let you kiss me just because you don’t want me clogging my arteries.”

“Well,” Buck swallowed past the nervous anxiety bubbling in his chest. “What about letting me kiss you because I like you, and this is all just a poorly crafted excuse to kiss you, masked as concern for your arteries?”

Josh’s eyes flickered to Buck’s lips, then back up to his eyes. “I-I think I’d be okay with it, if that were the case,” Josh whispered.

The corners of Buck’s pulled up into a smile, though his heart didn’t stop racing. “That’s good to hear,” Buck murmured, stepping forward to close in the little bit of space between them. He reached out, cupping Josh’s cheek as he looked down into his face. “Because I was really hoping that was what you would say.”

Buck leaned in as Josh’s eyes fluttered closed, and their noses barely brushed as he pressed his lips to Josh’s. The kiss was soft and sweet, like Josh, not frantic or urgent, and the tenderness made Buck’s heart swell. Josh’s hands ghosted against Buck’s sides before they settled at his waist. Finally, Buck dropped his hand away from Josh’s jaw, studying his features when he did.

“I hope that was okay,” Buck whispered, not able to tear his gaze away, as he cringed at his words.

“It was great, but…”

“But?” Buck asked.

“But I don’t think you can classify one kiss as a celebration,” Josh explained, a smile tugging at his lips.

“It would be like celebrating Strawberry Rhubarb Pie day with only one pie.”

“A travesty,” he murmured, sliding a hand to the back of Buck’s neck, pulling him back in for another kiss.

Buck decided, maybe he wouldn’t kill Maddie after all.

#911 #911 on fox #evan buckley #josh russo #ruckley #russley #jevan #what is their ship name #🤣🤣#911firstkiss #kissingday #mywriting #911 fanfic

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buckysbabygorl · 4 years

Text

Best Friend’s Brother (College AU) Part 2: An Introduction

Summary: Y/N goes up to her friend’s ‘summer home’ for spring break to forget about the daily stress of being a student. She’s ready to let loose and have fun, but she wasn’t prepared to meet her friend’s attractive older brother...

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: mild swearing, drinking, sexual inuuendo and themes

Word Count: 2,002

Dedicated to @marvelrose

Part 1 , Part 3

Series Masterlist

Rebecca had been right.

The interior was far more incredible than the outside.

The seclusion and privacy of the estate added to the homey ambiance of the luxurious mansion; the interior was decorated in soft creams and whites, with dark wood furnishings to contrast. The front foyer was immaculate and grand; its staircase leading to the upstairs level was immense and curved along the east wall of the entrance.

Y/N looked to the ceiling and admired the crystal chandelier hanging decadently over them. The delicate glass glistened beautifully with the light, and Y/N noticed then their lack of dust; as if they had appeared there in this moment exactly. Completely untouched.

“It’s quite beautiful, isn’t it?” Brimsby commented.

Not knowing how else to describe the sight, Y/N slowly nodded in amased agreement. It really was beautiful, but somehow beautiful didn’t seem to articulate the sight justly.

Bags in hand, Brimsby motioned for her to follow him to the staircase. “This way, Miss. Your room as well as Miss Barnes reside on the upper level.”

He started his walk, but realized she hadn’t followed him, too caught up in the appearance of the house. A small smile pulled at his lip; understanding the young lady’s fascination with the place; though his amusement had been long ago diluted as his days at the estate passed

“The upstairs is just as wonderful as the down, my dear.”

As she took in his words, she quickly followed him, excited to view more of the architecture and decor.

She trailed behind him, lightly tracing the wood railing as she ascended the staircase.

So polished, she thought. So smooth.

It was evident the amount of care put into the place; each sconce and crevice she had seen so far was catered to with a consistent and loving upkeep. Somehow, it made the place all the more beautiful.

“How long have you been with the family?” Y/N asked.

Brimsby stopped at the top stair for her, waiting to speak until they could walk in side by side.

“Decades my dear. I began working here as a young boy when the children's grandfather was the head of the household. ”

“Wow,” Y/N said, “So the estate has been in the family for quite some time then.”

“Indeed it has.” He spoke proudly as they rounded the second landing, pleased with the effort he had given after all these years.

Y/N tried to picture it; a little Rebcca running through the halls with her brother. That same energy from a kid never leaving her; that overwhelming happiness and the love for this estate...

“You’ve really taken care of the place,” She complimented, “I’m sure the Barnes are grateful.”

He led her down an attached hall of the landing, dark and sturdy doors accompanying them on each side. Bedrooms, she assumed.

“Anyone would agree... Rebecca loves you like family.”

Brimsby smiled at that, “Well, I’m grateful to have them as well. They’ve been very gracious to me, being here hardly feels like work at all.”

Y/N hummed happily, “If you do what you love…”

“...You’ll never work a day in your life.” He finished.

Y/N chuckled slightly as they came to a stop. Placing the bags on the floor, he turned back to the young girl with his hand on the doorknob.

“And this,” Brimsby gestured to his right, “is your room.”

Y/N hadn’t known what to expect; but she certainly hadn’t expected this.

The entire trip up; Rebecca hadn’t mentioned a word of the appearance of the place. No warning about the massive mansion, the immense space. Y/N pictured a quaint cottage on the water, the average two point five bedrooms, and a bathroom all of them would fight over in the mornings.

But that hadn’t been the case at all; the home had been the definition of opulence. And this room had been no exception.

The room was spacious, much like the rest of the house. It had the same creams and whites, but the furnishings in the room weren’t the dark modern wood she had seen. They were softer in color and lacked varnish; she assumed antique. The massive bed that lay in the centre of the room had plush pillows, and a thick comforter that swirled in patterns of light blues and yellows. As Y/N walked further in: she noticed the props of the room were also vintage; lamps and ash trays on the bedside tables, and the books and ornaments on the shelves looked as though they were pulled from a different time. The far wall was nearly entirely window, a long bench running underneath the sills for sitting.

“Do you think you’ll be comfortable in here, Miss?”

Y/N turned to Brimsby, who waited patiently at the door.

“It’s incredible. I couldn’t ask for a better room.”

He smiled, entering and setting her bags at the foot of the bed.

“Excellent. I shall leave you to get better acquainted with the room. Do let me know if there’s anything more I can do for you.”

As he was leaving, Y/N called for him.

“Thank you, you’ve been wonderful. I really appreciate it.”

He smiled, “Of course, any friend of Rebecca’s is welcome in this home. It was lovely meeting you.”

“Likewise.”

With their conversation ended, Brimsby closed the door behind him and left Y/N alone.

Y/N made no rush to unpack, instead seating herself on the bench at the window, looking to the trees at the front of the house.

She shook her head in amazement, “Can’t believe this place.” She said to herself.

She knew she’d thank Rebecca over and over again for this experience: the house alone was amazing. A luxurious stay with your best friend, an entire week to yourselves…

Well, not exactly yourselves, she realized.

I wonder what the boys will be like, she thought.

So far everything Rebecca had said was positive; but she may have been biased. Regardless, Y/N figured that she’d at least get along with James and his friends, based on the fact Rebecca and him were cut from the same cloth. Both pursued careers in Law, wanting to ‘make a difference in the world’, and on that notion alone Y/N could respect James. Apparently, he was funny; charming; more rowdy than most, but sometimes he had his moments.

“He gets really quiet every now and then.” Y/N remembers Rebecca saying, “Thoughtful, I think he tries to come off that he isn’t sensitive, or smart. But he is, he really is…”

Y/N smiled at the thought, admiring how highly Rebecca thought of him. Y/N was still skeptical, of course. But at the very least, she would have to give him a chance.

“Steve! You in there?”

Y/N turned at the voice, watching as the door swung open and in walked a young man.

He was dressed casually; khaki pants and a dark polo shirt slightly stretched by his tall, muscular stature. He was quite handsome; with strong features and dark hair. As Y/N made eye contact with him, he startled slightly; his blue eyes widening and his lips pouting in confusion.

“You’re not Steve.”

Y/N chuckled as she rose from the window seat, “No I’m not.”

From his demeanor and dress, she knew he wasn’t someone employed at the estate, and figured quickly that he was one of the boy guests.

“Hm,” He muttered, his hand still placed on the doorknob. He chuckled as he peeked further into the doorway. “I think I’m in the wrong room.”

“You think?” she teased.

He laughed awkwardly as he rubbed his hand along the back of his neck. “Yeah.. I hate to admit it but I’m still getting lost in this place.”

He entered the room and walked towards her, “I’m sorry, I’m being rude. I’m Bucky.”

“I’m Y/N, Rebecca’s friend.” She said as she reached out her hand.

His smile was friendly as her palm fit against his “I figured, how are you liking the place so far?”

Y/N sighed as she admired the room again, “it’s incredible.”

“Yeah?” He beamed at her contentment.

She nodded vigorously, “Yeah. This place is beautiful. Rebecca didn’t tell me anything about this place; it was all secret.”

Bucky chuckled, “Yeah, she has a flair for the dramatic.”

“Have you known her long?” Y/N asked.

Bucky’s brows pinch in confusion, “Yeah, her whole life…”

“Really? I didn’t realize how close she was with James’s friends.” She admitted.

Bucky started to speak but instead he just smiled cheekily. “Yeah, I’d say we’re all pretty close.”

“Oh, I didn’t realize.” She stated. “You’re looking for Steve, right? James’s friend?”

Bucky bit his lip as he nodded, a hint of a laugh in his voice as he spoke. “Um, yeah I am. Which reminds me; I’m still haven’t found him.”

“Oh, right.” Y/N nodded.

The longer Y/N looked at him, she realized how incredibly handsome he was. Sharp jawline, pouty lips, big blue eyes, incredibly fit... if you weren’t careful, you could get lost in a man like that.

“You want some company?” She asked shyly.

Bucky smirked as he gave the girl a quick once-over, “If you’re ‘company’, of course.”

Y/N felt herself blush, stealing a glance at the floor as she lost the words to respond.

If all the boys are like this, then I’m definitely screwed.

Bucky held open the door for her, and tried to exit without making her flustered state noticeable, but couldn’t hide from Bucky’s eye.

“I’ll be honest,” He started as he closed her door behind him, “We weren’t expecting you guys so soon.”

“Rebecca said the same thing actually, something about you guys showing up on Sunday?”

He shook his head at her statement, “No she said we should come up on Sunday; we just assumed that meant she wanted to meet up that day.”

“I guess they both wanted to beat the other to the punch, huh?”

Bucky puckered his lips to stifle a laugh, “Yeah I guess they did.”

Bucky took a moment to really look at the girl. Rebecca had shown him pictures before, but they did not do her justice. She was gorgeous in person, and that voice… he could listen to her talk all day if she’d let him.

“Have you met him before?”

“Who, James?”

Bucky nodded as he led her around the top landing, and started down the stairs. “Yeah.”

“No, but I’ve heard lots about him.”

“Yeah? Like what?” He asked. Bucky stopped and leaned back against the railing, shoving his hands in his pockets as he patiently waited for her answer.

Y/N turned on the stairs and placed a foot on the next step, balancing herself as she met his curious eyes. “Charmer, funny, a big softie once you get to know him… that sort of thing.”

“Seems like a dreamboat…”

Y/N rolled her eyes, “The way she paints him, yeah…”

Bucky tilted his head to the side as his tongue darted to lick his bottom lip. “You believe her?”

Y/N shrugged as she turned away from him.

“I think so. But she might be exaggerating,” she called over her shoulder, “She’s trying to get me to fuck him.”

She heard Bucky’s laughter echo through the foyer, the sound of his footsteps following short after.

“Wow, haven’t even met and she’s already planning the wedding?”

Y/N smiled as she nodded, turning to face him as he landed at the bottom of the stairs.

“You gonna do it?” He asked teasingly.

Y/N bit her lip as she thought, “Not sure yet. Guess I’ll have to meet him first.”

Bucky nodded as his gaze found the floor, hiding the look of excitement and mischief he’d attempted to keep a handle on. But he couldn’t help it; the girl was clueless, she made it too easy.

“I guess you will.”

Part 3

OmG wHaT iS BuCkY HidInG o_O

Jk y’all hoes know. We ready for Part 3? We’re getting to the steamy stuff soon ;)

#Bucky Barnes #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes imagine #Sebastian Stan #marvel #Avengers #buckysbabygorl masterlist

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set-phasers-to-whump · 3 years

Text

“i’m sorry, i didn’t know”

prompt: “i’m sorry, i didn’t know”

whumpee: kyle valenti

fandom: roswell new mexico

hi hi i bring again whump of a character that caters probably only to Me!!! i absolutely love kyle and alex so much and i like to write them sweet...there is plenty of pain in here tho!! def pre-ship vibes but you don’t Have to read it that way?

It hurts. A burning kind of pain that radiates out from his right ribcage all throughout his torso, hot and constant and spiking in intensity whenever he tries to breathe. Broken ribs, he thinks, dismally. Why? Anything but broken ribs would be fine. Pretty much any other kind of break can have something done about it. But for this? He can take a couple ibuprofen and set an ice pack on them and get back to work.

Not that he particularly should, with broken ribs. A few days off is wise, as is getting checked out by a colleague, but to be honest he doesn’t feel like telling anyone. He doesn’t have any internal bleeding and nothing’s poking out of his skin, so he’s fine. He’s fine.

Except that his whole chest hurts every time he breathes, let alone speaks, or, god forbid, walks. But he has to do all three of those things, because he’s got work today, and then he and Alex are hanging out tonight. He’s not about to skip either of those things.

Work sucks. There’s no sugarcoating it. He hides his injury as well as he can, excusing his awkward posture, slight limp, and occasional wince as being products of a late, sleepless night, and if his colleagues doubt him, they’re kind enough not to say anything.

Everything goes about as well as it can go until around lunch. He’s operating, a procedure he’s done so many times he could do it in his sleep, but he can’t fully extend his right arm or he’s pretty sure his whole chest will tear in two. He tries to ignore it, but he swears he’s on fire, and he drops his scalpel right on top of the patient.

Nothing bad happens, but a fellow doctor gives him a curious look. He reaches for the scalpel and can’t quite hide a wince as he stretches out his side a little too much.

“Are you alright, Dr. Valenti?”

“Fine,” he says, a little more snappishly than he’d intended. He bites down on his lip to stop himself from making any more noise and stubbornly blinks away the tears of pain that have formed unwillingly in his eyes.

The rest of the procedure goes off without a hitch, but Kyle can’t quite escape from the other doctor afterwards.

“You sure you’re okay? I saw you wince when you reached for that scalpel.”

“Yeah, it’s nothing,” he says, as casually as he can, not wanting a repeat of his reply from before. “Just slept a little weird.”

“Thought you didn’t sleep at all.”

“Barely,” he says. “I barely slept. What I did get...not the best.”

Evidently this is a sufficient explanation, as the other doctor leaves him alone to go grab lunch. Kyle is definitely not hungry, so he skips out, hiding in the locker room until his break’s over.

He gets home shortly after six, now slightly hungry, but unwilling to eat, lest it cause him more pain. The whole drive home his seatbelt had pressed against the lower side of his ribs, jostling them whenever he’d come to a stop. It hadn’t bothered him too much that morning, but evidently all of the ibuprofen is wearing off. He just wants everything to stop hurting.

He limps his way through the door, not bothering to take off his shoes or remove anything from his pockets. He makes a beeline for the bathroom, where he again takes too much ibuprofen and carefully lifts up his shirt to inspect his injury.

His entire right side is a vivid purple with the occasional splotch of red. It’s slightly swollen and excruciatingly painful to touch. God, it hurts.

He very slowly makes his way to the couch, stopping by the freezer for a soft ice pack. He lies down carefully and places the ice pack onto his ribs, through his shirt so as not to freeze his skin off. Which would be just what he needs, he thinks.

The light contact of the ice pack hurts like he’s been punched, and its steady pressure is almost unbearable. He lets out a groan of pain and finally gives in to the hot tears building behind his eyes. Even so, he leaves the ice pack on. It’ll help in the long run, and he’s still got things to do today.

Things which he could very easily cancel. He could text Alex and tell him he’s just not feeling well tonight, but then Alex would ask what’s the matter? and probably get concerned for him and Kyle really doesn’t want that. So he’ll suck it up. And he’ll ice his damn ribs.

At 6:30, Kyle lifts himself up off of the couch as gently as he possibly can. It hurts anyway, but slightly less thanks to the time spent with the ice. He’s wearing the clothes he’d worn to work, which are slightly out of place for the Wild Pony, but there’s no way he’s changing again (into and out of his scrubs had been painful enough, especially with the added pressure of making sure nobody was around to see the rather horrific colors painting his torso). So the work clothes stay on.

He climbs into his car, wishing he didn’t care so much about his own personal safety as he buckles his seatbelt, which again presses itself uncomfortably against his ribs. He drives, doing his best to make the ride as smooth as he possibly can.

He arrives at the Pony five minutes late and slightly sweaty and feeling fairly awful. Still. He can’t help smiling when he sees Alex sitting in a booth, waving at him. He nods in response, not wanting to lift his hand.

Kyle sinks down into the booth across from Alex, hiding a wince.

“How was your day?” Alex asks, as one of the waiters comes up to them.

“Pretty boring. One surgery, a consult, no emergencies.”

“That’s good,” Alex says, as they order their drinks and some snacks.

Kyle nods. Neither of them says anything for what feels like an age. It’s awkward. He can practically feel the tension in the air. But he really doesn’t want to talk. It hurts.

“So…” Alex says, but evidently can’t think of anything to say after that.

“So,” Kyle replies, softly. He blinks hard as a slightly more intense wave of pain hits his side. Their drinks arrive, and he takes a big sip, hoping to cool off his ribs from the inside.

Which does not happen. In fact, the movement only makes them hurt worse, and he knows he doesn’t hide his wince.

But Alex, apparently sensing that Kyle doesn’t want to talk about it, doesn’t push. God, he’s so nice. And here Kyle is, acting like he doesn’t care about anything and not talking just because, what? His ribs may very well be on fire?

“Hey, I finally watched Star Wars,” he says at last, grinning, stubbornly ignoring the spike of pain in his ribs.

“Oh really?”

“What, you don’t believe me?”

“Tell me one thing that happened.”

“Let’s see...some planet got blown up.”

“You’re going to have to be a little bit more specific.”

Kyle racks his brain. “It was red?” he says, at last, not entirely sure of that fact. “Winona Ryder died,” he recalls.

Alex laughs out loud, and Kyle can’t help grinning along. “What?” he asks. “What’s so funny about Winona Ryder dying?”

“Kyle, that’s Star Trek. And not exactly the best Star Trek, either.”

“Oh.” He smiles a little more. “Which is the best one, then?”

Alex goes off on a fair tirade of the various pieces of media in the Star Trek franchise. If Kyle’s being honest, he only follows about half of it, but Alex is clearly into it and kind of ridiculously passionate about which show is better than which other show, and which character was done so poorly in this rendition, and it’s incredibly endearing, so Kyle just pays as much attention as he can, asking questions whenever he feels able.

On top of it being nice to hear Alex so enthusiastic, the conversation is also a nice distraction from the pain in his ribs, which has only increased due to all the talking. The fire has spread out and gotten hotter and he can barely stand it, but focusing on Alex helps.

Their food arrives. Alex chews a fry thoughtfully as he explains the merits of The Animated Series.

“...so there’s these close-ups, right? And it’s like, their entire face fills the screen at this dramatic moment, and…”

Eventually, Alex runs out of things to say about Star Trek, and Kyle runs out of questions to ask to keep him going, and the conversation, rather unfortunately, turns to him.

“You haven’t eaten anything,” Alex observes, and pushes their basket of fries closer to Kyle.

“I’m not really hungry,” he says, though he carefully picks up a fry. He is hungry, truly, but he doesn’t want to figure out what it feels like to eat with broken ribs.

“You should still try to eat something,” Alex points out. “You look a little pale.”

Kyle pretends to be affronted, throwing the fry very lightly across the table, where it lands on Alex’s lap.

“Nice try,” Alex says. “Eat something, Kyle.”

He’d sigh in exasperation, if it weren’t for the fact that it would hurt like hell. He very slowly picks up a fry and bites it. Not too bad, he decides, swallowing. And yeah, that hurts a little more. He barely stops himself from putting a hand to his side in an effort to make the pain stop.

He doesn’t eat any more. Alex doesn’t try to make him, though he does reach out a hand across the table, putting it to Kyle’s forehead.

“I’m a doctor, Alex. I think I’d know if I was sick.”

“Hm,” Alex says, like he doesn’t believe that. “Maybe you’d know it,” he continues. “Don’t know if you’d do anything about it.”

Kyle can’t fault his logic on that. Not when he’s sitting here with broken ribs that hurt and hurt and hurt, because he hadn’t wanted to tell anyone and he hadn’t wanted to cancel on Alex.

Their conversation moves on from that naturally enough, and eventually they find themselves at a natural stopping point. They pay for their food, and Alex stands up. Kyle takes a second to build up the strength to make himself stand, and then does it, shutting his eyes instinctively against the pain.

Alex’s hand is on his arm when he opens them. “Are you sure you’re okay?” he asks, looking like he’s not going to believe Kyle’s answer.

“I’m sure,” Kyle says. “I’m so okay. I’m super.”

“Sure,” Alex replies. “That sounded so convincing.”

“I’m fine, I swear.”

“If you say so.”

They make their way out to the parking lot, where Alex leans up against the driver’s side of Kyle’s car.

“Hey!”

“I’m not letting you get in until you tell me what’s up with you.”

Kyle is so not in the mood for this. He walks around to the passenger side, intending on climbing across. Which is a really horrible idea. He gets one leg over the center console and reaches out an arm to balance himself, and his whole world goes white with pain.

He slowly sinks back into the passenger seat, feeling his body shaking involuntarily. The too-familiar hot tears of pain are pouring down his cheeks, and he’s trying not to take the shuddering breaths his body so desperately needs, because they’ll only make the pain worse.

Alex’s hand is on his arm again, and then Alex is turning Kyle’s body so he’s facing out of the passenger door, towards him. Kyle knows this only because he can feel a slight breeze on his face, since his eyes are screwed shut against the pain.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Alex asks, and his voice is as soft as anything. “What’s wrong, Kyle?”

He can’t speak. It hurts too much. His face is burning from tears and from shame and his chest is burning with horrible pain and it hurts so much and he just wants it to stop and -

Then it’s worse, it’s worse, it’s so much worse. Alex’s arms are around him in a gesture that would be the most comforting thing in the world were it not for the sheer amount of pain their presence is generating. He must scream, because all of a sudden Alex’s arms draw back.

Kyle risks opening his eyes, hoping Alex hasn’t left completely. He doesn’t want to be alone.

“Kyle, what’s wrong? Did I hurt you?”

He nods, minutely, and sees Alex’s face fall through a haze of tears. It’s not your fault, he thinks desperately. You didn’t know.

“Are you hurt? I mean, were you hurt before?”

Another small nod.

“I’m sorry, Kyle, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.” Alex sounds pained, almost like he doesn’t think Kyle will believe him.

That gets through the pain enough to let him speak. “Not your fault,” he whispers. “Didn’t...wanna tell you.”

Alex shakes his head. “I should’ve seen that you were hurting,” he says. “And then I went and made it worse, thinking your pain was just emotional and that maybe you just needed a hug.” He scoffs, like he thinks that was a stupid line of reasoning.

“Alex,” Kyle says, forcing his voice to be a little stronger. “Shut up. Y’ were helping.”

“But-”

“No.”

Alex sighs in defeat. “Okay,” he concedes. “Not my fault.”

“Mine,” Kyle says.

“That’s not how this works,” Alex protests. “How is it your fault?” he asks, after a beat.

“Stupid,” Kyle mumbles. “Fell ‘n hit my ribs...knew they were broken...didn’t tell anyone.”

