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wiypt-writes · 3 years

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Stark Spangled Banner

Ch 18: Told You I’d Say Yes

Summary: Steve, Katie and Sam begin their search for Bucky and they uncover something that makes Steve start to question where their priorities as a team should lie. Decision made, the two of them head back to the Tower in New York to join up with the other adventures, and when Katie’s 30th birthday arrives, Steve asks a very differen question…

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

Warnings: Bad language words, smut (NSFW), no under 18s. And a whole lotta teeth rotting fluff…

A/N: I think this is my favourite edit yet, @angrybirdcr

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Katie Stark and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Chapter 17

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Steve had no real leads and as such he, Katie and Sam spent weeks combing through the information that Natasha had provided, using JARVIS to translate the Russian which none of them spoke of course. It was hard work, stressful and gave them nothing of real use either, other than give them a bit more of an understanding of who the Winter Soldier was, so to speak, and then Sam had a brainwave. If Bucky was starting to get his memories back and pieced together that he had been working for Hydra under duress, he might go looking for answers, possibly even revenge.

They decided to start in the nearest Hydra base they knew about from the leaks on the internet, and as such they were now ransacking an old abandoned bank in the financial district in the middle of the night.

What they found wasn’t great- a dozen bodies of dead Hydra agents. Most looked as if they had had their throats crushed apart from one who was sat in a chair, a bullet between his eyes. From the look, and smell, they’d been there a while.

“That’s an execution.” Sam muttered, nodding at the man who had been shot and Katie looked at him as Steve simply turned and walked from the smaller room, back into the larger corridor. He made his way down, pulling open a thick door into the main vault and stopped dead as he saw some form of chair in the middle, surrounded by restraints and a device that looked like some kind of macabre halo. Steve felt his mouth go dry as he looked at it. I was some perverted form of the chamber he’d been in when they’d administered the serum…

“Looks like they were deleting data when they were interrupted…” Sam bent over to get a closer look at the computer to the side. Katie passed him the device she had brought and he plugged it in and started the data mining. As Steve made his way towards the two of them, Sam frowned and clicked on something that caught his attention and immediately the sounds of tortured screams filled the room. Katie jolted slightly as Sam took a step back, the three of them glancing at the screen which was sat on the desk. And all 3 wished they hadn’t. As there, on the screen Bucky was strapped down the halo-like contraption lowered onto his head.

“Turn it off!” Katie instructed to Sam, who moved to cut the footage immediately but Steve grabbed his arm.

“No…” he said firmly, his eyes fixated on the grim footage in front of him, his chest heaving with anger.

Finally the screams stopped and someone was saying words as they were in Russian but when they finished Bucky slumped down in the chair staring blankly ahead, as he spoke a single sentence, his face and voice completely void of expression and emotion.

There was a moment of silence when Steve suddenly snapped grabbing the edge of the table and flipping it over with a loud crash, all of the equipment and computers meeting a rather abrupt end along with it. He felt sick, upset, angry…and he couldn’t help but feel this was his fault for leaving his friend behind.

“Steve?” Katie asked anxiously, whilst she watched his shoulders heave with anger.

“Let’s go.” He instructed sternly, already making his way to the exit.

“Steve?” She called again.

“Now.” He bit back.

Steve didn’t speak a word whilst they drove home. Once they were in the apartment he stormed straight through the hall and up the stairs to the bed room. Katie turned to Sam who was hovering in the hall.

“That went well.” he quipped.

Katie sighed, walking into the kitchen and handed Sam a water which he thankfully took, draining it in one go.

“The thing is, Sam…” she ran a hand over her face “It’s gonna get worse, the more we dig, the more we’re going to find.”

“Yeah well, on that note I’m going to go back to the bank, do a bit more digging of my own tonight.” Sam sighed “See if I can find something that would give us an indication as to when exactly Bucky hit the base, might help us piece together a timeline of sorts.”

“Alright, but be careful, yeah?”

“I’m always careful, sugar!” Sam grinned, and Katie rolled her eyes. “Listen, you gonna be ok?”

“Yeah, I’ll give him some time. He’ll come round, he’s just…” she paused searching for the right word before she concluded “sad.”

Sam nodded “Call you tomorrow then, I’m at the VA in the morning but my afternoon is free”

“Will do…oh, and Sam?”

He turned around and Katie threw him the keys to the Q5 as he still hadn’t replaced his car. “Take this, but bring it back in once piece.”

“Cheers dude!” He beamed, catching the keys expertly before he headed out of the door.

Once he was gone, Katie walked over to the sofa and dropped down onto it, pulling out her phone. She knew it was late, but Tony answered straight away.

“Did it work?” She asked instantly.

“Did it work…” Tony snorted “I made the damned device, of course it did. JARVIS took everything off their system…he’s already sifting through and cross referencing… any mention of Barnes in any form he’ll find it.”

“Thanks Tony.”

“There is something he has found thought, that’s kinda interesting, but also very worrying.”

“What?”

“He found an encoded list of locations, locations for HYDRA bases across the globe. Curiosity got the better of me, and I ran a couple of cross checks on the bases that were already captured or infiltrated, and it matches 80%…”

“Yeah, there’s bases out there that didn’t fall… that’s what Fury’s doing, you know this.”

“Well here’s the thing…” Tony sighed “That 80% rallies to around 10 bases. One-Eye-Willy knew about 6, which he is currently working on with SHIELD or whatever they’re called now. The other 4 were unknown, until now.”

“Shit.” Katie sighed. If they had gone unknown, unchallenged, then it was possible that more of Hydra remained than they thought.

“Pretty much what Fury said when I called him.” Tony replied “Anyway, I think it’s time we put the band back together Kiddo…”

She groaned. “Steve already turned Fury down to find Bucky first.”

“Well, for once I’m inclined to agree with the Goth Pirate.” Tony continued “I think rounding the last of these bastards up is slightly more pressing than Spangles chasing his old school buddy.”

“Don’t call him that…” She sighed, rubbing her hands over her face.

“Fury says he’ll make contact with Natasha and Clint, no idea how to reach Point Break though. I called his girlfriend, or paramour, whatever, who said he was off chasing something, no idea what, but when he comes back she’s gonna tell him we’re looking for him.”

“I’ll talk to Steve…but I can’t promise anything.”

“If anyone can talk him round it’s you.” He said, his voice adopting a more sympathetic tone “You know, there’s no reason why we can’t look for Barnes along the way. I mean it’s all Hydra, right?”

“Yeah, good point. Let me talk to him. I’ll call you tomorrow, or later today, whatever.”

“No sweat, take care. Love you kiddo.”

“You too Tones”

Katie dropped her phone onto the couch and sighed. Time to tackle Steve. She unzipped her combat boots, shucked them off and headed up the stairs. She gently opened the bedroom door and saw Steve, hair damp from the shower, led on the bed, looking up at the ceiling.

“Hey.” She crawled onto the bed next to him and propped herself up on her elbows so she could look at him.

“Hi.” He rolled his head to accept the kiss she offered as she reached a hand up to twine in the hair at the top of his head. “I’m sorry.” He leaned into her hand like a dog seeking attention. Katie opened her arms to let Steve snuggle into them, like a child, as she rolled onto her back, his head laying on her chest as her hand continued to tangle in his hair.

“Do you think we’re wasting our time? Looking for him?” Steve asked after a moment.

Katie hesitated, choosing her words carefully. “Bucky has been brainwashed and tortured by HYDRA for longer than I’ve been alive. It’s going to take more than saving you from the river to bring back the man you knew” she took a deep breath “I think we’re going to struggle chasing someone as resourceful as he is when he doesn’t want to be found. And we may have another problem…”

“Like what?” He asked, frowning at her.

“I just spoke to Tony. J has been going through the info that we pulled from the servers. Apparently there’s a list of 4 secret Hydra bases that no one knew about, not even Fury, that didn’t go down when we took out SHIELD.”

Steve let out a groan “So now I have to choose, between Bucky and taking down what remains of Hydra…”

Katie kissed his head sympathetically as the turmoil raged within his brain. They couldn’t let Hydra get a foothold again. But he didn’t want to let Bucky down either.

“You know, going after Hydra might help.” Katie spoke softly “I mean, we have nothing other than vague ideas and supposition about where Bucky is or what he has planned next. We might find something along the way. In the meantime, Sam can keep working our current angle and line of thought.”

“You’re right.” he said after a pause “I’ve tried twice to bring these bastards down. I can’t let them slip through my fingers a third time.”

*****

“Gotta say Cap, you’re looking better than last time I saw you.” Tony grnned as they entered the lab in the tower.

“I feel it!” Steve smiled, shaking Tony’s hand.

“What you looking at?” Katie asked, nodding to the screen, taking in the map.

“Got JARVIS running a bit of an analysis on the bases we found out about. Terrain surrounding them, best places to land the jet, potential areas of weakness that kinda thing.” He said, “Could take a while but, best to be prepared with some form of plan I suppose.”

Katie turned to Steve, grinning, about to launch into a rendition of “Star Spangled Man with a Plan” but Steve gave her a filthy look, knowing full well what was going through her mind. She grinned at him innocently and he turned his attention back to Tony.

“Any news on the others?”

“Banner is due back at some point tomorrow. He’s at some kind of Scientist band camp…” Tony waved his hand. “Barton is on his way, but you already know that. As for Nat…well she said she’ll be here when she can…which just leaves Point Break to show, whenever he’s back from riding the rainbow road that is.”

“He’ll turn up.” Katie shrugged “If all else fails I’ll do what he told me to when we needed him.”

“Which was what?” Steve asked, looking at Katie, frowning. As if she knew how to contact him and hadn’t said anything…

“Stand on top of a tall building a shout.” she said, grinning. Steve gave a roll of his eyes as Tony snorted. “Although I think he may have been joking.”

“Maybe we should get him some kind of Bat Signal” Tony mused “but with a hammer instead of a bat.”

“No.” Katie shook her head and Tony pouted at her.

“Why do you always piss on my parade?”

“Because your parade is usually dumb. Look we’re gonna go upstairs and unpack a few things.”

“Sure.” Tony nodded. “Oh, happy said he’ll get your apartment in DC cleared over the next week, and I thought we could go for something to eat tonight. Do the whole…” he waved his hand in a circle motion as he looked back at the screen, “fmily thing.

“Sounds great.” Katie smiled, looking at Steve who nodded, thankful of something ‘normal’ to look forward to, and the pair of them made to leave.

“By the way, I renovated the living floors so your Penthouse has had a bit of a facelift.” Tony said. Katie stopped and turned to face him.

“What do you mean facelift?” She frowned “I liked my floor…”

“Yeah but when I did the rooms for everyone else they got new furniture so I ordered you some too. If you don’t like it you can change it, no big deal. I didn’t change the décor to much…I know how much of a princess you are about people touching your stuff”

“Princess here technically owns forty percent of this tower so…” She flicked him the finger and he rolled his eyes.

“Yeah yeah…there’s a spare suite for you anyway Spangles opposite Thor’s, you know, just in case you get pissed off with her. No one would blame you if you did…”

“You’re a dick.” She rolled her eyes at her brother and turned back towards the elevator.

In all fairness Katie did actually quite like the changes Tony had made. Her penthouse spanned the entire floor below Tony’s whilst everyone else shared a floor a couple of levels down with another Avenger. Perks of ownership, after all. There was a new coffee and cream coloured L shaped sofa in the room, a walnut coffee table replaced the glass one that had been there, and a brand new HD OLED TV adorned the wall opposite, along with a media system. A state of the art sound system was installed and the kitchen was completely new and had been knocked through to the dining area giving them a huge open plan space similar to the layout of the apartment in DC. There was frankly the biggest bed Steve had ever seen in the bedroom and the furniture was sleek, with a slightly smaller TV adorning the wall opposite the bed. The en-suite now sported his and hers sinks along with a double shower, a corner spa tub and there was a smaller bathroom just off the hallway along with another bedroom, a study and a balcony spanned the entire length of the floor, which was accessible from the main bedroom and the kitchen-diner. It overlooked the New York skyline and contained a small patio area and a hot-tub along with some outside furniture. But true to his word, Tony had kept the colour scheme. Different shades of blue throughout the bedroom, steel grey in the kitchen and warm coffee and walnut colours in the lounge.

Steve loved it.

As promised, late that evening, the two of them accompanied Pepper and Tony out for dinner. They had gone to Anatolia’s, an Italian restaurant on the outskirts of Brooklyn much to Steve’s delight. It had been a really nice evening, the 4 drinking and eating far too much but as Tony had pointed out, things were about to get a little bit crazy so who knew when the next time they would get chance to relax and socialise was.

“Other than your 30th that is.” he said, looking at Katie over his wine.

“So there is something planned…” she grinned.

“Maybe.” Steve shrugged. Oh, he had something planned alright. He’d spoken to Tony about it a week or so ago, the Inventor gleefully agreeing with his idea.

“Man, my little sis is turning 30 in 3 weeks…I feel so old.” Tony continued to grumble.

“You are!” she teased.

“Yeah but not as old as your boyfriend…”

“Well done, you almost went a full evening without mentioning it.” Steve dead panned, folding his arms.

“You know he’s technically younger than me, Tones.” Katie said “

“What?” Steve looked at her, “How do you work that out.”

“You were born in July 1918 right, went into the ice in, what, March 1945?”

“Yeah…”

“Woke up in May 2012. So when you count how many years you spent actually awake and living, and not taking a cold nap, you’re really only 29 this time round.”

“So Captain America is your toy-boy?” Pepper giggled. Katie shrugged and took a sip of her wine as Tony and Steve looked at one another, both of them wearing expressions of bewilderment.

“Wait, does this mean we can throw a Happy 97 minus 67 party for Spangles next year?” Tony grinned and Steve let out a groan.

“See what you’ve done?” he looked at Katie with exasperation, and she just shrugged.

The night ended with a few drinks in a bar before a car picked them up and the couples both bid each other goodnight before going their separate ways

“That was proper pizza.” Steve said as they walked out of the elevator into their living area, the panel sliding in place leaving the door hidden.

Katie laughed as JARVIS gently flipped on the ambient lighting. “Well you certainly enjoyed it…getting through 2”

“Yeah, think the last 3 slices were a mistake” he mumbled as she headed into the kitchen. “They’re sitting in me like a brick.”

“Awwww poor baby!” she mocked thickly. “Getting so old you can’t even have a few slices without indigestion.”

“Hey, I’m younger than you, remember?” He laughed as Katie pulled 2 beers out of the fridge handing him one as she glided past him to flop onto the couch.

“I’m gonna regret pointing that out, aint i?” She laughed as Steve nodded.

*****

Katie had a meeting with her Editors and New Business department the next morning and Steve had a job of his own, a different mission that he was fucking nervous as hell about. He asked JARVIS where Tony was, who located him in the large, open plan main common room area of the tower, the one Loki and the Hulk had decimated 2 years previously.

“Tony you got a minute?”

“S'up Cap?”

Steve took a deep breath “I err…” his palms suddenly felt sweaty. “You know I love Katie and…" He cleared his throat before he looked Tony square in the eye, surprised to find the man watching him, warmth across his features. “She’s the most important thing in my life, and I…well, I wanted to ask for your permission, to ask her to marry me.”

“My permission?” Tony quipped.

“Well I’d normally ask her dad but…”

Tony smiled and glanced down at hands before he looked back at the blonde haired man stood besides him. “You gonna do better than a ‘we can get married if you want’ outside your apartment door?”

Steve let out a sigh and shook his head “she told you about that?”

“In the hospital” Tony smiled.

“Not my finest moment” Steve rubbed at his temple.

“Oh I dunno.” Tony said pushing off the front of the Bar area where he had been leaning. “Given the fact you were inches from death she was pretty upset at the fact she told you to come back with a Tiffany special…”

Steve smiled.

“You got one yet?” Tony asked. “A ring I mean.”

“No.” Steve shook his head.

“Well it just so happens I know one of the consultants at Tiffany.” Tony smiled, and Steve looked at him, his face creeping into a smile as he knew that this was Tony’s confirmation he was giving him his blessing. “Whenever you’re ready, I’ll make a call.“

The two men looked at one another, sharing a silent moment of respect before Tony reached out with his hand and Steve shook it, a shit-eating-grin spreading across his handsome features.

“Oh fuck this, come on Spangles, bring it in. I’m secure enough in my sexuality to hug another man.” Tony sniffed, and Steve stood up off the bar stool with a chuckle, the men exchanging a quick embrace, punctuated by a lot of back slapping.

“For what it’s worth…” Tony smiled as he stepped back, his eyes shining with emotion. “You make her happy, you treat her right, you put her first and I’ve never seen anyone metaphorically slap her back into place as well as you do….sorry, lot of dust in here…” he wiped at his suddenly watering eyes, water that may or may not have been tears before he took a breath and looked at Steve again “I can’t think of anyone else I’d rather grant permission to.”

Steve smiled, his own eyes shining with emotion.

“And I’m pretty sure you’d have gotten it off dad too.” Tony nodded at him and Steve looked at the floor for a second before he glanced back up at him, taking a deep breath.

“Thank you Tony.”

*****

“What is this?” Thor’s voice was loud. “I can’t see them…”

“No you turn it…hang on” The 4 Avengers in the lab looked at one another, Tony grinning from ear to ear as Jane was trying to explain how to use the video call facility on her phone.

“He’s worse than you!” He grinned up at Steve who merely rolled his eyes as Bruce stifled a grin.

Eventually Thor’s face, or rather his left nostril filled their screen and all of them urged him to move the phone away. Finally he did so, and his handsome face beamed down at us all.

“Greetings!” he smiled “It is good to see you all again, Little Stark you look as radiant as ever.” “Thanks Thor!” Katie laughed as besides her Steve bristled a little bit.

“Jane says you need my help.”

“Yeah, we got a job Point Break.” Tony said.

“Is this to do with SHIELD and Hydra?” the God’s deep voice rumbled.

“You know about that?” Katie asked.

“Of course, it was all over the news. I watch that now, with Jane” he said, a glint in his eyes, “But that reminds me, I have a bone to pick with both you and the Captain…”

Steve frowned and looked at Katie, the pair of them sharing a glance before they looked back at the screen.

“I saw you both on the television fighting SHIELD alongside the Birdman…” Thor continued, ignoring Katie and Steve’s laughter as they both thought of Sam’s face if he could hear that nickname, “Why didn’t you call me? You know how much I love fighting.”

“They didn’t send for me either…” Tony said, putting his hand up.

“Call you, do you have a cell phone?” Katie looked at Thor.

“No, what for?”

She didn’t reply, instead she looked away trying not to laugh at the perplexed look on the God’s face

“We have a lot of loose ends to tie up.” Steve spoke, steering the conversation back to the purpose in hand. “Not all of Hydra went down when we took SHIELD out.”

Thor’s face split into a grin. “More fighting?”

“More fighting.” Tony said, as Banner let out a small sigh.

“Why is there always fighting?”

They explained the basics of what was going on to Thor, before he promised to join them as soon as he could and then Banner headed off to shower and to unpack following his trip.

“I’m going to head to the office for a few hours.” Katie said. Steve nodded.

“Tony and I have stuff to do.” he said simply, but met her gaze with a passive one of his own as she glanced at him, arching her eyebrow.

“Ohh…I get it…” she grinned, “You’re sorting my birthday surprise. Cute.” As she turned to go she walked straight into the desk behind her, jabbing the corner harshly into her thigh.

“You alright?” Steve asked, trying but failing to hide the chuckle in his voice at her clumsiness.

“Thanks for your genuine concern.” She grumbled, instantly rubbing where the sharp corner had dug into her. “Shit, that hurt…Jesus fucking Christ…”

"Ooooh, hey. You kiss Spangles with that mouth?” Tony raised an eyebrow at her

“Yes, Tony, I kiss him all over with that mouth.” She glared at him as she rubbed her thigh. “Every inch of –”

Tony clapped his hands over his ears. “Lalalalalalalalala! I can’t hear you!”

Once Katie was out of earshot, Tony turned to Steve “You get it?”

He nodded, holding up his mother’s ring that he had managed to slip of when Katie was sleeping.

“Alright, let’s go.”

They drove the short distance into Manhatten, and Tony parked his car up in a private space behind the department store they were visiting. Steve followed him into the store where they were greeted by a small, grey haired mousy looking man dressed in an immaculate 3 piece suit.

“Mr Stark, Captain Rogers.”

“Hi Robert.” Tony smiled at him, clapping Steve on the shoulder “Take good care of him, he’s shitting himself.”

Steve sighed and shook his head but the inventor had already wandered off to the other side of the store, examining something in one of the glass cases.

“It’s perfectly understandable to be nervous, it’s a big thing.” Robert smiled, gesturing for Steve to follow him. He did, as they walked across the store to a small room at the back. Steve walked in and dropped into a seat. “So, do you have anything specific in mind?”

Steve took a deep breath, “Something elegant, but flashy enough to be special, I’ve no idea really, other than she prefers white gold to yellow.”

Robert smiled at him, “White gold or platinum. Ok. Any idea on the cut of diamond?”

“Princess.” Steve said, smiling. That he did know, from way before they were even dating.

“Oh my god!” Katie said, looking at the gossip magazine Natasha was reading, as Steve peered up at them from the seat behind his desk. “That’s fucking hideous.”

Natasha snorted “20 carat apparently.”

“Who the fuck needs a 20 carat ring?” Katie shook her head.

“I dunno, not something Tony would buy for Pepper?”

“Nah he isn’t that tacky.” she shook her head “And I’d kick his ass, it’s so…garish.”

“I don’t think the cut helps” Nat said, holding the magazine up “It’s a Brilliant, so looks a bit..”

“Shit?” Katie offered and the girls laughed “Seriously, if I ever have a man who’s ready to propose you better tell him it’s Princess or bust…”

He and Robert chatted for a few moments, Steve assuring him that the budget was healthy, whilst the man headed off into the store and came back with a few options set on a blue velvet tray of sorts. Steve’s eyes were instantly drawn to one in the middle. It was held a large diamond and was set into an elaborate clasp which melted into the band which was studded with smaller diamonds.

“Ahh yes.” Robert smiled as Steve picked it up “That’s one of my favourites. It’s a Tiffany Novo…”

“Sorry, did you say Nova?” Steve’s head jerked up, a smile on his face.

“Novo, Captain.”

Close enough Steve thought as he grinned.

“Princess cut with a Pave set Diamond band in platinum. That one’s a 2.05 carat, but we can do it smaller.”

“No, this one is perfect.” Steve smiled, looking at him.

“Well, that was easy…” Robert quipped and Steve nodded, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah…” he let out a chortle of a laugh, “you had me at Novo.”

Robert frowned, but didn’t ask for an explanation. “That one there is Sixty-Six thou…”

“Holy shit.” Steve exclaimed, before hastily apologising for his outburst. He knew he had said he had a decent budget but…

“However, Captain, seeing as it’s you, I can shave twenty percent off that, leave my commission.” he man smiled as Steve began to protest “And offer you a further ten percent for Tony being a regular customer.”

“I couldn’t…”

“You guys saved my daughter’s life in New York.” Robert looked at him, smiling softly “She was in the bank.”

Steve took a deep breath and shrugged, a faint flush on his cheeks. “Just doing my job.”

“So am I. So we’ll call it forty, and I’ll throw in an extra eighteen months care package. So she can bring it in to be cleaned, repaired should anything happen to it over the next three years.”

Steve hesitated, it was a lot of money. He knew he had enough, more than enough. His wages from SHIELD had been generous, plus his Army back pay that Katie and Fury had secured for him had been piling up and earning interest, but he still wasn’t used to being able to just flash it around. Plus now he wasn’t technically earning either…but the more he looked at it, the more he just knew it was right.

And she was worth far more to him than anything money could buy.

“I’ll take it.” He nodded, decision made.

He handed Robert his Ma’s ring, which Katie had had resized to fit properly and Robert nodded, smiling as he slid it onto a measuring cone.

“You’re in luck Captain. We have one that size in stock so you can take it away today. Whilst we’re here, would you like me to give this one a polish?”

“Oh, err, yeah, great.”

He shook hands with the man and headed back into the store where Tony was now leaning over a cabinet, talking to a blonde haired assistant. He pointed at a necklace with an obscene price tag, and she nodded, picking it up and turning around.

“Something for Pep.” he said, gesturing to the gift as he nodded at Steve. “You know, just because.” he frowned “That was fast.”

“Found the perfect one.” Steve smiled “It’s called a Novo”

“Nova?” Tony looked at him, eyebrow raising as he smirked.

“No, Novo…although that’s what I heard too at first.” Steve laughed.

“Huh.” Tony said, as Robert approached them. He opened the box he was holding and reached in for the ring, setting it down on a velvet tray again to show to the men. It was even brighter in the store lights than in the room. Steve heard Tony whistle at the side of him.

“That’s a rock and a half Cap.”

“She’s worth it.” he shrugged, simply. “I just hope she likes it.”

“If she doesn’t we can exchange.” Robert said, as he finished his inspection and after making himself happy the ring was perfect he boxed it up and handed it to Steve in a Tiffany bag.

“Cap, you could propose with a ring pull and she’d say it was perfect.” Tony smiled.

“Now you tell me.” Steve said, handing over his credit card.

