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1engele · 3 years

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daybreak | sal fisher x fem!reader - 2. math

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[warnings: cursing, mention of smoking, mention of household abuse of a teenager]

"what a plot twist you were."

—

The next day, you'd wakened with dry lungs and an even drier mouth.

It was true that smoking was bad for you—but it hadn't been as horrible as you'd thought. You'd try it again, but you couldn't see yourself becoming addicted.

Your mother wasn't home, again. You were quick to understand that she worked longer shifts now and you wouldn't see her a whole lot.

Not like you cared. Michelle never really liked you all that well. You'd probably have been dumped on the street a long time ago had your father not legally obligated to pay child support.

You'd never known him. You weren't sure if you wanted to.

She doesn't use child support for your well-being. Probably uses it to continuously feed her crippling gambling addiction and buy more pointless flowers for the apartment.

You were nervous about today. You'd never been the new girl before—and you didn't know what to expect about these kids. You doubted they were as cool as people as Larry and Sal.

You showered and put on your boyfriend jeans—which had holes in the knees, but you couldn't bother to concern yourself whether or not that conflicted with the dress code or not— and your light grey hoodie. You added a flannel on top of that which was a little too big for you. Don't forget the white sneakers which you should probably replace.

You pocketed your flip phone and slung your bag over your shoulder. Stopping in front of the mirror, you passed a hand through your hair, decided it was adequate, and walked into the kitchen. You grabbed an apple—you never really found yourself hungry in the mornings. Besides, it wasn't like your mother was around to make sure you were fed—and left the apartment.

You locked the door behind you and shoved the keys into the front pocket of your bag afterward.

You met with Sal and Larry at the foot of the front steps of the apartments, like you'd agreed the day prior. You couldn't help but feel a little nervous as you opened the door and walked down the three stairs.

"Hey!" Larry greets you first.

"Hey, Larry," you smile weakly, as you're not fully awake yet, but it still means as much as a smile you'd give him when you were awake. You turn your eyes to Sal, waving shortly. You were momentarily startled when you realized he'd already been looking at you. "Hi, Sal."

"Hey," he says your name pleasantly. "How are you feeling?"

It was sweet that he was concerned about your well-being. "Alright. My lungs hurt."

He hooked a thumb around the strap of his bag and slid it up and down. His hands were pale and veiny. His nails were painted black and the polish was chipped in a few places. "Yeah. You did a shit-ton of coughing."

You open your mouth to reply, but before you can he meets your eyes. His head is inclined slightly downward, tilted a bit. He peers at you through the shadows of the mask. Lash-fringed, blue angel eyes bore through yours.

His eyes are opalescent. It's almost as if every time you look at them they were a different shade of blue.

You're sure your gazes hadn't connected for more than 3 seconds but the feeling that spawns inside of you from that short contact is slightly jarring. You don't necessarily comprehend what is stirring in your gut and you don't have time to because Larry's speaking breaks through your reverie.

He begins to talk about the chaos the first day of school would be. You quickly forget what had happened before.

But nothing had happened. It was nothing.

When you'd arrived at school after a little bit of walking, you, Larry, and Sal received your schedules together.

"Fuck me," you murmur, mostly to yourself, as you look down at your paper. "Math is first. This always happens to me."

Larry laughs loudly. "Yeah. That does suck. Mrs. Packerton looks like a walking corpse."

Sal jerks his head upward from his schedule. "That's fucked, Larry. She's an old lady."

"I don't care. Pretty sure she's secretly evil anyway."

Sal looks as though he's done reasoning with how harshly true Larry is most of the time. He shakes his head and looks back at you. "Well, if it's any consolation—I've also got math first. So, you know. We could go together," he pauses. "If you want."

You grin. "Yeah. Sure. At least I'll know someone there."

Larry flicks his eyes between the both of you before stopping them on Sal. "Hopefully you won't have Travis again," His eyebrows twitch. "He always has math first."

"Travis?" You echo curiously.

The two boys exchange a glance.

"Just a guy we know who-" Sal starts, hurrying to finish the sentence.

He was rushing so Larry wouldn't cut in and say something but it happened before he even had a chance. "He's a little fucker we know who gives Sal shit. 24/7. He makes my blood boil."

You furrow your eyebrows. "What- why? What's wrong with him?"

"Nothing," Sal replies. "Pretty sure he's really troubled. Not unlike the rest of us."

"Doesn't mean he should take it out on other people." Larry scoffs. "I know it bothers you, dude."

Sal doesn't reply—seems as though he's growing uncomfortable speaking about all of it.

"Hey, guys!"

A voice calls, having grown closer halfway through her sentence. You all turn towards it. A girl, leggy and taller than both you and Sal, with long locks and eyes greener than a spring clover. There was something homey in the way her chocolate brown hair brought warmth to her features.

A boy is beside her, with ginger hair with eyes a deep shade of the richest earth. His skin is pale and freckled. He carries himself with an air of bluntness and just a little bit awkwardly—his facial expression is very blank, you note.

"Hey, Ash. Shocked you aren't late," Larry grins.

"Ash" rolls her eyes at him and mirrors his expression. "You know Todd would never let that happen."

"No, I wouldn't." Todd deadpans.

Ash turns toward you after laughing enough to flash the white gleam of her teeth and a slight dimple in her cheek. "Hey!" She then says your name prettily and juts out her hand. "Nice to meet you. I'm Ashley."

You don't ask her how she knows your name. Instead, you sincerely smile, take her hand and shake it. "Nice to meet you," you return, and then turn toward Todd. "You, too."

Todd is already an interesting character. He doesn't smile but his expression is cordial. "Welcome to Nockfell."

Your smile widens.

"Have you guys gotten your schedules yet?" Sal speaks up after having been quiet for a moment. He must've been reading over his schedule to himself.

"Oh! Yeah," Ashley opened her other hand, the one she hadn't shaken your hand with, and unfolded a now very crumpled piece of paper. She passed summer green over the list. "I've got biology."

Todd didn't even look at his list. "I have history."

Sal looks at you. His gaze easily levels with yours. "Looks like it's just me and you then."

Your face feels hot. "Haha," you suddenly feel nervous. "You're right. Sit beside me, okay?"

His eyebrows jump—that much you can tell by the way his eyes move. Tucking a strand of loose blue hair behind his ear, he replies: "Will do."

His ears are double pierced.

The bell's shrill ringing floods the halls. You wince, and you and Sal's eye contact is broken. Before that happens, though, you see Larry grinning to himself.

Weirdo, you think lightheartedly.

Everyone parts after that. Larry and Ash walk away together. They must both have biology, you thought. Todd leaves by himself to his respective class and you and Sal head towards math.

For a moment, the silence is unbearable. You've never been alone with a boy. Well, you weren't alone, just not in a group with other people. The noiselessness begins to bother you so you fleetingly think of something to say and blurt the first thing that comes to mind.

"The piercings," you say suddenly.

He turns his head toward you. You look up to him before looking straight. "What?"

Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god, you thought. All I do is make a mockery of myself.

"I like them!" you add, hurriedly. "They're pierced twice. That's really cool. Looks good on you."

He laughs shyly. "Thanks. I like your shoes."

"My shoes?" You look down and laugh. They were so worn. "Why?" You continue to giggle. "They're falling apart at the seams, haha."

"That's the best kind of shoe," he retorts. He jerks his chin towards his sneakers, a muted shade of cornflower blue. "Look at mine. They barely fit and they're- like, super constricting. Also super ratty—but I can't seem to get rid of them."

You laugh with him. "They look better than mine, at least."

You're glad the ice was broken so fast. You liked him.

The class was boring and uninteresting as any math class would be. You do work. You glance over at Sal a few times throughout the class—not to cheat, just to see how he was fairing—and he was writing answers down with a quick response time and humble confidence within the drawl of his handwriting.

Alright, so he was smart. Not much of a surprise there. You could tell just how perceptive of a boy he was.

You stared hopelessly at an answer on your sheet you'd yet to fill out and twirled the pencil around in your fingers.

Suddenly, a pale hand with black nails has nimbly reached over and hastily circled what you assume was the correct answer to the question with his pencil. You look up to Sal in surprise and appreciation, who's already back in his seat as if nothing had happened.

You giggle before you can stop yourself when he raises a hand and raises a finger in front of the prosthetic's mouth, to tell you "shh."

Mrs. Packerton slowly pivots away from the chalkboard and passes her eyes over the class. You and Sal quickly break eye contact and look down on your papers. Sal's shoulders shake in your peripheral vision and you press your knuckles to your lips and force a bored expression on your paper.

Before the bell rang, you noticed a blond boy with tan skin and caramel eyes in front of you and Sal, occasionally shooting your friend bitter looks. It left a sour taste in your mouth, but you didn't mention it.

You find Ash and Larry before your next class. You think you've burst a blood vessel from how hard you'd laughed when you left the classroom.

"I thought I'd cracked a rib," Sal states over your laughter. as you walked up to Larry and Ashley.

Larry and Ashley exchange a look. Larry is the first to state the obvious. "What the hell happened to you two?"

You and Sal look toward each other and make eye contact. That's the last straw. You cover your mouth and try and hold it in.

"I-" Sal inhales. "It doesn't matter," he breathes out, an amused lilt in his tone. "How was class?"

"Bad," Larry and Ashley reply, in synchronization.

"Really?" You ask, surprised. "Biology can be fun."

"This biology isn't," Ashley sighs. "Not when you're just staring at cells and organisms for 20 minutes and then being expected to do work on it and understand what's happening."

"Well, math wasn't any better," you reply. "If it's any consolation—I don't think I got any answers right except for the one Sal did for me."

"I thought math was fine," Sal chimes in.

"That's because you're fucking Albert Einstein reincarnate," Larry squints. "Please have mercy on our mortal souls, Math God."

"Oh my god," Sal looks down. "Please don't make this into another nickname."

"I like it!" Ashley grins.

You know they're teasing but you can't find it in you to join in after he helped you out in class. Instead, you resign into silence and watch as countless students filter through the halls, bumping into each other as they pass and chatting with their peers.

Through the crowd, at the far end of the hall, you see him. The blond boy who'd been eying Sal in class. He was looking at him in the same way he had been then, with threat and resent shadowing his polished amber eyes.

It looks as if he's readying himself to approach.

You glance toward Larry, Sal, and Ashley. They seem occupied well enough, so you slip into the crowd and head towards who you've now pieced together to be: "Travis," you state, as you stand in front of him. "That's you, right?"

He regards you with distaste. "Do I know you?"

You suck your teeth. "No," you tell him your name. "I came to ask you something."

Despite himself and his embitterment, his eyes shine with hesitant curiosity. You take that as your answer. In spite of his stance over you and his general advantage of being bigger, you hold his gaze with blunt intent.

"What were you planning on doing when you walked over?"

"Why do you fucking care what I do?"

You shrug. "I don't know, Travis. I just think you need to learn how to pick your battles."

"Pick my fucking battles.. you know what? I think I will go over there-"

As he takes a step forward, you raise your hand and your palm roughly hits his chest, stopping him in his tracks—not because of strength (he's at an advantage, and he could easily walk right through) but because of the views he had, or rather—the views pushed upon him.

You saw the golden cross swinging off of his neck as soon as you approached. You'd also seen the gnarly black eye he wore on his face.

It was safe to assume he was being beaten at home and by a parent. And, most of the time.. when an adult is religious they will use several methods to further push it upon their child. Like sinner's guilt. And abuse.

If Travis' extremely religious guardian were to ever find out he'd harmed a girl, especially under the eyes of many others—it wouldn't turn out very well for him.

Yes, maybe you were being manipulative. But you were being manipulative for the good of both Sal and Travis.

"Step down," you advised. "This won't go very well."

You steadily meet his eyes. The stare between the two of you lasts for an even amount of time. Finally, he breaks that contact, jerks away with you, huffs, and walks his way around you and down the hall.

After that, you returned with the excuse of exchanging books from your locker, after Larry had asked you where you had wandered off to. No one seemed to have noticed Travis standing ominously at the end of the hall or your altercation with him.

At the end of school, you were beat. You said goodbye to both Ashley and Todd. Afterward, you, Larry, and Sal head for Addison's Apartments.

"You know, we don't have to go home yet," you say.

The boys turn to you curiously, as you kick a pebble as you walk along the side of the road. The beginnings of the sunset blossom in the sky—orange and fruity like tangerine jelly and amaranth pink like homemade strawberry frosting. like home. It fills you up inside and makes you feel so sweet.

"You guys wanna see a movie?"

Larry grins. "We don't have money."

"Who says we need money?"

When you'd arrived at the movie theater, all three of you had circled to the side exit. After a few moments of waiting suspiciously, an older couple exited through the doors. Larry caught the handle before it closed, and you brushed past them and quickly entered the theater. Before the doors closed, you heard them mumbling about "pesky children," or something.

Once you'd gotten in, you scanned each screening room and what movie the doors said it was playing.

You and Sal decided on a scary movie. Larry was not amused. Whatsoever. Apparently, horror is not his thing.

Before you entered, you frowned.

"We have no popcorn.."

In moments, Larry was reaching into a nearby trash can and pulling out an empty bucket that improbably had popcorn inside of it at some point in time. He then walked away, holding this empty popcorn bucket. It was so bizarre and you would have laughed had not been extremely confused.

"What.." Sal murmured, looking to you. "You think he'll come back?"

"I don't know where he would even be coming back from," You admitted.

It wasn't very long until he'd returned, with the empty bucket he'd taken from the trash now full of popcorn.

"Mandatory free refills," He said to your baffled face, pointing toward the poster on the wall above the trash can which read exactly what he'd just said. "You can never forget the hustle, kids."

"Oh my god," Sal mumbled and you barely heard him beneath Larry's laughter.

The movie was horribly made, and it still somehow scared the shit out of Larry. It may as well have been a comedy with how hard you'd laughed. Multiple other people in the theater had told you to shut Larry up but that was impossible when he was screaming every time a shadow would come on screen or the scene would change.

You, being between Larry and Sal, originally thought you'd had the best seat. You were wrong. Not only was Larry cowering into you and screaming directly in your ear, but Sal had simultaneously begun to throw popcorn at Larry's face to shut him up. That only resulted in popcorn. All over.

Needless to say, you left before the movie ended because of the fear of being escorted out by the employees.

"I'm never seeing a movie with you again," Sal squinted towards Larry. The three of you were now on the way back to the apartments. The night was thick and pearly moonlight bounced off old the white of his prosthetic face. "I think my eardrums are bleeding."

"It's the horror movies! This isn't my fault. Both of you ganged up on me and chose it."

You giggled to yourself.

Sal, beside you, suddenly stopped. "Wait, Y/N."

You stopped, and Larry halted a few feet away, as he'd been walking a bit ahead. Sal leaned forward and reached toward your face. Your body felt as though it had been zapped and you stood still.

He reached into your hair and pulled out a piece of popcorn.

"Huh." You said, dumbly. "How'd that get there?"

Larry's approaching footsteps were fast and leggy. He reached into Sal's hand, plucked the piece of popcorn between his fingers and fucking ate it.

"Jesus Christ, I can't do this anymore," Sal shook his head.

"What? It looked okay."

Recovering quickly from whatever had happened to you, you laughed.

You also inwardly denied what your body was feeling because you knew it was much too soon.

#sally face #sally face x reader #sal fisher x reader

164 notes · View notes

aestheticseungmean · 4 years

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My Heart Wanted You- Seo Changbin

Changbin was dating a girl who was using him but he just. couldn’t. see. it. Unfortunately for him, he found out the hard way.

Requested by @hwangscorpio

Warnings: Cussing

3.2K words

Angst but mainly fluff

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“Okay gentlemen, I’ll be waiting on your responses to join this groundbreaking evolution of technology. Have a great day!” A sigh left your lips as you stretched your fingers. Writing notes and comments all while evaluating what each of the men will decide, really takes a toll on you. As the men from other companies left the room, your boss bid them a farewell at the door before slumping in the seat. “Sir, you’re not supposed to sit like that. What would the others think?” You were his assistant which was never good in stories. But, you were respected and depended upon a lot. “_________. I think they would think I am a lazy boss. This is why you are my favorite asset. This company would be underground if it was just me.” Your boss was a young guy, thrown into this work way too early. “It looks like Hex Co. is excited to be in on this. The rest are unknown.”

“I would kill for something alcoholic. Run the notes through the database.” He sighed out, running his fingers through his current blond, moppy locks. “Will do, sir!” “Oh, one more thing.” You turned to look at him expectantly. “Stop calling me sir when we are alone. Makes me sound old.” You replied, “As you wish, master.” Knowing that that wasn’t what he had meant. He wanted you to call him by name. “_____.” A teasing smile graced your lips. “Sorry, Chan.” With your messy notes in hand, you walked towards your desk to input the data. When you first applied for the position, you were only going to do it to pay off student debt. Now, you loved your job, despite the aches and pains. Your boss was friendly, your coworkers were nice, lunch was always delicious. There was always something new to find in the office. One day it’s a pink door and another it’s a drone delivering notes before crashing into a wall.

Everything was perfect. Well, except your best friend Changbin. The thing was, he had a girlfriend. Which isn’t the bad part. No, the bad part was, she was manipulative and a pathological liar. For some odd reason, Changbin just couldn’t see it. The thoughts raced in your head as you inserted the info. “Hey, _____? Can you help me with my computer?” You stifled a laugh towards the younger male who looked at you with wide, confused eyes. “Sure, Jeongin.” It simply started out as just a few minutes until he asked you more and more. Before you knew it, it was time for him to clock out. “You know, I think Jeongin likes you.” “Oh, yeah? How do you reckon that?” You turned to face your boss who eyed your computer only seeing half the work done. “You don’t see those heart eyes he gives you? They’re bigger than that apple on your desk.” Chan let out a chuckle. “And you’re the master of love?” “Absolutely.”

You finished up your work while Chan spun around in the office chair he found. Clicking save, you turned to see your childish boss giggling as he spun faster and faster. “Chan stop, you’re going to get sick.” Eventually, he came to a stop and held his head in his hands, complaining about the world spinning so fast. “Hey, I told you so.” He looked up to find your smug face staring back at him. “You’re mean.” “Whatever, boss.” Walking beside him to clock out, you sighed happily as you left the building. The cold autumn breeze nipped at your cheeks and you thanked the gods that Chan wasn’t one of those bosses that forced you to wear business attire. In fact, that’s a reason he was so popular, he let people wear what they wanted as long as it was appropriate. You buried your face in the sweatshirt you brought knowing that it was in fact a chilly season. “Your sweater is wearing out.” “I know. I’ve had it for years but I still haven’t been able to buy a new one.”

The cool metal of the car door made you recoil, shivering in the process. “There’s still some daylight, come on.” Chan grabbed your hand. “Where are we going?” “To get you a new hoodie. I don’t know how you stay warm with all those holes.” From a distance, it would look like you two were a couple and that is exactly what happened. “_______!” You gagged in disgust at the fake voice you knew oh so well. “Hello, Lila.” “I didn’t know you had such a handsome boyfriend.” A protest started to leave your lips but Chan stopped you. “Yeah, I didn’t know you had such a handsome boyfriend, _______.” You watched as Changbin’s girlfriend batted her mile long, fake eyelashes at Chan. “Where is Changbin?” “Oh he’s busy.” She replied, not even taking her eyes off of the blond. Does she really think you are stupid? Changbin had no plans today and he wanted to surprise Lila with some chocolates. When she thought you weren’t looking, her fingers trailed up Chan’s arms. You cleared your throat and she dropped her hands.

“Have a good night, Lila.” The words were cold and harsh as you pushed Chan away from the girl. He spoke up after you made your way into the store. “She seems um, nice?” “She’s a bitch.” Heat fought off the cold that lingered on your skin. “Colourful words there. Is she really that bad?” You scoffed while scanning through the hoodie section. “She’s always flirting with other guys while she’s dating my friend. He deserves more than that lying, scheming, conniving bitch.” Chan huffed at the new information. “Someone like you?” “Exactly- Wait? What?” You abruptly turned around only to be met by a broad chest. “I told you, I’m the love expert.” He teased. You watched as he reached behind you to pull out a large hoodie. The cloth was shoved towards you expectantly. “You’d look good in this. Plus, it’s soft inside.” A million thoughts pummeled through your mind but you played it off. “So we’re going to ignore the fact that you are my boss yet giving me love advice.”

Chan chuckled, his dimples prominent on his face. “Just think of it as a friend giving another friend love advice.” Breaking your gaze off of his, you looked towards the hoodie he had handed you. It was a maroon color and was definitely going to be big on you but you liked that. You liked getting swallowed up by your hoodies, coats, sweaters, and sweatshirts. It offered you a sense of comfort and warmth considering you were unreasonably cold 24/8. “So we’re friends?” Chan nodded. “I’d like to think so.” “I like that.” He smiled once again and led you to the cash register. “Just these items?” “Yes.” The cashier looked unamused at everything. It made you happy because you don’t think you could handle another person fawning over your boss. “Have a good night.” “You too, miss.” Chan handed the bag to you outside of the store. Respectfully, he looked away as you switched hoodies which you found cute because you had on a shirt underneath.

“Okay, I’m done.” “Do you want to keep this hoodie?” You shook your head. “Then can I do the honours of throwing it away?” “How about we do it together?” A gleam in his eyes signified that he agreed to that. When you reached the familiar, pristine parking lot, the two of you walked towards the dumpster and threw away the tattered fabric. “Thank you, but I must be going.” “Have a good night and see you tomorrow!” You wished him a good night as well and entered your car. The silent rumble of the engine coming to life sent a rush of excitement through you. “I’m going home to sleep!” Except, it wasn’t that easy. The lights were on which was unusual considering you don’t have a roommate. “Hello?” A blanket was sprawled out on the guest bed and all that peeked out was soft brown hair that belonged to your best friend. “Bin?” The blanket shuffled and warm yet tired eyes peeked up at you. “I went for a walk today but it got too cold. I hope you don’t mind that I crashed here.”

“Of course not. You are welcome here all the time.” Changbin smiled a little and sat up, the blanket falling to his lap. “Have you eaten yet?” “No, I was waiting on Lila but she never came.” The nerve of that bitch. Anyone could see how much Changbin was putting into this relationship and she was throwing it all away. “Are you okay?” A shiver ran down his spine at the motherly look he was receiving. “I’m okay, I promise.” “Let’s go make some food.” You took his hand and dragged him to the kitchen to make macaroni. Sure it was midnight but it doesn’t matter. When the light hit his face, you could see his tear stained cheeks. “Changbin-“ “I can’t help it. I know she’s not in the relationship anymore but I love her.” You rested your head against his and sighed. “I know. I just wish you could see the others who love you more.” Changbin pulled away first and directed his attention towards making the food.

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The next day, Changbin was gone before you finished getting ready for work. It was disheartening but fair considering you pushed into his life. You topped off your outfit consisting of simple jeans, blouse and the sweatshirt Chan got you with a toboggan. The office was warm as you entered making you happy. “You look good today. Is that a new hoodie?” Unfortunately, you were not alone for long. “Yes it is, Jeongin. And thank you, you look good today as well.” The younger boy beamed with pride, ecstatic that you thought he looked good. “I brought a hot chocolate for my favorite assistant! Oh, Jeongin. You’re early. I’m afraid I didn’t get you one but if you want, I’ll give you five dollars so you can get one.” “It’s okay, hyung.” He went to work leaving you and Chan alone. “First of all, I am your only assistant. Second, give me the hot coco because I had a restless night.”

You took a sip of the steaming liquid and sighed. “What happened?” “Changbin crashed at my place because his fucking girlfriend stood him up. He cried. Cried. I hate that bitch.” The pencil in your other hand cracked under your anger. “Calm down. There’s only so much you can make someone see.” He shuffled a few things around on your desk to make room for him to sit. “I know.” “Here, let me take you to lunch today.” You nodded, allowing him to smile and tell you to make sure he has enough time to take you to get food. The hours leading up to lunch were monotone, filled with boringness except Chan occasionally pestering you. Your phone buzzed violently on the desk, you picked it up and answered the call without looking at the ID. “Hello?” “Can we go out to eat today? I want to be around someone.” It was Changbin. It hurt you hearing the amount of pain that was in his voice, signalling he was alone today as well. “My boss wants to take me to lunch but I’ll cancel so I can go with you.”

“It’s okay. I don’t want to impose.” “Changbin. Just come to my work and we will all three go. I want to be there for you. You know that.” A sniffle from the other side. “Okay. I’m heading that way now.” “I love you, Binnie.” A single sob let out before he hung up, getting ready to go see you. Banging your head against the desk sounded like an amazing option right now. Yet, you knew you wouldn’t be able to get away with it. “Hey, you're almost ready?” “I hope you don’t mind but Changbin’s in his way here and I invited him to tag along.” Chan giggled and ruffled your hair before motioning to stand up. “Of course I don’t mind. I feel like a proud dad watching their kid chase after someone. Don’t mind me.” Rolling your eyes playfully at his antics, you grabbed the hoodie that was discarded earlier and put off to the side. It was like you were two all of a sudden when you mixed up the holes. It was a sight to see when Changbin walked in. On one side, you had Jeongin trying to pull up the hoodie and on the other was Chan doing the same. “Put your hands up!” “I’m trying, Chan!” He scoffed and tugged at the material. “Try harder.”

Changbin laughed at the scene in front of him knowing that he’s been in the boys’ position. With Jeongin being able to free his side, Chan was able to slip his side off scrunching up the hoodie and put it over your head. “Arm.” You turned red as you saw Changbin watching you get babied by your boss. “I said arm. Are you not paying attention?” He turned to see what you were staring at and smiled. “Oh, your 𝑐𝑟𝑢𝑠ℎ is here.” You put your hand through the arm hole and shoved him. “Shut up.” Chan made a move to do the other side as well but you put your arm through it before he could. “No.” Changbin was taken by surprise when you hugged him tightly. “Please forget you ever saw that.” He smiled but shook his head. “No can do.” “Hey, go get your wallet and phone before we leave.” Your friend eyed your boss and felt you move away, immediately missing your warmth. “Okay, got it.” “HAVE FUN, _____!” Jeongin yelled at before you left and you waved at him and said “I will.”

The diner was a 60’s style diner with girls on skates. “I wanted to work here because they rode on roller skates.” The only catch though, you’d have to wear the outfits too. A tall waitress rolled up to you while pulling out her order sheet. “What can I get you guys to drink?” You looked at the drink names and snorted. “I’ll have the Groovy Ginger Ale.” The words were choked out as you continued to read the names. “I would like a Disco Dew.” Changbin recited, smiling at how easily amused you were. Chan was last. “I’ll take a Funky Fanta.” She clicked her pen and gave off the server’s anthem. “I’ll be back in a few minutes to get your order.” Chan nodded and thanked her. “Okay, I take it back. I wouldn’t be able to work here.” Changbin tilted his head confused. “Why?” “Imagine people saying Funky Fanta except it’s in different tones and voices.” Both of them shook their heads at the thought. Soon, the waitress came back to get the food order.

“I have to use the restroom real quick.” You and Chan nodded and watched Changbin walk away. The doorbell chimed and a familiar face walked in. Your eyes widened in surprise because she was with a boy. She noticed you right away. “Fancy seeing you guys here. Don’t you guys work or something?” “Yes, Lila. We are on a lunch break and who is he?” Lila flashed a smile over to Chan. “He’s my friend.” “Where’s Changbin?” You knew the answer but you wanted to know what stupid lie she was going to come up with. “I’m going to go find us a table.” The male placed a quick peck on her lips before she pulled him back in for a longer one. Behind them stood a crushed heart watching the whole thing. “L-Lila?” Her face dropped and she quickly turned around. “Binbin!” Changbin side stepped her attempt at a hug and a kiss. “Looks like he was a really good friend.” Lila pursed her thousand dollar lips which weren’t done well. “Bin don’t be this way, you haven’t returned my texts. I thought you didn’t love me anymore.”

The customers started to stare at the commotion, clearly feeling bad for the fake girl. “I didn’t return your texts?” You knew this was going to get ugly soon and clearly Chan did to. His body was tense next to yours. Changbin pulled out his phone and showed her the texts. “It was the other way around. I was the one texting you and you were off with other people. I should’ve listened to _____!” Lila’s face turned ugly as she became angry. “YOU MEAN THAT WHORE WHO’S CLEARLY FUCKING HER BOSS?” Changbin started to say something but you stood up. Her face smelled like cheap grandma perfume but you ignored it. “I AM NOT FUCKING MY BOSS. HE IS MY FRIEND OUTSIDE OF WORK. FURTHERMORE, IF I WERE TO FUCK ANYONE, IT’D BE WITH THE PERSON YOU FUCKED OVER.” Her mile long nails scraped your face as she slapped you. Seething, you punched her. Hard. You heard a crack and blood spilled from her nose. Still angry, you went back for more before Changbin carried you outside.

The cold air cooled you down and you focused on the male in front of you. “You told me you were okay! You promised!” He couldn’t keep eye contact, instead he cried. “I couldn’t force myself to do it.” “If you still love her, I can’t keep being the person you go to to cry. I love you but this whole hurting yourself is not okay.” You turned to walk back into the diner to get Chan only to see him walking out. “I paid and the lunch is here. We are not allowed back in there again.” “It’s okay.” The mood was tense as you guys ate in the meeting room. Changbin left only saying a small bye and thank you. “He likes you too.” “CHAN JUST STOP WITH THIS LOVE CRAP. I’M SICK OF IT ALREADY.” This time, you didn’t care if you hurt yourself. You slammed your head on the hard table and cried. Cried from the pain in your head, cried from anger, from your heart hurting. “I want you to go home early today. Finish what work you were doing and go home. Go to bed.” Chan’s voice wasn’t soft as usual. It was commanding. And, you complied.

The apartment was quiet save for the fish tank filter. You threw your stuff to the ground and noticed that Changbin’s shoes were set by the door. You walked towards the guest room to find him hunched on the floor crying. He was surrounded by ripped up photos of him and Lila. “Binnie?” Changbin looked up, the tears in his eyes making your heart ache. “If I asked you to stay, would you?” “Of course.” You sat down next to him and pulled him close before stroking his hair. “I’ve been fighting my feelings. I knew that deep down inside, she wasn’t right for me but I clinged onto her. But I realized today that she wasn’t the one my heart wanted.” He paused for a minute to wipe his nose with the sleeve of his coat. “My heart longed for the person who loved me even though I shut them out. I rejected their love because I was too scared to ruin the friendship.” “Changbin-“ Your fingers paused as you thought about what he was saying. “My heart wanted you.”

