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sorchathered · 2 months

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Sacred New Beginnings- Chapter 6

A/N- sorry I’ve been so behind lately guys! Life has been kicking my ass and writers block has reared its ugly head. But I’m finally here, we are going to do a couple of time jumps in the future but if you’ve read Lover you know we have a happy ending, so don’t worry!

Summary- Jake and Stormy hadn’t seen each other in a month, finally a long weekend sees our lovers reunited, but not everything is smooth sailing.

Warnings- Drinking, language, a little bit of violence, smut (save a horse, ride cowboy Jake 🤠). Minors DNI.

Song inspo- “I miss you”- Adele

Pairing- Jake Seresin x reader (oc Stormy)

It had been nearly a month since you’d seen Jake, your perfect week in San Diego heavy on your mind as you packed your bag for the holiday weekend. The two of you had been swamped with work but every available hour of free time was spent on FaceTime, most nights falling asleep together through the phone.

Stepping out of the airport brought it all back, sometimes you still couldn’t believe he was really yours, especially when he was scooping you into his arms and carrying you bridal style to his truck, giggles pouring from your lips at his need to be touching you at all times.

He’d missed you so damn much, he’d barely made it in the door before he’d taken you up against the wall (you knew that sundress had been a good idea) and then again in the shower before you both finally collapsed in the sheets of his California king bed he’d let you pick out before you went back to Florida.

Waking up to him would always be your favorite thing, he looked so at peace and almost boyish in the mornings it made your heart clench as your eyes took him in. Heavy body half slung over yours, perfect hair in complete disarray as he let out little snores (that he vehemently denied were a thing).

You’d spent the day at the beach catching up with the daggers and getting all the hot gossip from Phoenix and Bob’s wife Ellie. Rooster had been relocated to the Golden Warriors due to an altercation he’d had with Jake on your last visit, he and Mirage were apparently working on a relationship and she was still very much pregnant. You had ripped him to shreds before you left and hoped he would get his shit together so it was refreshing to hear that he at least seemed to be trying for his future child. Ellie also spilled the beans that she and Bob’s newest baby would be a little girl, their very first and you had to laugh and say a silent prayer for her 3 big brothers, sweet little thing would no doubt be spoiled rotten.

—————————————————————-

Dinner and drinks at the Hard Deck were a must, you never thought you’d be so nostalgic for one of Penny’s greasy cheeseburgers and a night of pool with your friends. You offered to grab the next round of beers, copping a feel of your super hot boyfriend as you passed, truly the man had no right to look this good. It made it more and more difficult to leave San Diego being in his orbit, he’d clearly been spending way more time in the gym without you around and it definitely showed, you were pretty sure one wrong move would split the sleeves of his button up from the swell of his biceps and it had you hot and bothered already.

Penny rang up your beers as you two chatted and got caught up, but you noticed a concerned look from her in the direction of your group that had you craning your neck to see the issue. You’d barely been gone 5 minutes and already two of the little tag chasers that frequented the bar every weekend were crowding Jake and Javy, barely there tops and cut off shorts leaving very little to the imagination as you caught one of the girls place her hand on Jake’s chest.

“Hey no fighting in my bar Stormy, you know the rules” Penny said with a gentle hand on yours, she should practically see the steam billowing from your ears as you took the scene in.

“I know the rules Pen, I promise to be sweet as pie” you scooped up the beers and gave her a wink, she groaned and facepalmed as she mentally prepared herself for what you had in store for those poor unsuspecting idiots.

Natasha caught your eye as you placed the beers on the table, probably a little rougher than was necessary and she tried to catch your arm but you easily slipped from her grasp as you looped through the crowd of your friends. Jake looked a little panicked when he saw your face, he had tried to warn them off that his girlfriend was here and he wasn’t the least bit interested but these girls were persistent, one had even gone so far as to suggest you could come home with them and watch and Javy had to stop himself from laughing directly in her face. You didn’t share and you certainly didn’t take kindly to someone trying to touch your man, so when you’d crossed the threshold to the pool table everyone seemed to stop what they were doing, very interested in seeing where this situation would go.

One of the girls had her hand on Jake’s bicep as he was trying to let her know his girlfriend was behind her, as she whipped around to say something snarky but it all died in her throat when you grasped a handful of her hair and yanked her backwards.

“Didn’t your mama ever teach you to keep your hands to yourself?” You said as you pushed her towards her friend, both of them stumbling backwards in their ridiculous stilettos.

“Look honey I get that you think you’re something special but your “boyfriend” isn’t the relationship type, he’s told me so before several times after we’ve hooked up so I-“

She didn’t get very far before you lunged at her, it took Jake, Javy and Mickey to hold you back as the bell rang out from the bar. You hadn’t hurt anyone yet but Penny decided it was best to send both girls packing before she had to call a coroner to collect them. You were fuming, once they’d been sent overboard the boys let you go, you smacked all of them on the arms as you wrenched yourself from their grasp, stomping out the back exit with your middle finger in their general direction. Jake was on your heels with a promise that he’d keep you from hunting them down, catching you just as you slammed your fist into the weathered wood of the building.

He grabbed your hand before you could do anymore damage and you half wanted to rip his head off, looking every bit your callsign with the storm raging in your eyes.

“Baby, come on, look at me please? Don’t worry about those girls, you know they don’t mean shit to me…right?” He suddenly looked very worried at the thought that you might not believe him. “You do know that don’t you?”

You swiped the tears from your eyes before you could get more emotional and let him pull you into his arms, you weren’t really pissed at him and deep down he knew that. “Of course I do Jake, you’ve never lied to me, it's just still new with us, sometimes I forget just how many of these girls have been one night stands, I’d be lying if it doesn’t make me feel a little jealous. I feel like I need to keep you locked up in the house, it should be illegal for you to look this good.”

He throws his head back and laughs at that, but you’re serious. He’s yours now and you want everyone to know that the only girl Hangman is taking home is you.

You slide your hand across the back of his scalp and give a sharp tug, making his eyes fly open as he tries to stifle a moan.

“Does it look like I’m joking Seresin? You want to swagger around here in your half buttoned shirt and slutty jeans, getting me all hot and bothered? You like making me jealous? Maybe we need to go home so I can show you who you belong to since you seem to have forgotten.”

His pupils are blown and irises nearly nonexistent, you can feel him hot and hard pressed against your thigh, you know this side of you has got him right where you want him.

“You just say the word sugar and we can head home, I’ll even get on my knees and beg you to forgive me.” He says a little shakily, he’s not at all used to someone else being in control but damn he wants to see where you take this, it may be the hottest thing he’s ever seen watching you be dominant and a little mean to him. He’d fuck you right on the pool table in front of everyone right now if you asked, he’s starting to worry the two of you might not make it home without him taking you.

It didn’t take much convincing to leave the group shortly after, you were still angry and Jake was definitely too turned on by it to continue playing pool. You barely said a word on the ride home, and didn’t give him the chance to open your door as you marched into his house, disappearing down the hallway to the bedroom. He shook his head and chuckled a little, it was hard to take you seriously when he knew the end result would be the two of you fucking but he had no idea what you had in store.

——————————————————————

You’d planned on making this weekend a little adventurous anyways but now you were angry and determined, overcome with the need to be in charge. So when Jake stepped into your space seeing you stripped down to your lingerie you refused to let him touch you, swatting his hands away and pushing him towards the mattress.

“C’mon baby you aren’t still mad are you?” Jake huffed as you took both his hands and bound them with the rope you’d originally brought for him to use on you.

“You promised you’d beg for forgiveness Jakey, so that’s exactly what’s gonna happen. No touching, no cumming until I say so, by the time I’m done with you I’ll have you a ruined mess. How’s that sound?” You were eyeing him with curiosity, you’d always let him take the lead in bed but you had a feeling he would like this more than he had ever let on. You definitely weren’t disappointed as you saw his eyes darken, he was practically salivating at your words and you hadn’t even touched him yet. Grasping his chin between your fingers you hovered your lips against his, every time he leaned forward you pulled back and by the third time he was whining, you knew he’d be putty in your hands but this was better than you’d expected.

“Baby I-I’ll do whatever you want, fuck just-just kiss me please and then you can string me up six ways to Sunday, I’ll be good I promise.” He had the cutest little pout going and you couldn’t help but lean in and give him what he wanted, running your hands through his golden hair and licking into his mouth as he tried to scoot closer to you, poor thing probably didn’t even realize he was doing it until you stepped away from him completely soaking in his pink cheeks and glazed eyes.

“Alright sweet boy, you got your kisses. Sit still and be good, promise I’ll make it worth your while. I need you to tell me if it’s too much though, ok?” You lean in to press kisses to his forehead as he nodded enthusiastically and you try to stifle a laugh, he’s like a damn puppy just trying to get your attention.

“Alright baby, lay back. Think I might give you something you’ve been asking for first, gonna let me ride your pretty face? How’s that sound?”

He scoots to the headboard as fast as he possibly can with his hands tied, gazing up at you as you remove your skimpy underwear and climb up his body, pressing kisses and nips to his skin and oh you might just be hooked on all the little noises he’s making. Finally settled above his face he gives you that million dollar grin you love so much, and licks from your entrance to your clit, testing the waters as he goes through all the little tricks that have proven to have you a moaning mess, the room filling with sounds of you both and the lewd wet noises as Jake ate at you like a starved man. Once he’d sent you over the edge, white knuckling the headboard as you cried out for him you felt a little more at ease, but you wanted more. He had a bit of a kink for edging you and you’d always wanted to give him a taste of his own medicine, so you climbed off of him with jelly legs and splayed your naked body on top of his, pressing his tied wrists above his head as you tasted yourself on his tongue and ground your obscenely wet pussy all over his clothed cock, he was hard as a rock bucking up into you at the delicious friction. Pulling him from his briefs caused him to hiss into your mouth, and you pulled back to nip at his jaw, seeking out the spot on his neck that was most sensitive.

“Oh fuck, baby come on now, you can’t just tease me like this forever- Jesus Christ-“

You’d found the spot evidently, that combined with you grinding yourself across his erection, letting your clit bump against the head as he flexed his hands against the rope. “Shhhh, let me have my fun baby, ohh ohhh it feels so good, shit you feel so fucking good” you were close again already and Jake was losing his mind, in reality he could get out of these knots fairly easily but he’d promised to be good, maybe he had a death wish but saying underneath you like this would be a damn good way to go. He felt himself getting close, you could tell he was nearly there when you wrenched yourself away from him and watched the look of shock cross him as the neediest whine you’d ever heard came from your big hulking boyfriend.

He was leaking like a damn faucet in your hand, tip angry red while his chest heaved, an artist couldn’t begin to try and sculpt how gorgeous he looked to you, your mouthy over the top man was quickly being reduced to a puddle and you were thrilled with the result. You proceeded to play with him and back off two more times with your hands and mouth before he was thrashing his head back and forth, a sob bubbling up from his chest.

“Please-please baby I can’t anymore you win, next girl that comes near me is gonna know I’m yours before she even gets close enough, f-fuck shit I can’t- love you so fucking much”

You laved your tongue over the head of his cock and batted your eyelashes, you definitely got the appeal now as you took in his sweaty form, poor Hangman; reduced to near tears in under an hour just from his sweet little girlfriend, if you were honest you enjoyed it a little too much. Sliding back up his body you removed the ropes, kissing at his wrists and he sighed in relief, he kept his hands to himself as he waited to see if you’d give him what he needed.

“Go ahead Jakey, take what you want baby I’m all yours.”

He flipped you both over immediately, sucking on your tongue as he slammed into you, loud moans and harsh slapping noises coming from your bodies as he sought out his release.

“Fuckin mean, toying with me like that sugar. You know you’re all I’ve wanted, think about this pretty pussy gripping me tight all fucking day, give anything to fuck you like this every night. Nobody makes me feel as good as you do- no one. Love you so goddamn much.”

Now he’s turned you into the moaning mess, playing with your clit as he fucked you hard, you were on the edge again he could feel you pulsing around him, pulling your face into his he sucked your bottom lip and came, desperately grinding up against him as you rode the aftershocks together.

You couldn’t believe what had come over you and you put your hands over your face and giggled. He laughed at how cute you looked and stole kisses, you both needed to get up and shower but these little moments were so scarce these days that he couldn’t help but stay put as long as you’d let him.

——————————————————————

Sunday morning was lazy lovemaking and breakfast in bed, before he finally had to help you pack up to head back to the airport. You’d been a bucket of tears the whole car ride, practically in his lap in the truck the second he’d parked.

“We got this baby” he’d said as he walked you to security, and your heart broke with every step you had to take to get on your plane. Once a month would never be enough, you both wanted a lifetime, it was time to make some changes.

Jake Seresin Masterlist

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huntingingoodwill · 1 year

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good to me (e.m.)

masterlist

pairing: best friend! eddie munson x reader

desc: running through the rain with eddie and him just being sweet and going out of his way to spend time with and take care of you <3

Eddie!” His name dragged its way out your mouth, lilting upward chidingly. The hinges to the door screeched as you shoved it open, a gust of wind whipping your hair about as you stepped out of Hawkins High. “I told you not to wait up for me!” You scolded, ignoring the little rush of delight that coursed through your veins as you saw him, sitting idly on the curb.

He jumped up, on his sneaker-clad feet almost comically quickly as he walked up to you, hands tucked coyly behind his back.

“I wasn’t waiting for you.” He lied through his teeth, bared in an unassuming smile. “You can be so conceited.” He teased, reaching up to pinch your cheek. Your nose scrunched, feeling the coldness of his rings press against your jaw.

“So, you were held back too?” You asked, before wincing at your phrasing. “No pun intended.”

Though you’d been at Hawkins for a little over a month now, you had only just been called into the office, made to scribble and rifle through sheafs of administrative paperwork that they had failed to prepare for you during your initial enrollment. You had been forced to sit in that miserable beige room long after the final bell rang.

“Mhm.” He hummed, lips pressed together tightly as his mind raced, trying to come up with an excuse. His fingers reached up to fiddle with a loose lock of your hair in an effort to distract you. “I had…um… stuff. I had stuff to do.”

If by “stuff to do”, he meant sitting on the curb and staring at the sky, waiting for you even after the last car pulled out of the parking lot and the final lingering students had long since headed home, he definitely had “stuff to do”.

You raised an eyebrow. “Stuff?”

“Stuff!” He repeated, voice pitching upward unconvincingly. “Hellfire stuff.”

You nodded, humming, a playful smile spreading across your face. Lies, lies, lies. You didn’t believe a word, and he knew it, but couldn’t care less. He was too busy being lost in your smile, the same one that had snagged him, making him fall for you, hook line and sinker.

He had met you on your first day, a little thrill thrumming in his heart as the teacher announced that the “new girl” would be sitting next to him. Playing it cool, he didn’t give you so much as a glance, twirling his ballpoint around his fingers, tracing the grooves that he’d carved into the table during many a boring lesson. He avoided looking at you, even as he heard the rustling of you settling down at the desk next to him.

Casually, he dropped the pen onto his desk, a nudge of his finger causing it to roll off onto the floor. He’d pick it up, and as he did he’d look at you. If he caught your eye, he’d smile. Chill. Cool. Really casual.

That backfired a little as you bent down to help pick it up at the same time as him, bashing your foreheads into each other.

“Ow.” You had giggled, smiling as you rubbed your sore temple as he stared at you in awe, a little dizzy from looking at that smile of yours and from the head trauma. Love had literally hit him over the head.

From that moment on, he followed you around like a lost puppy. “Just to show the new kid around, of course.” He told his friends, hiding his intentions to spend more time with you poorly as they gave each other doubtful looks.

He even took to walking you home everyday.

“Only if it’s convenient. I wouldn’t want you to have to walk out of the way.” You had said, eyebrows furrowing when he first offered to do so.

“Of course it isn’t!” He had lied, your house being about a ten minute walk past the trailer park.

He didn’t care. Those extra ten minutes felt like the highlight of his day. It was like a reprieve from the rest of the world, just the two of you. He’d replay your conversations the entire way back to his place, your laugh echoing in his mind, an uncontrollable, dumb grin on his face the whole walk.

“May I walk you home?” He asked now, stretching his arm out in a gallant gesture.

“You may.” You grinned.

He reached out, taking your books from your hands. You reached out in protest, but he twisted away, holding them tight in his arms.

“I can’t let you carry your own books.” He said, dark eyes widening in mock-horror. “Can’t let those pretty little arms of yours get tired.”

“But Eddie…” You objected, arms darting out for the books once more, but he dodged them, jumping out of the way.

“Christ.” You huffed. “Why are you so fast?” You grumbled.

“You try that again and I’m running all the way to your house with these and you’ll have to chase me down to get them back!” He clutched the books to his chest like they were made of goal, his “threatening” expression unable to mask the laughter bubbling in his throat.

“Is that a threat?” You asked.

“Maybe.” He smiled.

“Fine. Fine!” You conceded. “But this is the last time.”

“You said that the last time!” He sang, turning on his heel and strolling, an extra bounce in his step, feeling triumphant after having won your little tiff.

The two of you had only gotten a few steps down the sidewalk before you frowned, looking up at the sky.

“Is it gonna rain?” You pondered. Eddie’s eyes followed yours, flickering to the blue expanse above you.

“What? No way.”

“I swear I felt a drizzle-”

“It’s not gonna rain. Trust me. I know these things.” He smirked at you self-assuredly.

A huge boom of thunder punctuating his statement.

The rain started out lightly, but began falling quicker and quicker, a precursor to how it’d start pouring buckets on the two of you any second now.

Eddie swore, fumbling with the books in his hands as he nudged you ahead, the two of you quickening your pace. Pages fluttering in the wind, his hand wrapped around the spines of your notebooks, holding them beneath his jacket to shield them from the downpour.

“Here.” He handed you his notebook, making you hold it above your head, shielding your hair from the rain.

He laced his fingers with yours as he briskly led you down the street, but it was no use.

It was practically impossible to outrun the rain that was growing heavier so fast, the fat droplets of water falling in front of you in sheets, blurring your vision.

The two of you broke into a run, shoes slamming against the wet pavement, water exploding around every step into a puddle you took.

Eddie glanced around frantically.

“I know a short-cut to my place!” He called out above the almost deafening noise of the raindrops, tugging you toward the lush woods, the trees standing tall around you.

The two of you raced through the forest, the woods echoing with screams of laughter as the you ran, breathless. You dodged between trees, the worn soles of your shoes sliding across the moss, your heart pounding everytime you slipped, and everytime you realised how tightly Eddie was gripping onto your hand.

Finally, you broke through the dense woods, weaving in between his neighbours’ trailers until you reached his. Fumbling with his keys, he swung open the door, holding his arm over you to shield you from the rain as he ushered you inside.

He followed quickly behind you, slamming the door shut, the loud howl of the wind from outside suddenly muted in his safe, warm trailer.

The two of you burst into laughter, the sound reverberating through the room.

“You look like a wet dog!” You teased, reaching out to ruffle his hair, the long curls slick and with water. “What are they called again? Cocker spaniels?” You joked.

He grinned devilishly, shaking the water out his hair. You squealed as the water droplets hit you, his hair whipping around him wildly.

“You’re disgusting.” You laughed, punching him in the arm.

He smiled. “C’mon. Let’s go to my room, I’ll get you a towel.’”

He led you into his room, your eyes travelling across the posters on the wall, his guitar, the mess. It was so, so, Eddie. He swept aside the mess cluttering his desk before finally pulling his hand out of his jacket. Your books. He brandished them, and though a little damp, thanks to him tucking them beneath his jacket, they had remained mostly dry, safe from the rain. Still, he laid them out on his desk, beneath the window, so they’d dry when the sun came out and be completely good as new.

He turned, heading into his bathroom to get you a towel.

“Oh, Eddie…” Your heart sunk as you looked at the book he had made you shield yourself with. It was completely soaked. You frowned as you opened the it, peeling the wet pages apart to reveal drawings he’d done in class, elaborate sketches and doodles, some you’d even recognised as his tattoos, the sketches now permanently immortalised on his pale skin. The ink was bleeding, his art melting off the page. You felt the weight of his chin sink down onto your shoulder as he looked over it, looking at the pages of his notebook with you. “It’s ruined. I’m so sorry.” You whispered.

“Don’t worry about it.” He said dismissively. He tossed the towel over your head, the soft cloth obscuring your vision for a moment as he ruffled your hair with it. You heard the sound of his footsteps as he went to plug in his hairdryer, handing it to you. “Dry your hair. You’ll catch a cold.” He said, before retreating back into his bathroom, clattering around as he found a towel for himself.

As soon as he turned the corner, you pushed your own books aside, putting Eddie’s under the window. The machine whirred to life in your hands as you flicked the “on” button, tossing one last look over your shoulder to make sure Eddie wasn’t looking before directing the warm air at his notebook, drying each page carefully.

“Hey!” He said as he reemerged, making you jump. “Now what did I tell you about catching a cold?” He scolded.

You gripped the hairdryer, whipping around and aiming it at him like a pistol.

“Don’t try to stop me, Munson.” You grinned.

“Or what?” He taunted.

“Or… else!”

He took a few, cautious steps toward you. Just before he could snatch it out of your hands, you turned it on, blowing the hot air into his face. He scrunched his face up, laughing as he flinched at the odd sensation.

“I warned you!” You sang, aiming it at his hair instead, running your fingers through the locks as you helped him dry it.

“You know what would be really great right now?” You mumbled as he took the hairdryer from your hands, aiming the air in your face just long enough to make you squirm before redirecting it toward your hair.

“What?” He muttered, eyebrows knit in concentration as he sweeped your damp hair out of your face.

“A nap.” You sighed, your voice sounding sleepy, almost a little dreamy as his fingers combed through your hair. “There’s nothing more heavenly than taking a nap while it’s storming outside.”

He clicked the hairdryer to a stop, looking at you almost a little shyly. His eyes struggled to meet yours, and it made you smile, how cute he was when he felt embarrassed.

“Well, we could take a nap, if you want. Here.” He nodded toward his bed, the duvet looking so plush you were sure you’d want to sleep forever.

You peered down at the two of you, your wet clothes still clinging to your bodies. “...Maybe we could change, first?”

“Oh! Yeah!” He exclaimed. Whipping around toward his closet, flinging open the doors and rummaging through it for some clean, dry clothes to lend you.

You grabbed his sneakers, the white leather now dark with mud. You propped it up against the wall next to yours, both of your shoes standing on their toes as you aimed his fan ath them, drying both your shoes. You grabbed his jacket, the leather soft in your hands and draped it across the back of his desk chair, wicking away the water that beaded on its surface.

Finally, after slipping on some old clothes he had grown out of, the material worn and comfy with use, you crawled into bed, the warmth of it engulfing you.

He followed suit, lying down a little stiffly until you sidled up closer to him, heat radiating off him reassuringly. You felt him relax, his muscles untensing as he leaned in closer to you.

“This is nice.” He hummed, the words vibrating with his chest.

“I’m sorry about your notebook, Eds.” You whispered.

“Oh, come on. It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing.” You mumbled defiantly, your voice growing soft as you began to doze off. Your eyelids grew heavy, and they began to flutter shut. “You’re so good to me.” You sighed sleepily. “I don’t know why I haven’t asked you out, yet.”

His eyes widened, heart thumping so hard in his chest he worried you’d be able to hear it with how close you were.

He cleared his throat, blinking quickly as he racked his brains for a response, the weight of your words hanging in the air.

“Would it… make a difference if I asked you, first?” He said hesitantly, voice faltering nervously.

You nuzzled your face deeper into the crook of his arm.

“I don’t think so.”

“Then…” He began, voice tinged with anxiety. “Will you go out with me?”

“I don’t usually go out with liars.”

His eyes grew wide in confusion.

“There is no way you weren’t waiting for me today. And your house is definitely out of the way from mine.” You grinned. “But, I’ll make an exception, this time.”

“Thanks.” He smiled, relaxing into the mattress, lacing his fingers with yours. He reached it up to his lips, planting a kiss on your knuckle. “Thanks a lot.”

He couldn’t stop smiling. Not even when his eyes closed, falling asleep next to you, arms wrapped around each other, the whir of the fan and the noise of raindrops pinging off the metal roof of his trailer lulling you both to sleep.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson imagines #eddie munson x you #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fluff #st fanfic #stranger things season 4 #stranger things season four #st4 #stranger things fanfic #stranger things imagines #stranger things headcanons #stranger things fic #stranger things #joseph quinn

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unrequitedloveletter · 1 year

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Hello dear! Can I please request a Pin x reader fic? I have this idea in mind about them exchanging letters for several years which lead to them falling in love just through written word and then the reader comes to the the island as a suprise and Pin shows her around and they're happy together. Ending with them confessing their love during her stay. Just fluff, fluff and more fluff, please. <3

Nice Catch- Pin Hawthorne

Wanna send in something for the five days of christmas event? here’s the link! requests for it close tomorrow, so if you’ve got any ideas for Pin, feel free to drop those into my inbox!

Hi!! I’m so sorry that this took as long as it did to come out! I’m not the best at writing love confessions--its why most of my fics involve established relationships--but I really wanted to get this one right, so it took me a bit longer to write then I’d originally anticipated.

I aged Pin and the reader up to 22!

Fic type- fluff

Warnings- none

Yours and Pins exchanging of letters had started during your junior year of high school. A pen-pal program had been set up, and all that you had to do was sign your name onto a sheet of paper and visit the drama room once every two weeks to see if a letter came in. The letters were being sent to high schoolers all over, some in places like France or Italy, others in spots like Canada and a variety of states throughout America.

You’d signed up so that something could occupy your time between school, homework, and everything else. Pin had signed up for the same reasons, and neither of you expected to stay in contact past freshman year--though Pin called it year ten, per the schooling systems throughout europe--but, as time went on, you realized just how wrong you’d been by making that assumption.

Time passed by quickly, and before you knew it, you were a college graduate, Pin having finished up his undergrad. You still sent letters back and forth, though they became a bit more spaced out due to busy schedules.

There came a time where you and Pin finally figured out your time difference and started weekly facetimes, laughing and chatting for two hours, which quickly turned into four. Four hours turned into six, and somewhere along the line, six hours became twelve.

You didn’t text one another often during the week because of time differences and lives outside of each other. As you both went to college--you pursuing your career of choice where Pin decided to get an undergrad that would lead to a job as a farm vet by the time he was twenty six--you stopped texting altogether, went back to your letter-sending, and kept facetiming one another every week.

By the time that you were twenty-one, you’d come to a realization.

You were in love with Pin Hawthorne. Though you realized it at twenty-one, you’d been in love with him since you were eighteen, having fallen for him through the process of written word as you got to know him.

So, you got in touch with Zoe, one of his coworkers. She recognized you from the times that you’d been on facetime with Pin as he worked an easy Saturday at the stables, and the two of you had talked a bit through that. In June, the first inklings of an idea came to mind.

