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works-of-fanfiction · 3 years

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“He’s the Best.” - 90s!Graham Coxon x Reader

Summary: Graham struggles with his self-esteem within the band and the reader tries to cheer him up.

Requested by: Anon. I hope you like this <3

Warnings: Swearing (literally once).

Word Count: 3.3k - a bit of a longer oneshot from me! I didn’t mean for it to be this long.

A/N: I’ve been writing this and putting it off for days because I just don’t know if I like it, but I don’t want to restart it. Argh… I hope someone enjoys this cheese fest.

* Gif credits to the linked creator

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No one in this life is born ‘better’ than anybody else. It’s not a competition or a game of comparison. Every single human on this planet has their own unique qualities that make them interesting and most importantly, worthy. However, humans sadly aren’t wired to see those qualities in themselves. They spend the majority of their lives obsessing over others; wondering if they’re as talented as the next man, or if they’ll ever look as good as whatshername. Sometimes, it gets to a point where even the deepest of friendships can become strained due to one or more parties comparing themselves to another’s achievements.

And seeing Graham go through exactly that, has been killing me. There was a time when everything Graham and Damon did together, was truly that - together. Every single melody, riff, lyric - it was theirs. Neither one did more work than the other, neither was more musically talented. They were both kids crammed inside a Portakabin with their very first instruments, strumming and plucking and making probably rather bothersome noise. They had no idea what was to become of their lunchtime jam sessions and after school practices. Both were just excited to have a friend that liked the same things as them, and enjoyed the noise the other was making.

But Graham has since become a shadow of who he once was around Damon - he’s become Damon’s shadow. Or so he thinks.

Being in a band with a boisterous frontman like Damon was bound to become hard work for the other members at one point or another, but I never thought it would affect Graham like this. It’s getting harder to communicate with him, and I know it’s not his fault but I’m running out of things to say to fill the silences. There’s only so many times I can ask if he wants a cup of tea, or tell him about the encounter I had at the bus stop earlier that day. I’m sick of hearing my own voice, so I can’t imagine how he must feel. The silence seems to be the only thing he wants; he doesn’t write anymore, he hardly plays guitar outside of work commitments, and he hasn’t picked up his sketchbook in weeks. He just seems to stare at the TV or sit on the sofa with his head buried in a book that’s stuck on the first chapter. I watched him the other day and in forty-five minutes, he turned the page once. I bet if I asked him about the story he wouldn’t be able to recall a single character’s name, never mind the plot.

Watching him struggle with his self-esteem is crushing, and I don’t want him to live another second feeling the way he does. I know it may take a while for him to find himself again, but if I can do anything to help move things along, it’s worth a try. I’d drop everything for Graham in a heartbeat.

“I dropped those music stands off today. Did you get them?” Dave asks, his voice a little crackly on the other end of the phone.

“I did, thank you!” I chime, balancing the phone between my shoulder and ear as I assemble the very same stands.

“Oh, good. I was a little worried about leaving them outside. I thought somebody would take them… What do you need them for anyway?”

“That’s something for me to know and you to find out, Dave.” I laugh, tightening one last knob on the second stand and straightening it out. I stand back and admire my handy work, smiling at the prospect of what they are to become.

“Alright, alright. Well, I hope they come in handy! I’ll see you later.”

“Thanks again. See you next week!”

We both hang up and I grab the stands, climbing up the stairs and into the spare room, placing them in their desired places. Grabbing two pieces of sheet music, I slot them onto the stands neatly and adjust them until they’re perfect. With one last thing to check, I turn on the projector I borrowed from an old university friend and let the film play out on the blank wall opposite. I mess with the sound a little, making sure it’s loud enough before rewinding the footage to the beginning and turning it off until later.

Standing in the middle of the room, I turn around and admire everything on the walls. Everything from lyrics to old album art concepts, to still life paintings from Graham’s time at Goldsmith’s. Beside the music stands, there’s crates filled with records, decorated with lyrics scribbled onto scraps of paper, some in Graham’s handwriting and others in mine. I of course, couldn’t resist writing them out in various colours and covering them in star-shaped stickers. The finishing touch is a large beanbag against the wall for us to sit and watch the projector from. I fluff up the beanbag for the thousandth time before heading downstairs to wait for Graham to get back.

It takes around two hours for Graham to arrive home. As soon as I hear his taxi pull up outside, I jump up from the sofa and head into the kitchen to flick the kettle on. Nerves bubble through me as I anticipate his entry. It’s impossible to predict how Graham’s going to be feeling on any given day. He could come through the door and speak to me as normal, or he could disappear into his studio until he’s tired enough to head to bed. Through the rumbling of the kettle I listen out for the door, fingers impatiently tapping on the counter as my gaze fixates on a magpie outside, shakily balancing on the washing line. A second joins it and I smile, muscle memory taking over as I pour the boiled water into two cups, not taking my eyes off of the birds.

“Hi.” Graham’s voice peeps behind me. Putting the kettle down, I turn around with a warm smile on my face. Despite everything Graham has been going through, seeing him come through that door every day is still my favourite sight. Having him come home to me will simply never get old. I don’t know what I’ll do when he has to go out on tour again in a few months.

“Hey.” I breathe, the sides of my face already beginning to feel sore from the ridiculous grin stuck on it. He smiles back, the expression not quite reaching his eyes but I know he means well. He’s trying. “You go and sit down. I’ll bring these in.” I gesture to the brewing teas on the counter and he nods, hanging his bag on the nearest kitchen chair and leaving the room without another word. I finish the drinks as quickly as possible, grabbing the stack of takeaway menus from the junk drawer and bringing them with me, the pieces of paper clamped between my teeth as I concentrate on carrying the two steaming hot cups in my hands.

Setting the cups down on the coffee table, I toss the menus onto the sofa next to where Graham is very aggressively, trying to pull his Docs off. “Need a little help?” I ask, laughing as I kneel down and bat his hands out of the way. “It would help if you untied them.”

“It’s easier to leave them tied.”

“Oh, really?” I scoff, gesturing to his feet still stuck in the cherry red boots. The laces are a complete mess with three bulky knots in them. I sit down cross-legged on the carpet, carefully plucking and unravelling each knot whilst Graham buries his head in the takeaway menus. “How do you even - “ I struggle, pulling at the frayed shoelace whilst trying not to damage it further, “- get these things on?” With one last tug, the first lace loosens and I’m able to slide the boot off with ease. Graham’s face pops out from behind the menu, a side-smile plastered onto his lips and a cheeky glint in his eyes. I know he wants to laugh.

“Shall we get Indian tonight?” He changes the subject, flipping over the tatty piece of bright orange paper as he squints at the options. He always orders the same thing, yet still insists on reading the whole menu front to back. He does it for every restaurant.

“Indian sounds good.” I nod, pulling the second boot off and shoving them to the side. “I’ll call them now.” Jumping up to grab the phone, I type the number in from memory and hold it up to my ear.

“What’s the rush?” Graham mouths and I hush him when somebody answers. I order the usual along with some extras and give them our address, despite them not even really needing it anymore. The phone call is no longer than a minute and Graham sits staring at me, nose scrunched in confusion. “Are you going to tell me what’s going - “

“Follow me.” I blurt out, stretching my arm towards him and rising onto my tiptoes out of excitement. He stands slowly, shrugging off his jacket and leaving it on the sofa. “I was going to wait until we’d had our food, but I have to show you now.”

“Show me what?” He asks as I grab his wrist and drag him up the stairs. We squeeze up the narrow staircase, almost tripping each other over a couple times until we stop on the landing, feet overlapping one another’s on the small square of carpet.

“I know you haven’t really been yourself lately.” I start, my fingers slipping from Graham’s wrist to entwine with his. He looks down, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth. His eyes watch our hands as I lightly stroke the back of his thumb in an attempt to relax him. He has a habit of tensing up whenever I broach the subject. “So I wanted to remind you just how great you are.”

I watch his face intently, the corners of his mouth twitching and trying to smile. With my free hand, I open the door and flick the light on, pulling Graham into the room with me. His hand slips from my grasp and I back up to stand against the wall, watching as he takes in the room around him and everything in it.

He walks to the music stands first, fingers tracing the notes on the pages, flipping them over then back again. He walks towards the canvas on the back wall - a woodland painting he’d won a prize for back in college - running his hand over the textured patch of paint that forms the trees. I nervously bite the back of my thumb as he kneels down to sift through the records in the large black case below, flicking through every Blur album and single released to this day. My favourite lyrics are scattered on sheets of paper all over the ground, and he picks up the second verse from Coffee & TV. “You’ve always loved this one.” He says, turning to me and smiling.

“I happen to really like the guy who sings it.”

“He must be pretty good then.”

“Oh, he’s the best.” Resting my foot against the wall, I kick my body forward and stand straight, joining Graham beside the projector.

“What’s this for?” He asks, hands hovering near the buttons but not daring to touch anything. I take his hands in mine and give them a loving squeeze.

“Sit down and I’ll show you.” I chirp and he sinks down onto the beanbag. I mess with the projector until the sound starts to creep in, stretching over to switch off the light. Graham shuffles to the side to make some room for me on the beanbag and I flop down beside him, nestling into his side.

The image from the projector is surprisingly clear against the wall, although could’ve been improved had I borrowed a screen from somewhere. A variety of different clips play out in front of us, ranging from Graham performing onstage to snippets of his band members talking and praising their guitarist. I try my hardest to focus on the film in front of me, but I can’t help glancing over at Graham to see his reactions. His brows are furrowed, but not necessarily in a bad way - he’s focused, fully concentrating on everything he’s seeing and hearing.

I fidget with my hands, twiddling my thumbs and quietly cracking my knuckles. Graham notices this and grabs my left hand, squeezing it tightly and bringing it over to rest in his lap. Laying my head on his shoulder, I press a kiss onto his sleeve, rubbing my head against him and breathing in his familiar scent. He lays his head on top of mine, but never looks away from the video playing on the wall. Absentmindedly, his fingertips dance on the back of my hand, the drumming following the beat of Song 2 as it plays from the projector. I too can’t help bopping along to the beat, my foot tapping softly on the carpet.

The video closes with one final clip, a message I recorded for Graham. Too embarrassed to watch myself, my focus stays on him as I squeeze his hand a little tighter and snuggle up as close as possible. The picture begins to fade and the sound plays out until there’s no footage left, and the whirring of the projector becomes background noise in the room. Graham doesn’t say anything at first, but as I try to stand to turn the projector off, he pulls me back down onto the beanbag and rotates his body to face mine.

“Hey.” I whisper, my right hand supporting his cheek as he leans into me, his eyes closed and lips pressed into a line. Our bodies slot into one another’s on the beanbag, the very little space between us growing warmer by the second.

Graham releases a deep breath, his eyes slowly opening again with a small smile spreading across his face. It’s hard to see him properly in the dimly lit room, but I could never mistake those big brown eyes staring at me. “I can’t believe you did all of this for me.” He says, his voice low as he leans in close to speak like we’re the only two people who matter inside a crowded room.

“I wanted to show you how incredible you are. You’ve been so hard on yourself and I just - “ As I speak, tears start to well up in my eyes and I look up to the ceiling to try and stop them from falling. I’d already told myself earlier that I wouldn’t cry, because I don’t want Graham to think he’s upset me. I press at my eyes lightly with my fingertips in an attempt to push the tears away. “I can’t stand seeing you this way because you don’t deserve to feel like this. If it wasn’t for you, Blur wouldn’t exist! Everything you’ve all achieved wouldn’t have happened.” My voice begins to shake and I feel Graham’s hand on my arm, rubbing it gently to try and calm me down.

“Y/N.” He starts, before reaching up to turn on the light. It takes a second for my eyes to adjust, before my gaze falls to the ground to avoid his. If I look at him properly, I know I’ll start bawling. “Look at me. Please.”

“I can’t. I can’t because I’ll cry, and then you’ll get upset and I don’t want to make you feel any worse than wha - “

“You won’t upset me. Y/N, I’m sorry I’ve - “

“No, Graham. Don’t apologise.” I grip onto his shirt tightly, my fingers tangling in the fabric. Graham bows his head and nudges it against mine, edging closer until he pushes my head up with his and our noses are almost touching. We both open our eyes, our faces too close that my vision is distorted and I’m seeing double. I pull back, sniffling once and dabbing at my eyes again, still not allowing any tears to actually emerge.

“I’m sorry,“ he starts and I sigh at his words, but he hushes me by holding his finger up to my face, “for putting you through this. I was so caught up in my own head that I didn’t realise how it was making you feel.”

“Graham, this isn’t about me.”

“But it affects you. Bloody hell, if I had to live with this miserable twat - “ he points to himself and I scoff, slapping the back of his hand playfully. “ - I’d have given up by now.”

“I would never give up on you.” My voice is barely above a whisper, the lump in my throat making it difficult to speak. Graham goes silent again, staring down at our joined hands and moving his thumbs around. I nudge his head with mine in the same way he did previously and he sniffles, his chest rising and immediately falling again. “Graham?” I bring my hand to his chin and push his face up to find his eyes watery, and cheeks significantly more red compared to a moment ago.

“God, look at me. What the hell are you still doing with me, ay? I’m a bleeding mess.” He sniffs, roughly wiping tears off of his cheeks with the backs of his hands.

“Because I wouldn’t want to be with anybody else.”

“Not even - “

“Ah! Stop right there. There’ll be no more of that.” I take his hands away from his face, holding onto them loosely. “Graham Coxon, you are the best thing to ever happen to me. And I’ll give you a free pass to slap me silly for being so cheesy.” I laugh, his grip on my hands tightening as he awkwardly slides closer on the beanbag, his body sinking into it at a strange angle and pulling me with him. “I love you.”

Within a second, Graham’s hands are on both sides of my face, pulling me in for a kiss; the kind of kiss that feels like the person is pouring their entire heart out to you. Like the kiss between the main characters of a movie, when they’ve just ran across a field or a busy road to collide with another at the centre. His lips messily press against mine and I can feel the stray tears running down his face as they dampen my cheeks. My hands rest on his legs, holding on firmly as his thumbs dig into my face a little. It doesn’t hurt, but he soon pulls away and swipes at my face softly as if to apologise for it. He uses his sleeve to dry my face and I do the same for him, small gasps of laughter exchanging between us.

“Thank you for doing this. If you can’t tell, I really love it.” He says sincerely with a genuine smile, the biggest smile I’ve seen from him in weeks. The expression is infectious and I can’t help mimicking him as I grin back like the Cheshire Cat. The faint sound of knocking from downstairs pulls us out of our romance film-esque daydream and we both clamber to our feet.

As we approach the stairs, Graham stops and spins me around, pulling me into him. I land against his chest with a huff, before adjusting my hair and looking up at him. “After we eat, can you show me the film again?” He asks, his hand meeting mine to help me fix the loose hairs falling in my eyes.

“We can watch it as many times as you like.”

#graham coxon #graham coxon x reader #oneshot #blur #request #anon request

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fairyoftbz · 3 years

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sunburnt | s. eric

☀ pairing: pharmacist! eric x fem!reader ☀ word count: 1.4k (i really can't write sth small smh) ☀ genre: fluff, sort of beach!au (?) ☀ tw: sunburns, some swear words here and there ☀ synopsis: after spending an afternoon at the beach, you painfully realised that you got sunburnt. ☀ a/n: I know it's shitty but this is just to express my pain bc I always get sunburnt lmao ☀ requested: no

╰☆☆☆☆╮

Getting rid of all the sand in your belongings, you swiftly slid your feet into your flip-flops and walked towards the bar located at the end of the beach. The barista handed you the bottle of soda you asked for and walked away, adjusting the sunglasses perched on your nose as the sun was still shining brightly.

Taking the afternoon off to enjoy some peace away from your bustling life was the best self-care decision you ever made. You kept your destination hidden and turned off your phone as soon as you stepped a foot in the burning sand, wanting the focus to be on yourself only. Work had been restless, and your colleagues had been giving you a hard time, so you wanted to spend some time alone to enjoy the time being, away from stressing at your desk and being in front of the computer screens all day.

The afternoon was pleasant. You had swum in the ocean for a while, drying on the sand until the heat became unbearable and went back in the water. Tiredness took over your body at some point, feeling thirsty and hungry, giving you a good reason to leave, excited to go back home to chill on your balcony instead. In the higher floors of the building you lived in, the air was still salty but fresher, and you preferred this over anything else.

Pausing for a quick second, you uncapped the bottle of soda with a swift flick of the finger before taking long sips, the sparkly feeling refreshing your throat. You sighed in relief when you reached your car, setting your bag and towel inside. But, as you were about to close the trunk, a sharp pain travelled your entire body, shooting from your upper arm to reach the lower part of your back. Confused, you winced and lowered your arm, walking to the side of your car to look at yourself in a window.

Your skin was gleaming bright red, suddenly feeling the uncomfortable pain of a throbbing sunburn. Placing your hand on your shoulder blade, you touched the skin and your eyes widened, feeling it burn under your palm and your skin turning white where you had pressed your fingertips.

With gritted teeth and a clenched jaw, you pushed the trunk down before locking your car despite your discomfort. Finding a pharmacy was the only way to relieve you from his pain because you doubted that the products found at the grocery store would be very efficient.

You quickly entered the first store you found, asking for directions. The man behind the cash register gestured you to the nearest pharmacy, bowing at him before going back in the sweltering heat. The more you moved, the more effort you had to reassemble to keep walking, realising that not only your shoulders were sunburnt, but also the remaining limbs of your body.

“I’m such a fucking idiot,” you cursed yourself at the negligence you had for yourself, delicately placing the strap of your purse on your shoulder as you winced again.

It wasn’t the first time that you got this type of ache, you almost got sunburnt every single summer. Though you had tried every sunscreen purchasable in the market, nothing was well enough to shield your skin from the UV rays, no matter how high-protecting and promising the tube of sunscreen was. You shook your head as you walked to the pharmacy, mentally preparing yourself to suffer at every single movement you’ll do for the next few days.

The glass doors of the drugstore slid open, letting the air conditioning welcome you in a fresh embrace. Your skin lightly itched as you neared the never-ending mister a little too close, the simple contact of water against your skin was enough to make you wince. Looking around the shop for a while, much to your dismay, you couldn’t find any after-sun lotion. Replacing a tube on the shelf, you were about to ask for help when you heard someone clear their throat behind you.

You slightly flinched at the sensitive skin of your neck wrinkling as you turned around, offering a half-smile to the person in front of you. Wearing a white blouse above a white t-shirt and some chino pants hitched up at the end, the man in front of you greeted you with a smile, eyes filled with care and worry as they lingered on your reddened skin.

“Can I help you in any way?” he started, and you nodded, taking your sunglasses off, involuntarily displaying more of your sunburnt face. He hissed empathically at the sight of your red skin, and you sighed before bitterly chuckling.

“I know I should have been more careful, but I can't find a single brand of sunscreen efficient enough to protect my skin. Maybe you have some products that could help me heal it, at least?” the pharmacist nodded as his eyes couldn't leave the redness of your skin, his actions allowing you to see his name on the tag above his blouse pocket: Eric S.

“You need to be cautious, it's bad to ruin your cells and break some skin layers. I have rarely seen such type of sunburnt, it looks like you’re going to have to be patient for it to heal correctly. Uh, okay, let me go check if I have something for you,” he mumbled while detailing your skin, his fingers gently resting on your shoulder to turn you around, observing the reddened skin your clothes allowed to show. His eyes widened for a quick second at the damage, nodding at you before disappearing in the back office, his front pieces of hair flying up as he passed in front of a fan.

You stood there, waiting for him to come back, faking your interest in another product as the fresh air of the pharmacy allowed your body to cool down for a while. You couldn’t do anything with your body, crossing your arms became so hurtful that you had to stay with them dangling on your sides. Fortunately, the pharmacist was quick to come back with a large lotion pot in hand and a cylindrical tube in the other. He got hailed by another waiting customer but was quick to politely redirect him to one of his colleagues, walking back to you with a caring smile painted on his face.

“So, I have this lotion that is aloe vera based, and its benefits are very good for your skin. Not only for sunburns but also in general, if you have dry skin or even acne. It’s very moisturising and anti-inflammatory, and you can apply it as many times throughout the day as you want. You could also apply pure aloe vera taken straight from the branches, but I’m scared that all the local stores have run out of it,” he explained with a smile, walking towards one of the unoccupied cash registers, typing a few things on the screen.

“And the tube? What is it for?” you pointed at the thing, the pharmacist’s eyes not leaving the screen as he turned the tube around, recognising the white and orange packaging of a famous French brand for you to read.

“This is French thermal water, the same one that we diffuse at the entrance”, he said as he gestured to the steam of mist escaping from the machine next to the sliding doors. “It can help you freshen up and cool down your skin when the sunburnt is as consequent as yours. My sister uses it a lot, and it’s efficient according to her. She uses the cream as well, and she wears a bathing suit, it's the best way for the product to sink in well,” you thanked him as you took your wallet out, grabbing your credit card and pressed it against the machine, which emitted a sound at the end of your transaction.

“Don’t hesitate to come back if you need further explanation or anything else. Have a nice day!” your fingers grazed against his as you took the bag from him and walked out of the store, reaching inside the bag once you were on your way back to your car.

However, you stopped in your tracks as some ink coloured your fingertips, finding a post-it note stuck on the inside of the bag. The paper grabbed your attention by brushing against the skin of your forearm as you wanted to grab the facial water mister, impatient to get rid of this stinging sensation on your face. You frowned and peeled the note off, noticing hasty words messily scribbled on it.

maybe I can teach you correctly to put on sunscreen to avoid any other sunburns? ;) call me xx-xxx-xxx

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lupinlongbottom · 4 years

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Shortie

Fred Weasley x Short!Reader

Summary: (Y/N) is short. Plain and simple. While she admits this to herself, she hates, more than anything, than the nickname a certain redhead has tagged her with.

Prompt: Can I request a Fred Weasley x Reader with a short reader? And Fred thinks she’s adorable and flirts with her all the time? - Anon

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: none

A/N: Yeah. I love Fred Weasley. I bet you do too, hm? Yeah you do!! Welcome to the club we meet on every other Thursday

(Y/N) (L/N) loathed being called short. She was short, to their point, but it was always an awfully un-clever observation. No one ever thought to call her ‘bright’ or ‘pretty’, it was always ‘short’ or—

“Hey, shortie!”

(Y/N) turned around, her books held tightly to her chest. It didn’t take a genius to know who’s voice it could’ve been, but she looked anyway, scowling.

“What do you want, Weasley?” She continued her previous steps, the flats of her feet slapping against the marble rhythmically.

“Woah,” Fred said, holding his hands up, running to her side. “Such hostility, coming from such a small thing…”

(Y/N) pulled the books tighter into her chest, the covers reaching her chin. “What do you want?” She repeated, ignoring the redhead who was now matching her rather brisk pace.

“What? Can’t a guy try and flirt with the cutest little thing at school?” Fred said teasingly. (Y/N) could hardly tell if he was joking or not, a common theme from the Weasley brothers.

“Calling someone ‘shortie’ isn’t considered flirting,” (Y/N) huffed, feeling her fingers curl around the spines of her books, the tips tracing the musty covers. “Hardly would get you any points from anyone.”

“You see,” Fred clicked, pointing a finger. “I said ‘try’, didn’t say it was working,” he glanced up and down the girl quickly, grinning, “though, you’re talking to me, so something must’ve worked.”

“Do that with all the girls, do you? Flirt constantly to see if something sticks?” (Y/N) said, almost breaking a smile. A small tug at her lips peeked through the cracks, one that Fred noticed instantly, a warmth spreading quickly to his cheeks.

“No,” Fred said, shaking his head. “Just with you.”

“Right,” (Y/N) said, laughing genuinely. “Sure, Weasley,” she turned the corner, reaching her destination, her next class. “If you don’t mind, I actually have somewhere to be right now, so—”

“Funny,” Fred laughed, opening the classroom door. “Me too. Forgot we had Charms together, huh?”

She didn’t.

“Easy to forget,” (Y/N) said, pushing past Fred, hoping to reach her seat before Flitwick had their heads. “I focus entirely on the lecture, unlike somebody I know.”

“Hard to focus when the prettiest girl in school sits across the way from me,” Fred said, eyeing (Y/N) down.

“Oh sure,” (Y/N) scoffed, rolling her eyes, trying to ignore the creeping heat flowing across her face. “That’s your problem.”

“Though, it’s hard to see you behind your stack of books. I reckon you could use one of them to boost yourself up, it’d be easier to spot you—”

(Y/N) smacked his arm, hard, before fleeing to her assigned seat. She held back a scoff, not letting Fred get the better of her and her reactions. Pulling the various textbooks from her bag, (Y/N) scooted them slightly more to the left for no reason in particular.

Studying was a chore, something that (Y/N) loathed to do, but understood it’s importance in her academic life and future. As far as libraries go, the one at Hogwarts wasn’t the worst one she’d been in. Surely the temptation of practically anything and everything one would or could possibly know about the magical community and world around them was just at their fingertips, pages away from their young minds. However, instead of the fun material she could be reading, she was stuck scribbling lines from a textbook about various charms she’d never need to use.