*******

“Shit, shit, shit…” Katie was panicking. Her ring was gone. Steve’s Ma’s ring. The one he had given to her at Christmas. The only real thing he had of his mom left. She’d ransacked the bedroom, living room, her office. “No,no…”

She made her way back into the kitchen, looking everywhere, before she headed into the bathroom. Nothing. She collapsed onto the closed toilet seat, her head in her hands as she began to cry when she heard the elevator door open.

Steve stopped as he walked into the living room, frowning at the utter chaos that greeted him. Cushions were all over the place, drawers in the large unit were flung open. Immediately he went on the defensive, knowing it was ridiculous as there was no way anyone could have gotten in here, but still…

“Katie?” he called. Katie’s head jerked up and she wiped her eyes

“Bathroom.” she said back, and he could tell from her tone something was wrong.

“Doll, what’s going on?” He strode into the bedroom and then stepped into the large en-suite. She’d been crying. “Baby?” he crouched in front of her.

“I…I’m so sorry…” Her voice cracked. “But your mom’s ring… I can’t…”

Steve felt a sudden pang of guilt, she was distraught, thinking she had lost it. He hadn’t thought of that.

“No, sweetheart, it’s ok, I’ve got it.”

“You do?” she frowned.

“Yeah.” he reached into his shirt pocket and pulled it out. “I was looking at it when you were asleep last night and thought it could do with a bit of a clean-up so I took it off and Tony took me to a place Pepper takes hers…”

Katie looked at the ring, before she felt her anger simmer over.

“You complete ass Steven Grant Rogers!” she yelled, hitting him in the chest “I’ve spent the last 3 hours out of my mind with worry…”

“I know, I should have told you but I wanted it to be a surprise.” Steve lied, hoping to god for once she wouldn’t see through it “I’m so sorry!”

She snatched it off him, returning it to its home and she glared at him, before looking down at it.

“Well, it does look nice and shiny” she said, admiring it and Steve let out a sigh of relief “Don’t touch my stuff.”

“Your stuff?” he looked at her as she wiped at her face.

“Yes, my stuff.” she repeated petulantly. “You gave it to me, remember. It’s mine.”

He was about to laugh and call her a brat, when there was a loud clap of thunder and a flashing of bright white light, punctuated by various rainbow colours, outside the bedroom window and they both turned their heads to look at it.

“Thor!” Katie said, jumping up and beaming.

“Am I forgiven?” Steve asked, rising to his feet. She turned and looked at him, rolling her eyes at the injured puppy dog eyes he was giving her.

“Pull another stunt like that again and I’m imposing a sex ban for a week.”

“Yes Ma’am.” he grinned, giving her a peck on the lips.

****

Thor’s arrival spurred the Avengers into getting down to some real planning, and when Clint arrived that day too, bringing with him the news that Natasha would be with them by the middle of June- she was on some kind of trip with Fury-those of them present began to take all the information they had, planning their first raid on one of the uncovered Hydra bases, this one being on the outskirts of Seattle.

“Your call Cap.” Tony looked at Steve, his jaw was twitching as he turned over the pros and cons of hitting the base whilst they were still one down on the team. Eventually he made his decision and looked around the team.

Suit up…” he said, straightening up “Wheels up in 20”

Behind him Banner groaned.

He needn’t have worried though, there was no need for a code green. In fact, it was a bit of a damp squib. There were minimum guards to take out and all in all it was relatively easy. There were also no computers, just a truck load of paper files which they meticulously boxed up and loaded onto the jet.

Over the next two weeks they hit the remaining unknown basis that they had discovered, and every one of them was the same. They were clearly never used as main strongholds, more like storage facilities if anything. Steve was frustrated, Katie knew that. But as she and Tony pointed out to him, they had a hell of a lot of information to comb through. They liaised with Fury, who had nothing new to add, other than that he would be in touch if his team needed help about the remaining bases in Europe.

As such they spent most of their time filtering through the information they had gotten from the bases, along with the boxes of files that Fury and Hill had pulled from SHIELD. Banner and Katie (when she wasn’t working) set up a simple filing system as they went along, cataloguing each bit of paper information so they knew where to find it in future, and could add to it as they went along.

There wasn’t much to go on, they didn’t find any new information, and nothing on Bucky, but there was one name that continued to crop up time and time again.

“Baron Von Strucker…” Katie said to the team which was congregated in the lab. “I’ve gone through the information available, including what was dumped on the internet when we released all the files…it isn’t pretty reading.”

Clint lounged with his feet up on the desk munching some popcorn. He offered it round and Tony took a hand full.

“Not likely to be where Hydra is involved.” he said, leaning against a desk, chucking the popcorn in his mouth.

Steve who had been flicking through a file clucked slightly with his tongue and shook his head “Says here he trained with Jasper Sitwell at the Preparatory Academy.”

Tony began choking and at first Katie thought it was reaction to the fact that Hydra had an academy but she soon realised, as he was pointing at Clint with a disgusted expression on his face that it was the popcorn. She grinned- Clint like his popcorn laced with cayenne pepper.

“What is wrong with butter and salt?” Tony gasped as Clint explained what was on the corn through his laughter. Thor reached over curiously and took a handful before declaring, much to Clint’s annoyance, that he enjoyed the spicy snack.

“He had his fingers in a lot of SHIELD pies” Katie continued “He was running the SHIELD STATION, which is the Scientific Training and Tactical Intelligence Operative Network, an R&D facility which was established to conduct investigations on the material retrieved from the ground during the battle of New York, you know, the shit Fury said he had destroyed?”

“Alright.” Steve nodded “Dig up what you can on it and then we’ll go from there. From the sounds of it he seems like the one we should be focussing on.”

Katie nodded.

“But not tonight.” Tony said, looking at Steve “I think we deserve a break, especially seeing as it’s someone’s 30th tomorrow.”

The room cheered and Katie rolled her eyes “Yeah yeah…don’t remind me.”

*****

Katie woke the next morning to soft kisses peppering the side of her neck and a deep burn growing at her centre as she was slowly pulled to consciousness. She let out a low moan and felt the lips at her throat spread into a sly smile

“You dreaming about me?” her Soldier whispered.

She bit her lip, arching her back and leaned into him as his hand splayed on her stomach, pulling her closer before she felt his fingers sliding down gently to the space between her legs. She didn’t say a word, she couldn’t. It was all she could do to simply groan as he gently pushed two fingers inside her, before he moved to massaging her spot. She pulled her legs together suddenly, thighs tightening as the muscles in her core clenched.

“You want more?” he asked, voice slow and deep.

She nodded eagerly, moving so that she was lay on her back and finally opened her eyes.

Steve gently moved, so his knee was positioned between her legs, sliding his T-shirt over her head before one hands moved up her body, tracing her ribs before he started to caress her breast, the other fingers continued to stroke inside, making her groan more and more. He placed a soft kiss on her jawline and smiled at her.

“Happy birthday, Gorgeous.”

His words undid her, and she let out a sound that was halfway between a gasp and a squeal, feeling for him under the sheets “Steve…” Every inch of her was on fire and he wanted him. “Please…” she begged, her voice catching as he moved over on top of her fully, shoving his boxers down and she let out a long shaky moan as he entered her.

“Good?” he asked, his breath a whisper and she nodded eagerly as he began to move. His thrusts were slow but deep and powerful, every roll of his hips sent his pelvis rocking up against her spot.

It didn’t take long at all, she was so close already and Steve watched her face, not wanting to miss the moment.

“Fuck…” Her head completely dropped backwards as her core spasmed again and then she came, hard, her orgasm rolling over her in such a way it had her clinging to Steve, crying out a strangled cry as he too reached his peak, her name tumbling from his lips.

The minutes passed as they lay curled in silence, completely blissed out and relaxed, hearing only each other’s gradually steadying breaths.

Steve’s hand gently stroked the arm that was draped over his abdomen before he gently moved her to one side, sitting up. He had things to do.

“Hey…” she began to protest before he smiled.

“I’m going to make you breakfast”

“You are?”

“Of course, it’s your birthday” He chuckled, from the edge of the bed where he was pulling on a pair of sweats.

"Pancakes,” she muttered hopefully.

He laughed. “Yup,” he said before lowering his lips onto hers. They shared a long, deep kiss that left them grinning like idiots as he pulled away, hopping off the bed and pulling on a t-shirt before leaving the room.

Katie stretched out and glanced over at the clock on the bedside table. It was half 9. A perfectly reasonable time to wake up on her birthday. And the best bit was, she had an entire day of being a spoilt birthday brat ahead of her! Steve was taking her to Coney Island in the afternoon, he had been dying to take her back to Brooklyn for ages and they’d picked today to go after the team had decided to take a break from the non-stop research and missions. Then later in the evening there was some form of meal booked, although where she had absolutely no idea. She’d been trying to catch everyone out about it for weeks but failed, miserably.

She was just about to get out of bed and into the shower when she heard her phone vibrating on the nightstand beside her bed. She reached over for it, and rolled her eyes. It was Tony.

“Happy birthday kiddo! How does it feel to be officially old?”

“You still got fourteen years on me, you dick!” she said, grinning before she yawned slightly “Why are you ringing me when you’re, what? A floor away?”

“Wasn’t sure if you’d be up or not.”

“Well there’s no worries on that account as for my birthday Steve got me a new alarm clock.”

“An alarm clock?” Tony said, his tone flat

“Yeah.” she said, biting her lip as she fought to keep myself from laughing “His penis.”

There was a pause “That’s gross.” Tony groaned and Katie laughed as he continued to complain “I mean it’s bad enough knowing that you two…you know, without being given some form of mental image like that…”

“Oh quit your whining!” she grinned “When you bringing me my present?”

“Ah well, you’ll have to come get it, it’s a bit big.”

“Big?” I said “It’s not a 16 foot teddy bear is it?”

It was his turn to laugh “No, although, speaking of big, stuffed animals, what did Cap actually get you?”

“You’re hilarious, and I’ve no idea. He’s making me breakfast at the moment.”

“More sausage?” he said sardonically.

“Pancakes, actually” she replied “Which is why I need to go and have a shower before he eats them all himself…”

“Alright, come up when you’re ready…” he said. “Not going anywhere…”

By the time she made her way into the large open plan living area, Steve had already completed 2 stacks of pancakes (his miles bigger than hers), a plate of bacon and was just setting 2 glasses of orange juice down on the breakfast bar in front of the 2 plates. He looked up and smiled, she was dressed casually for a day at the fair, tight jeans, boots and long white top, over which she wore an open beige half-sleeved cardigan, and her hair was pulled up into a high, messy pony tail. She looked beautiful as ever.

“You look lovely.” He said, pressing a kiss to the side of her head as she sat down. “So, how does it feel to be old?” He could barely get the words out without laughing, and she simply shook her head at his poor attempt at a joke

“You’re such a jerk!” She rolled her eyes, as he grinned.

They ate breakfast, and then like the big child she was she demanded to know where her presents were so Steve took her hand and led her into the living room where they were laid out on the coffee table.

She opened her gifts one by one, a few items of clothing, a pair of earrings, a new set of wireless earphones that she had mused over buying and then decided not to, a gorgeous white and rose gold diamond bracelet and a leather bound edition of the Wizard of Oz book to replace the one she had lost in Malibu.

“I saw that and couldn’t resist.” He grinned, as she grinned back “oh and here…”

This was the big one. He held out the envelope and Katie looked at him, gently taking it before she slid a finger under the top to rip it open. Steve watched as she pulled out the piece of paper and for the second time that morning her mouth dropped open in surprise. It was a print out of an itinerary leaving the 30th November and returning on the 14th December, with the locations being cities in Europe- Munich, Paris, Venice, Bruges, Dublin and London.

“2 nights in each…3 in London” Steve said as she glanced up at him, unable to speak “I didn’t know what else to do and I know you’ve wanted to go back to Europe for ages, and how much you love Christmas and the markets and stuff…”

“Oh my god, Steve… ” She glanced down at the paper, finally finding her voice. “This is amazing! I don’t know what to say.” Steve felt the familiar pink tinge growing around his cheeks before she threw her arms around him, “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

He smiled and then kissed her head before he pulled away. “Shall we go and see what outrageously flashy present Tony has for you?”

“Do you know what is is?” she asked.

“I might do…” he smiled as she stood up. There was no might about it. He knew what it was. And he knew she was going to lose her shit about it.

The two of them made their way up to Tony’s main living floor, her hand in his.

“You now I’m excited to finally take you to Coney Island.” He smiled as the door to the elevator shut.

“Excited?”

"Yeah, it’s just I watched Bucky take so many dates around there and I spent most of my time wondering when I was gonna’ get to take my own gal.” He admitted, bashfully.

"God, you’re adorable,” she smiled at him as the doors opened.

“Happy birthday!” Both Tony and Pepper chimed and she grinned, stepping out and into Pepper’s arms before Tony swept her into a hug.

“Well I don’t see any huge stuffed toys so…” she looked around and Pepper snorted.

“I talked him out of it.”

Tony handed her a small box and Katie looked at him.

“This isn’t big.”

“Brat.” Tony rolled his eyes and she smirked. She pulled the ribbon of the box, took the lid off and stared at the content inside. And as it dawned on her what it was she looked up at him, then to Steve, who was watching her, an amused expression on her face, then back at the box her eyes wide.

“You didn’t?” she looked up at her brother, her mouth dropping open.

Tony shrugged “Well you buried your Range Rover and gave away the Audi so…”

She looked at him for a split second before she squealed, threw herself at her brother and then turned on her heels, running.

Steve and Tony both watched her go before they turned to one another and followed her.

“You ready?” Tony asked.

“As I’ll ever be.” Steve nodded.

“Huh.” Tony nodded.

“Ready for what?” Pepper asked.

“Oh, they’re going to Coney Island.” Tony said as they headed down in the elevator, waving away her question.

Way ahead of them Katie burst into the parking lot and skidded to a halt. There, in all its glory was her own brand new Chevrolet Camero Exorcist, the car she had dreamed of since she was a teenager. It was gorgeous. Deep blue with cream leather interior. She unlocked it and sat in the driver’s seat, taking in the smell. The head rests were stitched with the Stark Industries logo and the dash was awash with every single button and function you could imagine.

“Fire it up.” a voice said, and Tony looked at her through the open driver’s side door. She did as she was told and grinned at the beautiful growling noise it made and squealed, feeling the leather of the steering wheel.

She turned to Steve who was stood leaning slightly on the door watching her.

“Hop in soldier!” she grinned, and he smirked, walking to the passenger side.

“Have fun…” Tony said, before he turned to Steve and looked at him, giving him a significant nod and a clap on the shoulder. Steve smiled back and then sank into the leather seat. He had to admit the car was nice. Katie pulled out of the space and gave a groan that was far too arousing than it should have been.

“Oh my god…” she murmured, as she pulled onto the street. The car purred and handled like a dream. As she put her foot down it sped forward, throwing them both back in the seat.

“Easy baby!” Steve chuckled as she laughed, speeding over Brooklyn Bridge. “You’re gonna get a ticket…”

She shrugged, not actually caring at that point.

*****

Steve wound up, pitching the ball which sliced through the bottles on the stall diagonally, knocking them completely off their pedestal and sending the ball through the back of the canvas booth as it ripped a hole clean through it. Steve bit his lip, not realising how hard he had thrown it and turned to look at Katie. She was doubled over, laughing at the look on his face, and then laughed even harder at the expression on the attendants face as he glanced from Steve to the bottles on the floor, to the hole in the canvas and back again.

“Which one do you want?” Steve asked, placing his arm around her as the attendant indicated for her to pick a toy.

“I think I’ll have that one…” she said, pointing to a brown bear that was dressed in a Captain America outfit, complete with helmet and shield.

Steve shot her a look and she held out her hands, protesting her innocence. “What?”

“Good choice ma’am” the attendant said, handing over the bear “He’s an all American hero is our Captain.”

“That he is.” She grinned “He’s incredibly handsome too I believe.”

Steve cut her off as he thanked the man before steering her away as he checked his watch. They had about an hour before they needed to get back.

“Come on, let’s take a walk.”

He led them both down to the sea front, pausing to get a hot dog each, and they walked, eating in comfortable silence. The sun was still warm in the sky, the sea was by their side and Katie was lost in her own little world until she realised Steve wasn’t besides her. She turned to look for him, wondering where he was and then spotted him a few yards behind her, crouched on one knee on the well-worn wooden slats of the boardwalk.

“I told you I was gonna ask you properly one day.” He cleared his throat, looking up at her with those blue eyes she loved so much as he held out his hand, opening the small box that was inside. The sun bounced off the surface of the ring and she couldn’t see it fully but she clamped her hands over her mouth. “I know we were a little too late to be each other’s firsts, well in some ways anyway…” he said, and Katie let out a choked giggle. “But I want all my lasts to be with you. Will you marry me, sweetheart?”

“And I told you I’d say yes one day!” She said, her voice cracking with emotion as she removed her hands shakily from her mouth and nodded. “Yes. Yes of course I’ll marry you.”

A few of the by-standers who had been watching started cheering as Steve jumped up, everything around him bar his girl faded to nothing as she threw herself into his arms. He picked her up, laughing like an idiot, his strong arms round her as he twirled her round, the pair of them sharing fast, rapid dizzying pecks on the lips as he held her off the floor. Eventually he set her on her feet, an utterly stupid grin plastered on his face as he looked at her, a grin that wasn’t going to fade any time soon.

“Do I errr have to put it on myself?” She spluttered a laugh, raising an eyebrow.

“What, oh, yeah, right…” he said, stepping back and removing the ring from its home, fumbling slightly before he managed to get it out, holding it in his right hand, but before he could do anything else she grabbed his left hand which contained the box before he could slip it back into his pocket.

“You bought me a Tiffany?” She almost shrieked as she looked at the distinctive blue-green box in her hand.

“Yeah, and if you give me a second you can see it.” Steve chuckled at her. Biting her lip she held out her left hand and he slid the ring onto her finger and she let out a loud gasp.

“Stevie, it’s beautiful.” She whispered, looking at it before she took his face in both her hands. “I love it.”

“I love you.” he murmured into their kiss. He grinned and dropped and arm round her shoulder as they made their way back down the boardwalk, back to the car, Katie’s eyes almost permanently transfixed on her ring.

“You definitely like it?” Steve asked, suddenly feeling nervous as he nodded to her hand

“It’s perfect, but how did you know?” she looked up at him as they reached the other side of the road

“Do the words, ‘big, fuck off Tiffany diamond’ ring any bells?” he looked at her, referencing their conversation outside his flat a few months ago.

“Not about the tiffany.” she shook her head “But the cut. It’s a princess one, the one I’ve always wanted.

“I have a good memory” he smiled, “And I picked that particular one because its a design called a Novo. I thought he said Nova at first.”

Katie laughed as she snaked her arms round his neck. “For the record, this was much a much better proposal than we can get married if you want….”

“Are you ever gonna let me forget that?” he sighed as he leaned down.

“I think you’ve redeemed yourself…” she said as her lips met his.

****

“Tony suggested we have a drink before we meet everyone.” Steve stepped into the elevator and Katie looked at him before she smoothed down her white dress.

“So where are we meeting everyone?”

“It’s a surprise, stop being so impatient.”

“Errr. You can’t tell me off, it’s my birthday.”

“Well stop asking so many questions and just enjoy your night!”

She didn’t get chance to reply as then the elevator doors opened onto the main party floor and there was a loud eruption of noise, making Katie jump.

“SURPRISE!”

Her mouth dropped open as she looked around the room. It was decorated in banners, balloons, and now paper streamers from the party poppers that had just been exploded by their friends. Clint, Thor, Bruce, Rhodey, Sam, Maria Hill, Tony, Pepper, Lawson, Evans, a whole host of people that worked in the offices and a familiar copper haired assassin stepped forward to greet her.

“Miss me?” Nat quipped.

“I can’t…” Katie began to speak, as she hugged her friend back “Oh my God…”

“JARVIS can you record this?” she heard Tony speak. “For this is a monumental occasion. She’s actually speechless…”

Katie turned to look at Steve who had been watching her reaction with a smile on his face. He loved seeing her happy, and he was pretty sure he’d managed to achieve that several times over during the day.

“Did you organise this?” she asked

“Why do you sound so surprised?” he chuckled, stepping forward to kiss her cheek “I had a little help but yeah, it was my idea. Happy Birthday baby.”

Before she could reply Natasha suddenly spoke very loudly.

“What is that?”

“What?” Katie asked, although she knew full well what Natasha was talking about.

“Errrr that?” She grabbed at Katie’s left hand.

The room fell silent.

“What does it look like?” Katie grinned at her

“Holy fucking shit.” Steve heard Clint chuckle as he slid his arm round his fiancées waist and the two of them exchanged a smile.

“We’re getting married” Steve grinned, finally tearing his eyes from Katie to look round the room. There was a pause and he locked eyes with Tony who winked at him before there was a flurry of noise and activity as everyone surged forward to congratulate them.

Tony reached them first and the two men shared a manly hug, which included lots of back slapping before he dropped a kiss to his sister’s cheek as Katie felt a hand grab hers. Natasha scrutinised her newest piece of jewellery before she looked up at Steve.

“You picked that all by yourself?” she looked up at Steve.

“I’m not completely useless” he rolled his eyes.

“I’m impressed Rogers,”

Sam clapped Steve on his back and as the two men began to banter, Tony pulled his sister into his side.

“Congratulations Kiddo.” He said, looking down at her hand “Looks even better on.”

“You’ve seen it?” She frowned.

“I may or may not have taken him to Tiffany’s…” Tony shrugged. “But I promise he picked it all by himself”

“So you knew he was gonna ask me?”

“He asked my permission.” Tony sniffed. “Well I might not be Dad but…”

Katie noticed his eyes were shining and she smiled at him as he continued.

“I want you to know,” Tony’s voice cracked slightly “I couldn’t be prouder of you, or love you more if you were my own.”

“Stop it, you’re making me cry!” Katie exclaimed, the tears in her own eyes gently spilling out as he pulled her into huge hug and she pressed her face into his chest. Eventually she stepped back, the pair of them wiping their eyes and Tony took the opportunity of a distraction, turning to a waiter.

Steve, who had been watching the two siblings saw the emotional exchanged and he stepped forward, as Tony was yelling about champagne for a toast.

“You alright?” Steve asked, gently wiping a tear off her cheek before he slipped his arms around her waist.

“Never been happier.” she beamed, honestly, her hands winding round his neck “ I know I said last year was the best birthday ever but this has smacked it straight out of the park.”

“Glad to hear it.” he smiled, leaning down to kiss her “I love you.”

“God job, seeing as I’m gonna be your wife.” she teased, her hand tangling in the back of his hair.

“Yeah…” he said, the shit eating grin spreading across his face again as he contemplated the words. His wife. “Yeah, you are”

Chapter 19

**Original Posting**

#stark spangled banner #steve rogers #Katie Stark #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fic #steve rogers x ofc #steve rogers x original female character #mcu #mcu fanfic #captain america #chris evans #chris evans characters

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amphtaminedreams · 3 years

Text

Spring/Summer & Haute Couture Week 2021: Whoops, I’ve Missed a Loooot (Part 2)

Hey to anyone reading,

I’m so sorry for the gap between the last fashion week review post and this one! Argh. I had no idea I posted it as long ago as the beginning of March but I think we can all agree that lockdown has fucked with our perceptions of time completely. I wish I could say the delay in posting was as simple as me being busy but I’ve also started to reflect on whether or not I want to carry on this format of posts for the time being; on the scale of problems, this one is wayyy down there in the very lower quartile of the first world region, but my motivation to carry on this kind of content in the form of long-winded text posts is...meh...not so much there anymore. At first I was thinking the issue was that working on these was my last priority on my daily to-do lists but as I’ve got back into writing fiction, it’s kind of occurred to me that the fact I was putting these posts on my to-do lists in the first place along with things like doing the ironing and contacting student finance speaks volumes. When I’m back from work or winding down, opening up Tumblr and coming back to this draft isn’t something that I think of as a fun stress reliever in the way drafting stories is. It doesn’t feel like I’m using my imagination or my creativity or expressing myself in any way and it’s not much of an escape from day to day life in the way that writing dialogue or exploring characters is. Maybe it’s because I’ve done quite a few of these posts now but I just tend to feel like I’m repeating myself, you know kinda like when you’re writing an essay and trying to fill up a word count; of course there are collections that I do have a lot of opinions on but by and large, sometimes it boils down to THESE CLOTHES ARE JUST FUCKING PRETTY, OKAY?! There’s only so many things you can say about a tulle skirt or an exaggerated collar before you want to strangle yourself with said tulle. I used to think iF VoGUe RuNwaY wRitErs CaN dO iT WhAT's MY exCusE until I realised that 1). Vogue Runway writers actually get paid and 2). for the most part all they do is explain the designer's intentions behind the collections verbatim without giving a critical opinion anyway.

