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wienerbarnes · 3 years

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A Certain Romance (1/6)

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 2,513

Warnings: fake dating au, mention to past abusive relationship

A/N: im so EXCITED to start posting this series lmk what yall think!!!

MAIN MASTERLIST | A CERTAIN ROMANCE MASTERLIST

He couldn’t quite think of a word to describe the restaurant.

The deep tones of maroon on the walls contrasting against the clean, stark-white tablecloths, tablecloths that have been so deeply washed, soaked in bleach and radiating chemical residue beneath plates of fancy and over-priced dishes for people who have too much money than they know what do with.

Ratatouille is the special for tonight, priced at $32. Side dishes extra, of course.

The overly simple decor on the walls with lighting so dim you’d think they forgot to pay the electric bill, all in the name of minimalism and an art form you just wouldn’t understand.

Bucky has news for them, though. Minimalism won’t get rid of their depression and anxiety, and a $30 plate of vegetables won’t bring you happiness.

His collar feels tight around his neck, even though the first two buttons on his shirt are undone. The longer he stands around waiting for Sam, the more ridiculous he feels. He’s sweating suddenly, and all he wants to do is leave, go back to his apartment, to Alpine, and take off this stupid monkey suit of an outfit.

Where r u?

Should be sitting pretty at a table already. Wearing a cute lil red dress. maybe blue, not sure.

“Son of a bitch,” Bucky mumbles under his breath after reading Sam’s text.

It’s Bucky’s fault at this point. Not only is this not the first time Sam has done this to him, set him up on a blind date and tell him it's him he’s meeting and not a girl, but it’s not the second either. Sam has done this three times, and this is going to be the fourth. How do you let this happen to you four times?

It’s not a surprise either when the date goes horribly all three times, either. The girls are always nice and always beautiful, but Bucky’s in such a sour mood by the time he reaches the table that it’s a failure from the start.

That’s a good word to describe the restaurant. Sour.

“Excuse me, I’m looking for a table under Sam. Or maybe Bucky.” He approaches the hostess, praying that whoever Sam has set him up with isn’t here and that they stood him up.

“Ah, yes, your date has been waiting.” She tells him, and he tries not to roll his eyes.

The walk through the restaurant to the table makes him feel more ridiculous than when he was waiting. He feels all eyes on him and it makes his skin crawl, even though when he glances around, everyone has their eyes on their own date; their date that probably wasn’t sprung up on them by a man who dresses up like a bird for a living.

Careful not to trip over his own feet in the dark room, the only lights being small bulbs on a thin string from the high ceiling, he sees a table that’s probably for him.

The only table with one person sitting alone, he spots you looking down at your phone with a slight frown on your face. Sam was right on his first guess, you’re wearing a deep red dress, thin straps over your shoulders and he can see through underneath the table that it flows down to your calf. Nude heels adorn your feet as they are crossed at the ankle, and he can’t help but feel a little bad.

Just because he thinks minimalism and expensive meals are stupid doesn’t mean that other people don’t enjoy them.

“Hi, uh, sorry I’m a little late.” He greets as he takes his seat.

You look up from your phone and give him a closed-lip smile, an unspoken way of saying it’s alright, but he’s seen that tight smile on too many girls before to know that, no, it’s not really alright.

“I’m Bucky, what’s your name?” He asks, hoping that the sooner he starts the conversation, the sooner he can get the fuck out of here. Respectfully.

As far as introductions go, this has definitely been the most awkward. Neither of you know what to say. Not that he’s about to go around giving Sam advice about setting him up with people, because he certainly wouldn’t want Sam to take that as him asking him to try again, but he couldn’t have set him up with someone worse.

It’s painfully awkward, and he feels himself sweating again, blushing from slight embarrassment at this disaster of a date.

The waiter hasn’t even brought out the bread yet.

He can’t do this.

“Listen,” He begins after a few minutes of silence and the two of them awkwardly glancing around the room, as though the avant-garde art pieces are the most interesting thing either of them have ever seen.

“I’m sorry if I don’t seem like I want to be here, it’s because I don’t. And it’s got nothing to do with you, it’s just that Sam told me I was meeting him here because he thinks he knows best when it comes to setting me up on dates even though I’ve told him countless times that -”

He stops when he realizes you’re laughing. Giggles escaping from behind your manicured hand that’s attempting to cover your mouth, he can’t believe you’re laughing at him. As if the date couldn’t get worse.

“Sorry, I don’t mean to interrupt you.” You tell him, the most you’ve spoken the entire night, only really telling him your name and a few one-word answers a while ago.

“It’s just that I don’t want to be here, either. And Sam also told me I was meeting him here, not a date. And I thought that was funny.”

That bastard, Bucky thinks. But he appreciates that it’s the situation you find funny, and not him. He’s never had a date laugh at him before, and as tough as he is, he can’t lie and say it wouldn’t hurt his feelings.

He opens his mouth to say something but another man in an equally ridiculous monkey suit such as his own approaches the table, a basket of bread in hand.

He can’t help but notice how small the breads are and the fact that the butter is individually wrapped in those small tinfoils - not even The Cheesecake Factory does that, they bring butter in a tiny dish - but he doesn’t say anything.

At least now he has something to do with his hands.

The two of you both pick at the bread in your hands, and while the tension is somewhat eased at the table with the confession that neither of you want to be there, it’s still silent and awkward, as neither of you have spoken again.

Bucky doesn’t know what causes him to say it, maybe it's the obligation he feels to keep the conversation going and fill the silence, maybe his mind just insists on making the evening worse, because apparently that’s possible.

“My best friend died. Recently. And Sam’s been setting me up on these dumb dates to take my mind off it.” He says, and he sees out of the corner of his eye your hands pause around the bread and your head lifts slightly to look at him, though he doesn’t do the same.

“Sam was a little better about it at first, using distracting me as a way to distract himself while we both grieve. But he’s got the whole Captain America thing, helping his sister, working with Torres; he got over it a little quicker than I did and… expected me to get over it, too.”

He’s afraid to meet your eyes. He’s not sure why he just told you that, or why he felt like he owed you an explanation in the first place. He doesn’t even know you! What does he care if the date is awkward? He could leave now and never see you again and not feel bad about, and yet he sits here, sacrificing his own comfort in order to attempt to salvage the evening by being honest? Is honesty even what you want?

“My boyfriend beat the shit out of me. If we’re sharing tragic backstories, I mean.” You reply, looking down at your own bread now that Bucky’s head has snapped up to look at you, a humorless smile on your face.

“Had to move states, change my name, the whole nine yards. And while I wasn’t grieving a best friend, I was grieving… myself. My old life. And Sam doesn’t just distract himself by setting you up on dates, he’s been doing that with me, too. And, so, I kind of get what you mean, when you say that other people get over it and expect you to be okay, too.”

Another pause of silence, but the awkwardness is gone now.

“How many times have you heard the phrase, The grieving process is not -”

“Linear? Too many times. If I had a dollar for everytime I heard that, I’d probably have enough money to afford a plate at this place.” You finish for him, a disgusted look on your face. Almost the same look he had on his face when he entered the restaurant.

He laughs, though. The first time he’s laughed tonight.

“Are you two ready to order?” The waiter interrupts again, small booklet in hand, and thick French accent in the air. Of course, the waiters here are French, how is he even surprised?

“Do you mind if we have a few more minutes with the menu?” Bucky replies, not receiving much of an answer as the waiter looks him up and down, gives him a curt nod, and leaves the table once more.

“Listen, I don’t know about you, but this place looks like… I don’t even know, but it just looks sad, and I know a pretty good pizza place a few blocks away. If you don’t mind walking. Or continuing this date as friends?” He squints as he finishes his question, hoping you won’t take it as him playing hard to get, and actually want to be friends and absolutely nothing more.

