#also: i tag a lot about yvonne's arms
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Oxford to the Cotswolds
Chapter 23 - Always the Bridesmaid.
A/N: So here it is the LAST chapter of Always the Bridesmaid. I kinda feel sad but I know it’s not the end of H&L.Thanks so much @aussieez for proof reading. Thank you again to all those following this story and continue to follow it, you have no idea how much it means to me that you take the time to read.😘
I’m finalizing my tag list for this over the next few days, so again if you like to be tagged just let me know!
Read previous chapters HERE!
Warnings: Fluff & NSFW
Word Count: 2914
Pairings: Laila x Harry
Enjoy! 😘
A week later.
After their little spat, Harry decided maybe now was the time to take up his parents offer of using their cottage. They had their trip planned out, they would leave London on the Sunday morning stop at Oxford for a day or two and get to his parents' cottage on the Tuesday afternoon. "We are staying in an old prison that has been converted into a hotel?" Laila asks as they drove along the M40 "Yeah, I thought it was unusual and right up your street?" he takes his eyes off the road for a second to wink at her "You know the whole cops and robbers thing"
She rolls her eyes and laughs, "I'm guessing you're the criminal?" he smirks. "Nah, I'm a law abiding citizen, my love. You seem like the troublemaker here!" she laughs, "I've been looking up all the sites we need to visit while we are there"
He knew she wouldn't be able to visit a place without doing her research.
"Where do you need to visit then?" she smiles at the fact he asked "So, there is the obvious Bridge of Sighs, which is kind of a copy of the Rialto Bridge in Venice, Carfax tower the views of Oxford, from there are supposed to be amazing, Martyr's Cross which is a cross they have in the road where two Anglican bishops and the Archbishop of Canterbury were burned, oh and there is a Harry Potter tour around the University as some scenes were filmed there and Oxford Castle which is right next door to our prison hotel!"
"Sounds like a couple of days of learning!" he laughs at her "NOT just learning! There is a bar with magical cocktails, ones in test tubes, with fire and even smoke!" she's excited.
Harry doesn't know it, but Laila is a bit of a history buff, if she goes somewhere new she will research the hell out of it. Not long after they moved to London Laila was still adjusting to life in the city, Ezra could see his granddaughter struggling, so he planned a day out with her.
They stood on platform 5 at Harrow and Wealdstone Station "Grandad, where are we going?" she asked him "You will see when we get there!" he smiles at her. The train ride wasn't long. Fifty minutes later they pulled into Bletchley Station "Grandad, why are we here?" he chuckled "And I thought you knew everything about World War 2!" he winks at her, but it doesn't click until 10 minutes later when they were standing outside Bletchley Park.
Laila's eyes are wide "Oh my god!! This....this is where Alan Turing cracked the enigma machine!!" she squealed with excitement before hugging him. "Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!" she's beaming, she takes his hand and drags him through the doors.
This was one thing he and his granddaughter had in common, was their interest in World War 2. They spent hours looking around the huts where it all happened. He never saw her face light up so much as she looked around at the artefacts. They had a look around Station X (National Radio Centre) and when they finally reached the Mansion Laila was overjoyed "Grandad, just think all those people that helped crack the code have been in this very room...no house!!"
They spend hours looking around, before grabbing something to eat at hut 4 "Grandad, just think this is where they would get lunch or even dinner!" she looks around the hut "Laila, just think while they were here no one knew! They had to lie about working here, they couldn't tell anyone even family members. They had to take a vow of silence" he said.
This rang true, as years later Max was building an annex for a couple at the end of their garden and when he got talking to the Nan, whom the annex was being built for she told him how her mum worked at Bletchley Park and had to take a vow of silence which she kept until the park reopened as a museum in 1994.
When it was time to go home Laila couldn't thank him enough for taking her there "Just don't tell your brothers!" she laughs, "I've taken the Bletchley Park vow of silence!"
They finally arrived, Harry pulls into a parking space outside the hotel and a valet comes over Harry hands him the keys and they head in with their cases. They check in; "you will be on the fifth floor in room 135, so take the lift to the right once you go through those doors. Here is your room key and enjoy your stay!" she smiles. "I'm sure we will!" Harry grins at her before they make their way to their room.
"Did you ever watch the TV show Bad Girls?" Laila asks him as the lift takes them to the fifth floor. "I did! Izzy made me watch it with her. That woman that played Yvonne plays Shirley from Eastenders now, doesn't she?" she laughs, "I thought you don't watch it?" she nudges him as the doors open "I don't but when you put it on what am I supposed to do?" he winks.
"129...130...4 more rooms to go," she calls behind her. "Actually 5 more my love," he laughs, she turns to look at him "No! You don't include our room!" she protests. "I think you do," he laughs at her. "NO! No, you don't," he doesn't argue with her.
They dump their bags and head out to look around the city "Oh, they have a Harry Potter tour" Laila's tone is ecstatic, Harry sighs "Don't you want to do it?" she asks "If you want to we will do it" her eyes scan his face "Did the kids in school use to take the piss out of you in school because you had the same name?" she asks, he laughs, "No, if anything they used to call me...oh what was his fat mate called?"
"Crabbe?" she looks at him. "Yeah, that's the one," he offers a weak smile, she runs her fingers through his hair before her arms cling around his neck "Well, who's laughing now? I bet a lot of the girls and boys that bullied you regret it now! You are handsome, fit, funny and you are mine" she winks, he can't help smiling at her "And I have a drop dead gorgeous girlfriend" he says making her blush.
"We'll do something else," she smiles at him and kisses his lips "No, we'll do the tour if you want to!" she looks how long the tour is "2 hours, argh, I'd rather be doing some kinda cardio" he looks at her confused and she laughs, "use your imagination, you are a personal trainer" she winks. He quickly gets the hint "Right, what do we need to look at before I drag you back to the hotel?" he grins at her.
Later.
After dinner, they had back up to their room, "I'm going for a shower" Laila winks at him "OK, I'll grab one after you," she smirks "I was thinking more along the lines of you joining me," she doesn't have to ask him twice, he picks her up and she wraps her legs around his waist as he walks them to the bathroom.
After their shower, Laila notices the chocolate on the bed as she's drying herself. "Oh wow! They're shaped like handcuffs!" she giggles "Hmmm.....that reminds me," he wanders over to his case in just his towel and pulls out a pair of metal handcuffs. "And what do you intend to do with those Mr. Taylor?" she bites her lip "Oh, maybe make an arrest," he winks at her, she notices his arousal through the towel "Oh, on what grounds?" she asks.
"Hmmm....for being stubborn and sarcastic, but also gorgeous, funny, adorable and extremely impossible not to fall in love with" he stands in front of her, pulling off her towel until it drops to the floor. He cups her face, his thumb runs over her lips before capturing them with his, he lifts her arms above her head and his hands run up her arms before he suddenly cuffs her hands.
She smirks against his lips "Oh, PC Taylor, what do I have to do to get you to uncuff me?" his kiss becomes more intense. She drops her hands, so they are wrapped around his neck, he moves them until the backs of her knees hit the bed. They fall onto it with Harry landing on top of her "Well, Miss. Carelli, I think you can convince me somehow" his fingers finds her core.
She hisses at the contact, his other hand comes up and pins her arms above her head as he found her slick petals. "I thought I was the one who had to.....oh shit...convince you to free me," she can barely get her words out, his lips find her pulse line "How exactly are you planning on doing that?" he smirks against her neck.
"Stand up and I'll show you," he does as she says, she sits up and pulls off his towel. Grasping him, she works her hand along him a few times before her mouth follows the same path, he groans as his hips thrust forward in need. Her pillowy lips work along his hardened member, he grunts as her jaw slacks, taking him in further "Fuck...." he mutters.
He rocks his hips back and forth as her tongue runs along the ridges of his cock, he grips a fistful of her hair. His head fell back as he groans, "That's...it gorgeous! Fuck...". She hums against him and her pace moves faster. His knees bucks, her apex is throbbing as she feels him nearing the edge "Laila....I'm...gonna....fuck!" he jerks as he hits his climax and he groans.
She releases him from her mouth and looks up at him. "Are you going to uncuff me now?" she asks as she's sat on her feet, he looks down at her with a grin. He lifts her up and throws her onto the bed, making her giggle "Hey, you said would take these off!" he has a mischievous grin on his face. "Well, Miss. Carelli! I prefer to have you like this, sorry." he captures her lips.
