#i need to stop and go to bed but I haven’t melted down about taylor in a while and I | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hugshughes · 10 months

Note

IM LITERALLY LIKE GOING CRAZY WAITING FOR U TO POST HARD LAUNCH LIKE GOING FERAL

Hard Launch C. Bedard.

Connor Bedard x fem!reader

synopsis - Connor has kept your relationship under wraps for a while just because he knows how crazy people can be; what happens when he knows he needs you right next to him at the draft?

wc - 2.1k

contains - cursing, reader has anxiety/is anxious, Connor picks at the skin around his nails, a ciwyw by taylor swift reference (sorry), probably some inaccuracies when it comes to like how the draft goes, kissing, fluff.

an - this was supposed to be posted a few days ago but when i proofread it i absolutely hated it so i started over! sorry about the inaccuracies related to the draft and how it works, i had to put a few things that probably aren’t true for the sake of the story. also!! when i reply to comments i have to do it from my primary blog which is @hugshughesy so i’ll reply but it won’t say like creator i don’t think. i’ve been like rereading this and i hate it might delete soon feeling silly. i hope you guys like it!!

“Baby, you have to stop doing that.”

You grab Connor’s hand and slip it into yours, partially because you just love him, and mostly to get him to stop picking at his cuticles. He blushes at your concern, looking over at you sheepishly.

“Sorry, just nervous.” You nodded, laying your head on his shoulder. He and you both. Although, Connor probably had a little more to be nervous about than you, seeing as he’s gonna be the #1 draft pick tonight and be blasted on the tv screens of millions.

You were more nervous about the fact that you’d never been seen with Connor before, no one knew he was off the market, and when they saw his golden girl sitting by him tonight at the draft, the 14 year old girls were definitely gonna track you down like FBI agents.

You’d seen all the fan accounts, ones with bios that would read, “Connor’s girlfriend (real)”. And those made you laugh, but you also saw the hostile people that would threaten you and say terrible things and they didn’t even know you actually existed.

“Well, everything will be okay because one, we already obviously know you’re gonna go #1 because you’re just like the best. And two, your family is here, and your friends are here. And they all love you so so much Connie.”

“What about my girlfriend, y’think she loves me?”

You giggled at his question, furrowing your eyebrows and letting out a ‘hmmmm’ as if you were thinking about the answer.

“Actually, I think she loves you the more than anything else.”

Connor laughed now, wrapping his arm around your waist, which you initially accepted as an act of love, but then your boyfriend start tasing your sides.

You squirm and squeal, jerking around in Connor’s hold, not until you quite literally roll yourself off the hotel bed are you free. You look up at him from your place on the floor, an unamused look displayed on your face. While Connor’s expression is quite the opposite, as he giggles to himself.

“I tell you how much I love you, and you just throw me on the floor? Wow.”

He laughs louder at this, his bright smile melting your heart.

“I didn’t throw you on the floor, you did that to yourself.”

He holds his arms out for you, grabbing your hands and pulling you back up on the bed.

“Well, you still haven’t even told me you love me back so.”

“You know I love you the most. I know you know that.”

You do know that, as surprising as it would be to someone that’s seen his awkwardness and shortness in interviews and things like that, Connor is very expressive with his love for you. He always shows you how grateful he is for you.

“Connor! Gotta start getting ready soon, cameras will be in here in 30!”

His mom shouts from the adjoining door between the two hotel rooms his family was currently in. He shouts back an affirmative then sighs, laying back on the bed.

“Everything’s gonna go perfect Con, you’re completely surrounded by people who love you so much, and I know it’s a huge event, but there’s no need to be nervous baby.”

He looks at you, he practically has hearts in his eyes, he gives you a smile. He nods and sits up, standing to go grab his garment bag with his suit.

While he went to do that you went into the bathroom, making sure he didn’t mess up your makeup you’d just done messing around with you. It was still perfect, thankfully, and you closed the door to put your dress on.

You changed, then fixed your hair, you’d gotten it done a few days before, so you could do it quickly on draft day.

You touch up everything, lastly taking off your necklace with a gold heart as the charm and taking out your new gold ‘C’ necklace. Wearing his initial meant more than “belonging” to him, it was because he’s your boy, the boy who knows you.

Connor walked into the bathroom, suit pants and button up on. He practically had hearts in his eyes when he saw you. He wraps his arms around your hips and leans down to lay his chin on your shoulder.

“Wow, gorgeous. You look fuckin’ perfect.”

You feel heat envelop your face, giving Connor a big smile.

“I have a little something to show you. Nothing special, but I think you’ll like it.

He nods, looking at you expectedly. You show him the necklace, and the hearts in his eyes double in size. He looks from the necklace to you, and then back down again.

“Are you serious?”

The hope in Connor’s voice was apparent. He was in awe at the idea of you wearing his initial. You knowing and showing your love for him gets him so happy. When you nod at him, his smile grows. He helps you put it on, then turns you around to look at you.

You looked perfect, so, so gorgeous. You left the bathroom, sitting on the bed to put your heels on. The Bedard family minus Connor was in the other room now, talking. You fastened the buckle on your last heel, and Connie sits next to you, leaning his head on your shoulder.

“Everything’s gonna change after tonight, can feel it.”

Connor whispers to you, you can’t be much comfort to him though because the second you’re about to try, his mom comes through, letting him know the camera guys are here.

He sighs and nods, going to stand up but not before you kiss his head, giving his hand a squeeze. You stayed where you were as you watched Connor enter the other room, closing the door behind him. He knew you were already on edge and he didn’t want your anxiety to spike earlier than it had to.

After about 20 minutes Madisen texts you that it’s time for everyone to go. You grab your wallet and exit the room, seeing the Bedards and a few off-duty cameramen already in the hallway. Connor’s hand was gripping yours the whole way to Bridgestone.

You guys were finally in your seats after almost an hour. You were sat in between Connor and his mom, much to your dismay. You felt it was only right for Connor to sit by his family with you on the end but he whined and whined until his mom urged you to sit next to him.

Right now you knew there were many cameras on you, your leg bounced at the thought. Connor brushed his hand over your knee, whispering your name. You snap out of your thoughts, jerking your head towards him.

“Are you alright baby?”

Your eyes soften at his question, smiling and nodding at him. You pat your hand on his that covers your knee.

“Y’know, just a little nervous that everyone’s about to see that you’re my mega-hot boyfriend.”

He laughs at that, his grip on your knee tightening. Your free hand moves to the charm on your necklace, holding it tightly.

“Well, I think everyone’s gonna be confused about how I have such a hot girlfriend.”

It was your turn to laugh, you could feel the nerves prickling at the back of your neck slightly fade as you looked at your boy.

“Well, I think that number one draft picks are super hot, so.”

He looks at you with a big smile, his eyes soft and full of adoration, he brings his hand up and pushes your hand from your necklace, fingers brushing over the ‘C’ sitting on your chest.

Before you know it, the draft begins to start and the Blackhawks are on the clock. You and Connor’s legs are bouncing in sync, but you can’t help but look at him with a smile. It obviously doesn’t take long before Kyle Davidson is up at the podium.

“And with the first overall selection of the 2023 NHL draft, the Chicago Blackhawks are very proud to select, from the Regina Pats of the Western Hockey League, Connor Bedard.”

He smiles so bright, so big. He stands up and you follow, he engulfs you in a huge hug.

“Thank you so much, I love you so much.”

You say it right back to him before he moves to hug the rest of his family and friends. When he walks past you again to get out to the aisle he takes you by complete surprise, kissing you in front of everyone. That was quite the way to hard launch your relationship. He quickly pulls away and goes to bro hug Adam. Your eyes completely widen, quickly turning your head to look at Madisen, who is laughing at your shock, and her brother’s boldness.

You would’ve never expected Connor to do that, you’re guessing the adrenaline got to him, but wow. You recovered from your moment and clapped as you watched your boyfriend strut up to the stage, shaking hands with the Blackhawks staff and sliding on his jersey.

You hold his mom’s hand as you feel tears rushing your waterline. You’d known Connor since you were both 10 and watching him up on the stage was definitely overwhelming.

You guys sit and celebrate the other picks and after about an hour you all were out somewhere on the inside of Bridgestone arena, waiting for Connor to finish up promotional stuff.

He comes out from a hallway and the smile on his face is absolutely heart melting. He hugs his family before he makes his way to you, hugging you very tightly.

“Connor Bedard. What was that?”

He smiles proudly, kissing you once again, just longer and harder. Once he pulls away you’re dazed, a love-struck look in your eyes, and if you could, you would have hearts in your eyes.

“I don’t even know, just felt like kissin’ you, and I think I was on like an adrenaline rush or something.”

You laughed and nodded at him with an amused look, cupping his face with your hands. His family absolutely loved you two, they had been waiting for the day you guys admitted you liked each other since the 2018 8th-grade dance.

They saw how you brought Connor out of his shell, and how incredibly happy you made him. You declared where you would be attending college the night of the draft lottery, for no apparent reason of course. The University of Chicago was a school you were always interested in, but Connor in Chicago meant that much more to you.

After hours of hanging out and celebrating you guys were finally back at the hotel. You showered after Connor finished up and then after you were standing at the sink, pajamas on as you did your skincare.

For the second time that day, Connor came into the bathroom, wrapping his arms around you. You looked at him through the mirror, smiling softly. Connor looked at you and saw everything he wanted. He felt so excited to be able to have you with him in the Windy City. He knew he was only 17, but thoughts of you being his wife crossed his mind.

You finished up in the bathroom and you both went back out to the room, the door between the two rooms you had was ajar, allowing his parents to keep watch of you two if they needed to. They trusted you both deeply, but you were still two teenagers sharing a bed, so.

You both snuggled up on your bed, and you scrolled through Twitter and Tiktok looking at things about the draft and Connor and your relationship. You had become a small meme among the hockey girl fandom, the video of Connor kissing you and then your reaction going viral.

There were so so so many kind comments, commenting on your beauty and smile, and how happy you made Connor look. He was very happy with how the night went, which made you happy obviously.

You both eventually fell asleep, only after whispering for hours about how everything is gonna be in Chicago, how much fun you think it’ll be. You played with Connor’s hair while his breathing slowed, his grip around you tightening.

You knew that no matter where Connor went, you would go too as long as he wanted you there. And he always would want you there. You were everything to him, you and hockey were what kept him going.

#connor bedard #connor bedard x reader #connor bedard imagine #chicago #chicago blackhawks #blackhawks #nhl blackhawks #blackhawks hockey #chicago blackhawks x reader #connor bedard blurb #nhl x reader #nhl fanfiction #nhl draft #nhl draft 2023 #hockey #nhl

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boyfriendstevie · 6 months

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Holiday requests!! Yay!! I have still not recovered from sturdy, but I'm coming in hot with a request for naughty 😏

I would love something with Steve, and from wintery prompt list #2, number 27 (getting tipsy on eggnog and mulled wine) and smut prompt list #3 , number 18 (you.me.bed.clothes.off.now)

- @superblysubpar 💛

hehe thank you taylor!! combining this with another ask that also had #27 on it, as well as the prompt "Baby—shit—I don’t think I’m gonna make it to the bed like this.” | oral (steve receiving), gn!reader, 18+ only!! mdni!!

Steve giggles — literally full-on giggles — as he closes and locks the front door behind him when the last of your friends leave. The eggnog and mulled wine you’ve had over the course of the evening leaves both of you in a weird state of tipsy. Not drunk, but definitely not sober, mostly just giggly and clumsy. And horny.

Even in his stupid, ugly Christmas sweater he looks handsome. You always want him, but it’s turned up to an 11 when you’re tipsy and finally alone.

“Steeeevie,” you call his name in a sing-song voice, pointing to the air above his head, “Look!”

His head whips up and he giggles again when he realizes he’s standing directly under the mistletoe you’d insisted on hanging earlier. “O-oh shit!” he hiccups, and holds his hands out to you, making a grabbing motion in your direction, “C’mere, honey. Need a smooch.”

You gladly oblige, setting the drink in your hand down on the coffee table before making your way to him, “I knew the mistletoe would come in handy!” Your hands slide around his torso, front pressing against his as you pucker your lips and lean up on your toes.

He meets you halfway, arm curling around your waist as his lips meet yours. Steve fully intends for it to be a quick, soft kiss, but you really want him, and refuse to let go. It only takes a second for him to melt back into you and kiss you again, this time kissing you like he has something to prove. His lips are soft, and he tastes a hell of a lot like the alcohol in your drinks, mixed with a dash of peppermint. It’s festive, and it puts you in the mood for something other than the holiday spirit.

When you finally pull back to take a breath, both of you are panting. Between breaths, you steal another kiss and grin at your boyfriend as you say, “You. Me. Bed. Clothes off… Now.”

Steve’s eyes grow comically wide as he nods dutifully, “We can do that.” He grabs your hand in his and begins pulling you away from the front door, towards your bedroom.

It’s like a movie, though, the way you keep kissing as you walk, bumping into furniture, stopping to press each other into walls to keep making out. You’re nearly to the bedroom when you’ve got Steve’s back pressed against the wall as you kiss. Your hands wander, seemingly of their own volition, and slide underneath his sweater, fingers tucking under the waistband of his jeans.

A soft gasp escapes Steve when your cold hands touch his skin, and he nearly crumples, even though you haven’t properly touched him yet. Any amount of alcohol tends to turns Steve’s senses up times a million, and it doesn’t take much for him to become putty in your hands.

You don’t move your hands for a moment, opting instead to keep kissing him. He’s fervent about it, teeth nipping at your bottom lip, even as your hands push between his jeans and the fabric of his boxers. He only falters for a moment with a soft whimper when you cup his cock in your hand through his underwear.

Unsurprisingly, Steve’s half hard already with the alcohol in his system, and with the way you’d pressed up against him for a kiss and then stumbled around in the dark together. You rub your hand along the length of his cock, palming him gently as you kiss. It doesn’t take very long before he’s whining into your mouth, hips pushing into your touch.

Steve only breaks from the kiss to wrap a hand around your wrist and stutter, “Baby— shit— I don’t think ’m gonna make it to the bed like this.”

Even though you’d been the one to suggest taking it to the bedroom, you’re not against getting to it sooner, and peck Steve’s lips before sinking to your knees in front of him, “That’s okay, Stevie. I’ll take care of you right now.”

Pressing another kiss to his hips right above his waistline, your fingers find the button of his jeans and then the zipper. “Oh... fuck,” Steve mutters a bit weakly as your hands pull at both his pants and his underwear, “Right here? In— in the hall?”

“Mhm,” you hum, a bit distracted by the sight in front of you. He’s so hard, leaking precum onto your fingers as your hand wraps around his length. You press the softest of kisses to the tip, tongue flicking out over his slit, and giggle when he twitches in your hand. Your eyes shoot up to his, meeting his heavy, half-lidded gaze, “’S that okay?”

“Oh, fuck,” he murmurs again, one hand reaching down to cup your cheek as you stroke him slowly, waiting for his answer, “y-yeah that— ’s okay.”

“Great,” you say softly, pushing your cheek into his hand for a moment before you turn back to the task at hand, giving him another kiss. It looks like he might say something, but you cut him off when you take him into your warm, wet mouth. Hollowing your cheeks around him for just a moment, just enough to tease, you pull back with a wet pop and glance back up at your boyfriend, "Gonna cum in mouth in the hallway before we even get to the bedroom, baby? Hope you'll have another in you..."

join the celebration!

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x reader smut #steve harrington smut #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x gn!reader #steve harrington fluff #stevie #steve thots #kit writes #kit answers #kits naughty & nice list

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tripleaxeldiaz · 3 years

Text

nobody wants to hear you sing about tragedy

read on ao3

Eddie’s fine. Really. He’s got a fresh scar on his right shoulder, a twin to his other one, and a couple more medical bills to pay off, but other than that, everything is good.

Why shouldn’t it be? Things could be worse — he could’ve lost his arm, could’ve been shot in the spine instead, could’ve not survived the trip to the hospital. But he did — he’s healed, he’s still breathing, and he’s ready to get back to work on Monday, to stop staring at the inside of his house and get back to the life he’d finally started to feel settled in. There’s a twinge in his chest every time he thinks about actually being back out in the field, but it’s just nerves, a small worry at getting back into the swing of things. He knows the team and how well they work together, so he’s sure one rope rescue with Buck is all it’ll take to feel normal again.

He’s fine. Or almost fine. Really, he is. He doesn’t let the tremble in his hands or the ice in his gut tell him otherwise.

~~~~~~~~~~

It doesn’t really register, the first time it happens. There’s a glint of light in his periphery, and for a second, his arms go numb. It’s just a second, though — he sees the flash again, sunlight shining off an axe Ravi is packing onto the truck, and he moves on, doesn’t think about it again.

The next time, the wind whips by his ear a little too fast after a call at the pier, and he turns around so quickly he cracks his neck, the thought of bulletbulletbullet ricocheting in his head. It gets him a concerned look from Bobby and reminds him that he never called that therapist his doctor mentioned at his last visit, but he elects to deal with it later and moves on.

Things keep happening, but they’re all small, insignificant — someone laughing too loudly at dinner, the feel of hot asphalt under his hands as he reaches under the ambulance for a runaway bandage roll, a phantom jolt of pain in his shoulder when someone accidentally jostles him running to the truck.

Tiny things, meaningless, not even worth remembering.

He’ll get used to them, eventually. He’s been healing, isolated from the real world for months now, it’s going to be a bit of a shock to his system and his senses.

He doesn’t call the therapist.

~~~~~~~~~~

Buck’s happy. Genuinely happy, in an open, honest way that Eddie doesn’t think he’s ever seen. His laughs are still loud but they’re freer, unrestrained, and his smile is bright enough to light whatever room he’s in. It makes something sing in Eddie’s chest, especially when all that wattage gets directed at him. If he’s honest, the music’s been there for a while, it just took lying in his own blood, reaching toward the only thing that felt like safety, for him to finally put a name on the song that’s been playing.

Talk about shitty timing.

Because Buck’s with Taylor now, and as much as he still doesn’t care for her, she’s helping with Buck’s new attitude too. He sees the soft smiles that linger after a text from her, and he only gives himself a minute to wish it were for him instead before reminding himself how much of a miracle those smiles are at all.

If he had watched Buck get shot, been splattered with his blood, been soaked with it as he tried to stop it from leaking out of his chest, he’s not sure he would’ve had any kind of happiness to spare.

So he adds this feeling, this particularly green beast twisting in his chest, to the list of things that he’s just going to have to get used to, and moves on. Buck is still in his and Chris’ life, still at their house more than his own, still the center of both of their worlds, and that’s enough.

It has to be.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Wow, Eddie, you look like shit.”

He glares at Chimney as best he can, but he’s too tired for it to hold any heat. “Good morning to you too, Chim.”

Hen sits next to him at the table where he’s nursing his second mug of coffee of the day, downing the first one before driving Chris to school. She presses the back of her hand to his forehead, and he tries not to melt into the touch too much.

“You don’t feel warm,” she says, “but you look like you’ve been hit by a truck.”

He shrugs, staring down at his coffee. “Just haven’t been sleeping well.”

That may be an understatement. Not sleeping well implies sleeping at all, which Eddie’s not sure he’s been able to do in the past few days. It was easy enough when he first got home, still on pain meds that made his eyelids constantly heavy. And when Chris crawled into his bed the night after his sling came off, quiet but sniffling and burrowing into his side, it was a relief to gather him up close, a hand stroking through his hair as they both drifted off, clinging to each other. It was good for both of them, necessary to remind them both that Eddie is still here, but Chris went to his own room on Monday night instead of Eddie’s, and Eddie refused to take that choice away from him.

So he’s been alone, in a too dark room with a too big bed and a too loud brain that only shows him flashes of light and blood and fear whenever he does try to close his eyes.

Just another thing he has to get used to.

He sees Chim and Hen exchange a look and hopes to God they don’t press it. He’s beyond frayed, his state of exhaustion warring with his almost constant state of hypervigilance, and he’s not sure if he’d snap or cry or both if they try to ask him any more questions. Either way, that’s not how he wants them or anyone else to see him, especially not at work. At work, he’s Mr. Cool, always level headed, always in the game, always on top of it. Despite the jumpiness, despite the sense of dread that seems to be a permanent fixture under his skin, he’s been able to keep that attitude going, even getting lost in it sometimes, feeling like the Eddie of four months ago again. If that starts to unravel, who knows what other parts of him will fall apart with it?

Luckily, they seem to get the hint, a pat on the back and a squeeze on the shoulder as they leave the loft to restock the ambulance. But even once they’re gone and he’s alone in the quiet of the loft again, Eddie feels exposed. Fragile. Vulnerable. Teetering on the edge of an abyss he can’t afford to fall into. And he hates it, because this isn’t him. He’s the protector, the provider, the guy who’s survived getting shot twice now, and as much as he encourages Chris to be open and emotional, it still feels wrong to him, like something too close to failure. He knows, rationally, that talking about the mess in his head would probably help, but it would also feel like a loss. Like this one-sided war he’s been fighting was all for nothing.

He hears Buck before he sees him, his unmistakable bounding up the stairs echoing through the whole loft. Just that sound, just the knowledge that Buck is about to be in his vicinity, is enough to yank Eddie back from the edge. He’s not settled or calm or better, but he’s not worse. These days, that’s all he can really ask for.

Buck takes Hen’s vacant seat, stealing a sip of coffee and chattering about a traveling art exhibit he thinks they should take Chris to. Eddie feels the vice on his ribs loosen, letting Buck’s voice and enthusiasm wash over him, pushing him back to center. He doesn’t quite make it, not when Buck stops talking mid-sentence, brow furrowed and looking so intensely at Eddie he can probably see right through him

“You look tired,” Buck says.

Tired isn’t a strong enough word. But he smirks half heartedly instead, willing a little bit of his confidence back to get the subject changed sooner. “And here I thought I looked good today.”

“No, you always—“ Buck clears his throat and shakes his head, “You just look like you could use a nap. Are you okay?”

And for the first time since he woke up in the hospital with a new hole in his body and extra demons in his head, Eddie doesn’t want to say he’s fine. In the face of earnest blue eyes and worry lines, he doesn’t want to lie, and that’s exactly what an I’m fine would be, no matter how much he’s been trying to ignore it. He doesn’t want to downplay and pretend that it’s nothing, because it’s Buck. Buck who has seen him lower than he’s ever let anyone see, who slept on his couch so he was never too far away from him or Chris, who knows when Eddie needs to be pulled or pushed or pressed or none of the above.

He doesn’t want to just say he’s fine, because he’s not.

The courage to say so finally fills him, just in time for Buck’s phone to light up, Taylor’s name flashing across the screen on two messages. Buck doesn’t even glance at his phone before flipping it face down and pushing it to the side, but it’s too late — Eddie feels his walls going back up, any bravery leaving to make room for the reminder that Buck is in a good place and Eddie will do anything to keep him there. He’ll take another bullet, he’ll keep every emotion under lock and key, he’ll carve his own damn heart out of his chest if he has to. He cannot — will not — be the reason that smile that’s become so natural on Buck’s face dims by even a watt.

The crease in between Buck’s brow has only gotten deeper the longer Eddie hasn’t answered, so he musters up the most genuine smile he can. “I’m okay, Buck. I promise.” The lie cuts through his throat like broken glass.

Buck squints at him, scooting forward until his knees are digging into Eddie’s thigh. “You’d tell me if you weren’t, right?”

“Of course,” he says, another lie, more salt in the wounds he’s already given himself. Buck’s quiet for a few long moments, studying Eddie’s face, and Eddie prays that he doesn’t crack, that Buck doesn’t keep pressing. By some miracle, he doesn’t, just rests a hand on Eddie’s knee and squeezes before heading to the pantry for a snack.

The vice is back as soon as he’s out of sight, and Eddie’s list of things he has to learn to live with is starting to feel a little too long.

~~~~~~~~~~

Healing isn’t linear. It’s something he’s heard from every doctor he’s seen, every therapist he’s been assigned to, something he’s experienced first hand, physically and emotionally. So when he wakes up one morning feeling rested, energetic, and normal, he’s wary. He doesn’t want to focus on it, afraid he’ll scare this fragile feeling away, but he also wants to soak in it as much as he can. Wants to remember the easy laughs with the team and the night of board games with Chris and Buck when he’s inevitably surrounded by darkness again tomorrow.

He falls asleep and he doesn’t dream and he wakes up and feels...normal. Again. Same thing the morning after, and the morning after that. For a whole week, he doesn’t wake up with the taste of blood in his mouth or a soreness in his shoulder. He hears birds and sees the sun peaking in and feels something dangerously close to good. The wariness is still there, but every day it gets pushed a little farther back in his mind, making it a little easier to believe that while this feeling might not last, maybe it won’t be as dark when the clouds roll back in.

He’s wrong.

The restlessness comes back with a vengeance — a thrumming in his blood that won’t let him sleep, that amplifies every sound to sharp snaps that remind him too much of the gunfire he’s been trying to forget, putting him constantly on edge again. There’s a heaviness too, making it hard to breathe, hard to move, even though staying in one place for too long feels like putting a target on his back for the monsters that have made a home in his head.

He tries to keep his cool, tries to keep the facade up, but it’s hard to keep your balance on a frayed tightrope.

Bobby notices the shift right away.

It doesn’t help that even the quiet thump of the oven closing makes Eddie flinch where he’s sitting at the kitchen counter. He had hoped that watching Bobby make breakfast would calm him, remind him of the countless hours he’s spent in Abuela’s kitchen doing the very same thing, but it doesn’t. He’s still jittery, worse than he can remember being, and everything just feels like too much.

Bobby sets a to-go container down in front of him, and Eddie flinches (and curses himself) again. He looks up, confused, and is met with Bobby’s I’m about to tell you to do something and you are not allowed to say no look. Usually it’s Buck on the receiving end of that one.

He tries for a deflection. “Are we going somewhere, Cap?”

The look stays in place. “We are not. You are. There’s enough in there for you and Chris, take it home and don’t let me see you here for the next 48 hours.”

“There’s still three hours left of shift.”

Bobby pushes the container closer. “Go home, Diaz. Be with your kid. We’ll talk when you get back. And if you won’t talk to me, we’ll find someone you will talk to.”

Normally, he’d fight back. Raise his hackles, insist he doesn’t need any special treatment or intervention. But he feels like his insides have been scooped out and replaced with lead and cement and he’s tired. He barely has enough left in him to keep himself upright.

He slowly picks up the container and gets up to leave. Bobby calls his name as he gets to the top of the stairs.

“We’re here for you,” he says. “You’ve been through too much to be handling this on your own. Just let us know how we can help.”

I would if I could, but I don’t even know where to start.

He just nods, hopes his face looks some degree of reassuring, and heads to the locker room.

~~~~~~~~~~

The way Chris’ face lights up when he sees Eddie waiting for him in the front office is enough to thaw the ice in his chest for a minute. He can hear the exact octave his mother’s voice would reach if she heard about him pulling Chris out of school for “no good reason”, but he also could not give less of a shit.