You wanted to surprise Pin, but getting time off where you worked required booking it months in advance. Zoe was completely on board with the plan and introduced you to Marcus, Jade, Becky, and Mia.

It was decided in June that you’d visit Pin during one of his less-busy times of the year. The university he was attending to get his degree in veterinary science gave students the month of December off, so you booked a flight to the airport closest to the island that would arrive early-ish on the morning of the second of December.

From there, you’d take a train to get to the island, rest off the jetlag during the two and a half hours you’d be stuck there, and Zoe and Marcus would pick you up from the train station. They would drop you at the hotel that Mia had gotten you a discount on, and Jade and Becky would pick you up two hours later, after you had more time to rest and recuperate a bit more.

All in all, you’d be there at noon. Zoe would trick Pin into going into the tack room, where he’d see you standing as you waited.

Pin opened the door, and you looked up with the creak it gave as it was pulled open, having gotten lost in your thoughts as you stared at the shelves.

You looked to him, meeting his gaze, and watching as his face split into a grin.

“Oh my God. This is real, right? You’re actually here?” Pin asked.

You couldn’t help but smile, laughing slightly as you nodded. “Yeah,” you said. “I figured it was time we met each other. We’ve been friends for six years.”

“Oh my God,” Pin said again, stepping into the offices. You let him pull you into a tight hug, hugging him back just as tightly.

“I talked to Zoe. She, Jade, Becky, Marcus and Mia helped me get this set up. I’m here all month, staying a hotel that Mia’s dad owns. The basis of it is that you’re stuck with me until a bit after new years. Congrats!”

Pin laughed, hugging you again. “I’m happier than I have been in months. Thank you so much for coming down.”

“I’ve been having a great time so far, so you don’t need to thank me, Pin,” your stay had just begun, but there had been zero bumps in the road to that point. “I wanted to get to know the guy beyond the letters, is all.”

Pin laughed. “Well, you’ve arrived at the perfect time then. I’m on my lunch break. It ends at one. Care for a tour?”

You nodded. “Yeah. Sounds great.”

So, Pin lead you both out of the tack room and the tour commenced. You stood, mostly quiet and content just to hear him talk. So much of your lives had been that, rambling off at the mouth with one another and responding in kin. It was incredible to know that such a thing wouldn’t change in the event that you were visiting one another in person.

Pin had noticed that, too. The only difference he could account for was the fact that you were with one another, the fact that you were present and in-person, not just with Pin through a screen.

Pin had been in love with you since the two of you were nineteen. He was almost glad for the fact that you’d not met in person to that point, simply for the fact that he was sure that, in the event that you had, he would’ve confessed and ruined the only friendship he had that’d lasted more than half a decade.

“This is probably my favorite spot,” Pin said as the two of you came to stand on the edge of a cliff. It overlooked the water, a beachside only a couple meters off of where the tide hit the sand.

“It’s my favorite spot during spring and summer, anyway. When snow isn’t covering the ground, sitting here and watching the waves makes thinking a lot easier.”

He allowed himself a small grin as he recalled being nineteen and realizing he’d been in love with you as he sat there, It’d been one moment concerning the two of you that he’d never forget, though he could admit that it sat among what sometimes felt like countless others.

“Well, when I come down in the summer, we’ll visit this spot again,” you offered. “Make a picnic out of it, watch the sun go down. We could turn it into a breakfast picnic and watch it come up, the sun is always up later in August, anyway.”

“I love that,” Pin agreed.

He figured it was better to tell you he loved you in person than through a screen or in the process of written word. “Can we talk about something?”

“I wanted to talk to you about something as well, actually. Shoot.”

“I—” he stopped himself, the nerves taking over for a second. It was the first day of your trip. What if, after Pin confessed and discovered his love was unrequited, the remainder of your stay was completely and utterly, undeniably awkward? What if it changed the tone of your friendship for however long into your lives that it was meant to last? “I’m in love with you. I’ve been in love with you since we were nineteen.”

“I was going to say the exact same thing,” you said, feeling like a weight had finally lifted itself from your shoulders. “Except for the fact that it took me a while to realize. I was in love with you when we were eighteen, but I didn’t realize it until summer of last year.”

Pin pressed his forehead against yours, arms easily wrapping around your waist. Yours came to rest on either of his shoulders, grinning so widely that you were entirely sure your mouth would soon start to hurt as your heart filled with something that you couldn’t quite describe. It was better than what you felt when you’d looked at him before. It was something above love, something closer to sheer contentment and love combined.

“Can I kiss you?” Pin asked. You nodded, humming your agreement.

In the next second, his lips were on yours and you registered the fact that you were kissing the guy who’d been your best friend for half a decade. You also registered that there was no place you’d rather be than with him, enjoying the first day of your stay and the end of the tour of the areas around Bright Fields.

When you returned to Bright Fields, hands interlaced, Marcus was the first to notice, eyebrows raised as he grinned, where Zoe and Becky nodded at you.

“Nice catch,” Becky said, looking at you like your relationship had been something she’d expected.

“I know,” you responded. Pin pressed a kiss to the side of your head as you spoke, giving your hand a squeeze.

It’d been the first day of your stay, and somehow, it was already the best one.

#Pin Hawthorne #Pin Hawthorne x reader #free rein

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shurisneakers · 3 years

Text

harmless (x)

Summary: Bucky volunteers to go stop a small time villain, but nothing can prepare him for what exactly he has to deal with. (Bucky x villain!reader, drabble series)

Warnings: cursing, frustrated bucky, dramatic reader, anxiety, smidge of angst, mentions of violence

Word count: 7.8k (i went overboard. clearly.)

A/N: as well all know, i am a humanities student writing science geeks. if any of this sounds unrealistic or nonsensical, it’s because it is and i am honestly too exhausted to research data privacy and AI so here’s my take on how STEM should work i.e. the power of friendship <3 major shoutout to @iamlittlesparkler for the idea for this chapter!

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Previous Part || Series Masterlist

“As you know, we have a busy week ahead of us.”

Coffees line the conference room table, pens click against the stacks of paper that settle in front of various agents and the smell of deodorant mixed with post-training sweat lingers at the back of the room like a disgusting witch concoction.

“The annual parade is coming up and since there are a few security threats, SHIELD has been asked to step in. Therefore, all of you will be working security this week, possibly even at the parade.” Murmurs broke out in the room the minute this was said; mostly from first year field agents who were way too excited to have earpieces and fingerless gloves.

Bucky, on the other hand, doesn’t think much of it. They’ve dealt with threats before, most were declared empty the minute it got out that SHIELD or the Avengers were involved. It’s the 12th one that year.

“That’s only if we don’t catch it first,” Steve continued. “Our first priority is precaution. The tech and analytics teams are working on it. However, if you see anything suspicious, bring it up with Director Fury. He’s going to be around to make sure we’re not overlooking anything. Do you have any questions?”

More whispers erupted at the mention of Fury’s name. Wait till they realise he lives up to his name when they accidentally manage to set him off just by existing incorrectly.

Bucky smirks at the thought.

“You can leave then.” Steve straightens up as chairs shuffle against the carpeted floor, over twenty people leaving the room.

“And remember, if you see an eagle today, be sure to stand there and thank it on behalf of Steve for its service. Freedom! Liberty! And whatever else,” Tony calls out from the corner of the room, earning a sigh from the captain. Others only snicker as they close the door behind them.

“Thanks.” Steve stares at him stone faced, bemused at the symbolism that had been bestowed upon him.

“Gotta keep the patriotism high.” The only ones that remain are the official team. Bucky thinks that he should have left with the other agents but apparently, it was rude and not a good show of team spirit.

“How serious is this threat anyway?” Clint has his head face down on the table, hand holding his to-go coffee cup so it doesn’t fall over.

“We’re not sure.” Steve finally takes a seat on the chair in front of him. “It’s the biggest event we’ve had this year, wouldn’t put it past them.”

“If it’s those Welsh kids again, I’m gonna punch a hole through their house this time,” Clint warns, voice muffled through the furniture.

“It’s not them, we checked.” Nat had her leg up on the armrest of Clint’s chair. “Tech team’s been working overtime to figure it out.”

“You have anything that could help?” Sam sends a nod towards Tony.

“I got a few things but it’d take a while to put it together.”

“Didn’t you learn quantum physics in a night?” Wanda’s picking apart a cookie into pieces, chewing slowly.

“Thermodynamic astrophysics,” he corrects her. “Quantum science took lesser.”

Bucky scoffs slightly at the brag, eyes still trained on the table in front of him. Maybe if he made no noise, they would forget he’s here.

“Yeah, so this should be a piece’a cake.”

“If your cake was somehow made out of a highly specified tracker that somehow doesn’t violate the data privacy of the entire world while analysing millions of terabytes worth of information, then yeah. A piece of it.”

“What he means to say-” Bruce interjects, “-is that we’re trying. It’s just taking longer than usual.”

“Well, the parade’s this Sunday. Think it’ll be done by then?”

“Hey FRIDAY,” Tony crosses his arm over his chest. “How many hours have I slept this week?”

“Three and a half, boss.”

“How much more will I be getting?”

“From previous experience, about six.”

“Yeah, we can get it done.” Tony looks back at Steve.

“Ask someone on the tech team to help you out.” Everyone was well aware of Tony’s bad coping mechanisms and how futile it was to get him to change his mind about it, but they still tried.

“They’re too busy.” Bruce pressed his lips into a straight line.

Bucky tunes out at this point. If he could help, he would have reluctantly chimed in by now, but he couldn’t.

“So what now?” Sam rips Clint’s doughnut into two, keeping one half for himself while leaving the other to the latter who still hadn’t lifted his head up from the table.

“I actually asked Fury if I could call in an external to come help,” Tony pipes up.

“And he agreed?” Nat raised an eyebrow.

“After he realised I wasn’t going to leave his office until he said yes.” He pulled out his phone, rapidly typing out a message before hitting send. “It didn’t take too long.”

“Do we know this person?” Steve asks a little suspiciously.

“Well-” Bruce sneaks a glance at the broody man on the chair, “-kinda.”

Everyone can tell Bucky isn’t paying attention by the way he’s glaring holes into the plant. He doesn’t mean to, it just so happens that it looks like he wants to kill it. Nobody tends to bother him during meetings, knowing well and fully that he did not care.

“You’re about to.” Tony jumps up, making his way to the door to pull it open.

Bucky perks up. An open door means they can leave, right? He can go watch The Bachelor? He’s not sure what everyone was talking about, but if the meeting was over he could go ask Wanda who was always kind enough to help.

“Our newest recruit,” the billionaire announces, quickly adding the next part, “on a trial basis.”

Bucky looks at the door.

His jaw drops open.

“No,” he says loudly, posture immediately stiff as a plank.

“Hello to you too, Barnes.” You roll your eyes before sending a small wave to everyone else. “Hey everyone.”

“What are you doing here?” He looks like he’s seething.

“Don’t tell me you forgot about our date.” You cross your arms over your chest in defiance. “You told me 3 o’clock, you player.”

“What is she doing here?” He whips to Steve for an answer.

“Hey Y/N,” Sam greets with a smile on his face before Steve can reply.

“Sam Wilson, good to see you again.” You grin.

“Right back at ya, sugar.”

Wanda looks amused, Clint finally lifts his head off the table at the mention of your name while Nat takes her feet off his armrest, and Steve’s body relaxes when he realises what’s going on.

“Okay.” Tony claps his hand. Bucky shoots daggers at him. “As you all know, this is Y/N. She’s going to working with us this week.”

“This is ridi- how did you even find out about her?”

“Aside from the fact that she’s all you talk about?” Clint snorts. Bucky shifts his glare to him. It was bullshit and an exaggeration and Clint was going to get a shoe up his ass very soon.

Your grin only grows bigger.

“We saw one of the repulsors she made some time ago,” Bruce answers his question like the sane person that he is. “Tony’s had her in mind for a while.”

“Repulsors? How on ear-” Bucky connects two and two together before turning to Sam. “You. You got her this job.”

“Sam’s my best wingman.” You send him a small heart made from your hands. Whether the pun was intentional or not, no one would know.

“Don’t look at me, I had nothing to do with this idea.” Sam raised his hands to brush off the blame.

“You’re a villain,” he points out loudly.

“I’m a saint.” You raise your hand to your heart in mock offence. “I have done nothing wrong in my life, ever.”

“Listen, Robocop,” Tony interrupts your conversation, bringing the attention back to him, “I cleared it with Fury. He’s the boss here.”

“Fury doesn’t know-”

“What don’t I know?” The atmosphere of the room changes the minute he saunters in.

With an eyepatch on his face, gaze sharp and a long black coat, Nick Fury puts Bucky’s dark outfits to shame. Not like he was competing.

Bucky doesn’t continue his sentence. Nick’s imposing presence loomed at the doorway, putting a stop to the ridiculous arguments that were beginning to boil. Instead, he looks at you, only to find your attention trained on the man of the hour.

“Nicholas,” you half cheer from where you had shifted to in the middle of all the commotion.

Nicholas?

No one had ever called him Nicholas.

“Y/L/N,” Nick addresses in return. “Been a while.”

“You haven’t come to the lair in months, Nick.” You pout at him. “I even sent you an invite.”

Bucky furrows his eyebrows. Since when are you on such good terms with Fury? Since when was anyone on good terms with Fury?

“It must have gotten lost in the mail,” he fires back, “Or maybe it’s because I just happen to be the busiest man in the damn country. Take your pick.”

You roll your eyes, muttering something under your breath, but the good natured smile on your face shows that you didn’t take any of his passive- or straight up- aggressiveness to heart.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realise I was interrupting your little tea time.” He looks around the rest of the room with an edge in his voice. “Don’t you all have work to do?”

“We do,” Tony interrupts, holding up his hand before pointing to Bruce and you. “Everyone else just sorta sits around and looks pretty.”

“I’m gonna go talk to the organisers, see what spots are most vulnerable.” Steve stands up. “You coming?”

“Yep,” Sam responds, flicking Clint’s shoulder to drag him along. “Come on, man. When was the last time you took a shower?”

“I’ll go see what the kids are up to in training. They’re probably flying off the handle right now.” Natasha brushes off crumbs from her lap. “Barnes, you in?”

Bucky silently shakes his head, eyes focused on you as you introduce yourself to every Avenger who walks out of the room, sharing a small fist bump with Sam.

“I’ll do it,” Wanda volunteers instead, finally leaving behind only the Science Bros, you and Bucky in the room with Fury.

“I’ll give you a tour of the lab.” Tony beckons and you nod, following him. “New eyepatch, Fury? Prada, I assume?”

“Stark,” Nick says curtly.

Bucky stares after you, arms still folded across his chest.

“Any problem, Sergeant?”

Other than the fact that his arch nemesis was now working with his friends, no, not really. But that did seem like a pretty big one.

“No,” Bucky mumbles instead, getting up from his place finally.

Apparently, no one else was worried about the possibly lethal combination of you and Stark, even with Banner there to dilute it.

Fine.

Guess he just has to observe you the whole week.

Well, half a week. It was Wednesday.

He observes inconspicuously over the rim of his coffee cup. He has a newspaper spread in front of him at Bruce’s table.

It’s not suspicious. He’s been there multiple times to sit in silence with the scientist who occasionally tinkers with something while engaging Bucky in tidbits of conversation. He finds it calming, refreshing even

Today he has an agenda. Everyone knows about it too.

“You know he’s staring at you, right?” Bruce looks up briefly from the giant blueprint laid in front of the group.

Tony had been dragged away to get a proper meal into him after he stayed up for 36 hours straight with caffeine keeping his system running.

“He has a tendency to do that.” You’re looking over the plan the three of you had come up with the day before. There were certain changes to be made in terms of efficiency. “Turns out if you annoy him, he stares harder.”

“We’ve heard about the inventions. Inators, he calls them?”

“Yeah,” you point out something on the sheet, drawing a circle around it to come back to later, “only good things I hope?”

“He doesn’t really talk much.” Bruce writes down a small comment against your arrow mark. “But if he hated them, he’d have a lot to say. So I’d take it as a compliment.”

“Would it annoy him if I did?”

“Probably.”

“I’ll take it as a compliment, then. Pass me the ruler?” You draw a line connecting two pieces.

Bucky’s ability to lip read is excellent but he refuses to do it, for privacy purposes. He knew that SHIELD had pulled some strings and had another teacher substituting for your classes the whole week since your other option was to come only after school hours. Anything else about this plan was murky.

“You gonna sit there all day?” Tony looks over his shoulder, following his line of sight.

“I’ve done it before.” He continues to look over the newspaper at you with your finger extended at something on the blueprint as you explained something to Bruce.

“You look like- how do I say this nicely.” He wasn’t going to. “A fuckin’ stalker.”

“I’m supposed to stop her from doing anything evil.”

“Sure.” Tony snorts. “That’s what this is. Should I get you a fedora and sunglasses while we’re at it?”

Of course Stark wouldn’t care; he brought you into this project. It was pretty much impossible to get him to agree with Bucky.

Bucky just narrows his eyes and continues his observation.

The menu of the cafeteria keeps changing. They like to keep things interesting.

Every time they do, Bucky spends too long staring at the menu, trying to figure out what exactly is familiar enough to order. Vietnamese week had him eating pho the entire duration it stayed.

“You plannin’ on eating anytime this century, sarge?” He recognises your voice immediately.

He knows what time your break is and he knows that you generally eat lunch in the cafeteria with the science team. Generally, the three of you pour over solutions and debate points all through the meal, and he spends the time getting acquainted with his new, lowkey Instagram account.

He blocks the Bucky Barnes hashtag the minute he gets an account again. God save his eyes from people asking him to break their back like a glow-stick. However, one afternoon of accidentally watching three cat videos has led to his entire explore page being taken over by them and he’s been trying for three days to get it to stop.

“Just trying to-” he tilts his head. “-understand what I’m reading.”

“Not a big fan of Greek food?” You join him in looking at the menu.

“Never really had the chance to try.” Tony and Bruce don’t seem to be in the room, probably pushing aside their meal to work on it as they’ve often done.

“Ah.” You already had your order in mind but you wait there.

Two minutes later he’s still staring at the menu. He can feel your presence next to him, unmoving. It unnerves him.

“Why are you still standing here?” He cranes his neck to look at you.

“I’m just seeing how long it takes for you to order.” You shrug. “So far it’s been five minutes and forty six seconds. Forty eight now.”

“Go away.” The concept of someone standing beside him, waiting for him to do something reminded him far too much of him trying to bag his stuff at the grocery counter rapidly while other customers waited to pay.

“Six minutes and thirty seconds. This is just sad now.”

“Your face is sad.” It was pathetic that he had now resorted to this.

It earned a laugh from you.

As entertaining as it was to be able to get on his nerves by just standing silently next to him, you finally ask, “Do you want a recommendation?”

He eyes you wearily. “You gonna give me food poisoning?”

“Not today, no.” You shake your head slightly. “Maybe tomorrow.”

He stares a little longer. You remain unshaken in your offer.

“Fine.” He sighs, stepping aside.

You tell him that since it’s his first time, you’d get him something basic. He thought it made sense.

He argued with you when you ended up paying for the both of you, only shutting up when you told him he’s holding up the line and that he could pay you back later. It doesn’t stop his incessant mumble complaining.

He ends up with gyros at his table and you sitting opposite him with your meal. He asks where the Science Bros are. You tell him it’s Science Hoes now, as christened by Tony, and that they’re in the lab.

“So?” You look at him eagerly.

“What?”

“How is it?” you urge, nodding at him.

He takes a cautious bite, really taking his time with it to annoy your impatient ass.

“Well?” You raise your eyebrow at him.

“It’s-” he pauses, looking down at his food. “-good.”

“Aha.” You lean back victoriously. “Knew it.”

He likes it. He also knows that this is probably going to be the only thing he orders for the next week unless you had planned otherwise.

“You’re not eating?” He gestures to your untouched tray.

“Taking it up to the lab. Got a few things to work on and we’re already behind.” You gather up your stuff and get up.

“Uh-” he pauses from practically inhaling the entire thing. He was already halfway done with it. “-thanks.”

“No problem. You wink at him. “Try figuring out what’s wrong with it.”

You turn on your heel to leave, taking your order with you. He can see your shoulders bobbing with silent laughter.

He stares down at his plate, swallowing slowly.

He pokes at it with a fork, lifting up the leftovers to check if there’s anything underneath. Nothing.

He checks to see if his limbs are still intact or his face was a different colour. Nope.

His stomach twists in worry about what’s going to happen. He still has a bit left but he pushes the tray aside.

The rest of the day he spends supervising you has you occasionally catching his eye, only to laugh. It only freaks him out more.

It takes eight hours of waiting and self induced tests later to realise there was nothing wrong with it. You were just playing with him.

He’s surprised to find you in the rec room when he strolls in with Sam, given that you haven’t taken a break all day.

You don’t share the same surprise... almost like you expected him.

“How long have you been waiting for me?” he immediately asks.

"I wasn’t here for you.” You raise an eyebrow at him. “Heard that Wilson was makin’ an appearance here soon so I stopped by to get a good look at him."

"Take a picture, it'll last longer.” Sam laughs, inserting a dollar into the machine and punching in the code for what he wanted.

"Gladly. Strike a pose, would you?" You grin, raising your phone.

“Maybe when I’m not covered in sweat.” Sam counter offers and you accept with a thumbs up.

“You going to the parade, Sam?” You toy with the can in your hands.

“I’ll be working security, so probably.”

“Sarge?” You take a swig of your drink.

“Huh?” He snaps back into the conversation, putting a stop to the mental list of reasons he was making of why you could be here at the same time as him. He knew your schedule, it wouldn’t be very hard for you to figure out his.

“You coming to the parade on Sunday?” you ask again.

“I guess.”

You wince.

“What?” he asks instantly, curiosity making him a lot sloppier than usual.

“It’s just- you wear so much black.” You gesture to his current getup to prove your point. ”I feel like all the bright colours would vaporise you if you looked at them.”

He doesn’t look amused.

“You know, like Prince Philip.”

“I think I’ll be fine.” He gives you a sarcastic smile.

“You comin’ Buck?” Sam laughs, unwrapping the bar he bought from the machine.

“You go ahead, I’ll catch up,” Bucky says offhandedly, still glaring at you innocently drinking your soda.

Sam chews absentmindedly on his protein bar as he walks out, amused at the situation Bucky pulled himself into.

“What’d you do?” Bucky asks, studying your body language.

“I bought a soda.” You lift the can to prove your point. “And now I’m drinking it.”

“Why are you waiting for me?”

“I thought I’d return the favour,” you point out. “I’m supervising you.”

“Don’t.” He walks to the vending machine, pulling out his wallet for some loose change. There was a Snickers bar he had been craving since morning that he bought every alternate day. Small joys.

“Why? I have the time.” You take a sip, setting it down with a clang.

“You’re only here for this week.” Bucky counted the coins he had. He’d use a dollar but he was trying to get rid of the jingling in his pocket that made him sound like a fucking clown when he walked.

“Actually,” you begin innocuously, “Tony offered me a full-time position.”

Bucky’s movements stop, hunched over the money in his palm.

“What?”

“Yeah.” You nod seriously. “A full nine-to-five as a researcher here.”

“And you’re taking it.” He shakes himself out of the minor shock to assess the damage.

“I don’t know. I got a lot of things to consider.” The chair scrapes against the tiled floor as you stand up. “But maybe you should get used to seeing me a lot more around here.”

He punches in the code for his Snickers. The row whirs forward slowly.

“See you at the lab.” He hears you discard the empty can in the trash before exiting.

He waits patiently for his bar to drop while his mind internally screams about the consequences of having you work here. You wouldn’t be evil anymore. Unless you were here to steal secrets from the Tower. On the pro side, his weekend would be free again. On the con side, his weekend would be free again.

His bar stops right at the edge of the row. He waits for it to fall over. It doesn’t.

He shakes the machine, suppressing the primal urge to beat the shit out of it when the damn bar refuses to fall.

He punches in a few random buttons hoping that at least it would give his money back.

The little monitor instead flashes a new message across the screen.

‘Have a good day, sarge <3’

Motherfucker.

Captain America looks less daunting up close, you realise. But he is still a very large man with very large shoulders. You know at least four people who would like to scale him like a tree, not that you’d ever tell him.

“Hey, Y/N.” He sends you a small smile when you walk into the room for a mid-week update. A clipboard in your hand, report attached and a few stationery items in case some points needed to be noted done, you look professional and ready.

“Afternoon, Captain.” Tony saves a seat for you and Bruce beside him since you’re on the same project. You almost miss the fact that Bucky isn’t in the room.

He walks in a few minutes late; tall, dark and brooding, immediately bringing the excitement in the room down by 40% by just existing.

Bucky surveys the room before catching your eye. He picks up his chair with ease and drags it over to where you are, sitting right beside you, ignoring the small cry of protest from an agent whose view he now obstructed. Everyone else just silently shifted over.

“Clingy much?” you whisper at him, eyes still trained on Steve who had waited till everyone was seated to continue.

“I’m supposed t’be keeping an eye on you,” he rebuffs in a hush.

“Well, you’re late. What if I went rogue, huh?”

“Therapy ran overtime,” he mumbles.

“Oh.” You blink. “How was it?”

“Same old.”

“You good?”

He refrains from answering when Steve starts addressing the room but yes, he was fine. He sends you a nod to confirm.

“This is just a usual checking in. We’ve received all your reports, but just to keep everyone on the same page-”

Bucky logs out mentally. He knows what his job is, he’ll probably lead a division of the security team or join the mission to neutralise the threat in case they find it first. Either way, he’ll figure it out without having to listen to an intern nervously stammer their way through their team’s report.

On the other hand, you’re not listening either. You were until you saw Bucky’s eyes glaze over while glowering at the window, assuming that he had stopped paying attention when his gaze doesn’t shift.

You should be listening. You’re new here and you should know what’s going on because any bits of detail are crucial to the working of your system.

Instead, you rip out a sticky note and discreetly place it on the back of Bucky’s metal arm. He doesn’t notice.

You bite your lip to stop yourself from smiling. More post-its from your pile of stationery make their way onto the vibranium, shades of pink, purple, green and yellow decorating his arm like a bulletin board.

You’re about to contemplate sticking one on his shoulder blade when he whips around to look at you. You freeze, hand in the air with a sticky note. He looks down at his arm, a scoff escaping him in disbelief.

“Are you serious?” He twists his arm to check the extent of how far you’ve gone. “What are you, six?”

“How’d it take you so long to notice?” You watch as he tugs them off one by one, counting to see how many you had managed to get on there.

“It’s impossible not to zone out in these shitty meetings,” he mumbles, pulling off the last one, crumpling all of them into a ball to throw at you. You skilfully avoid them.

“Don’t you feel pressure or heat or anything here?” You poke at his metal arm.

“No.” He clenches and releases the fist. “It can block bullets though.”

You snort. “Bet that’s a popular line in bed.”

