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oro-e-diamanti · 3 years

Text

Quiet Music: Poco a poco forte

In collaboration with @bethanysnow (whose askbox is always open!)

Jealousy was never a good look with stardust in the other’s eyes. Boundaries are tested. Fantasies are made hot and heavy with some alcohol. Will they make it back to the hotel all in one piece?

Content | Fluff

Pairing | fem!Reader x Damiano

Word Count | 5845

Taglist | @damianodavide @lizstans @unitersmoonshine @its-afucking-mess @ethaneskin @dont-let-me-drown-in-you @vampirtet @lividisuigomiti @juststalking @tabi-toast @ethan-torchio-angelo @cheese-toastie-11 @thewitchinthemountain @ethanesimp @sofckinelectric @man3skin @daddydamiano @finelinejpm @superchrystaldrug @ginny-lily @nientedaridere @rainbowmarta @tiaamberxx @shaunthesheesh @enjcltaire @rocketqueen @aleksanderwh0r3 @damianodavidhands @megann-duff @teatrodellavita @coven-daddy @till-you-scream-and-cry @solasullabarca @fanfictionandfluff @makapaka11 @slave4yourlove @geklutst-ei @marriedwithmarktuan @bookish0918 @mehrmonga @kanevill @butterfly-skinnylegend @lidiyabest @killerqueen1985 @ccweasley @bluscryn @deluxeplanteater @ohtorchio @messyhairday-me @bidet-and-legolas @maybanksslut @fuckim-so-gay @demoiselle-en-detresse00 @petit-poussin @fedorable-killjoys @luvbadass @buttercup-beeee @navs-bhat @etaerealboyv @tryymebitch @mell-bell @fenhakwe @solacestyles @softforlukescurls @vicsangel @theimpossiblehologramtree

***

Copenhagen was a whirlwind that barely left any time to breathe. Even the short break Y/n was granted in between was promptly used to make a dash for the nearest tourist shop. Adding a fridge magnet to her growing collection. No misses so far. She’d be lying if she wasn’t proud of it. Victoria gave a little tour through the city, giving ample opportunity to provide the fans with content via various social media platforms. A mad scramble back to the venue, soundcheck, dinner. A gig full of little mishaps, including Ethan losing a drumstick halfway through and Damiano almost tumbling off stage. At least the crew had gotten into a groove, ‘new tour’ jitters finally forgotten. That night, at the hotel, Y/n had found herself standing outside her door, empty ice bucket in hand. Somewhat wondering, hoping, someone would join her. Not just anyone. Him. But she wouldn’t knock on his door and he didn’t come to hers. It wasn’t to be. At least not that night.

The morning had brought the band another wake-up call from Y/n. Everyone was starting to settle into their routine. Get ready, get on the bus, get handed coffee by Y/n. She would be lying if she said she wasn’t enjoying this little comfort of domestic bliss, taking care of the people she was starting to consider friends. It felt right.

***

Damiano’s morning wasn’t quite as peaceful. His thoughts were plagued by images of Y/n. His decision to ‘cool it’ and back off a little seemed to be biting him in the arse. When she had come around to wake him up, she had been in a partially sheer blouse, black jeans and boots and he thought she looked like the perfect little alternative housewife. Luring him out of bed with the promise of coffee and breakfast. Now he was sitting on the couch on the bus, watching Y/n fly around the little kitchenette and he couldn’t keep his eyes off her bum in those jeans.

Nope, he wasn’t going to do anything about it. Not now. The conversation with Victoria two nights ago was still ringing in his head. He had decided she was right - no use in pursuing anything unless he was certain what he was feeling and what he wanted out of it. He would still have enough time to make his move once he figured it out. Right? He didn’t know what Y/n was thinking. Or what she thought of him, so no use dwelling on it. Still the thought struck him, he barely knew anything about her. He should probably talk to her more. Infallible logic, he thought to himself. Backing off and talking to her at the same time. Great.

“Y/n… how do you usually take your coffee, by the way?”

“Lots of creamer, usually. Sometimes a bit of sugar, if I’m feeling fancy. Or if I’m feeling really fancy at a café, I might get a caramel macchiato.”

“Caramel is always nice.” Of course, she would like caramel, he thought to himself. “Do you normally drink coffee or are you more or stereotypical British tea drinker?”

“I enjoy a cuppa when I’m home, definitely. Italians aren’t exactly known for their tea now, are they?” A smirk appeared on her face, maybe a little baffled by the conversation, but happy to humour him. “Lady Gray is a particular favourite. Followed by breakfast tea with some sugar and milk. Before coffee. I can make you some tea sometime if you fancy?”

“That’d be great. You know, I just had an amazing idea actually,” Damiano grinned. “When we first went to Berlin, there was this amazing tea shop - would you want to go when we have the gig there?”

“That sounds lovely,” Y/n replied. “Of course.”

Another step closer to getting to know her.

***

“Right, we’ve all got an hour until soundcheck and some press things, I’m gonna go take Chili on her walk, you lot do whatever you want until then.”

Y/n had expected a few non-committal grunts, a wave, maybe a “see you later, I’ll go have a nap”, but instead, the whole band seemed to be on their highest energy levels. All of them immediately scrambled to their feet, looking for shoes and jackets, proclaiming they wanted to see the city, maybe take some pictures for Instagram along the way. Y/n wouldn’t dare complain about the company.

It didn’t take them long to reach the harbour, walking along the river as they enjoyed the bustle of town and the view. Y/n found herself pulling out her phone, telling everyone to gather around her.

“I’m no photographer, but I do need some memories of all of this. Thomas, stop pulling that face!” Thomas quickly dropped the grimace as she took the picture, the historic old town in the background. Chili was busy running around between the five of them, loving whoever gave her the attention the most. Y/n thought Victoria was reaching for the leash, already preparing to hand it over, but instead the bassist grabbed her hand. Obviously in a giddy mood, she began swinging their intertwined hands between them as they walked. Y/n couldn’t bite back a smile. She had missed having a close friend ever since she had moved to Italy leaving her best friend behind in the UK and she felt like this blossoming friendship with Victoria could truly begin to fill the void in her heart.

The blonde girl pulled her into a deep hug as Chili decided to go bother Ethan instead.

“I want a photo with just you,” Vic explained, pulling out her own phone for a snapshot. Y/n complied with a sigh but wrapped her arms around her, ready to take the picture. Right as the click went off, Victoria pressed a kiss to her cheek, taking her by surprise. Neither of them could hold back a giggle at her face in the photo.

“I’ve got a surprise for you, by the way,” Y/n spoke up as a little break in the conversation offered itself. If only to distract from the affection and it worked perfectly. All eyes and ears on her. “I’ve booked a little dinner for tonight. But not just any dinner. A burlesque one!”

The group let out various cheers. Thomas immediately ran ahead of the group, shamelessly faking a striptease as they kept walking. Damiano made sure to record the performance, already giggling to himself. Thomas was in the middle of shrugging off his jacket, walking backwards, when - ouch! - he bumped into a pole, heavily bonking his head. Everyone erupted into hysterical laughter, and after rubbing the back of his head with a pour for a moment, even the guitarist joined in.

“You alright?” Y/n asked breathlessly, trying to hide the giggles in her voice, genuinely concerned about him still.

“Besides the fact that I just got all of you to drop your panties for me? I’m great!” The blond grinned at his own joke, as everyone else rolled their eyes.

“Yes! Oh my god, take me Thomas!” Damiano gasped dramatically, pushing himself up against Thomas, who grabbed onto his leg to dip him.

“Wait! Hold on!” Y/n shouted, once again grabbing her phone as the captured the moment. “Now that’s one for the fridge.”

***

Backstage was business as usual. Y/n once again took the time to watch the band soundcheck, always feeling soft looking at the way they played without having to be ‘on’, without putting on a big performance. Yet, she was still in work mode, phone displaying the name of a reporter she was waiting on, along with the name of the magazine she was working for. It didn’t take long for her to appear.

The woman was undeniably beautiful. Thin figure, long, red hair, picture perfect makeup. Even her clothes were pressed, luxury brands decorating her, adding to the pristine image. A press pass hung around her neck, acrylic nails tapping something into her phone. Leaning back, Y/n noticed the particular red leather on the bottom of the woman’s heels.

It was only after putting her phone away that she acknowledged Y/n at all.

“Anywhere I can sit down with the band?” Her eyes barely even met Y/n’s.

“Uh, yeah, once they’re done with soundcheck, they will be in the greenroom,” Y/n said, mustering the woman. “You the reporter?”

“Sure, sure. Can I go there now, sit down, get ready?”

Y/n studied the press pass on the woman’s neck, making sure she was actually the person they were looking for and shrugged. “Alright, follow me.”

She led the reporter further backstage. The greenroom was fitted with a couch and a couple of chairs, a vanity in front of the mirror and makeup already carelessly thrown around. A costume rack in the back.

“Make yourself at home.”

“Thanks,” the woman muttered, looking around the room, obviously dissatisfied with it’s slightly chaotic state and - probably - lack of style. “That’s all I need you for, then.”

Y/n’s eye twitched, busying herself with the clothes, reorganising them to distract herself.

“Sorry to disappoint you, but rules are rules. Can’t be in a room alone, privacy reasons and all that. I’m sure you understand.”

“Well then.” She carefully placed herself on one of the chairs, highly aware of her posture, her face, and the fact that she’d be right in view of everybody entering the room. “Maybe you can be a bit of help, then. You know, a little insider information between us girls… How into the whole, you know, rock ‘n’ roll lifestyle are they really? I’m talking, drugs, alcohol… groupies?”

It was no question as to what she was hinting at.

“Well, Damiano has a whole tattoo verifying that he hates parties. Plus, they’re not really known for that kind of stuff. And for the interview, I’d rather you stick to the approved questions that your magazine has discussed with our management. There’s no ‘insider information’ here -” Y/n was about to talk herself into a whole rant, when the door opened and the band moved into the room, joyous and hyped for the show that evening.

Victoria was the first to bounce over to Y/n, kissing her cheek, before collapsing on the couch next to her. Ethan, Thomas and Damiano followed suit. Chili had followed the band, now hopping onto the couch and making herself comfortable on Y/n’s lap. Ethan looked over at the reporter, brow raised. “You here to do the interview?”

“Oh you know it,” she winked. Y/n didn’t miss how her whole demeanour had changed and she couldn’t have been more annoyed. “Lovely to meet you all.”

She held out her hand to Ethan, the smirk never leaving her face, before greeting the others in a similar fashion. She held onto Damiano’s hand much longer than the others.

“Nice to meet you,” Damiano said, politely, sitting down as well.

“Oh, that’s no trouble at all,” she beamed at the singer. “Now, you’re here in Hamburg today, and in the part of town most notorious for having Europe’s largest red light district. Do you feel like that’s the perfect background for your gig tonight? You know, with the music you play and the way you dress - it’s not like you’ve been shy about sex in your career so far.”

They all chuckled slightly.

“Well, sexuality isn’t something to be ashamed about, at least we don’t think so. It’s part of everyday life and part of our own experiences so we put that into music,” Victoria eloquently explained. “And what we’ve seen of the city so far has been very beautiful.”

“Well, maybe I should give you a little tour then, show you the naughty parts of town,” she laughed. “Back on topic though, I imagine touring can be hard, being away from everyone. Do you ever get lonely on tour? For friends or… something else?”

Damiano coughed. “Sure, we get lonely, like anyone else would. But we make a family out of the crew. Everyone on our team is very close to us.” Y/n could clearly see in his eyes that he knew full well what the woman was hinting at. “We love touring, so when you love something, it doesn’t feel like work.”

Ethan nodded in agreement. Y/n could see through all of them easily - none of them wanted to be there.

“Yes, of course, touring can be difficult, but we have fun, so not that bad,” Thomas added.

Y/n didn’t miss the way the reporter briefly looked over her shoulder to muster a reaction from her. “Well I’m sure you’re easily able to find some fun away from your… crew. Lots of parties on tour so far?”

At that point, Y/n was ready to rip the reporter to shreds. But she knew she had to stay professional, and the band was more than able to hold their own, so she stayed quiet. Ethan next to her sat up a little, obviously uncomfortable.

“No, we don’t party. No time.” His vision went dark as he looked at the woman in front of them. As kind and mindful as he usually was, he didn’t shy down when it came to showing his scarier side when he needed to.

“Yeah. We sometimes go to a bar on a day off, but that’s about it. Work is more important,” Victoria threw in as she put an arm around Ethan on the back of the couch.

Y/n felt a wave of pride at the way the band was holding up. It was absolutely no secret to her that they were desperately waiting for this interview to end, annoyed with the reporter and the lines she kept trying to cross, but they stayed polite and professional. She thought that this was what made them real rockstars in that moment.

“Okay, one more question, then. You entered this business really young, you still are, yet you write quite mature music, how do you manage that?”

“We write what we want to write. Perform how we want to perform. I don’t think that has an age limit,” Damiano spoke curtly. His eyes flickered over to their assistant. Y/n was sure he didn’t miss the way she was staring daggers into the back of the reporter’s skull. “And music has always been a passion of ours. We just got lucky really early in life, I guess.”

“Well thank you very much for your time,” the reporter said, standing up, and once again reaching out her hand to say her goodbyes. “Hope to see you around…” As she came to Damiano, Y/n didn’t miss how she stuffed a little note in his hand. “...hopefully.”

“Can I go kick her face now?” Y/n stood up, seething, as soon as the reporter had left the room. “Sorry, no, that’s actually rude. But I’m going to call management and report that woman.”

“Yeah, that… wasn’t cool,” Ethan contemplated. “How about you make that call and then we take your mind off it with the dinner show you booked for us, yeah?”

Y/n took a deep breath, looking at Ethan, whose eyes had turned back to show nothing but kindness. She couldn’t wait to forget about this disaster for the rest of the evening and enjoy herself. With the band in tow, she was sure she would.

***

Damiano hadn’t been quite sure what to expect from dinner that evening - but it wasn’t a table smack in the middle of the first row right in front of the stage. He should have seen it coming, really. When Y/n planned and schemed, she always made sure to get them the best of the best. Determined to make sure everyone was having fun. She truly took care of them like no other.

A waiter was at their table in no time, taking orders for drinks and food, and the openers started before Damiano even had a chance to take a sip of his wine. As soon as it became obvious that the first act of the evening would be pole dancing. The rest of the band started snickering, nudging Damiano’s side. Still, they all watched in amazement as the dancer started their performance, music filling the room.

“You know, I could do that,” Damiano whispered in Y/n’s ear as he leaned in close. She looked over at him - at the performer - back to him.

“Sure you can,” she giggled.

“Oh I can,” Damiano insisted, leaning in closer than necessary now. “And in heels.”

Y/n couldn’t stop herself from coughing, choking ever so slightly on her drink, as her eyes widened and a slight shade of pink appeared on her face.

Damiano simply couldn’t help himself. He knew he had meant to back off, give her a little space, give himself some time to think, but the words simply slipped out. “I can always offer you a private show, you know?”

This time, she only paused for a moment before whispering back, “You teach me pole dancing, I’ll teach you rumba, yeah?”

Fuck, he hadn’t expected her to get the upper hand so quickly. Still, he never once lost his smirk, murmuring a “sure” back at her. She had gotten back her cool, focusing back on her meal now, only looking up to watch the performance every now and then in between bites. She was making it way too hard for him to back off. He wondered if she knew what she was doing to him.

Leaning back into his chair, Damiano watched the performer on stage. They were beautiful, no question about that. Amazing at what they did. It was impossible to keep your eyes off them, even Y/n kept getting distracted. He wondered if she’d look at him the same way if it was him up there. Or if he did a little show himself that night, on stage at their own gig. Catching her attention like the dancer was doing now. Maybe making her lose her mind a little bit. It was worth a try…

The performance was over much too quickly for his liking and only shortly after, the main dancer of the evening was announced to go on stage soon. It didn’t take long for the lights dimming, before fading to black completely. A hush falling over the crowd. A spotlight found a petite, blonde bombshell in the middle of the stage. Perfectly sculpted hair, blue boa feather skirt, a glitter corset that dripped with silver and gold accents. She seemed to be glistening under the stage light, body glitter accenting all the right curves and features. Then she turned around.

Damiano’s jaw dropped - along with just about everyone else’s. She was così bella, un angelo. She walked to the front of the stage as the crowd cheered and whistled. Damiano was enraptured by her. She was mystifyingly beautiful. Each move was carefully planned out, knowing exactly what she was doing and how to do it. She was feeding off the crowd, spurred on by the shouts and comments, as she moved across the stage.

Damiano’s eyes followed her closely. He felt hypnotised by her performance. He had never given burlesque much thought, but this show was changing his mind rapidly. The only thing to pull him out of his was a sigh - a disgruntled noise maybe - coming from his left. It was hard to make out Y/n’s face in the dark, he realised as he turned towards her. But if he’d learned anything about her body language in the past days, he was certain that she wasn’t happy. Her arms were crossed in front of her and she was leaned back in her chair in a way that tried to suggest she wasn’t bothered. But she was. He just couldn’t figure out why.

He was distracted when the dancer was back in front of their table, looking down at them from the stage. She sent all of them a wink, before pulling the elbow-length gloves off one by one and throwing them to the side with a smile. She mesmerised him, even as she moved away from them to give another table some attention. Yet, Y/n was playing at the back of his mind.

Why did she seem so mad? She was the one who had booked this dinner, why wasn’t she having fun? Was she still preoccupied with the reporter from before? Sure, that one had definitely stepped over lines, but he thought they’d all gotten out of there pretty unscathed. And the reporter's number had wandered into the bin immediately. He considered the matter closed.

The woman on stage slowly lowered herself into a split, causing pretty much the whole audience to lose their minds. This was too good. More cheers and applause from everywhere. Damiano heard Vic shouting vague words of encouragement as the woman lost her bra, only pasties covering her nipples now. Y/n let out a little groan and from the corner of his eye, he could see her rolling hers. This time, Damiano wasn’t the only one who noticed. He watched as Victoria and Ethan exchanged looks, then nods, and finally shrugs.

Finally the performance ended, the dancer leaving the stage with another wink and kiss blown towards them. Damiano wished it could’ve gone on for longer. These people knew how to turn sex into art, and he’d by lying if he said it didn’t inspire him.

“Okay, gather up, no time to waste,” Y/n order, getting up from her seat the second the lights were turned back on. “You have a show to play and I don’t want you to be late.”

Damiano threw another look around. Even Thomas, who had been too preoccupied drooling over the dancer to notice anything else, was now staring at Y/n questioningly.

“What’s going on with her?” The guitarist asked as they all gathered their stuff and followed their assistant outside.

“Fuck if I know,” Damiano mumbled. “But I wanna find out, sooner or later.”

***

It wasn’t like her to be jealous. She didn’t care much about what other people found enthralling. But Damiano had looked at the dancer as if she was god’s gift to humanity. Yes, she was pretty, yes, she knew how to shake her arse. Was it all that special? The dancer was petite, a perfect fit for Damiano’s arms. A perfect figure to match his. Y/n was confident, she knew she was beautiful, but unfortunately the rest of the world didn’t always think the same. Unlike the dancer on stage. That woman was more than beautiful… She was palatable, sexy, perfect in all the ways a woman should be. Qualities that Y/n was currently convinced she didn’t possess any of.

Okay, maybe she was jealous. But she didn’t have any right to be. The dancer was simply doing her job. And so what, if Damiano had fancied her? It wasn’t like they were together. She worked for him, that was all. She didn’t have any right to want anything from him beyond that.

The fresh air hit her face as she left the venue, forcing some clarity onto her. She’d have to get a grip and get back to focusing on her job. It’s what she was there for, after all.

***

Victoria bounced over the Y/n as she left the venue, full of adrenaline and happiness from the show she had just watched.

“That was amazing, Y/n! Where did you get the idea for this being today’s dinner?” She asked, hooking onto the assistant’s arm.

“Looked up places we could go online, found this one in a travel blog. Said it had amazing wine so I thought we could check it out,” she explained without looking up from her hands, which were toying with the receipt.

“Well, you sure do have impeccable taste,” Victoria grinned and kissed her cheek. It seemed to pull Y/n out of her head enough to look up at the bassist. But Vic’s smile vanished quickly when she saw the look in her eyes. It was cloudy, gloomy, enough to make Victoria freeze up. Thomas was excitedly chattering about the show in the performance in the background, how hot he thought the performers were, especially the last dancer. Damiano eagerly agreed. Y/n’s seemed to have a flash of venom on her face, and suddenly it clicked in Vic’s mind. Oh, she knew that look well, had carried it herself a couple of times in her life.. She was jealous. Y/n was jealous of the way they all - or maybe, someone in particular - had reacted to the woman on stage. And she was doing a bad job hiding it.

As soon as the car pulled up, everyone scrambled to get it. Y/n immediately started bouncing her leg, still a stormy look in her eyes. If it didn’t seem so serious, Victoria would be amused at the state their assistant was in. Yet, with the expression on her face right then and there, the bassist didn’t dare make a joke.

Damiano was sitting next to Y/n, and Victoria desperately tried to catch his eye. It took a slight kick against his shin to get him to look at her. She flickered eyes back and forth between Damiano and Y/n, motioning him towards the woman. Hoping he would understand. Luckily, they’d long gotten used to reading the other’s face, no need for a verbal conversation. Damiano looked down at Y/n’s hands, still picking at the receipt, and he quickly grabbed one of them. Interlacing their fingers and offering her a smile when she looked up. Her leg stopped bouncing immediately.

“You alright?” He whispered.

“Yeah. Am now.”

Victoria couldn’t bite back the smile on her face, quickly turning towards her phone to be less oblivious. Those two would do just fine, sooner or later, she was sure of it.

***

The concert venue was smaller than some of the others they’d been playing on this tour, but if anything, it had caused the crowd to be even more rowdy. Y/n once again sat to the side of the stage, engrossed in her phone. Damiano snuck a peek through the curtain, before retreating and watching Y/n instead. She didn’t seem half as gloomy as she did at the dinner show. But a certain forlorn quality was still obvious. She had never been this type of obviously sad or upset before. At least not to his attention. Well, he was determined to get her to laugh tonight. Whatever had ruined her mood, he was going to fix it.

The band was getting hyped up, gathering around, some last minute fixes to their instruments among excited chatter. Yet, apparently, it hadn’t been only him who noticed Y/n’s mood. Once again sharing a look with Ethan, Victoria motioned her head over to their assistant. He nodded, before walking over to Y/n, taking her by the hand to get her to stand up, and pressing a kiss to her cheek. Victoria quickly followed suit, then Thomas, who had caught on. Damiano quickly gave a wink before kissing her forehead instead.

“For luck!” He shouted, as he ran on stage, welcoming the crowd. A quick look back confirmed a bashful smile on her face.

Everyone was on fire that night, even Y/n seemed to let go of her bad mood more and more. Damiano didn’t miss the way she sang along to their cover of ‘Take Me Out’, obviously getting into the show more than previous nights. Knowing all the lyrics, dancing ever so slightly… Damiano realised he really had it bad for her.

He decided to go for it during “For your love”. With a pointed look towards her, he slowly started rolling off one arm of his jacket. Then the other. A little mock burlesque show of his own, dramatically shimmying his shoulders as he got rid of the jacket completely. The crowd more than appreciated his little performance, judging by their screams. The rest of the band was eating his energy up, playing harder, going crazier. As Damiano jogged over to grab some water, he didn’t miss the opportunity to turn his back towards Y/n, shaking his arse in a bad attempt at twerking. Turning back, he could see that she was desperately trying to bite back a smile. But he wasn’t done yet.

Making sure she was still looking at him, he began playing with his microphone. Giving it a teasing lick and sending her a wink at the same time. Watching her as he let his hand rest on his chest, slowly wandering lower with a teasing touch, until it rested in his lap. He only managed to keep it up for a second, before he couldn’t hold back the laugh at her expression anymore and turned back towards the audience.

But apparently, Y/n had some trick of her own. Well, it seemed like she wasn’t even aware of them, but they worked on Damiano all the same. She was taking her hair out of the pony tail for the night and he thought the way it cascaded around her face was beautiful. He felt like a movie cliche, watching as the main character let her hair down and everything suddenly happened in slow motion. Yet, here she was, trying to shove a bobby pin back into place, and he was losing his shit. He thought it was ridiculous though. The crazier her hair went, the crazier he went about her. She swayed to the music and for a second Damiano could swear time stood still.

I wonder if she likes her hair pulled… The thought distracted him to the point that he forgot what he was singing, quickly covering it up by animating the audience to sing it instead. He was glad to be nearing the end of the set. He’d never wish to go off stage, per se, but Y/n was once again occupying his thoughts and the way she was moving to the music now didn’t help.

Another song, another bow towards the audience, another well-practised “Danke!”, and they were off stage. Damiano briefly considered going over to Y/n, only to see Thomas basically chasing her away, threatening her with a sweaty hug. Her slightly panicked squeals proved she wasn’t a fan of the idea. He didn’t mind. He’d make sure there’d be more time to catch up with her later.

Briefly dropping into the dressing room, Damiano grabbed his cigarettes and a hoodie, before heading outside for a smoke. The backstage door led to a quieter alley than the famously busy Reeperbahn on the other end. But there were still more than a handful of people walking past, singing, dancing, shouting into the night, beer bottles in hand. It didn’t take long for everyone else to join him. Ethan headed outside first, bumming a cigarette off the singer, before Thomas and Victoria followed. They were once again involved in some sort of mock argument. Y/n stepped outside a minute later, phone in her hand, already back to work-mode and probably checking the plan for the next few days. Everyone was still on a high from the gig, chatting and giggling, but Damiano felt himself taking a step back. He loved watching his friends, loved what they did, loved that he got to do it with them. And now Y/n too, in a way. Not even a full week in and he knew that this tour wouldn’t have been the same without her.

He was rapidly pulled out of his thoughts as a group of men came towards them, obviously way past drunk. Yelling and hollering for no reason but to be annoying and get everyone’s attention. Damiano hated those kinds of drunks. In his experience they were nothing but trouble. He had half a mind to retreat back inside before they reached the group, but even in their inebriated stupor; they were quicker than expected.

“Now, who are these beautiful girls?” One of them slurred, stepping forward.

“Yeah! Bet you give a man a good time,” another one laughed loudly. “And a cheap one too.”

One of them was moving closer now, almost touching Victoria - but without even a moment to process what was happening, Y/n acted. Damiano watched, fascinated, as she grabbed the man’s extended hand, twisting it around his back and shoulder checking him into the brick wall of the alley. No second thought, no hesitation. Shouldn’t the men have been the one to react and take care of their girls? Well, it didn’t seem like Y/n was one to wait to be saved.

In a tone that he had never heard before - and neither had the rest of the band judging by their reactions - Y/n spoke, “You couldn’t afford me, mate. Or my friends. So I’d take your piss drunk self elsewhere, m’kay?”

The men were gone faster than lightning, stumbling to find their footing as they ran, only starting to comment on how she was a “fat fucking bitch” and how they “wouldn’t have wanted her anyway” when they were far enough away. Y/n wordlessly rejoined the group.

Damiano found himself releasing a breath. The whole scene had been over so quickly, he barely registered it. He wasn’t the only one either, he realised. As the other three kept staring at her, amazed and maybe slightly intimidated, while Y/n didn’t even react.

However, Damiano wasn’t just mesmerised by her behaviour. He was thrilled by her - in more ways than one. The way she had handled herself was downright hot. She was fierce, self-confident, and strong. He couldn’t keep himself from contemplating whether this was a side she would let out in the bedroom as well. Was she the type to take control? Order him around? Push him to a wall like she’d done that guy, only with very different intentions? He would be 100% okay with taking orders from her, he decided.

Y/n finally looked up from her phone, apparently feeling everyone’s stares on her.

“...What. I told you I worked security before.” She looked at Victoria, quietly asking her if she was alright. She simply nodded. Damiano still couldn’t keep his eyes off of their assistant. Damn, that woman had more to herself than she let on.

***

Damiano was still thinking about it an hour later. After everyone had gathered their stuff and gotten back to the hotel and split up into their rooms. After he’d gotten in the shower. His mind was still running wild. He quickly turned the water to cold, letting out a hiss at the change in temperature, but he knew he didn’t have the time or the privacy to do anything about his thoughts. Neither would he be knocking on Y/n’s door, desperate for some kind of attention.

Not tonight.

#maneskin fiction #damiano david imagine #damiano david x you #damiano david x reader #damiano david fiction #maneskin imagine #maneskin x you #maneskin x reader #quiet music #bethanysnow #mywriting

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mayihavethisdanse · 3 years

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“What is this, the Dark Ages?”

Or, Arthurian themes and allusions in the Brotherhood of Steel mythos as seen in Fallout 4. (But that’s a lot of words.)

Yep. We're doing this.

First, some obligatory caveats: there is no single Arthurian canon, just 1500 years of assorted fanfic based on the whims of whoever was writing at the time. For this extremely highbrow Tumblr meta, I have ignored most of it and drawn on my favorites. Also Wikipedia.

Also, I am not an expert in Arthurian literature (or Fallout lore, come to that), and I preemptively beg the pardon of anyone who is.

Finally, in no way am I claiming that all these parallels and thematic echoes are deliberate or even significant. In fact, I'd break it down into:

Clearly deliberate allusions, whether in or out of universe;

Probably coincidence, but could be someone deliberately capitalizing on a coincidental similarity;

Almost certainly coincidence, but fun to speculate about; annnnd

Blatant Monty Python references. (Because of course there are.)

I'll start with the big one.

Arthur Maxson, boy king and unifier

(source)

So across all the retellings and variations of King Arthur’s life story, there are a few consistent elements, particularly in his early life and rise to power. Some of these threads are echoed in the Fallout universe, specifically (and unsurprisingly) in the person of Arthur Maxson.

Both the legendary King Arthur and Arthur Maxson were born with a claim to power lying in their ancestry, both were fostered away from their families, and both proved themselves in combat at a young age.

King Arthur united the warring kingdoms of Britain into a single entity, making them stronger against outsiders and receiving general admiration and acclaim. Arthur Maxson united the divided factions of the BoS after the events of Fallout 3 and is held in similarly high regard by his men.

The name Prydwen is a reference to the ship of the original King Arthur. Presumably, Arthur Maxson (or someone in the BoS who anticipated his promotion) christened the airship in a deliberate homage to the Arthurian myth.

King Arthur is associated with his legendary sword. I think it’s notable that Maxson’s legend is associated with a bladed weapon, too. ("He killed a DEATHCLAW with a COMBAT KNIFE!”)

Probably coincidence, but fun: the historical emperor Magnus Maximus, who pops up a lot in early Arthurian legend, was known in Welsh as... Macsen. (⌐■_■)

Round Table, but make it dieselpunk

(Continued under the cut.)

Moving away from obvious allusions and into some looser parallels:

Like the Round Table, the Brotherhood is an exclusive knightly order with its leader being the one able to open it up to his chosen few.

Like the Round Table, the BoS sees itself as defending human civilization against forces of chaos. (I’ll touch on their tech-hoarding tendencies when I get to the Grail stuff.) This idea of civilization in the face of chaos goes back to the BoS’s founding, even though the level of isolationism we see in most of the Fallout franchise is not exactly what founder Roger Maxson had in mind: “Notably, Maxson's ultimate intention was to establish the Brotherhood as an organization that works closely with people outside of the Brotherhood, as guardians of civilizations, not its gatekeepers.” (source) In a lot of ways, Arthur Maxson represents a return to his ancestor’s original ideals.

Renegade knights? Internal politics? Traitors within? We gotchu.

In both the medieval legends and in all chapters of the BoS we’ve seen, there’s a big focus on bloodlines (ew). Ironically, it’s probably Arthur Maxson’s unquestionable ancestry that allows him to be more progressive than either of his East Coast predecessors when it comes to boosting Brotherhood numbers by recruitment (even though you can still see a clear division between “born Brotherhood” and recruited soldiers, but that’s a topic for another day). Maxson sees himself as an Elder who "cares for the people"—however misguided and patronizing that attitude might be—and whatever else you might say about the guy, you can't say he doesn't believe he has a duty. Which brings us to…

Know Your Enemy: Danse as Gawain

Before I start this section, an acknowledgement of authorial bias:

Gawain, as portrayed in the Middle English poem Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, is my very favorite of King Arthur’s knights. (Other stories aren't always as flattering, but like I said at the outset: I'm sticking to the ones I like.)

That poem is my very favorite piece of medieval Arthurian literature. In this section, I'll refer to the modern English translation by Simon Armitage.

...that’s it, I have no other biases to disclose.

What? 👀

(Art: Clive Hicks-Jenkins)

All right. So in Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, you’ve got this himbo loyal knight of Arthur’s who finds himself caught up in... you know what, let me just paste in the Wikipedia summary. (The Toast, RIP, also did a pretty entertaining and more-or-less accurate recap.)

