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qqueenofhades · 3 years

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Fake dating AU for the idiot Heartrender Husbands! I beg of you!

As ever, I am preposterously easy to enable, and since they will eventually make an appearance in A Phantom in Enchanting Light, I decided to write their backstory for that verse. Also, “fake dating but it’s only fake because they’re both idiots” is an Aesthetic. I love them.

Moscow, 2010

The guy is most definitely late. Fedyor got here early – probably too early, since they’re supposed to meet at eleven and he arrived by quarter past ten – but it’s now 11:08 and still no sign of him. Fedyor has claimed a corner table in the coffee shop just off Red Square with its splendid old tsarist-era décor, surrounded by the murmur of conversation and clicking laptop keys as his fellow Muscovites get on with their daily lives. The rule is fifteen minutes, yes? If Ivan Sakharov doesn’t show up in another seven, Fedyor is free to bail. But it’s been so long, and Nadia, the mutual friend responsible for this set-up, has begged Fedyor to give him a chance. And since it is understandably difficult to date as a gay man in Russia, Fedyor’s patience must be tested longer than usual. He sips his flat white and glances at the door again. Still no Ivan.

Fedyor opens his phone and checks the photo that Nadia sent him, trying to decide if this man is attractive enough to compensate for his tardiness. It’s hard to tell. It is 11:14, and he is absolutely about to pack up and leave by no later than 11:25, when a tall, grim-faced man in a red windbreaker strides in. He stops short, glances around, spots Fedyor, and powers over with such single-minded determination that Fedyor fears he’s about to be arrested. “Hello,” he says curtly. “I am Ivan Ivanovich Sakharov. I believe you are waiting for me?”

“Ah – ? I am Fedyor Mikhailovich Kaminsky, yes,” he manages, offering a hand, which Ivan crushes in a Terminator grip. “It’s – nice to meet you?”

Ivan snorts, pulls out the other chair, and drapes his jacket over it, then orders a small plain coffee (black like his soul, evidently). Then he returns, sits down, and claps his hands as if he is calling a misbehaving class to attention. “Where are you from?” he barks. “How long have you lived in Moscow?!”

Fedyor continues to gape. He’s genuinely not sure if this is Ivan attempting to get to know him on speed-run, or if he’s being interrogated by a FSB agent who can’t even act for two seconds like he’s not. It’s ominously possible. Dmitry Medvedev is the president and there are hopes that there might be a social liberalization, but the Orthodox patriarchs and the far right have been increasingly agitating against Russia’s embattled LGBTQ community, and things could just as easily get worse. Is this a setup or a setup? Nadia would never knowingly put him in a dangerous situation, of course, but maybe she was likewise fooled. You’d think that if this was a sting, they could have found a guy who was actually capable of pretending to be on a date, but maybe that’s the point? What the hell is going on here?

Fedyor opens his mouth, then shuts it. As a matter of fact, he is originally from Nizhny Novgorod, but moved to Moscow for university and has lived here for seven years, but if Ivan is with the FSB, he probably already knows that. Is this a trick? Is Ivan trying to match him to some police intelligence file or see if he’s a liar? Fedyor is seriously about to get up and walk out (or maybe sprint out) when Ivan, perhaps realizing that he’s blowing this to a heretofore unprecedented degree, says, “Sorry. I am from Krasnoyarsk. I enjoy rugby.”

Of course he likes rugby if he’s from Krasnoyarsk. This is a disaster. “Uh, what side?”

“Krasny Yar,” says Ivan, in the tone of a man about to stand up and belt out the fight song. “I also enjoy football. Yenisey Krasnoyarsk. Though I have begun supporting Lokomotiv since I came to Moscow. That was five years ago.”

So, he’s definitely a hooligan. Fedyor does his best to keep smiling. In the flesh, Ivan is definitely not unattractive. His hair is crisp and brown, there are glints of hazel in his eyes, and he has that hard, chiseled handsomeness that Fedyor always ends up getting suckered into. Except for the fact that he is lively, extroverted, and outgoing, likes clubbing and mingling and making friends, and this man does not appear to have ever heard of a single one of those things. What was Nadia thinking? It’s not like her to whiff this badly. Or did she have to be so circumspect in asking Ivan if he would like to meet Fedyor that, even if he’s not an undercover cop, he is in fact clueless about the true nature of this social engagement? Thinks it’s guys being pals?

“Did you have somewhere you were coming from earlier?” Fedyor asks, after another excruciating silence. “Is that why you were – ?”

“My apologies. The bus was late. I am normally very punctual.” Ivan scowls ferociously, as if the bus ever dares to do such a thing again, he will personally murder it. “What hobbies do you enjoy, Fedyor Mikhailovich?”

“I think you can call me Fedyor, yes?” They are clearly nowhere near “Fedya” and “Vanya” just yet, but “Fedyor Mikhailovich” always makes Fedyor look around warily for his grumpiest professor at MSU. He tries to think of subtle conversational gambits to find out what Ivan knows, without being obvious. Oh God, he really should just cut his losses, but something – perhaps the pathetic conviction that even a terrible date is better than no date at all – keeps him in his seat. Presuming that he does get out of here alive, he will call up Nadia straightaway and ask her many, many questions, mostly consisting of Why??! “Well,” Fedyor says at last. “I like having fun?”

“I also enjoy fun,” Ivan says, stone-faced. “I am very funny.”

Russian humor is normally extremely deadpan, to the point that Fedyor does wonder if Ivan is in fact a diabolical troll genius, but somehow he doesn’t think so. The rest of the conversation proceeds in this fashion, but by the end of an hour, Fedyor still has no idea if he has just been on a date or a trip to the gulag. Ivan gets up, administers another bone-crushing handshake, thanks him for his time, and marches out. Fedyor can practically hear the Red Army Choir thundering some patriotic anthem in his wake.

When he gets home that afternoon, Fedyor is resolved to write off the whole thing, except it was weirdly kind of not as bad as he first thought, maybe, somehow. If nothing else, he’s fascinated by this, like watching a slow-motion train crash. He takes out his phone with the intention of calling Nadia, only to see a text message from an unfamiliar number. When he opens it, it reads, Hello. Your company was agreeable today. Thank you. Perhaps we could meet again next week. Please reply yes or no. The message uses the formal styles of address, and some of the spellings are slightly old-fashioned. He has also signed it – Иван Сахаров – in case there might be some confusion with another Ivan the Terrible at Dating of Fedyor’s recent acquaintance. It is a bit like getting a text from the undertaker.

Fedyor stares at it, insanely tempted to burst out laughing, and finally, just because now he’s too curious to refuse, texts back his gracious acceptance. Still chuckling, he makes dinner, and then, as his phone pings with Ivan’s response, wonders in horror what on earth he is getting himself into.

This is how things continue for the next six weeks. Ivan and Fedyor meet up for the second time, stroll sedately around one of Moscow’s many city parks together, then part ways, and this time it’s Fedyor’s turn to ask if he would like to do it again. He isn’t sure exactly why, except that Ivan is unexpectedly easy to spend time with, and he nods in stoic approval of whatever Fedyor says. Of course, they follow the usual rules of dating which are especially important in Russia: don’t talk about politics, don’t talk about religion, don’t talk about America, don’t talk about Ukraine, don’t talk about Chechnya. From what Fedyor can glean, Ivan’s views tend to the doctrinaire, but he is surprisingly undogmatic, and willing to at least act as if he has an open mind. If he was an FSB agent, it feels like he would have busted Fedyor by now, but maybe he is waiting for him to do something unmistakably gay. That’s not it. Right?

Nadia calls, wanting to know how it’s going, and Fedyor grills her for forty minutes over whether Ivan is a law enforcement plant, a lonely guy looking for a friend, the world’s most method practical joker, or just extremely stupid. Nadia insists that he is actually very nice once you get to know him (HA, thinks Fedyor) and has no particular affection for either the ruling classes or the oligarchs. He can certainly be an acquired taste, but he is not evil.

Forced to accept it, still chickening out of asking Ivan whether he knows they’re dating, wondering if they are dating, if Ivan knows that Fedyor knows they’re dating, if Fedyor only thinks he knows that they are dating while they are not actually dating, or if Ivan thinks he knows that they’re dating while they’re… whatever the fresh-fried fuck is truly happening here, Fedyor trudges off for what has become his almost-weekly rendezvous with Ivan the-Maybe-Not-Quite-So-Terrible. They manage to have a few conversations verging on meaningful, and Fedyor has found himself telling Ivan about his family and Nizhny Novgorod and other such things. Fedyor likes to talk and Ivan likes to listen, though he breaks in now and again with a bone-dry quip. He’s still never what you would call loquacious, or easily forthcoming, but Fedyor likes that. Ivan is tough, complex, enigmatic, guarded, occasionally willing to let down his walls but only if the other person is worth it, and Fedyor finds, to his surprise, that he wants to be worth it. If this is a long-con mind game, he almost doesn’t care. (Almost.)

The problem, however, is that they’ve been seeing each other regularly for a month and a half and they haven’t gotten any closer than walking through a park, outdoors, in full view of their fellow comrades. Even the first time Fedyor takes the plunge and invites Ivan to his apartment, they sit three feet apart on the couch, watching a badly-Russian-subtitled version of Die Hard and providing critical commentary. Fedyor’s English is a lot more fluent than Ivan’s, and his middle-class family, while not exactly wealthy, is definitely better off than Ivan’s hardscrabble clan of miners and loggers in Siberia. That upbringing certainly does explain, to some degree, why Ivan is the way he is, and Fedyor wonders anxiously if Ivan views him as an insufferably posh city boy. Ivan barely finished high school and went straight to working in a Krasnoyarsk aluminum factory. He definitely did not faff around Moscow State University and attend global development seminars in Paris.

Nonetheless, despite their obvious differences, they do get along, and Fedyor is unable to deny the fact that he would, if it’s all right with everyone, like it to be more than that. Of course, finding out if Ivan knows, etc. etc., has been the paramount challenge, and there is no way to find out other than to go for it. Fedyor is 75% sure that they’ve been going steady for two months, but if it’s actually the other 25%, this is going to get awkward in a hurry. Is this essentially a fake relationship, or is it only fake because they’re both idiots?

After having duly commended his soul to God, Fedyor invites Ivan over on Saturday night. He rents a tiny flat by himself since he’s been burned on rooming with strangers, but Ivan is used to it by now, and it doesn’t feel too small with the two of them. Fedyor strains his limited culinary skills to cook supper, probably making his babushka cluck her tongue and sigh in a judgmental fashion back in Nizhny Novgorod, and they sit down and eat in silence for five minutes. Then Fedyor says, “Vanya?”

The consistent use of the diminutive has started sometime in the last few weeks, neither of them remember quite when. Ivan doesn’t correct him. “Yes?”

Fedyor clears his throat. “Do you…” He winces. “Do you… like me?”

“Yes?” Ivan says again, looking confused. “I would not have spent so much time with you if I did not, don’t you think? We are friends.”

“Yes, I know that we’re friends, but…” Fedyor looks at the ceiling. It doesn’t help, so he looks back at Ivan. “Are we… special friends?”

Ivan continues to look blank. “Are we?”

Fedyor resists the urge to tug at his collar, thinking that it’s a damn good thing that he didn’t go with his other idea of just leaning across the table and passionately kissing him. With absolutely no change of tone or expression, Ivan says, “Please explain. Special friends how?”

“Friends who want to…” Fedyor takes a deep breath. “Be… more than friends?”

“How?” Ivan orders again, ruthlessly. “Be clear, Fedya.”

“Are we maybe… boyfriends?” Fedyor’s voice squeaks on the word. “As in… we have feelings for each other that aren’t just… friendly? Like… feelings which are… romantic?”

Ivan continues to stare at him like a statue for several more seconds, and Fedyor contemplates the feasibility of tunneling directly through the floor of his apartment and running all the way to Latvia. Then at last, Ivan throws his head back and – startling Fedyor deeply – breaks into real, genuine, belly laughter, the kind that he has never heard from Ivan before. “Oh my,” he chortles, slapping the table. “Your face. You were sweating bullets.”

“WAIT, WHAT!?!” Fedyor pushes his chair back and stands up with a clatter, incandescently outraged. “Are you – were you messing with me?!!”

“Maybe a little,” Ivan says, wiping his eyes. “You know, all this time, I have not been sure if you are shy or a terrible prude. Why haven’t you kissed me yet?”

“God’s Mother in Heaven – ” Fedyor feels another prick of disloyalty to his babushka for swearing on the Bogomater, but some people deserve it. All inhibitions forgotten, he charges at Ivan like a runaway train, as Ivan springs out of his own chair in readiness, and starts pounding on his chest in transports of fury. “You are the worst! You are the worst person ever! For two months, what have we been doing?! I have been afraid this whole time that maybe you don’t know what’s really going on, and now – ?! You are the worst!”

Ivan catches Fedyor’s flailing arms, holds them away from him, and picks him up bodily, swinging him around and pushing him against the wall. “Maybe I am just a dumb country boy from Siberia,” he remarks, “but even I am not that stupid, Fedyor Mikhailovich.”

“I hate you,” Fedyor pants, their faces and their mouths an inch away from each other. “Get out of my apartment.”

“Mmm?” Ivan cocks an eyebrow. Then he plants both hands on either side of Fedyor’s head, leans in, and deeply, savagely captures Fedyor’s mouth with his own.

Every remaining vestige of barely rational thought in Fedyor’s head evaporates in screaming shock. He still wants to shove Ivan away, knee him in the balls, or break a chair over his head, but if he did that, he would have to stop kissing him, and he can’t do that either. He moans, Ivan’s tongue takes the opportunity to slip into his mouth, their hands clutch and claw and their legs melt out from under them, they turn away or break contact only to gulp a breath before diving back in again, and the next time Fedyor is aware of anything, they have collapsed on his kitchen floor in a wrung-out, entangled, gasping heap. Ivan says in his ear, “Do you still want me to leave, Fedya?”

“No,” Fedyor manages. “Because now, I am really going to make you suffer.”

Ivan’s smile is dark and full of promise. He pulls back, gets to his feet, and holds out a hand. “Then I’ll meet you in the bedroom.”

(Ivan doesn’t leave Fedyor’s apartment that night. He doesn’t leave it the next night either. At the end of the week, Fedyor calls up Nadia and informs her that he hates her so much, and when they do next see each other, he’ll shake her by both shoulders and then thank her for introducing him to the no-good, truly awful, very bad love of his life.)

#ivan x fedyor #heartrender husbands #henchmen deserve happiness too okay #a phantom in enchanting light #mearcatsreturns #ask #fivan ff

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platypanthewriter · 3 years

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Lilies of the Valley

This one’s for you @mourntheantagonist! And @cherrydreamer, thanks so much for the loan of your name!

Harringrove April Prompt day 30: Lilies of the Valley! Neil had opinions about Billy's mom, and Billy's mom's makeup, and Billy. What he thought doesn't matter anymore, but Billy's still a little worried about bringing it all up to Steve. GNC Billy.

When Billy was five, he’d tried on his mom’s gold pumps and her rainbowy nail polish, and she’d laughed and spread her arms for him to stumble into. “Hey, glitter-bug,” she said, kissing his head all over until he giggled, trying to protect his neck from her attack. “How’s the prettiest boy in town?” she whispered, blowing raspberries down his chest and stomach, and then finally letting him up once he was giggling so hard he couldn’t breathe.

She’d let him sit on her fancy vanity stool, spinning him now and then so they could see how he looked from different angles in the three mirrors. “Oh no,” she whispered, her eyes very wide. “I thought you were prettiest from this side, but every new side is prettier! How is it, sir, being the prettiest,” she asked, offering him an imaginary microphone.

He beamed into her face, and cleared his throat. “You’re the prettiest,” he told her, his eyes big with anticipation, and sure enough, she yelled and scooped him up, dumping him on the bed and cuddling him until they’d both laughed so hard their lungs hurt.

“You are,” she whispered. “I made the prettiest boy in the world.”

“You’re the prettiest girl,” he said loyally, and that time she kissed his nose. “Anyway,” he whispered, “—you have…” he trailed off, reaching up to touch the sparkling powders over her eyes, and the bright greasy red on her lips.

She drew a shaky breath, pushing herself up, and glancing towards the door. “...do you want to play with my makeup, baby?” she asked, and he sat up too, springing upright so fast they nearly clonked heads.

“Can we?” he asked, keeping his voice low, like hers, but nearly vibrating with excitement.

She bit her lips together, tucking some of his curls behind his ear. “You know how there are some things we keep secret from Daddy, sweetie?”

Billy squirmed around to face her, nodding, and folding his hands like a grownup. “Like when you kiss Mrs. Sally,” he whispered, then, belatedly, cupped his hands over his mouth.

“Like that,” she told him, nodding. “If I’d kept kissing Sally, he might have found out, and not let me see my lil’ glitterbug anymore.”

“I won’t tell,” Billy said, shaking his head, his heart pounding with the weight of adult responsibilities.

“I know you won’t,” she told him, smiling, but she looked sad. “But I can’t do anything that might make Daddy take you away, can I?”

Billy shook his head, wondering, as always, why his mom had married someone who didn’t like either of them very much. He kind of wanted to ask, but she reached out and held his face, squishing his cheeks together like a fish, and he batted at her hands.

“Makeup is like that,” she told him, and he frowned, trying to understand. “If I put makeup on you, Daddy will be very angry,” she told him. “So we have to wash it off before he gets home, and keep it a secret, just like me kissing Sally, right?”

It didn’t make a lot of sense, because Billy had seen his dad fussing with his hair, and his ties, and he knew his dad wanted to be pretty too—but maybe, he thought, his dad was mad because he was jealous, and that kind of fit. He nodded seriously, licking his lips, as he wondered what the lipstick would feel like.

It felt weird and sticky, but it looked beautiful, and he gasped as he opened his eyes in the mirror, leaning closer to touch the mirror, and then touching his lips.

“You’ll smear it,” his mom said, smiling, and Billy yanked his hand back into his lap. He closed his eyes and felt the shiny powders brushing over them, his mom’s warm hand steadying his chin. Very slowly, so as not to jar her efforts, he kicked his feet in happiness.

“There,” she said,” rubbing her thumb along his eyebrow, and squinting into his face. “You’re adorable, honey. Your mamma did so good.” She spun him to look in the mirror again, and he stared as she kissed his cheek, and then redid his lipstick, because he couldn’t stop chewing at it, fascinated. “Other mommies would be so jealous of my lil’ glitterbug,” she whispered.

An hour before his dad got home, she popped him in the bath, leaning in to scrub his face gently, and he sighed to see it go.

“We’ll play again, sweetie,” she told him, kissing his forehead.

That night Billy’s dad clicked his tongue at her bright red lipstick, and went and got the Bible. He made them stand, listening, while their dinner got cold.

“‘Therefore I say unto you,’” he read, “‘Be not anxious for your life, what ye shall eat; nor yet for your body, what ye shall put on. For the life is more than the food, and the body than the raiment.’ What do you suppose that means, Billy?”

Billy watched his mom shut her eyes, swallowing, and he tried to think, to get it right, but he never understood the Bible. He told his mother once that he thought they should have somebody write it all down that talked normal, and she laughed for the whole afternoon, and then told him that was another thing to not tell his dad.

“I thought that school was teaching him to read, and now he can’t even understand language,” his dad said, and Billy’s mom flinched.

“It means we should think about god more than looking pretty,” Billy’s mom said dully, and Billy watched her, and then his dad, wondering why he’d even wanted to marry her, because she was beautiful and funny and perfect, and Billy’s dad even got mad over things like the neighbor’s Christmas lights.

She didn’t wear the bright colors, after that.

Years later, Steve was driving back from picking up burgers, and Billy shoved a handful of fries in his mouth, and slurped his soda.

“You ever miss fucking a chick,” he said, weirdly flat.

“Uh,” said Steve, who hadn’t. “...um. Uh, d’you?” he asked, warily, and Billy shrugged, unwrapping his burger. He took a huge bite, grunting appreciatively, and Steve tried to think of what to say. “What...are you missing,” he asked, slowly, and Billy smirked over.

“Nothing big, don’t flip your shit,” he said, taking another bite of burger, and staring out at the passing scenery, as Steve tried not to shake him, or bite his lip, or look like he was flipping his shit.

“...what is this,” Steve asked, finally, clenching his hands on the steering wheel. “You cheating on me?!”

“No,” Billy said quickly.

“You want to? You wanna break up?! Where the fuck is this going, Hargrove?!” Steve hissed at him, and Billy sighed, letting his head thunk into the window.

“No, fuck you, I don’t want...any of that,” he sighed. “Calm your tits, Harringt—”

“Fuck you,” Steve spat back. “If you’re fucking bored—”

“No! I didn’t mean that!” Billy shot back, throwing a french fry at him, and Steve grabbed it and ate it, chewing with his mouth open, and his teeth bared. “Fuck you,” Billy sighed. “I just asked you a question, don’t get all pissed.” He sighed again, lowering the burger to his lap, and frowning past it. “I just wondered.”

Steve had kinda relaxed, waking every morning and seeing Billy sprawled next to him, his hair in his open, snoring mouth, and he’d forgotten he was Steve Harrington, the guy people left. “Fuck,” he whispered.

“I just meant the—they’re soft,” Billy said, glancing over, and then back down, his jaw working.

“You’re saying I need to get fat?” Steve asked dryly, through his teeth, as he pulled into the garage.

“No!” Billy shoved him against the door of the car. “Forget it.”

“Not likely,” Steve muttered. Billy shouldered past him into the house, and then ignored him until Steve went to bed, and Steve laid up in their bed alone. He didn’t cry much, but the couple tears that escaped went right in his ear, and he was tempted to just...go down and throw every porn cassette he’d ever owned at Billy’s head.

The next morning he got up and made bacon and eggs—he was hungry, even if Billy was being an asshole—and Billy came in and helped himself.

Billy’s eyes were swollen and red, and Steve didn’t know what to do with that—he’d never broken up with anybody he really liked, he thought, dully. Maybe it was hard. “Sorry for trying to have a conversation,” Billy hissed, and walked off, and Steve slid his plate of food aside, suddenly not hungry.

After a few minutes, Billy stomped back in. “What, you gonna stay out of rooms I’m in now—” he started, snarling, and then he stopped, and probably took stock of Steve’s head in his arms on the counter, and his breakfast getting cold. Steve jerked his head up, rubbing his face. “Fuck,” Billy muttered, grabbing Steve around the waist, and turning him enough to kiss. “I don’t…” he said, softly, biting his lip. “I don’t want somebody else. Don’t be a fucking dumbass, jesus, of course I don’t want someone else—”

“How the hell should I know?!” Steve hissed back, but relaxing, a little, into the kisses. “You just said you missed fucking women. I’m not one, if you missed that—”

“I didn’t say that,” Billy told him, taking Steve’s hands. “I asked if you missed it. Stroking your hands up here,” he breathed against Steve’s lips, and slid Steve’s palms up where Billy’s sides were shirtless and smooth under his denim jacket. “Feeling something...elastic, maybe,” he whispered between open-mouthed kisses, and lifted Steve’s hands up farther, to stroke over his nipples. “Something silky.”

It felt like the conversation had taken a sharp tilt, and Steve felt like the marble in a little maze, trying to avoid dropping through the holes. “...on you,” he whispered back, to be sure, trying to imagine it.

Billy was perfect already, he wanted to say, from the little softness over the waistband of his jeans where he’d stopped working out so hard, once he was away from his dad, to stretched pink scars that reminded Steve there were more places to kiss. But Billy was already withdrawing again, his shoulders hunching as he smirked, and Steve tried a “Keep talking.”

His hands were abruptly fuller of Billy as he leaned in, shoving Steve back against the counter. “I gotta keep things fresh, right,” he whispered. “Make sure you still want what I got. Maybe…” Steve waited as Billy searched his face, biting his lips, and then took a shaky breath. “Maybe dress up...a little,” he mumbled, losing momentum, and Steve hurried, feeling the need to catch some fragile part of Billy before it smashed.

“You wanna dress up for me?” he asked, making sure to grin, because it honestly sounded weird, but Billy wanted to—and Steve didn’t really give a shit about flowers, either, but even if they gave him hayfever, he knew to be happy when somebody picked him out a present. At least, he thought, whatever Billy was talking about was unlikely to make him sneeze.

Billy’s smirk went a little smaller as he flushed, and he laughed, shaking a little. “If—if you want,” he said fast, grinning tensely. “If you...if that…” he muttered, looking a little shiny-eyed, and Steve slid his hands around the soft, scarred skin of Billy’s back, and down toward the swell of his ass. “Imagine something bright down there,” Billy whispered, breathing against Steve’s jaw. “You could snap the elastic, pull me over.”

That sounded like Billy Hargrove wanted to wear lace panties, and Steve fought back an instinctive snigger, squeezing him closer, and trying to think of something to say, something that wasn’t “You’d make duct tape hot, babe,” or “Y’know we could not do that, and just fuck,” or anything else that made it seem like Billy’d asked him about something weird as hell, and important to Billy, and Steve hadn’t even listened. “Yeah,” Steve whispered, not sure what was required. “Sounds hot,” he said lamely, but Billy relaxed against him.

“Yeah,” he whispered, nodding, and laughing, and stroking his fingers through Steve’s hair so clumsily he almost poked Steve in the eye. “Yeah, yes, it’ll—it’ll be good, you’ll like it,” he whispered against Steve’s lips.

The next day Billy disappeared after school, and came home squirming and pink-cheeked. He wandered up like nothing was going on, resting his chin on Steve’s shoulder, and Steve turned and drew him in. Billy had his jacket buttoned, for once, and a flushed smirk, and Steve unbuttoned it from the bottom, sliding his fingers up over what felt like soft, elasticy cotton. It was a clingy little camisole thing, he realized, nearly a tanktop, nearly unisex, but the satin edging around the top, the thin straps, and the bright red put it squarely in the women’s section.

Billy laughed nervously. “It’s not even that pretty,” he said, glancing at Steve’s face, and then baring his teeth a little into the distance. “Fuck, this was dumb, in this little hick town, I couldn’t even find anything—”

It was stretched out across Billy’s chest, not the shape it expected to fit, and his nipples showed around the straps, the soft fabric clinging to his skin. “No,” Steve whispered, sliding his hands over ropy satin straps, and Billy’s skin. He ran a finger along the strap and down, his nail catching on Billy’s chest, so he shivered. “No, it’s—it’s really...pretty, Billy,” Steve breathed, and Billy reddened like Steve had never seen before, his smile widening into a beaming grin.

“They’re just cotton,” Billy whispered, “—but they were red, at least—”

Steve smoothed his hands over the soft fabric. He slid his fingers down the back of Billy’s jeans, and felt—yep, he thought, grinning as he felt Billy laugh, another thin elastic edge that definitely wasn’t Fruit-of-the-Looms. “Just cotton,” Billy whispered again, sighing.

Steve had bought lingerie before, but he’d never really thought about it for Billy—or even Nancy, who was too ticklish for lace, and liked the spontaneity of showing up and pushing Steve onto his back on the couch more than she wanted to set anything up with candles and rose petals. He felt a little guilty, though, seeing Billy squirming around, panting a little, his dick hard as a rock in plain cotton briefs, red or otherwise. “So you…” Steve started, and then stopped, uncertain what he was trying to say.

“What,” Billy bit out, glaring up at him, which looked...less than intimidating, in what looked like underwear for a kid, or somebody’s mom. Steve ran his fingers along the line Billy’s dick made in the panties, fascinated, and it twitched. Billy jerked his knee up, grinning, his freckles fading into his blush. “Quit it,” he said. “You’ll make me mess ‘em up.”

“...you like being...pretty,” Steve said, and Billy twitched, pulling his knees up and together. “No, don’t, uh, don’t pillbug up,” Steve told him, leaning in to hug his boyfriend’s knees. “Um, how...how pretty? What...what kinds of…”

“The hell d’you mean how pretty,” Billy growled, warily, and Steve bent his head, pressing a kiss to Billy’s tanned knee.

“You just...want pretty clothes?” he asked, as Billy took a shaky breath. “I just—I mean, you were talking about...girls. You want like…” Steve ran his thumb over Billy’s tense, curled toes. “You want I should paint these?”

“God, will you?” Billy asked, pushing himself up as he yanked Steve into a kiss, knocking them both off-balance so Steve landed on top of Billy in his soft, elastic cotton, and Billy groaned.

“Yeah, I’ll paint ‘em,” Steve whispered, kissing Billy’s hot face. “Don’t...really think you can get much prettier,” he said, feeling Billy’s cheek grin under his lips, “—but I’ll help. I might have something upstairs.”

“The hell would you have,” Billy snorted.

Steve felt indignant for a second, then kind of dumb as he shot back “I could wear nail polish, you don’t fucking know,” before he registered that it probably hadn’t actually been an insult, and he started to feel his ears go red. He cleared his throat. “...uh, no, though. I don’t. But my mom. There’s some of her stuff up there.”