“You had me at pizza.”

With the bread from the restaurant in hand and his jacket around your shivering shoulders, the two of you make your way down the sidewalk, stomachs rumbling at the thought of cheap, greasy, slices of pizza.

Sitting among people in their pajamas and otherwise casual clothing, it’s safe to say the two of you are the best-dressed people in the joint. Bucky tells you this and you laugh again, agreeing. Slice after slice goes down easily, much easier than any plate at that stupid clownhouse of a restaurant.

The conversation is easier, too. It’s almost like it was so bad before because of the suffocating atmosphere of the restaurant, The Fork, a stupid name for a stupid place.

What was that word he said before? Oh, yeah. The restaurant was sour. The pizza place, though, run by two older, heavier men with ungroomed mustaches and dark pit stains, is much less sour.

“I surprisingly had a good time tonight. I’m really glad we both came to an understanding of not wanting to date due to our individual unresolved trauma and issues, that we should probably be in therapy for.” You tell him, after thanking him for paying the six dollars both your copious amounts of pizza slices cost.

“I did, too. I’m just glad we didn’t have to stay at that dumb restaurant, I mean what was Sam even thinking with that place?” He rubs his fingers over his eyes in lasting disbelief. He’ll never let Sam live that place down.

“Speaking of Sam,” You start, stepping out of the pizza place as Bucky holds the door open for you, “Would you mind telling him that the date went well?”

“I mean, technically it did, didn’t it?”

“It did. But if we tell him that we left with a newfound friendship rather than sore legs and sex hair, he’s just going to keep setting us up on more shitty dates. I mean he’s great, but he does a better job at being Captain America than he does at being Cupid.”

“Agreed. He’ll just keep setting us up with people until we end up dating one of his picks, regardless of friendships made along the way. He’s too competitive, he doesn’t see friendship as a success, only a boyfriend or girlfriend.” Bucky admits.

“So… if he asks, we’ll just say we’re going to go on another date? And then whenever we hang out, we’ll just -”

“Be extremely and explicitly clear about it to him.” Bucky finishes.

They smile at each other satisfied, satisfied knowing they’re finally going to outsmart the bird man, they’re finally going to be done with shitty, last-minute blind dates that they never wanted to go on in the first place.

“Do you need a ride home?”

“Oh, no, my friend’s on her way to get me now.”

“I’ll wait with you then.”

Cheesy flirting ensues as the two of you joke about fake dating, competing to see who can think of the worst pick up line. Bucky feels a bit embarrassed that he probably would’ve used a few of these a few decades ago when he was a fresh, young man, but he doesn’t dare mention that to you. No need to give you more ammunition to use against him, and especially no need to risk you mentioning it to Sam.

Your least favorite, and evidently his favorite, is If happiness starts with “H,” why does mine start with “U”?

He laughs as you dramatically gag on the sidewalk, almost not noticing the car pulling up to the two of you.

“This is me. Oh, here’s your jacket by the way.” You move to take it off from atop your shoulders but he stops you.

“Hold onto it for me. And also, mention to Sam that you’re holding onto it for me.” He winks.

“Will do. Boyfriend.”

“Drive safe. Girlfriend.” He opens the passenger door for you, greeting your friend briefly, and offering a hand out to help you sit inside, closing the door after you’ve clicked your seatbelt.

He watches the rear lights grow smaller and smaller as you disappear down the street, and he begins walking back to where you two came from. His bike is still parked at the restaurant, after all.

That was probably the best date - not a date, friend date - he’s ever been on, and by far Sam’s greatest success yet, even if it’s not the romantic relationship he probably intended.

It was nice to talk to someone without the pressures of impressing them, the intrusive thoughts questioning their deeper motives or what it is exactly they want out of a date with him. He tried engaging in the whole hookup-one-night-stand culture once, and didn’t like it at all.

Not to mention, he’ll never have to go on one of Sam’s set-up dates again! And he didn’t even need to get a girlfriend to do so!

The night couldn’t have ended better, and he can’t wait to tell Sam all about it.

#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes series #bucky barnes au #marvel

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leejeongz · 3 years

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jealous treasure (hyunsuk-jaehyuk)

requested: yes, by anon

🔅hiii! thanks for requesting. sorry this took so long 😭 i wrote it all and the. decided i didn’t like what i wrote so i had a breakdown and started again. but nevertheless here we are. I hope you like it! i made jihoon’s a little longer since idk he was the one this was based off of🔅

⛱ a/n no. 2 i’m gonna use another member in each one because it’s easier than making up a whole new person and explaining a bit about them for each one if that makes sense. but this is just for fun, it’s fictitious, remember that pls⛱

find the other members here

🪐 hyunsuk:

having never met his closest friends before, you wanted to dress nicely on the day. you grabbed the accessories that you had laid out the night before that went perfectly with your outfit and put them on while admiring how great you looked in the mirror.

upon arriving at the diner, you spotted your boyfriend and his friends sat closely together. you slowly walked over to their booth, not wanting to seem too eager. your boyfriend stood up and flashed you a smile before pointing for you to sit next to a boy dressed in blue and while, who you later found out was named mashiho. you ordered from the menu together and started to chat amongst yourselves.

“so what do you do, y/n?” the boy next to you asked while hyunsuk was distracted.

“i’m a student, but i work part time. actually i work just over the road” you pointed to the sports shop over the way.

“i think i’ve seen you in there before, sorry i didn’t recognise you, you look so different when you’re not wearing their fluorescent uniform,” he smiled, pointing to the bright trainers you now remember selling him a few weeks ago.

“oh that was you?” you laughed loud enough to catch hyunsuk’s attention, who’s smile faded as he glanced at the pair of you bonding “nice taste” you complimented mashiho.

“not as nice as mine though, right?” hyunsuk piped up, while brushing the shoulder of his shirt.

“it’s not a competition” you smiled, awkwardly, not wanting to hurt anyone’s feelings.

“but if it was…” one of his other friends spoke. you made a mental note that from now on, you hated that guy.

you thought about your response for a while. mashiho looked disinterested, too busy picking the crispiest fries from his plate. your boyfriend, however, looked a little helpless, he was practically begging with his eyes for you to compliment him.

“then i think my boyfriend would win. hyunsuk has better taste than anyone, and i think we can all agree” you rattled on, face burning, knowing that the others around the table thought you were just sucking up to him.

“well of course, i fell for you, baby” hyunsuk winked in your direction while his friends made exaggerated heaving noises at your cringiness as a couple.

🌸 jihoon:

you have the pettiest boyfriend, you know it, he knows it, everyone knows it. he gets jealous even at the tiniest things, but it’s kind of endearing. your graduation was no exception, he really wanted to be happy all afternoon, but seeing you with so many guys hugging you while you cried tears of joy, made him mad, that should be him.

to treat you (and also to show off to everyone that you were his) he took you to the bar in town that you liked the most. you sat down at the table for two and scanned over the menu, wondering why you were even looking, knowing you were going to order the same thing as always. you told jihoon what you wanted as you could see the waiter getting nearer to your table, he always ordered for you when you asked him to.

“y/n” you heard coming from behind you. you turned around to see a familiar face, junghwan, and following behind him, a friend of his that you’d once met in passing.

“i saw that you graduated today! congratulations!” he spoke, indicating that you stand for a hug. meanwhile, jihoon ordered, but not without side eyeing you and this boy.

“can we join a table onto ours please and make it sit 4 people?” you asked the waiter who nodded and did as you requested without a fuss.

jihoon shot you the darkest stare at you sat opposite to him. “our order will be out way before theirs” he snarled quietly.