He rolls his eyes. “I mean, it helps that I can’t feel anything. Sometimes,” he adds the last part as an afterthought.

“Like when you’re blocking bullets.”

“Especially then.” He nods.

“Would you ever want to?” you ask casually. “Like if you got the choice, would you prefer having feeling in that arm?”

“I don’t know.” He’s thought about it, but it doesn’t seem feasible in his line of work. He’d like it, though, to feel sand slipping through his fingers and the comforter under his palm. “Maybe when I’m retired.”

“Aren’t you well past that age?”

“Shut up.” He rolls his eyes. “And pay attention. You’re next.”

“So you are listening.” True to his word, Steve asks about what’s going on with your team. “Traitor.”

Tony shoots off about how you only had to test it out on a small batch first to see if you could acquire the targeted data without compromising anything else. You chime in about a few specifics, and Bruce more or less just confirms what you both are saying, only stopping to let them know that you’d be finished in a day or two.

Steve nods, moving on to the next committee.

“Did I get a good grade?” you whisper when you lean back again.

“B minus at best.”

“Fuck you, dude. I was great,” you protested. “It’s definitely worth a gold sticker.”

Someone shushes you sharply. You apologise quietly, whacking Bucky’s metal arm when you see a dumb smirk on his face.

He narrows his eyes at you.

You try sticking another post-it on him.

You’re only here for a week. That’s what he’s been told. Over six times, actually, after which he’s been told to go away the next time he asked.

No one’s brought up the job offer so he asks Tony if it was true and all he gets is a dismissive ‘yeah, whatever’. Besides, you haven’t told him if you accepted or denied it yet so isn’t sure if this entire thing is set in stone, per se.

So then why do you have a giant box of your belongings that you’re lugging around the lab, looking to set down?

And why does Tony allow you a table right in the centre of the lab for everyone to see as soon as they walk in?

There are a gazillion trinkets, picture frames and obnoxiously bright stationery that stands out against the dull minimalism of the lab.

“Every single one of these is a fire hazard,” he reports, standing over your desk.

You give him a side glance before reaching over to the side of your desk, pulling up a fire extinguisher and setting it on the table in front of him. “I came prepared, bitch boy.”

He doesn’t dignify that with a response. He chooses to look at what exactly you’ve brought with you because it’s a lot.

There are small cards with ‘thank you!’ sprawled on them in uneven lettering, bits and pieces of paper with small cartoons on them, little clay models and other miniature trophies with ‘you’re the best!’ under it.

“Your students gave you these?” He can’t remember the last time he gave his teacher anything other than a headache.

“Sometimes they learn or communicate better when they have something to keep their hands busy.” There’s a certain fondness in your voice that he isn’t used to hearing. “I end up with a lot of doodles and craft.”

“’s nice of them.” He can tell that this means a lot to you. He hasn’t seen it before.

He thinks the little decorations are adorable and maybe he’d keep another fire extinguisher on hand, just in case.

Until you start pulling out a set of framed photos and his smile drops.

Several collages of Bucky in flower crowns, him with terribly edited backgrounds of beaches and mountains, a photo of him laughing with ‘Live, Laugh, Love’ next to it in an italicised font.

“What the fuck,” he states, grabbing one of them.

You stifle a laugh, pulling out several more to place along your table.

“Where did you fucking get these?” He starts pulling them off the table one by one.

“I don’t think you know how much the internet is obsessed with you.” You set an especially large one of him in a Hello Kitty bowtie right in the centre. He doesn’t miss the star shaped frame you chose for this.

“What is wrong with you?” He swipes that up immediately, looking for a place to discard, possibly burn these pictures. “Why do you even have these?”

“It’s imperative that people know we’re friends.” You bite your lip, bringing out the last thing to annoy him.

“What is that?” A teddy bear with a blue jacket and a grey felt arm stared into his soul.

“A Bucky bear.” Don’t laugh, don’t laugh, don’t laugh. “Limited edition.”

He snatches it along with the fifteen other picture frames, thinly veiled distress and mostly disgust on his face.

“I hate you.”

“But I love you.” You lift the small heart shaped locket you hung on one of the pictures of your class.

You use both your hands to click it open for him, watching his face morph into one of disbelief.

Bucky my beloved, it read on the right with a small picture of him on the left looking intensely disgruntled. He doesn’t bother asking where you found that specific picture of him outside a Burger King at 3am.

He doesn’t even make an effort to take it away this time. He knows that you’ll simply bring up more and more until you drove him crazy.

“You still have to see the Avengers calendar.” You reach for the inside. “I changed all the pictures to you, it looks great-”

He turns around and leaves before you get a chance to flip open the pages.

He wanders around, looking for the best disposal area he can find. He knows there’s a giant fireplace in the common room in the Tower, and for that, he’d have to go up a couple of floors.

He steps into the elevator, chin pressing down on the several picture frames in his hands to prevent them from falling over.

No one sees him carrying a couple of fan edited pictures and merchandise of him. Which was good.

Unfortunately, the doors ding open on the next floor and his best friend steps on with possibly the worst timing ever.

“Buck?” Steve sounds confused. He should be, considering the sight.

Bucky shimmies slightly to get a better grip on his belongings. “Steven.”

Steve glances at what he’s holding.

“Is this,” Steve pauses, trying to frame his words correctly to sound as supportive as possible, “a therapy thing?”

“No.”

Steve waits for a further explanation.

“It’s Y/N’s,” he elucidates. Steve’s eyebrows furrow.

“Why are there so many pictures of you?” He looks at the content in his hands a little closer. “And a bear.”

“She’s evil. And I hate her.”

“Alright.” It doesn’t answer his question but his friend looks irked enough.

The elevator dings to the common room floor.

Bucky turns on his heel to head toward the place to set all the pictures on fire. He saves the picture frames to give back to you though, he’s sure those cost money. But he makes sure every last square inch of the picture with several hearts around his portrait burns to ash.

Bucky knows that by the time Saturday afternoon rolls around, the three of you would have been working for thirty hours straight, scrambling to get the last minute details done.

You’re still at it but he can tell through the adrenaline of the upcoming deadline that you’re exhausted.

Now he’s grouchy but he’s not an asshole. He’s already done two coffee runs for the team and brought you food when you didn’t show up for lunch. He mumbles something and dismisses it when you call out a ‘thank you’ his way. He considers it a debt repaid for the gyros.

He’s still keeping an eye on you but along with an emergency box of doughnuts for any sugar rushes that may be needed and bottles of water that he occasionally leaves at the corner of the table for you three to subconsciously keep yourself hydrated.

“Are you sure we checked it?”

“Yes.” Bruce nods.

“Double checked it?”

“Yes.”

“Triple checked it.”

“Yes.”

You look satisfied enough to move on to the next item. “Pass me the welding torch for a second.”

Bucky has a book in front of him that he hasn’t moved beyond the second page of. He’s more interested in seeing who collapses from burnout first. He has the infirmary on speed dial.

After another hour or so Tony holds up a silver tablet, roughly the same size as a smartphone, examining it from all sides.

“That’s it,” he states. “The final product.”

You exhale lightly.

“We should name it.” You have your hands on your hips, looking down at it in wonder. Maybe the zero hours of sleep was finally kicking in because you couldn’t believe you were finally done.

“You got any suggestions?” Tony asks.

To be frank, no, you didn’t.

“No.”

“Okay, we’ll do that later.” Tony sets it down, not sounding too disappointed. “F.R.I.D.A.Y, tell the team to get down here, please.”

“Yes, boss.”

Bucky jumps off his chair to join you in the lab, leaving the book behind.

It only takes a few moments for the others to join. Fury and Steve walk in together, already engaged in conversation.

“Greetings.” You clap your hands together. “We did it. We think.”

“We think?” Nick raises an eyebrow.

“We know,” Bruce clarifies quickly, stepping in. “We’re positive it works. We tested it out.”

Tony pulls up the holograph of F.R.I.D.AY’s system, sliding the tablet to the middle of the table.

“Is it secured under FRIDAY’s core?”

“Locked and loaded.” Tony hits the table lightly to signify that it was safe.

“I think we’re ready,” Bruce confirms.

“We better be, or else half the country is suddenly going to lose their internet connection,” you say under your breath.

“What?” Bucky’s eyebrows knit together.

“Nothing,” you beamed, “Okay F.R.I.D.A.Y., run sequence, global parameter.”

“Running sequence,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. parrots.

There was no going back now.

From what Bucky can see, Tony looks fairly confident but you have your bottom lip caged between your teeth, chewing on it nervously.

There are several hundreds of photographs popping up and disappearing within a minute. Everything looks like it’s going according to plan.

The giant holograph of the AI dims. Your face drops when F.R.I.D.A.Y. seems to sputter to a halt.

No one breathes.

In the midst of the tension, Clint mutters if they should play some background music. It’s followed by a swift ‘ow’ when Natasha flicks him in the shoulder.

You could hear a pin drop.

It suddenly picks back up again, running faster than the last time and the sigh everyone collectively heaves is almost comical.

It runs for a few seconds more before a list of names suddenly pop up accompanied by a series of photographs and geo locations.

“Sequence complete. Six names detected, zero encroachment on public or private databases,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. broadcasted. “Location determined to be Holland. Exact coordinates are computed into the quinjet.”

You let out a small cheer, looping your arm around Bruce, squeezing him in a half hug. He has a smile on his face, dropping his head as he laughs slightly.

“How dangerous are they?” Tony, however, continues to ask.

“A few prior convictions and a series of similar threats. Danger level determined to be at approximately five out of ten.”

“That’s not bad,” Steve commented. “Looks like we don’t need the full team there.”

“Romanoff, Barton, Wilson, Rogers can go ahead and take care of that,” Nick finally spoke up. “Everyone else is working security tomorrow, just in case anyone else decides that terrorism is on their fuckin’ to-do list for the day.”

“Buck, assemble a team and go over strategy for tomorrow,” Steve adds on. “Everyone else go suit up, wheels up in thirty minutes.”

“Fuckin’ Holland,” Sam scoffs, shaking his head. “Of all the places.”

“What do you have against Holland?” Nat asks as they leave together.

“Just don’t like ‘em.” Their voices grow faint the further they get.

“Hey.” A small greeting from behind you has you turning around.

Wanda stands in front of you and you have to ignore the fact that the most powerful being on Earth is talking to you.

“Hey,” you say back.

“I just wanted to say congratulations. You did a great job.” Bits and pieces of her accent poked out. She didn’t seem like she was putting in the effort to cover it up as opposed to the press interviews you had heard a few years ago.

“Thank you.” You smile. “T’was a team effort.”

“Well, we owe you one anyway,” Steve joins the conversation, leaving aside Tony who was still talking to Bruce.

“I wish I was humble enough to turn it down but I’m not.” You laugh. “It’s nice to have an arsenal of superheroes at my disposal.”

Steve looks like he’s going to respond but his attention is drawn towards F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s announcement that the quinjet was ready to go. He shoots you an apologetic look but you sign for him to go on, you’d meet with him later.

You watch as he claps Tony on the back, telling him to go get some sleep and something with more nutritional value than a pizza pocket in him, nodding at Bruce before taking leave.

“Y/L/N,” Nick stands beside you, looking ahead at the conversations being had as Steve tugs Clint along with him.

“Nicky,” you tease.

“I know at least seven underground prisons I can put you in if anyone hears you calling me that,” he says stoically.

“We all know you won’t get rid of me.” You shake your head. “Who’s gonna send you a Christmas card then, huh?”

He simply shakes his head, jutting his hand out and offering a handshake. “Not sure anyone here could handle another day of a highly caffeinated, sleep-deprived Stark.”

“Just say ‘thanks’, Nick, geez.” You roll your eyes.

Bucky watches the entire interaction unfurl; only the body language, not employing the lip-reading ability.

“You’re welcome.” You let go of his hand, a devilish look on your face. “You know what I want in return.”

Nick gives you a long, hard stare that could probably melt through Steve’s shield before turning around to leave.

But Bucky doesn’t miss the subtle high-five he gives you while walking out, unbeknownst to anyone else, bringing the biggest grin to your face.

He makes it a point to ask you what the fuck kind of leverage you have over the man for him to play favourites with you.

You finally collapse at your desk, letting out a loud exhale. You clench your eyes shut, your body finally melting into your chair. You look exhausted.

He’s not sure how to help. You don’t seem like you have the energy to tell him.

Bucky leaves a doughnut and water bottle on the table in front of you before shuffling out of the room quietly.

He’s certain that he’s spent far too long in Bruce’s lab this week. He liked the man as much as the next guy, but he probably wouldn’t come down there for the foreseeable future.

You’re at your assigned desk, reading light illuminating the space. Thankfully you’ve cleared up most of your stuff from the table, leaving no more liabilities to fall over in case he walked into the desk.

“So you’re done for the week.” His voice surprises you. You were scrolling through your phone, slightly hunched over.

“It appears so.” You put your phone down, swivelling the chair to look at him.

“How’d it go?” He leans against your table, making sure he isn’t using his full weight.

“Well, I slept for fifteen hours straight, so...” you leave him to connect the dots. He’s done the same several times.

“You’re probably gonna need more,” he says, mostly from his own experience, “I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

“Actually-” you reach beside your table and lug your gigantic box of belongings onto the table with a loud thud, “-you won’t.”

He looks at the box that was nearly overflowing with its contents, the majority of the space being taken up by empty picture frames. “I thought you said Tony offered you a job.”

“He did,” you confirm. “I didn’t accept.”

“Why?” He watches you shift through a few things, adjusting it so that it wouldn’t fall over.

“This whole thing- it’s cool and all, but it’s not what I want to do.” You shrug. “I like teaching. I miss my class.”

He gaze lands on one of the thank you notes sticking out from the corner of the box. “Ah.”

“Back to school from tomorrow.”

“And evil on the weekends?” he prods, dropping a pen into the heap of stationery.

“Obviously.” You give him a lopsided smile. “Where else am I gonna use all this brilliance?”

You point to your head. He lets out a small exhale in the form of a laugh.

“Speaking of-” You look like you just remembered something.

You rummage through your backpack and pull out a small container, handing it to him.

“What’s this?” He turns it over, looking for any hidden clues. “Are you proposing again, because I’ve said no-”

“I’m not proposing,” you interrupt, “yet.”

He gives you a deadpan look.

“Open it,” you urge, and he complies.

Two small squares sit side-by-side. They’re slick black, barely bigger than the face of a dice.

“You put one of them here-” You tap on his bicep “-and the other here.” You tap his shoulder, a few inches below his clavicle.

“What does it do?” He thinks it’s like Nat’s little taser things, a nifty little tool that he could use on missions.

“It, uh-” you hesitate “-it allows you to feel sensation in your metal arm. Heat, pressure, texture.”

His breath hitches in his throat. He doesn’t mean for it to happen, it just does.

“You said that sometimes you’re glad you couldn’t because of the bullets and stuff. They’re detachable, so just take them off when you go on missions and wherever it is you Spandex ambassadors go.” You scoff slightly.

He can’t remember the last time he felt something soft with that arm or used it for something that wasn’t directly related to his job.

“I’m not messing with what the Wakandans gave you. It’s the most advanced piece of tech out there.” You shrug. “But if you ever want to feel it when someone attaches sticky notes to your arm, this could work. Just thought it’d be nice to have an option.”

He can’t decipher what he’s feeling right now. He looks up at you, only to catch you eyeing him cautiously, assessing his reaction. When you notice he’s looking at you, a nervous smile makes its way onto your face.

His stomach does a flip.

“Thank you,” he says quietly.

“Don’t mention it.” You sound a little relieved, picking up the box that he’s pretty sure weighed a ton what with all his memorabilia in it. “See you next week.”

He doesn’t know how to explain what it means to him.

Instead, he shoves his hands into his pockets. “What are you doing later?”

“Nothing.” You pause. “Why?”

“Are you gonna watch the parade?”

“Yeah, probably.” You shift your weight to your other leg to compensate for the box.

“Want some company?”

“Aren’t you heading a security division?” You have to consciously hide the bewilderment from your voice.

“Yeah. The place I’m stationed just so happens to have a good look into the street,” he explains, toying with the bracelet on his wrist. “Can’t really promise that I’ll be paying attention to it or that I’d even be there the whole time but for the most part...” he trails off.

“Uh-” You force yourself to shove aside your surprise at his determination, “yeah, sure. That’d be cool.”

He nods. “Okay. See you there.”

“See you,” you murmur as you walk to the elevator.

He opens the tiny container to look at the small chips. They’re still there, silently like they don’t change his world just by existing.

Gosh.

Next part

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #mcu fic #bucky fic #bucky barnes fic #bucky fluff #bucky barnes fluff #bucky angst #bucky barnes angst #winter soldier x reader #Winter Soldier #bucky barnes #bucky

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helliontherapscallion · 3 years

Text

Stressful Spectres (Sweet Betrayal Part 3)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4

Spotify Playlist (collaborative)

Warnings: swearing, mentions of abuse/neglect, mentions of death, slight body gore, blood

Word count: 2,873

With hands tightly clasped behind your back, you tensely paced around your office. The Pogtopians were constantly being sighted around the borders of Manberg and it was your job to prevent this. You tried everything; setting up traps, luring mobs around the vicinity, nothing worked. They just kept coming back like pesky cockroaches following pheromones. The only way you’d be able to prevent them from spying into the borders was to rebuild a wall, and Schlatt would turn your idea down the second the word ‘wall’ would leave your mouth. He gave you only two days to completely figure everything out from the last time one of the cowards was spotted running from the borders, and it seems that those two days are nearly up.

“You should take a break, (y/n).” Without looking at him, you kept pacing and ignored him. “Stop ignoring me, you know I don’t like when you do that… Please, take a break. I’m worried about you,” he sounded just like he did from before. You felt your eye twitch.

“...(Y/n), remember what I used to sing to you?” He chuckled, the sound being airy and far off, “‘hey hobo man, hey dapper Dan-’”

“Shut the fuck up!” You grabbed your vase and hurled it blindly in his direction. The glass shattered against the wall and you heard nothing else from the teenager. “I don’t need you anymore.” He had been visiting you for the past week or so, ever since Schlatt found out about you taking your birthday off. You were banned from speaking to the Badlanders and got a few physical punishments that would definitely give you more scars on your arms. It was your fault anyways, you were slacking off during a war when you were one of the leaders of this country.

Your door opened when you were mid pace, making you plaster a strained smile on your face and spin around to narrow your eyes at whomever decided to not knock. You were greeted by a slightly buzzed ram hybrid raising an eyebrow at you. He must’ve just started drinking.

Whenever he was only slightly buzzed or on the very rare chance he was sober, he was the most affectionate with you. It wasn’t much, only small praises and the occasional smile, but by Ender you ate it up like you were a drug addict getting their first hit in months. You craved any type of affection, no matter where it came from or how rarely it came. You were willing to wait for it, even if it was rare.

His amber gaze flicked around the room before it landed on the ceramic shards embedded into the carpet. He jutted his chin towards it, “fuck happen there?”

You ran your hand down your face and massaged your aching cheeks, “nothing. Just thought I saw a rat, but my mind was just playing tricks on me.” His calculating gaze pierced through you like a spear before he narrowed his eyes slightly and nodded. He walked over to the window and looked out at the vast city, hands neatly clasped behind his back. “...Have you come up with a solution to our... problem?”

You sighed angrily and resumed your pacing, “I’ve tried everything. They just dismantle the traps I set up, kill the mobs I lure around it, they even killed the iron golems! The only option here is to put up the walls again.”

“I know you didn’t just say what I thought you fuckin said,” Schlatt hissed out, “there’s no way in hell I’m putting up those walls again.”

“I don’t know what you want me to do then, that’s our only option,” you mumbled under your breath only to freeze when Schlatt stomped up to you. He spun you around and grabbed your shoulders, leaning close to your face. His breath smelled like tobacco and a hint of scotch, “are you questioning my authority?” You shook your head frantically. “Really? Cuz it sure sounds like you’re questioning my authority. You seem to forget that I’m your boss and you will treat me as such. Do you understand me?”

You nodded and he let you go, slightly shoving you off to the side as he walked past you. “I-I’m sorry, Dad.” He paused in your doorway, “don’t call me that. I don’t want to be the father of someone that constantly contradicts me. I’ll be back in an hour, you better have this shit figured out by the time I get back or I swear to Ender I’ll fire your sorry ass. You’re on thin ice, (y/n).” Without a second word he left your office, the sound of his dress shoes clanking against the tile fading down the hallway.

You could feel your heart break inside of your chest and your lungs get deflated by the shards piercing them. He was the last person that actually loved you, and you fucked it up. You always fuck everything up, you supposed that it was an innate part of you. No matter what you did or what you tried, you’re always going to be a fuck up.

No, you can’t just sit here and ponder all of your life’s mistakes; you need to be brainstorming before you lose your connection to the person you loved the most. You paced around your office endlessly murmuring to yourself. You knew he was watching you pace again standing off in the corner, the room felt off like it always did whenever he was there. You ignored him and continued your pacing.

Just as you came up with a solution, your door was opened and Schlatt stepped into your office once more. He was swaying slightly on his feet and his suit jacket was unbuttoned. “You figure something out?”

You put a confident smile on your face, “yes. I think we should send patrols around the border, and I think the Badlanders and Rutabagaville members would fare nicely. We can send them in groups of two and send them once in the morning, afternoon, evening, and night.”

He nodded to himself, satisfied. “That sounds like a decent plan, you’re keeping your job for now. But don’t think I’ll forget about what you said earlier.”

You felt extremely relieved and grinned at him, “yessir. I apologize for that once again, it just-”

“Save it, you’re still on thin fucking ice… Don’t look at me like that, ya smiling freak. Your face is absolutely disgusting.” You dropped your smile and looked at your slightly scarred fingers. Light pink raised scars littered your skin in random amounts along your right arm, leading up your neck, and becoming the most concentrated on the entirety of the right side of your face. You avoided looking in the mirror, mostly out of anger because your appearance was a constant reminder of the stain your ‘brothers’ left on your life. You were still adjusting to having a blind spot in your vision, the eye having lost its sight and now a cloudy white color from the fireworks. Your eyelid on that side was permanently half-lidded, unable to open up fully even if you tried.

You were fully aware that your appearance was… unsightly, to say the least, to everybody that looked at you (yourself included), but Schlatt was one that never cringed away from you. Hell, even Quackity (the mere mention of his name made icy betrayal wash over your entire body) avoided looking at you in the first few weeks of your injury. Schlatt was the one that loved you for who you were, scars and all, and you fucked it up.

He squinted at you, his eyelids blocking everything with the exception of his rectangular pupils. A snort left his lips before he moved to leave you to your own devices. “I’ll inform the others of their new duties, get your paperwork done.”

“Yessir.”

You sat down at your desk chair with a sigh and rubbed at your aching cheeks before you picked up your pen and started on your paperwork. Well, it was yours with the exception of Schlatt’s thrown about occasionally in piles. The room was engulfed into an uncomfortable chill once more, he’s back. You honestly have no idea why he just keeps coming back to you or even if his pale spectre was just a stress induced hallucination. He just showed up in your office one day saying that he’s been looking everywhere for you. He acted and looked exactly like he did before he left, except his attitude was strangely chipper for someone that had an iron pickaxe buried deep within their forehead.

“(Y/n), I’m back!” He sang, floating over to your desk. “Geez, that goat guy is a real jerk isn’t he?” His slightly glowing hand appeared in your vision and tried to pluck the pen out of your grasp. It swiped right through your hand, making you shiver at the uncomfortable feeling. “I’m still not used to that.”

You huffed and focused more on your paperwork. You could feel the chill getting closer, leading up to the point where he was directly behind you. The icy air gusted down your neck with every breath he exhaled. “Whatcha workin on?” He whispered in your ear.

“Nothing that you need to worry about.”

“So they speak! I was worried you went completely mute… Well, you did scream at me before, but I didn’t count that. That’s okay though, I knew I could get you to talk to me sooner or later. I’m irresistible, you remember how I was with the ladies.”

“Fuck off.”

“No need to be so mean to me.” You focused on your paperwork again, furrowing your brows and trying to tune him out. “(Yyyyyyy/nnnnn), you can’t ignore little ole me forever.”

“I can and I will.”

He gasped before laughter streamed from his lips, the sound being muffled since it was on your deaf side. “You just talked to me though! I think that’s a win for me. Do you remember when-”

“I swear to Ender, if another word comes out of your mouth I’ll make sure that the next pickaxe finds its home through your tongue and down your throat.”

He was silent after that, leaving you to your paperwork. At least, that was until someone knocked on your office door. You sighed before plastering a smile on your face, “come in.” Your door opened to reveal the signature white smiley face mask, messy blond hair, and green hoodie.

Dream had been giving you small lessons on your swordsmanship lately, and you were getting better with each passing lesson. You were proficient on defense, so it was time for you to learn how to offensively attack.

You saw that he placed an apple on your desk. You looked up at him in confusion. “What? You haven’t eaten anything all day, I don’t want you passing out or anything during our lesson.”

“Finally! Someone with actual sense around here! It’s so refreshing, isn’t it (y/n)? Well, it’s refreshing for me anyways.”

Dream chuckled, “thank you.”

Wait a damn minute.

Dream could hear him?!

Your pen froze mid sentence and rested on the paper, it’s ink pooling in one place. You slowly looked up at Dream, “you can hear him?” He looked at the teenager behind you before looking back at you, his head tilting. “Of course I can. He’s right there.”

“Yeah (y/n), I’m right here. My name’s Lucius by the way, it’s nice to meet you!” He floated over to Dream and held out his hand, the pickaxe handle almost hitting the taller male in the chest. Dream stepped back slightly and nodded, “Dream. Eat that apple fast, we don’t have all day.” You snapped out of your stupor and grabbed the apple, taking absentminded bites while staring at your dead best friend talking animatedly to the masked man.

So he was real after all. You were worried something might have actually been wrong with you for a moment! It was nice to know that you weren’t completely insane.

“...meet (y/n)?”

“Oh, I’m training them at the moment, would you like to watch?”

“Yes! That sounds exciting, doesn’t it (y/n)?” The two looked at you expectantly, Dream’s head tilting slightly and Lucius smiling widely at you. You swallowed your bite and nodded, throwing the apple core into your trash bin. “...Yeah. Yeah it does. Uh, I’m going to get changed and then we can start our session.”

After you got changed, you met with the two outside your door and walked out of the White House to the training grounds. The entire time you were walking, you couldn’t tear your eyes away from Lucius. Every time he would turn his head, the pickaxe would move with it. The crusted blood that emanated from the wound and splattered down his pale face was perhaps the darkest color on him with the exception of his jet black hair.

In a strange way, it wasn’t the blood or the pickaxe protruding from his head that disturbed you the most; it was his eyes. Of course they still crinkled at the edges when he smiled, but it just wasn’t the same. The black eyes that were once so full of life were a dull gray with milky pupils.