He feels a little bit more like a person with Chris in the backseat. That’s a good enough reason for him.

They set up camp in the park near their house, Bobby’s food and extra snacks Eddie picked up spread out between them, and Chris fills Eddie in on all the things he missed while he was working. He tries to focus on everything — Chris’ excitement about his upcoming science fair, the Sour Patch Watermelon sugar stuck to the tip of his nose, the way his hands move with his words. Eddie feels better, more settled, just getting to bask in the sun and in Chris like this, but he still feels heavy, like every move he makes has him fighting against gravity, threatening to pull him into the dirt.

There’s a crack from the playground in front of them, and Eddie’s blood turns to ice. He’s halfway to standing before he sees it’s just some kids snapping sticks in half to build some kind of log cabin. He lets out a slow breath as he sits back down and wills his heartbeat back to normal.

Chris is staring at him, eyes intense and brow furrowed, very similar to someone else they know.

Shit.

As soon as he’s settled, Chris moves to sit in the criss-cross of his legs. He’s a little too on the lanky side for this anymore, but Eddie’s absolutely not going to complain. Chris twists until he’s looking Eddie in the eye. Eddie does his best not to look away.

Chris rests a hand on his cheek. “It’s okay if you’re feeling bad,” he says. “You can talk to me about it, if you want.”

The crack comes from Eddie’s own heart this time. His kid has been through so much in 10 short years, and it’s only made him wiser than he should be, compassionate and understanding and open, ready to be there for anyone without a second thought. He’s good in every sense of the word, and Eddie’s in awe of the fact that he, somehow, has something to do with that. And the last thing he wants to do is lie to his son, but he just...can’t. Talk about it. Not now. Not yet. Not in a way that will keep Chris this good.

He has no way of articulating all that, so he just wraps his arms around Chris’ middle and squeezes him close.

“I know, buddy. Thank you. I’ll be okay, and we’ll talk soon.”

It’s not a lie, but it’s not everything.

It seems to be enough for Chris, though. He nods and pats Eddie’s face before reaching into his backpack and pulling out a library book. “Well, I’m gonna read to you until you feel better, just like you do for me.”

It’s the first real smile Eddie’s cracked in months. He kisses the top of Chris’ head, settling his chin there as Chris leans back into his chest.

“Sounds like a good plan to me.”

They sit there for a while longer, Chris reads to him about Percy and Annabeth and Grover, and Eddie, inexplicably, feels a little bit lighter.

~~~~~~~~~~

Buck’s Jeep is parked outside when they get home, and Chris practically breaks down the door to greet him. It looks like he’s gone all out, too — Chinese food on the table, the promise of cookies and cream ice cream in the fridge, and a list of movies that Chris ecstatically agrees with as Buck lists them off. Chris hurries off to change and clean up for dinner, and Eddie moves to start opening plastic lids and cardboard containers.

“You didn’t have to go to all this trouble,” he says. He leaves out just having you with us is enough.

Buck waves him off. “Anything for you two.”

He could leave it at that, keep up the comfortable silence as they move around the kitchen in tandem, but there’s a nagging memory that he has to ask about or he’ll never stop thinking about it.

“Didn’t you have a date with Taylor tonight?”

Buck tenses ever so slightly, a container of dumplings shifting in his hand. “Cancelled,” he says with a shrug.

Eddie knows there’s more, but Chris comes back before he can ask, and it doesn’t feel like a conversation they can have in front of a 10 year old. So they eat, and fall into the familiar banter between the three of them, and for half an hour, Eddie can be present. He can forget the last six months and the weight still hanging off of him and live in this moment, with the two most important people in his life, and pretend that this is all there is. Just these two and their joy and warmth that wraps around him tight enough to make him feel alive again, if only for a little while.

Two bowls of ice cream and one and a half movies later, Chris is dead to the world. Buck carries him to bed and Eddie tries to ignore the new ache that’s sprung up of the course of the evening, the one that wants and pulls towards Buck like a magnet. The one that almost purrs when Buck settles back on the couch so close they’re touching from ankle to (good) shoulder, contentedness washing over the living room as they find a rerun of The Shawshank Redemption playing on cable. It’s not perfect, there’s still a roiling in his blood that won’t seem to leave him alone, but he feels better than he has in God knows when.

Buck shifts closer to Eddie, eyes glowing in the light of the TV, and Eddie never wants him to leave. “Thanks for coming tonight. I— Chris and I both really needed this, I think.”

“I told you, anything for you two. Always.”

He ignores the way his stomach flips and tries to focus on the movie. He gets about five minutes of peace before another thought comes back, still nagging him, mixing with his anxiety enough to actually force him to say something.

He aims for cool and casual. “So, you and Taylor...everything okay?”

Buck gives him a very long, almost challenging look before turning off the TV. Seems he missed that casual mark. “I should be asking you the same thing.” “Very funny.”

“I’m not trying to be. I’m really worried about you, Eds.”

“This isn’t my first time getting shot, I know how to handle it.” He doesn’t mean for it to come out as bitter as it does, but he can’t bring himself to care, either. He doesn’t have the energy to keep a filter up anymore.

“Eddie, I’m serious.”

“I’m fine, Buck,” he says sharply, and he’s surprised his teeth haven’t fallen out of his head yet with how hard he’s lying through them. He hates that he’s lying to Buck at all, but those smiles he’s gotten used to have been fewer and farther between recently, and he knows it’s his fault. He might feel like his own seams are coming apart, but he’ll be damned if he rips Buck open too, even if it means pushing him away from his mess. “You’ve got a life and a girlfriend to worry about, I’ll figure everything out on my own.”

“I don’t.”

“What?”

“I don’t have a girlfriend. We broke up.”

Eddie pauses, curses the faint hope that sparks in his chest. “Why?”

“Because I’ve been a little distracted by someone else for the past few months. It didn’t feel fair to her to keep it going.”

He gives him another long look, and Eddie might be a little dense when it comes to things like this, but that look breaks through loud and clear. This is it. This is real. This is everything he’s wanted for the past six months — and probably longer than that — but now that it’s happening, it doesn’t feel right. Buck was happy, free, finally settled into his own skin, and it’s all gone now because of Eddie and his stupid, broken everything. He knows he won’t be able to give Buck everything he needs, at least right now, but Buck needs to know that too. “Buck—”

“Nope,” he says with a firm shake of his head. “I know you’re gonna try and blame yourself for this somehow, but…don’t. It was bound to happen anyway. Because you’re right, I do have a life, but it’s you two. You and Chris. That’s all I need it to be. That’s all I want it to be. And I hate that it took so long for me to figure out, that it took you getting shot, but we’re here now.” His eyes shutter a bit as he looks down at his hands. “At least, I hope we are.”

And there it is. So simple, so easy, for Buck to admit this huge thing that Eddie thought he was dancing around on his own. The ease reminds Eddie, through his fog of sadness and anger and every other bleak feeling that’s been controlling him, that that’s what makes them work so well together. Honesty. Being able to show all their ugly, mismatched inside parts to each other and still find the beauty, the ways to help, the ways to hold each other together when they need it the most.

And Eddie doesn’t think he’s ever needed to be held together more than he does right now.

“Ask me,” he whispers, the sound seeming to echo around the room.

“Ask you what?”

“Ask me if I’m okay.”

Buck shuffles on the couch until they’re facing each other, takes both of Eddie’s hands in his.

“Eddie,” he says softly, “are you okay?”

The world blurs as the tears he’s been fighting finally break free, but he feels strong. Brave. Like he can do anything now that Buck’s holding his hand.

“No,” he says, a crack in his voice but the conviction behind it still firm. “No, I’m not okay.”

The floodgates open, and he lets everything wash over him, all the things he’s been holding back, forcing away in the hopes that they’d just disappear one day. He’s floating and sinking and lost in the waves of it all, but strong arms wrap around him and pull him close, and there’s relief. Not a lot, not enough, but it’s there, for the first time since he woke up in the hospital. He feels safe here, with Buck wiping away his tears and pressing kisses along his hairline. He honestly forgot what safety felt like, was sure he’d never feel anything like it again. But he knew it that day he was bleeding out on the street, and he knows it now — it feels like Buck’s sweatshirt and smells like his aftershave and sounds like whispers of it’s okay and I’ve got you.

It all subsides, eventually, but Buck still holds him close, presses their foreheads together so there’s nothing else Eddie can focus on. His eyes are piercing, bright like Eddie only usually sees when Buck has a plan that refuses to be derailed.

“Let me help, Eddie,” he says, punctuated with a kiss on Eddie’s cheek. “I know you think you can do this yourself, but you don’t have to. I don’t want you to. Let me help you carry it.”

His voice left with the rush of everything, so all Eddie can do is nod before sinking back into Buck, into relief. Even that simple motion, the silent acknowledgement that he’s not alone anymore, is enough to let small seeds of hope sink into him and take root. They’re still weak, still unfamiliar, but they’re here, waiting to grow.

And Eddie knows, with a certainty that he forgot he was capable of, that Buck will be here to help tend to them, no matter how long it takes for them to blossom.

~~~~~~~~~~

When Eddie wakes up the next morning, he still feels weighed down. There’s still an edge, an unease low in his gut, anxiety still crawling through his veins.

He’s not okay. But he looks over and sees Buck — breathing even, arm thrown over Eddie’s stomach, keeping him close — and the ever-present darkness fades from an angry black to melancholy grey. Not perfect, not even close, but better.

He’s not okay. He hasn’t been for a while. But now, finally, he feels like he will be.

#eddie diaz #evan buckley #buddie #911 fox #buddie fic #911 fic #tim i know you read fanfic you can HAVE this one so we can get a recovery arc #i don't even need credit just DO IT #ficcery

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frostedfaves · 3 years

Text

All Too Well

Masterlist

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x fem!reader

Summary: A new year leads to a new argument.

Warnings: angst

A/N: this was supposed to be a super angsty breakup fic inspired by Taylor Swift’s All Too Well, but apparently idk how to write sad shit anymore so enjoy whatever this is 😔 (on the bright side, I found a nickname for Wanda to use in my upcoming series 👀)

“Those aren’t even the lyrics!” Wanda shouted over the radio, her laughter nearly covering her speech like a blanket.

“Of course it is!” You reached over to turn down the volume on the radio. “Take it from someone who sang this song every day for a year during every single shower.”

“Well, it’s a shame your shampoo bottles never told you that you were serenading them with the wrong words.”

A loud laugh escaped you as both of your heads turned in the same moment, yours to gaze out the passenger window and hers to watch you. The orange and brown leaves that dropped from the trees were only part of the lovely scene in front of you, and Wanda thought the colors provided a wonderful background for her own movie. She got lost in admiring your features, wishing to run her thumb along your lips as a smile formed there, or place a palm against your cheeks, warmed by the sun. Her attention turned back to the road just in time to stop herself from passing a red light, throwing an arm across your torso to keep you from lurching forward against the seatbelt.

“Sorry,” she apologized with flushed cheeks, and you couldn’t help but poke one as you assured her everything was fine. Turns out the sun can bring warmth to fingers, too.

As the two of you made your way to your shared apartment, Wanda wished for your heated touch now, instead of the cold glare you directed to the windshield. She was grateful it was pointed toward the street for now, and she was tempted to drive on forever with the heat blasting until you defrosted. Anything to avoid the confrontation she knew was coming.

“What the hell was that?”

“Baby, please,” she sighed. “The new year just started. Can’t we wait until the sun comes up again and we’ve had some sleep?”

“I’ve waited long enough, Wanda.”

Her shoulders tensed and a shiver ran down her spine because your stare was focused on her now, and the ice made its way to your vocal chords, leaving an especially thick layer around her name. You hadn’t called her anything aside from ‘honeydew’ since your first date, and she endured the teasing from her team because seeing the sparkle in your eyes was worth it. Hearing you say her name now felt like being cursed.

“Can we at least wait until we get home?” she pleaded as she faced you after stopping at the red light. “I want to be able to look you in the eye without putting you in danger.”

“Fine.”

You broke away first to turn the radio volume up, turning your head to avoid her watery eyes. Her vulnerable gaze nearly melted away your resolve entirely, and you refused to let this go on any longer. Wanda forced herself to keep her own eyes on the road and the drive went on silently aside from the song pouring in through the speakers, neither of you bothering to fight over the correct lyrics. You were back at your building within a few minutes, and while you rode the elevator up from the parking garage, Wanda took the stairs. She had no idea what she was walking into, and she just needed to pretend everything was okay for a little bit longer.

When she opened the apartment door, your coat was already hung by the door and she could hear your bare feet padding along the wooden floor to the bedroom. She took her time hanging her own coat and slipping off her shoes, following you down the hall and nearly dropping them out of her hand when she saw you staring at her from the edge of the bed.

“What the hell was that?” you repeated, watching Wanda walk past to place her shoes in the closet.

“I’m going to need more than that, detka.” Her accent became more prominent as her nerves grew, a deep crease forming between her brows as she faced you and leaned against the opposite wall. “What are you asking about?”

“That woman asked about your girlfriend and you told her it was ‘nothing serious’.”

“I was just...saving face.” She kept her arms folded as she shrugged. “She’s friends with Tony and they talk all the time. If I would’ve been all obnoxious about our relationship, he would’ve made a big deal about it later.”

“You’ve been getting teased for ten months by Earth’s mightiest heroes over a nickname and expressing your love for your girlfriend is where you draw the line?!”

“Okay, I’m sorry! It was a mistake and it won’t happen again.” She pushed off the wall and walked forward to grab your hand, but you jumped off the bed and headed toward the kitchen before she could get close. “What--”

“You’ve stopped talking to me, too.”

“We’re literally talking now! We talked on Christmas Day--”

“Oh yeah, I really enjoyed that 30 second talk we had over pancake batter before the whole team stormed in and took over,” you huffed into the refrigerator while searching for something to drink.

“If you have a problem with the Avengers, just say it.”

“I love your team!” you cried out as you closed the refrigerator door. “I probably see more of them than I do you. Three weeks ago, I went to the tower because I hadn’t heard from you all day and I had to find out from the fucking spider kid that you volunteered to join some last minute mission. And you know what? We had dinner together and I talked to him for two hours, which is probably longer than I’ve talked to you since then.”

“I can’t help it if missions come up,” Wanda challenged as she took the glass of water you offered. “This is my job, just like you have yours.”

“I know, but you had your phone with you. At least send a text, let me know you’re okay.”

“I will. Is that it?” She watched your eyes avert from hers, sighing when you headed toward the couch in the living room instead of the bedroom. “It’s not, is it?”

“I just want to know why you haven’t been happy.” You finally met her gaze again when she stopped a few feet away.

“What? I’m happy.”

“Nothing’s been the same since that day you were driving and nearly ran the red light. That was in October, and it’s the beginning of January now.”

“You’re wrong,” Wanda insisted as she inched closer. “I’m happy.”

“I drove myself crazy here while you were gone on all these lengthy trips, trying to think of why you wanted to be so far away all the time. Maybe you weren’t feeling this anymore, or you’d found someone that made you feel more alive--”

“I told you I’m happy!”

In a split second, red filled her eyes and surrounded her hand as she sent her glass flying against the wall. You stared at the droplets of water running down the eggshell colored surface to the wooden floor, flinching when Wanda placed her hand on your thigh as she knelt in front of you and relaxing when you were met with her usual eye color.

“I’m sorry.” She squeezed gently as she sighed, never breaking eye contact. “I’ve just been worried. When we’re together, I tend to lose myself in your existence, and it isn’t safe. A few seconds more, and that day could’ve ended a lot differently.”

“I had my seatbelt on,” you reminded her as you placed your palm over her knuckles, and she shook her head.

“There are a lot worse threats than a car accident, detka. I just fear that one day, I’ll be wrapped around you so tightly that I won’t have time to free myself and protect you from danger.”

“So your solution to protecting me more was to leave me totally alone with no warning?”

“Now that I’m hearing it with a clear head, it doesn’t sound like such a good plan,” she chuckled with a shake of her head.

“No, it doesn’t, honeydew.” You squeezed her hand with a smile that widened at the sight of Wanda’s. “What?”

“I just never thought I could miss a silly nickname so much.”

Tags: @littlegasps @peggycarter-steverogers @imnotasuperhero @natasha-danvers @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @creepingwolfberry @honeyvenable

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x fem! reader #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #scarlet witch x reader #scarlet witch #avengers #the avengers #avengers x reader #avengers x you #avengers x fem!reader #avengers imagine #marvel imagine #marvel x reader #marvel

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helnjk · 3 years

Text

Crazier - F.W.

Fred Weasley x fem!reader

This was written for @vivianweasley ‘s 400 writing challenge! I used the song Crazier (by Taylor Swift) from the Hannah Montana movie hihi. Congrats on the milestone lovely ❤️ I hope you enjoy 🧚🏼‍♀️

Word count: 2.6k

Warnings: just fluff! and wedding vibes 💗

A/N: ok but this song is ADORABLE ! it makes me so giddy when I listen to it (& i did, A LOT, especially in the process of writing this)

Flashbacks are italicized

---

Feels like I'm falling and I'm lost in your eyes

There was something special about a war time wedding.

The atmosphere surrounding the Burrow seemed to glow in the morning light. The gentle breeze rustled the surrounding fields and the sun was just peaking across the horizon. Champagne colored rays burst from between the clouds littered in the sky, providing warmth for anyone who found themselves outside. Despite the early hour, the residents (and guests) of the Weasley household were already up, busying themselves with tasks that Molly had assigned them.

You found yourself still wrapped in your fluffy dressing gown, nursing a warm cup of tea in your hands as you directed Fred and George. You three were in charge of making sure the flowers, arches, and chairs were all ready for the upcoming ceremony. A smile couldn’t help but inch its way onto your face as you watched Fred jokingly shove George and cause him to lose his footing for a moment.

The soft laugh that escaped your lips caught his attention and your eyes locked. Brown eyes glimmered with mischief and adoration met yours and you couldn’t help the fluttering of butterflies in your stomach.

“Oi! Be nice to your brother, Fred!” You called out as George once again lost his balance, “We don’t want him losing any other body part!”

“Don’t be silly, Y/N.” He retorted, pretending to look like he wasn’t about to send a jelly-legs jinx his brother’s way, “He’s a big boy, he can handle it!”

You made your way towards the boys who couldn’t stop roughhousing with each other now, “Well regardless, we’ve got to get the flowers and arches up and perfect before your mother comes and has a right fit!”

Slightly amused at how much you reminded them of their mother in that moment, the twins stopped horsing around and actually got their wands out to be as efficient as possible. You were able to get back to peacefully sipping on your tea and telling them where they should put certain flowers and which arch belonged where.

The sun was fully risen when the three of you finished, standing side by side admiring your handiwork.

“Great job team!” George announces, patting both you and Fred on the shoulder before turning on his heel, “I’m gonna go check and see if mom’s made some food! I’m starving!”

Before you could follow him, Fred’s arm wrapped around your waist and pulled you from behind. Your back connected with his chest in a huff, and he placed his head on your shoulder, “Yes, Freddie?” You giggled.

“Nothing love,” He kissed the side of your neck, “Just love you, is all.”

Your heart fluttered at the simple words and you practically melted in his arms, “Where’d that come from?”

“The whole atmosphere of today, of the wedding, I dunno” He hummed, “It just made me think of seeing you walk down the aisle in a white dress in the future.”

Turning around in his grasp and wrapping your arms around his neck, your eyes met and it was the most genuine and sincere you had ever seen Fred look. It made your heart stutter and butterflies fill your stomach.

“You’re such a sap, Fred Weasley,” There was no malice in your voice, just adoration for the wonderful man in front of you.

“Only for you darling.”

Bill and Fleur’s wedding was nothing short of magical.

The moment the blushing bride walked down the aisle, the crowd seemed to freeze in awe of her beauty. But nothing could compare to how she glowed the moment she reached the arms of her loving husband.

As the newlyweds shared a loving kiss, your eyes locked with Fred’s and you were struck with the image of him in his best dress robes, pulling you in for a sweet kiss just like the one happening in front of you. When the redhead sent you a cheeky wink from across the room, you had no doubt in your mind that you wanted to marry him one day.

��You couldn’t help but reminisce on the years past and how your relationship with the cheeky mischief maker developed.

I watched from a distance as you made life your own

Laughs rang through the crowded hallway as the Weasley twins rushed to get away from Filch. You rolled your eyes at their antics, but a small smirk graced your lips. Being yearmates and housemates with the rambunctious pair for four years now had allowed you to grow used to their mischievous pranks and their witty ideas.

“Oi, watch it Weasley!” You teased, turning to face the boys who nearly knocked you over in their rush to get away from the cranky caretaker.

“Sorry, Y/L/N!” One of them yelled over his shoulder, before the pair of them rounded the corner and disappeared from view.

Despite being in the same year and house as the twins, that was usually the most interaction you would have with them. Nothing against them, but you had your own group of friends and they had theirs. As much as you admired their mischief and wit, that wasn’t really your thing. You preferred to keep to yourself or your little group of friends, not fading into the shadows but not exactly stepping into the spotlight either.

When you were accidentally on the receiving end of their pranks meant for Snape, though, the twins forced themselves into your life.

You were sat on one of the beds in the hospital wing, waiting while Madam Pomfrey puttered around looking for some bruise cream and muttering under her breath about how dangerous the twins could be. You hid your smile behind your hand, it honestly wasn’t all that bad, you just had a bruise on your cheek and one on your shoulder. They were both sore and aching, but you knew it could be fixed in no time.

Before the mediwitch could apply any salve to your exposed shoulder, the twins burst into the hospital wing.

“Y/N!” One of them, you thought maybe George, yelled.

“Oh Merlin, we’re so sorry!” The other twin said as they reached you.

Madam Pomfrey began to protest the twins’ presence, but you were quick to reply, “It’s fine you guys. Madam Pomfrey’s just about to fix me up and I’ll be good as new!”

The rest of the week, the twins didn’t leave you alone. Constantly opening doors and pulling out chairs for you, the pair of them weaseled their way into your daily routine. You could feel them wriggling their way into your heart too, and you knew that there was no going back now.

Every sky was your own kind of blue

And I wanted to know how that would feel

“Y/N?” You turned around to the source of the voice only to be face to face with none other than Fred Weasley.

“Fred,” You breathed, hitching the books in your arms a little higher and tighter, “What’s up? Do you need something?”

The castle was decorated beautifully for the Christmas hols, and more importantly to impress the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang guests you were hosting that year, but you were in a bit of a rush and you couldn’t really stop and chat. The professors had made sure to assign as much schoolwork as possible before the break began, which meant you were scrambling to finish everything on time.

You noticed Fred rock back on his heels and shove his hands in the pockets of his robes, “Are you alright?” You asked.

“Huh? Oh yeah, I’m brilliant really,” He muttered, his eyes shifting around and his ears tinging pink ever so slightly.

“O-kay,” You said, “Sorry, Fred but I’m rushing to get some coursework finished. I’ll talk to you later, yeah?”

“Yeah, of course.” He mumbled as you turned on your heel and rushed away. His shoulders slumped slightly, “Bloody idiot, couldn’t get a word out of your mouth…”

Unknown to you, Fred walked all the way back to the common room muttering under his breath. The Yule Ball was coming up and the only person he wanted to take was you, he just needed to buck up enough courage to actually ask you. Every time he tried, though, he clammed up and nothing could come out of his mouth.

When you climbed through the portrait hole a while later, he was still sat on one of the couches, staring at the fireplace and brainstorming ideas of how he could gather up some of his Gryffindor courage and ask you a simple question. He actually made it a point to write down a few of them on some parchment, but most of them were crossed out.

Sonorus charm during breakfast

Sending her a letter (? possible)

Ask Hermione to ask her for me

He hadn’t noticed that you came in, so when you plopped down on the couch beside him, he almost jumped out of his seat. He looked right suspicious to you, trying to shove the piece of parchment he was holding back into the pocket of his robes. Knowing the kind of mischief he could cause you, you did what any other sane person would do.

“Accio parchment.” You said, pointing your wand at his robes. The paper flew out and into your open palm.

“No, Y/N-” He protested, but you stood up quickly and got out of his grabbing reach.

“What’s this Fred? Haven’t gotten any good ideas to ask someone to the Yule Ball?” You teased after skimming over his messy notes.

At that moment he thanked Merlin and Morgana that he hadn’t actually written down your name. Still, his ears and neck were pink and he could feel his face grow hot as you read over the dumb ideas he wrote down.

“That’s none of your business, don’t you think?” He mumbled, taking the parchment out of your hands and sticking it back safely in his pocket.

“Oh alright,” You smiled, “Just teasing!”

He nodded quickly then proceeded to make his way to the staircase, wanting to just curl up in bed and scream into his pillow. Something stopped him, though. He paused right at the doorway and turned to face you slowly.

“Y/N?” He said.

“Yeah, Fred?” You asked, busy trying to smooth down the disheveled uniform and hair that came from running away from him so quickly a few minutes before. You weren’t paying as much attention to the redhead as you should’ve, adjusting the strap of your bag on your shoulder.

“Do you want to go to the Yule Ball with me?”

His question rang through the empty common room and made you pause what you were doing.

“Sorry, what?” You asked, turning to look at him.

“Erm, I asked if you wanted to go to the Yule Ball with me,” He mumbled, rocking back on his heels.

A slow smile spread across your face, “Of course! I’d love to.”

“Great!” He nearly yelled, “Great, yeah. I can’t wait!”

You stood at the top of the staircase, your gown swishing gently as you made your way to where the rest of the students were waiting. Fred’s hair could easily be spotted above the crowd, so you weaved your way through to him.

When his eyes found yours the world seemed to stop. Blood rushed to his ears and his breath came out in short puffs. His vision seemed to tunnel and the only thing he could see was you. You looked absolutely stunning.

“Wow,” He breathed once you reached him, “I think I’ve just died and gone to heaven. You look phenomenal, Y/N.”

Your heart stuttered at the compliment, “Thanks, Fred. You look great too.”

Fred was nothing short of the perfect date. He held your waist as the two of you entered the Great Hall, held your seat out for you as you reached your table, and took your hand to lead you to the dance floor when it was time for the waltz. The both of you weren’t great dancers, but you stumbled and giggled through the whole thing with smiles on your faces.

When the two of you grew tired of dancing, he gently whispered in your ear, “D’you wanna get out of here?”

“Sure,” You smiled.

In a moment of bravery, you took his hand in yours as the two of you walked leisurely through the snow filled grounds. Heart still beating in your chest, you stole a glance in his direction. To your surprise, he wore a goofy smile on his face and his ears were slightly tinged pink. Instead of letting go, he squeezed your hand and led you to an empty bench.

You sat in peaceful silence for a few minutes, taking in the gorgeous decorations made for the ball, but after a while you asked “Knut for your thoughts?”