“Honestly, making legs grow on teacups? How absurd…” (Y/N) mumbled to herself, scribbling the incantation down in a bolder ink, underlining it lightly.

“Reckon you could try it on yourself,” A voice said, pulling up into the chair next to her. “Maybe you’ll grow a bit, hm?”

“Weasley,” (Y/N) clicked, setting her quill down harshly. “I’m trying to study, can’t you go bother some other poor soul? Throw a dungbomb around or whatever you and your brother get up to?”

“Nah, we ran out of dungbombs a bit back,” Fred said, picking at his fingernails, examining them closely. “We planted some frog spawn soap in the bathroom near here, but that’s going to take a while to kick in,” He glanced at the roll of parchment beneath (Y/N)’s hand, covering her writing. “What? Don’t want me to cheat off of you?”

“Exactly,” (Y/N) hummed, placing another hand atop her words. “You haven’t done the assignment yet, so I’m not going to let you read mine.”

“Smart,” Fred said, nodding his head. “Really smart.”

“Thank you?” (Y/N) said, almost unsure.

“Tell me, shortie,” Fred said, leaning in. “While you’re here hiding your work, do you need me to grab any books off the top shelf? I have long arms, you know…”

“Nope,” (Y/N) said warmly, her voice sickeningly sweet. “I’ve got all I need, thanks.”

“You sure?” He asked again, cracking his signature grin, his eyebrow pointed. “You sure you don’t need Charmingly Charming Charms by Gretchen Hopstock?” He pulled a red book from behind his back. “I know that Georgie and I needed to look at it when we were finishing our assignment…”

“You did the assignment? You’re bluffing!” (Y/N) said, bewildered and confused at the recent discovery. “There’s no way!”

“Yeah,” Fred laughed. “No way you’re reaching that book without my help,” he laughed again, the voice as smooth as honey, “it belongs on the sixth shelf, second case in. Seeing as you can barely reach the fifth shelf without your tiptoes—”

“Have you been watching me?”

“Hard not to,” Fred said, grinning. “It’s rather cute, watching you struggle just a bit. Of course, just say the word and I’ll leave the book here instead of putting it back.”

“I’m good,” (Y/N) said, shooting back an equally large grin, hoping the mockery would hit him in the face and let him leave. “But thanks!”

Fred shrugged, turning quickly on his heels. He took five steps into the bookcase, eyes quickly scanning across the various covers, hoping to find the empty spot he had pulled the book from previously. With extra care, he slid the book back into its home, turning back to grin at (Y/N).

“I didn’t need it, anyway.”

“We’ll see, shortie,” Fred said, shoving his hands back into his pockets. “Though, tell me,” Fred said, pointing to (Y/N)’s hands, still covering her parchment. “You’ve let that ink dry before smacking your hand on your writing, right?”

(Y/N) froze.

“Nah,” Fred laughed, waving his hand. “I’m sure it’s fine, you’re a bright witch, there’s no way that you would’ve done that,” he laughed again, turning back to his table of friends, neatly settled on the other side of the library. “No way.”

(Y/N) waited a few beats before prying her fingers off the paper, sure enough, the ink wasn’t done drying when she placed her skin atop of it. A puddling of what could’ve been words flowed along her skin, thankfully her parchment was still somewhat legible. She hesitated for a moment, debating on packing up her things and leaving entirely, or excusing herself for a moment to wash her hands. She chose the latter.

“Stupid Fred, stupid ‘shortie’, stupid book…” (Y/N) mumbled to herself, entering the girls lavatory quickly. The sooner she cleaned her stained hands, the sooner she could finish her assignment and the sooner she could ignore Fred Weasley. (Y/N) turned on the tap, allowing the hot water to cover her hands, a good majority of the black ink flowing directly into the water.

“Honestly,” (Y/N) said, grabbing the bar of soap, scrubbing vigorously. “What is wrong with me? He’s just some stupid boy…” She glanced up at her reflection, the pink in her cheeks practically glowing. “A stupid boy with a stupid smile…” Her face softened, recalling the way he grinned at her, a face he only seemed to direct at her and her alone, she had noticed. She never stared too long, honest, but she wasn’t dumb. Maybe he did truly like her. Maybe she liked him. Maybe.

The moment, however, ended quickly, as (Y/N) felt the soap beneath her move slightly. She looked down, only to find tadpoles swimming in sink and wriggling between her fingers.

Her scream rang throughout the castle.

The orange autumn day basked over the courtyard, the gaggles of cliques and friends finally were returning from Hogsmeade that fateful Saturday. (Y/N) had spent more than she’d like to admit at Honeydukes, her friends egging her to buy ‘just one more’ chocolate frog. Though, to their point, having a few extras around wouldn’t have been the worst idea.

(Y/N) settled herself down next to the fountain, allowing herself to get her recommended fifteen minutes of solitude she desperately needed. The burbling of the water and the idle chatter of students around her was calming, a white noise to her loud thoughts.

“Shortie!” Fred called from across the courtyard, leaving George behind. The other twin looked almost shocked, but only for a moment, his gaze falling upon the girl at the base of the fountain. He shrugged and waltzed away, knowing very well that Fred would catch up later.

“Fred,” (Y/N) said, not opening her eyes. She continued to take in deep breaths, focusing harder on the fountain behind her. “What is it?”

“Woah,” Fred said, almost taken aback. “Not ‘Weasley’? We’re on a first-name basis now?”

“Could you try and be quiet?” (Y/N) said, taking in another deep breath. “I’m trying to enjoy a few moments of silence,” she opened an eye, glancing at Fred, “I know how hard silence is for you.”

“Please,” Fred scoffed, falling down next to (Y/N), hands folded in his lap. “I can be silent.”

“Prove it,” (Y/N) said, closing her eyes again, taking a deep breath.

“Fine,” Fred said, staring straight ahead, trying to prove his point. The sounds of the fountain were calming, he noticed. Frankly, he wanted to make fun of the spot (Y/N) had chosen, but after thinking about it for a few moments, he understood.

Fred couldn’t help but glance over to the girl on his right, noting how even seated next to one another, their height difference rang true. He never sat next to her, not this close, she never gave him the chance. His eyes floated over to the bag at her side, a Honeydukes one, to be exact. Without a second thought, as silently as he could, he pulled the bag onto his lap. Thankfully, (Y/N) hadn’t heard. Fingering through the bag, he noted the various chocolate frogs, a box of fudge flies and a package of jelly slugs. All favorites of hers.

“Of course…” Fred laughed quietly, examining the bag a little deeper. A smaller bag reached his grasp, the packaging seeming familiar. He had seen these bags plenty of times before, in fact, George had been carrying one on their way back from Hogsmeade.

“What’re you doing?” (Y/N) said, careful not to shout, to draw more attention to herself. She noticed the bag in Fred’s lap after he had stayed quiet for a bit too long, a feat she clearly thought was a prank. She reached forward. “Gimme that!”

“Nope,” Fred said, standing up quickly, bag still in his grasp. “Why do you have a Zonko’s bag in here? I don’t think they have any products that’ll help you grow—”

“Will you quit it!?” (Y/N) finally shouted, rising to her feet. Fred froze, just for a moment. “Honestly! It’s all ‘shortie’ this and ‘shortie’ that! Could you cut it out for just—cut it out for a moment?!”

“(Y/N), I—”

“Yeah?” (Y/N) spat, ripping the bag from Fred’s grip, clutching it close to her side. “Gonna ask me to speak up because I’m so far away from you? You, all the way up there and me, so terribly close to the ground, might as well be dirt—”

“(Y/N) I’m sorry,” Fred said, almost sternly. Whatever grin he had on his face earlier surely dissipated. “I didn’t think that, that nickname bothered you so much, had you told me I would’ve—”

“Would’ve stopped? Yeah right. Biggest prankster in the whole school stopping something because someone asked nicely?”

“I would’ve stopped because you asked me,” Fred said, making his word choice clear. “Honest.”

“I don’t believe it,” (Y/N) said.

“Why do you think I call you shortie to begin with? Has it ever crossed your mind that I could’ve chosen anything else in the English—or perhaps French—language to call you?” Fred asked, not expecting a reply. “I mean, yeah, obviously you’re short—”

“You call people loads of other things, why not one of those?”

“What? Do you mean prat or git?” Fred laughed. “I could never think about calling you that, are you being serious?”

“What’s so hard to believe? You call everyone else things like that!”

“Yeah? Well I don’t fancy everyone else, do I?”

“Fancy?” (Y/N) said, fighting back a laugh. “That’s how you treat someone you fancy? It’s so elementary, Fred. Would you like to pull on my hair to really drive your message home?”

“Oh shut it,” Fred said, his voice low, cheeks growing red. “I’m not good at things like this… affection, flirting…”

“You? Not good at flirting?” (Y/N) said, letting herself laugh. “Now that’s funny.”

“How so?”

“Please, half of the words that come out of your mouth make me want to crawl as far as I can in my jumper, hide from the embarrassment,” (Y/N) admitted, feeling a bit honest. “From what I’ve heard from the other girls in our year, you seem to have that effect on women.”

“Really?” Fred smiled. “I make you all flustered?”

“Y-you make other girls flustered, too!” (Y/N) said rather quickly. “Don’t go and twist my words.”

“Ah,” Fred clicked, rocking on his feet. “But you admit it, I make you flustered.”

“P-perhaps,” (Y/N) said, the back of her neck growing hot to the touch, the heat rising to her ears. “Perhaps a bit, yes.”

“Then, that’s all that matters, hm?” Fred said, smiling.

“What? Do you get some sort of pleasure of getting me flustered?” (Y/N) said, trying to keep a straight face.

“Of course I do,” Fred laughed. “Doesn’t every guy want to see the girl they like get all hot and bothered, especially by their own words and smirks?”

“I suppose,” (Y/N) said, nodding. “But, why me? Of call the girls you could possibly fancy, I’m the one you’ve gone after?”

“You challenge me, (Y/N),” Fred shrugged. “I like the chase, what can I say?” He let out another laugh, the sound ringing throughout the courtyard. “Besides, you’re rather pretty and have got the cutest laugh—little snorts and all—”

“I do not snort!” (Y/N) exclaimed. “I just—my laugh isn’t—I don’t… snort…”

“Awh,” Fred took a step closer, placing his hand hesitantly on (Y/N)’s shoulder. “S’all right, (Y/N), I think it’s cute. I think you’re cute.”

“Shut it…” (Y/N) said, looking away. After all that talk of getting flustered around Fred, why was her own body betraying her so poorly? Surely Fred could see the pink in her cheeks, there was no point in trying to hide it. “I think you’re cute too…” she mumbled, the words barely passing her lips.

“What was that? I didn’t quite catch that?” Fred said, grinning.

“I said I think you’re cute too,” (Y/N) repeated, her voice louder. “There, happy?”

“Elated,” Fred said, his smile growing softer. “Since you think I’m terribly attractive—”

“That’s not what I said—”

“And since I think you’re terribly adorable, what do you say to us going on a date? Say… next weekend, Hogsmeade? You, me, a couple of butterbeers against the world?”

“I’d like that,” (Y/N) said. “I’d like that quite a bit, actually.”

“Wicked,” Fred said, removing his hand from (Y/N)’s shoulder, knowing if he didn’t, he’d probably do something stupid, something she’d slap him silly for even trying. “Now that we’re on the same page, tell me (Y/N)…” he slanted his eyes, “what did you purchase from Zonko’s? Doesn’t seem like your type of store.”

“I…” (Y/N) chose her words carefully, feeling the bag at her side grow almost heavy. “I bought some hiccoughing sweets… to… give to you…”

“You… were going to try and prank me?” Fred said, his finger pointed at his chest. “A woman after my own heart! Oh, (Y/N), you don’t know how attractive that is.”

“I didn’t buy them to seduce you, Weasley,” (Y/N) laughed. “I bought them for… revenge purposes only.”

“Revenge? For the shortie thing? That seems a bit much,” Fred said, crossing his arms. “Don’t you think?”

“Oh no,” (Y/N) said, waving her hand. “The shortie thing doesn’t bother me nearly that bad,” Fred gave her a look, “what? Can’t a girl apologize? Regardless, it wasn’t because of that.”

“Alright, shortie,” Fred said, using the nickname again, dipping a toe in the water. (Y/N) smiled, just a bit. “Then what could you possibly need to get revenge for?”

“Frog spawn soap, women’s lavatory near the library.”

“Holy shit,” Fred said, suppressing a laugh. “That was you? Your scream was so hilarious!”

“I went to go wash the ink off my hands and—”

“So you did get ink on your hands,” Fred said, leaning closer. “I knew it.”

“Your soap,” (Y/N) said, ignoring Fred’s teasing. “Probably will give me nightmares about hand washing for the rest of my life… I figured a few prank-sweets would compensate it fairly.”

“Well played,” Fred said, nodding. “It’s a good plan, though I’d re-think it now that I know all about your devious little scheme, wouldn’t you agree? Try something that’ll really grind my gears, hm?”

“Grind your gears?”

“Yeah, the key to a good revenge, or revenge prank is the one that while the other isn’t expecting, also annoys—”

Without a second thought, (Y/N) leaned upwards, reaching as far as her toes could get her. She grabbed Fred’s face, placing a soft peck to the space near his lips, dangerously close, but not quite touching. She fell back onto the flats of her feet, grinning widely at the now-speechless Weasley in front of her.

“One that the other isn’t expecting? I’ll have to remember that,” (Y/N) said, taking a few steps away from Fred, ready to leave the courtyard. “What? Kneazle have your tongue?”

“I just…” Fred sputtered, trying to find the words. Of all the things he had expected from (Y/N), teasing him to that caliber was not at the top of his list. “I just, didn’t expect you to reach that high,” he forced a laugh, trying to cover up his embarrassment, “shortie.”

(Y/N) smiled softly at the boy, turning her heels to leave. The sound of Fred’s soft laughter met her ears, him surely doing a little jig, something she knew she would see if she turned around, but (Y/N) let him have his moment. Turns out, she didn’t hate that nickname after all. More specifically, she didn’t hate the boy it came from, not one bit.

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elduwrites · 3 years

Text

Reminders That I Love You - Chapter 3

“Don’t be a brat.” Cas tugged his hair again. It was harder this time and lasted until a small moan escaped Dean’s lips. Then the contact was gone. Damn. He usually had more control than that. But they had been very busy, and angry with each other, lately. This was a welcome change of pace.

“Anyway, I believe in you.” Cas grinned. “Now be quiet, I need to concentrate on my work.”

Also available on AO3

Word count: 4916 (story total: 7603)

Chapter 3/3

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

When Cas returned, Dean laid naked in the middle of the bed, legs spread and hands beneath his head. He grinned up at his boyfriend who stopped in the doorway for a while, just starring at him.

“See something you like?” Dean asked, letting his tongue dart over his bottom lip for good measure.

“Yes, you’re very beautiful Dean,” Cas replied matter-of-factly. Then he walked closer, keeping his eyes plastered to the man on the bed the entire time. “And you’re being very good for me.”

“Not like you asked me to do anything complicated.” Dean looked away, lightly biting his lip. He wanted to be good, especially after the evening they had, but he had to earn it.

“The complexity of the task does not dictate how pleased I am when you succeed,” Cas said sternly as he sat down on the bed, leaning over the other man. “Some days I want you to prove just how good you can be for me. Today is not about that. For now, I want to remind you how wonderful you always are to me Dean. Even when you don’t see your own worth.”

“What if I want, or need, to prove that I can be good for you?” His voice was small even to his own ears, but it needed to be said.

“Then that’s for another day.”

“But-”

“No,” Cas said firmly. “On Saturday I will have you collared on your knees with my cock in your mouth while I research my next paper, but I have a different plan for tonight. Are you going to be a brat and question my decisions, or will you be still and obedient like my good boy ought to?”

Dean swallowed hard, but kept his lips closed. Saturday could not come soon enough. But Cas knew what he needed, and what he could take. If he said that this wasn’t the day for proper play, then he was right. Of course he was. Dean looked up, meeting the others gaze and held it until his boyfriend smiled.

“Good,” Cas said. He ran one hand through Dean’s hair, tugging slightly before letting go. Dean leaned into the touch, whimpering slightly as it disappeared. “Remember these?” Cas pulled a bunch of pens out of his pocket. Except, these weren’t normal pens. They were the temporary tattoo markers they had bought for when Claire was desperate to draw on them. Cas had insisted that they were better for their skin than regular pens, and their niece was overjoyed with the vibrant colors that were much easier to cover their arms with.

“I remember,” Dean replied. How could he not? The guys at work always commented on his wonderful new tattoos whenever Claire had spent an artistic weekend at their place. They were rather hard to wash off too. Not that he really minded that part, it was usually a nice reminder of a good family weekend.

“I presumed you would. Now you’re going to lay back, relax, and stay as still as possible, while I cover your skin in all the reasons I love you.”

“Kinda hard both to relax and stay still,” Dean said. Mostly just to say something back to that declaration.

“Anyway, I believe in you.” Cas grinned. “Now be quiet, I need to concentrate on my work.”

Dean took a few deep breaths, relaxing into the mattress as well as he could. Meanwhile, his boyfriend’s big hands ran down his chest, barely grazing his nipples, down his stomach and up his sides. He whimpered again, pushing up into the touch. Why had he denied himself this closeness for so long? Those hands on him were better than almost any sensations. Perhaps except for those fingers in him.

“So beautiful,” Cas said, leaving a small kiss slightly under his left nipple. It was followed by the familiar sensation of the marker on Dean’s skin. Familiar, but still different than when their niece was ‘making him pretty’ as she liked to call it. Cas’ hand seemed surer and less hesitant than Claire often was. And the skin of his sides and stomach was more sensitive than his arms and calves, which were usually the body parts decorated. As the pen stopped its motion, Dean looked down his body. Sure enough, the word beautiful was written in red over one of his ribs.

“Incredibly kind.” Cas left a kiss under the first word, then wrote with a new pen over that same spot. Soon the word kind shone out in orange letters.

“You’re so good with Claire, Madison and little Bobby. The best uncle and godfather anyone could wish for.” Another scribble over his skin. Dean focused on keeping his breathing even so as not to disrupt the others work. When he looked down again, amazing uncle, was written in bright yellow.

Another kiss, halfway down his side, then. “You’re so open and accepting of everyone who need it. I’ve never seen you judge anyone for anything other than being hateful assholes. And those people always deserve it.” The pen moved over his skin once more. As it stopped, Cas moved his hand to squeeze his hip lightly. Dean squinted at the newest word. It looked like it said accepting in deep green letters.

“Dude, are you making my stomach into a fucking rainbow?” Dean asked incredulously, while his boyfriend put down the green marker in favor of a blue one.

“Why are you surprised by this? I make everything into rainbows.” That much was true. After years of hiding his sexuality from overly religious parents, Cas had put all that repressed energy into buying and creating rainbow colored-everything. There were at least seven different flags, and far too many t-shirts. They had rainbow-colored throw pillows in many different designs, and a shower curtain decorated with a tree with rainbow leaves. There were rainbow coasters, cups, water bottles, and at least fifty different buttons and stickers. Everything Cas painted these days were either rainbow inspired, bees, flowers, or, somehow, all of the above. Dean had barely kept him from hanging up rainbow curtains in their living room. That shit was just tacky, and therefore banished to Cas’ office. The office that contained a stuffed rainbow unicorn next to the stuffed bee on top of the bookshelf. Not to mention the queer section of that bookshelf that had the books sorted by rainbow colors. So okay, this was not actually surprising. Still though…

“Don’t mean you have to make me into one.”

“Why does it bother you more that I’m writing in color that that I’m doing it in the first place? You seem to have your priorities mixed up sweetheart.”

“I dunno… It’s just real obvious is all.” That was a bad excuse. He was aware of that. It just felt different in all these colors than it would have otherwise. Even so, his boyfriend was right. It didn’t actually matter. So why’d it feel like a big deal?

“It’s not like anyone else is going to see you this way. Right Dean?”

“Of course not.” It was far too cold for him to go shirtless anywhere other than inside their house. And even during summer, he preferred to wear at least a t-shirt. Only Cas got to see him shirtless for long periods of time.

“Then why does it matter? I like you like this.”

“I dunno.” Dean looked away, biting lightly at his lip. It was hard to argue his point when he didn’t actually have any reasoning, and Cas was all cold logic. The rainbow thing wasn’t a problem either. Not really. He was just caught off guard was all. But there was no way he could admit that now.

“Do you know what I think?” Cas moved so his knees where on the other side of the other’s hips, rested his hands next to Dean’s head, and leant down so their faces were mere inches apart. “I think you’re trying to rile me up. I think you’re being difficult on purpose. This,” he ran his right hand down Dean’s side, stroking over the words, “doesn’t actually bother you. You’re just clinging to the only argument you could find because affectionate words make you uncomfortable. Perhaps you’re even angling for a punishment?”

Dean whimpered lightly at that. Trust his boyfriend to psychoanalyze him in a situation like this. As if they didn’t have better things to do than trying to get to the bottom of his issues. His fear of intimacy as both Cas and Charlie was so fond of calling it. This was not the time.

“Is that it Dean? Are you trying to make me be rough with you because that’s easier to deal with? Would you rather have me spank you till you’re a writhing mess or perhaps slap you hard enough that you’ll feel it for days?”

“Please.” He wasn’t sure what he was asking for, but his boyfriend seemed to have enough ideas of his own. As long as Cas gave him something.

“Too bad really, that I already told you we’re not doing that tonight.”

“Cas. Please.”

“I’m not changing my plans just because you’re being a brat,” Cas almost growled. “However, I can’t let that kind of behavior go completely unchecked either.”

“Please.” Dean repeated. By now it could be called pleading, almost begging. His boyfriend usually liked that, was more likely to fulfill his wishes when he asked nicely. But it didn’t seem like he was budging this time. His expression was blank, not betraying any of his thoughts. Would whatever he was planning be good or bad? Well, it was always good with Cas, but sometimes that also meant torturous. Then again, that was often the best of all.

Cas suddenly sat up until he was kneeling over him. Then he ran his hands slowly down the other’s shoulders and chest, stopping to pay extra attention to his nipples. Dean swallowed the groan that wanted to erupt as both his nipples were pinched hard.

“Don’t be quiet on my account,” Cas said, pinching even harder. Then he let go off the left one, only to bend down and bite it. Dean moaned, arching his back into the pleasure-pain sensation.

“There you go. Keep making those pretty sounds for me,” Cas grinned down at him before leaning in to capture his lips in a rough kiss. Dean quickly opened up for him, allowing his boyfriend to dominate his mouth completely. As the kiss broke off, Cas moved so sit next to him on the bed again, one hand resting comfortingly on his stomach. Dean put weight on his elbows, wanting to follow, but one sharp look from the other man made him rest back onto the bed. That earned him a soft smile and a gentle hand playing with his hair.

“Touch yourself for me,” Cas said, giving a significant gaze down to the others cock, then back up to his eyes. Dean starred at him for a moment before he followed the order, slowly jacking himself off. This seemed too simple. Was this evening really all about pleasure? And affection or whatever?

“Faster. Put some effort into it.”

Dean fastened his grip and speed his movement to a pace that would have him desperate in no time.

“Good boy,” Cas murmured into his ear. “Tell me when you’re close.”

Oh. Of course. Dean closed his eyes, jerking himself in all the ways he enjoyed the most. Firm grip. Fast movements. A twist of his wrist on every third or fourth upstroke. Pausing for a moment to run his thumb over the slit, coaxing more pre-cum to ease his movements. He was hurdling steadily towards an orgasm, feeling his boyfriend’s heavy gaze on him the entire time.

“’M close,” he moaned out.

“Stop. Hands on the bed.”

Dean quickly followed the order, breathing hard as he tried to calm down. He whimpered sightly at the receding orgasm. It was so close, but far out of his grasp.

“So good for me,” Cas murmured, then leaned down to kiss his stomach. “I love seeing you like this. So desperate to please.”

Dean smiled, relaxing further into the bed. He was still on edge, desperate for release, but it seemed somehow less important. He was pleasing Cas, and his boyfriend would surely take care of him.

A sudden feeling of a marker over his skin almost made him flinch, but he managed to stay still as not to mess up the other man’s work. Peering down, he saw his boyfriend with a blue marker in hand, obviously continuing where he had left off earlier.

“Cas? What?”

“You didn’t think I was done, did you? I already told you I wasn’t changing my plans. I don’t like leaving my projects half-finished.”

“I guess not.” It certainly had seemed like he’d changed his plans. Dean really should have known better. When Cas first made up his mind, he stuck to it. He peered down at his stomach, seeing desperate to please written under the green accepting.

“Dean. Look at me.” Cas laid a hand on his cheek and starred intently at him as their eyes met. “Indulge me in this. Let me show you affection. You deserve to be loved.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Dean tried to look away, but the other’s eyes were captivating, holding his gaze steady. “Indulge yourself or whatever.”

“Imprudent boy,” Cas smacked his hip lightly. “I want to worship you, just let yourself enjoy it.” With that he picked up a purple marker, putting the tip of it against the skin right above Dean’s hipbone.

“You deserve to be loved,” Cas repeated while writing what was probably the same words into the other’s skin. Dean barely suppressed a shiver as those words finally washed over him. How many times had Cas told him that by now? And how many more times had he found himself doubting it?

