#i’m going to start a hem counter. for my own amusement. only 3 pairs to go… and a pair of thigh high stockings to make out of tights
Text
90s tan wide leg pleated high waist khakis HEMMED!
#i’m going to start a hem counter. for my own amusement. only 3 pairs to go… and a pair of thigh high stockings to make out of tights#i love being home because my mom scours nextdoor for people giving away free clothes and then lets me look thru them. how did she know i wa#hunting for a pair of pleated high waist khakis
8 notes
·
View notes
Text
A lot like ‘Us’ (Part-34)
Word count: 3.4K
Pairing: Sam X Reader AU
Warnings: Feels, fluff
Series Summary: Y/N Y/L/N is eager and honestly, still in awe that she managed to get herself an acceptance from Stanford Law School. On the face of it, her life seems as put together, mysterious and independent as one might hope for. On the insides, she carries the burden of past that haunts her till date. Seemingly, she’d left it all behind; that is until she sets foot in the class of the Law School’s youngest, most promising professor.
A/N: The story employs two different timelines. The present timeline for the story takes place in 2014. Please let me know what you guys think :)
Beta: @deanssweetheart23. I love you so much, darling <3
A lot like ‘Us’ masterlist
The rest of the week was hard.
There were things you wanted to do and then things that you had to do. Unfortunately for you, the Venn diagram of those two things were two circles that did not touch.
Normally, you loved your job, you loved studying and your classes. But sitting through Sam’s class was becoming a new, different type of torture. The pretension was wearing you down. You could see it grating him, too. You rarely spoke up in his class now, trying not to draw attention, neither did he call upon you like he did with other students.
The library was still your second home, though, thanks to the untimely desertion of the other odd shifts librarian, you were left to run double shifts. Molly was sorry about it, but she didn’t have a solution for you, not until she had a new hire. That meant you were stuck in the library all the time. The guys in the apartment were starting to miss you. Kevin came over one evening to inform you everything sucked when you weren’t around. His face had made you hug him.
As for you? Without the free evenings, you couldn’t go over to see Max. You missed him terribly and it would do no good to whine about that to Sam, since you were still unsure about how he would take your excessive attachment to his son.
Not that you didn't have the chance to talk to Sam. After Sam put Max to bed, each night he’d call. You would sit in the alcove of the library widow and talk to him for hours- about the day, the classes and everything under the sun. Sam told you about the cases he was working on, the judges he really disliked and the girl Chase was chasing. Sam thought he was named aptly. He was also your faithful informant about Max. Apparently the playground bullies were back at it with the mean words. You blurted out loud how you wanted to punch the kids and Sam piled on top of that. Cheerful conversations about shaking kids followed.
It felt so juvenile to talk with him over the phone, like when he worked in New York and you were stuck in Lawrence, but not quite. Now, it was exciting to imagine him blushing on the other end when you accidentally said something complementary. Or if a student decided to stay in the library late night, you had to giggle in hushed voices so they wouldn’t overhear your conversations. The thrill of it was exciting. Those few hours had become the highlight of your day.
So, when Madison asked you what you were smiling about in the last lecture on Friday, you had to make up a reason. You couldn’t very well tell her that the bruise Sam was sporting on his cheek was because Max outran him on the basketball court and Sam slipped and fell.
“Just thinking of something funny.”
“Wouldn’t have to do with the green eyed hottie from Monday, would it?” Madison wiggled her eyebrows.
“Who, Dean?” You burst out laughing. “Maddie! He’s married to my sister.”
She laughed with you, face apologetic. “Dang! He’s really hot. Is it bad that I’m sorry he is married?”
“Definitely not,” you giggled. The good old Winchester genes had caused many casualties.
On the dais below, Sam collected his things.
“Ooohh, Professor Winchester is heading out. I better catch him before he leaves. You wanna come? Talk about the assignment?”
“No, you go on.” Sam had given you a run down of the assignment last night. You wanted to pout that he was right. You could have done better.
“Still awkward about the whole drowning thing, huh?”
You looked away, not wanting to remember the pool.
Madison wasn’t paying attention. “You were… I don’t know, delirious. You kept calling him by his name and…” Madison looked at you warily. She did not complete the sentence.
“Y/N saw the opportunity and took it,” said Rebecca from the next row. “I would sell my soul to be lifted like that.”
You slung your bag around your shoulders and made a move to get up. For all you cared, Rebecca could get hit by a truck. Not only were you furious at her for planning that prank with Brad, it made you feel murderous when she objectified Sam like that, reducing him to some greasy creep of a professor. It was insulting.
“Wait up now, sweetie!” She came up from behind. “Don’t act so prissy now. We all know you’re not as innocent as you make yourself out to be.”
“Excuse me?”
“You think I’m blind? To not see how you’re playing with all these men to get what you want? First, you have Brad panting after you, so you get the attention? Then you’re dancing with some random blue eyed man at the induction dance. The very next day you’re swaying in the arms of Chase Lincoln of all people. The moment you touch the pool water, somehow Sam Winchester is miraculously saving you… and two days later you’re crying like a damsel in distress in the arms of yet another man!” She was counting off her fingers. “And people call me slutty! I’m going to find out what your secret is, Y/N. Because I know you have one! And when I do...”
“You know what, Rebecca?” You said as calmly as you could. “Why don’t you go screw yourself.”
With that you headed straight for the library. When Madison caught up with you, her face was red. “Can’t believe I was ever friends with that hag! Gave her piece of my mind.”
“Madison, you should catch professor Winchester before he leaves. I’ll be okay.”
She assessed your words against your expression, then nodded and left.
You wanted to be by yourself.
Thankfully, cataloging was time-consuming and tedious. It took your mind off of Rebecca’s awful words. For the life of you, you couldn’t understand why she was so mean to you.
“Excuse me, miss, can I borrow this book?” Enquired a sweet voice.
You dropped the marker in your hand and looked up. Max was standing beyond the desk, a huge grin on his face. You gave a little yelp of your own and hurried from behind the counter to throw your arms around him, kissing him on his cheek.
“Gosh, I’ve been dying to meet you,” you said, pulling back to look at him.
He was wearing a plaid shirt over a small faded t-shirt and jeans. Such a mini-Sam. You couldn’t resist the urge to lean over and kiss his other cheek.
Max started blushing, looking down at his shoes.
“What’re you doing here?” You asked, leading him to one of the benches.
“Alex broke her arm last night. She couldn’t come over today. Dad’s got work. He asked me to hang out here.”
“Oh, no, is Alex okay?”
Max snickered. “Yeah. She was trying to sneak out for a party and fell out of the window.”
You pursed your lips trying not to laugh with him. “Poor girl.”
“Aunt Jody’s super-mad!” He added and you couldn’t help the giggle that burst through your lips.
“Max, is that you?” Molly asked, sticking her head from behind the shelves. “Darn kid! It’s been ages. Where did you run off to?”
“Mechanics camp!” He told her. “I know where an engine goes now. And how to hot-wire a car.”
“They taught you that at the camp?” You asked, skeptic.
“No, uncle Dean did.”
This time you laughed in earnest.
“You know Max?” Molly frowned.
You nodded. “Remember my little friend I told you about?”
“The one you were holding a bake sale for?”
“Yep, he’s the one.”
Molly put her hand to her lips. “Well, no shit! Do you know who his father is?”
You and Max immediately looked at each other, confirming your secret with a tiniest of nods.
“He’s Sam’s boy, this cute little nugget here.” Molly pulled his cheek. To Max’s credit, he didn’t rub his cheek afterwards.
Which reminded you. “You wait right here, Max. I’ll be back in a minute.” You quickly found the stash of cookies you were saving for tonight's dinner and hurried back to him. Eating at the library wasn’t allowed, but Max was an exception to every rule. “Cookies for you. I know these are your favourite.”
Max’s entire face lit up. True to his nature, he offered you one before digging in. You watched as he took a few bites, sneaking looks to the book he was holding- Adventures of Sinbad.
“I read one of those when I was kid. It had a monster bird that carried Sinbad away to its nest.”
“Oh, the Roc! That one’s my favorite!” Max clapped his hand and the cookies clattered to the floor.
“I’m so sorry,” he said, trying to pick up the bag.
You stopped him with a gentle nudge. “Let me.” After cleaning the cookie crumbs from the carpet, you unwound the scarf from around your neck and used it to clean the crumbs stuck to Max’s mouth and shirt, fussing over getting it all away.
When you made him stand up to clean the hem of his pants, you noticed Sam standing behind you, arms crossed over his chest. He had a peculiar expression on his face- tender but also guarded.
“You’re not supposed to eat the library, young man!” Sam tried for stern, but ended up sounding amused.
You straightened up. “I make the rules here. Max can do whatever he wants.”
Max gave Sam a smug look, before running to him. In a motion that must have been more of less a reflex, Sam reached out and hefted Max up in his arms.
“Look, what I found!” Max showed him the book.
Sam made a face. “Sinbad again? That sixth voyage was lame.”
“I wanna find out how it ends. There’s only one adventure left!”
“Alright, but this is the last of Arabian tales for the year. I get second hand sea-sickness just reading about it. I’m starting to miss Charlie and the chocolate factory.”
“You hated Charlie and the chocolate factory!”
Sam smirked. “You’re this close to getting my point.”
Max turned the book over. “We’re out of authors,” he told you.
The words shook you out of your quiet and you smoothened your expression. The scene before you was making your throat close up. You had never seen them together before. Max’s entire body language changed- his shoulders relaxed and he became less polite… just a bit more demanding, the way a child should be. Sam on the other hand radiated contentment. His voice changed, becoming softer, loving when he spoke to Max. You were sure you had been staring at them hungrily as if you couldn’t get enough of the interaction.
“Any suggestions?” Sam asked, tone still mild.
“T-Tolkein,” you stuttered. “You should try The Hobbit.”
Sam rolled his eyes. “Elven songs. Wonderful.”
Molly came over to greet Sam and you excused yourself to go back to the desk and take a stock of the emotions coursing through you. At any point it could get too much and you didn't want either of them to see that.
On their way out, Max waved at you. “Bye, Y/N!”
“Bye, Max.” You blew him a kiss. “You turned my day around, bud!”
There were too many people in the vicinity, so when it came to Sam, you nodded. “Professor.”
He mirrored your gesture. “Ms. Y/L/N.” And with a look full of promise of later, he walked away. You waved at Max till he was out of sight.
“Such a lovely boy,” Molly sighed. “Horrendous business what happened to him.”
“Yeah.” You cut the topic short, still unable to think of Max’s past without feeling faint. Thinking about it was so hard for you, Max had lived through it.
Molly was in no mood to change the subject.
“Sam’s an amazing guy to give up the lawyer life and settle down here for that kid.”
You narrowed your eyes. “What do you mean?”
Molly threw out her hands, slightly embarrassed. “It’s Sam’s personal choice and all that, but he had a solid career in LA. After that Simmons affair blew up in the media, he could’ve stuck around and bagged A-list celebrities as clients. He moved out to this place for Max’s sake- so there was some normalcy and stability in his life. Then, again, Sam’s had his share of downs.”
Your back felt like ice, knowing what was coming.
“I’m not supposed to talk about it but it’s just you.” Molly leaned in closer. “Did you know his wife left him?”
She must have interpreted whatever your face showed as shock, because Molly continued. “Don’t know much about the whole thing. I heard bits and parts from the grape wine. Some girl he met in Kansas straight out of Yale. Took a plunge in a couple of months and this girl bolted not even a year into the marriage. Can you believe that? I mean, look at him… What the fuck was she looking for that he didn’t have!”
You could taste the blood by biting into your lip too hard.
“Never heard of him dating anyone since. I think he’s still in love with her.” Molly whistled. “At least they have each other- Max and Sam. That kid spends a lot of time here. You’ll keep finding reasons to feed your little friend cookies.” Molly flashed you a grin. You couldn’t quite return it.
It was past twelve when your phone rang. You’d just locked the library behind you and had given up on all hopes of the call.
You hurried to pick it up.
“Hey,” Sam breathed. “Sorry it took me so long.”
“It’s alright,” you sighed in relief at the sound of his voice. The sinking feeling in your stomach since the talk with Molly began to dissipate.
“It’s your fault really,” Sam said. “Max liked The Hobbit too much and went to bed real late. How am I supposed to wake him in time for his class tomorrow?”
His concerns were so normal, comfortingly mundane. Sam made it sound so easy, when in fact, all this must have been so hard. One time you heard someone say a mean thing about Sam’s wife and it had you rankled. Sam must’ve lived through years of whispers, stories and ugly rumours. He must’ve had to defend his choice of staying committed so many times. Hadn’t the words shred his heart?
“Y/N? Everything okay?”
You cleared your throat. “Uh it’s just… it’s good to hear your voice.”
He was immediately on alert. “What happened?”
“Nothing. Weird day.”
“Where are you?”
You looked about your dark surroundings. “Crossing the playground, almost to my building.”
“Do you want to come over?” He asked, voice hopeful but unsure. “We can sit in the front lawn if you want.”
You made an impulse decision. “Yeah okay.”
Ten minutes later you were sitting on one of Max’s swings. Your tan sweater wasn’t helping much as you shivered in the chill, waiting for Sam to show up. Weird how you made it before him. He lived right there!
Noiselessly the front door opened and closed. Sam walked briskly towards you. He was dressed in dark grey sweatpants and a black full sleeve t-shirt. In his hand he carried an afghan, a thermos and two mugs.
“Here,” he handed you the afghan. It was the same one that was wrapped around you on the night of the pool party. The memory brought blood to your face.
“We don’t have adult juice around here today, but we do have hot chocolate.” Grinning impishly, he tilted the thermos in your direction. He sat on the ground in front of you, carefully filling up the two mugs with the rich, brown liquid while you wrapped yourself in the Afghan.
Eagerly, you took a sip and moaned indecently.
“Good, isn’t it?” Sam chuckled.
This was very close to what heaven would feel like.
“So, what’s the deal, huh?” He asked after a few sips.
You hesitated, not wanting to admit what the real problem was. It would be the case of a teapot crying to a boiler.
“You know you can tell me things, right?” His voice was soft, beguiling.
“It’s something Molly said after you left.” You gave in, selfishly spilling it all.
Sam listened to the whole story, then shook his head at you in exasperation and beckoned you with his hand. You blinked a couple of times, then gave up and went in willingly.
What the hell, right?
Sam tucked his arms around your shoulder once you slid on the ground next to him.
“You and I, we know what the truth is,” he said. “How does it matter what anyone else says?”
“Is that what you told yourself all these years?” You asked in a small voice, unable to meet his eyes.
Sam sighed. “Why are you doing this to yourself, Y/N?”
“You didn’t answer me.”
His fingers curled around your shoulder over the afghan. “No, I didn’t have to tell myself anything. I knew I loved you. That was enough.”
“I don’t know if I can be as strong as you.”
“That’s because you’re so much stronger,” he said. “None of those people have lived your life, they don’t know what you’ve been through. I can bet my ass, they wouldn’t have made it out of half of it in one piece. It’s easy to judge.”
“That’s not my problem,” you argued. “I don’t care what they think about me. But I can’t stand how it makes you look!”
Sam surprised you by chuckling lightly. “You’re cute when you’re indignant. Especially on my behalf.”
“Quit making this into a joke, Sam.”
“I seriously don’t know what else to do.” He put a finger under your chin, tilting your face up. “Look at me. I’m the happiest I've been in years! Do you really think I give a rats ass about what anyone’s got to say about me? My personal life has never been anyone’s concern except mine and yours. The only other person who has any say in this is Max. And that kid doesn’t shut up about you.”
Sam’s eyes were scorching, melting against the night sky.
“Molly’s wonderful, and I know she has a soft spot for me. But by the end of the day, it's just gossip. There’s no substance to it. So will you please drop it?”
At long last you nodded.
“That’s like my Y/N.”
A rustle from the other side of Sam’s fence made you stiffen. The bushes behind the planks began to shake.
“What’s that?”
Sam shrugged. “Probably Alex sneaking out.”
You frowned at him. “Didn’t she break her arm doing exactly that?”
He snorted. “When has that stopped teenagers? It does make life a bit difficult. Jody’s grounded her. She can’t babysit Max for a while and I got work tomorrow.”
You saw Alex creeping on the sidewalk in front of the lawn. She saw the two of you huddled and froze like a deer caught in the headlight. Sam winked and waved a salute at her. After a minute she unfroze, returned the gesture and went off on her way.
“Why don’t you drop him off at the library in the morning? I’ll keep an eye on him. I’m covering the first shift.” You worked to not sound too excited.
“Yeah, that still doesn’t fix the afternoon. I won’t be back before four.”
“Easy. I’ll wait with him here.”
Sam looked at you, hazel eyes wondrous. “You’d do that?”
“Sure. I owe him a pie anyway.”
“You’re a lifesaver!” He exhaled. “Seriously, I could kiss you right now!”
All you had to do was look up. Sam was right there.
Another crash sounded over the fence, louder than the first, followed by a muted ‘ow.’ You saw lights flare up in what must be the living room. From somewhere inside you heard Jody curse. “Jesus fucking Christ! Claire, what’re you doing on the ground.”
“Why do you always have to catch me!” Claire whined in the darkness. “Alex just left!”
“What. The. Fuck!” Jody yelled. “Get in the fucking car! We’re going to find your sister.”
That did it for you as you buried your face in Sam’s chest, smothering the giggles. His arms wrapped tightly around you. Sam himself was shaking with silent laughter over you.
Yeah, this was pretty close to heaven.
*********************
A/N 2: Thank you for all the support over the last week.
Sam was right when he said- “You and I, we know what the truth is. How does it matter what anyone else says?”
I’m going to take his advice :)
If you want be tagged, you can send me an ask or add yourself to the taglist here.
Or here’s my side blog @percywinchester27-writes. You can give that blog a follow and turn the notifications on to know about updates.