“Kyle,” Alex says, a mix between exasperated and worried. “Why not?”

He’d shrug, were he physically capable. “Didn’t want to.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Don’ need the hospital. Nothing to do about it. Jus’...wanna go home.”

“Okay,” Alex agrees, not even for a second insisting that they do anything else. “We’ll leave my car here. Give me your keys.”

Kyle lets go of the keys he hadn’t realized he was still holding. They’ve left red marks on his palm where they’d dug into his closed fist.

Alex takes the keys and very gently pushes Kyle’s body to face the front of the car, and then brushes his hair off of his forehead with a light touch that feels like the nicest thing in the world to his warm skin. Alex starts the car, reaching across Kyle to buckle his seatbelt, which now presses against his left side and is a great deal less painful.

“So it’s your ribs,” Alex says, after they’ve been driving for a few minutes.

“Yeah.”

“And they’re broken.”

“Yeah.”

Alex leaves the conversation at that, though something in his tone tells Kyle they’re not done talking about all of this. The rest of the ride home is quiet, though not uncomfortable, except of course for the pain, which still increases every time there’s a slight bump in the road or the car changes speeds. He’s crying again, though it’s entirely possible he never stopped.

They reach Kyle’s place, and Alex helps him navigate his way to the door. It’s an incredibly painful journey, but Kyle tries his best not to lean too heavily into Alex, mindful of his leg and not in the mood to be the cause of any more pain.

Alex slips his hand into Kyle’s pocket and grabs his house key, then wraps his arm around Kyle’s waist as he starts to list to the side. He inserts the key into the lock and turns it, then leads Kyle inside and directly to the couch.

Kyle very carefully sinks down onto the couch in a sitting position. He hears Alex walking around, apparently gathering...things, and then sees Alex standing in front of him with his arms full of various medical supplies, food, a bottle of water, a blanket…

He moves to say something, but Alex interrupts him. “I know you said you can’t do anything about your ribs, but I’ve got some ice for any swelling and some pain meds and some food and water because you really do need to eat, and blankets so you can sleep out here…” He trails off. Kyle gives him a little smile, for once glad there are still tears dripping down his face, so Alex won’t see him again tearing up at his sheer kindness.

Alex gets to work in a very businesslike manner, stuffing a pillow up against the arm of the couch and guiding Kyle to lie back against it, picking up his legs and setting them onto the couch. He pulls off Kyle’s shoes and very gently undoes the buttons of his shirt, until it’s open enough to reveal his bruised side, which can’t look any better than it had earlier, if Alex’s horrified gasp is anything to go by.

“Kyle.”

“‘S bad. I know.”

Fingers gently touch the bruise, not hurting as much as Kyle expects. They’re cool against the burning feeling, and they don’t press into it. Alex drapes a soft hand towel over the bruise, then lies an ice pack atop it.

Kyle is familiar with the sensation, having done a similar thing earlier, but it still hurts. He sucks in a sharp breath, which of course only exacerbates the pain.

Alex’s hand moves to his face, cupping it with that same gentleness. “I know it hurts,” he says, “but it’ll help. You know that.”

“Yeah,” Kyle whispers back, because he does know. That doesn’t stop it from hurting, though.

As though reading that thought, Alex holds out an opened bottle of ibuprofen. “You’ve probably taken way too many of these today, but I trust you’re not going to overdose.”

He lets Alex shake two of the pills into his hand, which he very carefully and slowly reaches up to his mouth. He swallows the pills dry, which is a terrible mistake. He coughs on them and feels his ribs explode with pain again. He groans. He is so damn tired of this.

Alex’s hand is back, wiping away the fresh tears of pain from his face. “Easy,” he says, and holds out a bottle of water. Kyle takes it with a shaking hand and can’t find it in himself to be embarrassed when Alex’s hand joins it, helping him lift it to his mouth.

He drinks a little water and feels the pain minutely recede. Alex pulls the bottle away, and Kyle leans his head back into the pillow, closing his eyes.

“I’m not gonna make you eat anything right now,” Alex says, and he holds up the assortment of items he’d brought from the kitchen. “But I’m guessing you haven’t eaten anything all day, so when you wake up you are going to eat. Okay?”

Though it’s phrased as a question, Kyle knows full well it isn’t. “Okay,” he agrees.

“Good,” Alex replies, and puts a soft hand in his hair. “Now sleep. I’ll be here to remind you of that promise when you wake up.”

thanks so much for reading this!!! like i said i am a huge sucker for kylex and i love them so so much :) i hope you enjoyed!

#febuwhump2021 #febuwhumpday10 #i'm sorry i didn't know #roswell new mexico #kyle valenti #broken bones #broken ribs #cared for #i had a lot of fun with alex and star trek lmao #he is a big fucking nerd and i stand by that #anyway i started this fic with exactly Nothing and i am kind of happy with how it turned out? its also rlly long. maybe too long. idk #anyhow tysm for reading!#my writing #i say things #didnt tag those first go round lmao #anyway fun fact this is the longest one chapter thing I have ever written!#and possibly the second longest thing ever!#it’s barely over 3k but.

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creative-frequency · 4 years

Text

Cal Kestis x Reader: DEAR STAR SYSTEM Ch. 02

Word count: 1585 Pairing: Cal Kestis x Female Reader Summary/Contains: The Mantis lands on Bogano. Greez is very particular about his eggs. Friends to lovers, mild angst, (partial) canon-rewrite. Notes: I’m still getting into the Star Wars lingo, so if there’s any words/terms/slang etc. you think sound off or know a more canon-ish counterpart, please don’t hesitate to let me know! This is the first time I’m actually writing for Star Wars fandom despite loving it for so long.

Previous Chapter

My Writing Masterlist

DEAR STAR SYSTEM // 02

During the years you’ve known Cere, you’ve never seen her playing an instrument. There must be a reason she keeps those things around the ship, often gazing at them longingly or sitting still with one on her lap. When she does, that sad, almost haunted look befalls on her. You’ve never had the courage to ask about it. It’s too personal.

Something invades your mind, twining to the aerial calculations of a piercing weapon’s throw line. The imaginary blade disappears mid-air as your focus shifts. You turn to the side on the bed.

A sound. Background noise. Music?

At first, you think it’s inside your head but before you can concentrate on listening, it stops. It’s silent again but your earlier thoughts are lost to curiosity.

Cere and Cal are sitting by the round table, talking in low voices. One of her musical instruments is leaning to the table, confirming that the chords you heard weren’t just imagination. The tone of their conversation is somber aka something you don’t want to accidentally eavesdrop. But before you can take even a step to go back, Cere’s familiar words command your attention, coming through loud and clear and hitting home on your end too:

“And you’re not alone. Not anymore,” Cere reassures the young Jedi and places a hand onto his shoulder.

You hesitate by the door, to make your presence be known or to withdraw back into your cabin.

You know something about the situation Cal is in. His old life is behind, all ties severed and while for you it still might be possible to go back, it definitely isn’t for him. Fairly certainly neither of you wants to go back.

Greez’s voice cracks over the comms, saving you from a decision on which direction to move:

“We’re comin’ up on our destination.”

Cal bolts up and heads to the cockpit with resolute steps. Cere’s hand stays hanging in the air where his shoulder was before she follows him and you wait for a moment or two before going after them. You’ve arrived on Bogano.

“How do you think he’ll do?” you ask Greez in the cockpit, both of you watching Cal’s retreating back into the grassy planes.

Greez shrugs and makes an indifferent “meh” sound. “I just hope whatever he does, he does it fast.”

He stretches three of his arms and scratches his belly with the fourth. It’s lunch time and yesterday’s scraps will make an excellent omelet with some gartro eggs.

“But not too fast, am I right?” you comment, knowing what the Latero has on his mind. The eggs are a Coruscantean delicacy Greez has been treasuring for some time. And he isn’t into sharing his eggs with some random Jedi kid.

“Have faith,” Cere remarks just as she steps back inside. The ship doors close with a sizzle. The plating carries the scar from the Second Sister’s lightsaber and Greez has been silently going mental about repairing it.

“What’d he say?” you turn to ask Cere. They exchanged words outside before Cal took off.

She holds a mysterious smile. “He’s out there and that’s enough for now.”

Her often frustrating Jedi-ism deserves a dramatic sigh. “Somehow I knew you’d say that.”

You plop to sit down on the sofa next to her, subjecting yourself to Cere’s sharp, inspecting look. Idly, you inspect the instrument leaning against the table. It has seven strings. The design is simple, yet the materials used look polished and expensive. It has seen better days. You wonder does Cal know how to play or was it really Cere earlier.

“What about you?” she asks.

“What about me?”

“I’m asking how you are,” she clarifies with a strained smile.

You think about replying since you’re not doing so badly at the moment, but just shrug and move on. There are more interesting things to discuss.

“He”–you nod towards the exit–“seems like a decent person,” you say casually.

“Yes, he does,” Cere agrees.

You’re not sure what to make of Cal yet. He keeps a lot inside, hidden to protect himself, or maybe others. On the outside he’s an upright person whose features would be a better fit for a smile than any expression you’ve seen him wearing so far. It’s also been a while since you met another human about your age even though your lives so far couldn’t be more different. It’s probably biasing your judgment.

Also that he’s kind of cute. You didn’t think you were into gingers.

“Secretive, but that’s a Jedi thing, right? One of those with lots of layers you can’t quite reach,” you say and add, “Not that I tried.”

Cere’s smile turns into a warning look. When she took you under her wing, you agreed to not play your tricks just for a show.

“I heard what you said about trusting him and I agree,” you continue despite her, “but my gut is telling me he’s okay. And he isn’t gonna open up until we can trust each other. All of us.”

Greez is busy with his eggs in the kitchen nook and is, at least seemingly, not paying attention to your discussion.

“I think your gut feeling may well be right,” Cere says after a moment and reveals that annoying knowing smile.

“If you say anything about the Force, I’ll throw you with one of Greez’s eggs.”

“Hey! This is non-negotiable: My eggs are off limits!”

You and Cere laugh. Whatever Greez is cooking, smells delicious. He prides himself in being an able cook but you’ve never had the heart to tell him when he doesn’t succeed so well. He almost single-handedly takes care of the catering aboard the Mantis and that’s enough reason to pinch your nose and keep your culinary opinions to yourself. The Laterons like their spices in weird mixes.

“Any thoughts, Greez?” Cere inquires.

Greez humphs, again, as is quickly growing into his norm when talking about Cal Kestis. For some reason it makes you smile.

“Saw him pawing at the grass the moment you turned your back. Hmph. What a weirdo… and he was talking in his sleep.”

“He was?” Greez grimaces at your surprised glance. Guess you shouldn’t be surprised to hear an escapee Jedi suffers from nightmares.

“Yeah, you didn’t hear that? The kid was yelling a name… Prof or Praf or, I don’t know! Something. Why’re you both looking at me like that?” Greez spreads one pair of hands in frustration. The other pair stays with the eggs.

You turn back at Cere, excited words on your lips.

“No,” she says deftly before you can even open your mouth.

“But I can help him,” you argue right back, “That’s not showing off. Let me be helpful for once.”

Cere sighs. “You know I can’t stop you if you ask him and he agrees to it, but please, learn to know him first.”

You slump deeper into the couch, sulking like a child. You both know you don’t need permission from her but you respect Cere too much to act behind her back. Ever since learning of your talents, that she persistently claims to fall under Force-sensitivity (yeah, right), she has been wary, constantly warning you about how influencing the mind can have devastating effects. It’s hard to argue against that since in your previous life the subjects usually didn’t live long enough to experience side-effects.

“I understand… I just want to help,” you mumble.

Cere takes your hand and squeezes it lightly. “I know you do. Let’s discuss this later.”

She doesn’t let go until you nod.

While Cal is out, there’s not much you can do besides pester Greez about some omelet and wait until finally the comm device cracks into life. Traveling in hyperspace is dull but at least you’re moving. You’ve always hated the waiting game. It’s the first time you realize you’re not as patient as you thought you were. Saying it aloud amuses Cere.

The comm snaps and Cere hurries to the control desk – you right at her heels.

“Think I found what you wanted me to see.”

“Be-bee-boop?” a familiar-sounding droid replies confused.

So that’s why Cere sent Cal on wild bogling hunt on Bogano. It starts making sense. You’re trying to keep your nose out of the Jedi business, often just offering understanding hums when Cere wants to talk your ear off. Fortunately, she has a fresh set of ears now in Cal.

Cere smiles relieved. “Sounds like you did. We’ll be waiting.”

“Finally!” Greez rejoices. All the gartro eggs are long gone and who knows when is the next time he can procure such delicacies.

It doesn’t take long for the Jedi to track back to the ship with his new friend.

“You passed the test,” Cere welcomes him.

“So you knew about BD-1?” Cal points to the droid on his back, who twitters in excitement.

“Come on board, we’ll talk inside.”

Cal is positively radiating. Sunshine and fresh air did some good to him. The shadow you first met is gone and he is relaxed, smiling. Your heart is fluttering from relief. You were right about his features being better suited for a smile than a frown.

Greez freaks out when BD-1 jumps on his precious potolli-weave fabric sofa and you swear it’s the last time you’re staying behind when Cal treks out. Based on what he learned about some Jedi master on Bogano, he will have to go and get his hands dirty again on another backwater planet.

Next Chapter

#cal kestis x reader #cal kestis #jedi fallen order #swjfo #swjfo fanfiction #star wars #cere junda #greez dritus #bd-1 #my writings #dear star system

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artificialqueens · 4 years

Text

Tree House Kisses, Chapter 18 (Adorney) - Scorpio and Veronica

A/N: Click here for previous chapters. Xoxo!

Chapter Summary: Someone’s planning a super sweet sixteen, and love is in the air...

Chapter 18: Those Magic Changes

Courtney skipped into the kitchen, trilling, “Gooood morning, mommy!” and giving Karen a big, warm hug. She turned to Karen’s new boyfriend, who was struggling with the coffee maker. “Hi, Todd. Let me help you with that.”

Karen raised an eyebrow at her daughter’s sunny disposition. “Okay, what do you want?”

“Well, now that you mention it, I was thinking about my party…”

“Oh god, here we go--”

“Moooom,” Courtney whined good-naturedly. “It’s my sixteenth birthday. We’re doing it here in the backyard, that’s saving a lot of money, right? I mean, Kim’s was at the Hilton.”

“Courtney, I don’t need to remind you that both the economy and our financial situation were very different back then, right?”

Courtney smiled and put her arms around her mom’s shoulders.

“I know, mommy. That’s my point. Kimmy had a booming economy and the emotional stability of two-parent family. I mean, I’m dealing with a divorce and two wars and a terrible president. I should have a nice birthday party, don’t you think?” Courtney pouted her lip.

Karen laughed. “Well, when you put it that way…”

“So listen,” Courtney said, getting down to business, “Roy’s cousin Tomas is a DJ, and he said he’ll do it for the friends and family rate.” She placed a business card on the counter. “I found a caterer in Pasadena that has tons of vegetarian options and she gives a huge discount if you go pick the stuff up from her.” She put a printout of another business card down carefully. “And she’s like 2 blocks away from a bakery that does vegan cakes and look at this!” Courtney pulled out a picture of a black and white cake with a bright pink bow. “It’s my colors!”

Karen shook her head. “I thought we’d get a cake from Costco, honey.”

“Mother. Costco?” Courtney clutched her chest dramatically. “Omigod, this is worse than the divorce.”

Todd, who had been silent, began to laugh. “I’m pretty stoked on the vegan cake idea, Court.”

“Thank you! Oh, and Party Planet can deliver tables, chairs, lights, decor, everything, early in the morning and then pick it up the next day. They did April’s quinceañera last year, and they are AMAZING.” She put the last piece of paper down triumphantly. “I’ve been doing a lot of research and these are the best deals in town, mom.”

Karen shook her head. “Fine, I will talk to these vendors. I’m not promising anything, though.”

“Thanks, mommy! And remember, we’re also saving money since Darienne and I are doing the invitations and placecards ourselves.”

“You spent three hundred bucks at Michael’s, Courtney. I don’t know how much money that saved.”

“Mommy...have I told you how beautiful you look today?” Courtney batted her eyelashes. “And so young…”

“Go get dressed for school, Courtney.”

She kissed Karen on the cheek and departed from the kitchen, singing, “This will be the best party ever! Because I have the best mother!”

Todd shook his head. “You’re getting so played.”

“I know,” Karen sighed.

Adore and Willam were the last to arrive at lunch; Fame and Pearl were deep in conversation about who knows what and Violet sat across from Trinity, giving her answers to some homework that she didn’t do.

“What’s up, guys?” Adore asked, plopping down in the grass next to Violet and Trinity. Willam sat against the tree butting his way into Fame and Pearl’s conversation.

“Hey, Adore. Just trying to get this finished before class--heard Mrs. Davis is checking for correctness.” Trinity rolled her eyes in annoyance.

“And Violet's helping you. Aw, look who's being nice today,” Adore teased Violet, trying to elicit some kind of response from the girl. Violet had been ignoring Adore since the locker incident and she just wanted things to get back to normal between them. Or as normal as possible, under the circumstances.

Adore sighed when Violet stared at the paper in front of her.

“Did you read the story at all Trin? He dies at the end,” Violet grabbed pencil from Trinity, erasing her answer.

“Lenny dies?!”

“Yeah-” Adore started only to be interrupted by Violet.

“Maybe, you should have read the book. I don't even know why I'm helping you,” Violet passed the paper back.

“Because you love me and like to see me succeed in life,” Trinity flashed a smile and Violet playfully rolled her eyes.

“Never suggest such a thing.”

Adore let out a frustrated groan before flopping back onto the grass between the two girls, “Can you, like, stop acting like I don't exist.” Adore said, a pout on her lips, hazel eyes blinking at Violet.

“Fame,” Violet called over Adore.

“Yes.”

“Do you still have some grapes left?”

“Mhm,” Fame nodded, ready to toss the ziplock to Violet.

“I'll come get them,” Violet said, crawling over to the others.

Adore sat up on her elbows, watching Violet crawl away. Then looked up at Trinity who was shaking her head, “Can you talk to her?”

“I'll try, but you know how Violet is.”

The cast was scattered all over the place waiting their turn to get on the stage and go over blocking and lines. And Adore didn’t hesitate to find her way to where the other pink ladies sat in the back of the theater, plopping down beside Raja.

“Hey,” Adore said softly, bright eyes admiring the beauty of the older girl.

“Sup,” Raja nodded, pulling the headphones off her ears.

“You look good,” the words left Adore’s lips before she could stop them and her face reddened in turn.

Raja was wearing a Cyndi Lauper t-shirt under a frayed jean jacket, patches sewed carefully along the sleeves and front. Her caramel skin peeked through the rips in her jeans, her long dark hair was braided back, bangs swept to one side, and battered black boots giving her more of an edge and pulling the entire look together.

“I ‘look good’?” Raja raised a brow and Adore face grew redder but she nodded, because it was true. “Thanks for the compliment but I threw this on in two minutes. You, look like you took some time getting ready this morning, though,” Raja said, putting her feet up on the seat in front of her.

Raja wasn't wrong, Adore had been spending more time in the mirror in the mornings than usual.

“Not really,” Adore lied, remembering how she kept messing up her eyeliner and nearly wanted to cry because her right eye wasn’t perfect.

The smell of weed and Raja’s perfume had Adore’s stomach doing flips as she leaned in close; the music from her headphones echoed between them.

“Well, you look good,” Raja looked over Adore, before moving to take her feet off the seat.

“Thanks.” Adore tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear.

“Wanna go to the vending machine with me?” Raja asked.

“Yeah.” Adore hurriedly stood up, the pair making their way out of the theatre.

“Have you seen the jackets?” Raja asked as she put her money in the machine.

“No, have you?” Adore leaned against the machine as casually as possible.

“Yeah, I’m helping with the costumes. I gotta show them to you when we get a chance.” Raja said, moving closer to Adore after grabbing her pack of skittles. “Maybe try them on to make sure they fit?” Raja suggested, fingering at Adore’s jacket, brown eyes staring intently into Adore’s.

Adore’s thoughts raced with possibilities, but she only nodded in response.

“Uh, you wanna hang out later?”

“Sorry,” Raja smacked her teeth, stepping back and opening the bag of skittles. “Got work, but another time, okay?”

“Yeah,” Adore nodded.

Once back in the theatre, Raja put her headphones on Adore, going through her music seeing if the younger girl could name the songs from ear.

“You don't know this one,” Raja teased.

“Yeah, I do. Give me a sec; the song just started,” Adore smiled.

“Let me see what part it's on,” Raja leaned in, her scent filling Adore’s senses again. Raja’s hand found a spot on Adore's thigh as she leaned toward her. Raja put her ear to the outside of the headphones and the pressure on Adore’s thigh made it hard for her to concentrate on the song.

“If you haven't gotten it by now, then you're not going to get it,” Raja laughed, hand squeezing Adore’s thigh slightly. Adore turned to look at Raja, heartbeat speeding up when she noticed how close they were to each other; noses nearly touching.

“Whatever, it's all stuff from before I was born. It’s stuff from before you were born,” Adore pulled the headphones off.

“Exactly. When you come to my place… I'm going to have to get you acquainted with some real music.”

Courtney walked back to her seat, trying not to watch Adore’s ridiculously obvious flirting. Frankly, she found Raja to be a little bit pretentious and full of herself, but Adore seemed to think she walked on water, so she was just keeping her opinions to herself.

It wouldn’t be so bad, but she’d canceled their plans twice in the last week, which irritated Courtney to no end. She couldn’t be totally sure that the last time had to do with Raja, but Courtney had her suspicions. She sighed, approaching Roy and Darienne, who were of course dutifully studying for a US History test while everyone else in the theatre was fucking around.

“You alright, babe?” Roy asked.

Courtney looked down at him and smiled sweetly. “Mmmhmm…” She ran a hand through his thick hair and settled into his lap, demanding attention.

Roy grinned, dimples deep in his cheeks, and went in for a long, slow kiss, wrapping his arms around her waist.

“Roy, when did Teddy Roosevelt start the National--” Darienne began and then looked up, rolling her eyes. “You guys, come on...”

“Sorry, am I interrupting?” Courtney asked coyly, batting her eyelashes.

Roy laughed and sucked on her pulse point, one hand trailing down her thigh. “Yes. And don’t stop.”

“You used to be a really responsible study partner, you know!” Darienne said.

Courtney giggled as Roy buried his face in her hair, giving Darienne an apologetic shrug. “Sorry.”

“Whatever. I guess I’ll just be ruining the curve by myself now.” Darienne flipped her hair and went back to her textbook.

Roy lifted his head, eyes blazing. “Fuck you, I’m still gonna ruin the curve. I’ll get a higher grade than you without even studying.”

“Wanna bet?”

“Twenty bucks says I beat your grade on Friday without cracking this book.”

“Deal. Give me the book.”

“You don’t trust me?” Roy clutched his chest in mock dismay.

“Not as far as I can throw you, Del Rio.”

“Hmph. Well, you’re smarter than I thought.” Roy handed over his textbook, chuckling.

“Knock knock…” Adore said, standing at Courtney’s back door.

Courtney pulled off her headphones, sweaty after just getting back from a run, and threw open the door. “Hiya babe, come in!”

“I’m just here to hand-deliver the RSVP for the most ridiculous invitation I’ve ever received.”

Courtney clapped her hands, jumping up and down excitedly. “Did the glitter go everywhere?”

“Yes. You goddamned asshole.”

“Roy was so pissed. He was sitting on his unmade bed and now it’s like, in his sheets. And when I saw him there was even a piece of pink glitter in his eyelashes,” she doubled over laughing. “He said he’s gonna have his mom put a Santeria curse on me.”

“I’d support that.”