“Now continue touching yourself.”

Dean’s hand moved almost on autopilot, wrapping around his cock and jacking it with sure movements. He kept his eyes open this time, taking in all the emotion in his boyfriend’s eyes. No one could convey emotion through a look quite like Cas. And he was using that ability now to express all the love he insisted that Dean deserved. It was enough to make a guy believe him.

Pleasure built up within him even faster this time around. He jerked off until he was moments away from orgasm before he moaned out that he was close.

“Stop.”

His movement stilled immediately, but he clutched the base of his cock for a few deep breaths before he was calm enough to place his hand back on the bed. Perhaps even closer than Cas would have taken him if the former had been doing the touching.

“You’re doing remarkably well.” Cas left a kiss to each of his cheeks and the tip of his nose. Dean whimpered in return, struggling to keep himself from pleading for release. He really needed to come. Preferable five minutes ago. Instead, his boyfriend took up the red marker again, and started writing on the right side of his stomach. Dean couldn’t find the energy to read the words anymore, but it was impossible to ignore the several times Cas murmured “good boy” into his skin while he kissed around the new words. In return, Dean let out an undignified sound somewhere between a whimper and a moan. He was being good.

“Yes. Good boy with his pleasing sounds.” Cas smiled down at him, while stroking over his stomach in small circles. “And you are so good to everyone Dean. You care so much. I’m in awe of the love you show to all the people around you. Such a wonderful, caring man.” There were more pen scratches and kisses against Dean’s stomach. This time he simply breathed through it, letting the words and affectionate touches wash over him.

“Not to mention the love you put into your food. Before you, I mostly ate just to sustain myself. Now I do it for pleasure as well. You taught me that through your food, you’re such an amazing cook Dean.” More writing on his skin. More fingers tracing patterns on his stomach. More kisses to his side and chest, followed by a sharp bite to one nipple. He arched into it, chasing the mouth as it moved away. His boyfriend chuckled and pushed him back down with a flat hand on the middle of his stomach.

“Touch yourself again.”

He did. With fast strokes, spurred on by the hands exploring his body. Every time Cas pinched his skin or twisted a nipple, he moaned loudly. All the touches went straight to his dick, and within a couple of minutes he was writhing on the bed, barely able to contain the orgasm.

“’M so close. Please Cas.”

“Stop. Now.”

His movements stopped, but he looked pleadingly up at the other man. “Please Cas. I can’t… I need to come.”

“Patience sweetheart. You can wait. And you will.”

Dean whimpered again, but kept his mouth shut. There was no use arguing with Cas’ decisions. He had made that mistake in a similar position once before. That night he was not allowed to come at all. Taking several deep breaths calmed him enough to remove his hand, and finally look up at his boyfriend once more.

“Good boy. Now, where were we?” Cas looked down at his writing, tracing the words with a gentle finger. At that point, even the small gesture was enough to push Dean towards the edge. He shook with self-restraint, clutching the sheets hard and focusing on his breathing.

“Oh yes,” Cas continued in an even voice. “You, Dean Winchester, is one of the most selfless people I have ever met. You give so much of yourself to others. You say yes to helping out whenever the chance occurs, with no regard for how it will affect you. Every fiber of your being seems determined to change the world for the better. Your selflessness was one of the first things I noticed about you.”

“You’re way too articulate,” Dean half-moaned, earning him another chuckle. Then the pen was back, tracing over his skin. Followed by warm lips, copying the pattern of the letters. Every point of contact sent tingles through his already over-sensitive body, forcing small sounds of out him.

“You keep me grounded and sane. I’ve spent so much of my life with my head in the clouds, not really wanting to partake in the world around me. You changed that by showing me how good reality can be. I want to experience real life with you Dean.”

The statement was followed by more pen scratches, then kisses to his stomach, up his chest, and then peppering his face. Dean whimpered, lifting one hand to clutch at the others arm. A tear found his its way down his cheek, but was soon kissed away. It was all too much.

“Shhhh, just one more thing now,” Cas murmured into his skin. “You are doing so well for me.” Their lips met in a long, soft kiss that swallowed all the sounds coming out of Dean’s throat. Then Cas moved to write a last word on his stomach with slow, steady movement. As the pen disappeared, one hand traced all the words on his torso while his boyfriend left three small kisses to his stomach, chest, and forehead.

“Do you want to know what it says?” Cas asked, his lips curling into a smirk. Dean inclined his head in a way that was meant to be a nod. Apparently it was enough, as his boyfriend continued. “It says excellent cocksucker. The things you do with your mouth are downright sinful.” Dean almost chocked on air at those words, and his lips fell open of their own accord. Cas took the opportunity to push two long fingers into his mouth.

“Suck.” That was a command he didn’t really need. Closing his lips around anything Cas put between them was second nature by now. His boyfriend had a borderline obsession with that part of his body. Not that Dean would ever complain. It fit perfectly with his own love of having his mouth filled. Oral fixation Cas sometimes called it, his voice always filled with awe or deep pleasure. “Now touch yourself.”

He was slower to follow the command this time, more focused on the fingers pushing slowly in and out of his mouth. Even so, his entire body lit up with pleasure as his hand wrapped around his dick. It only took a few pumps before he was back on edge again. Cas was tugging at his hair and moving his fingers steadily faster and harder into his mouth. Dean almost gagged a few times, but forced himself to relax. The pleased expression on his boyfriend’s face was more than worth it. Pleasure built with every jerk of his hand, and every movement of Cas’ fingers. He was hurdling towards an orgasm, and this time it didn’t feel like he could stop. Moaning around the fingers, he tried to say that he was close, but it came out as a garbled mess. Fuck. He was so close, but he didn’t have permission to come. And he didn’t have permission to stop jerking off. Starring up, he tried to convey his desperation, tried to plead with his eyes. It was hard to focus on anything else than delaying his orgasm, the world seeming hazy around him. As such, he didn’t notice Cas’ face coming closer until a dark voice whispered into his ear.

“Come for me Dean.”

Two more jerks of his hand and he did just that. The orgasm tore through him, almost making him black out. His whole body convulsed in pleasure as cum coated his stomach. It was so good. Cas always made it better than he managed by himself. Even when he technically was doing all the work himself. He kept jerking in slow movements, drawing out the orgasm while he slowly came back to himself. Soon he grew oversensitive, but kept up the movement until strong fingers wrapped around his own and dragged his hand away. He sighed in relief and pure exhaustion, blinking up at the man above him.

“Hello Dean,” Cas murmured with a pleased smile. “You did perfectly for me.” Dean blushed at that, looking away. That only earned him slightly annoyed sound from the man above him before his face was peppered with kisses. “One day you will believe my praise.”

“One day yeah. Maybe.”

“You will. I intend to remind you of it as often as necessary until you do.” The statement was followed up with more soft kisses to Dean’s face, and a hand carting through his hair. Sighing contently, he leaned into that touch. This was, possibly, his favorite part. Cas was always so affectionate after sex. All soft touches and endless skin-to-skin contact. And like this, during the afterglow, Dean allowed himself to drown in it. Except, they weren’t both basking in the afterglow. With more effort than he was ready to admit, he lifted a hand up to Cas’ hip, squeezing lightly.

“Want me to get you off too?” He asked with a grin, eyes slowly drifting down the others body.

“Not tonight. I already got all I wanted.” He did this every once in a while. Actually, he did it rather often. As if he got more pleasure from getting Dean off than actually having an orgasm of his own. It wasn’t anything Dean could pretend like he understood, but Cas surely knew his own wants best. He was certainly direct enough about shoving his cock down the others throat when he felt like it.

“You’re sure?” Dean met the other’s gaze again, searching for any shred of indecision there.

“Yes Dean. I just wanted to watch you come apart. I might, however, fuck you in the morning.”

“Yeah. Okay. Awesome.” He grinned again, probably looking dopey as hell, as he relaxed back into the bed again. This time determined to stay put. Everything was right with the world again. Well, except for the rapidly drying pool of cum on his stomach, but that was a problem for future-Dean. That guy had energy for all sorts of things.

“I’ll get a washcloth,” Cas said as he stood up from the bed. Because he was freaking perfect. Dean told him as much, causing a fond smile to appear on his boyfriend’s face. Cas’ hand found his, giving one last squeeze as he started to turn away. Pain flared from Dean’s knuckles at the contact, making him flinch. His boyfriend froze at that, starring down at him.

“Dean? What?” Cas dragged his hand close, inspecting the tender area closely. His face turned from confused to worried, eyes scrunching up in familiar fashion. Dean looked at the hand as well. Now that they gave it attention, it was obvious that it was red and slightly swollen. A miracle that it hadn’t been noticed before. “Dean what happened?”

“Umm… I got into a fight with the shower wall.” The last thing he needed was for his boyfriend to blame this on himself. Sure, it happened because Dean was angry about their fight, but that was on him. Neither of them needed Cas to deal with any misplaced guilt over that.

“You got into a fight with the shower wall,” Cas repeated slowly.

“Not my finest moment.”

“Dean,” Cas sighed. “You need to take better care of yourself.”

“I know.”

“You can’t hurt yourself just because we fight.”

“I know.”

“Next time you decided to fight an inanimate object, please make it a verbal match. That one you at least have a chance to win.”

“That’s uncalled for.” Dean tried to scold his face into annoyed, but couldn’t keep a smile from breaking out. Apparently Cas was not in a lecturing, or self-hating, mood. This was going much better than expected.

“You know I’m right.” Cas smiled lightly, then looked more serious again. “Does it hurt?”

“Nothing I can’t handle man.”

“Dean.”

“Yeah. A bit.”

“Okay.” Cas nodded solemnly, then put his hand down and turned towards the door. “Wait here.” With that, he left the room, leaving Dean to study his knuckles. They didn’t look that bad really. He’d damaged them much worse on several occasions, but he’d mostly outgrown that part of his life. That was a teenage and early-to-mid-twenties thing. Which was probably why they looked more painful than they really should, they were no longer hardened by abuse. Or maybe he’d just hit that wall harder than intended. He shook his head lightly and laid the hands back on the bed. It didn’t matter now anyway. With a yawn, he closed his eyes, making himself more comfortable.

He was almost asleep when Cas returned, so he just grunted noncommittedly as a greeting. Sleep seemed more important than anything. Until a bag of freaking ice was dropped on his knuckle. His eyes flew open, and he starred down at the offending item. His boyfriend gave him an amused glance as he placed an ice bag on his other knuckle as well. Okay, they weren’t actually ice bags. When Dean looked closer, he saw they it was frozen peas partly packed into a dish towel. That didn’t change the fact that they felt like big bags of ice.

“Why?” He grunted, giving the pea bags a dirty look.

“Because you refuse to take care of yourself, so someone has to.” He couldn’t exactly argue with that. Instead he sighed, watching as Cas took a warm washcloth to his stomach, wiping off all the dried cum.

“You’re really confusing my senses here.”

“Sorry sweetheart.” Cas gave him a quick kiss to his forehead, before throwing the washcloth towards a corner, turning off the light, and getting into bed. Moving around with the freaking pea bags was complicated, but his boyfriend was efficient as always when cuddling was involved. Soon their legs were tangled, a comforter pulled over them, and Cas had an arm around his waist and head resting between his chest and shoulder.

“I’m glad you came back,” Dean murmured into the darkness, half-hoping the other wouldn’t hear him. Of course, he had no such luck.

“Me too. And Dean?”

He hummed lightly in response.

“I promise to be better at reminding you how much I love you. Maybe even stop walking out every time our fights get too intense. But you have to stop pushing me away.”

“Yeah I…. Fuck, I’m sorry Cas. I’ll do my best.” He took a deep breath, starring into the darkness of the room. “And I love you too. You know that, right?”

“I do. Most of the time.”

“Well I love you all the time,” Dean insisted, then gave his boyfriend an awkwardly placed kiss on his forehead. It seemed like he had to get better at those reminders too. He looked into nothing for several long minutes while Cas’ breathing turned heavy, soon making way for soft snores. Shaking off one of the pea bags, Dean circled an arm around his boyfriend, holding him close as sleep finally took him as well.

#destiel #destiel fic #eldu writes #finally finished this thing #minors dni

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rose7420 · 3 years

Text

Best of Friends

Summary: Loki becomes curious about the whereabouts of a certain tiny Avenger reader. Lots of fluff and some angst

I know I have requests to do but I had this idea and had to make it come to life, Enjoy my friends!

Loki walked into the kitchen of the Avengers Tower. The smooth white counter shone with impeccable cleanliness. He had been here for about two and a half weeks now and had barely spoken to anyone. He was very lonely but took no offense to the shunning of the superheroes. During his attack in 2012, he knew he had caused a lot of pain and loss. He had sat in his jail cell on Asgard contemplating his actions, regretting many of them. Finally, after two miserable years that held the loss of his mother, Odin had thought it a brilliant idea to come back to the very planet he had nearly destroyed and ask that he live with the very people he had fought violently against.

He reached the cabinet that held snacks of various sorts, ones he usually stuck his nose up to, and opened it to find disappointment once again. All junk. Releasing a deep aggravated breath he went to the refrigerator. Cold air grazed his face as he opened the door and found nothing there either. He turned to the counter and searched for the basket of fruit that usually was placed there. Holding red apples, bananas, and oranges the colors made an ugly mix. He reached for an apple and shined it on his shirt. Taking a bite out of it then swallowing, he relished the feeling of having food in his stomach. Those awful times he spent in the cell, the guards would often forget to give him his meals, he winces at the awful memory of a truly empty stomach.

His attention is drawn down to a small object near the bowl. He plucks it up and inspects it to realize it is a minuscule black boot. His inspection is halted from the sound of footsteps belonging to the Black Widow who enters the kitchen, most likely for another cup of coffee. She nods her head in greeting and continues her process of making the warm drink. Although distant to him, Natasha holds no menace in her gaze when she looks upon him almost as if she understood the predicament he was in while terrorizing New York. She takes a sip of her freshly brewed coffee and turns around to look at him when she notices the tiny object pinched in his fingertips.

“That’s Y/N’s.” She says motioning with her head towards the tiny boot as if finding a tiny shoe is a normal occurrence.

Loki is astonished that someone could even wear this boot, it wouldn't be able to even slide onto his pinky finger.

“Who is this Y/N?” He asks curiously.

“She’s like us, goes on missions, fights the bad guys but just in a more secretive way. Maybe she’ll come out for you to see her one day, doesn't like the attention from us big guys much often.” Natasha says taking another sip.

“What do you mean by “big guys” agent?”He asks although he thinks he knows the answer already.

“You’ll find out soon enough. Just leave the boot on the counter she’ll come back for it. Don’t bother keeping watch for her to come to get it, she’ll find a way to get past your sights.” She says walking out the door holding her cup. Loki is astonished to know that there is a tiny person living here with him, and he hadn’t even known. Not to mention that she goes on missions. He aches to find out more about this tiny being, but he will heed Natasha’s advice and not go searching for her. Something tells him that this little person is skilled enough to evade even the Trickster’s awareness.

True to Natasha’s word: The little boot was gone by the next morning

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Two days later, Loki sits at a table in the grand library of Tony Stark’s. Books cover the walls and reach up to the tall ceiling. Before Loki had started occupying this space he had figured no one had used this library in years from the heavy coat of dust that had lied on every inch of the room. What a shame to waste such knowledge. Books were splayed out in front of Loki of all he could find on “tiny people”. He had read over the term "borrower" and "fairy" many times already. Perhaps this tiny being had been a borrower and gotten caught. His curiosity was practically burning holes in him. A faint huff and oomph draw his attention, his gaze leaving the printed paper. His emerald eyes go wide when a positively tiny person drags themselves upon the surface of the wooden table. They appear to stand at only a grand two and a half inches tall carrying a piece of paper fit to their size along with a pen.

“Whatcha starin’ at big boy?” The tiny girl asks Loki fearlessly.

Loki snaps his jaw up to close his wide-open mouth. He, for the first time in a while, is at a loss for words.

“You’re a talkative one, eh?” Heavens be, this little being is full of sass.

“My apologies, my name is Loki. I presume you to be Y/N?” Loki finally says.

“You would be correct Loki. So you like to read. Huh?” Y/N walks up to the books splayed open and smiles widely at the title, “All You Need to Know About Borrowers”

“Little people, yeah? Well, I hate to break it to ya, but I ain’t no borrower or fairy. Wasn’t born like this if that helps any at all.” Loki blushes when she reads the title but listens intently to what she’s saying. She wasn’t born like this, as she shrunk? He wisely chooses not to ask her that question.

“May I ask why you are here?” Loki says, inquisitive to how could she attempt to read these books that are five times her size.

Y/N holds up the little slip of paper she carries and shows it to him.

“Stark takes the books I want and shrinks them down to my size so they’re a bit more manageable. Ain’t much to do for a gal like me other than to read and eat.” She says with a hint of humor in her voice. She doesn’t seem affected by her situation; embracing it rather than hating it. An idea pops into Loki’s head.

“Perhaps I could shrink it for you? Less hassle than having to wait for Stark.” Loki offers.

“That's right you’re that wizard dude, gotta lot of magic tricks huh?”

Loki laughs and he watches her eyes lit up with excitement as she hands the paper to him after scribbling another title onto it.

“Are you sure you can read my writing? It’s awfully small for your eyes.” And indeed the print is. The paper slip barely covers the pad of his fingertip.

“No worries about that,” Loki reassures her. He grows the paper to his size and goes to retrieve the books written down. He sets them down lightly on the table, watching as Y/N stumbles from the heavy load of them all. He apologizes but she waves him off.

“Are these the right ones?” He asks to make sure.

She strides towards the novels and looks them over from the spines that show, and nods with affirmation. He shrinks them to her size, watching as she bends down to gather them in her arms. They cause significant distress in her tiny arms so he offers his assistance.

He watches her pause with concern. After a few moments, she accepts and places the now-tiny books into the palm of his hand, watching as they slide towards the natural dip his palm creates.

“Would you like me to carry you?” He asks imagining the trip to be longer for her than it is for himself.

“O-oh n-no! I’ll be fine, if you don’t mind you could just follow me?” Her voice is high-pitched with obvious anxiety. He agrees and assures her there is no problem, watching her movements with fascination when she scales down the table leg.

The trip to her room is long, one step of his equalling ten of hers. Not to mention his trepidation of stepping too close, and accidentally hurting her. He also notices how every footstep of his causes her to stumble minutely. After about twenty minutes they arrive at her door. Which is normal-sized and puzzles him until he notices the tiny door situated in the middle. She steps in through her door then calls out to him that he can come in. He does so opening the normal-sized door and steps into her room. He searches for her form, whipping his head around at the non-furnished room until he comes across a dollhouse that sits on the floor. She walks across the floor and motions for him to come nearer.

“Could you uh, put the house on the desk? So it’s easier for you to see.”

He nods and sets the books he has in his hands down on the table. Standing what feels like a hundred feet over a dollhouse no bigger than a medium-sized box he truly feels like a giant. He picks the house up and sets it up on the desk. Ready to offer a hand for Y/N on the floor, he is surprised to not see her there anymore. Instead, he hears a voice call his name from the desk.

“Thank ya for helping me out, I really appreciate the books!” She says.

Noticing the awe on his face from the miniaturized objects she explains: “Stark shrinks everything for me, that’s how I get by. Got everything I need in here so I never gotta come out unless I need more groceries.”

Loki assumed that a life like that could get very lonely, but he said nothing as he had before. He only kneeled to be level with her carrying on a conversation that actually held his interest.

Soon after that day Y/N and Loki started hanging around each other much more often. Finding themselves in the library together, watching a movie of the book they had both read, or simply eating together. Her small stature proved to be no hindrance in their friendship, other than Y/N purposely avoiding his hands. One night as they sat down in Loki’s room (since Loki couldn't fit in Y/N’s) ready to watch a movie on the television that Y/N had practically begged Loki to put in his quarters. She sat on the arm of the deep green couch he had placed in his room, looking a tad uncomfy. She munched on a shrunken-down bag of Goldfish. Earlier, while in the kitchen she had dragged the towering bag towards him with pleading eyes. She perched on the cushion every time they watched films together but this time she looked lonesome there all by herself. With gentleness in his voice, he asked Y/N casually if she would like to sit upon his shoulder.

Y/N’s posture became rigid. But surprisingly she agreed. He figured she would start scaling his shoulder but she waited as if expecting something.

His hand.

He realized it when her eyes flickered towards the one closest to her so he obliged. Slowly as if approaching a scared kitten his hand unfolded to display flattened fingers that she could step easily onto. She stood up slowly and neared his index finger. Her impossibly tiny hand on his digit made him twitch minutely. He cursed himself inwardly for such actions that he could not control. She sat in the dip of his palm weighing nothing more than a feather, and his breath caught in his throat at her fragility. He lifted his hand slowly to his right shoulder and waited patiently for her to dismount onto the broad platform. Tiny grunts of effort reached his ear as she situated herself nearer to his neck, her movements raising goosebumps on his skin. The small noises stopped as she finally found a comfortable spot.

“Are you comfortable?” Loki asked, making sure to keep his voice low.

“Y-yeah, I’ve never been on a shoulder before. You’re really warm.” Her voice was very clear and easy to hear when she was right next to his ear. Perhaps he should do this more often. Loki smiled at her comment, happy to provide comfort for his tiny friend.

Y/N and Loki had criticized the characters and plot the whole way through the film. Well maybe halfway for Y/N as she had fallen asleep upon his shoulder. Little breaths and snores escaped her mouth bringing a smile to Loki’s lips. Gently he brought her down from his shoulder into his cupped palms, trying to not wake her. Her little frame was dwarfed by the immensity of his hands. Despite the big-boss attitude she brought he was reminded of her delicateness. He walked to her room with a careful gait and came upon her house. There was no way his entire hand could fit through the door, and he wasn’t going to leave her there on the floor. So he turned around and headed to his own room once again.

Perhaps on a pillow, she would be comfortable, but he worried she’d become cold as she had mentioned before how sensitive she was to the elements. Out of pure instinct because it was a rather warm and soft place he placed her upon his chest. As he did so he realized how much his breathing could affect her and immediately tried to restrict his chest from rising and falling. That caused his heart to beat even harder and faster thumping rapidly under Y/N’s body causing her to slightly move. Eventually, he found a normal rhythm in both patterns of his normal body functions and drifted to sleep.

Y/N awoke to an unfamiliar but comforting rocking and thumping sensation. Blinking her eyes open tiredly she looked at the undulating expanse of black cotton fabric that surrounded her. Her gaze snapped up to Loki’s face. He slept soundly, not disturbed by her awakening. The puffs of air from the exhale he released faintly blew her face. How did he not have morning breath? She wondered how she had gotten up here on his chest, or even in his bed. She remembered falling asleep on his shoulder but couldn't he have woken her or set her in her bed in her house? Then she realized: His hand was probably too big and Loki cared much for her sleeping schedule, and he would feel guilty if he had awoken her from slumber. Loki soon awoke and greeted Y/N with a sleepy smile. He said nothing about the sleeping situation. In the nights to come, Y/N would find her bed less comfortable than Loki’s chest, his hand atop her warmer than her fluffiest blanket. An odd comfort, yet, soothing in its gentility and peacefulness.

Y/N had rarely been outside. With a grand height of two and a half inches, the world outside was a much more dangerous place than here in the tower. But with Loki, perhaps she could change that…

“Hey Loki,” Y/N climbs onto the book he currently reads, leaving little footprints of dust behind from her dirty boots. Loki notices this and pinches her waist lifting her so he can close the book allowing her to stand on the cover.

“Yes, little Y/N?” Loki has taken a liking to the nickname and to his surprise, Y/N hasn’t commented on it either.

“Do ya think we could maybe go outside on a walk or something?” She asks with nerves in her voice, she doesn’t want her request to be rejected.

“I see no problem with that as long as you stay on my person the entire time. You can even sit on my shoulder, I’ll be able to cast an illusion to make you unseen to others’ eyes.”

Y/N beams and her mood is immediately uplifted, all anxiety gone.

“Oh my goodness yes! Let me go get my sunglasses and my sandals. Oh!” Y/N keeps naming off things as she sprints back to her room excitement in every step.

Loki laughs loudly at her rambling, a blush rising to his cheeks.

The sun warms Y/N’s body as she perches on Loki’s shoulder, true to his word, no one spies the two-inch girl. Loki’s gait rocks her with every step and she clings to his shirt collar for support. The sky is blue with a gentle breeze in the air cooling the warmness around them. Loki wears his black hair in a low bun; before they had walked outside he insisted on wearing it up, worried the dark strands would get in Y/N’s way. They enjoy each other’s company in a comfortable silence until Loki asks her if she likes ice cream. It had been a while since she had tasted the delicacy and sweetness of the cold treat. After her run-in with the whole shrinking episode, she had been on her own for quite a bit. Scavenging for food when it came, she was not picky in the slightest. Ice cream was a dessert she came by not too often.

“What is your favorite flavor?” She asks Loki before they walk into the small shop.

Loki ponders for a moment wetting his lips with a swipe of his tongue.

“I like vanilla.” He states, making Y/N turn towards him with astonishment.