ALLU taglist:
@gabavaldman @im-a-light-child @cosicas-cuquis @bllyjianne @hoboal87 @i-is-for-inspiring @daughterleftbehind @wackiekebab @mylovelydame21 @dancing-the-hellfire-rumba @superbadassnatural @babypink224221 @badlittlehabit99 @anathewierdo @sams-bubblegum-bitch @fandomoverdose666 @superstarmarvel @atc74 @aiofheavenandhell @rebel-author-chick @death-unbecomes-you @cookiechipdough @kbl1313 @linki-locks11 @miss-nerd95 @sunflowers-n-rocknroll @stoneyggirl @like-a-bag-of-potatoes @niyahgray @traceyaudette @blueaura @awfulmoons @waterlily502 @mrsbatesmotel53 @superblyscrumptiousdonut2 @spn-ficfanatic @threstalsaregood @shesnotmaria
#Sam winchester x reader#sam winchester fanfiction#sam winchester reader insert#sam x reader fluff#sam fluff#lawyer!sam#professor!sam#lawyer!sam x reader#professor!sam x reader#dad!sam#spn fanfiction#supernatural fanfiction#anawrites#anawritesspn#Ana writes ALLU#allu 34#q
97 notes
·
View notes
Note
kastle + "“Is that.. my shirt?” please and thank you❤️❤️
HI, I KNOW YOU SENT THIS A MILLION YEARS AGO BUT I JUST FINISHED IT SO HOPEFULLY YOU LIKE IT <3
--
If there’s one thing Karen hates most in the world, it’s laundry. Which isn’t entirely warranted, because a majority of her things are dry clean only, and she usually only has to do a load or two herself every other week—but still. She hates that it feels like an all day affair, she hates folding everything, she hates the feel of the lint of her fingers when she removes it from the filter. So when a warm Saturday in June arrives and she’s low on clothes, like really low on clothes, Karen realizes she should start a load.
Unfortunately, her body is not on board with the idea. She wakes up slow, eats some late breakfast, and lethargically gathers the clothes strewn about her apartment. It’s a Saturday, so she has nothing to do but procrastinate. Procrastination forces her into the shower, and procrastination has her drinking coffee in a towel at the edge of her bed as she realizes that she has nothing to put on. It’s either she wears a skirt and blouse around the apartment or a towel until the first load is done.
Or, her brain supplies helpfully, there’s Frank’s drawer.
Karen’s eyes slide unwittingly towards her dresser, where the bottom drawer remains firmly closed. He’s been out of town for the last week or so with Curtis, up in the mountains with absolutely no reception. She knows it’s good for him to get away every once in a while, especially with his friends, but part of her—the smallest part, the only part not thinly veiled in denial—wishes he would have asked her along. It’s a thought she’s had a lot in the last couple days, accompanied by the hollow ache left by his absence.
God, she misses him.
She misses his surprise visits that turn into too much wine and inevitably leading to his crashing on the couch. She misses waking in the morning to freshly brewed coffee and he at the kitchen counter, head bowed over a book. She misses walking into the bathroom and inhaling Frank’s steamy post-shower smell: cedarwood, something earthy, something subtly metallic. It’s both a blessing and a curse to have him stay the night at her place; she only wishes it was in her bed, not on the couch.
Karen sighs. Goosebumps are starting to pebble on her skin from the AC, and so she steels her resolve and kneels before Frank’s drawer. She’d casually offered it to him months ago over breakfast. You spend the night enough, she tells him while staring resolutely into her mug. Might as well have a change of clothes here just in case you need them.
She had felt his eyes on her, all intense heat and wariness, long enough for her to fidget. And then finally he’d said: Yeah. Yeah, okay. Thanks, Karen.
The drawer is filled with a myriad of things, and not just clothes. On the top of the pile there’s a paperback by Jack Kerouac, a box of ammo, and a pair of spare keys she suspects is to that intimidating black van he drives. Underneath is a pair of socks, boxers (that she hurriedly paws past), some grey sweatpants (that look absolutely sinful on him, she recalls), and a pair of dark jeans. At the very bottom is a long sleeved henley and a plain black t shirt—Karen pulls out the t shirt and slips it over her head before she can talk herself out of it.
It’s comfortable, if a little too big. The hem hangs just past her hips when she stands, so Karen slips on a pair of underwear and leaves it at that. The rest of the afternoon she spends doing laundry and pretending as if she can’t smell him on her with every inhale. And when the guilt starts to eat at her, she tells herself that the shirt will be cleaned and replaced before Frank even knows it’s missing.
—
Except it isn’t, because of course it isn’t.
Hour three of dragging herself through the slowest washing machine cycle in the world (she’d splurged a little on an apartment with a hook up, too unwilling to deal with the laundromat down the block) and the worst dryer to accompany it (she hadn’t so much splurged on the actual machines)—finds Karen on the couch, flipping through the television channels. It’s nearly four o’clock and the temperature outside has finally broken, so the air is off and the windows are open. A soft breeze occasionally brushes over the exposed skin of her legs. And there’s absolutely nothing on the television.
So she does what any sane person would do, and returns to Frank’s drawer for the book. Not that she doesn’t have plenty of her own reading material, but she’s never read Kerouac and she’s a little curious what Frank sees in him. It’s halfway through the first chapter that she realizes there’s a key turning in the lock, and that Frank’s back.
Because of course he would walk in to this: her, clothed in underwear and his t shirt and no bra; sitting with her legs stretched across the couch cushions, back against the arm; his book in her hands as she struggles to parse the casual run-ons of Kerouac; a basket of half folded laundry on the floor. And he does—his face appears at the end of the hall leading to her front door and he pauses, bag slung over his shoulders and eyebrows raised to his hair.
“Hi, Frank,” Karen greets, carefully closing the book. “How was your trip?”
His eyes glance quickly at her exposed legs, and then up to his t shirt, back down to her legs, and then up to her face. Karen relishes in the warm flush that spreads across his cheeks, even if it is partially covered by his beard. “It was, uh, it was good,” he tells her roughly, unmoving. His eyes stray back to her lower half. “Is that...my shirt?”
Karen realizes that she should be embarrassed by her lack of clothes or admonished for going through his things without asking. But the only thing she really can feel is frustrated as a thought strikes her. That day in the hospital when she and Frank were alone--before Amy had interrupted--after Karen had all but blurted her feelings into the stale, tension-heavy room. His entire body had been covered in lacerations and zig zagged with stitches; his face was bruised and battered. He’d been so evasive with her, gaze hardly connecting with her own before darting away again. She’d been so afraid for him. Hopeless. And frustrated.
“You could love someone else instead of another war.”
“I don’t want to.”
At the time he’d been so determined, so set in his jaw as the hoarse declaration hung in the air. She wonders if that’s changed now, months of spending the night and phone calls and take out dinners later. If she were to ask the same question now—what he would say?
“It is,” she tells him evenly.
Frank’s hand tightens on the strap of his bag, a nervous gesture. “Why?” he finally asks.
“I haven’t been pining after you, if that's what you mean. I was out of clothes.” Karen offers him a small smile, trying to quell the bout of butterflies that erupt in her stomach at the rough edge to his voice.
To her relief he smiles. The tension eases from his shoulders. “You don’t seem like the pinin’ type.”
“I’m not.” Liar, liar, no pants on fire. “You just got back?”
He nods, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “Was thinking about gettin’ dinner.”
“You find the take out menu, I’ll put pants on,” she wages.
Frank’s blush rises. He coughs and then turns, walking into the kitchen at a pace quicker than usual. Karen fidgets with the hem of the shirt, waiting until she can hear the telling sound of the coffee machine being manhandled. She grapples for a pair of leggings in the basket beside her and hurriedly puts them on.
“Sorry about the shirt,” she says loudly. “I was completely out of laundry and I figured you wouldn’t be back for a while. I’ll wash it for you.”
Frank reappears in the doorway, eyes on the floor until he’s sure she’s fully clothed. “Don’t worry about it,” he mumbles. “It’s nothin’.”
“I went into your things, Frank, I hardly think that’s nothing.”
At that, he meets her gaze.
“Wouldn’t be the first time,” he counters, shooting her a grin.
Karen huffs out a laugh. “Whatever. Hang on, I’m going to change out of this and then I'll order the food.”
“No.”
Karen swivels her head to give Frank a surprised look. The intensity of his no is startling but he seems as shocked as she is. There’s a beat of silence, and then he clears his throat and looks away as his finger starts that familiar rhythm against his leg. “I mean. You don’t have to. If you’re comfortable.”
She considers pushing it. She doesn’t. Not yet.
“I am. Thanks.”
—
Several hours later, Karen realizes their bottle of wine is empty. She’s sitting against one arm of the couch with Frank against the other. Her legs bridge the gap between them, and if she were to point her toes she could touch the strong muscle of his thigh. Their take out boxes sit empty on the coffee table, and Frank has his head tilted back, eyes on the ceiling. The apartment is quiet.
“So what did you and Curtis do in the mountains?” Karen asks into the silence, hesitant to break it but curiosity finally getting the better of her.
Frank sips his wine, and then turns his head to look at her. Karen is struck by how handsome he looks, the setting sun’s orange rays highlighting the curve of his nose and the warmth of his eyes. “Stupid shit,” he tells her with a chuckle. “We chopped up some trees, went hikin’--that asshole’s still faster’n me even with that leg--I read a lot. Talked. Drank some.”
Karen waggles her eyebrows. “Does that mean you guys got hammered in a cabin?”
His mouth curves into an amused smile. “Takes a lot to get me hammered, Karen.”
“When’s the last time you were?”
Karen is always careful about asking questions regarding his past. She knows it’s dangerous territory--one small slip could turn their conversation from lighthearted banter to emotional warfare. That’s the last thing she wants for him, for them.
Thankfully, Frank has a quick answer. “Can’t remember. Years.”
She hums, curiosity piqued. She wonders what an overabundance of alcohol does to someone like Frank Castle--someone who is already so intense, so physical. Someone who already isn’t afraid to cry in front of her, who isn’t afraid to show emotion--would he close himself off, shut down? Would he laugh more? Would he touch her more than the casual touches she already receives? Would he kiss her? A thrill runs through her at the thought. She stays firmly planted on the couch, fighting the urge to grab the whiskey in her cupboard and put her theory to the test.
“What about you?”
“What?”
Frank fixes her with an amused look. “The last time you were sideways.”
“Oh. A couple weekends ago, Foggy came over.” She smiles, remembering. “Marcie was out of town so he brought over the wine and we did--well, this. Take out and wine. A lot of wine.”
There’s an expression on his face she can’t figure out. A mixture of forced casualness, of caution, of amusement. “So this is--...” He pauses, takes a drink of his wine, starts again. “This is what you do with your other friends?”
Two thoughts settle into the sudden ache in her chest at his words. That on one hand he does, in fact, consider her a friend. She’s not just a warm body to keep the loneliness at bay. Which she’s known that for a long time, of course. They trust each other in the way that only two people who have gone through a number of life-changing and dangerous ordeals together can--why wouldn’t they be friends? The second thought is how carefully he speaks the word friends, as if solidifying the idea. As if reminding her of their relationship status. As if to say, we’re friends, and I know you want more--but I can’t. So we’re friends.
“Yep. This is what I do with my other friends. All two of them.” The joke falls flat, overshadowed by the catch in her voice. Karen finishes off her glass of wine and decides she will get out the whiskey after all. Even if he doesn’t drink it, she needs something a little stronger than just another Rosé. She starts to get up, but his hand catches her ankle and keeps her firmly in place.
“You’re upset.” He looks at her cautiously from under a furrowed brow. His hand doesn’t lift from her skin, and it sends an unfair thrill through her. Karen’s toes curl before she can stop them, pushing against his thigh.
“I’m not upset.”
He frowns. “And now you’re lying. Did I say somethin’?”
She doesn’t want to lie to him. She also doesn’t want to tell him the truth. There’s a nagging thought in the back of her mind that says if she’s honest with him, he’ll be scared off. He’ll decide her feelings are too much for him to handle, and then he’ll leave. Again.
Her heart couldn’t bear it.
Karen tugs her leg out of his grasp and sets her feet on the carpet. He sits forward, trying to capture her eyes again. “Karen,” he says gently. It’s cautious and worried, and so completely Frank in the way he grinds out her name that the words escape her before she can stop them.
“It’s nothing, Frank. We’re friends, and that’s all, and I’m being selfish wanting more. I’ve just been--I’m not trying to--...” she glances over helplessly, but he’s giving her a look that she can only describe as stricken. She looks away quickly, desperate for a change of topic. Desperate to pull herself out of the hole that she’s dug for herself. There’s a brief moment of silence where she tries to decide what to do, outside of leaping from her fire escape, and then she hears Frank move. The cushion dips next to her. Warm fingers intertwine with her own, and then his lips are pressed to the back of her hand.
“Shit, Karen,” Frank murmurs, exasperated. “For a smart woman, you’re bein’ pretty stupid.”
She’s still stuck on her fact that his breath is dancing over her skin, and that he’s pressed against her side, and that he still hasn’t released her. That he hasn’t gotten up and made a hasty exit. His words barely register. “What?” she asks weakly.
“Curtis and I did a lot of talkin’ this weekend,” he says, staring to look her in the eye. The sudden change of topic throws her off balance. Before she can get a word in, he’s continued on. His thumb strokes her palm. “And a lot of it was dumb shit. We talked about his new apartment, the one he had to get after Billy shot up his old one. He says it gets a lot of sunlight. He talked about how the vet group is going and what team he thinks will win the World Series this year. It was good, and easy. We talk about some hard stuff too. We talked about Maria and the kids, and the war, and you.”
She’s not sure she likes being in the ‘hard’ category, but he seems to be edging towards a point, so Karen remains quiet.
“And after we talked through all that other stuff, Curtis told me I was bein’ an idiot. He told me that you’re a good woman, and an even better friend. That I needed to make a decision before someone else made it for me.” He pauses, looking away. In the following silence, she digests his words and tries to keep the hope from blossoming in her chest. His hand is still warm in hers, and the earthy, woodsy smell of him fills her nose.
He doesn’t speak long enough for Karen to finally hedge, “I’m not sure what you’re getting at, Frank.”
He turns back to her and offers a tiny, nervous smile. Not many things make a man like Frank Castle nervous, and the thought eases some of the tension from her body. She grips his fingers and holds her breath.
“I’m tryin’ to tell you that I’m yours, if you’ll have me. I don’t want to be friends, Karen. I want you. I want more, too.”
In retrospect, her next words could have been a little more eloquent. She could have taken an extra second to think of something romantic and elated. Something that matches his earnestness. What she actually says is, “Frank Castle, you’d better quit keeping me waiting and kiss me.”
His eyes widen briefly, and then he’s grinning at her. His free hand cradles her cheek and between one breath and another he’s doing just that. Karen wont admit to herself how often she thought of this moment, but she does think about how every imagining doesn’t come close. She never could have pictured the tenderness with which he kisses her or the feeling that swells inside her. There’s no daydream in the world that compares to the softness of his lips or the sensation of his beard against her chin. She fists one hand in his coat, letting the other drift up into his hair. It’s longer, curling at his temple, and when she gently tugs he lets out a groan that makes her shiver. His tongue swipes at her bottom lip and she grants him access eagerly. The kiss devolves into wandering hands, heaving breaths, and the distinct feeling that Karen is being carefully, intimately devoured.
After some time, Karen forces herself to pull away. Frank backs off immediately, a flash of concern in his gaze, but she gives him a small smirk, smoothing her hands over the hard planes of his chest.
“How do you feel about me taking off the shirt now?” she asks casually.
Her meaning sinks in quickly. His fingers grasp at the hem, dancing along the bare skin on her hips. Frank gives her a mischievous, sinfully attractive smile. “If you’re comfortable,” he repeats, and then drags his shirt up and over her head.
The buzzer on the dryer goes off in the background, but Karen has never been less inclined to attend to it than she is now. In fact, she thinks, if wearing his shirt gets this reaction, I may never do laundry again.
It’s a nice thought, but then Frank lips meet her shoulder and she doesn’t think about laundry for a long, long time.
92 notes
·
View notes
Text
Top Shelf: Chapter 7- Love Lines & Soul Finds
Pairing: Bucky x reader (Bookstore/bartender AU)
Word Count: 2,966
Summary: You and Bucky go on your first date, make some plans and share much more than just your time.
Author’s Note: So, I’ve been thinking about this story a lot lately and I realize that it really is just a love story. There is nothing new or revolutionary about it, just two people falling in love in my favorite city. I know it’s slow moving but I’m so thankful for those of you that have been reading and sticking with me. I really appreciate it because believe me I have read and continue to read some really fucking incredible series out there that were and are so exciting and amazing in every way. People are so damn talented! Thank you again! Also, Gallow Green, Attaboy (the bar Bucky works at) and Harbs are all real places in NYC that I’ve been too and I can’t wait to go again ❤ Thank you all for reading, all my love❤❤❤
Warnings: fluff, super corny sweet Bucky, first date excitement, tiny angst (super tiny), Bucky to the rescue, implied sexy times, lots of kisses as usual :)
Previous Chapters
Chapter 1: Enchantment
Chapter 2: Cookie Crumble
Chapter 3: Sweet Anticipation
Chapter 4: Read Between the Limes
Chapter 5: Secrets on the Shelf
Chapter 6: Love Between the Covers
The rest of your day goes by quickly. Nat comes over to help you pick out your date night outfit as you both gush over your evenings “Do you think it’s bad that I can’t wait to see him again and I just saw him a few hours ago?” you ask, chewing on your bottom lip as you stare at her. With a scoff she throws a new dress at you, “try this on and stop it. You’re obviously head over heels for him and from what you tell me and what I saw he feels the same. Enjoy yourself.”
You shimmy into the dress, pulling at the hem and waist before twirling to face Nat, “yes?” She claps her hands and gives you thumbs up, “perfect, you look amazing.” Once your hair and makeup are finished you text Bucky to let him know you’ll be leaving soon. Nat walks out with you and you each hail a cab. “Have fun with Sam tonight!” you chime, giving her a wink. She rolls her eyes but can’t hide her smile, “thanks, I know he’s going to be working at the bar but I’m just excited to hang out again.” Pulling her in for a hug you tell her, “I so get it.”