“it’s fine we can bring them out at the same time” the waiter smiled at him upon hearing your boyfriends petty remark.

“thanks” jihoon replied sarcastically, the smile on his face showing clear signs that the waiter needs to back off now.

“so why are you here?” junghwan asked “you should be going out partying, is he not letting you?” he looked over a jihoon after joking around with you a little.

“there are no parties to go to” you frowned, “but i’d rather spend my days with jihoon, and now you guys, than with my classmates anyway” you bubbled. you looked over once again at your boyfriend, who’s expression was still as stern as when they'd arrived. you kicked at his leg gently and flashed him a warm smile, hoping he’d mimic it and look at least a little genuine with it.

“i’m going to the bathroom, order quickly” jihoon told the pair. you glared at him as he walked off, all while still trying to participate in the conversation. jihoon returned with an obviously fake smile, yet it was an improvement so you went along with it. to your surprise, jihoon had managed to endure 3 drinks before deciding it was time to leave and go home with you, which you were more than happy to do since the bar was getting pretty full. you said your goodbye to the two friends with a small hug, while jihoon watched from the side. “come on” he rolled his eyes as he watched your arms wrap around junghwan’s shoulders.

leaving the bar, jihoon’s hand engulfed yours. “there has got to be some kind of reward for spending 90 minutes with them. oh and for watching all of those other guys hug you” he whispered into your ear “i’m sure you’ll think of something”. he laughed a little and pressed a warm kiss against your cheek. you smirked, knowing the perfect way to show him that you were all his, now almost too eager to get home.

⚡️ yoshi:

“it’s just what we needed” yoshi relaxed back onto the sofa, stretching an arm out to the side and wrapping it around you casually. you threw the remote onto the coffee table and nestled into your boyfriend. today was movie day, a full marathon of romcoms, chosen by you.

the first movie, you cried. the second, you cried again. however, by the third, you’d gotten a little bit bored. you pulled your phone from your back pocket, your fidgeting catching yoshi’s attention.

“hey what’s wrong?” he asked, his question fading as he read your notifications. “why did haruto ring you-“ he paused to check the number “4 times?” he didn’t think too much of it. you guys were friends, your boyfriend just wanted to know the gossip.

you called him back straight away, leaving your boyfriend clueless. he waited patiently as you spoke on the phone. “no way!” you let out with a smile “i’ll be there in a second” you got up, wafting your hand so that yoshi would follow.

“what why?” he stayed put, waiting for a response.

“he said he’s got a surprise for me” you rushed, getting your coat on as quickly as possible. yoshi, once again, sat back in his comfortable position, which you knew meant that he was not moving any time soon.

“but what about our movie day” he whined and sulked. you rolled your eyes knowing he wouldn’t stop for anything, you had to give in. you slowly started removing your jacket, pulling your phone out of the pocket and launching it towards the sofa.

“i’ll just text him and tell him to give it to me, the love of your life, okay?” he continued “gosh he knew it was our day, he should have left us alone instead of distracting you”

you smiled at his hint of jealousy, hoping it wouldn’t be the last you ever saw, because honestly, his mini tantrum was rather cute.

🌟 junkyu:

“what homework is that? what subject?” junkyu shuffled through your sheets of paper over your shoulder with a pout while you worked.

“considering i study japanese i think it would be pretty wild if it was the timeline of the spanish armada, don’t you?” you snapped unexpectedly, you’re not even sure why you said it in the tone you did.

“i was just making conversation” he slumped onto the bed while pulling a face behind your back, only then noticing the familiar young boy on your phone screen. “oh, you’re calling someone, i’ll leave, give you some privacy” he pouted once again, dragging himself from your bed. “clearly i'm not needed here”

you turned to asahi, the boy you were calling, who was generously helping with your work, as he avoided eye contact with you. you stared at the small image of yourself in the corner, biting your lip with guilt.

“i’m sorry junkyu, i didn’t mean to snap” you admitted, throwing your head into your hands as soon as the words left your mouth. you’d be kind of stressed lately with all the learning, but that doesn’t mean you can take it out on your boyfriend, you thought.

“it’s okay, you shouldn’t be nice to me when your handsome tutor is calling, i understand” he rolled his eyes and tutted with a hint of exaggeration. it didn’t take long for him to register what had just happened though, as a few seconds later you felt his arms wrap around you from the back and a gentle kiss placed on top of your head. he turned off the call and whispered an almost silent “sorry”.

“i only called him to help with this one passage.”

“you don’t need to explain to me. but why didn’t you ask me for help?” he blew his cheeks up and pouted in a way that was even bigger than before. “i'm really good at japanese” he boasted

“junkyu, sweetie, next time maybe” you giggled, finally regaining the power to sit up again slightly. “but your jealousy was kinda cute, so maybe i will call mashiho next time”

“don’t even think about it” he hushed you in a harsh, yet sarcastic tone.

☀️ mashiho:

it was pretty rare that mashiho got jealous, or that he told you/showed you that he was at least. you and doyoung actually spent a lot of time together these days and your boyfriend never seemed to mind so you never stopped. but little did you know, he’d just about reached breaking point. he was tired of you “not being able to meet up with him” because you’d already made arrangements with doyoung to do something. he wanted to do those things with you.

“where are you going? you don’t usually dress like that on a sunday?” he questioned as you headed towards the door.

“i told you, doyoung and i are gonna watch that movie today. i can’t go in my pjs” you replied.

“oh with doyoung, i should have guessed” he rolled his eyes, leaning back against the sofa. he pulled his phone from his pocket, ready to text one of his friends once again to ask if they wanted to do something.

“what’s that supposed to mean?” you turned your head back to look at him. he looked hot like that, but you didn’t think right now was the time to bring it up.

“you’re always doing things with him. would it be so wrong if you went and watched a movie with me?” he asked as you walked towards him, ready to hug him and apologise. you thought for a moment, realising that you had been spending more time with doyoung than your own boyfriend, but was it really all that bad? you sat besides him and placed his phone on the sofa so he had nothing to do other than talk to you about this.

“so i can’t see my friends?” you snapped back at him in a higher pitch, even though he wasn’t shouting at you. his eyes softened and his right eye filled with tears, shortly followed by his left. you refused to look at him, half in anger, half in shame.

“that’s not what i meant, you know that. just go, have fun” he ran his hand down your arm while you sat in silence. it really was that bad. you didn’t want to be THAT couple who never did anything together.

“do you want to come with?” you smiled.

“maybe, only if we, you and i, can go bowling afterwards, alone” he replied as if he was still mad.

“of course!” you exclaimed, it was an offer you couldn't refuse. upon hearing your response, mashiho grabbed your hand, leading you to his room which was full of clothes.

“now, which tshirt matches with yours the best?” he hummed.

❄️ jaehyuk:

more than the party itself, wayyy more than the party itself, you enjoyed having your friends over beforehand to get ready and vibe with. tonight you expected only your boyfriend but he ended up bringing along another friend too, yedam, who you were actually pretty close to, he even introduced you to jaehyuk in the first place.

both had gotten changed pretty quickly in the bathroom while you slipped into your outfit in your bedroom. you were just applying a layer of lipstick when you heard a knock at the door.

“can i come in?” yedam asked.

you shouted a “yes” and he did so. his outfit was all black except for the flannel he’d thrown on, his hair was a little messy and his boots were untied.

“look at my nails” he smiled brightly, offsetting his outfit perfectly. “i just painted them so they’re wet, and jaehyuk is doing his business in there. can you tie my shoes for me, please?” he begged. you agreed and offered your chair as a place for him to put his shoe. “tight trousers” he shrugged, leaving you with no other option but to get down on the floor and tie them, it was a good job it was yedam, you thought.