Other than the obvious pickaxe, blood, dead eyes, and constant glowing, he looked exactly like he did before he died. His baggy sweater, albeit mudstained and wrinkled, was still a salmon color with its signature pinstripes. The mop of straight black hair was still pulled into a bun with multiple unruly strands escaping the elastic and framing his face.

Before you knew it, a pale hand was waving in your face. “Earth to (y/n)! Oh good, you’re back to the land of the living! What’s wrong? You look like you’ve just seen a ghost. Well, I mean you were just staring at me, but my point still stands.”

You moved your gaze to the dirt path, “it’s nothing, I’ll tell you later.” He huffed, but didn’t say anything else to you for the rest of the trip. Instead, he was making small comments on your surroundings.

Eventually, you were across from Dream on the training arena holding a wooden sword in front of you defensively. Lucius was sitting in the grass a little ways away from the painted boundaries with one foot over the other and his elbows resting on his knees propping his chin up. He was watching with an intensity he always had whenever you were doing something he deemed ‘dangerous’. To be fair, sparring with the most skilled member on the server was fairly dangerous.

“Let’s see if you remember what I taught you last time.” Without giving you a warning, he charged at you with his own wooden sword raised. Your sword clashed with his and you pushed against him. The mask moved upwards on his face slightly, “good, but always expect the unexpected.”

With a simple sweep of his foot, you were on the ground gasping for air. You could faintly hear Lucius suck in air between his teeth before he shouted “you’re doing great, sweetie, but do better!”

Thanks, Lucius. Very motivating.

You rolled away from Dream’s foot before he could pin you to the floor. Your mind flashed back to when Techno- no. None of that, you need to focus. You got back onto your feet in the blink of an eye and dodged another blow. You used his momentum against him, stepping away at the right moment sending him skidding to a stop.

Before long, he had you on the floor again with the tip of the sword pressing into your chest. He relaxed before helping you up, “you did better than I thought you would, but there were still some obvious flaws in what you did. Using my momentum against me was smart, but with what you did the opponent would recover fast. Here, let me show you how to properly do that.”

You improved on a few things defensively and learned a few things offensively before the sun started to set and cast shadows on the surrounding forest. Dream shook your hand, “nice work today, you’re gonna rival even the best eventually.”

“You were great, (y/n)! I didn’t know you had it in you!” I didn’t have it in me when you were alive, you mentally corrected him. “Thanks, Lucius.” You glanced at him only to be met with his body phasing through yours in an attempted hug. He fell to the ground and rolled over, crossing his arms over his chest, “I’ll never get used to that.”

Dream snorted before he shoved his hands into his pockets and started to nonchalantly walk back towards the White House. You and Lucius looked at each other before you ran to catch up with him. Lucius floated next to you, examining the dirt on your exposed arms and the forming bruises on your calves. He wrinkled his nose, “you really need a shower.”

“Well I can’t exactly strip now and find a shower in the woods, can I Lucius?”

“You just reek.”

“Yeah, you kinda do.”

“Thanks Lucius, Dream. Really feeling the love.”

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cryinginthebackseat · 3 years

Text

you’ve got more poison than sugar - part iii

part i part ii AO3

Fandom: Call Of Duty

Pairing: Russell Adler x Bell

Words: 6.572

Warnings: here’s where the smut tag comes into play, boy with a copious amount of power play and yeah, it’s messy af

Author’s note: after three months, a couple of brainstorming in the bathtub, delays, revisions and self-doubt, chapter 3 is finally done. i hope you'll enjoy it. also, i don't think i have to warn you what will go down in this chapter.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Fast forward to twenty-four hours since he discovers that Bell is fucking someone, Lazar drops about half a dozen of dusty manilas on his desk. Adler’s eyes sweep over them. He recognizes Bell’s handwriting etched across the memo attached to one of the folders right away.

He picks it up. It’s becoming second nature to him lately; drawing himself to her, an ineradicable magnetic force pulling his end of the pole.

A muscle on his jaw twitches.

For a moment, Adler despises her. He allows himself to really despise her. She’s started something in his head- a war; an intangible, unmanageable riot and if he lets her, she’ll rearrange him until he’s insane.

And he can’t let that happen. He’s the one holding the leash here, not vice versa.

“This is what we have on Dragovich’s activities in Yamantau,” Lazar informs him, pulling him back down to earth.

Adler stands, keeping his face easy, neutral. “Is this everything?”

“So far, yeah. Bell says she’ll let us know if she digs up something more from the archives though.”

Bell- the Bell in question- can be heard sighing, like she turns the corner and finds herself at a cul-de-sac; hunching over her desk, reading, her fingers keep buttoning and unbuttoning the top of her shirt, madly distracting (him).

She remains in her seat, for pretty much the remainder of the day. Eyes glued to the pages before her, factory-like dedication. She hardly looks up when Sims borrows her pen or when Park stands over her, sipping her coffee, inquiring about her progress behind a plume of smoke.

The only- truly time Bell ever lifts her head from her work is when Mason approaches her desk. She gazes up at him, notes forgotten, a kittenish smile etched across her face, come-hither eyes that could have time hung in motion, or held at ransom, perhaps. Mason’s own smile is full-blown, too wide, too genial, as he stalks closer and closer to her table, her whirlpool.

Adler does a double-take, like his eyeballs only functioning for the first time. He might as well be hallucinating it because no... this can’t be right, can it?

But then Mason is touching her hand, a blink-and-you-miss-it movement that was not lost on Adler and oh, she’s looking at him hopefully now.

The knots in Adler's stomach are vertiginous. Realization rings in his head like a gunshot, nearly leaving him in a daze. There’s no denying it. Not when the exchange unfurls before his eyes like a broken, warped film reel and there’s nothing to stop him from seeing it.

The thought of her and him haunts the rest of his waking hours, until there’s absolutely no telling how far he’s fallen into his own pit.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ ( Alex Mason fucked her that night.

Mason was in her bed; beside her, above her, under her. Inside her. He imagines her fingers digging into the mattress as Mason rolled her onto her stomach, mouth trailing down the ladder of her spine. Their breaths intermingled in the seraphic glow of her hotel room.

Alex Mason fucked her. It shouldn't leave an acrid taste in his mouth, but it does.)

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ She haphazardly reaches for the mug and takes a hearty gulp of its content. It’s not hers.

“Oh god, I’m so sorry,” Bell says, mortified and places the mug down noisily on the desk. “I’m sorry, I thought it was mine.”

The rim of his mug is now stained with her lipstick. Adler bites down on a careful retort.

He thinks he knows now. Why he lets it happen, why he thinks of her in metaphors, why she gives him that vertigo. The answer is at the tip of his tongue- he can almost taste it, like spoiled milk or rancid gardenia. But it’s much easier to ignore it until the words grow diminuendo and disappear, that he thinks he imagined it all along.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

You can’t obsess without turning around and getting lost in the middle.

Or losing a part of yourself in the process.

The idea of obsession, to obsess, perhaps is a far riskier thing for a person to have than playing the knife game, blindfolded with absolutely no telling where to start.

Yet we all do it, despite knowing the very dark flipside it possesses.

Perhaps it’s the very nature of humans, tucked deep within the pigeonhole of our minds, suffused by the very promise of bogus achievements that usually leads most of us insane, thinking that obsession is essential to living. But without it, artists are corporate slaves, slack-jawed know-it-alls moving stiffly in the middle of the hullabaloo that is our world; Paris would be just as unrecognizable today without Napoleon’s artistic legacy.

Obsession is good.

Obsession is dangerous.

The very dichotomy should have us all warded off of it.

Yet, again, we all do it. Again, and again, and again until it taints our veins. And it’s always far too late until you realize, that yes, now all you see is her, the air has been poisoned by her perfume, that her name is now forevermore engraved in your skin, like an overgild tattoo.

That you end up in downtown Berlin, out of sight, out of mind.

He finds them there, in a shoebox-sized cafe. Ill-lit, low-ceiling, coffee-stained floor that shows the wear of three decades worth of boots, pantoffels and high heels and Adler is sitting in his car, nursing a beer with but one all-consuming, perplexing thought:

Bell and Mason.

Someone told him they arrived together, about an hour ago. The cafe has become their usual haunts, his source said, ever since they’ve returned from Ukraine and Adler just can’t wrap his head around this- them. In his head, they’re wholly different entities. Two proper nouns separated by a conjunction, or a comma if mentioned in a list.

They’re the kind of opposites that he thought don’t attract, yet here they are.

Perhaps it's inevitable, both are products of brainwashing. Maybe they sensed one another, speaking in code, like detecting an RF signal from a nuclear bunker.

Then the doors to the cafe swing open. They step outside, cheeks flushed, his arm wrapped around her waist, her lips glueing on the slope of his neck. Shaded eyes watch them from the opposite street, his disgust obvious.

Now, Adler wonders how this all began. Someone must have made the first move.

He wonders if it was her. ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"You wanted to see me?"

Adler looks up from his desk and nods. "Lock the door behind you."

And Alex Mason, the root of all this trouble, obeys. Looking somewhat uncertain under the scrutiny of the harsh lights, and shuts the blinds. Unlike Woods, he takes a seat at the chair Adler sets up before the desk.

"What is it?" Mason asks, after a long, almost unending silence. His curiosity seeps through the room.

There is very little control when the first domino falls. Oftentimes, once it starts, it’s like crossing the Rubico n and the next thing you know, you are lying flat on the ground in some theater, 23 fresh stab wounds decorating your body and the beat of your pulse seems dim and distant, everything feels cold except your blood; warm, bright and thick like gasoline, crawling into every space until it goes into your throat and strangles you, kills you. Fini, kaput.

But then again, he's not Caesar and this isn't Rome.

Adler pushes the first tile.

"How long has this been going on?" he asks without fanfare, tight and composed as ever. Never mind the way his eyes ignite like cold blue fire behind his glasses.

"How long has what been going on?"

“You and Bell." And Mason blinks at him in surprise. Bingo. "I saw the two of you leaving for her hotel from a cafe in Downtown Berlin last night. So don't bother skirting your way around this.” Adler leans forward across his desk. He’s a man on a mission- there’s no stopping him now.

“Now, let me rephrase the question, how long have you been fucking her?"

"Hold on, hold on, you were stalking us?" Mason asks, waspish.

Adler winces inwardly. "I was keeping an eye out for my asset.”

“Asset?” Mason hisses, like Adler just blasphemed. “Jesus Christ, Russ, is that all she ever is to you? An asset? She’s your protégé, for god’s sake- a person! What is wrong with you?"

"Plenty. Or apparently, so I've been told.”

"I don't find you amusing.”

“I'm hardly ever,” Adler parries. Mason remains silent, yet the tilt of his lips translate exactly what words can't. "And you haven't answered my question."

“Bullshit. I don’t owe you anything."

"Listen, Al-"

"No, you listen to me. You may be calling the shots around here, but this has absolutely nothing to do with you. Whatever- or whoever - we're doing in our spare time is none of your business, do you understand? So you can just drop it," Mason seethes, bitter, and, much to Adler’s surprise, rises to leave. “We’re done here.”

"That's where you're wrong."

Mason has only managed to put a few paces between them before he turns around, once again stepping inside this metaphorical boxing ring.

"What?"

"This has everything to do with me," Adler says coolly. "You said it yourself, I'm the one who calls the shots here. Meaning, anything that could potentially fuck up my operation is my concern and I have the right to intervene should it needed. This, being a case in point."

Mason looks at him like he’s grown a second head. “What the hell does fucking her have to do with this whole operation?”

“Everything.” He says it like quiet resignation. It’s time to acknowledge the truth, he thinks, to that unusual idea that has been swirling in the deep recesses of his mind, that everyone’s weakness is varied.

Achilles had his heel, and Adler has her.

“I don’t understand.”

“You don’t have to, Al. You don't even know her."

Mason gives him a level stare. "And you do?"

Adler is so hard-pressed to say 'I made her' but even he wouldn't stoop that low.

"That is beside the point,” Adler tells him instead as he turns to his vice- one of them, at least- and lights it.

“There is literally no point to this conversation.”

“The point is, stay the hell away from Bell. I'm saying this for your own good."

"My own good or yours?"

Adler does not flinch, but his hand does ball into a fist under the table, how the fingers curl and then flex.

"Don't be ridiculous. I gain nothing from this except assurance." It's a lie, it's the truth. There's no in between. He doesn’t know which is which anymore. "You, on the other hand, I'm sure the old ball and chain wouldn't be near as thrilled about hearing this if word ever gets out."

Mason is quiet for a beat.

"Is that a threat?"

"Only once I pulled the pin," Adler replies, a dangerous undercurrent in his voice.

But the thing with Mason, he'll come to realize later, is how much, like with Bell, weaving through his mind is like trying to grasp for purchase in the dark as he, once again, does the unpredicted and smile- a venomous grin warps his face, like he’s mocking him, challenging him to move his piece on the board and make this mistake.

Adler stares back, surprised despite himself.

He shocks him further by saying, "Go ahead, then. Pull the pin, throw the grenade, tell her. See if she cares."

Adler’s eyes narrow at his askance. He then drags his attention to Mason’s left hand, and something grave and familiar rises in his chest.

The absence of the metal band around his ring finger tells him why.

“You know where to reach her. If anything, I’m sure she’d trust your words better than anyone else’s. So please, do it.” And Mason’s so goddamn sanctimonious about it. He’s clearly expecting this particular reaction out of Adler. It only leaves Adler angrier.

Another long pause stretches, heavy and unkind.

"Fine. Maybe she won't mind, but I'm sure the Agency wouldn’t be as tolerant.” Adler takes one last drag of his cigarette. He has that ‘Having nothing, nothing can he lose’ look on his face that makes Mason frowns. “Not when you’ve been fraternizing with the enemy.”

"What?”

"Bell. She’s not who you think she is, Al. Tell me, who do you think is the sorry bastard we saved in Trabzon?”

Mason blinks. His face is blank with shock, then he shakes his head. And he keeps shaking it, almost manic. If he laughs, which one would come first, he wonders, the gun or his fist pummeling the side of his face?

“You’re lying.”

“And why would I lie to you about this?”

"No, no, no, Woods- he told me the guy’s dead,” Mason says, his words are shaky.

“He’s not. And he wasn’t a he."

A crease forms between Mason's eyebrows, the starting of another frown.

“Hold on, if she’s helping us get Perseus then why is she the enemy?”

"Because she doesn't know that."

"Doesn't know what?"

"That she's the enemy."

Mason holds his gaze for a moment, his expression tense, like a slingshot.

And that cold elastic band finally snaps.

“What did you do to her?” He’s openly glaring at him now, mouth tight, an icy fury that is no longer dormant and for the first time since Adler has known him, he finds the man dangerous.

Adler takes a steadying breath. “We did what had to be done.”

"You sick son of a bitch. You brainwa- You-” Mason clamps his mouth shut, trembling hands finding his head. “Shit. How could you?"

Adler ignores his colorful outburst.

“She resisted every form of interrogations we threw at her, Al. We had no choice but to implement MK-Ultra as a last resort. We needed what’s in her head.” Mason is silent in reply. Adler continues, “Look, it’s nasty business, I know, but some of us have to cross a line just to make sure that line's still there in the morning. And as much as I hate agreeing with Hudson, he’s right. We need to preserve our way of life.”

“That doesn’t give you the right to play God,” his voice is resentful and crisp. “Do you have any idea what you are doing? You could jeopardize everything, and for what? You’ve seen what this- this experiment did to me, this won’t end the way you think!”

“Lightning never strikes the same place twice.”

"You’re really willing to gamble on that?”

Adler scowls. “I don’t gamble, Mason. I calculate. And if by some chance I was given a second chance, I’d do it all over again. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

Mason doesn’t say anything at first, his loaded gun stare never falters. Then, “The flag may be different, but the methods are the same.”

"What was that?”

“Someone warned me, a long time ago, about how people like you will use people like me or Bell as pawns in your own game. You’d do whatever it takes to get what you want- and my, how you get results, don’t you? But you’re actually no different than the rest of the assholes you're fighting against,” Mason tells him, like he’s spitting out acid in Adler’s face.

“Bell may be the enemy- heck, she could be the architect behind all the chaos Perseus has done, but what you’re doing to her is vile and unethical. There are many ways to make her spill the beans, yet you chose the most immoral method there is out there. I sincerely hope you rot in hell for this."

Before Adler could formulate a response to his tirade, Mason stands to his feet.

“You want me to stay away from her? Fine. Consider this as my formal resignation. After Yamatau, I’m done. I’m out of the team. And if you know what’s good for you, you stay the fuck away from me because I don't ever want to see your face again, do you hear me?” he snarls. “If you think Woods is dangerous, Adler, just remember I nearly could have killed my own president."

Then Mason turns on his heel and walks out of the room, once and for all. ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The fist is very much expected, and so does the pain that follows.

"You're out of your fucking depth, shithead," Woods spits, venom lacing his words.

Adler doesn't even bother to retaliate.

He doesn’t see the point. He didn’t think it would get this far. ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The garage grows quiet and stodgy with now Mason and Woods are out of the picture. Everyone settles back into their own normal rhythm, the same routine before both men set their feet here almost a week ago.

Hudson doesn’t take the news of their departure kindly, naturally. He stands in Adler’s office, pacing, fuming. Adler ignores him, trying to nurse the skull-splitting migraine he's having at his desk instead. The nasty black eye hidden underneath his glasses. A secret locked, the key thrown away.

His headache, thankfully, has subsided when Sims takes a seat on the other side of the desk, hours later after Hudson left.

"I'm not trying to cause an alarm here, but you'd better watch your back."

Adler's brows furrow but doesn’t look up from the papers before him. "And why's that?"

"'Cause I think you just pissed off the wrong beast," Sims tells him. Adler pauses, then lifts his head to look at his cohort. There's genuine worry flashing over his face.

“Are you talking about Bell?”

“Who else?”

If she's a beast, then what am I? What he wants to ask, but there's a knock at the door and he swallows the words down his throat.

"Come in," Adler says, pretending to be reading again.

The door opens and Bell, fucking Bell, enters his office. It's like watching a tiger pass by your hiding spot in near dark. Neither he nor Sims breathes a word.

Bell's gaze immediately swings to him, like a cosmic pull. She's watching him as she wanders over to the desk and the weight of her stare burns him like Greek fire.

He pushes the documents close, all the while returning her stare. He is never the one who backs out of a challenge, and at this point, he knows that she probably knows that. Maybe that’s why she initiated it in the first place.

"Bell, what is it?" Adler asks firmly, in possession of his full power in this place.

Bell produces three diskettes from her pocket. Something odd definitely shining in her eyes.

"These have been lying on Lazar's desk for hours, but he's busy, so I thought I'd deliver them to you myself," Bell says. And he's trying to work out on her angle but she is unreadable. As always.

Adler nods, frustrated and indignant. "You can leave them here. Thank you."

It is only once the woman leaves that the two agents share a dark, significant look. That was too close.

And it goes without saying, something needs to be done about this. ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

March 7th. A's insistence on raising the dosage is illogical. Recent behavioural analysis indicates depression. Will monitor for the next few days. Considering lowering the dosage instead. ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The elevator reeks of smoke, cheap Soviet air freshener and something far more poisonous than the devil’s spider, silky hands.

It embodies the woman standing next to him right now- this special animal, emotionless, a constant mystery wrapped with a warning sign.

Adler is tempted to shut his eyes.

Or get out of here. He doesn’t dwell well in this atmosphere, this limited space shared with her alone. He probably should have listened to Hudson about taking Bell for this mission, but she’s the only one he trusts who won’t fuck this up. Not to mention her spotless Russian has proven to help them blend in with the crowd seamlessly.

He needs her, whether he would admit it aloud or not.

But she puts his head in such a spin.

She’s been near-mute since they departed from Germany. She barely acknowledges his questions and orders, barely looks at him. She’s been treating him as if he’s another shadow on the wall.

He rubs the side of his jaw. Something does need to be done about this.

“Are you going to stay quiet forever?” Adler asks. He’s bad at this, but he can’t stand her silence for much longer. Not to mention, they’re at the Lubysnka- the fucking lion's den. If she wants to wallow over Mason’s absence or sinks into whatever melancholic feeling she’s in, she can do it later.

Bell hums, her mouth curls up like serpentine. Adler sketches a confused frown. And she says, “I don’t know. Should I?”

And then, sudden and swift, Bell undoes the cuffs of her uniform. Beady eyes never leave his.

The sight catches him off guard. Somewhere in his mind, he curses something like ‘you’re a beast’ and ‘what the hell are you?’ at her, all in negative connotations. The effects she inflicts on him is maddening.

“What are you doing?” Adler doesn’t bother to hide his surprise.

Bell shrugs and gestures to the duffle bag at their feet. “Gearing up.”

Oh. Embarrassment wells up in him. Fucking hell, this woman will be the death of him.

Her fingers quickly move on to the buttons, still indifferent, nearly tearing them from the seams. The first glimpse of her skin and Adler can’t help but give in, openly stares at her in a way he has never imagined before. Her clavicles like daggers glinting in the lamplight.

Curiosity is a dangerous and heavy load.

He should have closed his eyes.

“Enjoying the show?” Her voice pulls him back from his musings. Her eyes still zero in on him, cutting him to pieces.

Her cleavage comes into view.

The lines on Adler’s face grow taut.

“What do you want, Bell?” He asks, intending for a bark but it ends somewhere like a plea.

“I want many things. As of right now, I want Alex’s cock inside me.” And Adler nearly chokes on his own breath. Bell, eagle-eyed as ever, caught the movement. “But it seems someone insists on being in control of everything, isn’t he?” she snaps.

Adler’s back goes rigid. Trepidation bubbles up in his chest.

Of course, she knows.

“It's not about control.” Adler turns around. He doesn’t quite know what he’s avoiding at this point, her flesh or the truth. “It’s about what’s right.”

He hears her uniform touches her floor as she laughs, mirthless, like broken chandeliers. “I didn’t know whose cock I’m riding is any concern of yours.”

“It is when he’s a member of the team,” he seethes. “What you’re doing with Alex will only lead to complications. And I can’t have tha-”

“Because this is all about you, isn’t it? It’s about upholding your precious reputation in the Agency, controlling the narrative the way you want it no matter how many characters you kill off in the process. It’s always about what you want.” Bell interrupts, not missing a beat. “You selfish motherfucker.”

"This has nothing to do with my reputation in the CIA."

She scoffs. "Spare me the crap, Adler."

Adler turns to fully face her again and holds his arms open, the way someone is facing the firing squad. “Fine. Fine, yes, I’m a selfish motherfucker. I did it because I thought it could ruin the operation. Is that what you wanted to hear? Now, what are you going to do about it?”

She says nothing at first. He silently catalogues her movements as she steps towards him now, half-naked and furious. He feels pinned.

Then, “What do you want me to do about it?”

His mouth dries at the implication. She is temptation, benediction, the coarse ice block before the carver.

How terrible it is to lose control, even just once.

A knowing, vicious smirk flashes over her face. Adler feels like he’s just shown his hand.

“You are one selfish bastard and a coward to boot, aren’t you?” Bell sneers before he has a chance to respond. “At least, Alex was brave enough to make the first move, but you…” her gaze raking up and down his figure coldly, a jeweller presented with second-grade imitations. Wind her up and this honey bee stings.

“You’ll always be the man who hides behind his shades,” she says, dry as dust, and steps back and snatches her clothes from the bag.

This is, without a single doubt, the longest elevator ride he’s ever experienced in his life. ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Adler arrived back in Berlin breathing a little harder. Worry wrapped around his neck like a noose, placed by Bell herself; the judge, jury and executioner.

The knot tightens every time his mind refers to her.

The agency trained him, specifically, to keep calm under pressure. He didn’t coin the title “America’s Monster” from his colleagues for nothing. They don’t fear him because he’s hot-headed or thinks in large-scale violence— guns blazing, napalm-induced flames over the hill in the morning, bloodied knuckles and fractured jaw, blood-soaked soles tarnishing the white marble floor. Someone can point a fucking shotgun to his face and he’ll barely flinch. Only monsters remain impassive to direct threats of violence.

But there’s something about Bell that elicits this visceral, primal reaction out of him. Something strange and new; lightning about to be uncapped from its chains.

It chokes him, frightens him to the core.

How gauche is it, don’t you think, that his own mind is conspiring against him?

Now, in the garage, where it dawns on Adler that she’s probably the only person who can make him walk around the city, feeling like a fool, he decides he’s had enough. ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“I’ll drive you back.”

Adler apprehends Bell outside the garage. He kind of assumed she’d have a pistol aimed at his head right now, but she spins around, hands shoved deep inside her pockets and clayey mouth curls in distaste.

“Get in the car, Bell,” Adler says tightly, almost adding please.

But he would not beg.

The brunette remains rooted in her place. For a moment, a calculating look crossed her face. Always, always that sharp mind of hers turning and he wonders where it would take her this time.

“Try asking nicely,” she demands.

Adler’s eyes flash. She really is testing him. But fine, he'll play her game.

“Bell, would you kindly get in the car?” He is all but snarls, teeth gritting. Bell hardly wavers- he wishes she would waver for a change.

She does what he asked of her, finally, the shadow of a smirk on her face mocking him. Adler follows suit, teeth still clenched together, and starts the car and drives away.

It's sort of like a deja-vu, he supposes; him and her in this very same car, except that stupid krautrock music is absent this time. Neither says anything for the first twenty minutes. Everything feels heavily still.

Until he realizes she’s probably waiting for his move.

This might gloriously blow up in his face, yes, he knows this. Especially remembering the last time he was alone in a tight space with her, it had cost him his pride.

And his mind.

But he’s been here before, in the eye of the storm. He was at his calmest here. He has his cards prepared now.

Adler inhales deeply.

“Look, I’m sorry,” he utters resolutely. He doesn’t look at her, doesn’t want to. “I was out of line, I admit it. Your affair with Mason should be no concern of mine but I really am just trying to look out for you.”

It’s weak, he knows. The words feel more like an anchor than an actual apology in his tongue anyway, but Adler didn’t expect that Bell would give him nothing. Not even an acknowledging hum, a scathing retort, a scoff. Nothing.

A twinge of irritation brews in his stomach. Why does she insist on playing games?

The car comes to a stop. They’ve arrived. Adler wrests his hands from the steering wheel to say something harsh to her, but Bell is already stepping out of the car.

She stands on the sidewalk; an enigma in royal red, and her lethal, all-seeing eyes gravitate to him in the night.

There is a long paralyzing beat where they just stare at each other- which seems to be a running theme between them lately. Adler is fuming, as he is confused.

It feels like hours, centuries, eons, but, like all magic, the spell is broken. Courtesy of a stranger hailing a cab behind his car.

Bell turns and walks inside the building. She doesn’t bother sparing him the final glance or extend her appreciation for the ride back and Adler thinks to himself, this universe, god fucking damnit, nothing makes sense here.