“Oh,” Billy said, sitting up. “You...you’d let me use your mom’s stuff?”

“Why not,” Steve shrugged, pulling him up. “Maybe she’s got some nylons or something.”

“Holy shit,” Billy whispered, but he grabbed Steve’s arm, pulling him back around. “You don’t think she’d...she’d think it’s gross, right,” he asked, still smirking a little, like he was trying to keep it up. “She wouldn’t want some dude wearing her nylons.”

“You’re not some dude,” Steve said, rolling his eyes, “—and if she’s so damn precious about ‘em she can buy some more, come on.” He drug Billy upstairs—Billy was very manhandleable, in bare feet and a sheer cotton underwear set, and Steve tried not to think about the difference it made—and pushed Billy down to sit on his parents’ chintz duvet cover. He dug through her drawers, and found some nylons, and brought them over. Billy laughed, wide-eyed, and Steve reached down and grabbed his foot, thinking. “...y’know what,” he said, “—Mom used to do all this stuff to her feet, and I bet it kept her damn nylons from running.”

“...you saying I should go get a pedicure?” Billy snorted, and Steve shook his head, squeezing his boyfriend’s toes.

“Nah. Lemme see what she’s got, we can figure this out,” he mumbled, pulling out drawers. “Can’t be that hard.”

“...you gonna give me a pedicure,” Billy muttered, like he didn’t know whether it was a question or not, and Steve was about to roll his eyes when he finally found the right drawer.

“Oho,” he said, grinning over his shoulder. “The mother lode. Come look at the colors. I mean, they’re mostly kind of pink, but there’s some reds.”

The bed creaked as Billy got up and came over, and his breath hitched. He reached towards the lipsticks, and then jerked his hand back, and Steve grabbed the reddest one, and leaned to kiss him, softly, opening the lid. Billy closed his eyes, panting a little, and Steve kissed him again, because Billy’d probably wanna sprawl around looking pretty for a while without anybody smearing it, once he had lipstick on.

“Open your mouth, babe,” Steve said, and Billy did. Steve could feel the pulse pounding in the skin under his fingers, but he just brushed the tip over the corner of Billy’s mouth, narrowing his eyes intently.

Billy licked the tip of the lipstick, and Steve hissed at him, hsht! like Billy was a little kid, or a cat. “I can’t do this if you eat it,” he pointed out, and Billy laughed.

“It tastes the same,” he said, softly.

“...you eat it a lot?” Steve asked, realizing he had mouth open in concentration, and his tongue licking his teeth in the direction he was rubbing the lipstick on. He bit his lips together, smiling in embarrassment.

“I used to,” Billy said, letting Steve turn his head left and then right, and smiling. “Mom would dress me up.”

Steve paused for a second, at that, his hand on the lipstick stilling, and then he started again. “Dunno if I’ll do as good a job,” he said, and Billy laughed again, swallowing hard. “...maybe I’ll get better with practice,” Steve told him, and Billy grinned, yanking him in for a hard kiss. “Who-mmmph,” Steve protested, then leaned into it, feeling Billy sigh contentedly, and hum.

When Steve pulled back, his dick went half-hard just for the way Billy looked, leaning back against the side of the bed in his soft red underwear set, his eyes closed, his grin smeared and lazy. The red stood out, shiny and rich, and Steve wished—silently, to himself—that lipstick ever tasted even a tenth as good as it looked. “...jesus, that’s nice,” he said.

“I’m the prettiest, right,” Billy whispered, and a couple tears leaked from under his closed eyelashes. He sniffled as Steve lifted and turned his chin to fix his lipstick. “Shut up,” he said hoarsely, even thought Steve hadn’t said a word.

“...just thinking you look gorgeous,” Steve told him. “You look so pretty, babe.”

“...’life is more than the food, and the body than the raiment’,” Billy said, snorting a laugh, and Steve said “...what?”

“It’s a bible thing,” Billy said, his eyes widening as Steve pulled out a tray of eyeshadows, and held them up to Billy’s face, squinting.

Steve squinted, decided the green would make Billy look like he had a weird Christmasy disease with the lipstick, and pulled out the other one, pinks and golds.

“...it means you should worry more about following god’s word than dressing up like a slut,” Billy said, quirking his mouth. “‘Consider the lilies, how they grow: they toil not, neither do they spin; yet I say unto you, Even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these.’ Like, God makes you like he wants, you shouldn’t...change it. Try and...look...different.” Billy sighed. “He used to make us say it whenever we asked for new clothes. I told him I might as well go to school naked, then.”

“I don’t remember the part in the bible where Jesus called people sluts,” Steve said, leaning in to kiss Billy’s cheek, and then concentrating on brushing gold over his eyelids.

“Just be as nature made you, y’know, don’t...try to be...what you’re not,” Billy said, smirking. “He never found out I wanted to wear lace panties.”

“Good,” Steve told his boyfriend, then whispered “God,” as he sat back. “...Billy, god made you a lily.”

“What?!” Billy laughed, scrambling up to go look in the bathroom mirror. He was quiet for a long minute, and Steve got up and followed, grimacing.

“I’ll get better with the little brushes,” he said, leaning through the door, but Billy was just making kissy faces at himself, entranced.

“I’m the prettiest boy in the world,” he breathed, and Steve bit back a laugh. “Come here.” Steve wandered over to slide his arms around Billy’s waist from behind, and kiss his neck. “...you like it, right,” Billy asked, and Steve nodded, squeezing him.

“Come on,” he said, “Lemme do your toenails.”

“Jesus,” Billy said, giggling, kinda, his eyes shiny, and Steve just held him there, letting him look.

The next day, Billy changed the oil in his car, his nails and lips red, and his face smeared with engine grease when Steve pulled him out from under the car for a kiss. While he was tinkering, Steve drove clear to the Indianapolis Victoria’s Secret. “I’m dating an Olympic swimmer,” he told them, having practiced the lie. “She’s got no tits and these big shoulders, and she’s hotter than anyone else in the world, can you help me out?”

My other Harringrove prompts are here!

#Harringrove #Harringrove April #Billy's mom used to make him pretty #Prettiest boy #He hasn't thought about it much since #But now...now he feels safe #With Steve #Hurt/comfort a little?#Fluff #GNC Billy

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darlingpetao3 · 4 years

Text

First Move (Smallville!Lex Luthor x Reader)

Rating: G

Summary: You go to your best friend Lex to unload your latest small-town dilemma, but uncover some brand new information from him.

A/N: Please indulge me in another Lex story; he’s keeping my inspiration flame alive. Also, I live in a town FAR smaller than Smallville, so this was essentially therapeutic for me to write XD

Tag List: @fandomdancer @bluesclues-1234 @pinkdiamond1016

[gif source]

You burst through the heavy double wooden doors like you own the place, complete with a loud sigh. Lex sits at his desk, and his head perks up as you enter.

“Now, I know that sound anywhere,” he remarks. You immediately make your way to his array of brandy on the bar cart. “What is it this time, and who do I have to take to the cleaners?”

“Yeah, okay, Pops,” you manage to laugh a bit. This is what you’ve come here for - to feel better. Chloe has Clark to run to and throw all her problems onto, and you? You have Lex Luthor.

You pour the deliciously expensive brandy into a tumbler, both of which are probably worth more than anything you currently own in your life. Man, it’s nice to have a rich best friend. Lex has now abandoned his work to stand beside you at the cart. You pour him a drink while you’re at it. Lex has always been a good drinking buddy.

“Seriously, what’s bothering you?” he asks again, this time with his hand on your back. You won’t lie - it’s incredibly comforting. “Let me guess — boy trouble?”

You exhale as if it pains you.

“That’s what I thought.”

“Honestly,” you start, “I don’t know how I’ve managed to stay sane in such a small town. Hell, it’s in the freaking name, I should have figured there’d be no prospects for me. Sometimes I think I’m destined to be alone.”

“So why don’t you leave?”

Lex’s question stuns you, weirdly enough. Leave Smallville? You’ve been here your whole life. Like, yeah sure, you’ve travelled a bit, but this is your home.

But it’s keeping you from actually starting your life, the little voice in your head pipes up.

“I don’t know… it’s home, I guess. Everyone I know…” you hesitate, “-and love is here.” Your eyes linger on Lex for a moment too long. Why is he looking at you like that? You clear your throat and turn your attention back to the brandy. “It’s just- you’d think, in a town like this, it would be full of men for the picking. But no! They’re all boys. I’m telling you, Lex, there are no men in Smallville.”

Lex swirls the liquid in his glass a bit. A wry smile twists on his lips. “I suppose that makes me chopped liver to you?”

“Okay, no, not you,” you backtrack. “You’re different.”

“Different?”

“You’re in a whole other league.” One of his eyebrows shoots up at your words. Okay, so you have absolutely no filter now. “Crap, don’t let that go to your head, Luthor. It already looks big enough.”

“Was that a bald joke?”

“You know I think you look handsome without any hair.”

“Are you coming on to me, (Y/N)?” Lex teases with a slight tilt of his head.

You feel your face grow hot for some reason. “Pffft, you wish.”

“Well,” he lets the single syllable linger in the air for a moment. “Maybe I do.”

You turn to face Lex properly.

“You mean you-? Me-?”

“Remember to use your words, (Y/N). There’s no rush.” Yeah, he thoroughly seems to be enjoying your brain getting fried. Lex likes me like that? Since when?

“How come you’ve never said anything?” you ask, voice growing higher in pitch.

“You’re too special for me to make the first move.”

“But Lex Luthor always makes the first move…?”

“There are certain occasions when I don’t.”

He’s just standing there, staring at you. Is it hot in here? Do you even like Lex that way? Something previously hidden feels as if it’s starting to bubble up within you. Have you subconsciously had feelings for him too? Or are you feeling this way simply because you’ve been lonely?

Regardless of the reason, you now find yourself kissing Lex freaking Luthor.

It isn’t until your lips leave his that you realize something.

He’s been in front of you this entire time.

#reader insert #lex luthor x reader #lex luthor imagine #lex luthor fanfiction #smallville!lex x reader #smallville!lex imagine #smallville imagine #smallville fanfiction

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rogershoe · 3 years

Text

Lights, Camera, Action

Part seven

(Part six)

Summary: You’re a production assistant on the set of Cursed. The night before your first day at work, you opened your laptop to shockingly realise you’d be working with Daniel Sharman (and a plethora of other amazing actors), someone you’d been watching on screen since you were a teenager. You kept your expectations low, the PAs rarely got to interact with the talent…what was your chance?

Word count: 3.1k

Tag list: @sxperncturalimpala67 @mrsaaronkeener @tinygardensoul @disasterday @5am-cigarette @lancelotapricot @demoiselle-en-detresse00 @slytherlight @18somethingpsyche @ceruleanmusings @glxctt @cavillxhenry @lovelyapplessss @hereagainsstuff @linkpk88 @aliceperdida @weeping-redemption @magicalsaladnacho @ineedyourskulls @fandomarstrash @cheythefangirl @pure-ghost @estrielle @tessxblxckthorn @isaac-lahey-is-bae @bubblyanis @proudhufflepuff77 @dollfacev8 @everlastingdreams @thehatredofshiprrick

Warnings: age gap between reader and Daniel, swearing, slow burn, mentions of sex

Notes: So sorry if this chapter is also a bit all over the place! I’ve been very distracted with school and it’s been a bit harder to find the time to write. All that said, here’s chapter seven and I hope you guys enjoy it!! Sorry again in advance for the lack of Daniel content, but I promisee that the next will have a lot more to make up for it. Thanks for reading!

(picture by @archivesharman)

“We’re good then?” he said, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear.

“Ofcourse….yeah….we were always good” you mumbled.

He smiled at you before turning around and walking away.

What had just happened? You didn’t know if this day was the best you had ever had or the worst.

It was probably both.

As you pulled off your headset, your heartbeat thudded in your ears. Too many thoughts rushed through your mind, some good some bad. Why was he apologising to you? Did he really think he was at fault? And had he actually heard the part where Cassandra mentions you getting nervous around him? Had he noticed your uneasy behaviour? Or was he going to start noticing?

You thought you’d hid it oh so well…that no one could tell you had a weird crush on Daniel. Was it even a crush? Or was it feelings? You barely knew him, you’d have to get over it sooner or later…or atleast you hoped you would.

One part of you wished you could be like Siara. She didn’t give a shit if they were actors. She saw them as regular human beings and nothing more. She didn’t get nervous or starstruck. From what you’d seen, those were the type of people actors felt comfortable around to like and be friends with. Not anxious fangirls like you.

You shook your head, shivering. Why did it have to be so cold?

6:06 pm

You walked into your apartment, which was not much warmer than the outside. You took off your sweater and put on a thicker one, also grabbing a warm blanket and settling on your couch. The second you turned on your tv, you saw that Netflix was recommending Medici to you. You had seen from Daniels instagram that he was starring in the second season. Maybe this was a sign that it was time to watch the first. You clicked play and leaned back into your couch, letting the show whisk you away from your own troubles.

Tuesday, January 15th, 2019

3:32 am

You jerked awake when your phone vibrated on your thigh. You were shocked when you looked down at your watch to see it was half past three. You had only gotten through one episode of Medici before falling asleep from your exhaustion. You contemplated falling asleep again but decided against it, you were starving and hadn’t had anything to eat since 12:30.

You felt oddly refreshed, and felt like going out to get something to eat. You usually weren’t the spontaneous type, especially not at 3 am…but for some reason, your body craved fast food and also the cold night air. You though it out in your head and decided that you could get drive thru and eat it in your car, and by the time you were done, it would be time for work anyways.

You got up and got ready. Freshening up and putting on your “work clothes”. You hadn’t slept for eight hours straight in a while and so didn’t even feel the need to drink your usual cup of morning coffee.

You grabbed your jacket and headed out, your keys jingling as you locked your apartment door.

The night breeze was just as you imagined. The cold crisp air felt oddly refreshing against your face, and you could almost taste the coldness when you inhaled. You had kept your car window down, weirdly craving the chillness.

After a few minutes though, you found yourself shivering and rolled up your car window, licking your lips to warm them. You thought over where to get breakfast (or dinner?), and decided that McDonalds was your best bet. You knew they’d be open and also exactly what to get.

It took you five minutes to get to your local McDonalds. You pulled into the drive thru window and ordered a McChicken, a large fries, a coke, and an Oreo mcflurry. You usually never ate a big breakfast, especially before work, but you were starving and felt like you could eat their whole menu. Actually, you were holding back.

You got the food, breathing deeply when the hot smell of salty fries wafted towards your nose. There was a 7/11 a few shops down so you went and parked in front of it. From you seat, you could clearly see the door of the 7/11, and also the inside through the windows. It was one of the few places open at this time and you loved people watching. Especially people at a store at 4 am in the morning.

You pulled out your food and took a bite, your jaw aching with pleasure. When you took a sip of the coke, you could feel the cool liquid travel down your throat and through your chest. You looked up and saw that there was a cashier inside the 7/11, a teenage boy. He was sitting on a chair, his eyes droopy.

You tore your eyes from him when you heard a car pull into a parking spot a few spaces away from you. Your eyes widened in confusion when you saw Bradley step out. You knew your next actions were stupid and immature but you still went ahead.

You quickly (but carefully) put your food down on the seat next to you, and with unnatural swiftness, pushed/jumped yourself onto the back seat, lying flat on your back so he wouldn’t see you. You hoped he hadn’t seen the car move, but you don’t think he did since a second later you saw him walk into the 7/11, unbothered. You took a deep breath looking at your watch, it was 4:12 am. Huey had texted you saying that the crew and actors both would have an early start today. You would have to be at the studio by 5:00, which was 10 minutes from the store.

The position you were in wasn’t uncomfortable, but it was definitely getting slightly hard to breath. What the fuck were you doing? You should just get up and continue eating, he probably wouldn’t see you anyways.

Before you could, you saw him coming out and froze, holding your breath. You saw him look into your car but not at you, just at the empty front seats. There was a small box in his hand but you couldn’t tell what it was. You waited for his car to pull out but after waiting for almost thirty seconds, you got increasingly confused. Suddenly the car started shaking rhythmically and your eyes widened when you realised what he was doing.

He was busy now so you quickly got up and climbed into the front seat.

Seriously? He was really having sex in a car an hour before work? It was odd but you weren’t one to judge. You actually envied his spontaneity.

You started your car and drove away.

4:50 am

You opened the door of your car and got out, locking it behind you. You felt sick from all the food you ate, especially since it was right after you woke up. After you had driven away from the 7/11, you had decided to just eat in the studio’s parking lot and wait until it was time for work. Now.

You walked towards the building, rubbing your hands up and down your arms, your keys jingling in between your fingers. It was freezing this early in the morning.

When you walked into the studio, you were surprised to see all of the PAs except Bradley and Jay standing in a group together, talking to Huey. You walked over and greeted them, standing next to Siara. Huey was looking through the papers and you took the opportunity to ask her what exactly was happening.

“What’re you guys talking about?” you whispered.

She turned to you, also speaking quietly, “Something about how we might have to travel somewhere”

“Us?” you said surprised.

She nodded. You swallowed, trying to lessen your excitement. They would probably want the more experienced PAs anyways.

Huey cleared his throat and you turned to look at him.

“Alright. Please listen carefully since I’m not going to repeat this”

Everyone nodded and he continued, “To make a long story short, we’re going to be moving filming to England in two weeks and we want all of you to come with us. It’s fine if you’re unable to, but it would be extremely convenient for the production if our crew were mostly the same”

He paused and you took a glance at Siara. Her expression was blank. You sighed looking away and at Huey, who was now speaking again.

“All expenses, plane tickets and accommodation are payed for. Along with lunch, breakfast is also included. We’ll be in England for nine months with a two week break every three months”

Distraught spread through you as you realised you would have to be in England for nine fucking months…only if you accepted.

You nodded as Huey handed a folder to each of you, “This has all of the information you’ll need…if you decide to come, sign this and give it to me before the end of this week”. He walked away, leaving you all to discuss what you were to do.

Louis spoke up first, smiling widely, “Please tell me you guys are coming, you have to come”, he sounded like an excited child.

You beamed, “I really want to…but, it’s more than half a year”, you saw a sad expression spread over his face.

“I’m going…I’ve always wanted to visit Europe” you heard Siara say.

“Come on Y/N” Louis said looking at you.

“I’ll decide when I go home and let you both know” you said smiling. You wanted to go so bad, but the thought of nine months away from home terrified you. Even if you could visit.

10:48 pm

You had just gotten out of the shower and settled into your bed after drying off. Your work day had been exciting of course, but definitely not as eventful as yesterday. You hadn’t interacted with Daniel except your usual “hey”. You had talked to Jasmine about the change in shooting and she had told you that her and Cassandra were definitely going. Although you hated Cassandra, Jasmine was one of your closest friends on set and that made the decision much easier.

You pulled out your phone and opened your’s and Louis’ chat.

Y/N Hey, good news! I’ve decided I’m gonna come. I’m gonna miss Talia, but this is a once in a lifetime opportunity and I don’t wanna miss out at all!! I'm so excited [10:29 pm]

Louis What?? That’s great! I honest don’t know what I would’ve done without you [10:32 pm]

Y/N Hahaha We’ll def talk more about it at work tomorrow, I think I should really sleep now lmao [10:33 pm]

Louis Of course of course. Same here...gn! [10:33 pm]

Y/N Gn :) [10:34 pm]

You smiled to yourself before texting Siara as well. She usually took longer to reply so you decided not to wait and turned your phone off.

You were equally nervous, scared, and excited for the trip. You’d get to travel? To another continent? Over a whole ocean? For nine fucking months? And almost for free? You honestly couldn’t believe it. The nine months still scared you but you tried to focus on other things instead. Like the beautiful sights you’d get to see in your time off…and also the places you’d get to shoot scenes. Daniel obviously as well. You wondered for a while if he was happy to go to England too. It was his childhood home.

Friday, January 25th, 2019

5:05 pm

You licked your lips to warm them as you entered Daniel’s trailer and took a deep breath as the warmth inside enveloped you.

It had been two weeks of helping Cassandra and Jasmine and you had finally gotten the hang of it. So far, your first day had still definitely been the most eventful, with you cutting your finger and then Cassandra getting angry at you. The rest of the days had been much better in some ways. You were still very giddy around Daniel, but you had learned how to hide it.

It was also much easier since you were more confident in what you were doing. You had actual jobs, like removing his make up and getting his skin ready…things which Jasmine used to do before you. Now that you did it, it gave Cassandra and Jasmine both more time to focus on his actual make up and hair. Cassandra wasn’t much better. She hadn’t blown up on you again like she had that day, but there was a significant increase in scowls, eyebrow raises, and dissaproving looks in general. If looks could kill, you’d be dead ten times over.

“Hi Y/N” Jasmine said, as you closed the door behind you. You looked around and saw that Cassandra was absent. Thank God.

“Hey” you replied, grinning. You glanced towards Daniel, who offered you a short smile.

You got to work, pulling out a make up wipe and rubbing down his face gently. You had learned that leaving the tears for last was best. That way you could use a separate, stronger wipe on them too.

Although you had done this about ten times now, it always made your flutter to be so near him. It was also odd how accustomed you had gotten with his skin. You noticed whenever he had a new scratch, or a pimple, a tan…any small changes.

For some reason, it made you feel special to be this close to him. It almost didn’t make sense to your brain, how close you were to him everyday, yet how little you actually interacted with and knew about him.

Today you were too busy looking at his eyelashes and didn’t realise you had run your wipe directly over a small cut on his jaw. He hissed slightly, opening his eyes. Jasmine cocked her head towards you both from where she was looking through a make up drawer.

Your mouth hung open in shock as you snatched your hand away from his face. Your eyes fell to where his cut was, and you swallowed. Why did you have to be so distracted and clumsy?

“Oh no, I’m so sorry” you said nervously and rushed over to the sink, wetting the corner of a small towel.

You jogged back over to his chair, being extra gentle as you dabbed the damp corner on the cut, trying to wipe the make up wipe’s liquid away. You then dried it with the dry part of the towel.

“It’s fine really Y/N” he said laughing slightly, “It happened during filming”

Your skipped a beat when you heard him say your name. It was still surreal to you that Daniel Sharman knew you….let alone you name. You smiled slightly before setting the towel down on the counter.

“Is it still stinging?” you said gesturing to his jaw, your hands shaking.

“Oh no, not at all” he said shaking his head. You felt that he wasn’t telling the truth but you let it go. Grabbing the make up wipe, you continued wiping his make up off. It was a much smoother process, and you took the time to ease your racing heart rate.

The flight was tomorrow and you couldn’t help but feel excited every time you thought about it. Louis had informed you that Jay and Bradley had opted out of coming on the trip. You were sad about Jay’s decision, but not so much Bradley’s.

You were happy but also terrified that your work was taking you out of comfort zone. Jasmine had texted you yesterday saying that she’d pick you up so you could both go to the airport together, which made the whole ordeal a whole less nerve wracking.

You had gotten quite used to this trailer, to the studio…..and you hoped that your routine and jobs (that you had finally gotten somewhat good at), wouldn’t change the minute you got to England.

Saturday, January 26th, 2019

2:58 am

You jerked awake and checked your phone, afraid you’d overslept. Nope, there was still a whole two minutes left until your alarm. The flight was at 7:00 am and you had told Jasmine that you wanted to get there atlaeast two and a half hours before. You rather be early and wait in the airport for an hour than be late and miss the flight.

You had thankfully packed everything the night before and it only took you almost forty minutes to get yourself and your bags ready. Just a few minutes after you were done, you phone rang. It was Jasmine.

“Hey, you’re here?” you said, smiling and wheeling your suitcases closer to your apartment’s door. You phone wedged between your cheek and shoulder.

“Yes!” she said sounding excited. You were eager to go too, but you had only slept four hours and were finding it hard to get to her level of excitement.

“Great..I’ll be right down”

It was a struggle, but you managed to get both your suitcases into the elevator and onto the curb outside your apartment building where Jasmine was waiting. The cold night air hit you like a brick, and you felt energy surge through you.

Jasmine got out of her car quickly, “Oh let me help you with those”

You both loaded your suitcases into the trunk of her car. Y

You rubbed you hands together warming them, as you got into the car, you backpack at your feet. Jasmine started the car, beaming.

“You excited?” she said, driving.

“Very” you laughed, turning the heater up. You were tired, but the adrenaline from your excitement kept you wide awake.

4:56 am

It took you guys almost twenty minutes to get the airport, which wasn’t bad. You were now walking through the airport, your luggage hopefully making it’s way onto your plane. You had made it through security smoothly, and there had been no problems with your boarding pass or passport. If there had, Cassandra would’ve probably killed you both.

“What’s the gate number?” you asked Jasmine, who was holding the boarding passes.

“Uhh” she looked at them, “32B”

You nodded, just a little farther. The smell of coffee and food from the various little cafes made your stomach grumble.

You thought your adrenaline would’ve died down by now but it hadn’t. You tried to keep telling yourself that it was because you were travelling to Europe…but inside, you knew the real reason you were so excited.

#daniel sharman #daniel sharman fanfiction #daniel sharman fanfic #daniel sharman fic #isaac lahey #daniel sharman x reader #daniel sharman x oc #daniel sharman x original character #daniel sharman one shot #daniel sharman headcanon #daniel sharman fluff #daniel sharman imagine #cursed #cursed fanfiction #cursed fic #cursed netflix #netflix #cursed x reader #daniel sharman writing

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suituuup · 4 years

Text

shine

Beca and Chloe meet during Pride

Word count: 2,7k

Rating: T

ao3 link

inbox open to prompts!

It was Stacie’s idea.

Of course it was. Everything that leads to Beca asking herself what the fuck she’s doing here can often be linked back to Stacie fucking Conrad.

Beca’s got a few examples to argue her case. That time she ended up in the ER on New Year’s Eve because Stacie thought riding a Segway while being drunk would be super fun, or when they got stuck in a snowstorm while driving up to Vermont that one year and nearly froze to death.

So when Stacie suggested a few days back that they go to the Pride parade, Beca initially said no. Don’t get her wrong; she’s all for the event, she just doesn’t do well with crowds. That Friday before the parade happens to be one of Beca’s worst days at work probably since the start of her career though, so when Stacie insisted she should tag along with her and Amy, Beca rolled her eyes, huffed, and eventually agreed, because what the hell.

She doesn’t know it yet, as she stands in packed 7th avenue that hot and humid Saturday afternoon, but she’ll be so glad she decided to go to Pride.

Right now though, she’s struggling for breath as panic slowly creeps into her body, tangling around her limbs and making her legs feel as heavy as lead. There are people everywhere, the music is pounding against her skull and it’s just too fucking hot.

“I’ll be right back,” she tells Stacie, curling a hand around her wrist to get her attention. “Check your phone if I lose you guys?”

“Yeah, you got it.”

Beca uncomfortably weaves through the crowd, muttering various apologies to the few people she bumps into as she keeps her eyes fastened on the sidewalk. The knots in her chest tighten when she reaches an adjacent street, leaning against the wall and tilting her head back. She’s focused on her chopped breathing and willing her heart to slow the fuck down when a voice cuts through the fog clouding her brain.

“Hey, you okay?”

Her eyes snap open to find twin twinkles of bright blue staring at her in concern, standing out despite the colorful rainbows painted on the woman’s cheeks that should steal Beca’s attention.

“I’m uh,” Beca winces, bracing a hand on her chest when her breathing derails even more. “Not really. I’m having a sort of panic attack.”

“Oh shit, okay, um--” The redhead glances around them, then focuses back on Beca. “Anything I can do?”

Beca shakes her head, her eyes screwing shut as she goes through the 5-5-5 breathing technique a few times, until her lungs don’t feel as deprived of oxygen as before.

The redhead is still standing there when she opens her eyes. She fishes into her tote bag, pulling out a bottle of water and extending it to Beca. “Here. It’s still capped.”

“Thanks,” Beca mutters, taking the cool bottle from her and drinking a few sips. She takes a few beats to observe the other woman as she hands the bottle back. She’s wearing a white shirt with a cute dinosaur waving a pride flag, faded denim shorts and sneakers, and has got a camera slung across her chest. “You’re a photographer?”

“Yeah. Well, not professionally, but hoping to become one someday.” She extends her hand, that genuine smile still in place. “I’m Chloe.”

Beca flushes, knowing her hand is probably clammy and disgusting compared to how soft Chloe’s feels. “Beca.”

“First Pride?”

Beca nods. “Yeah, and kinda regretting it.” She scrunches up her nose when she realizes how that might come across. “Not because of-- I think it’s great that it exists, I mean, I’m not straight so of course I don’t have anything against Pride itself.” God, just shut up. “I just don’t like crowds. Or the heat.”