#seo changbin angst #changbin x angst #changbin angst #changbin fluff #kpop #stray kids #jeongin #changbin x reader #bang chan fluff #jeongin fluff #changbin x you #stray kids x angst #skz angst #skz fluff #skz fanfic #stray kids oneshot #stray kids fluff

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hanniiesuckle17 · 4 years

Text

Little Stars

A/n: THANK YOU GUYS SO MUCH FOR 1.5K!!! THISMEANS SO MUCH TO ME SO HERES A LITTLE IMAGINES I WROTE OFF THE TOP OF MY HEAD THAN K YUO GUYS AGain

(this is way longer than I thought it would be! also not edited lol sorry)

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings: maybe like one or two curse words, sexual tension??

Summary: Y/n is an up and coming artist. The problem is her collection deadline is one past up and coming. Lacking motivation since the job was assigned she is stuck the day before her deadline with no paintings or photos and thoroughly depressed. That is until shes see inspiration outside her window. Inspiration by the name of Lee Felix.

Genre: Fluff, strangers to ‘lovers’,

✧

Empty. My brain was empty. I had two months. Two months to come up with a small exhibit for a local gallery I was signed to. Two months. For five paintings. Or photos. Or both. TOO MANY DECISIONS. Decisions...granted I should have made...two months ago.

I sat near the biggest window in my apartment. Sunlight streamed through the glass, casting a natural glow on the stark white canvas. I just needed a theme. A subject. I know! I could do a five-part exhibition on tea kettles!

“Oh for pete’s sake, I’m going crazy,” I said head in my hands.

I can’t paint teapots. Flowers are overdone. What the hell am I supposed to paint? This exhibition was a huge deal. I had nothing and my deadline was tomorrow night.

That’s it. I’m done. My short career is finished. I should just throw away all my paints and pencils and chalk and coal and trash all the canvases that littered my apartment. I glanced at my phone which sat a few feet away from me on a small wooden table littered with tubes of paint and jars filled with brushes and blades covered in paint.

An hour had passed and I still had yet to touch my brush to the canvas. Groaning, I rested my forehead against the linen canvas. “Come on, Y/n. Search your artsy soul for inspiration.” I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. I tried to imagine the canvas being filled by something beautiful. Something worthy of love and legacy. Something that could burn a hole in my life and set it on fire. Something to ignite my passion again.

When I opened them, of course, the canvas was still empty and my brain was too.

With the thousandth aggravated sigh of the hour, I sat up and looked out the huge window near me. My eyes caught on a flash of blonde hair. Down on the street, a boy with light hair and bright eyes was bouncing along with two other boys. They were joking around and laughing, as people who’s entire job wasn’t on the line would do. For some reason, I couldn’t take my eyes off of him.

All of a sudden I could see the brush strokes of his hair on my canvas. The delicate lines of his eyes. I needed to paint him.

I launched myself out of the chair and rushed to the door. My feet took the stairs two at a time and I jumped the last three before sprinting out onto the street. My head turned in all directions trying to find the boy I saw from my window. Once again, I found his blonde mop bouncing and laughing down the street, away from my apartment.

“Hey!” I called out, running to catch up.

Good grief boys walk fast. “Hey! You! With the blonde hair!” At my words, the three boys turned around, astonished someone was running at them. After a few words, the boys started running away. “No! Wait! I need to talk to the Blonde Guy!” I yelled out of breath. Desperate, I ran after them. Thankfully they turned down an alley only a few feet away that I knew was a dead end.

I put my hands on my knees catching my breath. The three boys stared at me a little fearful. “Look, I just need to talk to Goldilocks. I saw him from my window and there was just something about you. It inspired me.”

“Well... yeah. We’re kind of famous. We get that a lot.” The boy with doe-like eyes and dark, almost black hair said like it was obvious. The boy with blonde hair elbowed him in the stomach making the other laugh.

“You’re famous?” I asked, finally standing upright. They looked between each other surprised.

“You don’t know who we are?” The youngest looking asked. He reminded me of a fox I painted once. “Sorry. We thought you were a crazy fan.” To be honest I hadn’t really been keeping up with the news or popular things lately. I had been holed up in my apartment trying to paint. “We’re from a group called Stray Kids. I’m Jeongin. The rude guy is Jisung, and that’s Felix.”

My eye immediately darted to the boy now known to me as Felix. “Felix...” I said looking him over. He was even more entrancing up close. He had soft sun spots dancing across his cheeks and nose that brightened up his face. Freckles. How cute. How different.

“Yeah...what’s your name?”

“Uh- I’m Y/n, Y/n L/n.”

Jeongin’s eyes widened. “Hyung! Isn’t she that painter that Hyunijn likes? He dragged us to that gallery last year to see her stuff.” Jisung nodded and looked from me back to Felix. “Our friend loves your stuff. He made us take a bunch of pictures of him in front of it.”

“Oh, that’s awesome.” I couldn’t take my eyes off Felix, and he noticed.

“Do you think we could like buy a painting off you? That would shut him up for like a solid six months.” Jisung said pulling out his wallet. “How much are we talking?”

“For something I have with me? Not in a gallery? Probably like....Fifteen.” I said, still quite distracted. My imagination was spiraling out of control with how I wanted to paint the boy in front of me. How I wanted to capture his image. Photograph him.

“Fifteen bucks? Great! That’s awes-”

“Fifteen hundred.”

Felix burst into laughter as the look on Jisung’s face fell. His hand was frozen, extended out in front of him, already prepared to give me fifteen dollars. My heart skipped a beat watching Felix’s bright grin. He practically glowed.

“I’ll make you a deal. I’ll let you choose any painting you want from my apartment and I’ll sign it for...Hyunjin, was it?” The boys nodded. “I’ll give it to you if Felix will help me finish my new exhibition. It shouldn’t take long. I’ll even-”

“Sure.”

Felix shrugged with a small smile, stuffing his hands in his pockets. He looked me over with a soft and happy gaze. It seemed I intrigued him as much as he intrigued me.

“My apartment is just around the corner.”

“Cool. Just a heads up, I’ve never modeled except for like album jackets and stuff.”

“Don’t worry about it.” The closer he got, the harder it was not to smile. Jisung and Jeongin were joking behind us, something about Felix finally getting into a pretty girl’s apartment, but it all kind of faded away as I walked back with Felix. I felt the passion to paint again burning in my stomach.

✧

Felix patiently waited as I opened the door to my apartment. When we entered I hastily cleaned up some random junk cluttering the counters as he looked around. There was nothing I could do about the multiple canvases lying in stacks all around the living room.

“Wow. You are really good.” He said looking at a large canvas painted with bright and happy colors near my kitchen. Why did the compliment feel different coming from him?

“Thank you very much. I’ve had a bit of a dry spell recently.”

“For how long?”

“Give or take three months.”

Felix chuckled and looked at the other paintings near him. While he explored my art-filled apartment, I set up my camera on a tripod near the window and adjusted the position of my easel. “So, how is this gonna work?”

“Um...I’m not entirely sure. I’ve never been inspired like this before. I really have no idea what medium I’ll end up using...so I’m sort of using...all of them.” Felix laughed again watching me frantically prepping everything I could possibly need. I didn’t miss the lingering stares he cast my way.

“We’re doing photos? Should I like put on a base or something?”

“NO!” He was a little shocked at my outburst. He probably wasn’t used to being photographed without makeup. “Sorry. I just- I don’t want you covered up. I want to paint everything. Everything about you.” I looked to see a shy blush on Felix’s face as he came to stand near me by the window.

“So, I sit here?” He motioned to the windowsill, overlooking the street on which I discovered him. The light hit him perfectly, bouncing of his cheekbones and practically giving him a halo.

I nodded quietly and adjusted a few settings on my camera before returning to my easel. Felix looked at me with a smile. I laughed seeing he was trying to pose and stay very still.

“You don’t have to do that. I’ll ask you to be still if I need to.”

The sound of the camera clicking filled the apartment as Felix watched me paint him. The lines came easy to me as if I had painted him many times before. He watched as I painted the lines of his face and his eyes quickly appeared on the canvas, staring back at me just like he was.

“Do you want some music? This will take a while. I’ve got five pieces to do.” Felix chuckled, his adam’s apple bobbing up and down and his eyes crinkling into crescent moons.

“Music would be wonderful.” With a smile, I shoved my wet paintbrush behind my ear, streaking my cheek and possibly my hair, and shuffled over to turn on my stereo. Felix let a curious grin slip onto his lips. “Classical?”

“Do you like it? It helps me focus.” He nodded and looked out the window. His eyes closed as the sound of soft violins floated through the apartment. “So, Felix, what’s your favorite book.” He was a little shocked at the random question, but that happy smile returned.

“Ummm...let’s see,” While he thought I continued painting, the basics of his face and form already done. I quickly painted the window and background so I could go back to focusing on the shadows and details of Felix’s face. My hands worked quickly, shading in the dark patches behind the cushions and curtains.

“Peter Rabbit.”

“Like the kid’s book?”

“Yeah, what’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing! It’s just different. I knew there was something special about you.” I said with a laugh, grabbing a smaller brush and looking at the shadows behind Felix. He tilted his head, resting it on the window.

“Why did you pick me?”

The movement of my brush stopped. My eyes met the dark brown stare Felix held. He smirked noticing the heat rushing to my cheeks. “I thought you looked like a shooting star.” His eyebrows rose and he tried not to laugh.

“That’s quite the artist's answer.”

“Well, I am an artist.”

He chuckled and started playing with the edge of his sleeve. “So, a shooting star?” Again, I blushed. The painting was almost finished I just needed to finish the details of his eyes and cheeks. “Yeah. I don’t know. You just seemed so full of life. Something fleeting. Something...ephemeral.”

“Ephemeral? As in not lasting? What am I supposed to turn into dust after you’ve finished with me?” He laughed, his eyes crinkling. My eyes trailed down his cheeks to look at the stars dancing across his skin. The freckles scattered about his cheeks. Delicately, I began placing each and every spot as Felix told me about his life.

“It’s finished.”

“Can I see?” He said jumping up from the window sill. I shook my head and grabbed the still wet canvas. “Come on, Y/n! Let me see!” He chased me around the living room trying to carefully grab the painting. I laughed when his arms wrapped around my waist and he pulled me to him.

“You can see it when the collection is complete! We have more art to make!” He laughed and let me place the painting away to dry. Together we walked over back to the window and he sat back down, watching me expectantly.

I scanned through the photos the camera captured. They were fantastic. They were the perfect candids. I could edit these into black and white and it would be gorgeous. Felix came to look over my shoulder. He gasped at the pictures.

“How the hell did you do that?” Felix gently took the camera and scrolled through the pictures. “Seriously. You were busy painting. How did you do this?” I shrugged and cleaned some of my brushes while he looked through the photos.

“Sometimes it is not about the angle or the position. It’s just what the subject is doing or feeling.” I took the camera and scrolled to a certain picture. “Like this one.” Felix looked at the picture. It was him leaning against the window, his eyes crescents and aimed somewhere off frame. “Do you know when this was?” He shook his head and looked to me.

“When I called you a shooting star.” Felix looked at the photo again, seeing it in a new light.

“So, what’s next?”

I felt so close to Felix. Like I had known him for years. Had it really only been a few hours? My eyes traced the lines of his shoulders and back. The perfect canvas.

“Can I...paint on you?”

His eyes widened for a millisecond and he let out a breathy laugh. “Have you done it before?” I shrugged and wiped my paint stained hands on my jeans. When I looked up he had moved a little closer.

“I’ve never really wanted to. Like I said, I don’t want to capture your image...covered up. It should be seen naturally.”

Felix smiled. “So, where are we doing this?” He said softly. My heart thumped against my chest. I pointed to an open space on the wood floor and he nodded. I grabbed some body paints I had lying around in a cabinet and brought them over to Felix.

“Let me know if anything gets uncomfortable and I’ll stop.” He nodded and slipped his shirt over his head. I motioned for him to lie on his stomach and he followed my instruction. Felix shivered when his tan skin touched the cool wood floor.

“What got you into painting?” Felix asked, resting his head on his arms. I picked out the brush I wanted to start with. My palm rested on his shoulder as the brush hovered over his back.

“I’m not really sure. You see...I really sucked at math.”

Felix let out the largest laugh, one that shook his whole chest. I took the opportunity to start painting. Soon his lower back was filled with swirling colors of blues and purples. “Is everything okay?” Felix asked, interrupting his own story.

“Yeah, just an awkward angle.”

“You can adjust if you want to. I don’t mind.” My skin started to crawl when Felix turned to me in the eye. Like he was inviting me to come even closer to him. He smiled at the blush on my cheeks before turning his head away. Hesitantly, I situated myself above Felix, slowly resting some of my weight on the lowest part of his back possible. I saw him smile when he felt my knees on either side of his hips.

Felix continued his story about something one of his friends named Chan did the other night. The sound of his low voice mixed with the music still playing guided my brush like it had a mind of its own. When I looked at my work, a nebula with hundreds of little stars was born onto his skin.

“I think it’s done.”

Carefully, I got off of Felix and helped him up. I set the camera up again and it started taking pictures. Taking Felix’s hand I pulled him in front of the lens and positioned him with his back towards the camera. He watched me as I positioned his body, my hands unintentionally lingering on his shoulders.

Felix turned to me as I began to pull away. “I didn’t know art could be so intimate.” I looked down to see his hand on my arm, his body was slightly turned at the waist towards me and his eyes bore into mine. Never had I felt this passionate about something other than art. I liked Felix. A lot. More than I should admit after just meeting the man. “Is it supposed to be like this?”

I shook my head, hoping he wouldn't notice I stepped closer. “No,” His hand slid around the base of my back. “Maybe you are a shooting star. I couldn’t have wished for something this incredible.” He smiled and looked down at me.

“Can I kiss you? Sorry...I just-”

“You really didn’t have to ask.” Felix, let out a small laugh, almost a giggle, making me smile. My fingers traveled up his neck and into the edge of his blonde hair. “Well, are you gonna do it or are you gonna chicken out, Felix?”

“Oh shh.”

His lips tasted like strawberries. He was gentle and slow, like he was savoring every moment. When he pulled away I rested my forehead against his. “I do not regret putting off my work until the last minute.” He laughed, his eyes brightening and lighting up the whole room.

✧

Standing in the gallery felt like a second home. My exhibition hung on the wall .It was one of my greatest yet. The gallery had given me an extension after seeing the semi-finished product. A group of rowdy boys walked towards me, a familiar and handsome face leading them.

“Y/n!” He called, running up and greeting me with a kiss. The other seven boys followed after him. One of the taller ones hung towards the back clearly nervous.

“You must be Hyunjin?” I asked reaching for his hand. His eyes widened and he shook my hand vigorously. His sharp features lifted into a grin and he laughed. “You might want to let go of my hand eventually.”

“Oh. Sorry. I’m just such a big fan.”

“I know. Felix has told me all about you. I’ve got a painting signed for you in my car.” Hyunjin’s jaw dropped and I swear he almost fell backwards had Jisung not been there to catch him.

“So, what is your collection called?” The boy Felix pointed out to me as Chan asked. Felix proudly wrapped an arm around my waist as I guided the group to the first piece.

“It’s called Little Stars.” Felix, blushed when I lightly pinched his cheek. The boys marveled at the first painting. It was one of Felix sitting in my window. It was the only piece in color. We moved on to the second piece. The photo I had shown Felix of him smiling.

The next photo was a frame I had cropped to show just his eyes. Even in black and white Felix still managed to bring color and life with just a single look. “Wow, Felix! I had no idea you were this cool looking!” Minho said, marveling at the photograph. Felix kicked him as we moved forward.

The second to last photo showed the painting I did on Felix’s back. He was completely turned away from the camera, but you could see my hands on his shoulder and waist. I had edited the photo so just my hands and arms were seen. Felix smiled and kissed the top of my head before the both of us led the group to the exhibit finale.

“DAMN FELIX!” Jisung yelled.

“Jisung. We are in an art gallery. Don’t yell.” Chan scolded.

“Sorry, but Felix got game.”

I laughed and looked at the photo; it was my favorite. Felix was half turned towards me but you could still see the nebula and stars on his back, his hand was gripping my waist tightly and he smiled down at me, our foreheads pressed together. You could see my fingers pulling away from the base of his hair, giving movement to the photo.

“This is incredible, Y/n.”

“Well, it’s all you so I should say so.” He kissed my cheek with that bright smile of his. “You really are my shooting star. I’m getting everything I could ever wish for.”

✧

Requests are open, my lovelies!

Masterlist

200 notes · View notes

ellewritesathing · 4 years

Text

(Un)Requited - I.L. II

Summary: Isaac Lahey had gone through many twists and turns in his life, but none of them compared to the whiplash he got when you asked him to tutor you. With a few weeks until the end of the semester and the big dance coming up, he’s hoping to figure out a way to ask you to go with him before it’s too late.

Masterlist Prev. | Part 2

Word-count: 3.3k+

A/N: i’m sorry for taking forever to update this but!! here we are!! i hope you guys enjoy it!! 💕💕

“Life coaching?” Derek repeated, looking up from his book for the first time all morning. He hadn’t interrupted Isaac once or shown any sign that he was listening, and then all he said was two words.

Isaac tried to be offended by his tone, but honestly, the idea was a little ridiculous. He couldn’t blame Derek for thinking it was a dumb idea, especially after hearing thousands of dumb ideas from Erica and Boyd over the years.

“Yes. Life coaching,” Isaac said, folding his hands neatly in his lap.

“I think it’ll be good for him,” Erica said, grabbing an apple off the table. She started cutting it with a knife as she spoke, “I mean, it’s obvious that his life is in shambles.”

“Hey!” Isaac said defensively. It was true but she didn’t need to say it.

Erica shrugged and offered him a slice of her apple.

“Yeah, that was a little harsh,” Boyd said as he slid his oatmeal bowl away from him. Isaac was going to thank him but then he continued, “It’s only obvious to us because we live with him.”

“Hey!” Isaac whined.

Erica laughed and ate a slice of her apple, talking through her full mouth and offering cut pieces to Boyd. Their lighthearted bickering soon devolved into a fight, with threats of claws coming out and knowing comments about what would happen when the other slept. Isaac tried to be cool and calm about it, but Erica knew exactly how to push his buttons.

“Look, it doesn’t matter what you guys think anyway,” Isaac said eventually, arms crossed over his chest and breakfast untouched. “I’m doing it.”

Before Erica could snap at him, Derek got up and drew all the attention to himself. “Is it going to interfere with our plans?”

“No,” Isaac answered immediately. At least he didn’t think it would.

“Then do it…” Derek locked eyes with Isaac over an empty bowl of cereal that he was clearing away “-quietly.”

Isaac figured he must have pulled a face because all three of them started laughing and Derek was telling him to lighten up and that he was making a joke. He had to pretty wound up if Derek I-Never-Smile Hale was telling him to lighten up, but Isaac picked up what he meant: Isaac could spend all the time he wanted with you, but his duty to his pack came first.

Like you would ever want to get close enough to him to interfere with the pack, but a guy could dream.

---

The week could not have possibly gone by any slower, but eventually it ended and all Isaac had to do was wait it out until Monday ended (which took forever). Then it would be Tuesday. Then he could talk to you again, because then it would be the first of hopefully many tutoring sessions.

The fact that Isaac planned all this out was kind of embarrassing - and he knew he could never plan enough when it came to you because you made him act like an even bigger idiot than he already was - but is it so bad that he wanted to be prepared? That he didn’t want to embarrass himself in front of you?

Now that he was sitting next to you, though, Isaac realized that he would never be prepared for you and he would never not embarrass himself. You were sitting next to him, looking like you just stepped out of a magazine shoot to boost literacy in teens; hands covered in ink, messy eraser shavings on the ends of your sweater, and deep lines of concentration on your face. And he couldn’t stop staring. It was embarrassing.

“I’m not getting it,” you said in a quiet voice. You sighed and sat back in your seat, clearly frustrated. “I’ll just marry up. I hear trophy wives never need to do algebra.”

Isaac laughed. “You’re not gonna be a trophy wife,” he said. He thought that would make you feel better but you raised an eyebrow at him. “Uh, I mean, of course you’ll be a trophy wife. You’re really hot- I mean. Anyone who ends up with you will be- I just meant that, you know, you’ll get this. You don’t have to-”

Now it was your turn to laugh. And though he panicked at first, your laugh eased all of Isaac’s worries and he relaxed into his seat … until you put your hand on his arm and sat up. You looked at him with kind eyes and made his heart beat out of his chest. “Show me again?” you asked with a smile.

“Yeah, sure,” Isaac said once he started breathing again. “Okay, so-” he took the pencil out of your hand “-The problem you have is that you don’t carry over your coefficients. See? Like this.”

When Isaac stole a glance at you out of the corner of his eye, you were biting your lip as you stared at his messy handwriting. Logically, he understood that you were trying to figure out the problem but irrationally he was cursing out his dad for breaking his hand because he was wasting too much time drawing comics. His handwriting had never recovered and he was convinced that you were staring at it and not the numbers on the page.

“Okay, coefficients. Got it,” you said with a small nod after a few seconds that felt like lifetimes. “And I add them?”

“No. Multiply.”

“Huh.” You got so quiet that Isaac could hear you breathing. He could do that before thanks to his super-senses, anyway, but you were so close now. It was different. It made him more flustered when you were inches away.

You reached over his arm for the hand that was holding the pencil and Isaac almost passed out. Were you trying to hold his hand? No, you were writing something. Should he let go? What was the protocol for this?

“Like this?” you asked when you were done, not noticing his existential crisis.

“Uh…” Isaac looked down and pretended to pay attention. Your handwriting looked perfect, but then again everything you did was perfect to him. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s perfect!”

“I did it?” you asked, frowning at the page. Isaac laughed and nodded, mumbling something encouraging that he didn’t pay attention to. “I did it!” You let go of his hand and lifted both of your hands in the air in surprise. It was adorable. You were adorable.

“You did it,” Isaac smiled. He sat up straighter and started flipping to another section in the textbook. “Ready to tackle something new?”

“No.” The words came out a little too fast and Isaac smiled at you again. “I just mean … I should practice this some more before we go on, right? Just to make sure.”

Isaac closed the book and shrugged lightly as he leaned back in his chair. “If that’s what you want, then sure.”

You laughed slightly at him and pushed some hair behind your ear. “You’re so sweet, Isaac. Thanks for this.”

“Yeah, of course,” Isaac said. His voice had dropped to a quieter volume and you held his gaze for a few seconds. He wasn’t sure what he did but it felt like time slowed down for that split second. Isaac would have given anything to know what you were thinking.

You spent the next fifteen minutes doing practice problems, and Isaac spent that time trying to focus on his English assignment - a task made undoubtedly more difficult whenever your knee accidentally brushed his leg. Who cared about Hamlet and his mommy issues when you were right there?

“Okay! Done!”

You beamed as you slid the piece of paper over to him. Your smile fell as Isaac started checking your answers, but he could have told you that you had nothing to worry about. Even if every answer was wrong, you’d get it eventually.

After checking them all, Isaac looked up at you and smiled at how anxious you were. You were biting your lip and your eyes were double the size as you waited for him to give his verdict.

“You’re going to be putting me out of business soon,” Isaac said, looking back down at the paper and sliding it over to you.

You laughed again and Isaac felt his heart melt in his chest. He’d be dead by the time finals week came around.

“Speaking of business,” you said as you let out a breath after filing the practise questions. You shifted in your chair to look at him, drumming your fingers on the table lightly. “When do you want to get together for me to teach you about girls?”

Your tone was playful but there was something in your voice that Isaac couldn’t place. That uncertainty, coupled with the fact that he’d forgotten that he asked you to do that, resulted in Isaac staring at you with wide eyes and a stumped expression.

He realised he had to say something so Isaac sputtered out the first words that came to his mind. “Friday? After school?”

“Don’t you have lacrosse practice then?” you asked. Isaac frowned slightly; he didn’t know that you knew he was on the team.

“Oh, right. That,” Isaac said awkwardly, scratching the back of his head. You laughed again and Isaac used that time to think of something to say. The weekend felt too far away to suggest it. Even if it was just a day later than Friday.

“I’ll tell you what,” you said with a smile as you started packing away your things. “I’ll sit in the stands while you practice. You can check my homework when you’re done. And then we can go to my place to talk things through. Sound good?”

“Sounds great,” Isaac exhaled. He couldn’t believe this was working or that you offered to sit through his lacrosse practise and then spend the rest of the afternoon with him.

“Perfect,” you smiled. You got up and shouldered your backpack, throwing a smile at him over your shoulder. “See you at practice, Lahey.”

God, did you just wink at him?

Isaac watched you walk away, and - once he deemed the distance to be enough - he slumped down in his chair and groaned. He was in way over his head. And he was only digging himself deeper. How was he going to get through practice without taking a ball to the face if he knew you were watching?

---

Lacrosse practice was going surprisingly well considering that Isaac had a heart attack every time he looked at the stands and saw you cheering him on instead of doing your homework. At least, Isaac thought it was going well until he saw the look on Coach’s face.

“Lahey! What the hell has gotten into you?”

The whole team was jogging back to the bench to be dismissed, and Isaac didn’t think he was that bad during the practice to warrant getting called out. Greenberg sucked way more than he did and Stiles can’t play for shit.

“Uh, I had something different for breakfast?” Isaac said uncertainly, turning his lacrosse stick over on itself as he spoke.

Coach looked at him like he was insane. Worse, actually: like he was Greenberg. But then he said, “Well, whatever that was you better keep eating it! You hear me? You were great out there!”

“I was?”

“This is why I’m not nice to any of you.” There was that glare again as Coach pointed his finger accusingly at Isaac. He shook his head and threw his arm in the direction of the locker rooms. “Hit the showers! You all stink!”

Isaac started heading that way when he saw you running down the bleachers with a notebook in your hands. His heart beat faster than when he thought Coach was going to kick him off the team.

“You were great!” You were beaming at him again. “I think. I know more about algebra than I do lacrosse.”

Isaac laughed. “Well, maybe I could show you how to play sometime,” he said with a small smile. He felt strangely at ease now that you were next to him.

“I’d like that,” you smiled, voice quiet again but still smiling. “Uh, do you want to check this before or after you shower?”

“I can do it now.” Isaac sat on the bench and read through your practice problems. “You missed a few but most of them are good. Solid B- work.”

"B-?” you repeated.

Isaac’s heart spiked. Was he supposed to lie to get you to like him? Was he supposed to just say everything was right?

“That’s great!” You took the notebook and pencil, staring at the ones Isaac had marked wrong. You didn’t even look up at him when you spoke next. “Go shower, I’ll be right here when you’re done!”

Though Isaac was confused and a little distrusting while he showered and changed, he still felt good about the interaction. It was the first time you two had spoken and he hadn’t stuttered - that was a start.

True to your words, you were sitting on the team bench when Isaac came out. You'd swapped the algebra homework for a book in the time he was gone and you didn't seem to notice him until he was right next to you.

“Pride and Prejudice,” Isaac said after reading over your shoulder. “The one with Keira Knightley is my favourite.”

“Mine too.” You looked up at him with a smile and closed the book. Your cheeks looked slightly flushed, but that was probably from all the sun and nothing he’d done. It was gone an instant anyway. “Are you ready to go?”

Isaac nodded and you got up, shouldering your bag. He picked up the notebook that was lying next to your bag and held onto it as the two of you walked towards your car.

“You carry my books, you’re smart, and like Pride and Prejudice?” you asked, nudging him with your elbow and giving him a smile. “Why do you need me to impress your dream girl? You seem like a real catch to me already.”

Isaac didn't know how to respond so he laughed and scratched the back of his head, mumbling something about not being so sure about that. He was quiet for most of the drive to your house, just stealing glimpses of you as you hummed along to the radio and giving you a quick thank you for giving him a ride when you stopped in the driveway.

He stayed a few steps behind you as you walked up to the front door and unlocked it. You let him in and dropped your bag inside, shaking off your jacket and kicking off your shoes. You said he could do the same, if he was comfortable, and flashed him another heart-stopping smile.

“I’ve just gotta feed Max,” you said. “Do you want something from the kitchen?”

“Just some water,” Isaac said politely.

“Sure thing.”

You motioned for him to follow and he did. Isaac watched as you filled up a bowl with dog food, and no sooner had you set it down had an Australian shepherd come bounding around the corner and into your leg.

“Hey, buddy,” you laughed, rubbing his back. “This is Isaac. He’s gonna be hanging around for a bit, okay? Hey, you’re not allergic to animals, right? It’s probably a little late to ask.”

“Me? Oh, uh, no. Don’t worry about it.” Isaac smiled and bent down to stick his hand out but Max didn’t like that. He barked and you jumped.

“Max!” You reprimanded him and tugged on his collar to keep him close to you. “Buddy, come on. Isaac’s a friend.”

Max simmered down so, after apologizing a few times and offering to take him to the yard, you turned to grab some glasses from the cupboard and Isaac decided to make his move. The only way to get Max to cut it out was to show him who he really was. So, while your back was turned, Isaac flashed his bright yellow eyes at the dog and watched his demeanor change.

Max let out a small whimper before padding over and curling up around Isaac’s feet.

“See, buddy, I knew you’d like him,” you said happily when you turned to find Isaac and Max. You handed Isaac his water and crouched to pet Max. Looking up at Isaac, you said, “I’m so sorry. Max is usually never like that with strangers.”

Isaac smiled, relieved that you didn’t suspect anything. “Yeah, no worries. We’re all good now.”

“Yeah, you are.” You smiled at him again and rubbed Max one last time before standing up and getting ready to walk out of the kitchen. “I was thinking we could just go to my room and talk for today?”

“You, uh- your room?” Isaac repeated, immediately reverting back to being nervous. He knew you obviously didn’t mean anything by it, but still. Erica and Cora were the only girls whose rooms he’d ever been in, and they both tried to kill him before he made it two feet in the door.

“Don’t worry, I’ll keep the door open,” you said with a mischievous smile and Isaac mentally slapped himself for being so awkward. Then you added while the two of you were walking, “Plus, it’s not like anyone else is home,” and he tripped up the stairs.