"That's not fair......." she protests, but she soon cuts off as he moves down her body to her centre, his hands grasp the back of both her thighs. His tongue moves apart her folds "Oh Harry!" she moves her arms to run her fingers through his hair. He pulls away, lifts her arms above her head again and kisses her lips "Keep them there!" he tells her before moving back to her core.
Her breathing hitches, he sucks against her clit, making her cry out "Ohhh"
A little later.
His legs are entwined with hers beneath the sheets, she's cuddled up against him as her head rests on his chest "When we get back do you think we should look at properties?" she lifts up and places her hand against his chest stroking his chest hair, looking up to him. He smirks at her, "definitely!" he strokes her hair away from her face "What if we have a look online now?" she stares into his ocean blue eyes and bites her lip waiting for his response.
He reaches for his phone "Let's have a look," he loads up and scrolls through the properties. "What are we going for?" he asks "Somewhere with gates, private drive and pool," she laughs, he digs his fingers into her ribs and she tries to wiggle away "Ahhhh! Harry! Stop!!" his phone is discarded, he cups her face and claims her lips.
His body covers hers and he takes her against.
The next day.
They are back in the car on the way to Harry's parents cottage in Wyck Rissington, Gloucestershire.
Along the way they find a supermarket and grab a few essentials before they continued their drive. They arrive at the cottage 10 minutes later "Aww wow! This is cute!" she smiles as they get out the car. "And it's ours for the next few days" he winks at her.
They head inside, "wow, look at those beams!" she points up at the ceiling. "Have you been here before?" she looks to Harry. "Nah, Mum and Dad haven't let any of us use it...well until now" he winks.
Once they bring in their bags inside, he takes her hand and they have a look around when Harry spots a hot tub outside "Oh, what do we have here?" he nods as he opens the door "I didn't bring a swimsuit!" he has a devilish grin. "Who said anything about swimsuits?" she bit her lip and shook her head at him.
Harry runs Laila a bubble bath with candles around the tub and told her to relax while he cooked dinner. The water was warm against her skin as she sinks into the bathtub, a minute or so later there is a knock on the bathroom door before Harry wanders in with a glass of wine "Here you go, my love," she smiles up at him as she takes the glass "Thank you! So, what's for dinner?"
He leans over kisses her nose and winks "You'll find out when it's on the table. Now enjoy." He leaves her to it.
34 minutes later.
Laila walks into the bedroom and Harry has laid out a dress grey dress on the bed for her to wear. She smiles and starts to get dressed, underneath she puts on some lacy lingerie she had brought for the trip. When she's dressed, she goes in search for Harry, as soon as she saw him, she blushes but can't help but laugh.
"Harry!! What are you doing?" he's stood in the kitchen in just an apron and his boxers, he looks up at her and grins. "You've heard of the Naked Chef right?" he winks. "But he isn't actually naked!" she laughs at him. "I'm not either! I was thinking about it but I thought that would be unsanitary. I see you're wearing the dress I picked out for you." She makes her way over to him.
"Yeah, but the view would be...very sexy," she squeezes his behind "What's for dinner?" she looks around him on the kitchen side "Ah, ah, ah go and sit down," he moves, so she can't see, she sighs, "Fine!" Laila pulls out her phone and sends a picture she took earlier.
Laila looks over to Harry, biting her lip and he catches her checking him out. "You realise I'm not dinner right?" He says. She looks up catching his eye, "might not be dinner, but there is always dessert!" She winks twirling her hair. He chuckles turning back to cooking.
She puts down her phone as he comes over with 2 plates, placing them on table. "Ooo spaghetti and meatballs!" he pours them more wine, Laila twirls her fork collecting the spaghetti "Did you ever see the film The Lady and the Tramp?" she looks over to him. "I have. Mila made me watch it once." He laughs. "Do think we can do a Lady and the Tramp kiss?" she hold up a a string of spaghetti and he chuckles "We can try. Let me put it in my mouth first" Laila cracks and can't help but laugh "OH MY GOD!!"
"Come on, let's give it ago!" He takes the end of the spaghetti and lifts the other side to Laila, she takes it in her mouth and begins to get closer to Harry until their lips are just above each other's. He brushes his lips lightly over hers before pulling away. "Come on, eat up" he smiles at her and she rolls her eyes at him.
After dinner, he takes their plates. "I'll wash them up," she offers. "You can or I can put them in the dishwasher," he jokes, "Actually, you load the dishwasher. I'm going to start up the hot tub!" she gets up from the table "Already done, my love!" he winks at her. "Oh OK!" she stands and lets her dress fall off her shoulders until it's a puddle on the floor.
He looks her up and down. "I didn't bring a swimsuit, but this will do?" say asks as she makes her way to the back door. His eyes never leave hers, she grins, knowing she had him hook, line and sinker. He quickly closes the dish washer and chases after her, she squeals running from him and towards the door.
@lem-20 @aussieez @secretaryunpaid @irisofpurple @khoicesbyk @txemrn @gloriousalmondvoiddreamer @tea-me-kah @casualpostqueen @beautifuluknownvoid @wombatsxkookaburras
Their moans fill the night sky, both are blissfully happy.
Series 2 - Chapter 1
#atb#Always The Bridesmaid#final chapter#original writing#harry x laila#oxford#oxford castle#oxford martyr#oxford university#malmaison oxford#Original Work#original character#original story#@pixie 88 original
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The Little Things
Summary: Derek knew fully well that moving in with Spencer was going to bring around some changes. Dr. Spencer Reid was different and Derek loved him for it. There were little quirks that the doctor showed at work and some Derek was still learning. So there must be some at home.
And a special thanks, of course, to @chaoticgremlinwholikescheese for helping me compile this list!
1. Alphabetizing Movies by Title
“Pretty Boy?” Derek was crouched down in front of their TV looking for their movie while Spencer did the dishes. The latter hadn’t seen Happy Gilmore and Derek couldn’t let that stand.
“Yeah?” Spencer called from the kitchen.
“I can’t find it?”
“What?” Spencer stepped away from the sink and went to the living room. Water dripped from his fingertips. “The movies are alphabetical. It’s between Hamlet and Ice Age.” He went to Derek’s side and gestured to the movie. “I was going to order them by director, but Hotch said most people don’t know directors very well. Which is a shame because J.J. Abrams destroyed Star Trek but Guy Riche-”
Derek pressed a kiss to Spencer’s lips with a fond smile. Spencer blinked.
“Sorry,” the doctor blushed.
Derek just chuckled. “You know you’re adorable, right, Pretty Boy?”
“You may have mentioned it a time or two,” Spencer laughed.
“You can tell me all about directors later,” Derek promised. “I know a bit about the mainstream guys, but not a whole lot.”
“All you really need to know is that J.J. Abrams kills anything he touches and Peter Jackson doesn’t get as much attention as he should.”
*****
2. Morning Rituals
One thing that Derek very quickly learned about Spencer was that he
had a specifically timed morning ritual when not on a case. And that if it was broken or disturbed, the whole rest of the day would go down hill like a train on greased tracks.
He woke up at 6:17, was in the shower by 6:25, eating breakfast by 7:00, his bed made by 7:30, and shoes on his feet by 7:32. The last half hour before they left at 8:00 was free game.
The first morning in their new place was the roughest. Spencer went
about his usual morning, but Derek didn’t usually wake up until 7:45 because he took less time to get ready and ate in the car. So when Spencer finished breakfast and went back to their room to make the bed but Derek was still asleep… He paced for the next fifteen minutes and his head nearly went through the ceiling when Derek’s alarm went off.
Spencer almost had a panic attack as he fumbled his way through making their bed and cramming his feet into his shoes. Needless to say, the extra half hour was spent- in vain- trying to calm the doctor down. None of the rest of the day lined up properly and Spencer was on edge and fidgety. Hotch even had to gently remind him to focus a few more times than the usual redirection of infodumps.
That was the first and only time Derek didn’t follow Spencer’s morning routine. He found the same day that Spencer had a much simpler night ritual: Snack (sometimes) at 10:10, teeth brushed by 10:25, in bed by 10:35, reading until (supposed to be) 11:18, and then lights out. This routine was much more flexible and relaxed.
Derek found waking up and going to bed at the same time every day made the former much easier. He also found that Spencer reading to him most nights- no matter the book or topic- was very relaxing. And of course there were nights when Derek read to Spencer.