But it is also in moments like this that the world spins, when he notices a singular, significant detail that makes his stomach roll, nearly throwing him off balance:

Bell left the passenger door open.

And he’s insane- he has to be, right? He’s looking too much into this. It doesn’t mean anything. His mind conjures an image, like a graphic guideline or something, step one: get out of the car, two: make your way around and close the passenger door, and third: zoom out of the neighborhood while your sanity is still intact, all in that order. Easy to comprehend, to follow.

Adler only does the first two steps. He’s ass-backwards doesn’t even bother to digest the third step.

He enters the hotel instead and takes in the surroundings. The lobby is pointedly bare, but warm and smoky. The concierge is reading behind the counter- a young, wiry boy with shocking bleached hair- with headphones on. It’s late, he probably doesn’t expect anyone to check in at this hour.

A movement by the staircase catches his interest. He sees Bell climbing up the steps slowly, leisurely. Adler makes his way there.

Halfway reaching her floor, Adler has the inkling that she knows that he’s following her. Also, because the next she does is glancing back at him over her shoulder. He waits for her to push him down the stairs or wrap those delicate hands around his neck. She does neither. She doesn’t want him gone.

Yet, his mind betrays him. Only because she doesn’t know what other atrocities he’s committed to her.

She stops by her door, opens it and goes in first. Adler, without waiting for a formal fucking invitation, slips in behind her.

Her room is much smaller than his. The TV is still on- a German dubbed of All the President’s Men is playing- a stack of books and meds lying haphazardly on the desk table.

The door clicks shut behind him. Bell wanders over to the table and turns off the TV. Her back to him.

She doesn’t bother turning the light switch on. The green neon of the hotel sign outside illuminates the room, bathes her in it, making her look even stranger and faraway.

He doesn’t take off his sunglasses.

“What do you want, Bell?” Adler is all but snarling. His anger comes in a bottle with a twist-off cap. “I’m fucking sick of playing your games. I apologized, I admitted I was wrong- I fucked up, but what more could you want?”

Jesus, and now he’s losing his temper over a brainwashed Russian who rarely talks. How did it come to this?

She tugs off her gloves. Once again, barely acknowledging him. Apparently, if ignoring him is an art form, she is the fucking Monet.

Until:

“Take them off.”

Adler blinks hard behind his glasses. Like he’s just stepped into a whole different earth.

His mouth moves.

“What?”

“Your sunglasses. Take them off.”

He stares at her back. Trying really, really hard to make sure he’s not hallucinating this, but then Bell turns around, a finger tapping against her arm, waiting.

Realization hits him like an uppercut in the face and nearly leaves him in a daze. He’s walked into a trap. That much is clear as day. She wants him to suffer as she does. An eye for an eye.

Adler holds no modicum of control in her domain, not unless she gives the reins. Once again, she plays the judge, jury and executioner at her own court.

But, like before, he’ll play her game.

There, the glasses are off. His eyes, bare, blue like fractured ice, meeting hers. In the dark, he feels her eyes shift to assess his bruise.

His heart booms against his ribs.

"Kneel,” she says glibly.

He obeys, again. His legs and hands don’t shake, but his mind is much less governable than his limbs. No, the CIA didn’t prepare a manual for situations like this and he doesn’t trust his instincts to help him dance his way around this.

Nor does he want to.

The thought fucks him up to a degree.

Adler should have known that it wouldn’t take an entire nation or continent to bring him to his knees, no, no. That would have been too easy, anyway. Although history has dictated and taught him that women are never to be underestimated, Adler hasn’t expected that one woman would be able to do the deed and succeed.

But then again, when that woman is Bell, he supposes anything is possible.

When Bell approaches him, he’s unable to take his gaze from her. Her eyes spangle with determination, an avenging soul in the neon lights. Her fingers work on the sash of her coat. The line of her mouth is flat and inscrutable. The air crackles with electricity and a promise of the unsayable, the unattainable.

She stands over him now, gloveless and coatless. She’s powerful like this and he can only crane his head up at her, ceding his fate in her hands, against his better judgement. She catches that.

Suddenly, something unpleasant breaks on her face, like when one’s smelling something foul or pungent.

Bell reaches down and grips his jaw painfully in one hand, her nails digging into his skin, and tilts his head sideways. Strange that his stomach leaps at that.

“Say you’re sorry,” she spits furiously. “And say it like you fucking mean it.”

He feels, suddenly, triumphant and chuckles darkly. Eight fucking long weeks and the beast finally shows her claws.

“Try asking nicely,” Adler parrots her words from before, not a beat missed. Two can play that game, he thinks. "Or are you above niceness, Bell?”

Her grip tightens.

"You’re one to talk,” Bell says. Then, rubs the pad of her thumb over his scarred cheek and it feels like forgiveness, or the beginning of it, at least.

His confusion spikes.

Her nose skims down his jawline.

A better, sensible man would apologize. He'd squander it until his tongue burns acid, he'd beg for her forgiveness like a man asking for repentance before his god.

“Why did you do it, Russell?” Bell whispers against his skin now, baleful and raspy. Her chest rising and falling too rapidly.

But he’s a sick bastard, a selfish motherfucker, a heartless monster. All he does is hurt the people around him. He doesn’t get to take from her, not after what he's done.

Still, Adler catches her wrist. Relishing the way her wrist bone grinds under his hold. He pulls his face back to look at her.

“You know why.”

Her eyes flick dangerously to his lips.

Desperation really can make the most vulgar things tolerable.

“Then prove it.”

So he does. As his hand reaches up to her neck, past the delicious column of her throat and with a precise swift, Adler grabs a fistful of her hair, the feminine gasp escaping her mouth is like a jolt to his groin, and kisses her.

Bell responds in kind. That little beast. She grasps his collar and drags him up to his feet, impatient with want. She laps at him, bites and sucks. His free hand snakes around her waist, pulling her impossibly closer.

She pulls away, catching her breath, and his teeth skim down her jaw, her neck. He bites her there in retaliation, on the delicious junction of her neck and shoulder, into the fabric of her shirt, making his intentions clear. Bell chokes in surprise and scrapes her nails over his scalp.

It hurts. But with pain, along comes pleasure and it’s good. It’s so good, Adler melts with a shaky breath.

His gloves come off first. Next, she pulls him free off his jacket, his sweater and snakes a hand between his legs, stroking him. He bites off a strangled ‘fuck’ into her throat. He’s worked up real fast already. Adler manages to make a short work of her shirt, unclasping her bra before he’s all but pushes her onto the bed.

Adler settles above her, capturing her lips in another feverish, hot-blooded kiss. He tugs her zipper down and slips his hand inside her pants. Her cunt’s everything he’s come to expect: wet, warm and oh-so wrong. She sucks in a breath. Her hips move against his hand. His blood sings. She throws her head back against the pillow, while his finds her earlobe.

“Has this proven my point, Bell?” he asks. His answer starts on a moan and ends with a breathless ‘yes’.

He doesn’t let her come that easily. No, he wants to drag this out for as long as he can until it drives her mad. So, Adler peels the rest of her clothes away, pulls her shoulder and turns her onto her stomach. He pins her down, hard. She gasps loudly against the white pillowcase, her hand fists into the sheets.

Adler slots himself behind her. His hand tracing along her spine, followed by his mouth, just how he fantasized once upon a time. His other hand quickly undoes the snap of his pants. Everything has been poisoned by her and her only; she is in his tongue, his veins, his mind, his lungs. She takes the centrefold of his mind and it's ridiculous.

He presses himself against her ass. His mouth falls open. Her body trembles. She’s all sin and racing hearts and sweaty flesh. She’s perfect. His now free hand slides up to the nape of Bell’s neck, reaching her throat, pressing down. She makes this high-pitched, demanding noise as she moves her hips back against him, leaving him wanting, helpless at the thought of having her right here, right now, in the warm neon glow of her hotel room.

“Please,” Bell begs. He groans in response and he gives it to her. Fuck, he’d give her anything if she begs just exactly like that.

When Adler is finally inside her, he thinks his world drops dead. He sets a merciless pace. He is not a gentle man and there is nothing gentle in the supple arch of her back, a rose bent backwards in the wind, as he pants along her neck before he pulls out, twists her onto her back again and pushes deeper into her until she comes apart underneath him (he’s made sure she begs for it- please, Russell. Oh god, Russell)

(He didn’t have to. Russell Adler is never the kind of man to fall for his dark side, but Christ knows he is only one man)

#russell adler #russell adler x bell #adler x bell #cod cold war #cod bell #cod #call of duty #call of duty black ops #call of duty cold war #alex mason #frank woods #helen park #lawrence sims #jason hudson #lazar azoulay

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wonwoonlight · 3 years

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📣: boyfriend!Minghao // fluff // 800~ words

A/N: thank you for the request, anon! this makes me very warm inside as i typed it bc minghao is just,, the type to exactly do this ;-; enjoy and have a good weekend, guys! <3

find the rest of requested drabble here

When Minghao has to keep on biting down his lip to hide his grin, that’s a sign that he’s too giddy and excited at the prospect of something. You’re not sure what kind of good news he has heard, but he’s been looking very happy since the moment he picks you up.

“Mind telling me what gets you this happy?” you ask at last. There’s a confused smile on your face, both happy that Minghao seems happy but curious about what could possibly make him this happy.

“Remember when I said I’ve been working on a painting that I really like?”

“The one that you’ve been hiding from me?”

Minghao nods a yes, finally letting a grin flash across his face as he ignores your tone. “I finished it.”

“Are you finally going to show me?” you turn to him excitedly. Minghao has always shown you his painting, usually even from the sketch because he likes to ask your more than amateur opinion. But not this piece, he’s been very secretive about it to the point where he locks the door to his studio everytime you come by to visit his place. On another note, he’s been telling you he’s liking it very much and he thinks it’s one of the best one he’s ever made. “After annoying me about the progress without letting me peek at it even a little?”

He gives you another nod followed by his happy giggle, but before you can express your excitement, he changes the topic. “Do you remember when we went to that museum, like, two months ago?”

“Oh my God, yes. The paintings and installations were all very pretty, weren’t they? I can still remember that one painting that I really like.”

There’s a dazed smile in your face as you think about that particular painting again and Minghao can easily guess which painting you’re referring to. “The dandelion field, right?”

“Yes, it was really beautiful,” you hum happily. “Like, you know I have very amateur eyes, right? But that painting really makes me feel like I was on a dandelion field and I remember feeling fuzzy inside.”

“Did you know Mingyu painted that?” he asks with another grin, already knowing your mouth will drop in surprise at the little bit of information. He can still picture the way you’re so lost in that field—too lost that you didn’t even check the painter because Minghao needed to drag you to the next one after you spent another 5 minutes staring into that painting; it had been endearing, but you’d never move if he didn’t drag you with him.

“No way!” you exclaim in exaggeration. “Now I feel like I need to buy him a meal or something.”

Minghao shrugs, telling you Mingyu would be happy even if you just told him you liked his painting to this extend. You make a mental note to yourself to tell Mingyu exactly that just when Minghao parks the car in the basement of his apartment building.

You can see the spring in his step as he’s about to open the door to his room, which confuses you a little because you think the big reveal would be in his studio. When your eyes finally find the painting hung on the wall facing his bed, your gasp fills the quiet room.

Calling it beautiful doesn’t even make it, if the dandelion field in Mingyu’s painting was green and happy with a hint of spring, Minghao’s is blue and enticing. It’s winter, but it doesn’t look cold nor sad, the dandelions seemingly embracing the cold weather with their warmth.

There’s a white rabbit with crimson eyes on the side of the field—and you know that’s supposed to be you, because you always doodle a poorly drawn rabbit with red dots where its eyes are supposed to be when you’re bored with a pen. Minghao has always jokingly said that’s your trademark.

“Hao…,” you finally say after a few moments of silence, your eyes are still unmoving from the painting. This was just like that day in the museum, but you seem even more dazed, if that’s even possible. “Hao, this is beyond beautiful.”

You don’t even need to turn to know Minghao’s grinning, but you do anyway because there’s no way you’d want to miss the happy smile in his face. “I… don’t even know what to say,” you exclaim as you turn to the painting again.

Minghao moves forward to envelope you in a back hug, his arms around your shoulders as he leans down to put his chin on top of your head. He places a soft kiss on top of your head before saying, “No need to say anything. I’m happy you look happy.”

“I am happy,” you tell him, and your hand goes to touch his arms that are in front of your chest. “I can’t even tell how much I love this piece, Hao.”

“Enough to spend the night here so you can see it first thing tomorrow?” he cheekily asks, the arms around you tightening a little.

Turning to face him, you look up at Minghao whose smile is so wide that you’re sure his cheeks must’ve hurt. You don’t think you have it in you to say no when Minghao looks as happy as he is right now.

#minghao fluff #minghao scenarios #seventeen scenarios #seventeen fic #seventeen fluff #seventeen scenario #seventeen x reader #svt fic #seventeen imagines #wwreq #the8 scenarios #the8 fluff #the8 imagines #seventeen oneshot #minghao imagines

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minaramen · 2 years

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Minami Natsume Sugao Part 5 - A reverse surprise

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

Tsumugi: Hello, Natsume san! Thank you for picking up my pen, the other day

Tsumugi: Utsugi san gave it back to me a moment ago

Mimani: Hello, Takanashi san. I’m glad it made it back to you safely

Minami: You had it last time too, didn’t you? Thanks to its quite impressive rabbit charm, I could remember it

Tsumugi: I’m glad I got it back because I am quite fond of it!

Tsumugi: Sugao’s fortune told me to take care of lost things, so I will pay more attention from now on…

Minami: So you read this month’s issue

Tsumugi: I bought it the very day it was released

Tsumugi:

Tsumugi: By the way, a pair of glasses was my lucky object according to Sugao too!

Minami: You got the same response from the Omikuji chocolate, didn’t you?

Tsumugi: Yes! That’s why glasses will be compulsory next year! *laughs*

Minami: I better check what I should carry with me according to Sugao’s fortune telling

Tsumugi: Your lucky object was a large headband with a tortoiseshell pattern, if I remember correctly

Tsumugi: Finding such an exact object must be quite difficult…!

Minami: Actually, Utsugi san gave me one for Christmas

Tsumugi: What!

Tsumugi:

Minami: Apparently he heard us talking about our lucky objects with such excitement in our changing room, so he provided us all of them

Minami: It seems he searched long and hard in many hair accessory shops

Tsumugi: All of you got a hair accessory…! Was the design also correct?

Minami: Yes. It must have been a hard search.

Minami: I’m not sure where I could wear it, but I feel grateful

Tsumugi: These are definitely not easy objects to wear for you guys…

Tsumugi:

1) How did Midou san react?

Minami: I don’t know if he’s going to wear it on his hair, but he looked satisfied with the colour and the design

2) How did Inumaru san react?

Minami: He was very surprised, but he said he was going to make it a talisman for the new year

3) How did Isumi san react?

Minami: He was shocked to know Utsugi san really went and bought it, but he looked happy to receive the present

Minami: I was surprised as well, but it was quite funny to see everybody making such a shocked face

Minami: Since it’s that man we’re talking about we didn’t really get whether he was serious or just tried to make fun of us, but while he was at it he also took a commemorative picture of us wearing them

Tsumugi: A commemorative picture! It must be quite a rare one!

Minami: These objects suited us well. I’d like to show you the picture, but since they would definitely get angry at me I will refrain from doing it

Minami: Somebody may get offended if they knew that I even told you that, so please keep it a secret

Tsumugi: I will!

Tsumugi:

End

#idolish7 #minami natsume #tsumugi takanashi #ainana #idolish7translation

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spiltscribbles · 3 years

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Worth It

~Notes: Oof, I know I have so many prompts in my inbox and I appreciate them so much! But I wanted to write something after dinner in dedication and a gift to the lovely Remus-John-Lupin!!!!!!!<3<3<3 I love you RJ and I appreciate you and your friendship so fucking much, so this is just a strange little gift from me to you in thanks for how kind you’ve always been to me since I joined this crazy fandom, ILY and you’re my favorite slag!!!!

Sirius silently reminds himself that he in fact likes Lily, he thinks she’s a total knock out and is happy that his brother is finally getting to date the girl of his dreams. He likes her damn it,! And one does not commit battery to folks that they like.

Assured that his pure irritation won’t bleed through his words, Sirius tries again in his most charming of inflections. “All I want is his number.”

“No,” she repeats, casually steadfast while poking at her salad— Not even bothering to flick her gaze up at an increasingly irate Sirius.

“Why are you being so fucking difficult!”

“Why are you still bitching about this,” she counters, finally giving him her undivided attention, even if it’s her glaring at him like she’d like to skewer Sirius on a stick.

“Hey guys, let’s chill.” James tries to mediate, laughing awkwardly between the pair of them, hand raised in concession and glasses going a bit skewed.

They promptly ignore him.

“I like him. What is so difficult to understand Evans? Aren’t you like supposed to be some brainiac or some shit?”

“It’s been like two months Black,” she says pointedly, grip on her fork tightening while her mouth curls unpleasantly. “That’s way past your ordinary infatuations, so why the hell do you still even care.”

Sirius bares his teeth, pinning her with a glower that once made an old school yard bully of Regulus’s actually piss his pants. So of course Lily doesn’t even flinch. “He’s cute.”

“You’re a dog.”

“You’re being a total ass.”

“And you’re a bastard.”

“But you love me though.”

“Just barely.”

“So you’ll give me Remus’s number?”

“Dream on.” she says with a lofty sniff and haughty flip of the hair, discarding her barely eaten lunch before swaggering over to where a group of her friends from the STEM club are sat, including Alice Flores and Dorcas Meadowes.

“Guess you’re back to square one Pads.” James says, unhelpful as fuck, so Sirius only flips him off before snatching back his calculus homework from a pitiful looking Peter.

“Fuck this.”

Sirius thinks of himself as a reasonable sort of guy.

He isn’t one for holding grudges or obsessing over perceived slights. He’s brilliant whether he’s playing linebacker on the field or taking a exam in class.

For fuck’s sake, Sirius can be plumped down in any and all social situations without warning, and can have the room eating out the palm of his hand within the first five minutes.

In layman’s terms, he’s decent and driven and downright charismatic. Mix this all together, and well Sirius thinks he’s a pretty fantastic fucking package— if he does say so himself. He can have his pick of the lot, truly. Especially when walking down the halls flocked by his best friend turned second brother on one end and little Petey, who’s a great hype man, on the other. So its only poetic justice that the one person who’s been able to swallow up all his attention is the one person who doesn’t even give him a second glance most days.

And that’s fucking ridiculous.

This is ridiculous! He is fucking ridiculous! No, record scratch. Remus fucking Lupin is the most ridiculous part of this all!

Remus lupin with his delightfully disheveled hair the color of gold and his crooked grin that’s everything darling in the world, and his big doe eyes that sometimes flare with green specs when he’s especially passionate in class or when he’s chatting with Lily in the halls. Remus lupin who’s only just moved here to Murray Hill from a small town in southern Illinois and who toppled Sirius’s world upside-down while he was at it.

The first time they met was completely on accident.

It was the week before classes began, and Sirius had only just come back from his family trip to their villa in Rome, and he was only meant to meet James at the coffee shop that Lily was working at now. They were suppose to head to the city and go out drinking to celebrate the start of their senior year. Sirius was suppose to find a nice, college aged girl to fuck because he’s given up on the boring lot that infests Hogwarts these days. It was suppose to be easy and fun and he was suppose to stay stringless and unattached as ever.

But that didn’t happen.

Instead, Sirius walked into the Howling Moon and was met by the sight of the most lovely, most gorgeous boy he’s ever met. Hand to God, it felt like one of those slow motion moments in a Romantic Comedy when the disgruntled, wayward lead first sets their eyes on that love interest— the one to out shine all others, the one who turns everything inside out and makes it all glitter gold.

“Hey there,” Remus had grinned like the fucking sun, slipping the pen from his ear and hand poised over the cups lining the counter. “What can I get ya?”

“Oh, erm— Yeah. Just a caramel macchiato, iced.”Sirius’s ordinarily smooth baritone almost fucking cracked while ordering, and Remus’s beautiful eyes had glittered.

“Would’ve taken you for a dark roast sort of guy.” He said, and Sirius swears that it was playful and flirtatious and a little mischievous too.

Sirius was in love.

“I’ve been known to partake in sweets, you know, if they catch my eye,” he replied, eyes lingering meaningfully up and down Remus’s slighter frame.

“What a come on,” Remus had laughed, head thrown back to show off his long neck and Sirius was so fucking gobsmacked at how it quite literally sounded like all the most splendid instruments woven together.

He had ducked his head, so unordinary bashful but so beyond pleased. “What can I say beautiful, you bring it out of me.”

“”Cute.” Remus had chuckled, cheeks going a fetching red and scribbling down the order. “Definitely one of the more interesting one liners I’ve gotten today.”

Sirius ignored the flare of jealousy over that, considering that he hasn’t gotten to even kiss him yet, and he should probably take this slow if he doesn’t want to screw it up. “Has anyone of those bastards mentioned how your eyes put the brownies on sale to shame?”

“No one as hot as you if I’m being honest,” Remus retorted, ringing him up and sinking his teeth into his plump bottom lip. And fuck, Sirius knew he was in trouble from then on.

They had talked for over half an hour about nothing at all in that tiny bistro while Remus was busy exchanging the coffee pots for a fresh batch and rearranging the baked goods, and it was amazing.

Sirius has always been someone who couldn’t sit still, who had to be fluttering all over the place to feel like he was actually headed somewhere, like he was getting something finished. But for the first time in too long, just sitting there, still and silent and besotted while Remus chatted about his hometown and moving half way across the country and his eccentric mother— Well Sirius felt completely balanced, completely calm. He felt like just as long as Remus was their chatting with him and smiling in that beguiling way of his, that Sirius could actually breathe without pressure. Like he knew what it meant to have a center.

So of course, right when he decided that he was going to snatch him up— to ask him out on a date before anyone else from their shitty class filled with degenerates and dick heads could— Lily of all people had swaggered in, and gave him a caustic sort of glower that plainly said, keep the fuck away.

Ordinarily Sirius would’ve completely ignored her warning, would’ve unashamedly and excitedly chased after the cutest fucking boy he’s ever laid his eyes on with an absurd sort of zeal. But he under estimated just how much sway Lily was able to cater with Remus in the few weeks they worked with one another before he had met him. So instead of starting off the year with a brand new, insanely pretty boyfriend wrapped around one arm, Sirius has just spent the past nine weeks pining like a fucking love sick loser. Like he was starring in some cheesy John Hughes movie from the damn 80s!

And this will not do, this is not all right, not okay at all.

Sirius needs to figure out a way to get close to Remus, and outside of Lily’s overbearing claws. Something that only Remus likes, that Sirius can partake in to prove himself worthy.

As he promenades down the hall towards his free period, Sirius creates a mental check list of the things he knows Remus enjoys.

Remus enjoys poetry, and Sirius knows that he’s part of the school’s award winning Forensics team. But they meet during the football practices so Sirius couldn’t even try to impress him in that arena until the spring. He also knows that Remus likes history, that he’s going to end up majoring in classics in University, but Sirius really doubts his ability to memorize the Iliad in the matter of a few hours— He’s good, but not that good.

“Jesus fuck is this hard,” he mutters nastily to himself, tugging at the ends of his dark hair before ramming straight into a display outside the southern wing of their preparatory school’s building.

He winces, not so much for the throbbing in his toes, but because of Marlene’s snappish attitude when he makes it so that the table shakes.

“Keep your head out your ass Black,” she scolds before going back to filing her nails. And Sirius is about to snipe right back at her— That is until he catches on the bright poster adorned with small rainbows and the words, GSA FOOD DRIVE spelt out in large lettering.

And oh!

“Eureka!”

“Pardon?” Marlene asks, nose wrinkled indelicately as she eyes him like he’s about to puke on her brand new Doc Martens again like last weekend. Holy shit, she should really get over it by now.

But Sirius is smart enough and tactful enough not to mention his thoughts on the matter, only smiles down at her with pure elation. “Marls, what if I said I had a brilliant idea to help our lovely GSA.”

“I’d accuse you to only doing it to try and get in Lupin’s pants since he’s our new VP.”

Sirius grapples for his chest, feigning indignant. “You pain me my old friend.”

Marlene snorts. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

“That’s neither here nor there.”

“So are your chances with Lupin.”

“You’re a sick fuck McKinnon.”

“What do you want from me you gnat.”

“Let me help with the fundraiser.”

“What’s in it for me?”

“I’ll tell Lily to get Meadowes to notice you?”

Marlene glares at him now. “We’ve been fucking for like a month you prick.”

“Oh— Erm, then for some of that good old Bi unity?”

Marlene suddenly looks so very shrewd and Sirius hates how every fucking woman in his life could eat him whole for breakfast. “Absolutely not.”

“Fine, what the fuck do you want.”

“You cover Fabian’s costs for the goods when we go to that rave for 2KBABY in January.”

“Eh, didn’t you guys use to fuck?”

“Yes. But I don’t see the connection?”

“He won’t even give you a discount on the good shit?”

“Oh he does,” she leers, blue eyes glinting wickedly in the hallway light. “But I’d rather see you pay full price for’m.”

Sirius glares down at her, and repeats himself. “You. Are. A. Sick. Fuck.”

Marlene just lies back in her seat and returns to manicuring her nails. “Well if cheekbones isn’t worth the bother?”

“Fine,” Sirius all but growls out. “But we do this my way.”

“Scout’s honor handsome,” she absolutely beams, and Sirius reminds himself that this is all for Remus and that’s worth it at the end of the day.

It’s a week later, right before Thanksgiving break hits, and Sirius is sat in front of the cafeteria, smirking at the line of mostly pink faced girls and a few others amongst their midst, who have all queued up in front of him. A dollar in each of their hands, though he does see that a few have fives and even tens or more, and he doesn’t know how to subtly tell them that all he’s promising is a quick peck of his lips, and absolutely no other groping— including of his legendary ass or admittedly perfect abs.

“You’re just really enjoying yourself, aren’t you.” James hisses besides him after the latest girl— a blonde sophomore who’s decked out in Lulu Lemon for their only non uniform day of the week— scurries off. “Just a ego trip.”

“Jealous Jamie darling?” Sirius boasts, tipping back on his chair while Marlene collects the cash from the next five in line so that they can clammer closer towards him.

“I can’t believe all of them want to kiss you,” Peter marvels, round eyes completely in aw.

“I can’t believe you think this is how to get Remus’s attention,” Lily interjects huffily, lips set in a moody pout while perched on James’s lap to Sirius’s left.

“I bet you would’ve been in line if you weren’t dating Jamie here.” Sirius counters, smug as all get out, and laughing when all Lily deigns as a adequate response is her middle finger.