“get up” jaehyuk’s voice could be heard from a mile away, despite how softly spoken he is. you stood up and looked over at him with wide eyes “oh i thought you were proposing” he laughed, playing the whole thing off as a joke. “let me, i don’t want your outfit to get dirty, which might i add looks extremely good, honey” he complimented while getting down on the floor to tie his friends' laces.

“yoon jaehyuk, are you jealous?” you smirked, looking over at yedam, who was smiling too.

“no, i just don’t want your outfit to get messed up, i just said that” he lied once again. “but if you were proposing yeah, i think i’d be pretty jealous” he continued.

#treasure #treasure reactions #treasure imagines #choi hyunsuk #hyunsuk #jaehyuk #yoon jaehyuk #mashiho #junkyu #yoshi #park jihoon #jihoon #long post

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chimchimsauce · 4 years

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Maniac: Stalker

Over the course of one week, Min Yoongi transitioned from YN’s sweet, lovable boyfriend into a complete nightmare - a maniac determined to make her life hell.

Rain patters down on the roof as YN taps the edge of her pencil against her five subject notebook, trying to think of what she should write next. This essay she’s working on isn’t due for another month, but if here’s something she hates, it’s the possibility of turning anything in late. She’d much rather stay up all night weeks early and be finished than to stress and cram last minute.

But for now, she’s sufficiently stuck, mind blanking on what she could possibly add to her essay about historical English literature. With a sigh, YN pushes away from her desk to massage her temples. As an art major, YN wishes she could just focus on her paintings instead of having to take general education classes, but sadly that is not the case.

She rolls her head around to loosen her stiff muscles and trots downstairs for a midnight snack. Thankfully, the college YN attends isn’t far from her childhood home, allowing her to save thousands by not living in the dorm. It also means that YN can work on her art projects without having to worry about creeping into her roommate’s personal space. YN downs a glass of water and looks at the clock, realizing that it’s already a little past one in the morning.

“That’s a good enough excuse to pick up that essay again this weekend,” she says to herself, drying her glass and placing it back into the cupboard.

Someone (most likely her Dad) left the TV on, so YN grabs the remote to turn it off, hesitating when she realizes the door to her art studio is slightly open. Frowning, YN leaves the TV on and goes to investigate. She knows that she hasn’t been in the studio today - hasn’t even been in there this week. Her parents know not to go in there because YN is very particular about not letting anyone see her work until it’s finished. So why . . .

The overhead lights buzz when she turns them on, humming lowly in a sound that is usually comforting to her. Her workspace is illuminated, a large drawing table taking up most of the space inside. Shelves full of paint, brushes, and other art supplies line the walls, as well as a gigantic mural her parents let her paint when it became apparent that art was her passion back in middle school. In the furthest corner, right next to the only and slightly opened window (did she do that?) is an easel holding a covered painting, one she hasn’t been able to work on for months.

With her throat suddenly feeling dry, YN places the TV remote on the table and makes her way to the window, being sure to close it tightly and lock it. For a moment, she stalls in front of the covered painting, almost wanting to reach out and reveal what’s hidden underneath. Just as her fingers brush across the cloth, lightning strikes, startling her so thoroughly that she trips over her own feet and grasps the cloth as a lifeline, ultimately landing firmly on her butt and revealing the half-finished painting in all of its glory. YN freezes as she is forced to come face to face with her creation, face to face with the portrait of the only man she’s ever loved - the only man she’s ever hated.

The memories come rushing in even though she tries not to think about it, tries not to let the past affect her. And yet . . .

The day is warm. It’s the middle of May and classes have just ended for the year. YN can barely believe that she’s successfully made it through her first year of college. All she wants to do now is head home and take a three-day-long nap. Before she can head to her car to begin making that dream a reality, something cold touches her forearm, causing her to jump slightly. When she turns, she is greeted by her happily smiling boyfriend.

“Yoongi!” she shouts, hitting his arm playfully, “What are you doing here?”

“I came to congratulate you on surviving her for a whole year,” he says, placing the beverage into her hand, “Oh, and to give you think. I know you probably haven’t had anything to drink all day.”

YN smiles sheepishly, looking bashful.

“You got me there,” she says, taking his gift and cracking it open.

The bubbles feel nice on her throat.

“But I know you’re up to something else,” she says, eyeing him somewhat warily.

The two of them have been dating since her junior year of high school. She knows Yoongi like the back of her hand by now.

“Just . . . stuff with my Dad again. He’s pissing me off.”

“Oh no,” YN says, reaching out with her free hand to touch his shoulder, “Is everything alright?”

Yoongi has always had a bit of a rocky relationship with his father. His mother passed away when he was just twelve years old, and his dad has taken up some toxic ways of handling stress. From gambling to drugs and alcohol, his dad has done and tried it all. It put Yoongi in a really rough place, so by the time he met YN, he was just about to go down that path his won self. But YN and her family reminded him of the good days, the days when his father made him feel safe and loved. She made him oh so desperately want to be a better person than his father had the ability to be, encouraging him to follow his dreams of becoming a producer and landing them both at the prestigious college they attend today.

Yoongi shrugs.

“Alright enough. He wants me to head home for a bit to talk about something important. I’m not sure what it is, but I wanted to let you know that I won’t be home for family dinner tonight.”

Yoongi is practically part of YN’s family at this point. Her parents adore him and her mother has been dropping some not so subtle hints about a wedding some time in the future.

“Okay. I’ll be sure to tell my mom,” she says.

Yoongi pulls her into a tight hug, one which betrays his true anxieties about his upcoming trip. YN isn’t sure what his dad told him, so all she can do is melt into his embrace and rub his back, being there for him.

“Thanks for the drink,” she says once he pulls away, “And I’ll see you soon, okay? I love you.”

“I love you more,” Yoomgi replies, kissing the top of her head and heading off, disappearing into the fray.

If only YN had known how much her life would change, she would have stopped him from going, screamed and kicked until he agreed to stay with her, to not go visit his despicable, scummy excuse for a dad. But hindsight is 20/20.

Yoongi didn’t call her when he returned from visiting his father. In fact, he was blatantly ignoring all of her calls. Paranoia began to build up inside of her, the young woman worrying that something had happened to her beloved boyfriend.

It wasn’t until she tried to visit him at his shared apartment to demand answers that she even began to understand what happened.

“He what?” YN asks, blinking at one of Yoongi’s roommates in confusion.

“Yoongi moved out a few days ago. Didn’t tell us why, just handed us a stack of hundreds, grabbed his stuff and left. He didn’t tell you?”

“I - no . . .” YN says, perplexed beyond belief.

What on Earth is happening?

“Sorry . . .” the other man (YN thinks his name is Jungkook) says, smiling apologetically at her.

“No, thank you for telling me,” she says, readjusting her purse on her shoulder and turning around, trying to figure out what the hell is going on.

She tries to call Yoongi again but is once more sent to voicemail. Determined to find him, YN embarks on a trip across town, checking all of Yoongi’s usual hang out spots. He isn’t in the coffee shop or the comic book store. She can’t find him at the independent recording studio or at the park where he likes to write songs.

Thoroughly exhausted and so nervous she’s almost shaking, YN steps into a small restaurant - the most expensive one in the area. She’d never be able to afford to eat there, but her friend Taehyung works as a waiter here and he usually takes his break around this time. She just really needs some comfort right now.

The waitstaff doesn’t look too disgusted by her casual attire and somewhat messy appearance - they’re used to her showing up to see Taehyung.

Thankfully he’s on his break, just like she predicted.

“Oh my gosh, Tae,” YN says as the two of them slide into a booth near the corner of the restaurant, “I think I’m losing my mind.”