“Vanilla! That’s like the plainest one yet! Come on, you gotta have a better one than that.” She exclaims.

Ignoring her disagreement with his choice, he asks: “What is your favorite?”

“Oh definitely, one hundred percent cotton candy.” She says without missing a beat.

“That’s terribly sweet don’t you think? I believe vanilla is the better choice here.”

“Hey! I like my choice very much, thank you!” She laughs lightly hitting his jaw, watching as his face lifts with a smile from their playful banter. The rest of the day played out nicely after they had both eaten their ice creams. Loki offered to shrink Y/N’s but she insisted she’d rather have more to eat. He had laughed a full belly laugh when she ended up falling into the mound of ice cream herself. He had used his magic to clean her up.

The next day Loki found out that Y/N and he were put on a mission together. Infiltrate an enemy base to get valuable information. Easy enough he thought. He was wrong. Turns out keeping an eye on a tiny person is harder than it sounds.

Halfway into the mission, Y/N’s voice went quiet on his headset. She had been tasked with exploring the vents for easier access to the archive room where the records they needed were kept. He had no way to physically reach her, because of his size. The best he could hope for was her voice to sound in his ear again through the headset. Anxiety pumped through him, his mind coming up with terrible scenarios that could’ve happened already. He tried to keep a clear head, focusing on the task at hand. He made it to a doorway held guard with two men carrying heavy guns. He simply illusioned himself as another soldier, using the keycard he had swiped off the soldier he was illusioned as of now. Making it into the security room he checked the cameras for any sign of Y/N. To his horror, he saw that they also had cameras in the air vents. Where Y/N had been previously.

He exited the room in a calm fashion while panicking immensely on the outside. Running his hands through his hair, he paced back and forth. He usually kept a clear head in stressful situations, but the thought of losing Y/N made him sick with worry and terror. That’s when he felt a weight hit his boot. He immediately looked down and saw Y/N’s panting, exhausted form sprawled out on the toe of his shoe. He knelt quickly scooping her up, bringing her to his eye level. She rolled over to meet his gaze.

“Are you alright, what happened? You worried me sick?” Loki blurted.

She held up a rectangular box showing it to Loki. The flash drive.

“Got it. But we gotta move, there are cameras in those vents, and I’m pretty positive they caught sight of a certain tiny person.”

Loki groaned with aggravation but was relieved to have his tiny friend back in his grasp.

He dropped Y/N into his pocket gently, he had asked that most of his clothes come with pockets from now on to hold Y/N safely with him.

“Remind me to never let you out of my sight again.” Loki jokes.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

That night after hot showers and a good meal Loki and Y/N were ready to go to sleep. Y/N laid peacefully on Loki’s chest, rising with his every breath. Loki lay down with a hand over his eyes. But a certain nagging question still held his mind from sleep.

“Y/N, how did you get to be…” He can't finish the last word, worried he’ll bring up unwanted emotions and memories.

“How’d I get so small?” Y/N finishes for him.

“You don't have to tell me if you don't want to.” He reminds with a gentle fingertip rubbing circles onto her back.

“No, no...I need to tell someone. I’ve been keeping it under lock and key but I trust you Lokesters.”

He smiled at the new nickname she had given him watching as she turned towards him, sitting criss-cross. He propped his head with his hands to see her clearly.

“I didn’t have the best parents out there. They struggled with bills, because they were too worried about getting their drugs, So one night when I was ten years old they took me to a restaurant. We never went to restaurants, kind of a fancy thing for me you know? I was excited and had gotten my favorite blue dress on to go. I started to realize they had lied to me when we passed the restaurant and kept driving. They took me to a HYDRA base, but I didn't know that at the time, all because they wanted money. So they gave me up for experiments and left me for their high.”

Y/N took a deep breath to stop the tears from coming and continued.

“The scientists or whatever strapped me down to a table and stuck me with this needle. Well, I guess you know what happened and they kept me for three years in a cage with all types of different tests to measure my strengths. They were tortuous, so I had to escape and I did. But when I was about thirteen and a half I was able to sneak away. I lived in boxes on the streets, outside under rocks, trying to scavenge by. Even met a couple borrowers like you were reading bout’. They were awfully nice fellows but were barely getting by themselves so I couldn’t take off of them. But one day I was stealing or whatever you wanna call it and got caught by no other than Nick Fury himself. Told me he needed little guys like myself and offered me a place to stay, food to eat, and a job of my own. So I took it and here I am.”

Loki was astonished by the strength of this small girl, how she’d survived through such hardships and still had a good heart and kind soul. He hugged her closer to his chest, careful not to smother her.

“Well little one, you got me now and I'm not going anywhere.”

Y/N popped her head out from his grasp and eyed with scrutiny.

“Even for the Tesseract?” She asked.

Loki laughed and hugged her again, watching as she embraced him as well.

“Even for the Tesseract.”

———————————————————————

Please reblog if you liked it! Lots of love ❤️

#giant loki #loki laufeyson #Loki fanfic #giant/tiny #tiny reader #shrunken reader #marvel #gt marvel

46 notes · View notes

ayzashl · 4 years

Text

Pairing: Shoto Todoroki x Reader

Genre: Fluff, Crack (i think)

Also um, im new to these so sorry for possible gramatical errors or typos (i dont double check bc I literally was bored doing this and just, decided to share it on tumblr lmao)

Disclaimer, I made this out of boredom because I was thinking about exams and stuff and was wondering about how my husbando would react about my situation, having placed on high ranks barely putting efforts towards studying lmao (Not rlly bragging im sorry if it came out as bragging :((, i jusy rlly be curious and hopefully I portrayed it like how I expected for him to react, sorry im new to writing bc I mainly draw🌚👉👈)

***

It was already sunset. The hues of yellow, orange and red envelops the dorms of U.A high school, its gradient tinting the windows of the students occupying the rooms shine bright, displaying its vibrant colors on the inside of each dorms facing the sunset.

You, who were sitting on your knees, switching positions time to time, searching for a particular pose to get comfortable while drawing on your boyfriend's kotatsu in his dorm, door leading into the balcony open, making the cold breeze of late October allow itself to enter the room.

Autumn has already arrived, and that also means midterm exams. It had just finished today. After a almost whole month of preparing for the exams, and the 3 days of taking it, the students of 1-A was relieved and relaxing in their rooms as the days of hardhips were finally over, plus its a Friday so the students were scattered on each others dorms due to the upcoming weekend.

You were taking a sip of your juicebox, almost emptying it now out of frustration for having a hard time drawing a hand. In your opinion, the struggle was equal or actually a lot harder than your midterms. Art frustrates you a lot and your boyfriend wonders why you still do it, yet never really ask you since he can also tell you're really passionate about it than your other hobbies.

He was sitting on his futon, leaning againts the wall as he stare at your back figure, watching you scribble something on your sketchpad and aggressively erasing it afterwards, making the papers crumble into the direction on where you rub it, making you groan in annoyance even more.

As he observes your actions, a thought runs up his mind, asking himself the same particular questions over and over again.

"Why?"

He asks himself. Why were you putting most of your effort into this drawing? Why were you more irritated in this than the midterm exams?

"Just..... why?"

Shoto had noticed you since the start of your so-called-library-dates, although its mostly just you accompanying him to gather resources for the upcoming exams while you just scan your notes or draw, or read a completely different book whose topic is not related to your exams.

Its always been like that everyday, he never really saw you offer a lot of your energy in terms of studying, like most of the students does, as he noticed the library being almost full as soon as October started.

He saw you scan your notes time to time, yes. But full on concentration on studies? no, never seen you. The most of what he saw were you fixate immensely on your math notebook before exams started, and that was it.

The exams ended abruptly on the second day but there was extra curricular on the Hero's Course on the third day before their final grade were posted. And yes, both of you did well. After the announcement, Shoto (and you) were shocked to find out that you were in 6th place and he placed in 5th. You both exchanged congratulations, you mostly squealing out of joy to actually achieve this particular rank.

Shoto on the other hand was, doubting?. Of course he feels happy for you, but at the back of his mind, he was a little agitated. You both got the exam results at the end of the third day and to his surprise (and also yours, but internally) your scores were high, almost having the amount of same mistakes as him, except your math which you devastatingly, almost failed (lmao), which merely affected your overall result since your scores were high anyways.

Your boyfriend wasnt the type to get irritated over these things, heck yeah he feels ecstatic over your accomplishment, signal the kiss he gave you on your forehead plus the soft look he gave you with a slight smile displayed on his face. But there was a faint thought of doubt running through the back of his head, how did you get such results when you were barely even studying? There was no way you would cheat right? He didnt want to accept it, he didnt want to doubt you, but it was the one of the highest possibilities that was mostly that likely happened, as he could think of right now.

He couldnt let go of this thought unless he confronts you about it right now, so he decided to ask you, waiting for a few moments, observing you, waiting for you to calm down a little from your work.

"Y/n...."

"Hmm?" you hum, not turning yout back at him, eyes and most of your attention fixated on the paper.

"How did you manage to get a high rank even though I barely saw you studying?" he finally asks, hoping you wont get offended by it, but this thought had been bothering him a little, and he wouldnt be satisfied until he gets his answer, as the stubborn man that he is.

"Are you doubting me?" you say in an offended tone, although you meant it sarcastically, turning your back, giving Shoto your full attention now as you crawl towards him, pencil dropping in the background as you make your way towards your boyfriend, offering him to lay down as you pat his futon. He complies so, already knowing you wanted to cuddle whenever you do that certain action.

You cuddle next to him, facing him as you give him a smile to reassure him that you werent offended by him back then. "Did you notice that in class, I always, almost bury my head on my notebook, writing on it almost 24/7 whenever lecture starts?" you ask him, as you start to fidget his hair on the sides which you and him really enjoy, making its way up to his bangs, and back and fort.

"You were.... writing?" Shoto asks, raising an eyebrow with the same stoic face who seemed not to show a lot of emotions, a little dumbfounded. "I thought you were doodling". You burst out in laughter from the small misunderstanding of your boyfriend.

"Of course I was. You see, whatever the teacher blurts about that sounds important to me, I write it down because, you know, its usually what appears in exams" you explain to him, closing your eyes time to time as if you were a philosopher, passionately explaining your beliefs, only with an added self-sense of humor. As he was on the other had was, fascinated.

I mean, who knew?

"Also just to clarify things, I do put some extra effort on, some of my studies"

"By some you mean just the science topic you reported you keep rereading everyday"

"......yes"

Shoto lighlty chuckles as he moves your head to his chest, placing an arm on your head, planting a kiss on your forehead, as a sign of affection like he always does. He feels a little guilty, assuming you were cheating but in the end, you were just and always has been the genius that you were. Heck if you actually put a lot of effort in your study, you might actually come out at the top in the class, but he's aware you have other things to focus and worry about as his eyes gaze at the table with a slightly crumpled juice box standing out.

"Were you mad?" you ask, out of curiousity. You had assumed he was maybe upset about the results because he gets a little too competitive or has the sentiment that he has to prove that he only isnt good with his powers, but in academics as well, considering his situation.

He lightly shook his head as he fully encloses you to his grasp, leg placed on your sides, locking you in as he settles his face on your hair, inhaling the sweet scent of your lavender shampoo in which he always adores.

You on the other hand, was relieved now that the matter was somehow resolved? Putting those thoughts at the back of your head, your perception of relief was shortly replaced by a wave of worry as you lightly chuckle of uneasiness.

"Shoto?" you tap his sides, body tightly secured onto his. This was the one that made worry. His hands tightly clutching you, but not too much, leg on your sides, locking you in so that you wont get away easily, to him it made him feel happy, knowing that you werent going away and draw for a while. You've had situations like these already and all you ever do is give up and shower him with affection, already knowing he was slightly, probably getting a little touch starved, craving for your attention and affection. But in your situation right now, it was, unpleasant, so to say.

Not after you just finished your juicebox.

-Disclaimer, uh, I made this from

He hums in response, head tilted a little more into your head's direction. He was sure you would have given up already, knowing that he will never let you go.

"I need to pee"

"..."

"Shoto..."

"........"

"Sho"

"All I can say is good luck getting out"

"......"

"Noooooooohohohoooo!!!" you exclaim, with a sarcastic crying in your tone. This was gonna be one hell of a struggle.

Im bad at explaining things, hope you did enjoy reading this as much as I did though :))

#shoto todoroki x reader #shoto torodoki #todoroki shoto x reader #shoto x y/n #shoto x you #todoroki x reader #todoroki imagine #one shot #bnha oneshot #bnha crack #bnha fanfic

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lazylazyhowl · 4 years

Text

miscue (of snakes and cherry blossoms - sasusaku)

miscue (noun, verb) – failing to respond to a cue; an inadvertent mistake

[“They must call her foolish behind her back, but she supposes there are worse things to be.” Sakura. Sasuke. An open window, and saving the other. Post-war fluffy angst. (But not angsty fluff, no).]

AO3 Link

—

There’s no denying that her office is cluttered. Sakura tries to keep it tidy, but the paperwork that steadily increases together with her responsibilities as Head Medic isn’t so forgiving.

“Can I open the window?”

For a moment, there’s a stab of self-consciousness that there are smells her colleagues might have been too tactful to point out.

“Go ahead, Sasuke-kun.”

Without moving her gaze from her work, she tracks the faint signature of his chakra as he moves across the room to fiddle with the lock. Sai was in charge of keeping watch of him tonight, so they should have some leeway.

The scent of dew and earth fills her nostrils with the slight breeze that enters her office. Beneath her coat, a small wave of goosebumps climbs up her arms from the chilly air. She can hear the rustle of the trees and the lively chirping of birds returning to their nests.

“It’s a full moon tonight.” He announces with his back to her and face tilted up to said celestial body.

He’s undoubtedly losing weight, and she doesn’t know what more she can do to help. His back seems small in those loose-fitting clothes, she thinks, against the orange-blue backdrop of early evening outside. It’s a strange thing to observe when he’s always been tall gait and broad shoulders to her.

She can’t see what he does from her seat, so she simply returns to the papers on her desk with an acknowledging hum. Jotting down the last few notes on the patient case file, she closes the folder and sets it aside before cracking open a new one.

“It’s already been a month, huh,” she says. “Time flies.”

“It felt longer actually.”

“Oh, I can see how.” She checks to make sure she’s getting correctly the kanji for the name of this thirty-year-old patient. Quite a rare spelling. “So much has been happening.”

“I lost track of time,” he says after a bit.

“Right, I need to get a clock for your room!” She grabs her notepad to scribble down a reminder.

“No, I mean-” There’s a slow headshake in his tone “-the moon, it’s beautiful.”

She pauses mid letter despite herself and smiles, knowing he would never mean it like that. He’s always been clueless in these matters. It’s quite endearing.

“Is it ever ugly?”

In the unassuming silence the follows where he says nothing, she finishes writing with a firm press of her pen.

A clock would be good for him. The council is demanding he be drugged up half the time of a day, as if sealing his chakra down to half what normal shinobi needs to move about wasn’t enough. Absolutely ludicrous! With his wounds healing, she’s also run out of excuses for the daily visits that probably used to help him orientate, too.

“I guess not,” he finally says with hints of a chuckle, his shoulders slouching a little more.

Putting away the notepad, she resumes her work again. The key to optimism is to focus on what can be done, rather than what cannot. Being with Naruto taught her as much.

The test results for this patient is fairly straight-forward. Just malnutrition and lack of sleep, a combination not entirely uncommon these days with so much work still needs to be done in Konoha.

They were going through something close to an upheaval. Her shishō has been pushing for changes left and right, sometimes rather ham-fistedly (but with no less cunning), taking advantage of the smoke and debris of war that has yet to settle.

For all the newness of the situation, even the chaos is beginning to bleed into routine after a month. Adaptation is a truly amazing thing.

She prescribes the man two types of supplements and makes some additional notes for his discharge tomorrow.

“I lose track of time staring at it,” Sasuke says.

“Ah, me too.”

“Hn.”

“I look at it sometimes when I can’t sleep.” It was in fact the only thing that got her through many sleepless nights for a while, but her words sound trite to her own ears, like some blatant ingratiation to force a connection with him.

She doesn’t care to look for the hints, but she does wonder if Sasuke has taken offense. He’s never had patience for people who pretended to understand, and she’s still not sure she does. Perhaps she would never.

“Aa, I end up watching it most nights.”

“I’m sorry, I wish I could give you some sleeping aid.” He’s rapidly developing monstrous tolerance for their tranquilizers, and she can only worry for his constitution after this is over.

“No. It’s nothing I haven’t been through. Some of the drugs Orochimaru gave me before also made sleep impossible. There wasn’t much to do outside of training and traveling.”

“Right.” But she’s not sure what is, because to be honest everything he just said is all wrong in her mind. He was barely over thirteen.

“The lulls in between are the worst,” she says noncommittally, but it’s perhaps the one thing they could agree on—he and she, both being single-minded people.

“The moon was there no matter where I was. Wasn’t hard to form a habit.”

She keeps her eyes on the paperwork but fails to concentrate on the words between her hands. Her throat is suddenly dry. She hasn’t realized they could just talk about his time away from Konoha like this. She thought she wasn’t allowed to know about the him of that period. He’s proven as much when he left her on that bench all those years ago.

But maybe that night has never held much significance to him. Maybe from his point of view, he only did the sensible thing, what was probably best for her, if not himself, and she’s the only one who’s still sore, who treats it like the landmine it’s not.

“All those times, it never occurred to me. That’s…beauty.”

Something in the movement of the air tugs at her attention then. She looks up and gapes at the sight of him standing precariously tall on the edge of the windowsill.

“S-Sasuke-kun!”

She runs to him in an instant, knocking over some folders on her way over. Even one arm down, he turns around on the narrow ledge with grace not unexpected of a shinobi. Still, her heart skips an ugly beat.

His inky hair is tousled, bleeding into the cooling sky; his flawless skin paler than the glaring full moon at his back. Mismatched eyes unblinking, he watches her for explanation.

“You need to get down from there.”

“Why?”

She’s sure she had a good reason, but she can only come up with, “It’s dangerous.”

“We’re on the first floor.”

“I-I know.”

But something about the him right now unsettles her.

“Just- Get down, please.”

He considers her words for a moment and dips his head a fraction. “Alright.” And he turns around and leaps out before her wide eyes. She only knows to reach for him on pure instinct.

“Wait!!”

“Oi Sakura.” The baleful barb in his voice startles her as she hastily releases her grip on his ankle. He pushes himself off the ground to glare at her over his shoulder with a coal-black eye, looking about to pop a vein. There’s a heated flush to his cheeks that matches the redness of his nose from having fallen face-first into the grass and dirt outside.

“I-I’m so sorry Sasuke-kun!”

She jumps over and kneels next to him as he sits up, green chakra glowing over the minor cuts on his face. He’s as good as new in an instant.

“What was that for?” he asks as he accepts the handkerchief that she meekly holds out for him. It takes the better part of her control to keep from flinching where their fingers lightly brush.

She breaks eye contact from the intensity of his stare and considers lying before telling the truth. “Well, I-you scared me.”

“I scared you.”

“N-no!” She snaps her gaze back to him. “Not you. More like…what you did.”

“Hn.” His shuttered tone says he’s zeroed in on an instant he thinks she’s referring to, and she clambers to clarify.

“You leapt out the window.”

He huffs, eyes turning hard. “It takes more than half a meter drop to hurt me. I’m low on chakra, Sakura. Not crippled.”

He stands and dusts himself off, no longer looking her in the eye. Well, if he wasn’t offended before, he certainly is now. It’s well-deserved, really, but somehow, she finds it easier to breathe.

She rises and tugs at his empty sleeve before he can walk away. “I’m not scared of you, Sasuke-kun.”

She speaks for no one else, but this he has to know. She has to make sure he knows, because it’s probably the insecurity that pervades him these days. That he courts unrest and dissension. That he’s that something to fear, and be shunned and left in isolation and neglect.

That he’s somehow less human than the next boy.

She looks into his eyes until she sees the hardness melt into resignation.

“But I still scared you.”

Her heart quickens again. “That’s because you jumped-”

“-out the window, you’ve mentioned,” he says with an eye roll and something between agitation and a sigh.

There’s a sting in the corner of her eyes she hopes is just reaction to the chilly wind. “You don’t understand!”

“Aa, I’m still waiting.”

“It- You-” Her voice is starting to crack. How she loathes that she’s always showing him this lovelorn, pitiful part of her that she knows he doesn’t care for. She feels eight-year-old again before him, small and bumbling, an unaccomplished mess, and he just stood back and watched her in all his dignified apathy.

“Sakura.” His hand grips at her shoulder firmly, a dash of concern in his countenance. She blinks at the watery sheen in her eyes, wondering momentarily, where he still gets his strength from.

“I thought you were going to disappear.” At his wide, blank stare, she averts her face, her tears spilling anew. She’s aware her words are as silly as she feels.

That stillness to his demeanor, that foreign tranquility—like silence, like rippleless water. It occurs to her sometimes that maybe he’s making peace. That he’s given up before the fight even begins.

Then his suddenly far-too-baggy shirt fluttered in a gust of strong wind, lifting to reveal a vulnerability of skin and bones, the white bandages underneath and stark black seals carved all over his body. And the next moment, he leapt.

“Right then…I was…afraid…” The massive leaf canopy that hangs over them rustles wildly. She picks at the hem of her coat, looking everywhere but at him.

He feels empty and faded when he’s like this. Calm. Placid. Like he could be gone if she blinked too slowly. And then she’d wonder if the reason for this all is that she’s actually just another one who can’t forgive, another one who can only associate him with tumult and discord, despite all her vocal averment for his goodness.

His grip slipping from her shoulder draws her gaze back to him. He’s looking down to where she’s holding a fistful of his empty sleeve, and he wraps his hand over hers, the calluses on his palm grazing her knuckles with such gentleness, it hurts.

She lets go and steps back, never expecting him to step forward and pulls her against his chest.

“S-Sasuke-kun!?”

She flushes. Her body goes rigid as the weight of his chin rests over the top of her head and his large hand fits behind her neck. Her arms are crushed between their chests, and she smells medicine and grass; the spice of detergent in his clothes, the saltiness of the gauzes beneath.

“Sakura.” His voice thrums deep against her forehead, through the skin of his throat. “I made up my mind, you know. I’m not going anywhere.”

“O-oh, that’s…great.”

Nothing is said for a while, and they remain in that position. He shows no sign of budging, and she’s not sure she has ever had it in her to break away from him.

“You’re worried about me.”

His scent, the coolness of his skin. His faint, beating heart against her thundering one. She chokes when she feels his thumb on her earlobe.

“Right?”

“Y-yeah.”

“And you’re not afraid of me.”

“I’m not.” She shakes her head the best she can in his embrace.

“Promise me one thing.”

“O-kay.”

His chest expands in a deep breath.

“Don’t go anywhere, either.”

Ah, how sly, Sasuke-kun.

She curls her fingers into the front of his shirt and nods against his chest. “I promise I’m not going anywhere.”

Sasuke adjusts the angle of his chin against her headband, the metal sapping heat from his skin on contact. Sakura’s grown wonderfully, he thinks, so able and strong; might walk so far out of his grasp, no dōjutsu in the world can find her for him, when all he’s known of her for so long are naïve smiles and spindly arms and legs.

When they finally part, he wipes gingerly at the corner of her eye. They both know that this is in no way fair, because they are both the sort that looks far ahead, and even though she is certain to keep her words, he might never be able to keep his.

But the heat of her breaths breathes something tenacious into his chest, seeping into his lungs, and bones and marrows.

And for at the very least tonight, he decides he will not be going anywhere far away from her.

#sasusaku #haruno sakura #uchiha sasuke #angst #pining #it's mutual i think #post-war #fanfic #snakes and cherry blossom

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allandoflimbo · 4 years

Text

Take It Back (Chapter 18) Part: (2/6)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: About five years ago, a one night stand with Y/N tore Bucky’s life apart. It was also the night before his wedding. Now he’s married to her sister and she needs a place to stay.

MASTERPAGE |

You cursed the weather for being so damn perfect. You cleared your throat.

It wasn’t what you wanted to do and you knew it was heartless, but it was the right choice. You would face this day and then you would do what you needed to do that was best for the both of you which was leave his life.

You would allow him to have the happy ending he deserved.

And if there was one thing you weren’t - it was a home wrecker.

You quickly realize that since you didn’t spend the night at home that you don’t have your dress on you and that you also needed a quick shower before heading to the church. You look down at your watch and you’re glad that you still have close to two hours.

The sun peaks in through the pristine glass, its orange and yellow rays radiating off the floor, peaking just lightly onto the white comforter of the king-sized bed.

Bucky laid belly down, his left hand tucked under the pillow, while the other laid on his side. His unruly dark brown hair was sprayed over his pillow, his eyes squinting from one of the orange rays that manages to hit the corner of his closed eyes.

He sees light but his body feels like it’s floating. Relaxation takes a hold of his body as he hums in contentment, spreading his right leg a little wider. The cool sheets feel amazing against his bare skin. His white comforter just briefly touches his cock and he’s instantly remembered of what happened last night.

You two had made love and he doesn’t think he’s ever been happier in his entire life.

