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docholligay · 2 years

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Detective Pony

This was my May review, sponsored by @coolerthancats it tips the scales at more than 3k words and eventually I had to just make (SPOILER) and (SPOILER) what I was doing so that I could finish. I was somewhat apprehensive about picking this up but as it turned out I did in fact have a thing or two to say

Non-spoiler:

You know, for these not-spoiler things, its’ always a little rough to try and distill and get across something in a way that would lead people to either read or not read it. Always.

That being said, I’m not sure I’ve ever read a thing that is as impossible to define as Detective Pony. Even if I decided to go whole hog and spoil te whole thing, I’m not sure I could make any of it make any more sense in a condensed form.

Detective Pony is a fanfic of the Pony Pals series, in particular the novel, as you might imagine, Detective Pony. It goes off the rails fairly quickly, and while it begins in an extremely weak toilet humor divergence, it eventually goes in to the nature of creation, the responsibility of the creator, and the what it means to be real. Jumping from chapter one to chapter, say, ten, would be a hell of a kind of whiplash.

I’m not sure I recommend it wholesale, and I’m not even sure I LIKED it, as a work, but I love a lot of the ideas it plays with, and I do think it was worth reading, at least for me. So, if you haven’t read it, it is, at least, free and very easy to get and if you have any interest in postmodern fiction, you may as well give it a shot.

SPOILERS BELOW

Before I get into this, I need to say that I was only made aware...I think midway through watching the show of it, that Detective Pony was based on Homestuck. I have never seen nor read nor anything, to do with Homestuck. Except, I suppose, this. So whatever I come to on Detective Pony will be sola scriptura.

Also before I get into this: Because of the very nature of this story, it’s necessary for me to separate the author within and without the work. So whenever I say “The author” I mean the character/Dirk, and whenever I say “The writer” I mean the human being who committed this story to page. Okay.

You know what it reminds me of…and I might even like it better, which I am sure will cause someone to remove my literature degree from orbit, is House of Leaves. It has the same sense of unreality, the same type of postmodernist feels, and the use of academic style on conversation to sort of…take the piss out of academic style and conversation. I know House of Leaves is considered a masterwork (And this isn’t me trying to discredit House of Leaves) but I think Detective Pony has a lot of the same markers to it and could be taken as seriously as it, if one really wanted to crack it open.

And I will say I think this makes it weaker to see as a youtube series than to read. Was this was given to me, I assumed I’d rewatch the youtube series, but I found reading it to not only be easier, but honestly more enjoyable and better expressed the sense of the story and the text falling apart under scrutiny. I watched it first, but I think the better experience is to read it.

I appreciate the way that it broke down some of the more poetic things, even as a person who enjoys those sort of things. So for example, in chapter three, something that made me laugh out loud, Acorn and Minos are going back and forth about the nature of the Acorn, and in response to a jab about getting eaten by a squirrel, Acorn says that if it chooses, the acorn may sprout through the stomach and--

“No it can’t, that’s not how seeds work. And you know as well as I do that’s not the point. Why are you pretending to be that which you are not?”

And this is sort of, as I type it out, a perfect summation of so much of the work, and how it threads the needle back and forth, in its best moments, between the serious and the silly, tearing down these metaphorical ways of expressing ideas and then immediately heading back into the larger questions being asked by the work.

In chapter five, it begins tipping its hand to what eventually will become a main crux of what its talking about--inserting the author in the story, what it means to play God, what we owe creation--and it does it all with a near-throwaway joke, when it decides to separate itself from the frankly annoying jokes about Pam and her alcoholism, and refuses to let her be drinking alcohol out of her thermos, and hot soup instead. I think it ends up determining that we do owe our characters the right to be themselves, and in a way it could almost be taken, though I do not think this is the intention even slightly or remotely, as an argument against fanfic that changes some of the essential nature of the characters, which I am very pro, being as so many things fanfic is written from are, as they say in the old country, fucking stupid.

References to Dante: The first time I watched this, I literally said out loud: “Is that fucking terza rima?” and it is. It is. IN all of the effort I have ever made in writing my fanfiction, I’m not sure I ever would have thought to reference a work by pattern like that, or maybe I would so long as it wasn’t something so terrifically complicated to work with. Granted, it’s not very long but as a survivor of a CW Poetry class (Doc, you wrote poetry? In that I committed words to paper and was graded for them, sure! It was not QUITE the shitshow nightmare that Playwriting was for me, but BOY was it a struggle) I was still impressed.

This isn’t the first novel, and it won’t be the last, where an intense amount of ideas and structure will come from the Inferno--it’s one of the most influential works in the Western canon*-- but I love the way it just doesn’t reference it, but it leverages the reference as a weapon against the controlling character, having Anna use her role as Beatrice (and I am not sure I agree that I think Beatrice could do this, but I’m willing enough to hear the argument that it doesn’t bother me at all within the story) to gain control over Minos and Dirk, who I SUPPOSE I’ll call the antagonists of the piece. At least temporarily and in a sense, depending on how we feel about the ending.

The author: Man, I love the part in the end of chapter five, where it started off telling some stupid joke about Pam’s alcoholism and then decides not to do that, and goes into this whole idea about what we owe or characters, and what the author is even doing here. The author talks about how when he started, it was intentionally melodramatic and turgid, but now he’s not sure what he’s doing. Now he’s afraid this might be actually a way he’s writing to work through his demons, and that he an no longer tell if he’s sincere or putting things on. I think that this is probably the thing that speaks most to me, as a person obsessed with the idea of the writer as character and what that means for us. So many writers think of themselves as outside the narrative, but when you’re the one moving the action, your worldview can’t help but come into it

And so, that being true, can’t it be that the world in which we live is only a reflection of God’s fucking priorities? Us having been created by him, in his image, if you believe that sort of thing, aren’t our failures and cruelties and failings just his, repackaged? Are we helping God work out his bullshit in the way we work out our bullshit on each other?

Even in this, the author is both the God of this world and prey to it--in Chapter 8, he references Betancourt and the inevitable outcome of convincing her to destroy Acorn. But just as quickly, he admits that Betancourt is only who he has written her to be, and in this way, he’s referring what could happen to himself as we continue on this deconstruction of this text, while also directly calling out what a very common postmodernist take ON this story would be.

I’m just gonna call this section “Speaking of fucking Derrida”: So fun fact, I actually fucking hated my lit crit class. I think this may come as somewhat of a surprise given that I literally majored in The Study of Literature, but Lit study is a lot of things! It’s history, it’s technique, it’s analysis, but it is also unfortunately, criticism**. And this isn’t me being one of those whiny ass bitches going “How dare they make me study things that relevant to the field I apparently care about” but I just want to put it out there.

Anyway whoever the fuck wrote this clearly also has some kind of background in criticism and theory, and while, I am so sorry that happened to you, that’s exactly where the writer gets this whole idea in chapter 7 with speaking as reading, writing and reading as being meaningfully the same, is fucking Derrida!! Derrida has this whole thing about genesis and when I read the bottom of page 51, I flashed back immediately to sitting in that class and losing my mind. And it isn’t just that, there’s references ot Barthes, some pretty in depth conversation about deconstruction of the text, etc. It’s the kind of philosophy, frankly, that I’m just not into. This isn’t a sin (That I am currently both writing and reading) against Detective Pony, per se, but I am right there with Acorn when, in the next line, he goes, “What in the Christ-shitting fuck are you talking about?” which was basically how I experienced 75% of my Lit Crit class, if you follow with, “and is there any reason other than intellectual masturbation?”

But I mean, seriously, I genuinely need to know what kind of formal education this writer has, because the things and ideas referenced here are very very specific critical ideas, and unless you’re a literature or philosophy major, or just a fucking weirdo, these are not ideas you’re likely to have come into contact with. And I mean, I guess the point is to both take down the absolute elitist level of self-pleasure people get from discussing these ideas that I have very very fucking strong feelings on, but also, at the same time is it not REWARDING those of us who know this inane bullshit? I mean, who among us doesn’t like to feel like a special girl and get their head patted for being ‘in the know’? It’s the whole reason elitism EXISTS.

And eventually Anna has no choice, before in a sense, destroying him, but to call him on that, to make it clear that all this high-minded language is meant to do is to separate the reader from the actual idea, something that actually bars human connection more than it helps it. And even having this higher-level education, I don’t necessarily disagree. There’s no reason, for example, to use intradiegetic and extradiegetic when you could use in or out of universe, or in or out of narrative, both of which are easily understandable to most English speakers. And there’s for sure no fucking reason to reinvent literary terminology by using the absolutely fuck-stupid words Doylist and Watsonian, which is a bunch of people with no literature education deciding that they do want gatekeeper vocabulary, but also don’t want to open a book long enough to discover these words actually exist. Talk about things that are my fucking killswitch.

Which makes me think of, and leads me to, my next subject:

Pharmakon: LORD, the whole fucking pharmakon thing ahah. I do get it, I’m not stupid, so when he’s referring to this idea of the poison and the cure, he’s talking about the work itself, but more than that, he’s talking about his own insertion in the work, and the earlier references to sincerity, honesty, and the contract of creation.

And part of that, which occurred to me as I was watching it but rang even still truer in written form, is this tension between actual intelligence and depth and this faux-depth, you know what I’m talking about, it’s Evangelion, it’s that one guy from your college class. One thing I really enjoyed about this book is that it brings up the question, repeatedly, of “Is this legitimate analysis, or am I talking out my ass?” and then refuses to answer that, I think because the author-as-character doesn’t himself know, and maybe even the writer of the work. Maybe, instead, it’s both. Maybe it is in fact asking us questions about our own lives, or maybe it’s a bunch of fucking references just slapped together, and maybe which it is changes based on the situation or the moment.

Actually, the weakest parts of the book are when it falls back to the toilet humor, and I will say that until I fucking drop--whenever it gets into “shitting everywhere” or Pawneee being drunk or whatever, I roll my eyes. BUT, but, I wonder if part of what that intensely fucking annoying plot point is doing is reminding us that this is, in some ways, a childish work, both in its literal source material and in the “humor” and “wisdom” of the creator. Not letting us think that just because we’re writing in terza rima and making Derrida jokes that this is, in whole and entire, an ELEVATED work. In being the poison and the cure, it is both high and low literature

There are so many good lines in this, especially about writing

“...he resorts toi weird bullshit in the hope that no one will notice its masking incompetence” Every writer who’s ever done something with odd structure or wording: Sucks teeth. I count myself in that sucking teeth thing--I think most writers have a form of imposter syndrome, I know I often am like “I’m a bad writer and also not good. Anything good I ever wrote was long ago” and that may or may not be true, but I think this messaging hits very close to the heart for a lot of writers who try experimental things. Certainly there are plenty who are up their own ass, but there are also plenty who wonder if they’re covering for lack of skill in the classic way.

“Why is that text ‘right’? It’s the original one sure, but why does originality have any moral value attached to it?” --me saying ‘my city now’ about all my blorbos.

Actually, I suppose while we’re on writing, let’s talk about the end of this book, because I think the end of this book really about writing, and about taking the text and committing violence against it to serve your own means. Putting yourself in your writing is sold as a positive, and I don’t think the story is necessarily saying that it is a negative, but I think what it ends up coming down on is that your characters and your text deserve to be more than a way for you to work out your demons and fucking study yourself. That we have total control over the narrative, and so, we can only remove ourselves so much FROM that. Even when we “give up” control, can we really? And what does that make us as both creator and destroyer?

Anyway, I have a million others things I could talk about or say but tis is already much longer than it was meant to be while still feeling like I have not really reached a conclusion and am also trapped in a labyrinth of my own making. But, unlike Dirk, I can make the choice to leave it without having my narrative literally have to rise up against me, and I have to finish getting the parts in place for a vacation.

*Later on I am going to speak about how studying a field means that sometimes you have to have a comprehensive knowledge of things you don’t like. I think of this whenever I hear a literature major complaining about having to read the Western canon. Like, you are studying the field over time. We can argue, not incorrectly, that how the canon was formed is annoying, but like…Hemingway was HUGELY influential to modern literature, to bring in an author I do genuinely dislike. You have to have an understanding of how we got here, and because of political, social, and historical realities, that involves reading a lot of dead white men. This why some schools, like the one I attended, allow you to have a concentration, like a minorlet, in some different kinds of Literature, without having a separate degree. Anyway, you should be arguing about reading MORE, and broadening our base as scholars of the craft, rather than replacing SHIT YOU SHOULD KNOW. I am utterly unimpressed and completely understand why it is considered a puff degree every time I talk to an English major who doesn’t understand references to fucking Steinbeck or Bronte or Dostoyevsky. You do, in fact, have to read a lot, including things you do not care for to have a broad understanding and appreciation of how literature is CRAFTED and historically steered. Anyway, read Dante, bitches.

**THis is not the same as broad analysis, like, for example, what I do in liveblogs or what I’m doing here. I love that shit. It’s also not COMPLAINTS, which unfortunately is what the internet thinks when you say things like “Be critical of your media” when what that really meant was to engage with it meaningfully and thoughtfully, some of which, ironically, is fucking elided over time by the tendency to complain about media in these black and white, right and wrong terms and so we FIND FAULT instead of CRITIQUE anyway all this to say: Criticism, as I am speaking of it here, is the field of how to think about things, and, regrettably, a lot of French fucks masturbating furiously onto paper

#doc reads #I guess???

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slightlyaboveaverageiq · 1 year

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The Whisperer: Part 12 (Wally Clark Fic)

I felt his energy before I saw him or heard him. I continued reading my book without acknowledging him. Honestly he could wait a few minutes after what happened today. “Mo…” his voice sounded so lost and broken, but he did it to himself, he asked me to do something I told him weeks ago I had no intention of doing.

“We aren’t visiting yet Wally I’ve still got 6 pages in my chapter.” Before I could even do anything the book was launched across the room and Wally was straddling me. “Well now it’s even more time because I have to go back and find my-“ My speech was cut off by a very high pitched screeching noise that came from me horrifyingly enough. The stupid ghost was tickling me.

“I’m sorry I didn’t quite catch that you might have to try again.” He continued his brutal assault on my ribs and neck with me unsuccessfully trying to bat his hands away.

“O-okay you’re forgiven!” I finally get out grabbing his hands and trying to catch my breath while I gazed up at him to see his eyes a dark like before. I follow his line of sight and see that my sleep shirt has ridden up so he can see the black lacy thing underneath.

“I don’t know I kinda like you squirming and out of breath beneath me.” He muttered before leaving wet kisses in a line just above my underwear and along my thighs. What the hell man it’s like fucking whiplash. “Tell me about the accident” He managed to get out in between kisses on my body.

“Wally-“ I tried pushing his head away but he caught my hands and held them to my sides staring me down as he licked a long strip up my thigh to my hip making sure to leave a mark. This man may make me cum without ever actually touching my pussy.

“No, I’m going to keep doing this. I want you to tell me about the accident. Close your eyes.” I did as he said and focused on his fucking wonderful tongue dancing along my body wondering about how it would feel- “You’re not telling me the story, I’ll stop”

“I was 10, my brother Connor -the one I live with- was 24. He had flown in from Florida for Christmas and my parents and I were driving to the airport to pick him up. I was being a brat and screaming that I wanted a hot chocolate at the airport but my parents had both said it was too late and I would have to go to bed when we got home. My mom was trying to reason with me but I threw my book at her so my dad turned my head around for just a second…but that’s all it took. There was a drunk driver out that night, he hit us head on. It was so cold, and then there was this light. Not like the overly dramatic light that you see in movies but just kinda like I was walking into sunlight. My mom and dad were way ahead of me and I was running to catch up with them, that’s when I felt arms pick me up and I was looking at this man I didn’t know. He shook his head and he said that it wasn’t my time yet, that I still had so much work to do. And then I woke up and the EMTs were talking about how it was a miracle because I had been dead for 12 minutes. That wasn’t the last time I saw the man, he’s been back in my dreams every now and then since then, he explained I could see and talk to ghosts because I had technically died. I can also project, which means I can go into people’s dreams or visit their resting place but not for very long. So I mean yes I guess I could technically tell Maddie’s friends I know but it would be in a dream.” Wally moved so he face was hovering over mine and he kissed my forehead.

“I’m so sorry Mo, we should have never asked you to help Maddie. I never should have asked you to help Maddie.” Damn it he looked so fucking sad.

“Maybe I’ll be able to help Maddie one day, it’s just not a day in the foreseeable future.” He nodded and traced his finger down my face, neck, all the way down my body until he reached my thigh.

“You’re so pretty Mo, and such a good person even if you think you’re not.” He shifted just so and I could feel his cock staining against his pants on my thigh. “Do you want me to tell you a different story now?”

“I think I know the story, and considering how emotionally taxing this day has been it’s going to have to be another. You’ll spend the night with me though won’t you?” He smiled and nodded before spooning me from behind. “Hey Wally, just so you know I normally sleep naked.” Wally groaned and turned away from me.

“Jesus Christ Mo.”

#wally clark #maddie nears #rhonda #school spirits #fanfic

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marvelwoman-sugarbaby · 2 years

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Idk if this falls under clingy but if you want to can u write abt reader who has to stay at the compound for some reason and they love reading story books but they never talk so Natasha just follows them around the compound hoping for their attention, then one day reader just offers to read to her out loud and that’s how their relationship started, slow burn pls if u decided to write it, and if u do also thanks

The Bookworm and The Assassin

Requested Clingy!Natasha x Fem!Reader

You didn’t specify if you wanted GN!Reader or Fem!Reader and Fem is what I use if not told so I hope that’s okay.

When word are like … (insert sentence) … this, it means this is future person talking

Words:1479

Genre: Fluff

Warning: none

Summary: Read the request box above

Natasha POV

Y/N has been at the compound for a couple of months. They have never talked ever, when she was introduced Fury spoke for her. She is Fury's daughter, and we were given the task of watching her since Fury is constantly doing other things. Y/N helps whenever someone asks for help but, for the most part, she has her nose in a book.

For some reason I found myself drawn to her. I love to be around her and I wish she would let me hug her or something but I can’t. So any chance I get I will follow her around, whether she's helping or reading though most of the time she’s reading. Like right now I followed her from the kitchen to the library where she took a seat on the couch and has been in her little world since.

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Right now Y/N is in the kitchen so I’ve taken it upon myself to make sure she eats something. She has been reading here for twenty-five minutes, which means she will most likely leave to find a different spot in five minutes. I’ve taken it upon myself to find out things like that about her. I can’t cook much but I can make simple eggs, bacon, and rice. Once I had finished the five minutes were up and just like I expected she got up and started moving. I still don’t know why she does it, but nonetheless, I still follow her with the food and a cup of water.

Once she sits down I go up to her and show her the food. “This is for you, you need to eat.” She looks at it and takes the food. I put the water down on the coffee table in front of us and took a seat next to her. Creepy or not I watch as she continues to read, but also eats. Once she’s finished her plate she puts it on the coffee table and takes the water to drink a bit. She goes right back to reading once she’s done. I look away when it gets way too creepy, even for me.

Y/N POV

I’ve been in the library with Natasha for a while now and I haven’t been able to retain a single word since we’ve gotten here because of all her starring. Now that she is looking away I can’t help but wonder why she is always following me around. So against my better judgment, I put my book down and look right at Natasha. “Do you want me to read to you?” Natashas head wiped to look at me so fast I’m surprised she didn’t get whiplash. She looks at me with wide eyes for a few seconds and just nods, so I start going back to the page I know I last read. “You don’t have to start from the beginning.” I look up at her with a smirk. “I know I’m just going to the last page that I actually read because someone was staring at me the whole time.” She looks down. “Sorry.” “Don’t be, as creepy as it is, I guess it’s also quite amusing.” I look back to my book and continue to flip through until I get to the page I was on.

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Once I finish I go to my room and put it back, with Natasha following me. I head back to the library and start looking for another book. “Why do you always change where you read in the middle of reading?” I look at Natasha before looking back and continuing to find another book. “It’s nice to have a change in scenery every once in a while.” “Every thirty minutes, you mean.” I look back at her again and try to find any malice, but when I don’t I go back to what I was doing. “When you grow up with Fury as your father you pick up a few things. He’s not the best dad but he does try, and with his work, some people don’t exactly like him. So he taught me not to be in one place for too long. I guess I’ve done just that for so long I do it without even realizing it.”

Once I find another story I go to the compound living area. “What’s that book about?” “Don’t know I haven’t read it yet.” Her eyebrows furrowed together in confusion. “Can’t you just read the summary?” I smile at her. “Now where’s the fun in knowing what’s coming.” She smiles back. “I guess there isn’t any,”

When I’ve been reading for a while I get up and start walking to find someplace new. “Let’s go back to the kitchen, we need to eat. It's already dinner time.” I look back at the time and it's seven and I’m hungry so I go to the kitchen with Natasha. “Do you think everyone ate yet?” Natasha looks at me and shrugs. “Doubt it. Friday, did anyone eat today?” “No Ms. Romanoff. Would you like me to bring everyone down?” “No thank you.” Natasha looks back at me. “Well, there’s your answer.” Instead of answering Natasha, I look up. “Friday, can you see if anyone is opposed to having lasagna for dinner.” “Everyone says lasagna sounds good Ms. Fury.” “Thank you, Friday.”

When we enter the kitchen I take out all the ingredients I will need. “Okay I get that those eggs that I gave you for lunch were good, but that is all I can make. Anything else I make will turn into a soup or a burnt pig.” This gets a laugh out of me. “Don’t worry I’ll be making food if you want to help. I can give you specific details so nothing turns into soup or burnt pig.”

While I’m cooking I ask Natasha to continue to read the book to me, which she does. When the lasagna finished baking I had Friday bring everyone down for dinner. The first people there are Sam and Bucky wrestling each other to get food first, so I give them both a smack on the head as well as a very practiced death stare. Which in turn causes them to stop. Right behind them is a very amused Steve and Wanda about to laugh at what just happened. I give them a smile and go to the dining table. After five minutes everyone but Tony and Bruce is down. So I pull Natasha in by the arm which catches everyone's attention. I whisper to Natasha to have Bruce and Tony come down now with a little extra just to encourage them to come out of the lab. “Friday, tell Tony and Bruce to come down otherwise Y/N will bring in by their ears.” I continue to eat while all that is being said like it was the usual. Everyone else is looking at me because I never talk to anyone. Not that long later Tony and Bruce come in saying apologies.

Everyone continues to eat saying praises as well as trying to get me to talk to them. Which I don't. I just give them smiles. I never really liked talking to people I barely know. Natashas the only exception because she would follow me around constantly. Whenever I wasn't reading and I was alone helping with something she would tell me about herself and her day. I wouldn’t tell her that …well at least not until we had gotten married… but, I look forward to that every day.

Once I’d finished eating I waited for Natasha and we both went to the roof with a little light to help read. When I looked back at the time it was already nine so I went to my room. As I was about to enter Natasha stopped me. “Is everything okay Natasha?” “Yeah, everything is good, great even I was just wondering- you don’t have to say yes, but it would be great- I mean if you would- but you know-” “Natasha.” I try “I know you’ll probably say no-” “Natasha.” It still doesn't work. “But you know it never hurts to try right-” “NATASHA!” That finally gets her attention. “Yes.” “You need to calm down Natasha, now breathing in… and out. Good, now you can try again.”