“Why? What’s wrong?” her best friend asks, concerned.

YN doesn’t usually get this frazzled

“Yoongi’s basically shut me out and disappeared off the face of the planet,” YN says, clenching her fists together as if that will help anything at all.

“Did you guys have a fight or something?” Taehyung asks, frowning.

Yoongi and YN have always been a power couple. The two rarely got into a fight at all, and when they did they soon blew over completely.

“No. Last weekend he went to visit his dad and then radio silence. He was perfectly fine beforehand. I don’t know what’s wrong. And Tae . . .” YN says, leaning forward and widening her eyes, “He left his apartment! Pulled out of the lease and everything!”

“What?!” Taehyung says, this tone catching the attention of some of the other patrons who send him a dirty look, “Is he okay?! Did his dad do something?!”

“I don’t know!” YN says, glad not to be the only one freaking out, “Should I call the police?”

Before Taehyung can reply, the door opens and a small crowd of men enters. At first, YN doesn’t pay them any attention at all. They’re dressed just like everyone else - wearing outfits that probably cost a whole semester of tuition. They settle into the booth in the corner, one table between them and YN. Their chattering is obnoxious in a way that only rich brats can pull off. It’s as if they don’t even notice the other people in the restaurant.

The college town they’re in has a strange mix of really rich and not so rich people. It’s definitely a higher-end area with a great school that recently began to give out a ton of scholarships, pulling in a lot of different people from different backgrounds. You can definitely still tell who is who, though.

The group of men all take their seats and YN’s breath catches in her throat as she catches sight of her boyfriend. He’s almost unrecognizable. His dark hair has been bleached blonde, the color of white corn. He’s dressed to the nines too, wearing outfits YN knows for a fact he didn’t own last week.

“What the fuck,” she whispers, causing Taehyugn to turn around.

The other man’s eyebrows knit in confusion.

“What about that broad we see you hanging out with, Min Suga?” one of the boys asks loudly, leaning against the booth with a confidence that falls straight into the arrogant category.

“Hm?” Yoongi asks.

It’s clear that he hasn’t caught sight of YN yet. She’s just about to stand up and rush over to him, but Taehyung stops her.

“Maybe we should just watch for a bit,” he whispers, sinking low into the booth and peeping as conspicuously as possible.

“What? But . . .”

“Shh!” Taehyung hisses.

“Yeah, Suga, that arty girl. She your girlfriend? I see you hanging out all the time,” a different guy says.

“Oh please!” The third person says, “No way in hell. Everyone knows that art hoes are crazy.”

YN’s shoulders tense up and she has to fight the words springing up in her throat. Surely her Yoongi will -

“Nah, she’s just some weirdo who likes hanging around me. We went to the same high school and she’s used that as an excuse to cling onto me.

“Ah. So she’s a watcher,” Guy one says.

“A stalker!”

“A psychopath!”

All four of them cackle like a pack of hyenas. It’s then that Yoongi finally looks up and catches YN’s eye.

“She’s a fucking maniac,” he says, looking YN dead in the eye.

Her world comes to a screeching halt as Yoongi dismisses her so cruelly and completely without explanation.

“I’m leaving,” she tells Taehyung, standing up to leave as tears gather in her eyes.

“Isn’t that her now?” One of the others says, “Did she follow you here as well?”

“What a fucking creep!”

“Hey!” One of them shouts loudly, catching the attention of everyone in the venue, “Stop being such a psycho! Don’t you know that people like you aren’t anything to people like us? Stop bothering Suga and fuck off!”

Before YN can even move, something cold covers her skin and glass shatters on the floor, causing a few people to scream.

One of them had snatched a pitcher of water from one of the waiters and thrown it at her.

“The fuck is your problem, man!” Taehyung demands, no longer able to stand idly by.

“Don’t,” YN whispers to him, skin stinging from the glass that sliced her. Tears are falling down her face now, “You have to worry about your job,”

“Fuck this job!” Taehyung says, getting ready to snatch one of those arrogant assholes by the collar and wring his neck.

“Kim Taehyung!” A voice shouts.

It’s his manager.

“Hand over your badge right now! That is no way to treat a guest!”

“But!”

“Now!”

The two of them are then shoved out of the restaurant, Taehyung comforting a sobbing and trembling YN as best he can. It was the first day of her new life - the first day of hell.

YN rises to her feet and recovers the painting, shaking. Lightning flashes once more and she swears she sees a figure outside in her yard.

Hey there! I hope you guys enjoy this little miniseries I have planned for this month! If you want to be tagged, add yourself here.

Tag List:

@bartiertae @helperofthenight @knjkitten @coffeeismylife28@childofmoonbeams @lizardthewizzard @jalexa83 @crackhead1-800 @kawaiimusiccollection @bibbykins @btsenchanting

#network bangtan #yandere bts #yandere x reader #yoongi x reader #yandere yoongi #college au #bts angst

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blissfulparker · 5 years

Text

Valentine’s Day→ben hardy

Summary—ben forgets valentines after you put so much effort into the day only to make up for it the next morning

Warnings—mentions of sex

A/n—okay, so, not only is this my first actual ben fic, it’s two days after v-day. So yeah it’s a little late but I finished it so here it is! Feedback for this is helpful I know this is slowly being turned to a ben and tom page but who cares.

Valentine’s Day was one of your favorite holidays, some hated it—most hated it—you adored it. You thought the idea was cute even if you didn’t have a lover to spend it with for most of the years.

This was your first real valentines with Ben, last year didn’t count due to the press happening, he was in America, you were in London, it didn’t work out. Now he was back in London for the infamous holiday. The year before that the two of you were barely starting out and left you both too scared to do anything on the day.

You had it all planned out, you had reservations for your favorite restaurant, then a movie you knew ben wanted to see, and then end the night with each other at home. That’s how you planned it all out down to the dot. You got a new outfit and some lingerie that you hoped he’d like. You wanted everything to be perfect for this day so when you woke up you had a big smile on your face.

Although Ben had other plans, infact he didn’t even realize the date. He had a gift ready but he honestly thought it was tomorrow, Friday, instead of today. His gift was hidden away in the closet, it never occurred to him that it would be today.

“Babe?” You called out as you flatend out your skit and grabbed your bag from the couch. “Are you ready?”

Right on cue Ben comes walking out wearing a simple tee shirt and jeans. You were surprised on how casual he was being, you were casual too but this was simple ben, not holiday ben.

“Yeah I’m ready.” He smiled at you before grabbing his keys. You noticed how causal he was acting, you also knew how there were no flowers or gift bags anywhere. You thought maybe he’d be a little bit more trying. He was ben, ben was often a hopeless romantic.

At the restaurant you two sat down, you smiling and happy to be in the dim lighted restaurant with a rose in the middle of the table trying to make the restaurant look a little bit more lively. Ben however was different, he sat down, smiled at the waiter as he placed down two menus, then looked down at his phone.

He didn’t make any effort to even talk, he stared down at the small device in his lap, bouncing his leg, and every once and a while scratching his eyebrow. Your heart and your smile dropped, you didn’t know what came over him, he never acted this way.

“So...” you pressed your lips into a tight smile. “How was your day?” You tried to converse.

“Get whatever you want, yeah.” He said looking up at you and you threw your napkin off of your lap onto the table trying to catch his attention in the slightest.

“Ben, I’m pregnant.” You lied, you just tried to catch his attention. He didn’t even look up at that.

“That’s cool, love.” He set his phone down on the table now.

“I think I wanna go home ben.” You told him standing up and grabbing your purse.

“What? Why?” He asks getting up as well and pushing in his chair. You wish he wasn’t as stupid as he was now.