A small smile plays on his lips as he throws his arm to the side, preparing to grab onto your waist and pull you closer to him.

He always figured you were a cuddling type of person and he wanted to do a lot of that.

It takes him a second to realize that as much as he was trying, he wasn’t feeling you behind him, he groped and touched but all he could feel was more blanket and cotton.

His eyes open slightly, cringing at the raising bright light in the sky.

He lifts his head up slightly with a groan and he looks down at himself. His blanket laid just below his waist line.

He looks over to see you weren’t laying there. He smiles to himself at the thought of you making breakfast for him in nothing but your cute little t-shirt. He wanted to walking up behind you and pull you close to him. He couldn’t wait to have you for himself.

This was no longer his wedding day, but yes the first day of forever with you.

He softly tosses the blanket to the side. After he slips on his boxers, he makes his way to the door of his bedroom.

With a smile he opens it wide, eyes scanning for you.

“Y/N?” His voice is sturdy.

He momentarily stalls when he sees all the lights off and a serene quietness envelope around him, resembling that of an empty home.

His eyes furrow.

He walks down the hall and into his master bathroom.

Maybe you were taking a shower. His lips perk at the sides as he pictures you in his head as you took a hot shower.

He opens the door to the bathroom slowly, being sure to not startle you.

“Sweetheart?” He says softly with a gentle and rhythmic knock.

After no response, he opens it all the way to see and looks inside.

It was empty, no sight of you anywhere.

He doesn’t know why but he gets a worried feeling in his stomach, like something was wrong but he wasn’t sure what.

Had something happened? Did you go somewhere? Why couldn’t you wait for him to awake?

His bare feet echo through the home as he runs a hand through his messy hair.

Bucky goes into his room and looks for his phone. He didn’t have much time to find you before everyone would start showing up to get ready for the wedding. He was hoping you’d both be gone by now, getting everything packed into a cab and headed to the hotel he already had booked in anticipation of things going as smoothly as he thought it might.

He spots his phone on the floor next to his night stand and he’s about to walk over to it when something peeking from under his pillow catches his eye.

His eyes furrow when he notices it’s piece a of paper.

Leaning over, he snatches it quickly and unfolds it.

I’m sorry I did this. Goodbye, Bucky.

His stomach falls as he reads the scribbled writing.

He can’t breathe. His vision blurs as he tries to take in the words you left him.

You left him. You left him.

His breathing picks up as he crumples the note in his hand, and the hot air from his lungs comes out of his nose in angry huffs. He licks his lips, blinking wildly as he tries to contain his emotions. He feels his heart beat pick up while he stares at his various clothing scattered across the floor.

He swallows down the pain he feels in his throat, a sudden on set on unexpected tears trying to make its way out of his eyes.

Tears of betrayal.

He had never felt the way he was feeling right now. His hands tightened in fists and then opened up again.

He walks slowly to the window of his room, his hands shaking. He bites his bottom lip so hard he draws blood as he scans the city line, somehow looking for you. As if, somehow, he could see you from where he was.

You left him.

You were his love, and you left him.

With a gruntled groan and an animalistic roar he throws the note against the glass. He struts over to his bookshelf, his posture tall and steady.

His eyes burn and he’s hyperventilating as he rips everything out off the shelves, throwing it carelessly across the floor.

Once his hand is around the teddy bear, he holds it tight until his knuckles are white and finally he allows himself to cry.

He growls as he throws it across the room. The plush toy bounces off the wall, its little eyes looking at him mockingly.

In a fury and blurry hot eyes, he rips the blankets off his bed. He wasn’t sure what he was trying to accomplish by doing that but he felt the sudden urge to get rid of everything that had you on it

Your sweat, your juices, your tears, all of you, it had touched the cotton and it pained his heart.

He sobs as he rips everything apart.

“No, no!”

Hot tears run down his face. He’s on his knees and he feels them turning red from the friction of the floor rubbing against them. He pulls on his hair as his back falls back against his wall.

Leaning over, he opens his closet door and pulls out a suitcase. Sniffing hard, he unpacks it all: extra credit cards, extra cash, a card key, and an extra set of clothes for you and him. He throws the suit case across the room as well.

He runs his hands through hair and he sobs harder as he stares at the items scattered across his floor, looking at the mess he had made.

Why would you do this to him? Why would you hurt him this way?

He should’ve told you of his plans, he knew he should’ve, but he had to be sure first. After you told him you loved him he would tell you everything that morning.

Why would you do this? Why would you make it believe that you would run away with him?

After his breathing is calm, he looks for his cell phone again. He rummages through clothes and blankets.

He needed to call you, find you, talk to you. He was at lost to what to do for the rest of the day, the rest of his life.

He needed you.

He hears knock at his door and all his movements stop.

No.

Quickly, he tidies everything up as much as he could.

Reality washes over him like a cold shower and he’s shoving all the items into a suitcase and into his closet. He was trying his best to hide any evidence of what he had planned for the day,

Once the closet door is closed, he quickly tosses everything back onto the bed, including the comforters and blankets that still smelled of you.

He runs his hands up his face into his hair and looks around making sure he didn’t miss anything.

An additional knock scares him and he quickly realizes he should at least put a shirt on.

@wxntersoldxer16 @void-imaginations @heykarsyn @avashroom @sarcastic-and-cool @lunaticbarnes @benhardygalileo @wildmavs @runaway-escape @stevieboyharrington @kimvmarvel

#Bucky x reader #Bucky Barnes #Bucky Barnes fanfiction #Bucky Barnes x Reader #Bucky Barnes x you #Marvel fanfiction

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megalony · 5 years

Text

Family dinner

Another part of my dad! Ben Hardy series which I hope everyone is enjoying so far.

Taglist: @marshmallowmae @butlegendsneverdie @langdonzvoid @luvborhap @jennyggggrrr @radiob-l-a-hblah @rogertaylorsbitontheside @chlobo6 @rogertaylors-lipgloss @sj-thefan @omgitsearly

Series masterlist

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ben glanced down to the little boy holding his hand, sighing when he saw James shaking his head as he glanced from his parents to the table in front of them in the restaurant that held their family. He didn't like group dinners, something about them got to the little boy. Sometimes it was because everyone was there and rowdy, sometimes it was just because he didn't like eating in front of others. He had been anxious the moment he stepped into the restaurant because there was so much noise.

Bending down Ben scooped James up into his arms before turning to (Y/n) who had Lola in her arms and Lily stood between them both.

"I think we'll go to the play area for a bit, no one's in there." Ben commented, reaching out for Lily's hand as (Y/n) nodded. Her lips quickly pressing to his own before she made her way to the table as the actor guided his other two kids left into the play area.

He didn't think it was the best idea to take James straight to the table when he wasn't feeling very calm, he would only get worked up and upset. The actor was thankful there were no other kids in the play area for now or else James wouldn't feel able to go in and Ben was too tall and broad framed to get in the play zone with him. Lily quickly let go of his hand to scuttle into the climbing area. The young girl climbing up the soft padded levels to get to the top and rush to the back where Ben lost sight of her.

"Do you want to go climbing buddy? Or go on the slide, maybe the ball pit?" Ben bounced his son on his hip, watching James point to the ball pit unsure what he really wanted to do.

Ben set him down next to the ball pit, sitting down on the edge as James sat down. Throwing a few balls around before getting up and weaving through them. He turned and threw some to Ben to gently threw them back, smiling to encourage James but the little boy didn't seem too happy. He didn't really see the point in the ball pit, they swamped his legs and made it hard for him to walk. They weren't soft so getting hit with them wasn't fun and playing catch with Ben wasn't the same as when they had the soft squishy ball they had at home. He didn't like it.

Looking to his dad, James shook his head clearly showing this wasn't his cup of tea.

"How about the slide? You like them." The actor watched James scan the play area before going up the climbing levels that his elder sister had gone up. Peering down the small distance to where Ben was, smiling when his dad stood up making his head about height with James. The little boy crawled on the soft leather material as Ben walked alongside him to make him feel more at ease. Watching as James moved to the slides, instantly going for the red one instead of the blue.

When he went down the slide, James sat at the bottom for a few seconds before turning to Ben, a small smile on his lips. He scuttled around to go down the slide again as Ben peered around for Lily. Seeing his eldest daughter going on the small zip line near the top of the slides. Offering for her brother to try only for him to rapidly shake his head no.

"Alright, are we ready to go see what we want for dinner?" James sat down just before the slides to look at Ben, shaking his head as Lily moved and sat beside him. The little boy was feeling happy, he wasn't anxious or upset or mad, he didn't like the ball pit but he liked the slide. He'd much rather play here until dinner and then go get something to eat and go home. He didn't want to socialise with family even if it was his aunts and uncles and his grandparents who he knew and was normally okay around.

"Stay here." James whispered quietly.

"We can't stay in here forever buddy... let me get a picture of you both coming down the slide and then we'll go and see what we want to eat. Please?" Ben pleaded, smiling when James lowered his eyes but nodded in response. Moving around Ben crawled inside to the bottom of the slides, grabbing his phone from his pocket as he sat cross-legged beneath the blue slide.

For once, James didn't pull away from Lily when she lightly sat behind him, her legs by the side of his own as she put her arms around his middle very cautiously and without much pressure. Ben could see James tense just a little, looking rather unsure but he said nothing and it amazed Ben to have both kids not fighting or squabbling or screaming at each other for once. This was most definitely a picture he needed for evidence that they hadn't started a fight and could get along for once.

Ben snapped a few pictures before crawling back out after both kids. Taking James' hand as Lily guided them out of the play area and into the restaurant again. Trotting over to the table Lily sat down between (Y/n) and Ben's mother as Lola was sitting on her mother's lap, gurgling at one of the menus as if she understood the writing on it.

The actor sat down on (Y/n)'s other side with James sitting on his left, the little boy reached out for a menu that he placed in front of him so his auntie and uncle sitting across from him couldn't see him. His frame itching into Ben's side to be away from his cousin who was sitting on his left. James didn't not like his cousin, he just didn't want to talk to her right now. She was very talkative and a bit pushy which contrasted with how James was very isolated and quiet. He preferred to sit away from her so she didn't overwhelm him.

"Don't do that buddy." Ben murmured, gently lowering the menu so James wasn't hiding behind it. Ben pressed his hand to the menu when James tried again to lift it up, his expression hardening as he turned to look at his dad who simply raised his brows in return. He knew James got upset and anxious but he didn't have to try and hide.

"Do you want to do some colouring?" Sarah, Ben's sister offered, holding out a sheet of paper she got from the front desk and a pack of four crayons. Giving one sheet and packet to James and one to her daughter Maddy sitting next to him. Watching her nephew try and smile at her in response, nodding his head in thanks before looking down to the page. His eyes scanning over to see what games it had on it, seeing a Wordsearch, a pathfinder game. Some colouring, some questions and a few jokes although he was only interested in the colouring in for the time being.

Ben watched his son for a few moments, seeing he was content with beginning to colour the sun at the top of the page before grabbing the green crayon to do the tops of the carrots. Satisfied that James was content Ben looked over to his sister, beginning a conversation as everyone looked at the menus to see what they wanted.

"Daddy?" James questioned, gently tugging on Ben's sleeve to gain his attention. "Wrong colours." He whispered, pointing to the picture he was trying to colour and the crayons he had in the cardboard packet. He had been given red, yellow blue and green. He had no orange for the carrot, nothing for the potato and no proper colours for the other food on the page. James couldn't do the wrong colours it upset him. When his eyes glanced over to Maddy the little boy visibly shivered when he noticed she was scribbling over the carrot in red, going out of the lines which made James frown and turn away from her.

"Oh... why don't you try the Wordsearch instead?" James' face fell, wishing he had brought his colours and his colouring book with him. That would have made him feel a lot better. He didn't want to do the Wordsearch, he wasn't very good at them and he just wanted to colour. James pushed his hand out at the crayons, watching them roll away on the table near to Sarah as Ben reached out and took his hand. Not wanting him to rip up the page or snap the crayons like he seemed to do lately. "Now come on buddy, Wordsearch or look at the menu. Nothin' to get upset about."

Ben grabbed the kids menu again and sat it in front of his son, moving his hands out to put the crayons away before James snapped them. James pushed himself back into the chair, slumping down and tucking his chin into his chest. His arms folding over his chest as Ben sighed, grabbing the menu and scanning over it.

"Right, I'll decide for you if you're gonna be like that." James looked up at Ben but didn't say anything, hearing his dad tell his mum that he was going to have fish fingers. Something the little boy would normally eat without a fuss. Ben bit his lip when James suddenly turned his back on Maddy when she started yapping his ear off. James didn't realise he was being rude, he just didn't want her to talk to him, he wanted to be alone. "Do you need a time out?" Ben questioned, reaching out and moving James so he was sitting on his lap instead. His head resting on Ben's chest as he curled up against his chest, looking to (Y/n) as she smiled at him, leaning to ruffle his hair trying to calm him down.

"Someone's just hungry." (Y/n) responded, knowing James would most likely be a bit better when he was eating. The four-year-old wouldn't eat if no one else was eating but everyone would be and he was having one of his favourites. He got grumpy when he needed something to eat. "Why don't you go and talk to grandad? He hasn't seen you for a week."

Ben gently eased James from his lap when the little boy nodded at his mother's suggestion. Trotting over to the end of the table where Ben's dad was sitting, looking a little nervous but he sat with his grandad all the same.

Leaning over Ben rested his chin on (Y/n)'s shoulder, his thumb brushing over the back of Lola's hand when she took his left hand in both of hers. A small babble leaving her lips before she waved Ben's hand near to her drink. Letting go of her hand Ben grabbed the fruit shoot bottle, uncapping the lid and handing it to his youngest whose eyes locked with his own. The corners of her eyes crinkled as she smiled around the drink. The toddler clumsily set the bottled drink down on the table before crawling onto Ben's lap.

(Y/n) waved James back over when the food started to come out, watching her son quickly move back to his seat without saying a word.

Grabbing the pot of sauce from the middle of the table, setting it in front of James who looked up at Ben before beginning to eat. Ben grabbed a spoon from the middle of the table, putting some mashed potatoes on it from his plate before handing it to the toddler on his lap. Lola had already been fed before they came out but that didn't mean she wouldn't try and help herself to whatever was on his plate.

James tilted his head down as he started to eat some peas, the little boy ate in sections, he couldn't eat some peas and then go straight for another vegetable. He had to finish one vegetable or food and then go to another, mixing things up wasn't what he did. When he managed to eat all of the peas scattered around the plate, Ben leaned over and cut up the fish fingers for him. Rubbing his hand up and down James' arm for a little while to keep him calm before he went back to eating his own food, Lola trying to help him finish his plate.

The young boy rested his head on Ben's arm as he continued to eat rather slowly. His eyes flitting around the table to the other people sitting with them. Ben was talking to his father sat across from him, (Y/n) was taking to Lily and Ben's mother and the actor's sister and brother were talking to their partner or kids. Everyone was talking to one another, even Lola was babbling through a mouthful of food. It was a sensory overload for the little boy. He didn't like how he couldn't keep track of one conversation without hearing another one that sent him off track and topic. Nor did he like the other conversations from the people sitting on tables around them.

Their laughs were too loud and forced, some too high pitched, their conversations random and weird. The constant mixture of voices was sending James into a downward spiral as he wanted to go home. Home, where he could have the tv on low to a volume that didn't upset him and sit in his room so both sisters couldn't overload his senses with their babbles and random topics. Where James could sit in his cupboard like Harry Potter and listen to some quiet music or where he could lay down and watch a movie with one of his parents.

Ben didn't miss the way his son flinched when the conversations seemed to get louder around them at their table when people began to finish their meals. Turning to his right, Ben gently nudged his wife indicating for her to take Lola from him so he could focus on James.

"Alright, buddy?" Ben questioned, biting his lip when James shook his head, burying himself into Ben's side as his knee started to jitter up and down against the chair. "Too loud?" He guessed, gaining no answer as James simply stayed buried in his side, wishing they were going home now but he knew they wouldn't be just yet. Family dinners like this meant they stayed for dessert and then sit and chat for a while afterwards before leaving to go home.

James didn't know which was worse, when they came to restaurants for dinner or when they went to someone's house. James didn't like the loudness of restaurants and the general unease he felt due to social anxiety. But when he went to one of the family member's houses for family dinner he felt awful because it wasn't a safe space for him. He didn't feel okay in their homes and there wasn't anywhere he could go to hide away and calm down because at his aunt and uncles homes they had their rooms and their kids rooms and everyone else downstairs. He liked when people came round to their house for dinner because he could go to his room when he felt like this.

Reaching over, Ben gently sat James down on his lap before grabbing a menu to look for dessert.

"If they come to take orders, we'll share this one. We're gonna go and have a time out." Ben turned to (Y/n), pointing to one of the sundaes on the menu which was James' favourite before getting up. He needed to take James somewhere so he could calm down and feel more at ease.

Standing up, Ben walked away from the table, taking a glance into the play zone before turning right to head in there. Surprisingly no kids were in there yet, it was nice and quiet and James could run around or lash out on the cushioned walls. Walking under one of the arches of the climbing frame area, Ben moved and sat down leaning up against the cushioned wall with James on his lap.

"I- I want to go home." James mumbled, his lower lip wobbling before the tears suddenly spilled over his eyes.

"I know you do buddy, we're gonna have some ice cream and then go home I promise." James rested his head on Ben's shoulder, small whimpers leaving his lips as Ben gently swayed him side to side. His hand resting to the back of his son's head, brushing through his hair.

#ben hardy #ben hardy imagine #ben x reader #dad! ben #imagine #little james

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cabinofimagines · 5 years

Text

Troubles

Percy x Reader (college au)

Fluff | Smut | Angst

A/n: So I finally finished this piece of shit. I don’t really like where it went but it’s cool I guess. This is in response to 3 whole requests we got ages ago. Also guys please remember requests aren’t open yet. It’s on our nav page; what’s open and what’s not I mean. -Day

_ _ _

Staring up at the towering buildings of the main hall only intimidated you more than you already were. You gulped as you watched packs of friends roam about the campus, chattering about who they were rooming with during the overnight orientation, “Jamie said she’s rooming with a guy named Matthew-- I guess they don’t care who stays in the same room?”

“No shit, Kyla, we’re in college now. They don’t give a shit what we do in our spare time.”

You stifle a laugh at the passing conversation, knowing better than to assume that the school doesn’t care what you do. You grimance once more at the mass of people, but pull yourself together and step into the main hall.

The inside was a lot more intimidating than the outside of the building. People of all ages huddled around in groups, overbearing parents hovered over their grown kids, various people already huddling together in packs, and younger youth were already being recruited into sororities and frats. You stuck to the walls and made your way to a long, but ever-moving line of new students who were being randomly matched with others in a room.

Your mind wandered at the thought of rooming with a stranger, even if it was just for a night it wasn’t something you were particularly fond of doing. You had to do it at some point if you were to live on campus in a dorm, but even then you would be matched based on personality and living habits. The line was getting increasingly shorter and your heart was pounding harder the more you thought about the outcome of this experience, would you meet your best friend and decide to choose one another as actual roommates? Or would you have the worst experience of your life tonight?

“Name?”

A overly cheerful voice broke through your melancholy thoughts, you crack a quick smile at the older female, “Y/n L/n.” You watch as she shifts through a few papers with scribbles of various names until she makes a hum of achievement, marking your name out with a black sharpie and handing you a brass key.

“Here’s your key, don’t lose it or the fee is $150!” She shooed you on and greeted the next person as soon as you shifted to the side. You sighed and shoved the key into your front pocket, the space being so small you were sure that it wouldn’t fly out randomly.

Before you head to your room you decided that you should save the trip and collect your things from your car before going to find your room. You packed as lightly as you could, but still managed to bring a suitcase with you, full of clothes and bedsheets for the night since it was a required thing. Although as you trudged up the stairs because the elevator was broken, you were regretting being so prepared.

You hauled ass all the way to the fifth floor, losing a lung or two on the way up. Finally arriving on the fifth floor landing you took a breather, leaning against the railing and catching your breath. You hear a small chuckle beside you, passing by you from the hellaciously steep stairs you had climbed moments ago.

You managed to pick your head up long enough to see a mop of black hair bob past you and into the hall of the dormitory. You shake your head; damn athletes. You gather your bearings and forge onward down the hall to which the mop of hair went. You strolled past the doors, some open as chatter filled the hall, and others were shut and silent as the dead. Your eyes scanned the numbers, anxiously looking for three digits. 539.

The door was open and there was a deep voice mixed with a few others emanating from the room. Your heart stopped, how many roommates did you have? You step inside cautiously, rolling your luggage into the room and setting it by the door. The room was spacious and separated by another door that led to your roommate’s room. There was a baren bed, a large desk, and a large window on the wall adjacent from the door.

The voices went quiet suddenly, having heard your footsteps and the wheels of your suitcase they must’ve realised someone else had arrived. You see a mess of curly brown locks appear from the doorway that separated the rooms, “Oh shit, it is.” He said suddenly, disappearing back into the room to talk further about your sudden appearance. You raise your brows at his words, crossing your arms over your chest and taking a strong stance.

Before you could make a move to ask the boy why he said what he said, another voice sounded out, “Great job, Leonidas, gotta fuck up my experience too, huh?” You hear a smack echo through the room followed by a whine of pain. You see the boy stumble out of the room, grumbling an apology to you before he left.

The owner of the other voice you presumed, walked through the doorway only seconds after the curly one left. You sucked in a breath at the sight that blessed your eyes, his messy black hair fell over his sea green eyes, flying out of his line of sight moments later. He stood tall and lean in gray jogging pants and a white t-shirt, basketball shoes untied like he had just slipped them on. What deemed you speechless was his smile, a goofy yet charming lopsided smile that graced and enhanced his features.

“You’re the person on the stairs, aren’t you?” He said with a chuckle, smoothing his hair back from his face, but failing as it returned into it’s messy state.

“I’m sorry?” You ask, cocking your head to the side in confusion.

He laughed and leaned back against the doorway slightly, “The person that was by the staircase catching their breath.”

You merely nod, too flustered to answer him verbally. The fact that his first impression was that you were out of shape absolutely sucked, even if it was true.

“I’m Percy, “ He said with a wink, “Probably the best roommate you’ll ever have.”

You cock a brow at his words, crossing your arms challengingly, “What makes you say that?”

He smirked and stepped closer, shoving his hands in his pockets, “Because I’m going to make sure you have the time of your life.”

ii.

By the time sophomore year came around, the two of you were close to inseparable. One could almost never be seen without the other unless it was during classes you didn’t have together.

Although how exactly you got to the local pizza place in town discussing Criminal Minds and Law & Order you weren’t exactly sure. Somewhere between his constant whining about how hungry he was and his consistent begging, you found yourself stuffing your face with pizza while you listened to him gush about the many crime shows he watches.

“But then,” He paused, taking a big bite of his slice, “Reid just like,” another bite, “figured it out because he has photographic memory-- which is like so fucking cool-- and solved the case.”

You nod along, interested in the story and the babbling boy in front of you, going on what should be his seventh tangent about each of the cases in the many episodes he’d watched. It was cute that he was so invested into these shows and even invited you to watch a few episodes with him tonight to which you gladly obliged.

You grin as he finishes off his pizza, blindly looking for another slice but finding none, “Did you eat all the pizza?” he quirked an eyebrow in your direction, a hint of a smile playing at his lips. He didn’t give you time to answer as he stood from his seat, offering a hand to you, “I didn’t want any anyways.” He said with a chuckle and a teasing glint in his sea green eyes.

You huff at his remark, standing up with the help of his hand, “You can put away some food, that’s for sure.” you grumbled under your breath.

He flicked your forehead suddenly, “I don’t waste food.”

You laughed lightly, rubbing the sore spot as you spoke, “It’s getting dark, we should get back and actually attend some of tonight’s activities.” You spun around to leave with him in tow, but managed to run straight into an older woman who looked far from kind.

She gasped as if she were doused in hot coffee from your run in, holding her hand to her chest and staring at you in disbelief. You fumbled to apologize, but naturally they made the incident a lot worse than it actually was. They spoke loudly for the rest of the pizza place to hear, “You teenagers think you can just push an elder out of the way?! Unbelievable, this new generation is so disrespectful!”

You bit your lip in thought of what to say. You wanted to argue back and clear things up, but that would only further her idea of generational disrespect. Not once did her purple coated lips stop moving, spouting more and more unrelated nonsense about such a simple situation.

“Ma’am, you’re the one who walked into the exit door rather than the entry door. This wouldn’t have happened had you simply read the sign on the door.”

You shifted your eyes to an annoyed Percy who gave the lady before him a dead gaze, something that would’ve intimidated you had you not known how friendly the male actually was.

The lady opened her mouth again, but Percy interrupted her, “They said sorry, what more do you want? You’re the only one being rude here.”

She left without another word, shimmying away with a few grumbles. You gave the ebony haired boy an impressed look, “Well, well, “ You teased, “You could've scared me off with that look.” He snorted at this, “What look?,” his face broke out in a lopsided smile as he held the door open for you.

You mimicked him the best you could which elicited a chuckle from Percy, “I don’t look like that.” You scoffed and bumped his shoulder with your own, “You’ve got a case of the resting bitch face. Or is that your courtroom face?”