“Right, Y/N Fury will you go out with me?” She says looking in my eyes with so much hope. I smile right back at her. “I would love to.” She starts smiling so hard her smile reaches her eyes. “Great, perfect I will pick you up tomorrow and we can go to the Italian pizza place that you love.” “Okay, sounds good. I will see you tomorrow.” I go back into my room and jump around a bit. Once I’ve exerted all my remaining energy I get ready for bed and sleep.

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #black widow #cute #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanov #natasha romonova #requested #clingy!natasha

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starlessea · 3 years

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The Walking Dead - Daryl Dixon

Hello, my amazing readers!

First, I want to thank you so much for all of your support. Your comments and feedback really mean the world to me. I’ve made so many friends on this platform, and I utterly adore getting to talk with you all.

I post less frequently now because I have a job, but I'll always come back x

(you can also find my work on Wattpad and Ao3 under @pandorahurts)

♡ = favourites

Each section is ordered by oldest to newest

Art Masterlist

General TWD Masterlist

[COMPLETE] Here Comes the Sun (S2-S4)

Daryl Dixon scares the hell out of you climbing out of that damn creek. It takes hauling his ass halfway across Georgia and taking a bullet for him to realise that you're not half bad. He slowly starts to come around, despite grumbling about how much he doesn't like your singing, or that you can't use a gun for shit - and don't get him started on that ugly yellow tent of yours. It takes him a while before he starts to see for himself that he's found a best friend for life, and that he doesn't actually mind the colour yellow that much, after all.

Step on the Gas (Pre-S1 onwards) ♡

A dishonourable discharge from the military results in you being hauled off to live with your grandparents in the boonies, otherwise known as the middle of nowhere Georgia. After running over a nail on the road, and pushing your grandpa's vintage Camaro to the nearest auto-shop, you meet Daryl Dixon - the local mechanic. At some point, the world ends, but that stubborn man never gives you a chance to slow down. His smile gives you whiplash, but he still insists that you to step on the gas.

Hush Hush (S4, 3 Parts)

You’d always been told that eavesdropping was a bad thing. But in this case, it led to you finding one of the only few good things left in the world.

Foxtails and Rabbit Trails (with @whitexwingedxdoves) ♡

Daryl Dixon was a good hunter, but there were still some things that he struggled to find. Such as the patience to deal with you.

You wore a rabbit’s foot keyring, but Daryl thought you were the furthest thing from lucky. After all, you ended up stuck with him, too.

Snow Angels (Between S2 - S3)

Daryl Dixon doesn’t like snow, but you somehow convince him to make snow angels with you.

Puppy Love (Loosely S10)

Bathtime leaves you to deal with a wet Dog and wet Daryl.

Sea Witch (S4)

You sing just like a siren, and it makes Daryl realise why some sailors chose to drown.

Poker Face (S5)

You let Spencer teach you to shoot despite already knowing how; and it drives Daryl positively mad as a result.

Sketchbook Confessions (S4) ♡

You flick through Daryl’s sketchbook, only to discover he’d filled the pages up with you.

Eye For Detail [Sequel to Sketchbook Confessions]

You try to sketch Daryl in return. Except, you draw his smile a little crooked, and the eyes are wonky... And Daryl completely loves it.

Prom Night (Pre-Apocalypse)

It was the night of your highschool prom. Except, Daryl had been kicked out a few months back and you didn’t have a date, either.

Hayloft (Pre-Apocalypse) ♡

You see a red-brick barn which reminds you of the days you'd spending smoking in a hayloft with Daryl Dixon.

Last Man Standing (repost)

Daryl is haunted by memories of you. But they’re the good kind - so he lets them stick around.

Look Straight Ahead ♡

You are the only person Daryl Dixon will ever let cut his hair.

Peek-A-Boo ♡

The story of Aunt and Uncle Dixon told through the eyes of Judith Grimes.

Inkstains

You spend the night trapped in a tattoo shop with Daryl, and he emerges the next morning with some new ink.

Big Brother ♡

The story of how Daryl Dixon won your heart, from the begrudging perspective of his brother, Merle.

Wildest Dreams

Daryl can’t help but toss and turn under the stars one night, remembering someone from his past who he should have long since forgotten.

Sunflower Fields

In an otherwise dying world, you and Daryl stumble across something living and beautiful.

[NEW] Renegade

A brief history of Daryl Dixon’s run-ins with the law (and how you always bailed him out).

[NEW] Crossfire

Rick Grimes recalls the day his brother almost lost you (since Daryl still couldn’t bring himself to).

Two Sugars

You pester Daryl about what he did before the apocolypse, but are soon reminded that it doesn’t matter.

Dot-to-dot

You like to trace patterns, and Daryl Dixon is your canvas.

After Hours

Daryl stuffs you into a broom closet and you start to wonder if you’re reliving your highschool days.

I’m Daryl

Captured alongside Daryl by The Saviors, you are used to try and coax the man into submission.

I Ain’t Nobody’s Bitch [Sequel to I’m Daryl]

You and Daryl escape The Santuary; but mentally, you’re still there.

Sunbeam ♡

Daryl proposes to you. At least, you think he did.

Magnets

Daryl Dixon had a crush on you. You could tell.

Love Blindness [Spin-off to Magnets]

You had a crush on Daryl Dixon. Everyone else could tell.

Hourglass

You aren’t sure whether you’re the same person you were before Woodberry; Daryl tells you that you’re not.

After The Storm

Sunshine always follows the rain, just like how you’ll always follow Daryl.

I See Red

You’ll threaten anyone who dares mess with your little brother; and Daryl is left to pick up the pieces when you feel guilty for doing so.

Sleepless Nights ♡

They say that your firstborn opens your eyes to the world; but Daryl looked at her like she was the world.

Wear My Heart On Your Sleeve

Daryl doesn’t quite fit in at Alexandria yet - but he still tries.

Caught Red Handed

Even during the apocolypse, you and Daryl experience little moments of domesticity.

Heartbreak Hotel

Daryl had already rejected you once - back when he’d been a little more baby-faced, and a lot less patient.

No Vacancy [Sequel to Heartbreak Hotel]

Rejected once, shame on you. Rejected twice, shame on him - and Daryl Dixon was no fool.

Doctor’s Orders

Daryl isn’t too impressed when he finds you with a sling on your arm and a smile on your face.

Hey, Good Lookin’

You could count the number of showers Daryl had taken in the last few weeks on one hand. But somehow, he still looked just as good.

Crayon Family ♡

Daryl loses your daughter, but you end up finding more than you’d bargained for.

Check My Jacket

Even as he’s held prisoner at The Sanctuary, Daryl can’t help but let his thoughts drift back to you.

Welcome Home [Sequel to Check My Jacket]

You and Daryl reunite after he escapes from The Sanctuary, and he finally reveals what he’s been hiding in his jacket pocket.

Barricade

Daryl Dixon makes sure that nobody gets left behind - especially not you.

Two Left Feet

You give Daryl Dixon dancing lessons.

Cross My Heart

Daryl begrudgingly allows you to tie his hair up to help him cope with the Georgia heat.

“Don’t Cry” ♡

Daryl hates seeing your tears. He’d much rather see you smiling, instead.

Can I Hold Your Hand?

Rather than seeking comfort from God, you turn to one of his angels instead - a man named Daryl Dixon.

Touching Foreheads

Pinky Swear

Bandages

Asleep on his Shoulder

Spooning at Night

Showering Together

Keeping Quiet

Touch Starved

Shotgun Wedding

I’ll Wait

Take Mine

Happy Birthday

Can I Kiss You?

Four Doors Down

You’re Important

Permission

[NEW] Are You Cold?

[NEW] Bonfire

2K notes · View notes

allyouneedisbuck · 3 years

Text

golden (you’re so golden)

summary // bucky is in louisiana with sam when he meets you, one of sam’s close friends, and immediately gets along with you. (bucky x fem!reader)

words // 3.5k

warnings // it’s fluff! some tiny insecure bucky but that’s about it. sam calls reader bubbles a couple times. use of y/n.

notes // 💞

》* 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ • 。* 。° 。* 。 • ˚《

Bucky enjoyed Louisiana.

He enjoys being with Sam and his family in Louisiana. It’s slow and relaxed and everybody in town is so charming that he finds himself settling in easily.

There’s a level of trust Sam shows Bucky allowing him to help with the family boat and while he hadn’t said it, he did appreciate Sam’s unending kindness.

Perhaps Bucky has found the beginnings of a new home in Sam Wilson. A friendship based on respect and love helped Bucky. He was slowly but surely rebuilding himself into a better man.

“Word on the street is Sam Wilson was back in town.” A voice calls out from above the two men. Bucky looks at Sam and finds him smiling and shaking his head. There’s footsteps and then you’re standing in the doorway with a smirk. “I just had to see for myself.”

Sam lets go of the wrench in his hand and moves to meet you at the top of the stairs. Bucky watches curiously as Sam hugs you tightly. He had never mentioned a girlfriend, although Bucky wasn't particularly forthcoming about his personal life either.

“Hey, Bubbles.” Bucky scrunches his nose at the nickname and you roll your eyes and shove Sam off of you.

He laughs heartily clutching his stomach. “The nickname wasn’t funny in the seventh grade and it’s not funny now.”

Sam presses a kiss to your head and Bucky clears his throat. He feels like he’s interrupting a personal moment, but your smile is turned on him and then Bucky freezes because that’s a beautiful smile.

“Who’s your friend?” You nudge Sam with your elbow but your stare doesn’t waver. Bucky smiles nervously before lifting his hand up in an awkward wave.

“Bucky.” He introduces. You nod slowly. “Barnes.” He adds on and you laugh at him making Bucky deflate a little.

“Y/N.” You respond easily. “And don’t call me Bubbles, I hate it.” Your glare and he nods. “I just came to see if the rumors were true.” You shift your focus back to Sam. “I just couldn’t believe Sam Wilson was here, working on the boat, without telling me.”

Sam scratches the back of his neck awkwardly. “Wasn’t sure how long I was gonna be here.”

You purse your lips and Bucky thinks that wasn’t the right thing to say. He’s so curious about what your relationship is because he can’t tell if it’s just friends or dating or maybe even exes. You’re affectionate and comfortable with one another, that much is obvious in the few seconds Bucky has been able to observe.

“Even if you were here for a day, I would like to see you.” You punch his shoulder. “But whatever, I’m not gonna hold a grudge.”

There’s a moment of silence between the three of you before you shrug. “I’ve gotta go. I’ll see you tonight, Sarah invited me for dinner.”

You give a quick hug to Sam before waving goodbye Bucky. He waves back with a smile and watches as you walk away.

He doesn’t even realize Sam’s staring at him until the man clears his throat. Bucky shuffles and adamantly ignores the fire he feels burning at his cheeks. “Who’s that?” He asks in a faux nonchalant tone.

Sam shakes his head and laughs. “We grew up together. Went to prom and all that.” Bucky nods and tries to think of how to ask his next question, but Sam beats him to it. “Not as my girlfriend or anything. She’s like a bonus sister.”

Bucky nods and looks back down at the pipe they had been working on. “Cool… We gonna finish this?”

Sam snorts, but Bucky can hear his footsteps come back down the stairs. “Let’s get it done. I just know Sarah’s gonna make something great for dinner if Y/N’s coming and I’m starving.”

Bucky nods, excited for some home cooked food. And maybe seeing more of your smile.

》

Bucky sits next to you at dinner. The kids across from the two of you with Sam and Sarah at the ends of the table.

He notices your eyes trail over the black and gold of his arm and tries to not to blush. “How’d this happen?” You nod to it after a moment of silence.

Bucky turns to you at the same moment Sam’s head shoots up to look at you. “Bubbles.” He hisses your nickname like you’re a child with their hand in the cookie jar.

“Sam.” You hiss back, eyes narrowed at the nickname. Bucky wonders if Sam would ever call you by your first name. “It’s okay.” He nods to Sam.

Bucky is sure that the kids sitting across from him had been wondering too, if Sam hadn’t already told them. He takes a sip of his beer before deciding on sharing a condensed version

“Lost it when I fell off a train in 1945.” He shrugs. You look him up and down. “Got this arm a few years ago.”

It’s silent as you process his words and your eyes move back to stare at the arm. His fingers twitch and your eyes snap to them.

“You don’t look like you fell off a train in 1945. You don’t even look forty.” You say skeptically. Sam runs a hand over his face while the kids laugh.

“Just eat.” Sam orders. “You don’t need to ask him all these questions. It’s rude.”

You turn to your food and roll your eyes at Sam. “I asked one question.” Then your eyes move to Bucky again and you smile apologetically. “I wasn’t trying to make you uncomfortable though. I’m sorry.”

He shakes his head. “It’s cool. You can just google me for all the answers anyways. I’m pretty sure the Smithsonian has a webpage on me.”

You snort. “That’s a subtle brag.”

Bucky feels his cheeks flush and shakes his head. “No. I just meant… like, Howling Commandos and Steve-“

“She’s just messing with you, man.” Sam laughs as he reaches across the table for a biscuit. “She knows who you are.”

Bucky looks back at you and finds the teasing smile on your face. He flushes red and that only makes you laugh too. Bucky presses his lips together and nods slowly. “Nice.”

“Hey.” You nudge him with your elbow. “If it helps, I think you look pretty good for someone who fell off of a train, lost an arm, was brainwashed for decades and then fought an army of Titans.”

Sam’s shaking his head and Sarah is just staring at you with wide eyes, but Bucky’s lips quark up as he tries not to laugh. “Thanks.” His eyes move over you. “You look pretty good for someone who’s friends with Sam.”

“Hey!” Sam cuts in defensively. “You know, most people think I’m cool.” You and Bucky smirk at each other before both turning to Sam with open mouths, ready to tease him. “Nevermind.”

Bucky can’t help but watch as you throw your head back and let out one of the most beautiful laughs he’s ever heard.

》

“Boys!” You call from the dock with a bright smile. Bucky spins so fast he thinks he’s got whiplash until he sees your happy face. You’ve got your sunglasses hooked in the collar of your t-shirt and a tray of iced coffees in your hands. “I know I’m late, but I come with some refreshments.”

Sam scoffs from next to Bucky. “Coffee isn’t really all that good for rehydration.”

Your smile drops for a millisecond before you turn your attention to Bucky. He gestures awkwardly for a moment before his right hand lands on his hip and his left hand waves. “I like coffee.” He blurts.

You bite down a smile as Bucky ignores the blush he knows is on his cheeks. Maybe it’ll just pass off as a sunburn, or heat exhaustion.

“See, Sam.” You smile victoriously. “Bucky appreciates my gifts.”

Sam scoffs and Bucky just stares at you avoiding Sam’s glare. “He won’t when he tastes the sugar monstrosity you’ve probably brought him.”

You pout and step closer to the boat. You shakily try to step onto deck, but stumble at the last minute. Bucky’s hands shoot out to steady your waist and you look at him with a shy smile and grateful eyes.

“Thank you, Bucky.” You say softly as he helps you step onto the boat deck steadily. “I didn’t know what you liked, so I got you what I drink.”

You lift one of the iced drinks out of the carrier. Sam was right, it looks like a sugared disaster, more cream than coffee; Bucky has to force himself not to scrunch his nose up at the drink.

“Thank you.” Bucky takes the coffee from you and stares down at it. You hand one over to Sam and then finally pull your own out.

“If...If you don’t like it, don’t even worry.” You say as the three of you move back to the part of the deck the boys had been working on all morning.

Bucky takes a sip and well, it’s not awful. Nor is it even that bad. Definitely more sugar than he was used to, but he needed to get out of his comfort zone anyways.

“I like it.” He states. “I’d like anything you give me.” He smirks as you look down at your feet nervously. “You’ll have to tell me what you order so I know.”

Your smile brightens and you nod excitedly, pulling your phone out. “Give me your number, I’ll text it to you.”

“You can just write it down.” Sam says with a teasing smirk when Bucky looks up and glares over your shoulder. “I mean-“

“Ignore him.” You roll your eyes and hold the phone out, the contact page already cued up. As Bucky takes the phone and begins to type his number in, you spin around to face Sam. “I’m trying to make friends here, Wilson. Stop trying to discourage it because you’re afraid he and I could lead to world destruction together.”

Sam laughs loudly and Bucky hands the phone back to you. “I’m not worried about the world as much, I'm worried about me. I can already tell you two will be a pain in my ass together.”

You glance at Bucky and wink before slipping the phone back into your pocket. “Stop stalling Sam, we’ve got work to do.” You scoff as you begin to pull out tools.

Bucky looks at Sam with a smirk. “Yeah, Sam. We’re trying to get some work done while you’re just standing there.” Bucky sturdies the piece you had begun screwing in with his left hand.

Sam sighs and returns to his earlier position. “I’m so glad you two have met.” He mutters sarcastically.

》

The shield slips onto Bucky’s arm easily. “Looking good!” You wolf whistle as you make your way towards the boys in Sarah’s yard.

Sam rolls his eyes, but Bucky puffs his chest out a little and smiles. “Hey!” He says as you come to a stop in front of them.

Bucky’s eyes trail over your figure. “Hey. I heard you were leaving today.” Your attention is solely on Bucky as Sam stands beside him with a knowing smile.

He nods apologetically. “I’ve got some stuff to do back home in Brooklyn. I uh-“ He looks down at his boots. “You have my number. I would love to keep in touch.”

You bite down on your lip as you nod. “Of course! Anybody who can handle Sam is someone I want in my life.”

“Are you two just gonna make fun of me everytime you’re together? Because I’ll cut this off right now.” He says jokingly.

You rock back and forth on your feet nervously before finally talking. “I’ll let you two get back to it. I just wanted to say bye!” You pull Sam into a tight hug before turning to Bucky. “Um, I’ll see you later. I hope?”

He nods enthusiastically. “Yeah! Yeah, I mean. I hope so too.” He stands awkwardly in front of you, unsure of if he should hug you or just settle for a handshake.

Your hands land on his shoulders as you lift yourself onto your tippy toes and press a kiss to his cheek. His cheeks are burning red by the time you pull away and wonders if you’re as nervous as he is. “I’ll see you around, Bucky.” You say sweetly before spinning on your heel and walking off.

Bucky watches you go with soft eyes as Sam just stares at him incredulously.

》

Bucky doesn’t get to see much of you the next couple weeks, but he hears from you all the time. Text messages telling him to have a good day. Photos of animals you see around your hometown. Photos of you and your family or friends.

It always makes his day and you never seem to mind if it takes him a long time to reply.

“You gonna come down?” Sam asks as he and Bucky walk through the empty streets of Brooklyn. “Y/N has been asking about you. When you’ll be in Louisiana again.”

Bucky shrugs. “I don’t know. I... I might stay up here.” Bucky answers quietly. He wanted to see you. You had easily become one of his favorite people to talk to, even if you had barely seen each other in person.

Sam snorts. “Come on. The boys want to see you. Sarah. We all loved having you around.” He bumps his shoulder into Bucky’s.

“I won’t be intruding?” Bucky asks softly.

Sam shakes his head. “You know that you won’t, Bucky. I’m not gonna force your hand, but I know she would like to see you as much as you would her.”

“Really?” Bucky tries not to sound too excited by the idea of you asking Sam about Bucky and when he’d be back in Louisiana.

Sam rolls his eyes. “Yeah. She asks about you. Just… Come down for a few days?”

Bucky nods slowly. “Yeah… Okay. I will.”

》

The dock is packed with people. Bucky smiles at the laughter and cheerful screams of the people around him. Crowds weren’t normally his thing, but this town of people loved each other so much he couldn't help but relish in the warmth.

“Bucky! Bucky!” He slips his sunglasses off as Sam’s nephews come rushing towards him excitedly. They throw fake punches and kicks that Bucky dodges before they lead him to the food table.

He places his cake on the edge and stops to look around. He knows he’s searching for you, but he can at least try to be as nonchalant as possible about it.

“You went all out for your dish, huh?” Your voice makes him spin around. You’re behind him with crossed arms and an amused smile on your face. The sun is casting such a beautiful light over you that Bucky is speechless for a moment.

Bucky shrugs. “I didn’t… I’m not much of a chef and I didn’t want to come empty handed.” He explains sheepishly.

You shake your head before moving forward and wrapping your arms around his neck. Bucky immediately responds and wraps his arms around you tightly.

“I’m so happy you came down again.” You whisper to him and pull back to look at him. He smiles sweetly at you. “Me too. It’s nice to see you again.”

You pull completely away, but slide your arm through his and begin to walk with him. “Come meet everyone. I’ve been talking about you non-stop, everyone is so excited to meet you.”

You pull him around and introduce him to friends and family. Your arm never leaves his and that makes Bucky feel extremely warm on the inside. He’s positive he’s going to melt by the time you’re pulling him towards the food.

“Hey!” Sam is the last person you and Bucky find. He’s sitting with Sarah and his nephews as they all eat. “Sit! I’m sure you’re tired of introducing your boyfriend to everyone.”

You and Bucky look away from each other nervously as you take your seats. “Shut up, Sam.” You hiss as you take your seat next to him.

Sam rolls his eyes as he hands over food to you and Bucky. It’s not awkward, but everytime you and Bucky make eye contact he feels his cheeks get warm and you look away with a nervous smile.

“I should head out.” You finally say, picking up the plate in front of you to throw it away on your way out. “Thanks for all this, Sam. Sarah. It was so great to see everyone again.” They nod with bright smiles and your attention focuses on Bucky. “Will you be staying for a while?”

He shrugs, unsure of what to say. “I…I think so. Yeah.” You nod slowly and stand in front of him for a moment like you’re waiting for something before sighing. “Well, I’ll see you later.” You wave before turning and beginning to walk away.

Bucky watches you for a few seconds before turning back to look at the table. Everybody is staring at him with poorly concealed smirks.

“What?” He asks defensively. He takes a sip of his water and they continue to just stare. “Stop staring at me. It’s weird.”

“You better go after her!” Sam shoves his shoulder which makes Bucky choke a little on the water. “She just waited for you to walk her home!”

Bucky begins shaking his head vehemently. “No. No way! She was saying goodbye. To all of us.”

“Don’t be an idiot, Bucky!” Sarah chimes in. “She likes you! She literally introduced you to everyone she cares about today!” There’s a chorus of yeahs from Sam and the boys that has Bucky glaring playfully at them.

“Really? She wanted me to walk her home?” He asks Sam quietly. Sam scoffs. “Yeah, man. So you better start hustling to catch up with her!”

“Shit!” He pushes himself off of the bench. “Okay! I’ll see you guys later!” He calls out with a hasty wave before jogging away from the table.

You can’t have made it far, but if you’ve already left the dock entirely there’s no way he’ll find you. He had no clue where you live or even what direction he would have to go in to find you.

He stops at the entrance of the dock and looks around while huffing out breaths. His eyes catch on your sundress and he smiles. “Y/N!” He calls out, jogging to catch up with you.

“Hey! Wait up!” You pause and turn around to face him. Your eyes light up but you don’t say anything to him as he comes to a stop beside you. “Let me walk you home?” He asks nervously.

Surprise crosses your features before an excited smile takes place. “Okay.” You say softly. “I would love that.” You wrap your hand around his bicep and step closer as the two of you begin to walk.