*****
3. Sugary Coffee
Derek took a sip of coffee from his travel cup and whistled. “Think I got yours, Pretty Boy. There’s enough sugar in this to hype up a six year old’s birthday party.”
Spencer braced himself and took a sip of the coffee in his own cup. He was pleasantly relieved when the bitterly sharp taste expected never came. “I-I put sugar in both of them. I wasn’t thinking,” he said sheepishly.
Derek shrugged. “You know what they say: I’ll try anything once.” He chuckled. “I’ll just brush my teeth for an extra three minutes.”
Spencer scoffed as he got into the passenger seat of Derek’s car. “Who knows? Maybe you’ll like it. You don’t get the caffeine drop when the eight hour half-life is over.”
“Is that why you put so much sugar in coffee?” Derek raised an eyebrow, thinking he already knew the answer.
“And coffee tastes like battery acid. I’d rather drink vinegar than black coffee.” Spencer shuddered.
Derek chuckled but didn’t say anything else as he pulled onto the street.
*****
4. Cuddly Sleeper
Even though Spencer wasn’t huge on PDA like Derek was, he sure was a cuddly guy. The second the door closed, he was a six foot koala. That included in bed- but usually not until after he was asleep.
Some nights, Spencer would fall asleep reading. So Derek would take his book, close it, gently remove Spencer’s glasses, and turn out the lamp. Nine times out of ten, Spencer was curled up against his side before Derek was asleep himself.
At first, Derek found himself wondering why Spencer wasn’t nestled against him before sleep took him. But after a while, it sunk in that the doctor unwound by reading.
The look on Spencer’s face when he curled into Derek’s side always sent the older man over the moon. The absolute peace on the doctor’s face. One night, Derek almost woke Spencer up laughing. Derek rolled over to out the lamp and Spencer had gripped Derek’s arm tighter and whined in his sleep. Derek then had to assure his boyfriend- in soft whispers as to not actually wake him up- that he wasn’t going anywhere.
Spencer never thought to question why his book and glasses were gone when he woke up.
*****
5. Leaves Books Everywhere
Anyone who had a 30 second conversation with Spencer- anyone who glanced at Spencer- could tell the man read more than he did anything else.
Derek picked up the doctor’s satchel once and was moderately surprised the slim man hadn’t dislocated his shoulder with how heavy the bag was. But Spencer didn’t only keep books in his bag. No. They were all over the place.
Their bedroom, the craft room where Derek made floor plans for his renovations, the kitchen, the dining room, the living room. Even both bathrooms and the basement.
When the two first moved in together, Derek debated building an extension onto the living room for a library. He still debated it from time to time (just in case). But as time wore on, Derek grew to appreciate the countless (if seemingly random) books around the house.
Spencer would read when Derek was working on floorplans, so Derek would read when Spencer worked on an academic paper or consult.
“What’re you reading?” Spencer asked one night, finally looking up from his notebook. He was writing an essay on how handwriting analysis could help catch a serial killer and/or rapist.
“I don’t even know,” Derek chortled. “Uh..” he looked at the cover, “it’s Introduction to Law by Joanne Banker and Yvonne Ekern.”
“Oh! Hotch loaned that to me yesterday,” Spencer noted. “I should get that back to him soon.”
Derek just shook his head. “You know, Pretty Boy, I didn’t read this much in college.”
Spencer smiled. “See? Maybe there’s a good side to not spending thousands of dollars on building a library,” he teased.
6. The Nightlight
In the bedroom, in the outlet closest to the door was a nightlight. But not just any night light. This nightlight made the move in the front pocket of Spencer’s satchel.
“So what’s the story behind this platypus, Pretty Boy?” Derek had to ask one night as Spencer turned it on. “Because you’ve had this since before we were dating.”
“My uh- my mom’s went on a sort of field trip with her hospital a couple years ago. It was on one of her good days. She saw this in the aquarium’s gift shop and bought it for me.”
“That’s pretty cute,” Derek encouraged. He knew Spencer didn’t open up about his mom often so Derek tried to learn everything he could about the woman during the rare occurrences.
“We named him,” Spencer laughed. “Alfred Nicholas Brian Reid.” He giggled. “I just… He helps.”
*****
+1. Bleeding/Infected Hangnails
Spencer usually had something to stim or fidget with. A strip of paper, a pen or pencil to twirl, a shirt with a loose thread, something. On the off chance that he didn’t, the doctor somehow decided that his fingers were good enough. If Spencer didn’t have a hangnail, he’d start one.
This was the one and only thing about Doctor Spencer Reid that Derek Morgan hated. He could see the minute flinch when Spencer held a utensil wrong and it pressed on the swollen skin. He heard the soft hiss when Spencer got tomato or orange juice in the broken skin.
What Derek hated even more than that was when the hangnail would get infected. The skin around the nail or turn a greenish-yellow and harden. Which, in turn, gave Spencer another thing to pick at.
“Pretty Boy, you gotta stop,” Derek sighed. He’d gone into a convenience store to get them something other than coffee- but tastier than water- to drink. While inside, he bought a box of Band-Aids and a tube of anti-bacterial cream.
Spencer snapped out of his daze. “What?”
“Picking at your nails.” To prove his point, Derek took Spencer’s hand in his to show him, as well as to stop his current picking. “I know you’re worried about the case, Baby, but we’ll catch the son of a bitch and put his ass behind bars like we always do. You gotta stop destroying your hands.”
“I didn’t realize I was,” he admitted.
“I know,” Derek said softly. He applied the cream and a Band-Aid to each finger that needed it (five in total between both hands). “We just gotta get you a couple of those fidget cubes Garcia has.”
Tag List: @mayonnaiseismycomfortfood
#read your imagines#combefere's journal#criminal minds imagine#moreid imagine#spencer reid imagine#derek morgan imagine#5+1 things#6+1 things#moreid#moreid fluff
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Changing Times
A/N - This was a request for the wonderful @openheart12, who also preread it for me. My masterlist is here.
Disclaimer: Characters belong to PB
Warnings: Language, it was in the request.
Series/Pairing: The Nanny Affair - m!Sam x f!MC (Emma Schuyler)
Word count: 1,749
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Emma shoved open the door and let it bang into the wall.
Sam looked up at her and didn’t speak. He knew what he had done and he knew someone needed to take him down a peg. He also knew that someone would be Emma. He just didn’t know what Emma had learned.
He picked up his glass of bourbon and swirled it, watching before he lifted it to his lips and drank. He picked up another glass and poured. He held out the glass for her.
She crossed the room and grabbed the glass from him, throwing it back. He didn’t bother to tell her that was not the proper way to drink a good bourbon. He turned the volume down on his speakers, silencing Won’t Get Fooled Again.
“Is everything alright with the boys, Emma?”
“The boys are perfect. They’re in their room making a lava lamp. It should keep them out of trouble since I have to go out right now.”
“Okay.” Sam lowered his eyes to the papers spread out on his desk.
Emma glanced over to see that he had been redlining the documents and placing sticky arrow flags all over them. She leaned over the desk and shoved them into a haphazard pile, turning them facedown.
“Are you going to ask me why I need to go out or where I’m going? Oh, no, you already know, don’t you?” She turned to go, hesitated, and reached back for the stack of papers. She gave it a push off the edge of his desk, scattering the papers all over his floor before she left his office.
Sam waited until he heard the elevator doors close behind her before he leaned down to collect his papers. That could have gone better, he thought to himself. As he looked at the papers in his hand, he also realized, if she had focused on the papers when they were in her hand, it could have gone a hell of a lot worse. As he turned the volume back up, he thought that iTunes was certainly on spot for selecting music as Carole King’s It’s Too Late played.
Emma’s mood was even worse when she walked into the bridal shop twenty minutes later. Partly due to the shop assistant grabbing her coffee out of her hand the second she stepped inside the door. Karen, yes that was her name, tsked at her, saying that coffee could not be brought into the store.
As Karen tossed her coffee away, another lady glided over. “You must be with Ms. Russo? I am Mrs. Bennett. Please follow me.” She turned and headed toward the back of the store without bothering to check that Emma followed.
Sofia was ordering three shop assistants around telling them what dresses would be needed for her maid of honor and bridesmaid. Karen looked at Emma, “Would you like a glass of water or white wine?”
“I'd like to have my coffee back.”
Karen sighed and said, “We don’t permit coffee in the store. I told you that.”
Emma pointed to the bride. “Sofia has coffee.”