I think a lot of the pressure I feel to justify what are in reality quite simple observations and opinions goes back to some of the feelings I explained in my first ever fashion week review where people who know more about fashion and have a formal education in the subject tend to be kind of gatekeep-y and elitist. It can never be that you appreciate different things about a collection but rather than one of you has taste and the other doesn’t and if it wasn’t obvious, the taste level assigned to you by the powers that be tend to positively correlate with the amount of money you have available to spend on a degree that has a reputation for failing to provide a steady income, which for most makes it an unrealistic avenue to pursue. I know, I know, the pressure is totally self-inflicted and wholly imagined seeing as I have under 500 followers on here and those who do interact with these posts most likely do so for the pictures but I still feel it, and given that I’m going to have enough external pressure to write essays when I return to uni in September, why on earth am I wasting time putting it on myself? When just posting photosets of my favourite looks is not only actually enjoyable for me but is also what other people WANT to see too? Nobody wants to read a self-indulgent paragraph like this when they’re here for the clothes and to be honest, for the most part I don’t want to write them anyway unless it’s something I have strong feelings about or if a collection can only be properly appreciated with analysis. I think I’ve made pretty clear which designers I’m a fan of, do you really need to hear me raving about Gucci or Zimmerman or Miu Miu or Balenciaga again? Is there gonna be anything revolutionary in yet another rant about Maria Grazia? Course not. I mean, if you are reading, you might have to witness those things one last time because I do intend to finish off this season’s review in this format for consistency purposes and because I’ve already got all the notes now but on the whole, I doubt anyone will miss my rambles.

So, with all that in mind, I think after I finish my S/S21 posts I am gonna start just uploading these posts without the written part. I mean, for one, the simplicity of doing this means I’m much less likely to procrastinate making them which in turn means I’ll be able to get them out right after the shows as a kind of summary as opposed to months later when they’re no longer as relevant. This will also give me more time to work on the writing I actually enjoy. Right now I’m going through and editing my 17 year old self’s “grown-up” take on the Pretty Little Liars blackmail murder mystery style plot line which I wrote back when I was completely and utterly obsessed with the show and bitterly disappointed by the last couple of seasons. The writing is pretty mediocre and often hugely cringey to read back now but I am still a fan of the basic plot and I’m genuinely motivated to see if I can make it something actually worth reading, and to get onto that ASAP; this feels especially important right now given that the HBO version of the series’ apparent upcoming release has sent that ever-present writer’s fear of seeing-your-same-storyline-done-better-by-somebody-else-thus-forever-relegating-your-version-to-being-the-poor-imitation-so-you-gotta-get-there-first into overdrive (or maybe that’s just me and my neuroses). Again, it’s a totally unfounded fear based on the fact that the HBO show will probs get millions of viewers whilst I will be doing little more than shouting into the void but anybody who’s used Turnitin to submit an essay that ultimately counts for little more than like 1% of your grade or degree will know that no matter how irrelevant your work is, the concept of failing a plagiarism check, be it via a computer algorithm or one random stranger on the internet’s assessment, is enough to conjure visions of the 4 horsemen of the apocalypse galloping towards you screaming “START THE WHOLE THING AGAIN” before releasing a hoarde of 2015 Chanel vs. Walmart style comparison memes.

Now, speaking of Chanel, I should probably get back into the reviewing.

So for the last time for a little while, here’s Christian Siriano:

Siriano’s designs are a great example of work I feel guilty enjoying. I know that when it comes to quality, the high fashion community have a lot of (negative) things to say and I really can’t speak to that because quite honestly, I know very little about textile manufacturing. Solely from my own point of view though, I do like his work a lot. I wouldn’t claim for a minute that he’s a pioneer in terms of his creations but I would 100% love to wear them and I DO hugely admire his commitment to putting women of all sizes on the runway and designing pieces that don’t simply cater to straight up and down types which is more than can be said for most brands. I get that his collections are pretty formulaic, taking what has worked for the likes of Chanel and Alessandra Rich, De La Renta and Carolina Herrera, Michael Kors too (who is kind of guilty of the same thing himself), but that’s not to say his work is bad. Let’s be real, we’ve been on this planet thousands of years, we’re all taking inspiration from someone, and maybe figures like Kors and Siriano could wait a *little* longer before taking said inspiration but their aim at the end of the day is to sell clothes, not break barriers, a task which although often left to the big name brands, they too often fail at. I’m not going to lie, I’m feeling this whimsical mid-century tea party vibe, it’s elegant and it’s cutesy and My Fair Lady-esque, and you bet your arse I would be absolutely thrilled to wear one of these looks on a summer red carpet. I just can’t say no to anything tulle-maybe it’s that I was on Toddlers & Tiaras in a past life or maybe it’s that I watched too many Barbie Princess films growing up, but I like pretty much everything going on here, especially Siriano is giving us matching fedoras too. Plus, can we take a moment to praise Siriano for his COVID relief efforts? Near the beginning of the pandemic, he turned his studio into a mask manufacturing factory in order to send them out as donations, and I think that is very cool.

Then there’s Christopher Kane who once again came through with the most insanely gorgeous prints:

I mean, paint splattering is hardly a new technique but I haven’t seen it done as a print so tastefully before-it eats the Moschino biro scribble print (which apparently was copied too speaking of the tendencies of designers to “borrow” inspiration) for breakfast. It’s shit because there weren’t many looks in this collection and they weren’t really shot in a way that does them any justice but I thought I’d include the few I saved.

Comme Des Garcons is a fave of the high fashion community and one I look forward to seeing at fashion week but can never quite get behind. I appreciate the what-the-fuckery of it all with this show totally being able to pass as a run-through of some kind of nuclear waste themed scare house at one of Thorpe Park’s fright nights. I assume given that and the plastic Mickey Mouse print it’s supposed to be some kind of reference to the part late-stage capitalism has played in the hellish landscape we find ourselves in today? Or something all intellectual? In which case I made my interpretation with farrrr too much confidence. But Anyway! Who knows! I’ll leave the analysis to the fashion students, and give it one word: trippy.

Onto Dion Lee, a brand I truly do get excited to talk about because it’s rare that I don’t LOVE his work.

Without fail, Lee manages to be confidently ahead of the curve without going out of his way to announce it and his genius to everyone with flamboyant shows and exaggerated designs and extortionate prices. He is very much an underdog in the fashion world in terms of big names but you’ll be hard pressed to find anyone who doesn’t love his collections. His S/S21 collection is one of my favourites of the bunch. I love seeing something I’ve never seen before and the palm leaf breast plate is so odd but so cool and so perfectly Dion Lee at the same time; we’ve seen jungle/tropical inspired collections sooo many times *cough cough D&G cough cough* and THIS is how you make them fresh and unique. I mean, never in a million years did I think I’d get behind the resurgence of the gladiator sandal trend but Lee has me changing my mind. This is one of the very rare times you will ever see me using this meme to praise a man but:

I mean, he has Fernanda Ly modelling for him, that the man has taste goes without saying.

Now for a bit of a full circle moment, given that I did actually praise Dior’s haute couture collection in my first ever post; Maria Grazia did GOOD. Well, with haute couture at least.

She’s always pretty hamfisted with her references, there’s no denying, with that Grecian Goddess style RTW collection typifying that statement completely, but luckily she struck gold this time round; as someone who studied the Tudors for A-level history, seeing a modern take on the exaggeratedly feminine renaissance silhouettes with the baroque prints and the deep jewell tones got me super excited especially when you throw in the dreamy tarot theming and the nods to the mystical and arcane. Seeing as the Heavenly Bodies Met Gala (I know, I know, I need to move on) was some time ago now and Cersei Lannister’s *SPOILER* been crushed by a rock (could also be seen as a metaphor for the irrelevancy David Benioff and D.B Wise condemned GoT to when they aired that shitty ending tehe) and so probably won’t be getting a collection based on her costumes any time soon, this is the only fashion take on this kind of period dress I’m going to get…and you know what? I’m okay with that. Thanks Maria, I guess?

Her RTW collection wasn’t absolutely awful either, and slightly better than the past few collections at least. Put a monkey in a room with a typewriter (or show it enough similar well-received collections) and it will eventually write something that makes sense, don’t they say? I like the nomadic feel of a lot of the looks and there’s beautiful layering going on but the aura of exotic opulence unsurprisingly didn’t stick around for long and I found that there was a decline in quality in the midsection of the show that landed a lot of the outfits in either awkward mother of the bride at a beach wedding or The Only Way is Essex Ocean Beach PLT sponsored poolside party territory. The looks picked back up a bit towards the end stretch of the show but I wasn’t a fan of the Gucci style oversized glasses which were so out of place with the rest of the theming that if anything they seemed like a cheap grab at relevancy. So yeah, a middling, subpar Etro-esque collection which is better than usual for Dior I suppose.

Next, Elie Saab, whose S/S21 collection was kinda disappointing, tbh. Oh how the turns have tabled given that positive Dior review and my usual love of Saab’s collections.

I know his dresses lose some of their appeal when we can’t see them in motion but even ON the runway I can’t see myself being dazzled by any of these pieces the way I usually am. They’re lacking the level of detail and craftsmanship I associate with the brand seemingly in favour of block colours and suits and the issue is that the whole Disney Princess fantasy has always been the appeal for me because the silhouettes aren’t interesting enough on their own. They’re not ugly pieces, they’re nice, but does nice really have a place in high fashion when the pieces are so basic in both their design and presentation that the shots could pass as ripped from a catalogue? The strongest parts of the collection were when it did go down the more delicate route with the muted blue suits and the white feather trimmed dresses, the small, ornamental gold details reminding me of a very toned down nod to Schiaparelli’s hardware, but with regards to the bright coloured pieces, I can’t lie-they did look like something you could find in the M&S Per Una holiday section. Then you’ve got the weakest parts, which were just flat out ugly: sheer giraffe print, sweat band style elasticated waits, and long chiffon shirts that I hate to admit read as frumpy. There are times where I’ve not been particularly excited by an Elie Saab collection in the past, but I do think this is the first time I’ve actively disliked parts of it.

Conversely, Erdem’s S/S21 collection was super strong, and solidified the brand’s place in my mind as a dependable source of kooky maximalism, this time round giving us Anya Taylor Joy’s Emma wardrobe on speed. You could tell me Erdem Moralıoğlu had just raided the Bridgerton set’s fitting rooms and put it on a runway and I would 100% believe you and I mean that in a positive way because to give my unpopular opinion, the clothes were the only good thing about that show. The endearingly florid details of exaggerated bows and clashing florals were still there but this time in a way that felt more subtle and self-assured, as if the calming influence of the wooded set’d had a direct hand in the designs, giving the rugged, ethereal feel to the collection I associate with brands like Brock and Simone Rocha, all whilst keeping the parts of Erdem I’m so fond of.

Is it really much of a shock that I included pretty much every look from the Etro S/S21 show? Like, you know that Christian idea of God, like, (the voice in my head is very much taking on the dumb valley girl voice that anybody who reads this is most probably getting too) knowing our souls? I think Veronica Etro knows mine. So no, no surprise. Though there were a few unconventional touches thrown into these looks (the campier prints and nautical theming we see with the 80s beach towel print, for example, reminded me a bit of Versace) the mystical bohemian it girl that Etro designs for would still be highly satisfied. Sure, it might be a wardrobe fit for a holiday less adventurous than backpacking but if she wanted a tropical poolside holiday, this collection is the one, the paisley print chiffon mini and maxi dresses especially. I’m just gonna pretend I don’t see the monstrosity that is leggings worn as trousers-it’s a fashion rule I refuse to abandon-because they are the only stain on an otherwise expectedly gorgeous collection.

Next, an unusually reserved RTW collection from Fendi:

More in line with the wardrobe of a European fashion editor than the glamorous trophy wife (who let’s say uses that facade as a guise to ruthlessly run her husband’s whole business empire from behind the scenes because in this house we do complex female characters only), these pieces are lot “smarter” and more professional looking than Fendi’s typical offerings; where I feel Fendi usually designs for the society girl who wouldn’t mind a front page scandal, these are the kind of outfits a young member of Monaco’s royal family would wear for a positively received but business-as-usual press tour. I know, Fendi is an Italian brand, but this is more Southern France to me. We’re talking some 2nd page shots of a Kate Middleton type on a yacht on the Riviera smiling and waving as her PR team’s ideal scenario. Still, whilst fewer exaggerated silhouettes, animal prints and overtly luxurious fabrics (real leathers, silks and furs for example) mean that the drama’s a little toned down, it’s all still very expensive looking and combines the classically feminine glamour of the past and the minimalism of modernity in the artful manner that we’re used to. Maybe it’s me being a basic bitch but I always love seeing Ashley Graham on the runway too, even if brands to tend to use her as their single token plus size model.

Kim Jones’ debut haute couture collection for Fendi, however, wasn’t a very well received one. I don’t hate it personally but I can see where the criticisms are coming from. Whilst it’s closer to the version of Fendi I’ve come to expect and there were some stunning pieces which completely encapsulated that distinctive aura of luxe and glamour, there were quite a few lazy pieces which could’ve been from any designer. I also felt the collection was a bit upstaged by what seemed to be a who’s who of the modelling world; having Bella, Cara, Kate and Naomi ALL walk in one show was a bit distracting and took the focus off the clothes completely.

Giambattista Valli’s RTW collection was gorgeous as ever; the man has undeniably mastered the art of delivering classic, objective elegance, the kind of designs I feel would make you light on your feet and smell like strawberries and cream the minute you put one on. Whilst as a brand his RTW shows are rarely trendsetting, they reliably produce a plethora of unfailingly graceful and demure pieces, as appealing to your mum and your grandma as they are to young women and little girls, and this collection is another victory lap for Valli when it comes to upholding his signature tea party and artisan cupcake making and rose garden strolling and bottomless rosé brunch appropriate aesthetic. There were a lot of outfits that were bordering on overly juvenile, with structures a little too basic to justify the amount of sequins thrown on, but when it’s good, it’s so sweet that regardless of how to formula it is, I can’t help but fall in love.

Valli’s haute couture collection was stunning too and for sure a more exciting offering than the RTW. There was of course a lot of the signature tulle but it was head-turning, over the top in a way that leant far more towards the experimental than I expected. The photos themselves are 100% believable as a some kind of Vogue behind the scenes editorial shoot on the set of live action Disney princess movie (in between takes of the climactic ball scene if you wanna get specific with the vision); if you are looking for a prettier alternative to the primary colours and disruptive shapes of a Molly Goddard collection, this is the one. It’s giving the themes of excess and abundance I associate with that of the Hunger Games Capitol but through the softer lens of a Sofia Coppola movie, and being the typical cinema loving white girl I am, I’m obviously on board with that vibe.

I did SUCH a 180 on Givency’s S/S21 collection from when I first saw it to writing a review. My initial reaction was one of disappointment, I guess simply because Givenchy has given us so many bold pieces and presentations over the last few years whereas this is more low-key. After properly considering it though as I would any other brand, I came to the conclusion that I do actually really like it. It’s still got the strange, androgynous silhouettes popping up throughout and the futuristic space-age details but with a more down-to-earth, streetwear feel, albeit a very slick, glossy spin on the trends of the rabble (that’s us guys) of course before we go believing it’s achievable. On the one hand, the devil horn accents are a touch Claire’s accessories halloween range but at the same time, done with confidence they’re kind of cool and bring something new and fun to the table in line with the dark theatre of Givenchy’s last few shows.

Now for Gucci, which for the first time I have to say, if I'm attempting objectivity, is not a standout.

Like, can I just start by saying though the format it’s presented in is cute, it’s not ideal as a way of actually showing the collection. I get that the vintage shop bin vibe is a huge part of Gucci’s brand but polaroids make it SO hard to actually see the clothes, and that’s what we’re here for right? I don’t want to give the impression that I don’t like what I see here-the clothes are gorgeous, an idyllic ode to the off-duty wardrobes of Studio 54-ers, bohemian style icons like Charlotte Rampling and young Olivia Newton-John, psychedelic rock guitarists and the inhabitants of San Fransisco’s Haight during the late 60s and early 70s, Alessandro Michele’s favourite period of reference. I can’t pretend otherwise, or act like I wouldn’t want to wear the shit out of this collection. Buut, for Gucci? It’s a little underwhelming. These are the kind of filler looks we get in a typical Gucci show to go alongside the more statement pieces, which this collection is lacking. It’s just that these are designs which usually gets people talking and these pieces don’t do that. It sucks because for most other brands this would be a stand out collection, an immersive, luscious vignette of what people tend to think of as a cultural golden era, but when you’ve had a show that involved models carrying replicas of their own decapitated heads down the runway in the last 5 years, of course something more toned down like this is gonna generate a lot of “is that it?”s.

I owe Hermes an apology. Looking back, I have disliked all their previous collections for the same reason that I now really like this one; maybe it’s in part down to the frustration of still having to whack out the winter coat on occasion in May (fuck British weather and climate change), but suddenly I really appreciate the value of some good quality, versatile outerwear. Hermes is giving us that in spades here and for that, I bow down to them. The pieces on offer are clearly well-made and genuinely practical, and through the minimalist approach manage to retain both an air of timeless sophistication whilst also being youthful and on trend. The leather tactical vest co-ord I can easily see edged up and taking centre stage on one of those insane Seoul street style slow-mo TikToks that were big a couple of months ago and there are several pieces that could tie together a grunge influenced k-style look just as well as they could exist for years on end as the wardrobe staple of a high-powered businesswoman. Designer Nadège Vanhee-Cybulski’s strengths really come through with the simpler looks and it’s the patterned pieces that drag down an otherwise flawless collection; I guess because the aesthetic is very minimalist, the patterns can’t be anything overly decorative but unfortunately this has a bit of a dowdy effect when you pair it with such modest silhouettes. Disregarding those elements of the collection though, it was super good.

It goes without saying that Iris Van Herpen’s haute couture collection was breathtaking; if the fashion community can agree on anything, it’s that this woman’s work is consistently awe-inspiring. She captures the wonder of the universe, the biological structures and kaleidoscopic colours we don’t even register, through fashion in a way that others can only imitate, to mesmerising, truly transcendent effect; I can only assume Van Herpen has mother nature whispering into her ear because how the hell else do you explain her ability to take the kind of microscopic organisms they show you images of in an outdated GCSE science powerpoint and make a dress that resembles one so stunning? Care to explain, Iris? Because if there is some kind of line of communication between the two of you can you please tell the bitch I’m over this weather and that I have cute summer outfits I’m waiting to wear so can she pack this torrential rain shit in? K, thanks xoxo

See it seems shady as fuck to go from IVH to Isabel Marant like this because we are talking 2 designers with totallyyyy different approaches to fashion; Iris Van Herpen is haute couture for starters whereas Marant is commercial, and that’s her thing, but unfair comparisons aside this collection is still a bit of a let down. This is considering I do usually really like Isabel Marant collections based on whether or not I’d wear the pieces, which seems a more appropriate barometer to use to come to a quality verdict. Whilst there were a few of the elegant bohemian pieces my mind goes to when it comes to her brand, the steps outside of that comfort zone didn’t pay off; graffiti print (can be cool if done with some subtlety which apart from a few exceptions was not the case here), cheap looking reflective fabric, and MC Hammer style dungarees, it seems to be an attempt to merge 80s trends with modern urban culture, and an attempt that at times verged on the disastrous. It’s good for a brand to experiment, of course, and appeal to a wider client base than usual, but when it’s bad the unfortunate take away is that the design team don’t have the chops to pull off straying from familiar territory; designers wouldn’t be showing at fashion week if this was truly the case because disregarding the influence of nepotism, fashion is an area you need real talent, perseverance and business smarts to excel in, and so it doesn’t do a team justice when they do fail.

J.W Anderson, on the other hand, really put his best foot forward this season and presented this work in a really cool way too which only added to the positives; whilst the way the shots were edited was funky af, it didn’t detract from the actual outfits, and if we are to see the same limitations when it comes to the F/W collections being released, this is something a lot of designers and editing teams should take note of. The idiosyncratic exaggerated shapes that we see as a recurring feature of Anderon’s collections were still on show but this time round with added femininity, billowing skirts and trailing jewellery that channel the stage looks of Stevie Nicks in a way that’s modern and functional and maybe even fit for the office if you were to work in a more creative industry with a chill boss. Could also work for a coven of witches who practice meditation by bonfires in the moonlight and burn the letters of men who wronged them in some Arizonian desert, so like I said, functional! Who doesn’t like versatility? The only thing I’m not too keen on is the shoes but they’re not so bad that it affects my opinion of the collection and they look comfy I guess.

Lastly, we’ve got to talk about Jacquemus, one of the most influential names in fashion at the moment. And yes, this time round, I’m doing it: I’m buying into the hype.

This collection is gorgeousss! I can see already that a lot of the recurring elements of the show are going to be big summer trends for this year (the cut outs and strappy details on the blouses are everywhere already) even though it isn’t hot enough to have collectively decided the time to start dressing for heat is upon us yet, and that’s always a good indicator of how successful the designer was in their vision and attempts to assess the needs and wants of fashion enthusiasts; whether I’m as big a fan of his work as everyone else seems to be, there’s no denying Simon Porte Jacquemus has always excelled at this practice if the buzz around him is anything to go by. It makes sense given the last year of us all being stuck in and suppressed that a lot of us are already romanticising the summer ahead, anticipating picnics and beach days and general Theresa May running through wheat fields type shenanigans galore, in spite of how dubious an assumption it is to make that British weather will allow for this; Porte Jacquemus has very much catered to this wishful thinking and the popularity of the whole escapist “cottage core” aesthetic, sexing it up a little bit with pieces that hug the body in ways only Mugler knows how whilst being lightweight and relaxed enough to look good with windswept, sandy hair and a little dose of sunburn. I’m talking enough to give you some cutesy freckles and rosy cheeks not PSA on the importance of suncream territory, guys, what is it with those of us on the gen Z/millennial cusp not taking sun damage seriously!? Why do I have to beg so many of my friends to wear it!? Does nobody else remember those photos they’d show you in PSHE in English primary schools of burnt people’s skin under UV lights? Or is that just me being weird and only having such a vivid memory of the images because teachers told us we had to wait until year 6 to see them due they to their “graphic” nature only for my gore-loving self to be extremely underwhelmed when we finally did get that lesson? They showed us a woman giving birth in year 4 for fuck’s sake. THAT was traumatising.

Back to the actual point anyway, with just a couple of negatives, the first of which being that the pieces are very similar to those feminine looks we saw dotted about the Jacquemus menswear collection from last year that were all over fashion Twitter. In Simon Porte Jacquemus’ defence though, it makes sense that those tones and silhouettes would be revisited in a full womenswear collection for that very reason; considering they went down so well and that lockdown gave us a bit of a half-baked summer in 2020, expanding on those elements enough for a whole new collection makes good business sense. We did get some cool additions too, mainly in the form of accessories, with the hardware details on the belts similar to those included in the Givenchy collection and the abstract hair slides being standouts for me. It was all exquisite-the shoes, the jewellery, the styling, everything 10/10. My other nitpick, and I say nitpick not because it’s not important but because it’s an issue that’s hardly restricted to Jacquemus (this casting team are far from the worst offenders, Saint Laurent I’m looking at you), is that I WISH we’d see more diversity with the models. Despite what my body dysmorphia yells at me, I am small, and yet seeing all those fucking minuscule waists made me die a little inside; it’s crazy to me that in 2020 the lack of variety in body types on the runway is still such a problem.

I must have said this a million times but I don’t want to end on a negative note so let me reiterate: this collection was STUN. NING. Plus there were some others I’ve talked about in this post that I’m sure will make it into my top 20 in the final part, Jacquemus, Dion Lee and Etro for sure; we even got some gorgeous pieces from Maria Grazia which I thought was a sentence I’d never type out. Have I said enough to not leave a bad taste in the mouth of anyone who read to the end of this post? I hope so, lol! TBH, it’s impressive given everything that’s going on that the majority of designers did roll out collections in September as usual so serious respect to them and their design teams for that.

In the next post, I’ll fingers crossed be able to include everything from Kim Shui (exciting!) through to at least Off-White (actually pretty good this time?!) and make this whole thing a 4 parter before getting straight on top of the photo posts I’m thinking about doing for the time being for the F/W21 shows. So as usual, if you did read to the end thank you so much and I respect the perseverance you must have to get through all my rambling, lmao. Hope everyone is well and coping okay and again, my inbox is always open for any post suggestions, constructive criticism, or just a chat for anyone who needs a listening ear.

Big love and thank you again!

Lauren x

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sour--disposition · 3 years

Note

Hiiii, I love your writing so much, thank you for every single thing we get to read from you! If you’re still taking requests from the prompts list, I’d love angst 20 with Harry (and with a happy ending). Thank you xx

“How could I have been such an idiot to believe that you, out of all people, could ever love me?”

You leant your back against the front door of Cal and Harry’s place. The only light downstairs was coming from the street lights and headlights of passing cars. The sun had set hours ago, the moon taking her place long before you’d left the office. You didn’t want to know what time it was, but you were certain it was after midnight.

You kicked off your heels and pulled yourself out of the blazer you’d been wearing all day. Your feet ached, you back ached, your neck ached... Everything ached. Nothing sounded better than a glass of wine and some pizza.

You padded upstairs to get changed. You expected Harry to be asleep, or at least in bed, but he was hunched over his computer, eyes squinting at the screen. You rested your hands on his shoulders, kissing the top of his head. “Oh, you’re back”, Harry said disinterestedly, his attention not leaving the screen for a second.