You laughed loudly, making your way back down the street to campus with him. The sun was already setting, the orange and red hues highlighting the towering buildings and bathing the world around you in various shades. Your breath hitched lightly, heart picking up pace unexpectedly. He looked breathtaking to you, his messy hair was brushed away from his face and exposed his forehead, his tall nose scrunched up slightly as the cool wind blew, and his lips were turning an angry red from his constant biting. He looked like a god-- way too good to be true.

He met your stare with his own, pausing his steps and gently tugging you back to him by the arm. He raised a brow at your words, taking a moment to think over what to see, “It’s not, but should it be?” He genuinely seemed interested, “Or was I too scary or whatever?”

You shrugged and managed to tear your eyes away from his being, looking off at the passing cars, “No you just looked so serious, I didn’t know you for a split second.” You look back and flash him a small smile, but avoided prolonged eye contact in fear that your heart would hammer against your chest harder than it already was.

He let out a small giggle at this, catching you off guard. You could gain whiplash from the duality this man has. He hooked arms with you, forcing you to start walking with him and his ridiculously long strides, “Cool, Dr. Leener said that I needed a more serious look when prosecuting.”

You look up at him at this, “How else would you look in a situation like that?”

He used his free arm to reach up and scratch the back of his neck shyly, “Uh I was joking about the case a little too much.”

You pause at his confession, cracking up slightly, “Dude I’m honestly not even surprised.”

Iii.

Dust fell from the ceiling as you carefully swung your legs over the brick wall, landing on the cement flooring of the abandoned building. You threw a glance over your shoulder and laughed when you saw Percy’s long legs struggle to get a grip on the wall you just came over. You sat back, enjoying the view of his suffering a little too much.

Once he finally made it over after five grueling minutes of his lanky legs trying to get over the wall, he landed next to you with a sigh, glaring at you with a slight unknown pout. He dusted off his navy hoodie and black jeans, “I’m so glad I have such a loving and kind-hearted best friend.”

You beamed at him, batting your eyelashes at him in jest, “And I’m so glad you recognize it!”

You pat yourself off, trying to rid yourself of all the dirt that covered your sweats and your ‘junior squad’ t-shirt. You felt hands on your back suddenly, causing you to jump and turn around too quickly, elbowing Percy in the rib accidently.

He whined and held a hand to his chest, slumping against your figure dramatically, “I’ve been stabbed!” He gasped, “there’s been another victim!”

You shove him onto his feet, “Shut up you idiot!” You hiss, eyes scanning the barely visible room surrounding you, “Let’s just hurry up and satisfy your sadistic interests before we get caught.” You shuffled away from the tall boy, squinting your eyes to adjust to the lack of light in the room.

“Use your flashlight, dumbass. You aren’t a cat.”

The bright blue light of Percy’s phone flashlight blinded you, him shining it right in your face to make a point. You swatted at his hand, causing him to drop his phone. The heavy device clattered across the cement, the flashlight facing towards the ground. He squeaked at this, carefully stepping around the space as he muttered curses towards you.

You shiver, a sudden gust of wind reminding you that winter was just around the bend and the fact that you also had not grabbed a jacket before your little adventure outside. You’d much rather be in your room, binge-watching all of your favourite shows instead of the dreaded math homework that is due tomorrow morning at eight a.m.

An audible crack echoed throughout the area followed by a dramatic gasp. Your eyes flicked towards the noise stepping carefully over until you came in contact with Percy’s side, “...fuck” he whispered to himself.

Just then another source of light shone over the two of you, momentarily blinding you for the second time that night. One arm latched around Percy’s, using him as a shield as the other hand came up to block the light out. You could feel Percy tense under your touch, his posture straightening a little as if he was trying to appear larger than the possible threat approaching.

“What are you kids doing here? This is a crime scene, off limits to the public until further notice,” The booming voice instructed, “That includes you, Percy Jackson.”

Percy seemed to chill out at the call of his name, a lopsided smirk forming on his lips, “Lieutenant Brunner! You shouldn’t be out here, this is,” He cocks his head to the side, “ a crime scene after all.”

Your jaw dropped. Lieutenant Brunner was infamous for the many cases he’s solved locally and nationally, but you had thought he was out of commision due to the injury that left him paralyzed from the waist down. Yet here he was, obviously still solving cases despite his disability. It was actually inspiring to see someone still do what they love despite all that has happened to them in the past.

The man sighs at this, his wheelchair squeaking lightly as it pressed on toward the two of you, “Percy,” he scolds, “this isn’t the greatest place for dates, I thought you had class? Or did you forget that too after you stopped volunteering?”

The younger male’s smirk faltered slightly at this, but he quickly recovered, “Cut me some slack, it’s hard being a college student, I just wanted to blow off some steam with my favorite.” He enunciated that he was talking about you by placing a hand on top of your head.

You didn’t know what to make of this situation, but you thought it best to stay quiet seeing as they knew each other well. You were embarrassed to say the least, Lieutenant Brunner was a local at the cafe you worked at and he was always very nice to you and your co-workers, you really hoped he didn’t recognize you here of all places.

Lieutenant Brunner sighed deeply, beginning to turn away from the pair as if he hadn’t even seen you, “You both should head back to campus, I won’t tell the others I saw you here. I’ll just say I was simply investigating a suspicious noise, nothing more.”

You nudged the tall boy’s side, signalling him that this was the plan you should go with. However he didn’t seem to take that into account, “But I wanted to investigate too.” You roll your eyes and nudge him a little harder this time,pleading with him, “Can we please just go?”

Percy went silent for what felt like forever, but then he moved down suddenly, picking up his phone and revealing the cracked screen. He groaned and interlaced his fingers with yours suddenly. Your heart skipped a beat as he tugged you along, walking towards the exit this time instead of scaling that godforsaken wall. He simply saluted the wheelchair bound man, “Love you, Lieutenant Brunner!”

You hissed, tugging him along and muttering swears and curses at the ebony haired boy by your side. Once you were in the clear you removed your hand from his and stopped following him, your heart still pounding at the sudden form of affection. He slowed to a stop and looked back with a lopsided smile, “At least it wasn’t the authorities!”

You gave him an incredulous look, “It was Lieutenant Brunner. Did you forget who solved nearly every case you’ve been studying in your classes?” You bring a hand up to your forehead, still not fully believing what just happened. You got caught at an active crime scene by a notorious investigator and were just let off the hook without repercussions. What the fuck.

You locked eyes with him, walking forward and poking him with an accusatory finger, “And he knew you? Care to tell me how?”

He licked his lips and caught your finger with his hand, intertwining your fingers once more as he explained himself, “I used to volunteer at the police station when I was still in high school-- well it was more like an internship, but Brunner was my mentor sort of.”

He chuckled at your gobsmacked expression. He flicked your bottom lip playfully, causing you to close your mouth and threaten to hit him with your free hand. He laughed and nodded in the direction of his car, “Come on, I bet we can still catch some of the Law & Order SVU marathon if we hurry.”

“I still can’t believe you know the THE Lieutenant Brunner.”

iv.

The warmth from the sunlight illuminating your rather spacious dorm was enough to put you back to sleep. Lately you haven’t been able to get much sleep due to the many different responsibilities you had as your education progressed. But to just lie here in Percy’s embrace as he tried his very best to do as you said and go over his key points for his mock trial, everything seemed to fade out.

Senior year has been hellacious for the both of you seeing as both of your studies required a lot of work from you. You’ve passed most of your classes and only needed to repeat a few due to not passing with the required grade level your major allowed. Percy has become the top of his class however, surpassing even his upper classmates in some of the hardest classes. He was really smart and has just the amount of charisma to sway the jury in his favour, but you didn’t know how he made it this far with his hatred for studying.

He let out another groan, “This is so dumb!” He pouted and covered his face with the stack of papers in his hand, his other arm wrapped around your shoulders and shaking you slightly for emphasis. You rolled your eyes at his antics, he’s such a drama queen it’s ridiculous.

You lean away from him slightly, reaching for the papers hiding his face and freeing them from his grasp. You look over them quickly, focusing on the key points of the case and highlighting them with a blue highlighter from his stash of writing utensils. You elbow his side, eliciting a grunt from the overdramatic male, “Exactly how many murders can the suspect be linked to?”

He blinked, once then twice, giving you an unsure look he answered, “28..?” You purse your lips at his answer, “It’s exactly 24. There were 28 victims in total.” He sighed deeply, hiding his face in your shoulder and whining out that he was sort of right. You chuckled and shook your head at his actions, patting the back of his head and running your hands through his soft locks.

You decided to ask him something easier, something along the lines of vital information. You clear your throat and peer down at the papers in your hand, scanning for something a little easier for him to remember. With a sigh you ask yet another question, “What is the time span of the murders and reported sexual assault?”

He’s quiet for a short moment before answering confidently, “The suspect started off with sexual assault on teenage boys in 1970 but then started killing his victims at the end of 1970.” You were surprised at his detailed answer, but he left out a few important facts. You began to correct him when he surprised you once more, “The murders didn’t stop until mid 1973 when he was caught dousing 14 bodies in gasoline in a rented boat by the owner.”

You smile unknowingly at this. He truly was one of the best in his class and deserved every bit of recognition he got. You wondered what he could do if he fully applied himself and studied more, but the male was still hella smart and talented, it’d probably intimidate his peers if he used all of his talent at once.

“Perfect response”

His head lifted suddenly, hitting you in the jaw and causing you to jump away from him a little. He yelped and adjusted himself so he could properly assess your injury, cupping your face and sputtering apologies as he examined.

Your breathing became uneven at his touch, holding your face so close to his own. The hit didn’t really hurt as much as it had shocked you, jolting you from your thoughts with a nice accompanying knock to the jaw. You snickered at his reaction, finding it cute and funny how much he worried over his accident.

He cracked a smile once he heard your stifled laughter, “Hey, I was just making sure you were okay.” He defended, “But was I really spot on?!”

You nodded, eyes crinkling as you laughed at him, “Yes it was perfect” you managed to get out.

He merely chuckled at this, still cupping your face with one hand as the other held him steady in his position. But then his face dropped into a more serious one, watching you laugh as his heart gradually picked up pace. A million thoughts were running through his mind, but only one was clear to him.

He really wanted to kiss you right now.

The thought excited him. He was excited because he finally understood why his heart constantly did backflips when you smiled at him or why it broke when you were stood up by your dates. Even if he didn’t like the thought of you with someone else, he couldn’t pinpoint his feelings as anything more than overprotectiveness. But now he knows… and he’s more scared than ever.

Scared because he could potentially ruin a great friendship and lose the best roommate he’s ever had. Scared because there was the slightest chance that you didn’t return the feelings and only viewed him in a platonic light. And scared because he’s never felt this strongly about anyone before.

You take notice of the lack of laughter and turn your attention towards the ebony haired boy wearing a variation of his famed “courtroom” face. You pause when you notice his eyes hovering over your lips and his face getting closer with each second. You wanted so badly to close the distance, but you were afraid you were somehow misreading the situation. It was pretty obvious he wanted to do something similar to what you wanted, but there was this small part of you that stayed in denial.

When you could feel his hot breath against your lips, that’s when you knew that your assumptions were right. The faint brush of his lips caused goosebumps to rush down your spine, but it was gone just as quickly as it came.

Percy stumbled back, muttering something incoherent to himself as he stood to look for his shoes. You sat in the same position, appalled and slightly hurt by his actions as it seemed he wanted to be anywhere but near you in that moment.

“I forgot I made plans with Jason and Frank later, I can’t ditch them again or they’ll never let me live it down,” He rambled as he slipped on his shoes and snagged his keys of the side table. You sat in silence as he rushed to leave your comfortable dorm, unable to form coherent thoughts, let alone words.

The door flew open and out went a panicked Percy, mumbling a farewell before the door clicked closed.

It had been more than a week since your almost kiss with Percy and ever since then he’d been avoiding you like the plague. Even when he did interact with you he would keep it short and tense, a shy barrier rising between you for the first time in forever. You would try to bring it down by asking him the usual questions, asking him if he wanted to binge any of his favourite crime shows, but he would brush you off and claim he was too busy.

It had bothered you greatly, to the point where you were forgetting small things like when your massive chemistry research paper was due. Stressed was an understatement of how you felt at the moment. The paper was due in two days and you hadn’t written a single sentence down on your word document, the blank page staring you down and reminding you of your problems.

Percy wasn’t much better off.

The past few days have been an argument between his mind and heart… and also Frank and Jason. He had been avoiding you ever since he realized how much he actually cared for you, more than a normal friend should. Staying over at Frank and Jason’s dorm became a regular thing, only swinging by his own dorm when you were passed out on your desk to gather his things.

It hurt him to see you like this. A bad yet old habit of yours was overworking yourself because you either procrastinated until the last minute or you were determined to finish before anyone else. It took time to get you out of this habit and damn it didn’t take any time for you to slip back into it.

Frank sighed for what seemed to be the 20th time in ten minutes. He gave a disappointed look to Percy who had asked to stay yet another night at their dorm room, “You can’t keep doing this to yourself.”

Percy shrugged, “I mean it’s fine, the couch isn’t that uncomfortable y’know--”

Jason rolled his eyes, interrupting with a groan, “He meant you can’t keep avoiding Y/n, Percy!” The blond was a little more than fed up with the longing stares the dark haired male was throwing your way anytime you were around. It’s time that Percy grow a pair and confess how he really feels about you, regardless of how you may or may not feel, he needed to get this off his chest.

Percy was quiet, fiddling with the hem of his gray Ramones t-shirt. He knew Jason was right, but it was terrifying to even think about losing you, and if he confessed he was for sure that he’d lose quite possibly the love of his life.

Frank massaged his temples in thought, “I promise you won’t regret telling them, you won’t lose them or anything like that.” He paused, his next words holding impact, “But you might if you continue on like this.”

Percy nodded, his heart lurching at the true words that slipped past Frank’s lips. He checked the time on his phone, the lock screen photo of you and him covered in paint, smiling at the camera caused a small smile to spread over his tan face. He dropped his things at the door, eliciting a combined groan from each of the roommates. He spun on his heel and walked out, completely taking the others by surprise as he booked it down the stairs.

“He could’ve taken the elevator.”

“Let him be dramatic, Frank.”

It was around 1:30 am when you were startled awake by the sound of keys in the lock. You had fallen asleep in the living room once again, your laptop light illuminating the room in a low white haze. You nearly screamed once you realized that you had still yet to finish the report for Biology class tomorrow morning, but settled for a dramatic face palm.

The door clicked open, but you didn’t bother on checking who it was because you knew it was your roommate coming back for something he forgot. You leaned back against the couch staying still and hoping he’d leave you alone unlike other nights where he’d move you to your bed. It was a sweet gesture, but the first couple of times it really freaked you out.

Although this time he didn’t walk straight to his room like usual, instead he opted to sit next to you on the couch. He whispered your name, moving to see your face a bit better.

You squeezed your eyes shut, honestly just wanting nothing more than for him to leave you alone right now. If he even attempted to move you to your bed, you just might throw hands at his tall ass. You tensed as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer to his chest and swinging your legs over his lap.

You probably shouldn’t have, but you freaked out suddenly, “Nuh-uh you are not putting me to bed, I have work to do.” You grumble, glaring and pushing yourself away the best you could. He blinked, “I wasn’t going to,” He began, “I just wanted to hold you again.”

Your eyes widen slightly, “Well it’s about time you acted like a best friend.”

Percy lets out a silent laugh, his gaze cast downward, “I know I’m an ass.”

You hummed, crossing your arms over your chest. You wanted an apology and you were going to get one. You glance at him, from the corner of your eye, “Good for you.”

He pauses, running a hand through his messy waves and leaning against the armrest, “Y/n, I’m really sorry. Seriously.” He watches with sad eyes as you turn away from him, rightfully upset with him. HIs shoulders slump. He really shouldn’t have acted this way, he should’ve just taken the leap and admitted his feelings.

WIthout a reply, he parts his lips to plead once more, “Y/n I--” You yawned, shaking it off and keeping up your role. Percy cocked his head to the side, noticing how tired you look and how red your eyes have gotten from the lack of sleep. Instead of using his words, he substituted it for a chance to cuddle you close.

It was late. So late that even the group of freshmen that played around outside have decided to call it a night. Plus you were super tired and you haven’t gotten a good night’s sleep in a while. So when strong arms wrapped around you and pulled you into an equally comfy lap, you were more than halfway asleep. You twisted your body to mold against Percy’s, “This isn’t over, Perce.” Slurred words leaving your lips as you melted into his embrace.

He chuckled, busying himself with tracing the outline of your features, “Whatever you say, babe.” He shimmed into a more comfortable position before dozing off himself, the sweet dreams uncomparable to the moment at hand.

vii.

It was bright, a little too bright for your eyes after just waking up. “Damn”, you thought to yourself, “I forgot to close the curtains again.” You rub your eyes sleepily and stretch slowly with a yawn, building up the will to get up and close the curtains for a few more minutes of shut eye.

You push yourself up, but find yourself locked in a strong grasp, a groan filling the air as you tugged against the grip. You froze, slowly craning your head to see just who was holding you this saturday morning.

Dark lashes fluttered against puffy cheeks, brows knitted together as incoherent mumblings left his pouty lips. It was Percy, his hair messier than usual. You smile lightly, lying down to face him and take in all of his features. With your faces merely inches apart you were able to fully take in the beauty that is Percy Jackson.

It never occoured to you how handsome he really was. I mean, many have pointed it out and even used you to get closer to the handsome law major, but it never really hit you. So as you lay there with a fluttering heart, you got to see every detail of the man that had stolen your heart without a second thought. There was a tiny cut on his cheek from the many fights he’d gotten in back in his highschool days, a small scar above his left brow from falling off his skateboard at the age of 14, and a tiny mole just under his lower lip.

A small laugh escapes you, leaning in to brush your nose against his own. The action proved to be too much when his eyes began to open. Sleepy sea green eyes met your own accompanied by a grin, “morning” he rasps out.

The corner of your lips lifts in a smirk, a hum coming from you as you snuggle closer to his chest. HIs chest rumbles with his light laugh, “I see your attitude is gone.” You bring a hand up, pinching his nipple and causing him to yelp and push you away, “Ow! Okay okay it’s just dormant i guess…”

You chuckle and worm your way back into his grasp, “I’ve missed you.” His heart skips, bringing a hand up to your face and steer it in his direction. He leans down, stopping half way to ask, “Is it cool if I… kiss you?”

It was a simple question, one that took your breath away at that. You hesitated, your brain trying and failing to come up with a response. So you did what you could.

You tug his shirt, smashing his lips to yours in a sweet and delicate kiss. His eyes grew wide, not expecting such a response, but decided to roll with it and kiss the person that had him completely whipped for the past two and a half years.

He pulled away with a giggle, “Damn that was worth the wait.”

“Wait what?”

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sgtbellamyblake · 6 years

Text

not a very good santa claus

Summary: Bellamy deals with the responsibilities of being Santa Claus.

Word Count: 1,655

A/N: Hi again! So I decided to write another Christmas drabble one-shot thingy because I couldn’t get the idea out of my head and the lovely Emily made a really cute moodboard for my other Christmas one-shot and it really inspired me. I’ve had a rough day and these holidays have certainly not been the best for me but writing these little things have really given me something to work on, something to feel productive about… I don’t know maybe this is dumb but it’s been a distraction for sure. I’ve written about the kids once again, really excited to keep writing about them! Already kinda know what they look like and everything… working on the personalities. I love me a good family fic can you tell? Sorry for rambling. Merry Christmas!

[AO3]

For the first time in a while when Bellamy wakes up he feels well rested. There isn’t an annoying alarm clock, no cold little feet pushing against his ribs and when he turns to lay on his back in bed he realizes there’s also no Clarke. The room is bathing in sunlight streaming through the window and when the smell of cinnamon, sugar and vanilla hit him he remembers it’s Christmas Eve.

With each step he takes down the staircase he can hear there’s a lot going on, but then again when isn’t there? He can hear a familiar film playing on their TV, high pitched voices talking over each other and his wife’s trying to create some sort of order and peace amongst the cheerful caos.

He tries to peek into the kitchen quietly to watch them from the outside for a bit longer but two year old Levi shrieks as he sees him. “Dada!” He lifts his arms up, one of them holding a soggy cookie and Bellamy lifts him up from where he sat on the counter. Clarke breaking her ‘no sitting on the counter’ rules on Christmas Eve… as if they haven’t sat on the counter and done worse things before.

He kisses the little boy’s dark curls and leans over to peck Clarke’s lips before she’s turning around to look at the clock on their oven. “Almost eleven in the morning. That’s a record… at least for Bellamy post-kids.” She raises her eyebrows. He used to be a heavy sleeper until he became a dad. Sleeping in on the weekends nowadays meant seven in the morning, eight at most.

“Merry Christmas Eve, Daddy!” Rory smiles enthusiastically and he kisses hers and Jack’s head. It still astounds him how much she looks like Octavia when she was Rory’s age.

Said little girl and five year old Jack are quick to jump in and try to show him all he’d missed while he was asleep, starting with the mess of green, red and white frosting all over their hands, scattered throughout the counter top and clumsily scribbled over the gingerbread man and tree-shaped cookies.

“They’re for Santa Claus.” Jack says as he licks his fingers. “And we’re watching The Grinch.” He says, pointing his food coloring stained finger at the TV playing in the living room. It’s Bellamy’s favorite Christmas movie.

“And you couldn’t wait for me to watch it?” Bellamy argues playfully and Levi giggles. “You’ve watched it like a million times, Daddy.” Rory tells him and Clarke chuckles.

“Fine, fine. I’ll let it slip this time… but only because it’s Christmas Eve.” He says.

“We’re also tracking Santa.” Rory tells him, dropping her makeshift piping bag and running over to the dinner table where Clarke’s laptop is set up. Jack follows right behind her and Bellamy has to put Levi down so he can toddle behind his siblings. He follows them everywhere now.

Just when Bellamy’s about to wrap his arms around Clarke she trails behind the kids and he’s left on his own.

“Okay, let’s clean our hands before touching the computer.” She grins nervously and hands Rory and Jack baby wipes before leaving Levi with his cookie in hand, otherwise he’ll scream his head off. He isn’t going to touch the computer anyways, or so they hope. Kids and technology these days…

Bellamy’s drinking orange juice straight from the carton when Clarke comes back into the kitchen and catches him red handed.

“Bellamy!” She scolds him and he shoves the orange juice back in the fridge. “Shit, sorry.” He laughs lightly and pins her against the counter before she can say anything else, peppering her neck with kisses as she tried to push him away. “Bell, I love you too but the kids are right there.” She tells him, and he shrugs. “They’re busy following Santa…” He’s quiet for a moment after that, as if trying to figure out how to word the next question. “Why gingerbread cookies, though?” He frowns. He’s not the biggest fan of gingerbread cookies.

“Because they wanted to make those.” Clarke smiles and turns to start putting the cookies on Santa’s designated plate. “This was my last job as Mrs. Claus.” She whispers. “Yours was to wrap the presents and later tonight eat these cookies.” She reminds him and Bellamy freezes in his place. Wrap the presents. Santa has to wrap the presents because Santa doesn’t have elves to wrap them for him. His three little elves believe Santa’s real so they can’t wrap their presents themselves and Mrs. Claus had bought all the presents already. Her job’s done. His isn’t. Santa’s screwed.

Clarke’s wiping the counter and talking to him when he focuses on her again and has to shake his head. “Sorry?”

“The kids are calling you.” She repeats.

“Right,” He nods and walks out of the kitchen to Jack and Rory hovering over the laptop, the Santa Tracker on the screen. He had no idea that was even a thing. “He’s in Australia right now, Daddy.” Rory tells him and Jack speaks up. “But why? It’s not time for bed yet.”

“That’s because depending on where you are in the world the hours of the day change because Earth is turning. Right now our side is facing the sun so it’s daytime for us but Australia’s side is facing the moon so it’s nighttime for them.” Bellamy tries to explain as best as he can to the five year old. At least he’s not in Australia right now. It’s still not even midday… he can manage to find some time to wrap the presents.

____

So he doesn’t manage to find the time to wrap the presents. It’s kind of impossible when he’s got a house full of kids and a wife who thinks he’s already done the only job he had. He couldn’t possibly sneak off, not even for half an hour. Not that half an hour would be enough for all the presents he had to wrap but it was something.

Then they have to get the kids and themselves ready for dinner at Octavia’s and actually go to Octavia’s. The whole time they’re there he can’t stop thinking about the bags full of unwrapped presents hiding in their closet. What if they don’t have enough wrapping paper?! Or tape?! Octavia gets him some tape just in case, and he still hasn’t told Clarke about it because she’ll freak out. He’ll wait until she’s asleep to get to work.

They leave Octavia’s after spending the evening with her, Lincoln and the kids and arrive home with a sleeping toddler and two half asleep kids, who aren’t ready to give into sleep until they change into their Christmas pajamas, track where Santa’s currently at and lay out a glass of milk and cookies for Santa, carrots for the reindeers.