Fred turned to face you slightly and let out a small puff of breath, “I’ve actually wanted to talk to you about something.”

Your brows furrowed in concern, “What’s up?”

“I fancy the hell out of you, Y/N.” He breathed nervously, tucking a piece of hair behind his ear and staring at the ground.

“Oh Fred, I really fancy you too.” You grinned giddily, a small laugh leaving your lips.

His eyes widened at your statement and his grin seemed to match yours, “What’s so funny then?”

“Nothing,” You shrugged, snaking your arms around his neck, “I’ve just fancied you for so long, I just didn’t think you’d actually feel the same for me.”

Instead of replying, Fred swooped down and pressed a searing kiss on your lips. You gasped slightly, not expecting his lips to be on yours, but soon you melted into his touch. His arms wrapped around your waist before the two of you broke apart.

“That answer your question?” He breathed, going back in to peck your lips again and again until you were giggling and playfully slapping him on the chest.

“You’re really something else, Weasley.”

You lift my feet off the ground

You spin me around

You make me crazier crazier

“D’you wanna get out of here?” A familiar voice asked in your ear as strong arms wrapped around your waist.

“Now where have I heard that before?” You teased, placing a soft peck on Fred’s lips.

The wedding reception was in full swing now, a crowd of redheads filling the tent. You were standing to the side, taking in just how much happiness this event sparked in your life and in so many others’. It was as if the world stopped to celebrate the love that Bill and Fleur clearly felt for each other.

Without answering you, Fred merely took your hand in his and led you out into the dusk. The breeze cooling down your slightly warm skin.

“Care for a dance?” He grinned at you, holding out his hand when you two had reached a relatively empty area in the surrounding field.

“I thought you’d never ask,” You joked, taking his hand and putting your other one on his shoulder.

Gently, the two of you swayed together as the sun finally set beyond the horizon and as the first few stars appeared above you. No music was playing, nor was it needed, as you were wrapped around the love of your life.

He sighed contentedly, “When all this is over and we’ve won the war, I’m going to marry you.”

“Good,” You said confidently, “Because I want to spend the rest of my life with you, Fred Weasley.”

#vivianweasley400wc #Fred Weasley #Fred Weasley imagine #Fred Weasley imagines #Fred Weasley fic #Fred Weasley fics #Fred Weasley x reader #Fred Weasley x y/n

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buckleyblueyes · 3 years

Note

Buddie + 47 "This is home?" 😊

Thank you for your patience, nonnie! I know this took me some time to write and post. Loved this prompt, though! This fic features an appearance by Taylor Kelly, and maybe isn't the most friendly towards her? idk, I wasn’t actively trying to write her to be a bad person or anything, but just in case I thought I'd throw a warning for people who like her/like her and Buck.

Buck yawns and leans back into the cushions of the Diaz couch. He’s exhausted, physically and emotionally. They were called to a grizzly pileup on the freeway just before their shift was supposed to end, multiple on scene fatalities, and more that they lost later, in the ambulance. He had a date with Taylor scheduled for after his shift, but he knew before the engine even pulled back into the station that he was going to have to cancel. Not just for himself and his need for rest and recovery, but for Taylor’s sake. He wouldn’t have been a good date in his current state. He texted her from the locker room that his shift had run long and he was going to head home and rest. She texted him back with a “I understand, get some sleep” and that was that.

He followed Eddie home, because neither of them wanted to be alone, and he wanted to see Chris, even for a few minutes before the boy had to go to bed. They exchanged hugs and Buck and Eddie both pressed kisses to the top of Christopher’s head. Ever since Eddie was shot--since he told Buck about his will, since Buck spent the summer living on their couch and taking care of both of them--Buck took on a more parental role with Christopher. They don’t really talk about it, but it’s undeniably true, and Buck loves it. The three of them feel like a family, are a family.

Buck showered at the station, but Eddie hadn’t. Eddie likes to take his time in the shower, making it into a sort of ritual where he scrubs off more than just the grime of the day, but the stress and trauma of it as well. He’s going to be gone awhile. So, Buck settles into the couch and pulls out his phone.

I know it’s not the same, but wanna FaceTime before bed?

Seconds later his phone lights up with the call. He smiles when he answers it.

“Hey, babe!” Her smile is bright and bubbly as always.

“Hey, Taylor,” he says, forcing himself to keep his own smile up. “Sorry about our date.”

“No, no it’s fine…” Taylor trails off, blinking curiously through the screen. “I thought you said you were going home?”

Buck glances around the room behind him and frowns. “This is home?”

She rolls her eyes. “I know what your loft looks like.”

“Oh,” His smile returns. Of course, she’s only been to Eddie’s a few times, she doesn’t recognize it from the bit of it she could see through FaceTime. “I’m at Eddie’s.”

Taylor’s confusion morphs into exasperation. “I should’ve realized.”

“You’ve only been here a few times, it’s--”

“No, I mean I should’ve realized you were blowing me off for him,” she snaps.

It feels like someone dumped a bucket of ice water over his head. “What does that mean?”

“It means that I’m always playing second to Eddie, and I’m getting sick of it,” Taylor’s tone is huffy and irritated and Buck hates it. “It was one thing when he was still recovering. But he’s fine now, so why are you still spending so much time with him?”

“He’s my best friend, Taylor,” Buck narrows his eyes. “Of course I spend time with him.”

She scowls. “How can you be too tired for me, but be sitting on his couch?”

Buck runs a hand through his ungelled curls. “Look, our shift ran long and it was really rough. My therapist says I shouldn’t be alone during times like this, and I happen agree with her--”

“So why not be with me?” Taylor asks, tone shifting from anger to sadness.

“Because Eddie knows exactly where I’m at emotionally,” Buck sighs. “He was there, he saw what I saw. There’s nothing to explain. And he shouldn’t be alone tonight, either. It just makes sense.”

She frowns. “So, that’s it? I’m not a first responder, so I’ll never be able to understand like Eddie?”

His stomach twists. This conversation is starting to sound familiar. “It’s not--”

“How can I understand if you don’t open up to me?”

Buck doesn’t know what to say to that. She’s right, of course. He isn’t open with her. She doesn’t know about his childhood, or about Daniel. She doesn’t know about the nightmares that haunt him, doesn’t know about the waves and ladder trucks, gunshots and explosions. She doesn’t know any of it, and he has no desire to share it with her. Maybe it’s the way she looks at her phone half the time they’re talking, or the fact that they haven’t really talked about her willingness to put Bobby’s trauma on the news, but he still doesn’t trust her, not really.

“You’re right,” he finally says. “I’ve been shutting you out.” She looks hopeful, which makes Buck feel like a huge jerk because this isn’t about to go in the direction she seems to think it will. “I have to be honest, I don’t think I’ll ever feel like opening up to you. I’m sorry.”

“Oh.” She looks so sad, and the part of Buck that’s terrified of disappointing people is two seconds from taking it all back, when she speaks again. “So, where does that leave us, then?”

“I don’t know,” Buck answers honestly. He doesn’t want to be single and lonely again, but he can’t deny any longer that Taylor isn’t right for him.

“I think you do.” She gives him a weak smile.

Buck blinks. Cocks his head to the side in confusion. “What does that mean?”

“Buck, be honest with me, are you in love with Eddie?”

Whatever Buck is expecting her to say, it isn’t that. All at once it feels like all the air in the room has been sucked out. He knows that he feels more for Eddie than could be strictly described as platonic, but he’s been avoiding those feelings for as long as he’s known Eddie. First because he thought he had Abby, then because Eddie was married, then because Eddie was grieving his wife, and then because they weren’t speaking to each other, and then because the pandemic hit and they had other things to focus on, and then because Eddie was dating Ana...It was never the right time, and he was always too afraid of losing Eddie, when he inevitably had to turn Buck down.

But Eddie changed his will, and Eddie broke up with Ana because “she’s not what I want” and Eddie let Buck stay here, for months, taking care of him and Christopher, and Buck knows in his core that he and Eddie are tied together, no matter what.

“Buck?”

He realizes she’s still waiting for an answer. “Yeah, yeah I think I am.”

She nods stiffly. “Right, well then. I guess we’re done here.”

“I guess we are.” Buck shifts uncomfortably. “Can we still be friends?”

“I don’t think so,” Taylor shakes her head.

Buck opens his mouth to respond, to say goodbye, but he’s cut off by a voice coming from the hallway. “You’re in love with me?” Buck looks up to see Eddie standing there in his sweats, hair still damp and dripping from the shower, brown eyes wide with shock.

Oh, fuck. “Taylor, I have to go.”

“I know,” she rolls her eyes. “Goodbye, Buck.”

“Bye, Taylor,” Buck swallows, setting his phone down on the coffee table. “How--How long have you been standing there? I didn’t hear the shower turn off.”

“Long enough,” Eddie steps forward. “You’re in love with me?”

“I--” There’s no point in denying. “Yeah. Is that...okay?”

It’s a stupid thing to say, but it’s all Buck can think to say.

To say Eddie looks dumbfounded would be an understatement. “Is it--What kind of question is that?”

Buck shrugs “Well, y’know. I thought it might make things awkward.”

Eddie shakes his head and shuffles the rest of the way into the living room, so he’s standing right above Buck. “Awkward? Why--What--Like, at work? We’re adults, we can keep things professional.”

“Keep...it...professional…” Buck’s brain processes the words slowly, but when he finally does, his heart sinks. “You don’t want to be friends with me anymore?”

“Um.” Eddie cocks his head to the side, in almost the same movement Buck made just minutes earlier. “Obviously not.”

Buck feels numb. This is it. The end of everything. Just when he thinks he’s found someone who will stay. “W-What about Christopher?”

Again Eddie looks baffled. “What about Christopher? I think he’ll be happy we’re together.”

Time stops. Together? “Uh-Wh-Huh? Together? Like...together-together? Like dating? Each other?”

“Oh.” The confusion melts off Eddie’s face. “Buck. I’m in love with you, too.”

Buck blinks up at him. “You are?”

“Yeah,” Eddie smiles warmly. “I thought I made that clear when I broke up with Ana and kept asking you to stay, but I guess I should’ve known that I needed to be more explicit with you.”

Buck laughs. “Oh, you think? I’m only in therapy for my abandonment issues, it’s not like I have problems trusting that people want me around or something.”

Eddie leans down and takes Buck’s hands in his. “Evan Buckley, I am deeply in love with you, and I want to be with you for as long as you’ll have me.”

Buck grins, tightens his grip on Eddie’s hands, and pulls the other man down onto the couch, right into his lap. “How does forever sound?”

“Sounds wonderful.”

Later, after they makeout on the couch like teenagers, after Eddie guides Buck down the hall to his bedroom, after they curl up in each other’s arms, it finally occurs to Eddie to ask. “How exactly did your FaceTime with Taylor end up with her asking if you were in love with me?”

Buck doesn’t open his eyes when he answers. “She asked why I wasn’t at home like I told her I’d be.”

“This is your home.”

Buck smiles and snuggles closer. “I know.”

#buddie #buddie fanfic #buddie fic #my fan fiction

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blue-fidelity · 4 years

Text

~ “Smile in the face of Tragedy”

Chapter 2: New King

Pairings: Billy Hargrove x Henderson!reader, Steve Harrington x best friend! reader

Chapter Summary:

A wild night reveals secrets and broken hearts. At least Billy & (Y/N) have each other.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, drunk!Billy, sad!Steve (that is a warning 🥺)

“(Y/N)! It’s Halloween!”- Halloween? (Y/N) woke up to the sound of her brother yelling excitingly. If she wasn’t mistaken, she could hear the Ghostbusters theme playing loudly from Dustin’s room. She groaned, burying her head in her pillows while running her hands through her hair.

This is not how she planned to wake up this morning.

Before closing her eyes to regain a little more sleep, her alarm clock looked her right in the face. 7:15. Another groan came from her. Perk up (Y/N), it’s your favourite holiday! She pushed herself up, swinging her legs on the side of the bed. (Y/N) definitely knew the high school students weren’t going to be wearing costumes to school. So before Billy picked her up, she’d head home to get changed.

Billy- (Y/N) didn’t think she’d be able to forget yesterday. The way he held her, the way he kissed her forehead. His embrace was so comforting- she nearly melted into him. The smell of dry cigarette smoke and cheap cologne haven’t been able to leave her senses. It was like everything that came with him, it was intoxicating, and she couldn’t get enough of it.

As she stepped out of bed, she moved her hips slightly to the music coming from her brother’s stereo. When she made it to her drawers, she contemplated what she should wear today. Just because she wasn’t going to wear a costume, didn’t mean she couldn’t look spooky, right? She grabbed her “Chistine” t-shirt, it was one of her favorite horror movies. Pairing it with a black acid wash skirt, some fishnets, and her usual chuck taylors, she strutted confidently out her bedroom door.

She walked into the bathroom to find Dustin clad in his Stantz costume, brushing his teeth. He looked so cute! “Hey Doctor Stantz, ‘lookin pretty badass”, she grinned, patting him on the back. “Thanks (Y/N)! I can’t wait to see the guys in their costumes, Halloween’s gonna be so great!”, he cheered, spitting out his tooth paste. He quickly ran out of the room to fetch breakfast, leaving (Y/N) time for her hair & makeup.

Bright red lipstick and heavy black eyeliner, hair slightly curled.

When she stepped into the living room, she saw her mom enthusiastically taking polaroids of Dustin. She couldn’t help but smile, hoping her mom would save her some for her picture board. (Y/N) sat on the couch beside her cat Mews, scratching the back of his ears as he purred in contentment. She giggled at the various poses her brother made in front of the camera.

Her mom had finally stopped taking photos, noticing her on the couch. “(Y/N) darling! I didn’t see you come in, can I get a photo of my two children?”, she questioned, looking at her with pleading eyes. (Y/N) couldn’t say no! “Of course!”, she said, standing up from the couch.

She placed an arm around Dustin’s shoulders, teasingly taking him in a headlock, rubbing her nuckles on his hair. To this he laughed, playfully pointing his fake proton blaster at her. It was the perfect picture. Perfectly trapped in the moment of two great siblings, simply having a good time.

(Y/N) gathered her things, making sure to take one of her mom’s homemade muffins for breakfast. She had made them a couple days before, but they still were delicious. Even though (Y/N) desperately needed coffee, she decided against it. She was already running a bit late, and as much as she hated the stale stuff from the cafeteria, it’d have to do. Dustin had already slipped out the door to head off on his bike, he really must’ve been eager to see his friends.

Before making her way to her motorcycle, she slipped her jean jacket on and hugged her mom goodbye. Claudia looked at her intently, ruffling her curled hair. (Y/N) rolled her eyes playfully, “Alright mom, I gotta go! ‘I’m gonna stop here after school though, k?”, she opened the front door. “Okay have a good day sweetie! ‘I’ll see you before your party!”. (Y/N)’s mom knew about the party, whether she knew there was going to be alcohol involved, it was better off not knowing.

Sliding the keys into the ignition, she sped off to the school. She could never get enough of the mysterious backroads of Hawkins. It scared her, obviously. With all the things that happened the previous year, she couldn't help but wonder if things still lurked in the depths of the forest, hiding till they could strike. Waiting and waiting till they can catch someone else and drag them to that horrible place. Her body trembled at the thought of it. She shook her head, trying to clear her mind of the memories. Eyes turning back to the road, she removed one of her hands from the handles, trying to reach for the button of her stereo. It had turned onto some random radio station that was playing Halloween tunes.

“Happy Halloween ‘Morning Ghouls and Goblins of Hawkins! Here’s a spooky throwback from ‘1982 for y’all on this fine dreary morning, ‘Blood Bitch’, by Cocteau Twins!” - the radio host introduced, was he really supposed to swear on radio? Well, no one really had a filter these days.

The song added to the eerie atmosphere of the cold morning, making her uneasy. She pushed through her thoughts, trying to just focus on getting to school. It was Halloween! No need for being pent up on past trauma. The station had eventually turned to a happier song, putting her in a better mood. What better to put a smile on your face then the ‘Time Warp” from The Rocky Horror Picture Show? She bobbed her head happily to the familiar tune, singing along to the lyrics.

School today had been an absolute drag! Last period (math) was nearly done and (Y/N) was desperate to get out. She could see some of her mutuals were anxious as well, probably too excited to wait for the party tonight. She was excited as well, maybe a little bit of the fact that she’d be spending more time with Billy?

(Y/N) would hate for him to think she’d be using him as a rebound. Even though it seemed that way, she really should’ve forgotten about her feelings for Steve awhile ago. (Y/N) really loved Steve, but he’d always been so oblivious, but- that was just Steve. He would’ve never known of her feelings if she didn’t tell him. Which she never did, in fear of obvious rejection. Then here was Billy Hargrove, whether it be his flirtatious nature, she could see herself really falling for him. The one thing she knew she wouldn’t do was dive in too quickly. She wouldn’t make the same mistakes, for her and for Billy’s sake.

She was finally released from the rechedouness that was her math class-running straight out the door right as the bell rang, nearly having winded Mr. Henry. After taking a quick stop at her locker, she walked outside to find her motorcycle. (Y/N) was nearly there till a skateboard hit her feet, stopping her in her tracks.

“I’m so sorry! It slipped right out from under me-” a voice of a young girl called, her breath shaky. (Y/N) looked down at the girl shuffling to grab her skateboard, she had never seen her before. The mysterious teen with the red hair looked around her brother’s age, so why was she so unrecognizable? Wait- could it be?

Billy’s step sister.

“Hey, hey it’s all good!”, (Y/N) gave her a reassuring smile. “Hey- not to sound weird or anything-”, she chuckled nervously, “But, are you new here? ‘You see I got a younger brother ‘about your age, and you got an unfamiliar face”. The girl stared at her skeptically, but still replied. “Yeah, just moved here from ‘California, what are you ‘looking to set him up or something?” she questioned sarcastically. ‘Damn she was quite the firecracker. “Nah frankly I think you're a little out of his league”, (Y/N) winked. To this she got a laugh out of her. “Well, it was nice weirdly meeting you, ‘I’m Max!”, she introduced herself. “Well Max, ‘I’m (Y/N), if you're interested in someone helping you out with that kickflip, ‘I used to do some skateboarding myself”, she offered. Max beamed at her offer, “Really? That’d be so great!”, “Alrighty then, if you see me around, don’t be shy to ask!”.

Little did (Y/N) and Max know, Billy was watching them. Billy knew (Y/N) was genuinely kind, but not that kind. It wasn’t necessarily cool to be seen with a middle schooler. He figured he wouldn’t look too much into it, but something about seeing (Y/N) with her, didn’t sit well with him. Billy gave Max a dirty look as she skated up to the camaro. “You're late again”, Billy started. “I had to get catchup homework”, Max stated. “Jesus! I don’t care- who was that girl you were talking to?”, Billy asked, even though he already knew who she was. “Just some high schooler- she offered to help me learn some skateboarding tricks' '. So she skateboarded too, huh? “That’s rich. Just, get in the car, will yah?”.

(Y/N) entered the door with a ‘skip in her step. She really needed a reason to lose herself, forget about the world around her. Tonight was going to be perfect for that. Expecting to be greeted by her mom, she noticed no one was there. She knew Dustin was heading to Mike’s right after school, ‘but her mom was nowhere to be seen. She probably had to work later hours again. ‘This meant she had the place to herself! (Y/N) still had a few hours before Billy picked her up. So she figured she’d get into her costume, and then fix herself something to eat.

The Sarah Connor costume was simple. Gray tank top, black jeans, sunglasses, a chunky belt and combat boots. (Y/N) already had all of this in her regular wardrobe, so it’d be a pretty easy costume. Of course she didn’t have a rifle to complete it, even though she could’ve asked Nance. She wasn’t about to show up to a house party with a gun. It would have been pretty cool though.

She stood in front of the bathroom mirror, clad in costume. Now it was time to remove her makeup and untame her curled hair. “Mr. Crowley” by Ozzy Osbourne was currently spinning on her “Blizzard of Ozz” vinyl. She mouthed her lips to the lyrics as she straightened her hair, her (Y/H/C) locks falling in straight whisps on her head. Replacing her once extravagant makeup with a more nude look, she looked at herself pleased.

A total badass look, you might say.

It was only 4:30, and Billy was coming over at 6 o’clock. She had way too much time to kill. Making her way to the kitchen, she scoped the fridge. Enough ground beef for two burgers, and she knew they had leftover buns. Maybe Billy would be hungry when he got there, and if she was making dinner for two- she didn’t want to start too early. So she’d head back to it in about a half an hour. Meanwhile a coca-cola would hold her down, she was pretty firsty.

(Y/N) now laid in her bed, bored. ‘Blizzard of Ozz was still playing, it just switched onto “Steal Away (The Night)”, her ears perked up to the upbeat tune. She couldn’t help but dance around, hopping happily on her bed as she belted the lyrics along with Ozzy. Pointing at the poster of him that was plastered on her wall, she shouted the chorus. It’d be pretty funny if Billy were to walk in on her singing her heart out, what would he think of that? She rolled her eyes at the thought, he’d probably think she was crazy. The song ended, turning to the next one. (Y/N) took this as her cue to start on dinner.

Flipping the patties in the pan, she sighed at the smell. She did cook a pretty ‘mean burger. Dustin loved when she made them, he always said the added rosemary was the perfect touch. (Y/N) grew up with her mother teaching her how to cook. Claudia Henderson had worked in a number of restaurants, usually in the kitchen or as a waitress. She now helped run a popular Inn a little outside of town, and it was her favourite place she’s ever worked in. (Y/N) probably figured it was a busy night, considering she didn’t come home at her usual hour.

5:45 and the burgers were ready and plated, the aroma running through the room. Billy was ‘going to be here soon, and she was giddy with excitement. Before she knew it, the bell rang. Fuck he was early. “Coming!” she called, slowly making her way to the door. ‘There he stood; a cocky grin on his face with his arm propped up on the door ledge. She took time to take in his minimal outfit, tight jeans & a leather jacket, no shirt. His abbs were on full display- (Y/N)’s mouth watered just at the sight of him. “See something you like, sweetheart?” he smirked. “Maybe-”, (Y/N) stammered. “It’s aight, I see something I like to,'' he whispered the last part into her ear, letting himself in.

“She cooks too? ‘I guess looks can be deceiving”, he motioned to the burgers. (Y/N) blushed, “I figured we could eat before we fill ourselves with alcohol”. They delved into the burgers, she couldn’t help but laugh when Billy moaned at the taste. “Darlin- I haven’t had a burger like this in awhile, ‘the ones down at Benny’s don’t hold anything on these”, he praised. “That must be a high compliment, because ‘Benny’s are pretty good”, she smiled at him. (Y/N) put the dishes into the dishwasher, quickly running to her room to grab her polaroid camera. “Where are you ‘heading princess?”, she’d never get tired of his little pet names. “I’m just grabbing my camera- I want to get some good shots tonight!”.

(Y/N) came back with her camera bag, a big grin on her face. “You ready to head out?”, he questioned. “Yeah, just let me get my jacket”, she took her jacket from the hook. “Ready”. He guided her to the camaro, opening the passenger door. Billy never opened the passenger door for girls! ‘(Y/N) really did something to him, huh? “Such the gentlemen”, she smirked. “Anything for you dollface”. He slid into the drivers side, placing his keys into the ignition. “Music?” she questioned, “Sure thing, feel free to look through the cassettes in the glove box”. She searched through the assortment of tapes, varying from Metallica, Def Leppard, RATT, Mötley Crüe, Hanoi Rocks, AC/DC and more. She settled on Hanoi Rocks’s, “Two Steps From The Move” album. It had just come out that summer, and it was one of her favourites. Not to mention she had a HUGE crush on Michael Monroe.

“Hanoi Rocks huh? I like your style”, he nodded in approval, till turning his eyes back on the road. “Got any specific fave tracks?”, (Y/N) questioned. “Track 8”. She was surprised he chose this one, considering it was one of the more “cheesy” songs. ‘It did have a pretty ‘rockin guitar riff in it though, she’ll give him that. Billy contentedly thumped his hands on the steering wheel, speeding up a bit. Rolling both of their windows down, (Y/N) was surprised to see him singing along to the lyrics. It was a bad attempt at a Finnish accent, sure, but it was still really cute. (Y/N) joined him, jumping in at the chorus. They banged their heads to the tune, continuously singing the lines. (Y/N) really felt alive in that moment. ‘She couldn’t remember the last time she had this much fun, and they haven’t even gotten to the party yet.

They pulled up to Tina’s, teens were already rallying in. ‘It was going to be a wild night. Before Billy could open up his trunk to get the kegs, (Y/N) stopped him. She pulled out her camera, “Hargrove! Smile!”, she grinned, pointing the camera at him. ‘He rolled his eyes, posing for the picture. The photo was of Billy playfully doing the devil’s horns symbol, with his tongue stuck out. She giggled, “This is one for the board!”. “Well Hey Sarrah Conner- let me take a pic of you!”, he said, trying to grab the camera from her. She handed the camera to him, smiling that he remembered her costume name. Letting her sunglasses shade her eyes, ‘she smirked brightly at the camera, ‘Billy quickly snapping the shot. He handed the polaroid to her, she shaked it and placed it in her bag with the one she took.

Billy held one of the kegs while (Y/N) grabbed the other, walking into the crowded house. It was overwhelmingly loud. They could feel the heat coming off the numerous teenagers that littered the home, their bodies moving to the heavy beats of the stereo. Tina was in the kitchen, and had noticed the pair walk in. “Billy & (Y/N) are here with more kegs!”, she shouted, ‘causing the crowd to go wild. Someone had taken the one from her hands and motioned Billy to follow them into the backyard, leaving her alone. She grazed over the sea of teens, trying to spot anyone she knew. She noticed Steve and Nancy dancing freely in the living room, Nancy nursing a drink while Steve had a big smile on his face. She figured she’d grab some punch and then see what Billy was doing in the backyard, most likely a keg stand. He was the new ‘king after all, Tommy was probably expecting him to beat Steve’s record.

‘As luck would have it, she was right. She stood on the back porch with a cup of “pure fuel” in her hands, watching the teens crowd around him as he bent over the keg. They shouted various numbers, counting the seconds as he chugged down the beer. (Y/N) cheered with them, looking at him with bright eyes. His torso was glistening, beads of sweat running down his toned chest. Her cheeks flushed red just at the sight of him. The enthusiasm got louder as he finished the stand, spitting spews of beer out of his mouth. “That’s how you do it Hawkins! That’s how you do it!”, more cheers. Tommy passed him a cigarette and escorted him into the house, the gang shouting his name as Mötley Crüe’s, “Shout At The Devil” played on the speakers. Billy spotted her on the porch, grinning wildly at her. He shoved her into his side with his arm, hugging her tight. Tommy glared at the interaction. Never in her time with being friends with Steve has ‘Tommy liked her that much, and it seems things haven’t changed.

Typical Tommy.