“Too bad she loves me!” Courtney giggled mischievously, then sat down at the table, sighing dreamily. “This party is going to be amazing. I almost feel bad for using the divorce to manipulate my parents into spending so much money…”

Adore laughed. “Almost, but not quite?”

“Well, do you remember Kimmy’s sweet sixteen party, at the Hilton?! Come on! I deserve this!” Courtney pouted.

“Of course you do, princess. So...I wanted to ask you a question about the guest list.”

“Yes, I invited Pearl and Willam and no, I did not invite Violet.”

“Noted. But, I was wondering if I could invite Raja.”

Courtney stared at her for a moment, blinking rapidly.

“I mean, you know, we’ve been hanging out, and...things are...why do you look like that?”

“Because Raja has never even said one word to me.”

“Well…” Adore bit her lip. “Maybe, she can just be my plus one.”

“This party is about me, Adore. Why would you need a plus one?” Courtney whined.

“Uh...” Adore hesitated, knowing how Courtney got when it came to her birthday. She was the most important person that day and she’d fight anyone who said otherwise.

“Whatever,” Courtney finally sighed crossing her arms in annoyance.

“Whatever? So, I can-”

“Yeah, you can invite her, I guess. But I expect your present to be the best one I open at my party. I want to be wowed and everyone else to be jealous that you’re my best friend.” Courtney raised a brow, challenging Adore.

Adore let out a nervous chuckle at her friend’s ridiculousness.

“Okay, yeah, it’ll be the best present you could ask for. I promise.” Adore leaned across the table planting a kiss on Courtney’s cheek.

“Pearl, if you can do the school over here, I can work on the foreground,” Sasha said.

“Sure!” Pearl settled down over by the corner as directed, arranging her brushes, chatting with Sasha about the plans for the other backdrops. She was especially excited about getting to take the lead for the drive-in, since Sasha had loved her sketches.

“Sasha! Did you know that the US History test is tomorrow?!” Shea came running around the corner in a panic. She glanced down at Pearl and tried to regain her composure. “Hey Pearl.”

Pearl flashed a coy smile and Shea returned a shy grin.

“Yeah, hon, I know. Do you wanna come over and study later?”

“Uh, yeah, duh. And can I borrow your notes too?” Shea smiled charmingly at her friend.

Sasha laughed. “Sure. I’ll go get them.” She rose from the ground and walked over to her backpack.

Pearl looked up at Shea, standing with one hip cocked, head tilted. She was just so damn cute.

“Shea, I love that dress. Where did you get it?”

“Oh, um...I made it.”

“You made it? Are you serious?” Pearl jumped up to examine it closer. “You are kidding me; this is incredible!” She ran a finger over the colorful fabric.

Shea cleared her throat. “Thanks.” She took a small step back and Pearl wondered if she’d crossed some boundary.

“You know, I heard that they need someone else to do costumes. If you’re interested, I bet Thorgy would kiss your feet.” Pearl tried to give her a friendly, non-predatory, no-homo smile.

“Cool, yeah, that’s…” Shea trailed off, looking into Pearl’s eyes, clearing her throat.

Sasha handed a red notebook to Shea, looking between them with an amused expression. “Here you go. I’ll be done here by 4:30.”

“Okay, thanks. See you later,” Shea said, quickly taking the notebook and bolting.

“Something I said?” Pearl asked.

Sasha laughed. “Don’t take it personally.”

“So, mother,” Courtney skipped into the kitchen, a sly smile on her face and a piece of paper in hand.

“Courtney, please don’t tell me-”

“Just a few last-minute things that I must have for my party.” She held the list out for her mom to take, but Karen only glared at the paper.

“Come on. It’s not bad, I promise,” Courtney waved the paper in front of her face, coaxing her to take it out of her hand.

With a sigh, Karen took the paper from Courtney, folding it up.

“Wait, what are you doing, look at it.”

“I will, when I have time.” Karen assured.

“What’s more important than your baby girl’s sweet sixteen?” Courtney crossed her arms.

“Courtney, don’t start,” Karen squinted at Courtney.

“Ever since you and dad finalized your divorce, it’s been like I don’t even matter,” Courtney eyes watered and her bottom lip quivered for effect.

“You know that’s not true,” Karen sighed, knowing Courtney’s tactics, but couldn’t help feeling the guilt that would eat her alive if Courtney didn’t have the birthday she wanted. “Let me see what you wrote.”

“Two cakes and an ice cream cart,” she looked up with wide eyes.

“We’re doing the vegan cake from Sweet Pea, plus I want a regular chocolate cake for everyone else and an ice cream cart for people who don’t like cakes plus it’s cute and fun and the awning matches my color scheme.” Courtney smiled and Karen rolled her eyes.

“You’ll get the vegan cake and one or the other; not both,” she said before she continued reading. “Smoke machines, strobe lights? Disco balls? Courtney--”

“They are just little add-ons to the lighting package! It’ll make the dance floor sooo much more fun, Mommy, please!”

“Balloon arch? Confetti cannons? A photographer AND videographer? Do you want a clown too?” Karen murmured under her breath, but Courtney heard her mother and only rolled her eyes.

“Mom, we need production value, and the photographer is to capture the memories, it’s going to be such a special day.”

“We can all take pictures. I have a camera, and so does your father, and Todd, plus I’ll borrow the video camera from Bonnie. And doesn’t your friend Thorgy take beautiful pictures?”

“Yeah, but that’s not as good as a professional!”

“Whatever,” her mother shook her head.

“Keep going,” Courtney waved her hand. Her mother grew silent as she continued to read the list.

“Okay, Courtney. No!” Karen slapped the paper on the counter, wanting to get it out of her hands as quick as possible causing Courtney to frown.

“What?”

“No spray tan, no teeth whitening! Even if we had that kind of money, which we don’t, that stuff is full of toxic chemicals.”

“But, mom, it’s winter and I’m so pasty, I need a tan!” she whined.

“I said NO! And I’m not hiring a professional makeup artist, or hairstylist either. Kimmy can do your hair and makeup. I don’t have the money for this stuff and you know it.”

“What about daddy?” Courtney asked. Did she know her list was a bit much, yes, but did she think it was unreasonable, no.

“Pick out three things that you really want from this and then I’ll call your father,” she slid the paper across the counter to Courtney.

“Mommy!”

“Courtney. Don’t.”

They glared at each other, before finally Courtney decided to give in.

“I’ll rewrite the list.”

“Thank you, I’ll call your dad.”

Fingers intertwined with Roy, Courtney made her way to her locker, going on and on about her plans for the party in a couple of weeks.

“I already have it narrowed down between three outfits that I might wear for my party. I just can’t figure out which one would be the best one,” Courtney pouted.

“You’ll look beautiful in any outfit you choose,” Roy leaned in, placing a soft kiss to her cheek.

“You haven’t even seen the outfits. How would you know?”

“That’s because you won’t let me and you’re the most beautiful girl no matter what you wear,” Roy smiled, tugging Courtney’s hand, pulling her into his chest as they walked up to Courtney’s locker.

All Courtney had been able to talk about for the last week is party plans and Roy found it absolutely endearing how adamant she was on making sure everything was less no than perfect. His only job so far was to find the perfect birthday gift for her, which was stressful in its own right.

“Thank you,” Courtney said, stopping in front of her locker before pulling Roy into a sweet kiss, “but you’re no help right now. I just have to decide on what color I want to wear and then it’ll really narrow it down. Everyone else will be wearing black and white so that means I need to pick the perfect color to POP compared to everyone else.” Courtney continued as she unlocked her locker.

“I thought you’re wearing pink.”

“Oh my god, do you know how many shades of pink there are?” she rolled her eyes. “I mean- OHMYGOD!” Courtney squealed as she opened her locker, startling Roy.

“What!? What’s wrong?” Roy pulled the locker door open wider to see a black box decorated with glittery numbers saying “1996” sitting on top of a note. His brows furrowed in confusion as Courtney bounced on her feet in excitement.

She grabbed the box out of her locker and opened it, another squeal leaving her before she closed the box, looking up at Roy with teary green eyes. She reopened the box a big smile spreading across her face as she ran her finger over the pretty silver brush and pulled out a familiar bright red hair bow and slipped it onto her wrist.

Courtney sat at the table watching her mother take the cookies out of the oven, setting them aside to cool down.

“Are we going to take allll the cookies over there?” Courtney asked, blinking up at her mother, hoping that she would let her keep a few for herself; it had been her idea to bake cookies for the new neighbors instead of the lasagna Karen wanted to take over, secretly hoping that she’d get some cookies too.

“We’ll keep a few here, since you were so helpful today,” Karen said taking her oven mitts off, “Now go wash up while the cookies cool down.”

Later, Courtney skipped down the sidewalk at her mother’s side, excited to be the first one to meet the new family out of all of her friends.

“Does the new neighbors have kids?” Courtney asked.

“Well, I saw a boy a little older than you and I saw a little girl around your age, when they were still moving yesterday.”

“I’ll ring the doorbell!” Courtney yelled, running up to the door and pressing the button, beyond excited to meet these brand-new kids.

“Just once,” Karen swatted Courtney’s hand away from the doorbell as she went to push it again.

Courtney mimicked her mother, smiling wide when the door swung open to reveal a woman with dyed curly blonde hair and a young girl hiding behind the woman’s leg.

“Hi! I’m Karen and this is my daughter, Courtney. We thought we’d welcome you to the neighborhood with some homemade cookies.” Karen held out the container.

“They’re vegan!” Courtney added, smiling up at the woman.

“Thank you! Vegan cookies, wow. Never had them before.” Bonnie gave a tight smile, taking the cookies from Karen.

“They’re really really good,” Courtney said, addressing the girl behind the woman’s leg more than the woman herself, hoping that they would like the cookies as much as she did.

“This is really appreciated. I’m Bonnie, and this is my baby girl Adore,” Bonnie said. “Do you want some coffee?”

“I’m not a baby!” Adore exclaimed, before hiding again, biting her lip.

Courtney smiled at Adore, wiggling her fingers at the dark-haired girl. She couldn’t see much of her as she peaked at Courtney from between Bonnie’s legs; but the bright red bow wrapped around the girl’s ponytail caught Courtney’s attention and she had an urge to tug it.

Courtney was shaken from her thoughts as Karen’s hand on her shoulder guided her into the house.

“Adore, why don’t you and Courtney go play. You can show her your new bedroom,” Bonnie suggested, and headed into the kitchen, chatting with Karen along the way.

“I really like your bow. It’s so pretty, I don’t have any bows,” Courtney said reaching to tug at the bow, but Adore moved out of her reach, causing Courtney to frown for a moment until she saw a big smile spread across Adore’s face.

“Do you want to go upstairs and see my other stuff? I have so many bows,” Adore touched her own before turning to run up the stairs and Courtney followed.

She closed the box sitting it back in her locker and picked up the card that the box had sat on.

“Uh, so who is it from,” Roy asked even though he was ninety-nine percent sure he knew who it was from.

Courtney ignored him as she read the card:

Remember my favorite red bow I used to always wear? When we first met, you’d beg me to let you wear it. When I finally gave in, you lost it the next day. I can’t believe we stayed friends after that. :p It must be because you were the only one who had patience for my “tender-headed bullshit,” to quote my lovely mother. This is gift 1 of 10, for our 10 years of friendship. -Dory

Courtney watched Adore whimper, grit her teeth and stomp her feet as Bonnie detangled her hair.

“It's okay, Dory,” Courtney said softly, hating to see Adore like this. She sat in front of Adore, trying to distract her from the brush running through her hair.

When Adore let out a cry as the brush snagged on a particular knot, tears started to fall from her eyes. Courtney leaped forward, pulling Adore into a tight hug.

Bonnie shook her head, finding the whole scene adorable and over-dramatic.

“She'll be fine, Courtney.” Bonnie assured.

When the girls didn't let go of each other, Bonnie decide to send Courtney off.

“Courtney, can you be an angel and go get Adore's big red bow out of her bedroom for me.”

Courtney nodded, peeling away from Adore, running to get the bow, knowing that it was Adore's favorite and wanting to get back to her as soon as possible.

Running as fast as her little legs could carry she burst through Adore’s bedroom door, grabbing the red bow from her night table. Courtney hesitated for just a moment, admiring the brightness of it before Adore’s yelp from downstairs pulled her out of her thoughts, causing her to spring back into action.

Passing the bow to Bonnie, Courtney plopped back down in front of a crying Adore.

“Hold my hand, Dory.” Courtney said, shoving her hand towards Adore and they stayed like that until Adore’s hair was finished.

“Babe, are you crying?” Roy wrapped his arms around Courtney.

“No,” she sniffed, “I just really miss that red bow,” she turned around to face him.

Fuck, he thought, he completely forgot that he was going to be going up against Adore for the title of best gift. Best friend vs Boyfriend.

Around the corner, Adore watched Courtney’s emotional reaction to her gift with a satisfied smirk. Nailed it.

“Dory, pretty pleasssseee,” Courtney begged, hugging Adore tight.

All Courtney wanted was to wear Adore’s red bow, when her Grandma Muriel came to visit tomorrow, but Adore didn't want Courtney to wear it because it was hers.

“No,” Adore huffed.

“But I promise to bring it back,” Courtney pouted, blinking those wide green eyes.

Adore crossed her arms, red bow tight in her hand. Courtney smiled mischievously hand inching toward Adore's. She gripped the tip of the bow and tried to lightly tug it out of Adore’s hand.

“No, Courtney!” Adore yelled, hopping off the couch. Crossing her arms and turning her nose up.

“Pretty please! With cherries on top,” Courtney bottom lip quivered, her feelings hurt that Adore was being so mean to her to today. “I thought you were my best friend.”

“I am.” Adore uncrossed her arms nodding.

“No, you're not because you won't let me wear your bow.” Courtney pouted.

Hurt was evident on Adore’s face at Courtney's statement of no longer being best friends. She looked down at the red bow that she had taken off her hair earlier and contemplated her options. The red bow was hers and it was her favorite. She also liked being Courtney's best friend; they played together all the time, watched movies and did everything together.

She was scared Courtney would try to keep her bow, but she didn't want to stop being Courtney's best friend.

“Okay,” she sighed, “you can wear it.” Adore held the bow to Courtney, who squealed in delight, attacking Adore in a tight hug, sending them both to the ground.

“Here, hold this,” Courtney shoved the box and the card into Roy's hands. She raked her hair high above her head like she’d do on game days and wrapped the bow around her ponytail.

As Courtney fixed her hair, Roy noticed Adore moving toward them from the lockers behind them. Eyes wide in surprise that he hadn't noticed her there earlier, he moved to the side as Adore snuck up behind Courtney, wrapping her arms around his girlfriend’s waist.

“P.S. I'm still a little bitter about you losing my bow, even though your mom bought both of us replacements,” Adore snickered as Courtney squealed for the third time that day, turning around and throwing her arms around her neck.

“I didn't do it on purpose,” Courtney pouted and Roy cleared his throat. Adore immediately noticed the intimacy of their position and stepped back.

Courtney, distracted by the surprise, only turned back to the locker.

“Does it look good?” she asked straightening it out trying to look in the small locker mirror.

“Looks amazing,” Adore smiled.

“It looks perfect,” Roy nodded, before shooting Adore a quick glare, wracking his brain for the perfect gift to beat Adore’s.

15 notes · View notes

queerebrum · 4 years

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It’s late and I (cannot seem to find my way home tonight) | 2k | Jackson-centric. Written for @jacksonwhittemoreweek 2020, day 5: part of the pack!

also on AO3!

Jackson had hated everything about London almost as soon as he’d arrived. Sure, at least he hadn’t died here. He hadn’t terrorized an entire town and everyone in it. Here, he was just another face in the crowd. He was nothing at all, really.

It was freeing and heartbreaking.

Most of Jackson’s life had been spent searching for a connection, for a family. He’d tried to be the best son, everyone’s best friend, the best boyfriend he could be for Lydia. He gave everyone the best of him, and yet none of it even touched the emptiness inside him. David and Jacqueline Whittemore cared about him, had raised him, given him every opportunity to succeed, and even claimed to love him.

But….to Jackson, love was supposed to be more than a word. It wasn’t supposed to be a burden, like he was just another ‘to do’ on the list of things his father wanted to accomplish with his life.

The closest Jackson had gotten to feeling like he was actually a part of something had been those brief weeks in Beacon Hills as a werewolf. While Derek and Peter had done their best to shove a lifetime’s worth of instruction on how not to become a mindless killing machine (again) into a few weeks of time, he’d felt like maybe he was actually connected to them. The bonds of the pack, they were real, tangible. Jackson could feel them: Derek and Peter, Isaac, and even, faintly, Scott. He’d felt connected, felt included.

And then, he’d crossed an ocean, and now all he felt was alone.

“Whittemore!”

His name shook him out of his head and he turned away from the window he’d been staring through to see the closest person he had to a friend, the son of one of his father’s business associates, waving at him. Jackson gave a halfhearted wave back and shoved his hands into his pockets, wandering towards him and the few friends he’d brought with him.

“Little birdy told me you’ve got a birthday coming up,” Andrew said, crossing his arms over his chest. “Any idea what you want to do for it?”

Go home. “No,” Jackson answered. His birthday was a full moon. He was sure that, alone somewhere quiet, he could keep his wolf anchored enough not to hurt anyone, but to do that somewhere with loud music and strangers? It felt dangerous. “I’m not sure I’m up for anything. It’s not like I know anyone here.”

Andrew’s eyes narrowed slightly, and then he smirked and gave a quick shake of his head. “You’ve got to, mate. It’s your birthday. I’ll plan something for you. I certainly know people.”

“I’m really not sure--”

“Unless you’ve got a reason not to have a birthday party ,” Andrew smirked. “You won’t have to do anything, I promise. It’ll be fun.”

With a resigned sigh, Jackson nodded. Andrew beamed, and then moved like he might grab Jackson’s shoulder. At the last moment, he hesitated and then waved for Jackson to follow him out of their fathers’ office building and into the sights and sounds of London.

Planning, it turned out, was something that Andrew took a lot of pride in. That meant that all Jackson had to do was sit back and let him take care of everything. There was a pub to rent out, music to arrange, and catering to handle. Andrew made it all look easy. Andrew and Lydia, Jackson thought casually, would probably get along well.

It also turned out that he had dramatically miscalculated his ability to control his shift on a full moon, but by the time he realized, it was too late to take it all back.

And so, as the moon rose outside, he found himself hiding in the corner of a loud, dark room crawling with bodies. One of his clawed hands was clenched tightly in a fist, and he was keeping his eyes forcefully closed so as to not alert the entire pub to the glowing cobalt blue of them.

His wolf didn’t want loud noises and strangers. His wolf wanted his pack, wanted to be let off the leash to run and play and exist with the closest thing he really had to family. Jackson couldn’t help but realize that that was what he wanted too, not just his wolf. He’d run from Beacon HIlls, afraid of the mess he’d left behind, not ready to face the terror of what he’d done. He’d crossed an ocean and hoped that he’d be able to forget what it was like to be a monster, to pretend he was just normal.

Just your everyday, ordinary, American werewolf in London.

The pumping bass of the music was agony on his overly sensitive ears. He was unable to tune it out, to focus on anything else. His control, tenuous as it was, began to slip and then, out of nowhere, a scent hit his nose. Beneath the scent of sweat and alcohol, he smelled home, safety …

Alpha.

Jackson heard footsteps approaching him, the scent was tangible and real and here. He didn’t flinch away when a broad, warm hand reached out to grip the back of his neck. Jackson fought to not let out the high pitched whine that grew in the back of his throat.

“Get it together, Jackson. Find your anchor.” Derek’s voice was always gentler than Jackson expected it to be. He spoke like a man who knew what it was like to be broken and handled poorly. It wasn’t kind per se, but it wasn’t harsh either. Derek was prepared to cut himself repeatedly on his own sharp edges before he’d let anyone be hurt like he’d been.

Jackson dragged in a few breaths. Derek’s scent and presence blocked out the noise. He could feel the pack bonds, now glowing and warm rather than weak and brittle as they had been. Slowly, once he was sure he was back in control, he was able to open and take in the image of the man in front of him.

Derek was dressed casually and, when Jackson wasn’t overwhelmed by the scent of alpha , he sort of smelled like stale air and the city. Jackson shook his neck out of the alpha’s grip and unclenched his hand, keeping it angled away from the masses so nobody saw the slowly healing crescents from where his claws had pierced his palms. “What are you doing here?”

“It’s your birthday,” Derek answered, still standing closer to Jackson than he would have expected. “And a full moon. Lydia said sometimes your birthdays meant you made poor choices.”

Jackson couldn’t help but smile at that; nobody knew him better than Lydia Martin. “So you just decided to get on a plane and fly here to make sure I didn’t make any poor choices?”

Derek raised both eyebrows and pointedly moved his eyes in a slow circle. “Apparently I was too late to stop that.”

“I didn’t plan this,” Jackson said. “I got...bullied into it.”

“You got bullied?” Incredulity dripped from Derek’s voice.

“Jackson! There you are.” Jackson winced at Andrew’s voice. Derek shifted so he was beside him instead of blocking him from view. Andrew stopped a few paces away from them, his eyes flicking to Derek.

“Who’s this?” Andrew asked, his voice carefully paced and even-toned. A half-empty beer bottle dangled from one hand, his other motioning towards Derek.

Jackson saw Derek take in the other man, watched his jaw clench imperceptibly, saw the way Derek’s hands flexed, ready for a fight. In control, with all of his senses heightened by the moon and his alpha by his side, Jackson could smell the wolfsbane, the gun oil and lighter fluid that marked Andrew as the hunter that he was. Did Andrew or Andrew’s father even know Jackson’s father? Or had this all just been a setup, designed to end with him dead?

Obviously displeased that Jackson hadn’t answered him, Andrew turned to Derek, “Were you even on the list?” And then asked Jackson, “Has he been bothering you?”

“I’m just -” Derek started.

“This is my boyfriend, Derek,” Jackson finished quickly. “From California.” He wrapped one of his arms through Derek’s and leaned his head over to rest against the curve of Derek’s shoulder. “We’re not really still a thing but I told him I missed him. It’s my birthday, so he came.”

“Oh,” Andrew said, still tense and flicking his eyes to Derek sparingly. “Well, cheers, Derek.” Andrew tilted his beer bottle towards him. “Jacks, there’s someone I want you to meet.” He held out a hand towards Jackson.

“In a little while,” Jackson said, pressing one hand to Derek’s chest, not daring to look up and see if he was playing along. “Derek just got here. I’ll find you in a few minutes, okay?”

“Sure.” Andrew eyed the pair warily once more, and took a few steps backwards before spinning and disappearing into the crowd.

“We’re leaving. Now, ” Derek said into Jackson’s ear. The beta agreed, letting Derek tug him through the kitchen towards the back door of the pub. “Did you know he was a hunter?”

“Not until two minutes ago.” Jackson said, rubbing at the bridge of his nose as they walked. “I thought you were just overblowing the whole ‘lone wolf dies, pack survives’ thing.”

Derek gave Jackson a hard look. “It’s not just a mantra. I lived it.”

“Well, turns out that I’ve spent the last six weeks being seduced by a hunter.” Jackson gave a harsh exhale, frustration tugging at his control. The pull of the moon was strong in his blood.

“Did you sleep with him?” Derek asked, grabbing one of Jackson’s shoulders and tugging the beta around to face him. Jackson was surprised by the vulnerability in Derek’s eyes, something he’d seen only sparingly before. “Did you?”

“No,” Jackson answered, blinking rapidly. “No, I haven’t been...feeling well since I got here.” He’d been dedicated to ignoring the fact that being in London had all but killed his sex drive. “But I’m beginning to think this whole thing was a setup to get me to lose control so they could kill me.”