An hour later Clarke and Bellamy are lying in bed and Clarke’s putting up an alarm for one in the morning to put the presents up under the tree. He panics because he’s not sure he’ll be done by then but he prays she falls asleep fast. It doesn’t take her long, never does (mother of three) but she’s a light sleeper. Getting out of bed feels like mission impossible but when he manages to he slips into the closet and gets to work.

He wraps Clarke’s presents first just in case she wakes up and then starts on the kids’. He’s halfway through Levi’s when he hears someone clearing their throat and he feels like a deer in headlights.

“What are you doing, Bellamy?”

Bellamy takes a deep breath and speaks “First of all, it’s Santa Claus and second of all, I can explain.” He raises his arms up in defeat.

“You forgot.” She crosses her arms over her chest and he nods. “You should’ve told me. It was unfair of me to leave them all for you to do.”

“No, I could’ve done it. I just forgot and I didn’t wanna-“

She doesn’t let him finish before she’s leaving him in the closet alone. Yikes, he’s not gonna hear the end of it in the morning. He keeps wrapping in silence and a few minutes later she’s back… with a bottle of wine and two glasses in hand.

They toast to another Christmas together and spend the night wrapping the kids’ presents. ____

“You have to eat at least one and a half so it looks realistic.” Clarke whispers, as she finishes setting up the presents under the tree. She snaps a quick picture of the lit up tree in the dim living room while Bellamy sits in front of the plate of cookies. “You’re Santa Claus and you forgot to wrap the presents so at least do this.”

“I told you it was an accident. And why do I have to eat them? Can’t we just… hide them away and then you can eat them some other time?”

“No, they’ll get gross.”

“They’re already gross.”

“The kids made them with love.” Clare tells him and he stops arguing.

“Just do it! At least one cookie!” She adds in a hushed voice. “And half a carrot.” ____

They’re woken up barely a few hours after they went to bed and had a little too much wine.

“Daddy! Daddy!” Rory shakes his arm and he feels two other little humans crawling over the covers. “Santa came!” The seven year old tells him and even if his eyes are closed he can hear the smile in her voice.

“And he ate our cookies!” Jack cheers and Clarke turns in bed to look at her son. “Santa ate all of the cookies?” She asks groggily and he grinned with a nod. “All of them!”

Clarke raises an eyebrow and shifts to wrap her arm around Bellamy’s back. “Santa ate all of the cookies?” She whispered, kissing his jaw.

“All of them.”

#bellarke #bellarke fanfiction #g did a thing #one shot

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lighteyed · 7 years

Text

once upon a potions class ♔ peter parker au

summary : the slow burn love story of hogwarts student peter parker and his (other) hufflepuff best friend, y/n y/l/n.

author’s note : hahaha hi so no one asked for this but my heart yearned for it so here it is, hopefully gonna be a series bc i love hogwarts au peter xo

If you want to get technical, really technical, it started in Potions class one fateful October afternoon, when the breeze of autumn swept over the castle grounds and the leaves were carried off the trees in a flurry of reds and oranges and yellows. The colors of the start of something, of a very endearing and otherwise unheard of beginning. In Peter’s eyes, however, it probably began much earlier than that, because it was already his fifth year at Hogwarts and he knows he knows he knows that he’s felt what he does for much longer than just an hour, a week, a month.

In actuality, the realization of such feelings was what really happened that day in class, not the start of the feelings themselves. The stunning realization that sent him staggering backward into Ned Leeds, tripping over his robes in a way that you had to find comical if you were standing there in the classroom when it happened, was what had truly transpired. Alas, that comes later. This is what comes before.

What comes before is Peter standing in the corridor where the Hufflepuff common room resides, just past the still life portrait that can lead a student to the kitchens if they approach it in the proper fashion. It’s the same with the barrels that lead into Ned’s common room- into your common room- but he refuses to even attempt to visit you in there ever since the great fourth year incident. Instead, he opts for lurking outside, awkwardly smiling at people who give him odd stares because he’s been out there for nearly fifteen minutes now and hasn’t moved an inch. He’s just waiting for Ned (and you, of course, but he’s rather reluctant to admit such a thing), which most fifth years know by now because you never really see one without the other, only at bedtime when they split up into their respective common rooms.

“Finally!” He throws his head back with a groan when Ned emerges from an old barrel that boasts a roomier common room than you’d expect. His friend has robes rumpled from crawling through the passageway and trailing behind him is you, your tie still dangling around your neck, undone as it usually is. “You two take forever, I swear. I thought Gryffindors were supposed to be the self involved ones, at least a little bit.” Peter tugs on his red and gold tie jokingly, his eyes flickering toward you as you sloppily tied your own. He waved you over and you let out a relieved sigh.

“I overslept!” Ned replied. He smirked, just the smallest bit, when he saw Peter begin fixing your tie for you, something his Aunt May had taught him how to do when he had received his letter on his eleventh birthday. Peter tries his hardest not to notice the sunny smile you gave him when he finished up. Ned smugly notices Peter trying not to notice, and gives Peter a suggestive raise of the eyebrows when the Gryffindor looks toward his best friend. He rolls his eyes at Ned, which was expected, before shyly grinning back at you. “Anyways, how’s my favorite Gryffindor doing this morning?”

“Shitty,” Peter replied, taking a step away from you. His face is slightly pink at this point due to the close proximity of your face to his, but you barely notice. “We have Potions first, Ned, how d’you think I’m feeling?” Ned steps over, letting you walk next to Peter for a change just because he’s feeling a bit pushy, but not before lightly shoving Peter. His shoulder bumps against yours and he apologetically smiles at you.

“Aw, Potions isn’t that bad!” You reply, giving him a little nudge. “I for one find it quite entertaining and invigorating. My favorite class, probably.” Peter nudges you back, shaking his head.

“Every class is your favorite, it’s a wonder you’re not a Ravenclaw.” He breathes in for a second, the scent of your perfume dizzying in the best way possible, before he speaks again. “Anyways, you’re Slughorn’s favorite student to ever exist, besides, like, Harry freaking Potter and his mum.”

The comment makes your face heat up and you wrap one arm around Peter in a hug that would have been awkward if it were any other two people, considering you were trying your best to hurry down the corridor to avoid being late. “Shut up, Parker. That’s not true. And so what if I love my classes? I grew up in a Muggle household and I’m still soaking all this in.” You didn’t have to be at the very top of your classes to adore them profusely.

“She’s got a point,” Ned chimes in, slapping Peter on the back in that friendly, odd boy way. “Besides, Potions can’t possibly be bad when you have your favorite Hufflepuff, also known as Ned Leeds, sitting next to you the whole time.”

Peter laughed as you feigned offense at not being Peter’s favorite, but as he sighed out the sentence, “Yeah, favorite,” with a happy nod, his gaze lingered on you instead of Ned. The boys pushed you into the room first once the three of you arrived at the classroom in the dungeons, you were always a favorite among the teachers because of your sunny disposition and politeness in any situation.

“Professor! My apologies, the boys and I lost track of time preparing for today’s lesson,” you said, gliding into the room with usual grace as you gave Slughorn a smile. Peter felt his heart tug at the sight, but he took his usual seat behind you and beside Ned without thinking too much about it.

Slughorn gave his usual delighted, hearty laugh at your presence and an affectionate pat on your shoulder. “Not to worry, my dear! You’re a pleasure to have in class, as always.” You turn back toward Ned and Peter and give them a wink, because if it wasn’t for you they would’ve been in deep shit.

They were rarely ever on time for class, always oversleeping in the morning and losing track of time practicing different and somewhat ridiculous incantations down by the Black Lake or trying to summon the giant squid from beneath its depths. The teachers had a tendency to go on easy on Peter and Ned because Benjamin Parker had been a teacher up at the school not long before his passing, and they went even easier on the pair when you were around. You were the levelheaded but inherently loyal addition to what made up an inseparable trio, and Peter was forever in awe of your choosing to be his friend, in awe of you in general, though the boy would refuse to admit such a preposterous thing if confronted directly.

You were listening intently to Slughorn’s directions when Peter was thinking these things, interrupted only by Ned. He roughly shoved Peter’s leg with his own, ducking his head to whisper, “You missed your chance!”

Confused, Peter tilted his alongside him, “Chance for what?” To this, Ned let out an exasperated huff.

“I called myself your favorite Hufflepuff for a purpose!” He exclaimed in a voice barely able to qualify as a whisper the way he had intended. Ned then promptly hit Peter on the back of the head, continuing, “You were supposed to be all ‘Nah, Y/N’s my favorite badger actually,’ and then put your arm around her or something! It would’ve been perfect, you dolt.”

“What sort of script have you conjured up in your head and how am I supposed to know to follow it if I haven’t a copy?” Peter retorted, rubbing the back of his head where Ned had inflicted the injury just moments before. “And, just for the record, I never said I fancied her anyway. Which I don’t, by the way.” He didn’t. Definitely not. Never in a million years.

“You’re such a liar, everyone can see that you do.” Ned was, evidently, a horrid whisperer, because Slughorn was now making his way over to the pair, both boys straightening their backs and flashing the professor their most charming, scarily matching smiles.

“That’s not true,” Peter muttered out of the corner of his mouth before turning his attention back to Slughorn, who was standing over them with a stern expression on his typically enthusiastic face. Smiling sheepishly up at him, Peter took his quill out of the bag hanging off the back of his chair as well as a piece of parchment, dating the top of his paper. “Professor,” he greeted politely.

If you had heard Ned and Peter’s conversation, you gave no indication of it as you turned in your chair to watch your teacher begin his usual lecture, mostly directed at the boys sitting behind you with faces growing redder by the second. “Can either of you boys tell me what I was just saying to the rest of your class, or would you perhaps be more inclined to discuss what was so important with all of us instead?”

“Oh, well, um, see Professor, you were just talking about-” Peter began, prepared to ramble on for ten minutes until Slughorn took pity on him and moved on to another topic.

“Amortentia,” you mumble, so low that only Peter was able to detect it as you had your chin held in the palm of your hand and your lips barely moved as you spoke.

“I believe it was, um, Amortentia, sir?” Slughorn nods when the words are spoken, and Peter lets out a relieved little sigh when he moves on from his desk, turning back toward Ned. “Almost got me detention again, thanks.” Then, he leans forward to tap you on the shoulder, giving you that typical shy grin as he says, “And thank you for saving me from writing lines again.” He pauses. “You’re the best.”

“No, no, really, it’s not a big deal,” you reply, a half smile reflected down toward your lap instead of up at him as you spun back around to continue your attentive listening.

Ned, forever the type of best friend to relentlessly badger Peter to no end, kicked Peter under the desk again before scribbling on the piece of parchment that Peter had taken out of his bag in a worried frenzy with no intention of actually taking notes. You know what Amortentia is, don’t you? Peter glacned down at the note, then scribbled his own reply. A potion. He slid it over to Ned, who rolled his eyes. Love potion. Pay attention, Peter. I know you’re the chosen whatever but you need to study, too.

Peter ignored this, turning his back to Ned to listen to what Slughorn was now saying to the remainder of the class. Ned had a point, even if hearing himself referred to as the chosen whatever caused Peter immense embarrassment. When he tuned into the lesson, finally, Slughorn was in the middle of his sentence. “-more of an infatuation, a dangerous one at that. It has a distinct scent to whomever comes across it, which is what makes it so appealing. Now, typically we wouldn’t be introducing this so early due to an incident over eleven years ago but, the lesson itself is important as well as entertaining!” The professor gave a delighted clap of his hands before gesturing toward the large cauldron in the front of the room.

Nearly every girl tilted on the heels of their school shoes, clamoring to get a look or a whiff, possibly both, of the potion that let out steam in distinctive spirals and glowed like a moonstone. Even you stood up a little straighter, craning your neck to see what it was. There was an odd sensation Peter felt stirring inside him when he thought of you associating a scent in that potion- a potion brewed with the intent of creating real love- with someone, a boy, a girl, anyone.

“I’ll go,” Peter heard you announce confidently, sliding out of your chair as you walked up to the cauldron. The rest of the class peered on intently, but none so intently as Peter, who was practically sitting atop the desk as he waited for you to speak. Chin in his hand, pout on his face as you waft the steam toward you.

“What do you smell?” Ned prompted loudly from beside Peter, earning a startlingly cold scowl from his friend.

“Give a girl a minute, would you?” You said, your eyes flicking toward your two boys before trailing back down to what was in front of you.

Ned put his hands up defensively, whispering to Peter, “I’m just trying to get her to admit that the object of her affection is you, you’re welcome.”

“Piss off, Ned.”

Peter’s eyes rolled once again, nothing new to Ned, as he carefully observed the way you leaned your head down, eyes closing as you inhaled the potion deeply. When your eyes flew open abruptly as you stepped back from the potion, there was a split second, just a fleeting moment that passed as soon as it had occurred, where Peter thought that maybe you had looked at him. He had caught your gaze for barely a second, not long enough to register what had even happened. He wasn’t even sure if it was real, or if his overactive imagination was making him hallucinate the thing that might just make him the happiest he’s ever been. He lifted a hand in the air without thinking, saying, “So? What’d you smell, Y/N?”

“Um, well, it was just-” you scrambled away from the cauldron, shaking the messy, tangled and intrusive thoughts out of your brain because what you had smelled- well, it was nothing, wasn’t it? It wasn’t definite. Maybe it didn’t mean what Slughorn had implied. Maybe it didn’t mean that you were sort of, possibly- more than possibly, almost definitely- in love with… someone. A certain someone with big brown eyes and shy smiles and warm, all encompassing hugs that quite literally left you breathless when you pulled away from them. “Um, old book pages, flowers, apple pie and… um, cologne. No big deal, though,” you added hastily, sitting back in your chair for the remainder of the lesson and blatantly refusing to turn your back, even when Peter poked the back of your robes with his quill multiple times in a fruitless attempt to capture your attention. When class was indicated to be over, you were the first one out of the room, which was particularly unusual since you had a habit of hanging back afterwards to converse with whatever professor lingering in the classroom. Peter tried to call you, to wait, but you ignored him.

“What the hell was that about?” He asked Ned, still gathering his bearings. “She never jets off like that.” He neglected to mention that he wanted to see you off to your next class, but Ned had gathered that much already.

“Peter! You’re hopeless!” He exclaimed, grabbing the sleeve of Peter’s robes and lightly pushing him over to the cauldron. The room had been vacated by now, even by Slughorn, so it was simply the two of them in the room. Peter was most certainly going to be late to Care of Magical Creatures, but he knew Hagrid wouldn’t mind. He had a knack for the lesson, especially when it involved the mass amounts of spiders that weren’t quite supposed to be on the grounds. It was a secret between him and Hagrid, and so the groundskeeper doted on Peter. The boy was practically a genius himself, but he knew he was a Gryffindor through and through. “Before you’re late, just smell it. Please,” Ned almost shoves Peter headfirst into the potion.

To get his friend off his back, literally, Peter breathed in the scent, and there comes the aforementioned, stunning, ridiculously overdue realization that in all honesty should have transpired so much sooner than it had, now that Peter looks back on the situation. He did, in fact, jump away from the potion much in the manner of a skittish cat, stepping on the hem of his robes and falling over Ned, a hand running through his already awfully messy hair when he stood back up. “Oh, bloody fucking hell,” he breathes. Ned touches his fingers to his forehead with exasperation. “That’s… well that’s- that’s, you know, oh Merlin this is bad. This is so bad, Ned.”

It was the dizzying smell of your perfume that had greeted him through the swirls of steam, the flowery and lovely scent he had bought you for your fourteenth birthday because May had told him that some girls liked perfume, so he had gone out and purchased some with his savings despite having no clue what scent you’d like. But you had loved his gift, pecking him on the cheek in the middle of the Great Hall on the eve of your birthday and making him blush so hard he had to ask Professor McGonagall how to get rid of the color staining the place you kissed. You had worn it every day since without fail, even during the summer holidays when you hadn’t been able to see him.

Then, of course, because Peter can’t catch a break, the next scent was that of your shampoo. It was a smell he pretty much inhaled whenever he wrapped his arms around you in an embrace, which he did an awful lot for just your friend, a comforting scent that he remembered from the day he was thirteen years old and May had owled him at three in the morning with news of Uncle Ben’s death, when he had stood outside the entrance to the Hufflepuff common room with flushed cheeks and running tears and shaking hands that reached out for you instantly the moment you had appeared in front of him.

Peter slowly looked up at his best friend, his hands rubbing across his face. A part of him could hardly believe this was happening, but a different part of him knew he should have seen this coming. He should have felt the click sooner; the “Ned, why didn’t you tell me I fancied Y/N?”

Ned groaned. “Are you kidding me right now? I’ve been telling you since we were thirteen. ‘Bout time you noticed.” There was another groan, this time on Peter’s end, muffled by the way he held his head in his hands.

“This is the biggest predicament I’ve ever been in.”

“Bigger than the fact that you’ve been chosen to defeat a Dark Lord?”

“Way bigger.”

And, to his fifteen year old brain that was muddled with the intricate thoughts of the way he felt for you, the way he had always felt for you, the way he would feel for you for eternity, it wasn’t the fact that he liked you that was the problem. It was the crushing weight what came hand in hand with the realization; the possibility that he was going to have to suffer through his love alone, with unrequited feelings hanging in the air.

If only he knew, right?

#peter parker #peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #spider-man imagine #spider-man #spider-man x reader #the hp au #harry potter au #harry potter #harry potter imagine

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avengeultrons · 7 years

Text

Title: Five Times I (Reader x Matt Murdock)

Summary: Five times you almost told Matt Murdock you loved him and the one time you did

Word Count: 1637

A/N: OK I’M SUPER EXCITED FOR THIS SERIES THING I’M STARTING! I hope you enjoy it :)

PART 2

PART 3

PART 4

PART 5

PART 6

–

The first time you almost professed your love for Matt Murdock was late at night while you filed paperwork in Nelson and Murdock.

You leaned over your desk as Matt told another story, a hand supporting your chin as you listened intently. You couldn’t help but smile adoringly at him as he spoke, using his hands to animate the story further. Your best friend Foggy stepped out of his office and leaned on the doorframe to peek in at the two of you, shaking his head as you held his gaze. Anyone could see that the two of you were practically head over heels in love with the other.

With a blush, you rolled your eyes and turned back to Matt, taking a sip from your mug of tea as you did so. He spun his chair around so it was facing backward and sat in it, resting his head on the back of it, “So, Y/N. Got any good stories?” he smiled wickedly, a chuckle escaping his lips as he wiggled his eyebrows.

“I do, actually. Maybe not as great as that one,” your story was an interesting one; your prom night when you ended up going to the prom for a while with your best friend, Foggy. The two of you left early to stop by a food truck selling your favorite tacos. Your prom date had ditched you anyway, so your night ended up being a lot of fun.

“Oh, come on! Let’s hear it,” he tilted his head to the side as you exhaled loudly and began to share your story. Matt and Foggy were both practically clutching their sides from all of the laughter by the time you were finished.

“Pretty good, right?” you asked with a smile while Matt nodded in agreement, still unable to control his laughter. That’s when you summoned up enough courage to ask him on a date, “Hey, Matthew? I need to ask you something-” the door to the law firm opened and a peppy blonde with doe eyes and bright red lips stepped in, right as you were about to ask him out to dinner.

Her heels clicked across the floor as she looked at the three of you with a nervous smile, “Is Matt here? Matt Murdock?” His eyebrows shot up at his name and he clambered to his feet, buttoning his suit jacket.

“That’s my date. Ask me later? Don’t let me forget!” Matt called over his shoulder, gathering his coat into his arms.

You smiled a totally unconvincing smile and nodded sharply, “It’s really not important,” you said quietly, hoping no one could hear you, “Have fun!” you waved a hand, letting out a dramatic huff as the door to the law firm slammed shut.

“So close,” Foggy said with an understanding, sympathetic smile. Your cheeks turned red and gulped down the rest of your tea to avoid his gaze, “and by the way; it is important. If you don’t ask him out, so help me God, I’ll do it for you. It’s so depressing to watch you mope around all the time,” his laugh somehow made you feel a bit better, so you stacked a bunch of paperwork in front of you and smiled airily at Foggy.

“Are you gonna be okay here? I can stay, if you want me to,” Foggy gathered his things into his arms and furrowed his eyebrows in concern at you.

You nodded swiftly, “Of course I’ll be okay here. I’m just going to finish up what I’ve been putting off for too long,” you laughed lightly, getting to your feet to pour another mug of tea, “Can I sit at your desk? Your chair is so much better,” Foggy chuckled and gave a nod as you gathered your things and made yourself comfortable at his desk. You planned on staying as late as possible to not only get through all of the work you had procrastinated doing, but also forgetting about the fact that Matt was on another date with someone that wasn’t you.

“Call me if you need anything, Y/N. I mean it,” Foggy smiled and pulled the door open, “I’ll see you later. Don’t stay too long!” you rolled your eyes and clicked your pen, ready to hunker down on all of the paperwork you had to go through.

You kept nodding off in Foggy’s comfortable office chair and the dim lamp in his office really wasn’t helping, sleep was all too inviting. It had to be at least midnight; which meant that you’d been at work for longer than you cared to count. Luckily; you only had a couple more papers to finish before you could head home.

Thinking you were paranoid and hearing things; you didn’t bother to get up and check if there was an intruder when you heard the door to Nelson and Murdock open. It was so quiet that you thought you were dreaming as you scribbled away on the last of your papers, humming a Disney tune.

“What are you still doing here?” Matt’s whisper filled your ears, coming off a lot louder than usual in the silent office. You jumped at his voice and dropped your pen, rubbing at your tired eyes.

“Oh, you scared me,” you said quietly, shuffling your papers, “Just finishing up some paperwork. What are you doing here?” he was leaning against the doorframe with a small glass of scotch in his hands and a small smile on his face. Without a word, he turned on his heel and was gone in a flash, only to be back a minute later with two glasses instead of one.

“Just thought I’d stop by,” he shrugged and pulled up a chair next to you, taking half of the papers you needed to finish for himself. You noticed that he wasn’t telling you something by the way he fiddled with his fingers and kept his head down, but you didn’t want to pry. Well… you tried.

“How was your date?” you inquired with a gulp. You were conflicted with only wanting Matt to be happy, but wanting to be the person that made him happy.

Matt exhaled loudly, “Terrible. We have nothing in common,” he gave a laugh, kicking his feet up onto Foggy’s desk, “She kept laughing at things I said that weren’t funny at all. I guess she’s not my type,” he finished off his glass of scotch with a huff.

“So, what is your ‘type’ Mr. Murdock? It’s not Disney princesses with ruby red lips and perfect smiles?” you didn’t mean to sound bitter or envious, but that’s exactly what you sounded like. You sipped your own drink and looked down at your paperwork, your cheeks burning red.

Somehow; Matt found this funny. He laughed loudly while you eyed him suspiciously, “I guess not,” he said with finality. You smiled and lay your chin in your hand, an eyebrow raised. He brushed a strand of hair out of your face and tucked it behind your ear with a smile, “You know, your heart is beating really fast right now. Are you nervous, Y/N?” you laughed this time, a blush burning your cheeks.

“Remember that, uh, thing I was going to ask you?” you asked nervously. His face lit up as you said it, nodding excitedly, “Well… I wanted to ask you if-” you were cut off by the sound of Matt’s phone going off, the ringtone blaring in your ears.

He sighed loudly, “It’s Foggy,” Matt said as he answered, putting him on speaker as he did so, “Hello? You know, I’m kind of busy right now.”

“Oh, sorry. Are you still with your date? I can call back,” Foggy said. He sounded giddy and, well, drunk.

“I’m with Y/N,” Matt said. You shouted a hello, both of you breaking out into laughs.

“Oh! Okay, well then I will definitely call you back later. Have fun, you two!” You rolled your eyes and bent back over your paperwork as Foggy ended the call.

“What were you going to ask me?” Matt asked with a smile. You finished signing the last of your paperwork and got to your feet with a defeated sigh.

“Oh, it’s…it’s nothing. Really, no big deal. You should head home,” you said, trying to ignore the pit that formed in your stomach.

“Are you sure?” he frowned, following you to the door. You gathered your things quickly, throwing your coat over your shoulders, “At least let me walk you home, Y/N.”

So; the two of you ventured out on the barren streets of New York, walking silently next to each other, your arm looped through Matt’s. Your apartment building was hardly two blocks away, so at least the brisk walk in the chilling air wasn’t too long.

“This is me,” you said, stopping in front of your door, “You look tired, Matthew,” you observed, a small smile on your face. The only light now was coming from underneath the door, outlining Matt in an orange halo. He nodded at you, jamming his hands nervously in his pockets.

“There goes your heart again, Y/N. It’s fun to know I have that sort of impact on you,” he chuckled, while you elbowed him in ribs, “I’ll see you tomorrow, then?”

“You’re such a dork, Mattie,” you laughed lightly, “I’ll see you tomorrow.” He nodded quickly, a wicked smile on his face as he pressed a kiss to your cheek, sending a kaleidoscope of butterflies to flutter around in your stomach. It was quick and shy, but made your smile grow and cheeks turn red.

“Goodnight, Y/N!” you sighed as your hand hovered over your cheek and you watched Matthew practically skip down the hallway, unaware of how totally in love you were with him.