When you reach the bookshop, you hop out of the cab, thanking and tipping the driver and all but skipping to the door. The bell chimes when you walk in, your eyes searching the front of the store for Bucky. He’s no where to be seen so you head to the reading nook at the back, your eyes lighting up when you find a single rose laying on the cushion with a note attached. “I’m still wearing the smile you gave me.”
“Oh Bucky,” you say into the silence, bringing the flower up to your nose. You hear his footsteps approach and turn to see him walking down the aisle toward you. You launch yourself into his arms, rose in hand and kiss him. “Thank you, thank you, it’s so beautiful.” “Not as beautiful as you. You look incredible, he states, kissing you again, this time letting his hands wander over your waist and hips. Any other words you had planned to say are silenced by his mouth on yours, the kiss quickly heating up.
He pulls away to breathe, his fingers twirling into your hair. “What time are out reservations?” you ask, failing to hide the want in your voice. “In like 20 minutes,” he pouts, “and it’s so nice out I figured we could walk there since it’s close.” Brushing your lips to his you ask, “does that mean we need to leave now?” Bucky gives you a small nod and squeezes your hand. “Ok. I’ve really been looking forward to this, so we better leave now before we don’t,” you say with a wink.
“I have too, let’s go!” Bucky agrees with one last kiss. The two of you walk hand in hand down the street, the city alive with the excitement over the change in weather, summer on the way. “I love this city,” you whisper into the wind, smiling at Bucky. “Me too, y/n. Even more so now,” he adds, watching you dip your head with a blush. He stops you in the middle of the street, pulling you in a for a sweet kiss, “mmmm definitely like it more now.”
He starts walking again, bringing your hand up to his lips as you practically float next to him. “Here we are,” he says, motioning to a sweet little spot tucked away in Chelsea. “I’ve never been here before!” you say with excitement. “Just wait until you see the outdoor seating in the back.” Smiling like an idiot you greet the hostess and follow her to the back, your breath catching as you take in the intimate seating area surrounded beautiful greenery and soft lighting. “Here are your menus, your waiter will be with you right away, welcome to Gallow Green.”
“Oh, Bucky! It’s so perfect!” you quietly squeal, looking around. “I had a feeling you would love it here, I’m glad it was a surprise, I was worried you might have been before.” Shaking your head, no you reach out to grab his hand, “thank you. This is already the best first date I’ve ever had.” Bucky’s smile widens and his eyes crinkle and you fall a little harder, hoping you don’t have actual hearts in your eyes.
“I’m so glad, doll. I know we did things a little backwards, but I want you to know I intended to take you out properly and all.” Instead of blushing at his own implication he says it with confidence, his eyes darkening as you hum and brush your foot up his leg. “Oh, it was worth it,” you assure him. Letting out a low growl only you can hear, he replies, “so worth it.”
The waiter comes over and neither of you notice until he clears his throat and smiles, asking if you would like drinks and to hear the specials. You order some drinks and Bucky recommends some appetizers. The conversation flows as easily as ever, Bucky asking you questions about your childhood and telling you more about his and the adventures with his grandparents. You learn that he spent many of his younger years with them, the bond they have extremely special and strong.
“So, I’m named after him, my mother knew it would make him so happy. Everyone calls me Bucky instead of James so no one gets confused, but I think we could have handled it.” He laughs, clearly caught up in a memory. You don’t push, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze while you give him the moment. “Grandpa would have loved you, you know,” he says, voice strained with emotion. Before you can answer he continues, “and grandma won’t stop asking when you’re coming over for dinner.”
You get up, Bucky’s brows furrowing in confusion until you circle your arm around his neck and sit in his lap, kissing him firmly before whispering in his ear, “thank you.” He hums against your lips, securing you against his chest as you two continue to whisper to each other, drawing the eyes of the other patrons.
Noticing the waiter approaching with your tray of food you reluctantly get up and sit back in your seat, Bucky’s eyes twinkling with amusement as the waiter smiles at you both. “Enjoy your meal, if you need anything just let me know.” Thanking him you dig in, tasting everything and loving it! “The food is so good!” you say through a mouthful. Bucky gives you a wink, taking a forkful off his plate and holding it up to you, “here, try this.” He brings the fork to your mouth, gently feeding you the bite, his eyes bright as he watches you chew. “WOW,” is all you manage to say.
The rest of dinner is a whirlwind of delicious food, perfect conversation, and soft touches. When you leave the restaurant Bucky throws his arm around your shoulder and pulls you close to his side, “want to have some really amazing dessert before heading back? I know a great place nearby.” You smile up at him, crooking your finger so he leans down for a kiss. “I bet I know where you’re going to take me,” you say against his mouth.
“Try me,” he counters, nuzzling his nose to yours. “HARBS!” you shout, maybe a little too loudly but you don’t really care. “OK FINE, you’re right!” he says, with a playful roll of his eyes. You come to a dead stop, standing still on the sidewalk, and looking at Bucky wide eyed. “Bucky, what am I going to get?!?! A slice of the Queen of cake or one of the Strawberry cake!?!?! I can’t eat two, they are huge!”
It takes Bucky a moment to realize you’ve stopped walking because you’re unsure of what slice of cake to get at Harbs. He laughs, jogging back to you and snaking his arm around your waist, “how about we get a slice of each and we can share them, this way you can have both!” Giggling into his neck you say, “oh yea, that makes sense.” He brushes his fingers along your jaw, gently drawing your eyes to his, “it does, doesn’t it.”
You smile up at him for the 100th time that evening and Bucky can feel those familiar words pile up, settling right on the tip of his tongue, both weightless and heavy. He recognizes the look in your eyes because it’s reflected in his own and before he can think on it any more he opens his mouth only to be interrupted by a loud, “hey asshole, watch where you’re goin’, can’t ya see I’m walking here.”
Bucky instinctively wraps his arms around you and blocks your body with his which makes you laugh into his shoulder. “I thought you grew up in this city, Bucky? Aren’t you used to this crap?” you ask him, eyes alight with laughter. His shoulders drop and he lets out a breath, “I did! I am, I was just…distracted,” he says, a light blush tinting his cheeks.
“He did kind of ruin our moment, huh?” Standing on your toes you leave a trail of kisses along his neck and jaw, effectively changing the mood. “Ready for some dessert?” you say before kissing his lips. “Like hell I am, maybe we should get it to go?” Twirling and pulling him by the hand you look over your shoulder with a sly smile, “I thought you’d never ask.”
The next day…
Monday morning hits you like a ton of bricks, the lack of sleep and previous nights fun catching up to you. Bucky left early, allowing you time to get ready for work and time for him to get home before opening the store. Even with the heaviness of the day you feel like you’re floating on air, your thoughts never far from Bucky and the perfect weekend you had.
“Nat, I swear. It was the perfect date. I feel like this can’t be real.” You walk and talk, making your way toward the building. “He’s too good to be true!” Nat chuckles in your ear, “I know what you mean, but he’s very real.” With a dreamy sigh you nod in agreement even though she can’t see you. “I bet you look like one of those walking hearts for eyes emoji’s right now,” she laughs, never one to stop teasing you. “Whatever, Nat! You’re gonna be right where I am before you know it. I can tell you really like Sam.” She doesn’t deny it, but you can feel her smile through the phone. “Whatever you say, y/n. Have a good day.”
Ending your call, you head into work, seeing that Bucky had sent you a text while you were talking to Nat. ‘Miss you already, doll❤ .’ You crash your phone to your chest, stopping dead in your tracks and doing a small happy dance. “Happy Monday to you too,” your coworker laughs, “someone must have had a good weekend.” You smile brightly and say, “something like that,” before walking to your desk.
You don’t get to see Bucky the for the next couple of days, work, errands, and life in general keeping you busy. He texts you every morning when he first wakes up and you two are in touch throughout the day. By the time Thursday rolls around you’re sick of work and decide you’re going to cut out early and visit him at the bookshop.
When you walk in you notice he’s speaking to someone, but you can’t quite see who it is behind his large frame. Your footsteps alert them both and Bucky turns to you, his face lighting up as he jogs over and crushes you to his chest. “Hi,” he whispers into your hair. “I’m gonna kiss you now even though my grandma is watching, I’ve been waiting all week!” You don’t get a chance to argue, his lips crashing to yours in a light but sweet kiss.
He grudgingly pulls away and walks you over to his grandma, her happiness at seeing you nearly mirroring his. “So good to see you again, y/n,” she says as she gives you a hug. “It’s lovely to see you too Betty!” With a twinkle in her eye she looks you both over, “Bucky and I were just talking about you, weren’t we? When are you available to come over for dinner?” Leaning into Bucky, you say, “what about Sunday?” “That sounds perfect and would you bring some of those delicious cookies you made?” Bucky agrees, “oh yes! And you should probably make an extra batch just for me!” Poking his side, you happily say “yes,” giving Betty one more hug as she explains she must leave so she isn’t late for her mahjong game.
As soon as his grandma is out of sight Bucky pulls you into the small room behind the counter, backing you against the wall, “I really hope we don’t get any customers.” You dip your fingers into his jeans and pull his body flush to yours, kissing him soundly. Your make out session is interrupted by the chime of the bell over the door, the loud chatter of a group of people cutting through the moment. “Shit, shit, shit,” Bucky whines.
Plastering on his best sales smile he walks out and greets the customers, quickly pointing them in the right direction. “Let me know if you need anything else.” You sneak out from behind the counter and pretend as if you’re searching for a book. “Excuse me sir, could you help me find something.” Bucky’s eyes darken as he stalks toward you. “Did you just call me sir?” he all but growls into your ear. You give his hair a little tug, a cheeky grin on your face as you say, “maybe I did.”
Right before he gets the chance to steal a few more kisses the people emerge from the aisle, books in hand. “I guess I have to go check them out,” he sighs, giving you a quick peck before doing just that. He finishes up, glancing at his watch, “we close in a half hour then I have a shift at the bar.” You wrap your arms around his neck, “are you working this weekend too?” He runs his hands over your ass and gives it a light squeeze, “Friday and Saturday again.”
“Well, maybe I’ll just have to come hang out at the bar. You know keep you company while you work. I could bring Nat; she’ll want to see Sam I’m sure.” Bucky kisses you, “that sounds,” another kiss, “perfect,” more kisses. “Mmm great, I’ll see you tomorrow night then.” After a few more heated moments you part, Bucky walking you out and waiting while you grab a cab.
No sooner does your ass hit the seat of the car that your phone pings, ‘can’t wait until tomorrow night😍.’ Your bubbly laugh is uncontrollable as you text him back, ‘me either,’ quickly opening Nat’s message and asking her if she wants to go to the bar with you.
Friday night…
“What do you think Nat?” you ask, as usual looking to her for advice on your outfit. “I love it and the color is amazing on you.” Touching up your lip gloss you smile at her in the mirror’s reflection, grabbing your bag with a “let’s go!”
The bar is packed and you text Bucky to let him know you’re there. In less than a minute, Sam is outside, greeting Nat with a sweet kiss and giving you a hug, “come on ladies, right this way.” Nat looks back at you and mouths, “nice,” as you move past the line.
As soon as you walk in you search for Bucky. You don’t see him behind the bar but continue following Sam to the other end, two open bar stools waiting for you. “Bucky’s grabbing something from the back but I can get you started,” Sam says smoothly. Nat tells him to make whatever he thinks you’ll like and Sam grins, kissing her cheek before moving behind the bar.
While you wait for your drinks and Bucky you and Nat gush over how cute Sam is. “Omg, I’m so excited. He seems so nice. And he has a great ass,” you laugh watching as Nat enthusiastically agrees. Just as you’re about to say something about Bucky a warm arm slides around your shoulders. The hairs on your arm stand up but not for a good reason as you turn your head and come face to face with a man you have never seen before.
“Can I help you,” you ask, tone unfriendly as you move out from under his arm. “Can I buy you a drink beautiful,” he asks, stepping into your personal space. “NO, thank you,” you say firmly, once again moving away from him. “Aw come on baby, you can’t tell me you didn’t come here looking for a good time tonight.” Your nose wrinkles in disgust, your mouth opening to tell him off.
“Hey buddy, didn’t you hear her when she said no thank you.” Now that’s a voice you recognize, spinning to see Bucky standing right behind you, his arms folded over his chest and his jaw clenched. “Who asked you, asshole,” the guy shoots back, clearly not taking a hint. “My boyfriend did, actually,” you say, wrapping your arms around Bucky’s middle and glaring at the guy. The guy scoffs, rolling his eyes and walking off while mumbling under his breath. You look up at Bucky, his eyes soft as he asks, “did you just call me your boyfriend?”
@aesthetical-bucky @buckys-broody-muffin @bugsbucky @book-dragon-13 @devynsdiary @eurynome827 @hiddles-rose @hailmary-yramliah @ikaris-whore @itsunclebucky @jhangelface0523 @jewelofwinter @jewels2876 @loricameback @littledarlinhavefaithinme @littleredstarfish @mushyjellybeans @marvelgirl7 @metal-armed-cuddly-dork @marvelandotherfandomimagines @nano--raptor @randomfandompenguin @nerdypinupcrystal @scarletsoldierrr @sallycanwait68 @softpeachbarnes @the-wayward-robot @when-the-hell-is-bucky @flyawaybaybay @throwmyheartawayagain @amandatar-06 @nd1998sc @captainchrisstan @vherriepie @godofplumsandthunder @fire-flv @jamesbarnesappreciationclub @irishflutiegirl @rinthehufflepuff @moonybarnes @nordlysinthewoods @hawksmagnolia
#bucky barnes#bucky barnes x reader#bucky x reader#bucky barnes au#bookshop au#bucky barnes bookshop au#bartender!bucky x reader#bucky barnes x reader fluf#bucky x reader fluff#bucky barnes fluff#bucky fluff#bucky barnes imagine#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes x you#bucky bookshop au#first date#bartender!bucky#sebastian stan#top shelf#top shelf chapter 7
402 notes
·
View notes
Text
Before you read, here’s the previous chapter. New? Start from the beginning!
Crimson Butterflies
Ao3
Chapter 3: Gotten Lucky
Touya awoke with the sunrise, as he often did. He groaned as the spears of light flowing through the moth-eaten curtains played over his face, eyes fluttered as they tried to adjust to the sun. He leaned over the arm of the couch, inadvertently pushing the throw pillow to the ground, to see the light puddling across the dusty wood like slowly-spreading spilled milk. His back cracked as he arched it, and then he flopped back down against the couch, running his hand over his face. When he pulled it away, he found a smear of blood across his index finger that he’d apparently missed when showering last night.
He’d given Moe the one bed in the apartment, because he wasn’t a dick. She’d passed out as soon as her head hit the pillow, filling his bedroom with quiet, peaceful snores. As he stood over her, marveling at how young and innocent she looked while she slept, he wondered yet again how she’d ended up beaten and bloodied in an alleyway. It was a question only she could answer, and if Touya had learned anything in his years on the streets, it was that you didn’t exactly gain much information trying to force people to talk.
He’d just have to wait and see, if she stuck around long enough.
Touya scrolled through the news feed on his phone, then, after finding nothing of interest, tossed it on the coffee table and reclined his arms behind his head. Damn, that was a sweet ass Porsche. That dickwad definitely didn’t deserve it, nor the drunk honeys he was sweet-talking into it. Touya’s mouth soured at the thought of how much money he could have made off the car. The worst part wasn’t the loss, really, it was that with Moe here, he couldn’t go out and make up for it. There was no way he was leaving a stranger alone in his apartment unsupervised, especially one with some sketchy past.
Ugh. I don’t want to have to borrow money from Tomura again, he thought with disgust. There was no telling the amount of interest he would charge, and Touya hated being in the guy’s debt. Last time, he’d made him transport something he was ninety percent sure was a dead body, and Touya wasn’t keen on repeating the most stressful two hours of his life. Unfortunately, the creep was pretty well-off, probably from pawning all the shit he nabbed off dead people.
Touya had some questionable acquaintances, okay? That shit came with being a deadbeat.
Touya looked up when he heard the tentative pitter-patter of feet. Moe came creeping down the hallway, looking furtively around the room, but she couldn’t see that Touya was awake from her vantage point. He remained still, a smirk playing over his lips. After a second, the girl tip-toed across the room into the kitchen, disappearing from sight. As quietly as he could, Touya slowly sat up to peer over the back of the couch, where he found her sitting on her knees on his counter to rummage through his cabinets.
“Yellow polka-dot panties? Cute,” he called, and Moe nearly fell off the counter in surprise. Scowling over her shoulder at him, she jerked the back of the tee-shirt over her rump, holding it there with one hand while she continued to rifle through his stores. Touya just crossed his arms over the back of the couch and watched her, amused. She’s a little feistier today.
“How do you live like this?” she huffed, throwing up her hands in defeat when she found nothing to suit her tastes. “You don’t have shit.”
“Beggars can’t be choosers, honey.”
“Well, it looks like you didn’t choose anything,” she countered, turning to hop off the counter. The tee-shirt swished around her legs as she stomped towards him, stopping at the back of the couch to glare at him with her hands pushed primly into her hips. “I’m starving! Don’t you have anything to eat?”
“Well, I’m afraid I didn’t have time to do my grocery run because I was tending to your sweet ass,” he replied matter-of-factly, and her cheeks darkened, probably with a mixture of anger and embarrassment. She snorted and crossed her arms, looking away with a dour pout. Touya languidly rose from the couch, flicking a bit of her blonde hair from her face and causing Moe to gasp in affront. “Don’t be mad, sweets,” he purred. “Let me getcha somethin’ halfway-decent to wear, and then we’ll go out and get some food, okay?”
“And just where am I supposed to get clothes?” she shouted after him as he walked to his door, and he just gave her a dismissive wave before stepping out. He walked across the hall and knocked on his neighbor’s door, and he wasn’t two raps of his knuckles in before Himiko was swinging it open, causing him to nearly knock on his forehead.
“Hiya, neighbor! What can I do ya for?” she grinned brightly, and she could almost be mistaken for a cute, nice next-door neighbor if Touya didn’t know that she practiced arcane rituals and summoning spells on the weekends. To each their own, he always said, and Himiko always assured him that no bad spirits would find their way into his apartment.
“Hey, Himiko. I got a lady friend who’s in need of some clothes.”