Luckily you didn’t say anything about his literal and figurative misstep.

Isaac figured if he could just stop his heart from beating out of his chest, he might actually have a shot at pulling this off. That is, until he walked into your room and saw possibly the biggest, fluffiest, and angriest cat he’d ever seen. If Max had been a challenge, this cat would be a near impossible feat to get over.

Isaac hovered at the door, not taking his eyes off the cat. “You have a cat?”

“Oh, yeah.” You set your glass down and walked over to the bed, scooping up the ball of fluff. The cat made an upset sounding noise at being woken up, but started purring as soon as it realised it was in your arms. Jesus, that thing had to be bigger than your entire torso. “This is Magnus. I got him when Alex went off to college.”

“Oh.”

“You wanna pet him?” you asked, pulling increasingly adorable faces at the cat. You laughed when Magnus bonked his head into yours. “He’s a little grumpier than Max but he’ll warm up to you just the same.”

“Uh, sure,” Isaac lied. He reached out a tentative hand and Magnus swatted it away, claws and all. He made a low growling noise and leapt out of your arms.

“Ow!” You winced as Magnus jumped, clearly not expecting the abrupt motion. “Oh, my god, Isaac. Are you okay?”

You reached for Isaac’s hand and he almost blacked out. The jolt of electricity that started where your fingers grazed his hand and spread through the rest of his body surprised him. You were holding his hand in both of yours, inspecting it gently.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I don’t think he got me,” Isaac said quietly. You were so focused that speaking any louder felt wrong.

It also felt wrong to lie to you. Technically, Magnus had scratched him but it wasn’t deep so, in the seconds it took you to process what happened, the scratch had healed. Isaac was perfectly fine now.

You were still frowning at his hand, though, and Isaac worried he’d done something to mess it all up, that you could somehow sense he was lying.

“Hey,” Isaac said gently, turning his hand around so he was the one holding your hand. Aside from the minor cardiac attack it caused, it felt good. Meant to be. “I’m fine. Promise.”

“I could’ve sworn he scratched you,” you said, equally gentle and quiet. You shook your head and laughed under your breath. “You think I’m crazy now, don’t you?”

“There is literally nothing you could tell me that would make me think you’re crazy,” Isaac laughed. If you knew half the stuff he’d seen since joining Derek’s pack …

You gave him a small smile and squeezed his hand before pulling away. “So, you wanna get started?”

Part 3

Tagged: @ietss @lettherebelovex

#isaac lahey #teen wolf #isaac lahey imagine #isaac lahey fanfiction #isaac lahey x reader #(un)requited

130 notes · View notes

blossom-hwa · 4 years

Text

Repeat [Epilogue] - Mark |Swing!|

And so it ends! Thank you everyone who made the journey with me, ESPECIALLY @deathbykpopboys FOR GIVING ME THE IDEAS TO WRITE ONE OF THE STORIES I’M THE MOST PROUD OF <3 <3

Fair warning: this might be confusing to readers who aren’t into the Marvel cinematic universe (MCU). There are spoilers for the movies! I do have some of my personal headcanons in here, so if they bother you, just don’t read it!

Pairing: Mark x fem!reader

Genre: fluff, angst, Spiderman!au

Triggers: a lot of cursing :)

Word Count: 6.9k

When the rogues move back into society, there are suddenly a lot of new people looking into the relationship between Stark’s personal interns. Luckily, they’ve only got good thoughts about it, even if the kids are a little mushy sometimes.

Alternatively:

Five ways the Avengers see (and love) the spiderkids’ relationship.

Release >> Epilogue: Repeat

NCT Masterlist | Swing!

Steve doesn’t have too many hobbies. This came as a result of being sick all the damn time during his younger years at the height of the Depression. He was always in bed, and he never really knew when he was just going to keel over and kick the bucket.

Art, though, is something he’s taken with him from younger self to his Captain America days. Especially in this modern age, there’s so much more to sketch. Steve takes interest in the tiny things – glitter pens, microwaves, things that other people have taken for granted as ordinary parts of their lives. He didn’t have those in the Depression, but now he does.

It’s weird.

When he moved back into the Compound, he spent a lot of time outdoors. He wanted to talk to Tony, to apologize for his secrets, thank him for his work on the Accords, maybe clear the air a little, but Tony would just disappear into the lab where only he, Banner, Pepper, and the interns are allowed. So he just picked up the sketchbook Bucky bought him for his last birthday, some pencils, and a Dodgers hat, and went out to observe the city.

It took his fingers some time to figure out how to shade the way he did when they were slim, translucent things. They’re bulkier now, thicker and stronger, and if he isn’t careful, he sometimes snaps his pencils in half. But as the days go by, his fingers gain back some of the delicacy of touch that his younger, sicklier self had.

Art is how he can express himself, now. Even though Nat and Sam like to tease him (what is it that kids say now? Clown him? He thinks that’s it) for having a speech ready for every occasion, Steve finds himself tongue-tied a lot more often than he can admit. Art is how he finally confessed to Bucky – a simple portrait of his long-time best friend turned crush, done with the pencils he’d bought Steve for Christmas.

A lot of the Avengers deal in things that could be considered delicate – archery, knife-throwing, cooking – but only Nat really does any form of art. She dances ballet, but even that’s something very defined, very precise. It’s razor-sharp, the way she does it. And her art form carries a lot of bad memories for her, whereas Steve’s mostly brings back good times. The days where he felt good enough to go outside. The days before the war, when Bucky would bring him onto the fire escape of their shitty little apartment and they would just stare at the city in front of them.

Soft things and sharp things are very separate in Steve’s mind. Art is something soft. Something pretty, something beautiful, something nice. He hesitates to call fighting or sarcasm or weapons evil, exactly, but they aren’t very beautiful, either.

For this reason, he doesn’t understand, at first, how the two Stark interns ended up together. At first glance, they’re polar opposites – one a spitfire, the other always calm. Loud laughter and a cutthroat tongue coexisting with quiet words and a thoughtful mind.

It doesn’t make sense to him, until he walks in on a scene one day that almost makes his heart melt.

He’s on his way out of the Compound to go outside and maybe people watch. Sketch a bit. He has his pencils in one hand, sketchbook in the other, when the strumming of a guitar sounds from farther down the hall. Steve walks out to investigate.

Mark is sitting on the couch, guitar in hand. Steve briefly remembers Mark playing it before, but not too much. It’s beautiful, really, and he stops just at the end of the hall to listen for a bit. Mark’s hands strum the guitar in quiet chords. They’re delicate, Steve realizes – thin, lithe, graceful. Soft. Similar to his own when he was younger, just minus the boniness and sickly white tinge.

His eyes then focus on the girl sitting next to him, head leaning on Mark’s shoulder, typing with razor concentration on the laptop in front of her. Sharp, precise, focused.

But though Y/N’s eyes are steely, her body language is anything but. She leans into Mark with an undeniable softness, a pliability that lets her sink into the couch and his body. Mark, meanwhile, sits up, his back straight, though his hands move delicately over the strings of the guitar.

In this moment, Steve feels dumbstruck, almost. The interns combine sharp edges and rounded curves into something that, even to his eye, is truly beautiful. They’re not solely delicate and soft. They’re not solely refined and precise.

They’re both, jagged points fitting perfectly into smooth curves. And there’s beauty in that.

Quietly, he walks back to his own room, the image of the interns on the couch burned into his mind. His fingers start moving his pencils back and forth on a fresh page.

Neither of them will probably ever know, but they are the reason Steve now sees beauty in sharp edges and precision. Perhaps he still prefers the delicacy of sunsets or the gentle waving of leaves in the breeze, but he understands it, understands the way Y/N and Mark come together. He sketches more – one of Clint’s arrows stuck in a target, one of Sam’s wings slicing through a block of concrete, Natasha’s ballet.

There’s beauty in everything, Steve realizes. Not just aesthetics and pretty things.

He likes this point of view. He likes it a lot.

Smiling, he sketches some more.

ii.

Bucky Barnes has often showed his love through food. It was the way he knew his Ma loved him, even if her face was drawn in most of the time and she didn’t smile a whole lot. None of that mattered, not too much. Bucky knew he was loved in the way she scraped away from her own portions and put them onto his and Becca’s plates, in the way she would give them the best bits of bread and the meat on the few occasions they could afford it.

So when he found Steve, that was the way he showed his care. Showed his love. He shared his meager lunches with the sickly kid who had a penchant for art, bought him medicine and swiped apples for him. He cooked for Steve in their ratty apartment, made him something extra nice to cheer him up a bit when his mom died. And when Bucky went off to the war and couldn’t take care of Steve upfront anymore, he sent back his earnings with explicit instructions for Steve to eat as much as he could.

He wouldn’t say he’s really good at cooking, at least not at first. His meals on the front could barely be called meals – some bully beef, bread, and biscuits. He tried, sometimes, to make things look nicer, make them look more palatable. In the end, though, he gave up. There wasn’t any point.

Then Steve came, newly muscled and broad. He saved Bucky’s regiment and formed the Howling Commandos, and Bucky had someone to care for again. Someone to love. Because even though Steve was physically stronger, to Bucky, he was still the reckless kid from Brooklyn who kept getting up after he got knocked down. He needed someone to protect him.

So Bucky started cooking again, trying to put together edible meals from the few rations they had. He cooked not just for Steve, but for all the Commandos – Dugan, Morita, Jones, everyone. It was the best way he knew how to show he cared, something beyond slaps on the back and teasing jokes. He got better at cooking, at making food that wasn’t just edible but also tasted good.

Then he became Soldier.

After all those mind-numbing decades, he might have thought his cooking skills would have disappeared. Being a highly trained assassin who slept for long periods of time in a cryochamber after each mission didn’t usually leave much time for fucking around in a kitchen. But surprisingly, when the rogues went on the run and Bucky landed himself in various safe houses around the country, he found he could still work his way around a kitchen, even though his metal arm overheated sometimes. Wanda helped, then, using her telekinetic power to airlift things in and out of ovens. Slowly, his cooking skills improved. And when he made the old meals, better versions of the special things they sometimes ate during the depression, Steve would tear up. Because Bucky remembered.

Then he moved into the Avengers Compound.

Tony never really lashed out at him like he sometimes did to Steve. No, Bucky hadn’t hidden things on purpose from Tony. He knew what he had done as Soldier. But somehow, the silent, awkward treatment he got from Howard Stark’s son was worse than if he’d yelled at him.

So for the first few weeks, even though he was itching to cook something just to keep his hands busy, he couldn’t bring himself to enter the kitchen other than to get some snacks. Raisins, usually. Raisins are good. Bucky has no idea why Steve hates them so much. Or why Wanda calls him a grandmother for liking them.

Then Y/N comes into the picture.

Bucky’s been alone in cooking for so long that he’s almost forgotten that other people can express care in the form of food as well. None of the rogues can cook too well – Steve is terrible in the kitchen – and even during the war, he was the one who took care of the food.

So when he finds one of Tony’s interns in the kitchen, soup boiling on the stove, he’s almost blown away.

From his first impression, Y/N was snappy, quick-witted, and fast on her feet. That’s how she landed a black eye on Clint fucking Barton before Nat took her down with the thigh-hold. And yeah, now he knows she’s Silk, apparently, but her reaction time is scary.

That first impression changes the moment she smiles at Bucky and invites him to sit at the kitchen island. He comes in, a little scared (he feels like one of those characters in that game Wanda plays – Simps? Sims? Something like that), but she just laughs and tells him Mr. Stark won’t murder him for sitting in the kitchen. “I’ll give you some soup too, so you have an excuse to be here,” she grins.

Jokes like that don’t usually go over him that well (murder is a bit of a touchy subject, especially with regard to Tony), but the teasing glint in her eyes somehow gets him to relax. So he sits and listens while she talks.

As the soup boils, she explains that she’s making it for Mark, who has a slight headache. It’s samgyetang, a broth with chicken, garlic, rice, and ginseng. Her parents used to make it for him when he was sick and Aunt Mei had to work, and when they died, she took over the job.

Bucky listens mostly in silence, reforming his opinion on the abrasive girl he met a month ago. She’s less snappy now, and though she quips a little about how bad Mark is in the kitchen, she’s quieter. Softer, out of worry.

It hits him as she’s ladling the soup into bowls, one for her, one for Mark, one for Tony, and one for him. She’s expressing her love in a way that Bucky knows and understands – food. She loves Mark and she loves Tony, and though she probably doesn’t feel the same way towards him, she still cares. She cares enough to fill a bowl for him, to place it in front of him with a spoon and fork and not the chopsticks he isn’t accustomed to.

He almost cries, looking down at the bowl of hot soup. It’s nothing like the simple meals his Ma used to make for him and Becca, but the meaning is the same. “Thank you,” he says quietly.

“You’re welcome.” The smile on her face reminds him of Becca, and maybe what his Ma’s smile would have looked like if he remembered more of it.

The soup is delicious. Rich broth, tender meat, rice that melts in his mouth. For a moment, he forgets himself as he tells Y/N that she has to teach him how to make this. Then he snaps his mouth shut, afraid of having overstepped.

She just laughs in delight, promising that she will the next time she comes to the Compound. Then she traipses off with the other three bowls on a tray, reminding him that there’s more soup in the pot if he or anyone else is still hungry.

Bucky slowly eats the hot soup, savoring each bite on his tongue. He’s long expressed his care through meals of his own, but only now, decades after his Ma, has someone done the same for him.

It feels strange. But it feels good, to know that someone can understand him in this way. Even if that someone is an almost stranger.

(Later, she comes back out again with Mark, both of them talking quietly about something or the other. Bucky’s just come out of his room to find Steve, but he finds himself stopping for a moment just to see the worry in her eyes as she looks up at him, the love in Mark’s eyes as he kisses her cheek. In that moment, he knows – it is love. It’s true love, real love, even though the two are only in college. It’s the way he feels about Steve, and the way Steve feels about him. It’s something beautiful.)

He starts using the kitchen, at first while Y/N is in there, and then he starts venturing in on his own. With time, Tony starts coming in too, and accepts Bucky’s apologies in the form of soups and meals and desserts.

Y/N brings Mark into the kitchen too, eventually. Bucky worries at first that he’s intruding on time with her boyfriend, but he quickly realizes that isn’t the case. Somehow, the love between Tony’s interns isn’t something that isolates others, that forces people away. Instead, it’s something nourishing, something that brings him in and makes him feel comfortable and peaceful even as they bicker in the corner.

Through the kitchen, through Y/N’s loud laughter and later Mark’s petulant whining at how she clowns him too much when it comes to cooking, Bucky learns once again how it feels for someone to care for him in the language he knows.

The interns’ love is the kind that Bucky has always wanted, the one he hasn’t allowed himself to have. He loves Steve and Steve loves him, but Bucky’s always been terrified that something will tear him away from Steve again. So he’s kept his distance a bit, even though Steve keeps trying to pull him in.

But as he starts laughing with the interns as he and Y/N work on new recipes, Mark and eventually Steve acting as the taste testers, he allows himself to believe that he and Steve can have this love too.

iii.

Natasha’s spent her entire life reading people. She didn’t used to be so good at it, not in the Red Room (the knives Irina snuck into fights and the subsequent scars are proof of it), but she’s learned. She’s adapted. Reading people, she has learned, is a survival skill.

Most people she’s worked with wear masks. They don a smile, cordially shake hands and speak with pleasant words, but they don’t mean any of it. They’re always looking for something, whether that be power or wealth or whatnot. Natasha’s learned to figure out what that something is, very quickly.

She’s naturally suspicious of people. And though that might not be the nicest trait for someone to have, it keeps her safe. So she doesn’t care.

That’s why she keeps a close eye on the interns. It’s just for a bit, anyway. She’s curious how two teenagers got so close to Tony, even if they are Spiderman and Silk – after all, Tony has never been the warmest person to strangers.

But these kids, they’re so unapologetically honest (brutally so, sometimes, especially with Y/N). Natasha’s only caught them with little white lies, like who ate the last Oreo (that was Y/N) and that I’m not really injured, Ms. Romanoff, seriously (that was Mark). The only thing they’re really hiding from people is their alter egos as spider vigilantes, and that’s understandable. Natasha herself would really have liked to keep her Black Widow identity a secret, but, well, certain events made that impossible.

They’re honest in everything – their lives, which haven’t been the greatest, their studies, which are top-notch, and most importantly, their love. It takes a special type of courage to display their kind of love so freely, so openly, when they’re so close to the public eye. Sure, Tony’s gone to great lengths to keep the press away from them, but it demonstrates the trust they have in each other, to defend, to protect.

At first, Natasha doesn’t think it’s real. They have to be faking something. She’s seen too much of the world’s darkness to blindly believe their love is as deep as it appears to be. They’re so young. It doesn’t make sense.

Then the Stark gala rolls around.

Officially, it’s to welcome the rogue Avengers back to society. Unofficially, it’s a networking opportunity – people get to scope out new competition, maybe make some promises or some trades (or some bribes). Some people will get “poached” by other companies. Others will be doing the poaching themselves. Or losing employees to the poachers.

Natasha doesn’t particularly love this environment, but she does enjoy putting leering men in their places. So she’s going.

The interns are too, apparently. This will be their first time out in the open with reporters and journalists, and Tony’s been going nuts trying to make sure they won’t get harassed. Natasha knows this because FRIDAY sometimes bitches to her about her boss.

She wouldn’t worry too much. If someone gets too overbearing, she’s been teaching Y/N and Mark better self-defense. They’ll be fine.

It’s the night of the gala, and Natasha’s waiting around with the other rogues in the ballroom. A few people have approached, but nothing too terrible. In fact, as she holds a champagne flute between her fingers, she feels kind of bored. No one’s acting out yet.

Then the interns walk in.

The first thing Natasha registers is how they’re just looking at each other. To Mark, it’s like Y/N’s a piece of gold and glass, a star pulled down from the sky to rest in his hand. Meanwhile, Y/N looks at Mark like he hung the moon in the sky, plucked the stars from the galaxy and put them in her eyes.

Natasha won’t lie – Mark cuts a striking figure in the suit of Pepper’s choosing (because Tony is a fashion disaster, if left alone). Pepper’s stylist has put together Y/N’s look in a way that makes her literally shine. But the way they look at each other isn’t just admiration for each other’s beauty – it’s something much, much more.

Hm. She still doesn’t completely believe it, though, and as reporters start swarming into the ballroom, she loses sight of them anyway.

Several glasses of wine and champagne later, Natasha feels sufficiently loosened up to tolerate more human interaction than the minimum. She slips away from the rogues, indulges a politician or two in a dance, and eats all the hors d’oeuvres off of a platter. If anyone wants to point that out, they can get a six-inch heel to the face.

(Fights almost always break out at a Stark event. Either physical or verbal. Tony’s used to it. He probably wouldn’t care, especially if she was fighting some asshole like Ross.)

Somewhere in the pleasant slight muddiness that comes with her tipsy state, Natasha sees the interns again. Neither are twenty-one yet, so Tony’s forbidden them from imbibing any alcohol (and has probably told the servers not to give them any). Knowing them, though, Natasha expects Y/N will probably find a way to steal a glass of wine or something at some point.

But they’re not drinking now. They’re not eating, indulging reporters, or fending off over-curious business owners. They don’t look tired from the evening. They don’t even look bored, like Bucky does on the other side of the room.

Natasha watches them idly, fully ignoring the conversation that she’s supposed to be participating in. Dr. Phelps can talk to the Surgeon General. She’s not interested, especially when Mark drags Y/N, protesting, to the dance floor.

Really, Natasha would have thought Y/N would be the one dragging Mark there. She’s always been the more outgoing one, the more confident and mouthier one. But as Mark starts leading her in the figures of the slow dance, she can see why the roles have been switched.

Mark is a natural dancer, not the best Natasha’s seen, but good enough to not bump into anyone around him. Y/N, on the other hand, is barely above having two left feet.

It’s strange. Y/N has always had faster reflexes in training and is far lighter on her feet. But it’s not too weird. Yelena was always better at fighting than Natasha, after all, but Natasha was always better in ballet. She supposes this is something similar.

Dancing, to Natasha, has always been something precise, something sharp. In the Red Room, one leg an inch too low merited a slap on the backs of the thighs. But Mark, even though Y/N’s stepping on his toes every two seconds, is only smiling. There’s no sign of irritation on his face, just pure, utter adoration and awe as he looks into her embarrassed expression.

That’s when it hits her. She might not have believed it before, but this is the love she’s read about in story books. Plain and simple, intricate and complex. It’s just love. That’s it.

So it is possible, she muses over her latest glass of wine. It is possible to love someone so deeply that it doesn’t matter how they inconvenience you. It is possible to love someone so much that their faults just become things to love, not things to hate.

Y/N accidentally bumps into some important-looking man in a business suit who snaps something at her. She bites right back before turning to Mark again, the snark on her face melting into adoration.

Mark looks like he’s never been happier.

Natasha smiles, slipping away from her boring conversation with the excuse of needing more wine. She’s happy for the spiderlings.

Because if anyone in the world deserved this happiness, she thinks, it would be the two pure hearts stumbling gracelessly around the ballroom floor.

iv.

Wanda misses Pietro. But it doesn’t do anyone good to lie around missing someone, does it? So, true to herself, she takes the pain, buries it deep in her chest, and does what she believes is right – she follows the rogues.

Her sense of right and wrong has been askew, before. She will admit that. Blinded by her desire for revenge, she allowed Hydra to experiment on her. She ignored the dozens of other dying experiments, focused only on hers and Pietro’s survival. She sided with Ultron, wrought havoc in the world until she found his true plans.

But then she joined Stark.

Wanda may never admit it, but she thinks that was the single best choice of her life, aside from keeping Pietro alive with her for sixteen years. Her moral compass righted itself when she joined the Avengers, when Clint Barton took her aside in Sokovia and told her to choose – stay a child, or become a hero. Because she couldn’t be one or the other.

(A child who has seen war becomes an adult overnight, after all, no matter how young they are.)

Sure, Stark essentially imprisoning her in the Compound was a factor in her choice to join Cap. But she also remembered Sokovia, remembered the death and destruction of her home country, and knew how much more would have taken place had the Avengers not had free reign to do what they must. The Accords were drawn in a time of necessity, she knew. But they were too strict. Too harsh.

The world has made (relative) peace with the rogues, now. She’ll take it. Cap’s team has more or less earned their place again among society, after all, what with taking down most of the Hydra bases left in the world.

But she doesn’t feel comfortable in the Compound, not at first. Stark’s renovated it, made it look very different from the prison it used to be for her, but she still doesn’t harbor the kindest feelings towards the man. He’s changed – there’s no doubt about that. She believes he truly means to stay out of the weapons business that killed her parents and wrenched her life in the opposite direction. However, the fact still remains that he took it upon himself to decide what was best for her, without taking her opinion into account at all.

There isn’t much to do. There’s only so many times she can spar in the training room, even after meeting Dr. Strange (she’s very thankful for him, of course, but he’s also kind of mean even if he means well). Hydra didn’t neglect her schooling too much when it became clear she and Pietro were going to survive, and she’s smart, so Stark enrolls her in online college, just for a couple of years. “You can transfer to a physical college if you want, then,” he promises.

Online school is boring, though. She’s responsible, of course, but pre-recorded lectures suck and the homework is more or less a breeze.

And what is there to do during her non-busy hours besides curl up on her bed and try not to think of her deceased twin, her other half, her older brother by twelve minutes?

(By God, she wants to hear him say that to her one more time. Just once more.)

She knows Dr. Strange worries about her on the days she walks into his mansion on Bleecker Street, eyes downcast and face pale. She knows Clint sends her concerned looks when he visits with his kids. Stark even awkwardly mentions therapy, and though she brushes away the offer, a part of her wonders if she should’ve taken it.

Then the interns crash into her life. Literally.

She met them, briefly, that first time Stark forgot to inform the rogues of his interns and forgot to inform the interns that it was moving day, but the fight was a blur and then she was busy trying to get her life together for a couple of months, so she never got to meet them properly.

They meet properly when Mark trips over one of Morgan’s toys on the floor, sending his tray of foam coffee cups splattering to the floor. A spray of liquid lands on Wanda’s feet as she’s walking into the living room.

“Shit,” Y/N says eloquently. Then – “Mark, you idiot.”

“Sorry.” Mark hastily stands up, sending Wanda a very apologetic look. “Let me get a napkin or something. Burn cream?”

Wanda waves away the offer. “It wasn’t too hot,” she says. “Here, let me help.”

“No, no.” Y/N snatches the napkins from Mark before she can take them. “You’re the victim of Mark’s clumsiness, we can do the honors.”

Then she slips on a puddle of coffee and lands on her ass.

Mark starts snorting. Wanda doesn’t know if she should be calling for an ambulance or laughing.

A pained “I think I broke my ass,” rises from the floor.

Wanda settles for laughing and decides in that moment that she likes the interns very much.

It’s the right thing to do, she thinks, liking Mark and Y/N so much that she starts feeling like her life has a bit of meaning again.

(She’s never the third wheel – it’s always the three of them. Together.)

They run around Stark Tower, playing harmless pranks on the Avengers who can take it – not Bucky, not yet, and Natasha would probably hunt them down – but Clint and Steve are fair game. Y/N and Mark make her listen to their favorite songs, playing them until two a.m. on the nights they stay. With their help, she finishes her coursework even faster than she used to, but even though she’s got more free time now, there’s so much more to do. Read books, play games, go thrifting (and teach Y/N how to have a better fashion sense, Jesus). There’s so much, now.

There’s even more when Y/N and Mark slowly introduce her to their other friends. Haechan is a sarcastic piece of shit but Wanda loves him for it, while Jaemin’s a little quieter but definitely far more affectionate. Yeri is a beautiful specimen, out of this world (yeah, Wanda definitely has a crush on her), and Jihyo has the best sense of humor.

Wanda doesn’t know how she lived before she met the interns, really and truly. From them, she sees that her existence with Hydra was just that – existence. Not living. Even when threats hit New York and they all have to fight together, it’s still living. Because Wanda now has something to protect, to defend again.

(Privately, she admires them, wonders how such pure-hearted people could be friends with someone as broken as her. She admires that their first instinct is to protect, not to destroy. In battle, the spiderlings take the job of protecting the civilians, evacuating them, using their abilities to defend.

Wanda can’t. Her power is more destructive than protective, and many people balk at her ability to see into their minds. So she focuses on tearing down buildings, breaking apart killer robots, throwing aliens onto the ground and twisting them so they won’t be able to hurt anyone anymore.

Y/N and Mark are Avengers, though they sometimes joke that they’re not really true Avengers. Avengers work out the large-scale events, Y/N says. She and Mark just look out for the little guys. That’s how Spiderman and Silk got their start, after all, and even now, they haven’t left behind their day-to-day duties in Queens.

Wanda thinks that makes them truer Avengers than the rest of them. She and the others? They only destroy, sworn to protect Earth at all costs. But if Y/N and Mark weren’t there to protect the people? Well, Earth wouldn’t be Earth without the humans who populate it.)

The rest of the Avengers hate them. Sam relentlessly yells curses when another bucket tips over and douses him in freezing water. Clint groans when he finds his arrows covered in webbing (“I thought I hid them well this time!”). Dr. Strange loathes it when the interns come to pick Wanda up from training (“Put that down, Ms. Y/N, or so help me –”). Steve literally leaves the room whenever the three of them are together because he knows they won’t stop making references to his old Captain America PSAs (the day Y/N and Mark sat down to show Wanda all of them was the greatest day of her life).

Oh, but Wanda loves it. She loves the life that the interns have given her once again, the freedom to act her age and not so much older. With them, she learns to cope. She goes to therapy at their suggestion, citing the help they received with their own troubles. She gets better.

Sometimes, though, she feels guilty, that she’s enjoying life so much when Pietro is gone. She still has bad days where she lies on her bed, unblinking, thinking these thoughts, staring at her ceiling plastered with little glow-in-the-dark stars, wishing with her entire heart that her other half was still alive. And even on her good days, where she and Y/N and Mark and Haechan are fucking around at a coffee shop or something, she’ll look out at the sky and think, I wish you were here, Pietro.

But it’s okay. In the end, she knows that he’s there. Watching, listening, smiling down on his baby sister by twelve minutes.

(By God, she can still hear his voice saying that.)

And he’s happy for her.

Tony, by nature, is a forgetful person. Or at least he likes to say so. It might just be the result of purposely forgetting too many family dinners or Stark events, to the point that he’s just become forgetful. And who can blame him for not wanting to see Howard Stark any more than he actually had to?

It’s not too bad when it comes to the science stuff. He’s got a pretty good head for remembering what needs to go where, whether or not DUM-E needs greasing again, and oh fuck, I need to put this thing in before that thing otherwise the house will explode. Sometimes there are minor accidents, but he doesn’t talk about those.

(His interns do. They’re terrible teenagers, those two, in particular Y/N. Mark’s a little nicer. But he loves them anyway, even though they give him gray hairs.)

But when it comes to people? Social situations? Telling other living human beings things?

Yeah, he’s not the best at that.

To be fair, he’s been making progress. Every single year he’s managed to remember that Pepper is deathly allergic to strawberries (he doesn’t need a repeat of that time he fucked up and brought them as an apology, which only made things worse). He remembers date nights, he remembers (more or less) when he has to attend a meeting about the Accords, he remembers when Pepper sets up dinners with him, Rhodey, and his interns’ families.

So he’s been doing better. And if he “forgets” one or two meetings with Fury or that nitwit Secretary of State Thaddeus Ross, no one gives him too much shit for it. It’s not like he’d care, anyway.

But sometimes he still forgets extremely crucial information, and the aftermath makes him suffer dearly for it. Like now. It’s been months since The Incident, and he already thinks he’d like to be six feet under.

Because ever since the newly pardoned no-longer-war-criminal Avengers moved into the Compound, Tony has had a permanent headache (not that he didn’t already have one, what with Morgan learning to walk, but now it’s worse) in the form of his interns mixing with the newly reinstated Avengers.

In all honesty, he should’ve known this would happen since the day he forgot to inform the new freeloaders that he had two new interns and consequently forgot to tell the interns that it was moving day for the former rogues. But since he was woefully shortsighted, the ensuing chaos resulted in a broken table, a knife in the wall, a chokehold, a thigh hold, a black eye, and an arrow embedded in a bookcase.