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marquisdelafayettc · 7 years

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Sleepless Nights (Lin-Manuel Miranda x Reader)

Prompt: None. I’ve been stirring over this baby for weeks now. I’m not even proud of it. But you’re getting it anyways.

Summary: Sleep deprivation and pharmacies.

Word Count: 1,912 (why though. how though.)

Author’s Note: I did not proofread nor plan out this fic. I’m sure you’ll be able to tell as you read. (I feel my self-deprecation will prevent people from reading… Read anyways! Prove me wrong (or right!))

Warnings: Cursing (of course)

12:31 a.m.

Revving engines from the presumably barren roadways below had awaken you from your much needed slumber. A soggy, half-eaten turkey sandwich lay beside your mess of papers that lie askew. An empty styrofoam cup, once filled with Red Bull and caffeinated coffee, now rolls along the hardwood office floor as the warm stream of air from the heater sends it along. A computer screen illuminates the darkened bags beneath your eyes.

This was not a prime moment of yours.

For the past few days, you have been working non-stop on an incredulously urgent proposal needed to move forward with a research project. Your colleagues weren’t able to start on anything until this paper was finished in its entirety. Your ass was on the line, and your boss never took any shit. She was hard on you, sure, but you liked to think it was because she saw potential in you.

Maybe that wasn’t the case.

Either way, that paper needed to be finished before the sun peaked over the tranquil skyline of the city. Until the gigantic ball of gas and impending doom made its way into your view, you were determined to crank out some intricate, well-put sentences on a nearly blank sheet of paper. You made it clear to the office’s deafening silence that you were going to kick this paper’s ass. After another energy drink, that is.

1:04 a.m.

You were still a bit groggy from your inexcusable nap break; a quick trip to the nearby drug store was more than imminent. With the crisp New York City breeze slapping you across the face all along the sidewalk, an energy boost may not even be necessary. You grabbed ahold of your bearings, threw on your rust-orange peplum coat, and slung on your crossbody. You locked the office doors before heading out for a few moments. The subtle fiddling of the keys in your chilled hands kept your focus on something other than the significant winter’s chill.

The click, click of your heels on the pavement was accompanied by the faint screech of tires trekking across worn-out pavement. For the most part, the street on which your place of employment lied was quiet. Well, quiet for the city, you suppose. It was on a back road, an adequate starting point for drag racing, as you discovered earlier. Luckily, a corner store stood a block away, making refreshing simple, especially when you pulled all-nighters at the office.

1:23 a.m.

You muzzily shuffled into the store, rubbing your eyes while adjusting to the fluorescent lights. Makena, the cashier with whom you have grown close, smiled when she saw you walk into the store.

“Someone looks a bit out of it,” she commented.

You chuckled softly, adding, “To say the least.”

The small 5-hour energy bottle sat upon the front counter. You trudged over, grabbing one and placing it in front of Makena.

“You’re gonna have to wait in line, sweetheart,” she mentioned before beckoning her head to the right.

You turned, only to find a man holding a large, circular box of sweets and a pink card. He seemed just as worn out as you, though the bags beneath his eyes were overshadowed by his gentle eyes.

“Oh! I’m so sorry,” you said frantically as you stepped out of his way.

He smiled. “No worries, I’m in the same boat,” he stated as he placed the card and candy on the counter. “It took me three minutes to find the card aisle. Lack of sleep really takes a toll on the mind,” he mentioned. You laughed.

“Will this be all?” she asked the man. “We have nice plush toys in the back. There’s a koala that holds a balloon saying ‘I love you beary much!’”

He pursed his lips and nodded. “I am a fan of the idea, though koalas aren’t bears.”

Makena furrowed her brows. “Hmph,” she turned to you. “My life is a lie.”

You chuckled. The messy-haired gent grinned. “While my mother is a big fan of Australian creatures, I’m going to have to pass.”

Makena tilted her head. “Look, I’m not trying to pry or anything, but…” she gestured toward the items on the counter. “Does your mom have you in the dog house?”

His eyes widened as he raised his hands side-to-side. “No! It’s not like that, I just…” he scratched the back of his neck. “I forgot her birthday. I’m trying to make up for it,” he sighed, continuing, “with mediocre drug store products.”

“Mediocre?” Makena frowns. “That one hurts. Are my four dollar chocolates not up to par for your mother’s forgettable birthday?”

“One time! I forgot once,” he noted, eyes wide. “Okay, twice, but at least I almost remembered this time. I’m incredibly grateful for this store and its high quality products.” He smiled. It looked genuine enough.

Makena smiled back. “Mhm. Your total will be $6.03.”

“Would you add an energy shot for your fatigued friend back there?” He jabbed a thumb towards the place where you stood. “I’ve wasted enough of her time yakking on about my forgetfulness.”

Makena smirked and nodded. “Your new total is $11.36.”

He smiled as he paid and collected up the birthday gifts and the bottle of over-caffeination. He turned and handed you the 5-hour energy.

“I appreciate your putting up with my story,” he remarked.

You flashed him a smile. “My pleasure. I do enjoy a good story; the complementary energy drink was a nice touch. The name’s Y/N,” you mentioned, holding out your hand.

“Lin-Manuel,” the shaggy-haired fellow stated as he struggled to hold his purchases with one hand. “Though ‘Lin’ is just fine.”

The two of you head out side-by-side. You turned back and saw Makena wink at you, throwing in a thumbs-up. You playfully rolled your eyes and stepped out the door.

1:56 a.m.

“Where are you headed?” Lin asked.

“A few blocks west of here. I have to get back to my lab to finish a report,” you said, rubbing your temple, trying to inhibit your ineludible future headache.

“I’m off that way as well. Mind if I join you?”

“That would be nice.”

A silence swung between you both for a few minutes as you walked along, until Lin spoke up.

“May I ask what your research is about?”

You nodded while focusing on your footing. There were few lights along the road. “I’m set to start a study of the development of synthetic hormones, and I can’t start without this paper written to completion.” You let out a heavy breath. “Also, it must be completed,” you checked your watch. “…within the next six hours.”

“Oh, dear,” Lin whispered. “It’s too bad there isn’t a ‘six-hour energy’ drink. Tsk tsk.”

You let out a snort. “As of right now, I’ll take anything, as long as it isn’t coffee from a four-year-old machine,” you shook your head. “My last cup had grounds in the bottom. It was rather chewy,” you stated, shaking your head. “Definitely wouldn’t recommend it.”

Lin’s threw his head back in laughter. “The machines are already planning our demise; perhaps a robotic apocalypse is upon us.”

“If only,” you exhaled. “In that case, I would be worrying about how to correctly dismantle a rouge microwave rather than figure how to sort scientific words into insightful sentences.” Lin chuckled in response.

The silence shoved its way back in between the both of you. After a lulled few minutes, Lin turned to you.

“I’m an English major.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Congratulations..?”

Lin laughed softly. “No, I mean… I’m rather experienced in the paper-writing process. I teach seventh grade English classes,” he uncomfortably shifted his items in his arms. “If you find yourself in a jam, I’d be happy to help you put together a paper.”

“While I am a genius in the field of science, I am, to put it lightly, shit at writing. I’ll be sure to keep the offer in mind. If you need help putting together a genuine birthday present, I’m your guy,” you replied.

To that, Lin sniggered. “I’d need your number in order to take you up on that offer. Or an email. I’m flexible,” he smirked.

Damn. He was good.

You grabbed Lin’s arm to stop him with one hand while pulling a pen from your bag with the other. With numb fingers, you took Lin’s free hand and scribbled down your number.

“Next time, I’d suggest going with Hallmark,” you remarked.

Lin smiled, which, of course, in turn, led you to smile back. How was this guy’s smile so contagious?

You sighed, noticing that you were already at your building. “This is my stop,” you noted.

Lin frowned. “It was a pleasure to have accompanied you on your walk.”

You grinned subtly as you unlocked the doors and headed in. “I appreciate the company.”

“I’ll call you?” Lin called.

You caught the door closing behind you, replying, “I’ll pick up.”

He turned, bouncing a bit as he walked.

2:37 a.m.

You head to your computer, starting up the document once again. Surprisingly, you didn’t need the energy drink. You felt awake, refreshed even, after conversing with the shaggy-haired fellow. Less than seven minutes into your frantic typing, your cell rang, startling you. You grabbed it, noticing the words “Unknown Number” that flashed across your screen, and answered.

“Y/N Y/L/N speaking,” you said.

“Aha! I got it right this time,” exclaimed the voice from the other line.

“Is this Lin?”

“Yes! Sorry, I was a tad overexcited. I may have accidentally called a grumpy old woman just a minute ago. I had a little trouble deciphering your number,” Lin commented, adding a chuckle.

“What can I do you for?”

“Actually, I was looking to aid you in your scientific endeavour.”

“I’m in no need of a Prince Charming to save my ass, Mr. Lin-Manuel.”

“No! I mean-”

“Only joking. Now, how does one put together a coherent sentence?”

4:22 a.m.

Lin sped things up. Significantly. Within two hours, the two of you had strung together a magnificent paper. Not only would this please your hard-ass boss, but listening to a sleepy-voiced Lin was a plus as well.

“I can’t thank you enough for helping me. Not only am I actually prepared for work, I may get three hours of sleep in,” you expressed.

“Trust me, I understand the agony. I’ve been in the same situation several times too many. Now, I ought to leave you to get some much-needed rest. I hope your project goes well!”

You smiled. “Thanks to your help, I’m sure it will.”

“We’ll talk soon,” Lin stated, and you both hung up.

How the hell would this have ever gotten done without this guy?

1:13 p.m.

To: Lin-Manuel

No need for ass-kissing today - that paper did it all for me. Won’t ever be able to repay you.

Note: not skipping work to text. In the middle of lunch break.

From: Lin-Manuel

Instead of repayment, how about meeting me for coffee after work?

To: Lin-Manuel

Another caffeine-filled evening? No thanks.

I’ll see you at the pizza place on 41st. Be there or b² .

From: Lin-Manuel

A scientist with mad algebraic jokes? There’s no one else I’d rather join at a greasy pizza joint.

#lin x reader #lin manuel Miranda x reader #lin manuel x reader #lin manuel/reader #Hamilton imagine #Hamilton imagines #Hamilton x reader #Hamilton fanfic #in the heights #21 chump street #lin manuel imagine #lin manuel fanfic #lin/reader #my writing is shit #I'm only bound to get better #.....right?#leah writes things

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ginnyzero · 4 years

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Completely Harmless Ch. 13

Completely Harmless An SSO SilverGlade Re-imagining Story (Or Fix it Fan Salt fic) By Ginny O.

When Lily and her friends wanted to buy horses and were directed to the Silverglade Manor and its myriad of problems, they didn’t expect to start a revolution. They were just a bunch a stable girls. Completely harmless. Right?

A/N: Things are only canon if I say they’re canon. Pre-Saving the Moorland Stables compliant for the most part. Posted in its entirety on my website. Posted in 2000 to 4000 word bits here. Rated T for Swearing Word Count 177,577

Chapter Thirteen Finishing Touches

Linda gave Lily a bunch of envelopes to mail the next morning. “Except this one,” she said handing Lily the last. “The Baroness would like you to deliver this one personally.”

Lily stared at them. “Sure,” she said. “We have to go through Silverglade. I can pass most of these off to Derek,” she blinked. She checked the address of the last one, “and then go to New Hillcrest after seeing the tables and chairs back to Mr. Moorland.”

“Sounds like an excellent plan,” Linda smiled at her. She paused. “Um, Lily, I, err, thank you. For coming and doing all this. I mean, not a lot of people would do that and a lot of people didn’t. You girls are something special.”

Lily blinked slowly. “We didn’t want to stick around and be subjected to Loretta. I’m surprised she hasn’t alienated more campers than she has.”

Linda laughed lightly. “Yeah, she’s, interesting. I know she can become a good person if given the right influences.”

“But does she have them? She does tend to surround herself with girls like her.” Lily said as she tucked the letters away, keeping the special one in a different section of her saddlebag.

“I have a friend like Loretta and she turned out okay.”

Lily raised a brow. “With a friend like you, Linda, I think anyone would turn out okay.”

Linda flushed.

Lily mounted her horse. “I’ll get those letters taken care of, boss. Don’t let Agnetha run the other girls too ragged in our absence.”

Linda snorted. “As if anyone has control over Agnetha.” She looked around the Manor with a small look of pride. “Anastasia has asked me to make a website for this place as soon as it’s done.”

“That’s wonderful.”

“I’ve been doing news posts and throwing up pictures on Jorvikgram,” Linda grinned.

“When do you find time, I know all of your projects!” Lily groaned.

Linda shrugged and smiled.

“No wonder everyone turned up for food,” Lily said.

“Good thing they did. We couldn’t eat all of that!” Linda’s eyes widened and she adjusted her glasses.

They both laughed.

Lily waved at her and joined the other girls who had all the supplies on their horses from the day before. Agnetha had the other girls working on the fountain already. They trotted out. Lily paused in Silverglade to say hello to Derek (who everyone agreed was a real cutey) and give him three of the four letters.

“I’ll get these out straight away,” Derek said. “Oh, this one is pretty easy. Courtney Summers in Silverglade, I could just walk it over. Be nice to get out of the office and stretch my legs.”

“You do that,” Lily said and shuddered. As long as she didn’t have to be the bearer of bad news.

“See yah!” Derek said as the girls moved on two by two.

They delivered the pavilion back to Steve. The President of the Summer Chipmunks waved Lily over saying that they were probably going to use it and a couple others like it for the Farmer’s Market. If they could figure out where to put the Market.

Lily was sure they’d find the best spot. Not her problem! (Lily was only willing to take on so much.)

From there, they took the road to Moorland.

Both Justin and Thomas were happy to see them. They raved about the food. Thomas couldn’t pronounce half the dishes on the menu, but it had sure been delicious. He was looking forward to having a real restaurant serving more upscale food in the area. It’d be a good place for Justin to take dates.

He wanted grandchildren sometime before he died.

Of course, Justin protested and flushed and huffed.

As they were laughing at poor Justin and saying their good byes and thanks for the tables, Lily’s phone buzzed.

It was Agnetha. The parts for the fountain had arrived for the reflecting pool at Silverglade. And would someone be a dear and fetch them.

A couple girls rolled their eyes and volunteered to swing back through Silverglade on their way back to the Manor. The rest rode off towards Nilmer’s Highland. They’d exchanged their red-orange t-shirts for a glaring purple one. Anastasia would be appalled. But they were trying to proclaim their allegiance to the Manor.

In fact, as soon as they had a moment to breathe. They were going to hit some stores and buy a couple different purple t-shirts for doing chores and riding around in. Who knew what Anastasia had up her sleeve or when it would be finished and they needed clothes!

Lily took a transport to the New Hillcrest stables and winced at how run down they looked. There was a local riding club called the Bulldogz, but the place looked like they needed an infusion of cash. She was really beginning to wonder about the economy of South New Jorvik County. Seriously, was it G.E.D. interfering or something else?

She found the address and knocked on the door. “Ms. Antonia,” she said as the door opened. “Special delivery from Baroness Annabella Silverglade.”

What was it with the names beginning with the letter A?

Antonia took it. “Please, call me Tony,” she said absentmindedly as she read the letter. Her eyes widened. “I won! I, I, I got the job. I mean. I got my own restaurant.”

“Congratulations,” Lily said with a pleased smile. “Your food was amazing.”

“But, but, why?” Tony asked. “I mean, the others, outside of that Courtney woman, were just as good.”

“Maybe it was your insistence on local and fresh, plus, you mentioned plans for a winter menu.”

Antonia seemed dazed. “Yes, well, always plan ahead.” She clutched at the door. “And, and, there’s a cottage in Silverglade Village that I can use as part of my wages, no rent,” she seemed quite shocked at her good fortune.

“Oh, that’s great. Agnetha and Bjorn have a cottage on the grounds. I don’t think there are any other extra cottages though that I remember. But Silverglade is pretty close. You could ride, um,” Lily looked around.

“I have a scooter,” Tony supplied.

“Yes, your scooter.”

“Electric.”

“Your very quiet and won’t bother the horses scooter, to work.”

“It’s purple,” Tony added.

“She loves purple.”

“I, I have to go to Jorvik City and get plates and, and, napkins, and kitchenware. I’m supposed to meet Anastasia Silverglade and, and,” Antonia ran out of breath.

“We’ll help you in any way we can,” Lily said. She scribbled down her number. “Shoot me a text when you need us.”

Tony took it. “You may live to regret this.”

“Well, you’ll have to fight Agnetha for our help until the gardens are done,” Lily tilted her head. “I, I would pay to see that really.”

Tony grinned.

Lily tugged on her helmet. “I best be off before Agnetha does wonder where I am.” She jogged down the stairs with a wave at Tony. She mounted her horse and headed back to the Manor by the stables transport.

She returned to chaos. Or something like it. She guessed it was organized chaos.

Agnetha had one group laying out the fountain parts into the reflecting pool. Another group was taking down all the Victorian style lamps along the road. Lily got a shrug when she gave the girl in charge a questioning look. And the last group was laying out the rest of the rose gardens in front of the manor.

So, she tied her horse up and went to ask Agnetha where she needed help.

Agnetha gave her a hard look. “Where have you been?”

“Delivering a letter for the Baroness.”

Agnetha snorted. But she knew she was outranked. “I have some orders I want put into Jorvik City.” She ruffled through her papers and handed them to her. “Best done in person, they’ll get done faster.”

Lily leafed through them. “These aren’t orders. These are commissions.”

“Orders,” Agnetha shrugged.

Lily repressed a deep sigh. “All right. Um, I was going to do some shopping for the girls. Unless you like red-orange.”

Agnetha made a face. “Get on with it then.”

If Lily had been any other person, she would have said that shopping was a pleasant experience. Lily wasn’t any other person, girl, whatever. She hated shopping with a passion. And if she could have passed it off, she probably would have.

But purple and brown simply didn’t go together and their laundry was rather out of control. If she was going to Jorvik City, she could stop at Silverglade and go to the Mall and buy out a bunch a purple t-shirts and get some cheap pants that were gray or black.

Lily looked at the names again. “Why not use Conrad?” She asked speaking of the blacksmith in Moorland. Agnetha had commissions for benches.

“He refuses to follow directions, the old fool.”

Lily winced. So Conrad’s reputation had spread. “Right.”

So, Lily rode to Silverglade, bought a couple t-shirts there, two different pairs of worn black jeans, and some pants with purple argyle knee socks. Maybe Agnetha would take pity on them and give them something.

There were more purple t-shirts at the mall, with and without sleeves. But their pants selection was rather dismal and overpriced. But they had something else that wasn’t red orange and… brown.

Lily dropped off orders for street lamps and wall lamps, some lamps that looked like they were supposed to go in the trees over the reflecting pool and the fountain, and benches. The artisans assured her that they would get on these orders immediately and they’d have them finished in a few days. The last order was to a sculptor. She appraised the designs, deemed them adequate and Lily left with a feeling of foreboding.

Whelp, it wasn’t her head on the line she supposed. She picked up a bunch of ice coffees at the mall again. The girl remembered her order and once again packed it nicely. The girls were quite grateful when she returned with them and the bags and bags of new clothes.

Sure, their wardrobe was going to be exactly the same, but that wasn’t Lily’s fault.

When the reflecting pool was finished and filled with water, Agnetha did give them a nice pair of grey pants. They all babbled their thanks at her and immediately added them to the pile of laundry after using a waterproof marker to say whose was whose.

The reflecting pool was gorgeous. The rows and rows of birch trees and their leaves added a bit of green to the space along with shade. The finished rose gardens added a sweet scent to the air.

Of course, Agnetha was far from being done. No. They were simply getting started. She made them collect all the urns from around the manor. Clean them thoroughly and paint them.

Then, they were off to Silverglade again to pick up some more plants, lilac bushes to be exact. These they planted in the corners of the manor building before surrounding them with ground cover type roses. They planted them alongside the inn building and behind the empty temple building near the duck coop. They even put some behind where the transport parked near the gas container. (Ugly thing that Agnetha called it, but it was necessary.)

Then they were able to move the urns, to the end of the stairs at each of the manor’s entrances, the corners of the Baroness’ private verandah where the Sterling Silver rose that the Silver Drakes had given her was in a box against the wall between the doors. They put the urns between the doors of the inn on the stairs and at the ends. But Agnetha didn’t trust the horses not to try and eat them, so they kept them away from the stable sides except near where the big archway was and the corners of the buildings angled away from where curious horses could stick their heads out and nibble.

Then they filled the urns with dirt and planted miniature roses in them in white, lavender, and the lovely dark mulberry. There were four urns left over, but Agnetha had plans for them.

She needed the benches for them though. She also didn’t have enough to decorate the Wine Cave. Which was bugging her. Fortunately, the urns were rather basic urns for all they were heavy and made of concrete. There was a craftsman in Jorvik City that made them by the gross if needed. Agnetha texted them a message.

So, it really was no surprise to anyone that the benches, lamps, and urns all arrived at the same time. Agnetha and Bjorn used their truck to move the urns thankfully. Though, once at the bridge they stopped, put urns on each end of the bridge and from there on out, they placed urns between every other space in the trees leading up to the manor. This same pattern continued inside the manor the girls noticed as they rode back with boxes and boxes of miniature roses and rose vines wrapped in burlap, bench parts including slats of wood, and the long bits of lamps and carefully cushioned in their own boxes, the white glass globes to go on top.

When they arrived and carefully put all the boxes in the parade ground, they noticed more urns had been placed on the ends of the bridge going out to the loose paddock.

“Consistency,” Elsa said dryly.

Agnetha put them to work. There were two benches for the reflecting pool, and four more that went on each side of the wine cave. The benches were in an odd style, though Theresa muttered something about faux roman. They were curved instead of having harsh corners. The ends of the arm rests had horse heads and the feet were horse hooves. There were three dimensional roses carved at the top of the back of the benches. The backs were carved with grapes and roses. Thus the sides looked like very rounded X shapes.

Then, they could place the urns. Urns went to each side of the benches and then between the columns of the Wine Cave and bracketing the doors.

They potted the miniature roses into the urns careful to make sure they had all the colors in each urn. From there, Agnetha had them put up the lamps. The lamps went in the empty spaces between the birch trees.

They were certainly pretty. The bases had rearing horses and the posts went up to two spirals holding up three round white glass globes. There were also new lamps to go on the stable, the temple building, the hay dryer, inn, and around the house. And hanging globe lamps for the wine cave. More globe lamps of different sizes were strung in the glade of birch trees over the reflecting pool and along the waterfall. One would think that would mean no lamps needed to go alongside them, but one would be wrong. There were lamps midway between the urns bracketing the benches and the urns on the corners. And there was a lamp for them middle of each broad step as urns got the prime spots on the ends for the waterfall.

They also put lamps between the bridge and the stable.

Once they had the lamps placed, Agnetha showed them how to plant the lavender rose vines at the base of them and trained them to go up, wrap around the horse and up the post to hang off the spirals. She called the climbing rose Angel Face. So, instead of having carved metal roses, they were wrapped in living color.

She also had them hang small baskets of roses from the spirals on the globe lamps on the sides of the buildings. Each basket also had a climber to climb up and over the spiral.

And with that, by some miracle, after over 20 days of hard work. The front gardens and the waterfall were done.

Agnetha, bless her, decreed that she had to make a few adjustments to her plans for the terrace and back gardens and that meant they would have a little break for a day or two from gardening.

So, they sat on the benches and sprawled, a couple feeding the ducks bread that was in no way good for them. But the ducks deserved a treat as much as they did.

“It’s beautiful,” Tyra breathed.

The Baroness came out of the manor and looked around. The stables gleamed. Roses bobbed on the faint breeze. The scent of lilacs and roses filled the air. Water made a pleasant background noise from the waterfall. The old woman looked ready to cry. She pressed her hands to her heart before wandering the gardens to touch the roses and breathe in the scents.

By the time she was done, it was like years had lifted off her face and for a moment, they could see the beauty she had been, a faded rose returning to bloom.

FOR THE ACCOMPANYING IMAGES PLEASE DO NOT REMOVE MY WATERMARK AND CONTACT INFORMATION. THANK YOU. I get it. Some of you might get excited and want to see this stuff in the game, especially the clothes, tack, and pets. However, the only way I want to see this in the game is if I get paid for it. If I see it in the game and I’m not paid for it, there will be hell to pay. You think I’m salty. I’d be angry. Personally, I’m not going to send this info to SSO. If you do, leave my contact information there! Don’t give them any excuses to steal.

Now, I’ll know you haven’t read this note if you leave me comments about how ‘salty’ I am about the game and if I hate it so much I should do something else. I am doing something else. It’s called Mystic Riders MMORPG Project. Mystic Riders however is a very baby phase game. You can check out our plans on the game dev blog. (Skills, Factions, Professions, Crafting, Mini-Games, 25+ horse breeds!) If you know anyone who would be interested and has money or contacts about game making, direct them to the blog.

#star stable #star stable online #fanfc #star stable salt #completely harmless #jorvik reimagined #silverglade reimagined #many nods to ruth westside #my favorite chapter ending #onto the restaurant #6 chapters to fashion

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