With wide eyes, Himiko peered around his tall, lanky form to find Moe standing in the doorway, blushing while she fisted the hem of the tee-shirt. Himiko gave him a sly look, and with a blush, he hurriedly lied, “Look, she lost her luggage at the airport and I had to make do. Until they find it, she’s shit out of luck and I don’t got the money for a shoppin’ spree, so can you just loan her a few outfits for the time being?”
Either Himiko bought the fib, or she wasn’t in the mood to pry for once. Dabi didn’t care as long as she didn’t look at him like he had just gotten lucky with Moe.
“Sure thing, Dabi, dear <3 I just so happen to have a bag of goodies I was about to give to donation. She can help herself!~” Himiko grabbed a garbage bag from the entryway and passed it to him, and he grunted a “thanks” while he turned to pass it to Moe. Himiko giggled and blew them a kiss before flouncing back into her apartment, and Touya planked against the opposite wall with a groan. Even just a five-minute conversation with the girl was exhausting.
“She’s a bit weird, but she has good fashion sense,” Moe commented, and he peered through his bangs to see her holding up a tube top. “Lost luggage, huh?” she then sneered, and Touya scowled. “How long do you think that cover story will hold up?”
“Long enough. Now get dressed, I thought you were starving?”
Her stomach growling answered that question and sent her skittering back into the apartment with a shy squeal. Touya remained outside, smiling despite it all. At least she livened up the place.
There was a spring in Moe’s step as they walked out of the apartment together. A pair of dark blue skinnies hugged her legs, and her white cardigan ruffled in the breeze, along with her hair, which was piled into a bun atop her head. She flitted about, commenting about how nice the sunshine was, while Touya just strode along behind her in silence. It was nice to see her in good spirits, at least, but it was a little migraine-inducing for her to be so cheery at eight in the morning. He needed at least another four hours before he was ready to consort with such an optimist.
They walked to the supermarket, and Moe’s demeanor instantly underwent a change. As they strolled through the aisles piling TV dinners, chips, cereal, and other things into the cart, she clung to Touya like glue. Literally, she had her hands curled into the back of his shirt while she peered around him, hiding behind his frame whenever somebody walked by. It was pretty obvious that Moe didn’t want to be seen, but by whom? Well, probably whoever beat her ass in the alley and anyone associated with them.
Sensing her anxieties growing, Touya shoved a lollipop in her face.
“Eh?” she blinked, looking up at him in confusion.
“Stop worryin’,” he huffed. “I’m not gonna let anythin’ happen to you while you’re with me.” She blinked, then smiled shyly, her posture melting like butter in a pan. She popped the plastic off the lollipop, keeping it so the cashier could scan it when they finished, and began sucking on it happily. Just like a kid, Touya thought, but more endearingly than irritatedly. She even climbed in the basket, sitting among the food items sucking her lollipop and demanding to be wheeled around.
Touya wasn’t sure why it was so easy to give into her childish demands. Perhaps it was her smile, the first genuine smile he’d seen grace her lips since he’d come across her in the alleyway, as she stuck out her arms while he pushed her around the supermarket.
Once they’d gotten home with their haul, Moe smashed two bowls of cereal before crashing on his couch, laying on her belly with her heels kicked up over her back. Bored, Touya booted up his old Nintendo to play Super Mario World, and Moe watched him for about half an hour before piping up.
“So what’s your story, Dabi?”
Without looking away from the screen, Touya offered her a smirk.
“We all got secrets, toots, and my ‘story’ is one of them,” he quipped. Out of the corners of his eyes, he watched her lay her cheek on her arms, her expression thoughtful while she watched the pixelated Mario run around the screen stomping Goombas.
“Sorry,” she murmured. “I didn’t mean to offend.”
“You didn’t,” he reassured her, moving the character with one hand while he leaned down to grab a beer from his cooler. He popped it open and took a swig, then continued, “Don’t sweat it.”
“Mm,” was all she said, and they fell back into silence, the only noises being the clacks of the controller and the audio of the videogame. She probably didn’t mean anything by it, but he did just meet her, after all. Maybe she’d stick around, and maybe she’d catch him in a divulging mood one day. But today was not one of those days; today was one of those days where Touya pretended his life wasn’t the shit pile it was and he beat the only game he owned for the hundredth time.
“Hey, um,” she spoke up again sometime later, and from her tone of voice, he thought she was going to apologize again. He turned around, mouth open to tell her not to worry about it, but she cut him off with a shy, “Thank you.” He clamped his mouth shut, the viable skin on his face turning a bit pink. “I never thanked you, you know, for saving me.” Her red-orange eyes stared at the floor as she traced patterns into the dust. “So… Thank you. I’m sure it was a pain.”
He blinked, then smiled wanly.
“Most things in life are, toots. You just gotta roll with it.” She looked up at that, smiling slightly, and he gave her a kind look. “Don’t worry about it. It wouldn’t been a dick move for me to leave you like that. Contrary to what I look like, I’m not a monster.” She laughed, genuinely, and it made him feel kind of floaty and light inside, like maybe things weren’t all bad.
Maybe he’d gotten lucky with this girl after all, fluttering into his life like a butterfly on the breeze. He supposed he’d just have to stick with her and find out.
Enjoy this story? Here’s the next chapter! Please consider perusing my Table of Contents.
#dabi#touya todoroki#todoroki touya#moe kamiji#kamiji moe#burning#dabi x burnin#burnin x dabi#my hero academia#mha#boku no hero academia#bnha
4 notes
·
View notes
Text
Homecoming
This is technically, TECHNICALLY sfw, but it does skate closer than I usually go to, yknow, the other thing. A lot closer. :3 Set right after the Trooper endgame
---
She was beginning to wonder if the smoke smell would ever come out of her hair.
Briyoni stepped out of her third almost-scalding hot shower and growled at the still faintly clinging odor. She had a nice permanent memento of the battle for Corellia, she didn’t need to reek of smoke forever, too. At least attempting to get the smell out made a nice excuse to repeatedly visit the first real showers she’d had access to in months. Bry ran her fingers through her hair to squeeze out the excess water before drying off. And they were heading back to Coruscant today, so after reporting to Garza, she could go home and stand in her own shower until the hot water ran out if she so desired.
“And I probably will,” she muttered to herself as she dressed--gingerly, thanks to a few lingering sore spots. That was honestly the single most tempting thought in the galaxy. Fortunately, Corellia to Coruscant, plus time to meet with Garza and wrap up any official business would only delay about a day.
Bry got her gear together, met the rest of Havoc at the spaceport, and had her ship burning hyperlanes before the morning was half over. She was looking forward to some downtime.
---
She was looking forward to that downtime even more after reporting to Garza turned into a meeting with the Supreme Chancellor.
Lucky I wore my good armor, Bry thought sardonically as Havoc followed Garza to the Chancellor’s office. Fortunately it wasn’t a long meeting, though still long enough to have her wanting a stiff drink. Or maybe that was simply due to Chancellor Saresh’s disappointment they hadn’t captured Rakton alive to use in trade for POWs. Stars, was it hard to even sort of swallow her retort to that. Either way, Bry was more than happy to bid farewell to the Senate Tower for the next month or so of leave. She tossed cursory farewells to the others and bolted for the speeder stand, thoughts already on the tantalizingly close hot shower and maybe a nice glass of juma juice.
Her plans were derailed in the best way possible, however, the second she opened her apartment door.
“Hey, gorgeous,” Jonas grinned from his slouched seat on her couch.
“That was gonna be my line,” Bry shot back, grin of her own spreading as she dropped her bag. Looking around, he’d clearly been waiting at least long enough to settle in; jacket tossed over the back of a chair, boots kicked off, and sleeves pushed up. “Should I go with ‘Honey, I’m home’ instead?”
He laughed. “Go with whatever the hell you like, Bry, I’m just happy to see you.”
“Likewise. I thought you were s’pposed to be working. Don’t get up” --she held out one hand--”I’m comin’ to you.”
Jonas heeded the advice, relaxing back into the couch as she crossed to sit next to him. He half-turned to be facing her and rested one arm along the back of the couch. “So, you’re happy to be home, I’m guessing? Just... off the top of my head.”
She snorted a laugh and scooted closer. “Smart man.”
“You’ll find I’m more than a pretty face, Major,” he teased.
Bry grinned mischievously and bit her bottom lip. Wonder how far we can take this game... “Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah,” Jonas drawled, eyes gleaming with matching mischief as he started running his fingers in lazy trails up and down her arm. “I’m also a really good kisser.”
So that’s how we’re playing this, huh? She leaned in closer and whispered, “Prove it.”
His hand, which had been on a slow trail up her arm, completed its journey and cupped her jaw as he obliged. After just the right interval to give her a taste but also leave her wanting more, he pulled back. Just far enough to breathe, his forehead resting against hers and his thumb rubbing against her cheek as he murmured, “Welcome home, hero.”
She let out a soft laugh. “Please don’t. I got enough of that hero pfassk from the higher ups.”
“Well, then,” Jonas leaned forward ever so slightly into their contact, “any special requests?”
“Just kiss me like that again,” Bry murmured back, wriggling out of her jacket.
“I can do that,” he chuckled quietly as he pulled her back in.
This kiss lingered and deepened, Bry’s hands sliding into Jonas’ hair as he braced against the back of the couch. She couldn’t completely swallow a small needy moan, which got another quiet chuckle out of him.
“You smell like smoke,” he mumbled, sounding more amused than bothered by the fact, a rough edge creeping into his voice.
She snorted, carding her fingers through his hair. “That’ll happen when you run around a warzone industrial planet for three days. You’re lucky I had time to take real showers b’fore getting home, or it would be worse.”
“Thank the stars, then,” Jonas grinned.
Bry rolled her eyes and playfully pushed his shoulder so he sat back. “Here’s a question for you,” she began as she shifted to follow, settling in straddled across his lap. “How come we almost always do this” --she dipped her head to steal a quick kiss, hands coming to rest on his shoulders--”here?”
He laughed, playful glint in his eyes as his hands settled on her hips. “Your couch is more comfortable than mine.”
As someone who had fallen asleep on both, she did have to concede that point. “Mm-hm.” One hand started to slide in toward his unbuttoned shirt collar, fingers ghosting along his collarbone.
His breath hitched, voice decidedly rougher even as he aimed to stay lighthearted. “Also, a few of my contacts know where I live. For emergencies. So the odds..” he caught a sharp breath as she lightly raked her nails against his chest, and she watched with a mischievous smile as he swallowed hard before continuing, “...the odds of interruption are higher....”
“As good a set of reasons as anY--” her voice pitched high and she instinctively curled toward him as his hands edged under the hem of her shirt in retaliation.
Jonas chuckled and pressed a kiss behind her ear as her forehead rested against his shoulder. “All’s fair-”
She kissed him to shut him up, felt him laugh into it, swallowed the quiet groan that followed, hummed in pleasure herself as his hands trailed their way up her sides.
And then he froze as his fingertips brushed the skin just below the edge of her bra.
Bry stilled as well, wincing internally. Aaand he found it...
Jonas broke the kiss, playful mischief vanished into concern, as he more deliberately traced the line of scar tissue. “Bry?” His brow furrowed as it kept going, wrapping around from her side toward the center of her chest. Under slightly different circumstances, the touch might’ve been erotic, but the worry plain on his face dismissed that possibility. “Where’d this come from?”
She sighed and aimed for a lighthearted tone as her hands curled against the back of his neck. “A souvenir from Corellia.” She ran her fingers through his hair as he reached the origin of the scar, dead-center over her sternum. “Didja think retaking the Bastion was easy, darling?”
He actually flinched a little at the endearment, gaze fixed on where his hand had stopped even though her shirt was in the way. “Bry.”
“Jonas.” She cupped his jaw with one hand and tilted his chin up to make him meet her gaze. “It was just an Imperial grunt with a vibroshiv.”
He snorted, expression easing slightly, though worry lingered in his eyes. “You say that like I don’t know what you can do with a vibroshiv.”
“It’s not that bad,” Bry assured him. Anymore, she added mentally as she peeled off her shirt so he could see for himself.
Jonas followed the line of the scar with his eyes, darker green against her skin, as his fingers traced back toward where he’d initially found it. “Not that bad,” he muttered in disbelief.
“Not as bad as it was intended to be, then,” she amended, then winced at the look on his face as the implications of that paired with where it started hit him. “Jonas. Jonas.” She tipped his chin up and kissed him softly as she promised, “I’m fine.”
Jonas let out a shuddery breath that was maybe intended as a laugh as his fingers traced lightly back and forth over the scar’s path. “Haven’t you ever heard of armor, gorgeous?”
“It gets in the way,” she said, only half-joking. And it didn’t help.
He rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Yes, of incoming damage, that’s the point.”
“And also of my preferred fighting style,” Bry countered. “The faster I kill things, the less chance they have to do damage in the first place.”
“Fair,” Jonas conceded reluctantly. “Still...”
“I’m still fine,” she reiterated.
Jonas held her gaze for a moment, then looked down at the scar again before planting a deliberate kiss on the origin point. He rested his forehead against hers and gave her a smirk that was almost pure challenge.”Prove it.”
Bry laughed, slightly shaky with relief he’d let it go with relative ease. “If you’re hinting the way I think you are....” she wove her fingers into his hair, and her voice dropped to a rough whisper, “...we’re wearing way too many clothes.”
He closed the gap for a kiss before whispering back, just as rough, “That’s easily remedied, y’know.”
And it was.
---
“So,” Bry panted, resting her chin on his chest and biting her lower lip around a very satisfied grin, “Convinced?”
Jonas let out a breathless laugh, one arm loosely wrapped around her and fingers tracing random patterns on her shoulder blade.”Pretty thoroughly, yeah.”
She snickered and wiggled higher to steal a kiss, bracing one hand against the mattress when it lasted longer than anticipated. “Mm, gotta say, Balkar, if this” --she ran the fingers of her other hand through his hair--”is gonna be the reaction to me getting injured like this...” another kiss, then one in quick succession pressed to his jawline. “maybe I’ll stopped tryin’ so hard to avoid it.”
His hand, which had been sliding up her arm, froze near her elbow, and Jonas actually sat up. By nature of proximity, Bry went with him, the sheets pooling around them.
“Please don’t,” he said, all trace of his usual humor and charm absent from his voice.
“Jonas...” She reached to rest one hand on his shoulder. “I was just joking, handsome.”
He took her hand and tugged her closer so he could kiss her temple. “Don’t, Briyoni.”
“Don’t worry,” she murmured, running her fingers back and forth along his collarbone. “I have no intention of letting some moof-milker do me in any time soon. I’ve got a war to win and a charming, ruggedly handsome SIS agent to marry, unfortunately in that order.”
Jonas chuckled, running his thumb over the back of her hand. “Big plans.”
“I’m that kind of girl,” she said breezily, which got an actual laugh.
“You certainly are,” he agreed, and kissed her temple again. “You also still smell like smoke.”
“And we both smell like sweat now on top of that,” Bry countered. “With that in mind...” she pulled back enough he could see her impish grin, “what would you say if I told you my initial plan--before being so thoroughly and wonderfully sidetracked--was to take a nice, hot shower?”
Jonas grinned and followed as she shimmied toward the edge of the bed. “I’d ask if you want company.”
“Depends,” she said coyly as her feet hit the floor. She turned to face him, fingers gently combing hair back from his forehead. “If you’re the one offering, then absolutely.” She kissed his forehead, then tangled her hands in his to pull him to his feet.
But he resisted, and instead pulled her back into bed, roughly toward the pillows.
“Jonas, this is the wrong direc-!”
He cut off her protest with a kiss, a good, deep one. “Bry?”
“Mm?” she mumbled through the heady daze of that kiss.
“Welcome home.”
It was, she had to admit, one of the better homecomings she’d had. Maybe it was alright if she smelled like smoke for a few more minutes.
-
(for anyone wondering, yes, yes Bry is majorly downplaying how badly she got hurt to leave that scar. he’s worried enough as it is.)
16 notes
·
View notes
Text
Spontaneous Attraction Ch. 15
Pairings: Kyungsoo x You
Genre: Fluff/Angst/Smut | Ambiguous AU
Warnings: None
Word Count: 3k
Description: You start to understand his perspective more.
| 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 |
Throwing back the covers, you shivered at the cold. Before you could fully sit up large palms were on your waist, pulling you backwards. You landed with a huff, arms encircling your torso so you were trapped with Kyungsoo's chest on your back. The man behind you groaned tiredly and nuzzled his face in the nape of your neck. His breath cascaded down the curve there, tickling your skin. You felt the vibrations in his chest as he murmured in a small voice,
"Stay."
You chuckled under your breath at his cuteness.
"I have work. Did you not hear my alarm? You probably need to go, too."
"Just a little longer." You briefly wondered if you looked back if you would have found him pouting.
"Come on," you goaded, pushing on his arms. He tightened them and curled his legs closer to fit behind yours in defiance.
"I like holding you. Please?" You sighed.
"Only because you asked nicely." Lips brushed the back of your neck. You relaxed, enjoying the closeness.
"Do you feel okay? I was worried I was too rough last night." At his question you took the time to mentally scan yourself.
"My legs are a little sore, but I'm okay. I would've told you if it was too much."
"Good. That's good," he mumbled. Kyungsoo let one of his hands wander, skimming down your stomach. Fingers teased under the hem of your shirt.
"Your hands are cold," you smiled lazily. You braided your fingers with his on your hip.
"That's why I wanted you to stay a little longer," he replied.
"Sure it is." You guided your joined hands up your side to lay against your heated skin. His icy digits began to soak in the warmth. Another brush of lips made you shiver.
"I'm proud of you," he declared suddenly. You laughed, confused.
"What?"