(Y/N) was enjoying the feel of Billy's embrace a little too much. She knew he was already partially drunk, and she was feeling a nice buzz that she wasn’t planning on getting rid of anytime soon. Someone had to drive them home. ‘Tommy paraded them up to Nancy and Steve, (Y/N) wasn’t sure if it was to torchure her or show off Billy, probably both. ‘Billy and Steve stared each other down as if they were going to kill each other, it was really intense. Too intense for her liking. Still hooded under Billy’s arm, she shot Steve a sympathetic look. ‘As if to say ‘I’m sorry’ with her eyes. “We got ourselves a new keg king Harrington!”, Tommy declared. “Yeah eat it Harrington!”, another guy shouted. Somehow in ‘Billy and Steve’s stare down, Nancy had slipped away.

“You see Harrington- not only that, but I stole your girl away too”, Billy retorted. Oh shit- this wasn’t good. Steve glanced over at her, a nervous look in his eyes. “I don’t know what you're talking about man-”. How did Billy know about (Y/N)’s past feelings for Steve? “Well you see, this lovely lady under my arms thought the world of you, and frankly I- I just don’t see why! Point being, she has me now, you can go fetch that slut you settled for.” This interaction was making neither Steve nor (Y/N) happy, it left them feeling both angry and confused. Steve scoffed, chasing after Nancy. He was going to want to talk to (Y/N) about this later.

Steve really didn’t know what to make of what Billy had said to him. Mainly, it sounded like a warning; but he didn’t think Billy intended for it to be that. (Y/N) and him had been best friends forever, and even if he didn’t necessarily like Billy, there was no harm in her being friends with him, right? Though, something about what Billy said hinted that he meant more than just friends. Had (Y/N) liked him, loved him even? Was Steve really oblivious all these years- no, it couldn’t be. If he was being honest, he harboured a small crush on her in the beginning of middle school, but then Nancy came into his life. Nancy Wheeler hit him like a freight train right in the heart, and he then became a lovesick puppy. He couldn’t get enough of her. That’s when Steve began to realize, the jealous glances over the years, the slight distaste of Nancy that came off her.

But, why did it matter if (Y/N) loved him? He still had Nancy, or so he thought.

Tommy had left, leaving Billy and (Y/N) in the corner of the living room, an uncomfortable silence stirring between them. “Billy-how did you-“, she wondered in a whisper, but Billy cut her off. “You really don’t think Tommy would’ve told me? Besides, everybody knows”. She didn’t need to hear the last part. Besides, why did it matter if everyone knew- it didn’t matter to her anymore. “Does that bother you?”, she asked worriedly. Billy chuckled darkly.

“Darlin- you got nothing to worry about, I’m your new king now”.

Next thing she knew, they were on the dance floor. Billy had pulled her into the crowd of sweaty bodies, grinding on each other. Some people were making out, others chugging alcohol till they fell limp to the floor. She stared nervously at the rowdy teens, her body shaking. He noticed her agitation, placing a hand on her cheek, turning her to face him. He smelt of cheap beer and stale cigarette smoke, and a hint of cologne. She was caught with that intoxicating sensation again, making her hazy. His icy blue eyes peered into her (Y/E/C) ones, “Just feel the music princess- everything will be just fine”.

‘Their bodies moved comfortably against each other to ‘Billy Idol’s, “Flesh For Fantasy”. A perfect song choice in the moment. ‘(Y/N) was very much sober and very much aware of what was happening. Aware of Billy’s strong grip on her waist, aware of his hips moving against hers. Normally this would’ve been cutting close corners for her, but she was looking for an opportunity to lose herself. What better way than this? She ran her fingers through his thick blonde curls, her hips swaying a bit more. He sighed in contentment, making her shiver. His face was currently buried into her neck, placing soft kisses on her collarbone.

They continued their heavy sway for a while, Billy had started to form a hickey below her ear. She was definitely not going to be able to cover it up tomorrow, but she really didn’t care if people saw it- she wanted people to know that she wasn’t desperate. That she didn’t need Steve anymore. She wasn’t exactly sure what she meant to ‘Hargrove, but she knew that she wasn’t planning on leaving him anytime soon. (Y/N) felt him remove his lips from her neck, his hot breath waving over her. “Mhmm- left a pretty big mark sweetheart-“ he mumbled. She hummed in return, removing her hands from his hair.

The rest of the night consisted of more dancing, and Billy getting more intoxicated than he was before. Really drunk Billy- let’s just say it was quite the sight to see. He was a giggling mess, slurring his words and stumbling on his feet. “(Y/N)- has anyone ever told you-“ he hiccuped, “That you were gorgeous?”, another hiccup. She giggled at his comment, “Tons of people- but I bet no one sees me like you do huh?”, she supported him up against the kitchen counter. “Absolutely no one!” He cheered in a high pitch voice, damn he really was a mess. She tried to wrap his arm around her shoulders snatching his keys.”Hey- what are you doing?”, he gestured to the keys, “Getting you home-“, “Wait! Can we go to your house please?? I can’t wake up my dad letting him see me like this- he’ll kill me”, he pleaded. “Fine- just, try to be as quiet as possible, I got a sleeping family too”.

(Y/N) took him out of the house, nearly carrying him. She waved goodbye to a few mutual friends who were still conscious, muttering a soft “See y’all tomorrow, hope we aren’t all hungover”. This earned a few laughs from her classmates, bidding her and Billy a goodnight. Unlocking the passenger side to the camaro, she set Billy down lightly on the seat. “Being so ginger with me sweetheart- I’m not made of glass ‘you know”, he joked. “Whatever tough guy- let’s just get you to a bed, mhm?”. Placing her hands on the steering wheel, she realized she hasn’t driven a car since the summer, and a camaro is definitely nothing close to a station wagon. She took a deep breath- she could do this, no sweat. Besides, there was no way she could bring herself to ruin a car as beautiful as this one.

Billy must’ve passed out while they were driving, because when she pulled into her driveway, his eyes were sewn shut. She had to admit- he did look pretty adorable when he was sleeping. She tried to resist the urge to take a photo of him, but she couldn’t help herself. Pulling out her camera bag that was littered with pictures from tonight, she snapped a quick photo of him. The flash startled him, waking him up. “Sweetheart- were you taking photos of me in my sleep? That’s just creepy”, his voice was groggy. “How could I not when you were laying there looking like an angel?”, “Pfft- ‘darlin, I am a demon, Satan himself! ‘Ain’t no way I’m an angel!”, he scoffed.

“Hate to break it to you sweetheart, but Lucifer was once an angel”.

Fumbling with the keys to her front door while trying to help Billy regain his footing was hard. He was just about to lose consciousness again when she finally got the door open, it shouldn't have been as much of a challenge as it was- but Billy had a lot of weight to him. She didn’t notice the lights were still on till she saw her mom sitting in her reading chair, Mews on her lap and clad in a cat costume. Shit- what was she gonna say about this? “Oh! Mrs. Henderson- I see where (Y/N) gets all her good looks from!”, Billy squealed, “Ugh can it Billy! Mom I can explain-“ she shushed Billy, staring wide eyed at her mother. “Sweetie- you clearly had a wild night, just take this pound of muscle to your room, and we can talk about it while he crashes, okay?”- (Y/N) nodded quickly, dragging Billy to her room.

Billy flopped down on the bed, giggling wildly. “Honey! We’ve known each other for two days, don’t you think we ‘oughta know one another better before I sleep in your bed?”, (Y/N) rolled her eyes at the blubbering idiot. “This was your idea dumby! Just get under the covers and keep it shut, will you?”, she glared at him, closing the door and heading back to the living room.

“So no Steve, huh? He’s the one who usually spends the night”, her mom said softly. “Different reasons mom- I’m just trying to figure out who’s a bigger piece of work”, she huffed. “Well he’s quite the looker, ‘makes me wonder how you keep up with him”, Claudia smirked. “Mom! He’s new here- he just happened to notice me first”, (Y/N) blushed, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. “Besides- what are you doing up so late?”, (Y/N) stared at the clock, “It’s nearly 1 o’clock”. “Busy night down at the Inn, just needed a little time to myself after Dusty went to bed”, she sighed, but (Y/N) knew she wasn’t finished. “Also wanted to see what mess you brung home, it’s always a new thing with you”, her mom laughed. “Billy’s- interesting, but I’m not sure, doesn’t seem like the most faithful type”, she sighed. “He may surprise you, and besides- if he hurts you he’ll have to suffer the wrath of your brother!”, Claudia giggled, smiling at her daughter. “Anyways- I’m gonna head to bed, early day at work tomorrow, you gonna go join the guy?”, she pointed down the hall. “Yeah yeah I’ll join the idiot in a second- just gonna get some water”, (Y/N) said tiredly.

Snuggling up on the couch, she sipped her water. The quietness was calming, the fact that everyone was at rest and she was the only one around southend her in a way. The fact that Billy was sleeping soundly in her bed, gave her a different feeling. Things with him- had gone by so quickly, and it was only just beginning. It was nice being with someone where the relationship had lasted longer than more than a few hours. Her past flames- had simply been one night stands, meaningless things to shy her away from Steve, but Billy was different. She actually liked him, and even though he came off as a jerk- he seemed really sweet on the inside. Though, she couldn’t help but wonder how Steve was feeling right now, the bomb had been dropped on him nearly two hours ago- it must be overwhelming to know your best friend was holding back feelings for so many years.

(Y/N) was just about to head to bed, till she heard a knock on the door. Who was here at this time of night? She opened the door slightly, and who she saw she didn’t expect. There Steve stood, his face red and puffy with tears in his eyes. His body was shaking, his shoulders were slumped over. He looked awful. “She- doesn’t love me- it’s bullshit! It was all bullshit!” He stuttered as his body continued to quiver. (Y/N)’s heart ached at his words, what had Nancy done this time? She didn’t know what to say, it’s not like she could’ve let him in. So, she just pulled him into a hug, “Steve-you can’t keep coming here like this- it’s not my job to fix you”, she tried to explain. “I know! I just don’t have anywhere else to go”, he cried. “I can’t tonight- it just isn’t the right time.” (Y/N) was attempting to tell him in the best way possible that Billy wasn’t there, but Steve caught on. “He’s here, isn’t he, Billy?”, Steve muttered angrily. “Out of all the guys in Hawkins- you chose him to get over me, that’s just flattering!” . Steve was making her feel sick, “Steve- I know you're hurting but you can’t take it out on me like that- it isn’t fair”, she pushed away from him. “I’ll talk about this with you tomorrow- when you're in the right state of mind, okay? Just please leave”, she pleaded. “Fine- I’ll see you tomorrow”, he breathed out harshly, walking back to his car.

She was on the edge of a breakdown, heart racing and choked up tears running down her face. This is not how she expected her evening to end- seeing Steve like that, broken and beaten again. (Y/N) thought she’d never live to see Steve crumble in her arms one more time- and with that she could’ve rested easy. At least she wouldn’t have to be alone tonight, she had someone waiting for her. Trying to stay quiet, she tiptoed down the hall. Opening the door, she walked in to see Billy sleeping soundly, the pink hue of her bedside lamp illuminating his features. She took notice of his leather jacket, jeans and boots scattered on the ground. That meant he was only in his boxers. Before joining him she slipped into an oversized AC/DC t-shirt and looked in the mirror, her hands grazing over the purple mark that had formed on her neck- the little bastard.

When (Y/N) laid in bed, even in his sleepy state Billy could notice the slight dip in the mattress. He groaned, “What took you so long…?”. (Y/N) chuckled softly at his tiredness. “Just an unexpected visitor, nothing to worry about”, she smiled reassuringly. “Well as long as you're okay, that’s all that matters”, he kissed her temple, pulling her into his chest. She snuggled into his side, sighing contentedly. She needed this. “Thank you”, she mumbled mindlessly. “For what sweetheart?”.

“For helping me start fresh”.

The couple held each other comfortably, sleep taking over them. (Y/N) rested her head on Billy’s torso, as he lazily made circles on the small of her back. Everything was blissful in that moment. Perfect. She’d deal with Steve tomorrow, for now, she had Billy Hargrove. Billy Hargrove with his strong hold and warm comforting body, Billy Hargrove who made her feel safe.

Author’s note:

Hope you all love the second chapter! Feedback is always appreciated & as always if you want to be added to the taglist comment down below ❤️!

Tag-list: @theblueslytherin @oopsiedoopsie23 @lulu-yuming @merc12-us @soullesstaco @unded-bride @holychocopie @nikkixostan @ellesimagines

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5-seconds-of-bucky · 4 years

Text

You Are In Love

A/N: Very much based off the song You Are In Love by Taylor Swift, but I don’t know if this classifies as a song fic?? Anyways, here ya go! (Extra points if you can spot the very vague John Mulaney reference)

Summery: In the end, you’re always glad you married each other

Word count: 2.6k+

Warnings: A touch of angst, mild swearing

“Mind if I steal my wife?” Shawn asked the girls standing around you.

“Ooh, Y/N, looks like someone likes you,” you maid of honor said in a sing-songy voice.

“Really? Is he cute?” You all laughed as you excused yourself.

“Where are we going?” you giggled as he tugged you through the sea of tables.

He stopped abruptly and you almost crashed into him, placing a hand on his suit clad bicep to steady yourself. “Nowhere in particular,” he said with a smile.

You eyed him suspiciously and he winked in return, taking your hand off his bicep and kissing it before turning around and tugging you forward again. He didn’t stop until you reached a corner in the gigantic room, pulling you in close and swaying slightly to the faint music.

“We haven’t really had a moment to ourselves tonight,” he commented as you stood there.

He wasn’t wrong. You tried to keep the guest list down for the celebration, but that’s a hard task when it comes to a wedding. Everyone wanted to talk to you, and it felt like there was barely any time for you to just be with each other.

“We have to interact with our guests, my dear,” you said as you looked up at him. “We can’t invite them and then completely ignore them.”

“Well yeah, but it’s our wedding. Emphasis on our.”

“We have all the time in the world.”

You smile alone could’ve made him melt on the spot. He’d known for a long time that you were the one, but every time you smiled made him even more positive that statement.

“That we do, however, we only get one wedding day.”

It was cliche to say, but everything truly was perfect. From the moment he saw you in the white dress to the moment he pulled you into this dimily light corner away from the rest of the party, everything was pure bliss.

You shook your head, a genuine smile on your face. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

There was silence for a minute; nothing needed to be said. It was you and your husband against the world.

You were glad you married each other.

---

You yawned as you glanced at the clock. 11:48. You wanted to go to bed so bad, but Shawn made you promise you’d stay up until he got out of the shower. He didn’t tell you why but you assumed he wanted to go out and do something.

It was one of his favorite things to do while you were with him on tour. He loved his team, but sometimes he wanted to go places without anyone else around. With less people on the streets his fame was irrelevant: he was just some guy walking around with his wife late at night.

Your thoughts were interrupted when Shawn walked out of the bathroom, using a towel to dry his hair. He grinned when he saw you half asleep on the bed, and you couldn’t help but smile back. He silently went to his suitcase and tossed a hoodie to you before grabbing one for himself and tossing his towel in the bathroom.

“Where are we going?” you asked as you took his hand and he led you out of the room.

“Don’t know yet,” he shrugged, pressing the button for the elevator. “We’ll know when we see it.”

You gave him a questioning look. “We’re not going to get lost, are we?”

“Pssh, I would never get us lost.”

You rolled your eyes. “Uh huh. What about-”

The ding of the elevator interrupted you and Shawn dragged you in behind him, pulling you into a bone crushing hug.

“That’s irrelevant.”

“But-”

He used a hand to push your face into his chest. “Irrelevant!”

You sighed and hugged him back, too tired to fight back.

“I think the first thing we’re going to do is get you some caffeine,” he chuckled, loosening his grip the slightest bit.

“Good idea.”

You ended up at some random coffee shop down the road. Part of you desperately wanted to go to sleep, the other part wanted to use the time to have Shawn to yourself; a rare moment these days.

You took your drinks on the go, walking hand in hand around the quiet streets of the city. Except for the occasional joke about something you saw here and there, few words were exchanged between the two of you. The only light came from the soft glow of the street lamps. It was the perfect night for coffee at midnight.

“What time is our flight tomorrow?” Shawn asked as he stopped to take a seat on a bench, patting the spot next to him for you to sit.

“Well, technically it’s today and it’s at 5:30, which is in about four and a half hours.” You sat down next to him.

“You sound like that really annoying kid at sleepovers. ‘Uh, it’s tomorrow now,” he mocked with a dopey face.

“Shut up.” You punched him playfully in the arm with a giggle.

“Good lord, why’d we schedule such an early flight? We really should’ve gone to bed.”

“Really? I didn’t think of that.”

“You’re the worst.” The smile on his face said the exact opposite; full of adoration for the girl in front of him.

“What’cha gonna do about it, huh?”

“I’m gonna do this.” He leaned in and you assumed he wanted a kiss so you closed your eyes and leaned in as well. Your face scrunched in disgust when you felt him lick your cheek.

“Shawn Mendes,” you sighed, slowly bringing a hand up to wipe your cheek.

“Yeah?” he asked with a giggle.

You glared at him. “You are absolutely disgusting.”

“Oh yeah? What’cha gonna do about it?”

“Nothing because I’m a civilized person.”

He rolled his eyes playfully. “I’m sorry, your majesty.”

You nudged him with your shoulder as you laughed. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he yawned, stretching his arms up before placing one around your shoulders.

“That was not smooth at all.”

“Really? I think it was pretty smooth.”

“We’re married and you have to do the yawn arm stretch to put your arm around me?”

“No.” He rested his head on your shoulders. “I thought it would be cute.”

“You’re a dork.”

He was a dork, but you were glad you married him.

---

“I got the letter.” You rubbed the piece of paper between your fingers. You had read it at least four times that day and you wanted to read it a fifth, but Shawn called and you couldn’t pass up a chance to actually talk to him.

“Did you like it?” he asked shyly.

“Of course I liked it, silly!”

He let out a sigh of relief. He wasn’t even sure why he’d been so nervous about you receiving it in the first place.

“I miss you.”

“I miss you too,” he said, flopping down on the bed of the hotel room he was staying in for the night. “However, I must say that I do not miss your cold-ass hands on me.”

“Liar,” you accused, fake offense in your voice. “You wish these cold-ass hands were on you right now.”

“That’s debatable.”

“Okay then. Well, how's the whole international pop-star thing going?”

“Oh, you know. Just the usual.”

“Absolutely satisfactory,” you said at the same time. It was a running joke and you weren’t entirely sure where it began. Just one of the many things that made being apart the tiniest bit better.

You gazed longingly at a picture of the two of you on your honeymoon on your nightstand. “I want to use these cold-ass hands to give you a hug.”

“I wish they could.”

“Aha! So you do miss these cold-ass hands!”

“What, no? That’s not what I said.”

He could be a liar about missing your cold-ass hands, but you were glad you married him.

---

You could’ve stayed outside all night. It was the perfect temperature, and the only light came from the moon and a kitchen light you left on for when you decided to go back in.

You were laying on top of Shawn, head in the crook of his neck and hand over his heart. He had a foot on the ground, using it to rock the two of you back and forth in the hammock.

He had been rambling for a while now, failing to notice how your breathing was slowing down, eyes closed as you stopped trying to fight the exhaustion from the day.

“I don’t know. What do you think?” he asked.You didn’t answer and he laughed when he looked down and saw you far away in dream land.

“Hmm, wha’d you say?” You asked, lifting your head up slightly, bumping him in the jaw.

“Nothing. Go to sleep, it’s late,” he chuckled, slipping the hand that was resting on your back under your shirt and rubbing circles into your side.

“No, keep talking. I’m just resting my eyes.” You pressed a soft kiss to his jaw.

“Mmhm. Get some rest, Y/N.”

You snuggled into his chest, breathing in the faint scent of cologne and laundry detergent. He buried his face in your hair, closing his eyes and allowing himself to be in the moment. It was rare you got a quiet moment like this; just the two of you at home.

He was glad he married you.

---

“I just feel like you’re never home.”

“Shawn, what are you talking about?” you sighed. “I’m home all the time.”

“I haven’t properly seen you in three weeks. Three weeks, Y/N,” Shawn huffed. “This is the first time we’ve had dinner together in three weeks.”

“That’s not my fault, Shawn.”

“I came home early multiple times last week and you weren’t here. You were home at 9:30 every day last week. You’re only supposed to work until seven.” His eyes were cold and his movements rigid. Anyone could tell he was mad, but you knew better. Insecurity was creeping in. This wasn’t a fight you should be fighting, but you were going to anyways.

“I can’t control my workload. If I don’t get stuff done in time, I get fired. Time isn’t subjective. Deadlines exist.”

“You couldn’t come home on time just one time? One time, Y/N. That’s all I asked.”

“What, so I could stay until 11:30 the next day? I love you, Shawn, but I can’t do that to myself.” You were already so sick of the fight. The night had started out nice. You had dinner together for the first time in a while but Shawn grumbled about how you were never home under his breath and it only escalated from there.

“All I’m asking for is a little effort on your end.” There were a lot of things he could’ve said right then, but that was the one he had to go for.

“You really think I don’t care about this relationship?”

“That’s not what I-”

“I married you, Shawn. I’ve put up with the touring for months on end, the long nights at the studio, the PR stunts, everything. I clean the house, cook dinner for when you get home, leave you notes in the morning because I care; because I love you.”

Shawn zoned out, your rant becoming a background noise in his brain. He wanted to take the words back the moment he said them. He knew it wasn’t true, life was just frustrating when you didn’t see your wife for weeks on end.

“I think I’ve put in plenty of effort.” You took a step towards him, but it did little to close the huge space between you. “I’m sorry that my job keeps me over every once and awhile, but I put every ounce of myself into this relationship. You should know that better than anyone.”

He stared at you, trying to come up with the right words; words that could just fix everything so you could have just one nice night together for once.

“Are you going to say anything?” you asked, arms crossed and hurt evident in your voice.

“I didn’t mean it like that.” He ran a hand through his hair, voice having the slightest tone of accusation. He couldn’t think of anything else to say. His eyes were sincere, you could tell, but his lack of words said much more.

“Okay then,” you said quietly, biting your lip. “When you figure out what to say, let me know.”

“Okay.” His voice was barely audible, but it spoke volumes. You turned on your heel and walked to the guest bedroom, closing the door softly behind you. Angry as you were, slamming doors wasn’t going to help anything.

He sighed as you disappeared. You always seemed to be the more rational of the two of you and he never understood how you could deescalate yourself so quickly.

You could be mad at him all you wanted, as the end of the day, he was still glad he married you.

---

“Don’t freak out.”

“Telling me not to freak out is going to make me freak out more.” You were standing in the hallway of your office building, staring at the ceiling and tapping your foot as you waited for Shawn to tell you why he called you so abdamentelly in the middle of the workday.

“So I’m kinda on my way to the hospital.”

“Oh my gosh, Shawn, what happened?” Your mind raced with every worst case scenario. The fact that he was calling you should have been some indication that he wasn’t dying, but that did little to ease your worries.

“I was messing around with Brain and I might’ve maybe twisted my ankle really bad and it swelled up a lot so we’re just going to get it checked out.”

You breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank the lord.”

“Why do you sound so happy?”

“You never call me during work. I assumed you were dead or dying.”

“That’s a little unreasonable.”

“Shawn!”

“Sorry.”

“How bad does it hurt?”

“Like a . . . a six I guess?”

Is six enough to warrant surgery?

“I’m not going to be able to get out before my shift ends,” you sighed, leaning your head against the wall as you looked at your watch. “Let me know if you get out before I go home. I’m really sorry, babe.”

“Hakuna matata. I’ll see you soon.”

“Love you.”

“Love you too.”

He was probably the clumsiest person around, but you were still glad you married him.

---

The remains of Chinese takeout was scattered on the table, long forgotten as you lost yourselves in each other.

“No, but do you remember when you literally dragged me out at three in the morning and then got us lost so Andrew had to track us down and nearly killed us?” You asked, looking up from where you were laying across his lap.

“That is not what happened. First of all-”

“That is so what happened!” You sat up to give him that ‘you’re insane’ look.

“You’re crazy, woman.”

“That’s a strange way to address your wife.”

“I am a bit of a strange guy.”

“That’s an understatement.”

“Hey!” He pushed you off of him with a playful smile. “That’s a mean thing to say about your husband.”

“I am a bit of a mean wife.”

“That’s an overstatement. I mean, we’ve made it to one year of marriage and I haven’t considered divorce yet. That’s gotta work for something.”

“Fair enough.”

“I’m glad I married you, Y/N. Happy anniversary”

“Happy anniversary, babe. I’m glad I married you too.”

And it was true. At the end of every day, you were glad you married each other because there could never be anyone better.

Taglist // add yourself

@fallinallincurls @lonelyreputation @musicalkeys

#Shawn Mendes #Shawn Mendes fic #Shawn Mendes fanfic #Shawn Mendes fanfiction #Shawn Mendes one shot #Shawn Mendes imagine #Shawn Mendes writing #Husband!Shawn #Shawn Mendes fluff #Shawn Mendes angst #Shawn Mendes x reader #Shawn Mendes x Y/N #Y/N #Reader insert

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rizlowwritessortof · 3 years

Text

Meant To Be - Chapter 5

Dean and Jordan are each trying to escape their painful pasts. Their chance meeting and a dangerous encounter begins a relationship that may give them both a new start.

Pairing: Police Detective Dean Winchester/Jordan Taylor

Word Count: 2559

Warnings: There be smut here :)

Aesthetic by @editsbymichele on Instagram; Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Jordan walked into the apartment, closing the door behind her and leaning against it for a moment. She felt like a coward, running away without talking to Dean, but… It just felt too awkward to stick around after what she’d seen. She sighed, kicking her shoes off and carrying them to her room, then wandering back to the kitchen. She debated on a drink, but finally settled on a cup of tea, curling up in the corner of the sofa and wishing she could get the image of Dean and Valerie out of her head.

She was staring at nothing as her mind raced over the details of the evening, the tea cup nestled in her hands, when a soft knock sounded at the door. She smiled a little, setting her tea down as she rose to her feet. “Forget your keys?” she called out as she headed to the door. She peered through the peephole, her eyes widening a little when she saw Dean standing there. After a second of hesitation, she opened it, gripping the knob to still the shaking of her hand. “Dean… Come on in. I thought you were Donna.”

He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I don’t think she’s coming home tonight. Think she headed home with Doug.”

“Oh.” She backed away from the door, and he followed her in, closing it and clicking the lock back in place. “So, you want a beer or something? I was just having a cup of tea. Well, I was holding a cup of tea. I think it’s cold now.” She smiled towards him, not quite able to meet his eyes.

“No, I’m good. I just wanted… Can we talk?”

“Ok.” For the life of her, she couldn’t think of a thing to say, so she just stood there, nervously clasping her hands in front of her.

“Jordan, why didn’t you wait for me? I would’ve brought you home.”