Well, the table needed replacing anyway. And the most important thing at the time was that somehow, amidst the chaos, Morgan didn’t wake up.

After that disastrous first meeting, though, they’re all getting along surprisingly well. Sam likes to rib on Y/N, who just snaps right back. Steve likes to draw while listening to Mark play guitar. Nat and Clint have taken it upon theirselves to teach them both more self-defense, Barnes sometimes cooks with Y/N (and the food is surprisingly good), and Wanda gets along with them like a house on fire, which results in far too many pranks and broken items around the Compound.

(It’s not even just the pranks. It’s the sheer chaos that the three young adults bring when they put their minds together. They yell the randomest shit even when they’re beating off attackers and it drives him and the others nuts.

Example A. After Wanda enrolled in the kids’ university, they had a chemistry test at some point and got called to battle immediately after.

“WANDA, WHAT DID YOU GET FOR QUESTION TWELVE?” Mark yells as he rounds up a group of civilians.

“298!” she screams back.

“WHAT THE FUCK?” Y/N pauses in webbing an alien to start yelling. “I GOT 312!”

Tony thinks his brain is going to explode. “Kids, please focus on the fight –”

“Y/N, DID YOU FORGET TO CONVERT CELSIUS TO KELVIN?”

There’s a beat of silence.

Then a loud “FUCK” sounds over the comms, and Tony isn’t kidding when all the Avengers wince or flinch at the pure chaotic rage exuding from Y/N’s person.

Scott Lang, who literally just came by for a visit, later asks Tony if it’s going to be like this when Cassie gets older. Tony just pats the poor man on the back and wishes him luck.)

It’s part of the spiderkids’ charms, Tony thinks. Despite their different personalities, they fit together like positive and negative, like two opposite poles. And in this, they drag other people into their bubble of laughter and joy. Like they did with him.

There’s been a lot of bad in Tony’s life – Howard, the party years, his parents’ deaths, all the death threats he’s gotten from others (and himself – that palladium wasn’t doing good things to his blood). But there’s also been a lot of good – Jarvis, Rhodey, Pepper, Badassium, the other Avengers, and the latest additions: his interns, and now Morgan.

There isn’t anything specific that Y/N and Mark do that make him feel good about life, he thinks. It’s just the way they fit together so well, the way they bring a sort of comfort to his own fucked up existence. It’s there in the way Mark will hold out a hand for a tool in the lab and Y/N will immediately hand the correct one over. It’s there in the way Y/N makes soup for Mark when he gets a headache. It’s there in the way they play with Morgan, two college students laughing and smiling with a babbling baby with sticky, messy hands.

Tony hasn’t always been able to recognize love. It took him a long while – his childhood didn’t have a lot of it, and what little he got was from either Maria, who was often cowed by Howard’s presence, or Jarvis. Rhodey was the first to introduce him to something other than distant familial care – love between friends. Then Happy came along. Finally, with Pepper, he found someone he wanted to wake up to every single day.

That’s how he zeroed in on his interns, the day he drove up to their little apartment and flipped their lives inside out. He was taking a break with Pepper, but he could recognize the aura between them. The way Y/N looked at Mark, the way Mark squeezed Y/N’s arm when she started getting agitated.

Tony knew, from the start, that these were two kids who had seen each other at their best and worst points in their short lives and had made the conscious decision to keep caring for each other, to keep loving each other. And from the biographies he’d pulled together when he first started searching them up, they had had a lot of bad points in their lives to see each other at.

He couldn’t believe they weren’t dating. It wasn’t possible. But at the time, that hadn’t been the point, so Tony had just assumed that they’d figured things out and finally gotten together sometime after Germany. They certainly looked it – even through the dark circles and stifled yawns and half-lidded eyes, they never strayed from one another.

Imagine his surprise when they told him months later that they were finally fucking dating.

Honestly, Tony thought he was going to have a fucking aneurysm, but he stayed himself. But after the panic attack (and the resulting scene where he nearly cried in front of his two high school interns, one of whom had just had said panic attack, what a fucking mess), he’d immediately gone off to Pepper to rant. When she kicked him out a half hour later, he went to Rhodey, who was much more obliging (mostly because he ignored Tony the whole time).

And as the years passed, as he watched them transition from awkward high school students to awkward college students, their friendship and love only grew into something more beautiful that Tony never actually thought he’d see. Two brilliant minds who stayed geared on kindness and love and protection even after years of heartbreak.

What more could Tony ever want to see?

(Well, Morgan growing up. That, he wants to see more than anything ever. But that’s beside the current point.)

Tony walks into the living room to his favorite interns sitting at the piano. Mark’s holding the guitar Tony got him for his nineteenth birthday after finding out his old one broke and Mei couldn’t afford to replace it. Y/N has her hands on the piano that Tony got her for her twentieth after she mentioned she used to play, but Johnny had to sell their keyboard when money got tight. Wanda’s flicking through her phone on the couch, Johnny’s trying to keep Mei from experimenting in the kitchen, while Clint plays with Morgan and Nathaniel in the background.

Despite this, Y/N looks at Mark like he’s the only person in the world, while he looks at her like she hung the stars in the sky. The living room is quiet, broken only by Morgan’s and Nathaniel’s babbling, but it could be silent for all his interns cared.

He just watches them with a smile on his face as they begin playing in tandem. Tony knows Y/N is primarily a classical pianist, while Mark likes to learn pop tunes on his guitar, but when they come together, it really is something beautiful. Neither are perfect players, but when they begin a song, it’s like everything else disappears, and only two things exist – the music and them. Even Morgan and Nathaniel stop babbling to listen.

Eventually, they’ll finish the piece. Maybe they’ll play another one together. Y/N might show off the latest Chopin she’s been working on, or Mark will play a song he’s just finished composing. They’ll look at each other with those dopey smiles and star-crossed eyes, and they’ll kiss.

Wanda and the kids will probably groan in mock disgust. Johnny and Mei will exchange smirks. His interns will just laugh it off, maybe start a tickle fight with the kids or a brawl with Wanda. There’ll be a lot of kicking and yelling and laughing, and then they’ll tire and raid the cabinets for snacks.

It’s Y/N and Mark’s world, Tony thinks, and the rest of them are just living in it. It’s a messy existence, and Tony knows his headache isn’t going to go away anytime soon. In the face of this chaotic peace, though, he can’t bring himself to care at all. He can only be grateful to be a part of it.

The love between his favorite interns brings people together. And as he watches them smile at each other across their instruments, listening to the music they make under their fingertips, Tony wouldn’t have it any other way.

#starryktown #nct #nct 127 #nct dream #nct mark #nct scenarios #nct mark scenarios #nct 127 scenarios #nct dream scenarios #nct u #nct u scenarios #fluff #angst #triggers #cursing #spiderman!au #swing!#repeat #scriptura-delirus

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feverinfeveroutfic · 3 years

Text

chapter sixteen: gimme fever

Zelda sat next to Sam the whole entire time there on the curb outside of the front lobby. Testament had already left for the airport, but neither of them need not see them off. Eric did apologize to Sam however, but nothing could change the fact that she felt as though she had done something wrong. She had pushed him away all for nothing more than who she was. She came on too strong; she thought of that piece of rice paper in her bottom drawer and she wondered if it was even worth it.

She considered taking the next bus back up to the Bronx and throwing that rice paper in the trash, but the bus had already left the stop up the block. There was no way she could do it now.

Zelda had a few tears in her eyes herself, and Sam thought about what she had said about Alex, and his breaking in new shoes for their tour. But as she bowed her head a bit, Sam could tell that the whole deal with him left the both of them baffled. Eric crouched down next to him, and his smooth inky black hair swept down off of his head like a curtain, albeit one that protected them both from the hazy gray morning light.

“I'm still gonna be with the fan club,” Sam promised him, complete with a sniffle. “I can't do that to you guys.”

“I'll talk to him, don't you worry,” Eric vowed as he tucked a lock of hair behind his ear. “He gets kind of worked up about some things—don't worry about it.” The last thing he did for her was put his arms about her: he did the same for Zelda as well.

“You guys have a safe flight,” she told him in a soft voice.

Chuck embraced the both of them as well before he left after him: the soft aroma of incense riddled about his smoothed out brown waves. He peered down at her, such that the light on the ceiling shone down on his head so it resembled to a full crown.

“There's a little art shop somewhere around the block here,” he told her, “can't remember where it is, but I did see it, though.” And yet she had no desire to do anything at that point. She hadn't really known Testament very well, but it felt as though she had been betrayed by a friend. She lay her head against his chest for a few more seconds, and he patted the upper part of her back a little bit before he let her go.

Sam stood there on the sidewalk with her arms folded over her chest as she watched Chuck and Eric climb into the van in unison; the latter showed her a little wave and she returned the favor to him as the tears stayed brimmed upon her eyes. She watched them drive off; even once they had disappeared behind the corner, she stayed there and she brushed away a tear with the back of her finger. She then sighed through her nose and doubled back to the front lobby where Zelda awaited her once again with an embrace.

But Sam bowed her head so no one would look at her. It came on so fast and so suddenly, that she swore she wouldn't look at anyone for the rest of the day. Zelda lingered right next to her, also with her head bowed.

Someone next to her patted a hand upon her shoulder.

She looked to her left and the sight of those long fingers upon her, and Zelda, who had backed off a little bit. She turned her head again and Frank stood right next to her with a soft look on his face. She sniffled again at the very sight of him.

“Things will be okay,” he promised her. She turned closer to him: even though summer was upon them, she knew he was warm enough to hold for the time being. She thought about that puffy sweater he had worn on that cold morning in which they rescued Joey from the snow. A warm late spring morning and yet everything was still cold as if a fresh blanket of snow had fallen around them.

“C'mere, Puff Daddy—” she begged to him with her arms outstretched for him.

“That's a nickname I haven't heard in like a million years,” he noted with a smirk on his face. Frank held her close to his body. Someone else joined them from the side: Sam moved her head and she recognized Charlie's curls upon his head. From the other side, Zelda joined in as well.

“Nice li'l group hug here,” Dan remarked from behind Frank.

“Group hugs and love,” Charlie added as he raised his head for him. “Good way to start off our day off.” Sam lifted her head from Frank's chest and she rubbed her eyes with one hand.

“C'mon, Sam I am—if it's open, we'll take ya all the way out to Coney Island,” Scott offered from behind them.

“That's kinda far, though,” Dan pointed out. “Be hell of a subway ride—take us all day just to get there.”

Sam looked over to Joey, who sat right there at the table on the other side of the room with a cup of coffee in one hand. They were in the City and the drive to upstate was a little too far. But she needed to be in a place where she could be alone, in a place like upstate New York.

“Well, we've gotta do something, though,” Zelda quipped. “Don't really wanna stick around here in the Big Apple with nothing to do, though.”

Joey then turned to her with his eyebrows raised; he took a sip from his coffee and then he stood to his feet and cleared his throat.

“I know what you can do,” he stated, and they all turned into his direction. He ran his fingers through his jet black curls and he gazed on at her with those large brown eyes.

“What's that?” she asked him with another sniffle. Joey picked up the cup once again, and he drank down the rest of the coffee. He ran his fingers through his curls again and then he gestured for them to follow him. Sam watched him walk towards the door right before them: he then turned around and gestured again for them to follow him outside.

“C'mon,” he insisted; his expression never changed from that of concern. Sam glanced back at them and Charlie nodded at her. She sniffled again and then she followed him outside to the sidewalk there. She peered over her shoulder at Zelda, Frank, and Charlie right behind her. Joey walked on towards the driveway when he stopped right at the edge there. He turned again and he gestured once more for Sam to follow him.

“I'm coming, I'm coming,” she promised him as he took out his mirrored sunglasses, despite the veil of marine layer clouds over the sun. He peered up the street to the small piece of traffic, and then he crossed the street first. His black curls waved behind him like a series of streamers there at the back; Sam caught up with him as he moved at a brisk pace to the other side. Meanwhile, Zelda, Frank, and Charlie waited there at the corner for the rest of the traffic to clear out a bit.

“Where are we going?” she asked him over the noise of the street; they reached the other sidewalk and he slowed up for her to catch up with him. “Joey, where are we going?”

“You'll see,” he replied. She thought about the art shop that Chuck had mentioned and she wondered if that was it. She also wondered what exactly was in there.

“We drove past this place yesterday,” he confessed to her. “Surprised you didn't even see it yesterday when we first got here—although I can't really blame ya because it's kinda tucked around the corner here. But I had my eye on it the whole entire time you and Marla were helping out the Cherry Suicides yesterday—Danny and I even went in here yesterday afternoon because I knew it would be right in your wheelhouse. Did not disappoint, either.”

“An art shop, right?” She grinned up at him.

“Not just any ol' art shop.” They reached the next block up and there it stood on the corner in front of them. A large bay window stretched around the corner of the building so they were able to have a look inside of there. Through the glass, Sam spotted a pure white wall in the back, past the rows and rows of silvery metal shelves.

The light turned green and they walked onward to the front doors there. Joey held the door for her and they strode inside there: once they were inside, Sam could see that the wall was not what she believed. She spotted the gears upon the highest corners of the wall: a giant roll of blank pure white canvas suspended against the wall. Indeed, beyond the shelves stood a stretch of floor for anyone to come in and paint whatever they wish.

“So you and Danny actually came in here yesterday?” she asked him as they made their way over to it.

“Yep. We went full on—what's that artist who does the splatter paint? You've taken art history—I think you know who I'm talking about.”

“Jackson Pollock?”

“Jackson Pollock, yeah. It's about eight feet wide so he and I were able to share it and paint all over it.” They halted before the canvas and she gazed up at the roll suspended near the ceiling. Eight feet wide and ten feet high: not very big on its own, but the sheer size of it shrunk her down to the size of a pinprick on a tack.

The front door swung open again, and Sam and Joey took a glimpse back at Zelda, Frank, and Charlie as they entered the room themselves in single file: Sam looked beyond them to Scott and Dan, both of whom crossed the street and strode towards the shop. Sam returned to the blank canvas. Not very large, but it seemed to stretch on forever for her by the way of the roll and also on either side of her. She then turned her head back in Joey's direction: he held his sunglasses close to his chest in both hands for a moment before he tucked them into his shirt collar.

“So what is it that you want me to do?” she asked him as Zelda, Frank, and Charlie congregated behind them.

Joey turned to the table next to them, the one with the jars of used paint brushes, large bottles of paint, and a couple of pencils, one with hard graphite, the other with softer graphite. She looked over her shoulder to Zelda, who frowned at everything that was going on before her, and Sam shrugged at her. Joey took a step over to the table there and with one hand on his black curls to keep it back, he kept his hand over the two pencils there.

“Joey, what can I do?” Sam asked him, and he picked out the hard pencil and he returned for her, and he handed it to her as if it was a weapon. She parted her lips at the sight of it, the sight of the hard graphite tip at the end. She gazed back up to the vast stretch of canvas up on the wall, and then she returned to him. The whole room was silent, except for the noise of the morning traffic outside.

“This,” he said, to which she shook her head.

“No—I don't feel like it,” she confessed as the tears returned to her again.

“It's your greatest passion,” he insisted.

“Joey—it's so big, though.”

He bowed his head a bit, so he hung close to her face: some of his black curls brushed against the sides of her face so they somewhat blocked out the five of them behind them. She flashed back on the memory of sitting next to Lars in that dark room; but she still shook her head. The encounter with Alex earlier still left her rattled to the core; Joey swallowed and then he spoke again.

“It is what gets you up in the morning,” he whispered, to which Sam shook her head once again.

“I can't,” she stubbornly said, and she bowed away from him. “I can't, Joey. I can't—”

“Sam, please,” he called after her. But she brushed past the five of them, back to the front door. The tears began to fall once more, but he caught her before she could open the door again. He turned her around so he could face her straight on; she tried to hide her face from him but he clutched both of her shoulders.

“Sam, please,” he begged her, “listen to me. You need to do it.”

“No,” she wept. “No! No!”

“Sam, do it,” he declared; and she could hear tears in his voice as well. “Do it! Do it!”

She kept on shaking her head at him. Joey set her free hand on her shoulder and he bowed his head so he looked right into her face.

“Sam, listen to me,” he persisted in a gentle voice, “you're all about protecting me from some horrible things. It only makes sense that I do the same for you. I need you to do what you love. I need you to go forth.” He showed her the pencil. “Do it. Please. For me.”

She looked up at him as a tear streamed down her face. Those brown eyes, cold and earthy like the venom he had injected her with before, now soft and riddled with tears himself.

“Please,” he begged her in a single breath. She closed her eyes: he never let go of her, even though she wished for him to do that and let her go out to the street. The tears were almost too much to bear for her, but then she opened her eyes again.

“Please,” he whispered to her. She sighed through her nose and she took the pencil from Joey's hand. He closed his eyes and sighed through his nose; he ducked past her to the group behind her. She gazed up at the white canvas up on the wall. She looked down at the pencil in her hand. There was one thing she could do with the pencil there on the canvas, but the canvas itself seemed so big and daunting before her.

She curled her fingers around the body of the pencil, and she lifted her gaze to a row of paint brushes. Up to that point, she had been a student. The student with two years under her belt, and yet there wasn't much to take from the whole entire time. She came to New York on a whim and a promise, and yet it felt as though she had learned hardly anything from those two years.

There had to be more. There had to be more within her.

She then tucked the pencil behind her ear, and she turned to the paints on the table. The bristles on the brushes were clean, albeit stained from a few colors, namely the Prussian blue, the cadmium red, and the veridian green. But she spotted a jar off to the side for a bit of a washing.

Just the pure paint, and the way in which she felt about everything up to that point.

She had made her friends and so much had happened in the past two years. Two years worth of everything, and it felt as though she had built up some kind of new armor all the while. Armor built up by living alone in the Bronx, and she knew it had toughened up a bit by the loss of Cliff and by being in class all this time. But then again, as she thought about the loss of Cliff, and the fact they were almost a year away from that accident, she wondered if it was even tough anymore.

The encounter with Alex earlier had opened a new notch in that armor, such that it felt as though it need not be in place anymore. Seeing Joey opened yet another notch for her. To see his brown eyes so soft and so watery brought on such a tight feeling inside of her chest. A tight feeling that only caused the hardest and most astute of armors to weaken in its wake. The very venom he injected her with had brought it all down to its most basic level.

Red paint first for a base. Like blood stains on the otherwise pure white canvas before her.

She thought about Joey and Dan in there the day before with the whole splatter method. She dipped the head of the thick brush into the mouth of the bottle and then she threw the paint onto the pure white canvas before her.

Blood on the canvas. Cliff's blood on the pavement, on that road in the heart of darkness, over in Sweden.

She did it again. Even more blood before her.

She reached for the black paint: that time she splattered some from the mouth of the bottle itself and she used the larger of the brushes for a smearing. The bristles split apart a bit at one point and she thought of Alex's hair. That jet black hair with the little sliver of gray over his forehead.

She moved it towards the red. Towards the proverbial blood, as if Alex had hit his head on the pavement alongside Cliff.

More black and red. That time around, she used the big brush and she employed shorter, much more shallow strokes. The brush resembled to a knife. She moved about more quickly and much harder over the canvas: if she could jump that high, she would cover the whole canvas with the violent feeling, the feeling of betrayal and wanting to inflict a knife onto him to teach him a lesson.

“Such emotion,” Charlie whispered out at one point.

Harder. Faster. Just like the Cherry Suicides the night before. Her heart hammered inside of her chest. She moved about as if she was lighter than air. Alex's angered expression burst into her mind right then.

He pushed her and she was pushing back against him. The knife right into that boy's face. What he gets for being so cold and callous, even in the face of Cliff's demise. There was no way she could take it from him. No way. Not ever.

It was all shedding away from her, like the old skin from a snake.

“Looks like a grindcore cover,” Scott remarked as she took one of the smaller brushes. A bit of yellow right smack in the middle of the canvas.

Hair first. Followed by the shape of his handsome face. Then the brim of his hat. That black hat he had given her. Right against the red and black, right against the blood and the pavement. She then painted a piece of rope from the base of his neck and she led the end of it to that first patch of red on the canvas.

Her boyfriend gone and all his band could do was replace him.

They replaced him. They replaced him! They replaced him before they could rise up through the clouds with him! Lars said it himself: he was their brother.

Their brother and yet they still replaced him.

Breathing heavy and with a bit of sweat that ran down her back, Sam finished the little thick rough portrait before her. She then backed off so as to catch her breath and to let her heart calm down from the feeling. She held her arms out on either side of her like a crucifix: the paint brush in one hand and the bottle of yellow paint in the other. She gazed on at the scene of violence before her, something that she had never done before, not even in her wildest dreams. All of the art she had done before then was so calm and serene, but this had no restraint whatsoever.

The walls had come down before her and she could finally shake off the remnants of that broken armor. All those dark thoughts before her on canvas. Those dark thoughts of which she swore she had buried had made their way out before her.

“Is that—” Frank swallowed; Sam looked back at him and the tears in his eyes.

“It is,” she told him in a light whisper. He lingered closer to her and they both looked on at that rough painting of Cliff together. She then felt a hand on her shoulder once again: she turned her head to find Joey right next to her. He hadn't tears in his eyes anymore, but he did have a soft reassuring look upon his face for her.

“C'mon. Let's take this with us and then we'll go back to the hotel for a li'l sump'n else.”

“Like what?” Sam asked him, and he turned to Zelda, who raised her eyebrows at that.

Neither of them answered Sam as the clerk in there helped them cut down that piece of canvas for themselves: once they were sure that the paint was dry, she and Joey rolled it up and then he tucked it underneath his arm before they each pitched in to pay for it. The bunch of them returned up the block to the hotel: Sam was about to take the canvas back upstairs to the Cherry Suicides' room, but Joey gestured for her to follow him.

“I'll take that,” Zelda promised her. “I'll take it and take good care of it—don't you worry 'bout a thing.” She flashed her a wink as Sam handed her the rolled up canvas; Joey led her past the front lobby towards a door on the far side of the room. He held it for her, and she was met with a cozy dark room lit up by a series of candles in red jars. A low bar stood before her and she turned back to Joey, who had a smirk on his face.

“No,” she told him off.

“It's okay—I promise you. Yesterday, Danny and I came in here and we had Shirley Temples.”

She breathed out a sigh of relief as he guided her towards the middle of the bar. He tugged on the stool to his left, and he gestured for her to have a seat next to him.

“Bottle of wine for me and my lady here, please,” he announced to the bartender, to which she gasped at him.

“Joey!”

“What? You’re obviously lookin’ better now—we gotta celebrate. Besides, Frankie told me that wine is healthy and easy to digest. It’s not like we’re drinking beer.”

But she still shook her head at that.

“Please don't,” she begged him.

“It's just a single glass, though,” he pointed out with his eyebrows knitted together in sober seriousness. “I promise you—it’ll just be a single glass. One for you, and one for me.”

“Yeah, but—a single glass turns into a whole bottle of wine.”

“It won't this time,” he promised. “Trust me.”

Sam nibbled on her bottom lip as the bartender handed them two crystal clear wine glasses. There was no way Joey could keep it one glass, especially once that lush red wine poured inside of those two basins, one right after the other.

“Cheers to us,” Joey proclaimed with a raise of his glass; Sam followed suit. A little sip of that red wine was all it took for her to know that it would give him a rush. She turned to the bottle, which the bartender left there on the bar for them. If Joey wanted more, then he would have to fight for it himself.

“Gimme that,” she pleaded under her breath. She swiped the bottle and poured herself more, and then she drank it down in a few large gulps. The alcohol was bitter, but the wine itself tasted rich and full with those dark grapes. As dark as Joey’s eyes.

And yet, when he downed his glass, she hesitated before him. He then reached for the bottle himself. Before, she would have tackled him or at least slapped his hand, but that was all within her mind.

“Eh, why the hell not,” he said.

“Hang on, I thought you promised to only drink one glass of wine,” she pointed out.

“Yeah, but—it's so good, though.” He offered to pour her another one, and she took the offer.

“Isn't it?” She downed it right there.

“It is. Very much so.”

She was two drinks in already, but she felt as though he was onto something. A big fat painting on the wall and now they treated themselves to a whole bottle of red wine. On the other hand, she was glad that he had taken a glass of wine rather than a bottle of beer or vodka for that matter. The red wine filled the whole basin of Joey's glass; he set the bottle down between the two of them and then he brought it up to his dark lips once again: the rich blood red color was warming and welcoming, even from the outside looking in.

Warm and welcome, even with the alcohol within there.

Sam's eyelids drooped a bit from the feeling within her. Two big drinks in and she already had a blush upon her face. A bit of fever brought on by the paint, the pain, and now the wine. She held still there with her hand on the glass as Joey poured himself a third glass.

And then she forgot everything after that.

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rainbows-fanfics · 4 years

Text

Our Nightmare (Chapter 7)

Summary: Sally moves in with the man of her screams. But there is still so much she has to learn of Halloween Town, and what it’s like living with The Pumpkin King.

A sequel to Two Dearest Friends, where the Christmas incident never happens. But there are still many ends that haven’t been met, and much for these two dreamers to learn as they start to spend their deaths together.

Pairings: Jack Skellington/Sally, Dr Finklestein/Jewel

–

Note: This is a SEQUEL to my other story, TWO DEAREST FRIENDS. To read the original story, go here.

–

"-Two gallons of ectoplasm, thirty layers or so of cobwebs and....I think that's it!"

The Mayor's joyous voice booms as the final stack of paperwork falls onto the table. The tall skeleton across from him smiles, grabbing it and sorting it into the proper bin. They both sigh in relief as they continue to work. Finally, the biggest project of the day - finished. If all goes well, everything else should go by like a breeze and they can go home early.

In these final hours of his work, Jack Skellington starts to think about returning to the Manor. To the now-occupied walls of his home, with his ghostly dog and girlfriend waiting for him to step through those doors. Rejoicing with the love of his death, holding her tight as he slides his fingers through her blood-colored hair...They would settle in the night with a lovely supper, and likely talk about their days-

"I must say, we've been getting such terrible work done lately!" His coworker's voice snaps him out of his thoughts. "I don't think I've seen you this inspired in years!"

He bows his skull down humbly. His inspiration is obvious with how excited he is to work nowadays. His enthusiasm must've been picked up by those around him, which isn't very surprising. One's high spirits for Halloween tends to be very contagious here.

The Mayor notices his silence and grins widely. "-Although, I suppose we have Sally to thank for that, don't we?"

The Pumpkin King brings his head up slowly. If he had skin, he was sure the faintest blush would be showing on his cheeks right now. Instead, the ends of his smile twitch in delight. There is a knowing look somewhere in the Mayor's swirled eye, as oblivious as he can be, sometimes.

"It just took some time for this old skull to come up with new ideas." He knocks on the side of it for effect. "Once I was in a horrible mood again, the inspiration just came!" He leans back a little in his chair. "-That, and she does have wonderful ideas."

"Oh? Like what?"

He sets his feathered pen down and stares at the table in thought. So many words want to slip off his tongue in that moment - but the last thing he wants to do is blab on and on about Sally in the middle of work. Although the idea of talking about his sweetheart sounded heavenly to him...

"She's quite talented in making clothes, you see - designing them. She's come to me with all sorts of fabrics and ideas...layering the cobwebs was inspired by her. She did something very similar with a dress one time."

"How horrible! I didn't even know that was her idea!"

He smiles, and the conversation dies down from there. They continue to work across from each other in silence. The skeleton feels a litle distracted, remembering all the cute dresses Sally has shown him....the way she twirls around for him after she tries them on, fluttering her eyes at him as she asks him what he thinks...It makes his bones swell, and suddenly his suit feels a little tight again.

The Mayor drops his pencils and hums in thought. His gaze soon comes back to Jack, and he learns on the desk casually. "Maybe we could talk about some things off the record..? It's been awhile since we've caught up!"

He looks at him curiously before setting down his own work. Rarely would the man be willing to talk about anything but Halloween. "That sounds awful. Why not?"

"Well, how are things going with Sally? I assume she's all settled in, being with you for a little while now."

"She's adjusting nicely. She's been plenty curious about things around my home. It's nice having someone around again."

"Right! You've been living with Zero all this time." His tone almost sounds sympathetic. "If you ask me, it's about time you're finally living with a woman like Sally."

"I wouldn't trade it for anything in the world, Mayor." He sounds smitten as he rests his skull in his hand. "Falling in love is the most terrible thing that's happened to me. I feel like I'm a whole new skeleton!"

He chuckles. "It's nice to see you this excited. I was almost starting to think something was different about you. You've never talked this much through work, and we've had some meetings that came to no luck before."

"There shouldn't be anything like that anymore. Not when I'm this inspired!"

The man falls quiet. He himself doesn't understand the same feelings his superior is going through - but he feels happy for him, regardless. Anything that can get the Pumpkin King back on his feet and focused on Halloween is alright with him. And from what he's known of Sally, back in the days where he'd pay visits to the Doctor...she is something special. He never would have guessed she'd become the rotten apple of Jack's eye.

That was the thing about Halloween Town - although it isn't an irregular occurrence for creatures and spirits to become enamored with one another, it isn't their purpose. Everyone understands how to scare and express loyalty to Halloween - but love is an entirely different thing. Many would argue it was an experience only truly held by mortals and humans.

However, as the Mayor watches Jack closely for the rest of their time...he notices the differences. The smile on his lips that remains there even through the toughest of work - the endless inspiration that strikes him every time after he talks about Sally. How quickly he leaves the Town Hall to return home - coming into work the next day, ready to start the process all over again as if he's been refreshed in some way.

It's then he's beginning to understand.

----

Things begin to settle down in Halloween Town's shopping plaza. Lunch time just passed, and somewhere in the next couple of hours, most vendors will take small breaks to wait out the time until the sun sets. This includes the witches, Helgamine and Zeldaborne, who decide to temporarily close up shop while they talk by the town fountain. Most of their 'talks' nowadays consist of only one thing. Ever since they had that unfortunate confrontation from the Pumpkin King himself, they've been left feeling confused, heartbroken, and most of all, bothered.

"'A Pumpkin Queen'...." Zeldaborne mutters to herself.

Helgamine crosses her thin arms as she sits next to her sister, folding a leg over the other and holding her nose high in the air.