You recoiled, hands leaving Harry. “I told you I’d be late”, you said, trying to keep the hurt out of your voice.

“Yeah, you’ve been saying that all week”, Harry retorted, annoyance clear in his voice.

“Because I’ve been working late all week?”, you said. Had you done something? Forgotten plans? “What’s this about, Harry?”, you asked. You began unbuttoning your shirt and wiggling out of your pants, grabbing some pyjama shorts and one of Harry’s hoodies.

“Nothin’”, he murmured.

“It’s not nothing, Harry”, you told him, annoyance starting to seep into your tone. “I know I’ve barely seen you this week and I’m sorry, but if I didn’t have this case sorted for the team by the end of today, then my internship would have been shot at”, you explained.

“Yeah, the team”, Harry scoffed. “Definitely not just trying to impress Joel, are we?”, he snapped. Harry’s shoulders were scrunched up, his entire frame being held tight in irritation.

“Harry, please don’t go there now. Or ever”, you instructed, voice stern. “I love you and only you. I’m just making sure I keep my job, my fucking apologies”, you spat.

You scrubbed the make up off of your face with a make-up wipe angrily, leaving your skin red raw almost. You pulled all the pins out of your hair, letting the up-do cascade down around your face in chaotic disarray. As you raked your hairbrush through your hair viciously, angry tears began to fall down your cheeks.

You emerged from the bathroom, hair piled up on top of your head and face free of make up, tear tracks fresh on your face. You walked towards Harry’s bedroom door, turning to him before you left. “How could I have been such an idiot to believe that you, out of all people, could ever love me?”.

Downstairs, you poured yourself the glass of wine and grabbed the leftover pizza box from the fridge. You hopped up onto one of the barstools at the island, scrolling through your phone as you chewed your pizza and gulped your wine.

“You think I don’t love you?”, Harry asked from the doorway, voice small and hurt.

“Someone who loved me wouldn’t be annoyed that I’m trying to keep my job”, you told him, not looking up from your twitter feed. You refilled your wine glass without looking at Harry, who hadn’t moved from the doorframe.

“I’m not annoyed”, Harry attempted to explain.

“Seemed it”.

“For fucks sake, can you just look at me, Y/N. I’m trying to talk to you here”, Harry all but yelled at you.

“Don’t you dare raise your voice at me when not even 10 minutes you were about to accuse me of cheating on you with my fucking boss”, you told Harry, looking him dead in the eye. Your knuckles had turned white as you gripped the cup of your wine glass in frustration. “I’ve worked over 90 hours this week, Harry. I’ve been out of the door before the sun rises and I’m back hours after it’s set. I choose to come back to yours so I can see you for the 6 hours a day that I’m not in the fucking office”, you told him.

“Y/N...”, Harry trailed off.

“No”, you snapped. “I am exhausted, Harry. I’m falling apart at the seams. I couldn’t remember my own name today when I tried to sign something. The last thing I want to do when I get here is be treated like a burden and accused of sleeping around”, you told him.

Harry had crossed the room as you spoke and was now stood in between your legs once he’d spun your stool around. He reached up to wipe the fresh tears that had fallen off of your face. “I’m sorry”, he whispered, cupping your face with both hands. “I didn’t mean any of it. I was taking a bad night of editing out on you and that’s not fair”, he told you, leaning forwards to press his lips to your forehead.

Harry sat next to you in silence whilst you ate your pizza and drank your wine. He put your glass in the sink and shoved the empty box into the bin once you were done. “C’mon”, he mumbled, taking your hand. Harry led you up the stairs, into the bedroom and all the way to your side of the bed.

Once Harry had turned the lights off and you were both tucked up under the covers, Harry turned to wrap his arms around you. “You’re not working this weekend, right?”, Harry asked into your shoulder, dropping a kiss there.

“No, why? Do you have anything planned?”, you asked.

“Nope, nothing”, Harry said proudly.

“Sounds perfect”.

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itsmyblogandillreblogifiwantto · 3 years

Text

Cause baby you’re a firework.

A/N: Hi everyone! This is a bit of an angst heavy fic. Reader gets hurt on a case, and Spencer, her best friend worries he didn’t get the chance to admit his feelings. It has a fluffy ending!

Trigger warnings: Explosions, bombs, swearing, mentions of violence, blood, surgery details.

“So, my loves, bit of a heavy one for a Monday morning but there have been a series of explosions in Dallas, all big companies, 50 dead and counting.” Garcia said.

“That’s not as high as I thought it would be.” Emily says.

“Some have life threatening injuries.” J.J said as Garcia quickly went through the photos trying not to look at the horror of the blast and the injured victims.

“Why have we been called in baby girl?” Morgan asks

“The un-subs have been in disguise, a different one each time and seem to pose very professional so security doesn’t question them.” Garcia said, “We need to find them fast.”

“Wheels up in 30.” Hotch said closing his case file.

Everyone nods and grabs their go bags. “You okay Spence?” You ask your best friend

“Yeah, just these victims didn’t deserve this. No one deserves this.” Spencer says

“We know kid.” Rossi says to the 30 year old, “Let’s roll.”

On the plane

“Y/N, you used to be a bomb diffuser, didn’t you?” Hotch asked

“I did. Why?” You ask. Before the FBI you used to work dealing with this stuff every-day and have saved thousands of lives.

“Do you know what bomb this is?” Hotch asked showing you a photo of the last bomb used.

You look for your glasses before Spencer lends you his, as you have the same prescription, “Yeah, it’s a T148. It’s used mainly in Afghanistan and 3rd world countries where there are wars still going on. Small put powerful. Could kill anyone within a 10-mile radius.” You say handing Spencer his glasses back. “I’ve diffused a couple.”

“Y/N, how old are you?” Rossi asks, “I don’t like to ask women their ages, but you are very young.”

“I’m 24. I diffused one exactly like this when I worked for the MI5 in London. This bomb is poorly constructed though. The wiring is badly put together, probably explains Emily’s theory on why not as many people died in the buildings, only those about 2-3m from the bomb would have died and everyone else life-threatening injuries as J.J said earlier.” You say. “I’d say our un-subs are young, similar aged to me and doing this because they are being forced to for some reason such as their families being threatened.”

“How awful.” J.J says

“I’ve seen it before, it isn’t pleasant.” You say, not really keen on talking about your past but know the team wouldn’t ever judge you, or force you into saying something that made you uncomfortable but their facial expressions tell you they want to know what happened. “Last case I did in London, before transferring here, a family were held hostage in their own home and the un-sub wouldn’t let them go unless their son blew up their family home with them all inside. It was horrible.”

“What happened?” Spencer asked

“I ran into the house, and diffused the bomb, but the unsub found me stabbed me in my stomach and back multiple times just as I diffused it. He got shot dead outside, the next thing I remember is the family thanking me for saving them and the doctor saying I was in a coma for 7 days as I lost that much blood. One of the family members had the same blood type as me and donated the blood I needed as a way of thanking me for saving them or I would have died in surgery.” You say getting out of your chair, showing your scars on your stomach and back from where you got stabbed and had surgery.

“Shit.” Emily said.

“Did your family come to see you?” JJ asked

“I don’t have a family. I’m adopted and I don’t get on with my real family, or my adopted ones. I moved out when I was 18.” You shrug, not really bothered by it. “And before you all give me your condolences, I don’t need them. You are all my family now.” You smile as some turbulence occurs.

“Y/N are you okay to look at the diffused bombs when we arrive into Dallas?” Rossi asks you softly

“Yes, of course.” You say and get some sleep, but still dream about that day once a week and it keeps you up at night.

“How old was she when that happened?” Spencer asked, referring to the house bomb you just referred to.

“18.” Hotch said, “It’s in her file. She saved not just the family but the whole street as it was late at night.”

“Poor kid.” Rossi said as some turbulence hit the plane. “I didn’t realize she’d joined us when she was 18.”

“She really doesn’t act her age.” Morgan said, “When I was 24 I was doing stupid shit like getting drunk with my buddies and playing socker.”

“I didn’t know you were a bad flyer.” Spencer said noticing Rossi looking uncomfortable

“I’m not, I just hate turbulence.” Rossi said, holding onto his seat.

“You know turbulence very rarely causes planes to crash.” Spencer said looking up from his file.

“That does me absolutely no good at the moment. Thank you.” Rossi said through gritted teeth

“What we really need to worry about are microbursts - a sudden downburst of air associated with thunderstorms - but small craft like this one, if we hit one of those at the wrong altitude... Get pulverized.” Spencer said as he sipped his coffee.

“I beg of you to make him stop.” Rossi said to the rest of the team

“You can’t silence genius.” J.J chuckled

The team arrives into Dallas

“Wake up sleepy head.” Spencer smiled, gently waking you unaware you had the horrible dream again.

“Yeah.. Coming.” You say rubbing your eyes looking for your go bag.

“I got it.” Spencer said

“Thanks, and for lending me your glasses earlier.” You yawn.

“No problem.” Spencer smiled at his best friend.

You smile back as you get into the car and drive to the police station.

“Hi I’m J.J, these are my colleagues, Rossi, Hotch, Morgan, Y/S/N and Dr Reid.” J.J said shaking his hand, “You must be detective Smith.”

Smith nods, “Sure am. Set y’all up a conference room with donuts and coffee.” He says in a British accent.

“Donuts and coffee? To what to we owe the pleasure of food?” Morgan said as Smith shrugged winking at you.

“You know him kiddo?” Rossi asked

“He was in the same foster home as me.” You sigh, he beat you up a few times and eventually you learnt to fight back telling Rossi what he did to you.

“Just remember you are so much better than him Y/N, you’re in the fucking FBI and he’s a lame detective.” Spencer said, “And you have a donut.” He smiled shoving it in your face which made you laugh.

“And I have a family, and a dork of a best friend.” You smile, trying to hide your crush on Spencer, unaware he feels the same and start to eat the donut.

The team deliver a profile

“Hotch, can I go to forensics and check out the old bombs?” You ask

“Yes, of course Y/N. Spencer, Morgan, go with Y/N.” Hotch said

“Road trip with two nerds, come on Hotch.” Morgan rolled his eyes

“Hey!” You and Spencer both say

“We’re not nerds, we’re limited edition weirdos.” You smile

At forensics, you are chatting to the lab assistant, making chat about things, unaware Spencer is getting jealous.

“Just ask her out pretty boy.” Morgan said sipping his coffee.

“No! I can’t… She’s too perfect. I bet she has a boyfriend.” Spencer said

“Hey love birds, so this bomb is the same as the others, the first was done perfectly, but the last one, less so. So, I’m thinking something happened to him or her, and the other two are now working alone.” You say to Morgan and Spencer

Spencer’s cheeks flush at the mentioning of the words ‘love birds’ and phones Hotch with your findings as Morgan phones Garcia.

“Has he asked her yet chocolate thunder?” Garcia asked

“Not yet Mama, soon hopefully.” Morgan chuckled

“Keep me posted my love.” Garcia giggled

“Will do baby girl. Bye.” Morgan laughed and hung up, as Spencer’s cheeks got redder.

A few days have passed, and the case isn’t going anywhere, there is little information and all DNA left at the scene has been too small to get a sample.

“Guys… I think I got something.” You say looking up from the computer you were reading from.

“What is it Y/N?” Hotch asked

“Big new building having a grand opening today, over 1000 people attending. This could be the next one.” You say.

“Let’s go.” Hotch told the team

In the car

“Hotch, if it comes to it, you realise I will want to find the bomb and diffuse it.” You say, feeling the tension in the car.

“Y/N, you can’t risk you own life again.” Morgan said

“1 for over 1000, I’d rather that than my family and all those people die.” You say bluntly.

“You can’t.” Emily says as Spencer nods agreeing with her.

“I will.” You say through gritted teeth.

“Let’s just hope it doesn’t come to that.” Hotch said as you arrive into the building.

Outside the building

“Prentiss, J.J, Morgan, you take the left side. Rossi, Reid, Y/S/N and I will take the left. Meet in the middle.” Hotch says as you all nod putting your vests on and holding your guns out ready.

“Ready?” Spencer asks you.

“Yeah, let’s go.” You say.

“FREEZE FBI!” You announce, noticing the un-subs who set the bomb to go off and run. “After them, left stairwell, 6th floor, going down.” You say, “I got this.”

“Y/N…” Spencer began

“Spencer, fucking go. I’m fine.” You say shooing him away.

Spencer nods, not really wanting to leave you and goes after the un-subs with the team.

“You forgot about one thing princess.” You suddenly hear behind you.

“Smith?” You say, recognising his voice. “What the fucking shit?”

“Never were the smart one was you…” He said stomping on your arm and you scream out in pain trying to grab your weapon as he stomps on your leg and starts to tut. “Oh Y/N… So helpless… So innocent… Never could take my punches…” He said as you quickly notice a gap and grab your weapon, as he stabs you in the chest. You take your chance, whilst screaming in pain and shoot him dead then quickly tell the team you are hurt and continue to work on the bomb.

30 seconds until it goes off.

You take some wires apart. 20 seconds left.

“Y/N!” You hear the team call your name.

“Up here!” You call back, as you manage to stop the bomb going off and collapse next to Smith, blood pouring out of your chest.

“Y/N… Breathe… You’re going to make it…” Spencer says scooping you up and putting pressure on the wound as you close your eyes. “You’re going to make it…” He says again as tears go down his cheeks as the paramedics arrive to take you to surgery. “I’m going with her.” Spencer tells Hotch who nods.

“Keep us posted.” Rossi says as Spencer just keeps his head down as Morgan tells Garcia what happened.

“Oh my baby… Please bring her home.” Was all that she managed to say.

You ended up having surgery.

“Dr Reid?” A doctor said coming out in scrubs full of blood.

“Yes.” Spencer says quickly getting up, he hasn’t left the hospital since you went in 5 hours ago, twice to have a stress cigarette and to get a coffee.

“She’s strong that girl. Her heart stopped beating in surgery, but she’s out now and she’s awake if you want to speak to her.” He says

Spencer nods and follows the doctor to your room as he tells the team the news.

“Oh thank God.” Garcia says, “Bring her dessert. She needs chocolate pudding.”

Spencer walks into your room. “Hey.” He says softly

“Hi pretty boy.” You smile.

“Nice to see your memory wasn’t affected.” Spencer says

“If I’d been stabbed 5cm closer. I’d be dead.” You say, “I think my bomb days are over.” You chuckle then wince noticing the stitches.

Spencer sits down. “Are you okay, besides the pain?” He asks giving you the chocolate pudding.

“Yeah, I mean, I got my best friend right here and my favourite pudding. Can’t complain.” You say smiling

“I was really worried for you.” Spencer said

“Me too.” You admit

“Can I ask you something?” Spencer asked biting his lip

“If it’s for a stress cigarette, I already know you have had one.” You say, “We have the same habits Dr Reid.”

“No.” Spencer laughed. “I like you Y/N. I love you actually, more than just you being my best friend… I have for the last few years… Would you like to go on a date with me?” Spencer asked looking down.

You smile, cupping his face with your hands. “I’d love to, but maybe when I’m not wearing a hospital gown and we have an audience.” You say referring to the team all there, and Penelope on Skype, waving at you.

“Audience?” Spencer asks then clocks the team. “Fuckers.” He says as they all come in to hug you and bring you more pudding.

“She’ll be out tomorrow morning.” The doctor said

“Thank you Doctor.” You smile at him

“Don’t do that again Y/N.” Hotch whispered to you, you’re like the daughter he never had. “You saved 1000 people, and we caught the other two un-subs.”

“My bomb days are over.” You assure Hotch and make grabby hands for the pudding Spencer has started to eat.

“Hey pretty boy, better make sure pretty girl gets her pudding or she’ll put a bomb on it.” Morgan said as you all laugh.

“I love you guys.” You smile.

“The feeling is mutual.” Rossi smiled as they all left you and Spencer alone.

“Stay the night?” You asked him quietly.

“I’m not leaving you.” Spencer smiled kissing your cheek and holding your hand.

“I thought you had a thing with germs.” You say

“I make exceptions for my Mum and my date.” Spencer smiled, “Now get some rest.”

“As long as you don’t eat my pudding.” You say as you close your eyes getting the best nights sleep you have had in a long time.

“Deal.” Spencer whispers as he sings you your favourite song, Firework by Katy Perry.

'Cause baby, you're a firework

Come on, show 'em what you're worth

Make 'em go, "Oh, oh, oh"

As you shoot across the sky

Baby, you're a firework

Come on, let your colors burst

Make 'em go, "Oh, oh, oh"

You're gonna leave 'em all in awe, awe, awe

Tag-list: @pumpkin-goob , @jpegjade , @andiebeaword , @hopebaker , @hotchsbabygirl , @hercleverboy , @cupcake525 , @gubetube , @aperrywilliams , @cosmic-psychickitty , @marleyhotchner , @gubler-me-up

Requests are open!

Let me know if you want to be on my tag-list!

#Criminal Minds #criminal minds fic #spencer reid #spencer x reader #derek morgan #aaron hotchner #emily prentiss #jj #Penelope garcia #my fics

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iliveiloveiwrite · 4 years

Text

Take me to your river

A/N: Okay. So this is my first time writing for this fandom and honestly I’m actually really worried about it. It’s a huge fandom so I hope its received well. Anyway, it has been ages since I’ve posted but I have been so busy its ridiculous, but I had this idea and I had to write. I know that the tenses are slightly mixed up through this, please bare with me, I’m overloaded right now.

Title: Leon Bridges - River

Pairing: Sirius Black x Fem!Reader

Summary: (Set in the year of Prisoner of Azkaban, so I’m taking a guess at 1993/1994) You’ve left the wizarding world, barely had contact for over ten years. Then Sirius Black breaks out of Azkaban.

Requested: No.

Warnings: none, I don't think.

Word count: 2.5k.

It had been thirteen years.

Thirteen years since you had last seen the man you loved.

Twelve years since he was put away for a crime he didn’t commit. You knew that, you knew that deep down in your very being. That that day in the street, it was not Sirius who killed the muggles and Peter.

But you didn’t speak up. It would do no good. The Ministry of Magic had signed his death warrant – life in Azkaban until he died of insanity or the Dementor’s performed their kiss.

Sitting in your kitchen, the sunlight filters in through the window and you relish the slight warmth. It had been thirteen years since you had slept properly.

You and Sirius had been together through it all. He had asked you out on a Hogsmeade weekend, and you didn’t say no – how could you? You had been crushing on him since Third Year. He was your first for everything; first kiss, first relationship. Together, you had sat your O.W.L.S. and N.E.W.Ts. Sirius being your rock through the constant growing stress you put yourself under. (Looking back, you can’t help but chuckle, if your past-self had any idea of what your future would look like you would not have put in so much effort with your exams.) You had also been there for Sirius when he was disowned by his family and went to live with James and his family. James’ mother accepting you as one of her own as well. You two had danced together at James and Lily’s wedding, had waited anxiously for news of their baby and had cried when asked to be godparents of tiny Harry James Potter.

However, you were left alone to cry over their graves after that tragic night in Godric’s Hollow.

Shaking yourself awake, you take a long drink of your coffee and stretch your limbs, willing some life into them. The sun had completely risen now, and it was almost time to start your day. After what happened in 1981, you somewhat shunned all wizarding society, you left it not even a year later. Instead, isolating yourself to a tiny village in Yorkshire. People in Yorkshire kept themselves to themselves and your neighbours didn’t ask a lot of questions. The only one of the Marauders to visit was Remus, he didn’t visit often, but it was nice when he did.

One of your last remaining contacts with the wizarding world was your subscription to the Daily Prophetnewspaper. It was this subscription that brought you to your predicament. Slapped across the front page: Escape from Azkaban and there, in the centre, a picture of the man you thought you had an eternity with. Sirius Black.

Tears threaten to fall as you continue to stare at the moving picture. He’s screaming and screaming, and it physically hurts you to look at. But it’s the first time you’ve seen him in thirteen years. Any memories of Hogwarts and the Marauders were safely locked away in a trunk in your attic; waiting for a time when it doesn’t hurt so much to remember. You don’t think that that time will be coming soon, however, especially now with news of Black’s escape.

The article reported that out of protection, Azkaban’s guards the Dementors would be placed at Hogwarts. You had to take a minute when you read that little bit, James and Lily’s son would be at Hogwarts now, he would be entering his third year. You could only hope that the Dementors would not attach themselves to him. But you doubted it, he had already seen so much at such a young age. It would be likely that they would. You prayed he would be safe; Remus had contacted you over the summer to tell you that he had been appointed a teacher at Hogwarts – he didn’t have to tell you that he would look after Harry; it would be in his nature. Remus was more than his wolf.

Shaking your head, you rid yourself of anymore thoughts of Black and his escape, if you stared at his mugshot any longer you felt as if you would go as insane as the new article was painting him to be. It would only trigger your anxiety and that wasn’t happening today. Instead, you leave the kitchen entirely, depositing the Daily Prophet in the bin as you go. You head towards your office where you can begin your workday. You had settled well within the Muggle world; when you had arrived in Yorkshire you had no idea on what you could do and what you wanted to do. That was your one caveat with the wizarding world, it was so alienated from the rest of the world because they expect all witches and wizards to remain there – it does not cater for those that want to leave. So, once you had settled the business of finding somewhere to live, you set out to make your house your home. To do this, you virtually ransacked a charity shop of their furniture and of a second-hand computer sat gathering dust in the corner.

It was not the old computer that you used now, but rather a newer one. One you had treated yourself to with the profits of your last bestseller. After you had settled, and you needed something to do, you simply started writing. Your genres ranged from fantasy, all the way to romance. As the computer started up, you took a moment to look at you copies of your books on the shelves, and you felt happy. This was your life now, and you were completely fine with it. The last thing you needed was something coming in to mess up the balance you had created.

-time skip-

Months had gone by and whilst you had met the deadline for your next book, and it was currently going through its editing stage, you had religiously kept up with the news of Sirius Black and his escape.

Every sighting, every theory. You read each and every one of them. You had even gone so far as to send a message to Remus at Hogwarts, but he reassured you quickly enough that everything was fine and that you had no need to worry.

So you let yourself relax for a bit, enjoying putting the finishing touches upon your next novel. Christmas had come and gone without an issue; spending the festive season on the couch, wrapped in a blanket, watching Muggle Christmas films. In all your years in the Muggle world, your favourite Christmas film would have to be The Muppets Christmas Carol. It never failed to make you feel Christmassy.

Winter melted into Spring, and you started working outside more. You spent the early days of March travelling the country to bookstores to promote the release of your new novel. Remaining as tight-lipped as always when asked about your inspiration for this book.

The weeks were slipping away, and you were celebrating the fact that one of your books had been bought by a film company. Your version of celebration meant no work for the evening, and your new favourite TV show that you had recorded, ER. A recent TV medical drama set in a hospital in America; you were hooked from the very first episode, particularly drawn to the young Dr. John Carter.

It was through this particular TV show that there was a knock at your door.

You paused the show, uncertain as to what you heard.

Another knock sounded throughout your house. And some part of you just knew.

Throwing the blanket off you, you head towards the front door. A third knock rang at your door and you knew you couldn’t keep him waiting any longer.

Unlocking the door, you opened it and stood before you was him.

Stood before you, after thirteen years, was Sirius Black.

You take him in. Your eyes raking over every single inch of him, to his greasy hair to his too-skinny body. You stand there, not quite sure what to do. It isn’t every day that the man you have loved for over two decades is stood on your doorstep after escaping from a heavily guarded prison.

He utters the first word, “Darling.”

You take a couple of breaths before answering, “Sirius.”

“It’s been a while.”

“Thirteen years, if I’m correct.”

“Too long.”

“I don’t think the situation could be helped, Sirius.”

He laughs, and asks, “Can I come in? I haven’t had a roof over my head for a couple of weeks.”

Somewhat still in shock, you move aside for him to enter. You close the door behind him before gesturing to the living room. He follows you in and sits down. You stand in the doorway, uncertain of what to do next. You never expected for him to find you but found you he has and now everything is up in the air.

Sirius is watching you; he’s calculating every possibility. He never imagined he’d get through the front door and now he’s in your living room watching you have an internal panic over what to do next.

Then all of a sudden, you say, “Tea! Tea makes everything better. You can solve everything over a cup of tea.”

Then you’re off. Heading into the kitchen where Sirius can hear the kettle starting to boil and mugs being slammed onto counters.

“Everything okay in there?” He asks, even though he knows it isn’t and she just needs a minute to collect herself and her thoughts.

“Of course! Everything is fine!” You shout back pouring the now boiled water into the mugs. Your mind is whizzing through every possibility as to how he found you. You had never hidden yourself away, but you were never open about where you were living. You prayed that Remus hadn’t given you away, knowing how close he and Sirius was through Hogwarts.

Walking back through to the living room, you hand a mug to Sirius warning him that it would be hot before sitting down in your spot where ER was still on pause. You turned the TV off, knowing that you would not be watching it tonight. You can’t help but look at him, seeing how he has aged after a decade spent in Azkaban.

“Don’t you want to know how I did it?”

“Of course I do, but it isn’t my place to ask such things.”