Bucky appreciates that you seem to be comfortable with talking because the entire twenty minute walk passes quickly with your stories and jokes. By the time the two of you have reached your front door Bucky is trying to come up with a reason to go around the block one more time.

“Thank you for walking me home, Buck.” You say quietly. You cross your arms over your stomach and run one hand up and down the opposite arm. Bucky smiles at you as you speak. “I had a nice time talking to you.”

Bucky stuffs his hands into his pockets and nods. “Me too. I enjoy talking to you. You’re a breath of fresh air.” He admits. It was nice to talk to somebody who wasn’t a part of his old life, who was completely new and who only knew this him, not Bucky from the forties or the winter soldier. Maybe his therapist had been right about needing to talk to more people.

You bite your lip and look off to the side before your eyes find his again. “Thank you. You’re really sweet.”

“Well, I’ll let you go.” Bucky takes a step back from you and your house. The two of you watch one another and Bucky knows he should say something. Ask you on a date. Tell you you’re pretty. He just can’t get the words out.

“Oh, Bucky.” You sigh as your hand wraps around his wrist and pulls him back into you. His left hand immediately lands on your waist in order to steady himself. Before he can apologize or pull it away, you’re leaning in and pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

He doesn’t respond, unable to with how quickly you lean in and pull away, but you’re smiling sweetly at him. “Ask me out.” You demand softly.

Bucky chuckles. “Do you… Would you want to go on a date with me?” He asks, still a little nervous.

“I would love to.” You wrap your arms around his neck and Bucky lifts his other hand to rest on your waist too. “I can take you to some of my favorite places around town.” You offer and Bucky nods quickly.

Bucky enjoyed Louisiana.

He thinks he may have finally found a home outside of Brooklyn, which was a once upon a memory. Somewhere clean of Steve and a life Bucky would never get back. Somewhere with Sam forging a bond of brotherhood and you building something new with him too.

》* 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ • 。* 。° 。* 。 • ˚《

notes // i don’t know how some of you write only on your phones it stresses me out so much kudos to you lol hope you liked this short piece, keep an eye out for my other two requests this week!

reblogs and replies are always appreciated if you enjoyed this!

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes and reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes fic

569 notes · View notes

wkemeup · 3 years

Text

Sunrise (8)

summary: After an explosion takes his arm and his only sense of belonging, Bucky is content to live out the rest of his days in the hollow comfort of the dark. This is, until Sam drags him down to the local VA and he meets you. (Modern AU) pairings: bucky x reader chapter word count: 5.3k warnings: sweet happy beautiful bucky, a unpleasant reminder of the past, whiplash of emotion, the angst I warned you about 🧡 series masterlist / series playlist

Bucky wasn’t quite sure how to hold onto this feeling without suffocating it.

It had been nearly a year since he’d felt even an ounce of the relief like what washed through his body when you walked through the door. All it took was a single smile from across the room, the soft brush of your hair over your fingers as you nervously tucked it behind your ear, and he was gone.

Enough for his cheeks to ache from smiling. Enough for his stomach to twist and knot from laughter. Enough for the wrinkles by his eyes to draw long and pronounced— the physical embodiment of joy upon his face.

He wasn’t walking on eggshells, waiting for the carpet to be dragged out from under his feet, for the paralyzing darkness of an empty void to consume him whole. The shadows weren’t lingering in his wake, itching to clench their claws into his spine and drag him away from the one thing that finally drew light back into his life.

For the first time since he stepped back on American soil, Bucky Barnes was happy. Truly and honest to God, happy.

“So! What do you think?” your voice called to him, breaking the trance he’d been in.

“Hmm?” Bucky blinked a few times to adjust to his surroundings. You were laughing at him, a hand over your lips in an effort to muffle the sound. Behind you, a woman directed a pointed stare in your direction despite the busy chatter inside Luciana’s.

“The book, Bucky,” you grinned, tapping on the edge of the binding.

He glanced down. The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue sat propped in his right hand, the clip you’d given him the first day of book club nestled in at the center to keep the pages open. Truthfully, he hadn’t read a single word of it since he sat down with you an hour ago. His attention had been better kept watching how you tugged your lower lip between your teeth in concentration, how your eyes widened at a particularly suspenseful part of your chapter, how you clicked your nails against the coffee mug in perfect rhythm with the café music.

“It’s good,” he said, though you pouted at him.

“Bucky you’ve been on the same page for twenty minutes!”

Busted. He shrugged, a laugh in his breath.

“Guess there were better things to look at.”

Your lips parted for a second, caught off guard, before you settled back into your seat. Your hands wrung out in front of you, eyes darting down the floor. It wasn’t easy to make you flustered, but damn if it was Bucky’s favorite feeling in the world.

“Don’t insult my books like that, Barnes,” you teased, lingering smile upon your face.

“Wouldn’t call it an insult,” he said simply. “There’s not much that can hold a candle when you’re around.”

The stun didn’t leave your face for a few seconds. You stared at him, then glanced around the room nervously as if he’d said something incredibly intimate. He couldn’t remember the last time this came so easy to him – the flirting, the charm. It was something he’d thrived on before the war and now, it seemed you brought that side out of him again.

“You’re a charmer today,” you observed, laughing through the nervous energy. “What’s gotten into you?”

“Nothing.” Bucky shrugged, reaching across the table to break off a piece of your pastry and plopped it into his mouth. “I’m happy. Can I be happy?”

You nodded quickly, almost a little too enthusiastically, with a smile so wide on your face he wondered if it were possible for it to touch your ears.

“Yeah. Yeah, you can be happy.” The words left your lips almost breathlessly. You were looking at him like he was the goddamn sun and damn if that didn’t tug straight at his heart. “I like you happy.”

“I like me happy, too,” Bucky chuckled. He glanced up at the clock. “Come on, we should head over to the VA.”

You downed the rest of your coffee in a single chug and set the cup on the counter. Luciana waved at you as you moved towards the exit, Bucky in tow, and she winked at him as he passed by. He nodded, offering her a tight-lipped smile as he stepped out into the cool Autumn air. Your hand naturally slipped into his and you tugged him along the sidewalk.

“Promise me you’ll actually pay attention to Steve’s spiel instead of staring at me the whole time,” you teased him as you walked over the crosswalk, nudging his side.

Steve was giving a presentation at the VA for the open house; explaining the benefits, the groups, different opportunities, and the respite rooms. It was a big deal apparently and helped to bring a lot of former soldiers into the fold. It was one of your favorite days because there was usually an increase of members at book club for a few weeks after.

“No guarantees,” Bucky replied, face as even as he could manage it. That was, until you swatted his chest and he burst into laughter, drawing the attention of a group of teenagers who eyed him as they walked by. Their lingering stare meant nothing to him when he stood at your side.

When you reached the VA, you pushed open the door, considering his hand was otherwise occupied, and led him inside. There were dozens of people in the lobby, certainly more than he’d ever seen inside. Men and women were mingling around the tables, some sitting on the couches, with paper plates of cheese and crackers from the grocery store.

Tony stumbled by carrying about four boxes filled with cookies, barely keeping his balance.

“I could use a little help, kid!” he called, eyeing you as he frantically made his way to the kitchen.

“Coming, Tony!” You turned to Bucky, smile still present on your face as you ran a hand along his arm in comforting sweeps. “Will you be alright?”

“Yeah, I’m good. Go.”

Maybe if he looked close enough, he might have seen a well of pride on your face, but you didn’t give him the chance before you leaned up and pressed a kiss straight to his lips— no cares for the crowd in the room or the fact that Sam and Steve were lingering around the VA somewhere. Bucky couldn’t find it in himself to worry about the stares because, hell, maybe he wanted people to know you were the woman he had the privilege of kissing.

“Go,” Bucky said again, pulling away from you reluctantly as a clanging could be heard from the kitchen, followed by an aggravated moan which could have only belonged to Tony Stark. You pouted, stealing one last kiss before bolting down the hall and out of sight.

Bucky spent a few extra seconds staring down the end of the empty hallway before he turned back to the room. The crowd didn’t bother him as much as it might have a few months earlier. He didn’t feel the same rush of anxiety in his veins as he felt on busy streets, but it didn’t mean he was explicitly comfortable either.

So, he kept to the outskirts of the room, standing along the wall and observing quietly from the corners.

The event seemed to be going well. He’d spotted Steve mingling with a group of older guys with long white beards and biker jackets, laughing as they told him about their adventures biking cross country. Sam found his way over to the couch beside a few of the guests who had busied themselves with the food instead and even found a way to get them talking to one another. Bucky kept his hand pressed into his pocket, a semblance of a smile on his face as he watched Sam pick a chip of the plate of the woman he was talking to without reservation.

It was a good place. A respite. Just like Sam had told him it would be. Bucky found a sense of normalcy in this building he couldn’t have hoped to find out in the real world alone— a belonging – and he knew a lot of that had to do with you.

He was just about to head down to the kitchen to see if you needed any help when he heard a voice that ran like ice through his veins. What it had said was indistinguishable, but Bucky could recognize the thick grovel of the tone almost anywhere. Slowly, he glanced over his shoulder, trying to remain as small as possible, as he spotted Jack Rollins emerging from the entrance.

With slicked jet-black hair, hardened angular lines upon his face, and a permanent scowl etching down on his features, Jack Rollins was not a man Bucky ever wanted to see again. He spoke with the two men in his wake, gesturing to a woman who was standing quietly by herself, reading the flyers on the bulletin board, as if he were stalking prey.

Bucky’s heart was thunderous as he took a step back. His black slammed against the wall, catching the breath in his lungs. His fingertips brushed over the chill of the pealing wallpaper, trying to find his grounding before Rollins noticed he was there. But luck was never so kind to him.

It only took one scan of the room before Rollin’s eyes landed on Bucky. He stilled, just as surprised to see him, but then, something dark twisted upon his features.

“Sergeant Barnes!” he called over the crowd, a jeering sort of laugh in his voice.

Bucky gritted his teeth, forcing himself to meet Rollins in the eye. “Jack.”

“Been over a year, man. How you been?” Rollins was conversational only in statement. His tone was near threatening, his men following behind him like a shadow. Dark eyes trailed down along the empty sleeve on Bucky’s side, a smile rising on his face.

Bucky tried to pretend as though he didn’t notice. “Recovering. You?”

“Yeah, I bet you are.” Rollins chuckled. Then, he puffed his chest up. “I’ve been working for the private sector.”

That didn’t surprise him. Rollins always had an affinity for the darkest parts of the job overseas. He took too much pleasure in the use of his weapon, paid no mind to the destruction left behind in his wake. Rollins was exactly the sort of man the military hoped to produce; follow chain of command without question, find purpose in your mission, execute without remorse. Seemed he found more of the same when he returned home. Only this time for a bigger paycheck.

Bucky could still picture him dressed in army camouflage with the weight of near forty pounds of combat gear on his back, finger always on the trigger. It felt a bit like that now, Bucky realized, as Rollins narrowed his eyes as if he were going in for the kill.

“You know, Barnes,” Rollins shrugged, exchanging a snide grin with his friends, “I’m a little surprised you’d even show your face around here after what happened. Takes guts.”

Bucky swallowed as though there weren’t blades in his throat. He tried not to let the hitch in his breath show or how his stomach dropped about ten feet below the surface. Instead, he pressed his lips together into a thin line, holding Rollins’ stare as if he were made of stone.

“You should leave,” Bucky said, his voice low enough to break gravel.

“Me?” Rollins mocked, laughing as he turned to his friends. Then, facing Bucky again as a darkness clouded over his features. “That's rich, coming from you.”

Bucky held his breath. He tried to draw on images of you sitting across from him at Luciana’s, how you smiled at him, how you made him feel like he didn’t carry such a heavy weight upon his back. He pictured you curled up next to him in your bed, imprints of the pillow on your cheeks and the covers pulled up tight to your chin. He imagined how your hand felt in his, how it brushed along his back, how your lips felt on his cheek, on his mouth.

But those pictures started to fade the longer Rollins stared at him, that devilish smirk upon his face as he ran a hand along his jawline, cracking his knuckles against the bone. Those comforting images of you sunk into the darkness, pulled from him somewhere far beyond where he could reach and suddenly, he felt like he was standing on a pillar at the center of the ocean, nothing but violent waves surrounding him for miles. Alone.

“I mean, what the fuck are you doing here, Barnes?” Rollins jeered, picking up a cookie from the table, inspecting it for a moment before he tossed it back on the platter. It crumbled on impact. “You think you even deserve to step foot in this building after what you did?”

“It didn’t go down like you think,” Bucky shot back, his voice uneven, wavering, as if he didn’t quite believe it himself.

He tried to repeat the words that Sam had worked to instill in him again and again for months after he came home. They never seemed to stick until the last few weeks but now – now they felt as far away as ever.

I did everything I could.

Some things are outside of my control.

It wasn’t my fault.

He wasn’t sure he believed that with Jack Rollins circling around him like a vulture, amused by the distress quickly forming against Bucky’s features.

From across the room, Sam stood up from his place on the couch, a hand gesturing over to Steve as he caught sight of Rollins. Bucky retreated in his stance, feeling as though Rollins was towering over him, his chest caving in. Rollin smirked, teeth bared and ready to strike.

With venom like precision, Rollins spat, “You’re the reason half our unit is dead, asshole.”

It hit like a sucker punch to the gut, made him stumbled back a few paces as if he were clocked in the chest. The initial blow only lasted for a few seconds before the overwhelming sense of shame seeped back into his veins, slipping through his blood like muddied waters and stealing away the careful, steady progress he’d made.

Then, a lingering acceptance as it cleared him to the surface.

A numbness took over, casting back to the shadows inside his mind. It was what he’d been waiting for since the day he’d stepped foot off that plane – for someone to confirm all the destruction and self-loathing he’d felt since that day.

Rollins was right.

I could have saved them.

I could have prevented all of it.

It was my fault.

He’d been foolish to convince himself otherwise.

“Hey!” Sam barked, jutting out in front of Bucky and shoving a hand to the middle of Rollin’s chest as he attempted to draw closer. “What the fuck is your problem, man?”

“My problem? My problem is you’re letting just about anyone walk through those doors!” Rollins shouted, pointing an accusatory finger at Bucky. “Your buddy here is responsible for eight of our own coming home in caskets!”

Bucky flinched, visibly recoiling as if something had burned him, and it seemed to be the reaction Rollins was looking for because a snide grin slid up along his cheeks.

Steve was suddenly on his left, a hand pressed to his shoulder. He was whispering something in his ear, but he couldn’t quite hear him. He could hardly make out what Sam was shouting as he attempted to push Rollins towards the door. A crowd was gathering – standing in watch to observe the shame of a soldier who should have burned in the desert with his friends.

“What’s going on?”

Bucky’s heart dropped at the sound of your voice as you appeared on his right. He didn’t know how long you’d been there or what you heard, but it was the first time he ever regretted allowing himself the luxury of your presence, of your warmth and kindness. You should have been an anchor beside him, but he could feel the rope slipping from his grip, letting him sink down into the ocean or float high into the clouds – somewhere far away from where you were.

You ran your hand along his arm, trying to thread an ounce of comfort back into his body, but he was rigid as stone. The touch was paralyzing. It was a reminder of his emptiness, of his ill attempt to be worthy of your affection. You seemed to notice as you stared up at him, worry filling your eyes.

“Ah, so you’ve got a girl now, too?” Rollins sneered towards Bucky, shoving Sam aside.

“Leave her out of this,” Bucky warned, his voice returning to him only in your defense. He stepped out in front of you, shielding you from Rollins’ gaze.

It only seemed to amuse him more. “Tell me, sweetheart. What’s it like? I mean, can he even get the job done? You wanna try being with a real man again?”

It was Sam that roared in response. “Watch your fucking mouth!”

Your hand rested on Bucky’s shoulder blades as if you were trying to ease him but he felt like he was on fire. Rollins shoved Sam aside to get a better look at you, a predator going in for the kill.

Rollins’ cold eyes stared directly into yours and Bucky felt his breathing stop.

“Did you know half of our unit died under his watch?”

Everything became white noise after that. Bucky didn’t dare turn to look at your reaction, nor could he hear Sam’s defense or Steve’s angry shouts as Rollins continued his taunts. He didn’t know how it happened, but suddenly, Rollins was on the floor. Sam was shaking his hand out, holding his fist against his chest.

Rollins stumbled his way back to his feet with a vengeance, folding his hands into fists as he charged at Sam.

“Get him out of here!” Steve’s muffled voice called to you as the crowd began to swarm in. Former soldiers joining the chaos, cheering or barreling fists. A man bumped into Bucky’s shoulder, but there was no trace of a reaction on his face. He was empty. He was numb.

Bucky could vaguely feel your hand as you slipped it into his pocket, drawing his own to intertwine between your fingers and you tugged him down the hall. He knew better than to look over his shoulder at the mess he was leaving behind.

***

You took Bucky into the empty library, quickly closing the door behind you to muffle the sound of the shouting down the hall. Bucky stood at the head of the couch, his eyes downcast.

“Are you alright?” You knew there was no good answer. It was a foolish question. And still -- you asked.

Your hands slid along Bucky’s chest, up to his shoulders to try and draw some of the tension away, and for the first time, he recoiled under your touch. Your hands quickly dropped down to your sides as you took a few steps back, hands held tightly in front of you. A flash of remorse covered his features as he looked at you, but then the stone swept back in its place and hardened the softened edges you adored. You pushed aside the splinter inside your chest.

“Who was that guy anyway? He seems like a real piece of work.” You laughed, though it was tense and forced. Bucky didn’t so much as crack a smile.

It was silent for a moment. The only sound coming from the low hum of the radiator in the corner of the room. Bucky’s gaze was fixated on the carpet, staring at the years’ faded stains and the dust bunnies at the foot of the couch. A terrible aching tugging down on his lips, on his eyes, on his cheeks, and he barely resembled the man who had teased you over coffee at Luciana’s just an hour earlier.

“He was right, though.”

You swallowed, daring to ask, “what do you mean?”

“I'm the reason half my unit is dead,” Bucky replied flatly. When he looked at you again, you found his eyes were red, his lips swollen from chewing on the edges. His right hand had indents in his palm from where he’d dug his nails into the skin. Your stomach lurched.

“Oh, Bucky.” Your heart broke at the sight of him. “That... That can’t be true.”

He didn’t say anything, but the grit in his teeth was enough to tell you that he believed it. You’d only seen glimpses of how the war had touched him, how it cast shadows over the man he’d been before he stepped on that plane and adorned the uniform, but now – now, it felt like those shadows had consumed him whole. He couldn’t so much as see the soft rise of the sun over his shoulder. He was too swept up in the embrace of darkness. The light couldn’t touch him where he stood shielded by night.

“Why don’t we go to my place?” you offered, inching a step closer. When he didn’t retreat, you gathered his hand into your own. While he didn’t pull away again, you could feel the reluctance in his grip, the rigidity in his stance. “I can make dinner and we'll throw on a movie, okay? Let’s just get out of here.”

Your right hand slid along the side of his face, cupping at his cheek. He usually leaned into the touch, pressed a kiss to the inside of your palm. Instead, the most he could force out was a tight-lipped smile that did not touch his eyes. You could practically feel how hard he was clenching his jaw, the muscle tired and aching. Still, he nodded.

As you led him out the back exit of the VA, you glanced behind you to see Rollins sitting on the floor, nursing a bloody nose as a police officer stood over him, jotting down notes as he spoke with Steve. Sam caught your eye for a second, nodding in your direction. A relief washed through you and you tugged Bucky outside before anyone could notice him slip out.

It was silent the whole walk to your apartment. It wasn’t entirely unusual, but it was the first time the air carried a lingering sense of discomfort in it. You wondered what was going on in Bucky’s head, how badly he’d construed whatever Rollins had said to him, even before you arrived. Sam had told you of Bucky’s self-destructive habit of carrying guilt far heavier than he could carry, guilt that didn’t belong to him. He seemed to welcome it like it was made for him. He didn’t mind if it ripped him apart and left him broken and empty when it was done. He seemed to think it was what he deserved.

You squeezed his hand, hoping it might draw back a sense of comfort, but he kept his eyes forward on the empty streets ahead. His hand was little more than limp in your hold.

***

Bucky was just on the edge of sleep when it began to creep up on him. Slow at first, and then, sudden, in violent flashes.

Sweltering heat. The low rumble of a jeep. An infectious laugh on his left and the cold compress of a gun in his hands. A sudden stop.

Bucky gritted his teeth, trying to turn away from the images attempting to draw him under, to sweep him beyond the current, to drown him in the darkest parts of the depth. But the riptide caught hold of his leg and forced him underwater.

Heavy equipment on his back. Sand under his feet. The sun blinding in his eyes.

He swallowed, but his throat was lined in rust. It burned. He couldn’t breathe.

A reflection over a valley. Someone shouting. Screaming. Warning. Frantic.

The kid. Get to the kid!

Then – the heat of a fire scorching his skin. Ringing in his ears. Muffled. Agonizing silence. Blood on the sand, on his shoes, dripping down his side and soaking into his uniform.

Pain. So much pain. So much pain. So much—

Bucky’s eyes shot open. He sucked in a breath of air and it came in short and shallow, barely filling his lungs, and he was panting for more. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, gasping for breath until he took enough in that the dizziness started to subside. His forehead was lined in sweat, his right hand shaking uncontrollably as he gripped at the sheets.

It was as mild as it’s ever been – the nightmares. Usually, he woke up screaming, his voice so raw it ached until morning. He thrashed and kicked and drew blood until something finally jarred him awake. He’d broken the lamp beside his bed four times in the weeks after he came home. It was violent and messy, and it was a damn miracle he’d only felt a sliver of it tonight.

But it had been so long since he had one. He almost thought they had finally released him from their hold before Rollins showed up. For a while, they let him be happy. He should have known better than to expect it to last.

The mattress dipped slightly behind him and with a sharp hilt, Bucky suddenly remembered where he was.

He turned over his shoulder to find you laying on the bed beside him, hair cast up and around you against the pillow, eyes closed, the steady rhythm of your breaths indicating you were still fast asleep. He stilled for a moment, watching the gentle rise and fall of your chest, the light scrunch in your nose.

You’d tried so hard to get him to smile the whole evening after what happened at the VA. Constant touches to his cheeks, along his arm, playing absentmindedly with his hand. You made him dinner and curled up against him as you put on a movie that you were certain would turn his mood around, but he remained stoic and cold until you finally resigned to the bedroom.

He could tell how exhausted you were. Even reaching for his hand, there was a helplessness in your grasp, but you’d begged him to stay, insisting you didn’t want him to be alone after what happened at the VA. You held him tight to your chest, told him over and over again that you didn’t care what Rollins said, you knew he was a good man and that was all that mattered.

Bucky wanted so badly to believe that.

But here you were – so beautiful, a light, something good in his life he didn’t deserve.

Sam would kill him for giving into those thoughts again, but all he had in his head was violence and agony and there you were – so peaceful and soft and kind. He'd taint you with all the mess threatening to break through his seams. He’d hurt you. He'd break you. You couldn’t hold him together no matter how hard you tried. He didn’t deserve such kindness. Today reminded him of that.