Chloe hums, seemingly barely able to keep her amusement at bay. “I kinda need a break, too. Wanna come check out the Stonewall exhibit at the public library with me?” She raises an eyebrow, then adds, “Less people and AC…”

Any other day, Beca would have probably said no. But the journey back to Brooklyn if she goes home now will most likely be slow and painful, and she kinda wants to hang out with Chloe, for reasons she can’t explain as they’ve only ‘known’ each other less than five minutes and Beca is usually wary about strangers.

“Sure, why not. Let me just shoot a text to my friends.”

Once she tells Stacie not to worry about her, Beca follows Chloe through the crowd, Chloe’s hand finding hers before they get in the thick of the crowd.

“So we don’t lose each other,” Chloe says over her shoulder, winking softly. She doesn’t let go even when they reach quieter streets, but weirdly Beca doesn’t mind.

She chuckles at herself, shaking her head softly because this is so unlike her.

“What?” Chloe asks, a mixture of curiosity and confusion swirling in her eyes.

“Nothing, I just…” Beca shrugs. “This is not how I expected today to go, at all.”

Chloe’s head tilts to the side as she stares at Beca’s profile. “In a good way?”

“Yeah, I really think so.”

Chloe smiles in response, then emits a soft gasp, letting go of Beca’s hand. “Hold on, one sec.” She crosses the street before Beca can say anything, stepping up to this drag couple and asking them if she can do a mini photoshoot.

Beca watches on in amusement, grinning when Chloe walks back to her after thanking the pair. They fall back into step, and Beca resists the urge to slide her hand into Chloe’s once more.

She lets out a sigh of relief as soon as they step inside the cool building.

“Better?” Chloe asks.

“Yeah,” Beca breathes, nodding.

They hike up the staircase, Chloe coming to a stop to snap a picture of the Love & Resistance neon sign above the door leading to the exhibit. As they stroll about from one picture to another, Beca finds herself glancing at Chloe often, finding Chloe’s clear love for photography endearing.

“That was really cool,” Chloe says when they step back under the scorching sun after spending about an hour inside. They stopped at the gift shop, where Chloe purchased a few prints of the photographs exhibited. “Did you like it?”

“I did, yeah,” Beca nods, smiling softly. “Those people were really fucking brave. It’s inspiring.”

“I think so, too.” She licks her lips, glancing at Beca. “What are you doing now?”

“Not sure yet,” Beca says; one thing she’s sure of is that she doesn’t want to part ways with Chloe just yet. “Why? Wanna whisk me away again?”

Chloe’s soft laughter sends Beca’s heart for a spin. “Maybe.” A soft hand emcompasses hers once more. “Do you trust me?”

Beca cocks an eyebrow, a smirk ticking the corners of her lips. “Kind of a bold question seeing as we’ve known each other for an hour. You could be a serial killer for all I know.”

A giggle flits past Chloe’s lips, and she tugs on Beca’s hand. “Come on.”

“I’m low key concerned you didn’t try and correct me on the whole serial killer thing,” Beca teases, catching up so she falls into step with Chloe. “Or maybe you’re just a stalker? Would explain the fancy camera.”

“Stop,” Chloe requests with a chuckle, shoving Beca with her shoulder.

“I’m kidding,” Beca assures her, lacing their fingers before she can think twice about it. “So where are you taking me?”

“There’s a street fair a couple blocks away with crafts, food and drinks. Should be less crowded but still festive.”

“Sounds cool.”

They get there about twenty minutes later, Chloe stopping a few times along the way to snap a few street shots. The fair has a family-friendly block-party kind of vibe, with various vendors displaying their arts and crafts. Live music is drifting through the street, and Beca instantly feels more comfortable than she did during the parade.

Her heart swells at the sight of a family just ahead of them; two women and their two young kids with rainbows painted on their cheeks. Beca is filled with hope that someday she’ll get to have that, too, that being gay won’t prevent her from building a family and finding happiness, like her dad said it would when she came out to him a couple years ago.

“Where’d you go?” Chloe’s soft voice once again cuts through Beca’s thoughts.

“Nowhere,” she murmurs, glancing towards her new friend. “I just really like it here.”

After strolling about the different booths, they grab a bite to eat and settle down at a picnic table near the makeshift stage where the live band is playing.

“Do you know if there’s a face painting booth somewhere?” Beca finds herself asking once she’s finished her fries. “I wanna get flags on my cheeks, too.”

Stacie offered before they left the apartment, but Beca turned her down, preferring to keep it low-key. Chloe’s rocking it though, and Beca is definitely more ready to embrace her identity than she was a few hours ago.

“Oh, I can do it!” Chloe reaches inside her bag, producing a small paint palette and a brush.

Beca chuckles, shaking her head in amazement. “Of course you’d carry that around.”

As Chloe settles down next to her, straddling the bench, Beca mirrors her position and gathers her hair up and out of the way, piling it up on her head in a messy bun. She inhales sharply as Chloe takes her chin gently and leans closer to apply the first stroke.

The cool brush sliding over her heated skin makes her shiver, and the sudden proximity has her heart thud harder, and she feels a bit overwhelmed by the sudden urge to tilt her head up and forward just slightly to brush a kiss across Chloe’s mouth.

She doesn’t though, because she’s never kissed a girl before and that urge is soon suffocated by the nerves that sprout in the pit of her belly, shackling those butterflies back towards the ground.

“There,” Chloe murmurs, backing away to check her work. Beca realizes she hasn’t been breathing properly and sucks some air into her lungs, blinking. “Cute.”

“Thanks,” Beca croaks out, clearing her throat. She takes her phone to see it for herself in the reflection of the screen, and a bright smile spreads across her features.

“You’re rocking it.”

Soft blush coats Beca’s cheeks as she meets Chloe’s gaze, quickly averting her eyes because those striking blues are really messing with her ability to function properly.

“So I’m supposed to meet a couple friends of mine at this cool bar in an hour or so, I was thinking maybe you and your friends could tag along? No pressure, though.”

“Yeah, um, I’d like that. I’ll text my friends to see if they’re down.”

Cue to Beca being a bit more drunk than she initially planned in a gay bar in Soho a few hours later. The scorching heat probably (definitely) got to her head over the afternoon, so the two cocktails she had really feel like four.

She doesn’t mind, though. That pleasant buzzing thanks to the alcohol loosens her up a little and makes her second guess a lot less.

“So what’s up with you and Red?” Stacie asks over the music as they stand by their table. Chloe’s friends Jessica and Ashely are currently dancing, and Chloe’s gone up to the counter to get water.

Beca wonders if her attraction to Chloe is that see-through, or if it’s just Stacie being Stacie, and poking Beca has always been one of her favorite things. “What?”

The tall brunette rolls her eyes. “Come on, you guys have the hots for each other.”

Beca is thankful for the dim lighting as her face flushes hard. “You-- you think she’s into me?”

“Duh,” Amy confirms with a twin eyeroll.

Stacie slaps Amy’s arm. “Oh, here she comes. Let’s go dance, Ames.”

Beca’s eyes widen and her jaw drops when she realizes her friends are abandoning ship. “Guys! Seriously?? ”

The confirmation that Chloe’s attracted to her only makes Beca all nervous again, and she jumps slightly when Chloe shows up beside her.

“You alright?” Chloe asks, gently cupping Beca’s elbow.

“Yeah, yes. I’m grand.” Grand? Grand?? God, it’s like she can hear Stacie cackling in her head. Beca slams her eyes shut and wrinkles her nose as Chloe giggles. “Ugh. I mean good. I’m good.”

“Good,” Chloe echoes, her smile teasing. “So why are Stacie and Amy staring at us?”

Mortified, Beca glances in the direction of Chloe’s head tilt to find Stacie and Amy both innocently looking away as they stand across the room. She groans in annoyance. “I’m gonna kill them.”

Chloe laughs again, and Beca realizes her hand is still on her arm, her thumb stroking Beca’s skin back and forth. “It’s okay. I’m glad they’re looking out for you.”

“They’re not looking out for me,” Beca grumbles. “They’re just having the time of their lives because they know I’m a terrible flirt and I don’t know how to act around a beautiful woman.” She chuckles, her blush flaring up once more. “Oh wow, I can’t believe I just said that out loud.”

“Which part?” Chloe asks. “You being a terrible flirt or calling me beautiful?”

Beca wets her suddenly dry lips. “Me being bad at this,” she replies, sucking in a sharp breath. “I definitely meant the second part.”

Chloe licking her lips like she does in the next beat makes Beca’s knees wobble. “You wanna dance?”

Beca’s phone lights up with a text from Stacie before she can respond. We’re heading somewhere else. Coming or staying? ;)

She throws Chloe an apologetic smile as she grasps her phone. “Sorry, let me just reply.”

Beca

I’m gonna stay.

Stacie’s reply is instant. Happy scissoring.

She makes the mistake to glance towards the pair, catching Amy doing a V with her fingers by her mouth and flicking her tongue between them.

“Oh my god,” Beca mutters, setting her forehead on the table. “Any chance you didn’t catch that? My friends are an embarrassment.” She eventually straightens, shaking it off. “And yeah, I wanna dance.”

Chloe doesn’t beat around the bush, setting her hands on Beca’s hips and tugging Beca closer once they’re facing each other. Beca’s top doesn’t quite meet her high waisted skirt, and Chloe’s touch sends an electric jolt down her spine, its aftershocks echoing in the tips of her toes.

Her arms loop around Chloe’s neck and it’s only now they’re standing so close that Beca notices how blue Chloe’s eyes are. She also notes the want and passion burning in those irises, and feels another chill travel her body. Chloe moves flawlessly to the beat, and Beca matches her rhythm, gradually crushing the sliver of distance between them until her own hips are swaying flush against Chloe’s.

The song blends into another one, but Beca doesn’t really register it; she’s slowly being consumed by the desire to kiss Chloe, and this time doesn’t let her damn insecurities get the upper hand. Leaning in slowly, she captures Chloe’s lips in a kiss, a delighted hum mingling into it as Chloe kisses her back instantly. One of Chloe’s hands leaves her hip to hold her face gently, warm and reassuring over her skin.

The kiss is slow and tender, exploratory on Beca’s end, and probably the best Beca’s ever had. Her head soon spins from those wonderful, foreign sensations spreading through her body, and she finds herself needing a break shortly after. She pulls away just a bit, her lips tingling as Chloe’s breath skates across them.

When Chloe asks her if she wants to get out of there, Beca should probably tell her she’s new at this, that she’s never been with a girl before, but the words never surface from her throat. She does admit it half an hour later as they’re heavily making-out just outside Chloe’s place, but not to put a stop to it.

She wants this more than she’s probably ever wanted anything else, but she’s afraid of not knowing what to do.

Despite their palpable desire, they slow down once they eventually make it to Chloe’s bedroom, and Beca’s grateful for that. The next couple hours are a blur of yet unparalleled pleasure and Beca sleeps hard afterwards, waking up a bit confused the next morning.

She flushes when memories from the night before surface, explaining the wonderful aches her body’s experiencing when she stretches. She’s alone in bed and the apartment is silent, but a note lies on the pillow next to her.

Hey you. Had to run to work and didn’t want to wake you up. Help yourself to coffee and a shower, if you’d like. Yesterday was pretty awesome. I hope we can see each other again soon. Here’s my phone number: 917-695-8691. Have a good day. :)

Chloe xx

Beca fails to keep her smile at bay and she might even squeal a little bit as she flops back against her pillow.

She guesses she should thank Stacie for dragging her to Pride, after all.

#bechloe #bechloe fic

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spinchip · 4 years

Text

The What-Ifs

Summary: Zane and Nya discuss things that could have been while paired up on a mission together, finding maybe they’ve wanted the same thing all along.

Pairing: Braincellshipping

Wordcount: 1500

A/n: Nya and Jay have already been broken up for a while during this.

“I think about what-ifs, sometimes.” Nya’s not sure why she says it- probably a half-baked plan to break the awkward silence lingering between them, Zanes profile lit up by neon lights and the passing of cars headlights. Out of everyone, the two of them have spent the least amount of time alone together entirely because of her growing feelings and subsequent avoidance of said feelings- which led unintentionally to her avoiding him, and while she’d seen Lloyds considering look during meal times, she had never thought he’d stick them together like this. They had basically been partnered up on all missions the past few weeks, and while Nya was perfectly fine if she could keep her space, being so up-close and personal with Zane was making her tongue tie itself into knots. She was usually so good at knowing just what to say.

His eyes don’t break from the horizon, scanning the sidewalks, but his shoulders tense just slightly- she wouldn’t have been able to tell if not for the taxi that pulls around the corner, the headlights just barely reaching the alcove they had been holed away in, enough to catch the uncertain shift of his hoodie.

She scrambles, the implications of the statement hitting her too late, “Just- what if I had never said yes-?” cringing, she bites the rest of her sentence down, admitting a truth too raw in her haste to reassure him she hadn’t meant the Never Realm. Despite the shame making her face hot, she can't deny the relief that wiggles in her gut when his defensiveness drops for curiosity, his blue eyes pinning her with glowing interest.

Before he can ask for clarification like he clearly wants to, a shadow moves between the hustle and bustle of the street and Zanes eyes zero in. She picks up on the shift immediately, taking his elbow while he leads them into the crowd, seamlessly blending in with the other civilians enjoying the autumn night. Slowly, deliberately, they tail one of the Mechanics right hand goons, easily keeping pace with the man who seemed to have no idea how to avoid being followed. Zane wordlessly notifies the Ninjas group chat they’re on their mark, the others all spread out through out the city can relax. He doesn’t seem to have noticed the two ninja hot on his heels.

Though Nya does assume it would be hard to recognize the two of them like this, dressed down and casual, especially given Zanes human disguise and yellow hoodie and her own red jacket. If he was looking for white and grey, he’d pass right over them. Being dressed so informal seems to only make her even more paranoid, certain if they were caught they’d mess everything up trying to do spinjitzu in denim. A cool hand lays overtop hers where she’s been unwittingly squeezing his arm, and she wills herself to relax. They were just friends on a walk in the city, no need to be so on edge.

She focuses on the retreating man's back, letting the way Zanes' thumb passes over her knuckles remind her to stay calm, the motion soothing.

“So what was the question?” Zane asks and she inwardly cringes, it had been wishful thinking to believe he’d forgotten, “The one you wish you’d refused?”

“I don’t know if i said it that way…” She mutters, shoulders slumping. Exhaling, she decides it’d be a good idea to get the thought out of her head anyway, “I just wonder what could have happened if… if I…”

“You do not have to tell me.” He reassures her as she hesitates, curling his arm to cradle her hand in the crook of his elbow easier.

She swallows, “What if when Jay asked me on that date I said no?”

There’s a long pause, his hand stilling where he’d been comforting her, and she risks looking away from the man they were following to glance at him. His expression is surprised, but when he notices her gaze on him he tries to close it off quickly, “Oh.” He says simply.

“It’s not like I regret our relationship,” She winces, side stepping a group of people chatting outside a fancy restaurant, “We had some good times together, but I just… I wonder what I missed out on, sometimes. What could have been.”

The goon stops suddenly, turning around with a suspicious look on his face. Nya catches on first, shoving Zane nearly to the ground in her haste to hide them under the cover of one of the many food carts lining the street, the restaraunt advertising many different types of drinks and foods. She blows loose strands of hair from her face, peeking out from behind a weirded-out looking patron to see if they’d been spotted, Zane apologizing to the vendor for nearly knocking a rack of utensils over while she’s on lookout.

It seems they’d underestimated him. He’d disappeared into the crowd the moment their line of sight was broken. She curses under her breath, it was a busy Friday night and the streets were packed. It was lucky they’d even seen him in the first place, and now that he knew he might have been followed… She shares a grim look with Zane, pulling out her communicator to report back to Lloyd.

There’s a long crackle of static on the other line as Lloyd thinks, holding down the button until he’s ready to deliver their plan- which turns out to be no plan at all, “There’s nothing more we can do tonight. Finish up with a final sweep and we’ll meet back at the monastery later.” short and to the point. The patrons at the food stall seem to have caught on to exactly who their dinner guests are, whispering amongst themselves, and the Wwoman behind the counter’s eyes glitter as she pulls out her camera with hopeful eyes.

Zane shrugs blithely when Nya sends him a probing look, and they both lean over and pose with the owner while the older woman prods her patrons to snap a picture. One mini photo-shoot and some free Empanadas later and they were ducking back out onto the street, continuing their circuit of their designated lookout. Without thinking, she hooks her arm around his, linking them together again as they walk. It’s as natural as breathing.

She scans the crowd, nibbling on her food, when Zane announces in a tone that makes it clear he’s absolutely certain, “I would have asked you.”

She blinks, tilting her head as she puzzles the random words, “Huh?”

He looks at her, those brilliantly blue eyes earnest, “If you had said no to Jay.” He explains, “I would have asked you to dinner.” He smiles as if he hasn’t just pulled the rug from under her feet.

She’s so thrown she actually stops walking, and he jerks back as her hold on his arm stops him too, “You… what?”

He blinks, a flash of nerves making his shoulders hunch, “I think you are amazing.” Present tense. He still does.

They stand there on the sidewalk while she gawks up at him, only spurred back into walking when a passerby nudges past her. He awkwardly leads them through the streets as the city lives around them, thinking he’s said something wrong. She can’t find the right words to reassure him other than to say, “Well, what if you had asked?” She can feel him looking at her, but she doesn’t glance back, keeping her eyes on the crowd, “And what if I had said yes?”

He hums a little, glancing down at his sneakers as they walked, thinking, “I would have cooked.” he says obviously, “Your favorite: Baked macaroni and cheese- though that’s not your favorite now.” He says thoughtfully, “It is Pineapple fried rice, correct? I should make it more often.”

“No one else likes it though.” She says, looking up at him with a smile, warm fuzzies spreading across her face. He remembered her favorite foods.

He hums noncommittally and she gets the feeling he doesn’t care wether the others like it or not. Slowly she leans her head on his shoulder, lacing her fingers together where she’s been holding onto him to draw them closer together. She wonders how that night would have gone, if she would have been charmed by him, if it would have led to another dinner or a kiss. She wonders if it could have been Zane to offer her that promise ring, and if she would have gotten to keep it. What if.

The walk in silence for a long while, finishing off their impromptu dinner, coming to the end of their sweep. It feels so weirdly final, despite the fact they’d both be out here tomorrow night too, on the same hunt. It feels like a door is about to shut, one she desperately doesn’t want to close before she sees who’s behind it.

They come to the mouth of the alley they started the night in, both their bikes stored in the darkness and away from prying eyes, the shadows of the backstreet an ending she doesn’t want to face. She lets go of his elbow, standing underneath the lantern of the bar right next to them, only stopping him by catching his hand in hers while he’s still lit up by street lamps and restaurant signs. She’s always tried to be bold, when she knows what she wants, and she thinks she might have it figured out. He turns to face her, a inquiring tilt to his head.

“What if,” She says, smiling up into his questioning eyes, “I asked you to go on a date with me? Not the past, but here, now?”

He smiles and she can see him try to contain the happiness, his eyes flickering two shades brighter when he says, “I would say yes."

#zane julien #nya ninjago #ninjago #braincellshipping #spinchip fic #auuuuu sorry if this is ooc #ive seen so much braincell on my dash today.... hell yes

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eunoiaflow3r · 4 years

Text

Not Who I Am Anymore - Oscar Diaz

A/N: we’re not going to talk about the ending lol. uhm will definitely have a few mistakes.

Warnings: language, angst, fluff, mentions of death (not to reader, or oscar). fem!reader.

Summary: Y/N’s past is something that dictates a couple of her decisions. This includes smoking and drinking. Everyone think’s she’s weird for it. She has her reasons.

Word Count: 5.4k

You thought you had moved on. You thought that with the help, and the mentoring, the flashbacks, the thoughts, and the urges would go away. But they didn’t. Here you were at a Santos party, smoke in the air, alcohol littered across the long tables and the music wafting through the air ten times louder than it probably should have been. On the sidewalk, you took this time to really look at your surroundings and really scope out the area.

Spooky was on the porch, a glass bottle of beer sitting swiftly in his hands. Instead of his usual beader, a black shirt was fitted loosely, paired with black shorts and sneakers..and, of course, the ultimate gold chain that sat proudly around his neck. He was talking to Sad Eyes - you think his name was, when he noticed you, kind of to yourself, watching him. He smirked at you and walked over to where you were.

“Aye wassup? Can’t believe you actually came.” He gives you a kind of half-hug, before stepping away and really taking you in. You weren’t dressed like the rest of the girls who wore crop tops, and short shirts and skirts with heels. No, you at a Santos party, chose to wear jeans and a jacket. It looked a lot like something That girl Monse would wear, but he wasn’t gonna tell you that.

“Came to watch the underage kids here, and make sure they stay out of trouble.”

That was only half the truth. Of course, you came for the kids, especially Ruby and Jamal - you knew they could get into some serious trouble if they were along for long enough...but when Spooky first told you about the party, you knew you’d be there. No, you tried to convince yourself not to go. Alcohol and weed wasn’t a good idea, and you knew that. Spooky on the other hand, sure could be convincing, and maybe you were unknowingly making a deal with the devil by accepting his invitation, but at the time you didn’t care. Now you do.

“That really all you came for? I wasn’t part of that decision?”

The bottle in his hands was looking absolutely irresistible. The smoke in the air that you inhaled made your heart hurt because you knew if you did anything tonight, you’d be in trouble. That’s why you snuck your hand into your pocket and clutched your 2-year pin in your hands. Never again would you go back to the place you were in two years ago. Never again you promised yourself.

Oscar seemed to notice your eyes on his bottle though and unfortunately asked if you wanted some. You painfully refused and asked him if he could just get you a bottle of water instead.

“Of course. Be right back.”

You remember when you first met “Spooky.” It was unconventional at the least. You were visiting Mario and his family during the summer. His mother absolutely adored you, and let you stay for however long you needed. You went back home, but right before school started, you decided to move to Freeridge more permanently. She let you stay until you could find your own place. Ruby, like the little devil he is, stole your clothes while you were in the shower.

You chased him around in a towel for them, until eventually you were locked outside, and pounding on the door pleading for him to let you in. His friends did nothing to help you, and you wouldn’t forgive them for weeks after that. Anyway, this just so happened to be the time where there was that lockdown. Minutes before it happened, Spooky approached the house, and he at the very least was intrigued. It’s not every day you see a beautiful kinda naked girl knocking on a door. When he approached you, you had absolutely no idea what to do.

A gang leader, you knew by the infamous name, “Spooky,” was smirking at you as you were half-naked, and he didn’t even know your name.

“I - I uhm.” You paused, trying to gain some kind of composure. “ ‘S not my fault they locked me out.”

He smiled, you eyed his teardrop tattoo, and he looked you up and down from head to toe and back up again as if you hadn’t even been wearing the towel at all. “A gift from the Heavens if you ask me.”

You shyly looked away, and thankfully, if not weirdly, you were cut off by sirens. Angered, Spooky started banging on the door demanding for them to let the two of you in. As soon as they noticed the sirens and the knocks that didn’t sound like yours anymore, Ruby wearily let you and the gang leader in.

To say the kids, especially Jamal was scared shitless was an understatement. You couldn’t bear seeing Spooky again, especially being barely clothed so you stayed locked in the room you shared with Olivia, embarrassingly hiding from Spooky and his wandering eyes.

The second time you ran into him, you were fully clothed thankfully. You found your own place, not too far from Ruby’s and Monse’s houses. What you didn’t know, was that his house was right around the corner as well, and on your way to your new job - Dwayne’s Joint. You needed a job, and how could Jamal’s father let anyone go when they were in need? So here you were, a waitress now, about to take an order for Cesar and his brother.

His eyebrow when he saw you and so did that signature smirk. “Aye, Y/N you walk here?”

“Yeah actually - how did you know my name?” you ask bewildered.

Cesar sunk down his seat not making eye contact with you. “I told him.” he whispered.

“Oh, and did you tell him that I worked here as well?”

Cesar’s no response was all the response you needed. Instead of reacting in the irritated way you wanted, you began actually doing your job. It’s too early to lose it - you literally couldn’t afford it. “What can I get you guys?”

“When your shift end?” Spooky asked not answering your question.

“Cesar, you want some fries?” You ask avoiding Spooky’s question. He said nothing, under Spooky’s intimidating eyes. You walked away anyway and got fries for Cesar and Spooky to share just so you didn’t have to spend any extra time under Spooky’s gaze. When the fries were done, you brought them to their table, and Cesar thanked you for it, but all Spooky did was look you up and down, wink and snatch a few fries from the basket.

What you didn’t realize was it was 5 minutes passed your shift being over so you grabbed your stuff, and walked out the door, ready to walk your tired self home.

“Uh uh,” Spooky caught your arm, “Let me give you a ride.”

“Oh, so now you know where I live too?” You asked clearly irritated. He had seen you almost naked, knew your name, where you lived, and you didn’t even know his real name.

“It’s a small block,” he shrugged, “Besides, you're tired. What type of man would I be to let you walk home alone this late?’

At this point, you didn’t have the energy to argue with this man any longer, so you just let the man take you home.

Ever since then, you’d see him around, and he wouldn’t waste any time flirting with you. You’d humor him, you’ll admit it, but you had no idea what compelled you to say yes to a drug and alcohol filled party.

Maybe it was his smile or his muscles, maybe it was his incredibly sexy and convincing voice, or maybe it was that time he kissed you before you he dropped you off at your house.

He was telling you how his Dad came back, and he was ranting, and you knew it had been an incredible stressor for him. When it used to awkward around him, because of the towel incident, you were now incredibly comfortable around him, and it was almost like it never happened - although with flirty remarks he reminded you almost every day.

You were saying goodnight when he kissed you. You were surprised, to say the least, but you kissed him back with just as much passion as you were receiving from his end. He couldn’t take it when he couldn’t feel any of you, so he pulled you into his seat, right onto his seat so that you were straddling him. You ended up hitting the horn on accident, and you both broke out in laughter before he kissed you again. His hands roamed from your hair to your shoulders, to your side and back, and finally to your ass where he wasn’t afraid to give a little attention to.

You don’t know how long you were in that car, but you know that after that night, a blush seemed to be permanently tinted on your cheeks when you’re around him, your lips a little swollen, and hickies would almost always be littered across your skin.

Since you first met him, you knew he was probably a bad idea. He’s not a bad person, but a bad idea. How could you be around the literal epitome of the life you used to live. Did you want to live around that life again? Certainly not. But Spooky made up for it. He never wanted you around during gang-related things and perhaps that distracted you from how bad living this life really was.

Now that you were here though, all you could think about was that pin in your pocket and how long it took you to actually get it. You weren’t giving that up for one stupid night, no matter how hot he was, and how good his lips felt on yours.

Usually Oscar, (you call him that now), never invited you to these things. He knew they weren’t really your scene. And you were appreciative of that. He knew you didn’t like alcohol, or smoking, or drugs, and he wanted to ask, so many times but he could tell that you probably didn’t wanna talk about it. And at the end of the day, did it really matter anyway?

When Oscar came back with your water, you were thankful for the distraction from all the urges surrounding you. You didn’t want to leave too early - you didn’t want to disappoint Oscar, but if things started to become too overwhelming for you, you would have no choice.

“Oscar?” You asked, looking him in his beautiful brown eyes.

“Hm?” He hummed wrapping his arm around your hips.

“Wanna dance with me?”

“I don’t dance mujer hermosa.”

You smiled, intertwining your fingers with his. “You’ll dance with me.”

You pulled him to the lawn where everyone else who was dancing was, and pulled him in front of you. He smiled down at you amusingly following your lead. Reluctantly, he joined you and you both danced - until he decided he needed to be back in control and spun you around so that your back was against his, and you danced against him for a while.

He had to admit that you were unlike anyone he had ever met. He liked it, he liked you, so when you pulled away he was disappointed. You promised him you’d be back and you were just getting a refreshment. You asked if he wanted something, but he refused politely telling you he was fine.

You went over to the refreshment table, but standing in front of the waters, perfectly stacked by Ruby, were two women, who were conversating. “Uhh, excuse me.”

They turned around with glasses full of tequila, their hair almost hitting you in the face. Their cleavage was hanging out, and from what you could tell, their asses were out as well. ‘Must be hella uncomfortable.’ you thought noticing how tight the clothes must be to leave nothing to the imaginations.

“Ooh look,” the brunette squealed, “it’s Spooky’s bitch.”

You were shocked. Since when were you anyone’s anything? You and Oscar sure haven’t put a label on anything, but you sure as hell weren’t claimed and definitely were not about to be called out of your name.

“I just want some water.” You sighed opting to take the easy way out. You didn’t want to start any fights here.

“What don’t want nothing stronger?” The darker haired one asked. “Bourbon? Tequila? Beer? Whiskey?”

“The water is fine.” you were growing impatient with their antics. Could you just get your damn water?

“What you can’t take it? You a lightweight or somethin?”

You rolled your eyes, and the brunette caught it.

“La perra fea probablemente ni siquiera puede hablar español. ¿Para qué coño está ella aquí?”

(Ugly bitch probably can't even speak spanish. What the fuck she even here for?)