"-I don't even think it'll happen. Jack may be with her now, but it'll take a lot more than that for him to settle down." She turns her head at her sister's silence and crooks an eyebrow. "Do you?"

The shorter witch hangs her head low. "He sounded like he meant it. And he was so upset when he came to us. What if he really does love her that much?"

The thought makes the tall witch shudder. Countless years of being one of Jack Skellington's admirers - thrown away to a woman who was barely made. Helgamine and her sister are upset. How can they not be? But they have to remember his wishes - and did exactly as he had asked.

The day after he spoke to them, they felt guilty over the whole ordeal. They talked with the fellow women of their circle and attempted to explain how Jack was furious over the way they were speaking about Sally. It was a long discussion filled with heartbreak and tears - but they all ended in a unanimous agreement to respect what hey had. If not, to at least act polite. At the expense of their King finally being happy.

It doesn't mean they aren't still sour about it at times. Zeldaborne often mopes about it. She cried the most while they struggled to accept it. Helgamine, on the other hand, seethes quietly on the inside. She often debates on doing something unpleasant to Sally. But then she has to talk herself out of it, realizing Jack would just be utterly enraged. And that is the last thing she, or anyone else for that matter, wants.

"...Maybe....maybe he does..." Helgamine confesses quietly.

They both sit there listening to the water. It takes a long time before either of them speak. It's Zeldaborne, who fidgets with the end of her broomstick.

"We disappointed him. He never sounded so upset with us before."

Helgamine adds, "-He even threatened to kick us from this year's Halloween..."

"I don't want to hear him that mad again..."

They look at each other and frown. How ugly they had acted towards her - and it nearly costed them their good terms with Jack. How could they have been so blindsided by jealousy and possessiveness over someone who wasn't theirs to begin with? Their guilt overshadows whatever envy they have left, and sit there in contemplative silence as they wait for time to pass.

. . .

"Hey there, Sally!" "How are you doing today?" "Hi, Sally!" "Miss Sally! You look awful today!"

Sally Finklestein smiles modestly and waves at all of the monsters she passes by. She is heading into town to pick up a few things, but she doesn't expect to have such warm greetings sent her way. She carries her basket in her hands as she continues on. She wants to make this as fast as possible so she can return home in time to catch Jack before it gets too late.

Just when she is about to approach the small stand she wishes to buy from, a couple of voices startle her.

"Sally!"

The ragdoll jumps in surprise before turning on her heel. She finds the witches, Helgamine and Zeldaborne, approaching her. She momentarily feels a little afraid after what happened last time, and instinctively clutches onto her basket tighter. She freezes in place the moment they get closer, but then she notices the smiles on their faces. They're currently waving at her.

"We didn't expect to see you out." Helgamine begins, clutching her hands behind her back. "How...how are you doing?"

The kindness in her voice sounds forced and uncomfortable. But the smile at least seems genuine. She bows her head slightly. "Oh, well, I'm doing fine. I was going to buy a few things-"

"How horrendous! You picked the right time of day to come." Zeldaborne awkwardly cuts her off. The three of them are silent afterwards.

Sally feels a little guilty, remembering she was supposed to see them sooner. She wanted to come by their shop and ask for an apology, and see if they could become friends. She must've forgotten about it with how busy she became with other things - what with talking to the Doctor and Jewel, and working on all the new dresses she's making. She completely forgot about them over time.

They look at each other before bringing their gaze to the doll. "Say, would you like to...stop by our shop? And have a little chat?" Helgamine offers. "We have a few things we'd like to say to you..."

"Oh." She blinks a few times. She wants to leave quickly, but this shouldn't take long. "Sure."

The Witches look relieved at her answer and guide her back to their place. She feels a tad bit uncomfortable feeling their hands on her back, but she appreciates the kindness they're displaying. They soon lead her into Witches' Goods and to the back of the store. They pull up a few chairs and politely offer her a seat across the counter. She accepts. They sit there awkwardly at first. Eventually, the silence is broken by Zeldaborne. She looks down and sighs deeply, having a hard time making eye contact.

"We know we were, eh, cruel to you the last time we saw you..."

Helgamine mimics her sister's behavior. She adds, "We're sorry it took us this long to tell you but...well, we just haven't seen you around and all. We want to-" She audibly sucks at her teeth. "-Apologize. For saying those ugly things to you and pushing you, and all that."

Her eyes widen in surprise. She hadn't expected to receive an apology so soon. The mournful looks on their faces convince her that they're sincere about it. It is in Sally's nature to be kind and share some sort of understanding with others. The Witches are just jealous women who obsessed over Jack for so long. It must have been a difficult time when she came and won over his heart so soon. She can at least understand that.

Still. When they took out their frustrations on her, it gave her bad memories with the Doctor...which, she is able to shrug off now. He was willing to change, and from what she sees, the Witches are, too.

"It's alright." She soon tells them. "You two were just jealous. And I can see why." Her courage drops down as she gazes into her lap. "I didn't mean to take Jack away from you. Or to do anything at all, really. We just shared something special. And with how much time we spent together, it turned into something more very quickly..."

Hearing this doesn't help the situation. The Witches feel like they're burning in their seats. They have to calm each other by sharing a sympathetic look. They're here to apologize to her like Jack asked them to. It doesn't mean they should like any part of this - but that's the result of being polite. Acting nice even when you really don't want to.

"Of course, of course! We understand." Helgamine says through gritted teeth.

"And we're very happy for you both," Her sister adds, also through her teeth.

The ragdoll looks up and smiles, clasping her hands. "Thank you! I can't tell you how relieving it is to hear. I was so worried about how you'd take the news...I thought you hated me from the last time we spoke."

"-Hate you? No! Why should we?" The tall woman looks at her like she's crazy.

"I just thought....in your perspective, since I'm not scary or rich like he is....that I don't deserve him. And that you'd feel awful about me for having him, anyway."

Truly, she hit the nail on the coffin. But they aren't going to tell her that. They can't build up any energy to convince her otherwise, so instead, they shake their heads and act like this is the most ridiculous thing they've ever heard, even though they said similar things before. Her ruby lips smile again in relief.

Zeldaborne pokes at her warts before speaking again, hesitantly. "By the way, when you asked us if we had any sewing supplies...we were honest with you. We don't. But we do know about the old seamstress that was around here once."

"She was quite a frightening lady! Very talented, she was." The other sister chimes in. "We talked a lot with her before she had to leave town."

"Why did she leave?" Sally leans forward curiously. The Witches look uncomfortable at this question.

"No one likes to speak of it. It's not an unpleasant reason as it is." Helgamine looks uncertain to tell her, so Zeldaborne cuts in. Even she looks disturbed having to explain.

"She, eh, ate children and kept their souls. To survive. None of us knew about it at first, which was why she was kept here as it is, but...when Jack found out, he was very upset, you see. She had been his personal tailor for so many years!"

"But being in Halloween Town has its rules. We all agree not to be mean and scare only with frightening intentions. Not to harm, or actually kill, anyone...."

The ragdoll isn't sure how to feel. This news makes her stomach twist unpleasantly. Jack only mentioned this woman moving away....maybe he was just sparing her from the gruesome details. She almost regrets asking in the first place.

"That sounds awful..."

"It was. Jack has little patience for these things - she was banished right away. Haven't seen her since." Helgamine suddenly tsks. "I just hope she's leaving the children alone. We love to cast spells on the little tricksters - can't exactly do that with people like her eating them all!"

"Anyway-" Zeldaborne side glances at her. "I only mention it because her old place might still has some supplies you can use, if you're unlucky. That is, if Jack hasn't spoiled you with enough, already."

The image of her grand room and sewing machine with a new desk comes into mind. She feels a little guilty and rubs her arm with a frown. Quietly, she asks, "Where is this place?"

"It's not here - on the other hill, where all of our homes are." Sally understands she means the residential area. "If you take a right at the library, it'll be down the street. When you see an abandoned building - wood probably long rotten by now - that'll be it."

"Abandoned? How come I've never seen it before?"

"You didn't get out a lot, I know that!" Helgamine laughs. "It's out of the way. No one likes to go near it - it reminds us of her, and we'd rather not remember that. Not with the little lumplings everywhere now."

"I see..."

"You should go on by and check it. It's not haunted; the ghosts have no need! They've got their pumpkins back in the Graveyard for that sort of thing."

While the conversation has certainly turned darker, it also feels like the mood has been lightened. The Witches don't look like they're harboring any negative feelings about her anymore. It feels refreshing to have a normal conversation with them again. One that wasn't obsessing over Jack or humiliating her. Oddly, the Witches seem nice. Informative. She hopes they can be friends so she can learn more from them.

"Thank you. I appreciate you inviting me in here, and I accept your apology. I'll be sure to visit that place sometime."

She gets up from her chair and, surprisingly, the sisters look almost disappointed that she's leaving. They stand from their seats and come to her side. They even help her with her basket as she leaves through the door, and stops her just before she's about to leave.

"Thank you for listening to us. You do seem like a nice girl...despite everything." Zeldaborne shares a hesitant look with the woman next to her.

"If you'd like, we can arrange something together sometime." Helgamine suggests slowly. "We have some ghoulfriends of ours we can introduce you to."

The ragdoll pauses before smiling. Being invited to such a thing takes her completely by surprise. It makes her feel even better about the whole situation.

"That sounds lovely. We can do that sometime. I'll let you know when I am free."

The two look almost happy that she accepted! They bid their goodbyes and allow Sally to continue on her way. She finishes her business in the market and leaves just as the sun is setting. Her smile wavers a little as she finds the sky now a mixture of orange and red. Her talk with those Witches took just a little longer than she anticipated...

----

When she is only a couple of minutes away from the Manor, Sally takes a seat on a nearby bench and sets her basket down. There's a lot on her mind that she wants to get sorted out before she sees Jack. Particularly, she wants to think of the questions she'll ask him about this old seamstress and her abandoned shop...Should she go alone, or ask him to come with? It's pretty trivial, and she doesn't want to bother him to go. Plus, she's perfectly capable of doing these things by herself! She just isn't sure if she'll need a key to get there, or if she even should. It's her only chance at getting more sewing supplies...but the situation bothers her, knowing what might've taken place in those walls....

She begins to bite at her lip and rests her head in her hand. Her mind is troubled thinking of this old seamstress. Is it something she should even talk about with Jack? Judging by what she's heard, it must've hard for him to banish his old tailor. She wouldn't want to bring any bad memories-

"Meow!"

She jumps a few inches in the air as a sudden noise startles her. She whips her head around to find a small black cat approaching the bench. Sally relaxes and sits forward to greet the creature. The feline comes forward and nestles its head under her hand, leading it along its body as it walks between the her legs. As her fingers caress the rough hair, her mind turns blank as she focuses on the cat.

"It's you again." She says softly.

When she was locked in Finklestein's tower, sometimes she would find a cat in the alleys perched on the walls. During the long nights where she hopefully stared at Jack's study, the cat would be around below, mewing and watching her window. She eventually came into contact with the creature after she began sneaking out to meet with Jack. It took a little time, but it grew used to Sally, and even allowed her to pet it in her lap.

She remembers growing particularly curious with the animal just after she met Zero. At the time, it was new for her to interact with any animal. But now that she's been around a ghostly dog for awhile, she's grown other curiosities. What would it be like to own a pet of her own like Jack did? To have a small companion by your side; a creature to help calm you in times of stress...

The cat looks at her before jumping into her lap. She takes this time to continue petting it as her thoughts wander. She can hear it slightly purring from the contact. She giggles as it licks her finger. She's always loved Zero, but she's grown a little fond of this cat and almost forgot about it with how much has been going on. It must've gotten confused not seeing her around the tower anymore.

The animal quickly decides it's done and jumps off of her, scurrying off into the shadows. Sally frowns a little as she watches it leave. She soon collects her things and continues on her way home. When she approaches the Skellington Manor, she finds the windows lit and accompanied with noises coming from inside.

----

Sally Finklestein climbs the stairs to the Manor with a little guilt. She had been hoping to be home before him, but time dwindled, as it usually did. She opens the doors and feels the warmth from inside engulf her cold figure. She sighs in relief as she steps inside and sets her basket down by the door. Before she can get a good look at what's going on, she is suddenly scooped into the thin arms of Jack Skellington. She finds herself in a warm embrace and relaxes against the chest in front of her. All of her thoughts from the day vanish the longer she is lovingly held.

"Welcome home." He greets. She shivers at his voice and holds his arms.

"Thank you...I'm home."

He lets go of her and stands back with a toothy smile. She brushes her hair behind her shoulder as she modestly reaches for her basket. Jack takes a curious look at it and she shows him what's inside without hesitation - some groceries, and a few extra ingredients she gathered from the stands in the plaza. He smiles again and leans down to kiss her forehead.

"Took a trip into the market?" He asks.

She nods and covers the basket again. "I don't know how often you get groceries, but I went ahead and gathered some. If you want, I can start making dinner right now-"

"-No need! I started cooking the moment I got back." He takes the basket from her hands and leads them into the kitchen. "I'm preparing a small roast for the two of us. I thought it'd be a nice change of pace with you coming home to a warm meal."

She watches wordlessly as he puts away the food. Her black eyes travel to the rest of the kitchen, finding used bowls and ingredients messily laying about. The oven is nearly finished cooking the roast, and she can smell a delicious scent in the air. She bows her head when she finds her mouth watering.

"It is nice to come to this," She tells him. "I can't wait to try it."

"That's exactly what I want to hear!"

When the groceries are put away, he gives her the basket and she thanks him. She returns it to her room, where she stars to relax for the evening. She kicks off her shoes and spends a few minutes thoughtfully sitting on her bed. The seamstress is still on her mind, as are the Witches and the alley cat...that is, until the skeleton informs her that their supper is ready. She meets him at the dining table, where their servings are respectfully waiting for them. She takes a seat across from Jack and thanks him for the food before even tasting it. When she takes the first bite, she feels like she's tasting heaven.

"So delicious...You need to give me this recipe!"

He chuckles. "I have all the cookbooks you can imagine, Sal."

She eagerly looks up from her plate. "May I read some? I'd love to make new dishes."

"Of course! I have quite a big library here - I showed you it the first day, didn't I? My cookbooks are all organized in their own section. I have so many; I don't think I've read them all!"

She vividly remembers his giant collection of books he showed her during his small tour of their home. She was excited at such a sight - all of the novels and stories he had, stacked together on endless shelves...Even though he provided Sally with her own collection of romance novels right in her room, she found herself curious with other books, like cooking recipes. The only downside is - his library is in his study, which is on the third floor. It discourages her from climbing the three sets of stairs to get to it. But for something like this - she'd have to make an exception!

"How did work go?" She asks him curiously, wanting to make conversation. He looks up in surprise before wiping his mouth and clearing his throat.

"It went splendid. Like any other work day, really." The memory of him gushing about Sally to the Mayor comes to his mind, and he shrinks into his shoulders in embarrassment. "How-how about yours..?"

"Mine? It went well." She plays with her food in thought. "It was interesting."

"Interesting? Do elaborate."

He leans forward in interest, resting his jaw on his knuckles. Her cheeks grow a little red at his eagerness. "The Witches talked to me today. They said they were sorry for how they acted, and we talked a little bit."

"That's wonderful! I was hoping they would come around. They did treat you with upmost respect, didn't they?"

"Oh, they did. I almost feel like they were being too nice." She laughs slightly. "But they told me they knew where I could get the sewing supplies I wanted. What I asked them for in the first place."

"Where did they say?"

She pauses, wondering if this is appropriate to bring up. She boldly continues. "-Well, they finally explained to me why the old seamstress left...and a little bit about her. They said her old store is where I might find some fabrics and supplies that I need."

Jack is quiet for a moment. She looks up in surprise after hearing nothing and finds him deeply in thought. He finally looks up and catches her stare, then rubs the back of his skull in shame.

"I'm sorry - it's just been awhile since anyone has talked about her..."

"Apparently, no one really likes to talk about it here..." Her eyes droop. "You told me she moved away, but now that I know what happened...I can't blame you for banishing her."

He's silent again. She looks at him once more. His gaze is fixated on his plate with narrowed eye sockets. He grabs for his glass of water and brings it to his lips. Without even looking at Sally, he replies in a dark tone, "-We have strict rules here that some tend to neglect..."

She doesn't say anything. She isn't sure what to say, after hearing his tone. He sets down his glass and looks at her again - this time, with a smile.

"I was looking out for my people. There were innocent children getting harmed with her around! As much as she was needed around here, I prioritized the safety of my citizens over her." He looks down and shrugs, his lips falling into a frown. "Even though we lack a seamstress now, I at least feel more comfortable without her around..."

Something sounds hesitant about that last sentence. She doesn't think much of it. She drops her fork and gives him an endearing look. "You're a good King, Jack."

He looks up and finds her smile. It's contagious like it always is.

"I just wish I had found out about it sooner. Before children had died under my watch." He crosses his arms and drums his phalanges on his arm. "It's not easy doing these things..."

"I understand why you didn't tell me. It wasn't a very good story." She desperately gets to the point. "-Which was why I was considering taking the Witches' advice and visiting that old store...it's abandoned, from what they told me."

"Truthfully, the Mayor and I forget about it some years. We've wanted to turn it into something for many years now, rather than having it sitting there and rot, but...we couldn't think of anything good enough to replace an old sewing shop."

It's at this moment Sally starts to feel strange. Her phantom heart begins to race as her fingers tingle. An idea surfaces in her mind - but one she is not bold enough to say. Instead, she perks up in her chair and taps the side of her glass in thought.

"I can at least go down there and help clean things out, in case you do think of something to do with it..."

The skeleton looks at her and notices the hint of her tone. He hums thoughtfully before taking another bite of his dinner. It's a good point he and the Mayor should discuss soon - what on Halloween's name to do with the abandoned sewing shop...? His eye sockets glance back to Sally, who finishes her serving quietly. Something clicks in his head right away.

"I don't mind if you go and check it out. It should be safe - but even then, it never hurts to be wary." He fishes for something in his pocket and pulls out a key. He leans forward and places it down in front of his girlfriend. "Use this skeleton key on the door if it's locked. Should bring you right inside."

Her eyes light up as she takes it. "Really? I can...go there?"

"Why wouldn't you?" He looks at her incredulously. "You're free to do as you wish. It'll be fantastic if you find exactly what you're looking for."

She grins in excitement as she twirls the key in her hand. Her eyes drop down to the table in thought. "Maybe I can ask the Hanging Tree with me when I go...? He knows more than me when it comes to this stuff."

"What a good idea! Hopefully, the two of you can find something worthwhile there. I don't believe she had that much time to clean up, anyway."

Her phantom heart continues to race in euphoria. So she really can check this out! For a moment, she thought Jack would stop her and insist such a thing was unnecessary...but she was foolish for thinking he'd discourage her interests in any way. She clutches the skeleton key close to her before sliding it in her dress pocket. The figure across the table watches her intently.

"All I ask, Sally, is that you be very careful once you're there. No one has stepped foot in that place for years. And while she may not live there anymore, sometimes the spirit of dishonest creatures lingers in old places. They may not mean well at times."

"I'll be fine. I'm not going to be alone, if things go right." She assures him. "Thank you for worrying about me."

Something unpleasant brews in his rib cage. Something about this doesn't feel quite right - but what does he have to worry, with how careful Sally is? All he can hope is that she doesn't stumble across anything unpleasant. He nods at her and she makes a delighted noise. She goes to finish her dinner, and Jack watches her quietly before slowly eating at his.

Everything should be alright..who is he kidding?

#the nightmare before christmas #jack skellington #jack and sally #jack x sally #the mayor of halloween town #tnbc #long post #long #fanfiction #our nightmare #tim burton

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datninjalyfe · 4 years

Text

Stay, Part 1: Chapter 1

Chapter 1: Training Time

Tap…. tap…. tap. Katsuki hit the back of his pen against the desk. He was mostly done with the exam Ectoplasm gave at the beginning of class, but decided to take a bit of a break and breathe for a moment. He wasn’t too worried. The exam was mostly like the class work they had done for the past couple of weeks, so he reviewed over his notes to study for the past few days. He was also number 2 in the class, only barely behind Momo Yaoyorozu. Nothing was worse than chasing after someone, but if he had to be behind someone, he definitely wanted it to be behind the girl with the nice ass so he at least had something to look at. He laughed a little at that, but was suddenly startled by the squeaking pencil of someone nearby.

Izuku was next to him, pressing his pencil hard against his paper, furiously writing on the exam. It felt as if someone was grating Katsuki’s ears like they were made of cheese. He glared over at Izuku, whose head buried in his exam, muttering to himself something that was inaudible. Katsuki went back to his exam, trying to ignore the sounds coming from next to him. Katsuki finished his last question and walked to the front to turn in his paper. He walked past other students, who were diligently working against the clock.

“You two finished?” Ectoplasm asked. Katsuki turned to see Izuku next to him, also holding onto his test. They both nodded. “Good, pass them here.” His voice was so deep it gave Katsuki the chills. Katsuki handed over his paper. At least when he sat down, he wouldn’t have to listen to Izuku’s pencil.

Katsuki started to turn around when he heard Izuku say, “Sir—?” Ectoplasm shifted his gaze over to him. “Could I go to a training room? There’s something I still need to work on and I want to get it right before the practical this afternoon.”

“Yes.” Ectoplasm said, a man a few words. “You should go too, Bakugou.”

Katsuki glared at him and growled, “I don’t need to train. I’m ready for this afternoon.”

“You two are the first ones done and I don’t want you distracting the other students. You can practice together.”

Katsuki thought about it for a few seconds. He wanted to train, just not with this nerd. “Fine.” He eventually said through his teeth. Izuku nodded his head with a slight Mhm sound. Katsuki grunted, but started walking out to the training room. It wasn’t too far from the building they were in now, but it was definitely a few minutes away. “That’s the problem.” This walk.

“Huh?” Izuku said.

God, could he never get a moment of peace away from him? They lived together in same dorms, went to school together, in the same classes together. Christ, they fucking grew up together. He could never just get Izuku to leave him alone. “Shut the fuck up, nerd, I didn’t say anything.”

“What’s the problem, Kacchan?” he asked, ignoring him. He had clearly heard what Katsuki said a few moments ago. It made Katsuki’s blood start to boil.

Katsuki stopped and tried to push it out of his mind, but it spilled out of his mouth, “You are, nerd. I can never get rid of you.”

“Do…do you want me to go, Kacchan? I can wait for someone else to be available—,”

“You started this. Besides, you heard what ‘Ultra-plasmic’ or whatever-his-name-is said. You need the practice and I need a human target.”

Izuku smiled a little. “Yeah, well, I didn’t plan for him to put us toge—a human target?”

“Shut up, Deku.” Katsuki growled.

They were quiet for a moment and just as Katsuki thought Izuku had actually listened to him, Izuku said, “How do you think you did on the test?”

“Jesus, you never stop talking.” Katsuki glanced at him. His freckles became increasingly darker when his cheeks were pink. Katsuki rolled his eyes. “But I think I did fine. Just reviewed my notes to study.”

“It was certainly easier than I thought. Ectoplasm’s exams aren’t normally that easy, so I thought maybe it was a trick, but I think that the answer to question 3—,”

He’s rambling now. Katsuki tried to tune him out as he continued to talk about one of the questions. Katsuki was not going to tell him he found that question a little challenging as well, but there was a little trick that Ectoplasm had taught them and Katsuki was sure to write it down.

“I used the technique he taught us earlier in the week where you have to—,”

“I REMEMBER!” Katsuki snapped, turning towards him. He felt his shoulders at his ears. He tried so hard to relax, especially when Izuku was around, but he made it so hard.

They had reached the building and Katsuki thought about blasting the door forward before Izuku jumped forward, grabbing the door. “Tch,” Katsuki snapped and stomped his way past Deku, trying not to look at him, but caught a glimpse. The bastard was smiling. Fucking smiling. Why is he so fuckin’ happy all the fucking time?

They walked to the locker room to change out of their formal uniform into their blue, P.E. uniforms, but Izuku just said, uneasily, “I’m going to go to the bathroom to change.” Katsuki watched him nervously laugh and walk away slowly. He took off his school uniform, pulling the tie off first and unbuttoning his shirt. He thought for a moment if he should be completely shirtless for the fight, but thought against it. He wanted to be as sweaty as possible for his fight against Izuku. He took his pants off and the door to the locker room burst back open, startling Katsuki for a moment. It was just Izuku, who was already done changing. Fuck, he’s fast. The clothes were tight against Izuku’s body and didn’t leave much to the imagination. Katsuki made a sort of grunting sound and finished putting on his clothes as well, which loosely hung from his body.

“Good, you’re ready!” Izuku said and jumped up, walking directly next to Katsuki.

“Walk behind me, you idiot!” Katsuki said and Izuku chuckled and took a good step back. The fuck is he laughing at?

They walked into a training room and unsurprisingly, it was being used, but not by students. Mr. Aizawa, their former homeroom teacher and Eri were practicing using Eri’s quirk. Her horn was slightly bigger than usual and she was concentrating incredibly hard on a large apple tree with Aizawa watching her closely. She was more proficient at using it as the apples upon the tree shrunk in size.

“Eri!” Izuku said. She turned her gaze, noticing the boys in the doorway. She was shocked to see them both, but Aizawa’s hair went up, his gazed fixed on Eri and her quirk suddenly stopped. The apples were no longer apples, but instead had been shrunk and flowers took the place of them. It almost looked like a totally different tree. The apples were in a new, but old stage of life—their blossoming stage.

“Deku?” she said, squinting over at the doorway, making sure it was him. “Deku!”

“Wow! Looks like you’re really getting a handle on your quirk, huh?” Deku asked, running over to her. Katsuki didn’t run the way Deku did, but instead just walked over to the tree and pulled off a small apple that hadn’t quite been rewound all the way. Eri nodded, her horn starting to shrink thanks to Aizawa.

“We reserved this room until 2 today—,” Mr. Aizawa started to say, but Eri interrupted.

“Excuse me, Mr. Eraser?” she bowed her head in respect. “I would like to take a break and maybe watch Deku?” She was so sweet, even Katsuki couldn’t deny it. She didn’t make eye contact with the teacher, but Mr. Aizawa closed his eyes for a moment, his hair falling on against shoulders. and reached into his pocket for his eye drops.

“I’ll give you a break. You watch the boys.” Mr. Aizawa used the eye drops and blinked a few times. He then held his hand out and Eri took it. He then turned his gaze to the boys. “Do you need any input?”

“Actually, yeah, that’d be—,” Izuku started, but Katsuki glared at him. If he could slice Izuku in two with his eyes, he would’ve, but Izuku must’ve seen him because he shifted to, “No, we should be fine.”

“Sure thing.” He knelt down to Eri, who finally looked up at him. He pulled his hair back into a bun and told her, “Sit over there, I’ll be right back.” Aizawa pointed to chairs behind some glass. “You can watch them through there, Eri. Maybe you can learn something from these two. Though probably not.” He turned and looked directly at Katsuki. “Be careful.”

“Tch.” Katsuki didn’t need anything from Aizawa. He had left them to Ectoplasm to help train Eri. And while that was admirable, Katsuki couldn’t help but think that Aizawa was a better teacher than Ectoplasm. He learned so much in his first year, but now in his second, he was stuck with someone who didn’t have the first clue how he learned. Katsuki wasn’t like the others. He’d grown up since Eri’s age of people telling him that his quirk was so special and that he was special. Aizawa had a way of always letting Katsuki train how he wanted and that’s how he learned. By doing, not by listening. And Ectoplasm was too busy helping the mediocre students try to catch up to him.

Catch up to him and fucking Deku.

He watched Izuku take off his jacket to reveal a perfectly carved abdomen—a skinny six pack, but Katsuki quickly looked away as Izuku pulled his pants up, but not before he caught a glimpse of Izuku’s lower abs that cut into a prominent v-shape. He shook his head. That was a sight. He tried to shake it out of his head, but then Izuku turned around and threw his jacket to the side of the room. His shoulders were getting bigger and more muscular, but not as big as Katsuki’s, who took off his jacket as well, but he wasn’t completely shirtless. The tank top was tight against his chest, but he didn’t mind that. He’d never admit it, but it was like getting a constant hug.

Izuku stretched for the fight. For this afternoon, students would be pinned against each other to learn how to better use their quirks. It was like the sports festival, but each student had worked on one special move and that was the only thing they could use against each other. They already had their pairings—Izuku being paired against Sero and him being paired against Mina Ashido. He had a solid plan to beat her. In truth, he didn’t think she was going to be all that difficult to beat, but he had to watch it against her acid. She could throw it at a distance or use it as a hose between her fingers. His special move was one he perfected, especially if he could use his equipment. This match was pointless because Izuku is not the same opponent. Izuku and Mina’s fighting styles were completely different, but it would at least let Katsuki blow off some steam.

Izuku got in a ready stance. His fists up and close to his chin, his legs shoulder width apart, one foot behind. Izuku had figured him out, that’s for sure. Katsuki could almost see Izuku thinking, but before he could come up with a stupid plan, Katsuki lunged forward. He felt the heat run down his arms from his chest into his hands. He had his hands in his pockets on the walk over to build sweat and in combination with the heat powering through his arms, he felt the sweat in his hands spark for a moment and he immediately blew a large explosion in Izuku’s face.

“Die!” Katsuki yelled. Smoke filled the room, but cleared quickly and Katsuki noticed Deku wasn’t standing where he’d thrown the explosion. What? Where’d he go?

“Smash!” the sound came from behind Katsuki, echoed in his ears but he reacted too late. Izuku’s shoes kicked him square in the jaw and sent Katsuki flying. The kick hurt, but it wasn’t the initial attack that Katsuki had to prepare for. It was the gust of powerful wind that came after. The force was like a storm. Katsuki used his quirk to propel himself forward, toward the wind with minimal effort to keep himself from flying through the wall. Izuku was lifted slightly off the ground, but struggled to keep his balance. He still hasn’t learned to float yet? All Might had told Izuku to try and learn his master’s quirk. It seemed Izuku was trying not to fall forward.

“Still struggling, Deku? Can’t say I won’t like taking advantage of that!” Katsuki asked, walking towards him, the heat running from his chest to his arms in waves. His hands were suddenly engulfed and sent shocks of sparks into Katsuki’s hand. “Funny. I thought this was going to be difficult. Or at least harder than Ashido.” Katsuki propelled himself forward with his quirk and just before landing pushed another explosion at Izuku. “I won’t miss this time!” He was right and Izuku was flown across the room, his body hitting the glass. Eri flinched, but it didn’t break. There wasn’t even so much as a crack.