“I used my Animagus form to get out of that hellhole and then swam the rest of the way. I would have come to you sooner, but I needed to go north. I had to see him.”

“How is he? What does he look like now?”

Sirius smiles wistfully, “He is the spitting image of James. But he has Lily’s eyes. And he’s got a group of friends and they are as close as the Marauders were. He’s doing okay.”

You close your eyes at that, as if a deep wound within you had finally healed. Harry was doing okay, he had friends and he had settled at Hogwarts.

“I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too,” You start. “I never believed a word anybody said, and after you were gone, I couldn’t live in that world anymore. So I moved here.” You gesture to your house.

Sirius looks slightly taken aback by what you’ve said. For over a decade, he hadn’t let himself think of you, he hadn’t let himself dream of you. And now he was at on your couch and you had just admitted to missing him too. He only hoped that you had no-one else in your life. He may be an escaped prisoner, but for over ten years he has loved no-one else but you. There would be no-one for him, but you. You were his true north, he could only hope he remained yours. Sirius didn't realise, however, that you had done the same. closed that part of you off, the part of you that belonged to Sirius - for the first two years in the Muggle world, you could barely think of him without feeling as if your heart had been broken all over again.

Taking a sip of his tea, he asks, “What have you been doing for all this time?” He has to know.

You look down at your mug, wrapping your hands tighter around it as if willing the warmth to seep into your bones, to help you relax. “Not a lot. I moved here not long after James and Lily and I haven’t left since. I’m an author now, I love it. It wasn’t the path I had chosen for myself when I was leaving Hogwarts, but I love it all the same, and I wouldn’t change it for the world. I’m happy here, Sirius, in my little Yorkshire village with my mugs of Yorkshire tea, and my books.”

Sirius smiles weakly, he has to ask you, he has to know. “Has there been anyone else?”

“No, there hasn’t.”

For the time in twelve years, Sirius lets himself hope. He lets it bloom in his chest. He can only pray that your feelings haven’t changed.

“What are you going to do now, Sirius?”

“I don’t truly know,” he admits, “I could go to London, to Grimmauld Place where I know Remus will join me. There isn’t a lot I can do, I’m an escaped convict.”

“No shit.”

He barks a laugh at that. It’s the first bit of humour all night, and it helps to relieve some of the tension in the room.

He knows he needs to tell you, but he doesn’t know the right time. Everything is so delicate, so fragile, one wrong move and everything he could ever dream for could be lost within seconds. But he has to do it.

So he does.

“I still love you.”

You drop your mug of tea. It doesn’t smash, but your lovely rug is stained for life with tea. At least you won’t forget this moment, you think to yourself.

“You what?”

“I still love you,” he repeats.

“After everything?”

“After everything. It was us next to get married after Lily and James. I had the ring, and I was working up the nerve to ask you. Then everything happened and I couldn’t. Then I was taken away and any hope I had that I would see you or hold you ever again was crushed. It is astounding how quick a life planned can veer off course. I’m not saying we should get back together, I would like that, but I am nowhere near mentally, emotionally or physically ready for one and I don’t think you’re the type to jump into relationships either. What I’m trying to say is that I’d like to give the Muggle life a go, I need to rest and your life sounds so peaceful.”

You take a minute to digest everything that Sirius has said to you. You debate everything internally, but you know that your heart will win. And win it does.

“Okay. The Muggle life isn’t so bad, it’s done me well for this long. Let’s see how it works for you.”

“You’re serious?”

“I am. I have a spare room for you, we can sort everything else out tomorrow. But for now, lets get ready for bed. It isn’t every day that the man I’ve loved for almost twenty years comes knocking on my door.”

“I like the sound of that,” Sirius says as you stand up, holding out your hand to him. He grasps it tightly in his own. “I like the sound of that very much.”

#sirius black x reader #sirius black #harry potter fanfiction #sirius orion black #sirius black imagine #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black fanfic #marauders x reader #marauders fanfiction #the lightning era #siriusblack #x reader

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youarejesting · 4 years

Text

Quarantine.17

[Masterlist] Pairing: BTS x reader Friends2Lovers But as slow as you can go until the anticipation kills us all… Genres: friendship, drama, romance SLOWEST OF BURNS BUT IT WILL BE BURNING AN ETERNAL FLAME!!! Rating: PG-13 and above Summary: Your brother works with a few BigHit dance teams and whilst having permission to accompany him at work the city shuts down banning anyone from stepping outside for a whole WEEK while they disinfect the streets. If you step outside you might get arrested, shot or poisoned by the chemicals they are emitting through the city. Words: 1k Announcement: This chapter goes really well to RM’s - ‘Do you’ when you listen to it, it really feels like the perfect chase song haha... I am sorry if this chapter is no good my computer just said I have 0 disk space and started crashing so I am going to just post this and fix my computer and hopefully edit it later.

[Part 1] [Part 16] [Part 18] [Tag Yourself Here]

Listen to RM’s - ‘Do you’

You were driving back thinking deeply about your decisions, were you playing with fate or had you saved your brother. Chewing your lip as you continued down the foggy street humming along to the radio when you saw the slight glow of headlights in the fog. It was like someone added a dry ice machine to the world's worst rave party. It had to be them. They were moving cautiously and headed straight for you. Throwing the car into reverse you laughed, the sound coming out like a mechanical wheeze from your breather remembering your driving instructor's words from your final exam. “Why are you better at reversing than actually driving?”

With the extra help of reverse sensors, you easily maneuvered out of the way, heading off down a side road. The GPS chiming every seven seconds. ‘gyeonglo jae gyesan.’ The headlights seemed to multiply each following you down the thankfully wide streets. They were coming for you. You sped up taking the next turn still entirely in reverse. Your blood was pumping in your ears and you were laser-focused.

With one hand grabbing your bag and the weapon, the other threw open the door. Your heart was racing as you jumped from the vehicle scuffing the gloves and knees of the suit. The suit was officially compromised, and you were certain the abrasions on your knees were bleeding at least that’s what you guessed from the sharp sting radiating down your shins. Memories of falling in dance class and picking yourself up. The show must go on. The show must always go on.

The car went up onto the curb and hit a tree, the GPS calling out desperately once more. You rolled your eyes, it would be impossible to forget those words after today. Each step was torture as you sprinted down the street, passing by many restaurants and convenience stores. Every now and then you tried a handle or a window desperate to get inside. It felt like a reflection of yourself unable to let anyone in so of course everywhere would be locked. You knew this whole thing was more than skin deep, you sincerely wished there was someone out there who wanted you.

But the more you pondered these thoughts over the week the more you realized that it stemmed from you not liking yourself looking down on yourself and giving up all the time. What you really needed wasn’t someone to love you, but you to love yourself. It was hard not to scoff, those damn boys had an effect on you and every day with them you felt the walls slip a little further. Revealing who you really were because you had been wearing a mask, smiling and saying yes, you let their words get to you. All those No’s in auditions everything. Funny how when the adrenaline kicks in your brain starts to work super-efficiently.

Pushing yourself to move faster and faster, your boot got caught on the pavement. Unable or unwilling to stop, you staggered dramatically back into a rhythm. Slipping down a side street with your gun in hand, moving around barely visible obstacles. Navigating through a garden and over a small concrete bench. “gyeonglo jae gyesan” you repeated the GPS’s dying words with a grin.

You were still alive. This was good and surprisingly exhilarating like an extreme game of ‘Tag’ or what you would expect those first-person shooter games to be like. Still heading towards the BigHit building you scanned the fog for something or somewhere to hide. They were surrounding the area. Soon you would be stuck out in the open.

Reaching the last store on the block you could hear voices coming from ahead of you. Trying the window, it opened. The urge to cry was strong from your small but valid success, but you held it in. There were people waiting for you, you would make it back even if you lost all your limbs. As you got back, you would watch that drama Taehyung was in and tease him relentlessly even though you knew he would have done great. Climbing in you slid the window shut behind you, lifting your breather to take an experimental breath. The air was clean.

If there was an alarm tripped, it wasn’t audible for the intruder, you weren’t particularly worried about anyone coming to check though as everyone was on lock-down, but if so you believed your excuse to be adequate. You searched everywhere for a first aid kit, removing the suit to patch up your hands and knees. Your dominant side had taken the brunt of the fall, so you took care to wrap it firmly. One roll of duct tape later, and you had repaired your suit. Hearing voices you noticed; they were scoping the place. Grabbing everything you could in a rush you ran out the back to hear the shop door jingle.

The phrase your blood went cold was almost an understatement. Your whole being seemed to turn to ice. Looking around trying to find a place to hide and entering the freezer, waiting behind some boxes. After half an hour you suspected they had left you stepped out gun drawn and saw they were over by the counter raiding the cigarette cabinets. They had left their breathers on the shelf behind them. An ultimatum, leave now and risk the breather or risk your life to get a working breather whilst also risking the virus if they were infected.

Sneaking forward across the aisles you gripped your weapons and took the breather stepping back one at a time. Perhaps you could trap them inside and they wouldn’t be able to harm anyone. Stepping backwards, you grabbed the breather with no time to switch and began running. You ran straight into one of the men raising your gun to him, breathing hard through your breather it started to rattle a little. But you didn’t falter.

“Put it down?” He smirked at your request.

“Dumb foreigner if you shoot they will come here and find you” he placed down his gun and you and took his walkie talkie telling him to lay on the ground. Once he was halfway down, you ran down the stairs and over fences, moving this way and that as you heard him call for the others. Vehicles had started up and you did your best, your breath was rattling loudly and you couldn’t switch masks without the gas getting into the next mask.

It took everything to get to the supply center but when you finally did your lungs burnt, you entered inside and ripped off your mask. They looked at you shocked. As you tried to flush out the poison with water. They treated you quickly, they didn’t have many medical supplies left as they all went to the hospital. Reaching into your pocket you to the walker talkie and turned it on.

“Hello this is Y/N” you breathed

[Part 1] [Part 16] [Part 18] [Tag Yourself Here]

Tags: @bubbletae7 @lovemusicandotps @taetaebq @seveniefive @w0lfqu33n @anaiss97 @moccahobi @maddymal @lilacdreams-00 @lethargicalyssa @knjkitten @pieislife @bunnyboyenthusiast

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valiantchopshopharmony · 3 years

Text

Starting a Photography Business Will Be Easier With These 30 Free Tips

When you are a keen photographer and you've got the urge to devote your working life doing something you like such as photography, then it will be a pity if you did not pursue it further would not it? You truly don't need to combine an institution or cover thousands of bucks to begin either. You merely want the fire to understand and persist.

It is correct that there's riches to be made from photography and I am not planning to down play that make a pitch to the contrary since in each instance, it's been around the person. Meaning - it depends on what style of photography they select, how long they put in the company, Photography Course in south Delhi do they have a business bent, are somewhat more arty than normal etc.. These points come to play when achievement in a photography company or studio is contested.

I really don't need to make some false hopes by that last paragraph since victory will need some hard work, patience and tolerance. These subsequent thirty tips should help you on the way.

Where do I obtain information about constructing a photography company?

1. Apart from that, the world wide web is the largest source of advice and can supply you with various career opportunities or more info on starting a photography company.

At which level would you like to begin your photography company?

2. This is actually the trickiest question a individual considering starting a company experiences. It's essential to determine what sort of photography company you would like to ensure the applicable requirements and (occasionally ) finance could be muscled up. short term photography courses in south east delhi

When is the ideal time to initiate a fully-fledged photography company?

3. After deciding what you want and some additional necessary equipment that's required to prepare the basic infrastructure, then you'll have to think about carefully your primary instrument - the camera, be it film or digital. You also have to consider carefully a trusted, high quality PC and great relevant software to control your photos using special effects. If the company has been undertaken on a huge scale then perhaps a growing lab has to be established and planned.

O what type of places will yield actual income to your enterprise?

4. A newly established company in photography demands a confident place or a beat (working anyplace ), as in journalism. Once recognized, company may also be diversified into a lot more fields.

O Assembling a photography portfolio

5. It's always very important to compile a fantastic portfolio so far as photography is concerned. A portfolio must have an assortment of applicable photographic work which you think to be remarkable. Ensure photographs are unusual in nature and are from varied fields. Your portfolio has to have the ability to impress the customer from the very first assembly.

6. Just keep your very best work from the folder so you don't embarrass yourself or wind up needing to describe photographs that are not applicable.

7. Publish spontaneous photographs that you think are of fantastic quality. You would be amazed how many men and women respond favorably to individuals expressions when they're great shots.

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8. A canvas backdrop of minimum 7-9 foot along with the background colours should be navy or white as minimal requirements to begin using; a well-branded studio lighting system like that of Norman & Speedtron; accredited picture manipulation applications like Photoshop, Corel Paint Shop, etc..

Is there a demand for establishing a cosmetics studio as a portion of your photograph studio?

9. Makeup and photography frequently go together. Wherever cosmetics is involved it can be known as trick photography since cosmetics is capable of entirely changing somebody's character, and at times significance to some product in the event of advertising photography.

What type of photo-editing applications available on the industry?

10. Photo-editing applications by which particular effects and total adjustments to a photograph are possible and may also frequently save the demand for a shoot.

11.

Is storage and therapy of photos crucial in building photographs company?

12. Never embrace laxity whilst archiving or handling photos. You may regret it afterwards. Storage and accessibility efficiency will improve or enhance your working atmosphere. Often elderly photographs become more precious with time.

How can be photos be stored readily aside from the traditional method?

13. Today's cameras are exceptionally versatile and enables transfers and downloads from exceptionally surprising devices such as your cellphone but images may also be saved onto a CD's, USB's and DVD's too.

O picking a Camera

14. Stick to w ell recognized manufacturer. The degree of mega pixel provided and high quality of this zooming facility has to be looked into carefully.

15. The majority of the cameras are compatible with all printers and computers and because we use memory sticks, so we're free to work invisibly.

O what type of a site does one person must get?

16. Your assortment of photos have to be correctly categorized under different categories. Visual look of your site will work amazing things for your company so consider establishing one with semi automatic automation in which the upkeep and challenging work is done for you enjoy photostockplus.

17. Don't forget to continuously update and maintain your site so that every time people encounter your site, they will discover nice something fresh and intriguing.

18. Copyright is the right protects the individual who owns who shot the photos. A smart exercise if you're seeking to utilize some inventory homes for business purposes.

O What's a company card useful?

19. In each company, visiting cards are all useful. It's very helpful in for folks to get in touch with you after your initial meeting. It has to include all of your contact details. If you are a photographer, a smart impressive graphic or an image of yourself along with your gear is greatest. Your telephone number or email has to be simple to read. I've seen cards which have big names and graphics and the telephone numbers are so small they're hard to read. Ridiculous! Make your telephone number the most significant thing about the card that's what most folks will use it to get.

O Which things have to be considered as you intend to construct a wedding photography company?

20. Wedding Photography is another artwork unto itself. There are various things to consider for a really prosperous wedding shoot. I've prepared another guide to manage this in more detail and it is about --Wedding Photography. --

O Benefit of mission photography

21. Assignment photography is that division of photography in which a individual has been engaged or consigned to catch pictures of something striking and extraordinary, including in the case of advertisements or portrait photography; this can supply you a steady income once you have learned the principles.

O Benefit of stock photography

22. This is sometimes a slow haul but when your photos are nicely thought out, it may be the origin of a continuing income. --My favourite is istockphotos--.

O Other areas where you are able to sell your photographic series?

23. Art displays are the ideal platform from wherever your imagination and work will probably be really appreciated because in these areas you will get some niche clients which have a sharp eye for actual talent. Such areas are proven to attract immediate fame.

24.

O Costs to be billed from the customers

25. At the first phases of your organization, do not attempt to charge exorbitant sums otherwise it'll give the incorrect impression and you'll possibly lose a precious long-term customer. Tread slowly. Ring other research and photographers. Five telephone calls must perform it.

Advertising Your photography company

26. You have to attempt to advertise your work at important areas. Pictures may also be printed on the net. Book over the net will boost customer enquiry. Do not forget to hunt for appropriate regional markets and find the snaps published in a local journal or paper and constantly exhibit your contact number carefully - consistently!

27. Placing and popularizing a company is a difficult call but should you embrace a correct marketing plan. Nowadays, Advertising is just one of the most well-known mediums of marketing. Advertising can be placed on sites, online phone directories, magazines and papers, etc.. Find out more about the ideal mediums until you rush into. Occasionally fantastic prices get in the method of recognizing the ideal advertising car.

28. You are able to create a site of your own to efficiently market your photography company but something that has to be considered is never neglect to add a testimonial segment and assess the reaction of the folks going to the site. Enable them to make remarks.

29. People interested in putting together a photography company can start their career by turning into a photo journalist. Appealing and unconventional photos can be provided to papers, magazines, sites and also the photography business is flourishing to this extent that international media organizations will provide you with great money in exchange for infrequent and high quality photos.

30. There are several more jobs also linked to photography than that there was formerly and as a result of the diversity and versatility of digital photography, even more respect was connected to the profession.

Proceed and make yourself a hot drink and a have a long think about where you are likely to begin, in other words, in case you have not already begun.

This guide has been provided courtesy of Roy Barker. Roy has provided further detail about the aforementioned subject matter at starting a photography company and is devoted to training you on how to begin your own photography business. You might even acquire photography tips, help (mainly free) or just a Digital Photography.

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bluesfortheredj · 6 years

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Rocketman

It had been a long day of looking at screens, and your eyes were drying up as you took a couple of long blinks, leaning back on your chair to get some distance from the artificial light. A sigh erupts from your throat as you swing your arms up into the air and stretch your body out, digging your heels into the carpet and pushing yourself back on your wheeled office chair. As you sit up again, you take a quick glance at the time in the bottom right hand corner of the main computer screen, and realise it’s time for you to head out. Just as you’re switching your screens off and tidying up your work space, Dexter walks in with a smile on his face.

“Off somewhere?” he asks. You drop your shoulders, knowing he was going to ask you to stay later.

“Apparently not,” you reply with a half-hearted laugh.

“I’m sorry, I wouldn’t ask, but I really need a rough edit of what we shot today. Richard’s got work commitments later on this week, so I need to know as soon as possible if anything needs re-shooting. I promise it won’t take too long,” he pleads, putting his hands together as if he’s praying.

“You know I can’t say no to you,” you smile, placing your bag down on the floor underneath the table again and pulling your chair out.

“Thank you so much, (Y/N), you know you’re the best editor here.”

“Oh, you’re definitely just saying that,” you laugh as you switch the screens back on, “go on, get out of here before I change my mind.”

Dexter flashes you a grin before backing out of the room silently, not risking you changing your mind, and you watch as the lights get turned off down one side of the building as he leaves. You would’ve moaned, but you didn’t have any plans, and you had to admit you did your best work when left completely alone, finding it was much easier to get stuck into what you needed to do. The icons from each file come up large on your screen as you pull them up, one of the last ones giving you a glimpse of Richard topless, and you have to resist playing that one first.

This was the biggest film you’d worked on so far as an editor, but with Dexter at the helm, you were surprisingly calm, and had enjoyed every second so far. The job was made even easier by staring at images of Taron Egerton all day, even though his outfits were a little questionable in this film, you got to study his face up close, and this was looking to be an opportunity to study other things as well. When you’d first seen Richard Madden in the shots that were being sent to you, you’d become even more excited, and your days were spent swooning over these two men whilst making sure the story they were trying to tell actually made sense of course. You’d managed to steal some views on set as well during your lunch breaks, which made a very nice change from being sat in front of these computers all day, and it meant you got to see the two loves of your life in person.

“Right,” you exhale to yourself, sitting up properly in your chair as you click on the first video. A smile spreads across your face as you press play and immediately see Richard making his way towards Taron through a crowded room, their eyes locked on each other as the crowds around them get ignored, the faces blurring out as the camera focusses on the two men. You’d never quite got used to seeing these scenes without background music and sound effects, so it was strange watching the extras dancing in silence, and you let out a short laugh at one man really going for it behind Taron’s head. Soon the clip is over, ending with Richard taking Taron’s hand and leading him out of the room, a lingering shot of their hands linked together leaving you wanting to see more.

“Jeez,” you sigh, desperately minimizing the window to bring up the next video. When it starts to play, they’re walking towards a closed door, and Richard reaches out to open it, dragging Taron in behind him then closing it with a loud slam. That sound may need to be quietened, but your mind suddenly couldn’t focus on what you should be picking up on, and you find yourself completely distracted by the fact that they were now kissing. Shirts are ripped open, the sound of buttons hitting the walls making you gasp as their bare torsos are now on show, and you find your hand slipping away from the keyboard and mouse, settling back in your seat as a viewer rather than an editor.

“Oh,” you mutter, as your eyes widen at the sight of their hands exploring each other, and even though the camera stays on their top halves, you hear the unzipping of trousers. You know full well this isn’t Taron and Richard, this is them playing their roles and doing what’s in the script, but fuck, this is believable, especially judging by the warmth pooling between your legs, and the pulse that’s now beating harder in your core is getting increasingly difficult to ignore.

“Shit,” you whisper, hitting pause quickly. You take a look around you, the embarrassment of feeling like this in the work place making you check for anyone watching you, even though you know full well the building is empty. If you carried on watching this, there was only one way it could go right now, and you need to get Dexter a rough cut by the morning. Taking one last look out of the windows of your office, you undo your jeans, and lean as far back in your chair as you can before hitting play again. You needed to get this out of your system before you could get any work done, your head was swimming and your thoughts were anything but rational.

The scene continues to unfold before your eyes, heavy breathing the only thing you can hear apart from the soft moans coming from your own mouth as your hand slips underneath the soft fabric of your knickers. Two fingers push past your swollen lips to your hidden folds, and run the length of them as you watch the two men on screen fall into bed. They tumble around on the sheets, kissing messily, and their hands roaming every inch of the other’s body.

“Fuck,” you groan as you push your fingers inside yourself and start to pump, letting your head roll back.

“Excuse me-” a voice says from behind you, and you quickly sit yourself up, removing your hand and hitting pause as you hunch over your desk, trying to hide yourself.

“Yeah?” you ask, not daring to turn around, completely flustered and out of breath, and using your untainted hand to rub your forehead. You were painfully aware that there was no subtle way of adjusting your underwear and doing your jeans up, and you were starting to sweat from the embarrassment of being caught red handed. The tiniest slither of hope that they hadn’t seen what had happened was the only thing you were clinging on to right now, but it was shattered with their next sentence.

“Like what you see?” they ask, the smug smile evident in their tone of voice.

“I was just… editing. Dexter needs to see a-”

“I’ve been standing there for about ten minutes...” they say, cutting you off. Your nightmare was becoming real, and you could only lower your head further towards the table in response. “I liked what I saw, just so you know, (Y/N).”

Your head snaps up at the mention of your name and as you take a glance over your shoulder to see who was standing there, Taron’s face comes into view. All you can do is stare at him, unable to speak, unable to move, and barely able to breathe. He cocks his head up with a smirk and raises his eyebrows at you, then moves in closer and you turn back to your desk, the paused image of him bent over in front of Richard on your screen definitely not helping your situation right now.

“Sorry, I’m really busy-” you start, but stop as Taron chuckles.

“Yeah, I could see that,” he says, “I only came by for my phone, but it seems like fate’s working with me tonight.”

“It’s really not what it looked like….” you trail off, wincing at the utter nerve you had for trying to make an excuse after he’d admitted to watching you the last ten minutes.

“Oh, it definitely was (Y/N),” he whispers, now leaning on the back of your chair and bending down so that his lips are level with your ear, “you didn’t finish though…”

Before you can say anything, he pulls your chair back, kneels down in front of you and tugs on your jeans. You know you shouldn’t, this was a very bad idea, the worst in fact, but you really weren’t in a position to decline as Taron licked his lips from between your legs, and you gladly lift your hips up so he can pull everything down.

“Forward,” he instructs, and you shuffle your bum to the edge of your seat. He reaches up behind him and hits play, then buries his face between your legs, and you gasp at both of his actions, your hands gripping onto the arms of your swivel chair for dear life. An almighty moan escapes your mouth, and you have to look away from the screen for a second before you forget to breathe. Taron grabs onto your thighs, holding you in place as you start to try and wriggle away, your sensitive nub feeling overwhelmed with pleasure as his tongue works around it. When you look back at the monitor, it’s a shot of the top half of Richard, supposedly looking down at the man beneath him, and thrusting into him with enthusiasm.

“Jesus!” you cry out, having to look away again, this time down at the man between your thighs, his face almost completely hidden inside you. He flicks over you once more, then takes one long suck as you clench and let go, your chest heaving as your body starts to relax. Your thighs are shaking as Taron stands up, then perches himself on the desk and blocks your view of the footage.

“Not going to lie, I’ve been waiting a long time to do that,” he smiles, running his finger around his lips, then licking it, “but then I’m not the only one.”

“What are you even-?”

“Listen, I’ve gotta go, early start and all that. Good luck with that rough cut. We’ll speak more tomorrow, yeah?” he says casually, giving you a kiss on your cheek, “you taste so good,” he whispers, then leaves the room. You pull up your underwear and jeans, doing them up this time, and sit back on your chair in shock, unable to even begin to process what just happened. You stare at the screen in front of you, the clip now finished, and you shake your head from side to side as you realise you do actually have work to do, even though it would mean looking at the face of the man who just ate you out and gave you a leg trembling orgasm. This was fine, you could handle this.