Bucky leaned in and pressed a short kiss to your temple. It was feather light and still, you sighed in your sleep. He tried not to notice when the corners of your lips curved up into a smile.

Then, he crept out of the room, stealing one last look at you as you turned onto your side, arms crossed over your chest protectively. Something tugged inside his chest, begging him to stay. He could feel it pushing him back toward the bed, to your embrace and the comfort it brought, but he turned his back. He ignored his every instinct to return to your side and dragged his feet of the bedroom instead.

Despite his reluctance, he found himself lingering on the photograph in your hallway of the Air Force pilot; sandy blonde hair, a tight-lipped smile, features that made him look younger than he probably was. A pang of jealousy wretched into his stomach at the sight of this nameless man. Shame quickly followed.

You never spoke of the man in the photo – the nameless Air Force pilot who stood at your side in front of your parents. The way you pressed out a smile despite your tears, the position of your stance angled closer to the pilot as if to preserve your last remaining moments together, made Bucky question what had happened to this man. This was clearly a man you had loved. Might still love.

Bucky didn’t dare allow himself to wonder if he had ever measured up. He supposed now he would not get the chance.

Bucky let out a sigh as he turned away from the picture. He made it all the way to the door before he heard the squeak of the floor boards behind him.

“Bucky?”

Sleep was still etched in your voice. You yawned as you folded your arms, squinting at him to adjust to the dim light in the kitchen. Bucky clenched his jaw, reluctantly turning to face you.

“It’s the middle of the night,” you said, eyes flickering to the clock above the stove. It was then you must have noticed the jacket draped over his shoulders, boots on his feet, hand begrudgingly releasing the door knob. Your face fell. “Where are you going?”

He didn’t know what to say. Was there an easy way to break your heart? Was there any excuse that could allow both of you to walk away from this unharmed? There was no good answer, but his silence certainly was worse.

“Bucky?” you tried again and he could hear the inflection of concern etched into your tone. You took a step closer to him and he held himself firm. He was stone now. It was what he had to be.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered out, voice low, though he met your eye. “I can’t do this.”

If you were still half asleep a moment ago, you weren’t anymore. Your eyes widened, lips parting. Your arms fell down to your sides.

“What... What are you talking about?” you exhaled, barely above a whisper. He could hear the hurt in your voice, the confusion, and he hated himself for it. You stepped closer, reaching out for his hand. “Please, just come back to bed. You look like you haven't slept for—”

Bucky pulled his hand away the moment you touched his fingers. It forced a hitch in your breath, a step back. You hadn’t expected him to recoil from you like that. Two times in the same day. You were losing him, the realization clear in your eyes. He was slipping and he would not take the tether as you threw it to him.

“This is about what that man said at the VA, isn’t it?” you asked timidly, your lip quivering. You shook your head, trying to hold back tears though Bucky could practically hear the tension from the lump in your throat. “He was... he was just being cruel. I don’t believe a word of it. And neither does Sam or Steve – the people that love you, Bucky. Don’t give in into him. Don’t let him win.”

Bucky didn’t say anything, rendering his reaction colder than you deserved.

You reached out for him again, a habit, though you pulled your hand back to your chest before you could touch him. It was shaking.

“Honey, please,” you tried again, unwilling to give up on him like you should. “Come get some rest and maybe you’ll feel better in the morning. Just... don’t go. Don’t be alone with this.”

You were begging. He could hear it in your voice. The desperation. And still—Bucky offered you nothing in return.

He sank so far inside himself you couldn’t reach beyond the cliffside to offer your hand. All it took was a single push. He was already standing so close to the edge. Rollins had set a hand on his back, like an old friend, like an enemy, and shoved. Bucky didn’t even try to catch his fall.

“Whatever this is...” Bucky murmured and eyes focused down at the tile, unable to look at you as he broke your heart, “it’s over.”

His heart was splintering as he said it and still, he turned and left without another word. He didn’t wait for your response, didn’t wait to see whether his cruelty had ended in tears, and closed the door behind him. You didn’t attempt to follow.

You’d understand eventually, he convinced himself. Even a woman as compassionate and loving as you couldn't possibly love a man so broken, with jagged edges and open wounds, with shards of glass embedded inside him and poison in his touch. Empty and hollow. Broken.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes

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make-me-imagine · 3 years

Text

Scenario Prompts: 5/29 A; Tony Stark compliments you all the time because he has a crush on you.

Requested by: @spuffyfan394

Pairing: Tony Stark x Gen!Neutral Reader

Triggers: None Words: 1,966

Everything taglist: @criminaly-supernatural, @caswinchester2000 Marvel Taglist: @aquariuslavenderhoney, @trashywritestrash, @groovyfluxie, @marvelouslyme96, @supersourlemon13, @mochamoff, @simsiddy

Notes: It’s kind of a mixture of flirting and compliments. Also; I use the song reference to ‘The Fantasticks’ because in Civil War when you see Tony’s mom in his memory, she is singing a song from it. Also, I’m having a bit of writers block, so I can’t tell if this is really that good.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

When you were recruited to join the Avengers you knew it would be both exciting and dangerous, but you had still underestimated how quickly things would get out of hand on the simplest of missions.

“You just had to egg him on didn’t you?!” you yelled as you and Steve ran for cover “We could have easily taken him but noooo, you just had to make him mad.”

“We needed him to reveal his plan, it’s not my fault I had no idea he had a weapon like that!” Steve yelled back just as a huge wave of energy smacked against the back of you, the man firing off the huge sonic weapon he unveiled.

As you grunted in pain, rolling to a stop, Steve grabbed your arm as you stumbled behind a wall, catching your breath and wincing from the pain.

“That didn’t look very fun” you heard a familiar voice through your coms as you looked up, seeing Tony and Rhodey coming in their suits.

“Took you long enough, where had you guys been?” Steve asked.

“Just went out for coffee, you guy’s didn’t want anything did you?” Tony quipped as he and Rhodey began firing at the sonic weapon, successfully stopping it from firing.

As they were doing so, you spotted another man coming out from a nearby building, pointing a weapon at Tony’s back. Quickly reacting, you grabbed Steve’s shield before jumping behind Tony. Tony spun around just as the man fired. He had a smaller sonic weapon that he fired at you. Hitting the shield it launched you back, Tony reached out and grabbed you, supporting you as you held up the shield, that was now reflecting the sonic beam.

Steve, when seeing what happened, quickly reacted by running quickly to the man and taking him out. You let down your arms in relief once he did, your arms feeling heavy from the weight of holding up the shield.

“Nice one newbie” Tony said as his helmet retracted revealing his face and the small present on it.

You sighed as you looked up at him “I’ll take that coffee now.” You joked, making him chuckle.

“Maybe I’ll get you one when we get back.” He said as he placed his hand on your upper back as he turned to Steve who was approaching. Handing back his shield Steve nodded his head at you as Tony spoke “You better be careful Cap, Y/n looked like a natural with that thing, if you’re not careful they’ll steal your job.” He turned as he began to leave “God knows they’d look better in the suit.” he finished with before he began to fly off with Rhodey further into the compound.

You and Steve looked at each other with similar eye rolls before you began to make your way through the compound to find the rest of the men you were after.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

You hummed quietly to yourself as you tapped your leg, reading over the file Fury had given you about a possible harmful organization you’d be checking out. Engrossed in your thoughts and the document you didn’t see Tony come in the room.

He leaned against the counter as he watched you for a moment, listening to the song you were humming to yourself. He felt a wave of nostalgia and melancholy as you continued to hum the tune, beginning to mumble quietly to yourself as you sang the lyrics.

“For I can see it, shining somewhere. Bright light’s somewhere invite me to compare-”

You cut yourself off as you flipped the page of the document you had as you continued to read.

“My mother loved that show.” Tony finally said, making your head shoot up as you looked at him surprised.

“Oh, Tony I didn’t hear you come in- Wait, you’re mother?”

He nodded as he walked towards you “She used to play the piano and sing songs from it all the time.” His thought went back to the last day he saw her and his father.

You smiled lightly at him “My father used to play the songs when he was working.” You replied making him smile.

“They had similar taste then.” Tony said before taking the file from your hands, “You’ve got a good voice you know.”

He said simply making you chuckle “You wouldn’t say that if you actually heard me try.”

Tony smiled at you as he handed the file back “I think I would.” He commented before turning away “We’ll be leaving in a few hours, so read up.”

You watched as he left the room, wondering why he says the things he does. He switched from flirty to nice so often it gave you whiplash. You smiled to yourself as you shook your head, reading over the files once again.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

You sighed to yourself as you looked around the crowded room as people drank and laughed. Tony was holding another party and the Avengers were more or less required to show up, at least for a little while. So you did your duty, dressed up nice and made an appearance. Though you had no real intention of staying all night.

“Nice outfit.” You heard a voice comment from behind.

Turning you see Tony, wearing a black silk suit and a smile. “You too” you said in reply as he came and stood right next to you, looking into the crowd of people.

“I didn’t think this was your kind of thing.”

You shrugged “It can be, sometimes. Doing it right after a mission that involved being shot at and attacked for four hours straight isn’t exactly ideal though.”

He cocked his head and smiled “Well, I wouldn’t have held it against you if you didn’t show. But I’m glad you did. I got to see you all dressed up.” He looked at you with a flirty smirk.

You met his eyes for a minute before smiling “Hmm” you hummed out before turning and walking into the crowd, leaving Tony to watch you with a mild look of confusion.

You hated that Tony’s flirtatious comments were getting to you. Not because it was annoying you, but because he flirted with everyone, which meant that most likely there wasn’t any genuine feelings behind them. And that was why they irritated you, because you wanted there to be something, anything behind his words. You had developed feelings for the rich playboy superhero, and you hated that his feelings could be one-sided. Part of you told you he did have feelings for you, but you couldn’t assume, you wouldn’t.

These thoughts drifted to the back of your mind as the night went on, distracted by the other Avengers and visitors you met with throughout the night.

As you watched small groups of people make their way to the dance floor, as the band began to play slower music, you felt a tap on your shoulder. Looking back, your eyes met those of a man named Thomas. A shield agent you had met a few times. Annoying, rude and thinks to highly of himself.

You put on a fake smile in greeting as he grinned at you “Y/n, I’m glad I finally got to catch you. I was wondering if you might dance with me.”

As you opened your mouth to speak, wracking your brain for an excuse, you were cut off as someone appeared by your side, somewhat cutting you off from Thomas.

“Hey there, sorry to interrupt there Tyler, but I’ve already got dibs on this dance.” Tony said as his hands lightly gripped your arms, pushing you towards the dance-floor.

“Uh, it’s Thomas sir- I”

“Oh, yeah sorry about that Tommy.” He replied quickly as he pulled you into the crowd.

As he pulled you closer to him and began leading in the dance you shook your head and chuckled “You’ve already got dibs on this dance?”

Tony shrugged his head “Oh, what you mean you didn’t know? You’re welcome by the way.” He said with a smile.

You chuckled lightly as you began dancing smoothly to the music, Tony’s hand rested lightly on your waist “I had a question.”

“Shoot” you replied.

“Did I offend you earlier. You walked off with an air of ‘shut up Tony’.” He asked while meeting your eyes.

You smiled lightly, you guess now was a better time than any to talk about it “I can only take so much of your empty flirting Tony. You should save it for the people who beg you for your attention.” You said while glancing at a group of people eyeing the two of you, mostly with indignation.

You saw an unusual emotion pass over Tony’s face before he leaned a little closer to you “Who said it’s empty flirting?”

“Isn’t it?” You asked curiously “You flirt with everyone that has a pulse and a pretty face.”

He scoffed “Oh come on, that’s keeping up appearances.” He said with mild offense before meeting your eyes “None of the flirting or complements I have said to you are empty.”

You stared at him for a moment, reading him. “Then why do you do it?”

A small smile crossed his face “Isn’t it obvious by now?”

“Work with me on this one.” You challenged, wanting him to say it. You needed to hear it.

Your dance slowed to a near stop as his gaze into your eyes grew in intensity. Leaning forward, he brought his lips close to your ear “I flirt with you because I like you, not platonically, not in a shallow on the surface way that everyone expects of me.” He leaned back, meeting your eyes, his face close to yours “I like you. A hell of a lot more than I’ve ever liked anyone else. And honestly, it scares the shit out of me. Because I’ve never felt this way for anyone, and it’s true, I flirt because it’s what I’m good at. I don’t know how to express myself any other way.”

Your heart began to beat heavier in your chest as he spoke, his eyes and voice telling you it wasn’t a joke and that he was telling the truth. You smiled at him, and saw him relax slightly as you did so. “And here I thought you’d never admit it.” you said quietly.

A smile broke out on his face as he tightened his grip around you, beginning to dance with you again. “Well, believe it or not, I’m not as confident as everyone thinks I am.”

“That’s alright, I don’t mind. I like that side of you.” You said with a smile.

Tony stood still suddenly, bringing you to a stop again as you looked at him curiously. Bringing his hand up be brushed his hand across the side of your face for a moment “I’m glad, you’re one of the few who’s seen it, and one of the few who I’d like to know about it, so maybe-”

“Keep it a secret?” you asked with an air of amusement.

“You understand me so well.” He quipped as he stared back into your eyes, his eyes flicking to your lips, an action you did not miss. “What are you doing tomorrow?” he quickly changed the subject.

“Nothing, it’s my day off.”

“Good, go out with me.”

“Where?”

“Haven’t decided yet but it’ll be fun.”

“Not another party though right?”

“No, just the two of us.”

“A date then?” You asked with a smile, which he mirrored.

“Exactly.”

“Sounds like a somewhat thought out plan to me, I’ll be there.”

You shared an amused smile as you continued to dance to the music, completely ignoring your surrounding as you finally aired out your feelings for one another.

I’m bad a endings lol

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justcourttee · 3 years

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Hi I love your fics and maribat. Tall Girl (Netflix) reminds me a lot about Timari. So maybe to something with that. (With Mari thinking that Tim's confessions were all jokes and wanting Ardien who was roped into dating lila and it's the class making fun of mari.)

Oh goodness, this took ages and I both apologize and hope it's what you were looking for! 24 pages and over ten thousand words! For reference, that's 20% of my first multi-part Maribat piece!

Average

In a world where everyone is looking for extraordinary, how do you survive when you’re just average?

I’ve spent my whole life mulling over the thought, trying to find a way to be extraordinary, trying to find a way to be noticed, and constantly failing.

It wasn’t like it was from a lack of effort, I really did give my all to everything I tried, it was just, there was always someone better.

Specifically, one insufferable bitch named Lila Rossi.

Now I know what you’re thinking, ‘Marinette, it’s not fair to call Lila a bitch just because she was better than you,’ and if it were a normal rivalry, I could agree with you. But you simply don’t know Lila Rossi.

Lila has been a thorn in my side since we met on the soccer field at just ten years old. I accidentally bumped into her sending us both tumbling to the ground and she took that personally. Slapping my hand away, she bawled the worst fake tears I had seen in my ten short years until the coach benched me. Can you imagine the embarrassment of being benched in elementary school soccer?

Ever since that day, anytime we were placed together it always ended in disaster, especially for me.

Now, as much as I would love to on about how awful the sausage-haired brat is, I’m sure that’s not what you came here for. So let me break it down for you. If you are looking for your typical girl meets boy, they fall in love and live happily after, you should scroll now. It’s only fair to warn you. After all, I don’t want you to be disappointed when we reach the ending. I’ll give you a second.

Still here?

Well, hold on tight. Because the story I am about to tell you isn’t much to just anyone, but it’s everything to me and my average life.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

It all started on a Tuesday in August when he arrived.

Adrien Agreste.

“Class, I want you to welcome our exchange student, Adrien Agreste! He’s here all the way from Paris, France, and will be finishing the year with us. Adrien, why don’t you tell the class something about yourself?”

I couldn’t even focus on the words that escaped from his precious lips. His voice was so silky, like softened butter on one of Papa’s fresh muffins. Everything about him screamed perfect from his thoughtfully placed hair to his shining green eyes. He was simply-

“-Earth to Mari! You could at least try to hide your drool.”

My eyes snapped shut as I took a deep breath.

“Tim, I am not drooling. And you know I hate it when you whisper in my ear! It tickles!”

Tim rolled his eyes as he sat backward, his eyes narrowing to where Adrien stood in the front of the room, a pristine white smile earning giggles from every female in the class.

“I don’t like him. Something seems off about him. He’s too-too-”

“Perfect?” I chuckled to myself as the heat rose to Tim’s cheeks, his eyebrows settling into their usual aggravated pose. “I don’t know what has your panties in such a twist Wayne, but shouldn’t we try to get to know him first? I think he seems nice.”

Tim huffed under his breath, his cheeks filling with air. It was hard for me to contain my giggles as he mumbled to himself, his pout deepening.

Tim Drake-Wayne. He is my absolute, undeniable, unshakeable best friend. We met back when my parents decided to drag me halfway across the world for a change of pace. I was in the fifth grade when a young irritable boy with a coffee addiction wandered into the bakery alone, demanding a double shot of espresso to deal with the day.

After several visits, we became closer and closer until we were inseparable. Tim’s been through a lot. He was emotionally abused by his parents, forced to mature too quickly. We had just entered the eighth grade when those same parents died and he was adopted by the town’s billionaire, Bruce Wayne. I was sure I would never see him again, but after much convincing (bugging), Bruce decided public school was best for Tim so that he wouldn’t be isolated again.

I adore Tim with my whole heart, really, but there is one thing he does that I absolutely despise.

“After school today, let me take you to the new coffee shop that just opened! It’ll be just like a date.” His wink only strengthened my urge to knock him flat.

“First of all, quit joking about my lack of a love life. I don’t need a pity date from you. Second, how do you switch so easily from grueling to jokes? Don’t you get whiplash or something?”

It’s a daily occurrence. I mention someone I like or that someone is cute and immediately Tim jokes about how it would just be easier if I dated him instead. It’s the only thing he does that has ever truly gotten on my nerves.

My gaze returned to the front of the classroom where Adrien had settled into his new seat. Even the back of his head had every hair perfectly placed. How did he even begin to manage that? I wasn’t sure how long I had stared, but before I knew it the bell had sounded and I was whisked away by Tim before I could even say hi.

The same pattern repeated itself every day for weeks.

Every time I would work up the courage to say something to him, Tim drug me away as fast as he could manage. Although, I can’t place the entire blame on Tim. There was one other factor, one factor worse than Tim.

Lila Rossi.

As student body president, she vowed that it was her duty to show Adrien around the school and around town. I spent every night scrolling through dozens of snapchats and instagram stories filled with her hanging off of his arm.

Even if I could escape Tim’s grasps, there was no way she would let me get in a ten-foot radius of him.

At least, that was what I thought. There was one time during the day that Adrien had a moment to himself. Fifth period when the music room was abandoned and most took off for their internships or club activities.

I discovered him by accident, truly. My club had let out early for the day and while most people would take off to head home or to one of Gotham’s more popular afternoon hangouts, I wanted to wait for Tim.

It was never my plan to corner him, but as I flung open the music room’s door without a second thought, my eyes met startled green and my heart dropped to my stomach.

“I’m so sorry! Usually, the music room is empty right now and I thought I could find some peace, and I didn’t know you were in here and oh my god I’m such a dork.”

I slapped my hand over my mouth before I could spiral any further, his widening eyes sending my heart deeper. This was it. I finally had a chance to introduce myself and I wasted it. If there was any way I could just slink away, crawl into a six-foot hole, and simply wither away in misery, I would take it without hesitation.

“I’m so sorry, I’ll just head out no-” I could feel the heat rising to my face as the most precious sound I ever had the pleasure of experiencing erupted from him. His laugh could literally cure cancer, I was sure of it.

“No, no, you’re fine! Marinette, right?” He knew my name? Adrien Agreste, the most perfect man in the world, no, in the universe, knew who I was?

I could barely find the strength to nod, the heat in my cheeks becoming unbearable. He offered a sheepish smile, rubbing the back of his neck in such a gentle and shy manner. It was too effective. There was no way I wasn’t going to pass out before Tim got out of his AV club.

“I’m sorry, I also didn’t realize that anyone used this room besides me. I’ve spent the past few weeks in here while everyone was in their clubs.”

“You didn’t want to join anything?” Was my voice always this high? I couldn’t remember. To be honest, I was still in a daze from his precious laugh.

“It wasn’t that! It’s just, there’s nothing here that really interests me. I prefer classical things, like the piano and musicals and French theater. Nothing that interests normal kids our age.”

French theater? I knew some from the days I spent with my Grandfather in Paris. He was a sucker for classical things as well.

“I don’t think that those are weird interests. I mean, I prefer to design as my hobby, but I’ve spent quite a few hours watching French musicals with my papy. I am very knowledgable if I do say so myself.”

Adrien’s smile was blinding as he slid over on the piano bench, offering the spot beside him. My heart had finally returned to normal, but just one small motion had sent it into a flurry as it desperately tried to escape my chest.

“Let’s make a bet Marinette.” I found myself nodding before he even finished his sentence, his infectious smile starting to pull a smile of my own. “If you can guess the song and musical, you can ask for anything you want from me.”

“And if I get it wrong?” I was so sure the air was thinner beside him, the glint in his eyes drawing my breath away.

“Then I can ask you for anything I want, deal?” I hesitated for a moment, unable to comprehend that he would even want anything from me to begin with, but seconds later my head began to move, my breathing scarce.

I closed my eyes as his fingers hit the first notes, a beautiful melody following. The song was so familiar, so simple, but it was so hard to focus with him so close by. All too soon, the echoes of the final note rang through the room until a deafening silence settled atop of it.

“So, any guesses?”

I rolled my bottom lip between my teeth, a name settling in the forefront of my mind.

“It’s definitely Sur Deux Notes, but for some reason, I can’t remember the musical”

My eyes flickered open as I resisted the urge to jolt backward. His face was mere centimeters away, everything about him urging me to lean forward, to give in.

“A true tragedy Miss Marinette,” a finger popped up to bop my nose before he slid off the bench, offering his hand to help me stand. “You got it half right! It’s from the musical Les Chansons d'Amour. Which means-”

His pauce was dramatic as I stood, his grip on my hand loose.

“I win! Therefore, I get to ask you for anything correct? That was the deal?” His smirk was so playful, it almost felt dangerous. “So, Ma Dame, what are your plans this weekend?”

“Nothing!” That was definitely too quick, do I look desperate? Honestly, if it meant staring at that smile for a second more, I found myself caring less and less.

“Then, how about I help you refresh your musical knowledge? I believe I can get ahold of a copy of the original Les Chansons d’Amour by Saturday.”

This was a date, right? I wasn’t dreaming, the red throbbing spot on my arm pretty much guaranteed it. Somewhere along the line, I must have nodded, and as he gently released my hand turning to grab his bag, all the warmth left with him. Already, I found myself longing for his touch again.

“I hate to ask, but can you meet me at Wayne Manor? I’m sure Mounseir Bruce would allow me to borrow a car, but I am not quite comfortable asking him for something like that.”

“Sure-” I felt the gears turning in my head until the final one clicked into place. “I’m sorry, did you say Wayne Manor? As in Bruce Thomas Wayne? Gotham’s Favorite Billionaire?”