Sofia finally noticed Emma standing there. “Emma, come here. This is Mary, she’s my new assistant. My other one decided to quit to spend more time with her new baby.” Sofia shuddered, then went back to ignoring anyone who wasn’t the shop owner. Mary was scrolling on her phone and didn’t bother to look up.
Emma looked around and turned to Mary. “Is the maid of honor here?”
Mary looked up. “I’m Laura. I’m the maid of honor.”
“Oh, whose Mary?”
“Mary was a former assistant. No one I know ever met her. The assistant right before me was Yvonne.” Laura said, “Do you also work for her in some way or are you an actual friend?”
“I work for Sam. I’m his sons’ nanny. Sofia requested that I be a bridesmaid.”
That got Laura to ignore her phone, and put it in her purse. “Sam, huh. Why is he marrying her? Those of us who have met him can’t figure it out. He is such a great guy.”
“I don’t know, you’d have to ask him. I do know they are planning to merge the companies.”
“They can do a business merger without a marriage.” Laura pointed out.
Sofia and Mrs. Bennett called them over. “You’ll just absolutely love the dresses we picked out for you.” Mrs. Bennett held up matching dresses in a washed out tan/gray. Sofia continued, “The material is the same satin as my dress, except mine is in pearl white.”
Laura and Emma took the dresses that were presented to them. Emma lifted it and noted how lightweight it was. She raised one brow at Sofia. “Is this a sample for sizing? Because it’s… colorless.”
Sofia frowned at her. “I’m the bride. I need to shine.”
“You can shine while not making others disappear. It’s almost like you’d like us to blend into the background. If that’s the case, why even bother to have bridesmaids?” Emma heard Laura stifle a laugh behind her glass of white wine.
Sofia frowned. “I went to a lot of trouble to find an acceptable dress for you both. It’s only $6,500.”
Laura spit her wine out, and Emma understood why Karen specified white, not red, wine. “How much?”
Mrs. Bennett looked from Sofia to the others. “$6,500. Is that too much?”
“Of course it isn’t,” Sofia interjected.
Emma met her eye. “Well, if you're sure you don’t mind spending that on us, I guess we can accept the gift. And whatever color you want is fine. We will also be glad to hand the dresses over to you after the wedding.”
Out the corner of her eye, she saw Laura smirk.
Realizing she was on the spot, Sofia gave a curt nod. “Of course I will.” Mrs. Bennett let out a breath she had been holding.
After they were fitted for their dresses, Emma left the shop with Laura. Sofia was staying for her final fitting. Laura grabbed Emma’s arm. “Do you want to grab dinner somewhere. I can use some pointers on how to handle Sofia. Getting her to agree to pay for the dresses and take those monstrosities back afterward was genius.”
Laura and Emma found a Mexican restaurant and spend several hours trading Sofia gossip and getting to know each other over margaritas and nachos.
The penthouse was quiet when Emma got home. She stopped by the boys’ room to check on them. Their homemade lava lamps glowed softly on their desks. Sam’s office was dark, and she didn’t see any light glowing under his bedroom door. He was either out, asleep, or hiding from her. She figured it was the latter and decided to head to bed on her own.
The next morning Emma wandered into the kitchen. She thought that she smelled bacon but that couldn’t be right, Sofia had gotten rid of that. Sam was sitting at the counter a cup of coffee in his hand and a copy of the Times on his tablet. He looked up at her approach. “Sit. Breakfast is ready. I have bacon and scrambled eggs warming in the oven.”
“What about the boys?” Emma asked.
“They’ve eaten and are with my parents.” Sam got up and fixed two plates for them.
“Why do you even need a nanny, with your parents always watching them anymore? If I wasn’t drowning in student loans I’d feel guilty taking your money.”
Sam smiled but Emma noticed it didn’t reach his eyes.
“They travel a lot, so they won’t always be here. We need you. I need you, Emma.” Sam grabbed her hand and looked at her. “I actually asked them to take them today because we need to talk.”
Emma dragged her fork through her eggs, before shoving her plate away, the bacon sitting like cardboard in her stomach.
“Are the eggs-” Sam started.
“I lost my appetite.”
He gathered the plates and stacked them in the sink. “Can we go into my office, please?”
Emma sat at the chair in front of his desk. Sam sat beside her rather than behind his desk. He handed her a file folder and showed her the documents in it. “These are some legal documents, including a prenup. One of the requirements currently in there is extramarital… relationships. On the way to Italy we said that we would-”
“It’s fine, Sam.”
“I know that Sofia is unfaithful. I’m asking that it be removed; Sofia isn’t going to argue with me on that point. This is not a marriage for love, it is a business deal.”
Emma looked at the prenup and set it on the desk. “What else? Is Sofia wanting me to be fired again? It would actually make my life easier, and I wouldn’t have to be in your wedding.”
Sam pushed the prenup to the side and pulled out the document under it. “This one isn’t up for discussion.”
Emma reached out to take it but Sam didn’t release it. “Right now Sofia doesn’t want you fired. That could change in the future and this would actually make it easier for her to fire you. Right now I have more say, as their father. Once we are married, Sofia is going to adopt the boys.”
Emma dropped the file on the desk. “Are you kidding me? Have you discussed this with them?” From the look in his eyes, Emma knew that he had not. “Un-fucking-believable! They will be devastated by this!”
“Come on Emma, I’m their father. I know what’s best for them! They need a mother. And that’s what Sofia will be.”
Emma walked to the door. She turned to look at him. “Here are my rules. I’m staying on as the nanny. For Mickey and Mason. Because I adore them with all my heart. They need stability in their life. Once you’re CEO you’ll have even less time for them than you do now. Your parents do travel a lot, right now they are enjoying the time with the boys, but there will come a time they will travel more again. Sofia is not a stable force for them; she doesn’t even fucking know their names or how to tell them apart.” She left the room, only to return a second later. “As for the prenup and the affair clause, don’t bother changing it on my account. Our personal relationship is done, effectively immediately.”
My tag list @oofchoices @openheart12 @jamespotterthefirst @ohchoices @catchinglikekerosene @nerdydinosaursweets @eramsey28 @txemrn @starrystarrytrouble @queencarb @thegreentwin @lion-ess24 @caseyvalentineramsey
@choicesficwriterscreations
#choices fic writers creations#the nanny affair fanfic#tna#m!sam dalton#m!sam x mc#choices#choices the nanny affair
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tagged by @cheesyfandomagm12
name: yvonne
pronouns: she/her
height: 5'3
eye color: dark brown
hair color: also dark brown but that may change
hair style: straight and also in a short undercut
skin tone: a light olive
outfit: white camp unus annus shirt with a black long-sleeve underneath (rolled up to the elbows, DUH!) pink pants, red converse
accessories: dangly star shaped earrings, dumbass fanny-pack with a bisexual enamel pin, and a matching rainbow friendship bracelet to avery
general appearance: skinny arms, average legs, nice calves but no hips, long-ish nails that are constantly painted
unus or annus: annus
short bio (personality): i talk a lot (like a LOT), and i’m pretty good at most things creative. unfortunately i am the WORST at manual labor so i usually end up hanging back and complaining about how hot it is while the other people pitch a tent. i’m an extrovert and tend to like attention, but i hate too much unorganized noise and activity
strengths: mature-ish, well-spoken, resourceful. i can make a MEAN collage, i’m good at baking muffins, i act and sing, and i can make pretty much anything out of nothing
weaknesses: i’m trash at anything logical (i.e math and bulding stuff), i clam up when people cry, i kind of suck at dancing (my choreographer hated me lmao), i have a very weak stomach and certain sights or smells make me nauseous or WORSE, and i tend to be disgustingly blunt (which gets me in trouble more than you could even comprehend)
cabin: taser fire, babey
your “role” as a camper: also the theater kid, provider of snacks, the bitch who befriends the counselors because i am L A M E , teaches the younger campers how to do archery and set things on fire, drives campers to mcdonalds when the unnamed cabin feeds dinner to the bears, gets a new crush every two minutes, fails at trust-falls because i have twig arms
favorite camp activity/ies: arts and crafts, archery, and kayaking
other: my camp buddy is @cheesyfandomagm12 :)
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Isn’t That Lovely?
Human AU
Summary: Spinel thinks she and Piper Damon are best friends. Piper hangs out with her because she has to. The two are separated when Piper’s dream of owning her own branch of the family business comes true, but Spinel is sure their friendship can survive the distance. Unfortunately, their friendship isn’t the only thing she’ll watch go up in flames.