You get to work, then what he said comes echoing back into your mind as you hear his voice on the video. What did he mean talk about this more tomorrow? What was there to talk about? And he’s not the only one, what the hell did that mean?

“Gah!” you sigh, your mind well and truly elsewhere now, “fucking come on.”

You stand up, jump up and down on the spot to focus, then sit back down again and get straight into cutting parts out, putting shots together to appear seamless, and checking how coherent it was. Finally it was done, and you emailed it straight to Dexter so you didn’t have to remember in the morning. For the second time tonight, you collect your things, pick up your bag, turn the screens off, and push your chair under your desk. Your eyes linger on the spot that Taron had knelt in, and a shiver runs up your spine as you turn towards the door.

“(Y/N),” a thick Scottish accent says from beside you as you emerge from your office. You turn your head slowly to see Richard standing there, leaning a shoulder against the wall, and standing with one leg crossed over the other.

“I’ve heard my name one too many times this evening,” you mutter without thinking.

“Well hello to you too,” he chuckles.

“Sorry, I’m just… I’m having a really weird night. You wouldn’t believe how weird it is,” you reply.

“I think I would,” he smiles.

“Really?”

“Well, I saw how weird it was, so… Yeah, I’d believe it.”

Your mouth falls open, but no sound comes out of it as you slip your key into your bag after locking the door. Richard steps towards you, and you find your body freezes up as he reaches out and places his hand on your cheek.

“Like what you saw then?” he asks, almost mirroring Taron’s words. You manage a nod and he chuckles at your shyness. “So did I. But I would have rather have had his view if I’m honest.”

“You… Uh...” you mutter, but the words can’t form properly inside your mind as he takes yet another step towards you, his chest now grazing yours, and his scent fills your nostrils, making you dizzy.

“Are you okay?” he asks, his voice a pitch lower, really emphasising his accent.

“Fine,” you breathe.

“Do you think you could show me your office?” he asks, a smirk forming on his face slowly as he watches you immediately rummage around in your bag for your key. He drops his hand from your face and you almost pout at the loss of contact, but as soon as the door opens, you both practically run inside. Richard kicks it shut behind him, not taking his eyes off of you as you back yourself up against the desk, your body jolting when your bum hits the edge of it. Your bag drops to the floor, then he takes two long steps towards you and pulls your head towards his, his fingers weaving through your hair as he kisses you with force.

So many questions were running through your head, but his tongue pushes inside your mouth and makes you forget all of them, just enjoying the fact that you were getting a lot of attention from two of the most handsome men you’d ever laid eyes on. A small ‘why?’ enters your mind briefly, then one of Richard’s hands slides down your neck, over your breast, and stops at your jeans where he starts to fumble with your button and zip, your question long gone now.

“Wait,” you pant, parting reluctantly from his lips. You place your hand over his to stop him, then kiss him once more before sliding down to your knees and undoing his trousers, springing him free before he can say a word. Your hand wraps around him, stroking him slowly, then you lick the underside of his shaft from the base to the tip, flicking your tongue over the small amount of arousal that had seeped out. He’d been hard since seeing you with Taron, and ideally he would’ve wanted to have claimed you all to himself before Taron even got a look in, but as he watches you take him in your mouth he feels smug at the thought that you wanted him as much as he wanted you.

“Shit,” he grunts as you take him in as far as you can. You suck eagerly at him, bobbing your head back and forth quickly, and he leans over to rest his hands on the desk behind your head, then moves his hips towards you, thrusting into your mouth and making your eyes water. You hum, sending a tremor through his body, and his legs shake a little, unable to last long as you keep eye contact with him from your position. Within a matter of minutes he’s spilling down your throat and you’re making sure you swallow every drop he has to give.

“Come here,” he growls, helping you up from the floor and holding you against him as he delves his tongue into your mouth in a hungry kiss, “that wasn’t how I saw that going,” he exhales, breaking away from you, but continuing to hold you tightly.

“How was it meant to go?” you ask.

“Well, you choosing me would be a good start.”

“Choosing?” you frown.

“Me or him. It should be easy, right?” he winks. You lean back to study his face for any sign of a joke, but he seems deadly serious about it, which confuses you even more.

“So, come on then, who do you want most?” he whispers, the thick accent making your knees weak all over again. You open your mouth to reply, but a jolt from nowhere rings out through your bones and you gasp as you close your eyes.

“”(Y/N)… (Y/N)!” Dexter laughs shaking you gently awake, “sorry, didn’t mean to scare you. Did you sleep here all night?”

“Sleep?” you reply groggily, looking at your surroundings and realising you were still in your office.

“Yeah, it’s 6am,” he smiles.

“Shit shit shit!” you exclaim, scrambling up from the sofa.

“Woah there, it’s alright, I got the rough cut you sent me at about 2am this morning,” he chuckles, “you’d better go home though, looks like you had a rough night on that couch.”

“Right… Yeah… Of course...” you mumble, getting your bearings and collecting your stuff. As you leave the office, you can’t help but pout to yourself at the fact everything you’d experienced was a mixture of you staying up way too late editing, and your very overactive imagination playing tricks on you while you slept. You let out a deep sigh as you head towards the door, then feel a presence next to you.

“Get some sleep after all the excitement last night?” Taron asks, bumping into your arm playfully.

“I know I didn’t,” Richard adds from your other side.

@taronfanfic

#taron egerton #taron egerton imagine #taron imagine #taron egerton x reader #taron egerton fanfiction #richard madden #richard madden imagine #richard madden fanfic #richard madden x reader #smut #taron smut #richard madden smut #taron egerton smut #imagine #fanfic #fanfiction

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things-we-used-tc-share · 5 years

Text

Flawless

This work will contain some adult themes such as: Themes of depression, toxic parents, homophobia. reference to sex, minor drug use (weed),

it’s kinda really fuckin sad really, the idea came from a previous story I wrote called “Drive,” which follows a similar storyline and I was really missing Amsterdam so here’s this. I’d implore that viewer discretion is advised, I’m serious, it ends on a happy note but overall it really talks about some heavy stuff.

It’s gonna be a long boi so make a cuppa.

Came from a combination of: Flawless by The Neighborhood, RIP 2 My Youth by The Neighborhood, Drive by Halsey and 505 by The Arctic Monkeys.

Plot: Virgil’s parents couldn’t love him if they tried, forced into a life he never wanted, he draws all the money out of his bank account, quits his job and starts his farewell tour of the earth. Ending in Amsterdam, NL, he meets a young professor whose inability to experience emotions entices him to no end. But what starts out as some quick fun and short-lived euphoria becomes a game changer in whether or not he sees through the end of his plans to end his life here, in the most beautiful city he’s ever experienced.

“I just can’t wait for love to destroy us,”

Virgil’s seen the end of his life, he’s seen it against a dark sunset with the rain pattering against the window to the slowing rhythm of his heart. He’s seen the white bedsheets and greying walls, and he’s seen it on repeat since he first booked his hotel room in Amsterdam.

Sitting in it now, it’s strange to think this will be where he ends his life, probably high as a kite and regretting nothing. There’s a wedding ring hanging around his neck off a silver chain and it feels so much heavier with guilt than with physical density; it reminds him of her, of her soft brown eyes and chestnut colored hair hanging around skin the color of coffee. A sigh ghosts his lips and dies against the air as he snatches it from around his neck and tosses it onto the desk. The woman he left behind was not with him now, and though his phone was full of her frantic text messages, he never responded to any of them.

He pulls on his hoodie, brushing his dark plum pigmented hair from his eyes and lets the door to his room lock behind him; his feet pad a rhythm into the ground somewhere in tune to the music playing through his headphones. One short month left and nothing else.

His journey, consisting of a short tram ride and a lot of walking, takes him to a place that smells like cigarettes and something much, much sweeter. The smell of being a teenager hiding in the park with a self-rolled mimic of blissful happiness burning into smoke that filled his lungs. It’s only one of the reason’s he chose Amsterdam to be his final resting place, the weed that is, the other is that his entire life he loved art and could never pursue it, this city was full of art from the buildings to the galleries to the sheer picturesque view this place offered. His entire life he’d wanted to come to Amsterdam and now he was here.

There are people dancing, people smoking, people sat in booths either talking or attached from head to toe like the world was ending tonight and the only way they could save it was from the air of each other’s lungs. He orders a drink in a stumbling edition of Dutch, but the bartender only smiles as he makes the drink, not at all annoyed by the way he stumbles over his words. He drinks like it’s all he can do, mixing among the crowds of people, yet still so distinctively alone. A couple of guys and girls take notice but they drift off to different partners over the course of the night.

He's running out of stability for the alcohol eventually as he collapses into the only booth that isn’t packed. There’s one man here, legs propped up on the couch and a glass of whiskey between his fingers, a cigarette or at least something that can be mistaken as one hangs from his lips delicately as smoke framed him like an angel rising straight from hell. “Goedenavond,” the stranger greets him and Virgil sits up a bit more to take a closer look at the man.

His hair, pitch black in the darkness of the club, curls like the edges of the sea into the most piercing cobalt eyes Virgil has ever seen, even in these flashing lights, they’re so distinct. Ivory skin pulled tight over a sharp jawline and high cheekbones, this man is a mystery waiting to be solved and this, this was why Virgil had come to Amsterdam. There’s a bemused smile on the stranger’s lips as he pushes his glasses up his nose “Nederlands of Engels?” He says through a cloud of smoke causing the American’s brain to completely short circuit and resist the urge just to say ‘please just keep talking’.

“Engels,” He replies, voice scratching against his throat, he’s offered the sweet-smelling smoke and he doesn’t hesitate to drag it between his lips and inhale. It burrows deep into his lungs and exhales against the air. It’s the most comfortable he’s felt since he’d gotten married. “What’s your name?” He asks over the music, smoke surrounding the air around him as he hands it back to its owner.

“Logan, Logan Lesmeister,” he replies, “What brings you to the beautiful city of Amsterdam?” His eyes are full of curiosity and energy and Virgil wants to fall immediately into them, but that’s a question he could answer honestly, or he couldn’t, either way, it wouldn’t matter in the long term, so he places his bets on a safe lie.

“Just a holiday,” He replies, his eyes flashing against the changing colors of the club lights, fulling them with red, blues, greens and purples. The colors change across his vision but his gaze isn’t really moving far from the cerulean waves of Logan’s eyes “My name’s Virgil Sanders, and I’ve not got long here,” He doesn’t specify exactly where ‘here’ is but he knows the other will just take that as Amsterdam, not Earth itself. “Mind making it a good time?”

And Logan really does make it a good time. Even though here and now, as he’s pushed up against a brick wall with desperate lips seeking his own and hands pulling him closer, he’s not going to realize how much of a good time that exactly will be.

Virgil wakes with a pounding in his head and an aching in his body as the sunlight streams through his vision; for a moment he forgets quite where he is and why he’s here, he calm feel a warm body and soft breathing and for a moment, a blissful moment everything is fine. The reality sets in like a cold stone and he groans, sitting up in the tangle of blankets and another man whose curly hair is fluffed out against the white of the pillows. He couldn’t even remember what this guys name was.

He pokes him because he’s not exactly sure what to do in this situation and the man eventually blinks awake, mumbling in protest to being awake. “Hello,” The stranger in his bed says with raised eyebrows, “Your bed is very comfortable,” He speaks still in remarkably fluid English, despite having been awoken less than a second ago. “Last night was nice, Virgil,” He sits up “And by that blank expression I would assume you don’t remember my name, my name is Logan,”

“Uh...oh yeah I remember now,” Virgil gives a somewhat awkward smile, painfully aware of how exposed and vulnerable he currently feel, pulling the covers up to his chest. “I drank a whole lot last night, and I’m guessing you were pretty baked I remember you smoking as I came over,” The other man nods.

“Do you mind if I use your shower? If you wish to discuss last night I am lead to believe many people do that, if not I’ll be off,” Virgil blinks, eyes furrowed. He’d obviously known it’d been a one-night stand deal, and yet it stung to hear it put so bluntly.

“Uh no, go ahead, I’ll just...get some clothes on,” Logan clambers out of the bed and into the bathroom, whilst the other man looks for something to wear, feeling somewhat dirty. He’d never attempted something like that with a man and he couldn’t tell in the slightest if he wanted to talk about it, in the back of his mind he can still his father shouting about gay being wrong.

He sits on the edge of the bed with a jaw clenched, this was not a time or place, and there would never be a time or place again for him to think or talk about this. When Logan finally comes out of the shower, Virgil is lying on the bed with a ripped pair of skinny jeans and a baggy purple hoodie. The other man changes into his clothes silently, there’s a not a hint of emotion on his face.

“Hey,” The purple haired boy finally has the courage to talk “I don’t really know my way around Amsterdam, and I’m here for the next month, I could kinda do with some help with that,” Logan’s eyebrow arches, and his mind seems to work like a computer, Virgil can almost hear the whirring of mechanisms in his head.

“Okay,” He replies, “I have no engagements today, and I suppose there’s no real downside, I need to go into the city anyway,” the man picks up his phone and begins to scroll through it for a moment... “Are you ready to leave now?” He nods and slides his feet into his shoes before they head towards the door

The day goes by smoothly, but the more Logan talks the more Virgil realizes that this man is almost robotic, the way he talks, the way he sees things, it’s without color, without emotion or anything beyond facts and figures. Virgil knows a challenge when he sees it, however, as pieces of the night before come back in bits and pieces he remembers Logan smiling dazedly over a glass of whiskey, he remembers him talking with a voice heavy in excitement and happiness. The only difference between that man and this man was a spliff and a glass of whiskey.

So Virgil asks to go to a coffee shop, where the air is denser with smoke that smells like earth and burning and he loves this smell. He wants to wrap himself up in the smell more than he wants to taste the cause. They smoke, and slowly Logan becomes less guarded, less complicated. It’s here that Virgil realizes the man’s inhibitions are what's holding him like a puppet string to his own lack of emotion.

Virgil wonders if he can get him to do that without the drugs, it was a pet problem of his, he likes to fix people. Well, it’s not that really, it’s that he likes a challenge that will distract him from his own existential existence and the need to disappear into his own problems.

He’s got a month, he might as well try.

They become somewhat of friends, Virgil learns that Logan is in fact a doctor, he teaches Physics to University students, Logan learns Virgil is running away from a whole load of problems. They fall in and out of bed with each other for the next week after this, meeting in the city and then going back to Virgil’s hotel.

Virgil’s half asleep, leaning against the bed with water in his hand. “So when do you go?” Is the question that hangs in the air, from what could be a friend or if he tried hard enough, a lover. “Back home I mean?” The boy with violet hair chokes, he can’t help it, but his hand is shaking and his heart sinks. He’d unwittingly made a friend for the first time in his long and lonely life and for once, for once he’d actually have to leave someone he cared about behind.

“Never,” He says softly and Logan’s eyes are flashing between concern and curiosity, his hand pressed against Virgil’s spine upon the realization that the other is leaking a waterfall from his hazel eyes. “I’m not going back Logan,” He inhales sharply “I never intended to go back,” The Dutch man reaches the idea that he may have actually got himself tangled in something, someone, much more complicated than he initially thought. The question dies on his lip the moment he wants to say it, but Virgil picks up where the silence left off anyway “When I said leaving here, I didn’t mean Amsterdam,”

Logan visibly pales, the sobering realization that he truly, truly was way out of his depth with this. His hand rubs Virgil’s back but he hasn’t a word or thought for what he’s feeling right now. It’s that which makes him realize why he suppresses emotion so greatly, that being Virgil’s tearing running through the palms of his hand and turning into depression against his skin. He holds him and lets him cry, understanding that this must really be the first time that he’s ever expressed how he’s feeling at all.

“I’m sorry,” He whispers, Logan mutters a consolation but his mind feels so blank.

But Virgil was so...bright? Full of life? Every smile and laugh and mutters beneath the sheets suddenly seemed like a lie, a facade, a...a mirage of everything he’d known in the past week of knowing this man.

They fall asleep close to each other for the first time on this Sunday night.

The next morning as Logan is getting ready for work, Virgil takes some painkillers and whispers so gently the wind might carry his voice away “I have a wife,” his voice is cracking from the strain of the previous night, “And two parents who beat me to all shit once they found out I was gay, they made me marry her, and I did because I was a teenager with nothing at all, and now, I’m an adult and I still have nothing but a load of money and a death wish,”

Logan, now sober, sits on the edge of the bed with a serious look of contemplation before he begins to talk again. “Then don’t go back, or do, if you wish, divorce your wife, move away with whatever money you’ve got left, life is so incomparably complex Virgil, from conception to death, life is full of complications and there is so much more beyond this,” For a moment there’s just a tinge of sadness, no, melancholia in his voice, it strains like he is fighting it down and Virgil thinks to himself ‘Oh fuck, I broke him,’. Suddenly the idea of getting the man to display emotion seems more like a weight than a prize. “But please, don’t make friends with me, or whatever it is, and then kill yourself, because not only are you capable of so much more, you’re so unbelievably clever Virgil, but I would blame myself until I die,”

It stings to know somebody cares about you. It hurts more than being hated when you feel like your entire world is disappearing under your feet like quicksand. All he’s ever wanted is to be loved, and there’s this tentative feeling at the back of his head that maybe, with more time, he could do that, he could truly fall in love and have a life of his own.

“Stay here, with me, when your time is up, stay with me, think a while longer,” He hates that he nods in response.

Virgil starts meeting Logan outside of his work, a cup of coffee in one hand and a joint tucked behind his ear. Two and a half weeks into whatever they have and Logan invites Virgil back to his own home. It stands at the edge of the city, cramped between two other houses. Quaint, with steep stairs and a small living area. The room is piled high with shelves stocked with books on every topic from Philosophy to Psychology to Science and English.

They spend a lot of time kissing this time, just kissing, and Virgil smiles against his lips and allows his hands to engulf the touch of warmth. When water and food are needed, the younger man catches Logan smiling, completely in his own world as he shovels some food into the oven. Virgil kisses him, firm and warm and desperate but not in the way they were used to. He was begging Logan to help him, he had no one else.

The elder man’s hands rest on Virgil’s hips as he pulls away, and there’s emotion buried in his face, his eyes are watery and his lips are shaking and it’s the moment that both of them can contemplate that maybe something much bigger could come from this accidental meeting.

They sleep together, but not in a way they’re familiar with, with Virgil in Logan’s sweatpants and t-shirt, tucked up against his friend’s chest, tracing circles on his shoulder as if it would ground him somehow.

Somehow, it does.

Logan’s stood opposite Virgil, on a Monday morning where he’s taken a sick day and his face is a picture of worry. Virgil’s suitcase is packed, and so is his bag, but he’s standing in the center of the eye of a storm despite the air being so calm. “I'll stay,” He says and all the air in Logan’s body almost leaves in the sheer relief as he stumbles into Virgil’s arms. “But I will have to go back to America, to sort out divorce papers and officially estranging from my mother and father, and whatever this is can run its course, thank you, Logan,, you’ve helped me see that there’s more to life, well I mean Amsterdam really showed me there’s more to life but, you showed me I’m capable of being cared for, and that I’m capable of caring for others,” A gentle kiss presses to his lips, it feels like feathers and he smiles.

“You’ve certainly taught me a lot too Virgil, in this last month, I feel the most human I’ve ever felt,”

Virgil goes back to America with Logan, exactly a month later. His wife smiles at him and hugs him. She’s heartbroken and she can tell but now perhaps she will actually get a shot at real love, and that’s something she’s very grateful for. He leaves her some money and the rings, and that she can keep them or sell them, it’s her choice. Her name was Aisha, and she was not just a ‘she’, she’d been mistreated awfully by Virgil, by their parents, by this whole marriage. He’d just left her with only a note that could’ve been a suicide note if he’d just told her. Aisha had never in her life wronged anyone, and both her and Virgil knew that she deserved so much better. They signed the divorce papers and exchanged hugs. She asks him to keep in touch, let her know he was alive every now and then.

He says he will.

His parents are furious with him, but Logan is the king of calm and collected. Calm and collectively, he says “Fuck you,” and they leave as quickly as they’d come, leaving behind his father’s curses and derogatory names forever. He signs as officially estranged from his parents and they both travel to Amsterdam, home again.

“Do you think he was more upset I was a man or that I was Dutch?” Logan chuckles over a glass of wine whilst Virgil laughs into his sketchpad.

“Both, definitely both,”

It’s a long and hard fight for Virgil to stay in the Netherlands, a right that is won after Logan proposes they get married, Virgil laughs at first, because they’d only known each other three months; Logan is however completely serious, not just because he thinks he loves Virgil (he does) but also because from that moment forward, legally Virgil would be able to stay in the Netherlands.

It works.

((A/N: Okay I shit you not this took me four hours to write, four fuckin hours. It’s 11PM and I’m basically crying : ) That was an emotional rollercoaster even for me))

@unikornavenger // @mycatshuman // @spectralheartt // @creativity-killed-thekitten//@theresneverenoughfandoms // @charmingprincey //@aclickonapostwillchangeyourlife //@heck-im-lost // @k9cat// @stilljittery//@romansleftshoulderpad // @sanderssideslibrary //@max-is-tired // @therealmoshar //@punsterterry

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loveramirez-blog1 · 5 years

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Use Vlogging Camera to Position Yourself As an Expert

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Start! Start today. Vlogging is not the kind of thing that takes months of coaching and over-thinking. Search for some vlogs in step with keywords that interest you, watch them, and compare what you do and do now not experience. Don't replica them. But ask yourself what works for you and attempt it out.

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prettywordsyouleft · 5 years

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The Sex Contract [M] - Chapter 6

Genre: friends to lovers au / friends with benefits / mature content / romance / angst

Characters: Shim Changmin x Kaia Ashton (OC)

A/N: Due to the overwhelming request I have followed your encouragement to bring back one of my older stories. This was back in a time where OCs were everything and writing one chapter in each main’s point of view was the trend. I hope that even though I have edited this drastically, that you can appreciate this story comes from my older style of writing. I definitely still read this often and find it enjoyable so I hope you will too.

Prologue | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 - FINAL

Chapter 6 – Kaia’s POV.

To be honest Kaia was overwhelmed. Of all the things Changmin could have ever ask of her, she had never expected that he’d go for this kind of intimacy. She didn’t know how to deal with the situation, and although she could tell he was serious, she wondered just how far he was actually going to take this before he backed out. Heading over to grab a pen and paper, Kaia watched as he eagerly followed her and frowned lightly. He soon was leaning over her shoulder and she had to think of what she actually wanted to write as stipulations.

“Right well,” Kaia started as she blinked a couple of times, poising the pen just above the pad of paper. She tapped it once and then started writing. “No emotional attachment, purely just sex.”

“Oh, that’s good,” Changmin suggested and she swallowed before adding another stipulation. He read it out. “Always consensual. If one person isn’t in the mood, don’t try to force it. Hey, like I’d do that, Kai.”

“I’m just putting it down,” Kaia stated and continued to write. The rest were rather simple, nothing was to come of it, if either of them were to find someone else, they stopped the arrangement and finally, nothing was to get in the way of their friendship. Kaia figured they all made enough sense and Changmin so far hadn’t really detested any suggestions. She glanced at him briefly before signing and dating the document and then stepped aside.

“Do I sign it too?” he asked and Kaia nodded, the tall boy picking up the pen and quickly signing the document. Taking the sheet off the pad, Kaia headed over to her desk against the far wall of the apartment, sticking it inside the dual photocopier and printer and printed out two copies. Changmin, who had followed her again, frowned at the action.

“We keep the original safe and the other two are for us each,” Kaia explained and he made nodded before taking his copy. She slowly folded her own, amazed it had gotten this far. Placing both the original and the copy in the desk drawer, Kaia then turned to face the Korean, looking into his eyes for a hint of hesitance.

He smirked as if he read her mind. “What? Do you think you can easily scare me off with the idea, Kai? Remember, it was me telling you I had more experience than you in this field.”

“I’m sure you’ve had more than the average person,” Kaia rebutted defensively, watching Changmin’s expression crease in annoyance. She smiled, feeling a little better with the return to the usual bickering nature. He walked over to the couch and beckoned her over, his hands now resting on his thighs. Kaia took in his slightly awkward stance and then swallowed for the umpteenth time as she sat a little further down the couch than she usually would, the side of the furniture digging into her hip bone. She winced before edging closer to the tall man.

To say it was tense in the room was a complete understatement. They both sat there for a moment, hyperaware of each other’s company. And then finally Changmin caught her eye. He smiled. “So, should we try and figure out what we like and dislike about each other?”

“Are you sure? You’re not too tired from your trip back?”

He shook his head. “Wide awake.”

“Ah, well then I guess it would be good to research this a little,” Kaia agreed, moistening her lips to somewhat prepare for whatever was about to happen. Changmin mirrored the action and his head started to lower towards hers as Kaia clamped her eyes shut. She could feel his mouth hesitating just centimetres from hers, his breath hitting her face. Finally, they pressed against hers and they kissed briefly before he pulled away. Kaia opened her eyes and stared into his chocolate embers, wondering what would happen next. Changmin smiled weakly before leaning back in, his kiss a little harder this time. Her arms went to the base of his neck to make it more comfortable as they continued to kiss until she couldn’t breathe anymore.