"You were such a good girl last night." His voice had dropped an octave. It was breathy and seductive, luring you in like he'd cast a charm on you. You were entranced by how he went from pouty to provocative in no time flat. Your eyes drifted closed so his voice surrounded you and invaded every thought, solely focused on Kyungsoo. "You took everything I gave you. And so perfectly behaved, too." He placed a deliberate, slow kiss just above the collar of your shirt, tongue darting out to wet the skin. He blew lightly on it, causing it to prickle and a shudder crawled down your spine. "Why do you taste so good?" It wasn't meant to be answered. He sounded like he was talking more to himself than you. Tiny, exposed confessions rolling off his tongue after biting it for so long. Knowing it was safe. Knowing he could trust the soft words to float around in the early morning and not be judged or teased or rebuked. As if you ever would have, but the peek into his thoughts was fascinating. Months and you still could barely read what he was feeling unless he spoke it aloud. "You've driven me crazy since I woke up after my birthday and you served me breakfast. I couldn't understand why a woman who had no clue who I was took care of me like a close friend. You were patient and kind explaining everything to me. When you called me your favorite stranger I thought you couldn't possibly be more interesting. I had so many questions I wanted to ask to learn more about you. It was all so strange, but I didn't feel scared. I keep doing all these things--things I don't normally do." His no longer icy fingers drew random patterns on your side. Hard enough not to tickle, but light enough his nails didn't scrape. He never made big motions either so your hand stayed locked with his. "I gave my number to a stranger then set up a date before I even knew your name. I went on dates in public. I skipped out at work to see you. No matter what happens you keep finding ways to surprise me. I would dream up the next thing that would make me fall more for you during our breaks, but you always found something more creative when I saw you. Acting cute, being ridiculous, being funny, being you. There's not one set way to describe you. I was just pulled to you like a magnet. And then you said you loved me. You said it before and after you found out about my job without a shred of questioning. Like it was such an obvious, incontrovertible fact that always existed. I was so overwhelmed w-with these--these urges..." You remembered when you hosted his band members for dinner and he had followed you to the kitchen. How feverish his kisses felt on your throat, pressed up against the counter. How he kept his hand on your knee most of the night. How you caught him staring at you every now and then.
Kyungsoo shifted his hips behind you and you felt his growing arousal. His soft lips dragged across your skin and paused over your pulse. His mouth didn't move away from your throat to talk next, sending vibrations through you.
"I felt all these things that I tried to push down. I wanted so much to kiss you..." Another wet kiss followed by cool breath. With each added sentence you slipped further and further under his enchantment. Your breathing grew shallower, heat pooling between your legs. You were melting; pliant and responsive to his actions. "To touch you..." With a roll of his hips, he grinded into your backside. His accompanying throaty whine would have been almost inaudible if his lips weren't right next to your ear. "To taste you..." His tongue licked one line from the crook of your neck and shoulder to where he was before. Your body was buzzing, tingling with pleasure. "Sugar," he whispered with a small nip of teeth and roll of his hips. “To have you...” You grinded back as well. A shaky sigh passed over the slick trail he made, bringing on more shivers. "I'm sorry for teasing you so much these last few weeks. You kept your promises, but I wasn't making it easy. I just needed--" he paused, searching for the right way to phrase it. "I needed to be reminded of something." He chuckled lightly at some unknown joke. "I can't get enough of you now. Can I have you?"
"You already have me, idiot," you joked to lighten the serious mood. He smiled into your neck.
"Then let me phrase my question better." Kyungsoo tilted his head, hair falling to the side. "Can I fuck you against the shower wall?" You moaned happily at the idea, but reality was closing in.
"I don't know. I don't want to be late, and I definitely don't want to have to stop like yesterday."
"Then I'll just have to skip the teasing and go right to fucking you harder." Your breath hitched, eyes opening. You turned your head to see Kyungsoo watching you with heavily lidded eyes, biting the inside of his lip. He raised an eyebrow. He waited with bated breath for any sign you were agreeing. A devious smirk grew on your face.
"Only if I get to leave my own marks on you, too." He jumped away, sitting up, the sudden distance shaking the rest of the trance off. You chuckled at his panicky look. "I'll make sure it's where no one will see, relax." Kyungsoo sighed in relief and pushed his hand through his hair, getting caught halfway in tangles.
"Right, of course. Sorry," he said quickly. His other hand squeezed tighter around yours, pulling the braid of fingers from under your shirt. "Yeah, of course you can. It's only fair. But it has to be coverable by a t-shirt. We have a photoshoot tomorrow." The smirk widened to a smile.
"Then let me get an extra towel for you." Kyungsoo helped pull you up and got off the bed with you. You stumbled slightly on your feet, Kyungsoo catching you by your arm.
"Are you okay?"
"Yeah. Just clumsy." He refused to let go of your hand while you picked out clothes and two fresh towels, but at least he offered to help carry. He observed your morning routine with a half smile. Like he was carrying a secret. Was he amused or just in a good mood? You were never sure.
After gathering what was necessary you dumped the change of clothes by the sink and hung the towels near the shower where you could reach them. Once you had the water heating up you turned to Kyungsoo whose eyes darted up to yours. He had been staring at your ass. You let it go, but laughed on the inside. He seemed almost obsessed with you being barely dressed. It wasn't the same look he would give you when you wore more revealing tops and his gaze would roam once in a while. Not quite as focused as the one he gave when you were totally naked like he was memorizing you. It was closer to the way he watched you yesterday morning; like he was thinking of the different ways to strip and fuck you using whatever stable enough surface was nearby. Maybe he liked the tease of having you covered just enough to be appropriate in front of others. Or maybe not appropriate, but things like lingerie that left that last little bit of someone to the imagination.
Either way, you weren't complaining. You were dating after all, and it made you feel sexy. Especially because his eyes were just naturally intense in normal situations. It made every glance more impactful. Some people say they're windows to the soul. Kyungsoo's eyes were more like canvases; painting his expression of feelings to reflect the situation around him. Reacting accordingly, thoughtfully. They colored his irises and crinkled at the corners. It was rarely a clear picture just like any artists work. Always left up to interpretation by the viewer. You'd spent more time than you would like to admit just watching his mind create new works. They would flicker and sparkle when he was excited, color popping off in changing bursts. You marveled at the strong saturation when he was enjoying food. Longer strokes with a richer pallete twirled around and danced to more abstract concepts and layered with other mediums whenever he talked about music. It was a complex gallery that continuously had you searching for the plaque that held a description. The only ones you'd found were obvious; an upturn of lips, raised eyebrows, a clenched fist, turning to hide his face. Things everyone did.
The one time you were caught trying to decipher his thoughts he had laughed at the confused, determined look on your face. You were walking with him in the park and decided to sit in the grass to rest a minute. Kyungsoo's gaze was fixed out on the long stretches of grass and trees and pathways watching the other people around you. With a hat and mask on you had to squint to glimpse at his eyes, but they were relaxed. Not shining, but not dull. Pastel smeared around to create a softening effect, never staying still as they darted around like he was seeing a whole different world from you. Your best guess was that he was daydreaming, but he could have just enjoyed being out in the sun. You hadn't realized how long you were staring, and suddenly his eyes morphed back to their normal paints, glancing your way, and laughter rang out from his mouth. His shoulders shook, corners of his eyes crinkling. The melodic sound warmed your cheeks and served to make you fall more for the--at that time--handsome stranger.
"What's so interesting? Is something on my face?" he asked good-naturedly. You snapped out of the memory. Kyungsoo was holding back his laughter in front of you in the bathroom.
"Sorry," you smiled and knew your face was red. "Just spaced out for a second. Let's get in." He released your hand. You reached for your shirt, but he stopped you and removed it himself. His smile sagged, eyebrows knitting together in worry. You looked sideways to your reflection in the mirror. A pattern of five small bruises laid out on your shoulder. You immediately knew if Kyungsoo put his hand there they would fit perfectly. The marks that had been purple were yellowing at the base of your neck and chest. The one he had made the night before stuck out on your skin next to the others. You turned your head and confirmed the same handprint bruises were on your hip where he gripped you, but lighter.
"You said you were okay," Kyungsoo muttered.
"I am," you insisted, not letting your grin fall. He licked his lips, but still looked concerned. With a few swift movements he had stripped the last of his clothes off and was pushing you backwards into the shower. The water hit his side and you visibly shivered at the chill of the tile meeting your back. Cupping your jaw on either side, his lips came forward and slid along yours. You opened to him without thought. The gentle, barely there way his hands fell to your shoulders and continued down your arms made you think he was afraid of breaking you. The shift was palpable. His fingers ghosted back up to hover around your biceps. His mouth dropped to your bruised shoulder and said hoarsely,
"I'm sorry for hurting you." Kyungsoo kissed the five fingerprint bruises. "I should've known I was holding you too hard." He liked marking you, but not causing pain it seemed. A strange juxtaposition. It was loving, but struck you as regret more than an apology. You pushed your fingers through his hair and pulled his head up to meet his gaze. Behind his sad eyes it looked like he was beating himself up over it. They weren't focused, dewy, and kept drifting to your shoulder.
The thought floated by in your mind that perhaps he was more scared of taking this step forward than he let on. It would be understandable. As far as you knew the last person he'd told he loved and was intimate with had completely screwed up how his brain handled relationships. That broken trust made people paranoid. It made them afraid. It made them question things they never would have in the past. You had been there for all of it with your best friend years ago. She looked at every new relationship--platonic or otherwise--with a newfound scrutiny. People weren't good until they screwed up anymore. They were unreliable and bound to turn on you until proven good. The worst was to see her self doubt eat at her. To see her unintentionally push others away so she wouldn't get hurt again. Was she being too clingy? Needy? Annoying? Passive? She cared so much about the smallest details. It broke your heart to watch, and it took you years of staying beside her to start building that trust in people back up. That no, it wasn't her fault and she wasn't going to end up living alone with only you forever. That she would find someone even more stubborn who won't give up on her.
So you resolved that you would be that person for Kyungsoo. Whatever his hang-ups. Whether he kept you at arms length for months or thought you were being too much. You weren't going to give up on him. Especially not after that confession that morning. He said he had been reminded of something, and that's what pushed him to do more than kiss you. Whatever that was, it gave him a reason to pull you closer past the doubt and trust you not to hurt him. Maybe that was why he was so worried; instead he had hurt you.
If Kyungsoo had been through anything similar than he hid it well during most moments. But that morning in the shower was not one of them. He was so frightened of screwing up. That you would abandon him because he thought he was being too...too what? Too possessive? That was ridiculous. You were a well kept secret from anyone outside his roommates and yours. The rare times you got alone with him you expected him to do things like this. It was natural to want to show physical affection, and you liked his method. The sentiment lingered on your skin for days after he was gone.
"Kyungsoo," you lilted. "I didn't say anything because I liked it. Don't worry over me."
"Are you sure? But the bruising..." His sentence faded into nothing.
"Don't ever hold back. That's what the safeword is for. I promise I like this. I really love this, in fact." He hummed dejectedly, searching your face for any sign of dishonesty. He didn't believe you yet. "It just shows me how much you want me to be yours." His dark brown eyes flickered to yours with a new sharpness. "And I love being yours, Kyungsoo." When he saw you weren't wavering he kissed you once shortly. Cautiously. When he pulled back you reached a hand to cup his face. He leaned into your palm like the night before, cheek burning. "I'm sorry to inform you that you're stuck with me. No exchanges or refunds." That earned you a lop-sided smile. The kind that starts with a slight twitch in the corner of his mouth, and when he can't hold it in it grows slowly. The kind that made Kyungsoo's whole being light up with a warm glow. The kind that made your heart beat flutter against your ribs. He covered your hand with his.
"Does that mean I'll have to put up with your bad jokes forever?" You echoed his grin and chuckled.
"Don't forget my crazy stories. You know something catches fire in all the good ones. At some point you're going to be part of that."
"Promise?" he replied softly.
"It's inevitable when you're so hot."
"And there's the humor."
"What can I say? I'm consistent." Kyungsoo sighed over-dramatically, shaking his head.
"What am I going to do with you?"
"I can think of a few suggestions."
#exo#exo fanfiction#exo scenario#exo scenarios#exo fluff#kyungsoo#kyungsoo x reader#kyungsoo fluff#do kyungsoo#kyungsoo fanfiction#d.o#fluff
58 notes
·
View notes
Text
Crack crossover: Dragon Wings/Dragon Eclipse Pt4
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | ???
((and a scene from Jyuushiro’s pov bc why not.))
Jyuushiro took in the way Sasaki’s shoulders lowered minutely the moment they crossed the ward-lines of the Ugendo. Even the man’s carefully controlled reiatsu gained a calmer edge the further they walked along the path towards Jyuushiro’s home. It was clear Sasaki felt at home here on the grounds, just as much as he felt at home around Jyuushiro and Shunsui and Unohana.
(It was interesting to watch Sasaki’s movements, to listen to his voice, and /recognize/ bits and pieces of his mannerisms.)
(How close were they in his world, that he would adopt mannerisms from all of them?)
“Are you hungry?” Jyuushiro asked as he slid open the door and stepped through, pausing to trade his sandals for house slippers.
“I could eat,” Sasaki agreed, reaching out absently to an empty spot, then freezing with a grimace as his hand closed over nothing instead of the slippers he was clearly expecting. His gaze skittered to Jyuushiro then away, and he stiltedly pulled on a pair of guest slippers, shoulders rigid and reiatsu drawing inward.
Jyuushiro bit back a frown, wishing desperately that Shunsui had come home with him instead of staying to help sort out the mess left behind. Perhaps he shouldn’t have offered his home to Sasaki, but the man had seemed /relieved/, initially, and had been relaxing on their walk up.
Jyuushiro wasn’t blind. Sasaki had deliberately chosen to approach the three of them out of every being gathered, even the well-loved teens. Had seemed almost /disturbed/ by the teens — or perhaps by Urahara? He hadn’t caught the direction of the man’s gaze close enough to be certain.
“I’ll see what’s available, then,” Jyuushiro told Sasaki with a smile, then glanced over the man thoughtfully, taking in the small signs of disarray. “Would you prefer a fresh set of clothing? I’m certain I have some spare that will fit.”
Sasaki hesitated, then slowly nodded. “If it’s no bother,” he said. “I’ve been on my feet and moving for… two days now, I believe.”
“As have we,” Jyuushiro agreed. He led Sasaki down one of the hallways and gestured towards the bathroom. “If you’d like to get clean while I find you something fresh. I’ll leave the clothing just outside the door for you.”
He didn’t miss the flicker of relief across Sasaki’s face, no matter how quickly the man smoothed it out with a pleasant, warm smile. “Thank you,” Sasaki said, inclining his head in a small bow. “I appreciate your hospitality, Ukitake-san.”
“It’s the least I can do,” Jyuushiro countered, then stepped back and turned to head to his room, leaving Sasaki to clean off as thoroughly as the man wanted.
‘What difference in our worlds to produce a man like him,’ Jyuushiro wondered, as he sorted through his clean clothing. ‘Who /is/ he? He feels… familiar?’
He closed his eyes and breathed out, settling his mind and opening his senses. Sasaki was a beacon of power, carefully banked but still obvious at this distance. He’d only met a few people with such power at their disposal: the Soutaicho, Urahara Kaito, and… Kurosaki Ichigo.
Jyuushiro considered that as he folded the clothing and set it by the door to the bathroom. Just like Urahara Kaito felt similar to Urahara /Kisuke/, so too did Sasaki Uryuu feel similar to several of the teens that Urahara Kaito surrounded himself with.
But it was too close of a similarity to be anything but direct relation. From a man who held himself with the confidence of age and experience.
(An alternate reality.)
(Something about that niggled at his mind.)
Jyuushiro shook his head and went in to check the kitchen, making a pleased noise at the sight of the already-prepared food set under a small kido barrier. The servants had made plenty, he figured after a moment of consideration; they’d likely expected him to return with Shunsui at his side.
Either way, by the time Sasaki had returned from his shower, Jyuushiro had set the food out at the table and settled in to wait with a cup of tea. Like he’d suspected, Sasaki had no problem finding his way to the dining room, and the man seemed comfortable in Jyuushiro’s clothing, like he was used to the way the kimono was slightly too large on him.
“Thank you for this,” Sasaki said with a small bow, then took a seat across from Jyuushiro. He absently flicked his hands, nudging back the hems of the sleeves so his hands were free. “I appreciate it.”
Jyuushiro smiled warmly at Sasaki, and gestured for Sasaki to serve himself, noting the sort of items that he seemed to prefer. Dinner passed in quiet, idle conversation, nothing that would reveal anything truly important, just… simple things.
Like the state of Jyuushiro’s pond, and how many koi were currently living in it. Or the annoyances of paperwork. Little amusing anecdotes of their lives that gave only small insights into the worlds they lived in.
When they were done, Sasaki stood before Jyuushiro could, stacking up many of the dishes and carrying them back into the kitchen.
“You don’t have to—”
“Perhaps not, but that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t,” Sasaki cut him off with a dry look, already sorting the dishes out and giving them a basic cleaning. “Your other self already lost this argument,” he pointed out, tone bland.
“Be that as it may, you are my guest,” Jyuushiro tried again, only to blink at the mild, kind, /dangerous/ smile that Sasaki gave him in response. The sort of smile /he/ used whenever someone tried to suggest he rest when he didn’t need it. “You are… far too skilled at that.”
“Learned from the best,” Sasaki agreed, setting aside the dishes for the servants to give a thorough cleaning to later and drying off his hands. “More tea?”
“I… yes, please.”
It felt odd for a stranger to be serving him in his own home, but Sasaki did it with the ease of long habit. He didn’t need to ask where anything was, simply pulled out the kettle and set water on to boil. Then he brought down the teapot that Jyuushiro often used, glanced at Jyuushiro once, then selected one of the tins of tea leaves without question.
It was even odder to realize that Sasaki had selected the tea that Jyuushiro had been about to suggest.
(They really were close, weren’t they?)
They settled on his porch, a small table between them to hold their tea and the darkening grounds before them. The silence was more comfortable than Jyuushiro expected it to be, and he could already see the tension unwinding from Sasaki’s shoulders the longer they sat and simply drank tea.
Until, with a quiet sigh, Sasaki set aside his empty cup and tipped his head back to stare up at the dark sky above them. “Thank you for this,” he murmured. “I know you’re not /my/ Ukitake-ji-san, but still… thank you. I appreciate you going out of your way for a stranger like this.”