It describes how Sir Gawain, a knight of King Arthur's Round Table, accepts a challenge from a mysterious "Green Knight" who dares any knight to strike him with his axe if he will take a return blow in a year and a day. Gawain accepts and beheads him with his blow, at which the Green Knight stands up, picks up his head and reminds Gawain of the appointed time. In his struggles to keep his bargain, Gawain demonstrates chivalry and loyalty until his honour is called into question by a test involving the lord and the lady of the castle where he is a guest.

Don’t worry too much about the plot details, though; for this post, I’m more interested in the thematic parallels. The Green Knight story is full of contrasts: order vs. chaos, civilization vs. wilderness, mortal man vs. Other... but let’s start with Gawain himself.

Some stuff to know about Gawain:

He was "as good as the purest gold, devoid of vices but virtuous and loyal". Gawain took his principles more seriously even than the rest of Arthur’s knights, not out of pride but out of humility: "I would rather drop dead than default from duty," he says.

He’s faithful and honorable and never even tempted to betray an oath, even when offered every variety of seduction and riches, except for a single moment of weakness in a desperate desire not to be executed for random shit by powerful forces for reasons he doesn't understand.

Even though he doesn’t really understand why he needs to die, he sticks to his oath. Gawain's one weakness is a moment of desperate, private, human desire for survival. He'll submit to the headsman’s axe if he has to, but he'd still rather live.

Above all, Gawain is the ideal of a human man: he might be the bravest and loyal man there is, but he’s still fundamentally human.

You can probably see where I'm going with this.

A few more fun facts about Gawain that resonate with Paladin Danse’s story:

He’s got a bunch of really shitty brothers. (No comment.)

Gawain (SPOILERS!) doesn't actually end up beheaded, but he does willingly kneel for his execution and gets a cut on the throat as a reminder of his sin. And, uh, Danse can also get his throat cut! It doesn’t end as nicely but it’s, you know, a thing that can happen.

Gawain might be a really good guy, and he tries really hard to be one, but in the end he’s nothing more than that: there’s nothing supernatural about him, he has no special powers beyond his own principles and devotion. He’s just a dude doing his Best.

Wait, why not Danselot?

Oh, that guy? Here’s the thing.

Lancelot personifies the continental ideals of courtly love that became popular in the High Middle Ages. Central to his story is the prioritization of personal relationships and romantic feelings in a way that you don’t really see in Gawain's, at least in the Green Knight tale. (Later stories hook Gawain up with an extremely delightful lady, but even that is a different flavor of romance than Lancelot's and has more to do with Gawain honoring his word and his egalitarian treatment of women (hell yeah). In the poem, Gawain is impressed by Bertilak's wife but resists her temptation; in fact, the biggest risk is not that he'll yield to her advances but that he'll be discourteous to her, i.e., violate his principles and cause dishonor to his king and his host.)

Lancelot is driven by passions over principles in a way that Gawain never really is (at least in the stories I’m talking about; later writers have committed character assassination to various degrees). Yes, you could argue that both Gawain and Lancelot betray their oaths, but Lancelot’s betrayal is never, um, blind. He knows what he’s doing and makes a deliberate choice to prioritize his love for the queen over his love for the king. It doesn’t make him a bad guy—he too is an ideal knight with one fatal flaw—but his character isn’t as comparable to Paladin Danse.

Yeah, Gawain is (in most stories) a prince and a kinsman of Arthur’s, but he’s ultimately a native boy who doesn’t break the mold of a Knight of the Round Table. Likewise, Danse is portrayed as competent and valuable to the BoS, but not exceptional or breaking the mold of what a BoS soldier should be: he simply represents the ideal. Meanwhile, Lancelot is a foreign prince who was marked from childhood as special and fancy, and his storyline goes alllll over the place. (Much like this post.)

For example, Lancelot goes to absolutely absurd extremes to prove his devotion for no other reason than to prove it. (“I’ll do any useless humiliating thing you want. I’ll betray every oath except the one I made to you. That’s what love is!”) Gawain would never. Danse would never.

Ultimately, Gawain's tests are of his character and not of his love. And like Gawain, Danse’s devotion is to service and his principles, not to another person—even Arthur Maxson.

All that said, there are some similarities: both are beloved by Arthur, both are held up as the ideal of what a knight should be. And even if their fatal flaws are different, both make the point that no matter how good and brave and loyal they might be, no human being can be perfect.

(Except Galahad. Who is, as a result, very boring.)

I’ll conclude this section with a quote from someone else’s take on the Greek Knight poem:

I like Gawain. He’s not perfect, but he’s trying his best which is all any of us can do. He’s not like the other knights in the Arthurian legends who occasionally ‘accidentally’ kill women on their little adventures and then feel hard done by when they have to deal with the consequences of that. Gawain holds himself to a high standard – higher, it seems, than Arthur and his knights hold him to considering how hard they laugh when Gawain tells them how bad he feels about the whole thing.

I think Gawain is very relatable in this story. We all want to be better than we actually are.

And that, more than anything else, is Danse.

The Grail myth

What’s that? Lost relics of power? Better send some large armed men after ‘em!

The parallels to the BoS’s tech-hoarding ways are obvious enough that the games themselves lampshade them (albeit by way of Monty Python). But it also ties into the larger themes of “purity” versus “corruption” and the BoS’s self-image as a bastion between civilization and chaos. (See Maxson's line in response to the Sole Survivor’s quip about the Dark Ages: “Judging from the state of the world, it wouldn't be a stretch to say we're living in that era again.”)

But the ultimate futility of the Grail mission is also worthy of note. The BoS might want the power of prewar tech on their side, but they’re no more to be trusted with it than any other group of human beings. No matter how they try, the “corruption” of humanity can’t be overcome as long as they’re striving to harness power for their own ends. You can only achieve power by surrendering control of it.

The death of Arthur

The nature of gameplay being what it is, it's not guaranteed that the Arthur figure will be fatally betrayed, bringing Camelot down with him—but it's not unlikely, either.

Awkward.

Some final spitballing:

Outside the Brotherhood, there are some fun parallels of the Arthur myth with the rest of Fallout 4. Betrayal by one’s own son, for example.

The key difference between the BoS and the legendary Round Table: King Arthur’s knights, for all their flaws and human weaknesses, are usually presented as unambiguous Good Guys. The BoS is... a little more ambiguous...

...but damn if they don’t think they're the good guys.

A-ad victoriam, fellas!

#fallout #fallout 4 #brotherhood of steel #arthur maxson #paladin danse #sir gawain and the green knight #sir gawain #gawain #knights of the round table #king arthur #elder maxson #fallout 3 #fallout lore #maxson #roger maxson #look mom I did a meta

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cafedanslanuit · 4 years

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@rfadaydreaming said: ALLIE domestic hawks x reader hcs ple a se <3 love u 🥺🥰

a/n: i missed writing about my birdman so much!! i had a lot of fun writing these mwah thank u cae

Takami Keigo / Hawks Domestic Headcanons

- When he moves into your apartment, it's not something that happens in a day. It starts little by little. The free t-shirt that came with your pizza order that he now uses as sleepwear, his favourite brand of tea in your kitchen, the extra toothbrush you gave him one night he had a meeting early morning. It’s like he starts building his nest, piece by piece, and one day you realize he has his own drawer.

- He is usually up really early, no matter what time he went to bed. His bird antics plus his training played a part in this, so most mornings he just likes to look at you sleep, a soft smile on his lips to show how grateful he is to be able to wake up next to you.

- Keigo tries to cook, but he isn’t the best at it. His macaroni and cheese are pretty good though. He’s the most happy whenever, for some reason, you get home later than him and he gets to cook something for you.

- Once, he tried to take you out to dinner, but as soon as you had asked for appetizers, a lot of news reporters and fans crashed your date, wanting to get a word out of Hawks and his new ‘fling’. Since he couldn’t really hide his wings, all your dates have been indoors. You usually order take out, put a blanket on the floor and sit there, often accompanied by some candles and music.

- However, every once in a while, he will ask you to dress up and you two have dinner at the balcony. He says just because he can’t take you out without other people bothering you shouldn’t stop you from having special date nights every once in a while. He’ll even order from a fancy restaurant. He makes sure to bring you flowers and also dress up, making sure he uses your favourite shirt he owns.

- I’ve said this before and I’ll say it again: Hawks has a playlist that reminds him of you. Actually, it’s two playlists. One is filled with any songs that remind him of you (and yes, some of them are meme songs) and the other is specifically for your dates. Whether you’re eating on the floor or having a balcony date, he will always put that playlist on for you to slow dance with him (you can listen to the playlist here).

- Keigo didn’t get to decorate his own apartment, as it was bought by the Commission. So, once while you are browsing for new curtains, you tell him you want him to pick which ones to buy. He gets really nervous about you putting that much trust into him, knowing you will have to look at those curtains every day. He takes his time choosing, and when the curtains arrive, he insists to help you install them. Sometimes you can still catch him staring at the curtains with a small smile on his lips.

- While he wants his relationship to stay away from the public eye to avoid the Commission trying to interfere, he does post a lot about you in his Instagram private stories. Most of them are candid pictures of you drinking coffee, reading the news on your tablet or cooking with some heart doodles on the side.

- When he comes home after a long day of hero work, he loves to find you laying on your back. That way, he can crawl up and lay between your legs, his head on your chest. There’s something really reassuring for him to fall asleep listening to your heartbeat.

- During quarantine, you felt really upset about not being able to go out, and he noticed you becoming restless and pacing around the living room more than usual. One night, he took you flying with him and instructed you to close your eyes until he told you to. After some minutes, he landed on one of your favourite parks in town. Since it was really late, no one was around, so it was okay to be without a mask. He took your hand and walked alongside with you, his chest filling with warmth at the sight of your usual smile once again back in your lips.

- He remembers special dates, such as your birthday and your anniversary. Since he always gets up earlier than you, he will bring you breakfast to bed. He’s not the best at cooking, but his special breakfasts always include your coffee just the way you like it, your favourite juice box, slightly burnt toasts (he doesn’t fully believe when you swear you like them like that) and scrambled eggs. After breakfast, he will pull you back into bed and hold you against his chest, whispering reminders about how grateful he is that you came into his life and how much he loves you.

- Having said all this, Keigo also has some bad days. You still don’t know exactly what triggers them, but you can notice him forcing a smile whenever you talk to him. On those days, you take the lead and cook his favourite dinner. You make sure to hold him the rest of the night while running your fingers across his scalp. Most of the time, you stay silent as you do so and press kissed to his forehead and temple every once in a while. You know there is a reason behind him not talking about his family or the nightmares that wake him up in the middle of the night covered in sweat. But for now, you don’t ask any questions, but rather make him feel you’re a secure port for him to land.

- Even if he wakes up first, when you know he has to get to the agency early, you wake up early as well and prepare coffee for him. You bought him a tumbler from Starbucks and he was so happy and giddy about it. He even posts a lot of photos of it on his main Instagram page. There’s something really special for him aout you waking up early even when you don’t really have to and make sure he goes patrolling with freshly brewed coffee. That plus a goodbye kiss from you is all he needs to start his morning on a good note.

- When it’s your turn to come back from work tired, he will help you sit down on the couch and rub your shoulders for as long as you need to. To help you relax, he really likes combing out your hair. He seems to have a lot of fun putting some products on your hair and brushing it out, massaging your scalp every now and then. He can stay hours doing that, a loving stare while he takes care of someone he loves.

#hawks x reader #bnha x reader #takami keigo #hawks #bnha hawks #takami keigo x reader #keigo takami #keigo takami x reader #mha x reader #hawks headcanons #bnha headers #takami keigo headcanons

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shyficwriter · 3 years

Text

Temporary Home: Chapter 8

Guardians of the Galaxy fanfic | Reader x Guardians (With Yondu and Kraglin!)

Summary: Prank war engaged, who will win? Also, Yondu helps you with a little problem, Peter wants to watch another movie, and Rocket finally gets a surprise. Lots of fluff.

Previous Chapter here | Next Chapter Here Or click here to: Start From Beginning

Author’s Note: Slight sadness because I wrote out the whole Rocket seeing a real raccoon scene, then realized it didn't fit with the direction of this chapter, and now I have to save it for a future one. Poo. Also, for my records, this is day 10 of the Guardians living with reader. Also, Also: I love all the little replies you guys leave for me on this fic! This is a sideblog, so I can't reply to them in the notes, but I just want to let you guys know I love and appreciate them so much!!!!

Word Count: 5,561

You woke up a little nervous, Yondu's warning having gotten to you a bit. You couldn't remember the last time you pulled a prank, and now he's told you that you might have accidentally started a war with Kraglin and Peter? Just what you needed. Great.

The first thing you did, aside from seeing that Mantis was still asleep, was check yourself and your bed over to make sure they hadn't left any surprise pranks for you in your sleep. You even checked your reflection in your phone just in case one of them could have managed to draw on your face while you were sleeping, even though you knew that would be ridiculous... or was it?

Okay, so maybe you were more than a little nervous.

It didn't take long for you to scold yourself. Why should you be nervous? This was your home, you had the advantage. You weren't going to hide like some scared child from some pranks. As you got dressed you told yourself that you'd prepare yourself for anything they had coming your way. Shut it down. Nip it in the bud. Besides, what if Yondu was wrong? Maybe they wouldn't even to anything at all.

You'd barely finished that thought when Peter jump-scared you the second you opened your bedroom door, causing you to reflexively punch him in the face.

"Ow! Dude!" he complained, hands up to his nose and checking it for blood. Luckily there wasn't any.

You cover your mouth, both in horror and trying to mask your humor at the belated karmic justice for the door incident. "I- I really want to say sorry... but I suppose you had that coming..." you say, swallowing your laughter and making your way around him to escape into the bathroom.

Well, that confirmed Yondu was right... You should probably start thinking of some ways to either prank back or defend yourself. If they wanted a war, you'd be ready.

***

You fancied toast again for breakfast and that's when Kraglin struck, using your previous night's admission against you. He spidered his fingers over your sides while your back was turned. You didn't even know he had been in the kitchen, but you sure as hell felt the tickly sparks of electricity that jolted through your body and made you drop the knife as you spasmed under his attack with an embarrassing squeal.

He stopped almost as quickly as he started, doubled over and slapping his knee in laughter. "Oh! That's just too good!" he teased.

You look at him with narrowed eyes, noticing Peter standing not too far off, looking pleased. "So that's how it's going to be, huh?" you say, more of a statement that a question.

The guys only ginned in response and you turned back to your toast.

"I see," you say cooly.

War it was.

***

After you ate you thought you'd make a trip to the attic. You knew you might have an asset or two up there that would prove useful. One such being, a big old rubber spider, another being a whoopie cushion.

You pocketed the whoopie cushion for now, but, seeing as you were the only one upstairs at the moment, you took your opportunity to slip into the room Peter and Gamora shared and leave the spider under Peter's blanket. You hadn't been in that room since it became Peter and Gamora's, but you were able to suss out which bed was his easy enough. You had a feeling it was the one that was only half-assed made-up. Also, his jacket was laying on top of it.

You made your way out as quietly as you had entered and made your way downstairs, but not before grabbing a bath towel from the bathroom closet.

Once downstairs, you searched for Gamora, finding her washing up a dish she used for breakfast.

"Hey," you say, "Can I ask you a favor."

Gamora dried the dish, saying, "As a general rule I don't get involved in any mischief Peter gets up to." She knew Peter was wont to get into prank wars and after last night it honestly didn't surprise her that he might have chosen to start one against you out of boredom. Naturally, she just assumed you were coming to her to make him back off.

"Oh, no. It's nothing like that," you clarify, then quieter, "I was hoping I could ask if you would be willing to keep Rocket busy and downstairs for a bit?"

Gamora looked at you with a raised eyebrow. How unexpected. Why would you need that?

You realized this would go better if you told her the reason. "Here, I'll show you something," you say, inviting her to follow you out to the shed.

Once inside you revealed to her what you had been working on, but she only looked at you in confusion, probably because the bed frame hadn't been assembled yet. You had planned to wrap the pieces in the towel for transport and assemble the frame in the room, and you told Gamora as such.

"I made Rocket a bed frame. You know, since he keeps complaining about the crib," you say, not wanting to sound too much like you cared.

Gamora now added surprise to the confusion on her face, "But why do you need me to keep him busy?" If this was a peace offering, like she assumed it was, then why would you not just tell Rocket about it? She knew that he would surely be grateful to get out of that crib he was always complaining about.

"So I can get these pieces upstairs and put the frame together in his room," you say, stacking the pieces onto the towel.

Understanding came over Gamora's face. "Oh. You want to surprise him." She sounded a bit surprised, which was understandable considering how you and Rocket clearly didn't get along.

You paused, giving her an apprehensive look. "Not exactly."

She tilted her head slightly, an eyebrow raised.

"I'm just going to put it together... and uh... leave it."

Gamora stared you down for a bit before a slight smirk formed on her lips. "You do realize he'll likely ask where it came from, right?"

You make a face and return to rolling the bed pieces in the towel. "Not my problem. So will you keep him busy?" You finish and turn to look at her. "Please? It shouldn't take long, I just need maybe ten minutes, fifteen tops."

Gamora smiled and shook her head, beginning to wonder if Peter might actually be right that you were a bit shy. "Sure, I'll see what I can do," Gamora said with a smile.

Together you walk back towards the house, and you reach the door just in time to see it open as Rocket and Kraglin walked outside.

You freeze for just a second. This wasn't part of the plan, but maybe you could work with it. Outside was even better than just downstairs, right?

"What you got there?" Rocket asked suspiciously.

Kraglin also looked suspiciously at the bundle in your arms, although for a different reason, wondering if it could possibly be something used for a revenge prank.

You kept your face calm and collected, and simply said, "Nothing." with a shrug as you went to walk through the door, exchanging a brief look with Gamora, signaling that she should make sure he stayed outside until you could finish. She seemed to understand.

Rocket and Kraglin also shared a look, and next thing you knew Kraglin was following after and offering to help you carry the bundle and Gamora was making up something she wanted to discuss with Rocket to keep him outside.

"I don't need any help," you say nonchalantly as Kraglin shut the door behind the two of you.

"I bet. Wouldn't want me ruining any revenge pranks... would ya?" he smirked.

You look at him unamused. "This isn't anything like that. Go mind your own business." You start to turn to leave the kitchen and Kraglin takes the opportunity with your arms being occupied to wiggle a finger in your ribs.

You jerk, nearly drop your bundle, and glare at him, hissing, "Don't you dare!"

Kraglin chuckled and folded his arms. "Then why don't you show me what ya got wrapped up in that-there bundle?"

You roll your eyes. "You're such a child." you scold, before nodding toward the door and telling him to follow you if he wants to know so bad. You could have opened the bundle on the table, but you needed to be quick. You couldn't dilly-dally with showing him there and now.

You led your unwanted sidekick up the stairs and to the room Rocket slept in and knelt to lay the bundle on the floor to unwrap it. You turn back to him and say, "It's a bed frame- and we didn't have this conversation."

"Ya made the rat a bed?" Kraglin said, with just as much surprise as Gamora had when she was told. He ignored the oddity of you instructing him to forget the conversation, for now. "Thought ya two hated each other?"

You break his gaze. "I got bored. Don't read too much into it," you say, starting to fit the frame pieces to the headboard. "I just have to put the pieces together real quick, and now that you seen what it is, you can leave me alone to get it done, 'kay? Good." You were grateful you had done a test fit and all the screw-holes were now pre-drilled as you quickly spun them into place with the screwdriver you pulled from your pocket.

Kraglin didn't leave. He just stared at you putting the pieces together for a bit. Those bed pieces didn't look like they were thrown together last minute in a fit of boredom- it all actually looked decently made. He had a feeling that this must have been what you'd been running off to do in that shed over the past few days. "Ya know, I'm startin' to think ya don't actually dislike us as much as you let on."

You paused to give him a look briefly before turning back to work. "That would be reading too much into it," you say, attaching the frame to the footboard.

A chuckle could be heard in Kraglin's voice as he said, "Whatever ya say, ma'am."

You ignore him, turning the last twist on the final screw and placing the bed slats to hold the mattress. You stood with the intent to transfer the crib mattress over when you paused to look around. There was the double bed, where you assumed Drax slept, and the crib, where you knew Rocket slept. Where did Groot sleep if there was only two beds?

You turn to Kraglin, who for some reason still hadn't left you be yet, and asked him. "There was only two beds in here, where does the little one sleep?"

Kraglin shrugged. "I dunno. I think he just curls up with one of the others 'cause he's so little.

You nod thoughtfully. Your intent had been to transfer the mattress and put the crib back away in the attic to get it out of the way, but now you reconsidered. Might as well give the kid the option to his own bed... but that would require another mattress...

"I'll be back." You tell Kraglin, briskly walking past him towards your own room. If you remembered correctly, there was a spare in the attic. An old one that never got thrown out due to mostly laziness and forgetfulness. You retrieved it, knowing exactly which corner you'd find it in, and while you were there, decided to grab a small folded blanket and a sheet for good measure.

You rolled all this tightly together for the trip down the stairs and returned to a confused Kraglin. You threw everything on the frame, the mattress expanding back to life once you released it. You quickly fitted the sheet and shook the blanket open, floating it over the bed. You then retrieved the towel and your screwdriver from the floor, looked to Kraglin and said. "Done." and began to walk towards the door, shooing Kraglin on your way out. You hadn't thought to look for another pillow while you were in the attic, but the raccoon could survive without one for now. After all, there hadn't been one in the crib so he wouldn't be missing much. Not that you super cared or anything.

Kraglin kept looking at you strangely. "So, ya gonna go tell him now?" he asked, walking backwards for a bit while you made your way towards the end of the hall.

"Nope," you say, ditching the towel in the bathroom and then heading for the stairs. You were going to go find Gamora so she'd know she no longer needed to keep Rocket distracted.

"Is it a surprise?" he asked.

"Nope."

Kraglin followed you down the stairs. "Then why aren't ya-"

You stop on the stairs and look at him sharply. "You ask too many questions. Don't make it a bigger deal than it is, 'kay?"

Kraglin frowned, but stopped bothering you as you made your way downstairs. You ditched him in the hall and made your way to the back door. You open it just long enough to catch Gamora's eye and signal to her that her services were no longer needed. You close the door back up and turn around, jumping out of your skin to find that you had indeed, not ditched Kraglin in the hall.

"The hell, man!"

Kraglin laughed, apparently delighted with startling you, and excused himself around you to head outside.

You frown at his retreating form and decided it'd be better to not hover around the door yourself, thinking you might give the house a good dusting to occupy yourself.

***

After cleaning the house and a quick lunch you decided your garden could use a good tending, so you grabbed your earbuds and made your way to the back door.

You weren't exactly sure what made you look up, probably Yondu's warning about that the guys might boobytrap your doorways with water buckets, but when you looked up you spotted the biggest spider resting right above the doorframe and you froze.

You weren't scared or anything... spiders, at least giant ass ones like the one above the door, just tended to freak you out a little... Ok, maybe more than a little. The irony wasn't lost on you either that you had just hidden a rubber spider in Peter's bed that morning.

Yondu, who you hadn't spotted at the table when you walked in as you were preoccupied with finding a song title, saw you freeze and tilted his head. He then saw you take a hesitant step back from the door and decided to ask, "Whatcha doing?"

You startled at the unexpected voice and turned to him. Slightly blushing you said, "Um, nothing. Just-uh, thought I'd go tend the garden." You considered going to use the front door instead but worried it might look a bit odd.

Yondu took a sip from his water and set his glass down. "Ya know, pretty sure you'll get outside quicker if ya walk towards the door. Not sure how far you'll get backin' away from it."

You blushed a bit harder. "Yeah- uh right." Your eyes flitted back to the spider and you visibly jumped a step back as it scurried quickly about 20cm up the wall.

"What was that?" Yondu asked, "What ya look so nervous for?" He started to stand from the table. Was there something outside? Was there someone outside? If so, why not say it?

You could feel the blush creep down your neck and you let out a nervous chuckle. "Um- it's nothing. Really." You couldn't help but glance back at the spider, and regretted it.

Yondu followed your gaze as he walked over and chuckled, relieved it was only a creepy crawly and not that they had all been discovered. He wasn't in the mood to fight a bunch of assholes today. He was, however, always in the mood to tease. "Ya scared of that little thing?"

"No! I- uh.. just wasn't expecting... it."

Putting his hands on his hips, Yondu grinned and shook his head. "My mistake then. Wouldn't wanna keep you from your garden." He clapped you on the back and looked at you expectantly, a hint of humor in his eyes as he nodded towards the door.

"Yeah..." you say, however you hesitated, looking up at the spider.

After a moment Yondu speaks up, laughter in his voice. "Can't do it, can ya?"

You give him a sharp look. "I can!"

"Alright then. Enjoy the fresh air. It's behind that door in case ya forgot." The mirth in his eyes told you he was enjoying this.

You look back up to the spider. You could do this. You start to take a step closer to the door when suddenly Yondu cries out, "Watch out! I think it jumped!" while mimicking a running spider with his hand over the top of your head, making you jump right out of your skin and smack at his hand (which you totally knew wasn't the spider...) with a shrill squeak.

Yondu starts laughing at your reaction and you cover your face in embarrassment. When his laughter dies down you give him a mournful look.

"Jackass." you mutter, arms crossed over your chest and face red from embarrassment.

Yondu rolls his eyes, mirth still present on his face, and he whistles.

It happened so quick you weren't sure you had really seen it.

A whistle. A flash of red. The sound of something cracking into the plaster. Another whistle. He caught an object in his hand; the arrow you'd see strapped to his leg all the time for no discernible reason. He wiped the tip against the rubbish bin before placing it back in its holster.

You blinked. "What the hell was that?" Did he just- move that arrow... with his mind?? Or was it with that metal mohawk thing? It had streaks of red light glowing through it for a moment there.

Yondu just grinned. "Took care of yer little problem so ya could stop yer scared fidgeting and get out the door," he said with a laugh, not really answering your question.

You blushed again but before you could protest he looked to where the spider had been and winced. "Hmm. Might have overestimated the toughness of yer wall there though..."

You follow his gaze to see that his arrow had left a small crack and a chip in the old plaster where he had killed the spider. You turn back to him. "I think that could be forgiven, if you can agree there's no reason to mention it again..."

Mirth crinkled his eyes as he got the hint. You didn't want to advertise that you were scared of the 'creepy crawly.' Was almost cute if he was honest. Reminded him of Peter when the boy was younger. "I'll take that as a 'thank you,'" he said with a cheeky wink as he walked out of the kitchen and left you to your business.

You mumbled out a, "Hmm... yeah," and rubbed the back of your head as you made your way out the door.

***

Later that day Peter came to you and asked if you wanted to join the others to watch another movie. He had found another movie from when he was a kid, The Princess Bride, and he was excited to watch it.

You curbed your suspicion that he might be setting up for a prank and agreed to watch the movie, having nothing else to do.

You walked into the sitting room while Peter walked off to find the others and found Mantis already in there waiting, sitting on the floor in front of the sofa with Groot. Gamora and Yondu were also waiting, but they hadn't sat down yet, instead they were standing by the TV looking at the DVD case and discussing how they hadn't expected Peter to be into this type of movie, clearly assuming it was a fairytale love story rather than the comedy that it also was. Looking about and seeing that Kraglin and Peter didn't seem to be coming back yet, you thought this might be a decent time to break out that whoopee cushion.

You pull it out of your pocket and with a quick breath blew it up, garnering the attention of Gamora and Yondu, who gave you funny looks. You quickly stuff the whoopee cushion under the sofa cushion furthest left and take a seat next to Mantis on the floor, furthest to the right. You look up to them nonchalantly, your expression saying, 'What? I didn't see anything. Didn't do anything either.'

A faint smirk played over Yondu's lips but neither of them said anything. Gamora, because she wasn't going to involve herself, and Yondu, because he ain't a narc. Mantis and Groot, however, gave you confused looks, but you just put your fingers to you lips in a 'shush' gesture and Mantis's eyes lit up, correctly assuming you were playing a practical joke, and she loved practical jokes.

Soon after the rest filed in. You were asked by Peter why you were on the floor when there was room on the couch, and you flippantly answered, "Didn't feel like being pestered like last time," giving him a pointed look.

He almost looked guilty but then just waved you off and sat next to Gamora. More room on the couch then. No skin off his nose.

Like last time, Yondu and Drax took the armchairs, and Rocket settled in on the other side of Mantis. Kraglin was the last to sit and you bit your tongue to keep a straight face and look uninterested as you side-eyed to watch him sit.

It went off just as you expected. A loud fart noise as he sat on the far end of the couch, earning loud laughter from Drax, Rocket, and Peter. Mantis and Groot giggled adorably while Yondu snickered and Gamora only reacted in mild surprise, likely having not realized what the object you placed below the cushion would do.

Kraglin tried to deny it, but Peter only laughed harder and said, "Yeah right! The hole you just ripped in the couch says otherwise!"

Drax then spoke through his laughter that you weren't going to be happy that Kraglin damaged the couch, only for Peter to tell him that it was just an expression.

You start to shake your head at Kraglin, give him an unimpressed look to sell your innocence, when you were startled by the blue tint to his face.

"Uh..." you say, moving to a kneeling position, "Are you alright?"

"Hah. Very funny." Kraglin said, looking annoyed and standing and pulling the whoopee cushion from beneath the sofa cushion. "Ya really think I don't know what these are? Pete had like a million of these."

"No, really. You're starting to turn blue, are you having any trouble breathing or anything?" you ask. He was acting fine, but you knew turning blue couldn't be good.

Peter, seeing you were genuinely concerned, decided to fill you in. "Oh, don't worry about him. He's just embarrassed he still fell for that." He laughed and punched a grumpy looking Kraglin in the arm.

You raised an eyebrow.

Peter clarified, "His blood is blue, not red like ours. He's fine."

"Alright then..." you say, hesitantly sitting back down. You hear Kraglin state he's keeping the whoopee cushion and you roll your eyes at him as Peter finally started the movie.

You hadn't seen this one in a long time, and you honestly barely remembered anything aside from a few funny quotes and the fact that you knew you had enjoyed it. The last thing you expected was for the movie to make you feel things.

You were doing pretty good until the man in black and Princess Buttercup began to talk about her lost love, and you kept it together until the line, "Death cannot stop true love, it can only delay it awhile."

Then you got up to leave the room.

"Want us to pause it for you?" asked Peter.

"Nope," came your answer.

No one thought anything of it, until they heard you go upstairs and you didn't return.

After about 15 minutes Yondu got the sense you weren't coming back, and he briefly wondered why before his sleepy eyes closed, falling asleep during this movie as well.

He had been waiting up the past few nights to try and catch you sneaking out at night, but each night he never heard or saw you leave, because you didn't. Needless to say this made him a little sleepy, but at least with no crew to manage or ship to run he was free to take naps, even if Peter did tease him that he was getting old for falling asleep through the movie.

Rocket, however, was cursing himself. And you. He had just been about to slip out when you beat him to it. He wasn't enjoying the movie that much, and he had realized that this might be the first chance in three days to sneak up to the attic when everyone was occupied, and you just had to go and ruin it by flaking out on the movie partway through. Rude.

They finished the movie without you and you mostly stayed in your room the rest of the night aside for a bit when you came down to grab something quick for a late supper.

You were in the kitchen having just finished the sandwich you had made when Peter came in for a snack.

"Hey," he greeted.

"Hey," you say back, pulling down a small glass for some juice.

"Saw you didn't come back to the movie earlier."

"Yeah?" You didn't meet his gaze as he opened a packet of that space food and sat down. "Seen it."

Peter nearly chuckled, "Well, yeah. I'd think so, it was yours."

You shrug. "Just didn't feel like finishing it."

"Hmmm..." came Peter's response. His tone annoyed you, like he was about to suggest there was an ulterior reason for you skipping out on the movie without a word. Just because he would have been right didn't mean you liked it.

You walk to the fridge to pour some juice and have the thought that you might spruce it up with a splash of vodka, which you kept in the freezer. You pull the bottle and gesture it to Peter, asking if he'd like some. He shook his head and you just poured some into your own glass and went to return the bottle to the freezer. When you did you spotted a small forgotten bag of ice you must have purchased awhile back. It was open, and you got an idea. Sneaking one of the chunks you hid it in your hand and closed the freezer.

You leaned against the counter and sipped your, now alcoholic, juice.

"Nice one with the whoopee cushion today. Good to see you have a sense of humor." Peter smiled.

You shrug. You kept the hand with the ice folded across your body and tucked under the elbow of the arm holding your juice, trying to keep it natural looking.

"If you want, maybe you and I could call a truce, and combine our efforts against Kraglin."

You smirk behind your glass. Either this was a trap, or he wasn't very loyal to his friend. You placed your bets on the former. "I think you're just afraid I might accidentally punch you in the face again if you keep it up."

Peter rubbed the back of his head and laughed, "Well, there may be that... but I do think if we combined our efforts..."

He didn't get to finish that sentence. You had downed the last bit of your juice and started to walk his way while he talked. As you passed behind him you quickly dropped the chunk of ice down the back of his shirt and then even more quickly scurried away as he seized up and gasped from the cold.