She looked up at him, shrugging a little. “I should have told you I was going, but – you were kind of… I didn’t want to interrupt and make things all awkward.”

“You saw me with Val. Jordan, it wasn’t what it looked like.”

“Looked like you two were kissing.” She was surprised that her voice was so steady, as if she were just talking about the weather. She leaned back against the wall near the kitchen door, needing something to ground herself.

“She was kissing. I was...” He sighed, his lips clamped together for a moment as he ran his fingers through his hair. “She grabbed me and pulled me aside, said she needed to talk to me. And then she just – was all over me, and I… it took me by surprise, and it took me a second to push her away. You must have seen that exact moment, because two seconds later...”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Dean, I should have waited to talk to you, but I thought maybe you two were working things out and I didn’t want to be in the way, or make everything weird.”

“Val and I will never work things out. I knew a long time ago that was a dead-end road.” Jordan nodded wordlessly, and he continued with a bitter little laugh. “You know what she wanted? She said ‘her Teddy’ just isn’t good in bed, and she missed how I made her feel, and she wanted to meet me somewhere in secret. So we could sleep together. Not rich or important enough for her, but I guess that doesn’t matter if all you want is a fuck toy.”

Jordan stared at him, shocked. “She is unbelievable. Dean, I’m sorry.”

“I told her she should haul his ass to a sex therapist, if he couldn’t satisfy her. And that she should stay the fuck away from me.” He rubbed his hand over his face, a humorless smirk quirking at his lips. “And I may have told her to go buy a dildo.”

A little burst of laughter escaped from Jordan’s lips before she could contain it. “You didn’t.”

His smile was becoming a little more genuine now. “Yeah. I did.”

“That is too perfect.”

“Anyway, I just wanted you to know what really happened, and make sure you weren’t pissed at me.”

“I was never... I was just… Well, I don’t know what I was, but I wasn’t pissed. I just...” She trailed off, and he looked at her, waiting.

“What, Jordan? Talk to me.”

“Dean, I know when we first met, you were just being kind, trying to distract me from my asshole of an ex. And then you were doing your cop thing, and saving my ass from him. Then we got to be friends, which I really needed. I still do, I would never want to lose that with you, it’s important to me. I’ve been struggling with my feelings for you lately, trying not to get ideas in my head that aren’t ever going to happen, trying to just be happy with the way things are. And yet, sometimes I feel like there’s more going on between us than that. But I don’t know, I can’t read your mind, and since you haven’t said anything… Dean, I just… What exactly is it that you want from me?” Her eyes were full of confusion as she met his steady stare, his tongue darting out over his lips.

He moved towards her slowly, as if she would bolt away from him, but she stayed, dropping her eyes as he drew close. He reached out a hand, brushing his fingers over her cheek, then beneath her chin to tilt her face up towards him. “You know what I want from you, Jordan? Everything.”

He bent towards her, his lips brushing over hers as her eyes closed. Her heart was pounding as he pulled away just enough that she could speak, her voice barely a whisper. “Everything?”

He touched his forehead to hers, his fingers still gently cupping her face, his reply as breathless as hers. “Yeah. The whole nine.” He nudged his nose against hers, moving closer, the heat of his body radiating into hers.

She didn’t speak, just slipped one arm around his waist, the other hand sliding up the length of his arm as she leaned in to kiss him. He moaned, his tongue sweeping across her lips, and hers parted to welcome him. She sighed softly as he pressed her against the wall, his hand moving down to fumble at the tie on the side of her dress, finally working it loose and slipping inside to brush over her skin.

She shivered, and he stopped once more, looking into her eyes with a troubled expression. “If you’re not ready, I get it. After what you went through – I don’t want to push...”

“Detective Winchester, I don’t know how much more evidence you need,” she teased, and his concern melted away as he grinned, letting her lead him down the hall to her room. He stopped her at the doorway, and she turned to look at him, waiting.

“Condoms?” he asked quietly, his thumb tracing patterns across the back of her hand.

“I, um… I got tested after – after Darrel. And I’m on birth control. Were you tested, after...”

“Yeah. Yeah, I was. I’m good. But if you’re more comfortable...”

She gave him a shy smile, standing on tiptoe to kiss the corner of his mouth. “I’m good without if you are. I’d rather feel...everything.” He groaned as she turned away, pulling him into the bedroom.

She let go of his hand as they stepped through the doorway, twirling away from him and untangling the ties on the side of her dress. She dropped it to the floor and kicked it aside as Dean watched, closing the door behind him. He stopped, his eyes roaming over her, blowing a slow breath from between his parted lips. “Darrel is a fucking idiot,” he muttered, almost to himself, and Jordan laughed, a quizzical look on her face.

“What did you say?”

“I said, Darrel is a fucking idiot. Otherwise he would never have screwed things up to the point that you had to leave.” He took a step closer, finally meeting her eyes. “God, you’re beautiful.”

Jordan’s face flushed from his attention and his praise. “He always said I looked too much like a tomboy. I wasn’t ‘sexy’ enough for him.”

Dean reached out and pulled her closer, his hands on her waist. “Like I said, fucking idiot. You’re sexy as hell. If you don’t believe me...” He reached for her hand, placing it over his erection, and she looked up into his eyes.

“I’m afraid I’m going to need a little more proof,” she whispered, giving him a gentle squeeze, watching his eyelids flutter at her touch.

“Sweetheart, I’ll prove it to you all night.” He reached for her again, hands on her hips, guiding her backwards until her knees hit the bed. He moved in close and leaned in to kiss her hungrily, a low moan vibrating from his chest as he pulled her tight against him, his fingers trailing over her skin. She moved her hands between them, up his chest, pushing him away just far enough that she could work the buttons of his shirt free, his muscles tensing beneath her touch as her fingers brushed over his ribs.

She let her hands explore his torso, over his chest and up to push the shirt from his broad shoulders, then dropped them to the waist of his pants, working the button free and lowering the zipper as he parted from her lips, panting softly. He traced a finger along the top of her lacy bra, watching her eyes close as he grazed her nipple on the way. “You look so damn good in this, but I really want you to take it off,” he urged, and she complied, reaching behind her back to unclasp it and letting it drop from her shoulders as he moved back a step to remove the remainder of his clothes.

She slid the matching panties down her hips and let them drop, stepping out of them as he neared again, his erection prodding at her belly as he kissed her, then let her sit down on the bed and scoot to the middle, stretching out as he joined her with a low growl. He laid on his side and pulled her close, their hands exploring each other as their lips met, tongues tangling, breath mingling.

Dean moved her to her back, and Jordan tipped her head back into the pillow as his lips grazed over her jaw, sucking softly at the sensitive spot just below her ear. Every nerve in her body was humming, vibrant and alive, his every touch sending her higher. He laced the fingers of one hand through hers and let the other roam, brushing over her breasts and then tracing her taut nipples before he made his way down to tease at them with his tongue. She squirmed beneath him as he sucked one into the heat of his mouth, his fingers drifting slowly down her body, finally dipping between her thighs as her hips rose to meet him, anxious to relieve the delicious ache building there. He trailed work-roughened fingertips through her delicate folds, humming in appreciation at how wet she was already.

“Dean,” she moaned, and he moved back up to kiss her, swallowing her breathless cries as he rubbed gentle circles around her clit and slipped two digits deep inside her, stroking slowly.

“I know, baby, I can’t wait to be inside you,” he answered, moving back up to kiss her as he continued to coax her open, “but I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Not made out of glass,” she whispered against his lips, gasping softly as he brushed over her sweet spot, and he let out a soft growl before kissing her hard, his fingertips sending sparks through her body as he focused his attention there with persistent strokes. When she bucked up beneath him, starting to tremble, he left her lips, nuzzling into her neck, panting hard along with her.

“Just let go, sweetheart, I gotcha,” he rumbled into her ear. Seconds later she arched up hard, her body flushing hot as she came with a soft cry, and Dean dropped tender kisses on her neck and shoulder, murmuring praises as he gently eased her down.

Jordan let out a breathy whine as he pulled his fingers free and shifted his body over, letting his palms glide up the smooth skin of her thighs and back down as he settled between them. He braced himself with one arm, wrapping a hand around his erection to get in position, his jaw tensed as he savored the sweet ache of anticipation for a moment before pressing forward, the sounds she was making urging him on. He groaned, long and low, his cock throbbing at the sensation of her pulsing around him, slick and hot, as he pushed deeper inside her.

Finally, he was flush against her, and he held still for a moment, panting hard, before bending to kiss her almost desperately. Jordan wrapped her legs around his hips, letting her calves slide down the back of his thighs as she arched up against him, forcing him as deep as possible inside her as she whimpered into their kiss, sucking lightly at his tongue.

She finally relaxed, lowering herself to the bed again, and Dean began to slowly grind against her, unwilling to pull back yet, the feeling of being buried deep inside her making his head spin a little. “You feel so fucking good,” he moaned between hungry kisses, and Jordan clutched harder at his back, the muscles there rippling beneath her fingertips.

“Oh, God,” she managed, “so do you,” gasping as he pulled back slowly, then pushed back in to the limit. “Dean...”

He did it again, swearing under his breath as Jordan shuddered beneath him, clenching around his length, and he buried his face in her shoulder, growling, “Hold on, sweetheart,” his hips picking up speed. Soon he was driving into her hard, neither of them able to keep quiet any longer as their bodies collided, Jordan meeting him with every thrust, the sensations building to an almost unbearable level.

She let out a hoarse shout of his name, then went rigid, her orgasm whiting out her vision and stealing her breath. Dean was still pounding into her, each stroke driving into the very core of her being, the almost-pain pleasure sending shock waves through her nerves, the high seeming to last forever. The sound of Dean swearing was muted in her ears, but Jordan could feel his cock swelling, pulsing inside her and then the heat as he exploded, still pounding into her as if he couldn’t stop.

He finally began to slow, then stilled, letting his weight rest on top of her as his chest heaved against hers. With some effort, she unclasped her shaking legs from around his hips and let them drop to the bed, making them both groan. She forced her fingers to loosen their grip on his back and lowered her arms, her limbs sprawled on the mattress, her eyes drifting closed, feeling exhausted and completely content.

Chapter 6

#meant to be #chapter 5 #dean fic #dean smut #dean x oc #dean x jordan

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writefasttalkevenfaster · 3 years

Text

Take My Hand (Part Five)

Summary: everything is perfect, only when its not (five of ??? parts - more parts to come!)

Pairings: Sonny Carisi x Reader, Rafael Barba x Reader

Word Count: 5,985

Song: Oh, I can't / Stop you putting roots in my dreamland / My house of stone, your ivy grows / And now I'm covered in you (ivy by taylor swift)

Warnings: T, swearing, lots of fluff but some angst sprinkled throughout, a mild foray into “sightless in a savage land” (22x04) (basic facts of the case), also the v*rus doesn’t exist b/c i don’t want to live in reality.

A/N: finally we’ve gotten to the actual premise of this fic!! i don’t know what to say thank you to all of you for reading, your comments and reblogs have kept me going! thank you to @laneygthememequeen and @bucky-of-the-opera for being the best beta readers!!

“What is this?” Sonny asks, a hesitant half murmur into your ear, the two of you curled in his living room, your head resting against his chest, your legs tangled in each other’s in bed — his fingers tracing a circle on your hip, his teeth bearing down on his lip, And you turn to face him, your elbow propped up on the pillow, head tilted.

“What do you mean?” he pauses, pursing his lip, “Sonny—”

“I know it’s early,” it had been about two weeks of bliss — weekends spent at each other’s places, week nights spent keeping the other company —- a routine so natural you didn’t know how you had spent three years without him by your side. His hand moves to cup his cheek, and his lips move to kiss your palm, resting his over your cheek, “but it’s also three years late.”

A soft chuckle leaves your lips, “Already looking to put down roots?”

He shifts slowly, until he’s hovering over you, his breath warming your lips and his eyes even warmer, “Always when it’s you,” but there is a soft of disbelief that is already taken root in your heart — months and months before this had began — its poisonous roots already twisted around your chest. Planted from the seeds of doubt and false promises, of plied kisses and fake reassurances — none of which Sonny had done.

And yet — he sees you hesitate, and the hurt ricochets from his eyes right to his heart, and he begins to pull away, “If it’s too early—”

“No, no, Sonny,” your fingers find purchase at the back of his neck, tugging him gently back to him, his eyes finding yours with reluctance, “It’s not too early. I’m just—” you needed to tell him, you wanted to tell him when this had first begun, but it was too hard — too difficult to burst the bubble the two of you had made a home in, without talk of reality, “I need to tell you about something.”

But you needed to.

He furrows his brow, and you bite your lip, shifting so that both of you were sitting up, your back pressed against his headrest, “Before, any of this — before I even met you,” you lick your lips, twisting your fingers in your lap, “you remember I was seeing someone right?”

“I do,” he frowns, “you don’t have to—”

“No, I have to,” you’re practically chewing your bottom lip now, “you deserve an explanation—” he deserved it a long time ago.

He purses his lips, but nods, “Well, that was the reason I had to leave,” you raise your eyes to meet his, “the idea of seeing him every day—at the office—I couldn’t do it.”

And the pieces seem to click together for Sonny, “It was—”

The name dies on his lips, just as your relationship with the A.D.A. did, “It was Rafael,” it had been so long since his name had been on your lips that it was now unfamiliar, the same syllables that had made a home on your tongue — said between laughs at the office, whispered in his ear, muttered against his lips — now was a stranger’s, the vowels and consonants foreign, “we tried — I tried to make it work, but he never wanted a relationship.”

“Sweetheart,” Sonny whispers, and you shake your head.

“Every time, I said I wanted more, he never did,” you knew it was wrong — you knew you deserved more, but you still did it, you tolerated it, “I stayed, I hoped things would change, but they didn’t. The night I came to you — we had fought, I had tried to end things, and what I did—” the words spilled from your lips, but you refused to let any tears spill — no, you had shed far too many over him, “I left because I was ashamed, I was so ashamed of letting myself get into that situation.”

He’s silent a moment, before speaking, “You were in love with him,” his fingers slowly intertwine with yours, “and everyone does stupid things when they are in love.”

“I was,” And you let yourself stew in silence of that truth, for a moment, before squeezing his fingers, your eyes finding his gaze with a small smile, “but not anymore.”

“And what does that mean for us?” he asks.

“I just don’t want things to go wrong like it did with him,” you were always waiting for the other shoe to drop — for something to go wrong, and when you spend your time waiting for something to go wrong, it usually did, but at least you expected it, “I don’t want to lose you.”

“In case you didn’t notice,” he tilts your chin up with two fingers, “I’m not him.”

“I know,” your forehead falls against his, his arms wrapping around you, “I know.”

“You’re leaving me in suspense here, doll,” he mutters, his thumb brushing against your cheek, “but it’s okay if you’re not ready—”

You lean back, “I don’t know what this is, but,” you press a kiss to his lips, and he tastes like home — not one that would crack beneath your feet, but one that was steady and strong, “I know I only want you.”

“Sh—” Sonny cut himself off, sucking air between his teeth, as he stared at the pile of paperwork he had accidentally knocked off his desk in his office. Some office, a shoebox fit for a junior A.D.A. — one that he could barely fit his desk into — it had taken three different people to maneuver his desk into his office. He sighed, slipping from his chair and rounding his desk and now on his knees, gathering the papers off the floor.

But what did he expect? For them to hand over the keys to Barba’s old office? He felt an odd twinge at the thought of his name — he was his mentor, his friend (at least he’d like to think so), and yet, it felt like he was living in his shadow still. With the squad, with his bosses, with—

“Counselor,” you knock on his door, leaning against frame of the doorway to his office, until you see the papers, and bend down to pick them up, “this would be a really good meet-cute if we haven’t met before,”

“Too bad,” he smiles up at you, before you lean forward and press a kiss to his lips, and his hand cups your cheek, your tongue tracing his bottom lip, “Doll,” his voice drops an octave.

“Not all bad, huh?” you breathe, grinning, breaking the kiss to help him pick up the rest of the paperwork, his eyes falling back onto the pile, and the stress creeps back into his shoulders, “now I’m guessing you weren’t throwing these papers up in a victory celebration, were you?”

“Not exactly,” he sighs, both of you getting to your feet, as he moves to shut the door, collapsing in his chair, “when did you start to feel good at your job?”

You lean against the edge of his desk, “What’s wrong?”

“I asked you first,” and you shake your head.

“You don’t— if you’re any good you question yourself every step of the way, you think carefully with every choice you make,” you cross your arms, “Sonny, they say your first year as a lawyer is akin to your first year in law school — how did you feel as a 1L?”

He folds his arms, “Incompetent, like everyone had the answers except me, and that I was gonna fail outta school,”

“And did you?”

“No, you’re right,” he leans back in his chair, “I just didn’t think this would be this hard,”

“It’s something new,” your fingers find his, “of course it’s going to be hard, but you’ll get the hang of it — I know you will. And you’ll screw up, you’ll make mistakes, but everyone does—” you grimace, “remind me to tell you about the time I got grilled by Judge Lopez for my mistake during discovery.”

“Bad?” you shudder.

“I still have nightmares,” and he cracks a smile, and your lips curl too, “there’s that smile that I—” you cut off, sucking your bottom lip into your mouth.

And Sonny can’t help the way his lips split into a grin, “What was that?”

“Sonny—” but you can’t escape because he’s already got you trapped, rising to his feet and pressing you into the lip of his desk. And he kisses you, relishing in how you melt into his touch, your fingers twisted in his hair, your other hand resting on his shoulder. His lips draw a path down your neck, kissing right above your leaping pulse, “I—”

“Mm?” he murmurs against your warm skin.

And he knew it was too soon to be saying those three words — it hadn’t been enough time, but there was something about you that made reason disappear between the tips of his fingers, and he was only left holding you.

“I love your smile,” you lean up to kiss him again, softly and wholly, “you should do it more often.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Let’s go,” and his eyes fall back to the pile of papers on his desk, but you draw your attention back to him, small kisses dotting his face — his chin, his cheeks, his neck, “it’s late, and you’re exhausted, and these cases will be here in the morning.”

“But—”

“Is everything for tomorrow taken care of? Is there anything pressing?” he pauses, before shaking his head, and you find his lips again, before sliding off the desk, holding your hand out to him, “let’s go.”

He takes your hand, fingers laced together, grabbing his jacket, and shutting off the light, casting the room into shadow, and spared a glance at the room, before he allowed you to lead him out of Hogan Place.

Maybe he didn’t have to worry about a shadow after all.

“Come on, you gotta let me do something,” you leaned against Sonny’s kitchen counter, watching him cut tomatoes, “I have to be able to help.”

“Not after last time,” he replies, a wry smile on his lips, “not happening, sweetheart, no matter how much you pout at me.”

“Oh come on, I didn’t cut myself that—” he raised an eyebrow, “okay I burned myself once, but—”

“And the injuries are not just limited to you—” he held up his hand, where a faint scar could be seen, “if it was just you getting hurt, maybe I’d let you help.”

“Ouch,” you feign mock hurt, before shrugging and sipping at your drink, watching him finish, crushing the tomatoes with the flat side of his blade before placing them in the pot with olive oil, onions, and garlic, “but it is sexy to watch you cook.”

He snorts, gesturing to his stained apron, “This is sexy to you?”

“I have needs,” you smile against the rim of the glass, “and those include being fed.”

“Well, good thing we got that covered,” he sets a timer, turning his back to stir the pot, and you bite your lip, as your eyes rake over him until you reach one of your more favorite features— “are you staring at me?”

“Yes,” you reply unabashedly, and he glances over his shoulder, lips curled, “but I think I rather do more than look,”

“Oh yeah?” you can hear the smirk in his voice, “well, you’re gonna have to wait until after I finish.”

You round the counter silently, until your arms are wrapping around his middle, leaning to press a kiss to his neck, “What if I don’t want to wait?”

“Doll,” he warns, but your hands continue to slide up and down his sides and front, “the sauce will burn—”

But you’re turning him around anyway, your hand around the back of his neck, pulling him down to your lips, his smile presses against your lips, and then he’s kissing you back, his back pressed against the counter. He tastes a little like tomato and you know he must have been tasting the meal as he went. His large hands sliding down to your waist and squeezing.

You gasp and he’s grinning, swallowing your noise with pleasure, and he takes control from you easily, and suddenly the lip of the counter is digging into your skin, and then he breaks the kiss, smiling, “What?” you ask, laughing.

“I was just remembering the first time we cooked together,” he traces your cheek, “I never thought we’d end up here.”

You raise an eyebrow, “Did you want to end up here?” and he clears his throat, the pink flushing across his cheeks a tell tale sign, “did you have a crush on me?”

“Sweetheart,” he sighs, a begrudging smile gracing his face when he hears you laugh, before he leans closer, “so what if I did?”

What if he wanted to end up here — holding you like he was, imagined briefly what it would be like to hold your hand, to fall asleep next to you, to hear your thoughts — and he did, and he kisses your forehead — and he didn’t want to question how.

“Well I got good news and bad news,” you kiss him again, languidly, “good news is that I most definitely have a little more than a crush on you,” and he snorts, your lips smiling as they press kisses across the length of his jaw, “bad news is I think your sauce may be burning—”

“Oh shi—” and he’s rushing over to the pot to see what he can salvage, while you are carefully peering over his shoulder, “go sit,” he wags a finger at you, “you’re a danger to the process.”

“Yes sir,” and you don’t miss the way he looks at you — and you smile as you watch him begin to cook the pasta — you’ll have to keep that in mind for dessert.

“Are you sure you want me to come?” you tugged nervously at your clothes, straightening everything for the twentieth time, “I don’t want to intrude on your family—”

“You’re not intruding,” he presses a kiss to the top of your head, “It’s Theresa’s engagement party—you’re doing me a favor by coming—” he wraps his arms around you from behind, watching you scrutinize yourself in front of the mirror, “they are going to love you, relax.”

You murmur, “How do you know that?”

“Because I’ve told them about you — my mom is the one who basically begged me to bring you,” he kisses your cheek, lips lingering.

“You told them about me?” your heart squeezes, as he laughs, furrowing his brow.

“Of course I did,” he snorts, “do you think I could keep you a secret this long?” and you bite back a smile, chest warm, as you lift one of his hands to your lips, “plus, it doesn’t hurt that you’re beautiful, now does it?”

“Sonny,” you lean into his touch, lips finding the side of his face, “You’re sure that—”

He pulls away, facing you, “Do you not want to go?”

“No, no,” you shake your head, wringing your hands — you weren’t used to this, you were used to hiding in bedrooms, and sneaking kisses in between cases, not used to meeting the family and holding hands in public, “I’m just nervous.”

He presses a kiss to your forehead, “You have nothing to worry about — they’ll love you,” he smiles, “just like I do.”

Sonny had said the words a few days before — whispered in your ear after dinner, as the two of you curled up on the couch together, his arm wrapped around your shoulder, you had found him staring at you softly, a small smile on his lips.

“What?” you had asked, tilting your head.

“I love you,” he had said, “and you don’t have to say it back right this second, but I do, I love you, sweetheart.”

And you had wanted to say it back — burning on the tip of your tongue and deep in your chest, standing at the edge of a precipice, unable to see the bottom, but also unable to jump. But you knew he would catch you, you knew he would keep you safe — but—

You still couldn’t say it.

You lean up to kiss him, “I know.”

“So you’re the one my son’s always talking about,” it hadn’t been more than a minute since you stepped in Sonny’s home, the woman standing before you was none other than his mother.

“Ma,” she engulfs him in a hug, pressing kisses to his cheeks, “so this is—”

She cuts him off with your name, holding her hands out that you take, and she squeezes them, “I’ve heard so much about you — all good,” she elbows her son, “but not nearly enough about when you’re getting mar—”

You flush, while Sonny is gaping at his mom, “Mom—”

“I’m just joking, Dominick,” she laughs, she squeezes your hand again, “come on, let me introduce you to the rest of the family.”

Your introduction to the rest of the Carisi clan is relatively painless for you — though you can’t say the same for Sonny. You swore his skin turned several different shades of red — by his sisters alone.

“Is he going to be okay?” you ask Gina, as you gesture to Sonny standing with several of his cousins, who seemed to currently be ribbing him.

“He’s fine, he’s a big boy, he can handle himself,” Gina waves him off, leading you over to a couch where the rest of his sisters are sitting, “how long have you two been together?”

“It’s been a few months,” you smile.

“But you’ve known each other longer right?” Theresa asks, crossing her legs, “he’s mentioned your name before years ago I think?”

“Yeah, we used to work together,” you had a feeling where this was going, “I—”

“Yeah, yeah, you had left all of a sudden, right?” Bella tilts her head.

“I did,” you furrow your brow, and Theresa waves you off.

“Look, Sonny didn’t ask us to talk to you — he actually didn’t tell us any of this, but our brother isn’t hard to figure out,” Gina shakes her head, “we just—”

“Look—” you purse your lips, “I know you are trying to protect your brother, and I get that, I really do — so can I just say something?”

“I know I’ve done wrong by Sonny before, I have,” you lick your dry lips, hands in your lap, “I know, he knows. I don’t want to hurt him — I’m scared of hurting him.” you swallow thickly, “I just want you to know, I...love him”

You loved him — even if you couldn’t say it to him, you loved him. Your eyes drift to him easily — his lanky figure by the dining table, smiling at you — no matter where he was. It was a compass finding north — and he was home.

You continue, “If I could change what I did before, I would, but…”

They all glance at each other, shoulders relaxing, exchanging a smile, “Come on,” Bella squeezes your hand, “let’s get started with dinner.”

Your shoulder is brushing Sonny’s, his hand finding yours under the table, squeezing. The clinking of knives, spoons, and forks against plates accompanied with the boisterous conversation between the family booming — no one was sparing from the teasing in the Carisi family it seemed, a lull in the conversation is when you found yourself speaking, “The food is delicious, Mrs. Carisi—”

“Please call me Elena,” she had her son’s smile — a smile that consumed their entire face — even her sparkling blue eyes crinkling as his did, “What did Sonny say you did again?”

“Defense work,” you reply, “I used to have the same position as Sonny, but I moved on to a private criminal defense firm.”

“I bet the hours there are much more reasonable than Dominick’s,”

“Ma—”

“I’m just saying,” she lifts her hands in defense, “It would be nice if you could come home and see your family more than once a month now, wouldn’t it?”

You interrupt before Sonny can reply, “Well, I have my fair share of late nights as well. But you should see the work that Sonny is doing — he’s doing incredibly at the D.A.’s Office.”

You share a look with Sonny, a smile on his lips, “Someone’s exaggerating—”

“Someone doesn’t take enough credit when it’s due,” you bump him, and his arm is wrapping around your shoulder.

“He doesn’t,” Elena raises her eyebrows, “gets it from his father.”