“Ah yes,” his hand moved to the back of his neck, a sheepish smile replacing his confident one from moments before. “It’s a bit embarrassing, but he was the only one my father would let me stay with. I couldn’t even apply for housing because he already had it set up. Does that make you feel awkward?”

“Oh no, of course not! I’m well acquainted with the Waynes! In fact, there is one that I forgot I was supposed to meet today. Can I give you my number really quick?”

As I handed him his phone and we bid goodbye, I couldn’t even begin to relish in the high I was feeling. No. The only thing I could focus on was how to murder one little Wayne boy.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

“Marinette, c’mon! It’s not that serious. So what if I didn’t tell you that Adrien was staying here?”

I tapped my pencil against my forehead, trying to ignore the pestering fly beside me.

The minute I had stepped out of the music room a couple of days before, I encountered two of the biggest thorns in my life. Tim paling at the sight of my rage and one insufferable bitch wearing the ugliest scowl. He ran from me then, he ignored my texts and calls, and I’m assuming once Adrien mentioned our date to Bruce, he decided there was no more avoiding it.

“Besides, he sounds pretty cheap if he’s making you meet him at Bruce’s house. Watching musicals? Like with your grandfather? Is he ancient or something?”

I gritted my teeth, trying to maintain the silence. There were so many things I wanted to say to him at the moment, but seeing him squirm was the best revenge. Tim loved silence unless it was purposely directed at him. His brothers taught me that years ago.

The bell sounded through the room and I quickly darted out before he could attempt another backhanded apology.

These were the days that I missed my Paris friends. Besides Tim, I was utterly alone. I mean, I technically could hang out with Tim’s siblings, but then I’d still have to see him. There was one person that lived outside the Wayne household, yet I wasn’t sure if I was ready to cross that line yet.

I walked home alone again.

Realistically speaking, I needed to at least work up the patience to face him before Saturday. It was almost a guarantee that he would be there. It wasn’t like he would go out on the weekends. But with only two days just seemed too soon.

I had barely walked into the bakery when my mother excitedly waved me down the landline in hand.

“Marinette! A boy from your school is on the line!”

I raised an eyebrow as I accepted the phone, waving her off. There was only one boy that knew the landline number and that was Tim, but if he were on the phone, she would’ve said so.

“Hello?”

The silence was deafening. For a moment, I was sure they had hung up and was about to follow suit when a soft voice sent chills down my spine.

“Marinette? It’s Adrien. I hope I’m not bothering you.”

My breath caught in my throat. Did he ask Tim for my number? But he has my cell? It didn’t matter how he got it or why he was using it, I just needed to respond.

“No-” I cleared my throat trying to find my real voice because it certainly wasn’t how I just spoke. “No, it’s not a bother at all.”

“Great, so, I heard from Lila that there was a homecoming dance coming up. I haven’t been to one before, but I was wondering if I could go with you?”

“Of course I would love-” My heart sank before I could finish my sentence. Laughter cut me off, two distinct laughs that I could pick out from anywhere. “Don’t you ever get tired Lila!”

“Oh my god, you were so excited huh? Pretty pathetic that you think he would fall for you after one conversation Mari dear.”

I didn’t even know how to respond. She wasn’t wrong. We shared one song and haven’t even gone on one date yet, why would I even believe this for one moment?

“Yo Mari, what’s good xinh đẹp?” I felt my hand rising to massage my temples before I could even find the strength to respond.

“Kim, were you trying to call her beautiful, or do you just suck that much at your grandmother’s native language?”

Muffled arguing continued for a few minutes, a few too many for me to question why I still hadn’t hung up. There was a concerning shriek before silence followed.

“I’m surprised you’re still here dumbinette, do you like being degraded by me?” Her laughter sounded like nails on a chalkboard and I could feel the tightness in my chest rising to my throat. “I just wanted to call to make one thing clear. Stay away from Adrien Agreste. I set my sights on him the minute he walked through those doors back in August and I don’t want you to think for even a second in that pitiful brain of yours that you even have a chance, okay?”

I wanted to argue, I wanted to rub it in her face that I had a date this Saturday, one I didn’t have to force upon him like she had the past few weeks. But the tightness had settled, crushing my windpipes. My hand inched down from my temple to my eyes where they were met with a warm wet tear.

“Mmkay, that was all babe! See you at school, hugs and kisses! Mwah!”

The phone stayed pressed to my ear for too long, the dial tone mocking my existence.

It was just two more days till my date, but I felt less confident as the days passed. A single thought passed through my mind, but I quickly dismissed it. No matter how I felt, I couldn’t cave in and call Tim. Yeah, that’s right, I was still mad at him. But was I really?

I was so sure that I was pissed beyond belief when I had to hear from Adrien that he was staying with him, but that wasn’t something that was completely out of my mind. Tim had done worse things than withhold information about someone I thought was cute.

Slowly, I lowered the phone, my fingers absentmindedly dialing his number, pausing as my finger lingered over call.

No, not tonight. I cleared out the screen before dropping it on the bakery counter, waving off my mother’s concerned look. Nobody could ruin the fact that I had a date on Saturday. Not even my own self-destructive tendencies. Adrien asked me out. He asked me out. That was a fact and no matter what Lila or Tim thought or did, it couldn’t shake that undeniable fact.

There were two days. Plenty of enough time to finish the dress I had been fiddling with the past two weeks. I will show up to this date with my head held high and my hopes higher

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

“Oh! Marinette what a fun surprise! You look beautiful!”

I inhaled sharply, ignoring the urge to smack the grin right off of Tim’s face.

“Timothy. Is Adrien home?” His smile faltered for a moment as he stepped out of the way, inviting me inside.

“Is this your new project? You were working on it for so long. It looks stunning!” He stumbled over his meaningless compliments as he led me to the entertainment room, my silence too much for him to bear.

“You don’t have to escort me, Timothy. I have been here a million and one times.”

I reached past Tim to open the doors, ignoring the fact that he refused to move. There was a strong temptation to just slam the door a little harder so that it would reach his nose, but a set of startling green eyes eased the feeling.

“Marinette! Oh mon Dieu, Tim was supposed to let me know when the doorbell rang so that I could greet you. I’m so sorry, I swear I really am a proper gentleman.”

“It’s okay Adrien! Really! I should’ve texted you that I arrived. I’m just so used to letting myself in.”

His smile was full of relief as it sent my heart into a flurry. Was it really possible to sit close to this man without combusting?

“Please, join me! I just figured out how to set everything up.”

Adrien motioned to the seat beside him and as I slid into the couch, I was fully aware of his arm resting behind my head. It felt nearly impossible to focus on the movie in this position. As he pressed play, my eyes glanced between him and the screen, unsure which was more deserving of my attention.

“So my friends, what are we watching?” Adrien’s arm flinched, his elbow knocking the back of my head as we both jumped from the couch.

“Tim, what are you doing here? I thought you weren’t a fan of French musicals?”

Adrien was putting it nicely, something I could admire him for since my thoughts were definitely straying to a much more violent response. Tim took a handful of popcorn, shoving it into his mouth as he slipped into the spot I had been sitting moments before.

“I usually don’t, but I figured I should get to know you both a little better and your culture of course. Don’t mind me, you won’t hear another peep.” He mockingly zipped his lips closed, his sickeningly sweet smile not quite reaching his devilish eyes.

Adrien glanced at me as if he were unsure to argue or not. I suppose he decided it wasn’t quite was worth it as he moved to sit back down, his smile shaky.

With as much might as I could muster, I shimmied in between the two guys, putting as much distance between Tim and me as I could. I felt his glare burning holes into the side of my head, but there was no way I was going to let him ruin my perfect first date with the perfect guy.

Adrien restarted the movie and for exactly five minutes, Tim kept his promise.

“Can we at least turn on the subtitles? My french is a little rusty.”

I gritted my teeth as Adrien nodded, the screen changing to fit in the white words.

“God that’s tiny, is there any way to make them larger?”

“Uhm, I’m not very sure? It took a while to figure out the controls.” A fist shot past my face, spreading in wait. Adrien looked wary as he placed the remote into Tim’s outstretched hand.

“This should do.” What was once manageable small words were now purple and taking up a third of the screen. I could feel Adrien tense up beside me, but he refused to argue.

We continued on like this for the duration of the movie. Tim would find something new to complain about making our date feel less and less romantic and more like amicable divorcees taking their child out.

“Wow, what a beautiful movie!” Tim dabbed at nonexistent tears, his smile irritating me half to death. “What’s next guys?”

“I, uhm, actually have to head back. After all, I told Maman I wouldn’t be out late.”

“Let me walk you home!” The silence was deafening as both boys traded glances with one another, daring the other to speak again.

“Enough Tim! This was my date tonight with Adrien, not you! Quit acting like some jealous boyfriend!” Both sets of eyes turned toward me, one set glowing, the other dull.

Tim closed his slack jaw before he gathered his trash, mumbling under his breath as he left.

I took a minute, watching the door to ensure he wouldn’t turn back with some dumb retort like he always did, but instead, it remained shut. I felt a gentle touch on my shoulder, urging me forward.

“I’ll walk you home Marinette.” I managed a nod as I let Adrien lead me out of the room and out of the manor.

We walked in silence for a while, his gentle touch both calming and warm in the cool October air.

“Marinette, I’m sorry. That wasn’t exactly how I planned for our first date to go. I’m not sure what was up with Tim.”

My laugh was curt as I slowed my pace, the bakery coming into view far too quickly.

“Tim is just lonely. I know that, yet I’ve been ignoring him some time for petty reasons. He just,” I paused, steps away from the windows to avoid any unwanted audiences, “he just can take the jokes too far sometimes and I can’t handle that.”

Adrien nodded as if he sort of understood what I meant, his eyes glancing to the building beside us.

“Is this your house? Do you live above the bakery?”

“Uh, yeah. There’s an apartment above with a side entrance. So I suppose, this would be my stop.” His chuckle echoed as he moved his hand from my back to brushing against my own hanging hand.

“Well, it certainly wasn’t how I imagined it would go, but can I at least end it how I planned?”

My heart was certainly ready to burst as he gently turned me until our noses were mere centimeters apart. He seemed to be waiting, his lips parted ever so slightly. This was my chance, and yet I was too mesmerized by how close he was. Could I at least nod?

Perhaps I did. The confirmation he waited for set him in motion as he closed to the slight distance between us. His lips were warm and soft and I felt as if I could melt into the sidewalk, as happy as could be.

It almost felt life ending when he finally pulled back, his smile sending my head spinning.

“I’ll see you Monday, Marinette. Goodnight.” He lifted my hand, placing a small peck against my knuckles before releasing it, turning to leave me dumbfounded in front of my own house. My eyes trailed after him, only allowing me to step toward my own home once he was just out of sight.

There was literally nothing that could ruin the high that I was on during that very moment. If only I had known what was waiting for me as I turned the knob.

“Welcome home hunny! Look who decided to stop by to see you!”

The color drained from my face as the snarky smile set off every alarm in my mind.

“Long time, no see Dupain-Cheng. I thought the first thing you would do when I got here was come and see me, but I guess that was too much to hope for now wasn’t it.”

“Chloe, you know you’ve been busy, so why are you acting like it’s all my fault?”

Her heavy, dramatic sigh reminded me exactly why I hadn’t reached out. Chloe is one my best friends besides Tim, but she can be a bit much sometimes. Imagine being so average that even when you stand next to a pillar, you make the pillar look more outstanding. Got that picture? Now imagine little old average me standing next to a three times Miss Junior World Wide pageant winner.

See? A bit much for my mental health to hang out in public with her.

“C’mon now, you know that’s not the only thing stopping you from calling. Your mother told me you had a date tonight. You finally give that Wayne boy a chance?”

I rolled my eyes as I slid into the chair across from her, the weight of the night finally hitting.

“You and I both know he’s just messing with me, mocking me if you will.” Chloe shared a look with my mother, both sighing. I knew what they were thinking, but they didn’t know Tim. He was always like that, always will be. “Besides, there was a transfer student. From Paris to be exact.”

I knew I had captured her attention as she leaned forward, her fingers intertwining before resting on the table.

“Maybe you know him. From what I gathered, he and his family are Paris elites. Adrien Agreste-”

“Mhmm, girl, drop him now.”

I paused as I waited to see if she would elaborate, but instead, she just sat back in her chair as if already bored with the conversation.

“Why should I? He’s so handsome and so sweet and we both share similarities. He’s so perfect Chloe.”

“Yeah, no.” She glanced over her pristine nails as if looking for a crack in the polish to punish. “He is a daddy’s boy and you are not his father’s type. His father will insist he marry someone that would be good for business and I’m sorry but you’re not that Marinette.”

“Marriage?” I could feel myself burning red at the implication. “We only went on one date, Chloe!”

“And it should stay that way. Trust me, he and his family are nothing but trouble for you. You should ask out Tim instead.”

“Are you done?” Chloe sighed before nodding, letting her hand fall to hit the table with an exaggerated smack. “I know that he is out of my league. Trust me, for someone so perfect like him, he needs perfect to match. In fact, I was planning on calling you soon anyway, but since you’re here..”

I trailed off, waiting for her to draw her own conclusion.

“Marinette, nobody is perfect. Stop putting him on a pedestal before you hurt yourself.”

If I weren’t mistaken, I would almost think she was concerned for me, but that just wasn’t Chloe’s style.

“So can you do it or not?”

Her sigh was long and drawn out, ending in a slight nod.

“Let’s get to it. We have a lot of work to do before Monday rolls around.”

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

You know, I had always wondered how Lila felt walking into school every day knowing that every set of eyes was pinned to her.

Now I knew.

It was revolting. How could she walk so confidently knowing that everyone was gaping at her, certainly waiting for her to mess up? At least, that’s how it felt as people didn’t even bother to hide their broken necks as I whisked past them.

It would be a lie if I didn’t disclose that I practically dove into the safety of my homeroom before I fell into a full-blown panic attack.

“Marinette?” I stiffened as I peaked up at the boy standing in front of my desk. It had been two whole days and Tim hadn’t even messaged me, yet here he was, his mouth hanging as low as everyone else’s. “Are you wearing make-up?”

I nodded as he slipped into his usual seat, his expression shifting from surprise to one of suspicion.

“This has Chloe’s handiwork all over it. Did she stop your house or something this morning?”

“She’s staying for the next couple of weeks to avoid that shady hotel on fifth that her mom booked for her.”

Tim nodded with understanding, but not another word was spoken. It almost felt like a dagger to my heart. Where was the Tim I knew with the backhanded compliments and joke dates? Surely if a makeover couldn’t get a reaction from him, what was I expecting from Adrien?

I let out a sigh as I fell forward, my forehead resting on the cool desk. Where was Adrien anyways? He was always ten minutes early for every class. This was so unlike him.

“Oh my god! There you are Mariboo!” A shiver traveled down my spine jolting me up in my seat. There was only one person with an annoying shrill in their voice that could outmatch Chloe’s.

“Lila? You’re not even in this class. What do you want?”

Her laugh felt like listening to a cat using the blackboard as its new scratching post. I couldn’t help but flinch as she placed a perfectly manicured hand on my shoulder.

“You’re so mean Mariboo! I was coming to make sure that we were still on for lunch today! Adrikins had a photoshoot this morning but he wanted to invite all of us to eat with him on his break!”

Her enthusiasm was sickening.

“But Lila, you don’t like me-”

“Don’t like you? Babe! What is with you today? If my boyfriend asks me to bring you to lunch then that’s all I need to confirm our sisterhood.” Boyfriend. Boyfriend. I couldn’t be bothered to hide my shock as Lila’s fake smile shifted to show her more sinister and true smirk. “Yeah, Boyfriend. We went to dinner last night and he asked me there! So romantic huh? Anyways, I trust I’ll see you later then huh? Okay then! Hugs and Kisses, byee!!”

My eyes narrowed as they shifted to where Tim sat beside me, feigning ignorant to the interaction. Was this his retaliation for what I had blurted out on Saturday? I only called it how I saw it and it was Tim’s fault for pushing me that far! He was being childish at this point.

“Do you think she’s lying about Adrien asking her out?” The silence was deafening as Tim slowly lowered his forehead to the desk, his eyes shut tightly as if trying to imagine he was anywhere else than right beside me. Regardless, I tried to continue. “It has to be a lie, right? I mean Adrien said he liked me, not her! We even kissed.”

Tim’s body stiffened beside me. Of course, that would get a rise out of him, he was always overprotective about those kinds of things. Alas, my excitement was dulled as he returned to his relaxed state once more, his silence continued.

Whatever. I don’t need Tim. I can figure this out for myself. All I had to do was wait till lunch.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

“Oh my! You actually came! How exciting.” Lila’s smile was dripping with false elation, a hint of thrill dancing in her eyes as if she couldn’t wait for the drama to unfold in front of her. “Aidrikins, look who it is!”

Adrien wouldn’t even meet my eyes, his arm dangling lifelessly from Lila’s shoulders. If I had to guess, he wanted to be anywhere else at that moment. The thought leaked its way into a small smile.

“Why don’t you take a seat Mariboo? I have someone who wanted to talk to you. Someone who loved your little-” she paused, her nose scrunching up as she searched for the right word,”-transformation?”

I didn’t even have time to question her before I was thrown off balance, an arm forcing me into the chair at the table.

“‘Sup girl? You’re looking fine today.” Instant dread flooded my soul as I was squeezed into a damp t-shirt that I could only assume was sweat-drenched. “You don’t mind if I slide in beside you eh?”

“Kim-Get. Your. Arm. Off. Me. Now.”

“Woah, woah, c’mon little lady. Don’t be like that! You know I’ve always had a soft spot for you Marinette.”

Lila’s smile was infuriating as she watched as Kim pushed me into the open seat, his arm heavy on my shoulders.

“What is the meaning of this Lila?” Her eyes feigned innocence as she cocked her head to the side, her fingers tapping the table.

“Whatever do you mean Marinette? I’m just trying to help you get over your heart break now that Adrikins has chosen me to be his girlfriend. You know the old saying; ‘the best way to get over one is to get under another’.”

I could barely stand to let her finish before I pushed Kim away, taking off ducking so that he couldn’t reach out again. Why did I think for even a second that this would turn out okay? Did I expect Adrien to wrap me up in his warm arms and tell me she was just a joke? How stupid of me.

“Marinette?” I slowed down long enough to catch Tim’s worried gaze, the strength in my legs finally giving out as I slumped to the ground. “Marinette! What happened?”

I tried to speak, but I couldn’t seem to find my voice. I reached up absentmindely to where the warmth in my cheeks sat, recoiling at the dampness I found. Had I started crying? When did that happen?

“Here, take this.” I didn’t even bother to look up as the weight of Tim’s jacket slipped over my shoulders. He gently helped me to my feet, pulling me toward the door that led to the courtyard, a bench in view. “Can you make it to our spot?”

My voice still seemed to fail me, a nod was all I could manage. It was enough for Tim who seemed to understand. The moment the back of my knees hit the cool wood, I buckled. Tim crouched in front of me, reaching out hesitantly to brush some of the leftover tears lingering on my cheek.

“Is this because of Adrien?” The air left my lungs, my body going rigid. “This is what I was worried about Mari. He seems perfect, but the jerk was torn between you or popularity. Anyone who can’t see the right choice there isn’t deserving of you.”

“Torn between me and popularity?” My voice was hoarse, it sounded unfamiliar.

“Yeah. He had the audacity to ask for my advice as to whether or not it was worth it to date you or have friends. Can you believe that? As if Lila’s little group will still want him after his newness has worn off.”

“And what did you tell him?” Tim stiffened as he shifted his eyes away from mine. “Tim, what was your advice to him?”

“He told me to drop you because you only saw your old life in me and that you weren’t as invested in this as I was.” My body felt as stiff as Tim’s looked as we both glanced to where he stood, breathless and red, his own eyes tinging pink as if he were holding back tears himself.

“Stop.” Tim’s voice was a whisper, his hand retracting from where it had been resting on my cheek. Adrien took a step forward, holding his head higher as he looked down on the two of us.

“He told me that you always had short-lived crushes and that you longed for your old life often. So much so that when I showed up, you were more fascinated by what I could offer over who I was.”

“That’s not what I said-”

“It’s exactly what you told me! So imagine my surprise when she showed up at lunch today looking like I had pulled the rug out from under her feet. Marinette, this isn’t what I meant to happen. I like you, alot. And if you like me too, I’d want to give this a shot, truly.”

My brain felt as if it were short-circuiting. Tim had done many things in the past to thwart my crushes but he’d never put me in a situation that would hurt me. Never. Yet, when my eyes met Adrien’s, something sincere stirred, pulling at my heart.

“Tim?” His eyes shifted to mine, tears brimming at the edge threatening to spill at any moment. Was this really the face of a selfish man sabotaging me? “I want to hear it from you, Tim. What was your advice to Adrien?”

“Marinette, I already told you-” Adrien fell silent at the sight of my palm, urging him to stop. It wasn’t a lack of trust in him, it was the fact that I felt too much trust for Tim. I just knew he couldn’t, he wouldn’t, he-

“That’s more or less what I told him,” he was barely audible but I heard every word clearly as they pierced my chest. “But Marinette, I couldn’t watch him string you along anymore. You don’t know the conversations he has at night with Lila, you don’t know-”

I couldn’t imagine the face I was making right now. I couldn’t even begin to fathom a face to make in the first place. Nothing out of Tim’s mouth was making sense. Adrien was telling the truth? Tim really said that about me?

“Marinette, please listen-” my hand moved before I could think, smacking Tim’s as it attempted to rest itself back on my cheek.

“Tim.” He seemed to understand as he stood, taking a step back from where I sat. “Tim, just,-I-”

I didn’t even know what to say. Why did it hurt so bad? What was this gut-wrenching feeling? It wasn’t like this was the first time Tim had sabotaged a crush. But wasn’t it the first that he had gone this far? The first he had said such awful things to me? Right?

“I think you should leave Wayne.” There was a tense moment where the air stood still and the two boys in front of me stared each other down, daring the other to speak again. It was Tim who would inevitably give in, stepping back toward the school building without a glance back. And for some reason, that hurt most of all.

His face, what face was he making right now as he walked away? It’s the only thing I can think about, it’s monopolizing my thoughts. Tim, Tim, Tim-

“Hey, hey, don’t cry. It’s okay.” Adrien pulled me forward until I was pressed into his chest, the dampness of my cheeks finally hitting. When did the tears start? Why did they start? “Marinette, I don’t know what Tim has said about me, but I really do have feelings for you. I never once faltered when it came to that. Is there any way you could give me a second chance?”

His heart was pounding. Was he nervous? I could hear the words coming out of his mouth, but I couldn’t process the meaning behind them. Was he asking me out?

“A second chance? Aren’t you dating Lila?”

“I am, but I’m not. I-I don’t care for her as I do you. It was just that Tim told me you weren’t interested and she has been asking me for weeks now. I’m sorry. I know this doesn’t look good on my part, but I swear Marinette. If you tell me right now that you will accept my request, then I’ll leave her. It’s you that I want Marinette. So what do you say?”

“I-I don’t know what to say. I mean, Adrien it was one date. Are you sure you want to throw away your relationship on one date?”

Adrien pulled back, his eyes shining as elegantly as the first time I saw them.

“I’m sure Marinette. I would be willing to bet anything on you.” Hesitantly, he reached forward, wiping the tear stains from my face, his hand remaining on my cheek. “May I?”