Relief washed over Derek’s face. When they got to the back door, they found the way blocked with mountain ash. Derek swore, pulling out his phone. “Yeah,” he said, giving Jackson a deadpan glare. “I’d say it was a setup.” He dialed and put the phone to his ear.

Jackson frowned. “Who are you even calling?”

“Backup.” Derek’s face went sour as Jackson heard the person on the other end of the line go, ‘So I was right?’ Derek frowned, but gruffly responded, “Gloat later. Come get us out of here.”

Jackson didn’t distinctly remember mentioning Andrew’s name to Lydia, but it turned out that at some point he had. And, in a very fortunate series of events, Lydia had mentioned it to Allison, who had mentioned it to Chris, who had recognized it as the name of an English hunting family. It hadn’t taken long to put the pieces together: Jackson was in danger.

The fact that Jackson’s birthday was on a full moon had only prompted the pack into action faster .

The Argents, Isaac, Stiles, and Peter had accompanied Derek to London, and it was the five of them, along with Derek and Jackson, that remained in the pub after they’d cleared it out. Allison had Andrew tied neatly to a chair. At some point, he’d been gagged with his own tie, because Stiles of all people had gotten sick of listening to his unending tirade against werewolves and all things supernatural. They were waiting for the arrival of Andrew’s father, so that Chris Argent could exert his ancient hunting family dominance and put a stop to the facade.

“Did you have to tell him I was your boyfriend?” Derek hissed to Jackson, who was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest.

Jackson glanced up at Derek and chuckled. “It was the first thing I thought of that would get him to leave us alone. I didn’t want to make him even more angry by pointing out that my alpha had crashed his party.”

Derek’s face went through a complicated series of microexpressions before landing on fond amusement. There was a tilt to his lips that Jackson thought might have been a smile.

Before Derek could reply, the door slammed open and a furious Harrison Deighton appeared in the doorway, his eyes scanning the occupants. He was accompanied by a pair of men, large, imposing figures that didn’t move more than a few feet from their leader. “Release my son,” he snarled.

Chris Argent sat lazily on a barstool, one foot dangling, not yet looking at the newest additions to the room. “Did you know he was planning this? A birthday party for a new werewolf on a full moon? Loud, full of strangers?” Even Jackson appreciated the force of Argent’s ice blue gaze as it flicked up to meet the Englishman’s furious one. “A werewolf that has killed no one in your territory and was here for a fresh start?”

“He’s got blue eyes,” Harrison answered. “Drew’s seen them. You sent a blue-eyed werewolf to my territory, Argent .” The name was laced with hatred. “Your father and sister would never --”

“Aunt Kate is dead,” Allison said firmly, stepping forward. “And my father didn’t send Jackson here. I did.” She held her head high. “I assumed that the hunters in this region weren’t codebreakers.” She flicked a disdainful look at Andrew. “Turns out I was wrong.”

“He’s got blue eyes .”

“Would you shut up about his eyes already?” Peter rolled his own eyes and, in a feat of control Jackson was sure came with thirty-plus years as a werewolf, half-way through the roll they began to burn their deep cobalt color. “Or we’re going to have bigger problems.”

Chris shook his head at the theatrics. “You’re going to leave him alone, Deighton. You and your son. An attack on him without a valid excuse and I will go to the Hunter Council about this. Am I clear?”

Deighton shot Jackson a hateful look before turning back to Chris and nodding. At that, Isaac stepped forward and, with a bright and triumphant grin, used his claws to cut through the rope holding the younger hunter to the chair. Andrew’s hands shot up to pull the tie out of his mouth.

“Get away from me, you animal.”

Harrison turned and, accompanied by his men, left the building. Andrew moved quickly to follow, sidestepping around the werewolves in his way. As he made it to the door, Stiles stepped up to block the doorway with a tight, serious expression. “Lay one finger on him and it won’t be the wolves that come after you.” Jackson watched something spark in Stiles’ eyes, the brown of his irises glowing ethereally for a moment before fading away. “Have a nice night.”

Well, that was new.

“Are you guys gonna tell me why you’re really here?” Jackson asked once they were sure the Deightons were gone. He crossed his arms over his chest defensively. “Lydia worried about me and you all figured out there was a hunter after me, sure, but did six of you really need to come to London just to protect me?”

“You’re pack,” Derek answered, his eyebrows drawn in confusion, but the look slipped from confusion into something harder to interpret. He stared at the floor, hands clasped together.

“You’re pack, and we’re a little short on that these days,” Stiles picked up the slack for Derek from his place near the door. “Erica and Boyd are still missing.”

“What does that have to do with me?”

“I can’t lose any more betas,” Derek said finally, looking up. “Letting you leave was a mistake. Sending you here alone, without a pack, was a mistake. If you want to come home, Argent, Peter and I will negotiate it with your parents.”

Jackson was almost embarrassed by how quickly he agreed, but two days later he was seated beside the alpha on a plane back to Beacon Hills, and he couldn’t remember feeling so content in his life.

#Jackson Whittemore #jaw2020 #Teen Wolf fic #Derek Hale #my fic #teen wolf #jw #dh #halemore #kinda #my stuff #that gif was a *bitch*

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evien-stark · 4 years

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✧I Need You✧ Chapter 194

It was the Monday before Christmas. And three days before the big holiday party that seemed to be looming all the more. While everyone important had already RSVP'd and there was no need to worry about who would be coming when, you hadn’t had much time to actually plan for it. Buried beneath a mountain of worries that no matter how many times Tony told you to ease off of, you couldn’t help yourself. Maybe when the day came that you actually could you should start being concerned.

But that didn’t help now. It was a little late to ask Pepper or Happy to start helping out- even though you knew they would without question. That was exactly why you couldn’t abuse their sense of responsibility. Nor their sense of friendship. They’d do it because it was you asking. So you shouldn’t ask.

Going through the motions like this was a little strange. You’d never had trouble before just… making phone calls. Doing what should have been ordinary tasks. Yet now it felt like you were trudging up a hill to do even the smallest of things. Open an email. Check the news. Do anything that mattered. But you just… couldn’t. Couldn’t seem to work up the will or the strength.

This in turn made you feel worse. Your lack of effort was abysmal and things were going to start suffering because of it. But worrying about that only put you ten steps even further back. This was turning into a mess. You had a party to plan in less than three days now, and you had to do it right before the holidays. Everyone would already be booked up. Not that they wouldn’t move all their things around to cater a Stark Industries event. But…

But…

Pepper was only just barely able to garner your attention. “Not that I’m micromanaging you or anything but… I’ve noticed a stellar lack of food and bar disasters. My phone’s been eerily silent.”

Every big party always ran under the assumption that if something could go wrong, it most definitely would. And always did. This close to the party- Pepper was right. Her phone should have been blowing up. She should have been delegating things left and right for clean up. It was hard to even bring yourself to admit defeat here. “I… haven’t started.”

Her brows went right up, surprise taking hold of her before a more optimistic understanding cloaked her. “I know you have a lot more to worry about than parties.”

Bringing your hands up, you rubbed absently at your forehead. “I shouldn’t.”

With a tip of her head and a cross of her arms she studied you for a moment. “Superhero duties aside, you still are running a business.”

Am I? The thought nearly popped out of you. Only just barely stopping it. Your mouth was open to say something. Something that was of more detriment to you than her. Instead you just sighed with a shake of your head. “I just fell behind, I guess.”

“Do you need help?”

This question struck you at an odd angle. If you were any weaker you might have just started crying. You almost felt it on the horizon. Your eyes avoided hers. “I didn’t want to bother you.”

“Really?” Now she was smiling. Teasing, just a little. “You’ve never had a problem with it before.”

Your own smile by comparison was gray and fake. “Well. In that case… think you can throw together something in the next three days?”

The roll of her eyes was of a somewhat loving sort. “Only for you.”

“Thank you.”

She left without another word, closing the door behind her. Left you there. Sitting. Stewing about things you had no control over yet. Things you promised Tony you’d try and stop worrying about. But you couldn’t. Anxious immobility had you for a little while longer. But when you found the connection between your brain and your limbs again…

You found yourself picking up your cell phone. Making a very important call. It rang twice, but when he finally picked up, “Ms. INY.” His usual soft voice was a balm.

“Hi, JARVIS.”

“A delight as always. To what do I owe the pleasure this time?” There was no easy way of asking this. In fact, thinking it made you feel a little foolish. So much so that when too much time had passed, “...Ms. INY?” “Would you-” The words startled out of you. But you stopped, still not sure how to ask. He waited this time, finally getting the gist, perhaps, of what was going on. “...I know you’re coming down for the holiday party with the rest of them but I… I’d like to spend some time with you. Before then. If that’s okay with you.”

He didn’t have to think much about it. “Okay is perhaps an understatement.” But this still wasn’t a real yes.

And your heart wanted to ask. So you did. “JARVIS will you come home?”

The sound of a light little amused breath escaped him. “Home…”

Something inside of you twisted uncomfortable. “I know that’s not a fair thing to ask- or even say- I know- I know you’re settled in over there, but-”

“Please don’t mistake my reaction. I think I was merely… reminiscing.”

Your smile was weak, but a shade truer than the one you’d worn in front of Pepper. “Would you mind reminiscing over here?”

There was a more certain chuckle this time. “Certainly. I can be there by this afternoon.”

“Oh.” Now you felt bad. “You don’t have to just run for me. I can meet you tomorrow.”

“I don’t have to. But I’d like to.”

Well. That settled it, then.

---

He arrived sooner than he promised. A little after eleven. Pepper showed him into your office. Though you’d only just been able to break from your stupor and get a small amount of work done, his presence superseded anything else you had to do that day. Mostly because you missed him but also because you had asked him to come here and to ignore him after the fact or ask him to wait would be rude.

He was dressed rather casually, something you’d never seen him do before. And, as you got up from your desk and walked over, you inspected him just a little. Dark slacks, an argyle sweater, a warm trench coat with a cable knit scarf- which you reached up to give a little tug. “Who’s dressing you these days? They’re doing a wonderful job.”

His grin was honest. “I dress myself, thank you.”

“You’ve always had good taste.”

“I’m glad you’ve not forgotten.”

It was with great ease and relief that you lifted up on tippy-tip-toe and wound your arms around his neck, hugging him tight. His reaction was just as kind and swift, his own coming around the mid of your back. Holding to you. You missed him. The embrace probably said all that and more. But he also deserved a life free of being held to your every beck and call- even if that’s what he’d said he wanted to do.

When finally the two of you found it in yourselves to part, you rocked back a little on your heels. “Would you mind taking a walk around the park with me?”

His expression turned curious “It’s frightfully chilly outside. And snowing.”

“Well lucky for us I have a jacket and an umbrella.” Easy remedies to the problems he was posing. It would just be nice to go outside and get some fresh air. Be away from all the reminders that you weren’t doing as much as you could.

For a moment he seemed like he might deny you, but then you realized he was thinking about something else. “And what of your engagement ring?”

To this your brows shot straight up in surprise. He’d caught you completely off guard. Your hands went to your hips. “Rhodey blabbed??” Disappointed if that was the case but not necessarily mad.

JARVIS’ half smirk was very telling. “You mistake me for a fool. I assure you, I’m not.”

You weren’t really sure what he meant by that. “Are we being too obvious?” You and Tony had only tried to make it extremely clear that the holiday party could not be missed.

“Perhaps. But… while my estimations were that that would be the next step the two of you took… I was merely guessing.”

The shake of your head was a little too quick. “Ah. You tricked me. I see.” Walking away from him then to grab your jacket hanging on the back of the door. A dramatic sigh escaped you as you shouldered your coat on. “And to think I was excited to tell you myself…”

A bout of sadness mixed with nervousness caught him. “-I didn’t mean to ruin the moment.” Worried that he’d done exactly that. And feeling pretty bad about it.

You took him by the arm. “You could never ruin anything.” Assuring him. Not wanting him to carry that weight around. “Shall we?”

It took him a second to rebound, but eventually he did smile with a nod. “We shall.”

---

The first thing you did was bring him down the block to get coffee. Despite all the common occurrences- superheroes and battles being waged across the city more often than ever- everyone had their phones up snapping pictures. Maybe it was that the world wasn’t used to seeing The Vision being so casual. ...all the more reason to soften up his image a little. Make him a little less alien and new and more just… like the rest of everyone else. What better way to do that than to put a Starbucks frou-frou latte in his hand.

He insisted on holding the umbrella as the two of you walked. And despite the extremely sensitive nature of literally every topic you wanted to and did talk with him about, you weren’t worried for some reason about interlopers. Sure, there were paparazzi camping on the other side of the street, matching your strides, snapping pictures, but… you and JARVIS were in your own little world. And it felt good to just let it all out. Talk with him. Confide in him.

By the time you were finished you were part way into Central Park. The lattes had long ago lost their heat. You’d finished unloading on him, and the two of you stood lakeside as he thought. His gaze was distant. Almost like he was calculating every bit of information you’d handed to him and trying to figure out the best approach to deal with everything. But. When he was finished and he turned again to look at you-

“I think… there is merit in planning. In the efforts of planning. But if you don’t mind my saying so, that is not your strength.”

This you didn’t expect to hear from him at all. Your brows went straight up and your head tipped to the side. “Really.”

There was just a tick of nervousness. Very small and barely noticeable. It was clear he didn’t want to say the exact wrong thing. He continued on regardless. “Tony’s great strengths are in his futurism ways. He’s able to see- what he hopes will come and knows what will not. And he plans. He builds. But where that is his strength, his weakness is action in the moment. Without following a set path, should something wrong happen, he becomes impulsive and brash. He falls back to others. Like Rogers. Like you.”

This was a whole hell of a lot to take in. But as you listened, as you did think about all of it… JARVIS had some very fine points. Tony was the smartest man on earth no doubt, but he was also the dumbest sometimes, too. And brash was an understatement. You remembered very clearly an incident with a reporter that then led to a missile being blasted at your house in California. It wasn’t that Tony couldn’t handle situations, he could, but JARVIS was right. Given the choice he always seemed to ask the people he trusted in heated moments what they thought the next right move was instead of ordering and falling back to his own sense.

As you were still struggling with all of this, JARVIS took a breath and then continued. “You can only prepare for an event or a future so much until it starts causing your detriment. I think all the fallout shelters that litter this world are a great example of such. Preparing for a future that would never come, some even driving men to madness.” This. This was where you and Tony were right now. You knew that’s what he was getting at. And Tony had been there- stewing in that trying-to-prepare madness a few times more than you.

Building an army of suits that he then… destroyed more than half of. That impulsivity again… And your suit too, all in the efforts of preparation. Every upgrade, every little touch. You sighed, watching your breath hang on the air. “I hope you’re not about to tell me I just need to ignore everything and go on with my life.” As if that was even an option.

His smile was sweet. “You and I both know that would be advice that would go unheeded. No. What I mean to say, is that where Tony’s strength is his planning, yours is your action. You are guided by some strange force, I have no doubt, in moments where it seems like all is lost. You always know what to do. Or what to say.”

Denial was so very easy. Your head was shaking and you turned just a little bit away. “I can’t say I agree.”

“I know you won’t, but please at least consider what I’m saying. This is why people look to you. It is not for your planning, it is for what you will do in moments that matter. How you will quell fears and calm hearts with well placed words. You make a sense of the impossible and follow through for the betterment of everyone behind you. Please just… think about this. About every time you found yourself in a terrible situation, but your heart guided you out. Your care for others makes you a very powerful force in every moment where it mattered.”

“So… what?” You lifted a hand at him in a half shrug. “You’re seriously telling me to just ignore all this and go with the flow? Just count on that I’ll know what to do when I have to do it?” This wasn’t a very reasonable plan.

Smile gone then, he frowned softly. “I am asking you to trust that Tony will plan for everything that he can. And for the things that he cannot, I know you will find your way out on the other side. I have seen it time and time again.” Still a little upset that this was the conclusion he was drawing, you opened your mouth to continue arguing, but he stopped you. “Did you plan to call me here? Or did you just do it?”

It was like he’d caught you in a trap. You felt like you were caught. Like a kid with their hand in the cookie jar. “I… I wanted to spend some time with you. And talk with you about all this.”

Strangely, he offered up his half empty coffee cup and without thinking you reached to take it from him. His then free hand moved to lay on your shoulder. “And here I am.” There was so much weight to this.

You called him because you wanted to talk- so you should trust him. You called him because you wanted to spend time with him- and he’d heeded this need without a second thought. Maybe part of you knew he would.

...was JARVIS on to something here?

“Hey- uh- excuse me?” Before you could make heads or tails of this new advice or what to do with it, a young voice called your attention. Both you and JARVIS turned and were greeted with the sight of a stout young man with dark hair and eyes. “Sorry- I’m sorry to bother you-”

You gave him a smile to let him know he was alright. “That’s okay. What’s your name?” JARVIS stood back a little uncomfortably. Obviously unused to these types of situations.

His grin was suddenly explosive and sunny. “Ned. I uh- would it be cool to get your autographs?” He then held up a very crumpled piece of paper- probably something that was shoved deep into one of his coat pockets, not exactly expecting to see either of you. He also produced a pen that you were mostly sure wasn’t going to work in this temperature.

This was an easier break so you jumped at the opportunity. “Sure thing. Would you mind holding one of these?”

“Of course! What are you drinking, anyway? Oh- hey- can you make it out to my friend over there?” He shifted just a little to nod to said kid, light brown hair, deep-set frown, and dressed in a jean jacket (too cold for such a fashion choice). Someone who wasn’t even really there at all.

Your attention went to him. He was staring out, probably looking at nothing. Spacing out. Somewhere far away. He was cloaked in such a heavy sadness. “Is your friend okay?”

Ned considered him a little more carefully. “That obvious, huh? I’ve been trying to get him out of the house all week. His aunt finally made him leave. So… now we’re here and… honestly he’s not having a good time. But I don’t know what else to do.”

“What would make him happier?” The kid was internally shaking with such grief. It was an easy guess to make- sudden loss.

“Oh I don’t… I dunno. I thought maybe an autograph or a selfie but. I don’t even think he heard me when I said I saw you. Here. Hold on-” Ned put one hand to the side of his mouth. “Yo! PETE! COME HERE!” Yelling so loud everyone in the immediate vicinity heard him.

Said Pete looked up finally, a little startled from his dark and stormy thoughts. He looked for the sound of his friend’s voice and zeroed in pretty instantly. And then he looked at JARVIS. And then at you. And embarrassment flushed through him. A strange reaction to have, really. But it did the trick and he broke free from his thoughts as he gave an awkward jog over.

His smile was an uneasy one. “Hey- hi- sorry. Is he bothering you?” Pretending like he had any control over the situation but there was a shyness here that was hard to deny. Not surprising. Considering. Well. Who you were.

“Not at all. I was about to sign my name on a piece of paper but I thought I should get your name first.” You made sure to give him a very warm smile.

He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Oh uh- I’m- uh. Peter. Peter Parker.” The name hit you upside the head. So much so that it left your brows squinched as you stared at him. Trying to remember where you’d heard that before. His unease came back tenfold. “Did I uh… did I say something wrong?”

“No it’s just- oh!” Your revelation startled all three boys standing there. “I remember you!” You were suddenly a million miles away in your memories. Crouching down to help a small child.

“I’m waiting.”

“Waiting for who?”

“Iron Man.”

Such a small and scared child. Holding on to the hope that Iron Man might come back. Excited that he’d gotten to help. But overwhelmed with everything that had gone on. Scared and lost. Just really wanting to go home.

“I won’t- Peter, what’s your last name- so I can have Iron Man send you a personal thank you note!”

“Peter Parker!!!”

“Thank you for your help, Peter Parker!” You returned to the present to see Ned’s mouth agape and Peter was turning a certain shade of nervous red. “Oh. Really?” Not believing you at all no matter how good it felt to be told that.

You laid a hand on his shoulder, imparting with it a warmth that matched that smile you were still wearing. It cut through the cold and the sadness inside of him. “Of course I do. The Expo. Took me a minute. You’re a lot bigger than when I last saw you.”

His own smile in turn then was extremely bashful as he shook his head. “Yeah well I’ll um… I’ll try to stop that.”

A soft little laugh escaped you and this boosted him all the more. “What? You thought I was lying?” He gave a shrug. “Well you know. I’m sure you meet hundreds of people every day- not lying by the way- just-... just uh…” He didn’t want to call you a liar but he didn’t know how else to phrase that thought. Stuck now. You helped him out. “Sure. I do. But none like Peter Parker.”

His head ducked. “Alright- now you’re either trying to embarrass me or make me look really cool.”

Ned gave him a nudge. “My gut says mega cool. Dude. How have you not told me about this before?”

“I don’t know- it’s never come up-”

“You parade that letter around from Tony like it’s the best thing that’s ever happened to you, meanwhile-”

“Ned- shut up!” Embarrassment taking such a deep hold of Peter then as he gave him a playful little shove. Ah. Kids. Wonderful. They were both laughing at each other after squabbling a moment longer and you could just tell. It did Ned’s heart a lot of good to hear the sound of Peter’s laugh. And it did Peter a lot of good to be able to laugh. So. Peter really admired Tony. Had held onto that letter that you’d had sent his way. The next step was pretty clear. “How would you boys like to go visit the Stark Labs?” While Ned was excited, Peter was over the moon. Like you’d just offered him the world. Stars were in his eyes. Color returned to his otherwise gray heart in small drips. “Really?” “Sure.” Nodding firmly. “I’ll call Happy and let him know to expect you. Feel free to have lunch on us in the cafeteria, too. Oh-” You pretended like you’d only just remembered. “Tony will probably be there. You’re okay with that, right?” “Dude- are we okay with that?” Ned was about to explode. Peter was grinning. “We- we are very okay with that. As long as he’s okay with that- I’d… I don’t want to interrupt Mr. Stark or anything. I’m sure he’s working on all kinds of important stuff.”

You waved your hand, still holding on to that piece of paper. “Don’t worry about him. He loves visitors. He’ll show you around.”

“Really?” Both were practically jumping at the prospect. “Absolutely. Go on. Go head over there now. I’ll have Happy meet you in the lobby.” Decided then that that was exactly what they were going to do. How could you not after the way they’d reacted?

“Thank you-” About twenty of those got thrown at you frantically, but each one packed with the exact sort of gratitude two teenage kids would have over an opportunity like this. You sent them off with two equal pats on the shoulders and heard little bits of their chattering conversation as they hurried away. About how cool you were and how awesome that had been. The sudden burst of adoration from JARVIS had you quickly turning his way. He was smiling at you. In such a way that… “What?” Looking up at him confused. Not sure what he was thinking about just then.

Just a touch of nervousness held him then but he managed to get the thought out. “This may be a bit gauche, however… have you and Tony talked about having children?” Shock got the better of you, having in no way expected him to say something like that. Rebuff was extremely easy as you had no idea how to react to him saying something like that to you. “Gauche, huh? This is a little beyond gauche.” A chuckle escaped him and his head dipped. “Yes, well… I just feel as though your maternal talents are wasted on a cat.” With a little mock offense in your tone, “She does not agree with you.” The teasing mood seemed to die very quickly. He was looking at you. Considering if he should say what it was he seemed to want to say. His courage was enough to get him there. “...as well as Ultron. Who was too blind with fury to know how good he had it, until the moment when he realized it was all gone. And then he wisely begged for one last sunrise with you.”

Stunned would have been putting it mildly. Your heart was strangely aching yet full to bursting. Did JARVIS think about that often, you wondered. To say all this… it was hard to know how to react. You tried to keep the mood light. “Hmn. And this coming from-” Whatever you wanted to say it didn’t matter. His hand reached out, brushing yours, taking hold of it. Grounding you. Making you understand just how deeply he felt about this. “Someone who has never had the mind to complain about how and when you place your care. ...and has been eternally grateful for it, as well.”