You scoffed, but waited to hear the other girl's reaction.

“Ni siquiera sé lo que Spooky ve en ella. Probablemente esa mirada falsa e inocente que tenía.”

(I don't even know what Spooky see in her. Probably that fake innocent look she got going on.)

You were done with these girls but remembered that pin you had in your pocket and everything you had to do to get it. So you gained your composure.

“Escuchen chicas, solo quiero un poco de agua. Solo muévete de la puta manera.”

(Listen girls, I just want some water. Just move out the fucking way.)

And they moved out of your way. Despite what they said, that kind of hurt you, you didn’t want any drama. Especially with a crowd of gang members, and alcohol. It wouldn’t ev=nd well so yeah, you took the easy way out.

You went to go find Oscar, but you were pulled away by Ruby. Jamal was next to him. “Hey Ruby, what’s up?”

“Hey Y/N…” he said, obviously hiding something.

“What’s wrong?” You asked wearily.

He wouldn’t look you in the eyes. “Nothing….”

He was lying, and you were impatient. “Jamal, what’s going on.”

“Oscar and some guys are in the house asking why your like not drinking and smoking and stuff and they said that you were a sleeze and that you were way too innocent and that the only reason Spooky is with you is because you are good in bed but how would anyone know because you don’t dress like a -”

“Okay Jamal that’s enough!” Ruby yelled covering up Jamal’s mouth.

“You know I can’t keep secrets!”

You didn’t know what to say. In the back of your mind, you always thought about if Oscar would like you better if you drank, or if you smoked, but you had no idea he felt limited because you didn’t. You never asked him to quit, you never even told him not to do it around you, so what could possibly be his problem?

You clutched that pin in your pocket again and reminded yourself to not lose yourself again. No matter what people thought, or what they thought you were, it wasn’t worth it.

The kids were the only ones who knew about your past, so you were grateful they came and told you, but you had to leave. You could no longer hold up your happy persona, and you just wanted to go home where you knew that no guns, no drugs, no alcohol, and no weed would be around.

“And what did Spooky say?”

Jamal took out his phone and pressed play on a recording.

You heard a chorus of guys laughing, and then eventually you heard Oscar’s voice.

“Nah I mean, it’s not like she’s too much of a bore or anything...she just don’t smoke or drink. It’s weird and sometimes I wish she would but I don’t know man. Maybe it’d be easier if she did -”

Ruby snatched the phone before you could hear anymore, and you’re glad he did.

You hugged the boys, thanked them, and started walking away.

“Y/N where are you going?” Ruby called out to you.

“I’m going home guys, I can’t be here anymore.” The tears almost started falling, but you wiped them before you could. Ruby ran to you, and wrapped his arms around your waist hugging you tightly.

“I’m coming with you.”

“I don’t want you to miss out on the fun.” you sniffled ruffling his hair.

“It’s not fun anymore.”

He and Jamal went home with you that night and watched movies with you, trying to cheer you up. They stayed over, and you couldn’t be more grateful to have boys like them in your lives - always there for you as you were for them.

When Oscar realized you were gone, he called you repeatedly, and when you didn’t answer, he immediately hopped into his car and drove to your apartment. He knocked hard and knocked until you opened the door.

“What are you doing here Spooky?”

“What am I doing here?” he yelled. “And since when am I Spooky to you, huh?”

You were tired, and frustrated, and just a little heartbroken.

How dare he talk about you, and come to your door yelling at you.

“I need you to lower your voice.” you sighed. “You’ll wake the boys.”

“You think I give a fuck about those boys?” Tell me why you haven’t answered any of your calls, and why you left without telling me where the hell you’re going?”

“You don’t own me Spooky! You’re not my daddy! But I should just stick around though right? ‘Cause oh no, “she’s not too much of a bore,” Right? “It’d be easier if I smoke and drank though wouldn’t it? It’d be easier if I damaged my lungs, and my brain, and my stomach for you?! Fuck off Spooky.” You were on the verge of tears. “I’m not changing myself for you, or your petty ass friends, so just go the fuck home!”

He didn’t know how to react with you yelling at him like that. He’s never seen this hurt side of you, and he’s sure he never ever wants to see it again. He didn’t know how you found out about what he was saying but he wishes you didn’t because he didn’t mean any of what he said the way you took it. Every time he looked into your eyes though, all he saw was hurt, pain, anger, and disbelief.

The same things he was feeling himself although he’d never admit it. It hurt his heart to see your red eyes botched from crying, pained him to see your hair a mess by how many times you’ve inevitably pulled it out of stress. It angered him that he said those things, and he was listening to all those whining bitches around him. He didn’t believe he could let himself listen to all those hating people that surrounded him on the daily.

Before he could defend himself, the door slammed in his face and he let it. He didn’t know what to say, but soon he would. There was no way he’d let you slip away. You were too good. But maybe that’s exactly why he should let you go. If tonight proved anything, it was that you weren’t for this life, and who was he to let you around it? Hell, maybe he shouldn’t be around it either. Maybe what tonight really proved to him was that life outside the Santos, and outside of the bad decisions and outside of the violence. If there’s one thing you taught him, it would be to never let anyone change him. The gang life changed him. The Santos changed him. But you were bringing the real him back out and of course like everything else, he fucked it up.

When he got back home, the party had dispersed. Cesar was in the living room, and he jumped when he heard Oscar come home slamming the door. He heard chairs being shoved, tables, cups. Anything in eyesight was being disheveled at the hands of Oscar.

“Aye, aye!! What the hell are you doing?!” Cesar yelled over the commotion.

“Fuck this shit man!” Oscar yelled to no one in particular.

Cesar rolled his eyes and went back to his room. Whatever the problem was, could be solved tomorrow.

The next day though, once Ruby and Jamal left after telling them about a million times that you’d be okay, you started packing a bag. It’s time you went back to your old life and visit for a while.

It’s been 3 days, and 18 hourse since you’ve been gone - Cesar’s been counting because that’s how long Oscar’s been going fucking crazy. He was yelling at everyone, almost killed a guy, and just has been absolutely restless. He’s called you, texted you, went to your job, your house, your favorite restaurant and nothing. Oscar didn’t know what to do with himself.

It hurt him to know you were out there mad at him, and he never got a chance to explain himself or tell you how sorry he was for everything he’s done. If there’s one thing he’s realized these past three days, is that he could live without you, but he didn’t want to.

Before you, he wasn’t taking care of himself. He thought of people as disposable, and he was literally angry all the time. After you though, he is quite literally almost a new person, and he loves who he is now.

Without you though, he was back to being Spooky: the notorious gang leader.

You gently lay the flowers down on the ground in front of you, followed by a single tear. Two years ago today, the love of your life overdosed. You remember like it was yesterday.

You had already gone off the grid when you met him. Drinking, smoking, and hookups almost every night. So when you met him, adding drugs to the mix wasn’t very hard. He had been your first and last dealer. All your friends tried to warn you to stay away from him, but you didn’t care. You were in love with him. He was caring, and kind, and funny. You were in a bliss.

He had even asked you to marry him one night. You planned children with him.

Unfortunately though, one night you came home to find him dead. He had overdosed while you went out to get more drinks.

After his funeral, your friends basically kidnapped you, helped you detox, sent you to rehab, and went with you to AA (Alcohol Anonymous) meetings. It wasn’t as easy as it sounds though. Detox hurt like a bitch, and you’ve gone through it at least 5 times before you finally quit for good. You’ve gone to rehab a total of three times, and you can’t even count how many times you’ve gone to AA meetings.

At first you did it for him. You did it to try to get sober for the both of you - since he couldn’t anymore. But soon after you fell off the wagon, because trying to keep his memory alive wasn’t enough of a motivation.

Wanting to get out of that life, and back to normal you realized, was motivation enough. You shouldn’t live for someone else - only for yourself.

Once you got over the guilt of his death, that’s exactly what you did. Lived for yourself.

When you left the cemetery, you got a couple of texts. The ones from Oscar you ignored, but the ones from Cesar, you immediately opened.

Cesar: Y/N. Spooky kicked me out, can I stay at yours?

You: Ofc! You know where the key is.

Cesar: You’re a lifesaver, I love you forever.

You had to get back home. You couldn’t let Cesar live on his own, and you weren’t sure how much food you had in your fridge, how would he get food? And why the hell would Oscar kick him out? His own brother, only fifteen! Oh boy, you were gonna kick his ass when you got back home, for more reasons than one.

When you were finally back, you noticed Cesar dead asleep on your couch, blankets twisted every which way. His mouth hung open, arm across his face, chinese on the floor, and the tv still on. You couldn’t but laugh at his craziness. You fixed his blanket so that it was more comfortable for him, turned off the tv, and put up the chinese in case he wanted them for leftovers.

You wrote him a note in case he woke up during your visit to his brother.

‘Hey, I’m back. Don’t be alarmed, I’ll be right back.”

Love, Y/N

The walk to Spooky’s was nauseating. Usually when you took this trip, your heart was ecstatic, and your stomach filled with butterflies. Usually, you couldn’t wait to see him, and couldn’t wait to hear his laugh, but now all you wanted to do was punch him in his face.

When you got there, surprisingly, there weren’t any people littered across the yard. Giving you a little extra courage considering the lack of people, you started knocking on the door..hard.

He opened it ready for a fight, but his body immediately deflated when he saw you.

“Y/N.” He breathed.

“What the fuck is wrong with you? No seriously, what’s going on? Because no self respecting man would kick his teen brother out of the house.”

“I -”

“No. You listen. I don’t care about your reasoning, and I don’t care about anything you have to say. I only came down here to tell you that he’s staying with me, until you come to your fucking senses.”

“No, wait- “

“You don’t get to have the last word, Spooky.”

He absolutely hated when you called him that. When you said that name it sounded like poison, like your dehumanizing him. When others called him that, he felt a sense of authority. When you called him by that stupid ass name, it’s when he knows he’s fucked up, and he’s felt like you shot him in the chest 100 times.

The next morning, you were eating breakfast with Cesar.

“Do you need a ride to school?” You ask.

He nods.

“Okay, well after school I’m gonna take you shopping for new clothes too because you can’t go around in the same three outfits everyday.” You say trying to lighten the mood.

“No, Y/N it’s okay. You’ve already done enough, believe me. I can’t ask for anymore.”

“Good thing you didn’t ask. And I sure as hell wasn’t asking either.”

Once you were pulled up in front of his school, he looked fidgety.

“Where did you go?” He asked, worried.

“I went to go say goodbye to my old life. For good.”

“Is that a good thing?”

“It’s a great thing.” You sighed . “Speaking of, I’m gonna go to one of my meetings after I drop you off. Do you need me to pick you up afterwards?”

“No I’m good. Everything okay?”

“Yeah, I just need to let a few things off my chest.”

As soon as you drove off, Cesar called his brother.

“What?” He sneered.

“If you want to make things up with Y/N, go to this address quickly.” He gave him the address. “Sit in the back, that way she won’t notice you.”

Oscar was beyond confused but nevertheless, he pulled up outside of a nice looking building and went inside, following the directions, and looking for the room number that Cesar gave him. When he looked inside, there were people all around sitting in chairs, and a podium in the very front that he noticed you walk up to.

He sat in the very back where Cesar told him so that you couldn’t see him.

“Hi, I’m Y/N and I’m an alcoholic.”

“Hi Y/N.” The crown chorused.

This was an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting Oscar realized. You never told him you had a problem. Jesus Christ, he felt like a proper dick. He wanted to shoot himself. He wished he could take everything back, and apologize profusely.

“I’ve been sober for almost three years now.”

The crowd started clapping, including Oscar. He was proud of you.

“This past weekend,” you started, “I went to go visit my ex.”

Oscar’s jaw clenched, along with his fist. He was furious. So that’s what you’ve been doing this whole time? One fight, and you go back to your ex?

“He overdosed four years ago.”

Oh. He died. Again, Oscar felt like a piece of shit.

“I went crazy when he died.” you began. “I literally almost killed myself with all of the drugs and alcohol consumption. It took me a long time to get back on my feet again, and to stop feeling sorry for what happened. Hell, I was going to marry the man I did drugs with! Granted, we were gonna come clean, but he died before he was given the chance. I still had a chance. It was hard, and this weekend proved that it was worth it.”

There were tears in your eyes, and all Oscar wanted to do was wipe them away. God, he wanted to punch himself multiple times over and over again until he was almost dead. How dare he make you feel bad about something, let alone something that took you so long to overcome?

“I went to a party where there was alcohol and drugs and things, and there were so many temptations, but I didn’t give in, and I’m so happy I didn’t.” A few tears fell from your face. “I might have lost a person very important to me, but my sobriety is just as important, and I wasn’t going to give up almost three years worth for one night, and stupid people.”

You walked off the podium, and people started clapping loudly in support. Now that you’ve said these things out loud, the more great you felt. When you were finding your seat though, you caught a glimpse of someone in the back. You were furious. What the hell was he doing here?

You walked over to him, silently telling him to follow you, and he did right outside.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Y/N, I’m an asshole, I’m a jerk, and a ass, an idiot and a prick.”

You looked at the ground. “Go on.”

“I am so fucking sorry, you have no idea. I’m selfish, and I’m the dumbest fuckup ever, and I don’t know how to make it up to you.”

He steps closer to you, and you let him.

“What I do know is that I’m a different person when I’m with you. I’m the person I want to be, and I know its such a fucking cliche but I have never loved anyone like I love you.”

You were crying now, and he was starting to too. He walked closer, and pulled you into a bear hug.

“I shouldn't have judged you, and I’m so so sorry. I know talking and apologizing won’t make up for what I did, but what can I do?”

You stepped back, and looked him in his eyes before smacking him hard across his face.

He held the side of his face clearly hurt, and said nothing.

“I love you too jackass.”

He smiled, and pulled you to him kissing you softly. Tears fell between the two of you but you didn’t notice. He pulled you closer to him, wrapping both his strong arms around your waist lifting you a couple of inches from the ground. His lips tasted like honey between yours, you could feel all his stress evaporating as soon as you wrapped your arms around his neck. When you pulled away, he pressed a quick chaste kiss to your jaw, and whispered, “I’m sorry.”

A couple of weeks later, you learned why Oscar had kicked him out and in fear of you leaving him, and never forgiving him again, he solved it - just like you knew he could.

He seemed to figure out the most stupidest way to do so though because here he was in front of you bleeding, with gashes all over his face, arms and chest: Abuela helped clean him up.

“You’re an absolute dumbass.” You said, helping clean his wounds.

“I did what I had to do.”

The people who had talked about you at the party almost a month ago, apologized and you knew that Oscar had something to do with it.

Even though you never asked him to, Oscar also slowly stopped drinking and smoking.

When you confronted him about it, he just shrugged and said, “I don’t feel like damaging my lungs, my brain, and my stomach no more.”

You smiled, and cheekily climbed onto his lap pressing a kiss to his lips.

“You didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to mamas,” He kissed you sweetly. “You’re worth it.”

618 notes · View notes

largedenominationsplease · 3 years

Note

There are too many good ones on the drabble list so I picked four and you can choose which one(s) you want to write a Jarah B drabble for (because you should have known this was coming 😜). #2, 24, 41, or 59 (59 is my favorite one)

THIS ONE WAS HONESTLY SO MUCH FUN TO WRITE! And I’m a fucking over-achiever, as you well know, my dear, so I did all four prompts. 💀 Enjoy!

“Can you shut up for five minutes, please?”

“If I trip over one more of your shoes, I’m throwing them all away.”

“Take notes, sweetheart.”

“... or we could make out…”

Sarah’s alarm blares suddenly, pulling her from a weirdly vivid dream. The bright colors fade from her memory as soon as she opens her eyes, squinting against the light leaking between the slats of the blinds. It’s too early to get up for a weekend, but the Pogues had been over late the night before and she knows the Chateau is still a mess. She’d been too tired to clean up before going to bed, but now she wishes she hadn’t procrastinated so she could roll over and go back to sleep. As she stretches, willing some form of energy into her limbs, she realizes John B’s side of the bed is empty. He’s never been an early riser, and he didn’t mention having to work. Whatever the case, he’s no longer in bed next to her and with his absence goes any excuse she has to linger under the warm blankets. She smells coffee as she opens the bedroom door. That will be a better start to her day than jumping right into cleaning.

As she makes her way down the hall, her foot catches on a discarded converse. In that moment, she decides that moving in with John B was the best and worst decision she’d made in recent history. “John Booker!” she yells, rubbing her stubbed toe and hopping awkwardly on one foot. “If I trip over one more of your shoes, I’m throwing them all away! I swear to god!” And okay, that comes out a little meaner than she intended.

“Well, someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed,” his good natured chuckle floats from the kitchen to greet her.

Sarah twists her mouth into a semi-pout. She can admit to herself she’s irritable, but admitting it to someone else is another matter entirely. “And?” she snaps, her voice having almost no bite to it. Then she sighs, crossing to the kitchen table and sinking into one of the chairs. “Sorry. Didn’t sleep well I guess. Need coffee.”

“Coming right up, Val.” He pours her a cup. “Though you did ruin my plan.”

“What plan?”

He grins a little sheepishly. “I was gonna make you breakfast in bed.”

“Really?” Tears spring to her eyes for just a moment and she feels kind of silly, getting all emotional over one little breakfast in bed. “You’re so sweet. How am I supposed to top all your grand romantic gestures?”

He sets a plate of fried eggs, slightly burned bacon, and toast in front of her, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Take notes, sweetheart,” he says with a wink.

Sarah’s stomach growls as she looks at the food in front of her, but she finds herself wrinkling her nose after the first bite. Something isn’t quite right about the bacon, and she’s guessing it’s due to its near charred state, but she can play it off. It’s awfully sweet of John B to make breakfast, even if he isn’t a first-class chef. He sits down next to her with his own plate and asks, “What’s on your to do list for the day?”

“Cleaning up the mess your friends made last night,” she laughs.

“My friends? Since when are they only my friends?”

“Since they trashed our house!”

“Well, I guess I can help with the cleanup, since I did contribute to the mess.”

“Thank you for your sacrifice.”

John B chuckles for a moment, then glances down at his food, pushing it back and forth across the plate. “And, uh,” he pauses and clears his throat. Sarah doesn’t often see him struggle to say what he’s thinking. John Booker Routledge is rarely lost for words. But in this moment, he seems almost nervous to continue. “So I think you should add something else to your to do list today.”

She pulls her feet into the seat, wrapping her arms around her knees and leaning forward. “Yeah? Like what?”

“Like taking this.” He reaches into a bag on the floor, pulling out a rectangular box and sliding it across the table.

Sarah opens and closes her mouth a few times, blinking in surprise as she takes in the small package sitting in front of her.

“Your period’s late,” he explains. “And you’ve been… feeling off lately, I can tell. And Kie can, too. She said so last night. And I mean I was already thinking something was weird and I figured it was better to go ahead and see-“

“Can you shut up for five minutes, please?” Sarah snaps, staring holes into the pink and white box in her hands. A pregnancy test. “Do you really think-“ she cuts herself off, trying to collect her thoughts. Sure her period is a little late, but that had happened before, nothing to freak out about. She hadn’t thrown up or anything like that. There is no way she’s pregnant. She slams the box down on the table and stands abruptly. “No, this is crazy. My period is just a couple days late, that’s all. It’s happened before.”

John B stands and walks around the table to put his hands on her shoulders. “Sar,” he says. “It’s two weeks late. You always mark it in your little planner thingy and it’s been two weeks since you were supposed to start.”

And there go those stupid tears again, filling up her eyes, except this time she’s afraid. She’s afraid because she knows he’s right. She hadn’t even allowed herself to notice how long it had been, but of course John B did, and now... “What if it’s positive?”

“Well,” he pulls her in close, wrapping his arms around her. She instinctively relaxes into his embrace. “Would that be so bad? I mean, you’ve graduated, and I know we’re not married yet, but what does that mean in this day and age anyway. And it’s not like we’re exactly strapped for cash.”

That last statement makes her giggle, just a bit. “So we’d be okay, yeah?”

He nods. “We’d be okay.”

She sighs, pulling back from and picking up the box of pregnancy tests. “Shit. Here goes!”

Two full minutes later, after the timer on her phone goes off, Sarah has a hand over her eyes and a test in the other. What if it’s positive? John B would be a great parent, she’s certain. But she doesn’t know how to be a mother. It’s not like she had the best examples to look up to. But then, what if it’s negative? “I’m honestly scared to look.”

“We’ll look together,” John B says, coming up behind her, placing a hand on her shoulder. He steadies her in a way a much younger Sarah didn’t believe was possible. “On the count of three?” She nods. “One, two… three!”

And with John B’s hands on her shoulders, his eager face hovering next to hers, just as excited to see the results as she is, she suddenly knows exactly what she wants from this silly bit of plastic in her hands. She flips the test over. Two little lines.

“Two? What does two mean?” John B asks.

“It’s… it’s positive.” Her voice is a little shaky, and holy shit this is happening, but then she’s laughing. “It’s positive!”

“Oh my god, Sarah!” He lifts her off the ground and spins her around once. “Oh my god,” he says again, setting her back on her feet. “Should I have done that? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, John B,” she whispers, tears shining in her eyes for the third time that damn morning. “We’re gonna have a baby!” Just saying that out loud sends a shiver down her spine. She didn’t think she could be so excited for something so unexpected, but here she is.

He laughs, almost in disbelief, raking his fingers through his hair. Sarah thinks he looks happier than she’s ever seen him. She thinks maybe she’s the happiest she’s ever been, too. “We should tell the Pogues,” she says.

“Yeah, probably…” his voice trails off as he pulls her back to him. “Or, we could make out?” He teases. “We can always tell them later.”

Sarah giggles, feeling better than she had in probably a month. “That’s what got us into this mess in the first place.”

“So is that a no? Or…”

Twisting her hand into the front of his shirt, she pulls him even closer, kissing him deeply. His hands come to rest on her waist and she can feel him smiling beneath her lips. Breaking their kiss for just a moment, she says, “You know I love you, John B. Right?”

“I love you, too, Sarah.”

#this was so much fun and it's so soft and fluffy and ahhhhh thank you!#jarah b #john b routledge #sarah cameron #drabble challenge #alexandracheers #tw: pregnancy

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callmeelle22 · 3 years

Text

Blue Dream VI

Pairing: Iris West x Barry Alen

Rating: E

Chapter Word Count: 8, 390

Summary: A series of sporadic dates between Iris and Barry turn into something more, a story in its own making.

Chapter I: Primetime

Chapter II: It's Cool

Chapter III: Anything

Chapter IV: Comfortable

Chapter V: The Way

Chapter VI: Say Yes; The action makes her look at him again and there’s something behind the playfulness in his gaze, something that sings like there is only one for me; you have made that a possibility, like we could take that step to see, mm; if this is really gonna be, like all she’s gotta do is say yes to whatever statement his eyes are making, to whatever question his fingers are stitching into her skin. (Read chapter below or on AO3 linked on the chapter title.)

Chapter VII: Brave

Chapter VIII: Blue Dream

Say Yes

There is only one for me

You have made that a possibility

We could take that step to see, mm

If this is really gonna be

All you got to do is say yes

On the following Thursday, Iris finds herself rushing down Main St., her glittery gold pumps making a rhythmic clack-clack-clack on the sidewalk. She barely had time to change from what she’d worn to work, into a long black maxi dress printed with gold feathers all over it. The dress has long sleeves and a modest neckline, though the right side split that rises near to her waist changes what might otherwise just be a pretty casual dress. She’s late, which is why she’s risking a broken neck by running down the street in these shoes, not wanting to hear Wally bitch about being late to his 21st birthday dinner.

She finally gets to the front of Golden’s, where her dad has rented out space for the dinner and later, some music and dancing. Barry is standing outside of the restaurant, in a pair of well-fitting black pants and camel colored desert boots, tugging at the neck of the white sweater that does only good things for those broad shoulders. He looks up from his phone when he hears her heels, and the smile he gives her pulls her up short.

“Hi, beautiful” he greets as he steps out from where he’d been leaning on the wall. “You look nice."

Iris waves a hand, still trying to catch her breath. “I look like I’ve been working all day.”

She touches self-consciously at her hair, knowing that the curls from her bantu knots have likely begun to fall. But when she looks up again, the word nice isn’t actually what she sees as he’s looking at her. It’s a misnomer, the word nice, because his gaze follows the curves of her body, the way the dress’s matching tie shows the deep curve of her waist, and how every time she moves, Barry sees one long, brown leg ending in the double straps around her ankle. Iris shifts under his gaze, at his blown irises, the color of them graying by the moment.

“Come here,” he says, reaching out for her.

“What? Barry, we’re late,” she attempts to argue, even as she’s letting him pull her into his arms. She tumbles into them, letting him wrap both his arms around her as she circles hers around his waist. She can feel the warmth of his palms through the thin material of her dress.

“Breathe,” he commands softly, and she inhales deeply before letting it go. Barry loosens his hold, but only enough that he can look into her eyes.

“Let’s try that again,” he teases. “Hi, Iris, you look beautiful.”

Her stomach flutters at the comment and she bites down on her bottom lip. “Thank you, Barry.”

“How’s your day been? We haven’t talked.”

“Barry, we’re…”

“Late. Yes, I know. And maybe I’m stalling because I’m nervous to meet your entire family at your brother’s party, but I also just wanna check in.” He lifts her chin with a forefinger. “So how’s your day been?”

She thinks that she fucking melts, just like that.

“It’s been good. Really good,” she replies softly, trying to hold his tender gaze. “I didn’t have to curse any undergrads. And I, uh, well,” she hesitates for only a moment, but she wants to tell him this, even if it’s news she’s been hoarding for the moment. “Well, my blog is going to be featured on Good Morning, Central City.”

His eyes light up. “What, Iris? That’s amazing!” He wraps his arms around her again and squeezes, even pulling her off of her feet. The sound of her laughter fills the air as she tightens her hold on his neck.

He’s the first person she’s told. She’d gotten the email after lunch this afternoon, about the morning talk show featuring some of Central City’s rising internet stars. She’s never considered herself an internet star, especially because her blog focuses primarily on others, with the exception of the occasional personal story, the occasional picture with an update about her life. But they’re taping the segment in a month’s time and she’ll have a ten minute spot talking to the hosts and answering questions about What a Life You’ve Lived.

“Baby, I’m so damn proud of you.”

And he is, which isn’t so much startling as it is noteworthy. Because he’s new here, but already he’s been so supportive of her and her work, reading and asking questions all the time. It’s a rush, really, and she has to hold on to him to steady herself.

“Thank you so much, Barry. It’s exciting and scary and, humbling, in a way.”

“See,” he says, cupping her cheek in his palm. “Good.”

She sticks her tongue out at him and he takes it as an invitation to kiss her. It’s a quick kiss, compared to the way he usually kisses her, but he still leaves her light-headed from the taste and the feel of him. She hums when he pulls away, closing her eyes briefly.

“You ready?” she asks when he’s in her sight again.

“I think I am,” he replies, but she notes that he seems a little dazed too.

“Don’t be nervous,” she grins. “You already know Dad. You’ve met Linda. You’ve likely met Cecile too.”

“Yes, but it’s one thing to talk to Captain West and DA Horton for work. It’s completely different to hang out with them as the man their daughter has been seeing.”

She takes his hand to squeeze once and lets go to run her hand across his chest, picking at invisible lent on his sweater.

“It’ll be fine. Just be your weirdly charming self.”

“Weirdly charming?” His eyes widen and he stands up straighter. “How am I weirdly charming?”

Ignoring his question, she grabs his hand again. “Come on. We’re really late now.”

“But Iris…?”

Iris isn’t quite sure how she got Barry invited to this dinner. She’d gone over to her dad’s for dinner on Sunday, and they’d been talking about Wally’s party, securing some last-minute details. Out of the blue, Wally had blurted about Iris’s “new boyfriend,” though Iris figures it was a calculated move on her brother’s part. But now they’re here, walking into Golden’s hand in hand.

The place has been decorated for the party: white, black, and gold streamers everywhere, a matching balloon arch, a tall matching photo booth set up on one side. The space has been cleared so that there is one long table for the group to sit together (to include their family, Linda and Daniel, Theo and Xuan, and several of Wally’s friends from college). On the other side of the table is a wide-open space where, in about an hour, a DJ will come set up in the corner and the remaining space will act as a makeshift dance floor.

Wally is sitting in the middle of the table, a black leather crown on his head, matching his black t-shirt and blazer paired with black trousers, a gold chain circling his throat. The color theme for his birthday party is black, white, and gold, and as Iris looks around the room, she sees her family and Wally’s friends all adhering to the dress code.

“Iris,” he shouts when he spots her. “Fucking finally.” He immediately glances back at their dad with a low “sorry dad,” before standing to greet her. Iris pulls him in for a hug, wrapping her arms tight around him.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” she tells him. “Happy birthday, baby.”

“Thanks, big sis.” He gives her another big squeeze and then pulls back to kiss her cheek.