You snickered as you heard him squeak, "Ah! Cold! Cold!" on your way out and only spared a glance back at the door to see him abandon contorting his arms behind him to try and grab the offending ice in favor of resorting to hopping out of the chair and doing a funny little dance to shake the ice out.

Once he was free of the ice he caught your gaze and an evil grin passed over his lips as he bend down to grab the ice from the floor.

Your eyes widened and you fled up the stairs, hearing him call out, "Get back here!"

You made it to your room just in time to shut the door and flick the lock before he could have his revenge. You could hear laughter in his voice as he said, "And to think I offered a truce!"

"You didn't mean it!" you called back through the door.

Peter laughed and said, "Well I definitely don't mean it now!" You were right. He hadn't meant it. He was going to try and convince you to pull a prank on Kraglin that they would then turn back on you, but clearly you weren't going to fall for that. He heard you laugh at his statement and shook his head before walking back down the stairs.

At least he had made you laugh.

***

After an hour you decided it was probably safe to leave your room to shower for bed. Also, Mantis was knocking at the door and you had to let her in anyway.

You had just finished your shower and were heading back to your room when a high shriek could be heard from Peter and Gamora's room. The others peeked out from their respective bedrooms to see what the commotion was. Rocket came up the stairs saying, "Thought I heard Quill screaming like a girl, what happened?"

On cue the door to Peter and Gamora's room opened and out came Peter holding the rubber spider by one leg.

The two of you lock eyes across the landing. Your eyes widen slightly and you flatten your lips.

"Any idea how this ended up in my bed?" he asked, looking pointedly at you and waving the toy back and forth.

Shaking your head, you say, "Nope. No idea."

Peter narrowed his eyes but smirked. "Oh really?"

You began walking toward the safety of your room. "Not a clue. Total mystery. Night."

You could hear snickers behind you as open the door, and hear Peter shout after you, "I'm keeping this!" as you shut your bedroom door behind you.

***

Rocket had a surprise waiting for him when he decided to go to bed that night, having walked into the bedroom with little Groot asleep on his shoulder.

He looked at the new bed in confusion. He wanted to ask Drax where it came from, but the big guy was already asleep, and he knew better than to wake him if he didn't want accidentally punched in Drax's startled waking.

He hopped up to the crib and laid Groot down to sleep before inspecting the new bed, sniffing it and checking under the sheets. He didn't really know what he was looking for, but looking couldn't hurt.

Eventually, when he could find nothing wrong with it, he decided to settle in. Better than sleeping in a crib. He could ask where it came from in the morning.

***

The house was dark and quiet, and Yondu was considering giving up on trying to catch you sneaking out again, at least for tonight. After all, you hadn't in several days, what's the chance you would tonight? Might as well sleep.

Then he heard it. The tiniest creak of a door. Then barely audible steps down the stairs.

He stood from his bed as quietly as he could, and made his way over to the door he had left cracked in hopes of being better able to hear when you'd leave.

He peered out, but only just saw the top of your head dip below the floor as you descended.

He waited a moment, wanting to give a little space so as to not risk you hearing him follow. Opening the bedroom door slowly, he made his way out into the hall and to the stairs. He could see in the dark better than a Terran, but still moved carefully as he quietly made his way down the steps.

He stopped less than halfway down, having barely caught sight of you sitting on the hall bench to pull your boots on, and there he waited, out of sight in the dark, until you stood and grabbed a jacket.

He made his way quickly and quietly down the rest of the stairs and just caught you as you were opening the back door.

He stood in the kitchen doorway, arms crossed over his chest with a triumphant grin at having finally caught you before you could leave. He tilted his chin up and asked;

"So where ya sneaking off to?"

#gotg #guardians of the galaxy #x reader #peter quill #starlord #kraglin obfonteri #yondu #yondu udonta #gamora #rocket raccoon #hijinks #pranks #spiders #fear #sneaking #yondad

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aliwritesfic · 3 years

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The Night Shift part 5 (F!Reader x Frankie Morales)

Quick summary: You learn the meaning behind Frankie's nickname

Warnings: None, I think, please let me know if I need to add some <3

W/C: 1.7k

Spotify (mainly just vibes, some songs have meaning, also updated regularly)

Part 1 Part 6

The smell of cooking bacon made your stomach growl as you entered the diner on Tuesday evening. You hadn’t eaten much all day, just a piece of toast and a handful of stale cheerios. Frankie was in the kitchen, his back to you. Your throat dried at the sight of him, remembering what you had done and how you had fantasized about him only a few hours earlier.

“Hi, Frankie,” you said, pushing thoughts of what you wanted him to do with his hands out of your mind. Stop being such a hornbag! You scolded yourself. Then he set those dark brown eyes on you and your brain ceased to function. Could he see your secret written on your face?

“Hey,” he said, smiling up at you. “You look tired.”

You almost sighed in relief. Maybe he couldn’t tell at all. You grabbed the coffee pot and poured yourself a cup. “I didn’t sleep much today. I was . . . worried about the kitten.” It wasn’t a whole lie; you really were worried about the kitten. The vet hadn’t sent you any updates, and you hoped that was a good thing.

“Are you gonna keep the kitten, if she lives?” Frankie flipped eggs as he spoke and set up a couple of plates.

“I can’t,” you grimaced, “Kurt would never go for it. He’s not really a fan of pets.”

Frankie made a face. “Not even adorable kittens?”

“Not even then,” you sighed. “It’s fine, though. It’s not like I have the time to properly care for one. I’m here most nights and I’m so busy with housework during the day when I’m not sleeping that it just- it just wouldn’t work.”

You kept your tone light, aware that customers could be listening. You didn’t want to scare off any tips with how miserable the subject made you. Frankie seemed to understand, because he didn’t bring the subject back up.

You were surprised at how easily you two worked together. Completely in sync when you had to be, entire sentences seemed to be translated through quick looks and raised eyebrows. This guy is a serial complainer. Want me to do something about those frat boys? Can you pretty please make me one of whatever this lady’s having?

All too soon it was 5:30 and the morning crew was there, breaking the comfortable silence between you. You found yourself lingering again, although you weren’t sure what for. You didn’t exactly need to stay. But still.

~*~

Frankie was shocked to see you still there. He was pulling his keys out of his jacket pocket when he saw you, standing outside, shivering in the early spring air.

“Thought’d you’d be halfway home by now,” he said, but he was still pleased to see you. He had come to the conclusion last night that you had a boyfriend, he would respect that and not make any untoward moves on you. Friendship suited him fine, even if he did think your boyfriend was a bit of a freak for not wanting a pet.

“I wanted to ask you something,” you said.

“Go ahead,” Frankie prompted.

“How’d you get the nickname Catfish?”

At this, Frankie’s lips twitched. He hadn’t been expecting that. “Before we were deployed, the boys and I went on a fishing trip. Well, one thing led to another and I had a huge catfish on my hook. This was a catch and release type of situation, you know?” When you nodded, he continued. “So, I reach in this creatures mouth to unhook it, and the bastard clamps down! Whole hand, in its mouth! And the thing about catfish, is they don’t have teeth, so they can’t technically bite, but they suck. It was like my hand was in a vacuum seal. When I eventually managed to get it out, no help from the boys mind you, it looked like a giant hickey on my hand. So, that’s where the nickname comes from.”

You snorted with laughter, and Frankie began to laugh too. At the time, it hadn’t been funny but looking back, he knew he would have been laughing his ass off if it happened to any of the other boys.

“I think Santi got a photo of it, I’ll try and find it for you if you want,” Frankie said. You nodded eagerly, wiping a tear from your eye.

“Please do, I’d love to see it,” you said with a grin that made his heart do something it really shouldn’t. Frankie nodded, making a mental note to call Santi and demand that the bastard rip apart his house to find it if he had to.

You turned to leave, and before he could stop himself, he was asking “do you want a ride?” Friends gave each other rides when they needed it, he reasoned. You hesitated, and Frankie kicked himself. Of course he’d overstepped. You didn’t know him that well, he was just the fry cook.

“Uh, yeah actually. It looks like it might rain.”

As if you had summoned it, thunder rumbled low overhead. Fat drops of rain began to fall slowly painting the ground. Frankie jangled his keys and you both sprinted to his truck. He opened your door for you, and ran around to his side. He didn’t miss that you sat with your back ridgid, your hands curled so tightly your knuckles were white.

“You okay?” he asked, although you obviously were not.

“Yeah, no, it’s just . . . You’re aware your truck looks like a death trap?”

Frankie snorted. He was very aware of this, but he was also very aware of what was under the hood. He trusted this truck more than any fancy modern car. Still. He decided that this was the perfect opportunity to mess with you. Just to see how you responded.

“Have you ever seen The Fast and The Furious?” He began, and you raised an eyebrow at him, your face skeptical. “Tokyo Drift, specifically. Well, this truck won me the title of Drift King several years in a row. That’s how well she runs.”

“Oh, fuck off!” You rolled your eyes, but you were laughing. “That’s not even slightly believable.”

“Yeah, you’re right. But how cool would it be if it were true.”

You rolled your eyes again, but you were smiling as you did it, and Frankie counted that as a victory. You gave him directions as he drove, surprising him with how close you lived to him. Only a five minute drive away. How long had you been this close? How had he never noticed you in the neighbourhood? Had he been blind, all these years?

“Thank you,” you said quietly as he pulled up outside your building, a three story walk up with a faded brick facade. The rain was coming down hard now, and lightning flashed.

“Anytime,” Frankie said in a tone that he truly meant any time. You nodded and ran through the rain, disappearing into the building. Frankie idled for a moment, wishing he could call you back and kiss you goodbye.

But he didn’t, because it wasn’t decent and it wasn’t what friends did. Friends didn’t crush on their friend like a fucking idiot kid.

So Frankie drove himself home and drove all thoughts of your mouth out of his head. That was until he checked his phone, and saw a text from an unknown number.

Thanks for the ride, I really appreciate it :) sent 5:57AM

Frankie quickly saved your number in his phone, not taking the risk of losing it somehow. A second message from you buzzed through.

Oh and lunch on Sunday is at Taylor’s Bistro, on High Street if you still wanna come sent 6:01AM

Frankie wrote his message quickly.

Wouldn’t miss it x

He stared at it for too long, erased the x, replaced it with a smiley face and hit send before he could overthink it entirely. Then he remembered his promise to you, and called Santi almost instantly.

“Fish, what the fuck man? It’s four in the morning,” Santi groaned into the phone.

“It’s six you dope, but I need a favour,” Frankie said.

“Money?”

“No, man, nothing like that. Do you still have that photo of the catfish on my hand?”

“Yeah I’ve got a copy in my wallet.” Santi sounded more awake, and Frankie could hear his fancy espresso machine whir to life.

“Why do you- nevermind. Look, I need a copy ASAP.”

“What for? If it’s to destroy it just know I’ve thought ahead and I’ve got four physical copies and one in the Cloud.”

“No, nothing like that. It’s for a girl at work, she asked how I got my callsign and now I’ve gotta show her the photo.”

“Oh?” Santi sounded intrigued. “Who’s this girl?”

“A friend,” Frankie said a little forcefully. “She has a boyfriend.” As if that closed the matter. Apparently, it didn’t.

“Why should that stop you?” Santi asked. “You’re hot, I don’t know this chick but she’d be blind to not be into you.”

“Well, for one, my brain isn’t directly wired with my dick.” At this, Santiago scoffed. Frankie continued, ignoring him. “Secondly, she’s like, twenty five or six. She’s probably not into old guys.”

“You’re thirty-three, you’re not old. Also, chicks dig DILFs.”

“I don’t have a kid.”

“And yet you still have big DILF energy. I wonder if there are any little Francisco’s running around that we have yet to discover.”

“Shut the fuck up, man, it’s bad luck to say that kind of shit. Just get the photo to me, please.”

Santiago roared with laughter as Frankie hung up. Trust Santiago to work one of his deepest fears into conversation. Frankie wasn’t sure what he was more afraid of: having children, or having children and having no clue they existed. It wasn’t that he was against having kids altogether, it was just he knew he wasn’t in the right headspace to take care of someone who depended on him entirely. Some days he forgot to take care of himself, he didn’t want a kid to suffer. It wouldn’t be fair.

He brushed the thought aside as he climbed into bed. It was bad luck to linger on bad thoughts, at least, that’s what his abuela always told him whenever he complained about something as a kid.

He wasn’t sure why exactly he had told you that there was photographic evidence of a catfish latched onto his hand. Maybe he wanted to impress you? But no, he reasoned, there was nothing impressive about that. It was just plain embarrassing. He realised with a start that what he wanted was willing to do anything to hear your laugh again.

Taglist: @hnt-escape @sharkbait77 @1800-fight-me @annathewitch @darnitdraco @frankiecatfish

#the night shift #frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #triple frontier

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wiypt-writes · 3 years

Text

Stark Spangled Banner

Ch34: Paper

Summary: Following the events in Siberia, Katie, Steve Wanda and Sam all struggle to adapt to a life on the run. The Roger’s first wedding anniversary isn’t spent the way Steve would have hoped, but as Fall arrives, he finallly gets the call he’d been waiting for from Wakanda.

Warnings: Bad language, Smut! (NSFW, Under 18s) Bad Language words.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

A/N: Wonderful edit again from @angrybirdcr and a new part means a new banner!!!! Here we go, into the Nomad/IW years...

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

Chapter 33

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist // Main Masterlist

August 2016

Following advice from Coulson, the group of Outlaws decided to lay low for a few months until interest died down, although Katie and Sam were pretty amused to find out that there had been widespread protests across the US after Captain America had been declared and Enemy of the State, especially when someone (no names were mentioned, but Katie was laying odds on it being Murdock to help Clint and Scott’s very publicised hearings) had leaked to the press details of exactly what had taken place in Siberia, and how they had been treated by the Government. To Katie’s further delight, Ross was facing a public enquiry as well with regards to their unlawful arrests.

All in all, that part of it had worked out pretty well. And whilst she knew Ross would get away with it, the thought of him being pissed off and inconvenienced filled her with a very smug sense of satisfaction.

The place they were living was called the Isle of Lewis, approximately twelve miles away from Stornoway in the northern part of the inter-connected Islands in the Hebrides. Coulson wasn’t lying when he’d told Katie it was isolated, in fact the only connection to mainland Scotland was either a two hour ferry or a half hour flight, so with that respect it was absolutely perfect.

The old farm house was secluded, the land surrounding it sprawling for miles, shielded by a large thicket of trees on three sides and a cliff edge which dropped down to a small beach on the other. There was no reason for anyone to visit or pass their house, bar the odd dog walker they saw treading the cliff footpath. They were always careful when seeing people to greet them politely so they didn’t attract attention by being suspiciously aloof.

The first rule of going on the run? Don’t run.

At first they strayed into town for supply runs only. Katie was surprised just how well she adapted to living with two additional people. At first she had been worried, Steve and her having had their own space for such a long time. Even in the tower and compound their living quarters had been spacious and private, meaning they could hide away from everyone if they wanted to. But in their safe house they didn’t have that luxury. Nevertheless, it was adequate enough meaning they all had their own rooms, even if they were on the small side. And whilst there was only one full bathroom upstairs, so far there had been no squabbles about who used it when.

The large sitting area had been kitted out with a state of the art entertainment system, they had a decent sized farmhouse style Kitchen-Diner, and a smaller sitting room off the back of the kitchen with a smaller TV and a a piano much to Katie’s delight. Practical things like bills etc were coming out of an account belonging to Mr and Mrs O’Rourke, one of Katie and Steve’s covers- the name being Steve’s Ma’s maiden name. Coulson had advised them it was the least suspicious thing to do and would attract less attention than trying to pay cash at a bank. They’d also acquired a ten year old 4x4, bought for cash of course, and it was subtle enough to blend in as a lot of the locals seemed to drive them too due to the terrain and climate of the Island.

But whilst everything seemed to go according to plan and was, when all was said and done, fairly easy, Steve was struggling. He was antsy from the lack of action, and from a purely carnal point of view was missing the fact he could slam his wife up against any surface he wanted to and not worry about them being caught. He hated the fact their room was right next to Sam’s, concerned with the amount of noise they might make after Bucky’s jibe about the hotel rooms, and it wasn’t long before Katie noticed a dramatic shift in his attitude towards her. He was snappy, short tempered and Katie was often the one that bore the brunt of his temper. They bickered, on a much larger scale than she could really ever remember them doing before, over really stupid things as well like the fact one evening Steve couldn’t find where she’d put his favourite cookies in the kitchen. He became less tactile, less handsy and their love life dwindled dramatically, but she tried not to let it get to her, which was easier said than done especially when she was so used to the fact that he basically worshipped the ground she walked on.

The morning of their first wedding anniversary, Katie woke alone, her husband nowhere to be found. After laying simply staring at his empty side of the bed for a moment, remembering he blinked back tears of frustration and headed for a before she wandered downstairs into the kitchen to be greeted by Sam and Wanda both sat at the table.

“Steve gone for a run?” She asked, after greeting them both good morning.

“Yeah, I offered to go but he wanted to go on his own.” Sam said, shrugging “Didn’t want me slowing him down.”

“He actually said that?” Katie frowned.

Sam nodded.

“I’m sorry Sam, don’t take it personally.” Katie poured herself a coffee and sat down, taking a deep breath. “Is everything okay?” Wanda asked, looking at Katie “You’ve both been a little tetchy recently. Granted you haven’t been as bad as him, but…” “Yeah, you guys not err…getting enough?” Sam quipped, earning himself a slap round the back of the head from Wanda, the younger woman giving him a glare.

“Fuck off Wilson.” Katie rolled her eyes.

“I’m just saying.”

“Well don’t.” She snapped, taking a sip of her coffee then swiping a piece of toast off his plate. “He’s just not coping well with being cooped up, it’ll settled down. I hope.” She added, biting her toast.

“Look, we know it’s your anniversary today.” Wanda looked at her. “You got anything planned?” “Not really possible.” Katie shrugged. “Thought I might try and convince him to take a walk later, just the two of us but…”

“Well,” Sam looked at Wanda then over to Katie. “We thought we might head into town for the evening, hit a few bars. Give you two a bit of space.” Wanda nodded, eagerly. “You have to do something, even if it’s just cooking a meal and having a bit of you time.” Katie pondered this for a moment and found herself smiling “Actually, that’s not a bad idea. I can go to the store later.” Her spirits raised a little as she started planning a menu out in her head. She was jerked from her thoughts when the security system clicked and Steve walked through the door of the kitchen that led to the grounds, the door shutting behind him, the keypad beeping as he typed in the code to lock everything down. His T-shirt was damp with sweat, clinging to his torso, the pair of dark sweats fitting snugly to his hips.

“Hey.” She looked up at him. His face was tired but nevertheless she was relieved to see him smile as he walked over and dropped a soft kiss to her head, their argument from the previous night forgotten.

“Happy Anniversary.” He whispered, and she smiled up at him, understanding his gesture to also be an apology of sorts.

“Back at ya, Soldier.” She swallowed back her tears, “You want breakfast?” “I’ll shower first.” He nodded to Sam and Wanda before pausing, and with a playful smile he stole the last piece of toast off Sam’s plate.

“Not cool man!” Sam groaned. “That was the last of the bread.” Steve simply shrugged at Sam’s protest, before he headed down the hallway to go and freshen up. Katie watched him go before she turned to Wanda.

“Fancy coming with me to the store?”

She nodded “Sure.”

***** When Steve came back to the kitchen half an hour or so later he was surprised to find the girls gone.

“Supplies.” Sam answered his unasked question as he was flicking through the television in the lounge, settling on a British Chat Show called ‘This Morning’, easy daytime TV that didn’t require thinking about. Steve made himself a coffee before he sat down next to his friend with a sigh.

“So, first anniversary.” Sam spoke, not looking at him. “Be this isn’t what you thought you’d be doing?” “You can say that again.” Steve mumbled. Just twelve months ago at that exact time he’d been bustling about his apartment on the compound in a fluster getting ready. It had, without a doubt, been the happiest day of his life. But this was not how he wanted their first wedding anniversary to go down. He’d always planned spoiling Katie a little, maybe a nice getaway, somewhere warm, but that wasn’t an option.

“Me and Wanda are clearing out later.” Sam’s eyes remained on the TV. “Give you two a bit of alone time.” “You don’t have to-“ Steve started but Sam cut him off with a snort.

“Man, you need to make some lovin’ on your girl.” He turned to the soldier who felt a flush rise up his neck. “Because we know you ain’t been getting enough, you’ve been a bad tempered bastard for weeks.”

“I have not.” Steve shot back indignantly, causing Sam to raise his eyebrows. Steve let out a sigh, knowing he was well and truly busted.

“Look, if you two ever need some space, all ya gotta do is ask.” Sam said sincerely, looking at Steve. “Couples need that time. This is bound to be stressful for you both.”

“I doubt it’s easy on you two either.” Steve looked at him and Sam shrugged, before he smirked.

“Difference is if I wanna get laid I’ll just head into town. There’ll be some sap out there that likes George Fletcher the Geologist from Georgia.”

“You’re terrible you know that?” Steve smirked at him over his coffee mug.

Sam simply smiled back. “You get her anything?”

“Yeah.” Steve nodded “We agreed months ago on something paper themed, you know, on account of the anniversary being paper. I had planned to get the lyrics to our wedding song printed and do a sketch of one of our photos to hang up in our apartment but that kinda went out of the window.” “So what did you get?” “A book.” Steve let out a breath “I spotted it in the second hand shop in town last time we did a flyer. It’s a leather-bound complete works of Shakespeare but it was published the year she was born and has all these handwritten notes in it from someone. Just the kind of thing she’ll like. And a couple of albums of sheet music, I know she’s missing hers back home and she hasn’t been playing the piano as much as I thought she would.”

“She’ll love it.” Sam smiled encouragingly “I hope so Sam.” he sighed, leaning back against the couch cushions, scratching at his chin “I hope so.” *****

True to their word, Sam and Wanda headed out just after five, leaving Katie and Steve alone. As Katie bustled around in the kitchen, Steve couldn’t help but watch his wife as she cooked, a small smile playing on his face. And then, realising they were truly alone for the first time in months he placed his beer down on the side and crossed the small room, wrapping his arms around her from behind and dropping his chin to her shoulder, nuzzling at her neck. She smiled at his display of affection, something she’d been aching for, and as the scruff of his almost-beard scratched at her skin she gave a soft sigh.

“You okay?” she asked.

“Yeah.” He said, before he shook his head “No. Not really. Doll, I’m sorry for being so distant. You don’t deserve this.” He sighed. “After the accords, when the dust settled we were supposed to have a normal life, a simple life. I can’t even give you that.”

“It’s a good thing you’re cute because at times you’re incredibly stupid,” She smiled making him breathe a laugh. “Steve we’re here, together after everything. I made that vow, until death do us part and I mean it. I love you.” She finished simply, shrugging. “So stop wasting time worrying about it. You’re stuck with me, Captain Dumbass.“

Steve looked back at her, before he gave her a small smile.

"Now I know this probably isn’t what either of us had in mind, but we’re on our own, I’ve got a pretty large batch of Mac and Cheese, and an apple pie in the oven, a steak ready to grill so let’s just try and enjoy it.”

“You made mac and cheese?” Steve’s face creased into a boyish smile “And apple pie? What happened to not baking pies unless it’s Autumn?” “Well its September tomorrow.” She shrugged. “And I thought it might cheer you up.”

"Sorry.” He half grimaced, half smiled apologetically back at her. “I know I haven’t been the easiest to be around lately ─”

“Stop apologizing.” She interrupted him again.

He studied her for a second before he leaned down to give her a soft kiss. “I love you.” “I know.” Her hands slid down to his chest and she gave him a quick pat before playfully shoving him away “Now scoot, unless you want me to burn dinner. Go set the table.” Knowing better than to refuse, he did as he was told and it wasn’t long before they were settled down and eating. They talked about everything and anything, drank wine, and to the pair of them they could almost have been sat in their dining room at the compound. They laughed, they joked, they poked fun at one another. It felt normal. Once they had finished eating they cleared their dishes, Steve grabbed another bottle of wine and they headed to the couch to find something to watch on TV.

“I got you something.” Katie smiled when Steve dropped the wine onto the coffee table and she gestured to the small gift bag resting on the table.

“Oh, me too. Hang on.” He bounded up the stairs to retrieve his gift. As he returned, Katie eyed the two wrapped items with playful suspicion as he handed them to her. One was really heavy. She passed the gift bag containing his to him and he peeked inside, and they shared a childish grin with one another before they set about opening their presents.

“Oh, Steve.” She breathed out as she gently ran her hands over the leather of the anthology he had bought her. Flicking through, she smiled as she spotted all the notes that someone had written in the margins. They consisted of opinions on the plays, themes, characterisation plots, all the type of thing she had studied at University and she found it fascinating to read other people’s interpretations.

“I thought you might like it.” He watched her as she looked at him, her eyes bright, before she then let out another sigh of happiness when she opened the two sheet music books as they would give her something else to play other than the stuff she knew from memory.

And her gift to Steve was equally as thoughtful. He positively beamed when he opened the new blank sketch books, pencils, wax crayons and charcoals. All of his art supplies had been left behind and he’d been dying to get some more.

“Well, the sketchbook is paper.” Katie explained softly. “And I know it relaxes you to draw.” “Doll, its perfect” He assured her, dropping a kiss to her lips. “Thank you.”

“So, what film do you wanna watch?” She asked, moving for the remote but Steve had no intention of watching a film. Not now. He gently grabbed her wrist and she looked at him.

“Right now, Mrs Rogers, I’d really like to carry you upstairs and take you to bed.”

Katie grinned. “Well that can be arranged, but there’s something I wanna do first.”

He looked at her, puzzled for a moment but when she tapped on her phone and the opening sounds of ‘Only One in Colour’ sounded over the speakers he laughed and stood up, offering her his hand.

“May I have this dance?” He quipped, arching an eyebrow at her.

“Always.” She smiled, allowing him to pull her up.

They moved to the back of the couch where there was more room and he took her in a hold and they simply stayed close, swaying to the music, both of them thinking back to their first dance as a married couple twelve months ago. Katie pressed her cheek to Steve’s chest and he in turn rest his chin on the top of her head, revelling in her closeness. He heard her let out a soft sigh, but this one was contentment, and he gently moved to look down at her. For a moment Katie felt her breath catch, he was looking at her with nothing but unadulterated desire and love, the same way he had on their wedding day, and before the song had even finished, he’d captured her lips in a soft kiss, his hands moving to cradle her face. Hers fisted in his white T-shirt and it wasn’t long before the kiss had deepened causing a moan to catch in Steve’s throat. Without a word he pulled back and scooped her up in his arms, bridal style, causing her to giggle, a sound he would never tire of, and quick as a flash he carried her up the stairs and into the bedroom.

He set her on her feet but before he had time to do anything she’d shoved him backwards, catching him off guard slightly causing him to sit down harshly on the bed and he let out a smirk as she straddled him before she kissed him again and he was happy to reciprocate exactly how he knew she liked, firm and gentle, passionate and caring all at once. Katie gently bit his lower lip drawing another groan from his throat as he rest his head against hers, his hands gently gipping her hip.

“You know,” She drew back slightly to cup his face in her fingertips. “I really do like kissing you with this.” she traced her hand across the short beard on his face. She also liked looking at him with it too because, coupled with the fact his hair was also getting slightly longer, it gave him a rugged, harder, rougher look taking him farther and farther away from the Blue-Eyed all American boy day by day.

“I’m getting used to it.” He murmured pressing a soft kiss to her mouth before his head dropped, small kisses trailing up the length of her neck, that precious stubble creating an amazing contrast to the softness of his mouth.

“Yeah, me too.” She gave a soft moan, her eyes closed as she rolled her head back, giving him access to more of her neck. Steve smiled slightly, happy to oblige and just take his god damned time loving his wife. Eventually, his lips made their way up her jaw and then she sat up slightly, grasping at the hem of his T-shirt. He moved to allow her to take it off and then his fingers made short work of the sleeveless button down she had been wearing, shrugging it down over her shoulders before he peppered more kisses across her collar bone and down her sternum as he reached round to undo her bra. Gently, he lay her flat down on the bed, taking a nipple in his mouth, this time drawling a loud groan from her as her hips bucked involuntarily upwards at the sensations spiking through her body.

God it really had been far too long since he’d lavished attention on her like this and Steve made a mental note to tell Sam and Wanda to ‘take a walk’ a lot more often. It was almost two months now since they had last been intimate and, his body was aching for her, desperate to feel her, and from the noises she was making she felt the same. His lips made their way down, nose and beard skimming along the waistband of her jeans before he undid them, sliding them down with her underwear as he shed his own too before he crawled back over her.

Katie pushed on his shoulders slightly so she could roll him over and placed herself on top of him, brushing her lips across the hairs on his face tracing a path across from one side of his jawline to the other drawing a gentle moan from his lips, hands flexing on her hips as she shifted slightly to start taking him in. Her mouth dropped into a small ‘o’ as they both groaned as she slid down him, her hands falling to his chest and once he was fully sheathed inside of her, she began to work him gently. His hands slid up into her hair, as she leaned forward to kiss him and he raised his hips slightly and she whimpered, pushing down harder against him as his hands gently kneaded at her breasts. Her pace was slow, torturously so, but it wasn’t long before she began to move faster, working him harder as she chased her relief. The roughness of his pubic hair was grinding against her spot, the friction feeling amazing as she pushed down. With every push she made, his eyes grew darker, and darker, his hands digging into her hips as he pulled her down, grinding further and deeper.

He sat up suddenly, so they were face to face, the change of angle making her cry out, as he slid his hands round her back, pulling her closer to him as he bent to kiss her neck, biting at that spot whilst he held her still for a moment, gently thrusting upwards, deeply, slowly, savouring the moment. Katie rolled her head back, a louder cry this time tumbling from her lips and he felt her tighten around him, and he let out a groan of his own.

“Good?” He panted, smiling as she managed a broken noise of affirmation, as he pulled her to him harder, hands back on her hips as his rutting picked up speed.

“Stevie…” She mumbled, her eyes locking onto his as her hands slid up his back and fisted into his hair. A few more pushes later and they were both done for, her name escaping from his lips as her walls collapsed completely, and she let out a soft cry as she fell forward burying her face in his neck. He was close behind, letting out a gentle moan, his beard rustling against her ear as he jerked underneath her, clinging onto her as if he never wanted to let her go. And at that moment he didn’t.

After a minute or so he leaned back, his breathing deep as he brushed her hair back off her face before sliding his nose against hers. “Happy Anniversary, Kitten.” *******

Steve thought the fall in New York was gorgeous but that was nothing compared to what it was like where they were. He was feeling a lot more positive about things as well, as post their anniversary, he and Katie had made a pact that they would do something alone together at least once a week, be it a walk along the cliff the beach, or straying into town to one of the local restaurants. His hair and beard now rendered him pretty much unrecognisable and they never got a second glance at all.

Steve’s favourite ‘date’, if you could them that, was the walk they took in the pitch black to see the Northern Lights late one evening. Katie had been utterly captivated by the beauty of the Aurora Borealis and Steve had to admit, it was spectacular. Committing it to memory was easy, and a few days later Katie wasn’t surprised to find a perfect replica of them his sketch book.

Being on the run shouldn’t have been this easy, and they were constantly on edge, waiting for the time they had to split and run, but whilst they could, they made the most of it.

Thanksgiving came, then Christmas, the four friends making it as festive as possible. They got a tree, shared gifts, enjoyed a Christmas Meal, and after several drinks each, Steve wheeled the piano into the living room where Sam and Katie gave a rousing rendition of ‘Fairy Tale of New York’ along with a few other Christmas songs. It was different, but that didn’t make it any less enjoyable.

And then, in March 2017, they had a call from T’Challa. They were ready to bring Bucky out of cryo. Katie and Steve instantly set about making the arrangements to go to Wakanda, but it turns out they weren’t the only ones planning on taking a little trip…

“There’s something I wanted to discuss with you all.” Wanda said, the morning they were due to depart. “Please don’t freak out, but I talked to Vision last night.”

“What?” Katie’s voice was quiet as she merely looked back at the younger woman, her face passive.

Meanwhile, both Steve and Sam’s eyebrows shot up in their foreheads.

“Hold on, what do you mean you talked to Vision?” Steve asked. “How? Where?”

“This is going to sound really weird, but I saw him in my dreams,” Wanda carried on with her explanation.

“How do you know that wasn’t just a dream?” Sam asked.

“Because it wasn’t,” Wanda shrugged “I don’t know how to explain it, but I know it was him and I know it was real. I think we are connected somehow, because of the Mind Stone and because I was thinking about him before I went to sleep, it made some kind of telepathy possible.”

Steve pondered it for a second, thinking to himself how ridiculous that sounded until he realised they were talking about an enhanced human who had gained certain telepathic and telekinetic powers due to experimentation with the Mind Stone and an android that now carried within his synthetic, vibranium-mesh body said gem.

When you put it like that it seemed fairly logical.

"What did you talk about?” Katie asked after a moment.

“Just stuff, how I was, how much we, you know, miss one another” Wanda bit her lip. “We talked about actually meeting in person in a few days.”