“Well, that’s not too bad,” he announced and Kaia nodded, smiling as her lips tingled from his embrace. However, the position they had somehow ended up in on the small couch was now hurting and she gently pushed him off, righting herself and rubbing the shoulder blade that had been lodged on the arm of the chair. Changmin chuckled lightly and pointed at the bedroom door. “Should we perhaps take this to somewhere easier to explore on?”

Kaia got up and pulled Changmin to his feet, leading him towards her sanctuary. Her heart beat faster as she swung open the door, cringing at the messy nature of her room. There was no need to turn on the light and Changmin seemed more interested in continuing than the fact clothes were strewn over the floor. Once the door was closed, he gently guided her back to the bed, her body falling onto it. He bent down to capture her lips and climbed onto the bed above Kaia, their bodies soon tangling up as the making out progressed. Although it was becoming less awkward the longer she kissed him, Kaia felt her body freeze when he reached for the zip on his hoodie. All the same, she helped him out of it a moment later and then his tee too, leaving his upper body bare in front of her. Kaia couldn’t help but be slightly in awe at his well-defined body, though she wasn’t about to admit that to him. Changmin already had enough ego to deal with.

“You okay?” he asked and she nodded slowly, reaching for his lips again. She sighed as his bare skin came into contact with hers, their bodies rolling on the blankets so Kaia was now on top. After a little more kissing, they separated, eyes connecting for a moment.

It was still too awkward.

“This isn’t working well, is it?” Kaia mentioned and Changmin sighed heavily, rubbing his face as he shook his head. “Maybe it’s because it’s not very natural?”

“That must be it.” Changmin pulled his hand away and sat up. “Because it’s nice. What we’re doing I mean.”

“Oh, yeah,” she said, now fiddling with her curls. “It’s not bad, though it’s not flowing very well.”

“Should we leave it to better timing then?” Changmin proposed and Kaia nodded her head instantly, relief coursing throughout. She noted a similar expression on his face, his smile broadening and he reached for his clothes. “I guess I should get going.”

“Good idea, you need to rest after your trip home. And I have work in the morning.” I glanced at the bedside clock. “Which isn’t that far off.”

“Shall I let myself out then?” Kaia nodded. Changmin shifted away from her and got dressed, zipping his hoodie up and then got to his feet. He glanced down at her with hesitation, and then with a quick nod, he bent down to kiss her cheek before heading for the bedroom door. He waved whilst disappearing out into the living area, her ears listening for the front door to close behind him. When it did, Kaia let out a heavy sigh, darting her focus distractedly around the room.

She knew it was going to be nearly impossible to sleep now.

Two days slipped by quickly. Kaia had been incredibly busy working with one of the new staff members at the office. It was slightly an odd experience to have a man working with the otherwise female team at Korea Star, but Keith had fitted in well already. He was older and came from New Zealand, but his love for KPOP and Korean culture was obvious. He was clearly meant to live in the Korean capital.

“What do you think of this article on the upcoming return for Kara?” the man asked, and Kaia scooted her chair closer to him, scanning the document he had drafted up. She smiled; he certainly had a knack for quirky sentences that made the piece interesting and fun to read.

“Submit it to Minah now.”

“You really think so?” he asked and she nodded, sharing a grin with him. “Thanks Kaia, I’m so glad you are helping me with my projects!”

“Its fine, I’m actually enjoying the pairing up. I thought I wouldn’t be of much use, but it seems we make a good team!” she told the older man, and he chuckled, giving her a high five before returning back to his screen. Kaia moved back to my own work with a smile, hurrying to finish editing for the day.

Turning off the computer screen two hours later, Kaia got up and grabbed her belongings, slinging the bag over her shoulder and pushing the chair in. The rest of her workmates weren’t nearly as fast as she was to pack up, and Keith shot her an odd expression.

“Not staying for the debriefing?”

Kaia shook her head. “I have to get going.”

“She always leaves early every other Thursday, though she never will tell us where she goes,” Sungra piped up and Kaia gave her a look, shaking her head lightly at the girl.

“I do have other places to be other than writing news for the fans daily, you know.”

“So does that mean you’re not coming for drinks either then?” Keith asked with a pout, and Kaia gave him a warm smile. “Can’t you skip for once; I was hoping to celebrate my post getting the most views today!”

She shook her head and stepped away. “Sorry, I can’t miss this appointment. Rain-check?”

“I’m holding you to it!” he called as she fare-welled them all before darting out of the building. Taking the usual train route, she headed for the SM Entertainment premises. It was now raining as Kaia dashed out from the tube and she grumbled that she forgot her umbrella as she hurried towards the building. Once inside the building, she stopped to collect my breath and then made her way to the elevator, navigating the maze of corridors to her classroom.

She was almost at her destination when her hand was suddenly taken by something warm, her eyes snapping up to Changmin’s face. Kaia frowned but allowed him to drag her down the hallway in the opposite direction before opening a door. He glanced both ways before shoving her inside, closing the door behind them and then locked it.

“Changmin, what the-”

“I need you,” he intervened, his lips crashing down on hers. Kaia didn’t hesitate to drop everything in her grasp and pressed up against him. Unlike last time, the atmosphere was hungry and she felt his hands slip to her waist, soon lifting her up and putting her against the wall of what Kaia assumed was one of the many towel closets. With her arms laced around his neck to steady herself, she let out a small moan as he kissed a path down her chin and onto her damp skin.

Kaia realised that the deal they had created had officially begun. And she didn’t want it to stop.

_________________

Part 7

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philsdrill · 6 years

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Make You Feel at Home

Summary: After struggling through the last few days of the US tour, Dan and Phil take time to recover. Dan has to think fast on how to deal with a homesick and anxious Phil before they fly across the world to Australia.

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: homesickness, one mention of being a little bit ill, slight fear of flying

A/N: Guess who birthed this little fic baby in one afternoon? Clearly I needed a break from writing chaptered. Also thank you so much to @knlalla for helping me get rid of my oversupply of commas and weird grammar.

AO3

The last few days of the US tour had been a struggle for Phil; Dan could see that. He hadn’t been sleeping well, and he’d been a little ill, which had drained an extra bit of energy out of him. He’d a rough night on the bus, followed by a hotel fire alarm the next night. After the last date in Vancouver, the two of them had collapsed into their bed for the night, finally getting a night of sleep with an opportunity for a lie in in the morning.

The next morning disappeared as the two of them slept well into the afternoon. It didn’t matter now if their sleep schedule was awful, with them about to fly to Australia in a few days. For now, all that mattered was that they got some rest and recovered from the long time they’d spent on the road. They had a couple of days to get their clothes washed, to let their injuries heal, to let their bodies recover before they got back to work again in a week’s time.

Dan eventually woke up properly about two pm, a slight headache telling him he needed to drink some water and maybe eat something. He slowly sat up in bed, then after a moment’s stretching, set off across the room to get himself some water. He’d wake Phil up in a minute, once he had himself together.

Dan knew that Phil was the more tired out of the two of them; Phil was used to getting good nights of sleep, whereas Dan could function on less sleep if he needed to. Anyway, it was time they got up, so that they could experience at least some of the day before it was night again. He gently woke Phil up, knowing that it wouldn’t necessarily be an easy feat.

It was ten minutes before Dan had Phil sitting up, placing his glasses on his nose and a glass of water in his hand as he leant back against the headboard. He seemed the better for having slept so long, but Dan could see in his eyes that he still wasn’t feeling one-hundred percent. Dan found him some paracetamol, then sat down next to him with the room service menu in his hands.

“Let’s get some food,” Dan said, his voice still warm and full of sleep.

Dan shuffled the menu halfway onto Phil’s lap so they could both read it, pointing out the section with the pancakes.

“I think I’m going to get banana and berry granola,” Dan said after a few minutes’ consideration, “You?”

“Just toast and orange juice,” Phil yawned, “And coffee. Not sure I’m feeling up to pancakes this morning.”

“Okay,” Dan nodded, thinking how unlike Phil it was to not have pancakes given the option, but he knew Phil wouldn’t appreciate him pointing it out.

Dan made his way to the room’s phone, a long standing agreement between he and Phil that he did all the room service orders. It didn’t take him long to reel off the order, then he returned to Phil, settling back onto the bed next to him, where he would stay until there was a knock at the door.

“What d’you want to do today?” Dan asked softly. “Just stay here and relax?”

“Yeah,” Phil nodded, “I think taking a shower is the most effort I’m willing to go to today.”

“Fair enough,” Dan smiled, “We can lay in bed and catch up on some shows; sounds good.”

When the room service arrived, the two tucked into their food, Dan throughorly enjoying his granola while Phil munched slowly on his toast. Dan was a little worried about him at first, but when he finished his toast, his juice and his coffee, Dan knew he was doing okay. He remained quiet for a bit, but it was noticeable when he started to benefit from the energy, a hint of a smile finding his face, then enough motivation to get out of bed to go to the bathroom and brush his teeth.

The day progressed quite strangely, with little routine. After they had both brushed their teeth, they sat on their phones for a while, catching up on social media, Dan releasing a relatable tweet to the world and Phil quietly liking a few things on twitter. Dan dug out his laptop to go on tumblr, and at that point, Phil headed off into the bathroom for his shower.

Whilst the two would sometimes shower together, today wasn’t a day for that. Maybe Phil wouldn’t have minded a little back rub and a gentle head massage, but Dan knew Phil also appreciated his alone time. A shower was a good place for clearing your mind and developing new thoughts, so hopefully it would do Phil some good.

What Dan didn’t expect was Phil to return to the room in a towel, tears streaming down his face and merging with droplets of water. Dan quickly abandoned his tumblr dashboard and opened his arms to Phil, mumbles of ‘what’s wrong?’ and ‘are you okay?’

“I miss home,” Phil sobbed. “I just want my bed and my own shower gel and things that smell familiar and…”

“Oh Phil,” Dan said softly, bringing both arms around his damp partner. “I know it’s a while yet, but we’ll be back before you know it.”

“I just feel like we’re going further away from home and I’m not sure I want to anymore,” Phil cried, “But I don’t want to disappoint anyone.”

Dan, knowing it was up to him to convince Phil back into a positive mindset, started to remind Phil of all the things he’d been looking forward to about these places. “You’re going to get to see a koala again. You’re going to get to see the beauty of New Zealand in person. You’re going to have the opportunity to make a silly name pun in The Philippines. You’re going to get to see India for the first time, go back to Singapore and Hong Kong. I know it’s a lot, but it’s going to be exciting, and at the end of it, we’ll be going home. I propose we have Pyjama Week 2.0 when we get back, but for now we’re having a mini pyjama day today in a hotel room, which is the most we can manage at the moment. It’s going to be okay, Phil. I promise you’ve got your energy back and we’re back doing the show and meeting people.”

“Yeah, I know it’s going to be good. I just miss home and wish we could go back for a bit first. I want to see my parents and my plants and just sleep in our own bed for a night or two,” Phil said, still sounding sad, but not crying so much anymore.

“How about you message your parents and see if they’re free to Skype today or tomorrow?” Dan suggested. “Would that help? It’s been a while since you last did that.”

“I think it would yeah,” Phil nodded, “I miss them.”

“Well let’s message them now while we remember,” Dan said, reaching away from Phil for a moment to grab his phone.

“What shall I say?” Dan said, opening up a message to Phil’s mum, “How about… ‘Hi Kath, Phil was wondering if you and Nigel are free to Skype at some point today or tomorrow? He’s feeling a little homesick and we think it would be good for him to catch up with you while we’ve got a couple days off’ ?”

“You don’t need to say about me being homesick,” Phil groaned, “But the rest of it’s okay.”

“Phil, I think it’s best to be honest and straight up about that. I don’t want them worrying about you if you seem a bit sad and tired,” Dan said, his finger hovering over the send button. “It’s from me.”

Phil realised he should just trust Dan’s opinion and okayed the message, letting Dan send it off to his mum. Dan never expected a reply so quickly, but he had one in moments.

We are about to get ready for bed, so either tomorrow or right now? What would Phil like?

With this reply, they were reminded of how late it was at home, but delaying it until tomorrow didn’t seem to sit well with Phil. There was a sense of fragility in his eyes, in the way he held himself, and Dan knew that Phil’s mum would probably be able to help with that.

I think tonight would be best - sorry for keeping you out of bed.

Dan quickly received another message, saying that they would put the computer on and they’d be ready in five minutes. In this time, Dan got Phil’s laptop set up while Phil got dressed in his pyjamas. Thankfully he had no reservations about his mum seeing him in his pjs, fresh out the shower, with slightly red-rimmed eyes from crying.

Dan wanted to give Phil the space he needed, so he asked Phil if he wanted to be beside him or at the other side of the room. They quickly settled that Phil would sit on the bed, and Dan would be at the table at the other side of the room.

When Dan heard the familiar Skype ringtone, he left Phil to it and settled down to work on editing a gaming video, keeping himself from intruding on Phil’s conversation. He put on his headphones, but had one ear slightly out from under the padding, so that he could hear if he was needed or being spoken about.

Dan got a good half hour of work in, very productive apart from the odd glance over at Phil to see if he was doing okay. It was one of these glances that brought to his attention that Phil was in tears. He whipped off his headphones and padded across the room to where Phil was sat on the bed, hiding his face in his hands.

As he approached and heard the audio from the Skype call, he heard Kath’s worried voice, “Phil, where’s Dan? Is he with you? Do I need to message him?”

“I’m here,” Dan spoke up, climbing onto the bed and getting into the shot with Phil, “Was across the room with headphones, what’s happening?”

“Phil was saying he’s anxious for the flight,” Kath said, as Dan took Phil into his arms, “The long one to Australia.”

“You are?” Dan asked softly, “You didn’t say anything?”

“I didn’t really think about how long it was when we booked it… and just now it’s getting close, it’s finally sinking in… I don’t know if I can do it,” Phil sobbed.

“I will play ‘I spy…’ with you for eighteen hours if it helps,” Dan told Phil, hugging him, but still conscious he was in front of Phil’s mum, “And it was twenty-three when we flew from London, so you’ve done longer than this before and you survived that.”

“But my legs were so squashed…” Phil said, trailing off.

“You know we paid for the fanciest seats on the plane,” Dan reminded Phil, rubbing his hand down Phil’s back, “The ones with the most leg room and all the perks. We’re not going economy; it’s not going to be cramped.”

“Phil,” Katherine spoke up from the laptop. “You’ve done a harder flight before; you’re going to be okay. You’ve got Dan by your side if you get anxious and an eighteen hour game of ‘I spy…’ sounds good, doesn’t it?”

Dan turned to Phil’s mum, still keeping his arms around Phil, “I think he’ll be fine with it when we get to it; he’s just had a hard couple of days and I think he’s still quite tired, despite a long lie in. I think this anxiety will pass.”

“Get some rest in the next couple of days, Phil,” Kath said softly, “And you too, Dan, but Phil, you look like you need it.”

“I will, mum,” Phil said, nodding, brushing the tears away from his eyes, obviously feeling a little better in that he was looking slightly embarrassed.”

“I think we should let you go for now,” Kath said, “But we can speak again if you want while you’re still in Canada.”

“Thank you, mum,” Phil said softly, looking into the screen.

“Go have a cup of tea and maybe get some fresh air and see how you feel,” she told him. “We’ll be going to bed, but I’m sure Dan’ll look out for you.”

“I will,” Dan said firmly, giving Phil’s parents a little smile, “And thanks for taking the time to talk to Phil; I think he needed that.”

Phil nodded his agreement to that, and then the Lester’s started saying goodbye to each other, Phil curled into Dan’s chest, but paying all his attention to his mum and dad, as it was their last few moments on screen.

When the call was over, Dan took Kath’s advice by making Phil a cup of tea and then dragging him out onto the balcony to drink it. They stayed out there for a while, even after Phil’s cup was empty, talking over Phil’s anxieties, the change of scenery helping to bring a change in his brain. Phil would be okay for the plane, Dan was confident in that, but he’d stick by Phil’s side and give him all the support he needed until then.

As it got late and the sun started to go down, the two of them headed back into their room, pyjamas no longer warm enough for sitting on the balcony. They ordered some room service for dinner, and over their food, discussed their plans for tomorrow. Dan thought they should explore the city a little more, so they felt a bit more situated and less like they had no idea where they were. He wanted to make tomorrow’s evening about self care and looking after themselves, something that Phil needed. They’d do some shopping to buy some supplies for that: maybe a bathbomb, some face masks, some snacks. Dan had a vision, and he knew Phil would appreciate it in the end.

The two men went to bed quite early, at least quite early for them. It had been a short day and despite how much they’d slept in, some more sleep would do them good. Dan made sure to hold Phil close for the night, hoping that maybe he’d feel at home enough in Dan’s arms.

The following day found them exploring the city of Vancouver a little more, treating themselves to some ice cream as they walked through a park. Stanley Park was giant, and by no means did they see all of it, but from what they did, it was beautiful, walking amongst the trees, enjoying ice cream, enjoying nature. It was really what they needed to get out of their hotel room and into the world, where they had time to think, but not think too hard. They couldn’t exactly hold hands in public, but the peace of walking together was enough for them.

After spending a while in the park, they slowly made their way home, via a few shops to pick up some things for their evening of relaxation. They took a trip into Lush, and after a lot of sniffing, picked out the perfect bath bomb for the two of them to share. They headed into Shoppers Drug Mart for a few other things: some toiletries they’d been running out of, a fancy moisturiser and face masks, of course.

Their last stop before returning to their hotel was a supermarket, where they picked up some snacks, some comfort food: cookies and popcorn and Dorito’s; everything they needed to add some flavour to their evening.

By the time they got back to their hotel, both Dan and Phil were complaining to each other about their legs hurting, having walked further than they’d expected to. They were more than ready to sink into their bed, to order some take-away and spend the evening pampering themselves.

After eating a moderate amount of food with all the dips, with a show playing in the background, they settled into each other’s arms for a while. The bath would come next, but they both wanted time to digest their dinner before that.

When they finished the third episode of the show, Dan got up, cracking his back and padding across the room to their bag of purchases from earlier, “So Phil… you ready for that bath?”

With a grin and a ‘yeee’ from Phil, the two of them headed to the bathroom to drop the bath bomb into the bath and watch it dissolve into all its beautiful colours. The bright colours weren’t quite Dan’s aesthetic, but what did aesthetic matter when one was enjoying a private moment with their partner. He liked the scent, and it was Phil’s favourite, so that was what mattered.

When the bath was full and the bomb dissolved, the two stripped of their clothes and settled into the bath, Dan being Phil’s pillow today, letting Phil lean back against his chest and be enveloped by his body. Now that they had the privacy and all the time in the world, Dan took it upon himself to give Phil a back rub, to rub softly, then more firmly, easing most of the tension from his lover’s back.

With some of Phil’s favourite shampoo, which they’d picked up in the drugstore, Dan rubbed his fingers into Phil’s scalp, taking longer than he needed to lather the shampoo because he knew it would feel good. This had Phil’s eyes fluttering shut as he melted back into Dan, enjoying the fingers softly rubbing his head.

The two men stayed in the bath until the water went cold, until the warm towels on the towel rail got too tempting to stay in the cooling water any longer. They quickly rinsed off the remnants of the bath bomb with the shower before wrapping themselves up in the warm towels.

Before leaving the bathroom, they got their facemasks out of the packet and applied them to each other. Like the cat whiskers from TATINOF, it made sense, as they could see the other’s face better than their own.

In towels and facemasks, they returned to their room. It didn’t matter if they looked stupid, because they looked stupid together. They settled down on their bed to enjoy some snacks, some comfort food, pulling up another show on Dan’s laptop. They laid together for a while, indulging in the food and enjoying the show, until eventually, tiredness got the better of them and they had to finish getting ready for bed.

They settled down for the night in each other’s arms, relaxed and full of warmth. Enjoying time in each other’s presence was almost like being at home and the two of them were a lot better mentally from it.

The remainder of their time in Vancouver was spent trying to relax, trying to recover, trying to feel at home, before they set off to the other side of the world. In the end, the flight to Australia was no problem for Phil, and once they got settled back into the routine of the tour, Phil’s homesickness got left behind somewhere. He’d be happy for when they eventually did get back to London, but for the time being, Dan was his home.

hope you enjoyed!

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#phanfic #phanfiction #phan #phan fluff #phan comfort #comfort #fluff #dan and phil #dnp #interactive introverts tour fic #tour fic #ii tour fic #ii tour #fanfic #bathbombs #facemasks #self care #homesick phil

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panda-noosh · 6 years

Text

Action!{P2}{Lance x YouTuber!Reader}{AU}

Words: 4300

Summary: Being a YouTube guru is hard enough without the added stress of living with Lance McClain, the man who insists on bombarding into every YouTube video you try to film. His viewers love him, and so do you.

Pairing: Lance x YouTuber!Reader

Note: p1 - p3 - p4 - p5 - p6 - p7 ;

“Are you still editing that video?”

Lance's arms swung around the back of the wooden chair you had been propped up in for the past three hours, his hands draping over your shoulders as he bends down and leans his head in the crook of your neck. You can feel his eyes trailing over your lit up computer screen at the hours worth of work you had been dealing with nearly all day.

You hollow out your cheeks, barely energized enough to answer. Every fibre of your concentration had been put into making this video absolutely perfect – it was your two million subscriber special. The video contents in itself was nothing spectacular – you talking to the camera with the glistening sight of tears bubbling in your eyes as you thank your viewers – all two million of them – for changing your life completely.

Despite the video being easy going, the editing had been seen as a complete nightmare. You had to make so many cuts to the original product, embarrassed by the amount of times you had to duck your head into your hands and shake your head in disbelief. Your viewers didn't want to see that kind of stuff. They wanted to see you talking, your thankfulness towards them that you struggled to put into words throughout the entire thing.

“How long is the video going to be?” Lance asks whenever you don't reply to his previous question. “Is it another make up tutorial?”

You shake your head, leaning back in the wooden seat and placing your head against Lance's stomach, inhaling the scent of cologne and wind he had coming off of his pilot suit which he had yet to change out of from his day at training.

“It's not going to be very long by the looks of things,” you explain. “And nope. It's just me talking. I didn't know what else to do for it.”

Lance scoffs. “I'm sure that massive list of video ideas in your phone begs to differ.”

“I needed to do something special,” you grumble. “I just don't feel like this is the right video. I want to do something big for it, but – I dunno. I'll upload this when I'm done editing-”

“You're gonna be done editing now,” Lance insists, and before you can stop him, he's closed the lid on your laptop, making the room go dark. You squeal, lurching out of his grip and scrambling for the MacBook, only for Lance to scoop it up in his arms and raise it higher above his head – so high that you can't reach it.

“Lance McClain, give me that back! I need to finish the video!”

Lance rolls his eyes, tossing the laptop onto the bed behind him. “You're gonna burn yourself out. You need rest.”

“I'll rest once the video is uploading.”

“Your viewers won't mind waiting one more day for a video. It's not even your upload day today.”

You pout, knowing he's right. This was often a problem you faced with yourself – you got worked up over your work schedule. Everything had to be done perfectly, but in record time, or else you wouldn't be pleased with your level of productivity. You overworked yourself to the point where your head would start to hurt and nothing but the job in front of you was worth worrying about.

Lance pouts back at you, folding his arms over his chest. “Now, how about I order us some take out and we sit on the couch and watch old movies? I'm exhausted.”

You nod your head in agreement, still pouting. Lance chuckles, leaning in and giving your pouting lips a soft peck.

“Stop huffing with me,” he whispers, pulling away only a few centimetres. “You like me too much to be huffing with me.”

He gives you one last award winning smile before walking out of the room to go and order the take out he had promised you. He leaves the room, but his aura and his affect on you stays with you as you stare at the laptop he had tossed onto the bed so carelessly.

The butterflies jump around in your stomach so freely and so naturally that you can't help but let the smile appear on your face at the feel of them. Before, the idea of Lance giving you this feeling would have terrified you. Now it was welcomed. Now it was one of the only things that stopped you from working yourself into the ground.

After you and Lance had made things official, things became quiet on your YouTube channel when it came to him. You didn't think too much of it. Pretending to be nothing more than friends would have been increasingly difficult for him, so he simply didn't show up in your videos as often as he used to.

You didn't know whether going public was a good idea or not. You wanted to. Hell, you wanted to flaunt Lance around as your boyfriend as much as you could, but it was Lance's life that you had to think about. Whilst you had already made the decision to put your entire life out there for people to see, he still had that choice and you refused to selfishly make it for him.

So that left you where you were now – pretending that Lance was still just your room mate. Pretending that you two were just friends.

Maybe one day he would open up to the idea. Until then, you were willing to give him his moment.

“I hate black and white movies.”

“You're too young.”

“We're the same age.”

Lance shoots you a glare as the olden day, black and white movie plays on the TV in front of you, looking grainy as the old disk clashes with the new technology you had put it inside of. It wasn't made for a flat screen TV. They didn't have those when this film was being played.