WARNING: This story depicts severe mental illness, and the death of loved ones. Tread cautiously if you are bothered by either of those subjects.
--
“Say hello to your new friend, Piper,” the white-haired woman said, her hands planted firmly on her daughter’s shoulders.
The ten-year-old looked her new “friend” up and down. Spinel, the three-year-old girl who was already bouncing in excitement, wore tight pigtails, pink shorts, and a white shirt with a juice stain on the collar. Piper gave her best friendly smile. She supposed she should be happy that she wouldn’t have to spend the day alone in the estate or stuck coloring in the corner of an office, but it didn’t stop the dread brewing in her stomach.
“Hello,” Piper greeted.
The toddler ran up and gave her a tight hug. Piper hugged back, trying hard not to think about how sticky the younger girl’s hands felt against the back of her shirt.
“I’m so excited to play with you!” Spinel said, eagerly.
“Well, I certainly won’t keep you two waiting,” Winona said, lifting her hands from Piper’s shoulders, “I’ll pick you up around dinner time, Starlight.”
Piper managed a grin at her mother. “Ok, mom.”
Piper followed Spinel and Mrs. Desjardins out of the office building. She buckled herself in next to Spinel’s car seat, and stared out the window as the younger girl sang along to the children’s music CD that automatically started playing when Mrs. Desjardins started the car. As her head rested against the warm glass, she wondered why her mother couldn’t have had any employees with kids her own age.
The drive to the Desjardins residence wasn’t long, and Piper had to admit the house was beautiful. The paneling was painted a lovely cream color, and beautiful vines of pink flowers surrounded the black shutters. The bushes underneath the windows also sported flowers, and looked to be freshly trimmed. It was clear that the family took pride in their home’s appearance.
“Come on!” Spinel said, happily grabbing onto Piper’s hand, “I’ll show you my playhouse!”
Piper could hear Spinel’s mother chuckle as the little girl led her to the backyard. Passed the ivy-draped wooden fence, the backyard was full of even more flowers than the front. In the center of the many flowerbeds sat a brightly painted wooden swing set with an attached playhouse. Still holding onto her new friend’s hand, Spinel brought Piper into the playhouse, the older girl having to crouch down to fit through the toddler-sized doorway.
“Ta-da!” Spinel said, finally releasing her sticky hand from Piper’s to raise her arms in presentation, “Welcome to my playhouse!”
Still unable to stand up straight, Piper managed a smile. There was barely even enough room for the two of them to be in there together. “So, what do you wanna do?”
Spinel tapped her finger on her chin, thinking through her options carefully. Her eyes widened with joy when the perfect game came to mind.
“Oh! Oh! Let’s play tag!” She tapped the older girl on the shoulder. “You’re it!”
Despite the cramped space, she managed to run out the door with ease, giggling in anticipation of the chase. Quietly wondering how long it was until dinner time, Piper put on her best game face and chased after Spinel.
The girls played in the yard until Mrs. Desjardins called them in for lunch. As she ate her tater tots, Piper hoped Spinel was tired enough to want to watch TV or play with dolls, but once their plates were cleared, she insisted on a game of hide and seek in the backyard. Putting on another smile, Piper agreed to Spinel’s games.
Mr. Desjardins came home from the office shortly after Mrs. Desjardins got started on dinner. He came with the message that Piper’s mother would be late picking her up, and that she was to have dinner with them. Piper wondered to herself why she expected anything different from her mother. The Desjardins were happy to set her a place at the dinner table, and she thanked them when they handed her a plate of spaghetti. While the grownups chatted, Piper quietly winced as Spinel made a mess of her spaghetti dinner, getting sauce all over her face and shirt. Twirling spaghetti around her fork, Piper wondered if her sisters were having takeout again.
By the time her mother came to collect her, it was almost nine o’clock. Winona gave the Desjardins an obligatory apology for being so late – something about backorders and a wrong color – but they assured her that it was fine, and Piper was a pleasure. As the adults took their time with their departure, Piper had her eyes locked on the door. Spinel, now dressed in her Micky Mouse pajamas, held tightly onto her hand, telling her that if she hid in her room, her mother wouldn’t be able to find her, and she wouldn’t have to go home. When Winona finally decided it was time to leave, Spinel threw herself onto the ground.
“I don’t want her to go!” she cried.
After a few minutes of Spinel crying for Piper to stay, the situation had to be resolved by Mr. Desjardins carrying Spinel up to her room. A final goodbye to Mrs. Desjardins, and Winona and Piper were finally in the car, driving back to the estate.
“Mrs. Desjardins told me about all the fun you had with Spinel today,” Winona said, her eyes on the road.
“Yeah…” Piper said, leaning tiredly against the car door, “She’s… nice.”
“Good, good,” Winona grinned, clearly not taking notice of her daughter’s apathetic tone, “I’ve arranged for you to play with her every weekday for the rest of the summer. Your sisters and I will take turns dropping you off and picking you up.”
Piper stopped listening, and sank back into her seat. She stared out the window, watching the streetlights zoom by. All she could think about was Spinel’s sticky hands.
--
It had been five years since Spinel and Piper’s first playdate. Autumn leaves danced in the window as Piper sat on the edge of the child-sized bed, venting about her latest fight with her mom and sisters. Spinel laid on her stomach, her head resting in her hands, and her legs kicking back and forth. The eight-year-old listened attentively to her cool, older friend, occasionally giving a nod in sympathy. Being so much younger, she couldn’t always relate to her problems, but she was still always there to listen. That’s what friends were for, after all.
This week’s fight was once again about Piper’s role in the family’s business. Piper was on her usual rant about how Yvonne and Beatrix had their own branches when they were her age, and how it wasn’t fair that all she had was a few jewelry lines.
“They treat me like a kid,” Piper complained, “How would they even know how responsible I am? I could handle running a business just fine. They never have any faith in me.”
Spinel nodded. “You’d be the best boss ever! I bet when you finally get your branch, it’ll be the best branch they’ve ever seen!”
Piper gave a half-smile. At least someone believed in her.
A light ding came from the other side of the room. Spinel perked up.
“Oh, the brownies are ready!” She got up and hurried to her Easy Bake Oven. “Here Piper, you can have the first one. Brownies make everything better.”
“Thanks Spinel,” Piper said, still giving her a reserved smile, “I love brownies.”
--
Spinel would never forget the look of excitement on Piper’s face when she gave her the news. At nineteen years old, she was finally getting her own branch of Damon’s Diamonds. Spinel couldn’t have been happier for her friend.
Well, that wasn’t entirely true. She could’ve been happier if she could follow her to Maine, where her first warehouse and manufacturing plant would be located, but, as her parents reminded her, seventh grade came first.
She wrote to Piper every day. Piper wrote back once every few months. It was ok. Running a business was a lot of work, especially when you have a group of anti-corporate protesters thwarting the process. Spinel would wait as long as it would take. She knew her best friend wouldn’t forget her.
--
The summer before tenth grade, Spinel woke up to find both her parents in the kitchen. She knew something was wrong before she even saw their pink, puffy eyes. Daddy was never home this late in the morning.
They broke the news to her as gently as possible. A fire had started in the on-site warehouse at Piper’s factory. It spread quickly to the main building, too quickly for Piper to escape her office. The fire took her life.
Spinel shook her head. It wasn’t true, it couldn’t be. Piper couldn’t be dead; she just couldn’t be!
She spent most of the day sitting on the couch, staring into space. News came in in bits and pieces. Dry foliage. Smoke bombs. Lacks fire regulations. Chemicals not stored properly. All came together to form a perfect storm of chaos.
At least a dozen people died in the blaze. Many more were injured. The number of casualties were still rising. Rose Quintin, the leader of the anti-corporate protesters, was thought to be responsible, but there wasn’t enough evidence for an arrest. Her current whereabouts were unknown.
It was hours before Spinel finally cried. Her best friend was gone, her life cut short in one of the worst ways possible. Piper was dead.
Piper was dead…
--
Nearly Halloween that same year, daddy’s test results came back. Stage four lung cancer. Daddy didn’t make it to Christmas.
--
A week after New Year’s, Spinel was called down to the principal’s office. A police officer was waiting for her. A car hit mommy as she was crossing the street. The car sped away. Mommy died in the ambulance.