Sirius is on cloud nine. He can’t believe he didn’t think of this sooner! Remus loves all this shit, from the club to the charity. This is perfect! This basically guarantees that he’ll finally get a good smooch on him. And once their lips finally touch, Remus will surely feel the swarm of butterflies in his gut just like in those Harleyquin romance novels his cousin Narcissa would always read with a dreamy look on her face during their various Family vacations.

“You’re not gonna get him this way.”

“He’s not gonna know what hit’m Evans,” Sirius retorts, completely self assured.

One should never bet against Lily Marie Evans.

Sirius knows this now. But he still hates it with the passion of a thousand burning suns.

By the end of the lunch hour, Sirius’s earned over sixty bucks to the GSA’s fundraiser fund, and absolutely zero potential boyfriends who look like golden angels and make Sirius’s knees weak.

“I told you,” Lily says in that sing-song sort of voice that is so not appreciated right now. “Remus is not the type to kiss you in front of a huge crowd and after like a bunch of others. That’s not his style.”

Sirius is moody as all get out, and he’s irritated that he’s just wasted five dozen perfectly fine kisses on folks who aren’t Remus, so he doesn’t bother to hide his irritation when he gripes back at her, “Then tell me what the fuck is his style.”

Miraculously, that actually proved enough to get Lily to slow down her stroll, and cock her head curiously at him. “You actually care.”

“What the fuck have I been trying to tell you Evans!” He nearly shouts.

“I just thought— You know. That it was a game.”

Sirius’s face goes stoney, and he juts his chin away from her. “It’s not always a fucking game, all right. It’s not a game with him— I like him. I like Remus.”

“Oh,” Lily says very quietly, her face pulled in a thousand different directions before settling on something akin to solemn. “You should go to the music room for your free period today.”

Sirius quirks a brow at her, frowning while he asks, “Why?”

“Just trust me S,” she says, reaching over her hand to squeeze his forearm.

Sirius watches her walk off, hand in hand with James, and he feels a strange twisting to his heart when he imagines a very similar image— only with him and Remus and punctuated by plenty of kisses to the cheek, and jawline and lips too.

The music room is towards the back of the school, in a separate building along with the theatre and main auditorium.

The early autumnal chill lashes against Sirius’s face while he makes the track to the room, continuously chanting to himself that he actually trusts Lily and this is gonna be worth it if there’s a merciful God up there.

Once Sirius clammers in doors, he rubs his cold hands together, and shakes out his hair.

The first thing he hears is the soft strumming of a guitar, and finds himself in front of the music room after following its melodic toon.

Through the window he can spot the form of Remus bent over the instrument, his thick curls getting in his eyes and his steady hands plucking a few chords as he sits cross legged atop the piano.

Sirius feels his heart lodging in his throat at the sight of him, so beautiful and perfect and warm looking in that scarlet sweater. And he knows in his bones that this is some sort of unspoken blessing that Lily’s given him, so with a deep breath, Sirius opens the door and strolls in.

Remus starts slightly, going flushed once his eyes catch on Sirius’s own.

“Oh Sirius,” he greets, the corners of his mouth tipping into a smile that doesn’t ring true. “You pulled away from the haram?”

“That’s a bit much? Calling them a haram,” Sirius says cooly, hitching up besides him and swinging his long legs. “I just did it to help you.”

“Oh— Yeah,” Remus nods. “The GSA appreciates all the help we can get.” His words are quiet, and he’s rinsing a hand through his curls, so Sirius can tell that he’s a bit nervous. And it’s impossibly cute, but also not on. He doubts that he’ll ever get his kiss if Remus won’t even look at him in the eyes.

Gingerly, Sirius sets the pad of his pointer finger beneath Remus’s chin, lifting his gaze upwards. “Not the GSA— Though I appreciate the club’s work and your part in that.”

“Oh,” Remus says again, lips pursed and his throat pulsing when he swallows down. “Then—“

“I did it for you Remus,” Sirius repeats heatedly. “I did it because I’ve been mad for you since ever meeting you in August, and I can’t get your fucking face or name or lips or ass out of my head. And I thought that if maybe I pulled a dumb stunt like that, you would actually kiss me along with the lot of those idiots who can’t even hold a candle to you.”

“M—My ass?” Remus questions, voice going pitchy and face bright with emotion.

Sirius laughs, booming and bombastic. “You have the best ass I’ve ever seen Remus Lupin and it’s really obscene.”

Remus shoulder checks him, looking down and then back up through his lashes at Sirius and it’s a sight Sirius wish he can keep with him for the rest of his days.

“So you thought I’d want our first kiss to happen after you’ve just made out with half the school?”

Sirius grimaces, bending down so that their lips are only inches apart. “Listen, I can be a complete dumb ass on occasion.”

“Don’t forget arrogant.”

“Okay, fair.”

“And brash too.”

“Right.”

“Also you tend—“

Sirius places a soft hand over Remus’s supple lips, glaring teasingly at the other boy, who’s grinning like the cat who’s caught the canary, his eyes teeming with laughter.

Remus Lupin is going to be the death of him, Sirius knows it.

“Listen Lupin, I’d like a shred of self respect here, so I can actually muster up the courage to ask you out on a proper date already.”

Remus perks at that, so Sirius moves his grasp.

“You wanna ask me out?”

“Depends…. You wanna continue that little rant until I’m blue balled and gutless.”

“Hmm,” Remus inches closer, setting his hand over Sirius’s on the piano. “Nah, I think I’d rather do this.”

He leans forwards and Sirius barely has enough time to gather his bearings when he feels Remus’s mouth over his own and it’s literally every starlit promise and sugar burnt secret and sunlit afternoon all rolled into one. And Sirius feels his heart thud an uneven staccato when he grabs for either end of Remus’s waistline and plunges his tongue into his own and he lets himself get lost in the overwhelming feeling of it all.

#WOLFSTAR #REMUS LUPIN #SIRIUS BLACK #MARAUDERS #HARRY POTTER SERIES #💜rj💜#SPILT INK

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luvdsc · 4 years

Text

i dare you.

truth: do you like me? dare: prove it.

pairing :: lee donghyuck x reader genre :: angst, fluff / best friend + college au word count :: 3,176 words warnings :: none playlist :: cover up (taeyeon) ⋆ wish you were sober (conan gray) ⋆ fever dream (mxmtoon) ⋆ candy so good (the rose) ⋆ bubble gum (clairo) ⋆ can i call you tonight (dayglow) author’s note :: this is a bff2lovers support blog

The game of truth or dare has been going on for several rounds already, and Donghyuck comfortably lounges on the couch tucked in the corner, leaning against an armrest. He lightly shakes the cup in his hand, swirling the last remnants of jungle juice around, before nimbly tossing back the rest of it. It’s a circle of sixteen or so people, and as he looks around, he can somewhat make out the faces of his closest friends. Except he’s missing one: you, his best friend ever since you handed him your red crayon after he broke his in preschool.

But now, for a little over a year, he’s been wishing that being your BF stands for more than just your designated Best Friend. Maybe, it can also include BoyFriend. But that’s just wishful thinking.

Hazy eyes flitting around the entire expanse, Donghyuck looks for the reason of his heartache and finally finds you standing on the other side of the room, leaning against the wall and accepting a red cup from Hyunjin with a pretty smile. Who invited him? He definitely wasn’t a part of Nu Chi Theta.

The familiar green eyed monster rears its ugly head again when he notices how the distance between you and that pretty boy decreases. Grimacing slightly, he reaches forward and grabs a shot from the table, quickly swallowing all its contents.

Renjun lazily spins the bottle in the center after answering his truth from Tzuyu, and it lands on the unsuspecting Donghyuck. He notices the distracted look in his friend’s eyes, following his gaze until he sees you, and a mischievous glint appears in his eyes.

“Hyuck, it’s your turn,” Renjun announces, and Donghyuck is startled, turning to face his grinning friend. “Truth or dare?”

“Dare,” he replies confidently, and Renjun’s grin only widens. His friend’s gaze darts towards you and then back at him knowingly, and Donghyuck starts to feel his hands growing clammy. It seems that he was a little too obvious.

“I dare you to kiss the prettiest girl in the room.”

The dare that comes out of Renjun’s mouth has Donghyuck tensing up in his spot, sobering him up for a split second. His friend merely raises his eyebrows, challenging him, and he swallows hard before putting on an air of nonchalance. He wipes the sweat on his palms against the fabric of his jeans and grabs another one of the shots from the center of the circle, downing it before standing up. He’s not one to be nervous, especially with the amount of confidence he possesses and the amount of alcohol currently swimming through his veins, yet he is.

Jaemin and Jeno lift their heads up in interest as they watch him make his way towards you: you, who is unsuspecting and laughing at something that Hyunjin just said.

Have you always looked this gorgeous?

You are so damn stunning, throwing your head back and letting the prettiest sound Donghyuck ever heard escape from between your lips. The bright strobe lights don’t do enough justice for you, but he can see the way your eyes glimmer and the flashing of your teeth as your lips upturn into the loveliest of smiles. Yet, the blood in his veins boils because he should be the only one who makes you laugh like that, and not some other pretty boy.

He marches his way over there, swaying slightly from the beers he downed earlier, before looping his arm around your waist and pulling you towards him, placing the most delicate, softest kiss onto your lips.

Startled, you nearly drop your red cup and take a step back as you stare your best friend with wide eyes, your heart now beating faster than ever. And perhaps, it was more because of the boy in question, rather than the unexpected show of affection. “What the heck, Hyuck?”

He tugs you close again and merely nuzzles his face in your neck, wrapping himself around you even more. You turn to face him, and he lifts his head up, clouded eyes and flushed skin in full view now. His face is close, too close, and his lips are painted in the prettiest shade of rosy pink. If you move just a few millimeters forward, your lips would brush his again. Hurriedly, you toss away that silly idea as your cheeks warm up at that thought.

When did these feelings start to show up and skirt around your heart? Was it when you noticed he always added a pack of Haribo sour gummy bears for you to the shopping basket during those late night convenience store runs without you asking? Or was it when you texted him at 3 a.m. about a Pokémon you don’t have that’s nearby outside and he tells you to go to bed, but five minutes later, he’s standing outside of your dorm, knocking on your door with mussed hair and a haphazardly thrown on sweater, telling you to hurry up, so he can go back to sleep? Or maybe it’s when you realized just how happy he makes you when he laughs at your lame jokes that he would’ve made fun of Jeno for saying?

Or perhaps, it’s a culmination of all those things plus all the other tiny moments and endearing, although sometimes infuriating, attributes of his that made you fall in love with your best friend.

“You’re really pretty, y’know?” He mumbles, and your cheeks burn even more before you shake your head, noting bitterly to yourself that your best friend is completely intoxicated. Of course. He doesn’t like you in that way at all, so there’s no use in getting your hopes up. Drunken kisses are sober mistakes.

“Hyuck, you’re drunk.” You let out a sigh before wrapping an arm around his waist and throwing an apologetic glance towards Hyunjin. “Let’s get you home.”

“Let me help you,” Hyunjin offers, reaching out to take some of Donghyuck’s weight off of you. Your best friend swats his hand away from you. “Get your own Y/N. This one is taken.”

“He’s just trying to help,” you scold him, blood rushing to your cheeks at the sound of Donghyuck calling you his. He simply ignores the other boy, clinging onto you even tighter. You say good bye to Hyunjin, who kindly takes your empty cup, before tugging your best friend towards the stairs and to his bedroom upstairs.

On your way there, you catch Renjun’s attention. He smirks at you, eyes twinkling, as he glances towards Donghyuck and then back at you. Face burning, you roll your eyes before giving him the universal middle finger salute, his laughter subsequently echoing behind you.

You’re just best friends. Friends take care of each other. And so what if he kissed you? He’s naturally affectionate. And add on the fact that he’s drunk, so his affection just came out tenfold. It meant nothing.

Right?

Something’s been bothering you for the past few days, and Donghyuck can tell as he sits across from you for lunch. You’re doing that thing where you fiddle with the small Winnie the Pooh charm on your iPhone, wrapping the string part around your finger before letting go and repeating your earlier actions. He reaches over and untangles the charm from your hand before putting your phone in front of you, his hand grazing yours for a millisecond, and your heart nearly stops at the sudden contact.

“Something’s been on your mind. Spill it.” He studies your reaction, and you know you can’t lie to your best friend. He’ll know even before the words are out of your mouth.

“Do you remember the Theta party last Friday?”

“Yeah, I kinda have to,” he snorts, resting his chin on his hand. “I had to help clean up the next day with a raging hangover.”

“Why’d you kiss me?” you ask abruptly, twisting the hair tie around your wrist a bit nervously. It’s better to just rip off the bandaid and let it out in the open after all.

Donghyuck freezes, brain short circuiting. He had hoped that you’d just chalk it up to his drunken state that night, and he could continue to ignore his feelings like he’s done for the past thirteen months, six hours, and twenty seven minutes. But he can’t. He shouldn’t. So maybe he should just say it. Tell you the reason why. After all, drunken actions are sober thoughts.

Yet, although he prides himself for being brave, for being outspoken, when it comes to his feelings, when it comes to you, he feels like a coward. At the thought of rejection, the fickle feelings of love, and all the what if’s, he thinks it’s better to remain your best friend than lose you altogether. So he racks his brain for an excuse, but all he can come up with is the half truth.

“It was a dare.”

Your face falls before you can hide the disappointment, and it yanks at his heartstrings, leaving him to stammer out a poorly executed follow up, back tracking as fast as he can. “It wasn’t a bad dare! Renjun made me do it, and I just...”

“A dare?” you say softly before giving him a half hearted, teasing smile, desperately trying to conceal your true feelings. “Like what? To kiss your best friend? So I beat out Mark, huh?”

Your response has him pausing from blurting out the rest of the truth. You seem so calm and nonchalant about it, like the kiss has no effect on you whatsoever, an unspoken rejection. The mere thought of that almost cracks his heart in two, and he crumples the napkin in front of him, lowering his eyes.

“Uh, well... something like that.”

The two of you lapse into silence after that, a stifled awkwardness plaguing the table, before it becomes unbearable for you, and you stand up, picking up your empty plate to drop off at the cleaning station.

“I gotta go. I have class soon.”

Donghyuck murmurs a quiet good bye to you and helplessly watches as you walk away. He knows you’re lying. He memorized your schedule by heart the second you sent it to him at the beginning of the semester, and you finished all your classes for the day in the morning already.

He flattens out the balled up napkin, staring at the confession he had carefully penned down earlier before you sat down. The black scribbles stare back at him, almost as if they’re mocking him. He rips up the paper into shreds.

He wishes he was braver earlier.

Friday night brings you back into the all too familiar atmosphere of the Nu Chi Theta house. You entered the scene later than usual, caught up earlier with a paper on sustainable technology due at midnight. You were more than content with staying in your dorm for the night, curling up in a blanket for a Brooklyn 99 marathon, but your roommate, Lia, insisted you go out with her.

When you had told her about the conflicting matter regarding a certain dark haired boy swirling around in your mind, she had frowned, calling Donghyuck a complete idiot, and her next words still echo in your head.

“That’s what the idiot said? That wasn’t the dare. Renjun dared him to kiss the prettiest girl in the room.”

So why did he lie?

The butterflies in your stomach refuse to settle, whether it was from knowing you’ll see him tonight or the implications behind that kiss or possibly a combination of both. Renjun easily spots you in the crowd, and refusing to take no for an answer, he pulls you over to sit next to him and to partake in the game that started this all. Lia had simply laughed and waved you good bye before nimbly making her way into the dancing crowd.

Your eyes easily finds Donghyuck’s across from you, and his eyes widen in surprise. You haven’t seen him since the lunch incident, and you should’ve known that you’d see him tonight. He’s a member of this fraternity after all. You give him a small smile, and maybe it’s the alcohol running through his veins, but you could have sworn his cheeks turned a darker shade of red under the harsh neon lights. He looks away, and it stings a lot more than it should. Biting your bottom lip, you focus your gaze on the bottle in the center.

Jaemin reaches for the glass and gives it a twirl. The bottle neck ends up pointing just left of Donghyuck towards Yerim, and you notice Jeno not so subtly kick the table. The bottle rolls slightly before facing your best friend.

“Oh, would you look at that! Hyuck, truth or dare?” Jaemin exclaims, grinning a little too brightly.

“Jeno did that on purpose,” Donghyuck grumbles, throwing a stink eye at the aforementioned boy who merely offers him an innocent smile. “Dare.”

Renjun leans over towards Jaemin, whispering something to him, and he only brightens up even more. There’s that sinking feeling in your stomach, and you know they’re up to no good. Looking around the room, you catch the eyes of Hyunjin, who waves at you happily with a broad smile. Maybe you’ll feel better if you hang out with someone else for a change and take your mind and heart off of the boy in front of you.

Donghyuck’s eyes darken when he notices your attention directed at Hyunjin. He almost scoffs. Again, who invited him? And what’s Hyunjin got that he doesn’t? Okay, so maybe that pretty boy is a few centimeters taller than him, but Donghyuck is still prettier, wittier, funnier, and smarter, right?

Does Hyunjin know the exact number of miniature marshmallows that you like in your hot chocolate? Does he know that you have a tiny star shaped scar on your knee because you fell off your bike in first grade, and Donghyuck was the one who put a dinosaur patterned bandage on it? Does he know that when you’re happy, you like to play Avril Lavigne’s Sk8er Boi on blast and belt out the lyrics? Does he know when you think a joke is really funny, you let out the smallest snort at the end of your laugh which you try to cover up, but Donghyuck thinks it’s the cutest noise ever?

Does Hyunjin know how much he loves you?

“Hyuck,” Jaemin pokes him. “Are you listening?”

“No,” he deadpans, and Jaemin sighs. Your attention is on Donghyuck now, head tilted slightly as you softly smile at him, raising your eyebrow. Your expression is guarded, and for the first time in his life, he doesn’t know why. But Jaemin nudges him again, and he lets out a huff before turning toward his friend, who smiles impishly before saying:

“I dare you to call your crush and confess.”

You and Donghyuck both inhale sharply at that.

Thousands of thoughts rush into your mind, yet the most prominent one is: your best friend has a crush, and he never told you. The two of you have shared your previous crushes in the past, yet he’s never mentioned this one? A shock of betrayal runs through your body as you wrack your brain to think back to any previous hints or mentioning that he liked someone. Never mind the fact that you didn’t tell him about your current crush because that would mean confessing, but if you were in love with someone else, he would definitely be the first to know.

But maybe it’s for the better, you think bitterly to yourself. It would be near impossible for you to hide your feelings any longer. Perhaps, this is the reason why he didn’t tell you about the dare. It would make everything so much more complicated.

But your stomach twists and turns at the thought of him asking someone out, kissing someone else, loving someone who isn’t you, and suddenly, you don’t want to play anymore. You mumble something about getting a drink from the kitchen to Renjun before standing up, easily brushing away his hand when he protests.

Donghyuck watches as you begin to get up, panic rising in his chest, and before he knows it, he’s scrambling to pull out his phone. All it takes is five seconds. Five seconds for you to walk away. Five seconds to lose you. Five seconds to type in that familiar string of numbers and hit send. Five seconds of courage. Five seconds to take that leap from friendship to something more.

It’s now or never, and he’s never been so sure of one thing in his life until this very moment. Heart thudding erratically in his chest, he hurriedly types in the number he’s memorized by heart—the one he secretly saved as My Sunflower 🌻—and finally presses the green button.

You pause when you hear the familiar blaring ringtone and feel the vibration in your back pocket. Immediately, your eyes land on Donghyuck, and he’s already looking at you with the softest, most endearing, most vulnerable expression on his features that wrenches your heart. Eyes glimmering, he smiles at you a little bit uncertainly before speaking up, voice wavering at the end.

“Someone’s calling you, and I think he has something really important to say, so will you please pick it up?”

With shaky hands, you take out your phone, heart nearly leaping out of your chest, as you stare at the screen, lips curving into a delighted smile that you cannot suppress.

Full Sun ☀️💘 is calling.

“Hello?”

Phone pressed to your ear, you slightly tilt your head to the side, shyly smiling, and relief is written all over his face for a split second before Donghyuck positively beams. He continues to gaze at you, pretty little stars dancing in his eyes that crinkle in the corners and the rosiest hue of red blooming on his cheeks.

“Hi. I was wondering if you’d like to go on a date with me. Because I kinda, sorta, maybe am completely in love with you.”

This is the boy who made fun of you for wearing glittery Mary Janes on the first day of kindergarten, but also threw sand at the other boys who decided to poke fun at you. This is the boy who saved all the blue raspberry Jolly Ranchers he got on Halloween to give to you. This is the boy who brought you tubs of New York Super Fudge Chunk when you experienced your first heartbreak and refrained from saying “I told you so” until after you finally got over that douchebag. This is the boy who made you stay up all night before a final to help him put rainbow streaks in his hair, but also helped you ace the exam. This is the boy who has the biggest heart out of everyone you know, and he’s wearing it on his sleeve for you.

This is the boy whom you love.

And he loves you back.

“I’d love that. Because I kinda, sorta, maybe am completely in love with you, too.”

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anna-justice · 3 years

Text

Now or Never - 4

Summary: It’s been 10 years since they were juniors and lot’s has changed, but other things have stayed exactly the same. (Sequel to Lost or Found)

... 4 - Replay ...

Hailey pushed her door shut behind her, throwing her bags on her kitchen counter. She put away all the food she bought, grabbing a pen and a notebook and taking a seat at her bar. Hailey was a planner, she always had been, but it had gotten worse as she had gotten older. So, when she felt like things were out of her control, she sat down and made a list of everything she could. Today, it was meal planning.

She filled the whole page, listing each meal and all the ingredients that go with it, the cook time and how likely it was to end up as leftovers. Almost all of it were things that Hailey knew Jay loved, things that he hadn’t had in a long time.

She was grasping, she knew she was, but she was living in an eternal limbo. She was exhausted, she hadn’t slept in days, but she couldn’t dare slow down. She couldn’t dare let everything catch up to her. Hailey was running from years worth of demons coming back for her, and if she took a chance to breathe, she’d have to face them.

As she looked down at her finished list, she felt tears prickle her eyes. She dropped her head in her hands and pushed the pad and paper aside. She fought the urge to laugh, her boyfriend - the only man that she had ever loved and it seemed like she was ever going to love - was coming home, and she was making a meal plan.

What else was she supposed to do though? If the last four years had seemed foreign, then she was living on a different planet now. She had no idea what the next few days, weeks, months, had in store for her and she was terrified.

Her phone caught her eye on the counter, and she felt a small grin grace her face. She picked it up and dialed a familiar number. The line only rang once before they answered, “Hello?”

“Hey,” Hailey said, sighing out. There was something about her Aunt’s voice that had always calmed her.

“Hi sweetie, how are you?”

Hailey took a deep breath, with everything going on, she hadn’t had a chance to tell anyone about Jay’s highly anticipated homecoming. “Really great actually.” She said, finally. A smile gracing her face once again. Jay was coming home, no matter how many times she told herself, it still didn’t feel real.

It didn’t matter what they ate for dinner or what her apartment looked like, he was coming home to her, finally.

“Good, I’ve been thinking about you.” Her Aunt said.

“I have something to tell you.” Hailey drew out, barely able to contain her joyful laughter.

“Okay?”

Hailey squealed - an action reserved for her Aunt - and the words tumbled out of her mouth, “Jay’s unit was recovered, he’s being shipped home on Tuesday, Will and I are going to pick him up-”

“What?” Her Aunt asked, cutting her niece off.

Tears started to pool in Hailey’s eyes for what seemed like the hundredth time in days, “He’s coming home.”

“Oh my God,” Trudy said, her voice breaking. “Are you serious?”

“Yes!” Hailey laughed, the sound followed by Trudy’s own.

Trudy gasped, “Hailey, that’s wonderful. I’m so happy for you, both of you.”

“Me too.” She was so happy, she didn’t think it was possible be this happy. There were things that rivaled it: the first time Jay told her he loved her at the dance when they were sixteen, the day he came home from his first deployment, the day they she graduated college, the day of Adam and Kim’s wedding. She had had so many happy moments, but none of them measured up to what she was feeling right now. “I just can’t wait to see him.”

“Well I’d love to see him, and you too. So give me a call when you two are all settled in and we’ll make a plan.” Trudy and Randall have moved to Hilton Head Island a few years back after they both retired, Hailey saw them a few times a year. Including during the summer when all of them would drive down and stay with them for a week.

The two woman talked for a while, catching up, making plans, circling back around to the idea of Jay coming home several times. A smile stayed on Hailey’s face the whole time, despite anything going on in her life, Trudy seemed to always know what to say. That never changed.

Hailey barely had time to set her phone down before it started ringing again. This time it was Kim. “Hello?”

“Hailey.”

Hailey stood from her stool. “Kim, what’s wrong?”

“Hailey, I need you to come here like right now.” Hailey could hear her panic clearly, she was already grabbing her car keys and her purse.

“Okay, I’m on my way.” She stalled at the door. “Kim, what is going on?”

“Hailey...its Erin, she’s back.”

…

“Why on earth didn’t you all tell me?” Hailey asked, standing in Kim and Adam’s kitchen. “Don’t you think I had a right to know this? Especially with everything going on right now.” She ran her fingers through her hair, leaning against the counter.

After walking in and finding a crying Kim and a very stressed Adam, they showed Hailey the bathroom, Then spent the next 10 minutes explaining everything they had been keeping from her.

Kim took a step forward, “We found out right before Will called us, Jay seemed ore important.”

“Jay is more important! But this puts his life in danger, it puts all of our lives in danger.” Hailey said.

“You’re right, I’m sorry. We’re sorry.” Adam said, glancing between Hailey and his wife. “But more importantly, what are we going to do?”

Hailey nodded, beginning to pace. “Well, we learned a long time ago that calling the police was a bad idea, but,” she gestured to herself, “I think we are covered in that department. We could call Beth Sanders back, tell her what happened.”

“Hailey it says not to talk…” Adam says.

“We aren’t teenagers anymore Adam!” Hailey snaps, she pauses, takes a moment to catch her breath. She wasn’t a yeller or a fighter. “I-I’m sorry, I just. I don’t know, there isn’t a correct answer. Obviously she isn’t out of prison yet, we would know right?”

“Right.” Kim said, nodding.

Hailey pinched her nose, “Then someone must be working for her. Or she’s blackmailing someone like before, like what she did to Kelly.”

“Or she escaped.” Adam said, causing both Hailey and Kim to gape at him. “Think about it, it might not be in the media yet, hell maybe no one even knows.”

Kim rushed to the front door, making sure it was locked. It didn’t make that much of a different, but it gave her some peace of mind. Her hands were shaking, “Why would she appeal her case just to escape?”

“Maybe she just couldn’t take it anymore? She couldn’t wait for a parole hearing, so she escaped and decided missed her little playthings.” Adam said with disgust.