Dominick Carisi Sr. was a little more of a mystery, slivered blonde hair and a small smile on his lips — a man of little words compared to his wife. You could see Sonny in his brow, in the same sharp bone structure, and even in the mustache that laid above his lips (although it suited much more than his son).

He offers you a smile, the conversation continuing, and you hold in a sigh, as Sonny pressed a kiss to your head.

It was going well. It was okay.

And after dessert — a delicious and quite-possibly-too-large serving of both tiramisu and cannolis — you found your way to the kitchen to wash up.

You passed by the wall of pictures — each picture was different in age — you spotted a few of the Carisi children together (Sonny was lanky even as a 8 year old), another of Sonny standing with his parents on his high school graduation, one of him receiving his promotion to detective, and another on his law school graduation — and there was another of his parents’ wedding, his mother and father standing side by side, smiling.

“Happiest day of my life,” a voice said behind you, and you found Dominick Carisi Sr. standing with his arms crossed, “can’t remember a single thing I regret about that day or any day after that. Well,” he frowns at the picture, “perhaps the choice of suit.”

You snort, “Well if that’s your only regret, I think you’re in good shape.”

“Do you want to get married?”

Wow, the intentions talk was coming at you from all angles today.

“I do, I think,” you smile, hands in your pockets, “I don’t know when—”

“As long as you do, someday,” he smiles, glancing at the pictures, “please take care of my son, okay?”

And your heart warms, glancing at the father of the man you loved, your gaze softening, “Of course, sir.”

His hand brushes your shoulder, giving you a nod, before he slips away from the kitchen, back to the festivities.

And you spared one more glance at the photo wall — falling onto the wedding picture yet again — and you let yourself wonder, if only for a moment, if your picture would be up there someday.

~~~

Eventually the party began to die down, and you found yourself slipping away again to use the bathroom right off the kitchen, before you and Sonny had to get ready to go. You were washing your hands when you heard quiet voices speaking in the kitchen. You pause, the voices floating through the walls.

“So when are you going to pop the question?" you raise your eyebrows — no one in the Carisi family pulled any punches, and you were starting to see why Sonny was so blunt to begin with when he came to S.V.U.

"Ma," you can hear the sigh in his voice, his brow most assuredly wrinkled.

"At least tell me this," she cuts him off, “Is this who you want to marry?”

Your heart catches in your throat, his soft reply stealing air from your lungs, “I think I do,”

“Have you told—”

“Not yet, Ma,” there’s clattering as they place the dishes in the sink, and you can’t hear the start of his sentence, “it’s too soon right now,”

“But eventually?” and your chest warms at the smile in his voice.

“Eventually.” he sighs, “now can we move on? Before you start asking me what my children’s names will be?”

“You two both want children right? Because I better be getting grandchildr—” their voices drift away as they head towards the living room, and you lean against the door, smiling for a moment.

The car door closes behind you, and Sonny relaxes, head against the headrest, “Thank you for—” But then your hands cup his face, and you’re leaning over the console to kiss him, and his brow is furrowed for a moment, before relaxing into your touch, “I—”

“I love you,” you breathe, eyes fluttering, and he’s blinking, “I love you, I have for a long time, I just couldn’t bring myself—”

“Sweetheart—”

“No, please,” your eyes are glassy, as you blink away tears, “I love you, Dominick Carisi, so, so much—”

And he’s kissing you now, your hand dropping to fist in his shirt to pull him closer, his palm warm against your cheek, a tear rolling down his knuckles.

“I love you too,” he breathes back, a ghost of a laugh on his lips.

“So should we start discussing our children’s names now?” and Sonny’s eyes widen, before snapping to his parents’ home.

“Did they—”

“I heard your mom,” and he’s pinching the bridge of his nose, “hey,” and his eyes drift back to you, “I love you.”

And he smiles, pressing a kiss to your forehead, “I love you too.”

There is an annoying buzzing. It’s low at first, but then it grows louder as you turn, your nose wrinkling at the light falling across your eyes, and then you realize — eyes snapping open to see the alarm blinking back a time that taunts you with a late start you can’t escape from.

You’re late.

“Shit—” you’re up with a start, shaking Sonny beside you, “Sonny, we’re late — get up.” You’re pulling on your clothes from last night, running into the bathroom. You’re washed and essentially ready in five minutes, leaving the bathroom, finding Sonny still motionless, and you sigh, shaking him again, “Sonny, Sonny,”

“Mm?” one eye cracks open, and he’s groaning, rubbing his eyes, “sweetheart—”

“Sonny, my love,” and he’s blinking, glancing at you, still barely out of the throes of sleep, “it’s 8:50 AM, we’re late. Get up!”

And now he’s getting up, stumbling out of bed, “Shit—”

“Go take a shower, you have arraignment at 10, don’t you?” and he’s nodding, pulling you close a moment for a kiss, “what a mess huh? Maybe we shouldn’t spend the night when we have hearings in the morning,”

“Or maybe we need a more permanent solution to the problem,” he presses a kiss to your lips, “like moving in?”

“Moving in?” you furrow your brow, before your phone is buzzing, “shit I have to go. I’m sorry I got to get to court—”

“What about—”

“I have a steamer at work and an extra blouse in the car, I’ll change when I get in,” you press a quick kiss to his lips, “get ready, meet for dinner at my place?”

He nods, “Have a good day—”

And the door shuts behind you.

“Are you cooking?” Sonny’s arms wrap around your middle, pressing a kiss to your neck, “didn’t we establish that’s incredibly dangerous?”

“Not when it’s just eggs and not when I ordered chinese takeout,” you slide the cooked eggs onto the plate, and your lips find his, as you set the plate down, “it’s been a long day.”

“What happened?” you sigh, wiping your hands off with a dish towel.

“Let’s just say my steamer isn’t worth the price I paid, and my semi-wrinkled clothes did not fly in front of Judge Williams,” you wrinkle your nose at his name, “sexist piece of—”

He snorts, “Did you win your motion?”

“By the skin of my teeth,” you shake your head, as you walk over to the couch, your leg folded underneath the other, “I should keep a spare set of clothes on me when I stay over.”

Sonny slides beside you, leaning against the top of the couch, his arm stretched across the top of the couch, “Maybe you should keep more than that here,”

You raise an eyebrow, “Like a drawer or something?”

“No, I was thinking maybe you should move in?” his mouth is dry, as he sees you blink, hesitate.

“I don’t know if it’s the right time—”

“But don’t you think it’s worth discussing?” but his voice softens, “I want to wake up next to you, doll. I want to be able to wake up late and not worry about you having to change in the bathroom, and we’re both busier than ever — I want to come home to you every night. Our home.”

“Sonny,” you pull him into a sweet kiss, “you’re right, and I want to, I do, I just—” you pull back, arms crossed, “I just don’t know if I’m ready for that.”

“Not ready for what?” For him? For us?

You frown, “Don’t be mad, please—”

“No, I’m not upset, I just want an explanation,” he wasn’t angry — he was disappointed. Throughout this relationship, you were the one playing catch up. He was the first to fall, he was the first to love, he was the first to want more — the first, the first, the first.

He was always the first.

“Sonny, I promise,” you lace your fingers with his, “I want a future with you. I do. I’m just not ready right now. I’m—” you cut off, “I will be ready, eventually, just not now.”

He only smiles, pressing a kiss to your head, “I understand.”

And he would be the first to get hurt, wouldn’t he?

Just like he was before.

“Hey,” Sonny taps you on the wrong shoulder, making you turn, pressing a kiss to your other cheek, “are we doing something for New Years?”

You shrug, handing him a hot coffee, walking arm and arm with him towards the courthouse, “If you want to? I thought you usually see your family around this time,”

“They decided to go down to the Poconos,” he shrugs, “I got seven arraignments on Monday—”

“Say no more,” you press a kiss to his lips, “we’ll do something to make up for last year,” Sonny had left for his family’s place for New Years when you both had just started dating, and you had stayed behind — to work.

“What do you usually do on New Years?” you sip at your drink.

“Not anything usually,” you lick your lips, before smiling, “but now, I think I have something very special to do.”

He pulls you into his arms, “Oh really?”

“What better way to ring in the new year?” and he kisses you, carefully pulling you closer, savoring the taste of the dark roast and milk on his lips.

“Can’t argue with that.”

~~~

“I hope you didn’t mind—” Sonny murmurs, and you elbow him discreetly, glancing at a sleeping Amanda.

“Of course not,” A sleeping Jessie is curled next to her mom, “I love Amanda and Jessie — although I may sue you for the headache I’ll be getting from the pot banging.”

He snorts, and you shush him, watching Amanda and Jessie shift, and you’re handing him a throw blanket from the couch and he’s gently placing it on top of them,

You smile, as he settles back next to you, “What?”

“It’s nice to see her relax for once,” you lay your head against his shoulder, your chin resting on his shoulder, “and you too.”

“Well that’s thanks to tonight, and to you,” he leans down and presses a soft kiss to your lips, “I love you.”

And you smile, “I—”

A screeching cuts you off, as you sit up, and both of you are reaching for your phone, “An Amber alert,” Amanda is slipping from Jessie’s side, “S.V.U. requested.”

She adjusts the blanket on Jessie, running her hand through her hair, “You two will?”

“Of course,” you nod, “Go Amanda.”

She sighs, rubbing at her eyes, “2021 begins.”

And in a second, she’s changed and ready and out the door. The door clicks behind her, and you rise to check on Jessie, adjusting her blankets, “Should we move her to her bed?”

“Let her sleep for now,” Sonny holds his hand out for you, and you take it — pulling you back into his arms, “When do you think you want kids?”

Your fingers combing through his hair pause, “I don’t know — whenever I get married I guess.”

“But you want kids?” and you smile, pressing a kiss to his brow.

“I do, maybe not yet, but someday,” and he nods, two fingers tilt your chin upwards, “Happy New Year.”

“Happy New Year,” he murmurs, drawing you into a kiss, one of his hands slipping into his pocket, thumbing the velvet ring box in his pocket — maybe this year would be the year that he’d convince himself to ask.

What were you about to get yourself into?

Your shoes click against the concrete floors, approaching the entry point, “I’m here to see Mickey Davis,” you flash your I.D. badge at them, “I’m here from Noble-Gordon LLP as possible representation.”

You sigh, adjusting your coat while the guard has someone check on Davis. Taking on a case like this was tricky — the press could spin it either way — getting off a cold blooded vigilante or saving a war vet from unjust punishment. But right now, Noble-Gordon needed a win, and needed it to be on the side of the military. Their firm’s recent win of getting off a man who had murdered a vet had left the firm in bad form with several of its benefactors — and right now, you were trying to direct pro bono hours to go any which way you could towards veterans’ rights — pro bono cases for veterans for damages, against abuses by the V.A. helping deal with HIPAA laws to obtain medical files — anything and everything.

But this case — this case would be the kicker.

A high profile case of a veteran shooting a man who had molested and raped his daughter — it would be perfect.

Or so the partners at your firm thought.

You were only there to secure the case for the firm — or that was what you told them. You knew this fell well into Sonny’s case load — and you didn’t want the unpleasant experience of having to tell the judge that you were in a relationship with the A.D.A. trying this case.

Not to mention the fact you hadn’t told him your firm may be taking the case — you checked your phone, several unreturned texts — but it wasn’t like you could reach him anyway.

The guard turns back to you, “Right now, Davis is meeting with his counsel—”

You furrow your brow, “That’s impossible, I had let him and the prison know I wasn’t arriving until now, I’m his co—”

“Not his only counsel it seems,” a voice says, emerging from behind the gate, as the guard buzzed him through.

His hair was neat, if not a tad overgrown, but so was the rest of his face — consumed by a thick beard that put his five o’clock shadow to shame. But his lips were still curled in that signature smile of his, the very same that made your heart squeeze — as it was doing right now. But his eyes were different — softer, as he tilted his head.

“Rafael,” you breathe, even though you were breathless, “you’re back.”

He only smiles, “I’m back.”

#sonny carisi #sonny carisi x reader #sonny carisi fanfiction #sonny carisi imagines #rafael barba #rafael barba x reader #rafael barba imagines #rafael barba x you #svu #svu imagines #svu fanfiction #law and order; SVU

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iliveiloveiwrite · 3 years

Text

Snow Days // G.W.

Summary: Snow falls in the night. Hogwarts is a boarding school that has never had a snow day... until now.

A/N: More Professor!George Weasley... because I have taken this headcanon for myself and will run with it until I find something else to hyper fixate on...

Warnings: snow, fluff, cute, established relationship.

Word count: 2.3k

Sometime in the night, the rain that had been forecast changed. Sometime in the night, it froze, becoming snow. It started slow, a few flakes here and there.

The flakes then turned larger, growing heavier as they blanketed the floor. The flurries becoming too much for any creature to stay outside for too long; seeking out warmth and comfort as the snow continues to fall.

Instantly the castle that had always a charm about it was transformed to an ethereal state. The grounds accepted the snow, taking it in, accepting it as if it had always been there. Watching the snow fall from your window, you take in the rapid transformation of the grounds you call home, knowing that in a few hours, the fresh snow would be trampled upon by masses of students rushing through the cold.

Hogwarts was a boarding school. The students lived on site meaning that there was no commute to be disrupted and no excuse for not attending classes. Throughout its long and colourful history, Hogwarts had never known a snow day.

Stepping away from the window, you shake your head, already knowing that your lessons that evening would have to be cancelled. Snow was lovely, and snow days were non-existent at the school, but the sky would not be visible enough tonight to seek out the stories amongst the stars.

Turning to the bed, you spy George’s form amongst the pillows and blankets. You smile softly to yourself, his snores punctuating the air. You don’t rush through your routine, savouring every step as the weariness settles over your body, calling for your bed and the warm embrace of George’s arms. Tonight’s lesson was one you would remember; students too excited about the change in the weather instead of the stars, but their distraction provided ample entertainment.

Settling in next to the love of your life, George’s arms automatically find you. As your eyes slip shut, you’re already thinking of your plans for the snow.

----------

George Weasley woke that morning, ambled over to the window and promptly groaned. For some, snow was a blessing. To George, it meant grumbling students and complaints about the coldness of his classroom. It didn’t matter what spells he used; the Dungeon classroom was doomed to remain cold no matter how long he remained teaching at the school.

It’s going to be a long day; he thinks to himself as he doesn’t rush his morning routine. He sets the kettle on the stove to boil before returning to the bedroom where he finds you sleeping soundly, curled up on your right side with your left arm outstretched to his side of the bed as if seeking his warmth.

He perches on the bed, reaching out to run a gentle hand through your hair. Your nose wrinkles as George’s touch brings you back from your dreams, bringing you to consciousness.

“Have you seen the snow?” You ask, voice harsh with sleep.

George hums in answer, leaning down to kiss your head. “I have,” He whispers, “I’m already dreading class.”

You laugh, stretching into a comfier position, pulling the blankets closer to your body. “Is it bad to say I’m glad it’s you and not me?”

George chuckles, “Not bad at all. Go back to sleep, love. I’ll find you later.”

His words are answered with a mumbled ‘love you’. Years, he realises as he shakes his head, returning to the kitchen. It’s been years now, and still those words leaving your lips continues to make his heart race and leave his mind in a whirl.

George dresses quickly after downing the remains of his tea. He needs to be in his classroom early to heat it as best he can for the students that will have no doubt been out in the snow before beginning their classes for the day.

Students arrive in dribs and drabs from the sounding of the first bell, but they all have one thing in common. They’re all covered in melting snow and would have preferred to remain outside than come to class.

“Why can’t we be out in the snow?” A student demands, throwing his hand dramatically towards the window where flurries of snowflakes are just visible.

George tries his best not to throw a withering look in the direction of the teenager. He understands; whenever he was in their shoes, he spent more time skipping lessons and running around in the snow with Fred causing all sorts of mayhem. He’s a teacher now, however, and there are rules to be followed.

Though… those rules can always be bent.

George searches the classroom; eyes landing on the student who voice their protest. Matthew Taylor, a Seventh Year, predicted to do very well in his final examinations. The teenager’s hair is still dripping slightly from the snow melting there, and his eyes are bright from the snowball fight he had been involved in before rushing late to class.

Closing the textbook on his desk, George sighs, eyeing the clock. It wouldn’t do them any harm to end their lesson early. George claps his hands together, bringing the attention of the class back to him. “Alright,” He begins, “Have we at least managed to answer questions one to five?”

When most of the class nods, George continues, “Then get out of here. Dress warmly if you’re going out in the snow. Stay away from the lake and don’t get caught.”

His class cheer as they pack away their things, rushing out of the door, wanting to get changed as quickly as possible so they can get outside.

George shakes his head fondly as he watches them leave, thinking back to the days when he and Fred would organise snowball fights between the houses, knowing that Gryffindor would come out on top. They won every time; at one point they had not only himself and Fred, but Oliver Wood and Angelina Johnson using their deadly aim to weaken whichever house had been chosen to go up against the house of Godric.

Thinking of you and your place in bed, George sends a quick note to all students, cancelling the rest of his lessons for the rest of the day. He reminds students to be safe if they choose to go outside, to think carefully and to prepare snowballs well in advance of any fight to go down.

With that sorted, George leaves his classroom, closing the door happily.

McGonagall stops George in the corridor with a stern call of his name. “Professor Weasley, would you care to tell me why you’ve cancelled the rest of your classes for today?”

George gestures to the continued snow fall. “They weren’t going to pay any attention; not when they want to be outside having fun.”

McGonagall purses her lips, intent on arguing her point when George interrupts her once more. “Headmistress, think of it this way: Hogwarts has never had a snow day and it still doesn’t have to have one. We could just give the students a break from all the work they’ve been doing. I think it’ll help in the long run.”

A smile crosses George’s face at the exact moment he knows he has won McGonagall over. She uncrosses her arms and briefly smiles at the redhead, “Tell me Professor, what are your plans for your suddenly free day?”

“I have two answers for you, Minnie. Which would you like to hear?”

McGonagall laughs, shaking her head at the Weasley. There were very few people these days who could make her laugh and get away with calling her ‘Minnie’. She stands aside, “On with you. Go have some fun.”

“I plan to,” George answers as he turns away from the Headmistress, listening to her laughter follow him down the corridor where he rushes up the stairs to the rooms he shares with you.

You haven’t moved in the few hours that George has been teaching; you remain fast asleep, curled on your side, cuddling George’s pillow. If possible, George falls more in love with you then and there. He didn’t know you reached for his pillow in his absence; he makes a mental note to sneak some of his clothes into your pyjama draw for you to wear on a night.

Shrugging off his blazer, George situates himself on the side of the bed, reaching out to shake your shoulder gently. “Love,” He calls out quietly, “Love, wake up.”

Your eyes screw up tightly as your brought back to consciousness. You run a hand over your face, ridding it of the sleep that had gathered there. “George?” You question, confused, “What’re you doing here? Shouldn’t you be teaching Seventh Years?”

His hand rubs up and down your side. “I should,” He pauses, “But I thought the snow looked more fun.”

“You cancelled your classes?”

“I did. McGonagall wasn’t too happy, but I persuaded her otherwise.”

“Of course you did,” You laugh, “You’re her favourite.”

“I’m not going to argue with that,” George laughs, smiling widely. He shifts on the bed, lying down to next you, running a finger down your cheek.

“What do you plan to do now that you’re free?”

George’s finger leaves your cheek; his hand now gripping your waist, pulling you closer to him as he answers. “I plan on going out in the snow, want to join?”

His eyes are bright with mischief and joy as he waits for you to reply. It’s a sight that you saw often, but it still managed to take your breath away. “I’ll join you. Let me get ready and I’ll join you.”

-----------

You inhale sharply as you take the first step outside; the cold quickly seeping through the layers of clothing worn. George’s hand remains warm in yours as he leads you through the courtyard, dodging the snowballs thrown by Slytherins aimed for the Gryffindors. George cannot contain the laugh that leaves him as he hears the angry cries from his house; he knew from experience it would not be long before the lions would unleash hell on the snakes.

It isn’t as busy the further you walk into the grounds of the school; students preferring to stay where there is natural protection that can be made into bases. The grounds of the school are magical when there is no snow, but there’s something about the weather that adds to the appeal of the school. It stands out proudly amongst the bleak colour of the snowfall; its history emanating from its walls. It has seen a thousand snowfalls and would stand to see a thousand more.

George drops your hand as he bends down to gather some of the snow. You watch him curiously, catching sight of the teenager he had once been.

“Don’t you dare,” You warn, laughter already in your voice as you take a long step back from the redhead. George smiles at you angelically, his eyebrows raised in question before he shows his hand without saying a word.

The snowball flies through the air, hitting you squarely in the chest, knocking the air out of you.

“You’re in for it now, Weasley!” You cry, launching yours over to where George is bent in half with laughter. The snowball lands in his hair and his laughter promptly stops. He falls silent as he shakes the snow from his hair

“George!” You laugh as his arms wrap around you. His body knocks you both to the ground; the snow softening your impact.

“How did you know I wanted to make a snow angel?” You joke, stretching your arms out wide and beginning the process of creating the snow figure.

George laughs, rolling off you but not before dropping a sweet kiss to your lips. “I just know you that well,” He states simply, waving his arms and legs in the snow to form the angel shape.

His words warm you so much that you absently worry that the snow underneath you will begin to melt. “George?” You question innocently, sneakily gathering snow in both hands.

“Love?” He answers from beside you, wondering what could be on your mind as he watches more snow start to fall from the sky.

Refusing to answer, you flip onto your side, throwing snow onto him. You begin to splutter with laughter as you catch sight of the shocked expression on his face. Eyes wide and mouth open as his hair drips with the snow thrown on him.

“That does it,” George announces, brushing the snow off his body.

Your laughter dies at his words; falling silent you wonder what he has in store for you now. George doesn’t give you much chance to ponder that idea, however. He straddles you, no snow in his hands, but a lot of love in his eyes as he presses you further into the ground.

“What do I do with you now?” George questions, leaning down to brush his nose against yours. His hands begin to roam your body, igniting your veins despite the layers and layers of clothing separating you.

“I don’t know…” You trail off with a shiver, refusing to break eye contact. “What do you have in mind?”

“Let’s get you inside and warm… then you can find out.”

-----------

The fire in your shared rooms throws out masses of heat, warming the both of you up quickly. George places two mugs of tea on the table, settling himself next to you on the battered old couch.

“I think today has been my favourite day of teaching so far,” He murmurs, fingers drawing distracting patterns on your thigh.

“Hmm? Why’s that?” You answer, eyes focused on the way his fingers are circling the skin on your thigh, remembering his promise from earlier.

“A snow day,” He laughs, fingers now absent from your thigh as he fingers grip your chin, turning your face to his.

You hum happily as you respond to his kiss, “Who doesn’t love a snow day?”

******

General (HP) taglist: @chaotic-fae-queen @harrypotter289 @kalimagik @heloisedaphnebrightmore @nebulablakemurphy @figlia--della--luna @probably-peeves @big-galaxy-chaos @annasofiaearlobe @imboredandneedalife @levylovegood @awritingtree @haphazardhufflepuff @stupxfy @chaoticgirl04 @accio-rogers @starlightweasley @dreaming-about-fanfictions @lestersglitterglue @msmimimerton @obx-beach @izzytheninja @slytherinprincess03 @bbeauttyybbx @breadqueen95 @acciotwinz @kashishwrites @slytherinsunrise @kylosleftbuttcheek @remmyswritings @they-write-once-in-a-blue-moon @ria-rests-here @sarcasticallywitty15 @superbturtlemakerathlete @inglourious-imagines @ithilwen-lionheart @now-its-time-for-a-breakdown @ilovejjmaybank @theweasleysredhair @theonly1outof-a-billion @phuvioqhile @moatsnow @storyisnotover @himooonlight @missmulti @amourtentiaa

Weasley Twins taglist: @seppys-return-to-madness @hexmione @whizboingies @ickle-ronniekins @oh-for-merlins-sake @wand3ringr0s3 @somekidinacoma

#george weasley x reader #george weasley #george x reader #george weasley imagines

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royallyprincesslilly · 3 years

Text

Title: Kismet {9}

Henry Cavill x Famous OFC Aliya Taylor

Warning: Slow Burn, Mild Cursing, Dialogue Heavy, POV Changes

Words: 3.5k

Summary: Aliya is a singer turned model turned actress. Since she was fifteen, she’s been creating her empire in the entertainment world. As the daughter of a famous fashion model/designer and Hollywood director, you’d think life is easy for her, but her past has been anything but easy. Due to past trauma, she’s forever changed and no longer trusts any man that is not in her family and a select few in her team. She’s sworn off love and serious relationships and has planned never to fall again, but love isn’t something that can be planned. It just happens when it’s meant to. Can Aliya outrun a love that seems hellbent on holding tight to her, a love that is Kismet?

If you enjoyed this please LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG!! 😘

As always, thank you so much for reading. ❤️❤️

***Loosely Edited/Proofread***

***Interactive***

Previous Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 |

The change within you was instantaneous, and your body fought it like a foreign virus. You’d barely slept a wink the night before. You tossed. You rolled. You took up your phone and hovered over Henry’s contact only to put it back down and toss and turn some more. Half of you wanted to talk to him so badly, but the other half wanted you to practice some restraint. There was no happy middle ground, and because there wasn’t, you struggled to find any peace in your mind. By the time you managed to fall asleep, it was one hour before you had to get up to prep for your day. When you opened your eyes, the first thing you saw was a message from the culprit to your sleeplessness himself.

MSG Henry: Good morning, beautiful. I didn’t sleep a wink. I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I must have picked up my phone ten times to text or call you. It’s torture not being able to hear the one voice you want to hear more than anything.

As soon as you read the words, your heart literally melted, and butterflies filled your belly.

“Christ almighty,” you whispered as your fingers itched to rapid-fire. Before you could catch yourself, you’d already typed out a reply and sent it.

MSG: Good Morning to you too, handsome. I know what you mean. I didn’t sleep either. I almost called you so many times. I think you’re addicting.

You reread the message then groaned at the last sentence.

“Really, Aliya, addicting?” You rolled your eyes hard and pushed to get yourself ready for the day.

By the time you’d left the hotel, he still hadn’t replied, and you regretted responding altogether. So, here you were sitting in one of your four meetings for the day trying to keep your head in the game and your mind off of Henry’s lips, or his eyes, or the feel of his muscular arms around you. It was proving more complicated than it sounded. When you weren’t thinking of his lips, or his eyes, or his arms and kisses, you were overthinking your message and his lack of response.

A little more than halfway in your first meeting, your phone went off, and you had to make yourself slow down and not leap for it. Nonchalantly, you glanced at the screen and saw Henry’s name.

MSG Henry: Addicting, huh? I like that, but you should not be talking. I have been addicted to you since the day you bumped into me.

Any worries you’d had the last few hours melted away, and a smile spread across your face.

MSG: Do tell me more, Mr. Cavill.

Barely a minute passed before another message came in.