“Okay, hold on,” Sam held one of his hands up, his brow furrowed. “How do we know this is not a trap? Like, I don’t know, Tony getting Vision to talk to you to get us back into the Raft?”

As soon as Sam said it Katie shook her head. Tony could sometimes be a jackass and he may have been hurt and mad at her and Steve, but she knew despite his stinging barb in Siberia, he wouldn’t want them all thrown in jail.

“He wouldn’t do that,” She looked at Sam.

“How do you know?” Sam pressed.

“Because Tony has way better tech than us, and there’s no accounting for what Vision can do with that Mind Stone.” Steve backed his wife up. This was something he had been pondering on for a while now too. “If anyone can find us, it’s them, yet we’re almost ten months down the line now since Leipzig and so far, there’s no sign of any one, so Tony’s either no longer working with Ross, or if he is, he’s dragging his feet deliberately.”

“Exactly,” Wanda nodded emphatically. “And Vision would never do anything to hurt me, not intentionally. I trust him with my life, but it’s more than that.”

Taking a deep breath, his mind made up, Steve turned to Wanda “You’re not a prisoner here Wanda. If you want to go then we can’t and we won’t stop you.”

“Do you want to go?” Katie looked at the younger woman who was wringing her hands together.

“I do but, well, I kinda feel like I’m fraternizing with the enemy.”

“He’s not the enemy. None of them are. Not Vision or Rhodey, Not Tony, none of them.” Steve ran his hand through his hair, sweeping the long strands back off his face. “We all wanted the same thing, to do good in this world but we disagreed on how best to make it happen. Doesn’t make us enemies.��

“But we’re on the run because…”

“This was always going to happen.” Katie cut her off, shaking her head “Ever since SHIELD collapsed and Fury stepped away there was a power vacuum. It was only a matter of time before the Government tried to step in to oversee us.”

“And let’s face it, I was always going to be considered a rogue threat the moment I refused to comply” Steve said, a wry smile on his face. “We all were.”

“Just be careful.” Katie looked at Wanda. “And whilst we’re away just make sure you check in once in a while? And the first sign of trouble, well, let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”

“Well if Wanda’s being granted shore leave so to speak, I might take a bit of time too.” Sam chipped in as the idea came to him. “There’s an old RAF pal of mine, based near Liverpool that I aint seen in a while. He’s cool,” he anticipated the next question, “I saved his life on a mission so he won’t sell me out.” Steve took a deep breath and then shrugged “You know the risks, Sam. If any of us get caught then…” “Back to the Pokey.” Sam shrugged “Yeah, I got it. And don’t worry, I wouldn’t rat your location out.”

“Me neither.” Wanda added.

“I don’t for a second believe you would.” Steve shook his head.

“I suppose, to be fair,” Katie bit her lip, “we’ve been here for a long time now. It won’t harm us to disappear for a while, regroup in a few weeks. And we’ll draw even less attention apart as they won’t be expecting it.” And so, for the first time in ten months, the four went their separate ways. ****** True to his word, Steve was there when they woke Bucky up. Once he had come round the two greeted one another with the same love and affection they always did. Suri’s scans showed that the programming was no longer present in Bucky’s brain, but there was one last thing they had to do to make sure.

Say the trigger words.

Which was why Katie, Steve, a one armed Bucky and T’Challa were now heading to the underground fort of the palace. Katie clutching a rifle, Steve was unarmed bar his super strength, whilst T’Challa was in his black panther garb, the party flanked by two members of his Kings Guard.

As they were about to enter the underground cell, Bucky grabbed Katie’s arm and pulled her to one side.

“What the hell Bucky?” She almost yelped, and he let go of her arm and held his finger to his lips.

“Listen, Doll Face, I got a favour to ask. If this hasn’t worked…” He took a deep breath. “I want you to end it.”

“End what?” She arched an eyebrow at him. “Me.” He replied simply “Steve said you’re a good shot. I want you to put a bullet in my head.” Katie blinked, and then burst out laughing. “Whatever.” “I’m being deadly serious.” Bucky looked at her. “I can’t and I don’t want to live like that anymore.” He shook his head sadly. “I’d rather die that know that what they’ve done is still in there.” “Bucky,” Katie frowned, “you’d be safe here, you know that, no one would trigger you.” “No, we don’t know that.” He shook his head. “Please Katie, I’m begging you. You owe me.” “So you save my life and you want me to take yours?” “Yeah. Pretty much.”

“You’re an asshole, James Buchanan Barnes” She hissed, glaring at him before shooting a glance over his shoulder at where Steve was stood, talking to T’Challa. She shook her head sadly. “I can’t. It’d kill Steve and it’s wrong, you don’t…”

“Listen, I’m asking you because I trust you to do it.” Bucky cut her off, looking over his shoulder to where she had been watching Steve. He was now stood observing the pair of them and they both smiled at him. Katie took a deep breath, looking into Bucky’s steel blue eyes and gave a sigh. She knew how hard this was on him and she could fully understand where he was coming from but still, asking her to do it, especially when she knew Steve would be besides himself made her feel sick.

“I’ve written him a letter.” Bucky said quickly, as the Super Soldier was now making his way over. “It explains what I’ve asked you to do. So please, give me your word.”

She looked at him, swallowing, and gave him a small nod before her eyes flicked to Steve as he approached, a frown on his face.

“You two alright?”

“Yeah, Katie was just asking me how I was really feeling.” Bucky looked at his friend.

Katie shrugged and smiled at Steve in what she hoped as a convincing way “Wanted to make sure he was alright, that’s all.”

Steve studied her for a moment, and she smiled again before he turned to Bucky. “It’s gonna be ok.” Steve assured his friend, clapping him on his shoulder, shooting another glance at his wife who was nervously chewing her lip. He frowned again, but pushed the suspicion to the back of his mind and then nodded. “Come on.” “Yeah, let’s get this over with.” Bucky mumbled.

Steve and T’Challa stepped into the room which was sealed whilst Katie took up her position on the other side of the one way glass with Suri who pressed the microphone to talk into the room.

““I don’t know why you are all worrying, brother, it is like you do not trust me…” the young woman scoffed. “Take no chances Sister.” T’Challa shot back. “You know this”.

Suri made a noise in her throat and then spoke again “Ok, I’m ready when you are.” She held the red book in her hand that they had recovered from Zumo. T’Challa engaged his helmet whilst Steve stood stoic as ever, throwing a glance over his shoulder to the glass he knew his wife was stood at the other side of.

“Ready Buck?” he asked turning back. His friend nodded, taking a deep breath.

T’Challa signalled to Suri who, after a little hesitation, began to read, each word punctuated by a pause.

“Longing, Rusted, Seventeen, Daybreak, Furnace…”

Katie watched intently and saw Bucky was clenching his teeth and suddenly she started to get a little bit nervous. She wasn’t the only one that had spotted it either. Steve moved slightly, adopting a little more of a battle stance than he had been as he clocked his friends reaction.

“Nine, Benign, Homecoming, One, Freight Car”

The last words hit Steve like a truck. It was depraved that Hydra would use those words. Bucky had plunged from a train car to his supposed death. There was no randomness to that at all, unlike the seemingly obscure nature of the rest of the words, nor was it any accident it was the last trigger they would use. There were the final words because they signified the death of Bucky and the birth of the killer Winter Soldier.

Sick bastards.

Bucky’s chest was heaving, his fist was clenching, and for a split second Steve feared the worse. But when his friend looked up, he saw the blue eyes of Bucky Barnes looking back at him, and not the icy glare of the Winter Soldier.

“Buck?” He asked gently, his voice cracking slightly. Bucky looked at him, a single tear falling down his cheek.

“Nothing.” He croaked, and Katie let out a soft sigh of relief, her hands sliding down her face to cover her mouth. “Nothing.”

T’Challa threw a party of sorts that night which consisted of a bar crawl through the city. Katie and Bucky dubbed it a ‘Fuck HYDRA’ party much to Steve’s chagrin. But he couldn’t bring himself to care that much, as at the end of the day, if anyone had as much right to stick their middle fingers up to HYDRA it was them. There was still something troubling him though, so when T’Challa left the bar they were sat at for a few moments, he turned to Bucky and asked him outright what had been going on with him and Katie outside the cell before. Bucky hesitated before he hung his head slightly and peered up at Steve from where he was sat next to him, a tumbler of some kind of Wakandan alcohol in his hand.

“I asked her to kill me.” Bucky admitted, swilling the liquid round in the glass “If it hadn’t worked I asked her to put a bullet in my head. She didn’t want to but I told her she owed me.” Steve felt himself blanche. “You did what?” “You don’t know what it’s like.” Bucky shook his head. “Living with the fact that at any time someone could mutter a string of words and…” He shot back the alcohol and slid his empty glass back to the Bar Tender to top up. “I didn’t want to live like that.”

”You put that on her?” Steve’s eyes flashed with anger, “Damnit Buck, you should have asked me!”

“Would you have done it?” Bucky countered. Steve took a big sigh, knowing he was caught “Exactly.” Bucky scoffed. “And besides, you’re the one that said she was a dead shot.”

Bucky eyed his friend for a while before he slid his empty glass to the man behind the bar, gesturing for another top up. “Anyway, it’s irrelevant now because here I am.”

“That was still a shitty thing to do.” Steve frowned before he reached over for his glass, giving a little shrug. “But yeah, here you are.” T’Challa chose that point to come back and he settled at the bar next to Steve.

“So, Sergeant Barnes, we’ll have to see about getting you some permanent lodgings.” The King smiled “Maybe a private hut. There is a quiet tribe, not far from the river, unless you would prefer a post in my Kings Guard.” “I’m done fighting.” Bucky shook his head as he took another drink from his glass. “A hut sounds mighty fine. Maybe I can get some goats.” “Goats?” Steve looked at him.

“I like Goats.” Bucky shrugged “Do you remember the one in the petting zoo near School?” “Yeah, it set my asthma off.” Steve snorted before the pair of them descended into laughter.

Across the bar, Katie was stood with Suri and one of T’Challa’s personal guards, Okoye. She instantly warmed to Okoye, the woman reminding her a lot of Natasha. They stood chatting for a while before a loud roll of laughter caught their attention and they turned to see T’Challa, Bucky and Steve howling at something, as T’Challa gestured for the bar tender to top up their glasses whilst Okoye excused herself to head over to speak to her husband.

“Oh dear, they’ve broken out the Wakandan Spice.” Suri muttered, eyeing up the men.

“What’s that?” Katie asked.

“The only thing that gets my brother drunk!” Suri snorted “That stuff could knock out a rhino.”

“So it should have an effect on Super Soldiers?” Katie grinned.

“Let’s go find out!” Suri nodded, a cheeky grin on her face. They made their way over and Katie could see instantly the woman was right. Steve had a glazed look in his eyes and Bucky was leaning back in his chair, a pink tinge to his cheeks.

“Hey, Beautiful” Steve smiled up at Katie, pulling her into his lap, his hand trailed up and down her spine, lazily. “Where you been all evening?”

“About ten meters away over there.” She smirked, pointing. Suri was reaching over to steal a bit of the liquor from Bucky’s glass and T’Challa slapped her hand. “You are not even old enough to drink.” He glared at her.

“Tssk hush brother. Just because you are now well into your thirties. You always seem to be so bitter about me being much younger than you.” At that Bucky barked out a laugh.

“Don’t know what you’re snorting at old man.” Katie glanced at him and he quirked an eyebrow at her.

"Not exactly a comment I’d expect from someone who’s married to a hundred-year-old man.”

“Ninety-eight.” Steve corrected.

Katie leaned back in her husband’s lap to peer at him, her right hand running through his hair. "Doesn’t look a day over twenty five.” She grinned.

“Hey brother, why doesn’t your power stop your ageing?” Suri quipped.

“Shut up.” T’Challa glared at her. “Before I carry you back to the palace”

As the two siblings began to quibble, Katie glanced at Steve. “Been talking about the good old days?” “In a fashion.” Steve smirked.

“Anymore good tales of your misspent youth to tell me?” Bucky shook his head. “Sure Steve’s told you enough already.”

“I never told her about the time you set up a double date for us and then forgot to show up.” Steve looked at him, his arms tightening around his wife.

“That never happened.” Bucky shook his head.

“It absolutely happened. Caroline O’Hara and Deborah Smith”

Bucky’s eyes widened. “Oh shit, yeah. Brunette and a red head. A curly red head.” He grinned.

“Yup. Double date to the theatre, only you never showed up.” Steve looked at him, accusingly “And little old me was left to explain to Debbie why you had stood her up.”

Bucky smirked into his glass.

"I thought she was gonna kill me.” Steve mused, turning to look at Katie. “She kept hitting me with her purse. And then Caroline started, asking where the hell he was and why he thought it fit to stand up her best friend and try to fix her up with some kind of joke.”

Katie frowned, narrowing her eyes. “You weren’t a joke.”

“Thanks, Honey.” He grinned before he turned to fix Bucky with a glare. “And do you remember why you didn’t show up?” Bucky was now shaking with mirth, as he looked at Steve, his eyes bright with tears of laughter. “Go on, tell her Buck.”

“I was with Maggie Dougherty.” Bucky smirked

“Yeah, you were.” Steve pointed at him. “That was the night you got caught sneaking out of her room and down her fire escape by her dad who beat the crap out of you.”

“Worth it though.” Bucky snorted. “She was hot. Strawberry blonde waves, pretty face, nice ass.” “Yeah.” Steve nodded and Katie slapped the back of his head.

“Oww!” He looked at her as she glared at him. Grinning he reached up to give her a soft kiss “Not a patch on you though, Darlin’”

After another hour or so, Katie left them to it, heading back to the palace with Suri. She’d had enough, the alcohol she had drunk had lulled her into that happy place here she felt warm and fuzzy inside, and ready for bed.

Steve woke her up when he came crashing into the room a few hours later.

“Shit.” He mumbled, as he banged into the chair by the dresser. “Shhhh”

He staggered over to the bed before face planting straight down. Katie grinned as he peeked up at her.

“I’m drunk.”

“No shit, Sherlock.” She giggled and scrambled out of the duvet. “Come on, get in bed.” “Promises, promises.”

“Yeah, not a chance pal. I doubt very much you’d be of any use in this state.”

“Hey.” He pouted rolling over so he was on his back, turning to look at her as she moved to climb out of bed. “That’s my shirt.”

“I know.” She dropped to the floor to take off his suede boots.

“I like you in my shirts. I like you better out of them.” Steve grinned, grabbing hold of her as she stood up.

“How much have you had?” She laughed as he pulled her onto his lap, nuzzling into her neck.

“Enuff.” he spoke back, voice muffled. “You know you’re the prettiest gal in the whole world?” He peeked up at her and she had to laugh as she ruffled his hair.

“Arms up.”

“I like it when you undress me.” He grinned and Katie gave a chuckle, shaking her head. Eventually she managed to tug off his shirt and his jeans whilst he made some other reference to sex, before he pulled her back down onto the bed next to him, giggling like a school kid.

“Bucky told me.” He slurred.

“Told you what?”

“That he asked you to shoot him.” Steve hiccupped “But I’m glad you didn’t have to.”

Katie chuckled to herself “Me too.” “And now he’s all better.” Steve sighed. “Good, isn’t it?” “It’s awesome.” Shhe smiled, reaching up to bush his hair off his face. “You’re gonna be so hungover tomorrow.” He responded with shrug. “But I do love you. So much.”

“I know and I love you too. Now you gonna get into bed?”

He pushed himself up before beginning a monumental fight with the duvet to get underneath it, the whole thing a great source of amusement to Katie. She’d seen him tipsy from the Asgardian stuff Thor gave him before, but not flat out shit faced like this.

“Are you gonna puke?” She asked, stroking his head as he sighed, nuzzling into her chest.

“No.” He assured her, then paused, before he hiccupped slightly. “But I think I need water.” “Alright, wait there.” Katie climbed out of bed. She grabbed him a bottle from the mini fridge near the door but by the time she had turned back, Steve had his face buried into his pillow and made nothing more than a noise when she offered it to him, not looking up. Deciding she couldn’t be bothered to argue with him, she gently placed the bottle on the night stand next to him, and ran her hand through his hair one more time before she crossed to her side of the bed and settled down with him.

“Night, Soldier.” She smiled softly, kissing his cheek.

“Night, Princess.” He slurred into his pillow.

**** Chapter 35

**Original Posting**

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

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1010ll · 3 years

Note

do you have any new recipes that you've learned recently? i remember you wrote something a while ago about carbonara and i tried it out for myself it was really fun!!

i love this 😭 im gonna write way too much idec! something that has changed since that post: my kitchen is worse. i have a horrible combi oven which has resulted in me accidentally eating raw chicken, because it had been in there for more than 2 hours at supposedly 230 °C and i was really hungry and thought it HAD to be done by then. also i have less time and less money lol. it has made me a bit sad, and less motivated to cook nice things but i also love food! which means these tips/recipes are gonna reflect that and might seem a bit dull but probably also relatable for a lot of people. i’ve definitely made spaghetti carbonara a bit too much because it’s simple and require few ingredients! will still vouch for that one tip about substituting the bacon with roasted veggies and other types of meat.

last week i made risotto for the very first time, i think? which means i might be assuming a bit too much, but i think it’s a great dish that you can almost make with whatever you have in your fridge. i made it with roasted beetroot(needs A LOT of time to soften, lesson learned), carrots and parsley root or parsnip(idk the difference), dried rosemary and thyme, garlic and onion. i had some leftover sushi rice, which is great for risotto apparently(love versatile ingredients), roasted them in some oil and then added white wine and chicken stock and actually added a leftover parmesan rind i had in the fridge to give the ‘stock’ some flavour, a bit of nutmeg and then in the end some shredded gouda lol… it was surprisingly delicious and i didn’t even really care to cook the rice perfectly. it also tasted delicious 3 days later, which was a nice surprise. i bet there are tons of risotto recipes online, but as long as you have rice, some kind of flavoured water, i guess you could kind of add whatever you want of veggies and top with whatever herb you have around.

another type of porridge i consume a lot these days is hot oat porridge, which i’ve eaten since i was little and it was the first ‘dish’ i learnt to make myself and it’s cheap. some people really dislike the consistency and look but i don’t. it’s also very easy to customise. i put in whatever nuts and seeds(which are often cheaper than nuts) i have around: flaxseed, sesame seeds, pumpkin seeds, sunflower seeds, chopped almonds and sometimes a dollop of peanut butter. i let them simmer along with the oats. i like adding those elements because it gives it some texture and it keeps me more full throughout the day. it’s very important to me because i hate spending money i don’t have on fast-food when i’m not home and i hate being hungry. dried raisins, cranberries for a bit of sweetness and if i’m treating myself i’ll add some fresh apples cut into small pieces or some homemade berry compote(i use frozen) or brown sugar. if i had more money i’d use maple syrup but i don’t at the moment. i also add a bit of cinnamon and cardamom, dried ginger etc, whatever you feel like. some people also add milk afterwards but i’d rather spend my milk on my coffee.

a small tip: making chili flake / garlic oil. it’s really delicious, you could put it straight on pasta with some parmesan and pepper and it would be a filling meal. either chop the garlic really fine, grate it, microplane it, smash it to pieces. heat some olive oil until it’s quite hot, then remove from heat and add the chili flakes and garlic. if the oil isn’t hot enough you can just put the pan or pot back on the heat but be careful you don’t burn the chili flakes or garlic, as it will make it bitter. the longer it will toast, the less pronounced the raw garlic flavour will be, so when it smells toasted enough for your taste, take it off. i store it in a tiny glass jar and add it in stews, sauces, toasts, pizza, sandwiches etc. the flavour is very strong imo and everything it touches will smell like it. something to drink: i like strong foods and i like sour foods, which is why i like lemon/ginger based drinks. to make it even more winter friendly and easy to make, i like to grate unpeeled ginger(i hate slices of ginger, they do nothing for me and seems like a waste of ginger), lemon zest, lemon juice and mix it or blend it with some water/apple juice and honey and strain it afterwards. if you have a really nice blender you can just add all of it together with some ice. i’m basically making a large amount of ginger shot mixture. then when i feel like it, i can take some of the mixture and either drink it as it is, add more apple juice if i need a refreshing beverage or add hot water and more honey for when im cold. you could also add turmeric, chili, use less sweetener and other sorts of healthy stuff but i honestly do it for the taste so i don’t care about that that much.

something sweet: i posted earlier about cakes and someone mentioned swedish kladdkaka, which is a super delicious, cheap, brownie-like chocolate cake that is easily customized and hard to fuck up which is why i’ve made it since i was very young and is a go-to and i didn’t even know it was a swedish thing. if you like airy, light cakes this is not for your. this is sticky, sweet and almost like confection. you can add nuts, swirls of peanutbutter, tahini, actual pieces of chocolate, replace the white sugar with brown sugar, the butter with oil(you can be fancy and use a bit of olive oil) or use a mixture, brown the butter, you name it. the recipe i use is this: melt 100 g butter and let cool. mix 2 eggs + 3 dl sugar in a bowl until fluffy in one bowl. mix 1.5 dl flour, 4 tbs cocoa, 1 pinch of salt in another. mix the dry with the wet mixture and add the cooled, melted butter. this is the point where you’d add chopped nuts, chocolate etc. pour the batter into a cake tin lined with parchment (i use one that is 16 cm in diameters i think). bake the cake for around 30 mins at 150°C - 175°C degrees. check on the cake using a cake tester or a a knife. if the knife is clean after … stabbing it, it’s done! the cake will change it’s texture after cooling. this is a cheap cake, and if you like cake dough you might want to give it less time in the oven for a more fudgey texture. make it your own! there are no rules. last time i made this, i left it in for too long in my opinion but it was still delicious. also i literally have a shit oven with a round oven rack that goes in circles no matter what due to the microwave function, and the only ‘mixing’ equipment i have is a whisk and a spatula. no need for kitchen aids or even electrical hand mixers.

something else i’ve been eating a lot for lunch is simple open faced sandwiches, and something that can really elevate those is: making your own mayonnaise(and toasting the bread). it can be challenging, but it’s really worth it imo and i can’t remember the last time i bought it in a store. i have a small plastic bowl, whisk and 1 egg yolk. something i can really recommend is buying pour snouts for bottles. i transfer my oils from their plastic bottles to smaller, old soda bottles because im cheesy like that and it’s really handy especially when making mayo. constantly whisking the egg yolk by hand and then adding the NEUTRAL oil ever so slowly. don’t be fancy and use cold pressed stuff or extra virgin olive oil because it will taste weird. i only ever fail when i try to use immersion blenders for some weird reason but i find it rewarding to do by hand anyways and i think it might be easier to make smaller portions that way. mayo needs acid and you can get it by adding regular vinegar, apple cider vinegar, balsamic vinegar, lemon juice, lime juice, pickle juice, citric acid dissolved in water etc. it’s really easy to customise! when im making banh mi, i add some sesame oil, soy sauce for saltiness and use lime as the acidic element. for more regular use i add a bit of mustard(also helps with the emulsion), for fries, i like adding some fresh garlic. something as simple as mayo, tomatoes, flaky salt and pepper topped with chives is really nice. i also really like using slices of boiled potatoes or boiled eggs(idk if that’s only a thing where i’m from), mayo and the chili garlic oil. it’s also great for making tuna salad. yesterday i made a really simple sandwich with a very simple tuna salad(tuna, mayo, yoghurt, lemon and pepper), arugula, basil, the garlic/chili oil, cream cheese, pickled jalapeños and onions, green peber, cucumber and tomatoes. you could leave out everything but the tuna salad and it would still be a great little meal.

another nice condiment that beats the supermarket stuff by far is homemade ‘pesto’. when i buy parsley from my local grocery store, it’s a gigantic amount that i in no way can consume in a week. first of all when buying fresh herbs i really recommend washing them, wrapping them in a damp towel and keeping them in a closed container. it will prolong their lifetime from lasting a day to a week(change the towel if it seems too wet). i once had some cilantro in my fridge for several weeks and still be fresh. anyways, when i buy that much parsley, i like to remove the tougher parts of the stem(which i use in stews/sauces! chop it up and sautee it along with garlic and onion), add literally just olive oil, water, pepper, garlic, and a bit of acid and then blend away! it keeps for a long time in the fridge and is also delicious beneath tomatoes/potatoes/cheese on open-faced sandwiches. if you want to be fancy you can of course add some type of hard cheese, nuts, seeds, dried tomatoes, whatever.

i know this is the longest text post ever, but as a last reminder, i really recommend watching pasta grannies on youtube. really simple recipes with focus on few, good ingredients that just takes some time and love.

#sorry about the spelling mistakes and everything #it's not my first language but it probably wouldn't be much better if it were #food

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ladycatofwinterfell · 3 years

Text

Observations

@leialannister welcome back <3

This one is different from the rest of my fics since it’s mostly from Cersei’s POV. Basically she sees some intimate moments between Ned and Cat during the royal visit to Winterfell and her feelings are all over the place.

Catelyn leaned towards him when Ned sat next to her.

“Cersei Lannister considers me ugly” she said.

How could anyone find his wife ugly? Catelyn was the most beautiful woman Ned had ever seen. Her hair and her eyes, her charming smile and the grace with which she moved. The rest of the men in the hall had been gawking at Cersei Lannister all evening, with her fancy southern dress and hairdo, but Catelyn had a natural beauty that he didn’t believe even the queen could match.

“Jaime Lannister considers me old and stupid” he said.

Ned didn’t like the smirk that was always on Jaime’s face. He could not see the man anywhere in the hall at the moment and that was a relief. There was just something about Lannisters that irked him. And Jaime Lannister especially. It reminded him of when he had found Mad Aerys dead and Jaime on the throne, something he would much rather forget.

“We make quite the match” Catelyn chuckled.

They needed not assure each other of anything. Both of them were well aware of that you shouldn’t trust anything a Lannister says.

“We do, don’t we?”

She lifted her cup and he did the same. He loved the smile on her face. That smile that he usually only saw when they were alone. After feasts and gatherings when she put Lady Stark aside and instead told him exactly what she thought.

“To being ugly, old and stupid” Catelyn said dryly.

Ned laughed, then repeated her words and both of them drank. She was already in her cups, he could tell by the very lovely blush that covered her cheeks. But it was not enough for it to be noticeable in any other way if you didn’t know her well.

She leaned even closer to him and lowered her voice to a whisper.

“She looks at me like she wants me dead.”

“Who?” Ned asked, very confused about whoever wanted his lady wife dead.

“The queen.”

~*~

They truly were disgusting. Cersei couldn’t find a better word for it. Ever since they arrived at Winterfell she had seen the looks they shared with each other. The little smiles and gentle touches. A hand on an arm, a hand on a shoulder, a hand at the lower back. Even kisses. A kiss on a forehead, a kiss on a cheek, a kiss on the lips. They certainly were not afraid of showing their affection for each other. In ways that were not appropriate.

Cersei found herself watching them multiple times during the feast. It was in a way fascinating. Seeing them lock eyes with each other from across the room and share a smile before going back to their conversations. Despite the crowded hall they always managed to find one another.

She saw how Lord Stark walked over and sat next to his wife. She immediately leaned towards him and said something. He seemed to consider for a moment before answering. Whatever he said brought a smile to Lady Stark’s face. After another exchange of words both of them raised their cups and made a toast to something that made both of them laugh. And during all of it that spark was in their eyes. Like they were young, experiencing their first love. It was ridiculous.

For just a moment Catelyn Stark glanced over her husband’s shoulder and met Cersei’s eyes. It only lasted a second, then Stark was urgently whispering to her husband.

“Why do you find Catelyn Stark to interesting, dear sister?”

She looked at her little brother. Tyrion had stayed out of the way most of the time, she didn’t even know when she had last seen him. But there he was. He had a way of just showing up from nowhere.

“I don’t.”

“I don’t believe that. Why are you staring?”

She didn’t answer. Mostly because she didn’t know. Why was she staring? What about Catelyn Stark and her piece of ice for a husband was it that interested her? Both of them were deadly dull. Quiet, solemn Eddard Stark and uptight Catelyn Tully. One could see in their eyes that they considered themselves better and much more honorable than everyone else.

“She was a lot prettier when she was younger” was what she ended up saying.

It was true. At least mostly. But still her husband looked at her like she was some great beauty. Perhaps he felt obligated to do so. Yes, that had to be it.

“But she’s still pretty, isn’t she? One might even say beautiful. Hair like that is hard to find. And I think Lord Stark is aware.”

She was nowhere near as beautiful as Cersei was. Had never been. Her husband was even plainer. And still you wouldn’t be able to tell that from how they watched each other.

“He’s in his cups.”

“Ah, but from what I have heard they are like this always.”

“And who did you hear that from?”

“People talk. Whores, most of all. It is said that Lord Stark never leaves his wife’s bed.”

No one to be trusted, in other words.

“I find that hard to believe.”

No man would be satisfied by such a proper lady as Catelyn Stark. Surely she would never agree to anything but lying back and staring up at the ceiling. But maybe that was all Eddard Stark needed. It did seem reasonable. Perhaps he, like Stannis, saw lying with a woman as nothing but a duty. But then Catelyn Tully was at least prettier than Selyse Florent and surely more enjoyable.

“And why is that?” Tyrion asked. “You see, some people are not unhappy in their marriages.”

“She’s too boring to keep a man in her bed. It’s easy to tell.”

“Have you never heard what is said about women with red hair? And what is said about Tullys?”

She had heard enough. Robert had always preferred red headed whores and he had never been shy about telling her about it. Even better if they came from the Riverlands. Cersei had a sneaking suspicion of that maybe all that was more related to Catelyn Tully than she would have liked. Of course he had said to her a few times that he would have much preferred to marry Catelyn instead, but she had not put too much thought into that. He had been angry and drunk, she never thought too much about what he said in those moments.

“And Lady Stark whelps every other year. Who do you think got all those pups on her?”

“Only one has the Stark look. For all we know it could have been anyone.”

She let her husband have his bastard among her children, but she looked at the boy with bitterness and had made sure he was out of the way during the feast. And Cersei wouldn’t be surprised at all if it turned out that one or more of the little Starks weren’t wolves at all. She even understood it.

“I don’t think Lady Stark would have time to be unfaithful considering how much attention her husband pays to her.”

“And do you think she enjoys it?” she asked.

Cersei certainly didn’t believe so. No, both of them were too proud and dutiful to let themselves to submit to something so unrefined as pleasure and lust. And Eddard Stark had no passion in him at all. He was without emotion, he had ice water in his veins instead of blood. Duty, that was all.

“The servants say that if you happen to walk past Lady Stark’s door at night you are sure to hear her.”

Tyrion raised his eyebrows suggestively and that was when she decided that she had had enough. She didn’t want to talk to him anymore. And she didn’t want to spend more time thinking of Lord and Lady Stark and their really annoying marriage. She needed to find some decent company.

And despite that she couldn’t help taking the longer way back to the chambers she had been given after having made sure that Myrcella and Tommen were sleeping. The way that just happened to pass by Lady Stark’s chambers. A complete coincidence, of course. She was not in the least curious. She had simply taken a wrong turn, lost her way. Winterfell was large, and confusing. She has only been there a short while and she already hated it.

But maybe, just maybe, her curiosity was sparked when she walked down the corridors and heard a very breathless laugh cut off by a sharp moan. She had been forced to listen to Catelyn Stark’s tedious voice enough for her to immediately recognize it.

A small fragment of light spilled out into the darkness from a door that was not properly closed and Cersei slowly moved towards it. If anyone was to see her there she would have to have their tongue cut out to keep them from speaking about it.

She had known what she would see, she was no halfwit, but it was different than what she had expected. She really wasn’t supposed to look, but still there was something that kept her from continuing back to her chamber.

Catelyn Stark sat in a chair in front of the hearth of the room and her husband kneeled before her. Kneeled. What sort of husband kneeled before his wife? Not Robert, that was a thing to be sure of. Lord Stark on the other hand, kneeled. Kneeled beneath his wife’s skirts. While the wife in question sat leaned back in her chair, her eyes closed and her lips parted. Her breathing came rapidly in between moans and soft sighs.

And Cersei had never hated a person more than she hated her in that moment. Happy. The damn woman looked happy. And that was no wonder when her husband took such careful attention to her pleasure in an act that brought him no pleasure at all. And that would in no way get her with child. He did it just for her. Her husband. Not some lover, her husband. Not that Jaime would have done that anyway, no, despite being a lover and not a husband he was too proud for pleasuring a woman with his mouth. Catelyn Stark needed not stray, she had everything she needed in her marriage bed.

Tully opened her eyes and Cersei drew away from the door a bit so that she was more covered by the shadows, but the other woman only looked down at her husband while she lifted a hand and ran it through his hair. And it was that thing that truly disgusted Cersei. How even in the heat of passion, even when he had his tongue between her legs, Lady Stark looked at her husband fondly, lovingly and touched him ever so gently. Not for a moment one could be spared from it.

She really had seen enough, she didn’t have to see more and she didn’t want to more. But still it was like she was frozen to the spot. The bloody castle was doing it to her, it was too cold.