“I’m not feeling well, okay?” You lied trying not to cry in the middle of a restaurant. You hated to cry in public and you kept trying to tell yourself it’s a stupid holiday and shouldn’t cry over another day in the year.

“Are you sure I—“ before he could finish you cut him off.

“I’m positive, just a stomach bug I want to go home.” You told him folding your arm feeling like an idiot for being the only couple leaving.

You sat in the car looking out the window before he could even say a word. He knew something was wrong but knew it was better to just leave it while the two of you were in the car.

When you got home you didn’t hesitate to get out of the car and quickly walk inside trying to hid the tears that slide down your face. You felt dumb, you hated yourself for crying at this. It truly was another day but you wanted it to be special with Ben.

“Sweetheart, could you just tell me what’s wrong? I know it’s not a stomach bug.” He tries to grab your arm and you turn around only now to be fully crying.

“Ben, do you know what day it is?” You ask him with a stern tone trying to show him just how made you were.

“February 13th, why?” He asked looking at you confused. He had forgotten the day, you didn’t know if it was because he was tired or if it was because he actually didn’t know.

“Ben it’s the 14th.” You told him then he let his hand go.

“Shit!” He yells to himself and you shake your head. “I mean it’s just valentines we can celebrate tomorrow, I know tonight I already kinda ruined.” He shrugs.

“Ben, it’s not just valentines day me, I got really excited because it’s our first real valentines! Last year you were in America and I was here but tonight I was ready for everything! I planned the stupid dinner and was gonna take you to a movie then come back home so we can have a night to ourselves, I even bought a new set of lingerie for you! It wasn’t just valentines to me.” You tell him, you felt stupid again but ben came up to you.

“I’m so sorry, look I can just give you my present now if you want and I’ll spend the whole day with you tomorrow and we can still have the night to ourselves.” He started to trail kisses down your neck but you pushed him off. The mood was completely ruined.

“I think I just want to go to bed, okay?” You tell him nodding. He looked at you with sad eyes. He too was upset that he runined valentines because he wanted to propose to you, he knew how important the day was and wanted to make it the most important for your life.

Ben pulled out his phone to call joe, it was joe he was texting all night to ask how he should propose. “Hey Benny boy, get tired of (y/n) yet—“

“I’m fucking dead!” He said into the phone rubbing his face.

“Why did she say no?” Joe asked on the other side.

“I was so fucking stressed that I forgot it was today, what do I do, she’s crying and I feel like the worst boyfriend ever. I don’t even think I should do it, she’ll probably say no.” He sits down on the couch, Frankie was quick to jump up on her daddy and lick his hand.

“Look, just get her some balloons and roses and wake her up with a nice breakfast, then propose to her in the morning. She’ll probably feel a lot better. And besides, she truly does love you, one stupid fight over valentines won’t change how she feels about you.” Joe said and Ben nodded even though joe couldn’t see him.

“You’re right, thank you.” He says and joe speaks before he hands up.

“What? You’re not going to ask me how my night with cardy B went? It was far better then your guys.” He jokes and Ben smiles a little.

“Goodnight, joe.” He says before he hangs up the phone and flops down on the couch. The poor dog watched her parents fight for the night and now watches her daddy lay there with the biggest frown.

“At least you had a good Valentine’s Day, bubs.” He scratches her head.

The next morning he got up early, he slept on the couch being scared to even go into bed with the current state you were in. He ran to the store to get balloons and flowers and he snuck into the bedroom to grab the gifts he got you. He was only hoping that this would make up for it.

You woke up alone, you’re heart hurt a little more feeling like maybe you overreacted. You only could spot Frankie curled up in her spot at the end of the bed. You sat up only wearing one of his shirts and the lingerie set you bought prior to the day not letting the set go to waste.

The sound of soft music dragged you out of the depths of the room and into the hallway where you can see the kitchen. Ben was dancing in his boxers while making muffins. It was the cutest sight and it made you forget you were mad at him.

“Good morning, darling!” He smiles as you come over and kiss him on the cheek.

“What’s all this?” You ask, not only was there the sight of ben making muffins but also balloons from the ceiling and bags on the table.

“The valentines you deserve.” He tells you and you let your head fall into his chest.

“I’m sorry I overreacted last night, you didn’t have to do this.” You kiss his cheek and he shakes his head.

“But I did, I’m sorry I forgot. I was excited too ya know, so I cleared my day for you. We’ll actually, I cleared today on Monday because I thought Valentine’s Day was today.” He laughs a little and you rest your hand on his cheek.

“I love you.” You tell him and he softly smiles leaning into your hand.

“I love you more.” He kisses your hand. “Now go open your gifts.” His hand moved down to your ass which was already exposed from the thin panties you were wearing.

“I wanna wait for you, because I had something for you too.” You pout a little and he smiles before letting you go. You walk over and open bags slowly, first it was lingerie and then it was perfume, there was makeup in one bag and a necklace in the last one.

“I have one more gift.” He whispers into your ear and you turn around and shake your head.

“No, you spoil me too much.” You say and he laughs a little at how soft your face went.

“Just close your eyes.” He kisses you before running back into the room.

“Alright their closed.” You place your hands over you eyes smiling get scared for what he had gotten you. He came out shaking a little, he didn’t know why he was so nervous, you loved him so much and everyone told him that. The idea of asking the question just scared him, he wasn’t scared what came after it was just the simple question.

He got down on one knee, the sight of you smiling with your eyes closed in front of him made him excited to spend the rest of his life with you. You were the cutest thing to him, so precious that he had trouble finding a ring worthy.

“Okay open.” He tells you and you take down your hands and open your eyes looking straight ahead only to realize your boyfriend was on one knee in front of you. “(Y/n) , you’re the love of my life, I couldn’t imagine a day without you, you are the most perfect thing in my life, you are the only one who understands me and can make me feel better even on my worst days. And I love you so much for that, will you marry me?” He asks and you cover your mouth with a smile hidden under it. You didn’t say anything, you were so shocked that he wanted this just as you did.

“Can you say something, please?” He started to get nervous that you’d say no.

“What hand does it go on again?” You move your hands and he sighs in relief, a big smile took over his face as he stands up with you holding your hand. Tears now fell out of your eyes as you watched the ring slide onto your ring finger.

“It’s gorgeous, ben.” You look at it then grab his face to kiss all over. He quickly took you into his arms, he picked you up to hold you as closely as he could to himself.

“Like you.” He whispers into your ear as he sets you down. Your eyes can’t seem to foucs on anything else except for him and the ring in the moment.

“Can I give you one of your gifts now?” You smirk a little as you trace patterns on his his bare chest. His face goes from soft into a smirk that leads you onto the kitchen counter.

After that you couldn’t stop staring at your finger admiring the beautiful ring that he had placed on it. You sat on the counter as he made the rest of the muffins talking away about the wedding you two should have but ben never cared if there was a wedding or not, he only cared about you. The rain of valentines bloomed a rainbow of the 15th.

#ben hardy imagine #ben hardy fluff #ben hardy x reader #ben hardy #ben hardy x you #ben hardy fanfic #ben hardy smut

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stillthewordgirl · 7 years

Text

LOT/CC fic: A Little Trouble, ch. 4

In a universe where the Legends returned to their earlier lives after Savage's defeat, Sara Lance is bored out of her mind. And then a certain crook turns up...

This, no joke, started with a dream. Set in an AU in which no one died at the Oculus, Miranda and Jonas lived, and Rip promised to return for the Legends-and hasn't, yet.

Can also be read here at AO3 and here at FF.net.

Yes, this is now going to be six chapters. Five is done and will be posted in the next few days. Six is in progress!

@larielromeniel helped so much with this chapter and chapter 5, helping me untangle issues that came with multiple rewrites. She made the dance scene here SO much better! Many thanks.