--
Eleventh grade didn’t last long. Spinel got expelled for repeated aggressive behavior. Once kicked out of school, she no longer had a reason to leave the house. The mortgage had been paid off long ago. Inheritance and life insurance payouts were enough for her to survive indefinitely. Groceries were delivered to the house every Tuesday. The farthest she ever ventured was to the mailbox at the end of the driveway.
No one ever checked on her.
--
She hadn’t remembered her twenty-seventh birthday until nearly a week had passed. Time always seemed to escape her like that.
Today was what she considered a good day; the only thing she felt was hallow. It was a step up from anger or sadness, and way better than the crash that followed mania. Hallow was safe. Hallow was good.
Sitting on the old, rickety swing set, Spinel looked around the yard. The once beautiful landscape was now overrun weeds and overgrowth. Almost all the flowers were brown and shriveled. The ivy that mommy planted had completely taken over the fence and was creeping onto the graying exterior walls of the house.
Without even thinking, Spinel stood up and wandered back into the house. A fine layer of dust coated every surface, as if no one had lived there for years. Glancing at the overflowing sink of dirty dishes, she struggled to remember if she’d eaten today. She didn’t have much of an appetite. She’d have to force something down the next time she remembered.
Continuing through her untouched time capsule of a house, she let herself wander up the stairs. Her bedroom door had broken off during one of her fits a few years ago, now permanently propped up against the adjacent wall. The upstairs bathroom hadn’t been usable in five years. She found herself entering the master bedroom, formerly her parents’ room, and let herself fall onto the unmade bed. She wrapped herself in the old sheets and tried to fall asleep.
It was three in the afternoon.
--
Forty-three. She was forty-three years old. Had it not been for the date and time in the corner of the morning news program, she wouldn’t know what day it was. She didn’t usually watch this channel, but it had been airing a marathon of old cartoons two days ago. For some reason, the old back and white cartoons made her feel a sort of calm. She couldn’t be bothered to change the channel after it ended.
She wasn’t really paying attention to the TV anymore, just lying on the couch and looking out the window. The neighborhood children were making their way to the bus stop, occasionally stopping in front of her house to talk and pint. If it weren’t for the glow of the TV through the otherwise dark window, they probably would’ve thought the place was abandoned.
Something on the TV made Spinel perk up. A morning talk show she missed the name of was starting, and the host was welcoming on that day’s guests. It was the Damon family.
Spinel sat up straight, her eyes glued to the TV. She couldn’t remember the last time she saw all three of the Damon women together. Winona, Yvonne, and Beatrix sat in chairs on the opposite side of the host. Someone else sat with the three of them, someone Spinel didn’t recognize. A boy, maybe sixteen years old. The title card that appeared under him read “Steven Universe, teen activist.”
Even with that introduction, Spinel still had no idea who this kid was, or why he was with the Damon’s. She listened intently as Winona Damon began weaving a tale about all the changes Steven helped them make to the company, and how she’s confident that other corporations will follow their lead. It honestly sounded lovely, even if she didn’t know who this Steven kid was. He was obviously very passionate about the reform of corporate America.
“My grandson here is the most compassionate person you’ll ever meet,” the elderly Winona said, smiling proudly, “All of Damon’s Diamonds are so happy to have him-”
Spinel stopped listening, her head suddenly spinning with questions. Her grandson? Whose kid was he? Yvonne and Beatrix had always stated their intentions to remain child free, and Piper… Piper was…
That’s when it clicked. The curly hair, the dark eyes, the smile. It was hers. It was all hers. But, no, that was impossible! Piper died too young to have a sixteen-year-old son… Unless…
Spinel darted up from the couch and sprinted to the dining room, where decades worth of mail was piled onto the table. She rarely paid attention to what she brought in from the mailbox, just tossing it onto the table. Maybe she missed something. A letter, a postcard, any kind of message from Piper. She could still hear the TV as she meticulously went through every parcel.
“I don’t want to be put on a throne for doing the right thing,” Steven said in response to a question from the host, “The world doesn’t need billionaires. I couldn’t spend that much money in a lifetime.
“In fact, I’m not even going to be staying in New York for much longer. I’m heading back to Beach City tonight.”
All noise after that faded to static as Spinel continued through the mail. She spent hours, maybe even a full day going through everything. She found nothing, no secret message, nothing from Piper. Tears stung in Spinel’s eyes as she looked to all the mail scattered around her. Through the various newspapers and magazine headlines she came across in her search, she’d managed to piece together the story. Piper faked her death in the fire. Rose Quintin, the woman who supposedly killed her, never existed. Piper was Rose. Piper set fire to her own warehouse and factory, ran off with a few friends to Delaware, and started a new life under the name Rose Quintin. She died for real sixteen years ago, after giving birth to her son, Steven. Going off the dates printed, it looked like the story first broke two years ago, after Steven first found out the truth about his mother. Spinel fell to her knees, her fists clenching around whatever mail was in front of her. The one spark of hope she’d had in years was violently stomped out as the realization that Piper had no intention of letting her know she was alive consumed her.
Piper didn’t die in the fire. Piper lived an extra twelve years, and didn’t think to tell her best friend. Piper didn’t die in the fire. Piper didn’t die in the fire.
Her body shaking, heart pounding, and tears flowing, Spinel felt something snap inside her. The mail she had in her hands was shredded into confetti as she started to scream. Furniture was thrown as she screamed until her throat burned. Gears turned in her head, powered by the hot fires of rage. She wanted revenge, she needed revenge, but Piper was dead, for real this time. It didn’t matter. Someone was going to pay. Someone was going to feel as much pain as she felt.
She couldn’t quite remember what happened between throwing a chair through the TV screen and getting on a plane to Delaware, but she couldn’t find it in herself to care.
#su#steven universe#my writing#spinel#pink diamond#rose quartz#white diamond#steven quartz universe#yellow diamond#blue diamond#human au#the great diamond authority#steven universe the movie
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B r e a k m e with ummm Tiffany
break me: write an angsty drabble.
*rubs my evil little hands together* angst you say?
okay so this is based after Paper Heart, so this is kind of spoilery. it’s also not complete, because i kind of want it to be longer and the little bit here i banged out on my keyboard just now.
i’m also going to tag the others bc i’m kind of proud that i managed to accomplish something in so little time
@plaguecraft, @thewritingpossum, @nicholewrites.
tentative title: accidents of affliction
warning(s): liberal use of the word ‘fuck’. lots of tears.
Tiffany hates crying. Hates it more than anything. There’s something about the way her face grows hot, and the way the tears make her face blotchy and her eyes feel swollen and crusted; she avoids crying by any means possible. Which is why she hates it all the more that she has cried so much since carter left.
That fucking man, thinks tiffany, angrily wiping away her tears with her sleeve. Nina sits next to her on the sofa looking despondent, and tiffany feels bad for crying in front of her, for showing this grief to her when she misses him too.
“tiffany, it’s okay to be upset,” says Nina, as if reading her thoughts. “i mean you and violet were with him for years. It’s natural to grieve that.”
“but he was your best friend,” tiffany points out. “it sounds dumb but I, i feel bad crying in front of you when you lost him, too.” she knows that nina would never hold such a rare display of vulnerability against her, it’s just. After what happened she still feels so fucking raw, like she’s been burned and the skin is healing. She hates him for it a little. Tiffany reaches for nina’s hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. She rubs her thumb back and forth over nina’s knuckles.
Nina brings their clasped hands to her lips, laying a kiss on them.
“don’t feel bad for crying, okay?” says nina. “i chose you. No matter what happens, I will always be here for you. Always. Because you are the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I love you.” nina lifts her free hand to tuck a loose strand of hair behind tiffany’s ear, and she loses it again, crying into nina’s sweater as she wraps her arms around her, comforted by the smell of her shampoo and her sweater against her cheek.
“i love you so much.” it’s important for nina to know, because she loves her so fucking much and there isn’t much she wouldn’t do for this woman.
Nina strokes her back, rocking them back and forth.
.
Yvonne schedules her for the morning shift at the diner. Normally, she would be happy at the prospect of an early day but she just lays there in bed between Nina and Violet, staring blankly up at the ceiling, eyes swimming in a sea of glow in the dark stars. Where did it all go wrong? She wonders, blinking. Why couldn’t I stop them? Tiffany tried so hard to stop violet and carter from breaking what they spent years building; she wishes they had sat down and talked even once about everything that happened, about the gravity of the history between them and the toll it was taking on them. If only she had gotten them to talk about it sooner, maybe the wound wouldn’t have festered like it did.