Hailey stared at the counter, tracing the granite veins, running every possible idea through her head. “Or she found out about Jay.” She said, her head snapping up. “Think about it. She’s been there for 10 years. She’s earned good behavior or she’s figured out how to sneak things. She could have seen a newspaper or seen the news, decided that a parole hearing would take too long and broke out. She’s always been crazy about him, it’s what started it all in the first place.”

Adam stood there in shock, Kim scoffed, “Hailey I hate to say it, but I think you’re right.”

“So he’s leaving a war zone and coming home to a new one,” Hailey, dropping her head in her hands on the counter. “Perfect.”

Kim rounded the counter, placing a hand on Hailey’s shoulder. “It’s gonna be okay, we’ll get through it. We’ve done it before.”

Hailey stands up, nodding, looking defeated. “I-how?” She asks, “We barely did the last time.”

“I honestly don’t know, but we will.” Kim looks to Adam for support.

He just shrugs, “We have too.”

“Yeah…” Hailey agrees, she squeezed the hand on her shoulder. “I gotta make some calls, can I use the guest room?” She asks.

“Of course.” Kim says, giving her a quick, but necessary hug.

Hailey makes her way into the guest bedroom, shutting the door behind her. She checks the entire room for bugs, checking behind photos and under pillows, really anywhere they could be. Then, she closes the blinds and dials a familiar number. They answer after just one ring. “Hello?”

“Garrett, hey, I need your help.”

...

An hour later, Hailey was sitting in her living room while Garrett paced around the room, a pained expression on his face. “So, you’re telling me that in high school, one of your best friends faked her own kidnapping and death, killed a random girl, blackmailed your classmate into breaking into yourself and choking you, locked you in a garage with a running car, shot Adam and then tried to kill you in basement, all because you stole her boyfriend?” He paused, turning to face her.

“You forgot stalking us and threatening us for 3 months but yeah, pretty much.” She said shrugging. “And actually she did all that because I “stole her friends,” I didn’t steal her boyfriend until after she locked me in a garage.”

Garrett huffed, sitting down next to her. “Details.” He leaned back against the couch, running his hands over his eyes. “Hailey, I’m your partner, why didn’t you tell me any of this before now?”

“I don’t know,” Hailey said, running the past year through her mind. It wasn’t a light or funny story for when their bored on a stakeout, and wasn’t exactly something she spewed when she was drunk, it just never came up. It was one of those things that you shove down and hope it disappears. “They aren’t exactly fond memories.”

Garrett picked up his beer off the coffee table, taking a long drink. “Fair enough.” He looked over at his partner, her blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail like usual, an old academy sweatshirt covering her. On the surface she looked like the old Hailey, but he could see the pieces of hair falling out and how swollen her eyes were. She wasn’t the normal Hailey. “Hailey, I-I’m sorry you had to go through that, especially that young. No one deserves that,”

Hailey gave him a soft smile, nodding her head and dropping her gaze to her lap. She knew he meant well, but the look on his face was one of the main reasons that she never told anyone about her past. She was a big girl, she didn’t need anyones pity. “Thanks, that means a lot. But, I’ve come to terms with it all. I thought I had moved on, but, the bitch is back, and I need a plan.” She stood up, grabbing her laptop off the sofa table across the room. “Jay is coming home and Kim and Adam want a baby, and Kev and Vanessa want to get married, and dammit Erin is not going to ruin everything again.”

She sat back down on the couch next to him, and Garret smiled at her, he admired her more than anyone else in the world, even more now. “Then we’ll stop her.” He tried not to think about the way his chest tightened when she said Jay’s name, it wasn’t fair to either of them. She deserved to be happy, he just thought that eventually it would be him to make her just that, and he wasn’t sure he was ready to give up on that.

“I have no idea how.” She logged in to her computer, completely unaware of the way her partner was looking at her. “First we need to find out if she’s actually still in prison.” Garrett scooted a little closer to her, so he could see the screen.

Hailey looked frustrated as she typed aggressively, it wasn’t really getting them anywhere. “Hailey,” Garret said, grabbing her attention. “You are the strongest person I have ever met, if anyone can figure this out, it’s you.” He said, watching as her tough guy facade finally fell before him. “I’m lucky that I get to call you my partner.”

She eyed him, his honestly and heartfelt-ness coming out of left-field. They usually never talked like this. But, she let it go. Chalking the comment up to the many lines they had already crossed during the evening, she was bound to feel a little strange. “Thanks, me too.”

The rest of the evening was spent deep in thought, developing several different ways things could go wrong and how to fix them. Somehow they ended up sprawled out on her couch, Garrett sound asleep and Hailey wide awake, eyes darting between him and the floor. She had finally let someone else in, and she had this horrid feeling that it would come back to bit her in the ass. It would come back for both of them.

…

A/N: Holy crap, it has been SO LONG since I have updated this story. I’m so sorry you all, it’s been an absolutely crazy few months and I am happy to say that I have finally found the inspiration to write again. I’ve decided that I will update this story every Wednesday, so hopefully the accountability will keep me on track. Thank you so so much for reading. Have a great night <3

P.S. like always, comment to be added to the taglist!

@lissethsrojas @puckluck28 @fuckyeahkillianemma @ruzek-halstead @thebigapocalypsewolf @karihighman @anotheronechicagobog @snowwhite013 @tracysupton @angelsjedi @anniesardors @carissalizz @joy-meathiel @alkadri-layal @number2chicagopdfan @stephanie708

#hailey upton #jay halstead #upstead #kim burgess #adam ruzek #burzek #kevin atwater #vanessa rojas #rowater #upstead au #burzek au #chicago pd #one chicago #trudy platt #hank voight

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warmau · 4 years

Text

slytherin!au san

*this post was commissioned | find other ateez aus here warnings: suggestive themes (no strings attached situation), hp themed au but we ignore jkrowling <3

something crawls across your desk

round and dark and you don’t have to look twice to know what it is

part of you wants to turn and look over your shoulder where you are painfully aware of the fact that san is eyeing you up

he’s always sat at the back of potions - while you sat diligently in the front and part of you suspects its a strategical ploy on his end

actually, you don’t expect, he has told you many times before that the view is just better from back there

it’s sleazy and you should scoff at the attempt of bad flirtation

but it’s hard for you to hate it as much as maybe the rest of your gryffindor housemates might

because

you like san

but

you aren’t about to let anyone in school know

so instead of looking behind you, you take your wand and flick the spider off the corner of your desk

it falls - disappearing in a little cloud of smoke midair

san’s always said he prefers them to snakes, he knows his whole houses deal with snakes slithers back to the ancestral wizards and bloodlines - but arachnids are so much cooler in his opinion

you don’t like bugs or snakes or anything that likes the cover of darkness

the only exception funny enough is ...... well......... san

“so did you get a date to the deathday party?”

you break from thought and turn to your friend

“huh - we don’t need a date for deathday parties. it’s just halloween basically.”

“but it’s so much more fun to have someone to cuddle up to while the ghosts do all their prancing around....like what if you get scared and your boyfriend just........”

she clasps her hands around herself

“holds you~”

you roll your eyes and close your textbook

you pull your worksheet out and get up to place it on the professors desk

they smile and wave their hand to let you know you’re free to go, you say bye to your friend who grumbles in response that you’re abandoning them

and as you walk down the rows of students - you reach the back of the room

you don’t pause when you reach out for the door, but you feel the same gaze that's been burning through you since san transferred here last year

you thought you’d be disgusted with it by now

but you’ve come to enjoy the slight, hot sting

“so, about that deathday party?”

you groan

you don’t want to talk about stupid trivial school events right now

with sans lips against your neck and your back against the cool walls of the greenery

instead of an answer you just tilt his head back up, gripping under his jaw and letting your mouth find his in an attempt to kiss him, of course, but to stop him from asking anymore questions

san kind of gets your point and his hands slip from under your robes lower

until they’re pressing into the skin of your hip and then

his teeth sink into your lower lip and you pull back

“hey - i said don’t do tha-”

“do you want to go to the deathday party with me?”

you give him a blank stare

you hope he gets the point of it too, but with the way he hasn’t gone back to touching you, it’s clear he’s waiting for an actual verbal response

“you know we can’t just show up to a party together.”

“why not?”

his hands leave your skin and your uniform falls back into place, he moves a little but still remains standing between your knees

the sudden retreat of full contact makes you upset and you hook your foot around his to tug him forward

instead of tipping over and into you, he puts a hand flat on your thigh

“seriously, why not? are you scared that people will be mad about it.”

“no - you know that isn’t the reason.”

“then what is?”

you sit up and want to tell him the real answer

the one that has been bubbling in the back of your mind these past couple of weeks

it had really just been for fun, a thrilling and almost wholly self-serving reason

when you let san, a slytherin who was barely managing to pass half his classes, and notoriously known for being quite uninterested in studies, magical morality, or any of the things you held so near and dear to your heart

corner you in the history section of the library

the books ruffling their pages on their own to hide the sound that came out of your mouth when he’d bit down into your skin for the first time

really you had just wanted to do something reckless

because you were well on your way to being perfectly clean cut in every other manner

but now - if you were to be completely truthful with him - you couldn’t just say

“the reason is because im just using you. you mean nothing to me.”

because through all the sneaking around in tight corners

using disappearing spells to hide from teaches and classmates

finding yourselves alone in that room of his

far down the twisting halls of the slytherin dungeon

you had fallen for all the charms of a person you had told yourself you should loathe

but san’s embarrassingly bad flirting, desperate manner of scratching to be as close as possible to you, loud and attention hungry attitude

had spun tight around you

because he was all those things, but through it all - through the bedroom eyes and lips on your thighs

he was one of the most gentle people who had ever laid hands on you

sure, you two could get caught up in a firestorm of young energy that would lead to both of you parting ways with evidence under the layers of your clothes that you’d admire in the mirror of your bathroom for days after

but that’s not what you meant when you described him as gentle

it was his soul, that was at the core, tender

little pretty whispers about your neck, your wrist, your eyes

sometimes when you were just talking there was the righteousness that people said he lacked laced through each, carefully chosen word

he could seem like a wreck of a person to everyone, even his own friends

but you’d somehow managed to catch the moments

of him that were most vulnerable

soft gaze that waits with manner to know if you are comfortable and safe with him, poetic words about the shadows of your bodies, there was even a mark of true faithfulness

when you two had almost gotten caught by a angry upperclassman

and san had let you escape before turning himself in and being slapped loud and hard and echoing

“who was with you?”

the angry voice had barked and san had stood with his hands clasped in each other, knuckles white

“no one. i was alone.”

so now when he asks you what the reason is that you don’t just want to let the world know

why you don’t want to make a statement

that this fling isn’t just that shallow pleasure seeking adventure you had intended it to start as and end as

but that it’s two people - that really fit each other like puzzle pieces

you can only think of the real answer

which is

“im scared. im scared that you don’t mean it as much as i do.”

you don’t mutter those words, you just keep quiet again instead and san finally slips completely away from you

he grabs his robe, hands curling around the green collar

“saying nothing is enough of an answer.”

you slide off the table and try to stop him

but your hand doesn’t leave your side and your knees are weak

and you’re worried that too much noise will make someone curious come looking

so you just watch him weave through the plants, until he’s gone.

he’s really gone.

the days seem to start going backwards ..... even though the dates get closer and closer to the end of the month

maybe its you that starts to function on some kind of made up timeline? because everywhere and everyone you look

is somehow san

the couples sitting in the courtyard sharing food, notes, kisses - they’re you and san

the solitary roaming owls circling the sky with letters in tow - all the letters you imagine rain down

and when you pick one up it says his name, written with the pen strokes that you’ve seen flipping through his textbooks

even the spells that leave your lips while you practice just turn to chants of his name

but he doesn’t .... come back like you wait for. he’s not in the classes you share. he’s not waiting in the secret corners you’ve both chosen.

he’s nowhere and yet everywhere for you.

the night of the deathday celebration - the entire school is buzzing

not only are the ghosts all out to chatter and reminisce about their time as the living

but the students are rushing up and down between the houses in costumes and masks

you shove your face into your pillow and snap your fingers, commanding the door to your room to shut

only to be knocked on a moment later

you shout your roommates name, telling them to get it

you’re in no mood to celebrate. you just want to fall deeper and deeper into your bed until you’ve completely disappeared from view

you hear the scurrying of footsteps, laughter, and conversation and then suddenly a hand grabs your shoulder and flips you over

“get up! we’re going to the party!”

your roommate gleams with a grin and you politely, but harshly refuse

“but your date will be so sad if you don’t show up!”

you spring up at the word date. a part of your stomach flips and you think - is there anyway it could be him?

your friend takes your shift in expression as a positive sign, whisking you up and out of bed - putting something that feels like a headband on your head - and pushing you toward the door

you haven’t seen san for a week

even though you feel as if the thought of him has more than tortured you every hour of every day

so even with the chances being slim, you feel your shoulders tense and a nervousness seep in through your veins

did he really come all the way to the gryffindor tower? is he finally coming back? did he tell my friends he-

but you look up when you get to the hall and instead of san you see

kim hongjoong

he’s standing beside mingi, who is twirling your roommate around and giggling in unison with them

“i-”

you start and hongjoong extends his hand

“your friend said you wanted to ask me to the party, but didn’t have the time. but ill gladly take you if you’d like.”

you stare at his palm

then back at him and the pretty prince’s costume he has on

he’s actually exactly what you should want

he’s in the top ten students of the ravenclaw house, he took OWLs early, he has been interning at the ministry of magic since he was a fourth year

he’s clean cut, gentlemanly, quiet spoken, and just - perfect

like you

but your stomach flips again, in a bad way, in a way that’s telling you

no you don’t want to go to this party with him, but to refuse him to his face is somehow even worse than just giving in

so you put your hand in his with a fabricated smile, that somehow is enough to convince everyone else.

until you hear mingi let out a sound of surprise, you turn and look at him - fully expecting him to read through your fake happiness

but instead he points the floor

“spider!”

you turn and see the spider

“sa-”

hongjoong crushes it with his shoe - hand still holding yours

“got it, should we head to the party?”

so you end up in a familiar place with an unfamiliar persons hands on your waist

dancing in the low light of the slytherin dungeons dorm

which has been transformed with pumpkin lighting and live music where every time the beat drops a bolt of electricity sparks from every corner

the ghosts, always fond of the cold and the dark, had chosen this as the venue for the deathday party

and although the headmaster and professors were looking grim about the prospect of the dorms being absolutely trashed

everyone else was having a blast

drinking spiked candy corn punch and pressing closer than mandated by the rules

prefects were running around casting spells to push people from each other, but they were just snapping back into each other like magnets

and in the shadows and heat of everyone else you can’t help but think about san again

you are looking at hongjoong, you are trying to focus on something he is saying about the music

but the wires of your mind are tangling and twisting and turning his hands on your waist into sans and his eyes into sans and his lips into sans-

it takes you a moment because you’re so dazed

to realize the lips you’re dreaming about aren’t kissing you, but hongjoong is

you pull back in horror and he mumbles an apology - but you turn, sensing something daunting

when you see - against the wall - staring right at you is the gaze that’s been on you for so long that you can never mistake it for another

“san!”

you gasp, and your hands drop from hongjoong’s shoulders, fast enough to watch san turn and disappear through the doors

“san?”

hongjoong repeats

“the slytherin? why are you-”

you rush toward him, pushing past the bodies that all seem to meld into one and other

the electricity zaps just as the door closes and it makes you jump and when you push it back open

the sound and the crowd shrinks

and you are looking down a dark, cold hall

you take your wand out and spark a small light from the tip - “san?” you call his name

legs shaking, voice a small tremble

there’s no answer

you keep going - subjecting yourself to the deeper parts of the dungeon until you think you’ve walked almost the entire hall and in front of you is a wall

something crawls up the side of your leg and you freeze

“san?”

you breathe again - but there’s no response and the feeling keeps coming up your skin, up your clothes, up and onto your neck and then

just as you think you can feel it begin to crawl up to your lips

it disappears and you turn because something like a flame starts to bloom from the center of your back

and when you do

it’s san

a spider crawls across his cheek, disappearing into smoke on him too

you don’t want to settle your breathing yet

you feel like you’ve been bounded to the spot you’re standing in

“you could have just told me there was someone else.”

“there isn’t.”

“i saw it - you can’t just -”

he starts, voice dropping until you think there’s only one thing you can say that would prove to him that it’s him

“i want to be with you.”

his eyes, long and overcasted with pain, widen

“being without you is like being without myself”

you stumble over the words - unfamiliar with this feeling of anxiety that has never grasped you so fully

“it’s stupid to be scared of you leaving me, but i am more terrified that i won’t have you at all to begin with.”

he is searing through you with the gaze

but the flame that used to burn hot with desire is now a cool, blue fire

that is scoping you out, weighing your words in his mind

until he presses his lips to yours and you lean back against the wall to let your hands find his neck

“i won’t leave you.”

he breathes into your skin

his scent floating around you and comforting you in the dark as you drop your wand and the only light you two had is gone

“you might even get sick of me and ask me too, but i won’t because i love you.”

you want to laugh at that

not because it is funny but because he must be insane

to think you’d ever get sick of him

even a week without him has left you suffering in withdrawl, for the first time it’s you who san can’t keep up with

as you kiss him back harder and lick into the roof of his mouth and pull your hands under his shirt

and he has to nearly stop you from undressing him there - because you just want to devour this moment over and over

until the taste of him is ingrained in your memory and you can recall what its like to have his pulse against your tongue even if a million miles separate you

san returns the sentiment, his hands itch too to find the places he adores most but even still

the entire school is a hallway away, so is the headmaster

so he lets you kiss him again, mark the side of his jawline and get your hands down to his belt before he mutters that he knows a shortcut to his room from here

you and san don’t return to the party

but the house ghosts saw you

and in the morning when san is walking down the gryffindor hall from your dorm

everyone knows very damn well why he’s there

the shock the questions the side eyes are all what you expected

but they don’t compare to the comfort that comes with having him beside you again

sitting with him at the top of the tower, legs swinging over the side, his smile in your neck

“i think its kinda cool that our anniversary is on halloween”

he comments one day as you’re sitting in his lap in slytherin commons

you turn to look at him

“wait, did you have a costume for the deathday part - what was it? i didn’t see.”

“oh you didn’t notice?”

you shake your head and san plays with your fingers before grinning up at you - long cheshire smile

“i was dressed as your boyfriend. fitting huh?”

you lean forward and he puckers his lips in anticipation, but then yelps when you flick his forehead

“i think you might have been right about that getting sick of you predication.”

#ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #ateez au #san scenarios #san imagines #san au #ateez #suggestive themes #members: ateez #choi san imagines #choi san au #writing commissions #hp!au

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yangrdn · 3 years

Note

hiiii! if you're still taking requests for joaquin, can you do a fluff oneshot of him with a fem!s/o with adhd?

moments

pairing: joaquín torres x fem!reader with adhd

a/n: first joaquín one-shot! now, i had to do research to find symptoms in girls and adults to write this and tried to be as accurate as possible.and if this is inaccurate, i'm ready to take criticism and learn. i hope u enjoy reading this <3

summary: moments with joaqo.

w/c: 1.6k

warnings: none

my m.list

request | my taglist

growing up, you hadn’t had it easy. facing issues kids your age didn’t struggle with made it hard to make friends, focusing in class became a problem, fidgeting became a routine.

when you started school, that was the first time your mom noticed. your teachers had called your parents in, telling them about your different behaviour. at first, it got excused as excitement. you had just started school, being excited was normal. and the fidgeting wasn’t uncommon for children your age, as they also couldn’t sit still. but as you grew older, it got obvious that this wasn’t just you.

not being able to stay on one topic in a conversation and constantly being impulsive made it hard to communicate with others. to some, you were seen as arrogant or mean. to the ones willing to educate themselves and having patience, you were just a normal girl who liked to talk.

due to all the energy inside you, you’re also hyperactive. activities that were physical were the ones being chosen over the typical things girls like, as your teachers liked to call it when they explained it to your mom. calm activities are still having a good effect on you, too.

but still, you didn’t get the diagnosis until you got older. different doctors had told you before that you’re good and don’t need help. a reason for the misdiagnosis was the fact that in girls, symptoms of adhd were seen as a character of your personality. it wasn’t until your mom complained more than once to your doctor and explained to him that not being able to focus in class and getting distracted easily wasn’t normal. after running many tests and being asked questions, they finally had a picture of your symptoms and could give you a reason behind it all.

they also say that adhd in girls is much different than in boys, which is why you didn’t get a diagnosis with it until a couple months after you turned 17. after that, you were happy you had the knowledge of what’s been happening for years, but it still made it hard to communicate and brought its problems into your everyday life.

like right now.

the doodles at the side of your book page long forgotten, you stare at the tv screen. adventure time is playing, yours and joaquín’s favorite show. normally, you’d watch it together. but today you feel like reading instead, so you’re seated next to your boyfriend with his arm draped around you. you hum along to the theme playing, nodding your head slowly. when you look down, you grab the pencil placed next to you on the sofa and start drawing doodles on your book again, still humming along to the theme.

you hear joaquín’s stomach grumble, raising your head to look at him. he’s already looking at you, lips pursed in an attempt to stifle his laugh. you giggle and set your book down next to you, marking the page you’re on with your pencil.

“i’ll go make us something to eat, i’m hungry anyways,” you say, getting up and stretching out your limbs. “do you want muffins? i think there are still some from yesterday.”

“sounds good,” he hums, kissing your hand before letting go of it and letting you leave the living room. you leave him watching tv, walking into the kitchen. once you’re there, you halt in front of the cabinets.

where are the muffins again? you look through the different cabinets, searching through them and moving your hand inside them, in case joaquín put them at the back of them, hiding them from you. nothing.

you sigh and look around you, grabbing a glass and the bottle of water laying on the counter before walking back into the room to your boyfriend.

upon seeing you, joaquín frowns, but still opens his arms and welcomes you back in a warm hug.

“weren’t there any left?” he asks, kissing your temple. you shake your head and give him the water bottle to hold. he takes it.

“no, i didn’t find them,” you state.

“what? but i saw you putting them in the fridge yesterday before we went to sleep,” he notes. you let out a breath and turn your head to him, frown resident on your lips.

“did i?” he nods. you huff and stand up again.

“i think i forgot again,” you whisper and make your way back to the kitchen. there, you open the fridge and feel your eyes widen and a smile creeping up your face as a gasp leaves your mouth. “i found them!” you shout, letting joaquín know. you grab the pack of muffins and walk back to your boyfriend.

“i think i put them there in fear of having them melt overnight,” you remember and take one out, handing the other one to the boy next you. you plop down at his side and start eating, reverting your eyes back to the screen in front of you.

“they taste so good.” joaquín’s voice comes off muffled by the food in his mouth, crumbs of the chocolate muffin falling down his lips and landing on his lap, some on the sofa. you groan and throw your head back.

“amor! you’re leaving everything on the floor and the sofa!” you complain. he only laughs in response, prompting more crumbs to fall down.

“ugh,” you groan and roll your eyes, leaning closer into his arm.

“did you find it?” you look over joaquín’s shoulder, glancing at the amount of dvd’s in his hands and biting your lip nervously.

“y/n, i’ll find it, don’t worry,” he assures you and lowers his head back to the dvd’s.

sam and bucky are coming over today for lunch and a movie. they let you decide the movie, so you chose to watch the maze runner and have been searching for the movie inside your house all day long. at some point, you got anxious that you lost it and couldn’t watch it.

“yes but they’re almost here! what if you don’t find it by then!” you sigh and throw your head back.

“i’ll find it! if you want you can go and already take some snacks out,” he offers with a soft smile. you nod hastily and leave him.

there’s chips, popcorn and some cake. you decide to take everything into the living room and place it on the coffee table, letting joaquín know you’re back.

“ok, i think everything’s made. did you find the movie?” you step closer to joaquín, grabbing the dvd’s left on his left side and looking through them. “remind me why we decide to buy movies almost every month.” the boy next to you chuckles, nodding along.

“y/n?” you only hum, staying focused on the movies in your hand. “i- i think you found the movie,” he says. you frown, looking up at him and back down at your hands. shaking your head, you frown again.

“que? no, i didn’t fi-” you stop yourself from talking when you focus on the movies in your hand, giggling when you see it. “i think i didn’t see it.”

your leg is shaking, going up and down as you wait for your ice cream with torres sitting next to you. it’s warm outside, so you chose to sit in the shop today, since it’s cooler in there. the lady at the register calling different names, every sound ringing in your ear as you wait for your order to be finished.

“you good?” joaquín asks, glancing at your nervous fingers. you’re picking at your skin, again. you hum, not really listening. he sighs and takes your hand, drawing your focus back to him and making you look up.

“you need the pencil?” he takes out a blue pen, rolling up his sleeves as you nod and take the pen from his hand, starting to draw flowers on his arm and the palm of his hand.

“does this tickle?” you wonder out loud, stopping to glance up at him.

“no tanto, but it feels good, don’t worry.” he pecks your lips.

it’s late, the rain outside pouring and the moon casting a glim light in your room. you’re laying in bed with him.

“‘quin?” you whisper into the dark, wanting to know if he’s still up. you hear him shuffle behind you, raising his head from where it was resting in the crock of your neck. he hums in response.

“are you up?” you feel his hot breath hit your neck when he laughs.

“i am, now,” he croaks out. you turn your head a little, staring at his face.

“you know, i was thinking about this dog we saw earlier. can we get one?” you ask. he frowns, coughing.

“uhm, yes if you want. but now we’re going to sleep, i’m tired,” he mumbles and cuddles back closer to you, pulling you into his embrace, pressing your back to his front. you hum, closing your eyes.

“oh and earlier you said you were going to explain to me how that one blue game works. i forgot the name,” you trail off at the end of your sentence and frown, what was it called.

“what blue game?” “the one from earlier.”

“what game from earlier?” you roll your eyes and free yourself from his hug, sitting up.

“the one sam told you about! he showed you a picture, too!” you throw your hands up.

“babe, that was monopoly, the game you’re talking about isn’t even blue. now come back i was about to fall asleep,” he answers and pulls you down. you nuzzle into his chest, laying your head on his shoulder and closing your eyes again.

“ok ok, i think i keep forgetting the games he’s shown us. night,” you whisper and raise your head to kiss his chin, humming in content when he lowers his head for you to kiss his lips instead.

“can we go get more ice cream tomorrow?” you hear him sigh and chuckle, knowing that he’s probably trying his best to ignore you.

translation:

amor - love

que? - what?

no tanto - not much

taglists

permanent

@bi-lmg @aayaissaa @fandomxreaders

joaquín torres

@samscaptain @jades-tea-shop

#joaquín torres x reader #joaquin torres #joaquín torres x fem!reader #fem!reader #joaquín torres x you #joaquín torres x y/n #joaquín torres imagine #joaquín torres imagines #joaquín torres fluff #joaquín torres oneshot #joaquín torres one-shot #joaquín torres oneshots #joaquín torres one-shots #joaquín torres ff #joaquín torres fanfiction

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rhysismydaddy · 3 years

Text

Unholy Matrimony Pt. 1 (Nessian)

Nesta’s part of the Damnation Series.