“You and he are close,” Jyuushiro said, turning Sasaki’s words over in his mind. Sasaki considered his Ukitake his uncle, and not simply as a way to lower Jyuushiro’s guard around him. He’d suspected it, but… confirmation on the relationship was nice.
“Initially against my will,” Sasaki admitted. “But he, Kyoraku-ji-san, and Unohana-ba-san didn’t let me be until I gave in.” He shrugged and tilted his head enough to give Jyuushiro a tiny, true smile. “They were all quite persistent.”
Jyuushiro chuckled softly and poured himself the last of the tea. “We can be, yes. Was there any particular reason, or..?”
“Ukitake-ji-san and Kyoraku-ji-san used the excuse of my zanpakutou being a dual blade.” At Jyuushiro’s surprised look, Sasaki smirked and nodded. “Yes, exactly.”
(Yet another dual blade user.)
(It /niggled/ at his mind… what was he overlooking?)
“I’m still not entirely certain what Unohana-ba-san saw that interested her,” Sasaki said. “She just… started involving herself.”
Jyuushiro hummed in thought, eyeing Sasaki out of the corner of his eye. There was a chance that Unohana-taicho got involved simply because /they/ had gotten involved, but Jyuushiro somehow doubted that. His instincts were telling him there was more to it than that.
Sasaki brought a hand up, covering a yawn, then gave Jyuushiro a sheepish look. “Sorry. I should probably get some sleep.”
“Understandable,” Jyuushiro said, rising to his feet. “Come, let me set up the guest room for you. And maybe lend a hair brush?” he asked, eyeing Sasaki’s striped, hip-length hair that was free of its previous braid. Sasaki’s hair had a distinctive wave to it, even damp as it still was, and Jyuushiro knew how much difficulty Shunsui had with /his/ hair.
Sasaki hesitated, then gave Jyuushiro another small, true smile. “That would be appreciated, thank you. Finger-combing is only so useful with hair like this.”
He chuckled. “Shunsui complains of the same thing.”
“Kyoraku-ji-san just complains so you’ll brush his hair for him,” Sasaki said with amusement. “He’s lazy like that.”
“I’m aware,” Jyuushiro replied dryly. He was tempted to ask if /Sasaki/ had anyone like that in his life, someone he could be just /himself/ around, but… it felt too personal a question.
(Too /dangerous/ of a question.)
(After all, his counterpart had used the /excuse/ of Sasaki’s dual blades to continually approach the man, according to Sasaki.)
(He knew what that meant.)
Jyuushiro shook his thoughts free and showed Sasaki to a guest room, bringing in bedding and a hair brush while Sasaki dragged the futon out and went about setting it up. And, when Sasaki thanked him and waved him off, Jyuushiro went.
He needed to speak with Sōgyo no Kotowari.
Maybe his spirits would have more insight than what he’d managed to gather himself.
#bleach#crossover#self-crossover#A Dragon Flaps Its Wings#Dragon Eclipse#Dragon Eclipse AU#DragonEclipseVerse
39 notes
·
View notes
Text
High-Heeled Heaven
Read Chapter Four: Dsquared2 RiRi Sandals
Sebastian Stan x Reader
Summary: In which Sebastian can’t help but appreciate his girl’s high-heels shoes.
Genre: Romance/fluff
Warnings: Swearings
1,733 words
Notes: Inspired by Hell in High Heels by Jewelgirl04, I decided to write a little series of drabbles so we can be trash about how Seb likes high-heels. I’m not even sorry. Each chapter will be inspired by a different pair of shoes that I wish I could actually afford, lmao. The link down there provides a better look to the shoes if you want and in the middle of the fic there’s a link for the full outfit. I’m not very happy with this one but I hope you all enjoy! Next chapter we’re finally getting into 2017 Seb. Happy reading! <3
Chapter Five: Valentino Rockstud Pumps
New York is already falling into its usual cold temperatures as Halloween passes by and Thanksgiving rolls around, leaving you to enjoy the holidays at home now that your lastest film is completely wrapped up and set to be in the early stages of post-production.
As neither you or Sebastian have any real Thanksgiving ideas at first, you originally plan to spend the holiday catching up with your lost loved tv shows on Netflix.
God knows how much you’ve been working lately without a single day to just unwind.
But given that your busy schedule hasn’t offered you much time to visit your hometown or your family lately, you decide to indulge Sebastian’s proposed idea to fly in your parents to New York so they can spend a weekend with you after all these long months.
And since this is the first time they’re going to be actual visitors in a place that you now own, you decide to play up a good hostess and set up a nice Thanksgiving dinner for them even though the holiday isn’t something you usually fawn over.
So after picking them up at the airport in that Thursday morning and checking both in a spa hotel for the day, you’re finally able to focus on the night’s plans without any worries.
You love them dearly but you know that they’ll keep hovering over you all day to help even if it’s meant to be a weekend to relax.
Even though you’re a fairly decent cook, you had decided earlier to not ruin the day, prefering to trust your dinner menu to one of Lia’s chef friends who was nice enough to offer her catering services at last minute despite the busy date.
And much to your surprise, the whole dinner arrangement turns out to be easier than you thought.
Now that it’s a few hours into the night and you’re waiting for your parents’ Uber to arrive, you can’t help but be a little suspicious over Sebastian’s suddenly awkward behavior.
“Keep frowning and your face is getting stuck like that.” You tease him with a little grin as he sits on the other side of the kitchen’s counter, elbows on the surface while watching you finish the last fruit plate by the sink. “I love your pretty face too much to let it waste.”
Sebastian breaks out of his reverie with a huffed laugh, his expression melting into an amused one though he tries to sound at least a bit offended at your playful words.
“So that’s why you’re with me?” He purses his lips as a way to maintain his façade, rising his eyebrows in question when you smile knowingly by the other side of the counter, now standing right in front of him. “Just for my good looks?”
Though both of you know that it’s not only because of that, you can’t complain about his looks at all.
Right now is living proof of how amazingly good looking he can be – his hair perfect styled in a fluffy mess as a light shade of stubble covers his cheeks, somehow looking perfect with his burgundy sweater, leather jacket and a pair of pants that look sinful around his thighs. So, nope...you’re most definitely not complaining.
“That and a few other things that shall not be mentioned right now.” You reply with a wink that he chuckles at instantly, shaking his head at your antics before you cut the banter. “Are you sure you don’t want to call your mom today? There’s still time to come over.”
“I’m sure.” Seb says assuringly, lips curved up in a kind smile that you can’t help but swoon at before he gives a little nonchalant shrug. “She said they were going out with a few family friends to a restaurant or something.”
You hum in understanding, pretending to adjust a strawberry in the fruit plate as a way to play around until you can get to the point.
You think you might have a slight idea of why he’s acting this awkward and nervous and if your suspicions are right, you might know how it feels to be in his shoes so that’s why you’re trying to approach the matter as easily as you can.
“Okay...so what’s up with you today?” You ask with a little grin, his expression immediately turning into a feigned clueless one that you can’t help but snort at. “I can see you’re fidgeting from miles away, Seb.”
“I’m not.” He denies instantly, a short nervous laugh escaping from his lips as you glance pointedly at him, noting his drumming fingers on the counter’s surface. “What? I’m not– I’m not fidgeting.”
“You can’t tell me you’re nervous.” You state playfully, an amused grin gradually growing on your lips as his sudden silence kinda confirms your earlier suspicious, not failing to make you laugh at his sillyness. “You are, aren’t you? Seb!”
Sebastian can’t help but sigh with your words, his glare on you softening second by second until he gives a little nervous chuckle that you smile at instantly.
Sebastian normally turns out to be a very confident guy. He knows what he’s capable of and he knows how good he looks so that gives him a little boost of confidence at times. He’s charming and knows his way around words if he needs them to act in his favor, often rendering the people around him speechless.
This other side of him is completely the opposite and you still love it anyway.
He can be confident and charming but he can also be vulnerable and nervous when something means a lot to him. Right now it’s exactly that and your heart might have skipped a beat or two at what his reaction truly means behind it all.
“This is my first time meeting your family.” Sebastian says as he runs a hand through his hair, a frown settled between his eyebrows despite the fond smile playing on your lips. “Give me some credit, alright? I’m allowed to be nervous.”
Still grinning like a fool, you don’t waste any time before walking around the counter to wrap him up in your arms. With a content hum and a quick appraising glance to your outfit, Sebastian gladly lets you step into the space between his legs, his hands resting on your hips as you press a kiss to his pouty lips.
From that moment on, it’s just a countdown until he brings up a certain something and you know it. Not that you should be focusing on that right now.
“You’ve met them before, silly.” You finally reply, rolling your eyes playfully as you raise a hand to scratch fondly his stubbly cheeks. “And I know it was just through FaceTime and Skype but still. You flirted with my mother throughout our entire call in the first time.”
As you notice he’s struggling to hold back a smirk, you can’t help but roll your eyes because you still hear a lot from your mom about the day he openly flirted and completely charmed with her after accidentally showing up behind you during the call.
“But it’s not the same and you know it.” Sebastian shakes his head with a huff, his eyes locking with yours as he presses a small kiss to your wrist. “I just wanna make a good impression.”
“You will because you look damn handsome tonight and you’re a natural charmer.” You beam, pressing a last kiss to his lips before stepping away from him with a laugh. “If you only knew how much my mother gushes about you on the phone, though.”
With his hands now falling to his thighs, Sebastian doesn’t say anything as he takes his time on watching you, taking in every piece of your body and every little detail of your outfit as you stand a few steps away from him with a bashful smile, knowing exactly what’s coming next just by his look.
The dress you’re currently wearing is actually your doing, another online purchase as you’d been roaming through some sites before falling in love with the short, navy blue Valentino dress, the space print and loose fit closing the deal for you despite the price.
The shoes, on the other hand, are also from Valentino but have another story.
“You look beautiful.” Seb calls out, nervousness forgotten and mischief all over his voice as you roll your eyes with his flirty demeanor, trying to play off your burning cheeks. “And I love the shoes. I knew it would fit you just right.”
Indulging him with a playful twirl and a pose much like the first time he ever mentioned his liking for your shoes choices back in Toronto, you laugh sheepishly and step further to him again, now palming your hands on his thighs to lean closer and kiss him.
“They did fit just right.” You mumble with a teasing smile against his mouth, his grin widening when you press another quick peck to his lips. “Bonus points to you because Dani said I can wear them with pretty much everything if I need to.”
“What can I say?” He shrugs smugly, a hand on your hip pulling you closer to his body again. “I’m a man of taste.”
With a playful scoff and a tug of his jacket, your lips are meeting in a sweet kiss again. Taking the moment to just enjoy each other properly for the first time during the day, Sebastian’s hands are soon squeezing your hips while your own are buried into his brown locks, messing up his hairstyle even more though he doesn’t seem to care one little bit.
But right when your lips are making its way to his neck and his hands are sliding down to the hem of your dress, your apartment’s intercom starts ringing upon your parents’ arrival.
Pulling away from each other in a haste, Sebastian can’t help but look slightly grumpy.
“Yes, you are.” You hold back a smile at his funny face, running a hand through the lapels of his jacket before kissing his neck and using the opportunity to whisper in his ear. “And if you’re a good boy tonight, you’ll get to enjoy even more later.”
His face is more than enough to know you have a long night ahead of you. So much to be thankful for.
“I’m counting on it.”
Chapter Six: Gianvito Rossi Plexi Pumps
#sebastian stan#sebastian stan x reader#sebastian stan imagine#sebastian stan oneshot#sebastian stan fanfiction#bucky barnes x reader#high heeled heaven#drabble game#sebastian stan x you
75 notes
·
View notes
Text
A First Kiss to Remember (1/2).
*moodboard by @supersoldierslover
Pairing: Wanda Maximoff X Reader
Summary: You work at a coffee shop and there’s this girl who comes every night and causes curious feelings to grow in you.
Word Count: 2.4+k
Warnings: f/f first romantic relationship, fluffy, smut (part 2), flirting, nsfw (part 2).
A/N: This is this was written for taw3kcelebration (congrats Taw, @supersoldierslover , you deserve every single follower of yours). I got n. 3. “First Kiss.” This is my first time writing for a character other than Bucky and I’m so excited for this. Besides Bucky and Loki, Wanda is my ultimate crush from MCU. There’ll be smut on part 2. I really hope you guys like it. Tagging the peeps on my perm tag list. Thank you @buchonians for being the beta for this one, you’re amazing.
*gif not mine.
Part 1 Part 2
“Do you think she’ll come tonight?” the low and lazy voice of Lisa, your co-worker who stood behind the counter, asked you.
“Who?” you knew damn well who she was talking about, but for some reason you chose to fake ignorance, pretending to concentrate on the task of cleaning tables of the empty 24 hour coffee shop.
Her huff is loud enough for you to hear and you caught the roll of her eyes by the corner of your own. “Right, I’ll pretend you’re not pretending you don’t know who I’m talking about.” She sneered and you shrugged, turning around from her to throw some dirty cups into the bin.
Shit, were you that obvious? You thought you were doing a good job on concealing how that girl had been messing up with your mind, feelings and everything you thought to be certain in your life. No woman had made you feel like that before, like you could give anything to know how her lips would feel against yours or to run your fingers through her long hazelnut locks, among other things you had never desired to do with a woman… but it didn’t take long for you to realize it wasn’t a matter of boys and girls, it was about her, and only her.
As much as those feelings were new for you, they weren’t unwelcomed, you just didn’t know how to act about them, or even if you should do anything at all.
2:55 Am. The tick-tacking coming from the watch on the wall echoed around the place due the lack of people inside. You didn’t even need to look at it to be honest, the light sheen of sweat gathering in your cold palms were doing the job of letting you know it was time. In about five minutes you would get to see her again.
She never failed you. Ever since you started working at the night shift of that Coffee Shop two weeks before, she would be there at the same time with that sweet shy smile, highlights in her hair, which reminded you of warm sun kisses, and those big bright green eyes, whose beauty overcame the traces of sadness in them. Yes, you noticed that part too and it only made the invisible string pulling you towards her grow thicker. You wanted to be aware and get to know every single part which made her… her.
2:58 Am. You took your place behind the register, ignoring the small laugh coming out of your friend’s mouth when your legs started bouncing and your fingers tapped repeatedly on the wooden surface of the counter.
“You know, she wasn’t really a regular until two weeks ago…” Lisa cheekily remarked, using her elbows to bend over the counter beside you, largely entertained, while you rolled your eyes instead of surrendering to the smile threatening to curl your lips by her statement.
3:00 Am. The bells of the door rang and you both straightened your posture professionally. That smile winning you over at the sight of the customer coming in.
She went to you offering that big pearly grin of hers. She greeted you and asked for her usual order – cappuccino and a blueberry muffin – gracing her words with that adorable accent, which always enticed fuzzy feelings to crowd your insides.
Like every night, she extended her hand with the money to pay, but this time your fingers lightly brushed hers when you took it, forcing you to subdue a gasp when you felt a rush of electricity running from the tip of your nails till the very end of your hair.
You wondered if she had felt it too, since her eyes followed your withdrawing hands and then her lovely smile became even shyer while her eyebrow formed a slight furrow. That girl was driving you out of your mind.
“Wanda, right?” you asked, following protocol even if the shop was empty, and taking a cup to write down her name. You tried to not make evident in your voice and your expression anything that could be taken as something more than professional courtesy.
“You remembered.” She noted, sounding a bit enthusiastic.
“How could I not.” It slipped and your hand briefly stopped writing her name on the cup when you heard what you had said and how it sounded like. Your widened eyes looked up at her to meet a smirk on her lips and her eyelids lowing bashfully. Did you just flirt with her?
You passed the cup off to a very amused Lisa and clumsily took the muffin from the display case to hand it to Wanda.
“Thank you.” She took the small plate and once again you shivered from the lingering touch of her long delicate fingers on yours. “It’s hard to forget your name too, Y/N.” She added in a low voice. Wait, did she just flirt back?
It was hard to pay attention to anything else rather than the hammering heart against your chest. She took the cappuccino from Lisa’s hand and went to sit on her usual spot by the window, opening her little book, seeming unaware of the flustered state she had left you.
The clear of Lisa’s throat caught your attention back to her, who was wiggling her eyebrows and tilting her head towards Wanda, mouthing, “Go talk to her.” Your eyes got even bigger at the suggestion and you shook your head fast. Her eyes rolled to the back of her skull for the second time that night before she sighed impatiently and walked towards the bathroom.
You attempted to stay unnoticeable behind the counter, occupying yourself by putting some plates in the dishwasher, but your eyes seemed to have a mind of their own and drifted to the quiet girl in the corner.
She seemed to be in a good mood lately, very differently from when you first met her. Before, she would rarely smile and would curl to herself in the corner, like she wanted to become as small as she could be. She still kept her reserved behavior, coming alone always in the least busy time and sitting by the window while reading a book. But there was something different about her demeanor in the last few days, she looked…. radiant, like there was this confidence growing in her. Every day she became even further interesting to you, eliciting curious feelings to surface in your insides. You wanted to know more about her, you wanted more of her.
For your own personal delight, that night she was wearing one of your favorite outfits of her. A modest red sweater over a black skirt that ended just above the mid of her thigh. With boots and socks that went up to her knees, she was almost completely covered. Almost…
What drove you out of your mind and made breathing in an even pace a hard task was that exposed stripe of glistening silky skin between the hem of her skirt and the high black sock. You caught yourself wondering how it would feel like to have those bare parts of her legs wrapped around your neck while you…
A couple of plates slipped from your hands shattering on the floor, your cheeks instantly twinkling with heat. Jesus Fucking Christ, the things you’ve been thinking about doing to her… you thanked the Gods the girl couldn’t read minds.
“Are you ok?” You hadn’t seen her walking to the counter, where she was now showing concern in her voice and frowning at you.
“Ahm, yeah, sorry, I got distracted for a while.” You answered, tightening your lips while you grabbed a broom and a shovel to pick up the pieces of glass sprawled on the ground. As much as you were avoiding exchange gazes with the object of your distraction, you could swear you had seen a rush of scarlet tinting her cheeks.
“Do you need any help?” She asked, noticing the absence of your coworker.