Maybe carter would still be here. Tiffany gets out of bed and finds her clothes. She brushes her hair and teeth mechanically, throwing her hair up in a pony tail. Her nametag hangs from her shirt collar. Tiffany grabs her purse off the floor, taking one last look at her sleeping girlfriends before she has to leave for work. They look peaceful, faces smoothed out in sleep, chests falling up and down with their breath.
“sweet dreams,” whispers tiffany. She pulls her shoes on, tiptoes to the door, and closes it behind her.
.
Her shift passes by in a blur. The smile she puts on for customers is even more pasted on than usual, and she almost snaps at a few of them. Yvonne pulls her aside later with a concerned look on her face, asking her how she’s doing.
Tiffany sighs. “not great. I’ve been trying to call him, but he isn’t answering. I don’t know if he just doesn’t want to talk to me or if there’s something wrong. I just want to clear things up between us.”
“that boy was head over heels for you and violet. If he’s got any sense, he’ll come around.” Yvonne playfully slaps her arm. “Now get back out there and quit scaring my customers. You’re driving away business.”
“Okay, okay,” laughs tiffany, despite herself. Her smiles come a little easier after that.
#tiffany tag#tiffanynina#tiffanycarter#anoldfashionedlesbianlovestory#maybe i exaggerated how much swearing is in the story#paper heart tag
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Ten Years (Part 7)
Summary: AU. When a major account is on the line at work, reader is forced to revisit some old connections at her ten year high school reunion for a chance at success. Will she let the past consume her, or will she see the future in her grasp?
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader
Word Count: 3,212 (excluding flashback)
Warnings: language, sarcasm, fluff, mentions of past cheating, drinking, potentially anxious situations
A/N: Tags are closed. Cue the drama. PS - some of your comments on the last chapter had me screeching, I love ‘em!
Clint was handsome as ever. His hair was messy, though you knew he liked to style it that way. His body was a little fuller, mostly from muscles that hadn’t been quite so pronounced before. His eyes had laugh lines, kind of like Bucky’s, but they were deeper, as if he spent a lot more time smiling since you last saw him.
That thought nearly bowled you over. You stood up awkwardly, not sure how any of this worked. You’d thought about it a hundred times over the last two weeks, even practiced what you might say, but all of that disappeared at the mere sight of him.
“Y/N.” He greeted you with his customary nod. “It’s so good to see you.”
“Clint.” That was all you could seem to get out.
Bucky stood up beside you at the sound of your ex-boyfriend’s name. He slid an arm around your waist, and the gesture made you feel a little less shaky.
“Hi, I’m James,” he interjected rather smoothly. Bucky reached out a hand and Clint shook it.
It was so weird.
“James is Y/N’s boyfriend,” Natasha explained. Her eyes met yours, and you were surprised to see they had a little bit of sympathy and understanding in them. Then again, she’s the one that helped make this awkward in the first place.
You were gonna get to the bottom of why someone put you guys at the same table before the night was over, that was for sure.
“Nice to meet you.” Clint pulled his hand back and looked at you again. “You look good, Y/N. It’s been far too long.”
Little flames of anger began to burn inside of you. Just as you were about to open your mouth for a snarky retort and make everything more awkward, Bucky squeezed you to him again.
“Doll, why don’t we go get some food,” he suggested. “I’m starving!”
“That sounds good,” you agreed, turning from the table. You walked as calmly as possible away from the table to the buffet, not even bothering to wait for Bucky.
“Listen, Y/N.” His voice was low in your ear as the two of you reached for plates. “Any time you get the urge to say something you might regret, or react in a way that isn’t beneficial to you, just look at me, okay?”
“Look at you? So you can smooth over the business transactions?” Your eyes scanned the different pans of food in front of you, trying not to take out your anger on Bucky. He was only trying to help, just trying to keep your emotions in check. Though you were definitely not hungry now, you figured you shouldn’t drink on an empty stomach, so you started scooping food onto your plate.
“No,” he countered, taking the spoon for the mashed potatoes from your hand when you offered it. “So that you don’t have even more bad memories from this place. Come on, we can try to salvage something, can’t we?”
With a spoon of green beans halfway to your plate, you stopped and looked at him in question. “Salvage something?”
Bucky offered you a small smile. “Yeah. Maybe we’ll see the start of something amazing tonight. Who knows?”
You scoffed, turning back to the food. “Bucky, you’re dreaming if you think that woman has any connections. It was dumb to assume any of this. If she did, she’d have bragged about them ten times by now just to impress you.”
“So what if she doesn’t? We stick to the plan. Besides, that’s not what I meant when I said-“
“Ladies and gentlemen!”
The two of you quickly finished and hurried back to your seats as the reunion introduction began. The lights dimmed a little, and a spotlight shined over Virginia as she stood at the podium in the corner. She pushed some of her blonde bangs out of her eyes, and grinned at everyone before continuing.
“Thank you all for joining us this evening. I’m so happy that you were able to make it to our ten year reunion!”
A smattering of applause broke out, but it didn’t last very long.
Virginia’s expression faltered slightly at the low enthusiasm, but she pressed on. “Today marks ten years since we last roamed these halls as students. It’s been ten years since our biggest worries were passing calculus, and who we were going to the homecoming dance with.”
You cringed a little; Clint had been your date for the senior homecoming dance. You saw him glance at you in your periphery, but you refused to meet his eyes.
What a miserable night that had been. He was a candidate for Homecoming King, and of course Natasha had been on the court for Queen. Clint didn’t win, but Nat did. Nat was always winning.
They had actually danced together about five times that night, now that you thought about it. Had they been in love that entire school year? What did eighteen-year-olds know about love, anyways?
Bucky must have caught on that you were silently fuming again, because he reached for your hand. He didn’t even tear his eyes from Virginia, that’s how smooth he was.
You felt calmer almost instantly, though you’d missed half of what Virginia had said after ‘homecoming’ while you were lost in thought.
“So anyways, have a great time tonight, catch up with your old friends, and don’t forget to share your photos on our Facebook page! Thank you!”
Everyone clapped again except you and Bucky, because you were gripping his hand too tightly for him to pull away.
He turned to you, his brows creased a little. “What’s wrong now?”
You shook your head, not wanting to say it out loud. “Nothing.”
Bucky frowned a little. He clearly knew you were holding something back, but he didn’t push you any further. When you finally let his hand go, you immediately reached for your drink, taking a few gulps of liquid courage.
Virginia and Scott Lang eventually joined your table of six, and that immediately helped lighten the mood. Scott was really good at impressions, and he spent a few minutes mimicking your former Spanish teacher. Virginia was all smiles, but you noticed that she turned most of the conversation away from her personal life. That struck you as a little odd for a woman who just encouraged everyone to catch up.
Just as Scott was diving into an impression of your tenth grade history teacher, you made the mistake of glancing up. Your eyes met Clint’s over the table centerpiece.
Had he been watching you?
Your face heated up almost immediately, and you glanced down at your food, willing Clint and Natasha to go get a drink, or leave the table for any reason at all.
Luckily, some music started up from the DJ booth, and some of the couples were heading to the dance floor. You spotted your old chemistry lab partner Jon and his boyfriend, Yvonne the math genius and her husband, former cheerleader Thalia and two of her besties…everyone looked like they were ready to have fun.
For you, however, this was just for work.
As long as you made it about work, you couldn’t be sad, right? You couldn’t be disappointed, couldn’t delve into bad memories that just brought you down.
Time to refocus on work.
You leaned over to Bucky. “I think you have to ask Nat to dance if you want to get insider info.”
His blue eyes widened a little. “Why can’t I just sit in Scott’s seat? He asked Virginia to dance, no one is sitting there.”
“You could try it, but Clint’s still sitting there listening in, and there’s no way in hell I’m going to distract him, so…”
Bucky nodded thoughtfully. “You’re right.” He raked a hand through his hair, leaving it a little messier than before. He was still far too handsome to be sitting in this stupid gymnasium. “Let me try talking first, okay?”
“Okay.”
He got up, letting one hand slide across your shoulders as he made his way to the seat on your left. You weren’t sure if that was meant for show, or to offer you some encouragement.
You also didn’t know which pitch he was aiming for, and frankly, the sight of him smiling at Natasha was nauseating.
It was time to get another drink.