Heat touched your face. As well as your heart. There wasn’t really a good word to define your relationship with JARVIS. Anything that existed would either be too little, not close enough, or maybe even too much. But you knew that you loved him. Immensely. And he felt the same way. It was exactly those feelings that guided you up on tiptoe once again, putting an arm around him. Squeezing him. Something he returned in the very next instant.

...kids, huh?

---

That Thursday came almost a little too fast. Sounds of merriment and cheer rang from party central. Pepper had done an utterly fantastic job. The room was decorated beautifully. The caterers had arrived early, set up, and were serving to perfection. And the bar was fully stocked and manned. Music selection was- ...well that was easy. But. The atmosphere was perfect. And you let her know how much you appreciated that.

People trickled in and out. Stark and DC employees who were grateful to have free booze and food and a warm place to be with people they semi-liked. You indulged in more than once holiday slowdance. Everyone was having a good time. Even as the hours passed by and those not closest left. All as it should be. Leaving a table of Avengers and ex-SHIELD employees all joking and laughing with each other. Coulson had come, like he’d promised, and with him he’d brought May. Even Clint and Laura had managed to get a babysitter and come out (with the help of a private jet courtesy of Stark Industries, of course). Natasha had been keen to keep with them through the night. Helen Cho had introduced you to her son Amadeus early in the night but he’d been far more interested in talking to Tony than he had you. No hard feelings. Even Fury and Maria were there, too.

Steve had come with Sharon- which was more than a nice surprise. It was good that he was still trying to find his way in that world and not giving up hope. Although Sam seemed to hang around them like they were an official throuple. You wouldn’t judge, if that were the case. ...though you would be extremely surprised.

Wanda and Pietro had kept mostly to themselves but had loosened up a little more as the night went on. You’d noticed they also kept pretty glued to JARVIS’ side. You’d have to ask him what that was about. Maybe new-Avenger comradery?

Happy, Rhodey, and Pepper had all stayed, too. It felt like one big family. It had its problems- a lot of them- but for one night… just for one night you wanted everyone to be happy and get along. Your heart also ached at the thought of Bruce still being gone. Not here, where he should be. And Thor, too. Missing. So not a complete family but… the only one you had right now.

You and Tony had come back from the wine cellar with a special bottle of champagne, and as you carried in your arms over to the laughing group, all eyes went up your way. Tony put an arm around your shoulder, and Natasha raised her glass of wine with a little half smirk. “Come on, already.”

Maria seemed to be in agreement. “Yeah. Out with it. We’ve been waiting all night.”

Steve seemed a little confused. “Waiting on what?”

Clint lounged back. “Beats me. What are we going on about now?” Laura gave him a little pat on the leg. “Just give it a second.”

JARVIS, Rhodey, Pepper, and Happy by contrast were all trying (and failing) to hold back smiles. So. It seemed to some people this rouse was entirely see-through. And to others… well. They were a little more easily tricked. Not that this was a trick, but a… setup to an announcement. But still. They were kind of stealing the wind from your sails. Strangely despite this, it helped. You really had no idea how to do something like this. How to announce it without it being weird or stuffy or even strangely condescending in a way or- You were thinking too much. And all eyes were on you. So. “Tony and I are getting married.”

Cheers and congratulations leaked out from all around, though some sat a little in their surprise. Steve most of all. But eventually the shock melted away leaving a simple smile, and him reaching for Sharon’s hand. He looked up at you. “When’s the date?” Tony’s arm around your shoulder gave you a little squeeze. “We haven’t gotten there yet. But what I will tell you is that it will be a painfully expensive, terribly annoying destination wedding that you all have to pay your own way to.”

Boos and groans and even some stray pieces of popcorn were thrown his way. It was hard to dodge, while you were still connected to him, so you had to accept a few kernels to the face. Through laughter you gave the next most important piece of information, “This is also still a secret. So we’ll appreciate your discretion.”

Natasha’s smile was just so knowing. “Right. Well… how long exactly has this been a secret?”

Tony’s pride was beaming. “It happened on my birthday.” Through the gasps and mock noises of annoyance that the two of you would hold out on them for that long-

You piped up, “And then happened again on our anniversary.” Confusion entered into play, only until you and Tony fished your respective rings out of your pockets.

People got up then, all clamoring to get a look. They were happy. For the two of you. You weren’t sure what to ask for, out of all this, but… that was about as good as it got. Sam nursed the bottom of his beer but pointed your way. “So let me get this straight. He proposed to you and then you proposed to him.”

Steve put a hand on his hip. “Gotta be honest… seems like exactly the sort of thing they’d do.”

“Thank you?” That seemed like a rib but you decided to try and take it as a compliment. You and Tony were a team, after all, which is exactly what you’d said to him that night. It was why you wanted to engage him right back.

Tony’s smile to Steve was a little encouraging. “You’ll get there.”

Sharon put a hand up. “You’re putting an awful lot of pressure on me. I don’t think I appreciate it.” Smiling while she so obviously teased.

Coulson crossed his arms. “So. It’s obvious which people in the room got the news before the rest of us. But who did you actually tell first?” It was strange that he would ask something like this.

And it also put you in a terribly awkward situation… considering…

Tony took the lead (...and also what you were assuming might have been bait). “Aunt Peggy, actually.”

Rhodey, Happy, Pepper, and JARVIS seemed to soften all at the same time, knowing exactly why that was so important. Those were exactly the people who would. Steve and Sharon, however… seemed a little… lost for words. And this is exactly what you didn’t want to deal with. Especially because you weren’t sure if Steve even knew about Sharon yet. That was not your secret to tell. You held up the hefty bottle of champagne. “This is killing my arms. Can we open it?”

Tony held up a finger. “It was also extremely expensive. You know how I like to do things. So I’d appreciate it if you all pretend you like it.”

Mirth successfully recovered. Terribly awkward situation avoided. What more could you ask for? He escorted you away to the bar to set the bottle down. Tony started uncaging it. You sighed. “Well. That could have been bad.”

He gave a shrug. “Pretty tame, by all accounts.” His smile was giving him away.

You put your arm around his middle and nuzzled his shoulder. He was happy to be able to tell more people. When the world was let in he might really start doing all those daytime talkshows. “I love you.”

His focus shifted immediately and he turned towards you to wrap you up in his tight embrace. “I love you.”

Champagne be damned. You wound your arms around his neck and pressed up closer into him. He welcomed you there, lips meeting yours. You delighted in the comfort of him. The love that was always there for you- but especially now. Sinking in to him was all too easy.

So maybe that kiss had gone on a little longer than you meant it to. Because all too soon more jeers were being cried from the other side of the room. Along with one lone voice- “I’m getting thirsty- would you hurry it up?”

Tony smiled against your lips. “Seems like our audience awaits.” Half mumbling this against your mouth.

“They can await one minute longer.”

“Hmn.” A little hum beset by one kiss and into another. “You won't’ find me complaining.”

He wouldn’t. But they did. ...still didn’t stop the two of you from relishing in each other just a little longer.

#Tony Stark #Tony Stark x Reader #INY Chapter One Hundred Ninety Four

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viogsquad · 5 years

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august evenings - david dobrik

authors note; this one wasn’t requested, just something i thought of late last night! please send in feedback, reblog or like idm. requests are open for a little while longer. i also do blurbs if you want to send them in, just let me know that its a blurb request and not a full on fic. word count; 3.2k. warnings; dom!david [ofc], masturbation, kinda public sex.

You were sure that it was the muggy humidity of the red-hot August evening that caused you to become so unreasonable with your words and the way you acted in a public area with your loving partner and closest friends by your side. The light, pretty summer dress you had decided to wear was sticking to your skin which you pulled at hastily, your frustration levels growing by the passing second as you listened to fellow friends make jokes that you would usually laugh at, this time you just stared dead ahead and prayed for the celebration to be over and done with quickly.

Or maybe it was the amount of booze you had consumed over the hours you had been stuck at the garden party - you needed something to get you through it. Long chats about YouTube did nothing but bore you, fake laughter shared between people who disliked each other irritating you, the falseness causing you to roll your eyes whenever an overly friendly remark was made. You couldn’t stand being at such events like this, especially when you didn’t fit in. You weren’t like David and the other members of the vlog squad, you had yourself a normal job like others and the events did not cater to people such as yourself. Discussions of video ideas, subscriber counts and the latest change to YouTube were of no relevance to you but you plastered a smile on your face for your boyfriend's sake and his sake only.

In the end, you decided that it was sexual frustration and nothing else. David had woken you up to kisses along your neck before moving in between your thighs, bringing you close to your orgasm before moving away and deciding that he was going to have a shower. You hated how much he teased, his talented fingers teasing you through the day as they glided along the inside of your thighs before moving away and acting as if he hadn’t got you all excited for nothing. You were longing for a release, desperate to taste him in your mouth or have him inside of you.

You tried to act calm and casual for as long as possible but David was no fool and could see the lack of availability in your eyes. Whenever he tried to make any type of contact with you, you would push him away and mumble an excuse before finding the table that was filled with expensive booze, finally deciding that if he was going to leave you high and dry then you would not give him any attention. The sun was slowly setting, an orange colour taking over the blue sky and the chats became more mellow, some people leaving the party to get back home or to be more adventurous with the Los Angeles nightlife. Like always though, David was still lingering around, deep in discussion with YouTubers about advertisements and sponsorship's as he filmed some content to put in the next vlog.

The slamming of your glass on the table had David, and others, turning their attention towards you. Quickly mumbling an apology to Casey, David made his way over to you to see what all the fuss was about. His arm wrapped around your waist as he dragged you towards a more secluded area of the garden where no-one would listen in on the conversation - or argument at the way things were going. Just from the way David walked you could tell he was annoyed, his jaw clenched and eyes wandering around the garden to check that no-one was looking.

“Are you going to tell me what the problem is or do you expect me to figure it out on my own?” David asked, his hands gripping your waist as he pushed you up against a tree, the bark pressing against the material of your dress and no doubt making it mucky. Your eyes fell to ground and refused to look into his, not wanting to cave in straight away, your hands fumbling with the bottom of David’s denim jacket that you adored. You refused to respond out of spite, bratiness something that David never appreciated but you didn’t appreciate being forced into a social situation where most of the people attending just wanted to use your boyfriend for his subscribers and views. “Don’t make me ask again,” he continued, voice only audible to you so he didn’t cause a scene.

David’s eyes kept shifting upwards, double checking that no-one was coming over to see what was occurring, the last thing he needed was an audience to your bratty behaviour. “I’ve told you; I want to go home.” Was all you said, somewhat feeling selfish for wanting to leave when David was still interacting with people but you knew him well enough to know that he would happily leave if that’s what you wanted, he was just being stubborn for the fun of it, just like you were acting like a menace for the fun of it. “I don’t like being surrounded by all these people, David. Can you not see that most of them are only acting all nice because they want to use you for their own gain?”

“You don’t know that, you're just making excuses up because you want to go home,” David scoffed, head shaking slightly at your comment. “Look, just another hour and then we can go, I promise. Let me get some footage of Heath and Zane being idiots and then we can go straight to the car.”

“I’ll just get a fucking uber, it will be quicker.” You attempted to walk away but David’s hands wrapping around your wrist and pulling you back stilled your movements, his fingertips gently digging into your wrist as a warning. “What do you want, David?” You snapped. A few people had turned their attention towards you but one quick look from David had them resuming their discussions.

David’s thumb ran across the palm of your hand as he tutted. “I’m going to presume it’s the alcohol you’ve had that’s making you act like this because you wouldn’t do this on purpose, would you? Maybe it’s the weather making you agitated, I don’t know. I just hope you're not doing this on purpose because that wouldn’t be fair.”

You knew that rolling your eyes at his words would not go down well but you couldn’t help yourself, the hot sun and champagne that had been placed out was getting to you drastically and causing you to put on a dramatic performance. “I just don’t like these events and that’s final,” you answered, not giving David a proper answer to the questions he was asking.

“Final?” He raised one eyebrow at your attempt to argue with him.

“Yes.” Pushing David away with all the strength that you had, you gave him a mocking smile before nodding towards the exit and placing one hand on your hip. “Now, am I getting an uber or are we going home and have you taken care of me?”

David understood the double meaning in your words and thankfully, nothing else needed to be said. His hand was in yours as he led you through the slowly vanishing crowd, mumbling something quick to Heath before raising his eyebrows in your direction. Heath laughed at whatever David said, angering you even more but you let it slide as you walked to where the car was parked.

“So then, are you going to tell me what’s gotten into you?” David asked, firing the car up and speeding away from the location of the party. Your hands played with the hem of your dress, eyes focused on the passing streets of Los Angeles and the young adults who were preparing themselves for a night out in the clubs. “That frown you are sporting doesn’t suit your pretty face.”

“These bullshit parties you attend don’t suit you either.”

“Can you not just answer my question or do you always need to talk back?” David asked, his spare hand moving to your thigh which he gripped harshly, another warning for you to stop. The back of your thighs was sticking to the leather seat of the expensive car causing you to wriggle around in your seat. David’s hand left your skin, a soft whine coming from you at the loss of contact. “Misbehaved all night and now you want my attention, it doesn’t work like that.”

Slowly, you let your tongue glide over your lips as you watched David’s hands tighten around the steering wheel and you mentally envisioned his fingers digging into your sides as he pinned you either against or the wall or into the bed sheets instead of the leather. You understand the dangers of leaning across the seats and pressing your mouth against his and you curse him silently for not flicking the car into autopilot and giving you a quick kiss, just something to get you along until you arrived back at home.

“How does it work then, David?”

David sucked on his teeth and attempted to ignore you, knowing full well that you were only trying to wind him up. You had succeeded so far, your words and angsty behaviour riling him up all night but he wasn’t going to vocally admit that to you, he would wait until you were alone in the bedroom where no-one could hear you cry out his name as you begged for forgiveness.

“Don’t make me pull up on the side of the road [y/n],” he warned, jaw clenched and foot pressing down on the gas pedal. “Won’t be able to walk straight for a week if I do,” he continued, eyes flickering over to check what your expression was. He could read you well, knew that you were soaked under your dress and desperate for some sort of touch but the secret side of David that only you saw was slowly coming out to play and that was dangerous territory.

“Sounds tempting.”

You finally turned to look at David, the bright lights of LA no longer appealing when your boyfriend looked as good as he did. His denim jacket was always your favourite along with the simple black cap he wore, a straightforward outfit that he managed to pull off so well. His neck looked inviting, almost begging you to leave a series of marks along the pale skin so he would struggle to cover it up in the morning when everyone came around to film some content. Those nights were your favourite, when David was at your beck and call and would do whatever you wanted, his wrists red and orgasm ruined. It wasn’t going to be one of those nights though.

David ignored your comment as he continued to drive back to your shared home, the journey seemingly longer and you swore that he went the long way home on purpose just to tease you and get you more wound up. The tesla was becoming hotter with every second, the car windows that were rolled down doing nothing. Sweat was forming along your hairline, sticking your locks to your forehead and causing a shine on your skin.

Knowing that you were still a good twenty minutes away due to traffic, you slowly slid your dress up your thighs until it circled as your waist, your lace underwear on show for David. “What are you doing?” Was the only question David could ask, repeating it a few times as he struggled to keep his eyes on the road to see if the car in front was moving forwards. You shrugged your shoulders innocently as you pulled your underwear down your exposed thighs, flicking the garment onto David’s lap which he quickly threw backwards, he refused to give into you.

“If you're not going to do anything about it then I might as well sort myself out. What are you going to do about it, David? Can’t exactly pull over when you're stuck in the middle lane, can you?”

“Don’t,” he whispered, mouth turning dry at the sight of you bringing your feet to the leather so you had better access. “People will see.”

“Let them.”

Rolling the windows up, David positioned himself so he was more comfortable, his eyes glued on your wandering hands. “Put on a show for me then, sweetheart.” He hated that he gave you into you so quickly.

Hair was falling into your face as you arched your back, the feeling of your fingers pressed against your clit bringing you a wave of pleasure that ran through your body. You hadn’t quite realised how desperate you were, your fingers already soaked after one simple touch. Nothing could compare to the feeling of David’s fingers though, nights spent alone in bed while he was in Chicago not getting rid of the sexual tension and you cursed him for being so skilled when it came to making you squirm. David adored seeing you in a vulnerable position, watching as your back arched off the hot leather seat and your free hand gripped whatever it could. It was erotic and sending his head into a spin. Words of encouragement fell from his mouth as you continued to work yourself to your peak.

“David,” you moaned loudly as you inserted one finger, picturing the sight of your boyfriend between your legs in the early hours of the morning. “I need you so bad.”

“I know,” he whispered, leaning over to press his mouth against your neck. “I can’t give you what you want though, can I? All because you couldn’t wait to get home. Impatient, aren’t you, girl?”

“Please,” you whispered, the feeling of two of your fingers bringing you pleasure but not like David’s did. You needed something from him, even if it was simple. “Don’t make me wait any longer. I’ve needed you all night, been waiting so patiently for you - “

“I know, I know,” he repeated, thumb stroking your warm cheek. “Bet they don’t fill you up as good as mine.” His mouth waters and he has to keep licking his lips to stop himself from drooling at the sight of you looking completely spent in the front seat of his expensive car.

Your eyes roll back at his egotistical words even though you knew he was right. Your thumb rubbed against your clit slowly as you let out a long moan, your hips flying forwards and sending your index and middle finger knuckle deep. Your free hand moves to David’s, grabbing it and squeezing tightly as you worked your way to the edge.

The sound of a car beeping behind you had you jumping forwards and pulling your dress down to cover your body, your orgasm running away and turning into nothing as David loudly swore and restarted the car. David ordered you to open your mouth, your breath caught in your throat when he slipped two fingers into your warm mouth. Your eyes fluttered shut as you moaned around his fingers, small hand grabbing his wrist to keep him in place.

“Hike your dress back up for me, doll,” he instructed. David’s fingers were dancing across your exposed thighs, fingers getting closer to your cunt before sliding back down, not willing to give up on the game the two of you had been playing for almost an hour now. You longed for an orgasm, you previously one ripped away cruelly because of impatient drivers that couldn’t wait an extra ten seconds.

You needed to feel his cold rings on the inside of your thigh, leaving imprints in their wake as he slowly moved upwards until he was finally filled you up with his fingers. “Thank you,” you managed to get out when David finally slipped two fingers inside of you, his other hand on the wheel as he drove through the quieter streets of LA.

“Not a problem,” he replied, voice sweet and soft as he listened to you moan out his name, your hips bucking against his fingers. Your arousal was dripping down his fingers and past his rings, his fingers knuckle deep inside of you and moving at a speed that had you scratching your nails along the leather. You ignored the comment he made about having to get the Tesla cleaned seen as you were an impatient girl and focused on your orgasm, your eyes fixed on David. “So wet,” he seductively whispered, bottom lip tucked in between his teeth. “All for me, yeah?”

You nodded and bucked your hips. “Always for you,” you responded, head tilting to the side slightly and banging against the window.

You moved your hand to David’s thigh and moved across until you met his hard cock, a quiet groan coming from David at the sudden contact. “It’s your time, darling, not mine.”

“Want to make you feel good.”

“Oh you will, trust me - “David was interrupted by your moan, your chest heaving up and down as you said his name like a prayer, orgasm getting closer and closer with every thrust of his fingers. David was struggling to drive, his eyes stuck between looking in between your thighs and on the road. Grateful that he was on a quieter street, David pulled over and turned the car off, his fingers soon returning to your cunt. “Fuck girl,” he whispered, his body leaning over the handbrake as he kissed your mouth and silenced your moans.

His tongue was wet on yours as he swallowed your moans, your face a picture of bliss when he pulled away and moved his free hand to your throat, applying slight pressure as he tilted your head up and exposed your skin to him. Your eyes were glued to the roof of the car as you wriggled around in the seat, the feeling of David’s teeth sinking into your neck as he left marks making the burning feeling in your stomach grow with every passing second.

“I’m going to cum,” you managed to get out, words broken up. David didn’t have a chance to encourage you, your orgasm ripping through your body at lightning speed as you came around his fingers, his name the only thing that came from your lips as you arched your back and clenched your thighs together.

“Good girl, such a good girl,” David whispered as he helped you ride out your orgasm, leaving open mouthed kisses along your cheeks sloppily. “So good for me, aren’t you?”

“I’m sorry for acting like a brat,” you said slowly, turning your body to the side and wrapping your arms around David’s neck. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

“I know you will, darling.” A chaste kiss was pressed against your lips before David was pulling away and restarting the car. “Ten minutes until we get home so ten minutes for you to sort yourself out and prepare for what’s coming your way.”

You smiled softly to yourself, excited to have David to yourself for the night without anyone being around. You shot Natalie a quick text, briefly informing her of your plans without going into too much detail so she could arrange to stay elsewhere. A plan of action was already forming in your head, ways that you could get David back for his own behaviour that day and when you turned to look at him, affectionately placing your hand on top of his, you knew that he was preparing himself for what was about to come his way.

#david dobrik #david dobrik smut #david dobrik imagines #vlog squad #vlog squad smut

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dailyexo · 5 years

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[NEWS] Baekhyun - 190310 Allure: “How EXO's Baekhyun Put His Identity into Privé Alliance”

"Allure's Devon Abelman sat down with the K-pop star during his first-ever solo appearance in the U.S to discuss how he defines beauty and style on his own terms.

BY DEVON ABELMAN

If I didn't know who Baekhyun was before meeting him in February, I would have thought he was just a random handsome dude I met at a nightclub while on vacation in Los Angeles.

As he politely tells a roving cater waiter offering us mini cannolis, "No thank you," I find myself believing that Baekhyun truly is that guy. I'm fully aware of his claim to fame, but he doesn't look or act the part. For starters, Baekhyun's lids aren't defined with expertly blended smoky eyes, and his lips aren't stained with a raspberry lip tint. Those tell-tale signs of a man with his job description are noticeably missing. Not a single stroke of eyeliner or fleck of glitter is in sight, either (honestly, to my dismay). A part of me hoped we'd bond over our eye makeup.

Makeup aside, Baekhyun carries himself with a quiet confidence that is so unassuming that he seems weirdly familiar and incredibly normal compared to the influencers, actors, and singers milling around us in the private VIP area. He never acts like he's better or more important than any other person there. Instead, he has the affability of the construction worker who waves to me every morning on my way to work rather than the larger-than-life bearing of a superstar from Seoul who effortlessly hits high notes while simultaneously performing powerful choreography. During our interview, I felt like I should ask him about his dog instead of his skin-care routine. If I didn't know who Baekhyun was, I would have wondered why I was interviewing him for Allure at all.

Baekhyun's wavy hair reminds me why this article exists on the Internet and not solely as a story I recount to my friends over text messages. Parted in the middle and styled to have a wet look, his auburn ends are relics of internationally beloved K-pop group EXO's most recent concept. His hair, for all intents and purposes, is the reason why we ended up sitting together in a cushy booth in the back corner of the dimly lit VIP section of a club on a Tuesday night. Trust me, neither of us frequent this fine L.A. establishment, located next to the Museum of Death. You won't even catch me in a club when I'm at home in Brooklyn. To put it bluntly, I'm only in this club talking to a nice guy because he's a member of EXO.

The EXO Connection

If this is your introduction to Baekhyun, please know that EXO is a Big Deal. Among their long list of awards and chart-topping accomplishments, the nine-member group performed at the 2018 Pyeongchang Olympics and has racked up more than 100 million views on each of their music videos on YouTube.

By extension, Baekhyun — full name Byun Baekhyun, age 26 — is a Big Deal, too. In addition to being a talented performer with 14.5 million Instagram followers, his bright dye jobs, innovative hairstyles, and experimental eye makeup have sparked beauty trends in K-pop since EXO debuted in 2012. You can, more or less, blame him for the influx of mullets and red-streaked black hair among other idols and thank him for the proliferation of red eye shadow. No matter how controversial or dramatic the looks Baekhyun tries are, he always pulls them off with ease and joviality.