“Come on, Deku!” Eri shouted. Deku looked up at her and smiled.

Why? Why was he so happy all. the. time? Katsuki’s anger built when he saw that smile. Deku was good in close quarters combat. All Katsuki had to do was keep his distance, but all the sudden, a black, jet like stream flowed from Deku’s body. It curled around Katsuki’s arms and held them by his torso. The more he struggled, the tighter it got. Dammit! All Might wasn’t kidding. Fuck, black whip is strong! Deku pulled Katsuki towards him and yelled a loud, “SMASH!” before his foot kicked Katsuki in the stomach. Katsuki heard a crunch from his ribs before his back hit the wall and then he was on the floor. Fuck! Deku was coming at him faster than before, his feet touching the wall before stomping Katsuki into the ground. He laid his body flat and used another explosion to push Deku into the ceiling. Katsuki grabbed him and pulled him up over his head. His back slapped into the ground. Katsuki was standing above Deku, but felt Deku’s legs sweep out from underneath of him, sending him to the ground and their situation quickly reversed: Deku now stood above Katsuki, but Katsuki grabbed the back of Deku’s neck. If Deku was going to send him flying, he was flying too. They were so close, Katsuki could feel Deku’s hot breath against his face. He looked into Deku’s emerald green eyes and for a moment, Katsuki was stopped. They held the gaze for only a moment and Deku leaned forward slightly, their foreheads together. Katsuki, thankful for the moment’s peace, held up his right hand. One more blast outta do it. He yelled out one last battle cry, but as quickly as the heat ran down his arm, it left.

“Enough.” It was Mr. Aizawa. His eyes were bright red and his hair stood stiff. He was holding the binding cloth that wrapped around his neck. “You two are done.”

“What?!” Katsuki said. “That wasn’t even five minutes!”

“You’re right. It was two hours.” Aizawa said.

The boys exchanged looks. The smoke started to clear the room and on the other side of the glass sat not just Eri, but almost the entire class of 2-A.

“Mr. Eraserhead.” The soft voice of Eri almost instantly calmed Katsuki. “I can heal them. I’ve been practicing really hard!”

In truth, Katsuki was surprised to see Mr. Aizawa shake his head. “Not this time. Their injuries aren’t that bad that they need a full rewind. They are mostly tired.”

“I broke a rib!” Katsuki yelled at Aizawa and Eri looked up at the teacher with hopeful eyes, but again, the teacher shook his head.

“Nothing the nurse can’t fix. Head there now boys.” Aizawa said. “Without fighting.”

Katsuki watched the teacher’s hair fall and the heat of his quirk return to his body. It felt so unnatural, to not have a quirk. Probably how this loser felt all growing up. They both nodded and the class watched them in shock as they headed out. Had they really fought for two whole hours? Katsuki could swear it only felt like maybe a few minutes at most. He looked at Deku. He was bleeding pretty badly and was panting hard. His curly green hair was wet and sticking to the side of his head as sweat dripped down his forehead and the side of his cheeks.

“That was fun, Kacchan—ow!” Izuku said, putting on his jacket, but flinched slightly. “I think I dislocated my shoulder.” He started to mutter. Katsuki looked over at him once more. “We should do that again!”

“Whatever, nerd.” Katsuki smirked and they headed over to the infirmary.

(next)

#bakudeku #katsudeku #izukatsu #dekukaccan #myfic #stay

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lunargods · 3 years

Text

Okay but maybe I did always know it was never going to work out for us. But I've been wrong before. I've mistaken salt for sugar and had some very sweet fries. What I mean is that somehow I knew from the beginning that we were doomed from the beginning and yet I still did nothing. I watched as I fell deeper and deeper into you knowing that the trek back out of this hole I was falling into would be worse than that of Orpheus climbing his way out of the underworld. But for some reason I wasn't scared of this fall. I didnt care how much it would inevitably hurt when it finally ended. Didn't care about the cold unforgiving ground that I would abruptly meet to knock me back into reality. I didn't care that through loving you I was sealing my fate to be one where I always ended up being the one hurt and trying to heal myself from the gaping hole your absence will leave in my chest, reopened every time I remember the times you made me laugh or held me while I cried or made me food because you knew I wouldn't eat unless it was with someone else. Like Orpheus looking back to see his love, only to have her ripped from his reach. That's what remembering you feels like, turning around to see you so close to me only to have you ripped away from me when I'm brought back to my reality that you are no longer a part of. But I did this to myself, right? I chose to love you, despite all the red flags, no not just flags, the blaring sirens and flashing warning signs that you came with. Despite all the lectures from my friends and my family. Despite even my own common sense telling me you were the forbidden apple that once picked, would only cause me endless pain and agony. But I didn't care because to me you were worth it. You were worth the fall and the pain and the wretched memories that keep me awake at night sobbing, stealing my breath and ripping at my chest. To me you were worth it because for the first time in what felt like forever, you made me feel something other than the urge to end it all. Because, yes the did warn me that you were going to hurt me in the end, but they didn't know that you were also the one saving me. They didnt know that you were the reason I tried to eat at least 2 meals a day (3 is still too daunting for me), you were the reason my pencil sharpeners aren't only filled with tiny screws and no blades because I knew I couldn't hide the scars from you and I knew it hurt you to see me like that, you were the reason I didn't act upon so many of my intrusive thoughts telling me to punch walls or speed down dark backroads or go for walks alone at night without my phone because I knew you wanted me to be safe. So yes, maybe you are the reason I'm sitting here writing this with tears streaming down my cheeks, but they don't know that you're also the reason I'm still sitting here today. And after I'm done writing this I'm not going to get the sharpeners or go driving really fast or throw up my food, because I know that you still care about me even if I was the only one that fell, even if I was the only one that loved. Even if it didn't work out.

#poetry #spilled ink #heartbroken #heartache #falling #one sided love #ed #tw:ed #tw:self harm #sad #Greek mythology #Orpheus #love #You know I think I'll always love you #hurt

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ughseoks-main · 5 years

Text

left behind

peter parker x reader

summary: you begin to feel neglected when peter parker is introduced to the avenger family, and you’ve had enough of it.

“I just don’t wanna be left behind.”

word count: 3.9k

warnings: just some angst & a breakdown

a/n: hehehe a bit of a longer blurb w/ some angst for y’all ;)))) lmk what ya think!!

masterlist

You could still remember the days when Cap would patch up your scraped knees, giving them the magic ‘feel better’ kisses before telling you to be more careful next time. Sometimes, Nat would give you little lessons on how to fight like her, never growing impatient with your repetitive mistakes and general inability to catch onto her complex moves. Clint would even ruffle your hair and watch a movie every Friday night, always letting you choose (no matter how many times you requested Cinderella.)

Tony might’ve been your biological father, but the truth was, the whole team was your family. You loved your dad, and there was no doubt about it: he was a pretty damn good one. But you were basically the child of all of the avengers, and they never failed to show you how much they loved you. They’d help you with your homework, boy problems, and pretty much anything a teenager could ever need advice on; most importantly, they made you feel important and loved when you needed it the most.

But everything changed when a certain bug-boy came into the picture.

One day when you were sitting on the couch with Bruce discussing a tricky math problem, Tony waltzed in with a young, curly-haired boy trailing closely behind him. He looked about your age and a nervous smile graced his face when you locked eyes.

“Guys, this is Peter,” Tony introduced you to him and he waved awkwardly.

“H-Hi.”

“Peter, this is my daughter, Y/N,” he pointed to you before shifting his gaze towards Bruce, “I’m sure you already know who Doctor Banner is. Big green guy, can have a bit of a temper-”

“Tony,” Bruce warned, nodding at Peter with a soft smile.

“Aright, alright,” Tony patted the kid’s shoulder, “I’m gonna finish showing the new blood around. You two have fun.”

You couldn’t stop staring at Peter and his slightly pink cheeks as he turned to leave. After all, you were curious. It was rare to see high school aged kids in the compound, let alone ones as cute as Peter.

“Earth to Y/N…” Bruce waved his hand in front of your face, smiling when you jumped back in surprise.

‘Huh?” your cheeks heated as you scrambled to grab your pencil, “Oh yeah, uh, the math problem…”

As the weeks went on, you began to see more and more of Peter, his face popping up almost everywhere you went. Whether it be grabbing lunch in the kitchen, or taking the elevator down to the lobby, Peter was there, giving you shy side glances and small smiles. If you were being honest, it was pretty nice at first. After all, you never really got to hang out with kids your age, because it was too dangerous for you to go to a public school.

But your relationship with Peter forever changed after you got stuck in the elevator together one afternoon. Tony was rebooting FRIDAY, and in his usual fashion, forgot to inform pretty much anybody of the temporary shutdown. This left you and Peter alone in the elevator for roughly an hour. The first few minutes were awkward, which was to be expected; but after those few minutes… it felt like a spark went off. Conversation erupted, laughter filling the air as the two of you exchanged jokes and anecdotes. Whether it be meme references or results of scientific experiments, you covered it all.

From that point on, you and Peter were inseparable, doing practically everything together. There was no doubting it; he was your best friend. (And if you were being completely honest with yourself, there were probably some underlying feelings that were a bit more… romantic.)

Everything was smooth sailing for a while, uncontrollable laughter filling the corridors wherever the two of you went. Of course, you had your ups and downs, but nothing too serious ever kept you apart for more than a day. It was an ongoing joke at the tower that the two of you were attached at the hip. Hell, Peter even began to come along with you to some of your family activities. After all, he was practically family now.

But nothing that’s perfect lasts for long.

Things started to fall apart on a normal Friday night. It was 8:32pm, and you’d just popped some popcorn in preparation for your and Clint’s weekly movie night. But when you stepped into the room, the sounds of laughter already filled the air, a movie playing as background noise to the conversation. Peter and Clint were sitting on the couch, throwing pieces of popcorn at each other in a playfully competitive way.

“What’re you guys doing?” you blurted out, somewhat shocked by the whole situation.

Peter and Clint snapped their heads in your direction, Peter’s face lighting up upon seeing you. “Oh, hey Y/N!” he chirped, flashing you a happy smile, “Clint and I were just watching a movie… or at least trying to…” he giggled, gesturing towards the popcorn bowls, “Wanna join?”

“Oh. Uh…” you paused, a little unsure of what to do. In all honesty, you didn’t really know how to react to the scene laid out before you; you didn’t even know how you felt. Sure, you felt a little upset, but you were also understanding of the situation. But more than anything, you were just… confused.

Why did Clint not wait for you to come into the room before beginning the movie? Why was Peter even here for him to watch a movie with? He should’ve been at home with May. Did Clint invite him to watch the movie, or did Peter suggest it himself? Why weren’t you included in any of this?

“I actually think I have some chemistry homework or something, so, uh, I should go.”

“Aw man,” Peter pouted, sticking out his bottom lip, “Well, good luck on your homework! If you get done early, you should come back down and hang with us.”

You flashed him a tight smile before letting your eyes drift over to Clint, almost immediately looking away when your gazes met. He was giving you the look that told you he wasn’t buying any of your excuses. After all, he could see through pretty much any ruse you threw at him.

“Pete, can you give us a sec?” Clint patted his shoulder and walked over to you, nodding his head towards the hallway to signal Peter to leave the room. “Listen, Y/N, Peter really wanted to watch this movie, and I wasn’t sure if you were coming down tonight—”

“Clint, it’s fine,” you held up a palm, trying to reassure him when he gave you another disbelieving look, “I promise. I get it, I really do.”

After a few moments of consideration, he pulled you into a side hug, ruffling your hair. “If you say so, kiddo.”

A few hours later, when you were laying in bed, you just couldn’t get what had happened off of your mind. You doubted it was intentional, and you had to admit, it was a pretty small thing to get upset over. Besides, you weren’t one to hold a grudge. Deciding it was best to put it behind you, you rolled over and fell asleep, hoping that the incident would be a one-time thing.

If only you’d realized just how wrong you were.

— -

From that point on, things started to go downhill, and fast. More and more often, you were finding Peter doing things you used to do with the whole group. At first, you tried to force yourself into things and make yourself known. But no matter how much you spoke up or how hard you tried, you still somehow felt like an outsider in your own home; an outcast in your own family.

Nobody paid attention to you, no matter how hard you tried. All they seemed to do was fawn over their baby Peter, making sure that he was okay and that he knew he was the apple of their eye.

You felt like a background character in everybody’s lives, including your own.

Eventually, you gave up trying to be included. You began to lock yourself in your room, isolating yourself from everybody in the compound, Peter included. Peter knew something was up, but when he tried to ask you about it, you brushed it off, telling him he was imagining things. Just because you were upset didn’t mean you had to bring him down with you, right?

You knew that you could always talk to the group about how you felt, but you didn’t want to cause any trouble. So, you kept it all inside, locked in a small box hidden in the back of your mind. Every time something new happened, you’d open up the box and throw your feelings in there, always sure to never let a word slip out.

But the thing about that hidden box was that it was bound to overflow. After all, it was a finite space, and you couldn’t keep locking away your feelings without snapping.

That snap finally came when you walked into the lab one afternoon, seeing Peter and Bruce working on some sort of small machine. Taking a few steps closer, your heart dropped when you recognized that small machine as your personal project; an experiment that you’d been working on for years. You’d only told Tony about it because it was so personal to you (and even if you had tried to tell the others, you doubted they would have cared.)

“Huh… try connecting this wire to that one,” Bruce pointed to the object, deep in thought. Peter stuck out his tongue slightly as he carefully reconnected the wires, cheering when the device whirred to life successfully.

“Yes!” he grinned, giving Bruce a high five, “I can’t believe we—”

He paused when he saw you in the doorway, his smile softening a bit, “Hey Y/N! Wanna check out this cool project Bruce and I just finished? We found it sitting in the lab and decided to fix it up!”

You stood frozen, not even sure how to react. Your initial response was anger, a surge of betrayal spreading through your veins like fire. “I’m good.” you said through gritted teeth, taking a deep breath.

“You sure? It’s really cool! I can explain how it works if you want—”

“I already know how it works!” you blurted out, exasperation and annoyance soaking every syllable, “It was my project. I made that. I’ve been working on it for years. So no, I don’t need your explanation on how it works. That wasn’t yours to tamper with.”

“Y/N,” Bruce said with concern, “Is everything okay? This doesn’t seem like you. We didn’t know the project was yours; it was an honest mistake.”

“How would you have known? It isn’t like you pay attention to me anymore,” you scoffed, glaring daggers at the pair, “Besides, even if you had known, I’m sure that you would’ve finish it anyways if Peter had wanted to. You guys do whatever the hell he wants, yet you can’t even find the time to say goodnight to me anymore.”

“Woah, where is this coming from?” Bruce looked genuinely confused, “Who said we weren’t paying attention to you?” Peter sat there dumbfounded as you crossed your arms, Bruce holding up his hands in defense.

“Just— forget it.” You took a deep breath and stormed off, ignoring the calls of your name as the door slammed behind you. As you went on a rampage through the compound, you drew stares from everyone. A few called out to you, asking you what was wrong, but you just kept going until you finally reached your room. Shutting your door softly, you collapsed on your bed, letting out a scream into your pillow. Every emotion was hitting you at once, causing you to feel insanely overwhelmed and helpless.

Your face was buried in a pillow when you heard a knock on your door. “What is it?” you grumbled, rolling your eyes when you heard Bruce’s voice.

“Y/N, could you come downstairs for a minute?”

“Why?” you lifted the pillow from your face, glaring at him before flipping over onto your side to face away from the doorway, “I’m perfectly fine.”

“We need to talk to you.”

“Why do you need me when you could just talk to Peter?”

Bruce sighed deeply, despite already knowing that getting you downstairs was going to be a challenge from the beginning. “You know that’s not true. Just come down for five minutes, then you can come back up to sulk.”

Groaning dramatically, you rolled off of your bed and hit the floor with a soft thump. “Fine,” you called out from your spot on the carpet behind the bed. When you heard the door shut, you slowly sat up, making your way down to the main room as slowly as humanly possible.

As soon as you took a step into the room, everybody’s heads snapped to attention. A quick glance around showed you that basically the entire team was in the room, ready to have this conversation with you. You weren’t intimidated, just reluctant to talk about the topic (mostly out of spite.) And then, your eyes landed on Peter.

“I don’t wanna talk if he’s gonna be here.” Peter looked down guiltily and messed with the hem of his shirt, trying to avoid your heated gaze.

“Y/N,” Steve began in his ‘i’m giving a speech and you will listen to me’ voice, “This clearly involves the both of you, so Peter stays.”

“It’s...” Peter began to stand up, “It’s okay, I can just leave—”

Steve reached out and grabbed his arm gently, “Peter, we want you here, for this conversation—”

“I don’t.” Cap shot you a stern look, causing you to simply cross your arms in defense.

“Y/N, you’re being unreasonable,” Clint butted in, “Peter didn’t do anything intentionally to hurt you, and he wants to make it right. We all wanna make it right.”

“Unreasonable?” you scoff, gesturing wildly around you, “I’m unreasonable for not wanting to see Peter? For not wanting to see you guys? You’ve all been perfectly fine with me pining after you for the past few weeks, but when I finally give up, suddenly you’re concerned.”

Tears were filling your eyes, but you were unaware that they were also filling Peter’s.

He pulled away from Steve, taking a few steps back towards the door. “I should leave,” he began, being interrupted by a loud protest from the group of avengers sitting in the large room.

“Just-just stop!” he yelled, effectively silencing them, “Isn’t it obvious? I only seem to make things worse. I’m clearly not helping the situation. Y/N doesn’t want to be anywhere near me. She doesn’t want anything to do with me. Am I wrong?”

Peter had known something was up with you the past few weeks, but he hadn’t realized that he was the one hurting you. It killed him. You were his best friend, and the last thing in the world he’d ever want to do is cause you pain.

“She doesn’t think that—”

“I wasn’t asking you, Bruce!” he exasperated, turning to you as a tear slipped down your cheek, “Am I wrong, Y/N?”

You didn’t confirm his statements, but you didn’t deny them, either. Instead, you simply stood there, wiping the fallen tear from your cheek. Peter exhaled heavily, taking your silence as a confirmation of everything he’d assumed. Giving everyone a short nod, he walked out into the hallway, nobody speaking up until he’d left.

“What’s gotten into you?” your dad asked, clearly fed up with the way you were acting.

“What’s gotten into me?” you gawked, raising your tone in anger, “What’s gotten into me is that I’m an outcast in my own family! You guys ignore me and all of our special traditions in favor of running off and doing them with Peter instead. It’s like— it’s like I’m not even your kid anymore! I’m a background character in my own life! Nothing I do impacts you, and you can’t even pretend like you care about my feelings. If you cared, you wouldn’t have neglected and ignored me in the first place. Once a newer, better version of me came along, you were quick to leave me in the dust.”

You’d completely broken down at this point, voice breaking from an angry scream to a teary-eyed cry as you finally unlocked your hidden box.

“I just don’t wanna be left behind.”

The room was speechless. In their minds, you’d just been adjusting to the new addition to the compound. They’d had no idea that you’d felt replaced by Peter. A feeling of guilt soaked into almost every heart in the room, the sight of the sad and tired child in front of them enough to almost bring them to tears.

“You’re our family,” Natasha offered, trying to make you feel better, “We’d never leave you behind.”

“Why didn’t you tell us sooner?” Steve interrupted, earning a glare from Nat, “If we’d known, we would’ve done something about it.”

“Because it isn’t my job to tell you,” you whispered, voice cracking, “The saddest part is just that— you had no idea that I was even pulling away until I finally snapped. I know that I’m supposed to communicate with you… but all I needed was one of you to reach out. You couldn’t even do that. And… the one person who did is sitting outside right now, beating themselves up for something that you guys did.”

Tony began to speak, but you cut him off by raising a hand in objection. “If you’ll excuse me,” you sniffed, straightening your shoulders and walking towards the door, “I think I owe somebody an apology.”

— -

You found Peter outside on the patio looking out into the green surrounding the compound. He was sitting on the ground, knees pulled up to his chest. Small sniffles came from him every few seconds, and his curly hair was a mess.

“You didn’t have to come out here,” he croaked, turning to look at you as you took a seat next to him.

“I kinda did,” you smiled a bit, “You been crying?”

Peter nodded. “You don’t look too happy yourself.”

You let out a sad laugh, wiping off a few remaining tears. “I owe you an apology.”

He froze at that. “An apology?” Confusion was tugging at his features, curiosity glowing in his eyes.

“Yeah,” you exhaled, wringing your hands together, “None of this was your fault. You couldn’t have known that you were encroaching on anything.”

He shrugged, wiping his nose, “I should’ve picked up on it, though.”

“You did,” you placed a hand on his arm, squeezing gently, “I just wouldn’t open up to you. That’s on me. The rest of it… well, that’s on the team. But you looked out for me even when they failed to, and I’m really grateful for that.”

You paused, taking a few seconds to gather your thoughts. Peter covered your hand with his own, running his fingers lightly against the back of your knuckles. “And I’m sorry for blowing up at you like that. I’m sorry for ignoring you and shutting you out instead of letting you in. It only made the issue worse, and it made you feel guilty for something that isn’t your fault.”

Tears stung the back of your eyes, threatening to spill down over your cheeks all over again as you whispered, “I’m sorry, Pete.”

Lifting his arm, Peter slung himself around your shoulders, pulling you into a big side hug. He was warm, his t-shirt soft between your fingers as you gripped it tightly and cried into his shoulder.

“It’s okay, Y/N,” he consoled, rubbing small circles on your back as you hiccupped, “It’s okay.”

Slowly, your tears began to dry, and a wave of exhaustion began to spread throughout your chest. Your lungs were heavy and the air was somehow warmer as Peter continued to rub circles on your back, lulling you into a post-cry nap. Before you knew it, you were asleep, your grip on his shirt growing loose. He stroked your hair before repositioning you so you’d be more comfortable lying against him.

Peter’s head jerked up when he heard the door open, eyes widening when he saw Steve walk over towards the two of you.

“How is she, kid?” he put his hands into his pockets, gazing out at the greenery in front of him.

“She was pretty upset. I don’t think it’s gonna be fixed overnight,” Peter paused, “Where’s Mr. Stark and the rest of the team?” “We thought it’d be best to only send one person out here to get her, and Tony didn’t think she was too happy with him,” Steve explained, sadness and guilt in his gaze as he looked over at you, “Not that she’s happy with me, either.”

The vibrations from Peter’s chest as they spoke stirred you awake, causing you to blink a few times in an attempt to shake away some of the sleepiness. “Steve?” you yawned, turning to the man standing a few feet away, “What do you want?”

“To see what we can all do to make this better,” Bruce spoke up from the doorway, taking a few steps out onto the patio before the rest of the team followed.

“We messed up and we wanna fix it,” Tony shrugged, but not without throwing you an apologetic glance.

“Just… don’t be inconsiderate dicks anymore, okay?” you sighed, rubbing your face roughly in exasperation, “And give me some time. I’m upset, and that hurt isn’t gonna go away overnight. I need to process stuff, ya know.”

“Cap, you okay with that language?” Your dad joked, raising his hands in defense when you shot him a death glare, “What? He’s an old man. He can’t handle those words, Y/N.”

“And I want some really good apologies. Like, ten-page-long handwritten apology letters. Delivered by pigeon.”

“Deal. Sam, what’s our pigeon status?” Tony threw over his shoulder, earning a glare from Sam.

“I. Don’t. Talk. To. Birds,” he rolled his eyes, “You two have got to drop that bit, or I think I’m gonna lose my mind.”

“Whatever you say, birdman,” you winked before shooing the team away, “Now, can you guys leave us alone? We were having a best friend moment.”

“Okay, okay,” Bruce laughed, shouting over his shoulder as Steve pushed him along, “But we are gonna talk about this in more detail later.”

“Have your apology letter ready!” you sang, waving him goodbye with a cheesy smile until the door shut behind the group.

You turned back around with a sigh, looping your arm through Peter’s. “Thank you, Peter,” you pressed a kiss to his cheek, smiling a bit when his face flushed red, “You’re the bestest best friend I could ever ask for.”

“Just… be sure to talk to me next time, okay?” he responded, giving the hand wrapped around his forearm a squeeze, “I’m always here for you.”

He paused.

“Plus, I missed you a lot.”

“You got it,” you breathed as you laid your head on his shoulder, “And don’t worry, I missed you too.”

taglist + a few mutuals;

@minnie-marvel @magic-marvel @quxntumvandyne @imnotbitter-anna @cynicallystiles @laurfangirl424 @misslunala @secondsineternity @galaxy-parker @peterpcrker @signed-potato @lokiislowkeyhot @highlady-ofthe-summercourt @veryspectacularspiderling @delicately-written @thefallenbibliophilequote @jupiterparker @buck-ets @newtimewriter @thedaughterofdawn @lltrashll @paradoxparker @propertyofmarvel @sagebrandy-loves-pancakes @flaminghottaquito @marvel-galaxy @laureharrier @futzingclint @lokiismischief @whycantwebefriendz @hedwigthelegend @yellowkenyon97 @casuallytumblingdownthestairs @yelyahryan @em-aesthe @ @smexylemony @watermelonfruitsalad @thewildheroine @s0cial-retard @awkwardfangirl2014 @nobelwarriorheroes @holland-haven @moonpadillaa @lesbianismybitchname @kingccbsblog @upsidedownparker

peter parker taglist;

@lostnliterature @lovely-parker @johnmulaneyslut @irxnspxder @lovinnholland @alyssaaaas-stuff

join my tags!

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker reader insert #peter parker fanfic #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker blurb #peter parker fic #peter parker x you #peter parker x y/n #peter parker imagine #peter parker oneshot #lainey writes #fanfiction #reader insert #xreader #angst #peter parker angst #peter parker x reader angst

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sirsapling · 4 years

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MORE TAGGED POSTS

I got tagged in a bunch more things I didn't respond to fast enough, so UNDER THE CUT THEY GO.

I have too many things to respond to, so I won't be tagging, but consider yourself tagged if you want to do any.

IT’S THE LITTLE THINGS

Tagged by the wonderful @bardingbeedle

Pass the happy!🌻🌿 When you receive this, list 5 things that make you happy and send this to 10 of the last people in your notifications!

Lying in warm blankets in an cold room. Bonus points for snow outside.

A fresh Buzz cut

Talking to @bardingbeedle

Having long, passionate rambles about the Marvel Ultimates

Hashbrowns, bacon, maple syrup, maybe a pancake, and a sausage too.

Tagged by the chaotic @s-hylor

top 3 cities you want to visit: Toronto, again. Colorado (I know its a state not a city I just want to visit ashes AND GET SNOW). And I would like to go back to Italy again. (I also want to visit, just, all of my fandom friends but I don't want to drop all their locations lol)

favorite marvel character: Ults!Steve Rogers and then Ults!Tony Stark. Not counting stony, Anthony the brain tumor, and not counting clones, Gregory Stark.

white chocolate - yay or nay?: Love it, love it, love it.

favourite board game: God Save The Queens- A board game about Bees I invented with 3 other people at University last year for a project.

how many countries have you been to: 10, I have been very luckily graced with the ability to travel to Europe with school a lot.

(Wales, France, Belgium, Germany, Switzerland, America [Florida, Boston, New York], Spain, Portugal, Italy, and finally Canada.)

favorite thing to do on a rainy day: Anything indoors I might usually feel guilty about doing when its sunny. Tv or games particularly

favorite holiday: Christmas. I am a Christmas slut, call me festive sapling I LOVE Christmas.

pen or pencil: Pen. I once bought 7 in lisbon at the same time bc they were perfect and I didn't want to run out.

favourite kind of soup: Cupasoup Chicken noodle, I don't really like soups tbh, I like broths, and gravy type things I make too much of and eat like a soup (like golden Currys or korma sauces)

your typical order at a cafe or coffee shop: Caramel Frappucino or an iced Mocha. If I'm gonna pay a fuck tonne for coffee I'm gonna get a drinkable dessert.

favorite ride at an amusement park: Any slow rides that show you shit, like spaceship earth at EPCOT. I’m not really a speed dude.

the color of your sneakers: RED, red shoes are the shit folks, a good pair of red converse goes with everything.

favorite pbs show (or little kids show if you didn’t have pbs): Uh I used to watch pokemon then winnie the pooh every single night. But little little kids show I used to watch a show called 64 zoo lane with my grandma so I have fond memories

Rules: name your favorite female characters from 10 different fandoms, then tag 10 people.

Tagged by the wonderful @ashes0909

Natasha Romanov - Marvel Cinematic Universe

Carol Danvers - Marvel 616

Janet Van Dyne - Marvel Ultimates

Izumi Curtis - Full Metal Alchemist

Martha Jones - Doctor Who

Garnet - Steven Universe (if she doesn't count bc, space rock, Connie)

Rosa Diaz - Brooklyn 99

Ann Perkins - Parks and Rec

Princess Caroline - Bojack Horseman

Pam Poovey - Archer

LOOK I know there was a lot of cheating here, but I don't have non marvel fandoms really, and I have a hard time remembering a lot of the TV I enjoyed.

Rules: Share your top 10 AO3 additional tags. Tagged by the mysterious @nigmuff

look I don't know if I have enough tags to make this a justified representation, but the ones shown are v much on brand.

Fanfic trope meme

I was tagged by the delightful @capnstars and @crownofstardustandbone

slowburn or love at first sight // fake dating or !!!secret dating!!! // enemies to lovers or best friends to lovers // oh no there’s only one bed or long-distance correspondence // hurt/comfort or amnesia // fantasy au or modern au // mutual pining or domestic bliss // smut AND fluff // canon-compliant or fix-it // reincarnation or character death // one-shot or multi-chapter // kid fic or road trip fic // arranged marriage or accidental marriage // high school romance or !!!!middle-aged romance!!! // time travel or isolated together // neighbours or roommates // sci-fi or magic au // body swap or genderbend // angst or crack // apocalyptic or mundane

Look guys, I’m boring. I like domestic 30-40 year olds in secret relationships. We knew this.

And now buckle the fuck down folks because I'm about to answer 50 questions about me no one is gonna stick around and read.

tagged by @bardingbeedle the only person who would put up with reading this much about me.