Suddenly Tully shuddered and a cry escaped her lips as she found her release. Shameless, like some wench you could find in a brothel, she called out her husband’s name. The difference was that her cry was honest and not an act, she needed not pretend because she wasn’t obligated to. She wasn’t paid for it. Cersei could feel the hatred grow in her with each passing second.

“That was much needed” she smiled when she collapsed against the backrest of the chair.

The sated bliss on Tully’s face was infuriating. Cersei wanted to hurt her just seeing it. She had been satisfied when she needed it. She didn’t endure coupling with her husband, she enjoyed it and desired it. Small wonder when he did that sort of things for her.

“I suspected so” her husband chuckled and got up from the floor.

Lord Stark offered his lady a hand and pulled her up from the chair. He pressed a kiss to her forehead when she stood and she leaned against him. Despite being Lord and Lady Stark it was very much not a moment between a lord and his lady, it was a moment between a husband and a wife.

Ugh, disgusting. Cersei was just about to leave, to return to her own bed and try to sleep and forget what she had seen, she really wanted to forget, when she heard Tully’s next words.

“Entertaining the royal family is tedious business” she said.

“At least the Lannister side of it.”

“They are all quite unpleasant.”

And for a moment Cersei almost said something, but that would certainly raise some questions about what she had been doing there so she bit her tongue and kept quiet. If she raised awareness to it they could be punished. They should have been punished for speaking about her and her family like that. But Robert would never let anyone touch the Stark and his bitch. She hated them all.

Lady Stark left her husband and walked over to the looking glass that was standing in a corner. She seemed to consider a moment before frowning.

“You have made a mess of me.”

It was quite true.

“There is no one here but us, you need not concern yourself with how you look” he said. “But I think you are beautiful. Especially now.”

“There’s no need for flattering me, my love, you have me already” she smiled. “Help me unlace so we can get to the point, will you?”

He came to stand behind her. They had their backs to her, but Cersei could see their reflection in the looking glass. Catelyn was watching her husband intently as he began to work with the lacing at the back off her gown. He kept his hands where they were supposed to be. The lord and the lady were definitely not sober and still no drunken groping occurred despite Lady Stark’s promise. And he had not been angry with her for telling him to help her unlace. No wonder she seemed so completely unafraid of him, he was no wolf with her, he was a pup. She could jape with him without having to fear anything. Had Cersei even politely asked Robert to help her out of her gown he would have threatened her with violence. Not that she wanted him to help or touch her at all, his hands on her disgusted her. With Jaime she rarely undressed, they didn’t have time for it.

Only when he needed to push his wife’s gown down over her shoulders did Stark let his hands leave her back. He very gently swept her hair out of the way and when he did so he also leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the back of her neck.

“I love you.”

“And I you.”

Could it get more nauseatingly sweet? She didn’t think so. But at least she could not fault them for it that time. As far as they knew they were in private.

Ned Stark whispered something against his wife’s neck that Cersei couldn’t hear, but that seemed to appeal to Catelyn Stark.

“Touch me. Feel how much I want you.”

Any septa would have died on the spot had they heard those words coming from a highborn lady’s mouth.

Just then Cersei realized that the looking glass was positioned so that the door was visible from it. And that she was as well. And just in that moment Catelyn’s gaze moved away from her husband’s reflection.

Cersei quickly backed away and fled down the hall. She tried to be as quick and quiet as she could. Once she was around a corner she stopped and held her breath.

“Cat, what is it?” she heard Lord Stark ask.

“The door wasn’t closed and I almost could have sworn that I saw someone. But I must have imagined it. It’s either that or the keep is haunted.”

Cersei heard the door close and she breathed a sigh of relief. What was she even doing? Spying on the Warden of the North and his wife in the middle of the night. She was the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, what was she doing sneaking around the castle like some peasant that wasn’t allowed to be there? She was higher than that and better than both Lord and Lady Stark.

She wondered what Jaime would have thought about it. He probably would have laughed and come up with some clever jape. He was good at that, her twin. Maybe she could tell him. Not all of it, of course. But she could say that she had happened to walk past Lady Stark’s chambers. It had not been his turn to stand guard outside Robert’s chambers, he would most likely be in his own rooms. She could go to him. Yes, that she would do.

#i honestly don't know what this was #but i have had this idea in my head for a while so i figured it was time to write it #i hope it was okay #cersei lannister #catelyn stark #ned stark #ned x cat #my fic

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roman-writing · 4 years

Text

the spectres vain (2/2)

Fandom: The Haunting of Bly Manor

Pairing: Dani Clayton / Jamie / Viola Lloyd

Rating: M

Wordcount: 6,525

Summary: She had said before, ‘so many people mix up love and possession,’ and now years later she wondered if that was the reason why they had been given so much time. That maybe Viola thought this was love. That maybe she loved this. Loved her. Loved them.

Content advisory: spoilers, horror, and ghost smut

read it here on AO3 or read it below

“The night isn’t dark; the world is dark. Stay with me a little longer.”

-‘Departure’, Louise Gluck

"I really thought this would go away. But it just hasn't."

They were sitting in a cheap diner, their local favourite down the road. Jamie had already received her meal -- an omelette with a cup of coffee and a side of toast, all of which was going to be far too much for her to eat; she never would get used to the size of American meals -- but Dani had yet to receive her own. Jamie paused in the act of picking up her knife and fork. Dani's eyes were glued to her meal, like a starving man who had seen food for the first time in weeks.

"What would go away? Food?" Jamie asked. She slowly passed the knife and fork between her hands -- clink of chipped cutlery -- and began to eat.

"Yeah."

Dani tore her gaze away from Jamie's plate and instead focused on the salt and pepper shakers between them, bracketing the serviette dispenser like little guardsmen. She was sitting on her hands, as though that were the only thing keeping herself from snatching Jamie's food away for herself. She worried at her lower lip with her teeth.

"I mean, I've always liked food. But after -" She made a nodding motion with her head. "- anyway after, it was like I'd never tasted food before in my life. It was so strange. Everything tasted so sweet. I could hardly choke down a cup of apple juice. And a cheeseburger? I thought that I'd died the first time I bit into one. All that sauce."

Dani trailed off. She was frowning contemplatively at her scratched reflection in the chrome-plated dispenser.

Jamie shoved a mouthful of omelette into her mouth and spoke gracelessly around it. "Always thought American food was too sweet, myself. Maybe you got used to Owen's cooking over in England."

Dani gave her a look. "You know that's not why."

"Yeah, I know." Jamie finished chewing, already cutting up another piece and loading up the back of her fork with her knife. "I noticed the appetite change, of course."

"Mmm." Dani nodded. Her mouth was twisted to one side; she was chewing the inside of her cheek and sneaking glances at her wristwatch as though even the ten minute wait was too long for her to bear. "But it just -- it hasn't gone away. It's more bearable now. I still struggle with cake that's really sugary or has too much icing. But food is -- well, it's an experience. Every time."

Jamie made a noise in the back of her throat; her mouth was too full for even her to speak. She finished her bite, and then said, "Anything in particular you two have been craving?"

If anything, Dani seemed startled by the question. The thoughtful groove in her brow deepened, before she answered, "Tarte au citron. She used to love lemons. Anything sour. Not too sweet. Always a hint of bite."

Nodding slowly, Jamie said, "Yeah, all right. We can make do with that. And what about you? Do you like sour things?"

Dani's mouth opened to answer, but before she could say anything, the waitress came by and placed an enormous cheeseburger with all the trimmings in front of her -- bacon, extra cheese and gherkin, the whole lot. "Thank you so much."

The waitress had hardly taken two steps away before Dani descended upon her meal. The cheeseburger was in her hands and then in her mouth in a flash. She took a large bite, and juice dripped all down her fingers. As Dani chewed, she moaned softly, eyes shut in rapture. “God,” she mumbled. “That’s so good.”

Jamie lifted her eyebrows and coughed discreetly. “Blimey. Do you two need a room?”

Dani nodded and took another bite. Jamie laughed, and she could see the way Dani's mouth curled into a smile even as her cheeks bulged.

Later that week, Jamie was passing by a bakery on her way back to their florist's shop. She stopped and peered through the window. All of the baker's wares were on neat display, ranging from little fancies to proud cakes dusted with chocolate shavings.

And there, near the middle, a row of lemon tarts the size of her hand.

When she returned to the florist's shop, the bell attached to the door by a string announced her arrival, along with her accompanying bellow, "I'm back! I see you didn't burn the place down in my absence! Well done, love!"

It was a Saturday, and the sign turned to 'CLOSED' on the door bounced when she shut it. The sound of footsteps drummed down the stairs, and Dani's legs appeared as she descended the steps. "Oh, hey! How'd the bank go?"

"The usual." Jamie walked forward to the countertop with the cash register. "All their old farts with all their old money. And some money that isn't theirs either."

"Uh huh," Dani said. "And the loan?"

Jamie lifted one shoulder in a half shrug. "Sounded like they were impressed by the little talk you had with them last week about tenants and estate management.”

Dani’s face split into a wide smile. “Really? They’re going to give us the money to buy the shop instead of rent?”

“And the apartment, too,” Jamie said, and she couldn’t help it either. Her own grin broadened. “Anyway, I got you something."

She held out a plain brown wax-paper bag. Dani blinked, and took it.

"Oh, thanks, I was just thinking about -" Dani's voice slowed, then stopped. Her smile lessened slightly, when she opened the bag and saw what it contained. A perfect lemon tart with a dash of cream that had been only slightly smushed on Jamie's walk home. "Oh."

Without a word, Jamie pulled from her back pocket the plastic fork that had come with it. "Go on, then. Let's see how it compares to 16-whatever."

For a long moment Dani fiddled with the plastic fork. It were as though she were standing at the edge of a dock, readying herself for a plunge into icy waters. And then with a brave smile towards Jamie, she cut herself a piece and took a bite.

Jamie wondered what it must have been like. Dani's eyes were closed. She looked utterly transported.

"Good?"

Dani opened her eyes again and nodded. "So, so good."

"Yeah?" Jamie leaned her elbows upon the countertop, watching as Dani went in for another bite. "Better or worse than 16-who-even-cares?"

Dani hummed around the fork in her mouth. Pulling it free and chewing, she said, "Better. Way better."

"Why d'you think that is?"

"It's -" Dani went quiet for a moment as she continued to eat, mulling over every morsel. "It's smoother. Richer. Tarter. More depth of flavour."

"Is that the ingredients talking? Or the fact that you've been stuck in a lake without a body for five-hundred years?"

Dani went very still. After a pause she kept chewing. “A bit of both, I think.” She swallowed, then took a deep breath and looked Jamie dead in the eye. “It’s still me, you know. I’m still me.”

Jamie smiled at her. “I know, Poppins. I know.”

When Dani held out the next forkful to her, she let herself be fed. And indeed, she’d been right. Smooth. Rich. Tart. And a depth of flavour.

At some point -- she could not say exactly when -- Jamie began doing things explicitly thinking of not just what Dani might like, but what Viola might also like.

She read old books. She asked a friend of a friend who went to university to study textile history for any hints of seventeenth century culture. Anything at all so long as it was between the years of 1645 and 1680. (She knew the dates perfectly, but she wasn’t about to let Viola know that. Couldn’t have their evil aristocratic ghost getting all uppity on them, could they?)

She grew specialty plants. She bought specialty food. She gave her clothes and jewelry, little trinkets, only what she could afford. Dani loved them all.

And Viola -- well, Viola was a mystery.

"Did you know that our very own Viola may very well have met Oliver Cromwell?"

Beside her in bed, Dani shifted and the mattress springs creaked beneath her weight. "Are you doing research on my ghost?"

In answer Jamie pointed at the place in the book she was reading and said, "In the year 1658 the daughters of one Mister Willoughby, Viola and Perdita, visited Court, aged fifteen and ten respectively. There they paid their respects and stayed for a few months in a London residence, before returning to the family estate." Jamie set the book down on her legs. "Do you think she actually met him? No. They couldn't have. The Lloyds weren't that reputable, were they?"

"She did," Dani said in a hollow tone. She was staring into the middle distance again, her expression slack.

"Oh, yeah?" Jamie asked. "She want me to know that, does she?"

Still gazing off into space, Dani nodded.

Jamie gestured with the open book. "Noted." She tried to go back to reading, but her curiosity got the better of her. "Okay, what was he like? Good ol' Ironsides?"

"Cold." Dani's eyelids fluttered and she seemed to come to herself. She cleared her throat, but continued, "And he was so critical of her nice new clothes. But she had the last laugh in the end."

Jamie snickered. "Sounds about right."

“He died that same year. Right after they’d visited,” Dani said. “She thought his beheading later was very funny.”

Hearing that, Jamie’s eyes widened. "Holy shit. Wait. Was Viola a secret Catholic?"

Dani scowled darkly at her. The air of their bedroom seemed suddenly colder.

"Whoops. Personal question, then?" Jamie held her hands together in mock supplication and thickened her accent. "A thousand pardons, m'lud."

With a snort of laughter, Dani pushed Jamie's hands down, but paused to lean forward for a quick peck on the mouth.

Sometimes Jamie felt like she was stalking a dead woman. Constantly trying to figure out what Viola might like, what might entice her to stay. And then worrying that perhaps it meant Dani was losing a bit of herself everyday. Like a coin rubbed smooth over the years, until the minted face was indistinguishable. One replacing the other. Or perhaps more like losing the line that separated them. Until she could no longer tell where Dani ended and Viola began.

Yet in time Jamie learned she would do anything if it meant that Dani was here by her side. Every action. Every game pie. Every tight-armed hug. ‘Don’t go. Stay with me. Just for today. Just one more day.’

And every time, Dani caught her eye and smiled as though she had heard the unspoken words, as though they had rung about in the pull-down attic of their little apartment. And every time she would reach out to squeeze Jamie’s hand, and pull her into a reassuring kiss.

Americans, Jamie had learned since living here, were obsessed with Halloween. Personally, she didn’t see the appeal. Now, lighting up the effigy of a Catholic who had once attempted to blow up Parliament? That was more her cup of tea.

Still, when in Rome...And the few friends they had made along the way had invited her to a costume party in town. It would be churlish to decline. They needed more friends. Friends that weren’t linked to a shared trauma.

Besides, as it turned out her friend’s friend at university studying textile history was also an amateur seamstress, and had a few period-accurate pieces that fit without too much trouble. Just a bit nipped in at the waist and -- done. Jamie was set for a ball, or whatever the appropriate equivalent would’ve been called.

“Hey, Jamie, could you help me with this wig? It’s being a real pain in the -”

Dani emerged from their bathroom, half dressed in a Bride of Frankenstein white dress outfit, and froze. It was an hour or so before they were set to leave on the night, and Jamie was in their bedroom draped in a seventeenth century gown, seated on the mattress, a thorn-stripped rose in hand. Dani dropped the aforementioned wig to the ground and stared.

“Too much?” Jamie asked. She adjusted the puffy sleeves so that they sat lower on her arms, revealing more of her chest. “I don’t think it suits me, and I was going to go for a bloke’s outfit instead, but she insisted that -”

“No,” Dani breathed, shaking her head. “No, it’s perfect. You’re perfect.”

“Well, I knew that, obviously.” Jamie winked. Then she made a shooing gesture with the rose, rising from the bed and walking towards Dani. “Now, c’mon! Let’s get that zig-zag wig of yours on. We’re going to be late.”

Dani stepped to one side to block the exit. Her gaze was dark and fixed, unblinking, upon Jamie’s outfit. “I was wrong, actually. What I said just now.”

“What? About me being perfect?” Jamie joked.

“No, not that. It’s just -” Dani reached out with a tentative hand and her fingers were trembling. She thumbed an edge of the dress at Jamie’s sleeve, testing the rose-coloured silk there. “It’s the wrong colour. You should be in green. Laurel as a crown.”

“Thanks?” Jamie said uncertainly.

Dani stepped closer. With her application of make-up and her pale flowing dress, she seemed more like a ghost than ever. Her hands were on Jamie’s upper arms now, stroking the fabric, following the line of the stomacher’s seams until they rested at Jamie’s narrowed waist.

Dani swallowed, and her voice sounded strained when she asked, “Are you wearing a pair of bodies?”

Jamie huffed with nervous laughter. “Am I wearing a -? What?”

As if coming to herself, Dani blinked and shook her head quickly. “I mean - uh - stays. Uh - What’s the name now? - a corset. Are you wearing a corset?”

“Yeah. And all the petticoats and frills.” Jamie straightened theatrically and tried to stretch her shoulders. “Bloody uncomfortable, too. I tell you what.”

Any attempt to break Dani out of this spell with humour seemed futile, however. She was tracing the metallic gold thread of Jamie’s stomacher with greedy fingertips. “What exquisite passementerie.”

“Yeah,” Jamie said haltingly. She was being guided back towards the bed, their steps slow. “The girl I borrowed this from is into the real deal. Wanted to make it as authentic as possible. I’m guessing she passed with flying colours?”

Wordlessly, Dani nodded. Her tongue darted out to wet her lower lip, her mouth painted a bold and bloody red. Her hands curled into fists, bunching up the skirts at Jamie’s hips as though she wanted to tear the cloth from her, only for her touch to slacken, and her palms to smooth down that same fabric like a caress.

Dani continued walking them towards the bed. “I don’t know exactly what’s happening right now, but I really really want you.”

Whatever reaction Jamie had been expecting, it hadn’t been this. Dani hadn’t blinked for what seemed like an age, and she held herself rigidly, every movement twitchy, as though she couldn’t quite remember how to control her muscles properly.

“Can I -?” Dani started to ask, fingers already slipping towards the laces at Jamie’s front.

Jamie lifted the rose between them and used it to bop Dani gently on the forehead. “‘Course you can, Poppins. So long as it’s still you in there.”

Dani blinked furiously and her head jerked back. Then she laughed softly. “Yeah. I’m - I’m here, too.”

Jamie’s mouth curled in a smirk. “All right, then.” She tossed the rose onto the ground, and reached to the laces that held the gown in place. “Help me out of this thing.”

“No.” Dani grabbed her wrists and held them firmly in place. She shut her eyes for a quick moment, shaking her head back and forth. “Not yet.”

“I thought you said -?”

“I know. And I do. Just -- slowly.”

Jamie stared, searching Dani's face for some hint of her there, but her eyes were still tightly shut, and her fingers were pressed coldly around Jamie's wrists.

"All right," Jamie said. "What do you want me to do?"

Dani's eyes opened then, and her gaze was piercing as a shot in the night. She let go of Jamie, stroking her wrists in silent apology, then said, "Be still."

Jamie lowered her arms, then tried her best to not move at all. A long silent moment stretched between them like a bolt of cloth flaring across a table for measuring. The muscles of Dani's face leapt, then settled, and it were as though the nervous energy ran right out of her to pool at their feet. She straightened to impeccable posture, and her expression was nothing but hunger.

It came as a shock, when Dani first tugged at the strings at Jamie's chest. Clever fingers, accustomed to such garments, worked the laces loose, criss by cross. When the gown had slackened just enough that it began to part from the under layers, she stopped. She brought her hands around, and dipped her fingers along the gap created between silk and cotton, running a line between them all the way from one of Jamie's shoulders, across her chest, to her opposite arm.

When her fingertips trailed across Jamie's collarbone to rest against her sternum, it felt like there was another set dragging along after them. Twin touches mirroring every movement of the other, until suddenly they weren’t. Dani leaned forward, and though her hand remained at the hollow of Jamie’s throat, Jamie could feel an icy caress continue to graze her warm skin.

Then Dani was kissing her neck. Jamie tilted her head to one side, only for some other presence to nudge it back upright. She nearly jumped out of her skin when she felt a second pair of lips against her throat. She swallowed, neck craned back, and teeth scraped against the sensitive skin there, harder than Dani would have ever bitten, hard enough to make her jolt. From the corner of her vision she swore she could almost see another figure shrouded in white, but when her eyes darted in that direction, there was nothing.

When Dani felt a hand reach around her throat, she stiffened. "No," she said. "Not around my neck."

Immediately Dani went very still against her, and the hand withdrew. "Sorry. Better?"

Jamie nodded mutely, but could not bring herself to relax. Not when those pairs of hands had moved to part the robe gown from her front. The ruffled bunch of rose-coloured silk dropped to the mattress just behind her in a rustle. Dani was kissing her mouth now, a long deep drawn out kiss, cupping Jamie's cheeks between both hands, but something was still expertly reaching beneath a layer and untying the ribbons that held the padded pillow around her waist under the over skirt, until that, too, was dropped to the floor.

That phantom touch roved, then began to trace the intricate patterns of the stomacher again. There was more strength behind the caress now. As though, the person responsible were gaining confidence, or perhaps becoming more grounded in reality. The warm lamplight on the bedside table behind them cast too many shadows, and over Dani's shoulder Jamie could clearly see the silhouette of three people instead of two.

Those hands pressed against the seams of the stomacher, and Jamie broke off the kiss to gasp, "Careful. There are pins holding that in place."

"I know," Dani murmured against the side of her mouth. The hands passed right over the pins, leaving them in place. "I don't want it off."

"And miss out on all the fun?"

There was a certain steely coldness about Dani's answering smile. "Who said anything about that? Now,” she pressed gently at Jamie’s sternum. “Lie down.”

Jamie dropped onto the mattress, which bounced slightly beneath her weight. She made to shuffle up towards the headboard, but stopped when Dani sank to her knees before her. And yet, there was a dip in the mattress on either side of her. The blankets bunched up at four points as though beneath another weight. Jamie held her breath and let herself lie completely flat with her legs hanging over the side of the bed. The air above her was thick and cold and almost solid. It felt like lying at the bottom of a lake and staring up at the watery surface overhead.

She could feel Dani pushing up the over skirt and petticoat and whatever other layers there were. Jamie had been told the names of each one at the time, but hadn't paid much attention then. Now, she wished she had. Now, Dani was running her hands along each one in turn, slowly sliding them up to Jamie's hips.

Something tugged at one of the black ribbon garters just above Jamie's knees, which kept those long white stockings in place. Then Dani was sliding the left stocking down her leg, pausing to press a kiss to each patch of bare exposed skin. She shivered. As Dani removed the first stocking and moved to the second, Jamie felt a kiss at her neck again. The suddenness of it made her twitch. She reached out, but her hands passed right through the air above her. A pair of hands gripped her wrists and pinned them down to the bed.

Jamie made a noise in the back of her throat. Dani paused, and the grip around Jamie's wrists slackened just fractionally until it became clear that she wasn't fighting back.

Once the final stocking was removed, Dani pressed an open-mouthed kiss to Jamie's inner thigh. Jamie squirmed. Though Dani’s head was only barely visible between her legs, Jamie could not escape the feeling of someone staring intently at her. Dani’s mouth worked its way up and up and -- Jamie hissed, shutting her eyes and clenching her teeth. While the rest of her was cold, Dani’s tongue was a length of heat, licking long warm stripes and small circles.

With a moan Jamie’s hands jerked, instinctively going to grab Dani’s head, but she was held back, tethered down by an invisible ghost that lingered over her like a dream. There came the sensation of something drawing closer, a draught of cold air that drifted across her face, and Jamie’s eyes flew open.

If she focused, she could almost see the monochromatic shape. Dark locks of hair dripped down past her head and puddled on the surrounding bedsheets. Viola was crouched over her in all her former glory. Sparkle of light glinting against the pearls at her throat. A rich cool and satisfied smile. Dark weathers for eyes. The cat that had caught the canary in its claws. She leaned down and kissed Jamie, and her mouth was full and soft, and thin and hard all at once, demanding, unrelenting.

Viola pulled away. She lifted one satin-gloved hand and stroked Jamie’s cheek. “Such a pretty thing.”

Her voice was a hoarse echo across space and time. Dani slipped two fingers into her, and Jamie had to bite back a whimper, her eyes squeezing shut.

“Look at me.”

With a hitched breath as Dani’s tongue worked against her, Jamie struggled to open her eyes, to keep her hips still.

“That’s it, darling,” Viola smiled, and her face began to melt, like a painting that dripped with wax. “Come for me.”

Jamie’s back arched, her head turning against the sheets. She came with a whine that escaped in spite of herself, and it seemed to go on for ages, until she trembled and jerked her hips away. Layers of cotton and silk stuck to her skin with a thin sheen of sweat. Hastily Dani clambered up to take Viola’s place, hands on Jamie’s wrists, crouched over her, her mouth a smear of bold red lipstick, staring intently down, as though trying to memorise every last etch of her face. She swayed closer for a moment to brush her lips against Jamie’s, just softly.

“You all right?” Dani asked, sounding breathless.

Jamie nodded. “Yeah. Good. Great, even.”

“Yeah?”

In answer, Jamie reached up and crushed their mouths together in a bruising kiss. Dani groaned, pressing down against her, then gasped her name.

Hands on her hips, Jamie urged her further up until Dani’s knees bracketed either side of her head. She pushed up the sheer white fabric of the costume around Dani’s thighs. Above her, Dani gripped the frame of their headboard, knuckles white, already panting.

Jamie shouldn’t have been so greedy. She should have taken her time. She should have made Dani writhe, holding her on that ledge for as long as she could until Dani finally broke. But Dani was so wet, her thighs were taught and trembling, and she was grinding down against Jamie’s mouth. Jamie could feel her chin and neck grow slick. She held onto the backs of Dani’s legs and urged her on, coaxing with every roll and swipe of her tongue until she came with a cry.

One of Dani’s hands was tangled in Jamie’s hair. The other was still gripping the headboard tight. She was resting her sweat-stippled forehead against her own arm. When Jamie scraped her teeth lightly against her damp inner thigh, Dani shuddered.

"Are you all right?"

“I need a moment,” Dani said, her chest heaving. “I want to go again, but - Just - Give me just a moment -”

Wiping at her face, Jamie helped Dani back down to lie beside her. “I’ve got you. Don’t worry.” She kissed her temple while Dani gasped for breath into her shoulder. “I’ve got you.”

She had said before, ‘so many people mix up love and possession,’ and now years later Jamie wondered if that was the reason why they had been given so much time. That maybe Viola thought this was love. That maybe she loved this. Loved her. Love them. Or at least the idea of them. In some twisted way. All that cold rage and loneliness clinging to whatever scraps it could find, winding around its prey like a snake slowly throttling the life out of its victim without even realising it.

But maybe Viola wasn't squeezing so hard after all. Maybe she couldn't. Maybe Dani hadn't died yet because Viola was trapped, because she could never again return to the lake at Bly. Maybe Viola wasn't possessing her at all. And if she wasn’t possessing her, then - well.

Even that was too good to be true. The best outcome by far given the circumstances. And really, deep down, Jamie knew that loving Danielle Clayton meant loving her enough to one day let her go.

They didn’t make it to the Halloween party. Eventually, Dani tired herself out, riding Jamie’s fingers for a third time before collapsing atop her and panting for breath as she seemed to come fully back to herself. Jamie was barely able to convince Dani to join her for a shower before she fell asleep, all a-tangle in Jamie’s arms.

The bedside lamp was still lit. Jamie carded her hands through Dani’s long damp and honeyed hair. From the light, the shadow of a woman standing at the foot of their bed was thrown in sharp relief against the opposite wall. Staring at the space where Viola stood, Jamie gently kissed the top of Dani’s head.

Not for the first time in her life she found herself hoping beyond hope that someone could be haunted forever.

One day she brought back a tin full of loose-leaf tea. It was intended for nobody but herself. A full and earthy black. Not the bog her father would've drunk before descending into the ground, but similar in colour to his lungs perhaps. Jamie pulled it out along with the rest of her shopping, and started to put everything away but the tin. And while she did so, she put on the kettle to boil.

The sound of the kettle whirring away on the stove drew Dani from another room, like a siren's song. She was dressed in an old pink shirt tucked into high-waisted, acid-washed jeans. Her hair was still wet from a recent shower. "Need some help?"

"Sure." Jamie handed over the last bag for unpacking. "Take care of that for me while I handle the kettle, will you?"

Without a word, Dani did as asked. She was the taller of the two, and didn't have to reach up onto her toes to put away things on the high shelves. And Jamie was too proud to admit she needed a stepping stool, herself. Why bother? That's what Dani was for. Among other things.

When Jamie opened the cupboard, she asked, "Don't suppose you want some as well? Might not be your cup of tea, so to speak."

"I'll have one. Thanks."

So, Jamie pulled out two mugs. The kettle hissed. She poured a bit of water into each cup to warm them, then spooned the appropriate amount of tea leaves into the pot. While waiting for the tea to steep, Jamie turned round and lifted herself onto the kitchen bench. There, she drummed her sock-clad heels against the cupboard and reached over to the jar that held an assortment of biscuits. Chocolate-drizzled digestives for herself, and ginger biscuits for Dani, who had the unfortunate American affection for cinnamon and ginger and cloves. Jamie couldn't stand ginger, herself. Tasted too medicinal.

Sticking a digestive biscuit into her mouth, Jamie wordlessly held out the jar. Dani was just finishing putting away the shopping bags, and wandered over. Her hand slipped into the glass opening and she fished out two ginger biscuits for herself. Jamie set the jar aside, and meanwhile Dani insinuated herself between Jamie's legs so that she stood snugly against her.

"Long day?" Dani asked.

"Mmm," Jamie mumbled around a mouthful of biscuit. She finished chewing. "Not too bad of a Sunday, to be honest. What about you?"

"I went for a walk in the park," Dani said, looking mischievous as she nibbled on the first biscuit.

"On a Sunday? The scandal," Jamie tsked, tapping her tongue against the backs of her teeth. "What would dear old Viola think about that?"

In reply, Dani arched her brows and smirked, "I think that was the appeal, actually. Plus, we're in the full swing of Fall now, and we won't have many sunny days soon. I wanted to take full advantage while I still had the chance."

"Buy anything while you were out?"

"A scarf for you," Dani answered. "And a pair of gloves for me."

She had a habit of buying articles of clothing out of the blue. Whenever the fancy seemed to strike her. Today was obviously one such a day.

"How very thoughtful."

"It's green. You look good in green," said Dani. "It brings out your eyes."

"I look good in anything," Jamie insisted. "And nothing."

Dani grinned. "That's true, too."

She stepped back and wandered over to the fridge for milk, when Jamie reached around to pour them each a cup of tea.

"Thanks, love," Jamie said, pouring them each a dollop of milk before handing the jug back to Dani, who put it away in the fridge once more.

Their fingers brushed when Jamie handed over the cup of tea. As ever these days, Dani's hands were cold. They eagerly wrapped themselves around the hot cup, and she pulled the tea close to her chest.

Jamie did the same. It was after all, as Dani had said, the throes of Fall; the weather was taking a turn to the icy. And that first sip of tea was pure heaven. It warmed her all the way down her throat and settled in her stomach. Jamie hummed at the sensation and closed her eyes. She could hear Dani do the same beside her.

"I wish I could take this moment," she heard Dani say in a soft murmur, "and press it into a big book for safekeeping. So, I could come back and look at it whenever I felt sad."

“Aye,” Jamie breathed. Then she opened her eyes, and said, “Though maybe only with another biscuit in hand.”

With a snort of laughter, Dani dragged the biscuit jar closer so they could each indulge again. Jamie took one. Again, Dani took two.

“There. Now, that -” Jamie gestured with her cup of tea, speaking around a full mouth, “- is a perfect moment.”

“I could not agree more.” Dani had already finished one biscuit and was busily dunking her second into her tea.

Jamie watched her finish the biscuit before nudging Dani softly with her elbow. “You’re normally more of a coffee drinker. I could’ve brewed a different brew, if you’d wanted.”

“Yeah. But - I dunno. Somehow,” Dani paused to take a sip. She smiled warmly around the brim of the cup. “This tastes like home.”

Polaroids were getting cheaper and more compact these days. She didn’t have to go cramming them into oversized pockets anymore. Jamie had thrown out countless photos over time, never quite satisfied with the outcomes but always searching for some way to keep a hold of her. The day she bought a new camera -- her old one had died the death of kings; a swimming accident, and cameras as it turned out did not swim very well -- she immediately wanted to try it upon returning home.

Dani had just gotten a new haircut. The barber had done something to her fringe to make it look like the sweep of a wing, and she was constantly brushing it out of her eyes. She did so when she looked up as Jamie entered the living room, greeting her with a curious smile.

Brown paper bag under one arm, Jamie took a moment to remove her jacket and sling it across the coat hanger, but she left the green scarf wound around her neck like a python. “I got a new toy,” she announced.

Dani tilted her head to one side. “I told you I’d buy you that nice pair of secateurs for Christmas.”

“And you still can.”

Immediately, Dani’s eyebrows rose and she seemed intrigued. “Then what kind of toy?”

Pretending to look scandalised, Jamie reached into the bag. “How naughty! Not that kind of toy.”

Dani’s cheeks tinged pink. “Oh,” she said. She sounded disappointed.

With a smirk, Jamie strode forward and pulled out the new camera. She chucked the now empty paper bag onto the kitchen countertop, and gestured for Dani to stand beside her. Shaking her head, Dani nonetheless complied.