---
At the makeshift bar, at least five people had recognized you. They complimented you on your looks, your dress, and especially your date. You pretended that all was well, that it wasn’t a lie, and gushed on and on about your relationship with James. In fact, the more you had to drink, the easier it became to smoothly lie to all these people. It’s not like you’d ever see them again, anyways. This was definitely going to be your first and last reunion.
A girl that used to serve on the student council with you nodded over your shoulder. “Speaking of that handsome devil, here he comes!”
You turned and saw Bucky approaching, his expression unreadable. “Excuse me, I think I’m going to make my date dance with me now.”
Just as you turned from the bar, Bucky reached for you, taking the drink from your hand and setting it down. He led you over to the dance floor as if he’d read your mind. “We need to talk.”
“Okay?” You wrapped your left arm around his shoulder, and he held your right hand in his left hand, his other arm going around your waist as he pulled you closer. The song was Chasing Cars by Snow Patrol, a song that was popular when you were in school.
It seemed a little too romantic for this situation, but whatever.
“What’s up?” you asked him, looking anywhere but his face.
“You were right. Natasha is an executive assistant, and she also dabbles in security for Mr. Stark,” he explained. “She’s got no connections whatsoever to patents or research and development. She has no connections to anything we need.”
“Great,” you muttered, glancing at him again. “So this is all for nothing then?”
“Not necessarily. She might still get us in the door.”
“So you are definitely going to have to dance with her, then.”
“Unfortunately. But, I didn’t want my first dance of the night to be with anyone but you, since you’re my date and all.” The corner of his mouth quirked up.
You snickered a little. “Gee, thanks. I feel so honored.”
“You should. I don’t slow dance with just anyone.”
His expression was playful, and for the first time in a while, Bucky looked sincerely relaxed. Those damn butterflies started doing back flips in your stomach again.
“What?” Bucky made a face at you. “Why are you looking at me like I’m doing something suspicious?”
“I’m not,” you protested, unable to stop a little smile from forming. “It’s just, you keep surprising me.”
“How so?”
You shrugged. “You’re so focused and cold at work, and then you come here and you’re joking with me, and you’re a hell of a dancer. I don’t know what to make of you, Bucky.”
A little mischievous twinkle appeared in his eyes. “How do you know I’m not just schmoozing you right now to make my work life better?”
“I don’t,” you admitted. “But I have a feeling that this is how you really are, and you’ve just developed a persona for work purposes. How close is that to the truth?”
The intensity of the look he was giving you made a chill roll down your spine. It was like that scene in Pride and Prejudice, when Elizabeth and Darcy are dancing, and the rest of the crowd disappears, leaving them staring at each other. You couldn’t tear your eyes away.
“It’s true,” he agreed finally. “I’m not very easy to get to know. It’s a combination of self-preservation and ego, I guess. I’m sorry about that.”
“Don’t be sorry. Just remember this moment the next time you want to get snarky with me about work.” You flashed him a grin.
Those handsome laugh lines made an appearance, and he was about to offer a comeback when Clint appeared behind him. He tapped on Bucky’s shoulder, much to your horror.
“May I cut in?”
Bucky looked over his shoulder, then his worried blue eyes shifted to yours.
“It’s fine,” you told him, pulling away reluctantly. “Now’s your chance.”
He nodded, though he was frowning now. With one last look, he turned and walked through the crowd to retrieve Natasha for a dance.
Clint immediately wrapped both arms around you, holding you awkwardly against him the way he used to at school dances. You didn’t know where to put your arms, so you sort of just let them rest on his shoulders. It was the classic middle school dance post, and it was kind of embarrassing.
None of this felt right at all.
“I know I told you already, but you look great,” he told you, offering his famous smirk.
“So do you.” You shifted uncomfortably. “I’m glad you and Nat are still happy.”
“Are you happy?”
You blinked at him. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“I just…seeing you here tonight, it’s really weird, Y/N.”
“You’re telling me!”
“I used to be able to read your expressions, your tone of voice. Now, I’m just assuming, I guess.”
“Don’t worry about me. I’m doing well.” You became hyper aware of his hands on your lower back, and your spine stiffened awkwardly. If he took notice, it didn’t show.
Clint’s smirk faded. “I didn’t realize how much I missed seeing you until tonight.”
Uh-oh. Where was he going with this? “Clint, I don’t mean this to sound rude or terrible, but I don’t think it’s possible for us to be friends. There’s too much history. We can be polite, civil, whatever, but I can’t deal with it.”
“So you’re saying you never forgave me?”
You shook your head. “I forgave both of you a long time ago, but that doesn’t mean what you did doesn’t still hurt from time to time. I just meant that I’ve moved on, at least I’ve been trying my best to. I have to let this situation go, and I can’t do that if you’re constantly in my life.”
“That’s a shame, but I guess I can understand that. Nat and I really did a number on you, didn’t we?”
“We don’t have to talk about it, Clint, I would rather-“
“Natasha is pregnant,” he blurted out. “We’re going to get married this summer. I didn’t want you to find out on Facebook or something.”
You faltered only for a moment, before throwing on your best forced smile. “That’s wonderful news, congratulations.” The fact that you didn’t feel anything when he said that was a great relief.
He also seemed relieved at your reaction. Clint started talking again, but your eyes had wandered over to where Bucky was now holding Natasha in a slow dance.
She was smiling at him.
That made you furious, even though you’d just heard firsthand that she was engaged to Clint.
“So tell me about James.”
Your eyes flickered back to Clint’s face. “James is…I’m sorry, this is still really weird for me.”
He laughed. “Trust me, it’s strange for me, too, but I need to know you’re happy. I want to know he’s good for you, even if I don’t have the right anymore.”
Oh, if only you could tell the truth in that moment. James – Bucky - was too good for you, and you knew it. “James is wonderful,” you said finally. “He’s smart, funny, considerate…he’s a good man.”
Clint nodded, giving you a tight smile. “Sounds like he’s better for you than I ever was.”
“I think you’re with who you were meant to be with.”
The song finally ended, and you stepped back from Clint’s grasp, relishing the fact that it was over.
“Thanks for the dance, Y/N.” He offered you one last smile.
“Thanks for asking, Clint.”
The two of you turned away from one another, and you knew you finally felt the closure with him that you’d been craving. You hoped that he felt a similar peace.
You needed a break from dancing, so you wandered off to the side of the dance floor to head back to your table.
Bucky seemed to have the same idea as you, and he followed you to the edge of the seating area. “Have a nice dance?”
“It was okay. How was your dance with Natasha?” Jealousy was simmering inside of you, but there was no way you’d let him know that.
“Okay.” His tone was flat.
“Did you get anywhere with Nat?”
“Nowhere.” Bucky shook his head, letting out a frustrated sigh. “I think you were right, this whole thing was a bad idea.”
That got your attention. “You were so sure of yourself earlier, what the hell happened?”
He shifted on his feet and shrugged one shoulder. “It just seems like all my efforts tonight aren’t doing me any good at all.”
Ah, the cold coworker Bucky seemed to be making a special appearance. You had figured it was only a matter of time before he shut you out again for the sake of his career. “There’s only so much a person can do, Bucky. I can’t make her connection to Mr. Stark better. I don’t think I can help you land this account.”
“Yeah, you’ve gone totally off-script tonight. Have you even thought about work, or has this been all for the sake of your ex-boyfriend?” His tone was clipped now, like he was angry with you.
Much to your horror, you felt your eyes welling with tears, and you glanced away from him as quickly as possible so that he wouldn’t see. “I’m sorry if I wasted your time here. I tried to warn everyone, I tried to tell you…”
“Y/N, I’m sorry. That’s not what I meant, it came out wrong. Will you look at me?” He reached out a hand to grasp your arm, but you pulled it away.
“Excuse me.” Instead of facing him like an adult, you pushed your way through the crowd to the ladies room. At least he couldn’t follow you in here to tell you more about how you were hurting his career, how being paired with you was bringing down his success rate or whatever.
Virginia was standing at the mirror, reapplying her lipstick carefully. When she saw your reflection, she frowned. “What’s the matter, Y/N? You look like you’re about to cry?”
You knew what you had to do.
It was time to tear this whole operation to shreds and be honest, even if it was just to one other person. If you were going down, you were gonna go down swinging. “Can I talk to you for a second? I have a little confession. It’s totally irrelevant to you, but you have always been so nice to me, and if I don’t tell someone I’m going to implode.”
She turned to face you, eyes wide.
---
Part 8
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