Joe West, tall and imposing-looking with deep brown skin and kind eyes, shakes his head at his youngest son and stands to give Iris a hug too.

“Good to see you, pumpkin.”

He looks at Barry, who’s standing behind her, looking a little bit pink in the face, his eyes wide. She shakes her head in amusement, thinking about how he’s always so damn confident when he’s with her, but he’s looking like he wants to turn and run at the moment.

“CSI Allen,” her dad says, expression unreadable.

Barry swallows. “Captain West. It’s, uh, good to see you.”

There’s a tense silence for just a moment as her dad seems to size Barry up. But before Barry decides to actually run away, Iris rolls her eyes and lightly taps her father’s shoulder.

“Daddy, stop.”

Her dad blinks once and then his face erupts in a wide grin. “I’m just kidding. Good to see you, Allen.” He reaches out to shake Barry’s hand, clapping his shoulder.

“You too, sir,” Barry nods once, and then again. “And please just call me Barry.”

The rounds are made. Barry greets DA Horton, a pretty woman with ochre colored skin and big brown eyes, who tells him to call her Cecile when they aren’t at work. Wally is next, who gives him a long look, not unlike their father, before reaching out to hug him, whispering something in his ear that makes Barry smile faintly as he looks briefly at Iris before turning back to Wally and nodding firmly. Xuan and Theo greet him with wide smiles, and then Linda gives him a kiss on the cheek before introducing him to Daniel, a tall, sun-kissed man with near black eyes, unruly dark hair, and an easy smile.

The table is divided with family on one end and Wally’s friends on the other, with Wally sitting in the middle on one side and Iris across from him. There are a couple of waiters, Allegra is here as the bartender, and just as Barry and Iris are sitting down, the waiters bring out several plates of appetizers featured on the menu: egg rolls, steamed buns, fried pork dumplings, ginger salads, edamame, baked sticky wings. There are several plates of each, enough for everyone to have some of everything and they all dig in, taking sips of Wally’s birthday cocktail, something that’s mostly champagne, in between.

Iris watches in fascination as Barry effortlessly makes conversation with people around him. It’s not that she’s necessarily surprised; Barry is an affable sort, her dad is an extremely good judge of character, and Wally and Cecile are generally easy-going people. But seeing it in action does something so funny to her that she can’t describe it. When her dad asks how they met, he shoots her a wink and replies, “I saw her out dancing one night and I knew I had to get to know her.” Only she hears Linda’s snort, but the answer does make her shake her head (and flush a little) in remembrance.

Then Cecile wants to know, inexplicably, about their first date.

“She invited me over for dinner,” Barry explains.

“No, I…” She turns sharply to her side, narrowing her eyes at the unmitigated glee in his. He knows that if she explains how he’d just shown up (because she’d invited him over for a one-night stand anyway), they’d both be thrown under the bus.

Iris looks back at the table, at her dad who’s got an eyebrow raised, and at Wally who’s obviously trying not to laugh.

“I don’t really count that as the first date,” she responds through clenched teeth. Barry leans into her, arm draped over her shoulder, fingers playing absently with her dress’s collar.

“So do you count hanging out at Fall Fest?”

She isn’t fooled by the casual tone of his question. “You were there with your friends. You ditching them had nothing to do with me.”

He reaches out and fingers the simple gold open circle studs she’s wearing. The action makes her look at him again and there’s something behind the playfulness in his gaze, something that sings like there is only one for me; you have made that a possibility, like we could take that step to see, mm; if this is really gonna be, like all she’s gotta do is say yes to whatever statement his eyes are making, to whatever question his fingers are stitching into her skin.

“Me leaving them had everything to do with you.”

And she’s, for a second (or for a minute, or for some infinite period of time) lost in it, lost in him, forgetting that this is not a private moment, that people are watching, that the goosebumps that are gliding up her arms and the heavy rise and fall of her chest are for everyone to see.

Linda lets out a cough, a way too obvious attempt to break the tension.

“But if we’re talking about our first official date,” Barry says, holding her gaze for a second longer before turning back to her family, “we went on a picnic.”

She can’t look at them, not yet, and she saves face by turning to Linda whose own eyes are filled with mirth.

“Oh, a picnic,” Cecile squeals. “How sweet.”

“Yeah,” he replies, smiling. “It was sweet: the company and the dessert.”

She thinks of the dessert, the way he’d licked at her like she was the sweetest thing he’d ever had in his mouth; Iris has to avert her eyes from them again, lest they see her suddenly widened eyes and her speeding pulse, her legs crossing and uncrossing again.

Wally, bless his soul, takes up the conversation from there, turning it to something he’d figured out in one of his classes. Iris leans into Barry.

“You do too much,” she tells him quietly.

He nods in concedence. “You’re probably right.” Then one corner of his mouth lifts again. “But you can’t tell me you don’t like it.”

She pinches him at that and he yelps, rubbing at his arm.

“I’m gonna hurt you later,” she threatens, stretching up to whisper it in his ear.

He licks his lips, eyes blazing. “You promise?”

She punches him lightly on the arm and he responds with a kiss to her cheek.

They fall into individual conversations after that. Plates disappear and more food appears; champagne glasses are taken away or refilled. Iris eats on most of whatever’s put in front of her, but she drinks slowly since it is still a school night. She’s half-listening to Linda and Dan tell her parents about some trip that they’re interested in taking to Vietnam, where all of Dan’s grandparents still live. Her dad and Cecile are flirting a little bit, she thinks, which, weird. Still, she’s got an ear to the conversations that Barry is having. He starts off talking to Jessie, one of Wally’s friends that have been around since Wally started at CCU, about nanotechnology, something Iris has zero interest in, and they geek out about it for long enough that Iris gets bored of it. But that leads them to a conversation about which professors are still at CCU, where Barry also went for undergrad and grad, finishing both eight years ago. That tells her that Barry is about five years older than her, which Iris guesses she can see in his mannerisms, in how comfortable he is in his career and in his thoughts and even in the way he carries his body.

Wally takes Barry’s attention away from Jessie after a while. Barry moves away from Iris enough that he can focus on whatever Wally’s saying. It takes his arm from her chair but he maintains contact by planting his hand on her bare thigh, thumb rubbing against her lightly. She can only hear snippets of their conversation, words their deeper voices, though whispered, can’t hide. She hears, at one point, “I think your sister is the loveliest woman I’ve ever known, in temperament and beauty, and I’m here for as long as she’ll have me.”

She doesn’t think she was supposed to hear that,

(although, she’ll wonder later that night if, purposefully, Barry had said it loud enough for her to do so).

Still, she does, whether he meant for her to or not. And she grapples with it for a moment. Because he’s said something similar before. He’s told her that he’s whipped and that he likes her and that he wants. The reality is: she’s wondered if it were true. She knows better than anyone the power of words, how they’re used to not only tell stories, but to tell lies, to manipulate, to coerce. And of course she doesn’t think that Barry would do any of those things, but she’d thought that his words had been just...words, pretty things to make her feel good.

(Okay, so maybe that it’s really true, either. But it’s been easier to take him at face value, to pen this story based on her own feelings, not always realizing that Barry’s just as much of a character here, that his dialogue matches the action, the imagery, foreshadowing whatever it is that’s really happening here.)

So saying this to her brother, however, privately and in the seriousness she knows is accompanied by his furrowed eyebrows and pursed mouth...well, that crystalizes it for her. Her reaction, though unsurprising in its intensity (because everything about this with him has been intense), is abrupt. Her entire body seizes up with, god, feeling, with emotions she’s been, apparently, cultivating since the moment he asked her to dance. She goes hot at the same time that she physically shivers, with her own words unspoken, with feelings suddenly realized, with raw passion, with all you gotta do is say yes; don't deny what you feel, let me undress you, baby; open up your mind and just rest; i'm about to let you know, you make me so...

She silently downs the rest of her drink, looking around the room to see if anyone has noticed her eyes darting to and fro, literally on the edge of a breakdown. She takes a big breath and wonders what she should do about this inconvenient revelation.

Barry turns to her, that same soft smile on his face. But, noticing what he perceives as her solemnity, he pulls from his conversation and slides his hand up her thigh and over her hip to settle on her waist. Her skin tingles at his touch.

“You alright? You’re not talking much.”

“Yeah,” she nods, lips turning up, hoping he can’t see the slight bit of panic she’s feeling. “Yeah. You? Surviving the interrogation?”

“They haven’t thrown me out yet, so I think so.”

She gives him a quiet laugh. But then he goes a little thoughtful too, licking his lips and staring at her. He reaches out to push a lock of hair behind her ear, and then he keeps his hand on her, running along the side of her face, down until he’s holding her by the back of her neck, his thumb still rubbing along the apples of her cheeks. He doesn’t look away, blinking as if to steady her features.

“What?” she questions, a bit nervously, wondering if he can see what she’s just realized in her features. He always looks at her as if he can, as if he can read her. He doesn’t speak for a moment, then,

“You’re really pretty.”

Iris scrunches her nose a little. “Are you drunk?”

“No,” he shakes his head. “I don’t know, I just… you seem kind of far in your head right now and I know that compliments always make you blink back into the moment.” He gives a small grin. “Or make you blush.”

“I’m Black,” she counters. “I don’t blush.”

“Hmm,” he hums, grin widening. “Maybe you don’t get red like me, but you blush.” He runs his thumb across her bottom lip, tracing the plump curve. “Your eyes look sort of blown and you bite this lip and,” he leans closer, speaking close to her ear, “I can practically see your breathing get deeper.”

Iris decides that it’s only because of his thumb on her mouth that she doesn’t complete each of these steps he’s outlined. Instead, she circles her hand around his wrist and gives him a frown against his thumb.

“I feel like I’m at a disadvantage here,” she reveals. “You do make me blush, just like you said, but I feel like you’re always so, so…”

She lets the sentiment taper off, not wanting to truly acknowledge that she feels like she’s the one stepping out of her comfort zone, the one hanging off the ledge. But he chuckles, the sound connoting more incredulity than humor.

“You’re kidding, right?”

Her brows furrow, briefly confused. “Bear…”

“Do you think I’m composed, Iris?”

She snaps back, not liking his tone. “Well you’re always so goddamn smug and…”

His kiss cuts her off. Somehow, he’s still mindful of the mixed company, she assumes, because it’s a kiss like earlier: with some tongue, but still quick and nothing particularly distasteful. Even still, she tries to chase after him, to deepen the kiss, because she really just can’t help it where he’s concerned. When he pulls back, he resumes running his thumb along her mouth, and she knows that her lipstick is officially fucked.

“I’m not composed, Iris,” he tells her, eyes darting across her face. He, at least, lowers his voice so that they aren’t making a scene. “I’m, literally, a fucking mess around you. I don’t know, I'm just trying to make you think I’m confident, so you don’t think I’m too boring or, or before you realize that there’s someone better out there for you.”

He holds her gaze, blue-green eyes keeping her captive. It’s all she can do to keep from falling into him, from blurting out her newfound revelation. It’s all she can do to not weep at the fact that he’s apparently in this too, that she isn’t the only one losing her shit right now.

“Iris, you asked me what I was doing to you. And I told you it’s nothing that you aren’t doing to me. And that’s the truth. Whatever you got, I'm probably so far past that already.”

The words get stuck, then, the song that’s been playing in her head since she saw him this evening, since she’s thought of what it would be like to be desired by someone like this, since she was a little girl dreaming, the sound like loving you has taken time, take time; but I always knew you could be mine, the melody one that skips in tune with her heart every time Barry makes these grand declarations like he’s just done.

He gives her another peck on the mouth, likely figuring that she’s lost all mental function. He isn’t wrong, and when Wally calls for his attention again, he gives her one more caress before turning back to him.

Still dazed, Iris turns and locks eyes with Linda who’s gazing at her in concern.

“You okay, Iris?” She eyes Barry over her shoulder. “That seemed pretty intense.”

“Can we talk?” Because Linda and Dan had been like this, enamored with each other. And Iris just wants to get it right. “Not right now, but later in the week?”

Linda nods. “Yeah, okay. Of course we can.” She takes a hold of both of Iris’s hands and gives a good squeeze. “But I see you retreating right now. Don’t. We’ll talk later, but don’t space out here. Stay in this moment; stay in this feeling.”

She looks up at her best friend. Iris can admit that she thought she knew love. She’s seen it in others, she’s written about it. But feeling it, at least what she thinks might be the beginning of it, is overwhelming. So she attempts to do as her friend asks and stay in the moment.

The parents leave around 10, with strict instructions to not tear apart the restaurant. The Parks have offered the place ‘til about 1, likely even later. With the tables pushed back, white strobe lights turned on, and the DJ from CCU already set up, the place could almost be mistaken for a club. More of Wally’s friends, or at least, more people he knows from school, those who weren’t invited to the more intimate dinner part of the night, start to file in and an off-duty cop that their dad has hired is manning the door. Iris’s 21st birthday had consisted of her own dinner at Golden’s and a night out at some bar downtown, but she thinks that Wally has got the right idea, making it more exclusive like this.

In an effort to “stay in the moment” (and not freak out about the fact that she’s officially acknowledged that she’s fallen into some sort of infatuation with Barry Allen), Iris orders her second of the birthday cocktail and sits down at the bar alongside Dan and Linda to watch the younger adults dance to the music. A tall woman in a pretty gold dress has a camera looped around her neck and is taking pictures of her classmates, all in their white, gold, or black party outfits. She’d gotten a few family portraits earlier, some of Linda and Iris, and one of Barry and Iris that had been meant to be pretty simple, them standing next to each other with Iris leaned in close, Barry holding on to her waist. But he’s standing just slightly behind her, with his big hand spread over her hip, and he’s looking down at her as she smiles softly for the camera. The photographer had shown them the photo after and it was the first time she had seen them together, the first time she can maybe see what he means when he tells her that he’s so far past wherever she is right now. But, and Iris can see it now, is feeling it now: he may not be as far past her as he thinks.

Now, Linda and Iris are the de facto chaperones for the night, a task that Linda is taking seriously as she hops up every few minutes to make sure no one is tearing up her parents’ place. Barry, who’d been talking to her dad before he left, strolls over to her, expression calm. He walks right into her, positioning himself between her legs, planting his hands right on her hips.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

Iris, in the process of looping her arm around his neck, pulls back until only her hand is circling his throat. “What are you sorry for?”

“I told you that I would,” he waves a hand as he tries to find his words, “that I would give you the time that you need. And I told myself that I would take it easy, that I wouldn’t pressure you. But I think earlier, I, I was…”

“Wait, no.” She shakes her head, stopping him. She has to lean in closer, because the DJ has just started up and the music is loud in the relatively small space, in addition to her currently drunk brother and his friends singing along loudly to the song. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m just trying to figure out what it all means. This is, this is new to me, and I’m just...”

He nods slowly when she trails off, flicking his pink tongue out to swipe across his mouth. Iris follows the action, eyes darting up when his lips start to curve up.

“I’m here until you figure it out.” He steps closer, closing the distance between them. Her legs wrap around his waist automatically, hands sliding up until they’re holding onto her hips. “And in the meantime, we can get a little tipsy and make out like we’re 21 again.”

“Oh, so you did a lot of drunk making out at 21?”

His eyes go big. “Of course not. Just maybe once or twice, you know.” He taps her hip. “And with no one as pretty as you.”

Iris barks out a laugh. “Nice save.”

He grins wide. “Yeah. I thought so too.”

He orders another drink too, and Allegra smirks at the both of them, her version of a smile, as she sets their drinks down.

Iris grabs her drink and raises the glass. “Let’s toast.”

“Okay,” Barry agrees. “What are we toasting to?”

“New relationships?” she tries.

“Sure,” he nods. “And to figuring it out.”

They clink glasses.

She doesn’t know how long it takes Barry to get her alone in a dark corner, grinding on one another to the music. They sit at the bar for a little while longer, until they finish their cocktails. They order another, though Iris asks for more of whatever mixers are being used than champagne. They don’t try to talk much since they can’t really hear one another without shouting at the other. Instead, they watch the younger crowd dance for a while. Iris turns her chair all the way around so that she can keep an eye, and Barry sits down beside her. He’s turned to the side so that he can crowd her, legs wide, both of his hands touching her.

At one point, Linda stands up and walks through the crowd in her tall black strappy heels and leather pants. She straightens the sheer white blouse she’s got tucked into her pants and grabs the microphone from the DJ.

“Alright,” she starts amidst groans from the crowd when the music is cut. “Oh hush it.” She searches out the crowd until she finds Wally and then she smiles at him. “So Iris and I really want to thank you all for coming out tonight; she’s not up here because speaking in front of crowds isn’t really her thing, but I know I speak for us both when I say that we’re so happy to celebrate my honorary baby brother. Get drunk, but don’t forget to tip the bartender. Have fun, but not enough that you tear my parents’ shit up. And as we’re drinking and dancing, let’s remember the beautiful man that we’re here to love on. I’m so incredibly lucky that you let me into your life when I made my way into Iris’s. Happy birthday and I love you, Wally.”

Wally blows a kiss at Linda and then turns to catch Iris’s eyes. She sees the sheen of unshed tears in Wally’s and he mouths an “I love you” at her that she immediately mouths back. Up front, Linda starts to move away from the mic and then comes back. “And one round of shots on me!”

The music starts back up and the partiers get back into the groove. Iris and Barry sit for moments longer, until the music changes to something lower, sultrier, the lyrics seductive, i-i recognize the butterflies inside me, ah; sense is gonna be made tonight, tonight; all you gotta do is say yes, the beat one that she can feel in every part of her. Barry must feel it too.

“Dance with me,” he requests, standing, and she nods, taking his hand and following him out. He finds them a spot off to the opposite end of the DJ, further away from where the crowd of dancers have also begun to pair off, to fall victim to the beat of this song. Barry stands with his back against the wall, near where a curtain hangs shadowed from the others, and he turns Iris until her ass is pressed firmly against his front.

She begins to rock, winding her hips in easy circles, letting her body learn the rhythm of the song, all you gotta do is say yes, letting her body get lost in the music, lost in the crooned commands as the artists sing, don’t deny what you feel, let me undress you, baby. He matches her, swaying with her, touching on her as he does. He holds onto her, one hand pressed just beneath her breasts, the other right above her pelvis. She lets her head fall back onto his shoulder, wrapping her arm behind her around his neck. Barry leans down and presses a kiss to her cheek, her ear, tugging at the lobe with his teeth, with his tongue, sucking on her.

“Hmmm,” she purrs, grinding back against him, humming along, open up your mind and just rest; i’m about to let you know that you make me so, so...

“I’ve been watching you,” Barry tells her, whispering it into her ear over the music. “In this dress all fucking night. Do you know what it’s been doing to me?”

She shakes her head in response to his question.

“It’s been driving me crazy,” he responds. “Wally’s little friends have been watching you, probably wanting to touch you like I’ve been wanting to do all night.”

She doesn’t stop dancing, hips moving slow to one side, slower to the other, Barry moving with her. He grinds behind her, holding her tight against him. She can feel him start to swell against her ass and she closes her eyes at the feeling, at the sound of his voice, rough and arousal-soaked, speaking in her ear.

“You walked up to me on the street with this leg out.” He rubs down as much of her thigh as he can reach and then back up. “Your skin glowing and that sexy mouth of yours smiling at me.”

He tips his fingers back up her thigh and he reaches under her dress and across her pelvis. Her legs spread as she bends her knees, still in time to the music, but it gives him more access. The panties she’s got on are black and high cut, and Barry caresses her bare bikini line. Her grip tightens on his neck, bringing them even closer, making it easier to slide his fingers even further into her panties.

“Barry,” she whispers, and she knows he can’t hear her. But he doesn’t need to because he taps her on her pelvis, his longest finger catching on her clit.

“Don’t worry,” he says, “I’m not gonna finger fuck you out here.”

Iris realizes, as he says it, that maybe she wouldn’t hate it; because the singers are saying, you make me so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, and he does, make her so so so...and she’s feeling it, feeling him, wondering what people might see if they looked over, wondering why the thought of it makes her stomach clench, a little in embarrassment, a little more in something that makes the clench move lower, her sex clamping around where she wants his fingers, where she wants his dick.

She turns, wraps her arms around his neck, and kisses him. It gets deep fast, with Iris licking into Barry’s mouth and Barry returning her kiss with fervor. She grips at the hair at the nape of his neck, and he reaches down, gripping a firm handful of her ass to bring her closer. She moans into his mouth, catching his answering groan.

She pulls back. “Come with me.”

She takes his hand and leads him through the crowd. No one is paying much attention to them; Wally is still in the middle of the floor, dancing against a tall good looking dark-skinned man. Linda is out there too, Dan dancing his normal one-two step move as Linda leans close to him, her arms looped around his neck. Iris takes Barry to the back, down the hall that leads past the kitchen. The bathrooms are there, and Iris checks to make sure no one is coming before she pushes through the door and leads him inside. She takes him to the last and the largest of the three stalls, past the three gold circular mirrors above clean white sinks; her shoes are loud on the black marble floors.

“You know,” Barry says as she locks the stall door behind her. He grabs for her, clutching her hand. “You claimed it was me who got you to do stuff like this, but you brought me back here.”

She lifts her eyebrow at him, even as she moves past him to lean against the wall. “You saying you don’t want me in here?”

She positions herself so that her leg is peeking out from the long slit in her dress. She doesn’t know what’s gotten into her.

Except maybe she does.

The weight of her earlier revelation sits heavy on her, and the song that’s been playing, the you make me so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, sits just as heavy, pushing on her thighs, and on her heart too; and Iris needs to do something with it, needs to let go of some of this feeling, to get out the parts that might start to be too much, that are already beginning to flood her, so that she can make sense of what’s really there.

So she looks Barry in the eye, runs her manicured nails over her throat, down through her cleavage, over her belly until she can touch at the top of her thigh. She opens the skirt, showing him the panties he’d been playing with earlier, the lace around her waist, the thin fabric that shows exactly what it’s supposed to be covering.

“Bear?”

He’s over to her in two long strides. He plants both of his hands on the wall behind her, crowding her.

“I want you wherever you want me,” he tells her. “On your couch, on a blanket in the woods, in as many places in this restaurant as you’ll let me fuck you in.”

He licks his lips, but he doesn’t move to touch her. Instead, he thrusts his hips against her so that she can feel him, hard and solid against her pelvis.

“This is what you do to me, baby. I think about you and I’m like this.” He pushes against her one more time and then tells her to “turn around.”

She does. And the next few moments are like something out of a film, how rushed they are, how passionate. He presses her against the wall and touches her as he rubs his dick on her ass, slipping his hand into the top of her dress to play with her breasts. Her bra is made of the same thin material as her panties and he alternates between squeezing the whole of her breast and then pinching at the nipples, and then moving to the other to do more of the same. He kisses her wherever his mouth catches her: in her hair, on her cheek, on her shoulders when her dress starts to slide. They’re both breathing heavily; Iris is grinding back onto Barry where he’s so goddamn hard behind her, his sex swollen and his chest covering her. Her hands are clenching and unclenching into fists as she bangs lightly on the wall, moaning deep in her throat, humming her pleasure, you make me so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so...

Iris hears the clank of his belt unbuckling. And her pussy is ready for him, slick and throbbing as she looks behind her to see him shoving his pants past his knees, gripping and then tearing open a condom he’s gotten from somewhere, caressing his own thick dick as he rolls it on. He leans over and kisses her, wet and sloppy, holding her in this position until he’s done devouring her mouth. Then he turns her back to the wall and lifts her dress, draping it above her waist. The cool air hits her heated flesh, and that contact, and Barry’s fingers spreading her thighs, and Barry pushing her panties to the side, rubbing along her slit to make sure she’s ready for him, it makes her moan loud and long.

Barry pushing into her cuts her off.

Her heels put her at the perfect height to arch her back into him, to take him in.

“Shit, Iris,” he murmurs. He pulls out, pushes back in, pulls out to the tip, pushes back in, and Iris knocks her forehead against the wall. “All the time,” he tells her, “I, I think about being in this pussy all the time.”

Her pussy opens for him, when he says that, letting him in deeper. Barry finds a rhythm, short strokes first, shallow and brief; and then longer strokes that bury him in, that smacks his pelvis against her ass. She loves the feel of him behind her, even if she misses being able to touch him, but the feel of his kissing on her and touching on her and fucking so hard into her more than makes up for it.

And then the door opens. Iris hears the music grow louder for several seconds and the unsteady clack of multiple pairs of heels and the drunken laughter of the women walking.

Iris whimpers, the sound turning into a moan because Barry doesn’t stop, just keeps riding her, gripping her waist tight. She holds in the moan she wants to let out, holds in how much she wants to slap her hand against the wall since she can’t. Barry angles himself closer to her.

“I think you like it, Iris,” he murmurs into her ear. “As soon as that door opened, you got wetter, baby.”

“Ahhh,” she breathes heavily as he pumps into her.

“You like it when you could get caught, huh? When someone might hear you?”

Iris shuts her eyes tight, shakes her head, and then bites down on her lip to keep from yelling out. But he feels so good, so thick and hard, and the feeling’s curling thick in her belly, thicker in her walls quivering around him. And he might not necessarily be wrong, that she likes it, the possibility of being caught, the fact that she could be heard. The loud laughter she’d heard when the door opened has quieted to softer giggles now; maybe they think she’s so into this that she doesn’t notice that the door never opened again, but they’re still there, amused by what’s happening. And from the way she keeps tightening on Barry’s dick, the way she’s pushing back against him, harder and harder, she’s more than into this.

“No? You don’t like this?” Barry questions and he shifts her dress even higher up her waist, pressing her harder into the wall.

“Fuck,” she grunts at the contact.

He gives a short, breathy chuckle. “Don’t worry. I like it too.” He reaches up and pulls her lip from between her teeth. “Don’t hold back. Let them hear you. Louder, baby.” He keeps rocking into her, as he moves that same hand down her chin, down the line of her neck, until he wraps a hand around the base of her throat. “Moan for me louder. Let them know who’s fucking you in here, baby.”

“Oohhh, yes,” she moans, only a touch louder.

He rubs a hand over her exposed ass cheek, softly, reverently. And then he pulls her hand back and smacks her hard.

“Barryyyyy!” She yells. Her rhythm falters and her head falls back against his shoulder. The arch in her back deepens and it pushes him even deeper.

“Just like that,” Barry groans.

“Damn,” she hears one of the girls in the bathroom breathe.

“Maybe we should get out of here,” another says.

“After I’m done texting Chris to see if I can come over after this.”

There is another round of laughs and Barry laughs again against her throat. “They like what I’m doing to you too.”

There’s a light thin layer of sweat on her skin, the sheen on her face and her chest, down her thighs. She’s wet, (god, she always gets so wet with him), and she’s dripping out around his dick. Her dress is probably going to be ruined.

But none of that matters. All that does is the sensations she’s feeling. Sex with Barry always takes up every one of her senses, and this is no different: she can taste the champagne still on her tongue, the mint from his when he’d kissed her; she can smell the citrus of the lemongrass on his skin, the rose water on her own, the heady scent of their arousal filling her nostrils; she can’t physically see much, with her eyes constantly shut tight, but she can picture it, picture them, his pants down at his ankles, legs as wide as they can go, her dress hiked up over her hips, the long length of him sliding in and out of her soaked pussy from behind; the feel of her breasts pressed into the cool wall, his fingers pressed into her throat, her hand clutching onto that same wrist; the soft sound of their breathing, the girls speaking softly, the music still playing, matching her cries, singing ah, ah, yea-yeah, yeah, yea-yeah; oh right there, right there, right there; right there, right there; right there, oh, oh, mm, mmm.

“Tell me what you want, Iris,” Barry groans. “Tell me, tell them, fuck, baby…”

“Harder,” she says, wanting to come, needing him to get her there. “Harder, Bear, fuck me…”

He does. He shifts again so that he can push all the way into her, riding her ass, and he long strokes into her, knocking against something that makes her quiver, harder and harder, a little bit faster, but always good, so good, so good, so, so, so…

“Barry.” Her orgasm hits her just as hard as he’s been doing. She doesn’t even realize it’s coming, not until her entire body seizes up, even her toes curl in her shoes, and she pushes back on Barry, squeezing him tight. It triggers his own and he grips her waist as he spills into her, the feel of his throbbing dick prolonging her climax, making her fall back into him until she’s completely spent.

“Did you, uh, do a lot of this when you were 21 and tipsy making out?”

Iris stands against the wall of the stall, looking down at her dress for stains, holding her underwear in her hands because she couldn’t stand the wet feel of them on her. The bathroom is quiet now, save for the faint music still coming from the front. She knows that they should hurry before someone else comes in, but she can’t really move yet.

Barry laughs as he shoves himself back into his pants and buckles back up. He’s already tied the condom up and flushed it down the toilet.

“God, no. The most I could get was a little over the shirt boob action.”

Iris shakes her head, a little fondly. “Please never say boob action again.”