“God, no, thank you, I got this.” You promptly answer almost at the same time her cell phone chimed with a new message, catching her attention. She checked on it and looked back at you.
“I have to go.” She said tightening her lips in a thin line.
“Oh…” you interjected, stopping the sweeping movements of the broom. Already? She usually stayed longer than that. She must had noticed the disappointed in your face for she quickly said in a hopeful tone:
“See you tomorrow, Y/N?”
Your face matched your feelings, brightening up right away, and you nodded, smiling at her. How adorable she looked when she bit her plump lower lip like that. How you wished to be the one doing that to her.
She released her lip to reciprocate your smile and turned back to her table to grab her bag and the rest of her muffin. She hurriedly walked out, shutting the door behind her, not before aiming her sweet big smile at you once again.
“See you tomorrow, Wanda.” You murmured filling your lungs with a long deep sigh.
~~~
You had spent the next day worrying the shit out of you. You didn’t have the time, or the interest to watch the news, but Miss Dorothy, the nosy old lady who lived next door and always waited to check at what time you would get home updated you with the newest events: there had been a terrorist attack at a busy avenue of the city, right when Wanda had left the Coffee Shop. Thankfully, those Avengers dudes had managed to stop the threat before greater damages were caused. It wasn’t near the Coffee Shop, yet, you still worried if anything would have happened to Wanda.
3 AM wouldn’t come soon enough.
For your relief, when the time finally came she didn’t fail you. There she was, safe and sound, as beautiful as ever.
And she was there the next day, and the next, and the next… One night, she had asked for an opinion about what to order, saying she was in the mood for a change from the cappuccino and the muffin. After you offered her the espresso brownie and the vanilla Latte Macchiato, it became a thing, you would always suggest what she would have and she would sit next to the counter instead of the window. Suspiciously but conveniently, Lisa would always vanish when she was there.
Taking advantage of this, and the fact that hour brought almost no clients except from her and one or two night owls, little by little, you two started interacting more and the book she always carried with her remained in the bag. As much as you tried, she rarely talked about herself, always focusing on you. She learned a lot about your life, like how you had just moved to New York to finally start uni, how lucky you were to find the job to support you, how much you missed you cat you had to leave behind, but wanted to bring him as soon as possible, how you liked your coffee, how single you were…
As you opened up to Wanda, she remained a delicious mystery and your feelings towards her just kept getting stronger. Outside from occasional exchanges you took as flirting, you couldn’t really read her to the point of understanding where she stood when it came to you, what you really meant for her? A nice barista? A good talk? A new friend? Something else? God, how you wished for something else…
That night, after 40 minutes of monologue from your end and she was done with the Earl Grey and the slice of lemon cake you had suggested, she started saying her goodbyes.
Like every night, you walked her to the door, an habit which started without you even notice, and she turned to you while you opened the door to her, “See you tomorrow?”
You were about to respond affirmative when you remembered, “Oh, actually, I won’t be here tomorrow. It’s my night off, my boss insisted, I haven’t gotten one since I started.” You answered not even trying to hide the disappointment in your voice and in your curling down lips.
“Oh, so we don’t get to see each other tomorrow?” It seemed like Wanda’s disappointment mirrored yours for her shoulders dropped considerably and her eyes seemed at loss.
A spark of boldness and hope took place in your chest. It was now or never. “Unless we do. What are you doing tomorrow night?” You questioned, trying to avoid any tremble in your voice which could expose how insecure you were actually feeling by asking her out.
Her eyes crinkled in a enchanting way when her big smile popped up “I’ll go out with you, I suppose.” She answered, leaning an inch closer to you.
There it was, this was flirting, right? A breathy small laugh came out from your lips before you ran your tongue over them. “Pick you up at 7?”
Her smile faded and she blinked a few times, like she was contemplating a thought. Once again, your insecurity took the best of you, making you forget you had some breathing to do. Had you said something wrong? But then she finally responded, “Ok, I’ll text you my address.” Allowing you to take a relieved breath before you exchanged phone numbers.
~~~
You checked the address in your phone screen for the millionth time. What the fuck? Why was that building so damn big and had this huge “A” on top of it? You had seen this before somewhere… Was it the Avengers Tower? Wanda lived in the Avengers Tower? Wanda… wait…
Wanda Maximoff?
Realization finally hit you while you fixated your gaze up to the never ending building, your jaw dropping along with your stomach to the floor.
Your Wanda was THE Wanda Maximoff? She was an Avenger?
Part 2
Perm. Tags: (open)
@mytasterpeculiar @yikesbuckster @melconnor2007 @iamwarrenspeace
@letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked
@kaaatniss @kissmyjasdaddy @adaliamalfoy @roselock20 @curlycals @capbuckthor @lilasiannerd @tomorraw @ria132love @alwayshave-faith @camillechan @strange-intricate-dysfunction @random-fluffy-pink-unicorn @tilltheendwilliwrite @super-complicated @50shadesofeyes @cokamarie24 @jayzayy @hollycornish @httpmcrvel @winterboobaer @learisa @vintagepigeon @supernatural508 @missmeganrachel @its-daydreamer23 @nerdyandproud9 @geeksareunique
#wanda x reader#wanda maximoff x reader#taw3kcelebration#fluffy#marvel fanfiction#wanda fanfiction#smut#avengers fanfiction#wanda maximoff#a first kiss to remember
433 notes
·
View notes
Text
Ride With Me (Part 3)
PAIRING: readerxbucky au
WORD COUNT
WARNINGS: swearing and slight angst, only slightly. And a sprinkling of some good old sexual tension
I’m not sure why but EVERYWHERE I GO, I am hyperaware of motorbikes. Honestly this fic has ruined my whole existence in the best way possible!
Part 2
GIF NOT MINE!
It was well and truly into the night now, Hawkeyes defiantly drew in a mixed crowd when the night fell over the city. You and Wanda were rushed taking drink orders as Clint talked to his clientele and re-stocked the bar on numerous occasions. You had to admit you were impressed with yourself for keeping focus. Especially when the walking talking sex god kept looking at you constantly during your shift. You were hyperaware of the glances Bucky would throw you, he and the rest of his crew had allocated themselves a secluded booth in direct eye line to the bar counter. You had to wonder if this was do one purpose, so Bucky could keep an eye on you. You quickly dismissed that idea, why in the hell would I guy like that be interested in keeping tabs on you. You greeted the new arrivals with a smile as you took their order, taking a peek over at Bucky you were shocked, he was looking straight at you smirking over the rim of his whisky glass as Steve talked animatedly to him. Watching as Bucky’s face cracked into a large grin as he laughed at whatever Steve has just told him. You exhaled sharply out of your nose, suddenly finding yourself praying for the end of your shift.
“Have a good night” you waved to Wanda and Pietro as they left the bar. You sighed as you were finally alone, Clint was in his office counting the night’s earnings and you had insisted Wanda to leave. She had started early than you after all, it took you five minutes assuring her that you would be fine and that she needed sleep. Clearing away the last of the dirty glasses from the end of the bar you almost jumped out of your skin as Bucky slid onto the stool in front of you.
“Jesus Christ” you cursed; your hand flew to your chest in an attempt to calm your racing heart.
“Nope just me doll” you inwardly groaned at the nickname and the lopsided smile that greeted you. You tried desperately not to stare at the light stubble overlaying his strong jawbone.
“So, Sam said you were new in town?” Bucky questioned you; he shrugged of his leather jacket placing on the counter top between the two of you. Struggling to hold back the gasp that crawled up your throat you were met with an impressive sight before you. His entire left arm was covered in one of the most detailed works you have ever seen. It was fully grey scaled with each image almost interwoven with the next. Like it was spelling out a story you couldn’t quite understand. You could pick out a few pieces, an old pocket watch. What you assumed was a woman’s eye, the silhouette of a wolf, a black rose and a gun. The last image made you feel slightly uneasy. Your eyes traveled up his arm, you were surprised to make out names within the sleeve. You quickly realised they were the names of his crew, even Wanda and Clint made the cut. The sleeve of his black shirt cut off your view of the top of his shoulder but it did bring your attention to the only coloured piece. From what you could make it out looked like a red star on the upper part of his arm.
“Like what you see?” snapping your eyes to his blue ones in shock you saw how they twinkled in amusement.
“You didn’t answer my question doll”
“Sorry what was it again?” you cleared your throat, trying to shake the thoughts of how far his tattoo spanned across his broad chest out of your mind.
“You’re back in town, where were you before?”
“Chicago I got a friend from high school living out there with a couple of people. Riders actually” you tried to busy yourself collecting the dry lemon wedges from various tequila shots.
“Which group?” Bucky frowned leaning his forearms down on the bar. You gulped seeing the muscles flex under the new position. Fuck, it was like he was purposely peacocking you.
“The defenders’ Bucky’s eyebrows raised with mild surprise and shock.
“Luke’s crew, shit doll. Looks like you might have some credit to you after all” He whistled lowly, you frowned as you gathered the tray of tumblers in your arms.
“Thanks…. I think?” you muttered struggling slightly trying to adjust your balance under the new weight.
“Here let me” before you could protest that you were more than capable, he had flipped the trap door to behind the bar and plucked the tray out of your hands like it was Mondays washing basket.
“Lead the way doll face” You blinked gormlessly for a moment before your brain caught up with what had just happened. Turning passed him leading to the back kitchen you pointed to the large industrial dishwasher where the tray fit in. You watched as Bucky carefully slid it in, once secured you pressed the top down and pressed the red button. It whirred into life.
“So what do you and your crew call yourselves?” you questioned as the hum of the dishwasher sounded around you.
“Well we don’t really call ourselves anything. But most people call us The Shields” Bucky shrugged as you smirked.
“The Shields?” you snorted softy.
“Hey I didn’t come up with it, fucking lame if you ask me” you watched transfixed as he rolled his eyes brushing his fingers through his hair. Your eyes traveled to his left arm once again, desperate to uncover more of the dark artwork.
“Got any of your own?” Bucky winked, you smirked as the dishwasher beeped its finish.
“I do” you replied curtly, dragging the tray out of the machine and placing it on the side to dry.
“Can I see?” You swallowed thickly as you felt Bucky move up behind you. Turning to face him or rather his chest you craned your neck to look at him, his blue eyes sparkling down at you.
“It’s not exactly in a modest place” where the fuck did that come from? One minute you were stumbling around him like a love stuck schoolgirl. The next, you were practically spraying him like a cat in heat!
“Oh now my interest has really peaked” forcing your hand you pressed it against his chest, halting his advances on you.
“Bucky” you said his name breathlessly
“(Y/N)” he replied in an almost knowing tone. Jesus you had never been so turned on by the sound of your own name before. You felt his hand brush up against your hipbone. The sudden intimate contact made you jump back in shock; it caused the hem of your tank top to catch on Bucky’s fingers pulling it up slightly. You watched as Bucky’s eyes flicked down to see the dark swirls on your hips. His smirk turned into a grin at his discovery.
“Jackpot” he growled. You ripped yourself from his grasp before he could look any further.
“It’s personal,” you snarled in his face like a cornered dog. Bucky’s hands shot up in surrender at your sudden shift.
“Hey (Y/N) you should have said some…”
“Everything ok in here?” Clint’s voice broke through the thick tension hanging in the air.
“Fine, Bucky was just leaving” You replied curtly crossing your arms over your chest. He looked like he was about to argue with but thought better of it.
“Catch you later Clint” he nodded to the blonde.
“See ya man” came the sharp response. Bucky looked to you pausing at the door before he pushed it open, you listened as his boots hit the floor. They paused for a few seconds, probably to grab his jacket then you heard the familiar swing of the door closing.
“You ok?” Clint’s voice softens as he turned to you.
“I’m fine, just tired. I’ll turn out the lights on my way out” you pushed past him quickly storming towards your locker. You wrenched it open and gathered your things refusing to even glance at the photo in your door.
Clint was nowhere to be seen as you re-entered the bar, you notice the light coming from his office. You paused, you should go in and apologize but the feeling of anger and humiliation of what you allowed to happen in the kitchen stopped you. Sighing you ducked tail and flicked the switch shutting off the lights to the bar. The light from the street illuminated parts of the flooring making the space look as lonely as you felt. Walking swiftly to the door you stopped dead in your tracks, pulling your bag higher over your shoulder you plucked the white napkin from where it was stuck to the door with a hastily chewed piece of gum. It had two words scribbled with red ink. You glanced at the bar seeing the red pen perched with its lid off. Looking back at the napkin you smiled in spite of yourself.
I’m sorry.
The roar of a motorbike from outside caused you to practically bolt out of the door; you stumbled into the street in a flurry of limbs, the cool night air hitting your slightly clammy skin.
“Wait” you, cried jogging over to Bucky; he was straddled across his bike. You were impressed it was a Harley Davidson. Sleek and black it purred under underneath him, the vibration of the engine rattled your chest. You basked in the feeling of behind so close to a beautiful piece of machinery. Bucky was looking at you, his expression unreadable, the half smoked cigarette dangled from his mouth. He took a long drag; pinching the roll between his teeth he pulled it away from his mouth. Turning his head upward he breathed out slowly as to not let the smoke hit you full in the face but rather letting it dance around you slowly. Was everything he did so god damn sexual?
“Yeah dollface?” he questioned placing the cigarette back in between his teeth; it dangled dangerously low as he combed his hands through his hair. Smoothing it back on his scalp.
“I just wanted…I…I mean in the kitchen that was…” you stuttered over your words. Not quite knowing how to form your apology or excuse, you didn’t know which one Bucky would believe more.
“It’s ok (Y/N) we all have our secrets” you opened your mouth to protest. But I want to tell you, but it’s too soon. You wanted to scream in his face, but the bike roared into life again as Bucky tossed the butt of his cigarette to the curb and drove off. You watched him go standing alone under the street lamp, still clutching the napkin stained with red ink.
Next Chapter
Tagg list:
@assembletheimagines @capsbuchanan @cassandras-musings @loricameback @ho-ne-y @diving-down-to-wonderland @jasura @cry-me-a-fkin-river @fanfic-for-days @wolfgamzee @tired-alpaca @hamil-scribbles @siobhanrebecca @tft-imagines @the-craziestone @urwarriorangel @bemself123
#avengers imagine#reader x avengers#bucky barnes imagine#reader x bucky barnes#bucky barnes au#marvel au#reader x marvel#marvel imagine#winter solider imagine#reader x winter solider#clint barton imagine#reader x clint barton
286 notes
·
View notes
Text
Sticking with the Schuylers (9)
It’s time for a sister-centered chapter…Peggy’s getting under Angelica’s skin…well, lately it seems like everything is getting under Angelica’s skin. And Eliza can sense it. Now she just needs to find a way to address the awkward silences that seem to be happening more and more frequently…
<Sidebar: So sorry this took so long…I’ve written ahead a few parts because I couldn’t quite decide what I wanted this part to be and of course I’m a perfectionist so it took a few tries to get this to a point I was satisfied with. And then I got sick and have been sleeping 10+ hours a night…what a week! Hope you enjoy!>
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8
Coffee and Some Schuyler Side Eye:
The Schuyler sisters were spotted on their usual tryst to class on Wednesday morning, arm in arm and heads bent close in that signature secretive chatter making all of Manhattan wish they were a sister. The three stopped at a nearby concessions stand to grab a coffee, then parted ways for school. But not before youngest sister Peggy pushed her hair back from her face to reveal some serious side-eye, aimed directly at Angelica. Is this older sister over-stepping? Or has being Manhattan royalty spoiled the baby of New York City’s royal family?
…
“I’m right in front of you, I can clearly see that you’re ignoring me.”
“You are, and I am. A coffee and two hibiscus teas, please.” The sisters stand by the cart, waiting for their order to be filled as an awkward tension fills the air between them. Peggy has been chatting incessantly their entire way here-the walk soon becoming insufferable as Angelica begins to make her feelings known. Elizabeth, stuck in the middle, became her younger sister’s sounding board as Angelica walked beside them, head up and staring straight with her lips sealed.
Today, her sisters are not the best company to have.
She shoots a quick text to Alexander-help, I’m drowning in sisterly tension!-before Angelica hands her a steaming cup of tea.
“Do you want some sugar in your tea, Peg?”
“No thanks, I’ll take it cold and bitter, like you.” The youngest Schuyler puffs out her chest as her lips draw a thin line, eyes rolling away from Angelica with scorn. Her sister, in return, practically drops the paper cup of tea into Peggy’s outstretched hand, arms crossed and eyebrows raised in an expression she’d been using since they were kids. I’m the kid-boss, she used to say as she kept the two younger sisters at bay. You need to listen to me. I’m the oldest, so I’m the kid-boss.
“Really? You’re going to start?” Now, Angelica still considers herself responsible for her sisters; speaking for the three of them during interviews, fielding awkward questions, interrogating their boyfriends…
Which is where the argument between the oldest and the youngest had started this morning, Elizabeth recounts. When the car had dropped Peggy off at Eliza’s grouping of dorm buildings to meet her sisters she’d immediately began asking questions about her love life-polite questions, albeit a bit inappropriate for Elizabeth’s taste. But she’d laughed them off, ruffling Peggy’s hair and fighting away a blush as she reminded her sister that no, she didn’t know if he was ‘any good,’ they hadn’t even been on a date yet. This earns her a hard look from Angelica, who’s not as amused by the playful questioning.
“You’re being inappropriate, Eliza’s clearly uncomfortable so you might want to stop while you’re ahead.”
This silences the youngest Schuyler, but only for a brief moment. The trio walks awkwardly, Eliza’s gaze shifting between her two sisters as they clear their throats and sigh for attention. Eliza shoves her cold hands in her pockets, biting her lip as she searches her brain for something to break the silence. But luckily-or, not so luckily- Peggy’s the first to speak up.
“So, Bets, you’ve been spending more time with Alex lately.”
“Yes.”
“Tell me more about his friend.”
“Which one?” There’s an air about the youngest Schuyler, then, who lifts her head up and looks at the sky, as if searching for the answer as a playful grin graces her lips. She then tosses her hair, shrugging before turning back at Eliza with mischievous, shining eyes.
“I mean, all three of them are beautiful, so….”
“Peggy!”