I couldn’t process just what he was asking, my mind still boggled with thoughts of Tim retreating. I could feel my face being pulled forward ever so slowly, his nose nearly tickling my own. Was this okay? Was it okay to allow him to steal yet another kiss? Was Tim right? Did I truly care about Adrien or was he just another crush? He paused, his lips mere centimeters from mine.

“Is this okay Marinette?”

No, Tim was wrong. Adrien was wonderful and caring and I actually liked him. This was something I decided for myself regardless of Tim’s opinions. It was my turn to close the distance between us. His lips were soft and delicate, almost hesitant as he returned the kiss. As he pulled away, my head felt dazed. It was different from the melting sensation I had felt before. This one was gentle, like a promise sealed between the two of us. It was comforting.

"Come with me Saturday,” my voice felt foreign as it slipped out of my mouth, unsure of where this surge of courage came from. “My friend has a fashion show and while it’s not the most exciting thing in the world, I’m sure it would be much better with you there.”

“If it’s with you, I’m sure it will be a blast. I’d love to come, Marinette.”

There was a pause as I registered his words in my head.

“So, like a date..right?”

Adrien’s laugh bellowed through the courtyard as he stood, offering his hand to help me stand as well.

“Exactly like a date.” He pulled my hand forward until his lips brushed over my knuckles, his warmth lingering even after he released his grip. “Now, if you’ll excuse me. I need to take care of a certain someone before I can officially call you mine.”

Adrien offered a small wave before turning to jog back inside.

I remained standing, my eyes following his retreating figure. He left through the same door that Tim had, reminding me once again, that I also had someone I should take care of. But was that the case? Tim never explained himself, just upped and left after Adrien suggested he should.

It wasn’t that I couldn’t trust Adrien and what he said, it just felt wrong to watch Tim leave me, to leave my side without a word.

Maybe we both just needed some space. After all, I had no idea what I would do, what I would say if I saw him right now. I would just wait until after Saturday, after my date, after a perfect night out.

Yeah, that would be the best time.

I reached into my pocket, my fingers already dialing before my phone was even in view.

“What do you want Dupain-Cheng? Aren’t you still in class?”

“Well, hello to you too Chloe. I’m doing fine thanks for asking.” There was a deep sigh that resonated through my phone as if she was deciding if I were worth her time. Supposing I was, she clicked her tongue waiting for me to continue. “Adrien agreed to come with me to that show you’re walking in on Saturday.”

“And why would he do that?”

“I would like to assume it’s because he likes me and wants to spend time with me, but that’s just a guess. Who knows for sure?”

Chloe tsked and the line went dead before I could even say another word. I couldn’t help the smile that tugged at my lips. At least the one thing I could count on was for Chloe to remain constant.

Never mind anything else that occurred, the only thing I had to concentrate on was my date. Forget Tim, forget Lila. I had a perfect date on Saturday and that was the only thing that mattered.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

“So, enjoying your backstage luxury? Honestly, you’re drooling as if you haven’t eaten in days looking at all these up-and-coming designers.”

I unconsciously wiped the drool that had seeped at the corner of my mouth as I turned in circles taking in the landscape. It wasn’t much. A bunch of thrown-together counter space and curtain dividers, but the hope and exhaustion on everyone’s face as their hard work finally came to light was what made it so fascinating for me..

“I can’t help it, Chloe. I know I told Adrien that it wouldn’t be that exciting, but to be honest, it’s so gratifying watching them. Maybe I’ll take my hobby seriously and find myself here one day. You’ll wear my designs, right Chloe?”

“Mm, you’ll have to prove to me that your designs are worth my time.” She stuck out her tongue, her eyes taunting me to retaliate. “Besides, I know this is all just a deflection Dupain-Cheng. You’re avoiding the original question I asked when you first got here.”

My body stiffened slightly as I shifted my gaze to a nearby model having their make-up fixed. Anywhere but Chloe was a good place to look seeing as the burning sensation in my skull indicated that she was most likely throwing her killer glare in my direction.

“I told you, Chloe, he said he would meet me here and he just hasn’t texted me yet.”

“That sounds like a load of bullshit to me, but whateves.” It was odd that he hadn’t called me or even shot a single text. We were supposed to meet up an hour ago but after thirty minutes of waiting and three missed calls from Chloe, I decided I would wait inside for him to contact me. “The show will be starting soon so you should try and find a decent seat. Maybe lover boy can find the guts to show up before I walk.”

I nodded before edging my way to the curtain separating the audience from the models. Peeking through, my eyes scanned for a certain blonde but alas, he still wasn’t here. I excused myself to the nearest row with two seats left, placing my purse and jacket into the empty one in hopes Adrien would fill it soon.

Out of the corner of my eye, I watched as the announcer jumped on stage, his enthusiastic voice failing to capture my full attention. When Chloe would ask me later if I liked the show, I couldn’t even begin to tell her what she modeled. My thoughts were elsewhere, wondering just why he never even read a single text.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

I got my answer just hours after returning from Chloe’s show. In reality, I hadn’t moved from my bed, not particularly sad, just mentally exhausted. It was only after I had finally decided to brush it off as a dead battery or some freak accident, I received a text from someone I never imagined.

“Hey xinh đẹp, I know I’m probably the last person you want to hear from, but I just couldn’t let this slide.”

Kim had attached a video, nearly a minute long. My heart jumped as I saw the screen frozen on Adrien’s face surrounded by dozens of people, Lila hanging right off of his arm. Was this why he was late? Did he go to break up with Lila? It would explain why he couldn’t answer me.

With a shaky breath, I pressed play, my heart threatening to drop at any moment.

“The fuck is this?”

“Tim?” His name almost sounded foreign in my mouth. What was Tim doing at Lila’s party?

“Leave it be Wayne.”

“Yeah Timmyboo, just leave it be.” Lila giggled as she brought Adrien’s face to hers, leaving small sloppy kisses all over his face. It almost made me sick to my stomach. That looked nothing close to breaking up.

“You told her that you were leaving this bitch! You lied to Marinette.”

“Oh c’mon Tim. Marinette’s nice and all, but her crush on me was overbearing and what was it going to give me in return? Huh?”

“She would’ve given you the world if you asked! How can you not realize that? When Marinette loves someone, she does it with her whole heart. If I had your chance, you bet your life I would never waste it like this!”

Tim… was serious. All those times, he was serious. I can’t believe I thought it was a joke when Tim was constantly pouring his heart out to me.

“Like she would ever give you a chance Wayne. Not after you made it so easy for me to get her to hate you. I’ll let her know eventually, but in reality, she has nothing. Especially compared to Lila. It’s like father always said, relationships are only good for what they can offer yo-”

Adrien never got to finish his sentence as Tim’s fist connected with his face. I could hear Kim let out a string of cusses as the video cut out. There was nothing I could do as I stared at my phone, still processing what I had seen, what I had heard. I stared until the screen blackened and all that was left was my own shocked expression.

For some reason, it didn’t hurt that bad hearing Adrien’s words. Somewhere deep inside of me must have realized that fascination with someone from where I grew up way outshined the actual connection I had made up.

“Tim,” He tried to protect me. It wasn’t just some jealous ulterior motive; Tim just didn’t want to see me hurt. And speaking of Tim, “my God, I have to find Tim!”

I pushed off my bed, racing down the stairs and out the front of the bakery. Maman glanced sideways at me as I zipped past, but she did nothing to stop me, a seemingly knowing smile plastered on her face. I’m sure I’ll deal with her teasing later, but that wasn’t the important thing at the moment.

No, the only thing that mattered was finding-

“Marinette?” My feet planted themselves, my arms involuntarily shooting out to balance myself. Before I had even turned, my heart was already jumping in my throat. “Marinette, where are you going?”

I couldn’t stop myself as I stumbled forward, my steps clumsy as I made my way to where he stood.

“Marinette? I-oof” I threw myself into Tim, my arms tightening around him in fear that if I let go, he would somehow slip away from me. He hesitated for a moment before I felt his own arms wrap themselves around me.

We stood there as seconds passed, neither speaking, just simply holding on for dear life.

“I love you.” His heart raced, reacting to my words much the same as my own. “I’m sorry for everything Tim. I’m sorry it took me this long to realize you never once were joking about your feelings for me. I’m sorry that I let a stupid boy come between me and my best friend. But most of all, I’m sorry that I never had the courage to say it sooner. I love you, Tim.”

All too quickly he pulled back, his hand rushing to his face in an attempt to cover the spreading red.

“You-ou-you-you can’t just spring that on me! I didn’t have any time to prepare. And you took away my big moment! You have no idea the demons that I literally fought to finally work up the courage to come confess! Marinette!”

I felt the giggle bubbling up as Tim attempted to compose himself, the blush ever-burning as it moved to brush against his neck.

“I guess I should add that to my apology speech too huh?”

“Yes! You should! I want a formal apology later for ruining something that I have been planning for since we were kids.”

“And what about now?” Tim cocked his head as I took a small step forward in an attempt to close the space between us. “If that’s what you want for later, what do you want for now?”

I could practically see the wheels turning in Tim’s head as he tentatively reached out, grasping my face as lightly as he could with both hands. Time seemed to stop as he pulled me forward, his breath quick and uneven, much like my racing heart.

“I want to kiss the woman I love, but only if she wants me to.”

“What a coincidence, I also was thinking that I would love to kiss the man in front of me.”

We both moved forward, our lips and teeth colliding at the same time.

“Ow!” Tim released one hand as he covered his mouth. There was a moment of silence before we both erupted, our laughter mingling as it filled the night air. “Somehow, that felt exactly like us.”

I could only nod as my laughter faded out, an ear-splitting smile taking its place.

“It’s okay though because now we can try again any time.”

Tim smiled as he leaned forward once more. “Good, because I would love to try again right now.”

His lips were soft and his kiss was gentle and described in a single word; perfect. When he pulled back, his forehead rested against my own, his heart practically jumping through his shirt.

“Is this real?”

“It is.”

I shared his sentiment. It didn’t feel real that after all this time, after everything that had happened, we had finally found our way back to each other.

I’m sorry if this wasn’t the happy ending you were waiting for. After all, I did warn you that it wasn’t your typical girl meets boy.

In the end, I never quite figured out my question; how do you survive in an extraordinary world when you’re only average? After everything, I still don’t have anything definite, but I suspect that it becomes infinitely easier when you fall in love with your best friend.

As I met Tim’s eyes in our last moments alone that night, the only thought occupying my mind was that never again would I ever let him go.

I found the person that makes my average life extraordinary and he’s always been right by my side.

“Never leave Tim, okay?” I could feel the warmth from his smile before it even appeared.

“You’re only stuck with me for the rest of your life and any time after that.”

I reached forward, intertwining our fingers, relishing in the perfect fit. This was everything I had been searching for and now it was quite literally in my grasps.

This, well this was only the beginning of our story, but that’s a tale for another time, right?

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#timinette #tall girl au #maribat

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writing-in-april · 3 years

Text

Dr. Jekyll or Mr. Hyde (2/?)

Part two: Caught

Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Summary: After reader’s first introduction to Spencer she can’t wait for the next meeting and tries to look for him.

Part One, Part Three

Series Masterlist

A/N: Hey guys!!! This is my final fic for my 1250 follower celebration!!! Plus this is part two to my new series 🥰 I’m like so excited for this guys I’ve got so much planned for this one!! Thanks again to @spencers-dria who came up with the way I started out this story 😘 and @andiebeaword who gave me the prompt that spiraled into a series!!! Let me know how y’all like this series so far 🥰 also I will be mass accepting the rest of the requests for my 30 fics in 30 days tomorrow so be warned for a bunch for posts lol and I’ll be making a Masterlist for this series as well- maybe with a cute moodboard?? Thanks for reading guys!!!

Warnings: 18+, Speculation on how dark Spencer can be, mentions of kidnapping, Dom Spencer, Public sex (of course), Fingering, Use of the nickname Doctor, Slight size kink, Muffling, Spencer gives Reader a nickname at the end (I won’t spoil it 😉)

Main Masterlist Word Count: 3.6k

Ever since the last meeting you had been itching to lay your eyes on Dr. Reid. Even though you could have waited until next month when there’s another book meeting happening, with a new theme, your impatience was not having it.

The library that housed the book club and apparently now any of your interactions with the mystery man had never been frequented as much by you- until now.

Everyday after work now you stopped by to try and find him. You did other stuff there for sure, making your way through a full fantasy series while you kept your eyes peeled for his fluffy hair. Sometimes you did walk through the shelves that were stacked high with every book you thought imaginable just to maybe get a peak at him, or maybe speak to him if you were lucky.

You felt like you were both dancing around each other, never touching or even getting close enough to speak. But, a little look of his curls, a spot of his mesmerizing eyes, or a glimpse of his cardigan assured you that he was there.

You were sure he had to have seen you just as you had seen him at some point. Maybe he only wanted to see you during your book club or maybe he was done with you after that one time in the empty room.

Seeing him without half of his face covered seemed to make the shroud of mystery surrounding him get pulled back further. That however didn’t change the fact that you barely knew the man that danced between the shelves. You had called him by his earned prefix more than his real name and even then it was only his last name with the earned prefix attached that had slipped between your lips.

It was not like you did not know his first name, you had heard his full name with his title attached when he had first introduced himself to you, albeit behind that mask of mystery. And, even with his physical mask removed even with one look it would be obvious to anyone that there was an invisible mask still covering most of him.

There was this strange pull towards him that you could not explain. You felt like Christine being entranced by the phantom, his twisted face or in this case his soul behind the mask not shocking me away. You still hoped I was not dealt with a man that was as demented as Christine’s phantom. You could take a damaged man, not a kidnapper along with whatever other things the phantom of the opera had done to Christine. With one look at his face he hooked you in, perhaps unintentionally. But, if it was intentional and his bad didn’t squash the good in the end you didn’t mind at all.

Your feelings teetered on a precarious edge, you’d willingly take the plunge off if he’d just give you a peak at what was underneath. It all hinged on whether or not he’d let you take a look. He’d given you a taste of his Dr. Jekyll plus a little of his Mr. Hyde, but it left you nowhere in determining who Spencer was underneath.

Spencer- that was the first time you had even thought of his first name by itself without a prefix attached. You wondered how good it would sound if you let it stop dancing on the edge of your lips and let it slip out.

The ghost of his name danced on your lips precariously at the edge just like you were, so close to being whispered out. Only the pages of old books would hear you, there was no harm in saying his name. It was only a name after all.

Even though it was just a name made up of two syllables it was stuck on your tongue like it was one of the hardest words to pronounce. Your lips did finally speak in the softest whisper when you finally managed to stomp out your hesitation, “Spencer-“

“You called?” A gasp left you, way too loud to be appropriate in the library, but then again you had already bucked many of this library’s rules. You whipped around to face the voice that you recognized instantly as you had been closing your eyes tight every night trying to remember his voice and picture what he had done to you.

Seeing him without the mask up close, not through quick glances when you caught his fugue from afar was somehow more intriguing to you than when he wore the mask two weeks ago. When you did not come up with a response for at least a minute, he cut through the somewhat awkward silence, “What book are you looking for?”

“I don’t know.” That was an honest answer from you, you had other motives for hiding between these shelves.

His eyebrows shot up to his hairline clearly spotting your skittish behavior. You thought you were a good liar too, you wondered how it was so easy for him to read you. It made you feel vulnerable considering you couldn’t get a read on anything about him, besides the basics. Maybe you were just a bad liar and he was a master at it. “So you were just browsing? In the nonfiction section- specifically in the ancient and medieval philosophy section?”

His questions flustered you even more. It was like he knew that you had spotted him once in this very spot speeding through a stack of books a mile high while sitting cross legged on the floor. You would admit you stood there in awe for a moment to admire the way his fingers slipped down the page to track what sentence that he was on at an inhuman pace. You had been too shy to approach him that day, even though it was a perfect opportunity to do so, mostly because you were intimidated by how fast he seemed to be reading. Though later you thought maybe he had just been skimming to find what interested him, you wish you were brave enough to ask. That was why you had been loitering in the last spot you had your last chance to speak with him. It was possible he had already spotted you from your staring. Your voice shook a little as denied, having no suitable white lie to say, “No…”

“Not interested in philosophy then, no Plato for you??” He knew you were here before, watching him, his tone made it obvious.You shook your head from side to side slowly with your breath held tightly in his chest. He looked away from you for a moment to glaze over the spines of the books ordered by the Dewey Decimal System, maybe looking for something that sparked his own interest. It was only a small moment that his gaze wasn’t fixated at you, but you still felt like whining at him to get his attention back onto you. Luckily, you did not have to make such a sound as his pupils fixated back onto yours before he spoke again, “I thought so, you seem more like a fiction lover.”

“You’d be correct.” You confirmed, still barely breathing.

Your breathing wavered when he moved a little closer, if you hadn’t been paying such close attention to every minute moment he made, you might have missed it. The warmth of him was closer than it had been since the last time he had touched you, the desire for him was urging you to pull him in to touch him. Last time he had initiated every touch. his hands were closest to you, with nimble fingers that could work you over the edge skillfully and you knew that from experience. His head cocked to the side with eyebrows in question pulling you away from your daydream about pulling him in with your touch. He cleared his throat, then questioned you, his voice dropping down a bit, “So, if you weren’t looking for a specific book and you weren’t just browsing for a new one- what are you doing here in this section?”

“N-nothing…” A stutter still escaped you despite your best efforts.

It seemed like he was circling you like a hawk over head, though you wanted to be caught up in his claws. A little yelp of surprise escaped you when he suddenly grabbed your wrist rather tightly and yanked you forward towards him. You stumbled slightly into his chest, but you were quickly stabilized by him pushing you back into the shelves.

You were getting whiplashed again from his transition from delicate to sharp when he carefully put both wrists into one hand, then pinning them above your head. Your jaw was dropped down in shock and you almost stammered out another reply when he hit the nail on the head as to what your intentions were, “Were you looking for me?” At first you gave no response, but he pulled one out of you by sharply commanding you, “Answer me!”

“Yes!”

His lips were on you in a familiar fashion, harsh, almost enough to where your lips might bruise a little. When he bit your lip rather hard, you thought that there was definitely a chance that the bruise would form or at least it would be swollen. You loved it though, letting him guide the kiss to make it as rough as he wanted. When he separated his lips from you, you went to open your mouth to protest, but was cut off by a harsh shush from him that would make the librarian proud.

Each of the shelves you were pressed into pinched painfully, not that you cared all that much. You were more focused on the man who was now unbuttoning the front of the jeans you wore. On the inside you were cursing yourself for not wearing a skirt so he could’ve had easier access, it’s not like he could have stripped you down out of them- even if you wanted him to.

You’d both have to settle with your pants being pulled down to the tops of your thighs, he did leave the panties pulled up though, for the moment at least.

His other hand still held your wrists firmly while he started to tease by rubbing slow circles to your clit through your panties. When you tried to buck your hips into his hand you were punished by putting one of his thighs between your own and pushing what felt like his full weight onto you. There was no way you could move underneath him, even if you tried squirming he had you pinned to the too firmly shelves like a piece of art hanging on the walls.

All you could do was try to beg for what you wanted, “Please, pull them down.”

“But, I like seeing you in them.” He looked down at you with his eyes that looked like black pools because of the mood lighting in the library. You whimpered again, but cut you off by saying. “If you want me to oblige you, maybe you should ask me nicely and use the name you know you’re supposed to use.”

You knew exactly what title he was referring to, it had been ingrained in your mind after the last time. Part of you wanted to use a similar comeback of last time and call him Mister instead, or maybe even dare speak his first name again. On the other hand, your legs were shaking from being just simply teased a little. You had been looking forward to having him touch you like this again, and if you did not comply there was a chance his punishment for you would be taking away all touch.

“Please- Doctor, please pull them down.” Your volume was undoubtedly much too loud for the normally dead silent library. You were confident that you would not be caught just like last time, this was a scarcely traveled area, plus the librarian was farthest away from here. There had been another motive for picking this area to try to spot the morally gray doctor.

Instead of pulling your panties down, he ripped them off of you. The tearing of the seam echoed off the shelves along with your gasp. Even if you had really liked the pair, it was too hot to really be angry for him ripping them apart. And- when he stuffed them in his pocket a sharp spike of arousal ripples through your core. You could even still see the wet spot you had created on them despite the rip before he had shoved them into his pocket.

When his hand returned to your core you mewled desperately. He returned his nimble fingers to rubbing circles into your clit, this time a little bit faster than before and with a bit more pressure. You had to bite down onto your lip when he started alternating the circles with pinching your clit, knowing that the sharp cries that wanted to escape would be too loud for the librarian to miss, despite being far away from her.

“Do you want my fingers inside you?” He asked gruffly- as if I’d refuse having his long fingers crooked inside me, dragging across my g spot.

You didn’t need him to prompt you to say “Yes, please Doctor!” You were becoming easy for him to bend to his will, just to get another taste of his touch on your body. Maybe next time, if there was one like you hoped, perhaps if you were not so desperate for him to bring you to your peak, you’d smart off to him again. After all, from what little that you had experienced as a punishment from him like last time, you knew you’d enjoy it.

The smirk on his face told you that he was pleased with your eager submission to him. He pushed your head to the side slightly with his own to suck a hickey at the underside of your ear then nibbling slightly up the shell of it, “Good girl.”

Your eyes rolled back farther than you thought possible when he spoke, plus the added sensation of him plunging his fingers into your dripping hole added to that as well. The thrusts of his fingers were slower than you expected, as if he did not care that time may be of the essence, that anybody could walk by soon. Curling them upwards on one swift motion helped him easily find that perfect spot inside you which made your body try to squirm underneath his grip again. As you squirmed you could feel his hard bulge pressing into you making your mouth water and you drip down your thighs even more. Despite wanting to grind into it more he reaffirmed his grip and started to plunge his fingers into you faster. Your eyes shut tight at the onslaught of pleasure.

“No- look at me while I’m doing this to you.” Wrenching your eyes open with effort you followed his command, locking his eyes with yours. His eyes entranced you, you could almost feel the dark hooks pulling you in impossibly closer. Those hooks were pushing you towards the edge of your orgasm as well.

“Can I cum pleassse-“ You gasped almost too late as you were having trouble staving off your release, you didn’t know if you could handle him holding it off at all, “Doctor?!”

“Come on, cum for me- only for me, you’ve been really good for me.” A man being possessive towards you would normally have your orgasm fall away quickly- but when he said it your orgasm snapped through you on command. Your hands fell limp at your sides as he released his steel grip on them to clasp his hand around your mouth to quiet the noise that you tried, and failed, to stifle.

He had you still almost fully pinned down as you rode the waves of your orgasm out. You gripped the shelves with your free hands tightly, trying to hold onto something. You’d touch him, but there was the unspoken rule to not touch him without permission hanging in the air.

He let you come up for air once you had finished by removing his hand from your mouth, along with the one from your pants. He also tried to move you off of his thigh so you could stand, but your shaky legs would not allow you to do so, still weak from the force of your orgasm.

He only pulled away from you when a small thud was heard that judging by the source of the sound, was somewhat close to where you both were. He helped you button your pants back up, it felt kind of weird to wear them without your panties. The reminder of him stuffing them into his pockets still outweighed the discomfort.