Sara spreads a restless night, her imagination (and her body) informing her that she really should have seduced Len back at the hotel. She’s really glad, she decides, that Thea is out of town. For one thing, her friend would have figured out something was going on immediately.

She’s even gladder that she’s managed to avoid Felicity since Len first showed up. She’s confused enough about her feelings without the other woman making one of her typical, oddly perceptive guesses.

She gets the dress she has in mind out of storage in the morning (smirking to herself as she envisions Len’s response), then, somewhat guiltily, gets coffee with her dad. She knows that while she's here, she should be spending more time with him, but...

They still can't help but remind each other of Laurel, even when they're trying not to. So much they'd usually talk about reminds them of her, and it's still too new, too raw, for even the innocuous—a comment about her favorite restaurant, a reference to a childhood memory--not to sting.

And so they sit at a table outside the café, and chat, and try to pretend they're not trying to feel their way across an emotional minefield.

She bids him goodbye with a few more prickles of guilt, knowing she's going back into danger tonight, hoping that their plan goes as smoothly as she and Len hope it will. Still, she knows her father hates Kay nearly as much as Laurel does…did…and he’s always been proud of his girls and how they fight to right wrongs. This is just using new and even more nontraditional means. Right?

Sara makes it to the hotel early, then paces outside for a while, trying not to look too eager, either for the thrill of the game (she gets, now, why Len enjoys it so much) or the company. Still, she knocks on his door at 12:07 p.m., pleased when he opens it with alacrity, slipping past him to drop her bag onto the floor.

Leonard smirks at her as she spins to look at him, eyeing the bag and lifting an eyebrow at her. He’s dressed casually again, in a gray T-shirt and jeans, and he looks…good. (She tells her still-interested libido to chill, no pun intended. It doesn’t listen.)

“Yes, I brought the dress,” she tells him, guessing the reason for the inquiring expression. “Yes, it’s folded up in there. It’s meant to be resilient, so don’t give me that look. I’ll take it out and hang it up if you’ll turn around.”

He’s obviously wondering why he has to look away, but ostentatiously does so, presenting her with a broad set of shoulders, musculature clearly visible through the shirt in a way he rarely displays. (Down, girl.) Sara gives herself a mental shake, then removes the dress, smiling as the wrinkles shake out as the garment was designed to do, hanging it in the empty entryway closet before clearing her throat to signal that she’s done.

Leonard turns slowly, smirk still in place. “Such secrecy,” he drawls. “Now I’m curious.”

“You’ll see later.” She grins at him. "Now. I was thinking about what you said about the cameras..."

They go over the plans again, then once more, picking over the same details and hashing out alternatives. Sara glances up at one point and sees Leonard perusing blueprints again, eyes laser sharp, thought lines etched between his brows.

In a world without Lewis Snart in it, she wonders, what could he have become? An engineer? An architect, an artist, a writer? Or was that restless, brilliant mind always bound to get bored, to turn to something outside the bounds of so-called normal life?

Not so unlike a bored and wild college student who'd run away with her sister's boyfriend and found herself on the path to becoming an assassin...

"What?"

Sara blinks, then focuses on Leonard again. He's smirking just a little and she realizes she's been staring, more or less right at him.

No point in pretending she hasn't. She lifts her eyebrows and smirks right back at him, surprised and just a tiny bit gleeful when he glances away, something more complicated than expected in his expression.

Hmm.

"Got any cards?" she asks casually. "We have a little time to kill."

He does, of course. For a little while, it's not so unlike some of those long, boring days in the time stream, when they'd sought out each other's company for a variety of reasons, starting with boredom and growing into actual camaraderie, occasional concern, and sincere friendship. Sara keeps sneaking glances at him, and knows he's doing the same, but they keep the talk mostly small, peppered with banter and the occasional (mostly joking) accusation of cheating.

Eventually, though, Sara can't help asking more.

"Why didn't you ask your sister to help with this?" she asks casually, pausing before discarding a card. "The heist, I mean. She has a lot more experience with this sort of thing than I do."

Leonard looks thoughtful, keeping his eyes on his cards. (Sara recognizes this as one of his tells, but doesn't mention it.)

"Lisa is...a wild card, sometimes," he says finally. "She knows what she's doing, but she sometimes goes off the boards. I think you see how why I'd need someone a little more disciplined for this." Now his eyes flick to hers, and there’s a smile in them. “More or less.”

Sara reaches out a foot and nudges him with it. "I can be a wild card," she tells him mildly.

“Mmm. Yes, but you won’t unless the miss…the heist actually calls for it.” He looks mildly annoyed at some memory. “I always expect the plan to go off the rails, but that doesn’t mean I want to actively encourage it to happen.”

Sara hums happily at the story that implies and nudges him again. “OK, Snart. Tell.”

He spins her a tale of a detailed plan, months in the making, that’d fallen prey to his sister, a whim, a cute waiter, and…a pony. Sara can’t quite tell if he’s embellishing or how much, but the whole thing is so absurd that she can’t help laughing, earning herself a look that tries to be irritated, but doesn’t quite manage it.

In fact, he somehow manages to look downright pleased.

“I’m starving,” she tells him, climbing to her feet. “Take-out again? What are your thoughts on sushi? I know a place.”

Leonard Snart is remarkably unadventurous when it comes to sushi, so Sara takes great glee in ordering the most exotic, raw items she can, eating them with great gusto as he wrinkles his nose and eats a pedestrian California roll. They trade innuendo back and forth as they eat, then get serious again to pore over the blueprints and the plan one more time.

And then it’s show time.

Sara’d grabbed her bag—and, when he’d turned his back, her dress—and vanished into the bathroom, leaving Leonard to shrug and change into his tuxedo in the main room. He’s tucking a full set of lock picks (made of a nonmetallic material) into a sleeve and securing a few other items when he hears the bathroom door open.

He has a pretty good idea what’s coming, given Sara’s secrecy and smugness earlier, so he takes a deep breath and thinks of ice before he straightens his tie and turns around.

It doesn’t help.

It’s silver, her dress. Silver, and slinky, and slit up the side well past her knee. Oh, and cut down to…

Leonard clears his throat. "Nice dress."

Sara gives him the thorough once-over he’d been avoiding giving her, smirking at him openly. “Nice tux. Did you call for the car?”

“HmmMm. Any time now.” Even being a student of the myriad ways Sara Lance could possibly hide weaponry in her outfits, he can’t figure out how she’s managed it this time. Maybe…

Realizing that he’s now giving her that once-over, he clears his throat again and turns away to the computer and plans, not noticing the look of mingled exasperation and amusement on Sara’s face. “I’ll stow these, just in case. Remember, if something goes sideways, get…”

“Get out, and get the others to help break you out as needed.” Her tone has laughter in it as she picks up the just-slightly larger than usual clutch that’s sitting on the wardrobe. “I think you’re getting used to having a steady backup crew, Len. But I hope it’s not necessary. Can you imagine how gleeful Ray would be?”

He shudders theatrically, while acknowledging with a corner of his brain that he really likes the way she says “Len.” “Perish the thought.” Then, as his phone chimes an alert from the arriving town car, he turns and offers her his arm. “Shall we?”

Smiling, she takes it. “Let’s go steal something.”

Despite the shoddy planning with the invitations and what Leonard had been able to glean about the company now handling security for Kay, he’s still pleased to find out that it’s true. A pair of bored-looking guards watch staff members take their invitation and the sizable amount of money that is their “donation” and wave them in, turning to the next couple even as they stroll into the foyer. He scans the space as unobtrusively as possible as they cross it on the way to the ballroom, noting cameras and likely plainclothes guards and other guests, knowing as he does so that Sara is doing the same.