OOF this took so long sorry. I rewrote it, changed it, then deleted it entirely about 9 times. I literally started writing the version before you, from scratch, on Sunday. All parts are linked below, so I’m only tagging people on this version! To go to the next chapter, there is also a link at the bottom <3

ALSO, an important caviat: Nesta is an only child in this one! I originally wrote it for her to be adopted and not know it, but it wasn’t really relevant to the story, so... idk. Just ignore that plot hole I guess.

Parts 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 -- pls like each part I’m insecure

______________________________________________

~Cassian~

“You’re getting married.”

The glass of bourbon halfway to my mouth pauses, because despite being known for being rash and unpredictable, even I’m surprised by the sudden change in conversation.

My eyebrows raise as I look over at Rhysand, my best friend and Capo, trying to figure out if this bastard is serious. His tone says he is, but that doesn’t make sense, because before a few seconds ago, the word “marriage” was in neither of our vocabularies.

He’s been single for as long as I have, although I’m starting to suspect he’s got a bird in the city. He’s too damn happy these days, and the other day I saw him laugh at something on his phone.

Which is weird, because we both know long-term commitments don’t really do well with our lifestyle.

We were raised to not give a shit about anything except the job. We kill without remorse, live in the shadows, and whatever other shitty euphemism you want to use. Settling down in some suburban, picket-fence prison has absolutely no appeal to Made Men.

Don’t get me wrong, most of us get married at some point. But never for love.

Some men choose a bride that’s pretty and sweet. Someone who will donate to charity and help clean up their image. Governors’ daughters, women from old-money families, and social princesses make up this category.

Some men marry to advance their station in the Family. Second sons who will never inherit the business marry daughters of Underbosses to get a nice boost to their status.

And then there’s the ones who are forced to marry by their capo--ie. me-- so they choose whatever attractive woman that’s in the Family and available. Those are always the happiest.

But regardless of the reasoning, marriage in the mafia is heartless, political, and for me, unnecessary.

I know I’ll have to pick someone eventually, but there aren’t a whole lot of desirable options at the moment. Not many of the other Underbosses have daughters that are over the age of fifteen right now, and I have no interest in doing the child-bride thing.

Plus, there’s no way I’d marry someone outside of the family. At my rank, it isn’t an option.

That leaves... a widow?

The only one I know is Ianthe, and considering I highly suspect she killed her last husband and the fact that she’s crazy, there’s no way in hell I’d legally bind myself to her for life.

So he must be joking.

I take a pull from my cigar and look over at Rhys with narrowed eyes. “Uh huh. Sure. To who, exactly?”

“Volchonok.”

The Wolf Cub.

The cigar snaps in my fingers.

“You’re fucking kidding,” I say, honestly hoping that’s the case. He’s either that or insane, and I’d hate to lock someone who’s like a brother to me in a padded room.

Rhysand’s unflinching gaze doesn’t change, but his tone morphs from that of my friend to my boss. “You will marry her, Cassian.”

“She’s a fucking Russian,” I spit, not understanding. That should be reason enough for him to be joking.

In our world, being Russian is a crime similar to stabbing the Pope.

We’ve been at war over New York with them ever since they decided to try and get a stronghold on the east coast, and I’ve killed more of them than I can fucking count. Now I’m marrying one?

“Yes, she is, and so is her father, Alexei Olov.” Aka the Bratva Boss responsible for blowing up half of St. Petersburg last year when the local police refused to buy his weapons. “You will marry her, move to New York full time, and run the city with her by your side.”

“Why? Two or three more years, and we’ll have the city anyway.” Every day the Russians get weaker, and I’ve been responsible for pushing them out of my city block by block.

So there has to be a reason we’re suddenly okay with the enemy.

Rhysand sighs. “It was his idea, not mine. Orlov has agreed to sell our coke in Moscow and Seattle instead of his usual dealer and will supply us all the weapons we need for five years. There will also be no more midnight raids, bullshit arrests on bullshit charges, or missing shipments. He’s offering you a dowry, too.”

I don’t need his money, but the old fashioned term makes me laugh.

“Yeah? And how much does he think his wolf cub is worth?”

His lips twitch. “Ten million.”

“She must be a real pain in the ass, then, if he’s going to pay me that much to take her,” I chuckle.

Not that ten million dollars is anything but pocket change for the man. Orlov may be losing the fight in New York, but the bastard is richer than sin.

Selling arms to half of the entire world will do that to a person.

“I hear she’s beautiful,” he says, trying to tempt me to not fight him.

“Then you marry her,” I shoot back, not ready to give up the argument.

“I don’t feel like it.” Fucking typical. Rhysand sighs. “You and I both know we can work this deal to our advantage, so what will make you say yes?”

He could order to me to say yes and I’d have to, but he hates enforcing that kind of authority with me.

So I think it over, make a show of lighting a new cigar. “I want Sera.”

It’s a burlesque club in New York I’ve always been a little envious of, owned by Orlov and operated by his men. I’d tried to buy it a few years back but hadn’t had enough leverage on the Russian to strongarm him into selling.

Now I do.

Rhysand--the only one who knows about my failed attempt to buy the place--nods and tells me he’ll make it happen.

“When’s all this happening, anyway?”

He looks like he might laugh. “Wedding is in a month, but she’s flying in tomorrow night.”

A quick laugh forces its way out of me. Also typical of him to give me absolutely no time to change my mind.

Well, I have a month. That’s already longer than any relationship I’ve ever had.

Sighing, I stand and shake his hand, cementing the deal before I can even lament the loss of my bachelorhood.

~Nesta~

“Chto sluchilos?”

I slide my gaze to my father, because seriously, that’s the stupidest fucking question I’ve ever heard.

What’s wrong? What’s wrong? Everything.

“Nichego,” I lie, assuring him for what feels like the tenth time as I look out the window. The plane picks up speed and lifts off, taking me towards an uncertain future, an uncertain place.

I might have told him nothing’s wrong, but inside, I’m screaming.

Three days ago, I woke up to find a marriage contract on the pillow beside me. There was a blank space where my name had been typed and a pen waiting for me to remedy that.

I still haven’t.

I’m not signing anything until I meet this... Cassian.

God, what an Italian name.

An image springs to mind, one of a slumped-over, hairy-chest beast with slicked back hair and a gold chain.

I know it’s stereotypical and hopefully incorrect, but I’ve never been to Italy and Alexei strictly forbids me watching movies that portray Italians as anything except revolting.

But looks aside, there’s one thing I don’t need to guess to know.

My future husband will be like all the other men in my life: controlling.

Men in the world I live in take what they want, don’t ask for permission, and feel like they’re entitled to anything and everything. I’ve dealt with it my entire life, so it’s more amusing than anything at this point.

I guess I’m a bit non-traditional in that sense, considering most of the women around me have no problems taking orders from their fathers or husbands. But Alexei and I figured out pretty early in life that wasn’t going to work for me.

As he frequently likes to tell me, I started telling him to fuck off when I was five.

What did he expect? All the kids I hung out with were the opposite sex and at least five years older than me, so my vocabulary and mannerisms became pretty... colorful early on.

Regardless, I’m just not looking forward to having to deal with yet another man who thinks he can control me.

“Ty vresh',” Alexei accuses, lips twitching. You’re lying.

“Konechno.” Of course.

Of course I’m upset, but I understand what’s happening. I might have found out about it three days ago, but I’ve known it was coming for far longer.

As the only child of the great Alexei Orlov, Wolf of Moscow and Pakhan of the Russian Bratva, I’ve been told my entire life that I will one day be used as a pawn to gain more power.

It would--should--piss me off, but I’ve also been told I’m to one day take my father’s place and run his company.

So by gaining more power for him, I’m also doing the same for myself.

Not that I really give a shit about that kind of thing. I started officially working for Alexei years ago, and I already have enough money saved to never have to work again.

But in the Bratva, there’s no getting out. I was put in this world by birth, and the only thing that will take me out is death.

In case it isn’t obvious, I’m not a typical business woman.

My father is an arms-dealer.

A less than legal one, if you believe the heinous lies the media spreads about him.

He sells weapons to governments, private armies, and whoever the fuck else has the money to buy.

He’s also built himself a shipping empire to haul said weapons around the globe, runs the drugs and prostitute rings in Moscow, and has enough real estate to rival most small countries.

It probably sounds like I don’t care, and that’s because I don’t.

I like what I do in the sense that I have a mind for business. I went to business school and graduated at the top of my class, and I enjoy running the clubs and hotels I have. Trained by Alexei himself, I’m ruthless in negotiations, enough so that people started calling me the Wolf Cub by the time I was twenty.

But despite being good at it, I’m not particularly fond of the aspect most people think of when they picture my career in the Bratva. I detest drugs, have never hired a prostitute, and don’t really enjoy selling arms to bad people.

The alleyway meetups, the broken bones and bullet holes, and the blown up houses are all a little tiring to me.

Sure, it sounds exciting. And for a while, it was. I used to lose myself in the chaos, used to enjoy coming home with busted knuckles. But I honestly just got tired of it.

Right now, I don’t have to deal with it as much because Alexei’s still alive. But when he dies and I officially take over the family business, I’ll have to be more involved. Even if the thought makes me want to sigh.

I pull out my laptop and look over the financial report for Sera, my newest club in New York. As predicted, everything’s running smoothly.

I turn the laptop around to show my father, grinning when he pulls out his reading glasses and leans closer.

“Starik,” I tease. Old man.

He flicks my forehead, then reads the report and nods. Then he turns to his phone, probably playing Angry Birds or some shit, and leaves me to work.

The plane ride goes by quickly, and by the time we’ve landed in Chicago, I’ve gotten ahead on my schedule for next week, slept, and changed into what I’ve chosen as the “meeting my future husband” dress.

It’s simple and sleek, the black material clinging to my curves without being obscene. It’s long enough to hide the holster on my thigh, not that I feel in any danger with four personal guards stationed near me at all times.

My heels click as I make my way down the plane stairs and across the tarmac to the waiting sedan, and once my luggage and belongings are unloaded, we head to the Italian Capo’s house.

We’re meeting here, finalizing the contract, and then Cassian and I are flying to New York.

My new home.

“Try to look happy,” Alexei tells me, his heavily accented English almost ridiculous to hear. He speaks English only when he’s in the states, and considering he hasn’t come here since I graduated B school two years ago, he’s a little out of practice.

“I’m ecstatic,” I say, intentionally using a word I know he doesn’t understand.

His eyes narrow, because it isn’t the first time I’ve used this trick, but he doesn’t call me out on it. We continue to ride in ecstatic silence, eventually pulling up in front of the Capo’s... house.

It’s almost obscene to call it that, considering it’s fucking huge. Like obnoxiously huge.

I heave a sigh, step out of the car, and take in my surroundings. The neighborhood’s quiet, likely filled with friends of the Cosa Nostra too scared to make any noise.

A butler--seriously, a butler--opens the door and welcomes us inside, and as soon as I step in, I have to repress the urge to roll my eyes.

The amount of dirty money in the air is suffocating. It drips off the vaulted ceilings, down the artwork on the walls, across the marble floors. It’s in the little details of the crystal chandeliers and the mahogany staircase.

Ridiculous.

One look at Alexei’s disgusted face says he’s thinking the same thing.

Don’t get me wrong, we’re rich. Grossly so. Alexei could have ten houses just like this, if he wanted them.

But he doesn’t. He owns property all over the world, but most of it is commercial or apartment complexes--property that makes him money, in other words. This, however, is a massive waste of capital.

The butler leads us further through the house and into an office where four men wait.

One is immediately identifiable as their lawyer, his over-priced cologne making me have to resist the urge to sneeze. The humongous man in the corner is hired muscle, if the boxy shape of the guns under his jacket is any indication.

The man behind the desk is obviously in charge, so I��m guessing he’s the Capo. Rhysand or Rhyland or something weird like that. He takes me in silently, bright eyes not seeming to miss any details.

That leaves the man leaning against the desk to be Cassian Azara.

My fiancé.

Our eyes meet, his golden gaze beautiful and wild, and I have to remember to keep my expression bored.

Because the stereotype, the horrible image I’d conjured up in my mind, couldn’t be further from the truth.

For one, he isn’t hunched-over. He stands tall, leaning a hip against his Capo’s desk with obvious confidence. But I see more than just self-assuredness in his eyes. He seems a little too rough around the edges, wild gaze almost like he’s daring someone to swing at him.

If the confidence didn’t already make him attractive, his looks sure as hell get the job done.

His hairs long and dark and curly, half of it pulled up in a rouge manner that clashes with the suit he’s filling. He has a few days’ stubble, too, like standing still long enough to shave just isn’t an option.

His shoulders are impossibly wide, narrowing down to trim hips and legs long enough to make him tower over everyone in the room.

His knuckles are tattooed and split open, and there’s a cut above his eyebrow that tells me I was correct to assume he’s a fighter by nature.

Usually, that would be a deterrent for me, but there’s something about the way he’s dressed in a dark suit jacket and crisp white shirt while also looking so untamed that has me cocking my head to study him some more.

He studies me, too, beautiful eyes taking in the long blonde hair and bright blue eyes offset by pale skin. He looks at the dress like he can see everything underneath, and I have the strangest urge to blush. Jesus, he’s toxic.

He’s attractive, is what I’m getting at.

Which is not what I had planned on, considering I’d been trying to think of a plan on how to not sleep with him, but suddenly that’s all my mind can focus on.

His lips twitch like he knows what I’m thinking, and I realize we’ve just been standing here staring at each other for a bit too long.

So I turn back to Alexei and shrug like I’ve seen what my future husband has to offer and aren’t impressed in the slightest.

I toss the marriage contract on the desk, grab the Capo’s fancy little fountain pen out of his hand, and sign my name on the blank above my name.

Cassian watches, but I ignore him entirely until the ink has dried. Then I look up at him through my lashes and wink, turn on my heel, and leave the room.

~Cassian~

I think I’m in love.

Fuck.

She hasn’t said a single goddamn word, but the way she looked at me has me feeling itchy all over, anticipation and nerves rolling through me. I feel like I feel before I fight or something exciting happens.

Like I’m primed and ready and need it to happen now.

Nesta Orlov, my bride to be, is nothing like I expected.

I was fully braced for some meek little woman, similar to most of my friends’ wives, to come in and smile and say hello.

But nope. Nesta didn’t smile; she came in like she was walking onto a battlefield.

And she didn’t smile. She looked me over, clinical blue gaze noticing too much, and left me feeling winded. God, she’s beautiful. Just looking at her made me hot.

She also didn’t say hello.

Just signed the contract and left, like this was nothing more to her than a boring business deal. I mean, that’s what it is, but... I don’t know, I expected more of a reaction.

I’ve heard from some Underbosses that their wives cried or raged when they were forced to sign, but shit if that were the case with Nesta. She honest to God looked like she didn’t care.

Alexei, on the other hand, does look a little pissed about the situation, but I couldn’t care less of the old man’s opinion. He’s signed the contract, so to me, he’s irrelevant. Regardless, he and Rhys proceed to iron out some of the details about the wedding and other shit I’m not paying attention to.

Then they shake hands, and the Russian warlord turns to leave.

He reaches the door and looks over his shoulder at me, and there’s amusement in his cold gaze as he mutters, “Udachi.” Good luck.

As soon as he’s gone, Roman and the lawyer follow, leaving me alone with Rhys.

He slides the contract to me, and I sign my name next to hers, making this shit official.

“This should be interesting,” he comments, vague as usual.

I sigh, because I have a feeling interesting isn’t going to cover it.

_____________________________________________________

NEXT CHAPTER

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#nessian #nessian fanfiction #acosf countdown #acosf #nesta archeron #cassian #acotar #acotar fanfiction #acosf fanfiction #a court of mist and fury

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emilyoftheshadows · 3 years

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Deja Vu

Hi everyone! This is the second part of Deja Vu and while I will say its not as angsty as part 1, it is definitely far from resolved. I hope you guys enjoy!! I linked part 1 down below for those who haven't read it yet :)

Part 1

wordcount//2402

********

Aelin heaved for air as she rounded the corner of the street towards her apartment. Glancing at her watch, she noticed the time and coerced her body into a brisk jog to finish her afternoon run. Arobynn had clearly stated that she was needed in the office at 1:00 pm sharp. For what, who knew but him.

The man was utter filth and Aelin was completely aware of every leering gaze he threw her way. The way he shifted towards her whenever she walked into a room, the gleam of some sort of promise lingering in his gray eyes. Yet, Aelin could not give 2 fucks. She was becoming his prodigy, and she embraced the infinite work he piled on her month after month. While her title was still Hamel Hotel’s Brand Manager, she practically ran the company itself now. If she was being quite honest with herself, she hated her job most days and thought about quitting at least 3 times a week.

But every time she felt like pulling her hair out from the stress of dealing with incompetent colleagues and a boss who eye fucked her every second of every day, Aelin reminded herself that the alternative was way worse.

It had been almost a year since she ended it with Rowan, but it felt more like a lifetime. Only 6 months ago she had been crippled by heartbreak and rage, blinded by her own emotions and unable to see a future for herself. Unable to even think beyond the next hour, completely focused on her breathing. How she only had to breathe through the waterfall of tears cascading down her face, for one more minute. And then another, and another, until she could sit up and wipe away the fog wrapped around her brain.

But now, her heart was encased in an iron-clad box with no key. Because as she had laid across her floor all those months ago, sniveling snot like she was 5 years old, Aelin had had an epiphany. Not just pertaining to Rowan, but to romance in general. All the ice-cream dates and movie marathons, sunset picnics and belting songs in the car, have all been done before. Nothing about her and Rowan was special. All the great romantic tropes were being used by everyone else on this godforsaken planet at any given time.

Once Aelin let this new reality sink in, she had decided to never let herself become so undone by a man who couldn't give her an original love story. No one would ever have the power to crush her heart into pieces except herself, and Aelin would be damned if she let the same person in twice. With her new promise, Aelin had thrown herself into her work, filling her days so full that there was no time to think. No time to reminiscence or let her regrets see the light of day. She woke up early and ended late, passing out every night from pure exhaustion. Her tactics were less than stellar, but Aelin never thought of her green-eyed bird boy anymore, and that was all she needed.

She trudged up the stairs of her apartment, practically slamming her body into the door from lack of energy and not enough water. Entering the living room, Aelin threw her clothes off haphazardly, naked by the time she got to the shower. After a quick rinse, she flew back to her room to paint makeup on her face and find a suitable outfit.

It was standard for the women in the office to dress to Arobynn’s tastes, meaning fairly low necklines and silhouette framing outfits. The thought was disgusting, but Aelin wasn’t below using her looks to earn a place higher than Brand Manager. As much as she hated to admit it, if Aelin kept working to the bone, she truly believed Arobynn would give her the raise she so wanted. The raise she deserved for fucks sakes. With a glance in the mirror and a nod of approval to her reflection, Aelin was ready to go into battle once again.

----

Arobynn was ecstatic for his own standards, smiling with genuine excitement as she entered his office. Rifthold had a stunning downtown area, filled with sky-high buildings and classic architecture mixed with modern features, the Hamel Hotel in town being at its center.

Arobynn’s office was extravagant to a point of gaudiness, revolting Aelin every time she stepped inside. He glanced at her chest as she sat down, pleased with her choice of blouse today if the smirk on his face was any indication. The seat sank with her as she settled into the plush surface, settling her legs in a crossed position, ever the professional businesswoman.

“Darling, I see that we were running a bit late today, but that’s no matter now.” Aelin glanced down at herself, trying to find the source of such a comment. As her eyes dragged up her own body, Aelin saw the mistake that gave her away. Her blouse buttons were askew, the buttons incorrectly aligned creating an odd, sagging neckline. Well, no wonder he was staring at her chest earlier, the black bra peeking through the gaps in her shirt. Fidgeting with her shirt as she noticed the mistake, Aelin dropped her hands and quickly resigned to fix it later. Of course Arobynn would notice the tiny, careless mistake in her appearance. But with his mind on other matters, Arobynn was already moving on barely noticing her squirming.

“I have exciting news for us, Aelin. The kind that could put Hamel Hotels in the spotlight.” With a quick turn of his laptop, he presented her with the picture of a young man, about her own age. He was pale, but not alarmingly so. His hair was tousled and dark, the pieces framing a boyish looking face. The smile on his face seemed innocent enough until you looked into those sapphire eyes, a hint of trouble managing to show itself. In a short summary, the man was gorgeous.

“This boy right here is Dorian Havilliard, a nobody from some town called Rifthold down south. Apparently, he has made quite a name for himself on the online writing world, becoming internet famous for erotic writing, among other genres.” With that word, erotic, Aelin could’ve sworn his eyes darkened ever so slightly while glancing her way. Brushing away the wave of nausea assaulting her senses, Aelin focused back into reality.

“ He looks charming enough sir, but what use is he to Hamel Hotels?”

“Havilliard is making his debut into the publishing world this weekend at a lower level author’s convention in Terrasen at one of our Hamel Hotel properties. If we can introduce ourselves and graciously offer him Hamel Hotel’s finest amenities, I am convinced that we can get him to host all of his future events with our hotel. Dorian is young, naïve, and will be flattered by our offers. I will make sure of it.” Arobynn was unbecoming, his hands erratically gesturing back and forth between the computer and Aelin. His gray eyes were crazed, the prospect of such business and money to the Hotel’s as enticing as a woman at night.

“That’s a brilliant idea Mr. Hamel. I can leave as soon as you would like, and I assure you I can get the job done.” Only the best of her saccharine smiles was painted on Aelin’s face. She presented nothing less to the man who controlled her future. Besides, it would be nice to get out of Rifthold for once. The city was gorgeous, but a change in scenery from the hustle of downtown sounded relaxing. Yes, Terrasen with its rolling hills and sunny atmosphere would be welcome.

“As much as I appreciate your enthusiasm Ms. Galathynius, this matter is too important for you to handle alone. This evening, we will be taking my private plane to Terrasen so I can assist you in the convincing of Mr. Havilliard. Our suite is being readied as we speak. The driver will pick you up at your apartment around 5:30.” With a wave of his hand, Arobynn dismissed her from the room, already focused on his laptop once more.

With a short “yes, sir” in response, Aelin made to leave the office. But as she opened the doors to exit, Arobynn stopped her short.

“And Miss Galathynius, remember we are trying to persuade this young man to work with us in the future. Dress accordingly.” Aelin turned back around quickly, hiding the surprise on her face. Arobynn had always displayed questionable morals, but he was becoming bolder in his comments. In his admiration too.

It was only later when she was packing her clothes that she realized his wording. Our suite is being readied. Not his. Aelin’s stomach roiled with anxiety at having to spend the night so close to the monster that was her boss.

But as her hands shook with the effort to continue folding her clothes, and her throat dried up to where she couldn’t find the ability to swallow her nerves, Aelin reached down to that empty pit within herself. The same wave of calm that had encased her 6 months ago protected her now, and she continued to sort her items into the luggage in front of her.

The driver came at 5:30 on the dot. She boarded the plane, and listened to Arobynn ramble about his genius and plans for the next day. They landed in Terrasen, surrounded by luscious green landscapes and rays of the golden hour shining around them.

Yet, Aelin felt nothing.

-------

Rowan was one edge, constantly glancing at the dark haired young man sitting next to him. Dorian Havilliard was a genius with pen and paper, that much was certain. Even Rowan had enjoyed the young authors short stories, the smut not completely welcome but admittedly well written.

The man himself was a completely different story. Although he was only 2 years below Rowans 24, Dorian was a fucking wildcard. They had only been at the hotel for 30 minutes and he had already gotten himself lost in the booze and women down near the bar.

Rowan had seen the young man’s nerves, how his hands shook when Maeve detailed his debut with The Cadre as his publishing team and the speech he would have to give earlier that week. Maeve was an intimidating woman and if Rowan had been in his spot when he first started with The Cadre, he would be pissing himself too.

Despite this level of understanding, Dorian’s antics were still unacceptable. All eyes were on him this weekend, the word spreading that he would be attending the convention thanks to a leak. Whether that leak came from The Cadre themselves was neither her nor there. Dorian’s books will fly off the shelves, but they needed people invested in him first. And that meant PR. A shit ton of PR to be more specific. And what better way to do it when the countries authors were all gathered in one convention hall for the weekend.

The whole team came out to Terrasen, all of them concerned for how they were going to corral Dorian for the whole event. Maeve joined as well, ready to micromanage The Cadre and network the hell out of these authors. And because Maeve came, that meant Lyria followed.

Rowan and Lyria had fallen into a comfortable relationship. After all that pain a year ago, Rowan felt okay to date now. Lyria’s company wasn’t unwelcome and the situationship had slowly evolved into a relationship. There wasn’t any passion or burning love for one another, at least on Rowan’s side, but their companionship was a nice presence in his life.

Although he would never acknowledge it, Rowan was scared to love with his entire soul like he had with Aelin. The more he opened his heart, the more opportunity there was for someone to come and crush it to pieces. If he had to experience that misery again, Rowan would never recover. He barely had last time, and he still wasn’t back to who he used to be. Back to how happy he used to be.

Shaking away his thoughts Rowan turned to Dorian, only to find an empty chair next to him. That tricky bastard. With a shove of his seat, Rowan reached into his pocket unlocking his phone. He texted a quick help to The Cadre and a separate message to Lyria, asking them to start the manhunt.

Rowan scanned every face in the bar, unsuccessful in his search. Walking towards the lobby, Rowan almost shoved an elderly woman to the ground in his rush. As he turned to help the lady steady herself, Rowan apologized profusely for his mistake. The woman waved him away carelessly, hobbling towards a man who he assumed was her husband.

Straightening himself once again, Rowan started walking with determination only to be stopped dead in his tracks. Because only feet away from was Aelin Galathynius.

She hadn’t noticed him yet, and Rowan took the time to admire her appearance. Her hair was clasped behind her head, golden pieces falling to the sides of her face. Her outfit was business professional, but more revealing than most outfits he had seen so far with a low cut blouse and slimming black pencil skirt with matching black heels. As he made his way up her body, the sight of her ocean blue eyes took his breath away once again. Rowan didn’t think he would ever grow used to Aelin’s brilliant presence, attracting glances from men and women alike.

But as he looked closer at her, those beautiful eyes didn’t have the same fire they did a year ago. In fact, there was no emotion at all shown on her features. Nothing at all. Out of every moment of heartbreak and sorrow she had caused him, the sight of her utterly devoid of feeling was the most painful thing Rowan had ever experienced.

After eons, Aelin finally turned his way. As she made eye contact with him, Rowan finally saw something flicker in her eyes. Surprise. They continued to look at one another, stuck in a world of their own making. Rowan couldn’t find it in his heart to break their connection, damn the consequences. And as they stood frozen in a fantasy, for the first time in a year, Rowan truly smiled.

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