MSG Henry: I would rather tell you while looking in your eyes so you can see the depth of which I mean them in my eyes.

You bit your bottom lip and closed your eyes. He was different alright, you thought.

MSG Henry: I’m sorry it took me this long to reply. I’m trying to finish up all business between today and tomorrow. I had to hide my phone from myself, or else I would have been messaging you this entire time.

You couldn’t lie. That felt good to know that he was having as much of a struggle going about his typical day to day tasks as you were. The knowledge of that comforted you, but it also worried you. This thing was still so new. For the duration of your meeting, you texted on and off. It continued as you moved to your second and third meetings, and by then, your focus was shot. The only thing you cared about was what he was saying.

You loved how open he was. He always found a way to describe to you just what he was thinking or feeling while still remaining mysterious enough to have you wondering what he felt and thought. It was interesting. You’d always been able to predict every man that tried to enter your life. You could predict their motives, what tactics they’d use to try to weasel themselves in, and you often could predict how things would end. With Henry, you’d been having a difficult time with those predictions. It bothered you.

By the time you got back to your hotel room, it was nearing seven o’clock. You wasted no time putting your phone on silent to concentrate on a little self-care beginning with a soak in the jetted tub. You did your best to keep your mind open to allow the meditation track you played to really work at loosening the knots in your shoulders and tension in your neck. The stress of your life, mainly from work, was really beginning to show. It had always shown, you just never listened to your body whenever it told you to slow down or take it easy.

Many of your friends and family teased you that you lived to work instead of working to live. There were times you were inclined to agree with them because you didn’t need to work so much to maintain the lifestyle you were accustomed to. You had more money than you knew what to do with. You could afford to take time off to recharge but, you’d lived with the belief that the less time you had to be idle, the better it was for your mental and emotional health. Idle hands, after all, were the devil’s playground. You’d grown so accustomed to working nonstop that you didn’t know how to just do nothing.

After almost two hours in the bath, as you walked into the bedroom, you saw your phone light up. It was an incoming call from Henry. Sighing, you plopped onto the bed, trying to fight back the smile that wanted freedom. The smile won the battle.

“Hello?”

“Did I wake you? I called earlier but--.”

“No, I’m awake. I put my phone on silent and took a long bath,” you clarified.

“Ah, that sounds relaxing. Maybe I should try that. I’m feeling this burnout more and more.”

“Those who are serious about their craft work too much.”

Henry sighed softly, and you wondered if there was a hint of mint and Guinness on his lips.

“I don’t want to work tonight,” Henry declared. “Tonight, I want to be with you.”

You dropped back onto the bed and stared at the ceiling. “Oh, do you now?”

“Yes,” Henry confirmed, his voice dropping in baritone. Your belly fluttered, making you press your palm against it.

“Have you eaten?”

“I haven’t,” you breathlessly replied.

“Good. I’ll be around for you in forty-five minutes.”

You sprang upward. “That’s not enough time.”

“Oh no? High maintenance are you?”

You snorted and shook your head, hearing the tease and challenge in his voice.

“Forty-five minutes then, just don’t get mad when I don’t look like pictures in magazines,” you quipped.

“Come as you are.”

Your reflection caught your eye. Because you’d gotten your hair slightly wet in the tub, it was now in a half natural half blown out state, making you look crazy. You doubted forty-five would be enough to tame it.

“See you soon,” you said before hanging up to focus on getting yourself together.

Forty-nine minutes later, you were dressed and on your way down in the elevator. As it made its way down, you assessed your appearance, thankful you were able to straighten your hair again to add a few loose curls. Part of you hadn’t wanted to bother, but you knew the dress you were going to wear would be better complemented with a sleek look. Your eyes skimmed the half sheer and half bodycon black dress you wore, loving that it was the right mix between sexy and classic. You added another layer of your mauve tinted lip gloss and just in time for the doors to open.

It didn’t take long for you to spot him sitting in the lobby where one of the big-screen TVs were placed. He was watching a rugby match. You crossed the black and white designed tiled floors and approached behind him. When you dipped to his ear, his scent almost had a moan escaping you—almost.

“Either, no matter where you are, you gravitate to rugby, or I took too long,” you whispered.

Henry turned, and the moment his eyes landed on you, a dumbfounded look washed across his face. You tried not to bashfully look away as you watched his jaw drop when his eyes took in the full view.

“Wow.”

A giggle that would have been nauseating from someone else slipped from you, making you press your fingertips to your lips.

“You’re breathtaking.”

You smiled, then gently tapped his chest.

“Stop.”

“I’m being completely truthful.”

Those damn butterflies made their presence known once again.

“Thank you,” you whispered.

Henry held out a single peony to you. “For you.”

As you took it, your smile widened. “Wow, one of my favorite flowers.”

“Is that so?”

You nodded.

“Hmm, happy coincidence,” Henry replied as he stood and buttoned his suit jacket. Once done, he held out his arm for you. “Shall we?”

You nodded and looped yours with his, ready for whatever the night brought on.

-Henry-

As you sat across from him under the hanging flowers and dim lighting of the restaurant perusing the menu, he couldn’t keep his eyes off of you. It could have been the way the golden light bathed your skin, giving it an almost glowing aura. Or it could have been the soft smile pasted to your subtle painted lips. It could have even been the spell of the restaurant, the classical music playing, and the sweet scent of flowers that surrounded the two of you. Whatever it was, he itched to touch you, itched to get closer, and itched to do nothing but find a way to keep a smile on your face.

“What?”

Realizing you were now looking at him, he smiled back at you.

“Nothing.”

“No, no. That’s a something look,” you said, still not able to not smile.

“It’s nothing,” he repeated.

“Henry, seriously. What is it?”

You reached out and gently slapped his hand, then rested it on top of the table.

“Nothing, really. It’s just—I can’t seem to keep my eyes off of you,” he admitted.

Your smile slipped, revealing a serious expression for a few seconds before you smiled again and dipped your head in a bashful way. Unable to keep his hands to himself any longer, he closed the gap between your hands and took yours.

“Your parents must be proud to have raised such a charming son.”

He smiled, then shrugged. “She has five of them.”

“Bless her heart,” you added, making him chuckle.

A comfortable silence drifted between you as he enjoyed the softness of your hand in his and the way your warmth mingled with his. He could get used to this, he thought to himself. When the waiter returned to the table to pour the chosen wine into your glasses, you pulled your hand away, but he didn’t take offense.

“So, by this time next week, I will be off the grid,” he said after the waiter walked off again.

A quizzical look swept across your face.

“Off the grid? Are you a spy?”

He smiled. “I promise I’m not.”

Another waiter approached the table, this time carrying your selected third and final courses. He thanked the waiter as he laid the plates before you before he retreated.

“You were saying,” you prompted, lifting your dinner fork from the selection of three different ones to your right.

“I’ve earned some much needed R&R.”

With your fork paused at your lips, you smiled. “Oh, that’s great. Congratulations. When was the last time you took a holiday?”

He watched you chew and quickly got lost watching your mouth. It took him several seconds to regain his train of thought.

“Eh-em, uh—perhaps a year and a half, if we are talking about a true holiday.”

“Wow, that’s a long time.”

“What about you?”

You smirked, then scoffed. “Define holiday.”

He returned your smirk then rested his knife and fork atop the braised beef on his plate before he replied. “Time off, no work, nothing that you have to worry about that can cause stress, anxiety, or tension. Oh, and of course, sleeping late, drinking until three or four in the morning, fun every day, and feeling refreshed upon return.”

You smiled as you finished chewing. He watched you take another sip from your glass and knew the wine was only making your lips even sweeter than they already were.

“Ha! Jeez, when you define it like that, it’s been years upon years,” you replied.

“Not good at all.”

You nodded. “Tell me about it.” A soft smile was still on your lips as you placed another forkful of the pan-seared sea bass you were eating.

With those words, a thought formulated in his mind, and it was a thought he wondered if he put words to would you be receptive. The remainder of dinner passed comfortably. Another reason why he couldn’t stop thinking about you and enjoyed being around you was because your conversation was always excellent. There was never any form of discomfort or awkwardness between you. You easily talked about so many things, and the things you said were always thought-provoking and intelligent. While everyone thought you were just a pretty face, you’d repeatedly allowed him to see that the world knew nothing.

His hand was rarely without yours in it, and when he held your hand, you softly raked your fingernails against the palm and fingers. Every time you did it, the goosebumps that raced across his skin sparked a reaction that was visible much, much lower than his hand. Everyone else in the restaurant could have disappeared for all he knew because you’d captivated him and every single one of his senses.

By the time you left the restaurant, it was close to midnight, but you didn’t seem to care what time it was. You held onto his hand as you walked along The River Thames. He often did this late at night when he couldn’t sleep. It was really the only time he could come and not be bothered or recognized because he was more than likely the only one there. Tonight your laughter danced through the air, and the gentle ebb and flow of the water only helped the glistening light from the bridge and neighboring buildings shimmer that much more. It was quite romantic.

You stopped and pressed your back to the iron gating that kept pedestrians out of the river. You stretched your arms out, leaning back as if to really enjoy the gentle breeze.

“It’s a beautiful night,” you sighed out.

Just like that, he drifted closer to you until there were only a few inches between your bodies. When you came upright again, your smile was still bright, even realizing he was so close.

“Are you trying to push me in?”

He smiled and shook his head. “Never.”

“Oh no?”

“No,” he repeated, taking another step to you.

You bit your bottom lip then sucked it into your mouth, and he became even more painfully aware that he hadn’t sampled them since the night before.

“Unacceptable,” he whispered.

“What?”

Reaching out, he cupped your jaw and slid his thumb across your cheekbone while he slowly traced every inch of your face to his memory. When his eyes met yours, he fell another foot or two deep into the quicksand-like pit of his growing feelings for you. He was so close to going under it was alarming.

“It’s unacceptable that I haven’t tasted your lips in over twelve hours.”

He heard a soft gasp escape your lips, and it was the only sound you made before his lips pressed to yours. The only move you made was to entangle your fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck. The feel of your fingers against his skin brought those familiar goosebumps. He moaned, then pulled you flush against him. The feel of your body against his made his heart thump rapidly, and when you moaned against his lips, the need to consume you took precedence.

When he delved his tongue into your mouth, he was shocked when you swirled yours around his, and the sensual move had him pressing you firmly against the iron behind you. It was out of character for him to do this so wide in the open, but he felt himself doing things that no one would ever guess he would do when he was with you. Your soft nibbled on his bottom lip brought his mind back to the rising dilemma, rising being the operative word.

Pulling his lips from yours, he rested his forehead to yours. Both of you didn’t speak; instead, you were both lost in trying to catch your breath. Long moments passed, and in those moments, he fought to regain his composure. He’d never reacted to anyone the way he reacted to you.

“Come with me,” he whispered, his voice shakier than he’d expected.

Your eyes fluttered open, and he didn’t know if it was wishful thinking, but he swore he saw actual stars in them that put the night sky to shame.

“Where?”

“Away on holiday.”

You pulled back a few centimeters and gazed into his eyes more intently. He watched them dart from his left eye, then to the right and back again. Slowly the stars vanished, and humor replaced them.

“Good one,” you said before you laughed out loud, pulling your body from his.

“Oh my god, you really had me going for a second,” you said through laughter.

You took two steps as if to continue walking, but he laced his fingers with yours and pulled you back before him. You gasped, and the sound of it made him close the space between you again, pressing you onto the iron bars. With his body pressed to yours leaving no evidence of there being two bodies, you moaned, and the sound almost had him capturing your lips again. If he did though, he didn’t know if his hands would remain respectful.

“I wasn’t kidding.”

Your eyes were on his lips, and the desire for you to take control, almost overrode his desire to be in control—almost.

“What?”

“Come on holiday with me, just the two of us, a beach wine somewhere—anywhere.”

He saw the moment you realized he was as serious as a heart attack.

“You’re serious,” you reiterated.

“More serious than I’ve been about anything.”

You didn’t speak for the next minute, but you also didn’t move away. He decided he’d give you the time to consider it.

You scoffed before you spoke. “What? Henry—we can’t.”

“Why?”

You gaped at him as if he were insane.

“Why?” That was when you pulled away from him and took a few steps sideways while still leaning against the gate. “We—we don’t--.”

You looked as if you were wracking your brain for a response, but you also looked like you were trying to catch your breath.

“We don’t know anything about each other.”

He took a step to you. You didn’t move.

“Which is why a private holiday would aid in us getting to know each other—uninterrupted without the pretexts,” he replied.

Your eyes widened before you shook your head then turned to face the water. You peered out silently, baffled. “Henry—we can’t.”

He approached you, and as he leaned against the gate, you looked at him. “Tell me why,” he requested.

“Why—because—I—I don’t do—that,” you stuttered.

“What holidays?”

He saw the exasperation wash across your face before it went blank. You stepped away again, then cleared your throat.

“I have an early flight out tomorrow.”

It was hard not to feel the rejection, but he hid it the best he could. Nodding, he held out his arm for you to take.

“Then let’s get you back to your hotel.”

The entire ten-minute walk, his mind went from one thing to the next. He worried he’d come on too strong, or that he’d said the wrong thing, or somehow offended you. Then he went back and forth with his decision to even ask you. Part of him felt like maybe he was jumping a little too far ahead, but the other part of him felt there was nothing wrong with inviting you especially based on how things had gone the entire night and the vibes he picked up. That made him wonder if he’d read the evening entirely wrong.

When he stopped with you in your hotel's lobby, he was in no hurry to ask you again. He’d begun to feel quite stupid. His hurt feelings needed the night to recover. He took your arm from the crook of his elbow and held your hand. Again, you didn’t pull away. Deciding he couldn't afford to give you the time to, he lowered your hand and stepped away from you.

“Thank you for dinner.”

“T—thank you,” you said barely above a whisper.

He nodded and debated his next move. He took a timid step forward and kissed your cheek.

“Have a safe flight.”

“Thank you.”

This one was a whisper.

“Good night, Aliya,” he breathed out before he quickly kissed your forehead then walked away out the door and down the street without looking back.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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#kismet fic #henry cavill #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill x you #henry cavill x black reader #henry cavill x black ofc #black fanfiction #slow burn fanfic

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suchalonelysunflower · 4 years

Text

“Mine. Yours. Ours” (l.h)

Pairing: Luke Hemmings X Reader

Summary: You and Luke decided to keep your relationship a secret. But what happens when he accidentally let it slip?

Warnings: The reader uses she/her pronouns, sorry if I make anyone uncomfortable with that, it was not my intention. Besides that None! Pure fluff and maybe some mistakes (English is not my first language, I’m sorry, I’m trying and I will get better)

Word Count: 1.8 K

Author’s note: My first Luke piece just in time for his birthday! I struggled to find inspiration for this, but it came out of nowhere and I’m really happy with the result, hope you like it too 💕 Remember that all comments, reblogs and feedback are welcome! I will love to hear your thoughts on this! And you can find my other fics HERE. Thank you so so much, happy Luke Day! 🦋

“Good luck today, bub 😊💕”

Luke must’ve read that message time and time again in a matter of minutes, making it hard for him to erase that cheerful grin out of his face as he quickly typed a cute response. He was glad that his band mates were too busy in their own little world to notice and tease him about it.

But if he was being honest, he didn’t mind at all. In fact, everything his mates said about him was true: he was an idiot in love and he wasn’t afraid to show it, at least with them he wasn’t.

You both came to an agreement to keep your relationship a secret for the time being. Knowing how the media worked, Luke didn’t want to expose you to that so soon but, even though you said you were okay with it, he couldn’t help but feel a little guilty and insecure. He notices the way you would frown when you had to pull away from each other in public, making it seem like you’re just friends or when you couldn’t hold his hand or kiss him in the middle of the street. If he could, he would show you off to the entire universe, shouting from the top of his lungs how happy and in love he was with you.

But he was scared, he didn’t want to lose you if all of it became too much for you, however, he knew that maybe one day you’ll get tired of all the secrecy and leave. He couldn’t blame you either way, but he’ll be devastated without you.

Scanning the text over and over again, Luke’s butterflies quickly became insecurities. He felt his stomach drop at the thought of not being with you and an urge to hold you as close as he could, just to make sure you’d still be there.

“Mate?” Ashton called for his attention.

Luke lifted his head and noticed that he was the only one left in the van. Shoving his phone on his back pocket, he ducked his way out of the car and onto the parking lot of the radio station, ready to face yet another day of countless interviews and promos.

One of the producers of the program was already waiting for them, escorting the band around the building and giving a few pointers to take into account. Luke wasn’t really paying attention to her, in his head he was still curled up in bed next to you, cuddling until one of you caved into their need of a morning coffee. He left today with the image of you peacefully sleeping under a mess of tangled sheets, wanting nothing more than to stay next to you a little longer.

“Hey guys!” The host said, snapping Luke out of his happy thoughts “We just cut to break so you’re on for the next bit. Nothing too crazy, just a few questions and a little game if you’re up for it”

“Sounds good” muttered the boys as they sat around the table adjusting their mics and headphones.

“Hey. You good, man?” Ashton whispered to Luke “You seem to be drifting into elevator mode again”

The blond man nodded “Just got my head somewhere else” but before his friend could ask where exactly, the classic gingle of the station resonated in their headphones, letting them know that the interview was about to start.

“Welcome back everybody!” The cheerful voice of the host filled the room “I’m here with the biggest band no one's ever heard of, the Australians who took on the world by storm in 2012 and haven’t stopped since, selling record after record and stealing the hearts of everyone around them. Everyone give up for 5 Seconds of Summer!” The crew around the booth clapped and cheered “Welcome, guys. Thank you for being here”

“Thank you for having us” Luke answered.

“Great! I wanted to talk about…”

It was always the same. One or two questions about their personal life, more questions regarding the album or the single, what are the plans for the tour, what city are you most excited to visit.. the boys knew it all and they knew how to handle it, always bringing the same charisma and easiness to it as they do in their everyday life.

The host was very fun as well, bringing up a few laughs and inside jokes among the four Australians, making it much easier for Luke to relax and enjoy the moment and for his mind not to drift constantly to you.

“Okay, now before you guys go. How about we play a game?” The host announced, pleased with the agreeing sounds of the band “We are going to go around the table and I’m going to give each of you a few prompts and sentences that you would have to answer as fast as you can, no more than 3 seconds. That sounds right? Okay, who wants to go first?”

“I can go first” offered Michael from across the table.

“Okay Michael, you have 3 seconds on the clock. Ready? And,,, The thing I could never live without is…”

“Internet”

“The person who I would call to hide a dead body would be…”

“Moose” he said, earning fits of laughter across the room “What? I wouldn’t trust these guys to hide a body! At least Moose can dig!”

The game went on like that for a few minutes. Each answer more crazy than the last, making everyone laugh and tease each other afterwards.

Then it was Luke’s turn, being the last one on the table he had all eyes on him.

“I’m kinda nervous” he laugh into the mic.

“Don’t be, it’s just a game! Now, ready Luke?” The frontman nodded “My guilty pleasure is…”

“Love Island” he answered, trying to hold a giggle as he heard his band mates laugh “What? You’ve seen it too!”

“Didn’t we all at some point? Okay, I want to do a collab with…”

“Yungblud, definitely”

“The person who makes me the happiest is…”

“Y/N”

His eyes winded as soon as your name left his lips. He looked around and saw with panic in his stare as the laugh of his mates died down, each of them slowly realizing what the blond man just said, creating a silence that covered the room like a cloak.

A million emotions ran through his head in the matter of an instant. Cursing himself for letting it slide so easily, throwing away all the effort you put into keeping it a secret without even realizing it until it was too late. But at the same time, he felt an overwhelming sense of freedom and happiness, like he could finally let go of that baggage, leaving it behind forever.

“Y/N?” Asked the host who quickly catches up “Is that..”

“That’s my girl” Luke said as he took a breath “The person who makes me the happiest man on earth for sure”

“Well this is news for everybody!”

“Well yes, we wanted to keep it on the downlow for a while but, she’s the love of my life, mate. Couldn’t keep it any longer”

Luke smiled at the thought of you, not even trying to hide it. The secret was out, and he was fine with it, happy even! Happy that he could call you his in front of everyone. His eyes skimmed around the room and he was relieved to see smiles plastered onto his friends’ faces.

“It was about damn time” Calum said. Making everyone laugh again.

When the interviews and promos finally ended it was late into the evening and Luke went straight home. He would be lying if he said that he wasn’t a little bit scared of how you might take the news. He was a lot scared. What if you didn’t want this? Would you leave him? What if it became too much for you to handle?

A million questions ran through his head as he opened the door. But he felt all of his fears went away as he heard the music coming out of the kitchen.

You were listening to Taylor Swift whilst making dinner for the two of you, singing softly along the music and not really noticing Luke leaning against the kitchen frame. He watch with soft eyes as you swing and dance to the beat, audibly sighing as he took you in, falling in love once again, just like every night.

It wasn’t until you both heard Petunia’s little bark that you broke out of the spell. You turned around to see Luke kneeling down to give his little doggy a kiss and pat her head.

“Hey baby!” You greeted him as you turned the stove off “Dinner will be ready in a few I just need-“

“I talked about you today”

You froze. He what?!

“You- you what?”

Turning to face him. You saw his tall figure walking towards you with a smile drawn into his face. Once he was fully in front of you, Luke wrapped his arms around your waist, softly looking into your eyes for any sign of discomfort or hatred.

“They asked who makes me the happiest person in the world,” he lifted his hand to caress your cheek “and I couldn’t think of anyone else that wasn’t you, because there isn’t one. So I said your name”

You felt your eyes start to water, your smile growing as the feeling of butterflies filled your stomach “So that means…?”

“The secret is out. No more hiding, love. The world needs to know that you’re mine and I’m yours”

Happiness came over you as you lifted your arms and brought them behind Luke’s neck, pulling him closer until your lips met. Melting in his gentle touch, you opened your mouth to deepen the kiss, feeling as if a thousand sparks covered your bodies. Muttering “I love you’s” and sweet nothings into every kiss, allowing him to be yours and you to be his.

Luke pressed his forehead to yours, kissing the tip of your nose as you softly giggled. “I love you” he said, looking into your eyes “I love you and I’m so glad I can tell the world that I’m in love with you, Y/N”

“No more secrets, Luke.” You sighed as his lips traveled down your neck “Though, I have to admit that sneaking out was fun while it lasted”

“Hmm, naughty girl” he muttered against your sweet spot. Making you quietly moan under his touch.

“God. I love you”

He brought his lips to yours once more, smiling into it as he heard the familiar tune of your favorite song play through the speaker.

Luke took a step back, adopting a straightened pose as he bowed in front of you, offering you his hand “Dance with me, love?”

You giggled as you took his hand and placed the other one in his shoulder, letting him put his hand on your lower back and guide you through the living room in a dance that was so enchanting it felt like a movie. You laid your head on his chest as he swayed you around the house, feeling his heartbeat close.

All of your fears and doubts, they all went away. You both knew that, as long as you have each other, everything will be fine.

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artificialqueens · 3 years

Text

Don't Just Stand There Staring Honey (Try to Move Your Feet) (Taywhora) - Pinkgrapefruit

Georgie lets out one long sigh and lets her head fall back, dirty blonde hair falling onto the couch. “I. Need. A. Date.” She repeats, exasperated. “My friend is getting married in a few months and I need a date for the wedding.”

Tayce raises an eyebrow, repositioning herself on the couch so she can actually look at Georgie. “Georgina Aurora, I’m sure you can find yourself a date,” she smirks, “A’whora.”

A/N -

for my love ortega.

may our clowning be long and prosperous.

It’s times like this when the flat feels too small. Tayce has just gotten out of the shower, water rolling down her calves as she pads down the hall to her room and she can see Georgie doing her Chloe Ting workout - laptop being played through the TV. She’s wearing these tiny little shorts that leave her surprisingly tan legs on full display and her sports bra can barely be considered a sports bra - it’s a wonder the people in the flat across the street haven’t said something.

They’d snatched this place up the second it came on the market - the wall of glass windows in the living room making the two-bed London flat feel bigger than it was (at the time at least). It had been the natural progression from their tiny box flat they’d shared for the last three years of uni.

After living on top of each other for three years, they’d felt like queens in their new place, neither of them sleeping on a pullout sofa bed.

They’d alternated (of course) though Georgie tended to whine if she wasn’t feeling the sofa bed so on occasion they’d both end up in the double bed. By the end, on occasion turned into whenever she was drunk, sad, lonely, uncomfortable, on her period or bored. For all her jokes, Tayce wasn’t really complaining.

She tears her eyes away from Georgie’s ass and hurries into her room before she soaks the hallway rug, too scared of the blonde’s temper to risk ruining another of her interior design choices.

She presses play on Spotify and lays the towel on her unmade bed, perching carefully on the edge before beginning to moisturise her clean-shaven legs.

“I need a date.”

“What?” Tayce yells, eyes fixed on Mortal Kombat but brain anywhere else.

“I need a date,” Georgie replies, perching on the arm of the sofa and positioning her tennis skirt in a way so as not to show her knickers - she never knows when Tayce’s videogame friends might be able to see her (she once flashed one of them and it’s not something she wants to repeat).

There’s a huff of breath from Tayce before she gives up and stops moving, allowing her opponent to kill her. She sets the PlayStation controller down and faces the blonde, confusion clear on her face.

“I repeat, what?” The softness of her welsh accent slips in at times like this - something that six years of living in London hasn’t quite been able to take away.

Tayce raises an eyebrow, repositioning herself on the couch so she can actually look at Georgie. “Georgina Aurora, I’m sure you can find yourself a date,” she smirks, “A’whora.”

It’s a joke from uni about Georgie’s innate ability to find the one person in the club who’s only there for a shag (and then go home with them).

Georgie pouts. She bats her lash extensions and runs a hand through her hair, the other running down her thigh. She knows what she’s doing is flustering Tayce (that’s why she’s doing it) and really tries to play it up.

“They’ll just want me for sex though,” she whines, “They won’t get me like you.” She bats her lashes one more time and sees the exact moment Tayce melts, a pretty blush finally becoming visible.

“Just for you.”

Georgie cups a hand behind her ear, wincing as if she’s having trouble. “What was that? I didn’t quite hear you,” she jokes and it makes Tayce bat an arm at her.

“I’ll do it for you Brat.”

The blonde bounces up, her tennis skirt flying up to show her lace knickers. “You’re the best!” She squeals before pressing a kiss to Tayce’s cheek, “Veronica will be so happy!”

“Have you finished in the shower?” Georgie calls from the hallway, snapping Tayce back into the moment.

“Is the shower still going?” Tayce shouts back sardonically and she hears Georgie hit her door on the way past. “Bitch.” She calls out before falling backwards onto her bed. She can see her outfit out of the corner of her eye and it twists her stomach in knots just looking at it.

It’s pretty simple, grey plaid cigarette trousers - a white shirt with red stitching and a matching suit jacket, but somehow it feels like Chinese handcuffs.