Back to Baekhyun's auburn hair, though. Like most K-pop stars, he constantly undergoes vibrant dye jobs in hues, like pink, silver, and platinum, to fit the group's concepts. For "Love Shot," EXO's latest music video, he paired his newly burgundy hair with a glimmering eye shadow of the same shade and sooty black liner. Now his look is an extremely streamlined version of this.

His current lack of makeup may be a stark contrast from the bold eye looks he typically wears onstage and in music videos, but his skin is just as dewy as ever with the help of a nearly undetectable layer of foundation. His brows are probably lightly filled in, too, but I could be reaching. If anything, Baekhyun's wearing the standard amount of makeup for celebrity men. Just enough to amplify his glow, not enough to make a statement.

Baekhyun's glow is due in part to a consistent regimen; he lists toner, lotion, and moisturizer as the official order. But how many times do you wash your face, I ask, causing a couple of people in the human bubble of managers, publicists, and security guards surrounding us to laugh. Baekhyun ignores their snickers and answers, "Two," in English. (That's right, double cleansing is no laughing matter.) "If I wash my face too many times, I get skin troubles," he adds.

Baekhyun says he hasn't changed up the steps of his skin-care routine in L.A., or ramped up the number of sheet masks he uses. With EXO constantly traveling for concerts and events, "My skin gets used to the environment," he says. "So wherever I am, I use the same skin-care routine."

The Privé Connection

In hindsight, I should have anticipated Baekhyun would present himself in this low-key manner for his first-ever solo appearance in the U.S. In Privé campaigns, he's usually seen as he is now: natural, casual, effortlessly cool. His makeup is minimal; his natural-colored hair looks like all he did was run his hand through it; his outfits are sleek. With all this in mind, I ask him if he could dye his hair any color for the next campaign, what would it be.

How did I end up interviewing Baekhyun in a club, you ask? Let's go back to May 2018. Baekhyun made it onto Vogue's home page when he was named the co-creative director of streetwear brand Privé Alliance. Alongside Danyl Geneciran, the brand's CEO, Baekhyun helps create pieces that "put highlights on the basics," Baekhyun explains to me. He later reveals that he's surprised that almost all of his ideas have been executed.

My favorite part of Privé is how its offerings have a certain fluidity to them, much like Baekhyun's onstage persona. None of Privé's shirts, jackets, and bags are confined to overtly masculine or feminine silhouettes, and the same designs are available for men and women. "It's very important to have everyone be able to wear the clothes comfortably," Baekhyun explains. "Without any official communication, we agreed that [Privé Alliance] is going to be unisex."

With the newest Privé Alliance collection launching in April, the brand invited the public to join Baekhyun for a fashion presentation. The location: the very club we are sitting in. Although he doesn't act like he is (he kept to himself for most of the event), Baekhyun is undoubtedly the center of attention. He is the reason the floor below us is with filled with people from all over the world. Everyone's here to see Baekhyun, not the latest Privé pieces.

The Identity Connection

This is the only question Baekhyun doesn't answer concisely and without hesitation. "I don't know," he says in English. After taking a couple of seconds to think about it, he adds in Korean, "I love the black," adding "simple" in English.

This single word — simple — perfectly mirrors Baekhyun's personal aesthetic. "Basics, but with many little details," he explains. "It’s like you just came out of your house, but it’s still cool." In other words, he's the epitome of "Oh, this old thing? I just threw it on." I ask if he prefers to keep his hair and makeup natural and low-key, too, and he quickly replies, "yes, yes," in Korean.

The fact that Prive's aesthetic is similar to Baekhyun's is intentional. "I put my identity and myself into this collection," he tells me, echoing a line he shared when he made a brief appearance onstage before the fashion presentation commenced. The theme of the collection was his birth year, 1992, with zip-up corduroy jackets and hoodies adorned with '92 in big text.

Another adage he repeats throughout the night is, "Be brave. Be humble." The same words are printed all over the collared white satin shirt he's wearing, layered under a similar navy blue one. After the event, I saw people saying the look recalled EXO's "Lotto" era, back in 2016 when his hair was styled in a similar way and he wore collared shirts with several of the top buttons undone and silver necklaces. Onyx shadow was blended all over his lids back then, though. Fans likened Baekhyun's look that night to a mafia boss. (Seeing those tweets made me laugh, because his charm is far from disarming.) But for Baekhyun, his outfit is more a matter of comfort. "I like how silky it feels," he says. I go on to compare it to pajamas, which makes him chuckle.

Baekhyun doesn't ignore the fact that he typically presents himself with intricate details. Performing, he points out, is his go-to form of self-expression, outside of working with Privé. And let's be real, Baekhyun's performances, which ooze confidence and allure, wouldn't be the same without his stunning hair and makeup.

To borrow a word from Baekhyun, identity — and the way we present ourselves — isn't fixed. For example, the way my best friend describes my identity could be strikingly different from the way my sisters would. The way I dress when I'm going to get a bagel on a Saturday morning (track pants and a T-shirt) is different from how I dress for work (vintage floral dresses) or an event like this (a blue-and-white plaid suit). The way I do my colorful makeup is also evolving, too.

We often see K-pop stars in narrow, controlled situations, though, so we know and define them according to what we're able to see. I'm as guilty of this as the next person, i.e., assuming Baekeyun would show up with eyeliner as bold as my own. When you take a K-pop star out of a K-pop setting, a different side of them is revealed. They no longer have to adhere to a group aesthetic, just their own. We get a glimpse of Baekhyun's at the airport and in the selfies he posts on Instagram, but Privé Alliance has given him a platform to truly show his identity on his own terms.

At that club, I felt like I was being introduced to Baekhyun all over again. Back when I watched EXO's music video for "Monster" the first time, I saw him as part of a carefully crafted package; the second time, I saw him the way he sees himself."

Photo links: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7

Credit: Allure.

#EXO #EXO K #Baekhyun #190310 #190226 #exo im #exo k im #baekhyun im #190226 prive #p:news #t:news #fs:allure #comeback:Tempo #followup:Shot

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pfenniged · 4 years

Note

Opinion: Bohemian Rhapsody versus Rocketman. GO.

Okay, I’m going to preface this with saying I’ve been a classic rock nerd all my life: One of the first songs I remember hearing was the Traveling Wilburys’ ‘Handle with Care’ on cassette, and my Dad pointing out each of the iconic rock idols in the band, hence being obsessed with George Harrison from an early age and listening obnoxiously to Bob Dylan and ELO (The other being ‘Do You Love Me’ by The Contours). I was the kid in high school who only had classic rock on their iPod, had a crush on John Entwistle and George Harrison. When I travelled to England for the first time, I literally spent the majority of my spending money getting these boss limited-edition Who Converse sneakers at a mod shop in Kent, and returned at sixteen to Canada thinking I was IT. xD

My point is, I’ve always been a classic rock nerd, so I think I like to know a bit about what is represented versus actual events, etc. I’m also aware there’s a divide between critics and public reaction, especially in terms of Bohemian Rhapsody.

That being said, I honestly think Rocketman is a better film in terms of using Elton John’s music to evoke and illustrate different points in his life, and therefore a better film for the snooty classic rock fan. By having the music demonstrative of different points in his life, it felt less to me like a discography (Which is what Bohemian Rhapsody felt like to me), and more of a study of the person behind the music, and what makes them tick. Taron Egerton also sang all the music in Rocketman, which honestly, puts him head and shoulders above Rami’s performance, although I think most people would agree, no one could recreate the vocal talents of Freddie Mercury.

I also think Taron’s performance was more nuanced and more realistic, which is what I like about Elton John. No matter how much of a twat he acts like, he (usually) admits to acting like a twat. Rocketman didn’t shy away from that, and it made an infinitely more interesting character study before that. You understand at the end that Elton is sensitive but creates a persona to create a bravado outside of that: You also have a really unique perspective in a platonic soulmate relationship between a gay and straight man between him and Bernie Taupin, which I love, and is rarely represented on screen in terms of queer relationships. It’s really unnatural, and clearly written by straight people usually, but it’s usually OMG A GAY MAN THAT MUST MEAN HE MUST WANT TO SLEEP WITH EVERYONE AROUND HIM (Which is completely untrue; does a straight person want to sleep with everyone around them? Not usually).

It also doesn’t shy away from the worst aspects of Elton’s character: That he can be downright cruel and lash out if he feels like he’s being attacked, his issues with bulimia, drug addiction, and alcohol abuse, his dependency on the opinion of his parents, when basically it shows what absolute jealous losers they are and how they were disgustingly jealous of their son’s talent, enough to wish he’d never been born. That makes the film ten times more interesting, even without it being the ‘character’ of Elton John.

It also acts as a great character study of being gay in the late sixties early seventies, and the attitudes there. I found in Bohemian Rhapsody, that really was never addressed? I think it tried to address the cultural divide between Freddie’s family and him, but in real life, Freddie never ‘came out’ to his parents, so I think it was a bit of revisionist history on behalf of Brian May and Roger Taylor.

I also honestly didn’t think the portrayal of Freddie was particularly nuanced, besides the typical ‘he’s getting too big for his britches’ late second half split that happens in any rock movie. I felt like they were afraid to display any qualities that were too far gone in making him an ‘unlikable’ character, because he’s passed on now and seen as a rock god. But I also found the performance a little boring, to be honest (I felt it was earnest, but Rami didn’t really have a lot to work with).

Live Aid was also moved up in the timeline, which is fine, and expected to make a narrative for a rock band film, but the one thing I didn’t like about Bohemian Rhapsody was that it felt like it was made for a really casual fan? Which is fine, but it really felt like, as previously mentioned, they were just going through the discography of their greatest hits, rather than having them serve any bigger purpose. Now we’re going to have a scene of “We Will Rock You,” now John Deacon is going to write the bass line to ‘Another One Bites the Dust,’ that sort of thing.

Then, when Live Aid DOES happen in the movie, it’s basically a shot for shot remake. Which is fine, if you haven’t seen the actual Live Aid performance. But if you have, the last twenty minutes of the film basically feels like a pantomime of a better performance with more electricity in the air.

I also didn’t like how they basically played off John Deacon as a joke most of the time, when he literally is responsible for some of Queen’s best songs. I know he’s essentially retired now, and Roger and Brian were basically in control of the script, etc., but seriously. Half the songs they highlight in the film (’You’re My Best Friend, Another One Bites the Dust, etc.) were written by John. Even at the stupid reunion scene, Freddie’s like YOU HAVE A ROLE BRIAN, AND YOU HAVE A ROLE, ROGER, AND DEAKY, WHEN YOU MAKE THAT FACE, and I’m like REALLY. IS THIS ALL THIS FUCKER DOES. XD

Lastly, I honestly just found the insertion of Mary Austin as a major part of the film irritating. I know she played a large role in his life, and I’m not trying to take away from that, but considering the questionable things she’s done in the past towards Freddie’s partner (I.E: Kicking him out of Freddie’s house like literally a month after he passed away, refusing not to be in the first car in the funeral procession with him, not allowing him to take the cats him and Freddie shared with him, etc.), I’m not a huge fan. I also didn’t particularly like where they had that whole scene where Freddie is attempting to explain he loves her platonically and she just comes out dramatically and basically says he can’t be bisexual and basically pitches a huge bitch fit and decides his sexuality for him and yells, “YOU’RE GAY.” Maybe that’s what truly happened, but it just felt disingenuous to who Freddie was as a person (From what I understood, besides saying he didn’t feel sexually attracted to women, he didn’t particularly care what gender people were that he was with), so it just felt to me like they had to have a straight woman in the film to code that Freddie could be in love with a woman so therefore ‘acceptable gay’ (Hot take). Plus she was basically the relatable stand-in for the audience, so we’re basically supposed to take her side so Freddie’s more ‘queer’ experiences were more relatable. YEESH. XD At least Elton had it right when he said his film was rated ‘R’ because he ‘hadn’t led a PG-13 rated life.’ xD

And that’s what I really liked about Rocketman: You could feel it was written from the perspective of a queer person, or at least with the input of a queer person (obviously). The platonic friendship angle, the fear and coming to a realisation about coming out angle, the fact that many gay men, especially back then, were abused by partners in power dynamic relationships, and even subtle aspects, like that whole scene of ‘Tiny Dancer,’ where Elton is literally surrounded by a party of straight people hooking up, and he’s on his own. He doesn’t fit in, even though he’s literally ‘the star of the show.’ He’s not like everyone else, and can only hope to be like everyone else forlornly and have that love connection he wants so desperately. That’s what I loved about Rocketman, and that’s why I’ve rewatched it several times, while I literally only watched Bohemian Rhapsody once: It’s real narratives and experiences we don’t usually get, and it doesn’t cater to someone’s ‘idea’ of what a certain rock star is. It’s more creative, unique, and nuanced than Bohemian Rhapsody could ever be, and I’m still bitter (along with Elton John), that Egerton won the Golden Globe for Best Actor, but wasn’t nominated for an Oscar, probably because Bohemian Rhapsody was released the year before, and they didn’t want two actors playing classic rock gods to win the Oscar two years in a row.

But anyhow: I have a lot of feelings about this and thank you for asking. xD

#personal #anonymous #bohemian rhapsody #Rocketman #Queen #Elton John #classic rock #thank you for coming to my TED talk #please avoid throwing tomatoes

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andmoonlightswims · 5 years

Text

the unexpected

↳ when that time of the month hijacks quality time with Niall

a/n: i happened to see this particular instagram story of Niall’s on a day where i was seeking menstrual refuge with my heating pad. i had a lot of feelings regarding his keen vocalization on social media, evidently.

this one-shot is dedicated to my lovely @illbecomingbackforyou who occupies one of the few vip passes to hearing and entertaining some of my creative, and wacky ideas during whichever stage it’s in. love you ♥

Rating: T+ | Pairing: M/F ●⚤

*warning: contains candid descriptions of the menstruation experience, and a political discussion (with inserted quotes that are indeed..fake) that is left-wing/democratic leaning.

~*~

Soft voices from the television become more distinguishable once your body gradually stirs. The press conference with the British Prime Minister and the U.S. President is shortly underway; a BBC News anchor’s delivery is highly energized as they quickly pace through the mid-day headlines.

You let out a tiny exhale into the expanse of Niall’s lower bare chest that you’ve been soundly resting upon. It’s a gloomy afternoon in London, with the sun barely making a crack through the blinds of Niall’s bedroom windows. The ominous weather arrived shortly after returning from your Brunch date, beckoning for an easy opportunity to lose yourself in an afternoon nap that you are now semi-awake from.

With you visiting Niall in London for the next several days, your body not only has to assimilate to the weather, and time changes, but also the sudden, not-so-welcoming arrival of your period.

And Niall has been continuously gentle, patient and a great source of humor with you through your complex emotions of excitement, exhaustion, and desperation for particular food cravings. For instance, deciding on the location for your Brunch outing felt like a no brainer in your mind once desire kicked into motion. You quickly raked through the side of Niall’s walk-in closet that occupied your clothing to find the comfiest set of lounge clothing to change into. (The cute outfits you spent time selecting to pack had barely been touched since the arrival of the red sea.)

You settled on a royal blue Henley tank top, with a pastel pink floral hoodie overtop, and black leggings paired your trusted Nike trainers. Your restaurant of choice is a few shy steps away from Niall’s place. You just so happened to dine there the day prior, and Niall didn’t show a sign of disinterest in your repeated request. You couldn’t get enough of their extensive crêpe selection, and at this rate, you’re certain the restaurant staff is truly privy of that news as well.

Blame it on the sugar crash, or more so, general fatigue that consumes you during this time of the month – the pep in your literal steps was relinquishing as the two of you exited the restaurant. Niall wrapped an easy arm around your waist, practically guiding you toward the familiar trail of his home.

Before you’d fallen asleep along his black silk sheets, warmth was consuming your skin, leading to the removal of your hoodie. Freedom of that fleece left you in tank top that had the tendency to ride up your skin. Your lethargic mind can’t exactly recall when Niall became shirtless, but having near skin on skin contact with him is always welcome. If it wasn’t for your breasts’ current status of being aggressively tender, you would possibly consider sleeping topless.

The last memory you recollect was Niall shyly asking if he could lightly massage that particular area of your lower stomach where cramps arise. You didn’t expect to wake up to the ongoing soothing graze of his fingers circulating along your exposed stomach, but this is Niall, after all – he’s dedicated to anything he set his mind to.

His assuring touch is an indescribable remedy to your afternoon cramps, dare you boldly say: practically rivalling your beloved heating pad. You marvel in the feeling of utter relaxation, focusing on his dependent fingers as they operate in harmony; tenderly dipping into the plush of your skin. Seconds pass where you find yourself nuzzling into the home of his body, sleep effortlessly taking you once again.

~*~

When you fully wake up about forty-five minutes later, you ardently blink a few times before slowly tilting your head to sleepily peek at your boyfriend. A tightness in Niall's jaw is evident as he sits upright by your side; his attention is so immersed in the press conference that you’re surprised that he hasn’t ceased his gentle tendering to your body. Perhaps this intimate action inadvertently provides him comfort, too.

“Ni?” You gradually move up from his lower region; the sudden movement surprises him; his massaging fingers inharmoniously expand over your warm, soft skin.

Niall’s chest gently deflates when he looks at you. His intense blue-eyed gaze simmers to a doting one. It’s reminiscent of the moment he finally spotted you at the arrival terminal at Heathrow Airport two days prior. Your flight had undergone a two-hour delay; his wandering and worrisome stare drifted into a loving, relieved glimmer once his eyes finally met yours.

“Hi, love.” He places a soft peck along your forehead, his large circulating hand now firmly resting along your lower stomach. “Rest well?”

You tilt your head upward, connecting your lips with his in a kiss. His mouth is gentle, and you prolong the kiss, marvelling over his facial hair tickling your cheeks, humming into his mouth.

“Mmhm. Are you okay?” You whisper, an element of pleasure laced around your voice. A hand of yours feathers down the planes of his chest, and his breath fans over your lips. You’re now in tune with the emergence of your overly-eager hormones, and despise the obvious boundary that is in your way.

Niall nods a moment later. “Better with you bein’ awake.”

“Mmmhm.”

He keeps a careful eye on you as you settle your head along the lower region of his chest. You feel his fingers gently rub your back, and a low moan of gratitude leaves your lips. He loves to cater to the slight back pain you receive at this time of the month. “How’re you feelin’?”

Your nose trickles along his deep trail of abdominal hair and you begin to press kisses along his right pectoral muscles. “I’m okay, baby.”

Niall takes an extensive inhale, softly emoting your name seconds later. You want to memorize the sound of it - like the most heavenly part of a chorus that you wouldn’t mind hearing on repeat all night. The way you easily have Niall in the palm of your hand with every kiss you lay on his skin provides you with more reason to continue to love on him.

But during times of menstruation, with many comforting moment comes a plot twist. You found that you spoke your aforementioned affirmative words a bit too soon as it hits you.

Fuck.

Your enthusiastic lips pause along Niall’s skin as you wait for the red storm to settle – a thick blood clot passing through the depths of you.

Not only does your period have the audacity to arrive two weeks earlier - right at the beginning of your trip to see Niall, mind you. But now, it couldn’t even grant you a moment of peace to love on your man? It’s a cruel world.

You’re fairly convinced that your feminine hygiene product of choice is fully saturated at this point, and that realization has you gently squirming along your boyfriend’s side; discomfort overshadowing any arousal you previously bared. What you now need is to cleanse, and change - immediately. The whine that escapes your lips vibrates against Niall’s chest.

His gentle voice interrupts your internal argument with your body.

“Y’alright, love?” Niall traces tender patterns along your upper arm. He begins to list items that he can help you get: a glass of water, crackers, ginger ale, medicine.

You gradually lean up from the resting pillow of his chest, hoping the smile you give him doesn’t appear too forced. While you earnestly appreciate his continuous consideration for you, you’d also adore a bathroom visit.

“I’m okay, thank you.” You assure him, your knees smoothly trudge along his silk sheets, towards him. Niall practically wraps you within his arms once you’re within eye-level with him. His familiar and consuming scent is all you want to bask in, but..duty calls. “I just..have to use the bathroom, I’ll be back in a bit.” You place a peck on his cheek, doing a quick look-over of his silk sheets as you part from him.

“Hey, don’t worry about anythin’..” Niall’s tone is so gentle that it practically has you second guessing your inspection. He’s been persistent in not letting you harbor any concerns of possibly leaking, but you are hell bent on making sure that wouldn’t be a possibility. You loved his linen collection too much to leave a mark on ‘em. And admittedly, their price point does slightly intimidate you.

A few moments later, you dramatically lean against Niall’s master bathroom door, damning the act of bad timing. Niall’s casually looking like a Calvin Klein model as he lays shirtless with grey Nike Fleece Joggers. The scruff decorating his jawline is even thicker than when you last saw him. It might as well be screaming to make acquaintance with your inner thighs.

You cannot wait for your period to be over.

You peer at the few products on Niall’s scattered along his counter top: a facial cleanser, conditioning beard oil, his electric shaver - and make acquaintance with your toiletries bag alongside those products.

The action of you unzipping the bag to retrieve your menstrual hygiene essentials couldn’t be more unenthusiastic.

Maybe prolonging the ordeal will magically make it disappear all together?

You sigh at the ridiculous idea that you tossed around in your mind.

You already know the answer to it.

~*~

After a quick replenishing, doing a swap of feminine hygiene products, and being somewhat pleased with your hair in its post-sleep state of mind, you re-enter Niall’s bedroom.

Your curious eyes are met with BBC News displaying highlights from the political leader joint press conference. You turn your focus towards Niall, finding him adamantly typing on his phone; from his indignant facial features, you know the subject matter is likely pertaining to a particular leader.

You lean against the master bathroom door’s frame, quirking a brow at Niall.

“I’m surprised you’re watching this.” You murmur.

Niall sighs, running his empty hand through his tousled hair. “Didn’t plan on it,” He explains, placing his phone back on his nightstand.

He lays his eyes on you as you wander back to your side of the bed. “But..I jus’ had to hear what’s bein said, petal. Yet, it all jus’ gets me so fuckin’ angry, feels like an endless cycle...”

You let out a sound of sympathy before taking a swig of the water by your designated nightstand. “I know, babe.”

Once you’re within closer reach, Niall brings you into the familiar space of his arms. You mark a kiss along his neck before nervously gazing at the absurdity occurring on Niall’s television screen.

The voice of the 45th President of the United States practically surges through your eardrums as he answers a reporter’s question. You can’t help but wince. Has his voice always been this grating, or was this your period operating alongside your body to impose an even stronger bias against him?

“Well, listen.” The President attempts to seem nonchalant in his demand, but in reality, he appears evidently close to having a full on temper tantrum, if the vein popping out of his neck has anything to say.

His hands are frozen in the air as he prepares to undoubtedly denounce someone. “When I left my hotel earlier today - stayed at The InterContinental London Park Lane - great staff...meh, food could've been better...” He croaks on, and his infantile behavior reminds you of why you barely sit through his speeches. “I only saw a small protest of people.”

He clears his throat, unnecessarily emphasizing the supposed gathering size with a showing of a small finger gesture. “A small one!” He pauses for unwarranted emphasis. “All reports and tweets..” He elongates his pronunciation of these terms, rolling his eyes when he says them, as if the idea of something existing in opposition of him is ludicrous. “...about larger protests are nothing but fake news.”

A gruff laugh escapes Niall’s lips. “He only hears and sees what he wants - there’s 250,000 protesters on the street as we speak.”

You cuddle further into him, nodding along his jaw. You love Niall’s enthusiasm for politics, and social justice - especially during a time that is so tumultuous and in dire need of true societal change.