Jamie grabbed a hold of Dani’s shoulders and kissed her on the cheek, before she lifted the camera up as high as her arm would allow. A press of her finger. A flash of light. A click and whir of cogs and internal mechanisms.

Dani didn’t flinch this time or duck her head. She returned the kiss, then wandered away, humming to herself, without waiting to see the film develop. Jamie watched her go with a warm grin and an appreciative glance. When she looked down at the photo it was to find herself beaming from the square strip of film, and beside her Dani smiling tentatively, grasping Jamie’s opposite shoulder. Both of them were clear and their characters easily distinguishable. She felt herself relax a little.

Then as the white veil continued to lift from the surface, she went very still. On each of their shoulders rested a pale hand, and in the space between them a shadow in the shape of a woman with hair as long and black as the night. The face was a mask worn of all features, but she swore she could see a pair of dark eyes watching her from the film, and a canny smile haunted the unmistakable likeness of the Lady Lloyd of Bly.

Wrenching her eyes up, Jamie stared after Dani, who had wandered into their kitchen and was humming over the kettle. Slowly the water began to build to a boil. The kettle began to hiss. Then to shrilly whine.

Dani removed the kettle from the heat and poured boiling water into the brown betty teapot. "How'd the picture turn out this time?"

Briefly, Jamie considered throwing this one away like all the others, but it were as though a hand was still squeezing her shoulder tight. Not enough to hurt. Just enough to be known and most of all obeyed. Clearing her throat, she took a few hesitant steps forward then held out the square strip of film.

Dani set the kettle back down, and took the picture. She turned it round for a better look. There followed a sharp inhalation, like tearing in one last breath before the plunge. Her eyes widened and then, a slow smile crossed her face. She gasped out an incredulous laugh.

"Y’know, I - I thought this was going to be terrible, but -" Dani stroked her fingers over the image. "It really isn't half bad. You look - I mean. We look -"

Suddenly she snatched her hand away from the picture, clenching her unruly fist and lowering it. Her breaths were shaky but when she glanced up, her eyes were bright. She held up the photo. "Can we keep this one?"

Jamie nodded and shrugged at the same time. “Sure.”

Relief suffused Dani’s face. She did not tuck the photo away in some little corner of the apartment, something to be passed by without a second glance. No. Instead, she turned and began pulling magnets from the fridge. She cleared their normally busy little refrigerator, pushing everything aside to make space. And right there at the very centre of the blank white canvas she pinned the photo into place with a single plain black magnet.

“There,” Dani breathed softly. Her trembling fingertips lingered against the white-edged film. “That looks right. That - It feels just right. Right there.”

The hand at Jamie’s shoulder withdrew, but then there was the feeling of something drifting from the top of her head to the nape of her neck. As though someone were trying to tame the wild curls there with a gentle, approving touch.

“Dani,” Jamie croaked, her voice cracking.

“Hmm?” Dani turned around.

Striding forward, Jamie stopped only when she was close enough that she could peer deeply into Dani’s eyes. They were as they always had been. Variegated as an infected holly.

“Are you -?” Jamie had to swallow down the burr in her throat. “Are you feeling yourself?”

Dani’s answering smile was puzzled. “Yeah,” she said, her words slow and thoughtful, as though considering something inward very closely. “Yeah, I am.”

And she reached up to card her fingers through Jamie’s untamed hair. “You know, it’s strange, really.” Dani’s hand followed the same path as the one had before, coming to rest at the nape of Jamie’s neck, a cool solid comforting weight. She stroked her thumb, and the motion was repeated by one that was colder, like an echo, before the two hands came together at last. “Somehow, I feel more myself than ever.”

#thobm #the haunting of bly manor #dani/jamie #dani/jamie/viola #dani clayton #viola lloyd #roman writes #ANYWAY here's the ghost sex don't @me

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oro-e-diamanti · 3 years

Text

The one with the matchmaking

My masterlist

Description | Victoria is desperate to set you and Thomas up... Might there be a spark already?

Content | Fluff

Pairing | fem!Reader x Thomas

Word Count | 2663

Taglist (add yourself here!) | @mywritingonlyfans @damianodavide @lizstans @its-afucking-mess @ethaneskin @dont-let-me-drown-in-you @vampirtet @lividisuigomiti @tabi-toast @ethan-torchio-angelo @cheese-toastie-11 @thewitchinthemountain @ethanesimp @sofckinelectric @man3skin @daddydamiano @finelinejpm @superchrystaldrug @ginny-lily @nientedaridere @shaunthesheesh @damianodavidhands @teatrodellavita @coven-daddy @solasullabarca @foryourllove @makapaka11 @slave4yourlove @geklutst-ei @marriedwithmarktuan @bookish0918 @mehrmonga @ginny-lily @ohtorchio @messyhairday-me @bidet-and-legolas @maybanksslut @katyldamusic @fuckim-so-gay @demoiselle-en-detresse00

***

There had been an unspoken thing between you and Thomas from the first day you met. It was one of those right person, wrong time scenarios. Both of you were happily taken by other people, loving your partners, and leading healthy relationships. It simply hadn't been meant to be and both of you had gladly accepted it. Nothing had ever happened, despite the others insisting there must have, neither of you was like that. So you stayed friends with him, the same way you stayed friends with Victoria, Damiano, and Ethan and it didn't take long for the five of you to grow into a loving group, a chosen family. That was until both you and Thomas happened to have broken up with your respective partners within the same week. It was safe to say that it didn't take long for the meddling to start.

***

"I just think they'd make such a good couple!" Victoria said, pushing the empty beer bottles around on the table in annoyance. "They're basically made for each other."

"Leave it, Vic," Ethan said. The dark of the bar was hiding his features and the fact he was slightly rolling his eyes. "They both literally just got out of relationships, I don't think they're interested."

"But they both ended them so it's not like they've been broken up with," she insisted. "I'm sure they'll get over it quickly enough."

"Yeah I agree with Vic," Damiano added. "It's not like either of them seems all that heartbroken."

"Exactly, which is why we need to act now!"

"I still don't think it's a good idea," Ethan sighed. "Just let them figure it out on their own."

"But they're idiots! They'll never figure it out!"

Damiano couldn't help laugh out loud. He knew his friend was onto something, both Thomas and Y/n tended to be hilariously oblivious when it came to things like these.

"Maybe they just need a little push," he agreed.

"Fine." A deep sigh escaped Ethan. "But don't say I didn't warn you if it doesn't work out."

***

The moment you stepped into the vintage second-hand store you decided it was heaven on earth. It didn't take long for you to sweep through the place like a whirlwind, picking up pieces left and right, leaving Victoria and Thomas standing at the entrance still. You didn't care, this was one of your favourite places and you were not going to be held back because those two were slow. You tried on a dress that looked like an absolute mess on you and you quickly took a picture to laugh at later with the others, before trying on some trousers that you really took a liking to. You were still in them, trying to figure out if you had also grabbed a top that would match when someone knocked on the wood of the changing room. Confused and not certain if the noise was directed at you, you pulled back the curtain to come face to face with Thomas. He noticed you were in your bra before you did.

You raised your eyebrows, overly amused at how he was nervously looking around to figure out if anyone else would be able to see her, but no one seemed to be around. As he turned back, he tried not to let his gaze fall into her chest again, but failed miserably. You laughed heartily, "It's fine, stop blushing, Thomas."

He grinned, more relaxed not that he knew you didn't mind. He shouldn't, this being far from the first time he'd seen you like this.

"Vic told me to give you this dress to try on."

You looked at the piece of fabric he handed you, a gorgeous, velvety black, knee-high dress with a dangerous slit and a plunging neckline. It wasn't something you would have chosen yourself, but you trusted Vic's judgment. The curtain was quickly closed again, removing the trousers you had already decided on and slipped on the dress. It fell in a much nicer way than you had anticipated, easily smoothing itself over your curves and settling perfectly in place. The mirror agreed with your sentiment - you looked gorgeous. Okay, so this dress would do with a bit more makeup and without a bra, but it was a no-brainer that you were going to buy it.

You ripped open the curtain, now facing both of your friends. As soon as Vic saw you, she seemed as smitten with it as you were. Thomas looked stunned in his own way but stayed quiet.

"Fuck, I knew that was your dress!" Victoria shouted, obviously proud of herself for picking it out.

"Where am I ever going to wear this?" You asked, spinning to muster your reflection once again.

"When I take you out tomorrow night," Vic grinned. "There's a gorgeous new restaurant in town but it's fancy fancy, so this will do just fine."

You couldn't help but squint your eyes at her through the mirror. Her suggestion sounded just fine, but the way her eyes flickered made you feel like there was something more to the story.

***

"Wait, so how will you going out with her to dinner help, exactly?"

"Oh, Damiano, stop being so dumb. Obviously, I won't go."

"I don't get it."

"I'll have some sort of last-minute emergency, and since both of you will be out of the house, Thomas will have to step in."

Ethan sighed, shaking his head at his friend's plan.

"Why do you have to meddle so much, Vic?"

"Because those two don't get it. But once they see each other all dressed up, romantic dinner, candles, good wine, it'll click."

"Whatever you say."

***

"Oh my god, Y/n, I'm so sorry!" Victoria burst into your room, Chili cradled in her arms and an apologetic look on her face. "I know we said we'd go to that fancy restaurant tonight, but Chili's been coughing and the vet told me to come in immediately."

You side-eyed the little white dog, looking as happy as can be, but there was no reason for you not to trust Victoria. Right? You briefly petted Chili's head.

"Don't worry about it, we can always go some other time."

"No!" Her outburst surprised you. "I mean, it's so difficult to get a reservation there and you should wear your dress out. Damiano and Ethan are out, but I'm pretty sure Thomas is free, please ask him, he'd probably love to go with you!"

You wanted to scold Victoria, tell her this wasn't happening, tell her you'd be fine just staying home, but she didn't give you a chance to do any of it. Instead, she left your room, immediately shouting for her bandmate. It was the reason you found yourself at a candlelit dinner with the blond man mere hours later.

"You look amazing, by the way," Thomas said. Well, he actually kind of mumbled it into his pasta rather than proudly state it. You felt like blushing.

"So do you, love. But you know I love you in a suit."

Your eyes met, just for a moment, before both of you found yourselves awkwardly staring back at your plates again. You didn't know why you were behaving like this, or why he was, you could only attribute it to the fact that this felt like an overly romantic date and the waiter had referred to you as his girlfriend multiple times already. Neither of you had corrected him. You hadn't minded the single rose that had been placed between you on the table, accompanied by a little wink and a smile by the waiter.

"You know, you make a lousy boyfriend, not even bringing me flowers for our date, " you teased, watching as a shy smile appeared on Thomas' face, his eyes travelling down the table for a second before looking at you again with more than a twinkle.

"I did take you to the nicest restaurant in town, surely that gets me some points?"

The giggle bubbled over your lips easily. Everything came easy with Thomas. He made the troubles disappear with one look, one touch of a hand, a single word, a gesture, his existence. He was your own personal cure to everything.

***

"No, I'm telling you, it worked," Victoria excitedly gasped and she gathered in the kitchen with Damiano and Ethan, trying to stay as inconspicuous as possible. "You should have seen them when they came back!"

"Did you actually wait up for them?" Ethan asked, slightly disbelieving, slightly amused.

"Well, they didn't know obviously! I just cracked my bedroom door open a bit. But they were all giggly and happy and they hugged when they said goodnight!"

"Vic, we all hug all the time," Damiano threw in.

"Not the way they did. I'm serious, this is working and you'll see soon enough!"

"So what's the next idea then?"

"I'm... I'm not quite sure," she admitted. "But I'll figure it out and it'll be perfect."

***

The thunderstorm hadn't been predicted by any of the weather channels. You found yourself standing in front of the patio doors with Thomas, watching the heavy rain disturb the surface or the pool, trees swaying in the wind, a flash of light illuminating the garden in regular intervals. It had only been the two of you home when it had started, everyone else out to meet friends or sitting in a bar with a drink in their hand. You had been having a lazy day, unwilling to leave the house at all, while Thomas had slept for so long no one had bothered trying to wake him so he could join in on plans.

"Do you want to compare our favourite records?"

You had been so focused on the happenings outside of the glass that you almost flinched in surprise at his question. Still, a slight smile, the right kind of look, and you were nodding enthusiastically. Hasting up the stairs, barefoot and in nothing but shorts and the shirt you usually slept in, you went through the little collection you had brought to the summer house, already hearing the first notes of Led Zeppelin's Black Dog echoing downstairs. With a smile on your face, you grabbed a few records and bolted back down to Thomas.

"I still prefer Led Zeppelin III," you giggled, only to be greeted with Thomas' shocked face. "Anything that has Immigrant Song on it is a hit, really."

"Blasphemy! Nothing tops IV, and you clearly have no taste."

"You clearly have no taste considering you think anything Led Zeppelin has put out is better than Fleetwood Mac's Rumours." You barely waited for the first song of Thomas' album of choice to finish playing before interrupting it with the sound of Second Hand News.

It didn't take long for the conversation to get heated. Still, you kept playing your record in the background, effortlessly dodging his effort to change it, even though the whole thing had been his idea in the first place. He was still complaining, explaining, talking to a wall basically, as you danced around the living room, as the music flowed through you, singing along, thunder only happens when it's raining, as the weather outside did its worst.

"I just think it's much too sad, most of it," Thomas finally concluded.

"Doesn't that just make it so beautiful though?"

"No, it just makes me sad," he pouted.

"Maybe you just never listened to it the way you should. In the arms of someone you love."

A heartbeat passed as both of you looked at each other, but then your smile returned and you motioned for him to get on the sofa with you, lying on your side as he slowly but surely moved in front of you. Your arms wrapped around him, spooning him, making you feel safer than you ever have as Songbird played in quiet tones.

Your nose buried itself in his hair, letting his smell fill your every pore, taking over your whole being as you pressed into him, singing along in nothing but a whisper.

"And I love you, I love you, I love you, like never before."

***

"Guys, guys, guys, look at that!" Victoria called out to her friends as they quietly made their way into the house. "I knew it would be such a good idea to leave them alone in the house!"

"Vic, it's not like you made a thunderstorm come along, I'm pretty sure this was not your doing for once," Damiano whispered.

"Doesn't matter! Look at them spooning! We're on the right way, guys!"

"We're not on any way," Ethan threw in. "You keep trying to meddle and the two of them are going their own ways."

"They just need another push. I just gotta think of something."

***

"Hey, they let you feed the goats here!" Victoria squealed as everyone around her let out a groan. The zoo was bustling with people, the five friends surrounded by families, and Vic easily fell in line with the children's excitement.

"Vic, I really really don't like goats," you complained. "I'd rather not get their attention because I got food in my hands."

"Fine. How about you go see the owls over there with... Thomas, and I go feed some adorable goats with Ethan and Damiano?"

The both of you allowed yourselves to be pushed away easily, chuckles on your faces as you walked away from the rest of the group, dodging running toddlers as you went.

"So, this is a set-up, huh?" Thomas grinned next to you as his arm slid around your waist, pulling you closer.

"Oh, as if Victoria has been doing anything these past weeks without hidden intentions." You let yourself mold into Thomas' side, leaning in closer until your bodies were touching as much as physically possible. "She's not half as subtle about this as she thinks. I'm sure she's watching right now."

You didn't turn around, but you felt her eyes on the pair of you, watching your every move and trying to figure out what was going on between the two of you.

"Do you wanna give her a show?" You playfully pinched his site, looking at him from the corner of your eyes just to see a smile appear on his face that was surely mirroring yours. "Make out a little bit?"

"Wouldn't that give it away?" He stopped walking, now wrapping both of his arms around you as you leaned on his chest, looking up at him.

"I'm sure she'd still think it's just a first step in the right direction."

Not waiting for his response, your hand reached up to his face, slowly stroking along the soft skin of his cheek, thumb running over his lower lip as his smile grew, then reaching around, tangling them into his hair and pulling him down to you. His lips met yours in a sigh, warm and lovely, a tingling feeling spreading through you immediately, pressing yourself into him. You could feel his thumb stroking your back ever so slightly as he held you. He wanted more, slowly moving his lips, trying to deepen the kiss, but you pulled away. Close enough to still feel his breath on you, close enough that whispering would be enough.

"Now, we don't want Vic to figure it all out immediately," you grinned before putting more distance between the two of you. He groaned, making you giggle, before taking your hand and pulling you along.

"How much longer are you planning to keep this up?" Thomas asked, shaking his head, but still amused. "We've been together for two weeks."

"Pretty sure she already bought tickets for the cinema for me and her for Wednesday... which she'll inexplicably have no time for so you'll have to come along, obviously. I can give you a hickey in the dark theater, she'll freak."

Thomas laughed out loud, pressing a single kiss to the top of your head.

"Fine. One more date, that's it?"

"One more date."

#maneskin fiction #thomas raggi imagine #thomas raggi fiction #thomas raggi x you #thomas raggi x reader #thomas raggi fluff #maneskin fluff #maneskin imagine #maneskin x you #maneskin x reader #mywriting #fluff

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emmerrr · 4 years

Note

Possible prompt if you’re interested could be Declan finally seeing one of the portraits Jordan does of him! Alternatively, jordeclan moving in together and creating a space where neither of them has to hide themself in an attic

i can’t resist a moving in fic and i’m sorry this took so long

It’s late afternoon when the final box is removed from the moving van, and just for a moment, the excitement is overshadowed by the overwhelming task of unpacking that lies ahead.

Boxes, boxes, everywhere. Declan closes the front door and follows a trail of them to the bedroom where he finds Jordan, curled up on top of the bed they’ve not long finished making. Her eyes are shut, her breathing even, but Declan isn’t fooled.

He crosses his arms and leans nonchalantly against the doorframe. “Faker.”

Jordan affects a snore which makes Declan laugh, and she opens an eye, that wicked grin that stole his heart spreading across her face. She pats the empty space beside her. “You know you want to.”

He really, really does. He kicks off his shoes and crawls up beside her, his feet instantly grateful for the reprieve. He groans happily, sinking his face into the softest pillow in the world. He feels Jordan press her face into his arm and turns his head, and for a moment they just watch each other.

“We have so much unpacking to do,” Declan finally says.

Jordan nods. “We do. Don’t worry, it’s not going anywhere.” She lifts Declan’s arm and tucks herself underneath, then kisses his collarbone.

He sighs, happily resigned to his fate. The house is still a mess of boxes, they need some more furniture, and the whole thing is still too new and alien for it to quite feel like home. But with Jordan in his arms, nodding off to sleep in the bed they now share in the place that’s just theirs, it’s the closest to home Declan’s ever felt.

“What do you think?”

“It’s hideous.”

“Isn’t it?” Jordan says dreamily. “Sit on it.”

Declan eyes the armchair dubiously. It’s some kind of paisley print in the most garish of colour schemes; bright pink and orange, smatterings of yellow and turquoise. “It won’t go with the rest of the living room furniture,” he tries.

“Your doubts are duly noted,” Jordan says sagely. “Sit.”

“...This feels like a trap.”

“Sit.”

Declan sits.

It’s the most comfortable chair he’s ever had the pleasure of sitting on, and he does everything he can not to let his face give that fact away. He shrugs. “It’s alright.”

Jordan grins the grin of the triumphant, and Declan knows they’re getting it.

He tries to imagine it in their space, and suddenly finds that he can. He can picture where it will go; at an angle, equidistant from the fireplace and the TV. He can picture them in the winter, him and Jordan cuddled up together, blanket tossed over them, snow falling outside, the light of the fire covering the whole room in a cozy glow.

He thinks he might be going soft, and he thinks that might be okay.

“I told you we’d find something in a thrift store,” Jordan says, her fingers twined through his as she leads him to the checkout counter.

He pulls her hand to his mouth, kisses it gently. “So you did.”

The furniture is pulled back from the walls and newspaper covers the floor as Jordan and Declan stand, paint rollers in hand, transforming their bedroom walls from a bland and safe off-white to a lovely deep forest-green.

Jordan’s phone is playing music through wireless speakers, a playlist that seems to jump from Rihanna to Metallica to Taylor Swift to Arcade Fire to some K-pop band Declan doesn’t know the name of, and so on, in no discernable pattern that he can follow.

“What playlist is this?”

Jordan smiles wryly. “It’s all songs that Hennessy hates.”

Declan thinks about that, and about all the canvases in the spare room that Jordan has set up as her art studio, original pieces that she started and then aborted.

“Is there still a part of you,” he says carefully, “that thinks everything you like, or create, or choose, is really just some facet of Hennessy’s personality and not truly your own?”

Jordan’s expression hardens, and he knows he’s hit a nerve. “That depends,” she says evenly. “Is there still a part of you that thinks this is doomed? You and me?”

It’s Declan’s turn for a wry smile. “Touché.”

Their love story is a unique one, and Declan can’t deny he’s had his moments of thinking that it’s all going to end in flames. But through it all he also knows that he’d still be here, even if they were heading towards their inevitable end. He wants this, for as long as he can have it.

It’s hard to stop constantly thinking about worst case scenarios, because it’s so ingrained in Declan to do just that. But Jordan quiets that part of his brain with a touch, or even a look. Just being in her presence is a balm to his heart and his mind.

They’re happy. And maybe they’ll be okay. Who’s to say?

“For the record,” he says at last, “I don’t think this is doomed.”

“No?”

He shakes his head. “No. And also, you are your own person, independent of Hennessy.”

“You think?”

“I know.”

Jordan puts down her roller, and cups Declan’s face, bringing it down to hers as she kisses him. She’s probably getting paint on his face, but he doesn’t care; not now, not ever.

“For what it’s worth, you are the best choice I ever made,” she says fiercely, her forehead pressed to his.

He kisses her again, soft. “It’s worth everything.”

“When are you going to put your paintings up?”

It’s a fair question. They’ve been here almost four months now, and everything from Declan’s attic in the D.C. house is still leaning up against the wall in Jordan’s art studio, covered over.

“There’s no attic here.”

“Ha, ha,” Jordan says sarcastically.

The truth is, he doesn’t know quite why he hasn’t gotten around to it. At first it was for practical reasons; they had painting and other repair work to do in several rooms, so it made sense to wait until that was all finished.

But it is finished now, and it has been for weeks, and other art pieces and photographs have gone up; some of it Jordan’s own work, some that she bought (or stole) once upon a time, some that they bought together. But nothing from his own collection, nothing that he had kept locked up for his eyes only until Jordan had shown up and gently prised the key from his hand.

His silence drags for so long that Jordan drops the sarcasm. She puts her hand on his chest. “This is our place. Yours and mine. You don’t have to hide here.”

Because he has been hiding away, for years, so much so that it’s habit more than anything that seemingly forbade him from doing anything that wasn’t cookie-cutter.

But Jordan sees him, she knows him; the real him behind the slick, designer veneer, and that’s the part she loves.

The part that wears fancy shoes.

“Come on, then,” he says, taking her hand. “You can help me decide where they should go.”

“I’m so glad you said that because actually I already have some ideas,” she says, and that's how they spend the afternoon.

They take Declan out of the attic, one piece at a time.

It’s quiet when Declan gets home. He takes his shoes off by the door and hangs his coat up, then makes his way through the house, peeking in each of the rooms in search of Jordan.

She’s not in the living room, where Declan’s favourite hideous armchair now lives. Matthew fell asleep in it on New Year’s Eve, and Ronan drew a monocle and handlebar moustache on his face. It had been a quiet one; they’d played games most of the evening, almost all of which were won by Adam, and at midnight Ronan and Hennessy had been in charge of the dream fireworks they set off outside.

The kitchen is also empty when Declan scans it, his eyes lingering on the slight chip in one of the floorboards from where Jordan had dropped the admittedly ridiculously heavy cast-iron skillet when they were unpacking. He remembers accidentally flipping a pancake right out of the pan and onto the burner. He remembers burnt toast and spilt coffee and broken crockery, and various other messes, but most of all he remembers the laughter that went along with all of it. The dancing in the kitchen at 2am, the doing the dishes in companionable silence, the domesticity in helping each other prepare a meal.

These are the things Declan now thinks about when he thinks about the concept of home. Maybe it’s a place where the good memories you make outweigh the ones that hurt. Maybe home is what you make of it, the stamp you put on it to make it your own. Maybe home is a person.

Maybe it’s a combination of all of those things.

Declan finds Jordan, inevitably, in her studio. She has headphones on which explains the quiet, and she’s working on a painting, the canvas almost as tall as she is. There’s no reference that Declan can see, and it’s not a copy. She’s painting just for the sake of it, a complete original.

He moves carefully around until he’s in Jordan’s eyeline, and the laser focus in her eyes shifts to a smile of delight when she spots him. There’s paint splattered on her overalls, specks of it on her face and in her hair, but she never looks more radiant than when she looks at Declan like this.

“You’re home!” she exclaims, pulling her headphones down.

“I am,” he agrees, warmth settling in his chest.

“I’d kiss you but I’m all painty.”

“I don’t care,” Declan says, and he closes the gap between them, sweeping her up into his arms as he kisses her, swallowing up her delighted little “oh!”

“You’re in a good mood,” she says with a laugh when he puts her down.

“Just happy to be home.” It’s so strange to finally be able to say that, and to really mean it. He’s home with Jordan, where he belongs. “You about ready to take a break? I was going to make coffee.”

“I’ll be out in a minute. Make me a latte?”

Declan smiles. “For you? Anything.”

#cdth #jordeclan #dreamertrilogy #tumblr prompts #trc

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screamingatanemptyroom · 4 years

Text

Snow White’s Revenge pt 2

Hey everyone! Here’s a pt 2 to the short I wrote last time. I had a sudden urge to continue it for a couple of parts or so.

Part 1 linked here.

Enjoy!

____________________________

“I can’t believe that worthless brat is still alive!”

The Queen’s angry shout was accompanied by the loud crash of her wine glass against the wall. The shattered pieces flew through the air, landing on her skirt and shoes, but the woman ignored them, her gaze focused instead on the blood spattered girl being escorted through the palace gates. The entry guard had already passed on her story, the words causing the Queen to wish there were more things to smash in the room.

“A wild animal?! Killing the huntsman but not that brat?!” She shook her head. “How is it possible?”

“Is that a question for me?” The golden eyes in the enchanted mirror showed enjoyment as the item watched the Queen’s fury. “I’m more than happy to exchange the answer for a few years of your life energy.”

“Shut up, you useless piece of junk!”

“Not my fault you start the day off by wasting your daily question.” The mirror laughed. “Be careful not to frown too much, or even your magic won’t be able to hide the lines in your face. You might be dropping to third fairest soon! What are you going to do then? Kill every attractive female in the kingdom?”

“If I have to.” She muttered in response, but quickly calmed her facial expression. “No matter what, Snow White must die.”

“Then why not kill her? Why do you make things so needlessly complicated?” The golden eyes rolled with disdain. “Foolish human.”

He queen sighed. “She’s the daughter of the late king and queen. My claim to the throne is temporary, and fragile at best. If it were known that I was behind her death, the citizens… even the other kingdoms wouldn’t stand by. It would be seen as disregarding the natural order of royal blood. But if it’s an accident…”

Her slim, well-manicured finger tapped against her jaw. “Now that she’s back, I’ll have to be careful. Prince Alexander will be arriving tonight. He will likely wish to discuss an engagement with that girl.”

“And you care? If he takes her away you can be fairest in the land, right?”

“Fool. She’ll have a powerful backer to support her should she wish to take the throne. Rather than compete with his brothers, the prince may fancy taking over an easier fight here.” Her hands clenched into tight fists.

“Whatever it takes, I have to make sure that this marriage does not happen.”

____________________________

“I have to make sure this marriage doesn’t happen, Phil.” Prince Alex forced a smile for the crowds as they rode into the Royal Capital, towards the palace.

“Again, I think you’re an idiot for turning down a beautiful sweet girl, but sure, so you’re just going to tell her that you won’t marry her?” Phil sighed, keeping a diplomatic expression on as he rode behind the prince.

Alex shook his head slowly. “Our parents had pretty much guaranteed the marriage before the late king passed. If I just refuse it now, her mother could make a huge political scandal out of it. That could hurt my chances for the throne back home.”

“You really need to think this through, Alex. First of all, I don’t know if her stepmother cares…”

“Snow White has to be the one to reject the marriage.”

“… I’m taking back all my concern for you. You’re an idiot.”

Alex grinned. “No, I’ve got it all planned out! I’m going to act like a violent thoughtless brute…”

“So you’re going to act like yourself?”

“And once she sees how different I am from the prince in her dreams, she’ll cancel the engagement and I can negotiate a non-marriage related treaty in exchange! It’s fool-proof.”

Phil stared at the prince with pity in his eyes. “I think you meant ‘foolish’.”

“You just wait. After I’m done, there’s no way Snow White will continue to hold onto the dream of marrying me!”

____________________________

“There’s no way I’m going to marry the prince.” Snow sighed as she tossed her knife at the practice dummy in the corner of the room. “Maybe it would be easier to just kill him?”

“Your highness!” Gertrude, the middle-aged nursemaid who had always been by the princess’s side since she was an infant, stared in horror at the stuffed figure that now had a blade sticking through its crotch. “I thought you couldn’t wait to marry Prince Alexander!”

That was the innocent dream of a dead girl. Snow thought but didn’t say out loud. “Things have changed, Nanny. I have too much to worry about now to pay attention to love and marriage.” She hesitated. “Unless… is the prince really strong?”

“Strong?”

“You know, can he fight? Cut off his enemies heads and torch their homes, stomp their corpses into the mud?”

Gertrude gasped in shock. “Prince Alexander is a gentleman! He would do no such thing!”

“Then he’s useless. Someone else can marry him.” Losing interest, Snow picked up another knife, taking aim.

“But he’s such a handsome young man!”

“Handsome?” The princess snorted with disdain. “Being handsome only attracts attention, and isn’t helpful in a fight.” The knife flew from her hand striking the center of the dummy’s chest. She stared at it with satisfaction, and then nodded.

“Yep, I’ll just have to tell him to look elsewhere for a bride. Someone weak and delicate, who suits a man like him.”

The nanny sighed. “Very well, Miss. I can’t claim to understand your thoughts, but as long as you’re happy…”

“Don’t worry.” Snow stepped forward, grabbing the knife still embedded in the stuffed target’s groin and pulling it upwards, slicing the whole dummy into two pieces. She tested the still sharp tip and smiled brightly, the delicate beautiful smile lighting up the entire room. “I’ll make my own happy ending.”

____________________________

“A toast to our princess, and her safe return!” A portly duke raised his glass, and with everyone else slowly got to their feet and followed suit.

Snow sighed with mild annoyance, sipping at the wine with a disgusted frown. Alcohol had been a much-coveted luxury in her old world, with many people willing to trade weapons and food for a chance to cloud their despair in a drunken stupor. She had fairly good tolerance back then, but saw it as more a necessary evil for business transactions rather than something to enjoy. Drunkenness meant letting your guard down, a chance for someone to kill you.

Not that it mattered in the end. Snow thought bitterly. I was completely sober when I was betrayed and killed.

She stared down at the wine in her hand, disliking the weak, sweet taste. At least the food was rich, well flavored, much better than the scraps she had grown up on.

Seems like the prince is enjoying the food too. She glanced over the handsome young man sitting across from her, who was carelessly shoveling food into his mouth without a concern for manners or etiquette. Food was smeared around his lips, falling to the table around his plate, causing others to stare in dismay, but he ignored them, focusing on eating his fill.

Snow nodded in approval. That’s how a leader should eat. None of this delicate small bites nonsense. Eat the food quickly, in case the enemy attacks while you’re weak. Maybe this prince isn’t as bad as I thought.

Curiously enough, seeing her positive glance at his behavior, the prince seemed frustrated and panicked, his behavior becoming even more loud and boisterous.

“I haven’t eaten food this good since the Battle of Brent!” He yelled out desperately, swinging his wine glass and spilling the liquid inside. “I was decapitating enemies left and right, crushing their corpses, ignoring their cries for mercy!”

Many of the noblewomen turned pale at his violent words, covering their mouths with handkerchiefs. A few even stood up to leave, too overwhelmed as he went into detail as to how he killed and dismembered his foes. Even the Queen seemed overwhelmed by the Prince’s brutish behavior, keeping her eyes on her own plate. Only two people in the room seemed unfazed by his words, his friend Phillip, the son of the Duke of Willowford, who just rolled his eyes, and Snow herself, who found herself increasingly interested in the man in front of her.

Maybe the previous soul had good taste after all… She studied him closely, unsure as to why he seemed so frustrated. He seems like a violent, merciless warrior, without concern for this kingdom’s silly rules for politeness. He doesn’t look all that strong though… I’d have to fight him to see if he is worthy to be an ally.

But as for marriage… Snow was still against it. She had seen too many fighters lose their lives at the hands of their so-called loved ones, and so had avoided relationships previously. Besides, the betrayal of her second in command in her previous life was still too fresh to consider trusting someone again very soon.

He’s probably looking for a delicate, submissive wife, so it shouldn’t be too hard to persuade him to look elsewhere. Just as Snow thought this, she realized that an opportunity had presented itself in the form of a dessert.