“No?” He rubs his hand down the front of his sweater. “That’s not sexy?”

Iris shakes her head again as he walks back over to her. “Not even a little bit. That’s probably why you weren’t getting any.”

“You’re probably right. But I’ve upped my game now.”

Iris laughs. “You’ve upped your game?”

He nods, a goofy little grin on his face. He stops in front of her and takes one of her hands in his.

“Yeah. We did a little dancing, a little touching.” He wiggles his eyebrows and grabs at the panties in her hand, holding them up. “And I got you to fuck me in a bathroom.”

“Oh?” Iris watches as he puts the panties into his pockets. “You got me to fuck you?” She looks down at herself, and then sticks her leg out further. The slit of this dress, the shoes, the way the dress drapes her frame is undoubtedly a tongue-tier. Barry nods, swallows, and meets her gaze again, those eyes doing that graying thing she’s found she loves.

“Y-yeah. We can, uh, we can share the credit.”

Iris laughs out loud at that. “Come on,” she squeezes his hand and presses a kiss to his cheek. “Let’s get out of here. We’re already gonna have to sneak out. What if those girls tell Wally? I can’t believe you had me doing all that.”

They leave the bathroom stall, heading for the door.

“It’s my game,” Barry replies, and Iris hides her laughter as they slip back into the party.

She looks for Wally to tell him that she’s leaving. Luckily, he’s at the bar, laughing with Allegra and the man he was dancing with earlier.

“Iris!” he shouts when he sees her. “Barry!”

Iris laughs as she steps into his open arms. “Are you having a good time, baby?”

“I’m having the best time.” He squeezes her. “I bet you are too.”

He looks over her shoulder at Barry and when she turns too, she sees a bit of color in his cheeks.

“What are you talking about?” she deflects.

Wally’s shrug is not at all sly. “I heard that someone was in the ladies’ room screaming out ‘Barry.’” He winks at Barry who goes even redder. “You should probably be glad Xuan and Theo think of you as a daughter.”

She rolls her eyes, even as she turns her head to hide her embarrassment. “We just came to tell you that we’re leaving. I’ve got class in the morning.”

“Of course,” Wally says, nodding. “And you’re both probably tired.”

“Okay, bye,” Iris starts to move out of his arms.

Wally laughs and tightens his arms around her. “I’m only kidding, big sis.” Then his smile turns softer and he casts another glance at Barry, before reaching down and cupping her cheek.

“This man is gone over you, Iris,” he says softly. “And I’m so happy for you. Nobody I know deserves a love like this more than you do.”

Iris gives him a smile and then another quick hug. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” He pulls Barry in for a hug. “So good to officially meet you.”

“You too, man.”

And with that, Barry takes her hand and leads him out, and Iris follows beside him, overcome with what she’s feeling for him. She’d thought the sex might give her some space to think, but it’s only really just heightened it. They are still in the rising action of this story, gliding higher and higher on a diagram, climbing towards a climax she’s becoming excited to experience.

She’s only scared of what might happen when they come down from it.

All you gotta do is say yes

(Don't deny what you feel, let me)

#westallen fanfiction #barry x iris #iris west #barry allen #strangers to lovers

6 notes · View notes

percywinchester27 · 4 years

Text

A lot like ‘Us’ (Part-10)

Word count: 5.2K

Pairing: Sam X Reader AU

Warnings: Implied smut, fluff :)

Series Summary: Y/N Y/L/N is eager and honestly, still in awe that she managed to get herself an acceptance from Stanford Law School. On the face of it, her life seems as put together, mysterious and independent as one might hope for. On the insides, she carries the burden of past that haunts her till date. Seemingly, she’d left it all behind; that is until she sets foot in the class of the Law School’s youngest, most promising professor.

A/N: No angst again! And good stuff. I am being very nice these days ;)

The story employs two different timelines. The present timeline for the story takes place in 2014. Please let me know what you guys think :)

Beta: @deanssweetheart23. Athina, you’re a goddess <3

A lot like ‘Us’ masterlist

10th September 2008

You woke up to something soft tickling your face, almost feather light and pleasant. Opening your eyes, you found Sam’s arms wrapped around you, nestling you in them. A glowing warmth spread through your body as you remembered last night, his lips on your skin, and the feel of his hot breath on your face. The way he had called out for you was enough to raise goosebumps on your skin now. And he’d said he loved you. Your heart thrummed in your chest at the memory.

Slowly, you removed his arm from over your body and slipped out of bed. You wanted to kiss him on his forehead or the point of his nose but Sam looked so peaceful you didn’t have the heart to wake him up.

You pulled over the T-shirt and the boxers Sam had lent you last night and headed down to the kitchen. Maybe it hadn’t been the best idea to skip dinner after a morning of hangover because your stomach was churning weirdly.

Would everything be different now? After last night. You felt like your heart would burst from all the love you were feeling. Without giving the task at hand much thought, you fried some eggs, toasted the bread and put the coffee pot on a boil, wondering what Sam had for breakfast.

With an excitement that you had never felt before, you carried the tray laden with food upstairs, wondering how to wake Sam up. As it turned out, Sam was already sitting up, a confused expression on his face. The sheets were bunched around his waist and the sight of his naked torso made your face feel hot. When he saw you, his eyes lit up, a smile replacing the frown.

“Here you go,” you said, placing the tray before him and then joining him on the bed.

His eyes softened. “You didn’t need to,” he said, gesturing towards the food. “Not seeing you here, I was starting to worry that last night had been a dream.”

“Only the best dream of my life,” you muttered, pouring his coffee. “Black with half spoon sugar. Just like you have it.”

Sam was still stuck on your words. He took the cup from your hands and placed it back on the tray, then pulled you to him. “That’s just it. I didn’t want it to be a dream. Even if it was the best dream ever. All dreams, even the best ones end when you wake up. But with you… I don’t ever want this to end.”

You reached out and kissed him. At first he was surprised, then he leaned into it. Kissing Sam was like a breath of fresh air for your soul. If it was left to you, you would spend an obscene amount of time kissing him.

“This is one way to start the day,” he chuckled.

“Mhmmm…” you sighed, handing him the coffee and starting on the eggs.

“Funny that Jo didn’t turn the place upside down looking for me,” you wondered idly. You should have told her where you were last night.

“I called her when you got here,” Sam said. “When er… when you were having a bath.”

Sam was always so thoughtful. Last night it hadn’t even occurred to you to let Jo know, about the acceptance or the fact that you were here, and you weren’t particularly proud of it. Absentmindedly, you scooted closer to Sam and like it was the most natural thing to do, he put his arm around you. The heat coming of his skin and his scent was so comforting, you all but melted against his side. A girl could get used to this.

“Hey,” Sam nudged you with his lips pressed in your hair. “You know that NC Central is only a seven hour drive from New York, right?”

Of course you knew that. It was a great school, but it was also on the East coast, where Sam would be. You nodded against his neck, lightly tracing the hard lines of his stomach.

“I could drive over the weekends to see you.” There was hope in his voice.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” you smiled at the thought of it all. A new school, a new life with Sam in it. You thought of happy weekends and flinging yourself into his arms whenever you saw him. You pictured his wide smiles, and the joy in his eyes when he saw you. “I could hop on a bus on Friday night and be there in New York in the morning. You’d show me around, wouldn’t you? I’ve never been to such a big city.”

“You have no idea,” he said. “I’ve never wanted that job more than now. Hell, I’d throw myself into preparing for the bar, if it keeps us that close now.”

“Mhmm.” You huddled closer to him.

“What’re you thinking?”

“About how I’m going to afford this,” you said. “NC central isn’t that expensive, but it’s still a lot considering I have almost nothing to my name. I don’t want to sell off Gran’s house.”

“You want to make it into a bakery, I remember,” he said, gently, then added hesitantly. “Maybe I could-”

“No!” You sat up straight. “Absolutely not. I can’t ask this from you.” You hurried to explain, seeing the slightly hurt expression on his face. “This isn’t about you in any way. It’s very kind of you to offer, it really is. But I want to do this by myself. I’ll apply for a student’s loan. Like I said, the money isn’t an impossible sum. I just need a guarantor to vouch for me at the bank. I don’t want to ask aunt El cause I know she had some bank problems with the diner. She doesn’t trust them very much.”

Sam looked thoughtful.

“What’re you thinking?” You asked suspiciously. “Don’t think about volunteering.”

His finger was drawing a pattern on your shoulder as he licked his lips. “You know I can’t. I don’t own any property myself. You should ask Dean, though.”

“Dean?” You looked up at him surprised. “Why would he?”

“Why wouldn’t he?” Sam countered. “He might not show it, but he does like you. You’re not asking him to pay for your college, you’re just asking him to be a guarantor. He has great credit, the bank won’t refuse that. It’s not like you’re going to dupe him. I know my brother. Trust me, he’ll be happy to help you.”

When you still looked surprised, Sam took hold of your hand and pressed it to his lips. “Don’t overthink this. You said you wanted to do this by yourself, so you bring it up with him. I promise I won’t say a word.”

“You’re awesome. You know that, right?”

He winked. “I don’t know about that. But I’m sure happy you think that!”

You removed the tray from the bed and placed it on the side table, then moved over to straddle Sam, hands placed on either side of his face. “Thank you for being so understanding.”

In a quick moment, Sam flipped you, so that you were lying on the bed with him hovering over you. He dipped down to kiss the hollow of your neck, then whisper against your skin. “The pleasure is all mine.”

***************************************

“You know, if you keep bouncing on the balls of your feet like that,” Meg said drowsily from the table, where she sat flipping through a magazine, “I’m going to side with Kevin on this. You’re hiding something.”

You put your lunch in the bag, wondering just how to tell her. It wasn’t that you wanted to hide your history from your roommate. There was just so much of it, you had no idea where to start. For now, you just settled for, “There’s this professor. I thought he was mad at me. Turns out he isn’t.”

“Wow. It doesn’t take much to get you all chirpy.”

Just the feeling of six years worth of hell coming to an end.

“Ready to go?” You asked and Meg jumped down from the high stool.

“Yep.”

“Is this the same good looking professor?” She asked out the blue as you reached the campus gates.

“How do you know about the good looking professor?” You narrowed your eyes. You had mentioned Sam only to one person in the apartment.

Meg looked taken aback for a second, then said nonchalantly. “Cas told me.”

“You two are really close, aren’t you?” Try as you may, you couldn’t keep the sly tone out of your voice completely.

Meg changed the topic smoothly, but not before you saw the faint blush on her cheeks.

Meg blushing? Speak of novelty.

She waved you a goodbye at the entrance of the law building, heading north to the Physics department. Wondering if anyone else in the apartment had noticed, you entered the class for your first lecture.

Professor Mills was in a great mood today, and she encouraged a debate on whether Legal writing and its syntax should affect how seriously the core content of any litigation is treated. You firmly believed that poor syntax should in no way undermine the severity of any litigation, and made your points with citation. The opposite team consisting of Brad and everyone in Madison’s group tried to put up a strong fight, but you knew you had the moral high ground on that one. Maddy was smiling by the end of it, but the expression on the other’s faces ranged from disappointment to disgust.

Professor Mills mentioned you by your name at the end of the class, lauding you for your points. It was enough to give you the high of the day. You simply loved her.

As the college day neared its end, you were excited for Civil Procedures, excited to see Sam again. Maybe he wouldn’t ignore you now. Maybe he’d actually look at you and smile. Your eyes were eagerly glued to the door, waiting for him while everyone chattered in the background.

It wasn’t Sam who came in. Instead, the TA Paul announced that the lecture has been cancelled for today and tomorrow. Professor Winchester would take double lectures in the following week to cover it up.

“Well, dang it!” Meredith cursed. “After that horrible debate, I was looking forward to seeing that chiseled face.”

“You aren’t the only one who’s disappointed,” Lacey said slyly. “Y/N looks like someone kicked her puppy.”

You schooled your expressions immediately.

Madison rolled her eyes. “Everyone was looking forward to it. Maybe he has something important. Remember he ditched Thursday, Friday on our first week, too.”

“Maybe he’s just playing hooky with his girlfriend,” Rebecca shrugged. You had a maddening urge to slap her. It wasn’t fair to direct all your anger at her; you knew that. However, listening to her words, evaporated the high you had been feeling completely.

How naive of you to think that one small conversation could make everything okay. Maybe he went back home and changed his mind, had seen that the exchange was a lapse in his judgement. Your stomach dropped at that thought. Why did he have to show you a moment of softness, if he was just going to take it all away? It would have been better then, had he continued to ignore your existence. You had been making your peace with it. You didn’t think you had it in you to take one more hit after feeling hope, at last.

Morosely, you started picking up your things.

“Y/N. Don’t forget about the party, tomorrow.”

Madison was looking at you with wide eyes.

You opened your mouth to make up a reason. She cut you off-

“Look, I checked your schedule. You’re not working this weekend. This is your last working day for the week. I’ve made all the reservations and counted you in.”

“Maddie-”

Her brow furrowed. “You’re not going to stand me up, are you? The drinks are on me.”

Looking at her, you just couldn't say no.

“I was gonna say that I wouldn’t miss it for anything.”

“Yay!” She shot out of her chair and flung her arms around you. Surprised, you put your hand against her back.

“Told you she’d come,” Madison told her friends. Lacey gave you a smile, Meredith looked disinterested and Rebecca had her back turned to you completely. That summed it up accurately. For the umpteeth time you wondered how their group functioned at all.

Brad, who had been lingering at the table with his guy friends, gave you a smirk.

“Miss Y/L/N finally gracing us with her presence?”

“Oh, butt out, Brad,” Madison shoved him. “If you keep acting like a dick, she might change her mind.”

“Now we wouldn’t want that, would we,” he said under his breath.

You didn’t want any more of their company than what was absolutely required, so you said your goodbye to Madison and left the lecture hall for the day. With your sulky attitude, returning to the apartment wasn’t an option in case you ran into someone. Those guys were very perceptive and you didn’t want to lie to them anymore.

After wandering aimlessly underneath the pergolas of the Quadrangle, you headed to the library. It was about two in the afternoon; four more hours and it would be your shift anyway.

You decided to have your lunch in the closed quarters of the librarian’s room. There wasn’t much to the room except a makeshift bed, a table, chair and a coffee machine. You could sit there and catch up with the essays after lunch.

The on shift librarian wasn’t Molly today, but this other odd hours guy. She was hovering over him, giving instructions. When she saw you, she ushered you to the side. “It’s his first time. I’m training him for the weekend.”

“Oh.” You looked over at the guy. He was clearly an anxious wreck. You felt bad for him.

“Hey listen,” you said, “Is it okay if I use the librarian’s room? I haven’t had lunch and I don’t want to go to the eateries or the mess.”

She gave you a guilty look. “The room is kinda sorta… ocupado.”

“What?”

“See for yourself.�� She took hold of your hand and pulled you towards the room in question.

The door was almost closed, save for a small slit. Through it, you could see Sam sitting on the table, multiple books and files scattered around him. He was absolutely absorbed in whatever he was doing, forehead lined in concentration.

“What the-”

Molly shushed you. “Look, I know this looks weird, but he’s in the middle of something. They convicted one of his key clients, and he said he needed some place quiet to figure this out.”

“What about his firm?” You asked the obvious question.

“Client’s not from SF. He’s from LA. Heading to Acton Gris would be going in the opposite direction.”

“Then what about his office here?” You were so surprised that the questions just flowed out of your mouth.

Molly gave an exasperated sigh. “Students. They keep knocking on the door.” She gave you a desperate look. “Please Y/N, let him be. He’s really worked up about it.”

“Yeah, of course,” you assured her.

She looked grateful. “This isn’t conventional, but he’s one of the good folks around here. I knew him from the alumni fraternity before he started teaching here. In fact, he recommended me for my internship at the LA firm he was working in then.”

That explained why she called him by his first name. She was preaching to the choir about how good Sam was though.

“That’s all fine,” you said. “Just let me know if there’s any way I can help.”

“Molly?”

Both of you jumped at the sound of his voice.

“Molly?” He asked again. “Is that you?”

She pushed the door open.

“Yeah it’s me.” She looked at you. “And this is Y/N. You remember her from the other day, don’t you?”

He smiled at you. It was a tired smile, but it held the mischief of a secret only the two of you knew.

“I remember her,” he said dryly.

All the distress and world ending angst you had been feeling since the class vanished into thin air.

“I-I didn’t mean to disturb you,” you said quickly. “I just came in to check if I could have lunch here. Clearly you are busy working, so I’m just going to go now.”

“You’re not disturbing,” he said firmly. “I’ll clear the table. You can have lunch here.”

“No- no,” you backed off. “Seriously. I can go to the mess.”

“Y/N.” He looked beyond exhausted, as if he hadn’t slept in a while. Even his words were heavy. “C’mon, in. At least sit on the bed.”

Molly poked you in the back from behind and you stumbled inside.

The room was a mess. There were papers everywhere. Sam was one of the most organised people you knew. If there was that much mess around him, either he had changed drastically in the years or this was really a disaster situation.

“Tell me if I can help you with anything.” The words were out before you could even think them through.

He rubbed his hand across his face. “I can’t possibly ask you to do that.”

“You’re not asking me. I’m offering.”

You didn’t know if this fell in line with proper etiquette of how one should converse with a professor, but this was Sam, and he looked ready to drop. To hell with etiquette. You were going to do whatever you could to help.

Behind you, Molly had disappeared back into the library.

He paused, considering your words, then sighed. “Even if you wanted to, this is too much to explain.”

You flung your bag on the bed and rolled up the sleeves of your sweater. “I’ve worked as a paralegal for an asshole boss. I think I can keep up.”

Sam gave you a look that was halfway between impressed and surprised.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” he muttered under his breath, so softly that you almost missed it. “Alright, here’s the details of the case-”

You listened attentively as he quickly briefed you about this teenage boy, James Feller, who had been arrested for grand auto theft about four years back. The boy testified against the gang, cut a deal with the DA and walked. Now he had been arrested again, and after being let out, jumped the bail. Sam had until tomorrow to fix it or this kid was spending a long, long time in jail. Sam was sure that James hadn’t done it. He had some grabs from CCTV footage to prove his alibi. It only needed to be put together. He might be completely innocent when it came to the theft, but there was still the bail issue to take care of.

“Right, I’ll go through the log to see if there’s anything similar where an underage defendant jumped bail and got out of prison under the jurisdiction of LA,” you said.

“That’s exactly what I was going to suggest,” he said, astonished again.

You shrugged and pulled out your laptop, signing into the library’s archival server with your password. There were a couple of cases that could be cited in context to Sam’s case. You pulled out the soft copies of the litigations and highlighted the relevant extracts.

“You guys need anything?” Molly was standing at the door. She had her bag on her shoulder. You looked at the clock. It was already six, time for your shift to begin. Where had the time gone?

“We’re good,” Sam said.

“Seriously? You guys don’t need anything? Not even coffee?” She came to stand by the coffee machine. “I’m making a cup for myself anyway.”

You gave in. “I’d like a cup. Thanks, Molly.”

“One for me, too,” Sam caved, too.

“You guys look intense working like that,” she said, filling the pot with water. “Are you making any headway?”

“Y/N found some useful citations.” Sam closed the heavy book before him and leaned back in his chair, rolling the sleeves of his white shirt. The coat had been hung over the back of his chair since long before. You tried not to look at him too much.

“Good on you, Y/N!” Molly said, pulling on three mugs. “How do you have your coffee?”

“Little milk and one spoon sugar,” you said politely.

“Sam?”

There was no response. You looked to see that he was busy with his phone, having not heard a single word of it.

“Let it be,” you suggested, seeing as Molly was shuffling the strap of her bag. “You go on. I’ll manage the coffee.”

“You’re a lovely person!” She noted with just a hint of surprise, then blew you a kiss. “See you later, Chica bonita.”

You poured coffee for him, black with half spoon of sugar, stirred it and carefully handed it to him. He took it gratefully, holding out two fingers as he talked over the phone.

You grabbed your mug and went back to your laptop. It appeared that Sam was talking to a colleague explaining the things he needed to get ready. He took a sip of the coffee and stopped mid sentence, looking at you over his screen in wonderment.

“Chase, I’ll call you back in a minute.”

You had gathered your stuff in one hand.

“Y/N?” Sam interrupted you, voice oddly tender. “You remembered.”

He was holding his mug out. The warm vapours were slightly fogging his glasses.

“Of course I remember.”

There was no way you would forget.

He saw your things wrapped in your hand and the bag slung over your shoulder.

“You’re leaving?” Disappointment clear in his tone.

You shook your head. “I’m just going outside at the desk. It’s my shift now. I’ll continue tagging relevant extracts and have three sets of printouts ready for you. You’ll let me know if you need more time? I can keep the library running all night.”

“You’re the power wielding person here, aren’t you?”

“Sure am,” you grinned. “I’ll leave you it.”

Once outside, you took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. Being around Sam made you conscious of every little thing… enough to drive you crazy. Maybe it was a good thing that you were going to the party tomorrow. You needed a drink. That thought inadvertently reminded you of Jo- the only sister you’d ever had. If she were here, she would have told you to go for it despite knowing how insane drunk Y/N was and wreck you would be the next day. The memory of her also made you sad, the missing was gut wrenching sometimes. You almost turned on your heel and headed by inside to ask Sam about Jo and about Dean. Were they still together? Did the diner ever get out of the bumpy patch? How was aunt El doing?

Did they hate you for leaving like that?

That thought brought you up short. You didn’t want to know the answer to that question. There was a small hope within you. If Sam of all people could find it in himself to be civil with you, maybe they would, too. Broaching the topic now would be disastrous. It wouldn’t help Sam right now to lose concentration. Hell, he might do a 180 and suddenly remember that he didn’t like you.

You got back to your desk, filing the cards out for the day before getting to Sam’s paperwork. Though it was a manual job, you did it with utmost concentration, knowing how chaotic courtrooms got and how crucial it was to find the right evidence at the right time. Alongside, you carefully read the suit and arranged the stacks according to the order in which they were needed.

“You know, if you kept going at it like that, you’ll have to represent the boy tomorrow.”

You looked up and your breath hitched. Sam stood before you, his shirt partially untucked and sleeves rolled all the way up till his elbows. The tie was gone and the top button of his shirt was undone. There was a glint of silver against his neck, a thin chain. You wondered where it had come from absently. Without the glasses, and his hair slightly dishevelled, you could see some of the guy you had first fallen in love with.

You looked away quickly, blinking several times, then pushed the stack of printouts towards him. All three copies, arranged as per the appearances of the evidence in the suit papers. The affidavits are all the bottom, along with the supplementary copies.

“You should come down to the office and train my assistant,” he said, leaning over the table so that his elbow rested on top. “He can’t find one paper on time.”

You bit your lip, trying not to laugh.

“Aren’t you having dinner?” He asked, tucking his hair behind his ear. He was nervous.

“I’m not hungry.” Your stomach was already so full of butterflies, you didn’t think any food could go in.

“I’m already feeling terrible that you’re helping me with this… please don’t skip dinner for it.” There was something about his voice that affected your soul. The sound of his words were different from everyone elses. All words felt kinder, lovelier when he said them.

“Why are you fighting for this kid?” The words slipped past you before you could stop them. You had been wondering this all evening. “I saw the papers. You’re doing this pro bono and not for Acton Gris. This is your own case.”

He didn’t reply immediately and his face had a far away look. When he finally spoke, it was in a reminiscing tone. “I met James when he was a foster kid a few years ago. He got pushed into the racket because of bad influence. When I saw him at the retention centre, he broke down completely. They were blackmailing him by threatening to hurt his little sister. When he first got off, he looked at me like I was some kind of miracle.” Sam’s face had an awed look, as if he couldn’t comprehend how anyone could think that of him.

“I knew he wouldn’t get into this again. He’s in college now and has basically turned his life around. We have enough evidence to pin a gang member down for framing him. I don’t want anyone at Acton Gris to help me on this because this is my own case. Putting some poor junior on it is just abusing my power.”

He was a good man. That in itself didn’t surprise you because you had always known it. What surprised you was that he had remained one. Sam used to be starry eyed with ambitions and full of a thirst to do the right thing. He had been so idealistic. It worried you that one day he would wake up and see that the world was an even worse place than what he thought it to be. You worried that the ruthless profession might kill some of the inherent goodness in him. After having lost just as much as you, he hadn’t lost faith in the world. He had remained good.

“What?” He questioned and you realised you were staring.

“There you are!”

Jody Mills stood behind Sam, a harried expression on her face. He straightened up immediately and it occurred to you how close your faces had been.

“I went to your house, called up your PA, and here you are.”

“Jody?” He clearly hadn’t expected her.

She handed him the bag she was carrying. “I have dinner for you. I knew you would bury yourself in the case and wouldn’t cook since you’re by yourself now.”

Now. What did that mean? Lacey’s remark about Sam living in family quarters and having a girlfriend came to your mind. You dismissed it quickly.

“Didn’t see you there, Y/N,” Professor Mills came around. “I didn’t know you worked here.”

“Actually I just started a week ago.”

Her eyes flitted to the stack in front of you. “And what’s this?”

“Y/N’s been helping me with some printing,” Sam said.

Professor Mills gave him a once over. “Sam Winchester making students work?”

“It’s not like that,” you defended quickly. “I offered to help S- Mr. Winchester. I have some experience as a paralegal and this was only a matter of making copies.”

“You did a lot more than that,” Sam corrected smoothly.

“I was only joking.” she placed a hand on Sam’s arm and you noted that they were probably closer than just colleagues. Friends even. “You, on the other hand, keep surprising me, Y/N. This looks like solid work.”

You blushed at the compliment, mumbling a small ‘thank you.’ Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Sam gazed down at you oddly. If you didn’t know any better, you might have misinterpreted it as a hint of pride.

“You have your food!” Jody ordered him and waved at you. “See you in class tomorrow, Y/N.”

“Good night,” you wished her.

Before leaving, she glanced from you to Sam and back again, a peculiar look in her eyes, shook her head and left.

She had packed a burger and pack of oily fries for Sam. You saw his brow furrow at the sight of it and smiled to yourself. Some things never changed.

Sam insisted that you have your dinner, too. However, you made sure that while he sat inside, you had your dinner at your desk. There was only so much of his nearness you could take without having your feelings run wild. Sam needed to go through the case files in peace for the court tomorrow. You let him be, only visiting the librarian’s room once to let him know that you wouldn’t shut the library at all. He was grateful for it. After everyone else had left, you wrapped the shawl around your shoulders and put your head down against the wooden desk. Closing your tired eyes just for a second, you let yourself reflect on everything that had happened today and how one day could be more impactful than a month of one's life sometimes.

You woke up several hours later. Grey light was starting to filter from the high windows. It was early dawn.

Hurriedly you got up to check on Sam, but the librarian’s room was closed from the outside, you checked in the seating area, too. There was no one there; you were by yourself in the room.

Back to your desk, you noticed a folded piece of paper placed under your paperweight.

It said-

Y/N,

I have to start from here now to make it to LA in time for the hearing. Didn’t have the heart to wake you up. I can’t thank you enough for your invaluable help.

Regards,

Sam.

You clutched the paper tightly in your fingers, crumpling it in the process. Sometimes a few words were louder than a speech. Sometimes the gesture was even louder.

***************************************

A/N 2: You guys! THEY TALKED! I know a lot of you have been like ‘They just need to talk’ and well, it happened. So what do you think? Uphill?

ALL MY LOVE to everyone who commented and reblogged. You guys keep me posting! <3

PLEASE let me know what you think of this story?

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#sam winchester x reader fluff #sam winchester reader insert #sam winchester x reader #lawyer!Sam #professor!Sam #reader x sam #sam winchester AU #allu10 #Ana writes ALLU #anawrites #anawritesspn #q

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livelivefastfree · 4 years

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Love your cyborg!Chuck fic!! Wondering about a thing that didn't get addressed much: Julie obviously knew? the whole time? and Chuck, presumably, also knew about her, and obviously they had a mutual secret-keeping pact...but is Mike ever going to wonder what was up with that? Or are we supposed to assume he's figured out, post-finale, that Julie is Kane's daughter? And any chance of a prologue of Kane presenting Chuck to Julie like (I imagine), "Happy birthday, Julie-bear! Have this cyborg"?

This has been in my inbox since I published my first cyborg Chuck fic ever, so like...(*checks the release date on Override 0*) four years, lord. And the drabble has been sitting in my documents for almost as long lol. Hopefully this gives some explanation as to how a valuable cyborg full of experimental KaneCo tech ended up slipping out from under Kane’s nose, lol.

"I got you something," says her dad, and Julie thinks--oh, another stuffed kitten plush, maybe, or maybe even another level of security clearance if she's lucky--

She's not lucky.

"Dad," she says, with brittle sweetness, because she really really hopes she's misunderstanding this situation. “What...exactly...is the present?"