He has enough combative nature igniting with him for the both of you, which is appreciative during this very moment - where you’re in the early stages of your period and very content with being wrapped up in your boyfriend, and not utilizing your energy on the President of the United States.

“Never seen a more incompetent leader in all of my days...” Niall continues on, maintaining a gentle caress of your waist.

As his mouth becomes fouler in language, his accent grows thicker. “..Fuckin’ ridiculous - what he stands for, and the lack of effort he puts into what actually needs to be done for the country. Doesn’t even realize the international ripple effect of it all, too.”

Niall shakes his head, grabbing his television remote to lower down the volume exponentially. With the remote now residing on his nightstand, he runs a hand over his thick scruff before landing his gaze on you.

“M’sorry,” His voice is much gentler as he focuses on you. “We don’t have to talk about this right now.”

Your fingers reach out to caress his cheek, toying with his facial hair.

“I love how unapologetically vocal you are with this,” you shake you head in wonderment. “It’s..amazing. And your willingness to step outside of yourself, acknowledge your privilege and utilize it to learn and be an ally is..just..” you pause your words, caught up by the intensity of his stare. When you continue on, your voice is a faint whisper, and Niall is hanging onto your every word. “Makes me love you even more than I already do.”

“Love me, huh?” A smile grazes his lips, and you can’t help but stare at those luscious lips of his. Well, all of this doesn’t just make you love Niall even more than you already do - it also drives you absolutely ravenous for him; surging an arousal back to into you.

“I love you too,” His nose grazes yours, and you lightly tug onto his hair, wanting his lips on yours.

He playfully dodges your wish, his scruff tickling your cheeks once he shakes his head. “Can’t give me all tha’ praise - you’ve been of great help in understandin’ certain topics.”

You let out a gleeful sigh against the small bit of space between his lips and yours. The onslaught of discussions regarding reproductive and intersectional rights play through your mind.

“Oh, I know..I was waiting for you to give me some credit.” A husky laugh leaves his lips over your coy save.

“Yeah?” Niall’s tone is lower, his accent thick now due to uncontainable desire. “Bet you were.”

His lips finally catch yours in a kiss that he hums into. One moment, his lips are drawing you in, leaving your breathless with his urgency, and the next, he’s bringing the two of you to a calming pause.

“Jus’ wanna..” he trails, gently shifting your body along his silk sheets, so he now remains atop of you.

Niall gnaws at his bottom lip, his eyes deviating from your longing gaze to his left hand that expands along its now beloved resting position on your lower stomach. “Didn’t wanna provoke anythin’..”

“You didn’t,” your tone is light, reassuring. “Just kiss me.”

The languid direction of the kisses that Niall leads has you slipping away from previous thoughts that neared toxic masculinity, and its exploitative ways, and into a safe space of desire that Niall always manages to sink you into.

The warmth of his mouth is intoxicating, making it an effortless for your tongue to glide against his. Your clothed legs intertwine with the cool, lightweight fabric of the joggers that dawn his lower body; his warm, calloused hands are caressing your skin underneath your loose tank top, and now you’re the one pliant in his hands. Your fingertips relish in the constant caress of his thick scruff, memorizing the texture of it as your kisses approach messier territory.

A familiar knotting sensation returns to your lower body, making a more so pained whimper of yours sound against Niall’s eager mouth.

“S’it back?” He whispers along your parted lips, as if your menstrual cramps have the power of hearing him. You shouldn’t give them the benefit of the doubt, they probably can.

You huff out an irritated breath at the turn of events, your heart rate settling as you transition from a steamy moment to casual dread. “Not completely?” you ponder, setting a small distance between the two of you.

Somewhere along the time of Brunch where you were devouring crêpes and stealing a few of Niall’s chips, you took a tablet of your trusted menstrual medication. And it was working efficiently - until now. “Occasionally, they like to remind me that they’re around - right about now is horrible timing...”

Niall’s giant hands cascade toward the softness of your waist in a rather protective fashion. “‘M’sorry.”

You shake your head, defeatedly falling further into his fluffy pillows. “No, I’m sorry. I thought things would be different during my stay.” You feel a cramp igniting and run a lazy hand on your lower stomach before elaborating. “Like more convenient than this, I guess.”

Niall murmurs your name softly, reaching to cup your cheek.

“Hey, s’nothing to apologize for; you’re here, s’more than I could ask for,” His thumb rubs tiny circles along the centre of your cheek as he assures you. “M’here for it all: the good, the bad, the unexpected. I know you can take care of y’self, but I wanna help wherever you see fit. Okay?”

You nod, turning your cheek to leave a peck along his wrist. His reassuring nature makes you feel foolish for caving into particular insecurities, and now you just want to wash that moment of weakness away.

“Okay, m’here for it all too,” you affirm, a smile forming on your lips. “The long golf games...your collection of tweed newsboy hats..”

Niall gives your waist a tiny pinch.

“’Cause of that, I’ll wear ‘em for the rest of your time w’me - including indoors.”

You shout out in playful disdain, though your laughter gets cut short. Niall has your full attention as he ventures his body down to the very spot he was nurturing you with massages for the past two hours. His voice is gruff, quiet. “Mind if I try somethin’ else to help out?”

Being more than willing to let him provide restoration to your body, you vocalize approval. He unexpectedly greets your lower stomach with an expanse of gentle kisses.

The calming, continuous attention he provides to your body places you in a realm of serenity for the next minute..10 minutes..half hour? Who quite frankly knows?

That interrupting set of cramps you felt however long ago has since drifted, setting some ease to your previous worries. Allowing you to reach a content state of mind as you vocally gleam over how his lips, teeth and tongue love on this incredibly intimate, and truly underrated part of your body. Your hands reach down to capture his chestnut tousled strands; whenever you’d grip a bit tighter, he would suck longer along a patch of your skin.

Niall brings a slowing halt to his intense series of kisses, the contrast between the softness of your skin, and the rough texture of his facial hair feels as serene as you could imagine.

“Adore ya, y’know tha’?” He mumbles against your stomach so quietly that you wonder if you were actually meant to hear these words. His sentimental words vibrate along your skin. “Want nothin’ more than to keep you safe.”

A gentle exhale and expression of love leaves your lips. An onslaught of emotion consumes you, and you have this itching desire to sob, which you can’t really blame the unpredictability of your period on. You tenderly massaging his scalp as he relaxes his head on your upper stomach.

This time of the month is a moment where Niall could so easily pull away, but he’s shown you time and time again how that’s not apart of his nature. The way he embraces you in these moments has you resetting your mind that men aren’t hopeless. Okay, you backpedal, maybe the majority of them are - but he’s one of the great ones, and he also yours, which is another factor that is beyond you.

You find that you could tolerate particular components of this particular time of the month if you always had a remedy like Niall. Cause by the looks of it, he’s practically imprinted on your skin.

~*~

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zigsexual · 6 years

Text

somebody else (drake/liam)

note: all the previous driam vignettes are linked on my masterlist here if you want to catch up. this part was originally supposed to have beaumont bash but then it got away from me so apologies as there is less maxwell than initially promised. also its really just depressing as all fuck ha ha i wanna die

summary: it’s getting harder and harder to ignore the deadlines approaching. one year older and one week closer to goodbye.

pairings: driam, friends-with-benefits dralivia, blink-and-you-miss-it maxwell/mc

word count: 5800+

• • •

Olivia falls back on the pillow with an abrupt exhale. Her hair, still mostly tied up in that signature updo, spills tendrils out down her shoulders and across the white of the sheets, breaking up the starkness of the bed.

It’s barely been a few seconds of catching their breath before she speaks. “You broke the rules.”

He looks over at her, her eyes still trained towards the ceiling. “What?”

She doesn’t look back at him, instead sitting up and tucking a few wayward strands of hair behind her ears. “You said his name.”

“Oh.” Drake rolls onto his side, staring at the back of her head as she gets up, slipping on her robe from the bedside table. The dark green silk sets off her eyes when she turns back over her shoulder to meet his gaze, knotting the tie around her waist. “Hey… sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” She shifts her attention, sights set on the mirror across the room, fiddling with a bobby pin that’s been shoved out of place as she approaches it. “Just don’t do it again. You know the drill.”

Drake sighs, sitting up too. “Look, if you know the drill and I know the drill, does it really matter?”

“Yes,” Olivia snaps, “Because whenever you say it, I remember where I am. And that’s exactly what I’m trying to forget.”

He hasn’t told anyone about the two of them, not even Liam — for obvious reasons. He’s not used to keeping secrets, especially secrets with Olivia, but their unspoken agreement to keep things under wraps seems to be for the best. It’s embarrassing, anyway, for both of them.

Honestly, he can’t even remember the first time it happened. They were probably both drunk; they usually are. But it had developed since then, into somewhat of a mutual understanding. She’s the only person who has at least some semblance of an idea what he’s going through.

Olivia has fully tuned him out now, focusing on fixing what’s been laid adrift of her hair. He watches her: eyebrows furrowed in concentration, a pin between her teeth. She’s beautiful, commanding, one of the more notable ladies at court; sometimes when their eyes meet in shrouded understanding across a room, he wishes he could love her.

But it’s never her name that comes to mind when they’re alone, never her face when he closes his eyes. He knows it’s no different for her, either.

He slips out of the bed, starts getting dressed as she finishes her touch ups in the mirror. Uncapping a lipstick, her eyes follow him in the glass. “Have you ever considered actually dressing like you live in the palace? Just a thought.”

“You ever considered getting the stick removed from your ass?”

“That’s not even clever,” She scoffs. “You’re losing your edge.”

He pulls his shirt on over his head, sighing loudly. “You really know how to kill the mood.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she rolls her eyes, “You want someone else to put up with this? Be my guest, go fuck Kiara next time, see what she says when you start calling her Liam.”

He glares at her. “I get it. I’m sorry.”

“What did I say about sorry?” Olivia turns, suddenly so neatly put-together he’s not quite sure that he didn’t imagine the way his hands had tugged on her hair only minutes ago. “God, the real problem is that you talk too much. Please tell me you didn’t talk so much with Liam. You are not hot enough to be saying that shit to a prince.”

“You know, you talk a lot of shit for someone who literally just —”

“Ugh,” Olivia holds up a hand, face twisted in disgust. “Don’t say it. I do not want to be reminded of how low I’ve sunk. Let’s just get on with it, okay?”

They aren’t the most inconspicuous when they emerge from her yacht — Olivia in sunglasses half the size of her head, Drake with his hands shoved in his pockets — but the celebration is such that no one pays them any notice. They’re good at this by now, snagging an opportune moment when they need one.

It’s Liam’s fault, anyway; it always is. Drake had been anticipating a dull afternoon of helping Maxwell salvage the remains of his family dignity. He knew Liam would be here, sure, but traditionally the royal family was tucked away, kept at arm’s length from the raucous crowds of the regatta. He hadn’t expected to run into Liam on the docks, dressed down like he used to when they were teenagers, the sleeves of his sweater rolled up as he shook hands with well-wishers in the crowd.

Drake had stopped short, staring at him, hands full of materials he was dropping off for Maxwell. Liam had lifted his hand in a wave, the corner of his mouth tipped up in a smile, and Drake realized that they were barely a few yards away from the sands of the marina where Liam had kissed him for the first time all those summers ago.

He’d found Olivia almost immediately after the race had finished, remembering the way Liam looked with his shirt soaked through, mouth hot on his neck against the chill of the night air, letting the memory carry him into her bed as his mind took him straight to Liam’s.

He walks to the beach party on his own, trying to steel himself to see Liam again. Thankfully, this time, he’s nowhere in sight among the suitors and sponsors — Maxwell and Riley among them — detained for a moment in his royal duties.

“You came!” Riley calls out, waving Drake over once she sees him approaching. She’s wearing some elaborately beaded cover-up that dips down her chest, exposing the white bikini underneath and just barely grazing the tops of her thighs. He sets his jaw, trying his best to curb his displeasure towards her.

“Yeah, yeah, don’t get so excited about it,” He frowns when she holds out her arms for a hug, blowing her off in favor of grabbing a Coke from the nearby catering table and popping the tab.

Riley throws her arms around Maxwell instead, pulling him against her side without missing a beat. Drake had taken the liberty of snagging a miniature bottle of Jack from Olivia’s fridge before leaving her yacht, and he pulls it out of his pocket while the two of them are distracted, emptying the contents into the soda.

The first sip is such sweet relief he nearly sighs.

“I’m trying to get everyone to go swimming with me,” Riley chatters on, “I’ve never been to a beach where you can swim in the water, and Hana says it’s actually warm here.”

“It is,” Drake replies, mind wandering back to the way the water from Liam’s eyelashes dripped down his face when they kissed.

“Well, Maxwell won’t go with me,” Riley pouts, “He’s being a little bitch.”

“God, Riley,” Maxwell turns away from her dramatically, barely concealing his grin, “I told you I can’t mess up my tanlines.”

“That’s exactly what a little bitch would say,” Riley cackles, grabbing him around his waist, the two of them breaking into wild laughter.

Drake throws back the rest of his drink, Riley and Maxwell now virtually ignoring his presence as they continue their strange back-and-forth. He lets it slide, grateful for the reprieve.

He heads back towards the catering setup to throw away his now empty can, lingering for a moment to survey the rest of the area in search of the bar. He doesn’t notice Liam come up behind him, resting a hand delicately against the small of his back.

He jumps at the touch, almost turning right into Liam’s arms. “Hey,” Liam says, pulling his hand back. “Sorry — I should’ve said something.”

“No, it’s —” Drake feels his heart stutter, Liam so close to him again. In this place, of all places. “I’m sorry, I should’ve been paying attention.”

“Congrats on the win,” Liam smiles. “Riley told me you helped her and Maxwell out on the boat.”

Drake runs a hand through his hair, fingers almost shaking. “Yeah, I… yeah.”

Their eyes meet, Drake feeling sapped of all his strength as soon as they do.

“You look…” he tries to find words, his mouth fumbling under Liam’s gaze. “You look good. Really good.”

“Thank you,” Liam says politely, shifting almost imperceptibly closer. Drake isn’t sure if he even knows he’s doing it. “My father said it’s best for me to dress down at events like this, makes me seem more approachable.”

“I don’t know about ‘approachable,’” Drake replies, reaching out to brush his fingers ever so slightly along the seam of Liam’s sweater, pulling back when he reaches his waist. “You look hot.”

“It’s not too warm out today,” Liam says, “There’s a wind coming out over the —“

“No, Liam — god,” Drake cracks a smile, lowering his voice. “You look hot. Like, ‘everyone here wants you’ hot.”

“Oh,” Liam rubs the back of his neck, his cheeks reddening. “Right.”

Drake laughs. “It’s a compliment, I promise. Casual… it suits you. Everything suits you.”

“Listen, I actually… I came over here because I need to talk to you,” Liam says, breaking his posture to hazard a gentle touch on Drake’s arm. “About what my father said, during his speech.”

“His speech?” His skin prickles under Liam’s hand. “When?”

“Before the regatta.” Liam bites his lip. “Did you not hear it?”

Drake shakes his head. “I must’ve been setting up with Maxwell. Why? What did he say?”

“Drake,” Liam’s grip tightens, a hollow desperation in his voice. “He’s stepping down. After the social season.”

Drake stares.

“But — but that’s —” Oh god. “That’s in a few weeks.”

“I know.”

“He didn’t… did he even warn you?”

“No.” Liam takes a deep breath, blinking too quickly. “He didn’t say anything — he still hasn’t. I don’t know what brought this on, he’s never even —” Another breath, this one bringing tears to his eyes. “I don’t know what to do, I can’t… I thought I’d have more time.”

His voice breaks, and Drake glances around their surroundings, checking to make sure no one is too close by. Liam has his lips pursed tightly, his hand wrapped around Drake’s arm like a vice, and Drake can tell he’s on the verge of breaking down.

“Okay, it’s gonna be okay,” he says, gently removing Liam’s hand, turning to wrap his arm around Liam’s shoulders. “Let’s get out of here and we can talk, alright? Just — I’m right here.”

Liam nods, letting Drake lead him slowly away from the party and onto the beach, where the crowds are fewer and far between. They make their way towards the brush on the opposite end, leading into the old hiking trails they used to climb when they were kids. By some gracious stroke of luck, they manage to avoid attracting the attention of the group of suitors who have wandered into the water (Riley curiously not among them) and slip in between the palm trees a moment later.

When they’re out of sight, Drake drops his arm, but Liam reaches for his hand almost immediately, interlocking their fingers together. Drake glances over at him, but he’s still staring down at the ground, following the path they’d always take towards the waterfall.

“Do you know why he might be doing this?” Drake ventures, quickening his pace to keep up. “I mean, is it too late to take it back?”

“I don’t know, I don’t know,” Liam mutters, squeezing Drake’s hand. “I feel like none of this is real.”

“We’ll figure it out, Liam,” Drake says. “This is what you’ve been training for, for years now. You’re brilliant, the people love you, you’re going to be incredible.”

“I know.”

“Look, I don’t give a shit about any of this stuff, the royalty, the ceremony — all of it. But even I can see how much this country adores you, all the work you’ve done for them. Everyone here, everyone around you, we’ll be right by you the entire way. You can absolutely do this.”

“I know,” Liam repeats, voice breaking, “But I don’t want to.”

Drake stops, pulling Liam to a halt by their joined hands. When Liam looks back at him, the tears are already falling down his face.

He bites his lip, squeezing his eyes shut against them. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey,” Drake says quietly, “It’s just me.”

Liam lets out a shaky breath, wiping at his eyes with his free hand. “I don’t want to do it, Drake. I don’t want any of this. I never did, never. And I… I guess I thought that maybe things would fix themselves, fall into place somehow, if I gave it enough time. Maybe Leo would come back, or my father would keep ruling for the next decade, at least. But now it’s… it is real, and there’s nothing I can do about it. I just needed more time, and… and he took it.”

“Oh, Liam,” Drake whispers.

“And I — I know it’s such a stupid thing to complain about, right?” Liam looks at him, lower lip quivering as the tears keep coming. “I mean it’s a lifetime of fortune, power, public adoration… how can I stand here and say I’m upset with it when so many people have nothing? I hate that I can’t just be grateful for what I’m given. But… but I really thought I was going to have a chance to be me, for at least a moment. For once in my whole life, to just be Liam and nothing else. That’s the only thing I’ve ever wanted.”

Drake closes the distance between them, pulling Liam tightly to his chest as the tears cut his voice short, Liam pressing his face into Drake’s shoulder as he breathes in deep.

“You have a few weeks,” Drake murmurs. “It’s… it’s not over yet. You’re not the King yet.”

“But then what?” Liam manages, “Once we have the coronation… that’s it.”

“You have a few weeks,” Drake repeats, his voice smaller this time.

Liam holds him close, the tears coming slower now. Drake strokes his hair, the other hand wrapped around his back. He’s so incredibly tempted to just brush his lips against Liam’s temple, press a kiss along the side of his cheek, but he knows it won’t make anything better. At least not in the long term.

“We’ll figure it out,” he says, “I’m not leaving you, alright? I’ll do whatever you need, even if it’s just… being here.”

“You know,” Liam says softly, turning his head just a bit so as not to muffle his voice in Drake’s shirt. “You’re the only person in my life who’s ever cared about me for just me, nothing else.”

“Liam, I —” Drake pauses, catching himself. “I more than care about you.”

Liam lifts his head, looking into Drake’s eyes just a few inches away, still wrapped up in his arms. Drake holds his breath, letting the hand in Liam’s hair drop down to gently brush the tears from his face. Liam leans into his touch, and for a moment, he thinks maybe —

“Thank you,” Liam breathes, eyes still drinking him in, rooting him to the spot. “For letting me be just Liam.”

“Well, it’s my job,” Drake says, fingers lingering along Liam’s cheek. “I’d never forgive myself if you got a big head. We’d have to overthrow you.”

Liam smiles, and Drake wants to kiss him so badly it’s almost painful. His heart hurts, each beat a reminder of the time passing, taking Liam away from him with every second.

“I more than care about you, too,” Liam finally says, stepping back from him, but pulling Drake’s hand into his once more.

They walk back to the beach like that, so close their shoulders almost brush together, only stepping apart when they emerge from the cover of the trees. Even still, Liam holds tight to his hand just a second longer before letting him go.

---

It’s a punch to the gut that the next stop is Applewood, the place they’d built the most dreams on. Memories cloud every room, hopes still lingering in the air like dust. Drake wishes he’d just gotten a hotel.

Maxwell and Riley are the first to arrive, early in the morning, Maxwell buzzing with energy as usual even while carrying Riley’s bags inside the sprawling estate. It’s not Drake’s ideal company, but he figures that he’d just be one step closer to a full mental breakdown if he spent the day following Liam around.

“Drake!” Maxwell singsongs, once they meet up in the sitting room of the sleeping quarters. The morning sun is still so bright through the windows, Drake squinting against the light as Maxwell pulls him into a hug. “Are you excited?”

“For what?” Drake says, leaning back against the table he’d been using as a chair, wishing he had brought down something to drink while he waited for them. “Nasty apples and a fucking parade?”

Maxwell smiles at him. “You’re always so comfortingly stagnant.”

Drake sighs, crossing his arms. “Where’s your girl?”

“She’s not my girl,” Maxwell says, “And she’s getting ready. Bertrand is giving her the fifth degree about her outfit again.”

“Rough.”

“Yeah, especially since he doesn’t know the first thing about fashion.”

Maxwell keeps chattering away, filling the void with his usual nonsense, and for once Drake is grateful. At least the constant mindless talking drowns out the memories of Liam that keep washing over him like the tide, relentless in their onslaught.

Riley emerges not long after, looking half-asleep but still done up. It’s clear that she’s trying to look more casual, more subdued, but there are still so many bobby pins in her hair she could set off a metal detector.

“Does this place have a real kitchen?” she asks, “I need coffee immediately. Bertrand just took all the energy I had left and smashed it under his foot like a bug.”

“Colorful analogy,” Maxwell takes her arm. “He didn’t follow you here, did he?”

Drake nods towards the door. “There’s a kitchen down the hall. A real one, not for the staff. Should have coffee.”

“I didn’t know you were the tour guide today,” Riley says in response.

“Drake used to come here all the time with Liam,” Maxwell answers, already leading Riley out into the hall. “As you know, we all go way back.”

Drake sighs, standing up to follow them. At least if they’re heading to the kitchen, he can get something to make this bearable. Something a little stronger than coffee.

They meet up with the others on the way out to the orchard, the rest of the girls overdone as usual, Kiara in particular making a silent fuss over navigating the dirt path in her heels. To Drake’s surprise, Riley falls back next to him in the group, nudging him in the shoulder to announce her presence.

“Hey, Debbie Downer.”

“Wow, you’re a charmer.” He takes a sip from the to-go cup that he had decidedly not used for its intended purpose, already wishing he’d planned ahead for a refill. “Make a lot of friends like that?”

“Are we friends now?”

“No.”

Her white dress makes her look innocent, almost bridal, a stark reminder of the reason she’s here, of the deadline approaching in just a few short weeks. He takes another drink, willing the minutes to go by faster.

“Do you guys always go to this thing? The apple festival?”

“Not if I can help it.”

She rolls her eyes. “Wow, I’m gonna need more coffee if I plan on dealing with you all day.”

“Who says you’re —”

She grabs the cup from his hands before he’s even aware of what she’s doing, tipping it back and taking a drink with her eyes locked on his, clearly enjoying his annoyance. He watches her, wide-eyed, waiting for the expression to change, but she doesn’t miss a beat even as she drops the cup back down as quickly as she’s grabbed it, swallowing the sip and holding it out toward him.

He takes it from her carefully, not missing the pointed look she gives him as their fingers brush.