You roll your eyes at his stern glare, snuggling closer to his chest nonetheless. The buttons on his silk pyjama top are enough to keep you occupied throughout the entire film, your nimble fingers messing with them as Lance endulges himself in watching it. His mouth is open a little bit as the characters play out over-dramatic fights that would get anyone fired if they decided to act like that in the modern Hollywood. His fingers play with the hem of your short sleeve as his arm is draped over your shoulder, keeping you firm under his arm.

It was nights like these that you learned to truly appreciate the years of friendship Lance had given you before you two had decided to become a couple. Back then, you would have done anything for Lance to just hurry up and ask you out. Back then, the idea of a friendship being stronger than a relationship was beyond you, and so you thought it would have been simple for him to simply ask you out and work from there. A new beginning with barely anything to keep it upright.

But now, as you lay against his chest, playing with shirt and his arm draped over you, those years of friendship seem almost vital. Because you know full well you would never be comfortable sitting like this with somebody you knew for only a few months. You would never open yourself up to somebody like you had opened yourself up to Lance, and it was all down to those years of platonic pining you had kept for one another.

You inhale deeply, snuggling your nose into the fabric of his pyjama top. His fingers twitch slightly at your movements, and it is then that he shifts his fingers from your shoulders and begins to mess with the ends of your hair, which lay frizzed up and unbrushed against your back now.

“Why are you so uncomfortable looking?” Lance asks. You look up at him, one hand gripping his top whilst the other lays idly against the sofa.

“I'm perfectly comfortable,” you reply, and you're not lying.

Lance raises a brow nonetheless, bouncing his chest a little bit as a way to tease you. Your head bounces with the movement before clumsily falling back into his chest, an action which makes him grunt himself.

You giggle, sitting upright in his grip. He groans, throwing his head back as he tries to pull you back into him, but your hands dart out to stop him.

“You ruined my comfort!” you exclaim, shoving his arm roughly.

His eyes widen, a playful smile tweaking his lips. “You were laying on me! I was uncomfortable!”

“You could have just said,” you hiss, slumping down against the cushion across from him. “And by the way, your taste in movies sucks.”

Lance's eyes widen even further, his playful grin falling into a deathly frown that has you giggling uncontrollably. “You take that back.”

“I won't.”

“Yes, you will.”

“It's the truth! Don't hate on me just because you can't handle the-”

Lance doesn't let you finish before he's dived towards you, hands finding their way under your pyjama top so he can attack the bare skin underneath. You squeal, arching your back in an attempt to get out of his grip as his fingers make work of tickling your burning skin. Every inch of you that he touches burns, lights up with a passion you had never felt with anybody else.

You want to remember moments like these. Perhaps its the creator in you that wants to document everything, but something in you just screams at you to document this moment in the only way you have ever known how to. In the way you had been doing for six years now.

Your hands darts out, shaking at the way Lance makes your body move and wriggle, and grabs at the vlogging camera on the coffee table. Lance doesn't see it at first, head buried in your neck in an attempt to keep you still so he can continue to torture you with tickles.

You click it on and press 'record,' the camera making it's usual 'PING' noise, and it is then that Lance freezes, his hands coming to a halt on your warm skin.

You gasp in an attempt to catch your breath, the camera hovering between you and Lance as you breathlessly tell him to, “Say hi to the vlog channel!”

But his frown says otherwise. You look up at him, confusion taking over. He's always been so lively in front of your vlog camera. He's always been a person to appear in your vlogs, and every time he shows his face, you know he's going to put on some kind of show. He loves appearing in them.

Or so you originally thought.

But today, something is clearly different, as he grumbles incoherent words and places his hands over the lens, pushing the camera out of his face. You watch on in confusion, quick to put the camera down as Lance clambers up off the sofa, snatching the polystyrene container that contained his Chinese food off of the coffee table and entering the dark kitchen.

You don't really believe it at first. Was he okay? Did you do something wrong? He was so happy only moments before, but it seemed like the presence of the camera had turned him in a way you had never seen before.

“Lance?” you call out into the dark kitchen. Lance switches the kitchen light on at the sound of your voice, showing off his frustrated features that had changed so much from the happy, grinning and teasing smile he was showing you only moments before.

You place the camera back onto the coffee table and clamber up off the sofa, standing in the centre of the living room awkwardly. It was very rare that you and Lance ever fought, so you had close to no idea how to react. He was always the one who wanted to find some way to fix things, but now he seemed like he was genuinely angry at you, and you had no idea why.

“A-Are you okay?” you ask, messing with your fingers.

Lance pulls his bottom lip into his teeth, nibbling on the skin. “I don't wanna be on the vlog.”

You nod hesitantly. “That's alright. You don't have to get mad. I won't-”

“No, Y/N, I'm not mad,” he huffs out, running his hands through his hair. “It's just – I don't – People can't see us like this.”

You swear he can your heartbeat. It's too loud. It's pumping in your chest at one thousand miles an hour and you don't know how to slow it down. “Like this? What does that mean?” You struggle to keep the rage out of your voice, his simple words cutting so deep into your chest that you're sure it will physically leave a bruise there.

“Like this. As a couple,” he replies, dropping the ball immediately. Your hands tighten in your pyjama shirt but you don't say anything. Your throat has gone dry and you're struggling to formulate any words that might sound plausible in this moment. “I don't need the public attention and you certainly don't need any more questions about me being asked. I want people to like your YouTube channel for you, and I – I don't wanna be involved in it.”

All you can do is stare at him for a moment. Judging by the sound of his voice, you know he doesn't mean to hurt you, but the words cut into your heart and become mangled in your brain, rearranged to form sentences which haunt you and make you feel worthless.

YouTube had been something Lance had supported you with from the moment you two met until now. Whilst other people had found the concept weird, you knew you had hit the bullseye with Lance whenever he had told you how cool he thought it was. That was one of the reasons you liked him so much – he wasn't weirded out by your job or your dreams or the crazy ideas your overactive brain always made up. He helped you out. He kept you sane.

And now he was throwing that all away, telling you he didn't want to be associated with your channel. You don't understand why, but it makes you feel smaller. It makes you feel like how you felt all them years ago whenever you had first told your parents about your source of income – they had looked at you like you were some kind of disappointment, eyebrows raised and mouths open as if they were trying to figure it all out.

“We just don't really understand that kind of thing, so if you could keep it out of our house, that would be helpful.” That was what they had told you, basically forcing you to leave the confines of the family home so you could continue on with your dream.

People always had a way of making you feel like less of a hard worker just because your job consisted of you doing what you wanted. No, you didn't have to get up early and no, you didn't have some busy schedule and no, you didn't have to deal with rude customers every two seconds like other people did. But that didn't mean your job was any less difficult or any less daunting than your average job.

Lance had always been the one to understand that, but now it seemed like things were changing.

You swallow thickly, looking down at the ground in an attempt to fight back tears. Years of fighting back against people who said your job was too stupid to make a living off of, and yet here you were, suddenly feeling like everything you worked for was coming crashing down, all because of the man you thought would support you through it all.

“That's fine,” you say, your voice cracking slightly. “As I said, you don't need to get mad. I won't film you.”

Lance sighs. You hear it loud and clear, the remnants of his previous frustration still evident within it. It was odd to hear Lance like that. It was even weirder to know that you were the reason behind it.

“I'm sorry, okay?” Lance says. “I didn't mean to get mad. I just – I don't want our relationship to be flaunted on your channel for the whole world to see. You flaunt everything else on it, and I've seen the reactions people give. I don't want that for us.”

“I understand, Lance. You don't need to explain.”

Lance takes a step towards you, decides against it and settles for leaning against the counter. “Then why do you still sound mad?”

“I'm not mad,” you grunt, looking up to meet his eyes. “I'm just tired. Long editing day. I'm going to bed.”

It takes every fibre of your strength, but you manage to turn on your heel and leave the living room, jogging up the stairs to your room – your room.

For the past few months, you had been sleeping in Lance's room beside him. You hadn't even sat on your bed since you and Lance confessed to each other, meaning the small room was extremely cold and the bed was unfamiliar and all you wanted was to wrap your arms around Lance and rest your head on his shoulder and hear his tired breaths as he fell into sleep, but your heart weighed you down with this sudden realisation that maybe, just maybe, your career bothered Lance more than you had originally thought.

The sunshine of downtown wasn't enough to brighten up the shitty morning you had suffered through that day.

Lance had gotten up early for work, and you two had barely said hello to each other whenever you went downstairs for breakfast. You had awkwardly sent him a smile, told him about your plans to go and see your friends this morning, and then waved him off. Not even a goodbye kiss, or a joke shared between the two of you like the mornings usually brought.

You didn't want such a simple thing to effect you. So what if he didn't like your YouTube channel? So what if he didn't want to be featured on it? There were plenty of people who were camera shy-

But that was the thing. Lance had proven time and time again that he was no where near camera shy. He enjoyed the attention being put on him – so what was changing now? What had your new-found romance and love for each other stolen from his confidence that suddenly made him wary of the camera?

“Hello? Earth to Y/N. We're still here, you know!”

Your eyes dart open, the warmth from the coffee you were holding suddenly spreading up your arm and burning your palm. You hiss, tugging your hand away from the cup and placing your hand face-down on the cold garden table you were sat around with two of your best friends, Emma and Samuel.

“Sorry,” you say, looking up at Emma and smiling in an attempt to hide the pain scratching at your chest. Her dark skin glowed underneath the sunlight today, her yellow summer dress a perfect contrast to her dark complexion and the large bed of hair she had, perfectly styled into it's usual, perky Afro.

Samuel sat to your left, his wheelchair replacing the summer chair that the table once occupied. You hadn't realised that your free hand was nervously squeezing the arm chair to his wheel chair, and he was glancing down at it in confusion.

“What's gotten you so distracted today?” Emma asks, taking a sip of her slushie. “You seem a bit out of it.”

“Me?” you play off. “No. I'm okay. Just tired. I was up all night editing a new video and-”

“I told that Lance boy to make sure you get your sleep,” Samuel cuts you off, shaking his head in faux disappointment. “But I suppose he would much rather keep you up then get you sleeping, if you know what I mean.” Your best friend suggestively wiggled his eyebrows at you, making you nearly choke on the warm air around you.

You shake your head quickly, waving your hands in front of your face to further dismiss the idea. “N-No! No, of course not! It's still only early days, you guys. Give us a chance to settle in.”

“Settle in?” Emma barks, slapping her hand against the table. Samuel squeals at the volume of the action, turning to Emma with a glare in his eyes that she quickly pushes away by keeping her gaze locked on yours. “Sweetie, you've lived with the boy for nearly three years now. How much more time do you need to get settled in?”

“We were living together as friends,” you say. “Not – like this.”

“This? Why are you talking about your relationship like it's some kind of STD?”

You wince, closing your eyes tightly and rubbing your thumbs into your eyelids, as if doing so will pause the conversation for a moment and give you a chance to settle your brain.

“Give the girl a break,” Samuel sighs, sipping on his beverage. “It's kind of like me with my accident – I was perfectly fine living with Austin whenever my legs weren't completely useless, but it was a different situation all together after the accident. It was like we were starting fresh again.”

You nod your head gently, letting your hands fall into your lap. “Exactly.”

Emma rolls her soft brown eyes, a teasing smile playing at her lips as she leans across the table and takes your hand in hers. Her soft skin does wonders with making you calm down – the best friend thing, you knew. She knew how to calm you down and you knew how to calm her down.

“I'm only messing with you, Shortcake,” she says. “But to be fair, I haven't seen him on your channel the past few months. Not since you came back from LA, anyway. What's up with that?”

Samuel nods. “I would also like to know that.”

You swallow thickly, the reminder of last night flooding back into your brain and making you shift uncomfortably. It wouldn't be a bad thing to get it off your chest, to tell them what had happened and let somebody else deal with a bit of the burden as well, but the words get caught in your throat. The truth gets caught in your throat, because as much as you want to scream and shout at the top of your lungs, ask the Lord why your best is never good enough, you can't seem to find the confidence.

A part of you still believes it's your own fault for choosing this path anyway, knowing full well you would lose people in the process.

“He just – He doesn't want to be seen on the channel,” you force out, looking back and forth between Emma and Samuel.

Samuel is the first to show any kind of reaction. His eyebrow shoots up in concern, his grip tightening on the wheels of his wheelchair as if he was ready to leave then and there. It wasn't the reaction you were expecting, and it makes anxiety crawl into your throat.

“He doesn't want to be seen on the channel?” he parrots and you nod in confirmation. He shares a quick glance with Emma before turning back to you. “But hasn't he already been seen on it before?”

You nod gently. “Yes. But that was before we got together. Now he doesn't want to be seen on it-”

“What?” Emma scoffs. “He doesn't want to be seen on it because – because you two are a couple?”

Your eyes widen, urgency bubbling in the pit of your stomach. “What? No! I mean – kind of. Yes. But it sounds a lot worse than it really is. He's just shy of being in his first relationship, is all! I've got to understand that.”

Samuel hums, clearly unconvinced as he takes a long, drawn out sip of his iced tea. “I don't know how I feel about that, Y/N. Seems to me like the boy is being a tad bit ungrateful.”

“He's just worried, okay? We've gotta give him time.”

“To settle in,” Emma says, nudging Samuel's paralysed foot with her converse shoe. “At least we know he's not using you for money.”

You force a smile on your lips, nodding in mild agreement. “Yeah. At least we know that much.”

“The boys a damn pilot,” Samuel hisses. “He doesn't need to use our Y/N for money.” He shakes his head. “Anyway, enough talking about relationships. That shit makes my head go funny. How about we talk about the fact that I'm getting new specs in a few weeks, and I look incredible in them.”

The conversation drones out in your head. Emma and Samuel gush over the new glasses Samuel will soon be wearing, passing around iPhone pictures of him in Specsavers, but you can only concentrate on the echo of the truth which was buzzing around you now.

You would talk to Lance about it. You would have to, you knew. It was the adult thing to do instead of gossiping about your problems with your friends.

It would be sorted out, and you would be okay. You and Lance would be okay.

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sincerlyyme-blog · 7 years

Text

Someone (Jared Kleinman x Reader)

TW: a lil bit of smut, angst, offensive humor, and swearing

Words: 2,428

Requested: yes!

Disclaimer: THIS IS HARDLY EDITED AND IT JUMPS AROUND A LOT IM SORRY BUT ENJOY <3

Biology was a subject made by the devil. Learning about cells and other useless things was never the first thing on your mind. You wanted to be a writer, a poet, anything that didn’t relate to science. Sitting in your biology class made time go by at the pace of molasses. The class consisted of you, barely listening, scratching down lines of poems in the back of your notebook.

There was only one kid in your class who liked the work. Jared fucking Kleinman. The kid was a dork. You could practically see the imprints of his computer screen monitor in his glasses. All he ever did was answer questions without trying. When he would complete his work, he bothered the rest of his friends with dark memes that he either made or found on the internet; you could never tell which one it was.

It was end of May or early June, the time of year where teachers were handing out final assignments. The only thing you hated more than this class was the people in it. When you sat in your seat, you never looked up from your hands. You sneakily avoided all group work, by having the optional choice of doing it solo. It was this faithful afternoon that your teacher, Mrs.Price, broke that lonely streak.

She introduced the project with examples of previous work. The project was to look up sicknesses and how they affected the human body. A research paper and visual component were what made up of the project. Mrs.Price announced that it was a group project; rather pairs of twos. You sat up in your seat, getting ready to face the music that was playing against your favour. Glancing around the room, you played a game of platonic Tinder: who you wouldn’t mind being your partner, and who you would despise. Everyone in the class seemed pretty chill. They were either druggies or the popular kids who had too much of a social life to put in a lot of effort. The only person that you wouldn’t want to be paired up with would be-

“Jared Kleinman. Your partnered with Y/N L/N.”

Jared’s eyes darted up from his rubix cube and straight into your eyes. You groaned, laying your head back on your desk.

You didn’t know if you were annoyed by Jared, or scared of his witty intelligence. All that you knew is that you did not want to do this. Especially with mr-know-it-all.

Jared made his way over to the table, pushing his glasses further up his nose. “So, I was thinking that we could do thoriac squeeze for our project?” he spoke in a nasally tone.

You glanced up at the clock, marking down the five minutes you had left in this class. “Yeah, sure, whatever,” you huffed.

“Okay, so uh, come to my house some time tomorrow?” he mumbled, scratching his address and phone number on a piece of paper.

The bell rang.

Tomorrow came sooner than you had hoped. Saturday’s were your days off. But today you had to spend it with Kleinman. His house was a ten minute walk from yours. Sure, it wasn’t too close, but it was a nice walk in the warm weather. The spring air cleansed your lungs, and your skin bathed in the sunlight.

Jared lived in a nice house, one that you would see on TV. It was dark blue with white picket fences, leading up to the front door. On the sides of the house, yellow flowers were planted. There was a swing on the front porch and another walkway to, what you assumed was, a backyard.

Walking up the steps to the front door, you rang the doorbell. Whilst waiting for an answer, you took a look at the doormat underneath your feet. The doormat read, ‘Jew Makin’ Me Crazy’. You cringed in the slightest, continuing to stare at the article in disbelief.

The door swung open, revealing a small woman dressed in a blue pantsuit.

“Jared, your friend is here!” she yelled up towards the stair case. She opened the door even wider and stepped aside.

“Come on in, dear. It’s so nice to meet you!” she gave you a toothy grin.

“Honey, have you seen my- oh hello,” a older, balding man entered the room, removing some garden gloves off his hand. “Jared invited you over?” he asked with wide eyes.

This is entire experience was already so surreal, that you just nodded silently.

Jared padded his way downstairs. “Oh hey, you, uh, met my parents. Y/N, this is my mom and dad.” He introduced awkwardly.

You and Jared decided to start your project on his back porch. He had wanted to do it in the dining room, but you insisted otherwise, wanting to enjoy the nice weather.

Collectively, you two had finished the thesis and plan of development for your paper. You had started brain storming for your visual aspect until he interrupted you.

“So, what’s wrong with you?” he asked nonchantly.

“Excuse me?” you raised an eyebrow.

“Oh come, on, you know,” he sat up to look at you. “The whole bitch faced act to try and have a hard shell. So what is it? Daddy issues? Rebellious boyfriend?”

“I don’t have a boyfriend,” you reverted your attention back to the paper sitting in front of you.

“Then what’s with this whole mysterious act? You know, you can’t hide behind that for forever,” he spoke, without breaking his glance.

You whipped your head towards his direction, “What the hell is wrong with you? Don’t you know how incredibly rude that is?”

“Now we’re getting somewhere!” he clapped his hands with a grin.

“You’re actually the rudest, most insensitive person I know,” you grumbled, marking down on the piece of paper roughly.

“I can live with that,” he spoke clearly. His eyes traveled down to the belongings that laid beside your leg. “What’s this?” he mumbled, picking up a small leather bound notebook.

You jumped after him, grasping the notebook in one of your hands, only to fail when he snatched it back. “Give that back,” you spoke lowly.

“Why? What is it? Your diary?” he began to open a page.

You slapped it out of his hands, tears brimming in your eyes. Scrambling, you picked it back up, shoving it in your backpack and zipping it closed.

“Don’t touch my fucking stuff,” you spat, beginning to collect your things to leave.

Jared climbed onto his feet, resting a hand on your shoulder.

“Hey, wait, I-I was just kidding around… I didn’t mean to make you upset,” he spoke softly.

You spun around, pushing his hand off of your shoulder. “Well, congratulations, I guess you really are a try-hard.”

Jared caught your arm in his hand once more, pulling you closer. “Listen, I’m fucking sorry, okay? I just- I didn’t know how to talk to you. You don’t have to accept my apology. Just… Just help me with the rest of his project and you never have to talk to me again. Deal?”

You looked up into his eyes, searching for any sort of ridicule. You couldn’t find any. Only endearment.

“It’s not my diary,” you spoke softly, looking up at Jared. You two had been working silently on your project for the last two hours.

“What the hell is it, then?” he looked at you, above the lenses of his glasses.

“I write poetry in it,” you mumbled softly, refusing to share eye contact. “Some of it is really dark. I just didn’t want you to think that I was a freak.”

“What? Why? Is it about killing babies or something?”

That made you giggle, shaking your head.

“Is it about making a sandwich entirely out of the remains of the Titanic survivors?” he spoke once again.

You laughed a little more this time, shaking your head. You raised your head, finally holding his stare. He was smiling too.

“Is it about you wanting to have sex with the Queen’s corgis?”

“Jared!” you scolded in between laughs. “That is too far!”

The two of your continued to giggle until you had slowly moved closer together, looking at each other.

“So what is in it that’s so secret?” he practically whispered.

“I get really depressed sometimes,” you mumbled softly, looking down at your hands.

Jared nodded, looking at you. He took in everything you said. You continued to tell him everything. After a certain event in your life, everything just seemed to go downhill. You told him that you always felt alone. You told him that you never got close to people, because you always pushed yourself away. You told him that you were scared of living in a state of mind that was so terrible.

The two of you had moved from the floor of his porch to the hammock in his backyard. You both lied there, together, staring up at the sky. You had your head rested on his chest. He continued to ask about how you were feeling and how all of these things came to be. Jared had never dabbled in this area of emotion. He was curious how it worked. And even more curious as to how he could make it better.

You and Jared had finished your project. But you and him became closer than ever. He always checked up on you, making sure that you went to bed in a good state of mind. Whenever you were having an off-day, he became oddly protective of you. Almost as if he was carrying your grief on his shoulders.

On the really bad nights, you would walk to his house. He would be up, of course, playing video games in his room. You would knock on his window and climb in. You would snuggle with him in bed, or lie in the hammock in his backyard – falling asleep to the sound of his heart beating and the crickets chirping from fences away.

One night, you and Jared were at your house: playing a game of Mario Cart and two in the morning. Bags of candy and empty milkshake cups were spread around you. It was the 50th tournament that you guys had played that night. You groaned loudly as Jared sped across the finish line.

“I fucking hate you,” you mumbled, throwing your controller down.

He looked over at you with a wicked grin, “Nooo, you love me. If you hated me, why would you stick around me for this long?”

Your cheeks grew a blush, and you nodded, agreeing to his statement. “Yeah, you’re right. I guess you’re okay.” You shoved his shoulder playfully.

When looking at Jared, you saw something that you had never seen before. His skin was glowing, his hair was disheveled, and the collar of his shirt was crinkled. You stared at his hands, wanting to hold them in your own. Looking back up at him, you didn’t see the annoying kid from your biology class. You saw Jared Kleinman: the guy who listened to you weep for hours. You saw the most amazing man in your life. And you loved him.

Jared saw your stare. He looked into your eyes, with a soft smile.

“What’s wrong?” he whispered.

“Nothing,” your eyes flickered between his gaze and his lips.

Jared didn’t move a muscle. He looked at your lips, taking in the sight. They were the prettiest shade of pink, and all he wanted in that moment was to touch them with his own.

Your hand moved up to his neck cautiously, slowly hooking your fingers to the bottom of his head. He leaned into your touch. Nodding his lips forward, they hovered – wanting to initiate something beyond words.

You took the plunge, connecting your lips. His hands quickly grabbed onto your waist, pulling you closer to him. He tasted like the strawberry candies that you two had consumed earlier. He deepened the kiss, moaning against your lips.

Jared was beautiful, caring, and kind. And he showed this to you in private. He thought the world of you. If anyone were to treat you like royalty, it would be him.

Your hands grabbed onto his collar, edging for him to take the graphic tshirt off. He was reluctant at first, shaking his head.

“I’m not ripped, or anything. You might be disappointed,” he laughed breathily against your lips.

You giggled shaking your head, continuing to remove the article of clothing. “No… You’re beautiful, Jared.”

Connecting your lips again, you climbed into his lap. His hands went directly down to your bum, giving it a soft squeeze. You let out a soft gasp, causing Jared to chuckle obnoxiously. You kissed down his neck. His eyes rolled back, and he tilted his head to the side. You left bruises down his neck, slowly laying him down on the carpeted floor. You kissed down his body. You watched as he stared at you with wide eyes and flushed cheeks.

“Jesus, you really know what you’re doing,” he breathed out.

You laughed softly, climbing back up. You took off your shirt then pressed a sweet kiss to his lips. His hands fondled you, continuing to love you with every touch and graze. After a few moments of experimenting, Jared continued to undress you. His eyes wandered over every new inch of skin.

When you were fully bare, Jared took a step back, admiring everything. His eyes followed every dip of your hip. His hands tracing down your neck, to your nipples, to your knees. You shuddered under his touch.

You pulled him closer to your naked form by the loops of his belt. You popped open his shorts, pulling them down along with his boxers. His member slapped his stomach, and you looked up at him with wide eyes.

“I’ve never done this before,” you whispered.

“Neither have I,” he spoke back, softly.

“I really want this.”

“I do too.”

Jared lost his virginity to you. He had heard from his friends what an orgasm with a girl was like, but no simile could ever compare. It was like experiencing a thousand mini deaths. He shook in your embrace, losing his breath. When he was at his brimming point, his vocabulary narrowed down to only your name. He had heard from his elders what pure beauty was, but never could imagine what it was, until he saw you reached your peak. He always heard what love felt like, but didn’t feel it until his lips had touched yours.

Jared didn’t believe in anything. Except for you.

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