Your whole being was probably much more disheveled than he was, there was only a slight cock to the right with his tie, that he quickly fixed. He then leaned, capturing you in a kiss that was much softer than any others he had given you. It did not feel like a goodbye kiss, more like see you soon.

“Until next time, Shelley.” His words that were whispered like a ghost on your lips, it was the quietest thing he had said throughout today’s dalliance. He almost seemed afraid. Butterflies swarmed in your stomach at the nickname, knowing it came from the time that you first had encountered him. It made him seem even closer to you than you had thought, him giving you the nickname made you feel somewhat claimed by him. Hopefully this was not all in your head.

“Until next time- Spencer.” You hesitated a little before saying his given name. You already had a nickname for him, one that seemed less intimate than the one he gave to you. Calling him by his first name seemed like a way that you could express similar thoughts without spilling all your guts to him.

Once the butterflies had faded a little you realized that he had not let you reciprocate any pleasure. You wanted to chase him back down through the library, get down on your knees and take his cock into your mouth until you swallowed his cum. There must have been a reason though, why he did not let you reciprocate. You hoped he was just busy and that at the next meeting in two weeks time, he’d let you take him into your mouth.

You yearned to touch him rather than to have him touch you. The thought of running your hands through his hair slowly enough to appreciate every wave and curl sent butterflies a flight in your stomach. Would he ever let you get that close? Close enough to study every curve of him in earnest instead of being pinned against something in a way where you could only appreciate a part of him. However much you felt desire being stoked whenever he took control over you, pinned you like he did, the butterflies in your stomach at the thought of exploring him with your own hands was too much to ignore. You just wanted to explore every inch of him with no semblance of time, no rush to be somewhere else, just to examine every part good or bad.

You’d have to tiptoe close, dance around him like he did with you until he let you see truly what both sides of him were behind the mask.

You still hardly knew the man before you, the one that was retreating away from you, sadly. Today had felt like your first glimpse into something more, mostly his good side. Dr. Jekyll was the one that you had seen the most of, but you could deny your desire to see every part of him, that thought had not wavered. There was that dark part of him that remainder hidden under the mask, if he showed it to you would you know him? Or would it just deepen the mystery of which is his dominant side- Dr. Jekyll or Mr. Hyde? And even though you were undoubtedly curious to see every facet of what made the morally gray doctor you could help but fear whether or not you’d like everything that you’d see.

Part One , Part Three| Series Masterlist

—-

Tag list (message me if you want to be added):

Dr. Jekyll or Mr.Hyde: @rainsong01

All works: @shotarosleftpinky @90spumkin @kyra-morningstar @s1utformgg

All MGG characters: @muffin-cup

Spencer Reid/CM: @calm-and-doctor @destiny-tsukino @safertokiss @slutforthegubes

Dom!Spencer: @rainsong01

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds series #spencer reid series #matthew gray gubler #matthew gray gubler x reader #1250 follower celebration #1250 followers

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nice-kill-tanaka · 3 years

Text

🌄Hikaru + Tease Crush🌌

Summary: Aaaa idk tsundere hikaru brain go brrrrrr,.

A/N: Lowkey, I’m not too sure about this one. But, how good it is comes down to how well it’s received by you guys. It’s in your hands now tumblr!!

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🌗Hikaru Hitachiin🌗

You, a new second year at Ouran Middle School, happened to meet Hikaru and Kaoru in a once in a blue moon situation

✨Separately✨

You and your parents were commoners from another region of Japan. But, due to trying times, you were sent to live with your impossibly wealthy grandparents to finish your education while your parents got back on their feet

So, you clearly had no idea how to navigate what felt like the world’s biggest campus

Taking initiative, you decided to take a free period to mentally map out at least the middle school campus. You were not about to be late to every single class again, lest you start getting detention

You were somewhere near the courtyard when you heard soft, delicate sobs from around the corner, followed by fast footsteps leading away from you

You quickened your pace to at least see what was going on, and the scene you walked in on told you everything you needed to know

The sobs were coming from a girl in your year, who seemed eager to get away from the courtyard. And leaning on the pillar on the bend, was a tall redhead who looked far too satisfied with himself. At least if your assumptions were correct

You decided not to go off on the boy right away, so you wouldn’t embarrass yourself

“Ah...Did I intrude on something?”

The boy apparently hadn’t noticed you until you said something, but quickly regained his composure

“Nah, you had good timing. We were just finishing up.”

“...We?”

Hikaru suddenly remembered

You were new to Ouran. And at this point, you probably haven’t memorized faces yet. Even if they were identical

That, and the fact that Kaoru was still behind a bush watching everything play out, was enough for Hikaru to try something new

“Me and that girl you saw, I mean.”

“Yeah, alright. What’s your deal with her, by the way? She didn’t sound too happy.”

Hikaru shrugged, “Dishonesty, disloyalty, stuff like that. I just gave her a piece of my mind and she couldn’t handle it.”

“Hm, I figured she couldn’t. She’s crying pretty hard.”

“Then she shouldn’t have been trying to sneak around with other guys.”

Alright...you halfway understood the guy. If you were in his shoes, you’d at least want to do something similar. But, going out of your way to emotionally decimate someone that clearly isn’t worth your time? Seems a little excessive

‘But, hey,’ you thought. ‘To each their own.’

You kept your composure around the boy, shrugging and turning to walk away. “I get that. What did you say your name was?”

“Mm? Hikaru.”

“Hikaru. If that girl’s really as horrible as you say she is, I think it’s hilarious that you’d give her pathetic ass the time of day.”

That jab technically wasn’t aimed at Hikaru, but the way you said it. The way you turned back slightly to flash a shit-eating grin at him. It was clear your comment was meant to say more about Hikaru than the girl he told off

In short, Hikaru ended up not liking you

Meeting Kaoru went a bit more smoothly

Since you were in Class B at the time (you were to transfer to Class A next semester), you didn’t actually gather that the asshole you met the other day had a whole brother. So, that case of whiplash was particularly strong

During a lunch period within the same year, you decided to sit alone. Nothing personal really, but being around twenty-four other kids your age with such a high amount of tunnel vision gets suffocating at a certain point

Not too far away, Hikaru had gotten up to use the bathroom, leaving Kaoru to his own devices for a bit

It wasn’t long before he found a familiar face in you, sitting alone and looking rather bored

Of course, Kaoru hadn’t personally talked to you yet. The only things he heard about you were from Hikaru, which still wasn’t much, considering that his brother seemed too embarrassed and pissed to say anything beyond: “They’re an asshole. They’re not worth talking to.”

But, regardless of Hikaru’s first impression of you, Kaoru thought it would be fun to mess with you for a bit

I’m fully convinced you have the eagle eye, because you noticed Kaoru before he even said anything

“If you’re still pressed about what I said the other day, Hikaru, trust me, I was just messing with you.”

Damn at least let him speak 💀

Kaoru noticed that even though you thought he was Hikaru, your posture and tone held no animosity. You seemed relaxed, even sending a half smile Kaoru’s way

Your aura felt overall likable, so what could you have said to Hikaru to tick him off so much??

“Oh, don’t worry about it. I actually almost forgot about that.”

Immediately, something didn’t click with you

“You sound different today, man. Everything okay?”

...What??

Kaoru wasn’t sure how you figured it out, but no one was usually able to tell the difference between his and Hikaru’s voices and speech patterns, period. Let alone upon hearing both twins once separately

“What do you mean...? I’ve always sounded like this?”

“Hm, must be a bad case of laryngitis then. How’s your twin doing, by the way?”

Kaoru’s expression didn’t betray much, but your knowing and lighthearted smile sure did

He originally wasn’t going to tell you the whole truth. But, you seemed like you’d be too much fun (given some time) to pass up getting on your good side!

It almost felt strange, inviting someone else into his and Hikaru’s little world. But, even if you were just a toy for now, you were someone Kaoru wanted to keep around

Kaoru introduced himself with his real name while he explained his relationship with Hikaru, and your face was priceless

Sure, you knew that the boy in front of you wasn’t acting like the Hikaru you met a few days back. But, the twin brother thing was a complete shot in the dark!!

But, Kaoru laughed and dragged you and your lunch to his and Hikaru’s table

Ooh, when I say Hikaru was NOT thrilled??

He was seething when you gave him that same look as before

“Hey there, Heartbreaker. Nice to see you again.” 😊😊🙃🙃

Hikaru flushed as Kaoru tried to hide his giggles behind his hand

Yeah, that kind of sums up your dynamic 😂

From then on, whenever you were around the twins, you drove a clear wedge in their “identical” personalities. Just by the fact that you treated them both differently

Kaoru was your partner in crime, playing along with your jokes and often taking more agency in making decisions than usual. You were both mature, yet mischievous, so you were often on the same page

We stan compatible friends 👏😌

Hikaru...was kind of your sentient punching bag

From your first conversation with him to now, you gathered that Hikaru had a weirdly prominent petty streak, with some emotional constipation on the side. All of this, manifesting in a semi-childish, stubborn mess with a hair-trigger temper (At least, when it comes to you and Kaoru poking at him)

You weren’t exactly intent on improving those flaws (Since it’s technically not your job to fix the vices of others), but you most certainly let Hikaru know that those qualities weren’t something to be proud of. Especially when he let them get the better of him

And you did just that by teasing the hell out of him

“Aww, is little Hikaru upset that Italian isn’t being served at lunch today??”

“Ooh, don’t get too angry! You might pop a vein.”

“Y’know, you’d think a normal human being wouldn’t blush as much as you do. Are you really that bothered by me?”

Yes! He was!

He felt bothered and threatened because you dragged out every single flaw that no one (not even Kaoru) dared to call out until now. Not that he could give a name to that feeling an the moment

You were surprisingly clairvoyant for someone that strategically abused that fact. You always had an upper hand, and that wasn’t something Hikaru was used to

But, after a while, his frequent showcases of embarrassment began happening for a different reason

In between all of the teasing, you were never downright mean to Hikaru. You were just as nice to him as you were to Kaoru

Hikaru often enjoyed the bentos you made the twins on random days (Though, he failed to admit it on a regular basis)

When the teacher was going a little too fast, you’d always let Hikaru copy off of your notes

And man, you sure did look good at the beginning of the day...when the morning sun lights up your eyes, and-

Oh...

Oh no.

So, that’s why every time you’d get on Hikaru’s case, he would get flustered and look away. He liked you??

Hikaru can’t let anyone know about this. Especially you.

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[🌌Take this for your travels, bud. Don’t worry about paying me or anything, everything’s on the house! Though 🍁likes🍁 and ☘️reblogs☘️ are appreciated!🌄] — Reagan

#caravan commodities #extra supplies #ouran high school host club #ohshc headcanons #ohshc x reader #hikaru hitachiin #hikaru hitachiin headcanons #hikaru hitachiin x reader #hikaru x reader #why do i have a knack for writing full novels in a single post?#i have no idea!!#will i stop?#no!!

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whats-rambled-rambled · 3 years

Text

Long Nights - part 4

Neil x Reader

Chapter 4: World gone mad

(see chapter 3, 2, 1)

summary: inverted heist calls for inverted training

warnings: 18+, explicit language, gun mention, crackheadery, and possible whiplash

author’s note: Hi, yes, I know, took me ages, but hey, I hope it's worth the wait! 5.2k words, how even--

Anyway.

The song for this part is Bastille - World Gone Mad

Enjoy! All feedback is greatly appreciated, let me know what you think?

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Tag list: @cxnnienikas @neutron-stars-collision @ergunbilge @invertedneil @wanderedaway @mellifluous-cosmos @wonderwoman292 @buckysgoldenheart @townmoondaltwistle @theriverbeneaththeriver (please let me know if you want to be added/removed from the list)

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The fact that you knew how to handle guns wasn’t equal to you being very good at it. Or enjoying it, for that matter. Sure, you could more or less hit the target, especially with some useful tips you got from Neil regarding a trigger finger discipline, but still - you’d rather avoid reaching for a pistol altogether.

You put back the weapon you’d been training with and Neil handed you another one. You couldn’t really tell the difference, at least until you checked the magazine. The lack of ammo meant you finally got to the fun bit that Neil teased in The Protagonist’s office and you smiled, looking back at your companion. He grinned at you, the gaze sparkling behind yellow-tinted safety glasses as he pointed at the wall next to the targets you used for practice.

“Just aim and pull the trigger. ” Seeing your nod, he added, “Okay now, be careful, it might feel--”

The bullet whizzed back into the chamber of your pistol and your eyes widened.

“Oh fuck me sideways,” you hissed under your breath.

“-- a bit weird, yeah.” Neil chuckled at the shock painted on your face. “All right?”

“Yeah, just processing.” Trying to blink the consternation away, you asked, “How do you make these? You put it into that...turnstile and voilà?”

Neil shook his head. “No, it’s not that simple. We receive a stash every now and then, we don’t know how to manufacture those,” - he smirked - “at least not yet. I do have a few theories I’m working on in my spare time, but...” hesitating for a moment, he raked a hand through his hair and sent you a nervous smile. “Wouldn’t want to bore you to death, though.”

“Dude, come on, with that smooth and soothing voice of yours? You could read the yellow pages to me and I’d still listen like that--” you mocked a dreamy heart-eyes expression, watching with satisfaction as that remark pushed Neil further into a flustered state.

Apparently, when explicit teasing got a little-to-no reaction now, you could still make him blush with a more wholesome compliment. As you started laughing, he rolled his eyes and scrunched the nose slightly, joining you with a stifled giggle. Grinning, you continued a little softer, “I’m not gonna lie - I probably wouldn’t understand a majority of the physics jargon, but I’d still want to hear all about that.”

A thankful look you got in return made your chest clench painfully, and your mind wandered off to those breaks near the river, and Neil’s animated rants. You knew one thing. Anyone who had ever ridiculed him for his passion for even the nerdiest things could rot in hell, and you’d gladly see to it personally.

A disgruntled huff coming from behind made you both snap out of the moment.

“Oi, lovebirds, I’d appreciate it if you could leave all that to after I prep you for the mission.”

Bottling down your annoyance, you batted your lashes at the commander, who’d just come back with keys to one of the conference rooms near the range.

“Oh, I’m terribly sorry, you have my full attention now.”

Ives nodded, waving at you to follow him. Meanwhile, Neil’s small smirk let you know that he noticed that faint undertone in your voice, but he said nothing, patiently waiting for the events to unfold.

Another person was waiting for you at the door. You recognized the woman who’d driven you to that abandoned factory on your very first day - you’d never gotten properly introduced, but you remember asking Neil about her once and he called her Wheeler. To be honest, with these guys you never knew if they used their real names, nicknames, codenames, or whatever. Not that you cared, quite used to it in your own line of business. You exchanged a court nod with her and went into the room.

As you sat down at the big table and Ives booted a projector, your eyes bore into the man. Definitely one of those types who enjoyed his beret and the paramilitary structure of the field branch of the organization. Probably a bit too much. You bit back a smug grin.

Those were particularly fun to mess with.

Ives caught your piercing stare and stopped the brief of the location.

“What?”

“Nothing,” you said, propping the chin on your palm, a polite smile on your lips. “It’s fascinating.”

He furrowed his brows, perplexed.

“What is?”

“How your commanding presence literally adds you inches,” you said, using all your willpower to keep a serious face. “I wonder if it works only for your height or--”

Neil’d futile attempts at masking an amused snort with a cough didn’t go unnoticed. Ives shot him daggers and then glared at you. “For fuck’s sake, would you focus?”

Your eyes flared up at the threat in his voice and you pouted, taunting him further.

“Or what, you’re gonna spank me?”

“No, I’m gonna shoot you,” he deadpanned.

You raised a brow.

“Kinky.”

Ives groaned, turning to Neil.

“How you survived this long without choking her is beyond me.”

Neil puffed his cheeks and gestured vaguely, but as he opened the mouth to answer, you chimed in, with a shit-eating grin plastered on your face.

“Oh, he very much did so, all right.”

The awkward silence that followed was pretty satisfying.

“Can we keep her?” asked Wheeler casually, leaned back in her chair, fiddling with a bullpen.

Ives gaped at you all, then slumped his shoulders in defeat, sliding a hand through his features. He was so done you could almost hear The Sound of Silence playing in the distance, but apparently, his sense of duty was stronger than the urge to leave you without finishing the briefing, so he just drew a deep breath and continued.

“...anyway…”

You caught Neil’s glance and you couldn’t help but poke the tip of your tongue out at him. The mischievous sparks in his eyes reflected your own as he shook his head, tugging the bottom lip between the teeth. Wheeler’s curious gaze flitted between you two, and as you didn’t feel like drawing too much unnecessary attention to yourself anymore, you focused on the plan that Ives was persistently going through.

Time frames. Blueprints. Entry points. Exit routes (you spotted at least one additional way he left out, but you weren’t sure if you could drag Neil through there, judging by that alley performance, so you didn’t bother to mention it out loud). Everything seemed clear enough. You still had no idea how being inverted would affect the lockpicking, but when you voiced that, Ives promised you some time to figure it out before the mission.

The mission. Huh. It wasn’t that much different from your usual assignments - at least if you forgot about that tiny insignificant detail like moving backwards in time - but something in this paramilitary and/or espionage vibe made your heart beat faster with excitement.

It had been quite a long time since you had company at the job. Working alone had its perks, but you wouldn’t mind a trusted partner in crime having your six for a change.

Another thing that you certainly wouldn’t mind - seeing Neil in tactical gear. Not that either of you would need one, but the image got planted in your head and suddenly you wished you’d had a bottle of water.

You realized that everyone was looking at you expectantly. Shit, was there a question or…?

“I’m good,” you said, shooting in the dark, hoping that would be enough to cover your distracted ass.

Ives squinted, but fortunately, that was an acceptable answer.

“Well, as you two can proceed straight from here - Wheeler, they’re all yours.’

“Okay,” - she smiled and stood up - “we don’t have any turnstiles on-site, but there’s one in the base outside the city, I’ll talk you through the basics on the way.”

So that little daydream cost you a chance to come back home to prepare? Grand. The problem was - you needed your heavy-duty tools, but you’d rather eat rocks than back away in front of Ives. Luckily, he called on Neil to wait for a moment, so that was your chance.

“Umm, Wheeler?” you asked quietly, following her outside.

She glanced at you curiously.

“What’s up?”

“I know I said I’m good, but could we stop by my apartment for a second, please?” An awkward grimace ran through your face. “I gotta pick up my tools. You know, just in case.”

She wasn’t surprised by your request. Moreover, she sent you a knowing smile.

“Sure thing,” she said and winked, and then it was your turn to present a slightly flushed face. “I’ve got you.”

----

You didn’t know what to expect from the whole inversion process.

The first time your brain stuttered was when Wheeler pointed at something she called the proving window, just in time for you to see the three of you coming out on the other side. You caught inverted-you glancing back at your present self; the schooled expression, but with the gaze shining with anticipation.

The second time was when it was you on the other side, looking at your wide-eyed past self. Feeling the incoming headache, you took a deep breath and followed Wheeler and Neil to the stand with oxygen masks.

“How are you feeling?” asked Neil, handing you the equipment.

“Weirdly normal.” You shrugged. “Or maybe not more backwards than usual, if that makes any sense.”

He smiled lightly.

“It’s the airlock. When you see the outside, you’ll get a whole new perspective.”

Wheeler nodded. “What he said. And to recap: you’re inverted, the world is not - all forces will be pushing back on you. Besides gravity.” She double-checked the oxygen bottle secured to your belt. “Just mind things that might be rising instead of falling.”

You furrowed the brows.

“Wait, didn’t Ives mention the rain?”

Neil smirked from behind the mask.

“Afraid of getting wet?”

“Never.” You grinned, meeting the sparkling blue eyes. “Should know that by now.”

Wheeler snorted and shook her head, walking to the panel near the exit.

“You’ll have plenty of time to finish the job before you move far enough to catch up on that. Although, if you ever find yourself in the inverted rain, here’s a tip: pop your collar.”

“Why would you--” Oh. The sole thought of the water going up from the ground to the sky made you nauseous. You swallowed with effort, leveling your breath in the mask. “...right.”

Wheeler opened the door and you almost gasped at the view. The golden rays of sunset (...or was it technically a sunrise now?) flickered on the training grounds’ equipment as the sky painted the scarce pools of muddy water with greyish violets and reddening oranges. Leaves shuffled in the wind, their dance almost satirical with that inverted spin.

Wheeler’s voice stopped your mind from wandering further into the landscape.

“Okay, ready? Ives asked me to remind you not to try any cowboy shit, you need to be in one piece at the end of the training.”

“Yes ma’am,” you mocked a salute and stepped outside, stretching your limbs, readjusting to the reality being slightly off. Neil stood right beside you watching you warming up, ready to take you to the obstacles section.

But as soon as the airlock’s doors closed behind you, you spun around, tapping his shoulder - “Tag, you’re it!” - and without waiting for his reaction, you leaped towards the assault course.

Surely that turned out overly optimistic. You counted on the element of surprise and a head start, but Neil had an experience with running while being inverted, while you… well. You tried.

“B+ for effort,” laughed Neil, catching up on you even before you reached the first obstacle and tapping you back. “But you can do better than that.”

“Just you wait!” you retorted and vaulted over a low hurdle, the mild confusion caused by the dumbfounded senses slowly eased up as you tuned out the brain and let the muscle memory guide your movements. Because hey, in the end? Yes, the natural forces were acting up against you. Yes, Neil had years of inverted training behind him. But you’d been challenging different obstacles your whole life, and courses like this one were your favourite playgrounds.

You caught on him by the next wall, playing dirty and tugging at his leg, pulling him down before he could jump to the other side. The exasperated huff he gave you in protest got lost in the squelch of mud under your feet, the sound more like a suction instead of the much-expected splash. Shuddering with disgust at such abomination, you rushed to the set of monkey bars, hearing Neil following up closely. You gritted your teeth, swinging your body to help yourself get through the part, and that’s when you felt a light tap on your foot.

You glared to your left, where Neil was gaining an advantage over you.

“Damn you and your infinite legs, man! It doesn’t count!”

“Losing looks good on you,” he said, landing and then instantly ducking under your reached out hand.

“Too bad it’s not gonna stick,” you scoffed as you ran after him to jump on one of the parallel logs. Balancing was easy enough, even with inversion; it gave you the perfect opportunity to plan ahead, while Neil had to maintain full focus. “Must say - all that sass definitely makes you like... ten percent hotter.”

But you’d taught him well, apparently, and instead of losing his pace, he only shot you a quick glance accompanied by an arched brow.

“Only ten?”

“Dunno, come over here and let me take a closer look,” you teased, getting a short chuckle in response. “No?” - you sighed - “Alrighty then.” And you leaped to the side straight into Neil, pushing him off the log. He yelped and grabbed you by the shirt, the momentum sending you both straight into the mud. You landed on top of Neil, collapsing into his arms for a moment to catch a breath and to stop laughing.

You leaned back to look him in the eyes.

“Okay, maaaybe fifteen,” you panted, booping his mask as you would do to his nose.

Neil snickered and nodded.

“I’ll take it.”