She took a small bite of the cake in front of her, a familiar tingling on her tongue alerting her to the poison inside. She tapped her leg under the table, hiding the green flash of her magic as she checked her body’s condition. It targeted the gastrointestinal system causing large volume vomiting and diarrhea within minutes of ingestion.

I assume the Queen wants to humiliate me, by forcing me into such a state before I can escape to the privacy of my rooms? She took another bite, tapping her knee again, her magic nullifying the poisons effects. Still, it seems like too good of a chance to pass up. Getting back at the Queen and disgusting my potential fiancé at the same time… With a smile, she took one more bite, this time only partially nullifying the effects of the poison.

Her face turning a bright white, she staggered to her feet, not missing the Queen’s satisfied smirk. For an odd reason the Prince seemed excited too, standing up as well.

“My rough manners and words must have offended you Princess, I understand if you need to excuse yourself…”

BLEGH.

Snow staggered over to the head of the table, vomiting all over the Queen.

“…” The room went silent as they stared in shock at the scene before them. The Queen’s eyes were wide, her hands shaking as she glared at Snow, who smiled sweetly back.

“Mother, I don’t feel well. May I be excused?”

“…Go ahead.” She answered through gritted teeth.

“Thanks, Mother!” Grinning as if the woman who just projectile vomited at a formal dinner party was not her, Snow skipped out of the room, heading back to the courtyard outside her rooms.

____________________________

“… The party is over.” The Queen finally spoke up again, stepping up and rushing from the room, dripping vile smelling fluid.

Prince Alex sighed sadly, covering his head in his hands. “That didn’t go well.”

Phil looked over. “Really? It looked like you were having fun?”

“Well, yeah, I don’t normally get to eat and talk however I want and formal functions, it was kind of a relief to get to act like I do out in the battlefield rather than play the part of the charming prince.”

“So what’s the problem?”

“Snow White wasn’t offended!” Alex groaned. “Did you see her smiling at me throughout the dinner?”

“Maybe she’s not as delicate and weak as you thought?”

“No. She must be so captivated by my looks that she doesn’t care how brutish I act.”

Phil rolled his eyes, looking physically pained. “Do you even hear yourself?”

“I’ll have to strike more directly, be insulting.” Alex stared sadly at the leftover food for a few moments, before standing up.

“The poor girl just vomited in front of the entire royal court, don’t you think you should give her a break?”

“This is for her own good that she’s not engaged to me…”

“And your selfishness that you want her to be the one to break it off…”

Alex sighed. ��You’re not wrong. But I’m going to try.” With that he walked away in the direction Snow White had fled earlier.

“Idiot.” Phil muttered, following slowly behind.

____________________________

The prince came upon Snow White as she was rinsing her face and mouth in a bucket of icy water in the courtyard outside her rooms. Without giving much thought as to why the delicate princess was using stale cold water outside rather than taking a warm bath, he stepped forward, keeping his voice harsh and overbearing.

“Hey you!”

Snow White turned towards the prince with a neutral expression. “Are you talking to me?”

“Yeah! I have something to say.”

The princess straightened up, stepping closer while drying her face with a rough cloth, obviously willing to listen. Alex took a deep breath, mentally steeling himself.

“I think you’re scrawny looking!”

Snow White nodded pleasantly.

“And you’re ugly!”

Despite his horrible words, Snow White continued to stare at him, unconcerned, as if his words were simple facts rather than terrible insults. Feeling desperate and guilty, he tried once more.

“No man in his right mind would marry you!”

The princess shrugged, her flawless features still tranquil. “Is that all?”

“…” Defeated, Prince Alex’s shoulders slumped, and he whispered “No. I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?”

“I’m lying, I’ve tried to do something terrible, when all you’ve done is be pleasant and polite. I’m so sorry!”

“… okay?”

“The truth…” He sighed. “The truth is that I can’t marry you, but I wanted you to be the one to break off the engagement, so I insulted you and tried to scare you off.”

“…” If anything, Snow White looked more confused.

“I do think you’re a lovely girl, but the royal court back home is a battleground right now, and I can’t bring someone as weak as you into danger. I wouldn’t be able to protect…”

RIP!

The tearing sound of the towel in Snow White’s hands interrupted the prince’s gentle explanation. She stepped closer, the torn cloth clenched in her fists, her face taking on a furious expression.

“WHAT DID YOU CALL ME?!”

“Umm…” Confused, Alex backed away a few steps, only to have the princess close the distance once more, now whispering.

“Did you call me ‘weak’?”

“…Yes?”

The torn pieces of towel flew into his eyes, blocking his vision. Alex tried to swipe them away, but before he could recover…

BAM!

Snow White’s right fist struck his face, knocking him backwards.

____________________________

Snow was mad.

Everything had been going so well. She had vomited all over the Queen, and while she was cleaning up, the prince had approached her of his own volition and seemed to be expressing an unwillingness to marry her.

He called her a few names, such as “scrawny” and “ugly.” Snow found herself nodding in agreement. This body had very little muscle mass, she missed the thicker arms and legs she had worked so hard for in her previous life. As for ugly… well, Nanny had told her she was beautiful, and Snow had no complaints about the features in the mirror, but who knows what counted as attractive in this world? Perhaps this kind of face wasn’t popular? Either way, it seemed that the prince wasn’t interested in getting married, which solved another one of her problems.

Snow was very satisfied.

At least she was right up until the man called her weak.

WEAK?!

Snow remembered the feeling of her friend’s knife in her back, their whispered words in her ear still echoing in her heart.

“You’re too weak to lead anymore, Snow.”

Seeing red, Snow had already started to fight before she could think things through.

BAM!

After distracting his sight with a torn piece of cloth, she punched him in the face.

Ow! This body is too weak! Feeling regretful, Snow tapped her arms a few times, infusing healing magic to the max , hoping to augment her strength and speed a bit. To her relief, she felt her muscles respond, giving her more to work with in the fight.

The prince had staggered back at her initial blow, more surprised than hurt. “Ow! Why would you…?”

He was interrupted as she kicked him in the chest, knocking him back further.

“We’re fighting.”

Alex’s eyes narrowed as he watched her draw closer. “If you keep at this, I’ll fight back you know.”

She swung at his head, smiling as he dodged the blow only to get her knee to his face. “Good.”

“I- I won’t go easy on you!” Alex clutched his broken nose, glaring.

“Who said I needed you to?”

And with that the two began to fight in earnest.

The prince was good, Snow had to admit. He had quick reflexes; his reactions were obviously honed on the battlefield. Even though he was injured right from the start he compensated quickly and launched a powerful attack towards her face, taking advantage of his bigger size and reach.

But she was faster.

Dodging within his range, Snow rammed a fist into his gut, causing him to bend over at the waist. Taking advantage of the lowered height, she kicked his head, causing his whole body to tumble backwards. Surprisingly, despite the heavy injury, he staggered to his feet, a bloodthirsty smile on his face.

“It’s been a while since I’ve been able to fight with everything I’ve got!” He lunged forward, seeming to stumble as he moved. Snow thought to take advantage of the slip, aiming a punch towards his chest, but he bent out of the way, showing the initial clumsiness to be nothing but a feint. Grabbing her wrist, he tried to force her around; to put her into an arm lock, but Snow simply went against the motion, allowing the bone to break.

CRACK!

The sickening sound caused them both to slightly flinch, but before Alex could recover she had already struck again, her foot smashing into his cheek, knocking him onto his back. Then, not allowing him time to stand, she stepped on his stomach, forcing the air out of his lungs in a painful gasp.

“Let’s get one thing straight, prince:” She smiled, not noticing that the beauty of the expression caused even the heavily injured prince to be dazed for a moment. “We are not getting married, true… but it’s not because I’m too weak. “ She leaned forward, her eyes sparkling with enjoyment. “It’s because you’re not strong enough to stand beside me.”

With that she struck him once more, knocking him unconscious.

“I’m out of practice.” Sighing with dismay, Snow reached over and healed her broken wrist, wincing as the bones reset themselves. She then stared down at the prince, wondering what to do next. A strong blow like she had given him could have definitely caused bleeding within his brain. If she left him alone he could definitely die.

“He did give me a good fight… and he’s not terrible at combat…” Muttering to herself, she leaned forward and held a hand to his forehead, allowing her almost drained power to flow into the prince’s body.

“What are you doing?” Another young man, Snow recognized him as Phillip, the prince’s friend, had walked up, staring at the unconscious prince with a mildly concerned expression.

“Healing him.” Snow answered honestly, most of her focus on the injured man in front of her.

“Why? Aren’t you the one who injured him?”

“…Aren’t you his friend?”

“Yeah, but I’m pretty sure he deserved the beating he got. “ Phillip watched her for a few moments. “Are you a witch?”

“Not in the way you’re thinking. I’m not bathing in the blood of virgins or summoning demons or anything. I just happen to have abilities that are useful for times like this.”

As she spoke, the prince’s injured face slowly returned to its normal state, the swelling and broken nose fading as if they never had been there in the first place.

“Again, I feel like I should ask why. Your stepmother could use your abilities as an excuse for you to be burned at the stake if she learned of your powers.”

Snow smiled at the young man. “Who would believe that the delicate and mild mannered ‘Snow White’ beat the snot out of a man and then healed him?” She gestured at the now normal appearing prince. “He looks completely fine to me.”

“Good point.” Phillip smiled, and bowed gracefully. “Then I will thank you, Your Highness, for showing mercy in not killing my foolish friend.”

“Smart man.” Nodding, Snow stood up, brushing her hands off on her pants. “He’s all yours.”

With that, she turned around and entered her rooms, smiling.

____________________________

“PLEASE TEACH ME HOW TO FIGHT!” Snow was greeted the next morning by the sight of the handsome prince kneeling, his hands clasped in front of him as he begged with a serious expression.

It’s too early for this nonsense.

Sighing, Snow looked over the young man with a critical eye. “Why?”

“I’m very sorry that I insulted you earlier!” Alex stared at her respectfully. “But now I know you’re really strong and I look up to you! I have so much that I can learn from you to increase my own strength!”

“No, I know why YOU want me to teach you.” She shrugged. “That’s obvious. What I want to know is why should I? There’s nothing in it for me.”

Alex considered her words for a few moments. “I’ll marry you?”

“Rejected. You’re too weak.”

“I’ll pay you?”

“I’m a princess, set to inherit the crown. I’m in a better financial position then you, who is still fighting for your own claim to the throne.”

“…I’ll be your servant?”

Snow rubbed her forehead, frowning. “I don’t have a use for you. If anything, that young man would be more helpful, since at least he’s smart.” She pointed at Phil, who was watching their interactions with an amused expression.

“Traitor!” Alex frowned at his friend, who backed away.

“You two violent creatures leave my poor innocent self out of your discussions. I’m just here to try to reign in the area of destruction a bit.”

“…” The prince lowered his head and thought. “Is there anything you want that I can give you?”

Smiling, Snow nodded. “As a matter a fact there is.”

“Really? Because I’m willing to give anything…”

“I want your sword.”

“NO!” Alex clutched the well-worn blade hilt with a crestfallen expression.

“I thought you said anything?”

“You might as well ask for my first born child!”

“Again, not interested. They’d probably just be weak like you.”

Phil sighed loudly, stepping between them. “What do you like about the sword, Princess?”

“It’s well balanced, has been kept oiled and sharpened, and seems to have an appropriate length and weight that I could use.”

“If we can get you a similar sword, or perhaps one even better, would you listen to this stupid prince’s request?”

“Hey!”

Snow ignored Alex’s shout and thought it over. “Sure.” She smiled slowly. “But I won’t go easy on you, weak prince.”

The young man stood up, shaking her hand with a grin of his own. “I’m counting on it, Snow White.”

____________________________

“Mirror, mirror on the wall, who is the fairest of them all?” The Queen, having just finished her morning routine and makeup, stared into the magic mirror with a desperate expression.

Her reflection was replaced with a gleeful pair of golden eyes.

“Again, the same question. For an evil witch you’re quite boring you know.”

“ANSWER IT!”

“Still Snow White, your beautiful and talented step daughter, who has quite good aim when it comes to vomiting I hear.”

CRASH!

A crystal case of powder broke into pieces on the floor.

“When are they going to learn to not put anything breakable in your room?”

“I’ll make her suffer for that stunt she pulled last night.” Ignoring the mirror now that she had asked her daily compulsive question, the Queen pulled a hidden lever on her wall. With a screech of rusty gears the wall near the switch separated, rotated itself and an attached dresser around, revealing a hidden room behind it. She entered it, and without hesitation, grabbed a knife and slashed her own hand, dripping blood into the cauldron at the center of the room.

“I may not be able to kill her directly, but let’s see how she deals with the dark fiends of the underworld when they come to torture her in the dead of night.” She poured a few more ingredients from various jars and tubes, smiling wickedly as a green smoke began filling the air. “Just a simple contract, a few years of life force, but worth it if her torment will be enough to push her into complete despair.”

“You know what I love about you? Your boundless optimism.”

The Queen ignored the mirror’s words. “You won’t escape me this time, Snow White. You’ve been lucky this far, but in the end, everything will be mine!”

Her laughter slowly filled the room, echoing off the walls, as if the whole castle was laughing with her.

#writing #fantasy #fairy tale retelling #dark #violence #fighting #magic

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theydontknowaboutusimagines · 4 years

Text

Sunflower - Harry Styles AU Series (Volume 5)

The year is 1977 and it’s officially summertime. Y/N is spending it with her family at the Malibu Breeze Hotel, where she meets, aspiring musician, Harry Styles. The two clash in the beginning, but soon realize they may just need each other in the end. Find out just how life changing one summer can be in Sunflower, a Harry Styles AU.

Here is part 5 of Sunflower. Hope you enjoy it!

Vol. 1 Vol. 2 Vol. 3 Vol. 4

Word Count: 2,144k

I had every intention to sleep in the morning, but both Marianne and I were woken up by our mother who insisted we join our parents for breakfast. Even though I was annoyed at my lack of sleep that was quickly catching up with me, it had been awhile since we shared a meal as a family. Or really done anything as a family since arriving here.

Dad still had his meetings, while Mom spent her days with the wives of other men in my father’s business. Then of course, Marianne did her own thing. I brushed through my hair as I got ready, feeling Marianne’s gaze on me.

“So, how’s everything going with you?” She asked me. “I’ve noticed you have been here most nights lately.”

“Interesting because neither have you,” I pointed out.

“Touche,” she laughed. “But seriously, how’s it going? I know you’re in Harry’s band now and that you played with them at The Soundbooth. Shame I heard it from Jessie, who was there and not my own sister.”

“I’m sorry,” I sighed. “I didn’t know I would be playing there and I guess I didn’t tell you about it after because I figured you didn’t care.”

Marianne bites her lip, “Y/N, I know we haven’t been close, but I’m still your sister. I love you and care about you, besides I’m the one who pushed you to do this because I believe in you. So, yeah, you’re damn right I want to know what’s going on with you.”

I hid back a smile, “Okay.”

“Promise?” She asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Promise,” I nodded.

Once both of us were finished getting ready, we walked down to the dining hall where my parents were waiting. We saw them sitting at their table, but we noticed they weren’t alone. There was a guy who appeared to be around our age give or take a few years sitting at the side of the table by my father. He wore a fancy dress shirt and slacks, too fancy for the beach, and short blonde hair slicked back.

I looked over at Marianne, wondering if maybe he was a friend of hers, trying to impress our father, but she wore the same confused expression as I did. The closer we got, the more confused I became. Whoever the guy was, my father knew him well, based on their conversation and body language.

“Oh, there you girls are,” my mother smiled practically clapping her hands together.

My mother’s statement put my father and this mystery guest's conversation on pause as they all looked at us.

“Y/N, Marianne, I would like you to meet William, he’s George’s son,” My father said.

Ah, the bosses’ son.

“Wonderful to meet you,” Marianne snorted before sitting down.

“Hello,” I nodded sitting down next to Marianne.

“So, Y/N, I invited William here today because he’s visiting from Boston and I thought he could share with you what University is like there,” My father said, picking up his glass of orange juice.

It took everything I had to not roll my eyes, “Oh, um, thank you… for that,” I said.

Marianne was smirking behind her glass and wanted to kick her.

“Y/N, your dad’s told me you’re still unsure of where you want to go,” William said.

“Well, I mean... “ I started.

“It’s completely understandable. Women haven’t exactly been attending college for long,” he said. “Do you know of what you might major in?”

“She’s talked about teaching perhaps,” my father interrupted.

“Oh, that’s perfect and certainly needed,” William said. “There are many wonderful colleges and Universities in Boston that have excellent teaching programs.”

“Wonderful,” I mumbled, biting off a piece of toast.

And that’s exactly how the rest of breakfast went, my father and William having a conversation with us commenting here and there. I try not to be one who judges someone right away, but I could tell that William was a pretentious dick who lived off Daddy’s money.

Yes, my family had money and were well off compared to most, but I didn’t talk about it or wear fancy clothing to show it off either.

Finally, the meal was over and Marianne and I were just about to make a break for it, when William spoke up.

“A few friends of mine are heading out for a boat ride soon, if you two would care to join,” he said. “We could talk some more about Boston.”

“That sounds lovely, doesn’t it girls?” My father asked, looking at both Marianne and I.

I wanted to decline, to go about my day doing what I needed to do to prepare for rehearsal that evening, but the look on my father’s face told me exactly what I needed to do.

“Sure, we’ll meet you down at the Marina once we change,” I said.

Neither Marianne or I said anything as we changed into our bathing suits. There was more to William inviting us to hangout with his friends than him just being nice. The odds my father arranged for his invite were quite high. He was pushing for me to make a decision about school, especially since the start of the school year was just around the corner. But I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do or where I wanted to go. I needed a plan and it all depended upon what happened with Harry’s band.

When we arrived at the marina, William and a group of five or six were loading onto one of the biggest boats I’d seen since being here. I don’t know what I was expecting, to be honest, but I should have known it wasn’t going to be an average boat.

“Ladies! Welcome, welcome! Come aboard!” William shouted, motioning his arms around.

“All I know is there better be some fancy ass beer,” Marianne mumbled. “And snacks.”

“If not we could always jump ship and swim our way back,” I suggested.

“Yeah, and have Dad flip? How we act around him and his rich little friends reflects Dad,” she said. “This little arrangement isn’t random.”

“I figured as much,” I said following behind her up the dock and on to the boat.

“You two are looking dynamite,” he winked. “We have drinks, snacks, and help. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask Harry and Jasper.”

I froze scanning the boat hoping William was talking about a different pair named Harry and Jasper. Unfortunately, he was not, standing there holding a pitcher of lemon water was Harry. His hair was clipped back on top of his head in his light blue Malibu Breeze uniform. He looked annoyed and miserable, until his eyes landed on me.

I smiled and waved my fingers at him. He walked over to me and Marianne, “Water, miss?” He asked, annoyance dripping from his voice.

“Oh, we’re fine,” Marianne answered before I could open my mouth.

And then he walked away.

“Did you know he was going to be here?” Marianne asked as we sat down at the front of the boat.

“No, and he doesn’t look like he knew I would be here either,” I sighed.

“Okay, look, I know you’re part of his band, but you can’t make it seem like you know him. If William suspects that you know Harry outside of him working at the hotel, he could tell Dad and then he’ll shit on your parade before it even gets started,” she said.

“That’s real rich coming from you,” I told her. “I’m the one who keeps to herself most of the time, but now I’m the one who is going to fuck things up for Dad if I’m not on my best behavior.”

Marianne glared at me, “You know what fine, if you want to be a bitch, go right ahead.”

With that she pushed herself off the bench, stomping her way towards the rest of the group. I sighed looking out at the ocean as the boat started to pick up speed. Marianne was right, but I couldn’t put on a facade just to impress someone, that was something she did and was good at. It’s one of the many reasons why she got away with so much.

“There you are,” I heard a male voice from behind me.

For a moment, the voice belonging to Harry crossed my mind, but as soon as I turned around William was the one standing there.

“Not a fan of a crowd?” He asked nodding towards the group of his friends behind us.

“Um, not really no,” I said. “So, this is your boat?”

“My father’s,” William said, sitting next to me. “Although, I’m the one who uses it the most with him being in the office all the time.”

I nodded, “How long are you here for?”

I didn’t really care other than wondering how long he would be around to try and tell me all about Boston.

“A few weeks actually,” he said. “I’ve got time off from my internship, so I thought I’d come here.”

“Hm, from the way you talked about Boston this morning I’m surprised you want to leave,” I snorted.

He laughed, “Yeah, well sometimes we need a change of scenery, right?”

“I guess,” I nodded.

“Teaching, huh?” He asked.

“Honestly, I’m not sure,” I told him, not sure why, but the words came out of my mouth before I could stop them. “There’s a lot I don’t know about my future, but my dad- he wants me to go to University. I think he wants me to follow in his footsteps, business, you know? But I’ve seen what he goes through and I don’t want that.”

“That would be hard, especially when you get around to having a family,” he said.

“Yeah,” I said, side-eyeing him.

Our conversation turned silent after that, both of us sitting beside the other. Glancing over at him, I noticed he looked different than he had earlier that morning. His blonde hair no longer slicked back, but blowing freely in the wind. He wore bright orange swimming shorts with a white tank top. A small light colored beard poked through his chin, glistening in the sunlight.

After a while, I needed to get away. I asked for the bathroom, which was below deck. Of course, this boat would have a bathroom. Walking past the group and Marianne, who was laughing and joining in with the group like they’ve been friends for years instead of an hour, I found the steps heading down below.

Luckily, my plan had worked and Harry was down there, plating more snacks onto trays.

“Hey,” I said softly.

He looked up from his tray of food, “Need something?”

“No, I uh, I just… I wanted to see you,” I told him.

“Hm, you mean your boyfriend’s okay with you being down here conversing with the help?” He asked.

“William? He’s not my boyfriend,” I said, confused. “And even if he was, I would still be down here talking to you regardless of what he thought.”

“Right,” Harry said. “Look, I think it’s best if you just go about your business and I’ll go about mine. I’m working and I don’t get paid to talk to the guests, so if you’ll excuse me.”

“And just like that you’re back to be a complete ass!” I snapped. “What is wrong with you? I thought we moved past this last night.”

“This is who I am, Y/N, you might as well get used to it,” he said before walking up the steps, taking the tray of food with him.

My time being stuck on the boat was finally over. Jasper docked the boat at the marina and everyone started gathering their belongings. I couldn’t get off fast enough. Harry ignored me the rest of the trip and his face was in a permanent scowl. William staying close to me and at one point putting his arm around my shoulder, didn’t help any.

“Y/N! Wait,” William yelled after me just as I reached the ramp onto the dock.

“Yes?” I asked.

“Would you like to join me for dinner in the dining hall tonight?” He asked.

“Oh, I uh, I’m afraid I have plans tonight,” I replied.

“Oh, what time?” He asked.

“Um, around 9,” I said.

“Perfect,” he smiled. “We can have dinner around seven, see you then?”

“I-” I started to say, but he interrupted.

“Great. I’ll meet you in the lobby,” he smiled, kissing my cheek before heading back onto the boat.

I stared straight ahead to where Harry was standing there witnessing what just happened with me and William. The veins of his arms popped out as his grip tightened around the rope in his hands. I opened my mouth to say something to him, but he just walked right past me, not uttering a word.

Let me know what you thought!

Also, if you have any ideas you would like me to include in part 6, send those in.

#Harry Styles Imagines #Harry Styles AU Series #Harry Styles Fanfic

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georgemackayhey · 4 years

Text

Silver Lining: Chapter 1

In which you and George decide to make the most of life after meeting up at the wrong place at just the right time...

a/n: Yay, my first multi-chapter fic! I'm still working on requests, never fear, but I couldn't wait to put this out there. I guess I could start a taglist, if ya’ll want to keep up with this absolutely wild ride! ♡

w/c: 3k

Next Chapter >

───※ ·❆· ※───

You sat in the passenger seat of your finances big fancy car, staring at your phone screen. You were speeding down the freeway, away from the church where you'd just breezed through your wedding rehearsal. The big day was less than twenty-four hours away now, and your wedding planner had just emailed you to assure everything you'd been organizing for over a year had fallen into place.

You had the perfect a-line lace covered wedding dress. You had the perfect church for the ceremony and a lush garden venue to hold the reception. You still had your own apartment, and a house in the city to move into after the wedding and honeymoon. And you had Colin, the perfect brown-eyed finance with a wicked sense of humor and an overload of charm.

You held his arm and breezed through a chic restaurant where a collection of your extended family members had been waiting among a linen-covered table. You sat on the end, next to your mother, across from Colin and his parents.

Your father smiled your way and immediately gushed to you about how excited he was for tomorrow. You sighed, taking a swig of champagne and reached across the way for Colin's hand. You were very excited to marry him, but were feeling a bit frazzled after finalizing all your plans. Everything was in place to go perfectly, but a continuing worry kept gnawing at your insides, warning you that something was bound to go wrong because, with Colin, nothing was ever as perfect as it seemed.

Your fiance flashed you a toothy grin before turning a glance to his other family members down the table. The restaurant was full of folks in semi-formal dress, careful not to scrape their forks against fine china plates. And the table you occupied was full of your dearest family members, most of them for far out of town.

Your collective families chattered about the wedding and drifted into a conversation about some of their own bridesmaid tall tales. Colin's hand abandoned yours to sip his wine while his mother laughed through a story about your fiance as a child. His father gave a grand toast, cheering to your big day.

Just as you started to take sips of champagne, a young girl who wasn't your waitress appeared at the head of the table, boring her eyes into yours.

She looked as if she had just seen a ghost, and you were about to ask if she was alright, long before wondering why she was hovering just above you. But you watched as the pretty young girl turned her eyes from your face to the ring on your finger and finally, to your fiance who sat opposite you. As her glance grew more and more horrified, you felt a pit open in your stomach.

"Colin?" The young girl asked in a hushed quake. Your boyfriend of three years and fiance of one went just as pale as the girl hovering between you two. Oh shit, you thought. You weren't sure what was going to happen next, but, somehow, you knew exactly what was happening now.

"You're getting married, I see?" The girl tried to smile, but the turn of her lip only resulted in her eyes going glossy. You couldn't be sure if the rest of your table had zeroed in on what was happening. All you understood right now, was that everything had taken a very sharp left turn.

"Chloe, don't do this. Not here." Colin dared to gaze up at the petrified girl and hiss through his teeth. Colin barely had time to finish his warning before the girl you now knew as Chloe picked up the glass of wine Colin had been nursing and splashed the deep red drink in his face.

You definitely registered your dinner parties gasps of shock then; as Chloe turned her teary eyes toward you before she ran away with a shaky hand over her mouth. You watched Chloe run toward the front doors as a man in a dark sweater walked briskly after her.

Innocent onlookers then dropped their dinner forks and watched on as absolute disarray ensued. You kicked your chair out from under you, as the rest of the world crumbled at your feet.

"What have you got to say for yourself?" You stalled, fuming in place as Colin wiped wine from his eyes. And when he was able, he still couldn't manage to look at you.

With that, you decided that you needed to follow that girl. As you left Colin in a wine-soaked heap, your mother hurried to your side, as the rest of your family erupted into shouts, mostly aimed at the man who was supposed to marry you tomorrow. Your mother raced after you, her heels clicking in the marble entryway as you hurried out of the fancy place to find the young girl in a summer dress shouting at the man who dashed after her.

You stalled on the steps of the restaurant, as your story unfolded. The man in the dark sweater shouting with Chole, you knew him. That sturdy build, those blue eyes that glimmered like neon from a distance during dusk. He was even prettier in person somehow, George... George, oh, what was his last name? Until now, you'd only ever seen his face on the telly. It was impossible not to recognize him as one of the most popular up and coming actors, with the way the morning news and red carpet interviews gushed over the guy.

Then you started to put the pieces together. Chloe must have been his girlfriend. She kept saying "I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!" And he kept asking "All this time?" That's when a new fire was lit under your feet, as you walked over toward their fight. This was, somehow, your fight too.

Chloe saw you coming. Her eyes got wide and she stiffened up as she turned to move. But she knew better than to run.

"I'm- I'm sorry I shouldn't have done that in front of all those people. But- he never told me, we didn't-" The girl cried, closing in on her self as you stomped up to stand a few feet away.

"Actually, I'm glad you did! Now I don't have to waste a fortune on a cheater." You spat, truthfully. Anger flooded your system as you noticed her boyfriend drag his hands across his face as he spun around to sit against the sandy brick of the restaurant. George... That's it, Mackay!

"I'm so sorry," Chloe whined. "Colin and I-"

"I don't want to hear it. Just tell me how long. I just need to know how long." Your fists were curled at your side and the chilly night air wasn't a bother as smoke practically billowed from your ears.

Chole's eyes filled with tears and a frown pulled at her lips as you waited for your answer.

"How fucking long, Chloe?" George shouted from the ground just near you. Your heads turned in his direction and you noticed his eyes were still beautiful when they were shooting a look that could kill toward the girl who'd freshly broken his heart.

"Two... two years."

Two years was exactly half the time you'd been with Colin. Of course, that's where he'd been off to on all those late nights when you knew where all his alibis actually were. Two years was longer than you'd even been engaged. She was around before he gave you a ring, and she was still around the night before your wedding day. Maybe they'd still be together after all your plans were canceled and you were living in debt.

"I'm sorry for wasting your time." Chloe whimpered toward George as she turned to scurry deeper into the car park and away from the mess she'd started. Her now ex-boyfriend was sitting with his ankles crossed and his head lulled back against the building.

"Christ, I'm sorry." The man sighed, stressing each word as if he had anything to do with this. Well maybe he had a very small role in this grand scheme, but he was kind of in the same position as you.

"Me too." You shrugged, moving closer his way. Without much thought, you sat down next to him, an arms-length away.

"I should have seen it coming." George gave an exhausted laugh, opening his eyes toward the sky. "I knew she never felt the same as I did. I just kept pretending." The guy was opening up to you, for some reason.

"That's your job, isn't it? To act?" You very softly prodded. It would be weird if you kept on knowing exactly who he was without saying so. George turned those stunning blue eyes toward yours for the first time and gave you a sorry smile, followed by a nod of agreeance.

"Forgive my complaints, I can't imagine..." George raised a brow as his eyes traveled down your frame and landed on the engagement ring you wore.

"Oh, this old thing?" You glanced down, and then back up to him with a wry grin. "I'll tell you a secret, I never really liked it very much." You stage whispered to the man across from you who proceeded to actually chuckle in response.

Colin picked out the ring. He gave it to you right in the middle in the shop he'd collected it from, making a grand show of how expensive the thing was while a jeweler fitted it for your finger. It was expensive, and it was beautiful, but the diamonds didn't bring a sparkle to your eye. You'd always fancied something a bit simpler, more meaningful. Colin must not have ever really cared for you much, you realized.

It was then that you noticed a pissed off looking host escorting Colin out of the restaurant. The white button-up under his suit jacket was stained with wine, and he was nervously rubbing his hands together when he noticed you and George sitting together by a couple of well-groomed bushes. Your ex-fiance took a few timid steps toward you and started to open his mouth, but you weren't about to have any of it. You stood and stomped to right up to him, stopping Colin in his tracks.

"Here," You began, ripping the thousand dollar engagement ring from your finger.

"Take this, for your troubles. You'll need the money back after you pay for all the shit I have to call and cancel tomorrow. I'll give them your name." You flung your wrist toward Colin, and the ring landed on the pavement at his feet. He glared at you in your furry, and that pissed you off even further.

"Pick it up, get in your car and stay the hell away from me." You were fuming, but as you watched Colin bend over and pick up the ring he proposed to you with, a sense of pride washed over you. His jaw clenched as he shot you a look before turning to find his car in the lot.

You let out a breath before turning back to find the actor had been watching you. You looked at each other for one stunned moment before breaking out into a weird, shared bout of laughter. Because of it, you felt yourself floating back to the wall George remained sitting against.

As he looked up to you, opening his mouth to speak, the host who'd escorted Colin out of the restaurant sheepishly approached you.

"Ma'am," He rose a sorry brow. "Your guests have all left and we're sorry to ask, but their checks still need taken care of. "

"I understand." You sighed, nodding to follow the host inside. You noticed the actor scramble to his feet as you started to walk away.

"We've waived your dinner fees, and half of the orders that hadn't yet been made." The host explained over his shoulder as you passed back into the expensive restaurant.

"Well, that's very kind, thank you." You said, walking toward the podium where he worked. As the host scurried behind the stand, an older woman who appeared to be the manager shuffled to join him. She shot you a sorry smile and thanked you for being understanding, before chattering with the host about the check.

"Can I help?" A voice rang from behind you. George was there, giving you a look like a sad puppy who'd been left too long on its own. He went on...

"I feel as though I have to make this up to you somehow. I can help pay." George's eyes grew wide, running a hand through his tousled hair.

"Your generosity is appreciated, but it's really fine, I swear." You furrowed a brow, unable to understand why he felt a pull to fuss over the unfixable. The host was handing you the scribbled up check, and you were handing him your one and only credit card, knowing full well this would max it out.