What is the colour of your hairbrush?

I have a buzz cut, I don't have a hair brush anymore.

Are you typically too warm or too cold?

Too warm. I have been warmer than most people my whole life, and I often need to sleep with a fan on.

What were you doing 45 minutes ago?

Working on a sketch for an MTH fill (update from the end of this: I have spent an hour doing this fuckin thing)

What is your favourite candy bar?

Bounty. My favourite candy is Reese’s Pieces but I like a bounty. Or like, and chocolate without fruit in it tbh.

Have you ever been to a professional sports event?

Yes, one of my parents referees Championship Football here in the UK. I have been to a few of his games. I also went to the London 2012 Paralympic closing ceremony, if that counts.

What is the last thing you said out loud?

‘Oh, this will last me a few days’ I was talking to my mother about 1/2 a can of pringles, I was lying.

What is your favourite ice cream?

Vanilla. I am boring. But the best ice cream i’ve had was a cream/milk flavoured gelato in Florence, that shit slapped. I also like cheap strawberry ice cream when no one is trying to put strawberry bits in it.

What was the last thing you had to drink?

Dinner. A spinach, banana, summer fruits and coconut yoghurt smoothie (with extra raspberries). Its my nightly dinner to cheat more veg into my body.

Do you like your wallet?

Very much. It’s about 7-8 years old, it is faded to hell but it has spiderman and a pony ride stony pin

What was the last thing you ate?

See above smoothie comment, but if that doesn't count, a sugar free mint polo.

Did you buy any new clothes last weekend?

Nope. I don't buy as many clothes as I want to, bc mens clothes in larger sizes are hard to find or expensive here.

The last sporting event you watched?

F1, I don't keep up but I watch a little with my dad every now and then.

What is your favourite flavour of popcorn?

BUTTER. They don't really have it here, and I don't go to movies much when in the states. But @festiveferret introduced me to it when we saw Ant-man and the Wasp, and much like poutine and Tim Hortons, I still crave it.

Who is the last person you sent a text message to?

My dad.

Ever go camping?

Yes, I was a Scout. I have done enough camping to not want to do more, it was fun when I wasn't organising it.

Do you take vitamins?

Yes, but not as often as I should, and as much as my mother bothers me too.

Do you go to church every Sunday?

Nope, not even when I considered myself christian. I go only go to church for other peoples events, and I’m an agnostic now.

Do you have a tan?

I cannot tan. I just can't, I burn lobster red in 5 minutes outside without literal sun cream for BABIES

Do you prefer Chinese food or pizza?

Chinese food, It was easily what taught me to like more foods also, I don't eat tomato so I can't have most pizza. I love a good garlic base/bechamel, but you can't really get that here easily (yes yes I could make my own but that ruins half the point of pizza)

Do you drink your soda with a straw?

I don't drink carbonated drinks, because its like drinking pain. The fuck is wrong with all of you.

What colour socks do you usually wear?

Various colours, but I consider red on the left, blue on the right, my lucky socks. No I don't know why, but I take all exams and interviews wearing them. It’s just a thing.

Do you ever drive above the speed limit?

I don't drive, but if I did, No. Theres a lot of questionable laws out there but Traffic laws aren't one of them.

What terrifies you?

Pfft, most things from spiders to rollercoasters. But more seriously, Being shouted at. Shout at me and I start hyperventilating, its a thing. Also not knowing if someone is mad at me. I’m not good at reading people,

Look to your left, what do you see?

The wallet shown earlier, and the sugar free polos mentioned after that.

What chore do you hate?

Vacuuming. It makes everything in my body hurt. I would rather clean toilets.

What do you think of when you hear an Australian accent?

@s-hylor

What’s your favourite soda?

See above. I do not like your pain liquid. Apple juice for life.

Do you go in a fast food place or just hit the drive-thrus?

Either delivery or kiosk, I don't like talking to people where possible, I often need tweaks I don't want to have to remember to repeat.

Who’s the last person you talked to?

@downeyhills

Favourite cut of beef?

I don't generally eat beef, lamb, or most red meats. I love crispy chilly beef, but as anyone can point out its bc your generally don't feel the texture of the beef.

Last song you listened to?

Everybody Wants to Rule the World | Tears for Fears | Pomplamoose

I’m on a Pomplamoose kick, and I also just love this song anyway.

Last book you read?

Understanding Comics (The invisible Art) - Scott McCloud

Favourite day of the week?

Friday nights. The weekend is ahead and @loraneldin and I take to wrangling our beloved usual suspects through another week of Ults Book Club.

Can you say the alphabet backwards?

I can barely say it forwards.

How do you like your coffee?

With milk and sugar, or ultimately, in a Caramel Frappuccino bc I'm a bitch like that.

Favourite pair of shoes?

I have walking boots that don't make my flat ass feet feel like they’re dying. OR my black and green crocs (Fight me, they’re useful).

The time you normally go to sleep?

9-10 is what I'm working on, but I fluctuate depending on if I'm working on something or not.

The time you normally get up?

5-6 If I have a choice in the matter, but often 7-8 if I didn't get to bed at the right time. I’m more about getting the right hours in for my diet than time specifically.

What do you prefer, sunrise or sunsets?

Sunset is the prettiest, but I like to be awake to see the sun rise.

How many blankets on your bed?

One big thick comforter, because that's the uk standard, and I get too hot otherwise.

Describe your kitchen plates

Two types, big wide white ones with a navy blue rim. They are so large I never use them, and little Navy saucer plates I use a lot.

Do you have a favourite alcoholic beverage?

I don't drink, so no. I drink apple juice or Shirley temples when I'm in pubs/bars

Do you play cards?

Sometimes, I like to teach people to play Old Maid. It’s the monopoly of card games.

What colour is your car?

Again, I do not drive.

Can you change a tire?

I am aware I just said I don't have a car, but I do know how to change a tire. Everyone should go learn its pretty simple.

Favourite job you’ve ever had?

I have only had one job really and two job experience jobs. I did experience in a school library for a week and that was v fun and chill. I did all the jobs they had prepared for me in 2 days so I alphabetically reorganised their fiction section for the rest of the week. I LIKE ORDERING.

How did you get your biggest scar?

I no longer have a gallbladder, so I have 3 scars across my torso from that, the biggest right in the middle of my ribs. Non surgical wise I have matching scars on my knees from ripping holes in them when tripping. I have weak ankles and also I got both of those at different times.

What did you do today that made someone else happy?

I gave my spare animal crossing Iguanodon skull to a wicked artist I follow on twitter so he could complete his dino park.

#text post #tagged in #wow long post #wow x2 #tag memes

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cravingcrazewriting · 5 years

Text

Older And Wiser (but not really)

Trigger Warning- VERY small mention of desire to end one's own life. Plus transgender Evan because I love him

Thanksgiving was always a roll of the dice for Evan.

Some Thanksgivings he got to spend with his mom. Others he spent with Jared and his family. When they were both gone, Heidi would celebrate the next day when she was off.

Ironically though, both of these situations were going underway, leaving Evan alone for Thanksgiving. Although it hurt to be alone, he knew it wasn't really anyone's fault. Thanksgiving was a time for family and friends, so naturally people had to leave to go see other relatives out of state (Alana was going with her dad's to visit her grandparents, if he wasn't mistaken).

The only person that was still around was Connor, who's family hosted hosted a big Thanksgiving meal. Evan thought it was sweet since it was usually just him and his mom. It wasn't that they didn't have any family, but rather working as a nurse and the unforeseeable weather that almost always brought about a snow storm, so it was nearly impossible to see relatives until Hanukkah.

Evan pulled out an box that had differently colored leafs scattered across the wrapping he had dressed around it. He decided against putting a bow on it and went to set it out on the table. It was a gift for Connor, for a Thanksgiving gift exchange. It was something he and Heidi always did, so Evan decided to let Connor join in on the fun.

He'd saved some money from doing work with the neighbors, part of it for his top surgery, and the other half for holiday shopping. The tasks they asked were simple, such as vacuuming, dusting, or cleaning (in the fall, he mowed lawns).

He'd already had made a grilled cheese sandwich for lunch, since pretty much everything was closed for the holiday, he couldn't order out. Currently his binder was off and in his room, as he'd already worn it for eight hours, and needed to remove it. It was god awful, but wearing it for too long could fracture his ribs, and he did not want to be responsible for a hospital bill. Still, an oversized shirt he stole from Connor helped out a little bit with how unsettled he felt.

He gently set the box down on the dining table, and went to make a box of Mac and Cheese, as he was okay with spoiling himself just a little bit for the holiday. While he was filling up a pot with water, his phone vibrated. Evan pulled out his phone to read it.

Connor <3: Dinner just finished up. Can I go to your place? Don't think I can stay another minute at home

Evan: Sure! We can share Mac and Cheese!

Although he was trying to hold back enthusiasm, he was really happy that Connor was coming. He'd spent a lot of lonely days with Connor either cuddling, talking, making jokes, watching random shit on Netflix, or a mix of all of that (with a fair share of kisses, as well).

Evan made sure to keep an eye on the time as the water boiled, practically checking his phone almost every thirty seconds, not wanting to keep Connor waiting outside very long.

Ultimately the doorbell rang later, which made Evan practically run to the door and swung it open from being in a rush. It could've been worse. At least he didn't accidentally dent the wall.

Outside, Connor was holding an envelope and a box wrapped in plain orange wrapping paper. Underneath was some food in long, plastic and portable boxes, with a bottle that looked like alcohol. He was wearing his jacket and trench coat, ripped jeans, and black thin looking gloves. He was smiling at how fast Evan answered the door.

"Please tell me you— you didn't bring alcohol," Evan held the door open, watching Connor step inside and set his things down on the coffee table.

"You have no faith in me?" He asked innocently, picking up what revealed to be sparkling grape juice.

Evan snorted, "Okay, faith restored. Er, did you want me to... t-take your coat?"

Connor shrugged off the trench coat with ease. "Nah, you're just gonna steal it later," he teased him, before looking at the kitchen. "Besides, I know where to put it. It looks like you've got something cooking."

"I need to stir my Mac and Cheese!" Evan fretted, running into the kitchen, leaving behind a laughing Connor.

He gave the pot a quirk stir, watching a few remains of butter slip around inside. He set the wooden spoon down, and felt a pair of arms wrap around his upper chest and a chin rest itself on his head.

"Um. Can you m-move your arms?" Evan grabbed his forearms gently, and pulled them down.

"Hmm? Oh yeah, sorry," Connor realized his binder was off in that moment, so he slid his arms down to his waist to hold him there loosely and gently. He dropped his head to Evan's shoulder. "That looks good."

"It's just cheese and noodles," Evan giggled, rolling his eyes.

"They're good cheesy noodles," he muttered begrudgingly, nestling his face into the crook of Evan's neck.

The two stayed like that, happily finishing up the Mac and Cheese, before putting them into bowls, and piled onto the couch to eat. Evan had to resist the urge to climb onto Connor's lap, tackle him on the couch, or anything because they were just starting to eat, and he had to have a little self control. So, he settled Connor's legs on his lap as they began to talk about everything and nothing.

"My big shot cousin was there, making a big deal about his business, and how much money he was making, which lead to the 'You see Connor, you can be like your cousin Jack over there' talk with Larry. He isn't thrilled about the fact I'm getting a tattoo," Connor explained in between bites.

Evan was eating a little slow, as he didn't want to eat too fast. "Um— what tattoo did you w-wanna get?"

"A semi colon on my wrist," Connor gestured to his right wrist. "It means that at one point I wanted to end my life, but I kept going."

Evan couldn't help but smile. "You're so strong."

"You are too," Connor punched his arm lightly, in a playful manner. "You've been on testosterone for like— a year now, you're binding, hell, it must've been hard coming out to your mom."

He laughed lightly. "Well, I'd ask to go to the men's clothing in the mall, and if she'd ask why, I'd just say 'oh, their jeans actually have pockets'. Then she'd laugh and let me go, but I think she saw through that."

Connor snorted, "I think I love you even more just from that. Anyways, you want some turkey sandwiches? I brought like, four."

"Um, yes, because it wouldn't be Thanksgiving without a turkey," he grinned, opening up the container and pulled one out.

Connor opened the sparkling grape juice, and poured it into the cups Evan had grabbed. "And pretending we can drink by using special cups and bottles."

Evan took his cup once he was done. "It makes me feel fancy," he said with a laugh, before taking a sip.

"When's your mom getting home?" Connor opened another container that contained biscuits and a few pieces of apple pie.

"Late tonight. We're celebrating tomorrow, didn't I tell you that?" Evan grabbed a biscuit.

"Well you did, and today I realized you were all by yourself. Didn't want to deal with my uptight relatives, and didn't want you being all lonely. It's a win-win," the latter shrugged. "Anyways, when'd you wanna open your present?"

"After we're done eating," Evan swallowed. "This stuff you brought is too good."

The two young boys continued to eat and chat away happy, and at one point, Evan had grabbed Connor's trench coat, and had it draped around his shoulders happy. Connor snuck a few photos of him with the oversized coat on as payback.

"Okay, open it," Evan set Connor's gift in his lap, excited for the other,

"I get to go first?" Connor began taking off the wrapping. "Isn't this your tradition? And your house?"

"Well you're the guest, so you go first," Evan responded, smiling.

With the wrapping off, Connor carefully undid the box lid and looked inside. Within the box was a purple beanie, a sketchbook, and some colored pencils.

"Ev... this is so sweet," Connor gushed, and gave him a big kiss on the cheek. "Thank you..." He was blushing slightly.

Evan was red from the small sign of affection. "Oh um, it wasn't a problem." He replied, watching as Connor set a box on his lap next.

Being very delicate, he removed the wrapping paper, and looked at what was inside. There was a dark green sweater, a scented candle that smelt like candy canes, and a rather adorable looking T-Rex plushie.

Evan set the box beside him, and was about to thank him, when Connor held his hand out, and handed him the envelope.

"Read it first," he'd said ever so softly.

Evan couldn't help but oblige, curious as to what it was Connor obviously wanted him to see. He peeled open the lid as neatly as he could (which wasn't that neat) and pulled out a card.

Connor had drawn a cartoon turkey on the front, with the words "Happy Turkey Day to not just my boyfriend, but to my best friend". When he opened to the inside, there was a small stack of money and a large margin on the left side. "Evan, I know you've been working really hard on getting money for your top surgery, but with Hanukkah coming up, I thought you'd need a little boost. I love you, and I hope it helps.- Connor". The stack had fifty dollars, which was held in place with a rubber band.

"I know you wanted to do this by yourself, but you've... you've done a lot for me, and you deserve this," Connor twisted his ring, and smiled.

"It's just enough! Thank you!" Evan enthusiastically threw his arms around him, holding him close.

Connor chuckled, hugging him back. "You're welcome, Ev.."

And when Heidi saw Evan the next time, well, it was the happiest he'd ever been.

#dear evan hansen #evan hansen #connor murphy #deh #treebros #connor #evan #convan #transgender character #trans evan #thanksgiving

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the-star-knight · 4 years

Text

Tales of A Star

Summary: A retelling of the show through Star’s eyes

Rated: T+

Chapter 1 - Aftermath of Before Ever After (Origins)

Word Count: 2,150

Author’s Note: I’ve tried to put Star’s start in a post series timing but it didn’t feel right, so instead i just jabbed her in the original show. Nothing major changes, think of it as more layers in the story. Also it’s through Star’s perspective so I try not to repeat anything that is unnecessary.

Next Chapter ▶︎

I often think about how it is to live a normal life. You know, without having death breathing down your neck all the time or having the responsibility of being “the chosen one”.

Having a normal life sounds nice. Not having that stress about thinking about what crazy thing that will get you almost killed today. I envy people who don't ever have to think that.

Anyways, I awoke really early that morning. The sun barely rose above the horizon. I had to make sure I got back in time before my parents got up.

I went down toward the royal stables. There was a pretty young black mare. She has a white marking on her forehead.

"Hey there, Luna," I patted her head. I call her Luna because of her white marking. It sort of resembles the shape of the moon. Okay, more like a wobbly moon.

I pulled out an apple from my bag and gave it to her. She quickly ate it and neighed in happiness. I pulled out another apple from my bag and ate it myself. I didn't have time to prepare anything for myself since I planned to go beyond Corona borders.

I saddled Luna up. "Are you ready?"

She neighed and kicked her hooves in the air in delight.

"I'll take that as a yes," I said. I got on her back and we rode off.

Horseback riding is one of my favorite things in the world. The wind in your hair and the early morning air smelled crisp. We rode through the town square and the bridge, and we passed a village. The buildings slowly disappeared and more and more trees came into view.

Eventually, we approached the Corona Wall. I looked for a way to cross over.

I saw an archway in the wall that we could cross. Unfortunately, it was guarded.

"Hold it!" One of the guards said as we approached. "What is your business?"

"Um…" I tried looking for an excuse.

"Quickly!" Another guard soldier came in panting. "We require backup! A fugitive has been spotted!"

“What? I thought they were all captured yesterday,” the soldier grumbled.

"Look like not all of them! Come on, move it!"

"You, um...stay here!" The guard said. "We will be right back!"

And with that they ran off.

I stood there for a couple of moments to see if they'd come back, but they didn't. Well, that was too convenient.

We continue to pass Corona borders and the wilderness spreads far and wide. It felt like the trees and hills stretched forever.

Eventually we stopped near a bridge. However, the bridge wasn't fit for crossing. It was simply gone. You can see the remains of where the bridge used to be. There was no way getting to the other side

"Weird, I could've sworn the last time we were around here the bridge was still intact,” I said. “Come on, let’s find another way to cross.”

We rode downstream until we hit an easier way to cross. We crossed along a shallow river.

Now, I don't know why but I could feel something was pulling me towards a direction. You can call me crazy all you want but it felt like someone or something was calling me.

As we approached a cliff, I realized that more of these black rocks were appearing. I've seen them sprout every once in a while but only a couple, but these rocks were everywhere. They were tall and sharp. I looked at my reflection at one of them. My braided hair was a mess, with hair strands sticking out all over the place. This is what I get for being in a rush this morning.

These rocks were taller than me, even though I'm not that tall too begin with, but we won't get to that.

Then, I saw something I would have never imagined to see in person: the place where the Sundrop flower was found.

There was a stone lying at the edge of the cliff. It had engravings on it and a small picture of the Sundrop flower.

I couldn't believe it. There it is! The flower that saved the queen and the princess!

Although I was filled with amazement, something else caught my eye.

Something shined on the ground. A gemstone. It looked like a diamond but it was more shiny than any diamond I've ever seen and it seemed to be almost…glowing? I picked it up and put it away in my pocket.

Luna and I decided to rest here and admire the view. I sat and leaned back. Out there was the vast beautiful, blue sea. I closed my eyes and smelled the salt in the air. I heard the waves crash against the cliffs.

I smiled.

It was nice and peaceful. Unlike back at the castle where everything has been hectic especially for the princesses coronation yesterday. My mom is one of the queen’s handmaidens, so she heard all about the crazy thing that happened. Also, you know the news here travels fast with the handmaidens.

Lately things have been weirder than ever. My mom told all of my family what happened yesterday at the castle over dinner. Luckily, my mom wasn’t there when Lady Caine tried to take prisoners. My dad was pretty shaken up by what would've happened if Lady Caine did get her way. Seeing my dad get worried is a face that is hard to look at.

"Oh my gosh! We have to get back!!" I quickly got myself up and got on Luna. "Sorry, girl. I know we didn't stay too long, but we have to get back before my dad finds out."

We rode back as quickly as fast we could.

When we reached the stables, I already found my dad there. But before I could hide, he already saw me.

"Star!" My dad didn't sound exactly thrilled.

"Um...hola, papá!" I said nervously.

"Star, what did we talk about your morning rides with Luna?"

"Um...to not be late for my morning chores?" I try to put on a fake innocent smile.

My dad gave me a look and simply sighed. “You do know that I don’t mind you riding off but you have to at least be on time for your morning chores. It worries me when you are not back on time.”

“Dad, I’m fifteen! I can handle this,” I said. “Plus, the amount of royal guards have practically doubled overnight because of yesterday's incident at that castle.”

"I know," he sighed. "But, it’s still concerning."

I sighed, he was right. It wasn't right for me to get upset over my dad getting worried. "Sorry, dad."

After yesterday, I can only imagine how other Coronans might feel. Corona has been safe for the most part but after yesterday, I'm not so sure how safe Corona is anymore.

"Come on, ojitos, these stables aren't going to clean themselves," my dad said.

Ugh, I always disliked how my dad called me by my eyes. It's shortened for ojitos míos. Yes, I am his only child that has taken after his brown eyes, although having an entire nickname by my eyes is pretty weird since it's basically calling me eyes. Like who would call anyone eyes?

I simply sighed and grabbed a pitchfork and began to unload the hay into the stables.

My dad is the royal stable keeper. Everyone who works in the stables has to listen to him. There are a couple of people that work here, but they are quite a bit older than me. Aside from being the youngest at 15, I’m also pretty much the only girl working here. This makes it a lot harder for me to make friends and my anxiety doesn’t do me any favors either. I’ve always kind of felt out of place, you know?

All throughout the day I couldn’t stop thinking about what I saw and found that morning. The Sundrop flower and that weird gemstone. The gemstone was so unnaturally bright. Maybe I could make a nice piece of jewelry. Oh yes! That's a good idea.

Then I couldn’t stop envisioning how the necklace would look like. It's like an image that was already engraved in my head.

Later that day, I went home and drew the image of the jewelry I had stuck in my head. I pulled out a piece of paper and a pencil. I try to derail from that image to see if I could find a better design I liked. However, whatever ideas I had I seem to go back to that image. It kind of resembles some sort of symbol.

I began to think about what jewelry I should make the gem out of.

Maybe earrings? Nah, there's only one gem. Hm...maybe a bracelet? I like it but not sure if that's what I want. What about…oh! A necklace!

When I was finally done with drawing what the necklace would look like, I went to the one person who could help me out.

"Hey, Xavier!" I greeted him as I entered his workshop. Xavier is Corona's blacksmith. He also knows a bunch of cool magic stuff.

"Ah, hello Star. How may I help you?" Xavier said.

"Um, hi Xavier! I was wondering if you could help me," I pulled out my paper with the necklace design on it, "with making this necklace,"

It was pretty embarrassing showing him my design. I’ve seen Rapunzel’s amazing intricate designs for dresses and pretty much anything you can imagine. My design was pretty simple, nothing too elaborate.

I handed the paper to Xavier.

“Oh, this is very nice, Star,” Xavier said. “Over here.”

Xavier walked over to a table and Star followed.

“Here,” I pulled out the weird gem from my bag and handed the gem to Xavier.

“Ah, what an interesting gem,” Xavier observed the gem. “Never seen anything like it.”

Neither have I, I thought.

“Silver metal would be an excellent choice.”

I let Xavier do all the metal work, since I didn't know a single thing about metalworking.

Xavier put the gem on the charm. "Ah, there we go. It is all yours, Star."

He handed the necklace to me.

“Thanks, Xavier. Look great!”

“Anytime.”

I put the necklace on and I headed back home.

At the dinner table my mother was still talking about the crazy thing that happened during the princess’s coronation. Apparently she wasn't done talking about it yesterday.

“So, Ethel told me how Lady Caine took prisoners, including the king,” my mom told us as she laid the plates on the table. “Lo puedes creer, Santiago?”

My dad sat down, “Well, it’s definitely hard to believe, Julianna.”

“And then, princess Rapunzel takes off her wig only to see that her long hair is back."

"De verdad?"

"Yes, it's like her hair practically grew overnight!"

"Oh, i wanna see Rapunzel’s long hair!" one of my sisters jumped up in excitement.

"I hear that her hair is like seventy feet long!" My other sister said. "I wonder how long it takes her to brush it."

"Too long probably," I added. I took a bite of my dinner. I wondered how Rapunzel handled the whole magic hair thing coming back.

"Rapunzel then," my mom continued, "starts fighting Lady Caine and the rest of the criminals. Eugene and Cassandra stepped in to help. Fortunately, everything turned out okay. The criminals were captured and the people that were taken were set free."

Later, I crawled into bed and my mother came in. She kissed my sisters on their forehead. My mom approached me and kissed me on the forehead as well.

I took off my new and put on the nightstand next to my bed.

"Oh, what is that?" she pointed to my necklace.

"A necklace. I found a gem and I wanted to make a necklace. With the help of Xavier, we made this."

"It looks very pretty."

My mom got up and walked towards the door.

"Buenas noches, mis amores." she closed the door slowly behind her.

I dreamt.

I stood in an empty void. There were memories floating in front of me. They were close enough to tell that they weren't mine, but they were far enough where I couldn't quite grasp it. Vague shapes and blurred out faces, I couldn't really make out any of them. Whatever these memories were, they seemed important.

I awoke in confusion.

That hasn't happened to me before, or to anyone, as a matter of fact. I couldn’t help but to feel that those memories were only pieces of something bigger. Something way bigger.

#tangled #tangled the series #tangled fanfiction #the star knight #the star knight au #my writing #star #my ocs #tales of a star

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ashitpos-t · 4 years

Text

I’ve Got You Under My Skin

Chapter 4 of my Husk x Fem!Reader on my AO3 account.

CW: Murder, Suggestive Themes, and Alcohol

(original chapter notes) This chapter has a song sung entirely in Scotts gaelic, I'll leave a translation at the end of the chapter, and I recommend you listen to the original! http://www.canasg.com/zgaol.shtml also!! to keep the integrity of the song, all parts where reader sings will be written in bold.

You all finished your meal relatively quickly, Alastor sporting a grin of fulfillment on his gray skin.

"Sheesh," Charlie spoke, "that was really good, Al," he smiled even wider, "I'm glad you think so!"

Vaggie merely huffed, communicating she felt the same, while Angel and Niffty nodded along in agreement, both a bit more enthusiastic than the moth demon. You and Husk on the other hand, were more like Vaggie, neither of you liked the deer demon much, and more or less, had little to no trust for him, all for very good reasons, too.

"Well," Angel started, pushing away from the table to stand, fixing his hair, "I'm gonna split, see ya" he finished, trotting away presumably to his room.

Husk already started for the bar, and Niffty had begun to put away the dishes, while Alastor snapped away, seemingly to his room, or something of the other.

You merely waved at Charlie and Vaggie, mouthing a small goodnight before heading to your room as well for a good nights sleep, hell knew you needed it.

---

You sighed into your palm, applying a think layer of mascara to your lashes, fluttering them when you finished, slightly adjusting your freshly curled hair with your hand. Smiling, you brushed lip gloss onto your lips, quickly popping them together to set the look.

You never much liked prettying yourself up for work, but thankfully, today was a more, chill, day. You only had to do minimal makeup, and put on semi formal wear, it's not like the guys cared much, if anything, they encouraged it, they thought it made you sing better, or something like that. Honestly, you didn't care much either way, all you knew was that you wanted the money, and whatever they wanted, you complied with, and didn't exactly have a second thought about it, they were good people after all.

Grabbing a hairband, you tied your hair up into a bun, admiring you semi formal wear on your body through the vanity's mirror, softly smoothing down your black pencil skirt when your hair was done up. You smiled, gripping the collar of your white button down shirt and laying it flat before swiftly checking the time on your hell phone, noting you should leave in a little under an hour.

With little determination, you set out of your room, locking the door behind you, and slipping into the elevator, eager on eating some kind of breakfast before going to the studio, not too keen on singing in an empty stomach. You clicked the elevator's lobby button with your manicured nails, feeling the jolt, before the descent of the boxy machine to the floors below.

With a snap, you walked through the jittery doors when you met your destination, swiftly being met with the arrays of reds and blacks of the hotel, a stark contrast to your white and gold room, a few quick blinks of your eyes were needed to adjust to the bright colors. You glanced around the room, noting that you were the only demon awake, you smiled at the solitude, a bit happy that you didn't really have to interact with anyone, especially in the early hours of the morning.

As your feet carried you with swift steps, you trotted over to the fridge, squatting down to grab a red apple from one of the bins, chomping right into it for a speedy breakfast.

---

The door opened with little effort from your finger tips, the old door squeaking to an open as you blinked into the dimly lit studio, immediately spotting your two agents, their faces brightening when they saw you, right on time, as always.

"y/n, y/n!" the reddish imp demon greeted you, walking over to your tall form with arms outstretched, you chuckled, embracing him, "yer right on time! Alright, yer singin dat' marry ban song er whateva?"

You nodded at him, a weak smile on your face, "uh, thats close enough."

He smiled up at you, trotting over to his stool at the mixing board, slapping a big chunky pair of headphones onto his ears, adjusting his horns to fit.

The short imp demon's name was Gus, he had met you near the start of your career in hell, saw you in one of your earlier gigs and thought you had potential, ever since then you had been working with him and his new record label. The other demon was already at their station, they simply nodded at you when you walked in, not caring much for greetings. Their name was August, and being an owl demon, they liked the dimly lit studio rather than a brightly lit one, you had met them shortly after you met Gus.

You smiled at the two of them, walking with a small pep in your step as you opened the door to the foam lined walls, sliding a specialized headset for your animal like ears onto your head.

Looking over at the two demons, Gus gave you a thumbs up, a rusty smile lining his lips as he adjusted a few notches on the board in front of him.

You swallowed due to nervousness, looking over to the microphone in front of you, you cleared your throat, and prepared to let your heart out.

Gaol mo chrìdh-sa Màiri Bhàn,

Màiri bhòidheach, sgeul mo dhàin;

'S i mo ghaol-sa Màiri Bhàn,

'S tha mi 'dol ga pòsadh.

You began, singing softly into the microphone.

Thuit mi ann an gaol a-raoir,

Tha mo chrìdh-sa shuas air beinn,

Màiri Bhàn rim' thaobh a'seinn,

'S tha mi 'dol ga pòsadh.

Your voice quickened and strengthened, your eyes fluttering to a close as you continued.

Cuailean òir is suilean tlàth,

Mala chaol is gruaidh an àigh,

Beul as binne sheinneas dàn,

'S tha mi 'dol ga pòsadh

You nearly listened to rest of the chorus repeating your words as you sung, a smile landing on your features before you gripped the microphone, adjusting your hold carefully.

'S ann aig ceilidh aig a' Mhòd

Fhuair mi eòlas air an òigh —

'S ise choisinn am bonn òir,

'S tha mi 'dol ga pòsadh.