Her dad snaps his fingers. The boy standing behind him jitters, tries to step forward, almost crumples over, stands again. He's twitching and shivering like he's got some kind of tic, but his eyes are the part that really freak Julie out. Lit up and flickering from the inside, but weirdly unfocused and too wide. He's staring into nothing, and he looks like he should be swaying, like he should be unsteady on his feet, but now that he's standing he's just...still. Barely breathing, hardly blinking.

"I've seen that you've been doing some programming," her dad starts, and Julie makes a tiny, involuntary noise, trying to hold in a slightly hysterical giggle. Her dad either doesn't hear or doesn't bother to be concerned. "--This was a failed experiment from research and development, but if you want to try to learn to code..."

"What do you mean, a 'failed experiment'?" says Julie. "Is he-- Are you--?"

The boy doesn't seem to hear her talking to him. Julie's dad laughs, indulgent. "A cyborg," he finishes for her. "A failed one. He's harmless." A wry twist of his lips and an edge to his voice--Julie can almost hear "...unfortunately". "...But his programming is extensive. Plenty to experiment with. He should be able to tell you what you're doing as you do it, he was a fairly acceptable technician before he fried his brain."

He gives the boy's shoulder a shove, and he staggers forward toward her, still staring at nothing. His lips are moving minutely, Julie can see now--he's murmuring almost silently.

"Transfer registration holder," says her dad, bored and authoritative, and for the first time the boy shudders and speaks.

"...Define registration holder," he says, in a high, young voice that almost makes Julie jump. Julie's dad looks at her expectantly. "Full name and credentials."

"Julie," says Julie numbly. "Julie...Kapulsky. Executive intern?" The old family name is a complete unknown in Deluxe at this point, and it's the one on Julie's citizenship record. It's the safer option, as strange as it feels to say the name out loud.

"Confirmed registration holder transfer," says the cyborg, "Julie Kapulsky." And then he goes silent and still again, staring dead-eyed into nothing.

Julie stands there for a second, and just kind of...internally screams. Okay. Okay. So...this is a cyborg, this is a human guy who looks not much older than Julie, with computer parts shoved in his skull, and her dad is...giving her this boy. To practice on.

"He should have enough brain left to take care of himself," her dad is saying, somewhere on the other end of a long tunnel, "If he's more trouble than he's worth, we can find...other uses for him."

On the one hand, if Julie accepts this, she's going to own another human being. Which is...wow, no. But on the other hand, if she doesn't, her dad is going to take him back, and find something else to do with him. And Julie doesn't honestly trust him not to do something awful and unconscionable with this guy, especially considering the way he sneered when he said "harmless".

He's smiling at her now. Horribly, Julie realizes he's waiting for Julie to thank him.

"Wow!" she says, and manages an almost convincing smile. "That's really something, d-- M-mister Kane!"

"You don't have to do that, Julie-bear," says her dad reassuringly, and gives the cyborg another push in her direction. "Your old man's not bad at coding, himself." He flashes her that strange, warm smile he does sometimes, so at odds with the words that come out of his mouth, the things he does. "...Anything he hears about who you are, he'll scrub out of his memory automatically. As far as he knows, you're just an exceptional intern."

"Thanks dad!" says Julie, with tight, manic brightness. "Cool! Really neat! I'll go and, and practice, now! Try him out!" She takes the boy's arm, pulling; he follows her lead, eyes still focused on nowhere and nothing. "Looks like a ton of fun, thanks!"

"You're welcome, sweetheart," says her dad, and pats her shoulder affectionately. "I'll see you for dinner tomorrow night. Don't be late."

"I won't!" says Julie, barely listening now. "I'll, yeah! See you! Thanks dad! Bye!"

She can't close the door fast enough.

"Can you hear me?"

It takes a second for him to respond; he stirs, blinking, and then his eyes re-focus just a little and he says "...Confirmed."

Geez, that's so weird. Julie holds his eyes for a brief second, looking for any sign of consciousness or comprehension--she doesn't see any. The cyborg stares at the floor for a second, then his eyes slowly slide out of focus again.

"Kane's gone," she tries, and she can't tell if the faint twitch of his features is recognition of what she said or just the automatic reaction to his registration holder speaking to him. "You can come back now."

"Invalid request," he murmurs.

"Do you..." Julie drags a hand through her hair, groans. She really doesn't want to dig into this guy's programming, doesn't want to have her hands on something that intimate when he hasn't given her permission--doesn't even seem to register she's there half the time, and can't imagine saying "no" to her when he does. "Do you have a rollback protocol?"

There's a moment of silence, and then the cyborg blinks. "...Confirmed," he says.

"Really?" Julie's heart leaps. "Okay, well--okay! Run rollback protocol!"

"One executive exception noted," he says, "Authorization; Abraham Kane."

"Can you roll back everything else?"

Blink. "Confirmed."

"Okay!" says Julie, with more confidence than she's really feeling right now. "So-- Do that."

"Confirmed." He looks around, eyes wandering, and then walks slowly to the nearest corner and leans against the wall. Slides down it, holding his knees, leans his head back against the wall and goes still. Occasionally, his eyes flicker again. Other than that, he's motionless.

He sits there for at least five minutes. Julie watches him for the first two or three, then goes and settles down on his bed, pulling up a screen and flicking cautiously through a few shopping catalogues. The flickering of his eyes catches her peripheral vision; first few and infrequent, then faster and faster until it's an almost-constant glow, dim through his eyelashes. And then he gives a sharp gasp, a jerk, and doubles forward, head resting on his pulled-up knees, making sharp little noises of unmistakable distress.

"Hey!" says Julie, and pushes herself up, hurrying across the room toward him. "Hey, are you okay?" And then, with a little more authority, "--you're okay. You're safe now, you're okay."

"Where--?!" The cyborg stares around, eyes round and panicky. "Kane, where-- They'll take, they'll make me-- Don't make me--"

"Whoa!" Julie says, and grabs his wrist, snags the other one, pulling his attention back to her. "Hey, look at me. You're safe.”

Slowly, he stops struggling, staring at her. His face is really pale, ashy with fear, and he's breathing too hard and too fast, like a cornered animal. "I'm," he says, and swallows hard, sniffs, turns his hands so he can grip her wrists. His hands are big and long-fingered, cold, trembling. "I, he said he'd-- They're not gonna?"

"No," says Julie, because god, she doesn't know what her dad said to this guy but thank god he handed him over to Julie instead. "No, nobody's going to hurt you or--or anything." It's dumb, it's--she doesn't own him, no matter what her dad says, but she still feels responsible, and he's huddling into the corner, he looks so scared. Julie reaches out, slow and careful as he flinches from her, and rubs his shoulders, squeezes his arms as he shakes. "He's gone," she says, slow and clear. "He's not going to hurt you, you're safe.”

The boy stares at her for another second, taking fast, panicky breaths, and then--oh, no. His chin crumples and his cheeks go red and blotchy and he just--collapses forward and clings to her, shaking all over, making awful little muffled noises into her shoulder. Julie holds him, dumbfounded and profoundly uncomfortable, and does her best to make comforting noises.

"Who?" he manages, finally, in a shaky little gasp, "Who, are, where am I? What happened?"

"I'm Julie," says Julie, and rubs one scarred forearm in a way she hopes is comforting.

"Chuck," says the cyborg, like a reflex, and scrubs at his nose with one hand, staring around her pod. "I'm, I'm Chuck? I'm Chuck." And then, wavering again, small with fear, "...why am I here? What's he gonna do with me?"

Oh. Shit. Well, it's a reasonable question, as much as she hates to give an answer. "He's not going to do anything with you," Julie says. "Kane uh. Gave you to me. Like, as a present? I'm sorry."

"Why would he give me...to you," says Chuck. There's a weird, focused look on his face, like he's struggling to work something out. "I'm, I, he trashed me, but, I'm a significant, I'm, expensive? Why you?"

Well, shit. Alright. There's no way Julie's going to keep him with her, up here, so she's going to have to pull some illegal stuff to get him free anyway... Julie licks her lips, hesitates, and then decides to take the plunge.

"My name is Julie...Kane," she says, and sees Chuck's eyes flash suddenly blazing blue, blinding. "I'm his daughter."

Chuck stares at her for a long, long second. Then a little longer, then, just, keeps staring.

"...Chuck?" says Julie.

"Huh?" says Chuck. "Sorry, I--uh, I, what did you say? I spaced out."

"I said, I'm Kane's daughter."

Again, a weird, silent moment. Then Chuck smiles vaguely and goes "Ha, sorry, what were we, uh..." foggy-eyed and distracted, and Julie's heart sinks. One executive exception noted. If her dad was going to make one thing permanent, of course it would be the protocol to keep Julie's identity secret. Chuck is starting to look pale, too, dizzy and bleary and strained. Julie shakes her head, shakes the thought off.

"You look like you could use some food," she says instead. "C’mon."

Chuck stares at her, blinking vaguely, and then nods a second late. "Sure," he says. "Yeah, uh...I...yeah. What were we...talking about?"

"It's not important," says Julie, and Chuck's eyes flash once, twice, and then go dim again. He nods.

"Okay," he says, and shakes his head, dismissing whatever he was thinking about. "Yeah. Yeah, I thought-- It's...not important."

#Writing Is Hard #He Scream At Own Car #The Princess #waited too long for this one and nobody remembers the fic it's for but here's this anyway lol #tanoraqui

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stargazing-dreamer-girl · 4 years

Text

This Next Chapter

Part 3 to Nothing Breaks Like a Heart

This is the third and final part. I hope you guys enjoy it!

Not here. Not now. He couldn’t be. She shouldn’t be.

Your first instinct was to go and embrace Jughead. A year’s conditioning kicking in. But you contained yourself and pressed the urge down. That wasn’t something you could do anymore. You were left silently wondering what Jughead was doing there. Had you missed something when you were still together? But then again, you had missed that he had fallen in love with someone else.

Did she know that Jughead was here? Did she know things about his South Side life that he never entrusted you with? Where was she? Maybe she was a Serpent and that was why he was there.

Either way, you couldn’t deal with him right now. Your heart broke a little more at the sight of him. You didn’t even know that was still possible. Just as you started to feel better, he had to pop back up and bring back the memories of that evening.

Jughead was still looking at you. His mind was racing with possible explanations as to why you were at the Whyte Wyrm which was exactly what he had tried to keep from happening. Somewhere deep inside he was happy to see you. His heart had jumped when he first laid eyes on you in that booth, but the more rational part inside him wouldn’t take it. He went through the heartbreak as well. He felt the pain as well. And now what? It was all for nothing! You were here when you were supposed to be on the North Side continuing on with your life!

He had tried to protect you and you apparently had just calmly walked straight into the lion’s den. It was quite infuriating. The plan was to keep you as far as possible from this place and these people.

He couldn’t help but wonder though how it came to be. You sitting next to Sweet Pea. You in the Whyte Wyrm. With Sweet Pea. A surge of jealousy overcame him which he had no right to feel. You were not with him anymore. But you being with Sweet Pea didn’t sit right with him.

There was no other choice. He had to talk to you, even though he didn’t know what he would say. He had to get you away from this place, this life. Ignoring the people who were asking him if he was alright after he had been standing in the same spot for a while staring into seemingly nothing he only had eyes for you as he made his way through the crowd.

“I can’t be here!” you exclaimed as you saw that Jughead was moving towards your booth. You weren’t ready for a confrontation. Not yet. You would break, if you talked to him now, you knew. The voices of the people around you moved into the background as you hastily grabbed your phone and wallet.

He watched you scrambling for your stuff before you jumped up and ran out of the bar. He looked at the door for several more seconds after you had already disappeared again. Maybe, if he just hoped enough, you would appear back through it. But you never did. It was a rather strange encounter, but it left him longing for your company and touch. If he hadn’t realized before how much he missed you, it was clear to him now. With an ache in his chest he could almost feel your skin under his fingertips and your smell in his nose.

You were standing outside, just around the corner where Sweet Pea had parked his bike. The cold evening air sent shivers all over your body. You rubbed your arms in an attempt to produce some warmth that your jacket would offer if you hadn’t forgotten it in your rush to get out of the building.

At the sound of footsteps you squeezed your eyes shut praying that it wasn’t Jughead who had come after you. Anybody would be better. You looked up to the sky and took deep breaths before allowing yourself to look at who had come after you.

To your relief it was Toni who came stepping around the corner, your jacket in her hand, which you gladly took and put on, and a cautious smile on her face. She didn’t even have to ask for you to understand her question.

“Not here. Okay?”

She agreed immediately and offered to take you to her trailer where you could also spend the night. You hadn’t expected this kindness from an almost stranger but were thankful that you received it. Some people seemed to actually care about you after all.

So, you told Toni about everything that had happened between you and Jughead, from your first meeting over the beginning of your relationship to the breakup. Toni listened in silence. Sometimes, when you couldn’t talk anymore or choked on your sobs she took your hand and tried to comfort you. Weirdly enough, her encouragements and talking about it helped. You realized that before today you hadn’t talked to anyone about what happened. You kept it all inside, let it build up until you cracked. That’s why talking about it now was so hard on you. You opened the floodgates you had sealed shut for so long.

But Toni didn’t judge. Not when you needed to stop to get some air, not when you were a sobbing mess on her bed. On the contrary, she made you a hot chocolate and waited patiently for you to tell your story. It’s been a while since you’ve felt that heard.

“When did it happen?” She cautiously asked.

“About two months ago,” you replied, wiping the last tear off your cheek. You assumed you looked much disheveled right now, big red eyes, red cheeks, your hair a royal mess from all the times you went through it while talking. “Why?”

Toni shrugged. She didn’t want to tell you that that was just about the time Jughead had joined the Serpents, that he had never talked about a girl or that he always had this sadness in his eyes she hadn’t known where it came from. She wouldn’t tell you that now. The girl before her was broken and if Toni was wrong in her assumption and told her, she couldn’t forgive herself.

Instead, she kept it to herself and offered you some clothes to sleep in. After all the crying you fell asleep quickly and dreamt about bars and bikes and snakes.

When you woke up the next morning, Toni wasn’t there. You looked around the trailer, if maybe she left a note but there was nothing to be found apart from some clothes that were laid out on the bed. You assumed they were meant for you, so you got dressed and checked your phone. A notification from a few minutes ago was dancing on your screen. It was a text from Sweet Pea who would pick you up in a bit. As you were about to type in a reply, you already heard the roar of his bike outside the trailer.

You grabbed your stuff and left the trailer to be greeted by a smiling Sweet Pea. “Let’s go eat something!” He didn’t allow you to protest, so you got on behind him and he drove away.

That was how you ended up at Pop’s, at your wish. It was never too early for fries and milkshakes.

“You wanna talk about what happened last night?” He asked before he stole one of your fries with a cheeky grin.

You let out a deep sigh but told him what you told Toni yesterday, just a little shorter. It didn’t feel as bad this time. Having talked about it at least once before saw to it that you didn’t end up in tears again. It made you realize that it really would get easier with time and with friends to talk to.

After your tale a heavy feeling laid upon the both of you as you sat in silence but Sweet Pea was quick to dissolve it.

For the rest of the day you drove around with Sweet Pea, joking around and having a great day all around. When he dropped you off at your house in the evening he told you he’d be back in the morning to drive you to school. You tried to convince him that it wasn’t necessary, but he knew that you barely went and wanted to change it. You reluctantly gave in, but when you saw him the next morning you were quite happy that you didn’t have to do this yourself, that he was there for you, figuratively and literally.

That went on for a month. He would pick you up at your house, drive you to school, get you from there again in the afternoon and then you would spend the rest of the day together doing homework, eating at Pop’s, sometimes hanging out with Toni and Fangs. If for some reason he couldn’t be there, one of the others was. You always asked Sweet Pea if you weren’t a burden, if it wasn’t a nuisance driving to the North Side each day for her, but he shook her off every time assuring her that he liked to spend the time with her.

It was Friday evening. Sweet Pea had come over after your mom had left. Now you were sprawled out over the couch, the giant Sweet Pea taking up most of the space, but you fought for your spot in the corner. His head was turned towards the TV where a movie was running that you hadn’t paid any attention to from the start. He noticed that your mind was not on the movie, so he grabbed the remote and paused it. Before he could ask what was going on you already voiced your thoughts.

“I want to talk to Jughead!”

“Wh- why? What? Why now?”

“I think, I’m ready. I need to speak with him. I need closure.” You tried to explain. “Can you set something up? I… don’t want to text him.” You added quietly. The thought of opening up your old chats with Jugheads scared you. More importantly, the memories and old feelings that might come with it. Sweet Pea asked again if you were certain you wanted to do this, but you weren’t about to back out now. This was what you needed.

So, Sweet Pea set it up and on Sunday afternoon you were seated in a booth at the Whyte Wyrm waiting for Jughead. Your leg wouldn’t stop shaking.

“Hey! You can do this! I’ll be right over by the bar. Just call if you need me!” Sweet Pea assured you. But when Jughead walked through the door and Sweet Pea left you didn’t feel so sure anymore.

Jughead looked like he wanted to go in for a hug when he got to the table but thought better of it, so instead he quietly sat down.

None of you said anything at first. The tension between you felt unfamiliar, unreal, but it was there, painfully sitting upon your shoulders, reminding you of what was and what had happened. You were grasping for the words you had prepared, everything you wanted to say to him but your mind was blank now that he actually sat in front of you.

He spoke your name, making you look up at him. “What are you doing here?” The question threw you off. Wasn’t it obvious what you were doing here?

“I wanted to talk to you after how-” “I don’t mean that! I mean, what are you doing at the Whyte Wyrm? What are you doing with Sweet Pea? This is not your crowd!”

“Well, it is now! Sweet Pea is my friend. He helped me out of… a mess I was in after our breakup.” Talking about it, you just wanted to cry, but you wouldn’t do that now. You would be strong and keep a straight face. Don’t let him know how hard it was for you! Don’t let him know how much it broke you!

“No, you don’t understand!” He took his beanie off in frustration tucking at his dark hair. “You can’t be here! It’s dangerous!”

“I’m not gonna let you tell me where I can or can’t be! This is my life! I can be where I want. I can be with whomever I want. I can be who I want!” You declared. “And I’m not stupid! I’d say I can assess the danger I’m in.”

Jughead groaned and slammed a hand on the table making the people around you turn their heads towards the two of you. At the bar, Sweet Pea already got up from his chair to intervene at any moment, but you gestured to him that you had it handled.

“You just don’t get it! I had to join, but I wanted you out of all of this! I broke up with you to protect you! Do you know what I’ve been through to keep you away from this place? I had to pretend that there’s someone else when I’ve only over loved you!”

“What you’ve been through?” You snapped. “Jughead, for two months after you broke up with me, I was nothing! I was lost! I drank and smoked and took whatever pills people offered me. You broke me! I really thought that I couldn’t live without you, but then Sweet Pea came into my life and he helped me. He made me realize that I don’t need the alcohol or the drugs to live happily, but most importantly, I don’t need you, Jughead! I asked you here, so that maybe we could talk about it, to get some closure, but you know what I realized? I don’t need anything from you anymore, Jug! You might actually have been the greatest mistake of my life. Goodbye!”

You stood and walked over to Sweet Pea. Everything that just happened replayed in your mind. “Fuck, I just did that, didn’t I?” You were surprised by yourself.

“Hell yeah, you did!” Sweet Pea affirmed and pulled you into a much needed hug. “Let’s get out of here!”

You left the bar hand in hand with Sweet Pea leaving Jughead and that chapter of your story behind you.

That night you kept thinking about the Serpents and Sweet Pea and your life in Riverdale and you came to a conclusion. You had to leave. Start fresh somewhere far away from here. As soon as the thought manifested in your mind you knew it was the right thing to do. You were not running away, no. You were walking towards a new, better life for yourself. Without toxic people and bad habits. It was a chance to start anew, make better choices and think more carefully about who you let into your life and heart.

Telling Sweet Pea might have been the hardest thing you’ve ever done, but he was understanding and supportive. His offer for you to join the Serpents was nice and thoughtful, but it would also mean being around Jughead a lot which wasn’t good for your mental health.

So, when it was time, Sweet Pea brought you to the bus station to see you off into your new adventure. It was only fitting that the guy who pulled you out of the dumps and who you’ve been relying on as a clutch would be there when you took that next step on your own two feet.

#riverdale #jughead x reader #jughead jones x reader #riverdale fanfiction #part 3 #nothing breaks like a heart #my reason for this #x reader #x you #platonic!sweet pea x reader

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thirsty-for-hq · 4 years

Text

fell too hard

pairing: tsukishima kei x cheerleader!fem!reader

au: colorblind soulmate au

warnings: a tiny lil bit of angst but that doesn't even count

prompt: (y/n) and his boyfriend broke up, resulting in tsukishima and (y/n) to get closer than before. when karasuno and (y/n)’s school have a practice match, the two first years finally touch for the first time. (the cheerleader factor doesn’t really make a difference in this one)

word count: 2.7K

a/n: hi hi!!! so, i wrote this quite some time ago and thought i'd post it here <(￣︶￣)> lowercase intended! (it’s for the aesthetic forgive me)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

my mom always talked about how blue the sky was, the beautiful colors of the flowers in our garden, or trying to explain the colors to me with feelings. i never understood, because obviously, i never met my soulmate. or maybe i did, i just never touched them.

here comes the scary part - i had a boyfriend.

i had a boyfriend, until the day he realized his best friend was his soulmate. we knew we weren't soulmates, obviously - we touched each other countless times, and still all we saw were shades of grey.

so he broke up with me. the biggest problem was that we were in the same friend group. i hid my pain from them, i didn't want them to worry. even though we weren't together anymore, akaashi still worried about me, which was very obvious to bokuto - his soulmate. it took some time for me, but i opened up more and more towards one particular person in that friend group.

tsukishima kei.

strange, huh? kuroo, kenma, bokuto - then him, of all people? but weirdly enough, we got along well. we teased each other, but it was all just playful banter. and since we lived so far away, we eventually got to the point of face timing every day. despite how cynical and - quite honestly - an asshole he can be, he actually is a very good friend. if he tries, he cares and can be kind. sounds impossible, i know.

and we arrive to present day, karasuno's and fukurodani's practice match. which i wanted to watch, since then i got a chance to meet tsukishima. that's why i'm here, close to the gates, bouncing around with bokuto, while akaashi tried to calm us down. our relationship was more chill now - we could actually talk to each other without me being a childish idiot.

anyway, when i saw the crows walk trough the gates, i yelled out in excitement.

"tsukishima!"

he whole team heard my voice and looked towards us. i saw tsukishima's face pale and he whispered out a small 'oh no'. by the time he realized he should probably run, i was already sprinting towards him. in his last efforts, he tried to brace himself for the impact, but he still fell backwards when i crashed into his chest, hugging his torso. he groaned in pain, leaning on his hands. i scraped my knees on the pavement, but at that moment, i couldn't care less.

and that's because as soon as the contact was made, a warm feeling enveloped my body. it was subtle so i barely noticed it. my head was buried in his chest for a few moments. when i looked up and he finally opened his eyes, i could not believe what i saw.

all i could see was the shining caramel color of his orbs. then his ash-blonde curly hair, the red tint on his cheeks and his milky pale skin. the sky was so bright and blue, the grass so green, it brought tears into my eyes. i couldn't get enough of the way his eyes sparkled.

i sat back on my knees, staring at my hands, then back at him. his face got redder by the second, his glasses sitting kind of crooked on his nose. he fixed them quickly, trying to keep his composure. he turned his face away from me, attempting to cover the very obvious blush on his cheeks.

"never thought you'd make me cry and i wouldn't feel miserable." i wiped my eyes, chuckling at his reaction. he scoffed, standing up and dusting himself off.

"the fact that you're saying that the second time kind of worries me at this point." i pouted, then accepted his extended hand and he pulled me up.

"whose fault is that, exactly?" he clicked his tongue and i couldn't help but giggle. he crossed his arms, his all time stoic expression back at it again.

"why'd you jump at me like that?" i tilted my head to the right with a teasing smile.

"why didn't you catch me?" he clicked his tongue again, clearly annoyed.

"because you're heavy!" i huffed, pointing at him accusingly.

"you're just not strong enough to lift me up, no need to pin it on me. i was just happy to see you!" i stuck out my tongue playfully and he fixed his glasses again.

"we face time every day." i puffed my cheeks out at his answer and he grinned at me.

"that's not the same!" he laughed at my desperate attempt to argue back to him. then i heard familiar voices from behind me.

"tsukishima, you okay? sorry, she can be intense." akaashi flicked my forehead and i whined in pain. i pouted again, not very happy with his action. then bokuto arrived and slapped tsukishima's back very hard. his glasses almost flew off.

"tsukki, my good friend! how ya doin'?" bokuto wrapped his arm around tsukishima's shoulders and he just... stared. he was probably trying not to throw the owl off of him. not that he actually could.

"i'm fine, thank you." his voice was dripping from fake politeness, but i guess bokuto didn't pick up on it. or he just didn't care.

"wow, tsukishima has friends. ...why does that sound so weird?" sugawara wondered, and kageyama answered him.

"that's 'cause it is." he sipped on his milk, his expression unphased. i was distracted by their conversation, so i didn't notice nishinoya and tanaka creep up on me. i jumped when i heard the smaller boy's loud voice.

"are you tsukishima's girlfriend?" i felt my cheeks heat up, suddenly flustered and not knowing what to say.

"i- i uh- i'm no-"

"yes, she is. please stop drooling over her." before i could finish my sentence, tsukishima butted into the conversation and stepped in front of me protectively. i just stared at the back of his head, utterly confused. we may be soulmates, but he didn't even ask me out!

"aw man, how the hell did stingyshima get a girlfriend before me?! this is not fair!" the bald guy yelled, throwing a small tantrum. when my lamppost of a best friend turned around, i immediately questioned his actions.

"why in the seven depths of hell did you say that?!" i whisper-shouted at him, crossing my arms.

"they would've ran around you like lovesick puppies the whole day if i didn't. besides, you looked quite pathetic." he grinned at me teasingly, and my cheeks flared up once again out of embarrassment and anger.

"s-still! we may be soulmates, but you never asked me out!" i managed to keep my voice down so just the two of us hear it, even though i was quite agitated. he raised his brows curiously.

"it's just a title. do you care that much about it?" i opened my mouth to answer, but closed it just as fast, not knowing what to say anymore. he smirked, knowing very well that he won one of our arguments- again. just because i can't get my shit together doesn't mean he's right! i huffed at him, then i stomped over to akaashi with puffed out cheeks and my arms still crossed. there were a few seconds of silence between us before he started talking.

"are you guys really together? you look quite angry." i knew he was going to ask, but it still caught me off-guard. i rubbed my arms awkwardly, staring at my feet.

"not officially, no... and he just told me it's just a title, so i don't know what to think anymore..." it felt weird to talk about my newfound romantic interest with my ex but, at that point, my brain was fried from overload. he hummed in response, and i thought the conversation ended there. guess not.

"you found your soulmate, huh?" his face was peaceful, watching bokuto mess around with hinata. a small, serene smile took over my features- even though they were really loud.

"i guess i did." he turned towards me slightly as his lips tugged upwards in a genuine gesture, making my heart flutter even though i was already over my feelings for him.

"i'm happy for you, (l/n)." that took me by surprise, but i looked up at the vibrant blue sky, instantly calming my nerves, and closed my eyes.

"thanks, kaashi."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"you guys did great!" i stood in front of the gym door, with a big smile on my face. the fukurodani team thanked me, with bokuto jumping right at me. i reacted too slow, and i screeched as he crashed right into me.

"bokuto-san, no!" akaashi yelled, and ran to us to get the tower of meat off of me. i can't say i could breathe, but i tried.

"that was a nasty fall. do you think she's okay?" sugawara asked.

"she's probably dead." tsukishima commented, and hinata freaked out at him.

"shouldn't you be more concerned?! she's your girlfriend!" the blonde giant just clicked his tongue and jogged over to my dead body. even though akaashi already got bokuto off of me, i was just laying still, not moving an inch. i was like a starfish, mostly. then i saw tsukishima's face right above mine - he was bent down, supporting himself on his knees.

"you okay?" his caramel eyes sparkled in the lights if the gym, and it made my breath hitch and my heart pick up. i felt my cheeks getting warmer, which i didn't like one bit. i stood up quickly, looking anywhere that wasn't him. i answered him, cursing myself for stumbling over my words.

"i'm fin- fine!" he snorted at my behavior, and my face turned even redder than before. i dared to glance up at him, and his arrogant smirk made the butterflies in my stomach start flopping around violently. he put his left hand on his hip, teasing me relentlessly.

"can you be any more obvious than that? you fell a little too hard this time, didn't you?" my whole face was beet red at this point, and i felt the blush creep down my neck as well. the meaning behind his words was obvious- to me at least. i had to fan my face with my hands to try and calm down my embarrassment. i yelled at him, desperate to try and stop him.

"i- i didn't, shut up! stop teasing meee!" he flinched at my volume, and i pouted, still fanning my face. he clicked his tongue, despite being quite pleased with my reactions.