“Don’t,” he says under his breath, “I already know, okay?”

She gently touches her lips. “That is… not coffee.”

“Exactly why I wasn’t offering.”

“Drake —”

“Save it, Brooks.”

“I just —” she purses her lips, looking at him in a way he hates even more than her. “Are you alright?”

“Fucking peachy.”

“You sure?” She taps the lid of his cup. “Because that’s straight whiskey. In a Starbucks cup. At nine in the morning.”

He doesn’t answer, hoping his silence will force her to drop the subject. He’s wrong.

“What is that, like an entire fifth?” She lowers her voice, an accusatory edge in her tone. “Please tell me you’re not going to drink that whole thing.”

“I don’t want to talk about this with you.”

“You don’t want to talk about anything with me, so what makes this any different?”

He’s surprised to hear the bitterness in her voice when she says that, so uncharacteristic of her normal cheery demeanor. He’d always assumed that’s why she and Maxwell got along so well, both obliviously optimistic, but her face is set hard when he turns to look at her.

“You’re an alcoholic,” she says.

“I am not.”

“Well, if you’re not now, then you’re already one foot into a future of AA meetings.” She crosses her arms, eyes searching his face. “Did you drink anything before this?”

He hesitates a beat too long, somehow unable to bring himself to lie, and she purses her lips. “God, Drake.”

“Calm down,” he rolls his eyes. “I’m not drunk, okay? Doing all this shit... it’s stressful.”

“You’ve had more alcohol this morning than I’ve had since the day I showed up here, and you’re not drunk? That’s exactly what an alcoholic would say.”

“I...” He stares at her.

She stares back.

“Riley!” Maxwell calls from up ahead, “They’re starting!”

“Brooks,” Drake says, voice low. She turns away from him, hurrying forward down the path while he lets himself come to a stop, watching her go. Before she’s too far away, she looks back, pity crossing over her face when her eyes meet his.

“Just… wait until five like the rest of us,” she sighs, brow furrowing before she turns her back to him again.

---

Drake isn’t sure what to do with himself as the festivities continue on, press crowding the gardens that used to be the backdrop of his daydreams. He doesn’t want to see Liam, not in this place, not with these people. And at the same time, the urge to find him and hold him close is stronger than ever.

There’s a gazebo out near the pond where he’s certain Liam will be, hidden out from the rest of the world. How could he not, with everything weighing on him recently? Drake steels himself, brushing past the signs that say the area is closed, making his way up the cobblestones until he has his hand on the doorknob, about to enter.

Through the glass of the door, he sees her — Riley.

She’s not alone.

He steps backward, at first still trying to maintain the illusion of calm, but it’s too much to keep staring at the two of them, especially when Liam is standing so close to her. Riley smiles up at him, and Drake has to turn away, rushing back down the garden pathway towards the house, desperate to put some space in between them.

He doesn’t know what he’s looking for when he hurries up the stairs towards his room, just something to make him forget, something to take the edge off the jagged parts of his heart. If Liam chooses her, if Liam marries her —

He finds Olivia instead, making her way down the hallway with a bottle of something dark in her hand. At the sight of him, she holds it up. “Want a drink?”

They sit out on the balcony of her room, glasses full, no ice.

“Do you really think he’s going to pick her?” she asks.

Drake doesn’t want to think about it, but he knows he has to. Liam is going to pick someone, right? And now that his father has officially announced he’s stepping down, there’s even more riding on the choice. He runs his finger over the rim of his glass. “Yeah.”

“Ugh,” Olivia rubs the bridge of her nose. “I mean I knew it, but I thought... you know, maybe.”

“For what it’s worth,” he offers, “If it had to be anyone… I’d have preferred it be you.”

“Don’t get soft on me. That was almost... nice.”

“It’s never happening again.”

“Good.” Olivia leans forward, resting her chin in her hand, looking out at the grounds with obvious distaste. She swirls her glass absently, the liquid running up against the edges and threatening to spill.

Drake can see the swarms of guests out in the distance, can barely glimpse the edge of the gazebo as well. He wonders if they’re still in there, if they’ve moved on from just talking. “She called me an alcoholic earlier.”

Olivia laughs. “Who, Riley?”

“Who else?”

“Well, you are.” Olivia rolls her eyes at him. “An alcoholic, I mean.”

“I am not.”

Olivia turns her head to meet his eyes, nodding in the direction of the bottle she’d brought out with them. “Where the fuck do you think I got this? Not to mention the fact that you didn’t even notice it was yours. You’re the biggest cliché I’ve ever met, Drake.”

She leans back in the chair with a sigh, closing her eyes and raising her glass up in a mocking toast. “Happy fucking birthday, by the way.”

He discovers later that Liam has let it slip to Riley, who has let it slip to everyone. Maxwell makes them all go out to a western bar to celebrate. He pretends it was Riley’s idea, but he has a car waiting far too quickly for it not to have been an organized ruse. They nag Drake until he agrees to go just to get them off his case, even though a night out with that group is that last thing he wants. It’s just like Maxwell to remember what he hates most in the world and then somehow make it worse.

The only glimmer of hope in the whole debacle is Liam, who has agreed to sneak out with the rest of them. He’s been more of a stickler for the rules lately, what with the social season being so highly watched, so his presence is both a gift and the one thing making the night worthwhile.

When they arrive, Maxwell, Hana, and Riley make a beeline for the dance floor, shrieking with laughter. Drake hangs back by the bar, not wanting to get caught in their debauchery any more than he has to.

Liam sits down next to him, still looking every bit the handsome prince, even without his tailored suits. “Hey,” he says, smiling in that earnest way of his, making Drake’s mouth go dry. “I know you hate all this, but I’m sure you’re glad for an excuse to be away from the court.”

Drake looks down at his hands, avoiding Liam’s eyes. “Yeah, it’s been… a lot, lately.”

The tone of Liam’s voice says more than his words. “I know.”

He exhales slowly, and Drake drops his hand at his side, brushing it against Liam’s until Liam hooks two of their fingers together, ever so slightly.

“My father is dying,” he says quietly, “that’s why he’s stepping down. Nobody knows.”

Drake looks at him in shock. “Liam, I —”

“I’m not telling you because I want you to feel bad for me,” Liam looks down at his feet. “I just need to tell someone. And you’re my… you’re my best friend.”

“Jesus,” Drake says, “I’m sorry.”

“Me too.” Liam sighs, still not meeting his eyes. “I’m sorry for so many things, Drake.”

Before he can respond, Riley and Maxwell pounce on them, and he drops Liam’s hand. “Come on,” Riley is saying, tugging at Drake’s sleeve, “You have to dance with us, birthday boy! Hana’s getting drinks.”

“I’m good, thanks,” Drake frowns, crossing his arms. “I don’t do dancing.”

“But it’s your birthday!”

“Even more reason why you should throw in the towel on this.”

Riley pouts, turning instead to Liam. “Liam, you’ll dance with me, right? Show Drake how it’s done?”

“I…” Liam glances over at Drake, an apology in his eyes, and then Riley is tugging him out with her, eyes bright as she laughs.

Maxwell hops up onto the barstool next to Drake, watching Riley go with a distant smile on his face. Drake regards him warily. “You’re going to pass up dancing to… sit at the bar?”

“It’s your birthday,” Maxwell replies, an echo of Riley’s earlier refrain. “You shouldn’t be all alone over here.”

“I know it’s hard for you types to understand, but sometimes being alone is preferable.”

“I don’t think you really believe that,” Maxwell says. “If we get you drunk, will you at least pretend to be more fun?”

Drake rolls his eyes, but Maxwell is already ordering something from the bartender, then passing a shot glass over to Drake, who only looks at him incredulously. “I’m not doing shots with you.”

“Yes you are,” Maxwell holds his up like a toast. “To a new year with everyone’s favorite wet blanket.”

Drake rolls his eyes even harder this time, but Maxwell’s energy is just contagious enough to get him to oblige, raising his as well. “To being alone.”

Maxwell laughs, throwing back the shot and standing up. Drake does the same, but the liquid in his glass tastes like rotten licorice. He coughs, hitting Maxwell in the shoulder. “What the fuck is this?”

“Absinthe,” Maxwell says. “You needed it.”

“And you just —”

“Oh no, mine was a gummy bear,” he says, even as Drake makes a face at him. “Chin up, Walker, you’ll get your alone time now — the lady calls.”

Drake looks in the direction of Maxwell’s footsteps, still swallowing back the bitter taste in his mouth. Riley has broken off from Liam, who is over to the side talking with Hana, and now has both her arms outstretched towards Maxwell. She’s smiling so big it’s like her whole face is a sunbeam, and she bounces on her toes until he meets her, taking her hands and spinning her around, both of them laughing.

Hana sets her drink down, excusing herself to go join Maxwell and Riley, and Drake takes the chance to finally pull away from the bar and cross over to where Liam is standing, watching them all.

“No more dancing?” Drake asks upon approach. Liam’s eyes flicker over to him, but he barely smiles.

“Maxwell can keep up with Riley better than I can.”

Drake follows his gaze, watching Riley for a moment as well. She’s moved on to teaching Hana how to line dance, pulling Maxwell in for support as Hana awkwardly attempts to follow her moves.

He looks back at Liam, whose face is tinged with an exhaustion so heavy it weighs down his shoulders. He looks like he’s not quite all there, like a part of him is still pacing the halls of the palace trying to pick up the pieces of the monarchy.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Drake ventures.

Liam’s expression doesn’t even shift at the question. “I don’t know. Not now. Not today. I shouldn’t have… I shouldn’t have said anything; this is supposed to be a break from all that.”

“When you run with the nobles, nothing ever really is.”

They only stay for an hour or so more before Maxwell finally relents and calls another car to take them back to Applewood. The drive back is quiet, Riley resting her head on Maxwell’s shoulder, both of them crashing from their adrenaline highs. Liam still seems caught in himself, and finally Drake has to turn and look out the window because it hurts too much to know there’s nothing he can do.

Once inside, Hana is first to take her leave, and then Riley and Maxwell split off towards their rooms, leaving Drake and Liam to walk the rest of the distance alone. The second it’s just the two of them, the darkened hallways echoing with their footsteps, the air feels heavy.

Every moment alone with Liam is like this: charged with potential and what-ifs and tension. He wants to pull Liam into his room, kiss him until they both can’t breathe. He wants to mark out a new memory, one they can’t forget.

Liam is on edge, Drake can tell; he’s careful not to close the space between them too much and his hands are clasped together. It’s like he knows exactly what Drake is thinking, and he’s desperately trying to tell him no, even as his eyes drink him in when he thinks no one can see.

Drake’s room is first of course, with Liam in the royal suite. They pause outside, both silent, not looking at each other as Drake unlocks his door. It’s only when he opens it that he feels a hand on his arm.

“Drake,” Liam whispers. Drake looks back at him, but he doesn’t move to continue, only gazing out with eyes as deep as the ocean.

Drake rests his hand on top of Liam’s, still locked in his gaze. “Yeah?”

He imagines it all playing out: Liam reaching for him, the two of them stumbling into the room, kisses on all the places where their bodies yearn for each other, fingers tight on the sheets, a hand on the headboard, Liam’s mouth on his as he says Drake’s name like a prayer.

Instead, Liam pulls his hand back, almost trembling, his mouth parting for just a moment before finally he speaks. “Happy birthday.”

Drake just stares at him, falling in love all over again, breaking his heart all over again. The endless cycle of renewal and pain that punctuates their time together. He wants to say I love you. He wants to say I miss you. He wants to say I know you said we can’t wish anymore, but I wished for you.

Instead, he says nothing, opening the door to his room, stepping inside, and sinking down to the floor as soon as Liam is gone.

That night he dreams about Liam for the first time in a while, has to wake up and take a cold shower at four in the morning, hands pressed against the tile while he breathes in deep. Afterwards, he stares himself down in the mirror. Get a hold of yourself.

He almost pours a glass of whiskey on the way back to bed, but for some reason he hears Riley’s voice in his head and can’t bring himself to do it. Instead, he stares at his phone, writing and re-writing a text to Liam.

I can’t stop thinking about

Maybe we could still

I want you so bad I just

I love you I love you I love you

He deletes every single one, falling back against the pillow with a frustrated sigh.

#driam #drake x liam #trr fanfic #playchoices fanfic #dralivia #my fic #long post #sorry this one is literally only depressing angst #the next one should be out faster i already have a bunch of it written

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dr-nero-is-god · 5 years

Note

all of the evil asks (but only if you have the time!!) for wing because he's my favorite son

Good news, nonnie! I am recovering from a twenty-one hour journey yesterday, which leaves me too dead to do adulting but just awake enough to dedicate 46 acres of my mind to Wing Fanchu. (And really, which is the more wholesome task, anyway?)

1. What does their bedroom look like?

I’ll do his pre-H.I.V.E. bedroom, since we’re all familiar with the cells. Tan walls, a large window with a dark pull-down shade, and a large, low bed with a white comforter. Some posters of tricky martial arts positions. A neatly-rolled yoga mat in the corner, and space on the floor to use it.

2. Do they have any daily rituals?

Meditation, for 15-30 minutes every morning, assuming Otto has not set a new harebrained scheme in motion.

3. Do they exercise, and if so, what do they do? How often?

Wing certainly would, even if he didn’t have to. Martial arts, running, swimming, pull-ups, all those things. Probably every day. Maybe many times a day. Can you get paid to be strong?

4. What would they do if they needed to make dinner but the kitchen was busy?

Wait patiently, acting as though he wasn’t hungry at all.

5. Cleanliness habits (personal, workspace, etc.)

Very neat, but some of that comes from being someone who doesn’t take much stock in an excess of personal possessions. That said, Wing is very good about grooming his long hair, and keeping his notebooks in order, and so on. He makes his bed every morning, too, cuz his mama raised him right.

6. Eating habits and sample daily menu

Generally lots of vegetables—he enjoys treats but isn’t swayed by food just because it looks fancy. That said, he isn’t a picky eater, either. Whatever is on the lunch menu, he doesn’t mind.

Breakfast: raisin bran and yogurt, or avocado toast

Mid-morning snack: crushed nuts and dried fruit

Lunch: veggie wrap (i.e. tortilla with hummus, bell peppers, salad, tomatoes, cucumber, and cheese)

Mid-afternoon snack: peanut butter and celery

Dinner: Roasted mushrooms, onions, and broccoli with rice and a tofu burger

7. Favorite way to waste time and feelings surrounding wasting time

Wing isn’t really a time-waster. If he has a few extra moments, he might meditate or sleep. When he can’t focus, he tends to get up and do something else and try again later.

8. Favorite indulgence and feelings surrounding indulging

As a disciplined person, Wing doesn’t give much thought to indulgence, but he is generally good about restarting his routines after breaking them. Biggest example would be taking a day off from his workout routine.

9. Makeup?

“I am pleased you admire my high cheekbones, Shelby, but I see no reason to do something so frivolous as contour them.”

11. Intellectual pursuits?

Wing occasionally might read a book on strategy or martial arts, but he prefers the practical application in the gym.

12. Favorite book genre?

Non-fiction. He has little to no use for fantasies and make-believe.

13. Sexual Orientation? And, regardless of own orientation, thoughts on sexual orientation in general?

Pansexual. Generally accepting of queer identities, but also considers them to be a very private matter and so can feel uncomfortable when people bring it up.

14. Physical abnormalities? (Both visible and not, including injuries/disabilities, long-term illnesses, food-intolerances, etc.)

Allergy to strawberries and a bad knee from an accident that will probably need to be replaced later.

15. Biggest and smallest short term goal?

Biggest: get out of H.I.V.E. alive

Smallest: beat Shelby at literally any competition

16. Biggest and smallest long term goal?

Biggest: keep one (1) otto malpense from getting beaten up, burned, assaulted, kidnapped, brainwashed, bullied, bruised, cut, crushed, killed, maimed, and/or otherwise damaged

Smallest: visit his mom’s grave annually

17. Preferred mode of dress and rituals surrounding dress

Simple, non-dramatic garb. I have always imagined that Wing would be his best self in business casual sweaters. He is also very particular about the shoes that he wears, but I don’t know enough about shoes to comment.

18. Favorite beverage?

Water.

19. What do they think about before falling asleep at night?

He doesn’t.

20. Childhood illnesses? Any interesting stories behind them?

Nothing much worse than the common cold, but he still has fond memories of his mom stopping in to check on him and give him soup, and his dad checking in on him before bed.

21. Turn-ons? Turn-offs?

Turn-ons: Sarcasm, which makes living with Otto and Shelby nigh unbearable.

Turn-offs: people who use the word “like” as a filler too much.

22. Given a blank piece of paper, a pencil, and nothing to do, what would happen?

He would set them neatly to the side and then put his head down and take on his chainsaw persona.

23. How organized are they? How does this organization/disorganization manifest in their everyday life?

Wing is very neat, but not entirely organized. In particular, he isn’t always good at keeping track of assignments for school, so he has gotten marked down a few times for not paying attention to dates and times, much to his disappointment.

24. Is there one subject of study that they excel at? Or do they even care about intellectual pursuits at all?

Wing has a modest success with almost all of his classes, but he is really good at strategy. If pressed, he could be a one-man armada. (That said, it isn’t like he considers intellectual things like math his beloved.)

25. How do they see themselves 5 years from today?

I don’t think Wing knows, but he would certainly hope to be partnering with one of his friends from school. If not, perhaps finding his place after going through his mother’s belongings.

26. Do they have any plans for the future? Any contingency plans if things don’t work out?

No, in part because H.I.V.E. doesn’t exactly cater to someone with his particular ethical framework. Wing wouldn’t want to exploit people for money, fame, or love, but he would find it just as tasteless to contract with a government to expose these deeds. Wing would feel most satisfied in a career where he has a personal connection—for example, running security in Laura’s tech company, or working as Otto’s personal bodyguard. Until Wing can get some life experience away from the island, he won’t have a clear idea of where he belongs.

27. What is their biggest regret?

Losing Otto to H.O.P.E. and allowing him to be brainwashed and taken advantage of in the worst of ways.

28. Who do they see as their best friend? Their worst enemy?

Best friend is Otto, obviously. Though their friendship was kind of manufactured by their close proximity, Wing finds Otto to be inspiring, trustworthy, and relatable.

Wing disdains all people he considers dishonorable, but he particularly loathes people who abuse their authority, like Dekker.

29. Reaction to sudden extrapersonal disaster (e.g. The house is on fire! What do they do?)

Action! If there are people and pets involved, then he saves them! If there is critical information that is needed, he makes that a second priority! He gets people to safety, calls for help, and continues to risk life and limb to make sure the people he cares about are okay.

30. Reaction to sudden intrapersonal disaster (eg close family member suddenly dies)

Well. It can be hard to tell, at first—Wing isn’t an entirely expressive guy. But, unsurprisingly, his pain has to come out in other ways. Lashing out, making rash decisions, losing motivation… all of these things are his way of not-coping with disaster because he struggles to express his emotions in a healthy way. (Many thanks to his dad for making him respond this way.)

31. Most prized possession?

His mom’s yin/yang necklace, although that is a gimme.

32. Thoughts on material possessions in general?

Not particularly concerned. Though Wing is not immune from sentiment, as in the case of his mom’s necklace, Wing’s strongest responses are for people and situations, not lifeless objects. It isn’t true to say that you could just pick Wing up and drop him anywhere, because of the social loss, but you could certainly burn his house down and he would be able to move on.

33. Concept of home and family?

Wing makes very deep bonds with the people who are emotionally open with him and who he spends a lot of time working and playing with. His mother (and father, to some extent) gave him that familial care when he was very young, but after Xiu Mei’s death and Cypher’s withdrawal from his home life, Lao became that staple of home love, a bond made strong by commitment and involvement. The same occurred when Wing came to H.I.V.E., and found a small home group in Otto, Laura, Shelby, Franz, and Nigel, who formed reciprocal relationships and made him feel like he belonged through the time they spent together.

34. Thoughts on privacy? (Are they a private person, or are they prone to ‘TMI’?)

Super private. He doesn’t mind sharing personal things with his nosy friends, but the rest of the school? If he had his way they wouldn’t know his eye color, much less the status of his feelings or relationships.

35. What activities do they enjoy, but consider to be a waste of time?

Puzzles, parkour, and frisbee.

36. What makes them feel guilty?

The times he has let down his friends, either by wrong action or inaction. Not taking care of himself. Lying by omission about his thoughts and feelings that he is not confident enough to share with people he respects. Leaving behind Lao, who might not know where he is.

37. Are they more analytical or more emotional in their decision-making?

Analytical, but with emotional motivations. Wing will bide his time bemoaning the loss of his best pal, very emotional and sad, and then assess the situation and jump into a helicopter when the time is right to save that pasty best friend’s ass.

38. Would they consider themselves a Type A or Type B personality?

Type B, which is not a usual thing for Alphas, let me tell you.

39. What recharges them when they’re feeling drained?

Sleep, meditation, working out, snuggling, listening to his friends have brilliant ideas (but only if he has been drained by hard and/or boring intellectual work), sleep.

40. Would you say that they have a superiority-complex? Inferiority-complex? Neither?

Maybe a slight inferiority complex that doesn’t show. In the wake of Xiu Mei’s death, Cypher made his son feel completely unimportant. Lao did the important work of rebuilding Wing’s self-esteem, but that sense of abandonment and unimportance can return in dark moments.

41. How misanthropic are they?

Not very. True facts, Wing could probably work for Greenpeace or a humanitarian aid society after school and feel very fulfilled defending ordinary people from corrupt militias and other dangerous things.

(Side note, Laura and Nigel would be my other contenders for humanitarian/charitable work, but Laura needs a greater intellectual challenge and Nigel would probably get overwhelmed and get back into evil botany.)

42. Hobbies?

Martial arts, sand art, yoga

43. How far did they get in formal education? What are their views on formal education vs self-education?

Wing received the best education his parents could get him as a young boy, but after his mother’s death he didn’t feel involved or interested, and his only interest became the passion for martial arts that he received from his mentor Lao. He quite admires self-education when it is done well, because it demonstrates high motivation and a deep passion for a subject of study.

44. Religion?

None, but he respects those who have one.

45. Superstitions or views on the occult?

Nothing major, but he does sometimes get the impression that his mother might be looking out for him, or reappearing in his life in small ways. Maybe in the way a flower blooms, maybe in hearing a familiar laugh. Or just good things happening.

46. Do they express their thoughts through words or deeds?

Usually deeds, because it is easier for Wing to step up to the plate and help his friends in whatever way they need to be helped without their asking. But nor is Wing embarrassed to admit it when he cares about people, and when he says those things, he means them.

47. If they were to fall in love, who (or what) is their ideal?

Brilliant smile. Someone he can enjoy a little competition with, but always in a friendly way. Someone who balances his quiet nature and composure with eagerness and ambition. Soft. Enjoys snuggling. Someone he can be honest with, but also someone he doesn’t completely understand. Someone who makes him laugh. Someone who makes an effort to understand him, even when it is hard. Hard worker. Talented. Smart. Someone who doesn’t allow him to take himself seriously. Someone who meshes with his friends, or bare minimum won’t take those friends away from him.

48. How do they express love?

In the dramatic ways, like risking his life. Also in mundane ways, like kissing on top of the head, or running errands on a busy day, or making sure that the beloved who fell asleep doing homework gets all the way into bed with a warm blanket.

49. If this person were to get into a fist fight, what is their fighting style like?

… at this point, I am going to defer to the master and tell you to just re-read the books. Like damn what do you want me to SAY.

50. Is this person afraid of dying? Why or why not?

No, but he would prefer not to. He doesn’t lose sleep over the inevitable, though.

#wing fanchu #evil asks #headcanon #otto malpense #laura brand #shelby trinity #nigel darkdoom #franz argentblum #i hope you're happy nonnie #headcanons #long post

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