“Lazy, lazy, lazy,” he hears her chant under her breath. “You were right.”

“Hmmm. It’s an odd oversight for someone like Kay.” He frowns. “Or I should say, for his security chief. I wonder…”

“Well, it probably won’t last long, so your timing is excellent.” Her fingers touch his wrist lightly and he has to stifle a shudder. “In more ways than one.”

What does she… “Timing is important,” he drawls quietly as they step into the ballroom. “One doesn’t wish to move…prematurely…”

“Of course, one can wait around too long as well.”

He’s saved from having to respond to that by the need to take in the space around them. A waiter hands Sara a glass of champagne, which she accepts even as Leonard waves one off, as they start to walk around the perimeter.

To all appearances, it matches the plans Smoak had given him. He nods to himself, glancing down at Sara, who’s sipping her champagne as she watches the band and the glittering throng of humanity. After a moment, she glances up at him.

“So far, so…”

“…good.” He nods. “Everything seems to be right. Once things truly get going and Kay is here, making his rounds and being his vile self, we can…but we probably have a little time first.” Hoping his sudden attack of nerves—nerves! him!--doesn’t show, he offers her his free hand. “Want to dance, Sara?”

Sara blinks at him, then grins and sets her glass down on a nearby table. She leans a little closer, even as she slides her other hand into his.

“I don’t know,” she murmurs. “It’s not our song.”

“We have a…” He remembers a bar in the ‘70s, a bar brawl and a jukebox sending up a spray of light. “Ah. Still.”

He steers her out onto the dance floor, then pulls her closer, trying to walk the line between holding her close enough and too close. Sara seems to have no such reservations, sliding one arm around his waist, her right hand warm in his left. Her eyes sparkle at him as he looks down at her, and it's hard not to smile at the sight.

So he does.

“You’re a good dancer,” she says after a moment, giving him a thoughtful look. “Not what one usually thinks of as…”

“…a job skill in my line of work?” He smirks at her a little. “You’d be surprised. It’s a good way to get close to people.”

“And close to places where rich people tend to congregate.” Sara’s answering smirk tells him she gets it. Leonard turns her a little, starts maneuvering them toward the corner of the ballroom where they need to be, impressed as she easily manages the footwork despite the movement and the heels she’s wearing.

“You know what you’re doing too.”

That earns him another look from under her lashes. “Well. If I have the right partner…”

No answer for that but to pull her a little closer as the band starts another song, a slower one. She gently tugs her hand from his so she can lay her palm flat against his chest. He covers her hand with his own as they sway together.

"Having fun?" he asks under his breath after a few moments.

"More fun than tending bar and waiting for a ship that might never come back." There's humor in her tone, so he doesn't take offense, although he pretends to.

"I think they call that damning with faint praise."

Sara runs her hand up and over his shoulder, letting her fingers stroke across the back of his neck, smirking at the intake of breath he can't entirely control. "Not really. I'm really glad you showed up, Len. I was starting to lose my mind." She lets out a low ripple of laughter that draws glances and smiles from the people around them. "And this is quite honestly the most interesting first date I've ever been on."

His eyes meet hers in surprise, but Leonard can't really refute her statement, so he doesn't try, glancing away and clearing his throat.

Trying to remind himself that they're here on...business...he lifts his head and scans the crowd and the room, checking for anything that stands out, just in case.

"Ah," he says after a moment. "And there's the man of the hour. And...OK, that's unexpected."

Sara glances over her shoulder, and they both watch as the large "Kay for City Council" banner is unrolled against the wall, leading to a spattering of somewhat hesitant applause from the crowd.

"Good word for it," she says quietly. "As far as I'd heard, this Kay was just as happy with a life of money making and blackmail. So what changed?"

"No idea." He frowns. "I don't like something about this."

Sara glances back at him, a clear question on her face. Leonard gives a quick shake of his head, though, and feels the muscles in her back relax, just a little.

Then she moves even closer, resting her head against his shoulder, arm around his waist tightening.

"Looks like we're wrapped up in each other, this way," she murmurs quietly. "No one will think we're paying much attention to anything else."

"Ah," is all he manages. "Right."

He has to keep an eye on Kay without appearing not to do so, however, so he keeps sneaking glances, tracking the man's path across the room and rate of speed. Finally, he simply rests his head against Sara's hair, turning her a little as they move, calculating and plotting.

"I've been watching the movement of the crowd," she says in a low tone, tilting her head up a little, warm breath on jaw making a shudder run down his spine. "You were right; it's like a school of fish with a shark in their midst." Glancing down, he sees her lips curl a little. "If the fish knew they had to make nice with the shark but wanted to avoid it anyway."

"Mmhm,” Leonard says absently, still splitting his attention. “It’s really quite easy to predict what most people are doing to do, if you watch the patterns. So boring…” Belatedly, he glances back down at her. “Present company included, of course.”

Sara gives him an impish smile. “Is that a challenge, Len?” she whispers. “I’m not unpredictable enough for you?”

Every sense he has screams that this way lies danger. “Somehow,” he tells her, starting to tense as the song begins to end, “I don’t think that’s ever going to be a problem.”

He tracks Kay again, just as the musicians end the song with a flourish, and makes the call. Stepping back, he catches Sara's hand, raising it to his lips as she laughs, then giving her a tug toward a nearby hallway and starting in that direction.

They have a perfectly valid reason to be there: there are restrooms partway down along its length, closer to their current position than the ones off the foyer. And given their performance of two people who’ve apparently been availing themselves of the bar—and who are fairly wrapped up in each other—no one watching will probably look twice, except to, possibly, snicker.

But more importantly, the camera coverage in the corridor cuts off just after those bathrooms. According to all the records and Len's practiced eye, there's not a lot of dead space before the camera at the end of the hall picks it back up, but there is a single storage room, and that's where the next stage of their plan will kick into action.

The lock is the work of seconds. They duck inside unobserved. Sara immediately turns away from him, but glances back over her shoulder. "Unzip me?"

There's nothing but polite request in her voice and they're working on a timeline here, so Leonard reminds himself not to waste time in being even more distracted than he already is. He only gets a glimpse of skin before he quickly turns away, ignoring (or pretending to ignore) the sound of fabric shushing down to the floor.

Focus.

He hesitates, a moment, then resolutely strips off his suit and shirt, ill at ease even though he’s not actually baring any skin. He’s wearing his own jumpsuit under the night-black tux, so it doesn't take long, but Sara's whispering that she's ready not long at all after he is.

He turns just in time to see her turn, too.

It might not be the black leather he knows she'd once worn as the Canary, but the black silk jumpsuit, capable of being packed into even her smallish clutch, is still tight and sleek, even though it doesn't show much skin. Sara's kept her hair in the same updo of braids (one that uncomfortably reminds him of how it'd looked when they'd found her in Nanda Parbat), and she looks cool and deadly and completely professional.

Then she lifts an eyebrow at him as she balances while slipping one of the collapsible black flats over a bare foot.

"I envy you men your sensible shoes," she says drily, standing and stretching. "Although where you got soft-soled ones that looks just like dress shoes, I'd love to know."

"Long story." He watches as she carefully removes some of the underpinnings from her dress, sorting them into safety straps that she fits securely over the jumpsuit. "My, you have all sorts of clever toys..."

"You have no idea." She sends him a sultry look, then grins. "Good thing I kept a few things—besides weapons—from my League days. You have your safety equipment?"

"I do."

"Then let's get this party started."

Len gives her an actual grin in return, pulling a pair of thin black gloves on and letting a small, spherical device roll from his sleeve into his right hand.

"Here we go."

#captain canary #a little trouble #sara lance #leonard snart #legends of tomorrow

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