"So how can I pay you back for being a part of the night that ruined yours?" George pressed on as the exhausted-looking host fiddled with a kiosk

"Well, I don't know how you could possibly." You chuckled.

This was utterly ridiculous. There was no movie quite like it, but surely the actor beside you could score big on sending in this drama to a couple of playwrights. This was the kind of nonsense you'd read in the headlines of those tabloids but never believed for a second.

As you signed off on your ruined meal, George reached for one of the restaurant's tiny business cards and asked the host for a pen.

"I'll give you my number. Call me when you think of something and I swear I'll make it up to you." George explained before turning and offering the card to you.

Oh, of course, this night was only getting stranger. George really had little to do with this evening falling apart, but the seemingly genuine, yet random act of kindness was nice enough in the depth of your despair to get you to agree.

"Okay fine." You breathed a laugh, taking the card. The most fun you would have all weekend was probably going to be showing off the actor's number in your contact list to your friends while you drank your problems away.

"I mean it." George nodded, each word stamped with assurance. The host waltzed away from the kiosk as you slid the strange gift into your pocket. And like a ghost who was never there, George turned and disappeared around the corner.

Your mother appeared at your side just then, and you gathered that she must have been waiting on the sidelines before coming to collect you. She wrapped an arm around your shoulder and wordlessly headed in the direction of your father's car. As you drifted along the pavement she spoke up.

"Was that... George Mackay?"

You couldn't help but snort a laugh. Your mothers dedication to all those morning talk shows was the only reason you'd know the answer to her question now, anyhow.

"Yeah. It was."

"Alright was let's get you home and out of this mess."

______

Thank God you decided to wait to move in with Colin. Your one-room flat never looked more like home than it did tonight.

You trudged toward your fridge, found a bottle of flavored vodka, and proceeded to pour an old Starbucks cup full of the alcohol. You took swigs as you sulked toward your bedroom. Your bed was neatly made and everything was in its place, for always, and for tomorrow.

Next to your vanity, encased in a clear plastic cover, your wedding dress. You took a big gulp of vodka as you walked up to the useless thing. The shop window's sign that read No Returns!, was almost bolder than the name of the shop its self. The dress was so beautiful and perfectly fitted. Maybe you could wear it one day...

But could you wear this wedding dress in a ceremony it wasn't meant for? You'd probably outgrow its perfectly tailored measurements in no time, at the rate you determined you'd begin stress eating. The dress served no purpose now.

You thought of destroying it, but you weren't drunk enough to justify that. The least you could do was donate the pretty thing in hopes it would serve someone else on their special day. Yours was ruined, permanently stained, just like Colin's shirt from the whine Chloe splashed in his face.

So after safely tucking the dress on a high shelf in your closet, you proceeded to get very, very drunk. You spent until midnight crying while you tossed out old polaroids and college sweatshirts. You cried on the floor for the entirety of your favorite Joni Mitchell album. You drank more vodka while you cried, and started to delete traces of Colin from your social media accounts. While mourning a wasted engagement photo session, you wondered how you could have been so dumb. Of course, he was cheating on you, he was never home and he never really took you out unless it was to show off your gaudy ring.

Before continuing your deleting spree, you searched for Chloe online. You found her after a while. By the looks of her profile, she was a couple of years younger than you and was studying to be a nurse. You then searched around for George, coming up short. Of course, he probably kept all his profiles under a different name to avoid getting tagged in all those crazy fan posts.

Oh well, you had far bigger worries...

___

You woke up to your phone ringing at the break of dawn. You had no choice but to ignore your splitting headache and answer. It was the venue, calling to warn for the rainy weather that had blown your garden set up. You wished you had more time to practice letting everyone down easy, but you were left with no choice but to apologize and call off the wedding altogether. When they asked you to reschedule, you just gave them Colin's phone number.

You spent the rest of the morning calling the baker and the florist and the planner and your mother. She informed you that several of your family members were completely bereft to have flown into town to be let down and she'd caused a whole family squabble defending your honor. You tried to hold back vomit as you moved through your tragic apartment. There were empty tissue boxes and icecream containers on the floor, and ripped up bits of polaroid on the sofa. It was raining cats and dogs and a chill crept through your rickety windows. Not even a warm shower helped cool or calm you. Not even your best fuzzy plum robe kept you warm.

Right when you thought you couldn't be any more disappointed, your phone buzzed. There was a bright white notification, a confirmation email for your flight tomorrow morning.

"Oh shit, I forgot about this." You whined. The reservations were made in your name months in advance, a week and a half trip to Rome and Barcelona and a few tickets to a symphony, and reservations for a billion touristy things like a wine tasting and a tour of each city. How were you ever gonna work this one out?

Maybe a trip was just what you needed. Maybe you could go on a spree and forget your troubles. But there were reservations for two and you really didn't want to be alone. Who could you possibly bring along who would put up with your inevitable sulking? Your mother would just try and tell you it was all going to be okay. Your bridesmaid was Colin's sister.

Then, memories of how your night ended flashed across your mind.

Just last night George Mackay scribbled his phone number onto a card from the restaurant you'd been practically abandoned in. He asked you to call him if there was a way he could help make up for being a part of the shittiest night ever.

You stood in a dizzying hurry and went to find the hidden treasure.

The card was a little bent at the edges, but near the bottom in sloppy scrawl was indeed a row of numbers.

You typed them each in your phone slowly, like each new number might add up to a bomb set to explode in your face. Then you triple-checked that you got the order right.

Since this was George's idea, since he'd decided he owed you one, you pressed the call button.

As it rang, you wondered if the twist in your gut was from having far too much to drink last night. What if it's a fake number? Then I'll hang up and move on. You had absolutely nothing left to lose.

"Hello?"

Oh shit. He'd probably forgotten who you were. And you never did give him your name. As you thought of hanging up, you spoke too soon.

"Uh... okay hi, it's me, uh the girl from last night? We bonded over being cheated on."

"I wasn't expecting to hear from you so soon." George let out a warm chuckle. Okay, this was happening. Just roll with it. Just ask.

"Yeah, well remember how you said to call if I thought of a way you could help me out?"

"Of course. What's up your sleeve?"

"Come with me to Rome."

"What?"

"Well, Rome first, then a week in Barcelona. I've already paid for everything in advance. I already have two plane tickets for tomorrow morning. Come with me?"

"Are you serious? How do I know you won't assassinate me?" He laughed again, making you question every decision you'd ever made that led you to this point in your life.

"Yeah... for some reason I am serious." You decided. "My judgment might be a little skewed. But I'm trying to end this shitty situation with a bang so why not shoot my shot and ask the super hot movie star to come with me on my honeymoon, ya know?"

Maybe you were still a little drunk, or heartbroken. Maybe you'd actually gone insane and lost the capacity to understand right from wrong. But...

"And also you promised to make it up to me, or something."

"Right," George spoke as if he'd just realized this himself. "You're right. But first, you have to tell me your name."

Oh yeah.

"It's Y/n." You perked up, feeling kind of excited for your spontaneous manic episode. Was he agreeing?

"Y/n." George seemed to mull your name over like a blossoming thought. After a beat, you took one last shot to convince him.

"Look. I'll text you my google docs itinerary for the trip, and you can meet me at the airport in the morning, if you want. Just know I'll look super sad roaming around Italy all by my lonesome and my remaining happiness relies on you. Plus you get a free vacation."

You didn't know the man on the other line of the call at all, but you could practically hear him thinking. An agonizingly long bout of silence passed before he spoke up once more.

"Alright... I might just see you in the morning." George seemed to weigh his options. You gave him a suddenly nervous farewell and sent him the link to the details of this trip you'd been planning for months before you lost our nerve.

That evening, you cleaned up the trail from your drunken raid and finished packing your bags in-between. Most of your things had been ready to go in preparation, but all at once, you had no clue what to expect.

───※ ·❆· ※───

#george mackay #george mackay x reader #george mackay imagine #george mackay fanfic

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kindofcashton · 4 years

Text

𝕕𝕚𝕤𝕔𝕠𝕟𝕟𝕖𝕔𝕥𝕖𝕕 • chapter 16 (Calum Hood AU)

MY LIFE WAS a never-ending paradise. For the first time in months, I woke up with a smile on my face that lasted until I fell asleep again that night. Never had I experienced such tranquility, such persistent joy as I felt now. It was nearly impossible to worry about anything, feel sad about anything. Not when he was next to me, near me, with me. Calum and I spent nearly every night together, our hands perpetually entangled, our bodies constantly connected. We woke up together, went to bed together, spent the day dreaming about one another. Being away from him, even for something I enjoyed like work or shopping with Hannah, became a nuisance. I spent all my time thinking about him and the next time we could be together.

But the thing is, we weren’t together. There was no label slapped onto whatever relationship we’d formed. I didn’t consider him my boyfriend, and I certainly wasn’t his girlfriend. We spent the nights together, and then when daylight came we were elusive lovers, dancing around each other so as not to alert the others. Hannah I had told, of course. She knew every detail of my affair with Calum, and squealed over how “romantic” it was. I firmly told her there was nothing romantic or emotional about it; we were merely two adults sleeping together and having fun.

As for the guys, I’m sure they’d caught on to something. Seeing me emerge from Calum’s room or him from mine was definitely a dead giveaway. But when we were downstairs, Calum and I rarely interacted beyond hastened smiles and loaded glances. Occasionally his hand would grace mine in the kitchen, reminding me of where his fingers had been the night before. Just a single look from him sparked butterflies like I’d never known before, and I had to bite my lip to keep from grinning.

When we were really at our best was when we slept together. The chemistry our bodies shared was unparalleled, and I’d never experienced such passion with anyone before. Calum knew my body like he’d spent his whole life mapping it out, knowing all my favorite places and secret spots. I knew every curve of his back, every stretch of skin and cluster of moles. We explored each other until nothing was foreign territory, every part of ourselves bared for the other to glimpse. But we didn’t grow tired of each other; every night was a new discovery, the excitement never waning. If I could, I’d spend the rest of my life in bed next to him, our bodies naked and pressing together.

Neither of us let emotions complicate things. Despite my bold display of breaking up with Nick for him, I knew that was no indication of a deeper relationship with Calum. We were barely even friends, as we didn’t hang out together outside of the bedroom. And as for exclusivity, there wasn’t really any. If a guy flirted with me at work, I flirted back. I’m sure Calum did the same when he disappeared during the day. For me, I knew I’d never consider sleeping with anyone else, but just the idea of having the option was comforting; exclusivity was suffocating, and the last thing I wanted was to ruin the carefree fun Calum and I were having.

His normally brooding, mean personality actually turned out to be different than I thought. Calum’s sense of humor was dark, not mean. He wasn’t brooding, just thinking hard. Now I enjoyed his snarky remarks, the way he’d tease me with a smirk. Things that used to infuriate me now fired me up, and I giggled at his scowls. I hoped he felt the same about me, that I wasn’t annoying or stubborn but dedicated and organized. Seeing a new perspective of him was refreshing, and I looked at him with hungry new eyes. I couldn’t keep a smile off my face when I was with him, and I saw his usual smirk twist into a crooked grin.

One morning, I stood up out of bed a little earlier than normal. After a long night in my room leaving us both blissfully exhausted, I wanted nothing more than to sleep all day, but I had something important to do. I’d been in touch with an advisor at the local community college, and today we’d be meeting to discuss my possible enrollment. I felt secure enough at the cafe to start planning to go back to school, and I was both nervous and thrilled about the upcoming discussion. I hoped it would be seamless, an easy process that wouldn’t strain my nerves or my wallet. Things were going so good lately, I would hate for something to ruin it.

Calum groaned from the bed, and naturally my lips spread into a smile. I was fishing through my closet, wearing only panties and his tee shirt that I’d hastily put on to cover up. It smelled like him, and I almost wished I could wear it to the meeting for good luck and comfort.

“What’re you doing?” he asked, voice gruff from sleep. I glanced back and saw his ruffled hair and tired eyes. He looked about ready to fall back to sleep, but when he looked over at me his eyebrows raised approvingly. Clearly me in his shirt had pleasantly surprised him.

“I have an interview,” I explained, turning back to find the right clothes. I wanted to look professional and mature, but not too stuffy. After all, this was a community college, and my transcript spoke for itself. I opted for a white skirt and matching blazer, then pulled a black turtleneck to wear underneath. This was probably my nicest outfit, and I chewed my lip contemplating which heels to wear.

“Where at?” Calum yawned and stretched his long arms, chest bare as the blankets fell around his waist. I began to undress, pulling his shirt over my head so I could put on a bra.

“The community college,” I answered, but he seemed too distracted by my body to care. I rolled my eyes as I hooked the bra clasp, shimmying into the skirt and fighting with the zipper. Calum whistled as I stood only in the skirt and my bra, leaning on his forearm with a smirk.

“You expect me to let you leave looking like that?” His suggestive tone made me flush, and I pulled the turtleneck over my head with a shy smile.

“I’m actually really nervous,” I admitted, fiddling with my hair and wondering how much makeup I’d need to cover the dark circles under my eyes. Calum leaned back onto the disarrayed pillows that we’d strewn about during last night’s antics.

“You have no reason to worry, you’re like the smartest, most collegey person I’ve ever met.” Although his eyes were closed and his tone was breezy, I took his words to heart. It touched me that he saw me so highly, and for a second I wondered if this is what it felt like to have him as my boyfriend. Someone supportive who helped me achieve my dreams, someone to come home to after a long day to unwind and just be with.

Shaking my head, I forced these thoughts out of my head. Calum was not my boyfriend, and I didn’t want him to be. He was just saying what I wanted to hear, and his voice was breezy because he didn’t really care. Swiping on some mascara and enough concealer to brighten my complexion, I exhaled deeply. You’ve got this.

Not wanting to seem clingy or overly invested, I simply stepped into my black heels and grabbed my bag, giving Calum a distracted goodbye before leaving him behind. As I descended the stairs I missed him already, yearning for his touch and his gaze.

Hannah caught me before I left, piece of toast in her hand as she hugged me, careful not to get crumbs on my crisp blazer.

“You’re gonna kill it, Scar,” she declared. “Seriously, this college is gonna be begging just to have you enroll.”

I nodded, letting her words give me some encouragement. “I hope so. I hope I’m not a desperate, fumbling mess.”

She straightened my blazer and flattened my hair with a smile. “You don’t look like a mess from the outside.” I gave her a grateful hug before hurrying out the door, making sure to get to the bus stop on time. I’d contemplated asking Calum to drive me, since it was easier, but that approached boyfriend territory. So instead, I took a seat on the crowded public bus and braced myself for the upcoming meeting.

The campus was smaller than my other school, but that was to be expected. The groundskeepers clearly did their best trying to spruce up the boring landscape with sculpted bushes and brick paths. The buildings were plain but architectural, with lots of windows and glass roofs. For such a small, cramped college it could have been a lot worse. I felt slightly embarrassed to be downgrading so much from the fancy university I’d previously attended, but then I reminded myself that a degree was a degree.

I found the building I was meant to be in and located the advisor’s office rather quickly. A plump, kind-faced secretary told me Ms. Price would be with me in a few minutes, and I took a seat by a big window. Some students were milling about below, and I imagined myself here. Just the prospect of getting back to school was exciting, no matter where I went.

Five minutes passed by in a flash, and then I was seated in front of Ms. Price herself, crossing my legs to fight off my nerves. She was a middle-aged woman with short, wispy red hair and leathery skin. I watched as her eyes scanned my records, glancing over the notes about my parents’ death and my subsequent bankruptcy, but all this information did was make her brows lift slightly.

Her unreadable expression deterred me, and for a second I panicked that she was going to reject me. But then she snapped the file closed and laced her fingers together, thin lipstick-rimmed lips tilting into a polite smile.

“Well Miss Mercer, your transcript speaks for itself.” I smiled slightly as she confirmed my earlier estimate. “Your grades are immaculate, and I’m surprised you’re such a put-together young woman after everything you’ve been through.”

I smiled graciously. “School was my motivation through it all, really. I just want to get my life back on track, and that means finishing my degree.”

Ms. Price nodded. “A wise decision. An education will do you well later in life. I assume you have a career path laid out for yourself?”

“Yes, I’d like to become a social worker. My degree is in psychology, but I have a focus in counseling.” Bringing up my future goals reminded me how desperately I wanted to achieve them. Even though my fling with Calum was fun, I also wanted my professional life to start as soon as possible so I could settle down.

Sifting through a few papers and peering over her glasses, Ms. Price was quiet for a moment. I took her long pauses to just be results of her no-nonsense, blatant disposition. She wasn’t going to shower me in praise, which was fine. All I needed was confirmation of my enrollment.

Finally, she said, “You have your finances in order? Community college is less expensive, but still an expense all the same.”

I nodded. “Yes, I have a steady job that should help me pay for it.” I could even afford to move out with Hannah, if I wanted to, but that was still a huge proposition that I was not all that inclined to take.

Ms. Price gave a final nod of her head, and set down the papers in her hand. “Well then, Miss Mercer, I don’t see why we can’t admit you for the next semester.”

Pure jubilation flooded through me, and I tried to keep my wild grin contained and professional. Reaching out to shake her hand, I thanked Ms. Price profusely. “This means the world to me, ma’am, truly. I won’t let you or the college down.”

My exuberance must have cracked her resolve a little, because she gave me an amused expression. “I’m quite sure of it, dear.”

It was all I could do not to skip out of the office. I felt on top of the world, and I whipped my phone out to spread the good news. For a second my finger hovered over Calum’s number, and I wished I could call him up to gush about my success. But then I kept scrolling and called Hannah instead. She picked up instantly and I practically screamed the news at her, causing her to scream herself. I wandered through campus with a stupid smile on my face, rushing my words as I tried to articulate my excitement.

“We have to celebrate tonight,” I insisted. “After my shift, we should do something.”

“Totally,” Hannah confirmed. “I’ll rally the troops.”

I hung up and sighed, thinking about how I would celebrate with Calum specifically. I let the stupid grin shine on my face as I stared up at the bright sky. Things were better than good right now; they were damn near perfect.

- - - - -

Roger gave me the biggest hug I’d ever received when I told him about getting into community college, and even Mack emerged from the back room to congratulate me. He jokingly warned me not to prioritize school work over my work here, and I vowed nothing would ever be more important than making coffee. I also filled Roger in on my recent activities with Calum, and he swooned with each story. Roger insisted we were made for each other and needed to just get married already, and I always waved him off. That comment was too close to Hannah’s soulmate explanation, and I refused to get my hopes up.

The shift ended quickly, thankfully. I was so excited about the night out that time seemed to fly by unusually fast. I sprinted home and burst through the door, finding Hannah in the kitchen and giving her a tight hug.

She pulled back and pretended to get choked up. “I’m just so proud,” she said emotionally, wiping an invisible tear from her eye. “My little girl off to college--again.” We laughed, and I tentatively smiled at Luke over her shoulder. He shot me a thumbs up, and my anxiety lessened. I think I was finally back to normal with Luke and Michael after a rocky few weeks, and I was grateful. I loved them as friends, and wanted to celebrate as a group.

I was surprised to see Ashton in the living room, and even he managed to offer up a sincere congratulations. I sent Hannah a glance, full of wordless questions that she pursed her lips at. One tilt of her head towards the basement told me she’d fill me in later.

“So, are you joining us tonight?” I asked Ashton after the excitement over my news died down. “You’re more than welcome to come, I want everyone to have a good time.”

Ashton nodded, not looking at Hannah. “Yeah, should be fun.”

I followed Hannah downstairs to start getting ready, throwing off my blazer before crossing my arms with an expectant look. “Well? When the hell were you gonna tell me about Ashton?”

Hannah fell onto the pullout bed from the couch, shrugging with a small smile. “There’s nothing to tell, really. We...talked, recently. Decided to be civil.” She shrugged again. “I don’t know if it’ll ever be the same, but at least now we can be in the same room again.”

I knew she was secretly overjoyed at being on speaking terms with Ashton again, but it was smart not to get her hopes up. We had both worked on this, now careful and cautious instead of overly optimistic. We got ready to go out together, curling each other’s hair and critiquing outfits. The dress I wanted to wear was up in my room, so I padded upstairs with my hair and makeup done.

Emerging into my room, I saw the bed had been sloppily made and the pillows rearranged. I smiled; it was a thoughtful gesture from Calum. I slid the white skirt down my legs, tossing off the turtleneck and breathing in relief as the restricting fabric was finally off. I found the dress I’d been searching for, pulling it out triumphantly. It was made of a royal blue crushed velvet material that hugged my body perfectly. I’d bought it recently with Hannah, and was excited to show it off tonight. I hoped one person in particular noticed it, or more importantly how good I looked in it.

As I fumbled with the zipper, there was a knock at my door. Calum peered in, and I smiled. “Perfect, get over here. I need your help.”

He shut the door behind him, taking in my appearance as he approached. I turned around so he could reach the zipper, inhaling sharply as I felt his fingers at the base of my back. He stood very close to me, breath washing over my neck as he gently pulled the zipper up. His knuckles grazed my exposed skin as the dress began to cover it, and when he finished he ghosted his fingers across my shoulder and down my arm.

“I heard the news,” he murmured into my ear. “Congratulations.” I turned to face him, resting a hand on his chest. His brown eyes sparked slightly, and his full lips were upturned in a small smirk. I leaned forward to press a kiss to his lips, and I felt him smile into my mouth. Just like always, heat spread out from our point of contact, and I felt my fingers tangle into his curls. His large hands cupped around my waist, pulling me close until I broke the kiss off.

“This is new,” I commented, running my fingers over the army green fabric of his bomber jacket. The color complimented him well and I admired the way it fit his broad shoulders.

He rolled his eyes at my obvious ogling. “I do go shopping, you know.”

I laughed. “Really? Most of your tee shirts have holes in them.”

Calum’s smirk transformed into a smile, making the butterflies flutter in my stomach. “You don’t seem to mind the holes when you’re wearing them,” he said darkly, and I felt a familiar heat building in my stomach. I gave him another kiss, dragging this one out slightly longer.

“Maybe I could wear one later tonight,” I suggested, hinting at another round of late-night antics. Calum snorted, squeezing my bum lightly.

“You can’t tease me like this when we’re at the club, you know,” he informed me, and I sighed.

“Fine. I guess I’ll save all the teasing for after, then.” At my seductive wink, he groaned, and I ducked away from his attempt at a kiss, giggling at his frown. We joined the others downstairs, and I saw Hannah and Ashton awkwardly standing next to each other. Hannah’s shoulders were stiff due to their proximity, but even with her tight posture she still looked good in her blush pink dress. Ashton was clearly trying not to look at his ex in such a short dress, and cleared his throat when Calum and I entered.

“Can we go, already? I’ll drive Luke and Scarlett, you take Michael and Hannah.” Ashton signaled to Calum, who nodded curtly. Already our bodies naturally drifted away from one another like they always did in public. I didn’t mind riding separately since we weren’t supposed to be dating and the guys thought we didn’t care. I watched Calum head for his mustang and already missed his warmth, but pushed away this feeling as I climbed into Ashton’s car.

I chatted with Luke about our shifts at work, me relaying a story about a crabby customer and him complaining about his boss. Ashton chimed in every now and then, which I appreciated. I really did like Ashton, despite being on Hannah’s side in their civil war. I just hoped he would forgive her soon, because I knew how much she was still hurting.

We tried out a new club tonight, this one bigger and grander than the ones we’d previously been to. It was mobbed, and I had to hold Hannah’s hand to keep from losing track of her. I wanted Calum to grab my hand too, but didn’t let the disappointment get to me that much when he didn’t.

Michael ordered a round of shots and dedicated a toast in my honor. We all knocked back a shot and I felt the fiery liquid blaze down my throat. I managed not to cough, and instead grabbed another. Calum was to my left, and he watched me take a second shot with sparkling eyes.

“Easy, killer. I don’t want to have to carry you home.” He was joking, but his hooded eyes gave me a different impression. I could tell he was savoring my appearance under the roving lights, watching me down shots and smile carelessly. I licked my lips, tasting a hint of alcohol, and gave him a coy wink.

“Maybe that’s exactly what I want,” I purred, causing his jaw to clench. “But for now, I’m gonna go dance.” I knew Calum wasn’t a fan of dancing, but I knew watching me from a distance would kill him. I grabbed Hannah’s hand and wove through the crowd until we found a good spot on the dance floor. Hannah threw her arms around my neck with a grin, and we danced to the loud remix playing over the thundering speakers. Our hips swayed and our feet jumped, throwing our hair back as we let ourselves succumb to the night.

I felt multiple pairs of eyes on us, and glanced around to check who was looking. To my surprise, Ashton had his eyes glued on Hannah, and I whispered this in her ear. Immediately, a stupid grin spread onto her face as she let out a laugh.

Calum was also watching me, but his eyes were much darker than Ashton’s. His fingers were tight around a scotch glass, and his tense posture told me everything I needed to know. He wanted me, and the distance between us was driving him crazy.

With an evil grin, I told Hannah I’d be right back and began to move toward the bathroom. Without even looking I knew Calum was following me, and my grin only widened when we both entered the small bathroom alone. The click of the door locking made the hair on my neck stand up, and I sat back against the sink. Calum stayed by the door, brows low over his eyes as he smirked at me under the dim lighting.

I shook my head, making a tsk tsk sound. “For someone who’s trying to keep our fling under wraps, you sure can’t keep your eyes off of me.” I knew mocking him was dangerous, but I loved making him squirm.

Calum pushed off the door and came closer to me, hands sliding up my sides as he sighed. “What can I say? Seeing you like this does things to me.”

He leaned in to kiss my neck, and I let my eyes close as I exhaled in bliss. He sucked at a point below my ear, causing my hands to grip at his biceps. I angled my lips toward his ear, whispering, “And what things would that be, exactly?”

I heard a small groan rumble in his throat, and he pulled back to meet my devilish eyes. His fingers closed around my wrist, pulling my hand down his front all the way to his pants. I felt the mound growing there, grinning as he sucked in a breath when I pressed against it gently.

“Ah,” I responded. “That thing.” I lifted off of the sink and used one hand to push Calum back until he was against the far wall. His breathing was hard, brow furrowed in slight confusion as he anticipated what I would do. Grinning, I took his ear lobe gently between my teeth and tugged, eliciting another groan.

My hands, now experts at working his belts, toyed with the buckle until it released. I then undid the button of his jeans, leaving a trail of wet kisses along his jaw as I did this. I placed a chaste kiss on his lips before looking through my lashes into his eyes, dropping to my knees and causing his eyes to spark with lust.

Delicately, I pushed his jeans aside and revealed his straining boxers, smiling slightly as I kissed down his stomach and gradually bringing my lips lower. I pulled the elastic band down, revealing a soft trail of hair before running my hand along the smooth skin, springing his erection free. I admired his long, stiff length, touching my fingers ever so slightly to the warm skin. Gently grabbing hold of it and bringing it towards my lips, I let a warm breath wash over the throbbing tip.

Calum groaned at the sensation, and when I glanced up I saw his eyes were shut with pleasure. I wrapped my hand around the base of his cock, feeling it twitch with excitement. Leaning down, I slid my tongue up the side of his shaft, earning a muted growl of satisfaction. Reaching the tip, I closed my lips around the head of his cock, beginning to swirl my tongue around the warm skin.

“Shit,” Calum breathed when he felt my mouth on him. His hands wrapped into my hair as I sank my mouth lower onto him, taking as much of him as I could. He hit the back of my throat, and his hiss echoed in my ears as I used my hands to work the part I couldn’t reach.

I dragged his cock in and out of my mouth, tongue massaging as I went. My lips formed a tight O around him as I moved my lips, bobbing my head rhythmically. Carefully I used my tongue to lick at his slit, and his hips bucked forcefully. Grinning, I pulled him out of my mouth and used my hand for a second, licking around his tip teasingly.

“Holy--” Calum started, gripping my hair tighter. His cock was rigid and trembling now, telling me he was close to finishing. I licked the flat of my tongue back up his length, then took all of him in my mouth once again. I moved faster this time, focusing on getting as much of him as I could. Swear words echoed in my ears as he unwound above me, fist banging against the wall to keep from moaning too loudly.

I pushed him against my throat particularly hard, and when I heard his strangled cry I knew he had been pushed over the edge. His cock twitched in my mouth, shooting out a sticky liquid that I promptly swallowed. I slowly took him out of my mouth, kissing his swollen tip before rising off of my knees.

Without hesitating, Calum smashed his lips to mine, not caring where I’d just been. He kissed me with a fervor, and I felt waves of gratitude rolling off of him. I grinned into the kiss, happy to have pleased him so much. When he pulled away to redo his belt, I sucked at his neck and kept my hand on the side of his face.

He caught my eye and smirked at my triumphant expression. “You’re evil,” he growled, squeezing my hips and earning a chuckle from me. I pushed at a bit of hair that covered his forehead, marveling in his spectacular brown eyes.

“Only for you, baby,” I drawled. The smirk on my face faded as I saw something flash across his face. It was there for only a brief instant, but I saw the change nonetheless. His lust-filled eyes had warmed for a second, his expression more than just pleased that I’d gone down on him. The way he held me in his arms communicated more than he would ever say, and when his lips parted my heart stopped.

“We should go.”

Those were not the three words I was expecting. Anger at myself and humiliation at getting so excited over nothing pricked at my mind, and I couldn’t help but frown. What was I thinking? What about this situation was romantic? It was dirty, and hot, and definitely more than a little bit fun. But that’s all it was; I shouldn’t have been so stupid to look deeper into it.

He kissed me one last time before taking my hand and leading me out of the bathroom, and when he faced away I dropped my fake smile and took a shaky breath.

Calum and I separated for the rest of the night, like we normally did. We both tried to appear nonchalant, coming up with different excuses for where had just been. I danced with Hannah more, giggling when Luke and Ashton joined us. I danced with Luke while I spied on Ashton and Hannah, who were closer to each other than they’d been in weeks. Ashton’s hands were awkward on her hips, careful not to roam, and she looked stiff beside him. But I also detected a bit of optimism in her eyes when she gazed up at him, and I prayed he didn’t break her heart again.

When it was time to leave, I rode home with Calum this time. Hannah had asked me to switch in a hushed voice, and reading her wide eyes I knew she’d had a decent night. I was glad to switch, since it meant more time with Calum. I refused to let my slip up in the bathroom shake me, and instead met Calum’s eyes in his rear view mirror as Michael drunkenly explained something I couldn’t quite make out. Calum’s eyes were light and joking, and he pretended to nod along with Michael’s story. I leaned against the window and stared out at the dark night sky, pleasantly buzzed and positively exhausted.

It was no surprise when Calum and I went into the same room. Tonight it was his, since we’d stayed in mine the night before. We didn’t have a set routine, but we were so in sync we did the same thing anyway. He helped me unzip my dress, once again igniting sparks where his fingers touched. Neither of us had enough energy to do anything but sleep, and my eyes were already heavy.

As Calum pulled on sweatpants, his top half bare like usual, he tossed me one of his shirts. I caught it with deft hands and smiled, gladly diving into the dark fabric and inhaling the scent of him. His open arms invited me into bed as I crawled across the mattress, sighing into his skin and resting my head on his chest.

“Thanks for tonight,” he said after a few minutes of quiet. It was dark, and I could barely make out the tattoos on his skin. I smiled drowsily.

“Anytime.”

I could sense he wasn’t ready to go to bed yet, and shifted so I was looking at him. Even in the dim lighting I knew exactly what his face looked like, the angle of his jaw and the curve of his mouth. I reached a finger out to trace his lips, enjoying his soft breath on my hand.

“What are you going to do in the future? You know, after college?” I was surprised at his question, and my finger stalled in its movement. I felt his lips purse into the pad of my index finger, the gesture causing an odd squeeze of my heart.

I rolled over to lay next to him, hand spread out across his abdomen. “I would have said find a job, buy a house, settle down.” I fidgeted with the ends of my hair, staring up at the black ceiling.

“‘Would have’?” Calum repeated, and I could hear the frown in his voice. “You don’t want to do that now?”

I shrugged, my shoulder brushing his. “I don’t know. I used to have all these plans, I swear I knew exactly what I was gonna do down to the week.” I paused, remembering the old me who used to love writing in her planner. “And then my parents died and I left school. It seemed like life was telling me to stop making plans and just...live, you know?”

I wished I could see his face, gauge his reaction. All I heard was a small sigh. “I hate planning,” he replied. “It just opens up more opportunities to be disappointed.”

Surprisingly, this made a lot of sense to me. The dejection I felt whenever a plan fell through was tiring, and lately it seemed that was all that was happening. Without any expectations, I couldn’t be hurt when they didn’t work out. I realized Calum’s carefree attitude inspired this change in me; he opened my eyes to a different lifestyle, one I found myself enjoying. It was nice not knowing what we were, not having to conform to any boundaries or boxes. We could just be, whatever and whenever we wanted.

Laying beside him, our hearts beating in tune and our bodies in perfect harmony, I curled into his side and he draped an arm around me. I buried myself as deep into him as I could, closing my eyes as another realization hit me: maybe Calum wasn’t the one in love. Maybe it was me.

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