The telltale clunk of the waterpipes tells her that Georgie’s started her shower and she sits up again, feeling around on her bedside table for her hairbrush.

She goes through the motions of getting ready until Georgie is banging on her door again. She yanks it open, intending to say something cutting or at least sarcastic but she finds that it’s quite difficult to speak when your jaw is on the floor. Her’s certainly is.

Georgie’s dress is red satin with a sinfully high slit and her lipstick might just be the same shade of crimson currently on Tayce’s own lips. That might just be wishful thinking.

“Wow’” she stutters out, eyes trailing up and down. She gets caught on the wispy hairs that have come undone from Georgia’s chignon and has to catch herself because she wants to wrap it around her tongue and there isn’t enough time to unpack that.

“Wow, yourself,” Georgie says with a smirk, her tongue darting out between perfectly painted lips. She holds a hand out and Tayce gives her her forearm so she can walk the blonde out of the flat.

They blast Taylor Swift in the car, screaming the lyrics to Out of the Woods while on the A23. Tayce pulls them into the churchyard in Brighton and they both look at the amassing crowd with sighs.

“Damn baby, it’s like half your high school is here,” jokes Tayce as she touches up her powder in the fold-down mirror of the rental car.

Georgie smiles softly, “you don’t wanna meet half my high school,” she replies, remembering how she felt in the Nottingham public school system. She’s grateful, in a way, that Veronica’s new man is from Brighton so they don’t have to return to her hometown.

Tayce insists on coming round to open her car door and they stand arm in arm in front of the church for a moment before they go in. It’s closer to a cathedral than a church but from what Tayce knows, Veronica’s family could afford that. There’s a welcome sign out the front and it makes them both smile.

“Green and Blacks,” Tayce chuckles, “clever.”

Georgie looks at her and smiles, “Joe owns a coffee bar in Brighton and he hired her to sing one day,” she explains, finding the story sweet despite herself. Tayce gently sets her head on top of Georgie’s.

“Bless ‘em,” she hears Tayce murmur. She coughs quickly and they both straighten up. Just as she goes to fiddle with Tayce’s collar she smirks.

“Everyone thinks we’ve been dating for six months,” she whispers, rising up on her toes so her breath brushes Tayce’s ear.

If Tayce curses, Georgie doesn’t hear it. She’s too busy swinging her hips as she walks away.

“Tayceeeee,” comes a whine from the bathroom. None of the letters sound quite right but the meaning is there so Tayce puts down her coffee and slides a well-worn bookmark into an equally well-worn copy of pride and prejudice that she pretends she doesn’t read before hauling herself off the sofa in the direction of the bathroom.

“Georginaaaa,” she mocks back once it’s clear that nothing serious is going on.

Georgie has almost a full face of makeup on, sans lips and eyelashes but she’s still trying her very best to bat what she has. She’s sat on the counter, feet in the sink and toe separators on her feet as she finishes the final coat on her dusty pink toenails.

“Going out?” Tayce asks, a casual eyebrow raised and a soft smirk playing on her lips.

Georgie brightens up, “Astina and Bimini invited me out clubbing,” she explains animatedly. “I get to wear that dress I’ve been showing you but I want the rest to be perfect.

‘That dress’ in question is a slinky little number that’s been on the dress-form in Georgie’s bedroom/office/sewing room/dungeon for months. It’s baby pink and ruched and while Tayce doesn’t know any of the technical terms (she was not in the fashion school, nor does she claim she was) she knows it’s going to look gorgeous.

“Sounds fun,” she replies, though her tone is questioning and Georgie must pick up on that because she holds out a pair of flash eyelashes and an applicator with a smile.

“Can you put them on for me?”

They both know very well that Georgie can put on her own lashes - in the depths of the A’whora days, she wore them nearly every day and used to leave the house before Tayce had drunk enough coffee to feel alive. Nevertheless, Tayce leans forward, one hand holding Georgie’s cheek gently so she won’t move her head and the other hovering a lash over her eye. Her thumb strokes the prominent cheekbone under the soft skin and powder and Georgie’s breath flutters over Tayce’s pulse point.

The moment lasts forever but not quite long enough and Tayce leaves in a hurry, going back to Jane Austen and strong espresso.

She catches Georgie before she leaves, eyes trailing up and down her body appreciatively, though knowing Georgie likes her bike shorts just as much.

“For the love of god George please don’t fight anyone in the kebab shop - we’re running out of places,” she scolds, “And don’t get grumpy when you’re tired, save that for me - the girls won’t know how to handle you.” She feels like she’s wrapping a child up to send them to school but she just unlocks the door for Georgie and tells her that she’ll wait up.

Georgie pecks her on the cheek and leaves. Tayce turns the PlayStation on and tries to forget about the blonde in the pink dress grinding against half of London.

Tayce skitters across the gravel until she reaches Georgie, a hand wrapping around the satin covered waist as they queue to enter the church. She takes a deep breath and lets it out through her nose. She’s never been good with surprises.

Georgie notices (she always does), feels Tayce’s fingertips pressing into her ribs and gently removes the arm, intertwining their fingers instead so she can softly brush her thumb up and down Tayce’s hand.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, head falling against Tayce’s chest briefly. Tayce feels her heart rate slow from the contact and sighs, inhaling the scent of Georgie’s conditioner.

“It’s okay,” She uses her free arm to pat Georgie’s bum, trying to move the blonde along as they near the front of the line into the church.

At the very front of the line, just inside the ornate doors, is an older looking woman with chestnut coloured hair and a lavender chiffon dress. Georgie’s face lights up when she spots her and the woman gives her a motherly smile before embracing the blonde.

“Georgina,” she gushes, “it’s been so long.”

Georgie at least has the propriety to blush and she ducks her head abashedly. “Mrs Green- Margret,” she responds, “I’ve missed you.”

Mrs Green looks up, spotting Tayce hovering by the door and smiles lovingly, beckoning her over. “And who’s this lovely lady,” she asks Georgie with a bemused chuckle, watching as the girl blushes an even deeper red.

Tayce sees this as her moment and slides up next to her, hand wrapping around her waist, cheek resting on the top of her head. “I’m Tayce, Georgie’s girlfriend. It’s lovely to meet you Mrs Green and we’re so happy to be here.”

It slips out all too easy and even if she wasn’t prepared for this situation, somehow she is.

Mrs Green smiles. “Please, call me Margret,” she tells them graciously. “We’ll catch up later Georgina,” she informs them and then points them through another set of double doors.

They seat themselves towards the back of the pews, not wanting to encroach on family seating and Georgie twists her hands together until Tayce takes one of them in her own.

“Margret was like a mother figure to me,” she explains quietly, thoughtfully, “I feel bad for how out of touch I’ve become.”

Tayce just rubs her back, unsure of what to say.

She grew up popular. Her blonde hair was always pin-straight and her eyebrows spent half of high school looking like someone had drawn them on with melted chocolate but that was in vogue.

People loved her and feared her in half measure and she used it to her advantage, getting what she wanted and feeling like she was part of an American high school movie while she did it. That was until she got too high on her own bullshit.

She forgot she was from Worksop, she forgot she has friends from popularity instead of just her personality and she forgot that not everything always went well for the mean girls in the movies.

She came out. She’d known she was gay since she was in primary school when she used to want to play mummies and daddies and always asked to be the daddy. (Until her best friend Jade told her that girls couldn’t be daddies, because daddies couldn’t marry other daddies and girls have to marry daddies).

She came out and suddenly her mean girl personality was abrasive and arrogant, and she had to come to terms with who she was all over again.

Then she met Veronica.

Veronica was lovely and sweet and the captain of the theatre club - who wanted Aurora to help with sewing costumes.

“Call me Georgie,” the blonde has said. She’d wanted people to call her Aurora because she wanted to be special and Georgina was too plain. Apparently 'special’ meant being called a dyke and losing all your friends though, or so she figured.

Veronica did make her feel special.

She’d invite her round for tea - to her house on the nicer side of town - where they’d eat freezer waffles and pizza that tasted a little bit like cardboard but also like home. Margret Green would teach her to crochet and help with designs. And slowly, Worksop felt like home again.

And then she met Tayce - and learnt what it truly meant to feel special.

The ceremony passes quick enough, Tayce’s hand in Georgie’s. They only time they let go is when Georgie has to dig around in her purse for a tissue - the wedding not getting to her, but Tayce.

It’s a short drive to the gazebo for dinner but they still don’t let go of each other’s hands, Georgie’s wrapped over Tayce’s on the gearstick.

They finally let go when they enter the venue for the reception. The ceiling is lit with fairy lights that cast an ethereal glow and there’s ivy in the exposed fittings. There are four long tables set up and the seating chart is hell to find but they eventually spot 'Georgie and Tayce’ opposite Mrs Green making Georgie blush that they’re on the same table as the Bride and Groom.

“I mean I’m honoured,” She mutters to Tayce under her breath as they navigate the chairs, “I just didn’t realise I meant this much to her and honestly I would have worn a nicer dress.”

“Shush you,” Tayce replies, pulling a rustic looking chair out for her. She gently pushes it back in, taking her own seat and patting Georgie’s thigh comfortingly. “You look hot as shit.”

Georgie blushes but suddenly Margret Green sits down and she feels sixteen again. She ducks her head almost shyly and Margret chuckles.

“I’m not going to tell you and your girlfriend off Georgina,” she tells them both, nodding to Tayce who wonders if she might be sweating under the weight of Mrs Green’s gaze. Margret never quite stopped calling her her full name - it took long enough to break the habit of calling her Georgina Aurora. Sometimes you have to pick your battles.

“I know Mam,” Georgie replies, straightening back up with a smile.

“That’s better dear.”

They’ve taken a break from socialisation and are leaning against the bar - the party in full swing behind them. Georgie swirls the stick in her Vodka Cranberry while Tayce leisurely sips on her Mojito. The faintly golden light of the gazebo casts shadows on her face that make her look almost ethereal and Georgie just can’t stop looking.

“You enjoying yourself?” Tayce asks softly, and Georgie blushes under her gaze, nervous she’s been caught staring. She taps the stick against the side of her near-empty glass a few times and sighs.

“It’s nice,” she muses, looking over her shoulder at the rabble. “Weird, but nice.” There’s an odd tone to her voice and Tayce nods for her to continue, quietly sipping her drink.

“I guess I’m a little angry,” Georgie admits after a short pause. “About why they can all accept you with me now - but they couldn’t when I really needed them to."

Tayce reaches across the gap between the chairs, frowning slightly as she brushes a thumb under Georgie’s eye. The pad of it slides along her jaw again before Tayce brings her hand back to her lap and Georgie has to hold back a sigh at the loss.

"I’m sorry baby,” she replies, “I know that doesn’t help fifteen-year-old Georgie but I really am.” Her hand moves back up to cup the blondes Cheek and Georgie brings her own hand up to hold it there. She leans into it, revelling in the warmth.

“It’s okay. Really, it is. I have you now."

The pad of Tayce’s thumb brushes Georgie’s painted bottom lip and she may have been leaning in but Georgie suddenly sits bolt upright. Her eyes are wide and Tayce drops her hand reflexively before grabbing the hand in Georgie’s lap.

"Shit,” Georgie mumbles, eyes still staring at a figure in a suit a few feet away. She tugs on the hand Tayce is holding and drags her over to the dancefloor.

“That’s my ex.” She tells Tayce who’s just looking at her oddly. “He’ll try and hit on me so you,” she pats Tayce’s chest with a wink,“ are going to dance with me.”

Tayce sighs before smiling at the proposition. “Well it’s not exactly Salsa music but I’ll give it a go honey.”

They’re pressed together, chest to chest in the kitchen. As Tayce inhales, chest heaving, it sends vibrations through Georgie’s body.

Tayce has switched the speaker on out of boredom, dancing around where they used to have a dining table and showing off all her moves. She had gotten bored back in uni and used to frequent the salsa society on her free evenings. They’d all made jokes about it but it’s quite clear that none of her friends had taken it seriously when she sees the awe painted on Georgie’s features. She’d offered a hand and the blonde had taken it, allowing herself to be pulled close as they worked through the basics, rocking back and forth.

She spins Georgie but makes sure to pull her close again as the traditional salsa music finishes and a new song comes on.

“Don’t just stand there staring, honey. Try to move your feet,” Tayce sings along, her voice breathy but it doesn’t have to be stronger when her lips are brushing Georgie’s ear. She lets her free hand trace patterns into the parts of the blonde’s back not covered by her flimsy crop top.

“I can make it nice and easy,” she hums, looking down to see Georgie’s eyes are half-lidded, a coy smile playing on her lips. “I'ma take the lead. They ain’t even looking at you, baby."

She drops Georgie but catches her almost immediately - a move that makes the blonde intuitively grip her tighter.

"They’re looking at me."

Georgie locks her eyes on Tayce, not noticing if they drop a bit towards her lips. "Fuck.”

It may not be a salsa but it turns out that Tayce’s dancing skills don’t just lie in the world of Latin.

She pulls Georgie close to her - as she does whenever she has an excuse - and they sway to the music together. It’s reminiscent of the forties - a song for soldiers to dance to with their wives and all the couples are on the floor slow-dancing together.

“Impeccable timing,” Tayce whispers in Georgie’s ear, enjoying the way she shivers and yet moves even closer into Tayce. She always seems to have her bold moments and then goes back to letting Tayce be the big, strong night in shining armour.

Not that she minds.

As Georgie is a few inches shorter, she can tuck her head nicely under Tayce’s chin and it gives her the perfect vantage point to hear the way Tayce’s heartrate seems to be skipping beats.

She lifts her chin, looking up into Tayce’s green eyes and seeing them staring straight at her, a soft smile playing on the taller girls lips.

Tayce gets a funny feeling in her stomach, like she’s ingested butterflies and they’re trying to get out. Suddenly it all makes sense.

She places a hand under Georgie’s chin to hold her gaze and just smiles.

“I love you, you know,” she whispers, feeling like the music is all but silent.

They were drunk, hands travelling to places they wouldn’t normally dare - Tayce’s fingers trailing the lines of Georgie’s underwear through her dress.

The blonde giggles, hiccuping before hoisting herself up on the kitchen counter and pulling her shoes off. They land somewhere that will undoubtedly be a nuisance later but she’s too gone to care.

Tayce stands in between her legs, each hand resting on a smooth ivory thigh. “I can’t believe you shouted at that girl,” she says, lips pressing together as if she’s trying to look disapproving.

Georgie smirks, running a playful finger across the cut of Tayce’s jaw.

“She was looking at you,” she explains as if that’s a perfectly reasonable excuse and it almost makes Tayce chuckle. Instead, the welsh girl mimes biting Georgie’s finger, getting the blonde to laugh.

“She was the kebab girl… The cashier!” She pumps a fist triumphantly at remembering the right word. “She was the cashier. She was meant to look at us.”

“Noooo,” Georgie whines. “You’re not getting it, she was looking at you. Just you.” Tayce quirks her eyebrows, clearly still not getting it and her obliviousness makes Georgie lean forward to rest her forehead on Tayce’s shoulder. A sigh escapes her lips as she wonders if this is how Tayce feels putting up with her.

“She wanted you.” She states as plainly as she can. Her voice drops to just above a whisper, “she wanted you.”

It’s only then that she realises just how close they are - how she can feel Tayce’s hands on her thighs and the smell of daiquiris on her breath.

Their noses meet before their lips do until Tayce tilts her head just a little bit more and then it feels like something inside Georgie has snapped.

She pulls away, the back of her head bumping against the kitchen cabinet as she tries to reconcile what she just did with her own feelings.

It was good, too good, and it scared the living daylights out of her.

She slides sideways off the counter, leaving Tayce standing there - her dumb drunk face frozen in confusion.

Georgie’s eyes widen and then she shuts them, taking a deep breath. When they open again, tayce is still looking at her - though some of the sparkle in her eyes has dimmed and she suddenly feels the need to put all of it back.

She leans up, lets their lips brush against each other in a chaste kiss to test the waters but before she can pull away, Tayce has her bottom lip between her own.

She’s sure they’re being stared at but she can’t bring herself to care because she’s at a wedding and somehow she’s kissing the prettiest woman in the room.

Georgie finally pulls away, lips slightly swollen and lipstick smudging at the edges. her eyes are wet but they’re so bright.

“I love you too,” she murmurs, “ you fucking twat.”

44 notes · View notes

kip-loric · 3 years

Text

Remember - Cagel

Uh, hi. This is my first time posting anything, including a fanfiction, so I hope it's good. This is my contribution to the Lorien Legacies fandom, with a Lorien Legacies Reborn ship. Cagel! I finished reading fugitive six and was in the mood and because... why not? Anyways, hope you guys like it, or at least don't hate it.

Caleb's P.O.V.

I open my eyes to see sunlight streaming into my room through my open curtains. My window is slightly cracked open, a damp breeze blowing in through the screen.

I’m on my back, my thick comforter covering my legs and bare torso. I sink slightly into the warm mattress, my pillow feeling like a cloud. I let my heavy eyelids close before forcing them open again.

Wait… I think slowly. Memories blurred by alcohol fill my mind as I notice a slight pressure on my chest and glance down. A pale arm is draped across me. My breath catches in my throat, I’m fully awake now. I angle my head to my left.

Bleached hair is splayed out next to me on my pillow. Holy shit. I whip my head back forward and stare at the ceiling. I can feel lean legs tangled up with mine. I swallow hard and I urge my brain to remember more of yesterday.

What happened? I ask myself.

A bottle of champagne and a few beers come to mind. Damn, how much did I drink? I squeeze my eyes shut and dredge up more from last night.

There was Taylor and Kopano. They were watching a movie, something with action and cars.

I smile a little at the memory. I don’t mind their relationship so much anymore and have even begun to feel happy for them. Soon after they had gotten together, my childish crush on Taylor had begun to fade.

Ran was there too, along with Isabela, who somehow snuck alcohol from the UN Peacekeepers. We met up in our dorm and hung out, putting on some music. There were cups passed out and we talked for a while.

But...what happened after that? I remember Taylor and Ran stumbling out the door, leaning on each other for support. They said they’ll see us tomorrow, and maybe something about sleeping? I guess I wasn’t paying attention to them. I was paying attention to someone else.

I blink open my eyes, focusing on the ceiling once again.

It happened weeks ago. I didn’t notice it at first, the way my gaze seemed to be drawn to my roommate. When he caught me looking at him and I turned away as quickly as I could, I realized something was off.

I couldn’t place my feelings for a while, and then I tried to deny them. I mean, all my previous attractions had been to girls. Sure, I had eyed male peers now and then, but had ignored those feelings, hiding them away. If my brothers found out…

Damn it, though, when he smiles at me, my family's acceptance is the farthest thing in my mind. It’s like the voices in my head turn into background noise and butterflies take over my stomach. I feel blood rush to my cheeks everytime he laughs and I can’t help but join in.

Nigel.

Even the name has a way of taking my breath away.

He had been the first person to really look out for me, and we quickly became close friends. We started a band together, snuck out of the base with our friends, and partied on the beach. The nice punk helped me open up and discover myself.

I take a deep breath and look out of the corner of my eyes. A face filled with piercings is only a few inches away from mine. I can feel my eyes widen and I shake my head to try and clear it.

Focus, Caleb, I think. What happened last night?

Let’s see… Kopano passed out on the couch after eating almost everything in the fridge. He was snoring louder than I’ve ever heard.

And, Isabela drank way too much and ended up puking? Yeah, that sounds right. She slumped down on the couch next to Kopano, propping her head up with a pillow and immediately falling asleep.

So, that just left Nigel and I. Damn. The memories become clearer and I strain my aching mind. Fuzzy images pop into my head of him and I on opposite sides of the kitchen. I had a glass clasped in my hands, and kept refilling it.

“Woah, mate,” he had said. He hadn’t had nearly as many drinks as the rest of us and his voice was clear. “Let’s tone it down a notch, yeah?” I had reluctantly set down the beverage while he walked up to me. I couldn’t keep my eyes off of his hips and the way they moved with each step.

“You alright?” Nigel asked. We had locked eyes and I dumbly nodded.

He has beautiful eyes, I think. And they're often filled with whatever he’s feeling. Compassion, mischief, kindness, sometimes confusion, and tons of other emotions all show themselves there. His eyes have to be my favorite part of him.

You're getting off track, I scold myself.

“C’mon,” he had said. “You look like ya could use some rest.” He had led me to my bedroom and sat on the edge of my bed with me. A shiver had traveled down my spine as he accidentally brushed his shoulder against mine.

“You gonna be okay, pal?” He asked me. And then…then I did something really stupid.

“Nooooo,” I whisper in my room, dragging a hand across my face as the rest of yesterday comes flooding into my mind.

“No,” I had told him, leaning closer to his handsome face. The alcohol had made me unnaturally brave and I had rested one of my hands on top of his. My worries had begun to melt into nothingness. “I won’t be okay if you leave.” I remember how my words slurred together.

His neck began to turn red and his Adam's apple bobbed up and down nervously. “Caleb…” he whispered, his eyes showing confusion and an odd nervousness. Oh, screw it, I had thought, like an idiot with too much to drink.

I had quickly leaned in the rest of the way and pressed my lips to his. I cupped his face with my hands and I closed my eyes as he made a surprised squeaking sound against my mouth.

No, I groan internally. Why, why, why? Why, you dumbass? I glare at the ceiling in my frustration. No matter how strongly I felt drawn to him, our friendship was more important, but I probably ruined it last night.

But then… I scrunch my eyebrows together in uncertainty.

I remember moving my mouth against his passionately while leaning into him, wanting us to be closer. He had planted a hand on my waist to steady us, then kissed me back. His lips were softer than I had imagined them to be as he tried to match my intensity.

He… kissed me back?

Eventually, I let him overpower me and take the lead. He had brushed his tongue piercing over my lips while running his fingers through my sandy blond hair. I had tried to urge on the brit with a small bite to his bottom lip, but the hand that was in my hair faltered instead.

I moved my hands away from his neck and cheeks, beginning to run them down the sides of his body. My right hand had snaked into his shirt and pressed against the small of his back.

I remember myself breaking our kiss, both of us out of breath and panting slightly. I had kissed his jawline and then his neck, earning a low growl from him.

“Oh god,” I mutter while pinching the bridge of my nose. My face gets hot from the embarrassment of intoxicated me, but I take a deep breath and continue my memory hunt.

I had nibbled and suckled the sensitive skin of his neck, making him let out light moans. I felt myself getting hard as I suddenly bit down on his skin and he gasped with surprise. I tugged up on his shirt, my way of telling him I wanted it off.

A deep sense of longing and want took over me and I crawled onto his lap, my face still buried in the crook of his neck. One of my hands had reached down towards the forming bulge in the front of his pants.

I need you. I need you. I need you. The words had chanted over and over again in my mind like a drunken mantra. Nigel gripped my wrist to stop my hand from moving any farther.

“Wait,” he muttered. His voice had seemed distant and fuzzy at the time. He gripped some of my hair and pulled my head back so I looked him in the eyes. We stared at each other for a few seconds before he kissed me softly.

And… my memories stop after that.

Wait, no! What happened!? My breathing falters as I think of the possibilities. I relax a little as I realize my pants are still on, but my heart continues to hammer against my chest. I wrack my brain, but come up with nothing more and finally bring myself to look at the person next to me.

It's definitely Nigel, no doubt about it. His breathing is slow and steady, making my eyelashes flutter with each exhale. He wears a thin tank top and a pair of sweatpants.

Should I wake him? I desperately want to know what happened, but he also looks so calm. I gaze at him, my heart beat settling. My initial panic is soon replaced with a flood of warmth in my chest.

“Nigel,” I whisper, reaching over and nudging his shoulder slightly. “Nigel.” He groans in his sleep, lips pursing together. I shake him a little and he moves his head closer to me.

I take in a sharp breath and his legs shift around, becoming more entangled with mine. His eyelids open slowly and when he sees me he smiles, a pleasant surprise on my part.

“Hi,” he says groggily.

“Good morning,” I whisper.

“Mm,” he replies, eyes half closed. “What’s the time?”

“Um, I’m not sure. I haven’t checked.” Nigel must hear the slight panic in my voice because his eyes open the rest of the way. He lifts his arm off of me and untangles our legs.

“Do you remember last night?” He asks me, starting to sit up. There’s worry in his words and his looks at me with concern and hopefulness.

“Uh, well, I- I remember some, but- uh,” I stutter, sitting up quickly and crossing my legs. “I mean, I- we didn’t have…? Or di- did we?” I rub one of my arms nervously and Nigel gives me a soft smile. “I can’t remember...”

“Nah,” he says quietly. “I stopped you from going too far. You were way too drunk and I couldn’t take you like that. Besides, I wasn’t sure if that’s what you would have wanted.”

I take a deep breath and return the smile. “Thank you.”

He nods, almost sadly, and glances down at the bed. “I’m… not sure if you want any of this.” He motions to the space where we were just sleeping next to each other.

“Oh.”

That’s all you have to say!? I think. Oh? Tell him how you feel! I look up at Nigel and my throat starts to close up. “I-” I blink rapidly a couple times as he looks at me expectantly. “I do. Want this, I mean.”

“Really?” He asks.

“If you do, then yeah.”

His signature smirk returns and he leans closer to me, giving me plenty of time to pull away or rethink my decision. I meet him halfway and our lips crash together. My senses are heightened compared to last night, and the kiss soon turns heated.

We fall back onto my bed, with Nigel on top. He seems much more confident than yesterday and his tongue finds its way into my mouth. He pins one of my arms next to my head and makes an approving noise in the back of his throat.

We kiss for what feels like an eternity, my imagination running wild. A loud knock on my door makes us both jump. We break the kiss and Nigel flings himself off of me.

“Uh,” I say, but Nigel has already caught his breath and strides to the door. He opens it and leans against the doorway.

“Oi, what’s up?” He asks. Lightly panting, I peer over his shoulder and see Isabela’s dark hair on the other side. I start panicking again as she sees me and I give her a small wave. She rolls her eyes and speaks to Nigel.

“Some of us are a little hungover, so if you could kindly shut your traps, that would be nice. Save it for another time? Or maybe put your legacy to good use.”

“Sorry, love,” Nigel tells her, not flustered at all. “We’ll be quiet.”

“Thank you,” she huffs and leaves us alone. Nigel shuts the door quietly behind her and walks back up to the bed. He sits on the edge and swings his legs over, nestling down into the covers and pillows.

He holds out one of his arms. “Cuddling?” I smile happily and let him wrap me in his arms. I nuzzle into his chest and breath in his scent, not wanting the moment to ever end.

“So, does this make you my boyfriend?” He asks after a minute, twirling a few strands of my hair through his fingers.

“I hope so,” I say.

He chuckles lightly and kisses the top of my head. “Good.”

#cagel #caleb crane #nigel barnaby #loric #lorien legacies reborn #lorien legacies #human garde #garde #generation one #fugative six

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