When your gazes met, his features softened, and he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear gently. You smiled behind the mask and sat up, straddling his waist. Neil was studying you closely, his hands grazed your sides and rested on your hips. Nibbling at your bottom lip, you leaned over him again and slowly reached out, and--

“Simba…” you choked out with reverence, brushing a muddy thumb across his forehead.

Tears from the held-back laughter threatened to spill any second as you observed Neil blanking out in utter confusion. The five stages of grief ran through his expression and then he closed his eyes and sighed theatrically.

“The fate of the world is in the hands of a complete madwoman.”

...the what now?

You tilted your head, grinning.

“Aren’t you a little dramatic?”

Then, without a warning, Neil shifted under you, rolling you off him and pinning you down.

“Birds of a feather and all that,” he said, clearly enjoying the way you squealed and squirmed as the mud got under your shirt. “You think you got a hang of the inverted movement already?”

“I don’t know,” you shrugged. Neil realized your intentions a second too late. A handful of mud splashed on his face and you chuckled with satisfaction. “Yeah, now I think I’m ready to go.”

You turned up at the airlock soon after, looking like something that cat dragged in, but beaming widely. Dreaming of a hot shower and a clean set of clothes, you put down the mask and the oxygen container and headed to the turnstile.

Wheeler was waiting for you near the machine, and seeing the state you were in, she just gaped at you both, trying to come up with an adequate question.

As you noticed her quizzical look, you gave her a thumbs up and smiled.

“If you ain't dirty, you ain't here to party! Wooo!” you whooped, throwing your hands up and trotting past her straight into the turnstile.

Right before reverting yourself back to your original state, you heard Wheeler’s hushed question.

“You two all right?”

And then Neil’s answer.

“Don’t worry, we’re good.”

--------

The truck’s engine hummed steadily, which could only mean you were on some sort of highway. At least the container stopped wobbling, so you could practice in peace.

No wobbles meant no excuses, though. You sighed, readjusting your grip on the tools.

Neil had fallen asleep some time ago, after making sure you figured out the locks and hearing your solemn promise that you would follow him soon.

One day after that eventful night, then inverting and going straight back without proper sleep. You knew he was right and you needed at least a nap. But you couldn’t. Not before you were absolutely sure you got it. The usual locks weren’t that bad. The inverted ones were a whole other story.

It’d taken you long enough to crack them in the safety of your own apartment, without the weird physics, ever-present even within the air-locked container. Without the pressure.

The fate of the world.

What the fuck was that supposed to mean?

You didn’t even know what was that thing you were supposed to retrieve soon. It was okay, you didn’t need to. It was a quite common situation in your work history. That kind of knowledge could be dangerous, after all.

The pin clicked and you sighed again, squeezing your eyes shut to stop the burning sensation even for a moment.

Besides, you were doing it for Neil. The memory of that panicked look on his face when he’d seen the documents was enough to keep you going.

But did he have to say that?

You had to do it. Not only because you felt responsible for him, in a way. What you’d told the boss was true and you weren’t the only one at fault for Neil not being fully ready for that assignment. He was your friend, wasn’t he? And there was no way you’d leave a friend in need.

You pressed your lips together, forcing yourself to breathe.

Probably a stupid joke, nothing more.

But what if he was being serious? What if that thing out there was really that important? And you were about to fuck everything up because you couldn’t get your shit together fast enough to figure out the bloody inverted mechanism again. And with every minute wasted and not spent on resting there was a higher chance of messing up at the actual location.

Hell of a locksmith you were, huh?

The feedback from the tools came with a final warning like a sobering slap. If you were to continue, they would snap any second now.

You let out a shaky breath and retraced from the lock, hiding your face in the palms.

A gentle touch on your shoulder almost made you flinch. Of course, he had to wake up in the middle of your breakdown.

“Go back to sleep, we still have a few hours left,” you muttered into your hands, trying to collect yourself.

“Not before you talk to me,” said Neil as his fingers slid down your arm. He was crouching right beside you, the blue eyes boring into you with concern. “What is it?”

You sighed and shifted in your seat to face him.

“Wanna make sure I got it, that’s all.”

Neil’s brows knitted together.

“But I saw you open that lock once, why--”

“Once! And that’s exactly the problem!” you fumed and glared at the table. “I can’t crack it again, I--” your voice wavered and you gritted the teeth in frustration. “What if it was a stroke of dumb luck? Should I start praying for another one to happen there?”

Another delicate touch, this time on your knees, was enough to make you look back at Neil. A shade of smile tainted his lips as he searched your gaze.

“Someone used to tell me all the time that if you did it once, you can do it again.”

You hung your head and huffed, “Maybe that someone was full of shit.’

“I know for a fact that she wasn’t,” he chuckled, taking the tools out of your clenched fists and putting them back at the table. “She was utterly brilliant,” he continued, reaching for your cramping, trembling hands and taking them in his, ”and always reminded me to take a break instead of agonizing over a stubborn lock.”

That you did, all right. Your laugh sounded awfully close to a sob. God, if you weren’t exhausted.

Mustering enough strength to look him in the eyes, you squeezed his hands, trying to convey all the gratitude in the gesture. And hide that bit of embarrassment, too.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he said and his thumbs brushed over your knuckles. “Scoot over.”

You moved back on the provisional bench, making enough space for him to sit next to you. And so he did, not letting go of your hands even for a second. He started rubbing small circles into them and you grunted softly. Neil gave you a knowing smile and soon enough, his fingers glided between your forearms and fingertips, applying pressure to the tensest places, careful strokes and precise moves bringing a much-needed release. You couldn’t help small groans escaping your mouth, every one of them adding to the self-satisfied grin hiding in the corner of Neil’s mouth. But then, instead of teasing you, his features softened and you caught his glance, warm and sheepish.

“I don’t think I properly thanked you for offering to help me with this mission.”

“I couldn’t let you have all the fun,” you laughed and winced as Neil’s thumbs worked on your wrists. “Don’t thank me yet, we still need to pull it off first.”

“Well, maybe we already have, from the typical point of view,” - he pondered, lighting up - “seeing that we are moving back--”

“Neil, please, I’m all for discussing it later, but right now it’s about to give me a pounding headache.”

When you met his eyes, you noted with relief that he didn’t mind you cutting him off like that. He knew that you were tired, nothing more.

“Right, sorry.” Then he looked at you with determination, suddenly serious. “Whatever happens… thank you. It means a lot.”

“Of course,” you said quietly as your heart ached with unexpected fondness.

Neil smiled, shaking off the sentimental moment. His hands cupped yours and gave them a light squeeze.

“Now would you please get some rest?”

“Will you tuck me in?” you grinned and batted your lashes at him, earning an amused snort in return.

“I can even sing you a lullaby if that means you’ll fall asleep faster,” he said, standing up and tugging at your hand.

“Ah, I’m afraid I’m gonna crash too fast to properly appreciate it,” you giggled as he kited you all the way to the resting area at the front of the container. “But I’m definitely taking a rain check on that.”

“Sure.” One final brush of his thumb over your fingers and he let go of your hand, smirking. “Now sleep, I’ll wake you up when we get there.”

-------

Neil proved to be an excellent companion.

You disabled the alarms simultaneously, paying attention to all the possible silent traps. Forcing the main locks went smoothly, almost surprisingly so. For having something of such importance hidden there, the owners of the place seemed strangely old-fashioned; it shone through the antique decor of the lofty apartment as well as the security choices. Too easy. Tuning out an intrusive thought rattling in the back of your head, you scouted the dark rooms, careful not to leave any traces of your presence.

There.

The office you saw in the photos.

...but they’d redecorated.

“That’s one fancy safe they got there,” you said nonchalantly, eyeing the ornament piece of metal lit by your flashlight, “Too bad it somehow got left out at the briefing.”

Neil’s face dropped when he followed you inside the room.

“Christ, and what now?”

Good question. You’d worked with safes before, hell, you’d cracked a fair share of them using simply manipulation. But never going bloody backwards in time. How would that even work? Was it normal or inverted?

Well, there was only one way to find out.

“I’ve got this.” And that’s how you felt, despite the initial panic. There was a method to it, and you had most of the things you needed with you. Perks of overpreparing. The only issue was-- ... “It might take a while, though.”

Neil nodded.

“Let me know if you need anything.”

“Keep an eye on the time for me, I gotta focus,” you said, reaching into your backpack and accidentally pulling on the thin tube. Right. “...and maybe on the oxygen levels as well?”

“Will do.”

Your brain switched into the challenge mode, and your fingers tingled to give it a try. Armed with a sound amplifier and a little notepad, you sat down next to the safe and got to work.

Figuring out your way in was meant to be a hit and miss, doubly so with the goddamn inversion. But minute after minute, click by click, you determined the first contact points, and the years of experience took you from there. You scribbled numbers and variations in the notepad, fully focused on the task. Almost there.

Another combination. Inhale. Exhale. Pull.

Gotcha.

“Neil?” you called out in the hushed voice as the beam from the flashlight landed on a small metal box of a peculiar shape.

He was next to you in no time.

“That’s it,” he said, kneeling down. He reached inside and took out the box, then carefully placed it inside his backpack. The blue eyes glimmered in the dim light. “Good job!”

“Thanks,” you smiled and closed the safe. “Now let’s get out of here.”

You gathered and packed all your stuff, double-checking for any leftover signs of your entry.

Then you heard it. A faint, slightly off patter against the huge windows. You froze in place as your mind tried to grasp the view of trickles of rain coming up the glass.

Neil glanced outside, not mindful of the absolutely bonkers scene that wiped any coherent thought from your head. Although judging from how quickly his face lost all the colours, the view he got was even more disturbing.

“Christ…” he uttered, shooting you a panicked look. “We’ve got company.”

You dashed to the window to see for yourself. A group of people was crossing the empty street, moving pretty much normally, and that only meant...

Fuck.

“The owners?”

Neil shook his head. “Impossible. The third party, probably.” With his hand already on the holster, he hesitated, considering the options.

But there were only two: fight or flight. The problem was - the numbers didn’t look good for you to try pushing through the crew downstairs. And as for the second one, your initial exit routes seemed to be cut off already.

Although, there was still one path left. You almost smiled to yourself. He was not going to like it.

“Let’s go through the roofs.”

Neil’s eyes widened. “Are you sure?” he asked, scanning your face for any sign of doubt.

There was none.

“Yes, but we have to leave right now.”

He swallowed with effort and nodded.

As soon as you bolted out of the apartment and rushed up the stairs, the footsteps coming from the lower levels quickened. Time was running out.

You were about to barge outside when Neil grabbed your hand as if he sensed what was going to happen next. The doors opened and you lost the momentum, startled by the view. Heavy showers replaced the drizzle you saw through the window, intensifying the nauseating effect.

The last strands of sanity threatened to leave you, but Neil’s touch was like an anchor, grounding you and keeping you from spiraling further.

“Which way?” he shouted through the hammering, almost deafening rain.

You blinked rapidly and looked around to match the data from the brief to the actual location.

“Over there!”

Wishing you’d had a goddamn collar to pop, you leaped to the side, guiding Neil through your only escape route. You let go of his hand to vault over the vents, and just as your feet touched the surface again, you heard distant yells behind you. Shit.

The high density of the area was working in your favor, but only for so long. There was meant to be a gap between the buildings sooner or later, and one of them was coming right up. The jump was doable, even for Neil - all you needed was speed and a decent launch.

But when your companion noticed the edge of the roof, he slowed down and stopped by a low parapet wall, cursing.

“No fucking way!”

“Yes fucking way, Neil, come on! We don’t have time!” you urged him as the voices behind you grew louder.

He swallowed with effort, too transfixed on the gap. You bit back an impatient groan and grabbed him by the shoulders, forcing him to look at you.

“Neil, listen to me. You can do this. All you need is a run-up.”

He didn’t seem convinced. You gritted your teeth, trying to keep your own rising panic in check.

“Do you trust me? Yes or no?”

He met your eyes and his features hardened. There.

“I do.”

And when you opened the mouth again, the first bullet whizzed past you. You flinched, but maintained the eye contact, afraid to lose Neil’s newfound confidence. “Then go first, I’m right behind you.”

Neil nodded and backed away quickly. Watching him jump, your heart skipped a beat, but he landed on the other side without too much trouble. Good. Your turn.

You dashed towards the rim and another bullet missed your legs by a hair’s breadth, hitting the parapet wall right ahead of you. A little close to the top, as you noted, jumping on it to leap across the gap.

But the realization came a moment too late. The wall crumbled under your feet.

Enough for you to not make it to the other side.

Someone screamed.

Was it you?

It didn’t matter.

The world dissolved in a flash of agonizing pain.

And darkness.

----

Static beeping. The smell of disinfectants. And your every particle throbbing in dull pain.

Somebody was having a quiet conversation nearby. The Protagonist… and Neil?

A wave of relief flooded over you. He’d made it.

Grunting, you opened your eyes and squinted, waiting for your sight to readjust to the poor light. Weird. Why would they keep you in such a pitch-black room?

“Gents?” you called out, carefully shifting upwards, wincing. “Would you mind getting the lights?”

The conversation stopped and you heard a gasp.

“Lights? But it’s the middle of the day?” said The Protagonist, but Neil cut him off.

“You’re awake!” Footsteps and a sudden touch on your hand. Neil’s voice trembled slightly, as well as his fingers. “Are you okay?”

You bored into darkness, hoping to see the familiar face.

To see anything.

To see.

(next chapter ->)

#neil tenet #neil tenet x reader #neil x reader #tenet #robert pattinson #neil tenet fanfiction #tenet fanfiction #neil tenet imagine #the protagonist tenet #ives tenet #wheeler tenet #long nights

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mintmatcha · 3 years

Text

9 months, 28 days

Chapter 3 of 10 Months

CW: discussions of death

A/N: this is the end of the beginning! im not sure exactly how long this stories going to be but yolo

The cafe is almost empty, just like always. That’s why they loved this place so much as kids. No one they knew was ever here, sitting in the mothball scented booths- only the occasional elderly couple who didn’t give a fuck that the place hadn’t updated it’s decor since 1995. Clouds rolled in overnight, painting the town a somber grey. Mattsun feels like it should match his mood, but it doesn’t. He’s not sad, he just… is. There’s this weird, turbulent void in his chest where his despair should lie.

Hanamaki’s in the corner when he arrives, nestled into the booth with a mug. He watches the rain trickle down the window, tracing the paths of the drops with his finger tips. It’s very ‘white girl protagonist’ Mattsun decides. Like he’s the star of a Hallmark movie. The void in his chest pulses and he swears, just for a flash, it was warm.

“Hanamaki.” Mattsun slides in across from him.

“Well, lookie here at the big boy in his big boy suit.” Hanamaki taps his nails against the glass, not even looking at his friend. “Did your mom help you pick that out?”

“This is technically a business meeting, so I had to wear something nice.” he explains. “Or else my boss is going to think I’m just screwing around.”

That’s what it feels like. It feels like work. He’s just putting all of this into his little box, so he can file it away in the storage files of his mind. He’ll process it later, when the moment’s right.

Or never.

Makki tents his fingers together, like he’s some sort of super villain. He’s always had this casual, uncaring air about him, but it seems to have developed further into a chaotic mess. “Ah, so you’ve decided to plan my fun-eral.”

The black haired man sighs. “Only if you stop calling it that.”

The waitress wanders up, expecting orders in her typical, unfriendly way. If he didn’t know better, he’d assume it was the same woman from years ago, still equally sick of her job.

Neither of the men look at the menu. Mattsun orders a cheeseburger omelette and a coffee with six sugars, the same horrible thing he’s been getting since high school. ‘The American Experience’, they called it. Makki orders plain toast, notably not the same thing he’s been getting since high school.

“You should eat more,” Mattsun says, “You’re too thin.”

“Who are you? My mom?” he takes a long swip from his mug,

“If I was, I wouldn’t be-” Mattsun stops himself, much to Makki’s delight.

“Oh, please make a dead mom joke. Please.” Makki’s on the edge of his seat, leaning halfway across the table, “My mom would have loved you making a joke about her.”

Mattsun slinks down so far that his knees pump against the booth across from him. “That’s… yeah, you’re right. She would have loved it.”

Mattsun wants to say he misses her, but it doesn't seem fair. To miss Hanamaki Hana would be to miss Hanamaki Takahiro, and he certainly wasn’t allowed to miss Hiro.

Makki looks exactly like his father. He's there in the too thin nose, the gap between his canines and molars, and the clubbed way their fingernails grew.

but his mom's in his idiosyncrasies. She's in the laughter, the winks, the tiny things that make Takahiro himself. Truly a mama's boy, Makki taps his cup against his front teeth the same way she did. It's their thinking face.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Mattsun regains control. His notebook and reading materials jut out against his stomach from their spot in his coat.

“Are you really sick?” It surprises both of them. Maybe it was the thought sitting at the top of his head, maybe he meant to say it. All of this just feels too sudden, too random, Mattsun just can’t quiet his doubts.

This is why the time apart was good; Makki made him do stupid things, made his brain stop working.

“I- uh. Yeah.” Makki's face doesn't change, but his shoulders fall. The tension in his body deflates as he goes back to looking out the window. "You're such a dick."

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

“You really think I’d lie about all of this?” he laughs, but it's flat, "To do what? To crawl back into your life?"

"That's not what-"

"Newsflash, asshole- I've been doing great without you.” the mug slams against the table, “I've been really, truly, wonderfully happy since-"

The other man picks up one of the pieces of toast and examines it, before carefully ripping the crust off. It’s a delicate procedure, carefully peeling off the edge on one, long piece. Makki opens his mouth to continue, then closes it with a low, thoughtful hum as he rolls the crust into a little ball.

"Makki." Mattsun holds up a finger, pausing the conversation for a moment as the waitress approaches. They sit in silence, mumbling only a quiet thank you as she

drops off the plates. She doesn't seem to notice the tension in the air or if she does, she doesn't care. She pours the coffee carefully, counts out the sugar packets like she's rationing them. As soon as she turns, he sighs and curls his hand into a tight fist, holding it in the air for a second before letting it fall. "Continue."

“This was a dumb idea. Forget I even asked you to do this.” he tosses the bread ball into his mouth and chews, “I’m just gonna go.” Standing suddenly, he grabs his coat from the booth beside him.

This would be the third time he let Makki leave and, according to the time left, the last. Life is fickle, an unpredictable lace pattern made by the people in your life coming and going. Mattsun was used to dealing with the final goodbyes and usually found comfort in it. No more chapters to write, all secrets buried and forgotten- truly, nothing left but what you can see in rose colored glasses.

And yet some part of him- the stupid part, the crazy part, the self loathing part- panics at the thought of seeing this end.

"I know you're better without me." Mattsun sighs, "But I want to help you, if you'll still let me."

“Stop.” Mattsun’s heart pounds so hard, dancing across his skin, that he can barely recognize he’s touching Makki, holding his wrist down against the table. “Sit. Eat."

Makki just raises a brow.

Reluctantly, he complies, but not before he tugs his hand out of his friend's grasp, the corner of his mouth twitching up in a sneer. A boundary has been set- no touching.

"I'll let you." he turns his attention back to the mangled food on his plate, "But only because I want to finish my toast."

"We good?" They are not, but Mattsun prays for a lie.

"For now. But watch yourself." It's a win, albeit a half hearted one. Mattsun pulls a tiny notebook from an inner pocket of his coat and flips through the pages until he reaches the last page; it's the farthest out thing he's planning, of course. It’s marked ‘The Hanamaki Service.’

They let the silence sit between them as they pick at what’s in front of them. The terrain of this relationship is uneven, constantly changing. It’s like hiking a mountain in the winter, Mattsun decides, one wrong move, one noise too loud, and the whole thing will come crashing down,

Why does he even care?

Makki’s happy without him, he’s fine without Makki.

He shouldn’t care, and yet he stays.

The black haired man stabs a hunk of egg and watches the half melted cheese try to stretch. “So, to put it all simply: what our home does for you is the basics: Legal procurement, transportation, preparation, and disposition- you don't have to worry about any of it. We also offer a location for interment and service, depending on the type of service you require, of course."

"Location?"

Mattsun takes a bite. "For the service and for you to, um, rest."

"You mean rot."

Maybe eating wasn’t the right choice for this conversation. The texture of egg now feels wrong in his mouth.

"Don't say it like that." The preservatives slow that down, so the rot won't happen for a long time, he brain reminds him. It doesn't help.

"I already have those places picked out though." Mattsun waits for a joke to follow, but he’s surprised when his friend says, "Bury me near my mom and hold the service here."

"Here?" Mattsun asks, “There’s nicer places.”

"Save a dying business with a dead guy. It's irony."

"Okay, well. That's-" he sighs and scribbles into his notebook. This wasn’t going to be a traditional job, was it? "At least the catering is done then."

"Perfect." Makki pushes away his empty plate, "I'm a natural at this. You should hire me.”

"Long term positions only, sorry." It slips out before Mattsun can censor himself, but Makki just snorts into his tea.

It’s frustrating that they click together so well, especially because nothing’s been resolved between them. One minute everything threatens to break, the next they can sit here and joke with each other. The issues sit there, waiting in the corner of the room, cocked and ready to fire. If they just didn’t look, maybe it wouldn’t hurt when it finally attacked.

If they didn’t look, maybe they can pretend nothing happened.

Mattsun reminds himself that he doesn’t care. There's still that blank space inside him.

“Next step would be flowers.”

It’s not. They should discuss embalming versus cremation, but the words stick to his throat. He’s asked so many times before, stared forward as loved ones debated what to do without a care in the world. This time shouldn’t be different.

“I’ll think about it. Can’t say I know too many flowers off the top of my head.” Makki digs his phone from his front pocket and scrolls, looking through everything before tapping out a quick question. There's a twitch of his brow, barely furrow, but it's gone in a flash. Before Mattsun can even ask, Makki's gathered his coat in his hands. “Gotta go.”

“What? We just started-” The whiplash is what hurts. Just as Mattsun feels like he's found his footing, it's gone again, slipping out from under him. This must be some level of hell

"Something came up." he shrugs, "Don't worry about it."

"I won't."

"You're such an asshole." he says, "You're supposed to at least pretend to care."

Yeah, he knows. That's how life works. But he can't just pretend; it's a gateway to actually feeling.

"I'll try." Mattsun offers, "It was nice to see you."

Makki rolls his left shoulder over and over again, like he's trying to work out a kink. "Was it? Was it really?"

"Kind of."

"Thanks," there's a hint of sarcasm in his voice, "We'll do this again."

And like that, with no formal goodbye, he just starts to leave. Mattsun wants to protest, but he’s grateful. He hadn’t realized how tense he had been, how hard he'd been digging his fingers into his thigh. The void in his stomach somehow feels smaller and larger all at once. He kind of wishes it would just swallow him up and this would all be done with.

It's so easy not to care.

“Oh, and Mattsun?” Makki pauses by the door and picks out a familiar black umbrella that was leaning against the doorframe. He twirls in in his fingers like a baton before pressing the button and letting it unfold. It's bad luck to open an umbrella inside. “Thanks for breakfast.”

Mattsun just looks down at the table. His food is barely touched but he doesn't plan to eat anymore. With his heart in his throat for no good reason, he feels nauseous. Despite himself, he wonders if Makki still smells like cedar aftershave and the discount brand laundry detergent.

“That fucker didn’t pay.”

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