"you're so loud. shut up." i huffed angrily, reasoning against him.

"i'm a cheerleader, i'm supposed to be loud!" he flicked my forehead, and i groaned in pain once again.

"well, you're not cheering right now, so there's no reason for you to be." we weren't far from his team, so i heard nishinoya's excited yelling.

"you're a cheerleader?! woah, that's so cool! do you do flips and stuff?!" he hopped over to us, and i felt flustered once again, being put on the spot like that.

"ah- no, i'm a base, i'm the one who catches the ones doing the flips in the air and such... and our uniform is quite tight, i don't think i could, anyway..." i explained, scratching the back of my neck awkwardly. then i saw Nishinoya's face get redder by the second, and his eyes wonder downer and downer, down my whole body.

"cheerleader... uniform... tight..." he mumbled, then passed out, with his nose bleeding. i shrieked, not knowing what to do.

"noya-san!" i kneeled down next to him and put his head on my lap carefully. the whole team looked towards us at my panicked tone. as soon as nishinoya's head hit my thighs, his expression turned peaceful and happy, with blood still flowing from his nose. tsukishima scoffed.

"get his head off your lap, will you. you're making it worse." i furrowed my brows as tanaka and hinata dragged him away, trying to wake him up. i stood up again, very confused.

"what the hell was that about?" tsukishima grabbed my forearm gently and pulled me closer to himself protectively. he bent down and placed a tiny kiss right behind my ear, then let me go and walked away like nothing happened. and i just stood there, dumbfounded, staring at the number on his back with a very obvious blush on my face.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

i was walking out of the school, gripping the strap of my bag on my shoulder. then i saw our team's manager and coach seeing off karasuno, as they were about to get on the bus.

it was really late, almost completely dark- the sun was barely peeking over the horizon. i sighed, knowing that i wouldn't be seeing tsukishima anytime soon. i shook my head dismissively, trying not to think about it too much.

the sunset was so beautiful though, with all the oranges, pinks and reds, as the darkness of the night and the stars were already visible at the other side of the sky. i stared upwards, enjoying the gentle breeze and taking in all the color around me. little white specks in the darkness - still shining with the same light as before, if not brighter. i closed my eyes and took a deep breath, tranquility overcoming my senses.

"(l/n)?"

yep, there goes the calm (y/n). far, far away from me.

i opened my eyes quickly, looking to my right, only to see akaashi standing there awkwardly. i smiled at him to let him know his presence was welcome. he walked closer to me, looking up at the sky along with me.

"you're not going to say goodbye to tsukishima?" i hummed at his question, taking my sweet time with the answer.

"should i?" he shrugged, trying to influence my decision in more subtle ways than just straight up saying yes.

"he'd probably appreciate it. you're not going to see each other in person for a while, i assume." i stayed silent for a while. the more i thought about it the more sense it made, but my insecurities still wouldn't let me.

"well, despite him teasing me to death and being really weird today, we're not a couple. i don't think he needs me there." he shook his head disapprovingly, and i bit my lip to stop my eyes from watering.

"no one said you have to make a show. a simple goodbye can feel just as good. especially for someone like tsukishima- he doesn't like flashiness."

i gripped the straps of my bag tightly, and started running towards the exit of the school. the bus was still there, thankfully. he was about to get on the bus, but the loud yell of his name stopped him from doing so. he was the last one there- they were probably waiting for him. i stopped in front of him, panting just the slightest bit. i stumbled over my words, but nonetheless, i yelled once again, with really small tears rolling down my cheeks.

"g-goodbye!" he stared at me blankly for a few seconds, then burst out laughing. i swear to god, my whole life flashed before my eyes. before i could say anything else, he cupped my face and wiped my tears away with his thumb. my brain couldn't decode what was happening, i just felt something soft and warm on my lips, but it disappeared just as fast. he pat my head with a genuine smile, which made my heart do backflips.

"see you, *chiisai-chan." then he got on the bus like nothing happened, loud yelling coming from inside the vehicle.

i just stood there, probably a blushing mess, my stomach turned into an elevator apparently, and i felt like my heart was going to pop out any second. the bus then started driving away, leaving me behind. my legs felt like jello, i thought i might collapse right then and there.

i touched my lips faintly- he kissed me! i was such a mess, and this was just a peck on the lips. what will i do if he actually kisses me?

"you okay there? what happened?" i heard akaashi's voice from beside me and i jumped a little. he raised a brow, quite confused at that point.

"i'm fine... i guess? i seriously have no idea anymore." i buried my face into my hands, sighing with all hope lost. he chuckled, shaking his head once again.

"come on, let's get you home."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

*chiisai=small

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sugaabooga · 4 years

Text

A Familiar Hero | 2

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Fluff, Angst, spiderman!Jungkook, college!au, kinda f2l

Word Count: 4.7k

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: mentions of stitches, blood/wounds

Synopsis: With the occasional poor excuse of a girl, your best friend never seems to have time for you anymore. But maybe it’s related to the ever-increasing number of crimes and the reappearing superhero wearing the tacky red and blue suit, flying around the tall skyscrapers of Seoul.

“Y/N?”

Your face contorts in confusion, removing the phone away from your ear and looking at the caller ID which causes your eyes to nearly bulge out your sockets at the name.

“JUNGKOOK!?” you scream in surprise, fumbling with your phone and putting it up against your ear. “Jungkook!”

You hear a laugh on the other end that immediately makes you smile.

“Geez. I’ve never heard you call my name so excitedly,” Jungkook says, a smile obvious in his voice.

Your smile falls off your face, reminding yourself to calm down.

“I wonder why,” you say with an unintentional bite to your tone that makes Jungkook grimace.

After a brief second of silence, you regain a chirpier tone realizing that he might be drowning in guilt.

“I’m so-”

“Anyway, why’d you call?” you ask, unintentionally interrupting Jungkook’s apology.

After a brief pause, he continues. “Well. . . you’re done with classes for today, right?”

Your lips twitches, your mind jumping to conclusions at his simple question. You again remind yourself to not sound too enthusiastic before answering Jungkook.

“Hm. . . yeah, I am,” you try to say with little emotion, terribly failing and sounding way too excited.

You hear a slight laugh from Jungkook before he suppresses it. “Good. Let’s celebrate the end of the day with some food.”

“Pfft,” you laugh.

“Why are you laughing?” you can nearly hear Jungkook’s pout in his voice.

“Because,” you say. “It’s just another normal day. What’s there to celebrate?”

“Celebrate the fact that we’re alive another day,” he responds as if it were the most normal and obvious answer.

“I guess,” you mutter, mindlessly swinging your legs under the library table.

“Whatever,” he scoffs. “Should we go to Benny’s Place for dinner?”

You nod, then hum in response once you realize he couldn’t see you.

“See you at 6,” Jungkook says with a weirdly soft voice and hangs up.

“See you,” you whisper, despite the fact that he wouldn’t hear you.

Six o'clock. You hope he shows up.

“Why’s the food taking so long today?” you sigh with impatience.

To your surprise, Jungkook was the one who actually arrived earlier than you at Bennys. When you saw him scrolling through his phone while sipping on some water, you couldn’t help but grin and yell a greeting as you bust through the door.

“Right?” Jungkook agrees, briefly looking around the restaurant. “But. . . it doesn’t seem like anyone else got their food either.”

You squint your eyes suspiciously at the other people around you who were also impatiently waiting around. A family of four were getting up from their seats, the mom visibly frustrated, the dad indifferent, the younger boy whining and the older one with a deadly look on her face.

Interesting family dynamic, you note.

Over in the middle, there were two pairs of couples. The one by the corner looked quite sad. The woman was sighing, fiddling with her straw as the man in front of her was blatantly smiling down at his lit-up phone.

The other was much younger. They looked like high school students who were just beginning to date. You watch with a smile as they giggle at each other, obviously in their own little world, too infatuated with each other to have awareness of their surroundings.

Jungkook glances up at you as you observe the people sitting around. He can’t help but grin at how you looked as if you were drawing out each and every person’s life story in your brain.

Seeing a glimpse of Jungkook’s bunny teeth, you whip your head around and make startling eye contact with him.

Jungkook sputters out water, not expecting you to turn around so quickly.

You laugh as you reach for the napkin holder and pluck out the cheap, non-absorbant napkins.

“Are you okay?” you ask between laughs, unable to wipe the silly grin off your face.

Jungkook nods, letting out a breathy laugh. “Sorry. Your face scared me.”

You playfully scoff at his teasing smile. “Why? Too beautiful for you?”

Jungkook rolls his eyes despite the blush coming up his cheeks. “It’s blinding.”

You giggle as he plays along.

“Your ugliness,” he finishes with a short laugh.

“Hey!,” you softly shout in a scolding tone, grabbing your straw to flick some water at him.

You stick out your tongue as Jungkook yelps over dramatically.

At that moment, Jungkook’s phone lights up with a text message. You don’t mean to pry as your eyes automatically flit towards the light nearly finishing reading the caller ID, but it’s gone from your view.

Jungkook grabs his phone, almost frantically, shooting you an awkward smile before his eyes scan the text.

You grow slightly nervous at the exceedingly grim expression Jungkook’s smile was turning into.

“Is something wrong?” you ask, unable to hide the disappointment in your tone.

Jungkook winces at your voice, knowing that you knew and were expecting him to bail out. “Uh. . .”

You look at him expectantly as Jungkook gulps and heaves out a sigh.

You let out a laugh in disbelief. “Kook. Just go.”

Jungkook’s eyes widen in guilt. “What?”

“Go wherever you go whenever you bail during our hangouts.”

Jungkook face contorts with conflict. “Y/N. I’m-”

“I know you’re sorry,” you say sharply. “I don’t need your apologies anymore. I don’t need any excuses. Whatever’s going on with you, I don’t want to hear it because obviously I’m not worth it to know from the beginning.”

“No. Y/N,” Jungkook desperately tries to meet your eyes. “It’s not like that.”

You bury your head into your hands. “Just go, Jungkook. To Nari or to Tae, I don’t know. Just go.”

After a few moments of silence, you timidly look up, watching Jungkook’s eyes critically scan his phone and sigh with a deep frown.

Feeling your stare, he looks up, eyes immediately softening at the sight of you slightly slumped over in disappointment.

“Y/N, I’m so sorry,” Jungkook says with such sincerity that it takes you aback. “I promise I’ll make it up to you. Just. . . Stay here for like ten minutes?”

Yes. It was fine. He must have a good reason to leave. You recall the brief interaction you had with Spiderman about a week ago. Maybe Jungkook had a really good reason like Spiderman did that he couldn’t tell you.

“Okay,” you nod with a shaky exhale. “I’ll wait.”

Jungkook briefly smiles, feeling a rush of relief at your reply.

“Only ten minutes,” you state firmly, crossing your arms across your chest as Jungkook frantically nods, quickly rushing out the booth and stumbling out the door.

You sigh, ready to depressingly stuff your face with fries (if your order ever got to you), then get an idea.

Why not just follow him out?

Was it an invasion of privacy?

For your own sake, you shake that thought out of your head and decide quite recklessly that you were going to see what the hell Jeon Jungkook was up to for the past few months.

In fear of losing him, you whip out some bills to cover for the labor charge of the waiter getting water for the two of you, swinging your bag over your shoulder. You run out the doors of Benny’s and look around down the sidewalk. You quickly spot Jungkook as he turned a corner down the left sidewalk.

Good thing he hadn’t gone very far, you think with relief as you break into a run after his shadow.

You pant as you start to turn the corner and face a dead end.

Geez. You were completely out of shape.

You look around the short and narrow alleyway that’s blocked by a whole wall of bricks.

“Jungkook?” you call out, confused. There was no way he just disappeared. There was nowhere to go.

Swish.

You whip around at the noise to face the city’s superhero, once again.

Spiderman.

“AH!” you yelp, jolting back at the sudden sight of the contracting eyes on Spiderman’s suit.

“L-Lady,” Spiderman stammers, shocked. “What are you doing here?”

You stutter, trying to compose your figure by briefly combing through your hair and straightening your wrinkled shirt. “I thought. . . I thought I saw my friend running in here.”

You trail off, taking the short time to observe the man in front of you. He seemed to be similar to Jungkook’s height. No, he was Jungkook’s height. He had the same broad, built form, and the way he was standing was quite too similar to the kid you called your best friend.

A loud siren sounds from the distance, making Spiderman’s head whip around in alarm.

“Hey uh,” he states, starting to run out of the alley. “I’ll see you later, but for now, go back into Bennys. It’s not safe on the streets at this time.”

Your foot moves forward on instinct, hand reaching out as if you were about to stop him but as usual, Spiderman swings up into the air, webs shooting out of his suit and taking him off to save another damsel in distress.

Huh. Weird. His voice sounds so similar to Jungkook’s.

There was no way, you gulp, toying with the idea of Jungkook being Spiderman.

How? Why?

If he was Spiderman, that would explain the several times Jungkook had to abruptly leave during a hangout and why he was so tired all the time.

You groan, the complicated thoughts hurting your head and instead make a mental note to have a serious talk about this with either Jungkook or Spiderman.

Whomever you ran into first.

“Hello?” you say in a groggy voice, hand reaching up to your face to rub away the bleariness of your vision.

“Y/N?” a clear, way too bright voice answers.

You remove your phone from your ear and tap it to see the caller ID.

“Jungkook?” you squint. “It’s four am. What’s the matter?”

“I uh. . . Bennys was closed,” he rambles. “When. . . When I went back.”

You sigh, way too tired for this talk. “Don’t worry. I barely waited ten minutes. I forgot I had an essay due anyways.”

You guess it was a half-truth. You did barely wait ten minutes. I mean, you ran after him then ran into Spiderman and decided to just go home on the suspicion that Jungkook was Spiderman which meant that he would most likely not make it in time.

“Oh,” Jungkook responds, slightly relieved. “Well uh. . .It’s pretty late, huh.”

“What’s your point, Jungkook?” you bluntly ask, feeling your eyelids droop. “Why’d you call at 4 in the freaking morning?”

Jungkook hesitates before sighing into the speaker as if he were having an internal crisis. “I have to tell you something.”

Your eyes shoot open from their half-closed state at his words that sound weirdly determined. Was he going to tell you. . . Spiderman?

You push that assumption that was probably not at all true and instead nod. Whatever it was, it must be pretty important for him to call so late/early. Whichever way you saw it.

“Okay,” you say, trying to calm your rapidly beating heart that was going to fail if you didn’t stop thinking that Jungkook was the nation’s viral hero, Spiderman.

Jungkook takes in a breath, leaving you slightly confused before he breathes back out.

“I’m uh. . . actually in front of your apartment building.”

You slight gasp and willingly step out of the comfort of your mattress and fluffy blankets to walk over towards the window that had a street view to the entrance of your complex.

You spot Jungkook right away, taking in the image of him in a tattered white shirt that had an odd black blob on the side and the pair of sweats he always wore.

“I see you,” you state, despite the odd visual appearance. “Should I go down?”

You see Jungkook shake his head as he starts to limp over to the entrance. “No. Is it okay if I go up?”

He’s limping. You gulp, afraid of the pain Jungkook was in and if he really was the superhero.

“Hello?” Jungkook asks, pausing in his steps and taking your silence as an indication that he had overstepped boundaries. “Shoot. Sorry. I should’ve asked before just showing up.”

“No no,” you say, forgetting that he had asked you a question because of his limping form. “Sorry. Still kinda tired. You can come up right now.”

“Okay,” Jungkook states then hangs up the call. You gulp, watching as Jungkook seems to flinch as he gently presses his hand against the blob on his shirt.

Was that blood? Was he hurt?

Alarm bells ring in your head as your legs take off out of your room and out your apartment door and into the hallway.

You anxiously wait at the elevator, hearing it whirr to life, indicating that Jungkook was making his way up to your floor.

The elevator bell dings and the doors slide open to reveal Jungkook leaning against the wall, obviously in pain as he clutches his side and tiredly looks up.

“Y/N?” Jungkook slightly gasps in surprise, not expecting you to be outside waiting for him.

You sigh, a deep frown etched onto your face as you slowly step towards him.

“Why are you. . . bleeding?” you ask, heart literally breaking as you see the physical wounds on his body.

Was he really Spiderman?

“Oh, this,” Jungkook nervously laughs, earning a firm gaze to the side of his face.

You sigh, eyes flickering away from the gash on his cheek and bloodied corner of his lip. You hurriedly move beside him to grasp his arm, mind finally catching up to the current situation of him bleeding out in the public elevator. “Hold on to me. Let’s go in.”

The words in Jungkook’s mouth seem to disappear as you gently take hold of his arm, your warmth spreading to the side of Jungkook’s cold, pained body that makes him unconsciously lean into your touch.

After a moment of struggling to get your front door open, you help Jungkook over to your room, setting him down onto the bed.

“Wait here,” you state and run out of the room to grab a glass of water. You place it haphazardly on your nightstand for Jungkook to drink then head right back out to grab a wet washcloth and the first aid kit.

Once you get inside, you see Jungkook shifting to get more comfortable and a nearly empty glass propped up on the nightstand.

“Lean against the headboard,” you say, crouching down on your knees so you were eye level with his wounds.

You nervously chew on the dead skin of your lips and tentatively reach over to the end of Jungkook’s shirt.

You glance up. “Can I?”

Jungkook nods, breath slightly hitching as you lift up his shirt to reveal a gash running across his side.

“Oh my goodness,” you breath out, dropping the shirt and looking away.

You weren’t very good with blood.

“I hope you’re aware that I have no idea how to take care of wounds,” you inform him, fiddling with the dusty first aid kit that you’ve never opened before.

You see Jungkook nod from the corner of your eye.

“I can do it,” he states in a tiny voice, making you whip around in surprise.

“What?” you yelp.

Jungkook shrugs in response, starting to reach over for the kit before leaning back in pain.

You let out a small noise and quickly move the first aid kit next to him so he can look through it to find whatever he needed.

You reach over again, lifting up Jungkook’s shirt higher and gently press the wet washcloth around the gash to wipe away some blood while he continues to dig in the box.

“Ow ow ow,” Jungkook whines, leaning away from your touch. “Be gentle! You’re putting too much pressure on it!”

You roll your eyes. “Shut up you big baby. This wouldn’t be hurting if you hadn’t gotten this cut in the first place.”

A few beats of silence go by as you finish up cleaning it up a bit and grab a swab and pour some alcohol.

“After this, you can do whatever it is to treat the wound,” you mutter, as you timidly tap against the cut with the swab. “My knowledge is limited to disinfecting with alcohol swab.”

Jungkook’s abs that you’ve never seen before and definitely refuse to oogle at right now, clench at the sting of the disinfectant as he weakly breathes out an okay.

“Are you not going to ask?” he asks, eyes gazing at you curiously as you focus in on the cut.

“Will you able to answer all of my questions?” you sigh, hopelessly.

Jungkook eagerly nods as you glance up at him.

You let out a breathy laugh at his enthusiasm and shake your head.

“Well, first things first,” you state, ignoring the way Jungkook nervously chews his lower lip. “How’d you get hurt?”

Jungkook hesitates as if he were having an internal conflict then sighs. “Do you want the truth?”

You look up at him confused, retracting the cloth and gesture for him to start stitching himself up. “I mean. . . Yes? Why would I be asking if I’m expecting to hear a lie?”

Jungkook busies himself with the spool of thread and needle, looking away from your pointed gaze.

The curiosity eats you up and you decide that you can’t hold it in any longer. “Are you Spiderman?”

Jungkook whips his head over to you, eyes blown wide, not having expected any word of Spiderman to ever be leaving your mouth.

“Uh,” Jungkook’s eyes dart away as he seems to realize that there was no way you were going to believe him if he tried to deny it after limping in bloodied up in your apartment at four in the morning.

“Yeah. . . No point in denying it now,” Jungkook half-heartedly laughs with a sigh.

“That’s for sure,” you sigh, quietly watching as Jungkook grabs the stitching tools to patch himself up. You shudder as he goes through the movements as if they were second nature. How often did he bleed out like this?

“How’d you know?” he asks, trying to distract you from watching him suture the gash. He clamps down his teeth to make sure no sound of any pain leaks out through his lips. If he was alone in his dorm room, he wouldn’t hesitate to hiss, but now that you were right next to him, Jungkook fears to make a sound in case that would be the one trigger point that makes you crack.

You shrug, immersed back in your thoughts by Jungkook’s successful attempt. “How can I not? I mean, I didn’t have a clue in the beginning. But yesterday, you disappeared like every other time and it perfectly lined up with Spiderman’s appearance in the back alley. Then I realized all those times you ditched were followed by another Spiderman spotting at a crime scene. Also, it’s not like your onesie has some kind of voice changer or anything. You should probably consider adding that. What if someone finds out?”

“You found out,” Jungkook states, making you roll your eyes.

“I meant someone like. . . Taehyung,” you say for example. “He would blab it all out to the press.”

Jungkook nods considerably. “I. . . never really thought of that.”

“Wait a minute,” you mutter, recounting the times you’ve interacted with Spiderman. Or - just Jungkook in a red and blue spider suit.

“Hm?” Jungkook hums, patiently waiting for the rusty gears in your brain to turn as he finishes up his stitching.

“You met me as Spiderman a total of three times!? And you still didn’t tell me!?” you ask bewildered.

He lightly chuckles, shaking his head. “I couldn’t.”

You scrunch your nose at his simple response. “What do you mean?”

Jungkook finally snaps the end of the thread, carefully grabbing the damp towel to dab at the now completely stitched wound. “If any of the criminals I fight with find out that someone like you knows my identity, you’ll be in danger.”

“What do you mean ‘someone like me’?”

Jungkook’s hands pause, eyes slightly frantic when they glance over to meet your confused pupils.

“Someone. . . that’s important to me,” he states, trying to contain his emotions from peeking out between his words.

You still, heart slightly beating a bit rapidly.

Oh frick. I’m important to him? ALERT ALERT ALERT. I’M IMPORTANT TO HI-

“What else do you want to know?” Jungkook asks quickly in fear that you would read too much into his words and find out his actual meaning.

You look up in surprise from his sudden interruption of your thoughts and sigh, standing up to sit on the edge of the bed beside him. “Well. . . how’d you even become Spiderman?”

Jungkook sighs, slightly frowning. “Yetrim called me.”

“Professor Yetrim’s internship that you did?”

Jungkook nods. “That was when he explained all these superheroes he was creating in other planets and he wanted to start off with me on Earth.”

“And you agreed?” you ask with shock. The idea sounded quite absurd and never would you have expected Jungkook to willingly agree with the proposal.

Jungkook looks at you with a lopsided smile. “He offered money and a place to stay. You know my family.”

You grow quiet at that. Of course Jungkook would do it. He would do anything for his struggling parents and brother who lived back down in his hometown.

“He gave you the suit and all?” you ask, trying to move away from the sensitive topic of his family.

“Yeah,” Jungkook answers. “And some web-shooters.”

“Web shooters?” you repeat with skepticism.

Jungkook slightly smiles at your confused expression and decides to show you. He lifts up his right arm and presses down making a white, slightly moist substance to shoot out from the gadget strapped onto his wrist.

You gasp, head whipping around to the web that was now stuck onto the opposite side of the room.

“A-And you just fly around the whole city using those!?” you ask, pitch rising as you realize how dangerous it was.

Jungkook slightly winces at your tone. “Yes?”

Your posture slumps over as you sigh in defeat. “Jungkook. I’m. . .”

He looks down, focusing his gaze on the wet towel that now lays limp on the nightstand.

You sigh. “Did you know that you were going to be doing this?”

Jungkook’s brows form a crease in thought. “Yes and no. Yes, I knew it was going to involve some type of interaction with the law since it was the superhero type of thing. But no, I didn’t know it would become my everyday life.”

You hesitate, taking in the way your best friend and crush was weakly leaning against your headboard with eyes turned away from you, stitched up and still bloodied up in the face.

“But I can’t stop, Y/N,” Jungkook states firmly. “It’s hard. Both physically and mentally. But there’s so many people who need help and if I have that ability I can’t just leave them and hope that the police will get to them in time.”

You let silence fall in between the two of you and finally decide how to respond.

“Well, I’m here to help you,” you finally say after an inner debate of what you needed Jungkook to hear. Jungkook looks up in slight surprise, not having expected you to offer him support.

Geez, were you that downgrading?

You reach back over to the kit and grab the Neosporin and a Q-Tip. You quickly squeeze some of the medicine out onto the swab and shift closer to Jungkook.

Jungkook holds his breath, head slightly tilting back closer to the wall as you gently grab his chin and lean forward to dab the small cuts on his forehead, cheeks, and lips.

He takes in your tired but focused form: eyes on the verge of being unfocused and droopy, lips slightly pouted in fatigue, the slight grayness of your eye bags, and frizzled hair.

“I would say to not be that whole spiderman thing and take care of yourself, but,” you pause, looking up into Jungkook’s doe eyes that stare back at you with fondness and hope. “People do need you.”

Jungkook slightly grins as you look away slightly flustered and remove your hands from his face.

“Just. . .” you sigh, hands fiddling with the frayed edge of your bed sheet. “Make sure you’re getting enough sleep.”

“Okay,” Jungkook responds with more energy.

“And keep up with your studies.”

“Of course.”

“You can ask me for notes, or others in your class,” you add. “There’s so many people willing to help.”

Jungkook hums, eyes observing the way your brows are furrowed as your thoughts get deeper.

“Get home as quickly as you can after one of your. . . missions or whatever you call it,” you continue, turning to give Jungkook a look. “You’re still human. Be care-”

Jungkook cuts you off with his shoulder blade, muffling the last of your words as his strong arms firmly wrap around your waist in a hug. You hear him sigh, making a shiver run down your spine as he slightly adjusts himself so his chin rests comfortably on your shoulder.

You force the stiffness of your limbs to relax and let your body go nearly limp in his arms, your arms going around Jungkook’s body as well.

This was new.

“Thanks,” Jungkook says, barely over a whisper.

“For. . . For what?” you stammer, hoping that he couldn’t feel your rapidly increasing heartbeat.

Jungkook breathily laughs. “For everything. Thanks for letting me in your apartment and letting me get patched up. Thanks for not being furious with me. Thanks for caring.”

The edge of your lips quirk up into a smile as you pull back from the hug. You find it odd how Jungkook’s arms hesitate, pulling away with reluctance as if he didn’t want to let you go.

You push that idea out of your mind, convincing yourself that you were once again, overanalyzing every single movement.

You poke Jungkook’s cheek, making him pull the face he always pulled whenever you treated him like a kid. “Of course, Kook. What are friends for?”

Jungkook’s expression slightly falls, but before you can ask what’s wrong he hums, reaching up to ruffle your hair messily.

It suddenly triggers a memory of him in the red and blue suit, tucking a loose piece of hair behind your ear with a flirty laugh.

“You know you’re awfully confident when you’re Spiderman?” you blurt, eyes narrowing as Jungkook smile confusedly.

“Really? How so?”

You shrug. “You’re just flirty I guess.”

Jungkook pauses, a slight smirk gracing his lips that were slowly getting closer to you.

Wait what?

The sheets rustle as Jungkook completely leans forward towards you, making you instinctively lean backward, hands propping up behind yourself to support your leaning body.

“I mean it’s not like I can flirt with you without a mask,” he murmurs bluntly, shocking you by his sudden confession.

“What?”

Jungkook’s eyes slightly widen as if he just processed what he said. He decides to ignore it and instead rushes up onto his feet, only to groan and slightly hunch over in pain.

“Jungkook!” you gasp, scrambling off the bed to tentatively hold onto his arm to help him towards the door, the previous interaction pushed to the back of your mind.

He shakes his head, gently waving you off, trying to get you as far as possible so you don’t see his hot, red cheeks. “I’m okay. Just a sting. I’m gonna crash on the couch if that’s okay.”

“No!” you say in a scolding tone, forcibly dragging him back to your bed. “You’re literally in pain! Sleep here tonight. I’ll sleep on the sofa.”

Jungkook opens his mouth to protest but you rush out the room before he can breathe out a word.

You sigh as you head towards the cabinets near the bathroom where you kept the extra sheets and pillow. You throw them out onto the couch and plop down into the cushiness of the fluffy blankets, snuggling into the surprisingly comfy couch.

Shifting, you stare at the warm glow your nightstand that was still on in your bedroom, your mind recalling Jungkook’s words he blurted out just a minute ago.

You shake it off, turning away from the light and shutting your eyes closed, ignoring the hopeful fluttering sensation in your chest.

All you thought about as you drifted off to sleep was how Jungkook was Spiderman.

Your best friend and the man you think you may love was the city’s hero.

#networkbangtan #bangtanhq #bts #bts fanfic #bts x reader #mine #jungkook x reader #jungkook fanfic #superhero!au #this was so fun to write #spidey!jk gets me #actually planned this fic back when endgame came out #kinda late but yeesh #thank you for the support for this two-chaptered fic!

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