“But then you remember when we were all there….” Eliza raises her eyebrow as she glances over at Peggy, a silent conversation ensuing. Angelica simply looks on, watching as their facial expressions change and morph until Peggy covers her face with her free hand, groaning.
“Okay, now I don’t know anymore!”
“I have a point about John though, don’t I?” It’s all very matter-of-fact; the way Eliza pushes her dark, silky hair over her shoulder before tilting her head toward Peggy lovingly. There’s a way about their middle sister then-head held high, expression a cross between nurturing and ‘I’m telling you so’-that has Angelica looking away, down at her phone instead of the private conversation going on next to her.
These things, of course, don’t go unnoticed by Eliza.
If any one word could be used to describe their fairer-skinned sister it would be empathetic. Large-hearted, Elizabeth Schuyler has always been one to read the people around her with a marksmen’s accuracy. It was a gift, when that ability was paired with her kind soul and gentle-mannered temperament. She was the peacemaker; often knocking softly on bedroom doors and sitting with teary-eyed sisters, rubbing their backs and soothing them with genuine words that reached her eyes until they transferred to their souls. A healer, that’s what she is. A healer who tended to put everyone else’s needs above her own. And, if asked, Elizabeth would give an ear-to-ear smile when presented with the question of whether or not it was worth it. Yes, of course, making people happy was always worth it.
Until this very moment. Until she sees the upset in Angelica’s body language; refusal of eye contact, slight bend of the fingers that curled nearly into a fist upon the presentation of the topic of conversation…She immediately itches to bring it up. It’s unbearable, really, to see the way her sister reacts when she brings Alexander into conversation. Especially when the trio heads back to Eliza’s room after Peggy gets out of school to get ready for an appearance at their father’s gala that night.
She unlocks the door and her sisters trail in behind her, throwing their bags on the floor before settling on her bed. Peggy lays upside-down, letting out an exasperated yawn while Angelica perches herself neatly, finishing off a text message. Elizabeth pauses at the counter of her little kitchenette, where her vintage-ornate vase is now filled with sunflowers. She smiles and moves toward them, thinking of her roommate and her genuinely kind albeit a bit obsessive boyfriend. But when she finally finds the small card attached to one of the flower’s stems, it’s addressed to her.
They don’t nearly brighten up a room as much as you do….
Tomorrow at 7,
Alex.
She bites back a smile as she holds the card between her fingers, letting her eyes run across his hasty chicken-scratch handwriting as they bask in its familiarity. The same writing that adorns the letter she still keeps in her pocket, folding and unfolding as if his genuine nature is so much of a shock to need the consistent reminder.
But then Peggy’s gasping, the sound of the weight on her bed shifting before Eliza feels her presence behind her. She gapes at the flowers, smacking her sister’s arm in excitement.
“These are adorable but seriously, he talks like he’s from the olden days and he’s trying to court you.”
“I think it’s sweet.” She replies in a more reserved voice, letting her fingers trace over the buttery soft petals of the sunflowers.
“I forgot your date was tomorrow…” Angelica pipes up from her place on the bed, her eyes glancing up from the screen of her phone. Her sisters are huddled around the flowers, Eliza’s fingers still dancing around the petals while Peggy looks on, teasing. Eliza looks back at her comment and her features immediately change; her face falls, cheeks looking deflated as her eyes seem lost-saddened, even. Her fingers drop from the flowers and she turns around, making her way to the other side of the room as Peggy looks on.
“You know if you have a problem, you can tell me.”
“Bets,”
“Don’t pretend that you’re not upset, Angie. I can see it. I can hear it…If I had known that my going out with your friend would upset you, I would have never even considered it. He could’ve been yours.”
“That’s not…” Angelica pauses, then, and pats the spot on the bed next to her. Her middle sister hesitates, then complies, settling herself on her bed with her legs crossed, eyes cast down at the mint green comforter that adorns it. Peggy sighs, shaking her head before gathering her things.
“This isn’t a conversation for me…I’ll see you at the gala, guys.”
When the door clicks shut there’s a considerable amount of silence. Eliza finds the hem of her comforter between her fingers, tracing the in-and-out seam of the sewing. Angelica plays with her fingers in her lap, mind racing as she searches for a way to start the conversation.
“I don’t like that you’re seeing Alex.” Angelica was one to be blunt, but the sentence she mutters lingers in the air between them like an open wound; something the two of them had known but both had been too timid to bring up.
“I kind of figured that much. I had just thought that you and Church were doing so well, and,”
“It’s not about my liking Alex. God, no.” She immediately refuses the thought, almost laughing at her sister’s assumption.
“You’re just…you’re more similar to him. You have more in common. When the two of you talk it’s so fast, and it’s like you could skip paragraphs of things just to reach your point and he’d still completely understand you.”
“We’re similar. That’s all. He’s good company.”
“So if it isn’t that, then what is it? Why don’t you want me to see him?”
Angelica sighs, putting a hand on Elizabeth’s shoulder. She’s reaching, now, her eyes searching an invisible bank of memories-things she hadn’t wanted to bring up-before deciding just how to get her point across.
“When I started seeing John, do you remember how dad was?”
“He was…distant. He didn’t like him. But he never likes anyone we see, Ang.”
“There are things you never saw…things I wish I could take back; the way dad treats John, the way I treated dad…do you remember when dad told you I was selected for a scholarship weekend away? At debate camp?”
“Yeah…and then the camp extended your stay to a week and you missed your senior semi-formal. And mom hung the dress in the back of your closet, and they talked a lot…and then you came back, and they never even asked you how camp was.”
“I wasn’t at camp. I was with John.”
“When…why didn’t you tell me?”
“And then what? Explain what was going on to my 16 year-old sister? The one who could do no wrong?”
Eliza’s taken aback at the comment; the way Angelica’s eyes are suddenly very dark-the way she looks past her, to the distance, in a glossed-over gaze that makes her stomach turn in knots. In a way that brings forth a slight twinge of betrayal.
They’d always told each other everything.
“Dad never liked John. He still doesn’t. He plays a good game, and it’s much better now than it was before, but it just kills him that John isn’t as rich as he’d like-that Church isn’t a name recognized by his friends and colleagues, so really he can’t show off or expand his name using me. I’d always felt like it was my job. It’s a pressure he never put on you guys, and I always felt so…special. I was the one that would carry on the name. I was the powerful one, the one that would prove everyone right about loving the Schuyler name. And I’m his only biological child…he made me. He chose you. There’s so much more that I have to prove…I have to make his legacy last.”
“Angie…” Eliza is quiet; a hand reaching out to hold her older sister’s, facial features morphed into a contemplative mixture of pity and confusion. “Dad loves you…he’ll always love you. It may take him some time to come around but this is all so new to him-he’s realizing that his daughters are getting to that age where we’re not always going to be around. We’re not always going to just be here, and that might terrify him. We’ve always been such a tight-knit family…and mom and dad had to fight not only to get pregnant with you, but to get Peggy and I as well. For him, your choosing John….it was like the wake-up call he never wanted to hear.”
“It’s the one he’s going to have to hear. I may regret the way I handled things back then but I don’t regret choosing John. I don’t regret the path I’ve taken.” Angie stops then, letting herself find comfort in her middle sister’s hand in hers, the way she’s leaned her head on her shoulder so that Angelica could run her fingers through silken strands of brown.
It’s reminiscent of their younger days; a crack of light would shine in from the hallway as the door clicked open, accompanied by the sound of Eliza’s tiny feet pattering across the hardwood floor. Angelica would shift over in bed and the middle sister would crawl in, wrapping herself around her older sister, seeking comfort. Sometimes she’d sniffle, then Angelica would dry her tears and soothe her. Sometimes it was the older sister who’d need consoling, then Eliza would hold her hand and recite a long list of things she loved about having her as a sister. And other times the two would say nothing at all, simply holding each other until they both fell asleep.
“I don’t want you to make the same mistakes that I did. I don’t want dad to look at you the way he still looks at me sometimes.”
“I understand that. And I appreciate that. But you’ve spent your whole life looking out for me…I learned everything I need to know from you. I don’t want you to have to worry anymore.”
“I’ll always worry about you.”
Angelica chuckles-an airy and reserved kind of laughter-as she pulls Eliza closer to her. It’s an embrace that suddenly sets the older sister’s lips into a thin line; her arms tighten around Eliza and she feels it, reacts to it by turning her head up in question. Angelica looks back at her, eyes hardened and serious.
“The other thing I was going to say….are you sure you’re ready? After James,”
“I don’t want to talk about that.” Elizabeth whispers, her eyes cast back down at the comforter and her body stiffening underneath her sister’s touch. So Angelica waits; listening to the shaky breath her middle sister draws in, before moving her hand through her silky hair once more.
“He’s different.” Eliza doesn’t answer but Angelica can still feel the stiffness of her muscles. It’s heartbreaking, the way a name-one syllable-can change her demeanor so quickly. And suddenly they’re young again, Angelica holding her closer as the dimmed lighting and soft hum of activity outside her door are the only things tethering them to the world outside of their bubble. She’d known she wouldn’t be able to keep her little sisters free of harm forever; the reality of the world’s cruelty was all-too real to her. But in their bubble-in the safety of Eliza’s room, where she could just hold her-there was a realization.
“There aren’t many people in this world who deserve your kindness, Betsey. But with the way he’s trying, the way he writes about you…Alexander comes pretty damn close.”
Angelica Schuyler may not be able to shelter her sister from every bad thing that comes her way, but there would always be a bedroom; or a couch, a place to keep the bubble of security that surrounded them when they held each other. They’d always have each other. And as long as Angelica could keep her middle sister-her warm-hearted, trusting, pure of heart sister-wearing the hopeful smile she was managing at his moment…well, that’d be enough.
19 notes
·
View notes
Note
From those summer prompts could you please do #3 (Patie), #6 (Sydney/Anna), and #14 (Danny from McFly/Rhuben)? Thanks in advance ~Ethan
Prompt list (X)
For Ethan on Twitter
—–
Fandom: Big Time Rush
Pairing: Patie (Patrick Jackson/Katie Knight)
Prompt: #3, Sitting on the porch at night
-
“Thanks for the ride, mom,” Katie said, unbuckling herseatbelt.
She glanced at the front porch of the large, upscale housewhere Patrick sat quietly. Just like she knew he would be. He had barelyglanced up at the cherry red convertible that pulled up in front of the house.She expected that, too.
“Honey, is everything okay?” Mrs. Knight asked.
Katie frowned, unsure of how to answer.
Things had been different between them. She and Patrickhardly said a word to eachother other than ‘hi’ and ‘bye’ when the timewarranted it. They weren’t avoiding each other per say but weren’t seeking eachother out either. It was helpful that they were always hanging out with theirsiblings and friends as it was, but it was starting to get too quiet betweenthem.
All because they had kissed.
It was stupid, really. Something she could easily blame herbrother and his stupid friends for but she knew they weren’t entirely all toblame. They had gone out on one date, which had been really fun, and then theyhad kissed when he was dropping her off at the crib. Before Patrick, Katiehadn’t been kissed before and while she had no real frame of reference it wasgood. Warm, magical even. Not weird or awkward at all. Then Kendall, James,Carlos, and Logan ‘just so happened’ to come back from one of their sessionswith Gustavo at the exact time to catch them. It was their first kiss butobviously, from the way smoke practically steamed from James’s ears, that itwas going to be their last.
That was their problem, not hers.
“No, everything’s fine,” Katie replied. She flashed her moma smile and climbed out of the car, waving as she drove away. Then she walkedacross the grass lawn to the front porch, footsteps crunching over the ground.“Hey,” she greeted him.
“Hey,” Patrick replied, looking up at her with confusionthrough his glasses.
Katie lowered herself to the porch next to him and pluckedthe popsicle that he was holding from his hand. She immediately stuck in hermouth to take half of it. He frowned, receiving the stick in response.
“I was eating that,” he said.
“Not anymore,” Katie smirked.
Patrick smiled and Katie smile back.
Things were good again.
—–
Pairing: Sydney Jackson/Anna
Prompt: #6: Making Lemonade
-
“How was that one?”
“I don’t know, I can’t bloody taste anything anymore!”
Sydney opened and closed his mouth, making a smacking sound,before proceeding to lick his lips. Trying to rid his mouth of the bitter tasteof lemonade, he repeatedly allowed the spit to collect in his mouth beforeswallowing it.
“Ay, it wasn’t thatbad,” Anna said, setting a pitcher of newly made lemonade onto the kitchencounter. She licked the left over lemonade juice from her fingers. Examiningthe coral pink nail polish on her fingers, she gave her boyfriend a smile. “Reckonyou’re overreacting a bit.”
“It was bitter.”
“It was fine.”
“Tell that to my taste buds,” Sydney protested. “It’s sugar,water, and lemons, it’s not that hard. I think you left out the sugar part.”
Anna planted her hands on her hips. “You said you wanted tomake some lemonade, and this is how I like it.”
“Normal people don’t,” Sydney replied.
“Well la-dee-da, Smarty-Pants!”
Sydney smiled, his dimples appearing in his cheeks. Healways enjoyed spending time with Anna, and this was no different. Being in along distance relationship was hard, even if he did go back home to Australiaevery six months or so. He had impatiently waited for the day where she couldvisit him in Los Angeles and now here she was!
They never missed a beat whenever they were apart, doing theirbest to sync up schedules to video chat through their computers or on theirphones. Text and e-mail conversation chains grew longer and longer as theycontinued their conversations through different time zones. Growing up, Sydney neverthought he’d ever find a girl who not only liked him for him, but understoodhis background and didn’t treat him differently because of it.
He couldn’t have found anyone better than her.
“Let’s just stick to the one I made,” he suggested.
“Yours is too sweet!” Anna’s nose wrinkled. “I feel like Ihave a coating of sugar when I’m done drinking it.”
Sydney smirked—one he was sure that could rival his sister’s.“You never complained about things being too sweet for you before,” hecommented.
“You’re referring to yourself, eh, mate?” Anna asked with alaugh. She skirted around the table and lowered herself into his lap. She loopedan arm around his neck. “Reckon you’re not wrong; you’re as sweet as they come.”She kissed him on the cheek.
—–
Fandom: Just My Luck (McFly/Busted/McBusted)
Pairing: Danny Jones/Rhuben Jackson-McGuire
Prompt: #14: Chilly summer nights
-
“Tea’s on.”
Danny looked up from his phone, slowing his forward momentumon the porch swing to give Rhuben a smile of thanks. Setting his phone downonto the cushion, the glow cutting through the dusk as the last rays ofsunlight slowly disappeared.
“Thanks, love,” he said, taking the steaming mug from her. Heclosed his eyes as he took a sip. “That’s a good cuppa, that is.” Rhubenaccepted the compliment with a brief upwards tilt of her head as she sat downnext to him. He angled his head towards the house where he could faintly hearhis friends and bandmates inside the upscale house. “Seems great.”
“We’re doing alright,” she said with a shrug. She pulled herlegs to her chest, adjusting the hem of her shorts before resting her arms onher knees. “Luckily, we were able to talk dad out of the house with turrets.”
“I meant with Ronan,” Danny replied with a short laugh. “Nota lot of people would do what he’s done.” He gave an amused smile. “And you’dbe hard pressed to find anyone wanting to take us boys in.”
“There was no way we were going to have you lot stay in ahotel while you visited and you know it,” Rhuben replied, waving her hand inthe air. “Like you boys would pass up the free food from Riles.”
“True that.”
“That’s what you’ve been thinking about lately, yeah?”Rhuben asked. “Your dad.”
“Kind of,” Danny admitted. His blue eyes shifted from her tothe darkening front yard, shivering slightly. “I’m glad you guys got a secondchance with him.” He let out his high-pitched chuckle. “Sometimes, I feel likehe’s the dad to all of us whenever we’reout here. I just wonder if it’ll ever happen with me.”
Rhuben sucked in abreath of air through her nose before lifting her mug to her lips. He knewinstantly that she was trying to stall to give herself time to think about howshe was going to respond. Most times, what came out was the hard truth, butother times, it was used as suspense in a good way.
“Do you want a second chance?” she asked, after swallowing.Her lips parted as she stuck out her tongue to lick her lips. “Or do you justwant answers?”
“Both, I guess” Danny replied. “I don’t know, there are dayswhere, I reckon I want him back, and then there are days I just want answers.”He shrugged. “And not for me, but for Vickie, too, yeah? She’s not going tohave her dad walk her down the aisle or have that first dance at her wedding. Idon’t have the chance to just come home and knick off somewhere with him justto chat. It’d be nice to have that, but I think he should be the one toinitiate it.”
“You don’t want to find him yourself?” Rhuben asked, hereyebrows lifting.
“Don’t think I’d have the time to, nah.” His upper lipcurled as he shook his head. “Turn on the telly in London and he could see me.I can’t see ‘im, I don’t know what he bloody looks like now. If he walked down thestreet in London or up in Bolton, how do I know when he’s there?”
Rhuben slowly nodded her head as she listened to him. “If heever does get in contact, mate, I’ll go with you if you want to meet ‘im,” sheoffered. “Can’t guarantee I’ll keep my mouth shut, but I’ll go.”
“Appreciate that, love,” Danny said with a nod of his own. “Betteryou than Riley, eh?”
“Don’t let her ear you say that,” Rhuben said with a grin. “Butwho knows, maybe her yelling would really let it sink in.” She suddenly shookviolently, nearly jostling the tea over the rim of her cup.
Danny laughed. “Come here, you,” he said, opening his armfor her. “You’d be quiet used to the cold in London.”
“No, no,” Rhuben replied, snuggling into his side, proppingher feet up in his lap. “One tour date is more than I can handle.” Balancingher mug on her knee, she rested her head on his shoulder. “But this, I’m ok with.”
#prompt#ask#answered ask#big time rush#katie knight#Mama Knight#Patrick Jackson#sydney jackson#anna#just my luck#McFly#danny jones#rhuben jackson
0 notes
Last Seen Blogs
kirby-the-gorb
gorb (good orb)
digital9665
Untitled
angeljinxx22
Chaos Chaos Chaos
combinadazo
combinadazo
jjshsjkill
Untitled