Taking a deep breath in, you glanced to the boys, seeing giddy smiles on their faces at your performance.

Bidh mo ghaol do Màiri Bhàn

Dìleas, dùrachdach gu bràth;

Seinnidh sinn da chèil' ar gràdh,

'S tha mi 'dol ga pòsadh.

Releasing the breath you had been holding, you were interrupted with Gus throwing himself onto your stool to hug you, nearly sending you flying.

"Jesus girl! Why'd ya never tell me you can sing that good in Scottish?" he jokingly questioned, adjusting his trucker hat atop his head.

While taking your headset off, you replied, "I just never thought it'd be all that good," you shook your head, "but it sounds like I should be singing like that more," you hummed, a grin on your face.

The imp curtly nodded to you, before skidding his way back into his old chair, a smile on his face as he urged you to your next song, August doing the same.

You smiled at the two of them, adjusting yourself onto the seat and the headphones you had just taken off.

---

"Hey Gus?" you mumbled through a full mouth of food.

"uh, yeah?" he replied, taking a gulp of water just after.

You took another bite of the roast beef sandwich in your hands, "why do you always bring us sandwiches?"

"well ya see-"

August cut him off, "Better question! Why do y'all always eat with yer mouths full! It's frankly digustin'!" The owl demon enthused, gesturing to the two of you.

You and Gus stared at them for a moment, before bursting into a fit of laughter, August quickly following along.

The three of you eventually quieted, Gus piping up after he finished his lunch, "I just thought you guys would like a home made lunch," he seemed a bit chipper, obvious he had begun to think it would cheer you all up, especially so if you considered where the lot of you lived.

You flashed him a genuine smile, your eyes alone telling him how grateful you were. The three of you were never that close, and you had only just started recording songs to be put on live radio, before you got more serious, the two of them merely helped you to plan gigs out at bars.

You quickly said your goodbyes to your agents just before you took your leave, and just after you finished recording your final song. Singing was one of your favorite things to do in the entirety of hell, but it also killed your voice, and the best thing you could do for a shot throat, would be to relax with a couple of cold beers. You didn't even hesitate to lick your lips at the thought of some fresh alcohol, or some fast food, really, anything would do just about now.

Snapping a look to your hellphone, you take a note of the time, making your brisk walk back to the hotel ever more eager, hell's sunset telling you the need of arriving as soon as possible, lest you stay in the dark for long.

The clack of your shoes against the grime of the worn sidewalk felt hurried and rushed, and the sense of acute fear drenched your shoulders and gut, but that may have been due to the fact you had skipped dinner, and breakfast to some account.

A sigh wavered just in the pit of your throat, and only left when you had finally reached the hotel's door step, and with a swing of the handle, you swiftly stepped in, delighted to see the sparseness of the lobby, just in time for-

"Thank Satan!" a familiar voice exclaimed, a pair of arms wrapped around your waist that accompanied the voice, and a quick look down to see platinum blonde hair told you all you needed to know.

A hesitant hand laid on her head, and a weak smile crossed your lips, "Oh, Charlie," your voice wavered and croaked, singing always did a number on you.

"Where in all of hell were you?" she ripped her head from your chest, her brows knit into a feigned expression of anger, "and what happened to your voice?" she cooed, features softening.

You resisted the reaction of growing cold and rigid to the girl, instead, you forced a smile onto your lips, "I was just at my job," you pet her hair, "nothing more."

Her face told you she was unconvinced, but never wanting to pry, she decided against on pushing further, instead gesturing to the kitchen, "Well, you did miss dinner, why don't you go get your plate? I made sure to set one aside for you." she smiled.

You returned the gesture and said a quick thank you, trotting over to the kitchen just after Charlie had started to make her way up stairs and to her own room for the night. Arriving in the kitchen, you scanned the area, quickly spotting a saran wrapped plate of broccoli, steak, and mashed potatoes, all together seeming like a relatively tame meal. You picked it and its utensils up happily, slyly looking over your shoulder to see the bartender patiently waiting at his post, an expression you couldn't quite decipher resting on his fur.

Your upturned grin settled a bit, was he lonely? Or was he just tired, did he want company? You glanced out the window, noting the bustle of cars, and the dimmed, hellish, night sky. You sighed, deciding to sit with him as you ate, it's not like you really wanted to sit anywhere else anyway.

With a grin, you wandered over to the bar, quickly catching Husk's attention with the click of your shoes and the aroma of food, your wide, sharp grin reeling him in the most, this making itself evident in his almost bored tone.

"Well now," he stares at your food, then your face, "aren't we in a chipper mood today?" his paw is scrunched on his cheek in order to hold his head up.

You give him a nod while taking a seat on a stool, setting the meal down just before you.

Stabbing your fork into the steak, you cut a piece off, before quickly eating it in one bite, "So," you say while cutting up your next mouthful, "how was your day?"

He grunts, shrugging his shoulders a bit, "same as ever, nothing new," he looks off into the hotel, your grin quickly wipes off your face at the sight of his somber mood, but you make haste with taking another bite before he can notice.

You eat in silence for a moment, before deciding to make some kind of conversation by asking for a drink, "can I have a beer?" you say through a mouthful, eyeing the liquor in his hand, three empty bottles just beside it, you frown.

He sighs, grabbing a beer can from a cooler to pass to you, "how long have you been drinking?" you say, freezing him in place, the question obviously striking a cord, and guilt immediately pools in your gut.

He laughs an uncomfortable laugh, eyes veering down to his bottle, "as long as I can remember," his eyes shoot to yours, genuine curiosity painted on his features, "and what about you?"

You stiffen, not expecting the question either, a nervous laugh escapes your mouth while you respond with a hoarse, "It's the same for me."

He curtly nods, taking a long swig of his booze as the two of you sit in a somber silence, both of your eyes drawing to the floor, only catching each others gaze for a moment.

"uh," you laugh, "could you turn the radio on? I don't have a preference, whatever you'd like is fine."

complying with your request, he shuffles to the other end of the bar, messing with a few nobs and switches of the radio before settling on late 60's early 70's music, the volume low and smooth. You smile at the slow music, it reminded you of a sweet time in hell.

Taking a long gulp of the can, you finish, "could you get me another one of these?" you grin, glancing at the demon's face before eyeing your empty booze, "I love this music," you mutter, trailing the rim of the can with your finger.

If you weren't mistaken, you could've sworn you saw that cat grin as he turned his back to you, "I do too, reminds me of when I was alive," your smile only grows at his reply.

When he turns to face you with your drink, hes shining a real, genuine smile, a smile that would've set your face on fire if you weren't sober. You laugh, your cheeks heating up to join your growing embarrassment. You didn't expect to see the man smile, ever.

Husk laughs, handing you the beer you had asked for, cracking open one for himself as did you.

The two of you sit in silence for what seems like a hour, but it isn't uncomfortable or weird, it's nice, it's calm, and it's easy to see that with the faint smiles on each of your faces. You sigh into your drink, noticing that the bottle is now empty, and truth be told, you were a little disappointed it was.

You stand up abruptly, startling the half asleep bartender, "Husk," he looks up to you, a grunt in the back of his throat, "thanks for humoring me," you smile, only getting a small nod in return.

"Goodnight, Husk," you mutter, your throat paining you to speak, "goodnight," he replies, a faint smile on his lips.

Turning around, you begin to trot to the kitchen and set your plate into the sink, giving it a good scrub before walking back to your room, content in being able to finally talk to someone like an equal, like someone that could actually understand you, like a friend.

Translation of song here ---

The love of my heart, fair-haired Mairi, Beautiful Mairi, the story of my song; She is my true love, fair-haired Mairi, And I am going to marry her. I fell in love last night, My very heart is up on a mountain, Fair-haired Mairi beside me, singing, And I am going to marry her. Golden locks and gentle eyes, Narrow eyebrow and merry cheek, Sweetest mouth to sing a song, And I am going to marry her. It was at a ceilidh at the Mod I became aware of the young woman — It was she that won the gold medal And I am going to marry her. My love for fair-haired Mairi will be Faithful, sincere for ever; Together we will sing our love, And I am going to marry her.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic #hazbin hotel husk #husk #husk x reader #x reader #reader insert #fem!reader #alastor #vaggie #CHARLIE MAGNE #longfic #ongoing #ao3

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girlinthepictureframe · 5 years

Text

The Briefest Kiss Part 15

Early April 2019

“Miles!” Suki made her way through the busy club and smiled when she reached him. “Oh, it’s been too long, isn’t it?” She pecked his cheek, then pinched it playfully. “How are you?”

“I’m good,” said Miles, scooting to the side of the large velvet sofa in the back of the VIP area of the club, away from prying eyes and cameras, to make room for her. “How are you? I’ve heard you’re constantly jetting back and forth these days! Life is good, then?”

“Life is amazing,” she smiled. “Are you single at the moment?” The smile made way for a sneaky grin. “I gotta ask ‘cause I’m here with this friend of mine and she’s very into The Beatles. Also, she looks a bit like me, so she’s totally your type!”

He laughed. “Appreciate that, but…it’s the wrong time for that.”

She sat closer to him. “Why? Are you seeing anybody? Do I know her?”

“There's not…exactly...” He chuckled at himself. Explaining it felt rather ridiculous. “A long story. I don’t want to bore you with that.”

“Bore me good,” smirked Suki, put her purse on the floor, crossed her legs and grabbed the drink from his hand. “Bore me real good, darling!”

He loved that there was no lingering awkwardness between them. For as long as they had dated, years ago, things had been good. And when things had stopped being good, they had parted as genuine friends. Which mattered a lot to him, for he had always admired and appreciated her view of the world and her fearless approach to life.

She gave him a pointed look. “Start talking. I want to know.”

“There’s a somebody, alright. And I’m in love.”

“So you do have a somebody! Who is it?”

“It’s a somebody that’s not mine. He doesn’t feel the same.”

“How dare he?” she asked, offended on his behalf. “Do I know him?” He swallowed and she smiled. “Oh, I know him! Who is it? A model? A musician? An actor?”

“You’re not surprised that it’s a guy?”

“No? Why should I be? It’s 2019, Miles. Love whomever. But nice way of changing the topic. Come on, who is it?”

The waiter stopped by and he grabbed another drink from the tray when she leaned in and whispered, “is it Alex?”

Miles almost dropped the glass.

Suki giggled. “Damn, I’m good.” She pulled out her phone and started texting. A moment later, the phone vibrated. She giggled louder.

“What are you doing right now?”

“Telling Alexa that she owes me money!”  “What? Why?” He was lost. Completely.

“We made a bet years ago! I said you would fall first and she said he would fall first. You did fall first, right?” She eyed him skeptically. “I got my eyes on a nice pair of very expensive suede boots. Be honest here!”

“Told you,” assured Miles. “He’s not into me.”

“How would you know, though?”

  “I just do!” he said.

She gnawed on her bottom lip. Unconvinced. “You’re a guy. Guys and love. That’s a whole other thing. Let me demonstrate.” She turned towards him, cupped his face and looked deeply into his eyes. “I love you.” Then she pressed a quick kiss on his lips.

Miles leaned back a bit, suddenly uncomfortable. “Um…”

She burst out laughing. “See?” 

He shook his head. No, he was too stunned, too confused, to see.

“You’re a guy. You hear something, you believe it. The bunch of like your lives simple like that. But feelings are complicated.” She linked her arm with his and tipped their glasses together. “I’ve met Alex. I’ve seen you with him. The two of you…you’re two halves of a whole. Everyone always says so.”

“Alex and I…there’s a certain kind of attraction,” allowed Miles. “I won’t deny that. And something might have happened, but,” he added quickly, seeing her wide eyes, “I won’t spill anymore details! However, he and I are friends.”

“That’s not a reason not to be with somebody when you love him.” She winked at him. “You are I were friends.”

She was cornering him and he didn’t like that. “But—”

“No but. Think about it, Miles. Whatever it is that you and he have done, would you have done it with a stranger? Would it have felt the same?”

“No,” he admitted, “but I don’t deny that I’m in love with him.”

“Do you think he would have done it with a stranger? Would he have done, whatever he has done, without a certain kind of feeling for you?”

Would he? Miles was struck. It hadn’t been a simple kind of fuck. He’d had those in his life. He knew those felt different. The kind of thing he had experienced with Alex was different. It was haunting. It still lingered on his body, like a scent one couldn't shrug. It was one of the reasons it left him longing for more of it. It had been the kind of thing that showed you that life had something else, something more to offer – something you never even knew existed.

“You should tell him.”

“That I’m in love with him? I can’t, Suki. How selfish would that be? I unburden my heart and place all that weight on his? Besides,” confessed Miles. “Even if he shared those feelings, it wouldn't change anything. We would never work out. I mean, you’re the one who told me I’m not made for the forever-kind-of-love.”

She rolled his eyes. “We had just broken up, Miles. I was hurt. I said something I shouldn’t have said. I also said that you had the worst style ever and then I went and stole half of your closet! So what if you try and fail?”

“If we fail, I’ll lose him,” said Miles.

Suki shook her head. “I wish you weren't this pessimistic. We need another drink. Let’s party that gloominess out of you!”

Present Day

May 2019

Miles checked his phone. Again. When he had told Alex not to call him, he hadn’t really foreseen that he’d take that literally. Radio silence, week three. He tossed the pencil across the room, sighed heavily and leaned back on the cold floor of his London apartment. Surrounded by his acoustic, two electrics, an amp, a notepad and a withering biology book, Miles felt cornered. Every item in his vicinity was telling him to express his feelings, to write it down, to sing it out or to just let go, but the words refused to come to him today. They had abandoned him, along with his good mood, his interest in being sociable and every other reason to leave the apartment and enjoy life.

Instead, here he was, on the floor of a dimly lit room that was filled with memories of a life that used to be his and which he might never regain. Okay, fine. Maybe he was a bit dramatic. Melodramatic, even. But he was lovesick! He had a right to be pathetic and miserable! He checked the phone again.

Still nothing! “Argh!”

Miles sat up, grabbed the notepad and tried anew. Going through the scribbled remains of what once had been good ideas but now felt like mere nonsense, he tried to spot the bits that were worth holding onto. A few words here and there, maybe even half a stanza. Where was the damn pencil? He stretched, reached it and flipped through the notepad for an empty page, only to roll his eyes hard.

It was an old notepad he’d taken from Alex weeks ago, after having had to wait around for him in his childhood room. Only Alex had a habit of randomly choosing pages to write down on. A normal person would start at the beginning, then work his way through it page by page. Not Alex. And now Miles had to flip through page after page on the hunt for a blank one. He could take one of his one pads, but that would require getting off the floor, walking towards the shelf, pulling one out…all in all, it was just too much work.

Flip. Flip. Flip. Perfect! Blank pa—

Miles flipped back to the one before that.

His pulse began to drum. His heart-rate sped up.

“Dear Miles…”

The letter that Alex had mentioned back on New Year’s Eve. Here it was. In his hands. Available. He quickly shut the notepad and shoved it away from him. He stared at it from a distance as it laid on the floor, taunting him. Answers. In his reach. Right there, in front of him. But should he read the letter? Wasn’t it a bit like reading a trusted friend’s diary? Alex had told him that some of the letters were too raw, too honest. To read them without Alex’s consent would be awful, wouldn’t it?

Miles’ foot began to wiggle fast. He was fighting the urge to grab the notepad. What would Alex do? Would he read it, if roles were reversed? No. Or? The wiggling got stronger. Both feet were restless. He jumped up, began walk up and down the living room. Should he call Alex? Should he ask for permission? Alex wouldn’t give it to him, else he would have sent him the letter!

But he had mentioned the letters to him, which could mean that, maybe, subconsciously, he did want him to know what was inside. Right? “Oooh,” he whined, frustrated with this conundrum. He came to a stop in front of the item in question, tapped it with the tip of his foot. It looked so innocent and harmless. But it wasn’t. It was a ticking time bomb! A trap! It was the apple that would get him kicked out out of paradise.

“I’m going to hell for this!” Miles dropped to his knees, flipped to the page and began reading.

“Dear Miles, 

Speaking my mind, as becomes clearer to me day by day, is, for now, entirely unmanageable. As I have told you last fall, I could fill a series of albums with the amount of truths I’d like to share with you. But it’s not the notion of being honest that makes me avoid doing so, it’s the part that follows. I quite fear for your reaction. We’ve always been brutally honest with each other and there’s never been a moment in which I’ve regretted it. Until now, though, there has never been a truth as big as the one which is currently burdening my shoulders. I’m in love with you. And not just a little bit. Imagine that. I want to be your friend, but in your presence my heart’s desires overpower my mind’s demands. I want you to trust me with your friendship, but how can I ask that of you when I don’t trust my own self to keep a platonic distance towards you? I miss our nearness, our comfortable proximity, I miss the warmth I received in your arms when you held me as your friend, but how do I return into your friendly embrace when the longing for a different heat makes me seek out your arms in an utterly carnal manner? These are the questions I need to find answers to before I can figure out how to make amends for the mess I’ve created. I hope that yo—”

“He’s in love with me,” whispered Miles in utter disbelief. “How is that possible?” He couldn’t form a clear thought. Instead, all they had ever done, every moment they had ever shared from the very second they had met flooded his head all at once. Images of them holding each other close. Recollections of conversations they had shared – deeply personal ones, of topics he’d never discus with anyone else. Flashbacks of their time on stage together, lost in each other, while surrounded by hundreds and thousands.

Miles got up, went to grab his coat, a large paper bag with a backpack in it, his keys and then headed down to get a cab. It was too big of a statement, too massive a thing, to just read and believe. He needed to hear it from Alex. He needed to see Alex and hear him say it or else he wouldn’t believe it. This wasn’t the kind of thing one just accepted. This was something else, something bigger.

Only, when he finally reached Alex’s place, damn fucker didn’t open the door! Miles grumbled a rotten curse under his breath. “Alex, it’s me. Open up!”

“He isn’t here, Miles.”

Miles turned to find Alex’s neighbor standing in the doorway, an amused grin on her face. The woman was in her early eighties and at times mistook him for an old acquaintance of hers. “Where is he, Mrs. Finch?”

“Can’t tell you. Left with one of those really big suitcases last week. Haven’t seen him since.”

Facing away from the door, Miles leaned back against it. Exhausted. Angry. Restless. Impatient. Full of energy but completely drained all at once. Alex could be anywhere in the world right now. Could be in France, with Louise. Could be in bed with her right now. The very thought brought on a wave of nausea and he quickly pushed it away. He dug his phone out of his pocket and dialed Alex’s number, only to be told by a computer-generated voice that the person he was trying to call was temporarily unavailable. He bit his tongue from cursing again. He tried messaging him, but his phone let him know that his message couldn’t be delivered. “Fuck, Al. Where are you?”

He considered calling Alex’s parents but the fact that Al had his phone off and couldn’t be reached would needlessly worry them and that he didn’t want to do. He could call Louise, but what if Alex was indeed with her? He couldn’t bear the idea, least of all the confirmation of that. Miles took the big paper bag. “Mrs. Finch, may I ask a favor of you? Would you be so kind to give this to Alex once he returns? If I get a hold of him before you do, I’ll return and collect it.”

“Of course.” She sneaked a glance into the paper bag. “Is this his backpack?”

Well, thought Miles, hopefully it would become his. He nodded at her and smiled. “See you soon, Mrs. Finch. Thank you very much.”

---

“Open the fucking door, you double-standard-applying, never-doing-what-you-want-me-to-do, generous, sweet-talking-old-ladies bastard!”

Miles, who had just fallen asleep on the couch and was torn wether he may or may not be dreaming at the moment, all but stumbled towards the door and pulled it open and said the first thing that came to his hazy mind. “You really need to learn how to curse right.”

Alex stormed past him, roughly shoving the backpack into Miles’ arms. “I just came back from very long, very exhausting, extremely delayed flight from Los Angeles only to find my neighbor all but attack me in my hallway as I’m opening my door. She was telling me a really strange story about some tall guy in a brown coat who had dropped by earlier and was quite disturbed by the fact that I wasn’t at home because, apparently, you desperately wanted to return a backpack to me!”

Miles was still wiping the sleep from his eyes, only slowly realizing that Alex Turner, his Alex, the one who was supposedly more than a little in love with him, was actually standing in his apartment right now and he was wearing a leather jacket. The latter part Miles found a bit rude. It was just as rude that somebody who had spent so many supposedly awful hours on a plane was looking so fucking ravishing this late into the night! He became aware of the backpack in his arms and held it out to Alex. “Merry Christmas.”

Alex shot him a fierce, frightening glare. “Do you have any idea how tempted I am to punch you right now?”

When Alex didn’t take the backpack, Miles dropped it on the floor. “Very?”

“Don’t push it,” warned Alex, his voice rising. “You told me to leave you alone! You left that hotel room! And I get that I fucked up, okay? But you didn’t speak a word to me for weeks and out of bloody nowhere you drop by and leave that for me?”

“You weren’t home. I wanted you to have it,” said Miles.

“Now? Why today? Without any explanation?” Alex met Miles’ eyes, then frowned. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Miles looked away. Oh God, had he drooled? “Like what?”

“Like I’m a ghost or something.”

A flash of relief overcame him. “I’m not sure I’m really awake at the moment.” Miles walked back to the couch and sat down on the edge of it. Alex was here. Was Alex in love with him? How did one ask a question like that? Was it a yes or no question? Did it require eloquence? And where did he put that aspirin? “I could be dreaming right now.”

“You’re not,” assured Alex, unamused. “I’m more than happy to pinch you as proof!”

“Could you?”

“Miles! You’re not dreaming! Why would even think that? What’s so bloody good about this moment that you would want to dream about it? I’m not here to thank you for your gift! I’m pissed off right now and you know why!” He walked into the kitchen and returned with a bottle of water. Once he drank some, he placed it away, got rid of his jacket and sat down on a chair.

Miles was confused about it all. “You’re getting comfortable?” Did he intend to stay? Would this be a longer visit? “Are you staying?”

Alex scoffed. “Yes! I’m not done yelling at you! But it was long day and I’m tired. And jet-lagged. And hungry. Got anything good in your fridge or just the green stuff?”

Miles pinched his own arm. “Ow!”

“Bloody hell, Kane! What the fuck is wrong with you? Are you tripping on cold meds again? Is that a thing now?”

Shaking his head, Miles wondered if he’d ever snap out of his daze. It all felt so surreal. Alex Turner, who may or may not be in love with him, was in his apartment, irate at him for what Miles considered to be a very thoughtful gift, and he was also hungry. And even though Miles had a million questions he wanted to ask, all of which centered on the topic of ‘love’, the one thing he eventually did say was completely asinine. “I tried calling you today. Your phone was dead.”

“Well…” Alex seemed startled at the question, but then he looked at the floor, shrugging almost embarrassedly. “Threw it against the wall of that hotel room after you left. Decided to give up on phones altogether. They’re overrated anyway.”

“You…threw…” Miles started to laugh. The entire situation was simply too much. He was tired, confused, still shellshocked by Alex’s letter and now that he was actually sitting face to face with him, Miles was done for. It was either crying or laughing and laughing seemed the wiser, less awkward thing to do.

“You must be tripping right now,” concluded Alex, reached for the bottle of water on table next to him. And froze.

Miles noticed, saw what his friend’s eyes were focusing on and all laughter died.

“How did that get here?” Alex didn’t look at Miles. His eyes were firmly glued to the yellow notepad on the table. The visible page held Alex’s letter to Miles.

“I needed something to write when I visited you in Sheffield. I just grabbed one of your old ones from the shelf. I hadn’t noticed the letter until today.”

“You’ve read it, then.”

“Is it true, Al?” Miles couldn’t even read Alex’s feelings for he was so bloody somber and emotionless at the moment.

Alex stood up after a minute, began pacing the room. He was still avoiding Miles’ eyes.

“Tell me, is it true?!”

“You think I would joke about something like that?”

Alex’s disgust at the mere suggestion was visible. But Miles didn’t care. He needed to hear it from him. He needed to hear him say it and see him speak the words. To him, it was that big of a thing. “Say it, Alex. Just, please, fucking say it!” Miles was pleading.

“I wanted to say it when I came to that party,” Alex explained, staying as far away from Miles as the living room allowed it. “I wanted to tell you in the hotel. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about! I wanted to ask you how you felt about me, Miles. ‘Cause I needed to hear it from you! I had this idea that maybe you were— that maybe you felt something like that for me! But it’s so hard to say it loud. It’s so hard to ask when the answer can hurt so much!”

“What made you think that my answer would hurt you?” whispered Miles, feeling so close to everything and yet so far from it all.

Alex stopped and stared at the ceiling. “I saw the pictures of you and Suki and…”

Miles took a sharp breath. “That’s why you…”

“That’s why I asked about her and you. And that,” said Alex, swallowing hard, “is why I hadn’t broken up with Louise yet. I never loved her, Miles.” He sat back down, covering his face with his hands. “Taylor broke up with me because I’m an asshole. And she was right to do so. But when she did, she didn’t break my heart. She broke my head. She put this thought into my head that I was in love with you…”

Miles gasped when he heard the words rolling from Alex’s lips. He sat up straight, leaned forward, strained to hear every last letter Alex spoke.

“And it freaked me out,” admitted Alex quietly. “Not because it meant I was attracted to a man, but because I was attracted to you. To my best friend. To the one person I can’t do without. For a while, I denied it. I fought it. But it didn’t work, it got worse. Louise was my safety cushion. She stopped me from getting lost in my thoughts. And that day at the concert hall on the day we… I brought her along so I could hide behind her when you…when you were around. And when you weren’t there, she kept me from feeling lonely. I didn’t break up with her ‘cause I was afraid you weren’t in— you felt different about me.” Alex dropped his hands, looked at the floor and sighed. “Here’s the answer you’ve been waiting for since last fall: I walked out because I was afraid you’d wake up, look at me, and regret what we had done. I was afraid you’d be disgusted when…when all I wanted to do was crawl back into bed and do it all over again. If I had stayed, if I had seen just a flicker of remorse in your eyes, it would irreversibly broken my heart. And so I left.”

For a long while they just sat in silence. They had yet to make eye contact. Miles tried, but Alex put up a tough fight. After a very long, brutal pause, Alex spoke up again. “What does it matter if I do, Miles.” His voice sounded bitterly resigned. “Look at us. You and I, we’ve never had a functioning relationship in our lives. Imagine if we tried, together. I mean…we don’t even manage to meet up as friends! I just got back from Los Angeles and you’re leaving for France tomorrow. By the time I get to France, you’ll be in Italy, then Spain or Portugal? Somebody told me you’re headed to Russia this summer. And those are just the few I can name from the top of my head. I need to stay here, ‘cause I got meetings, then there’s a wedding in LA I promised to attend. My parents are asking for me to spend a bit of time with them this summer… I’m a mess in relationships. I get antsy and feel cornered easily. I’m selfish and restless. And it’s not just me. You told me how the idea of being stuck with somebody freaks you out. You love your freedom and I love mine. We would trap each other. We would ruin each other!”

Miles’ heart broke all over again. But it wasn’t the fact that Alex was telling him that the chances for a relationship between them to survive were slim to none, it was the realization that Alex had considered it and had come to the same conclusion that Miles had come to, himself. Alex shared his fears and worries, which made him see that he wasn’t crazy or overly worried. It made him see that he had valid fears and valid worries.

“I’m in love with you,” whispered Alex, at long last, looking directly into Miles’ eyes.

The words made him breathless. To hear them, to actually hear them? It was something he so often tried but never succeeded in imagining. No fantasy of it would have ever given justice to the real thing. And, suddenly, unexpectedly, it was so very easy to say them back. “I’m in love with you,” replied Miles.

“But I’m afraid,” continued Alex, “that, should I ever lose you, I won’t recover from that.”

“Neither would I,” Miles admitted. He gave Alex the world’s most helpless smile. “We’re destined for a life of misery, aren’t we?”

Alex chuckled, then became somber and serious again. He took in a shaky breath. “I’d rather have a little bit of you than nothing at all.” He got up, walked over to Miles and gave his cheek the gentlest of caresses. He closed his eyes, leaned down and kissed the top of his head. “My heart was yours long before I knew I could lose it. Know that.” Letting go, Alex grabbed his jacket, put it on and, looking at the backpack on the floor, he reminded Miles, “you know why I can’t take it, right?”

“Penguins.”

“Penguins,” nodded Alex.

As Alex made his way to the door, Miles got up, took a few large strides towards him, spun him around and kissed him hard. Alex didn’t push back or protest. He just held on to Miles and returned the kiss with as much desperation as possible. “I don’t regret our night,” stated Miles. Another kiss. “It’s the one thing in my life I will never regret.” One last kiss. He let his lips linger. Pulling away was the hardest thing he’d ever had to do. But he did it anyway.

Alex opened the door. “Call me when you land in France.”

“You no longer have a phone.” What a silly conversation to have at this moment.

“Right.” Alex nodded. “I should get a new one,” he concluded and smiled a small smile. “I’ll call you.”

Miles wanted to touch him again, kiss him again, hold on to him and never let go, but he couldn’t. So he didn’t. “Night, Alex.”

“Night, Miles.” Then he was gone.

Miles closed the door, leaned back against it and slid down to the floor.

How had this happened? How could this day have been such a rollercoaster ride of emotions? He’d gone from melancholic to shocked to energetic to happy to breathlessly overjoyed to heartbroken all within the span of a few hours.

His head rolled back against the wooden door and came to a rest with a thud. How powerful this love of theirs was, for two grown-up people to be so thoroughly afraid of it.

Half an hour later, Miles had recovered enough to gather the backpack from the floor, place it back in the closet of his bedroom, grab his suitcase and start packing. France would do him good right now. It would distract him and keep his mind from drifting back to one he longed for.

Once all the clothes, shoes and necessities were stuffed, he grabbed his laptop and prepared a playlist for the travel. Any other day, he’d have begun with the Beatles classics. But not today. All You Need Is Love was sitting there, on the screen, paused, and it made him snort.

What a lie.

What a huge, fucking, disgusting lie.

Spoilers Part 16:

“You’re still in bed? What are you wearing?”

Miles laughed hard. “Dirty, Alex. Real dirty!”

#the briefest kiss #milex #milex fanfic #milex fanfiction #fan fiction #fan fic #miles kane alex turner

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