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im-robins-bitch · 11 months

Note

Hey can you write robin x reader where reader is in the news paper team with nancy. And robin is always coming in and skipping classes to see reader. One day she randomly asks to join ( not just for the reader definitely not) and nancy ( readers best friend) cant stand the awkward flirting and obliviousness so she partnered them up for a project but robin as no clue what shes doing! Thanks

Love in print (r.b x fem! reader)

Or, Robin is smitten with you after you interview her for the newspaper club and finds herself writing an advice collum in order to spend more time with you. Thank you for the request, I tweaked it a little I hope that's ok. (4.7k)

(Warnings, making out, mentions of homophobia)

Robin isn’t sure how exactly she found herself in this position. One minute she was simply a band geek who minded her own business, now she was running an advice collum for the school newspaper.

How she, of all people, was giving the school population advice, dating and otherwise, was beyond her. When Nancy had first given her the job it had been for one reason and one reason only, you. As soon as you had interviewed her for the band, she had been completely smitten.

It was your first time interviewing and it was clear you were wrung out with nerves. Your attempt at a smile was so sweet, your pen tapping back and forth against your notebook with ferocity.

Your anxiety fueled her own and she began rambling on and on every time you asked a question until you were relaxing enough to genuinely enjoy what she was talking about.

“Tutankhamun's trumpets are the oldest working trumpets in the world though! They were buried for over 3,000 years and they still worked, isn’t that really cool, but then..” She noticed you had stopped writing a long time ago, looking at her instead of the notebook you had been furiously scribbling in earlier to keep up with her rambling.

She knew she talked far too much, especially when she was nervous. She had long lost count of all the times she had been told to be quiet. If there was an awkward silence it was like her mouth had a mind of its own, it just wouldn’t stop running. Anything to fill the quiet so she wouldn’t have to worry about why it was silent in the first place.

“Sorry, I, I should probably shut up, you came to talk to the rest of the band too” Robin murmured.

You shook your head, a genuine smile on your face instead of the nervous one from earlier. “I came to talk to you,” You insisted, “then what happened to the trumpets?”

It took Robin a second to reboot. Your genuine interest in what she was talking about was such a rarity that it made her cheeks flame. Usually when she was in this deep people stopped listening, just waiting until she was finished.

“During the rehearsal for a radio show where they were going to play the trumpets, the silver one broke!”

“What no way! I couldn’t even imagine what I would do if i broke a 3,000-year-old artefact” You giggled, eyes crinkling. “Did they have to cancel the broadcast then?”

Robin shook her head, “They still managed to do it, can you imagine listening to the trumpets over the radio that Egyptians had listened to all those years ago?”

“That must have been really cool,” You say emphatically, tucking your pen behind your ear. “You must be really passionate about the trumpet to know all these facts,”

“Oh…Well, I-” Robin stuttered, caught off guard by this sudden shift in conversation. She could recite facts and stories till the cows came home, but talking about herself was another matter. “I think it’s just natural you pick it up,” Did you think it was weird how much she knew about the trumpet, did you think she was some trumpet freak that slept with it every night?

You shook your head, “You’re not giving yourself enough credit” You insisted “You’re just really smart, I was talking to the flute players and I think I learnt more prepping in the library to talk to you guys than I did from talking to them, you’re the best interview I’ve done by far, it was actually so interesting talking to you I kept forgetting to take notes” You admitted, shifting from one foot to another nervously.

For once Robin was stunned to silence, realising she wasn’t going to talk anymore you started again. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that, they’re totally your friends and I just bad-mouthed them, I’m so sorry, it's just-”

“It’s not that I just- people don’t normally…I’m not used to compliments” from someone so cute.

“Oh,”

Now you must think she has no friends and no confidence, which she supposes isn’t exactly untrue.

“Well you should get used to them Robin Buckley, you’re gonna be going places, I can just tell” You grinned, bouncing on your feet again. Your smile must be infectious because Robin smiled right back, cheeks turning rosy.

“You think so?” Robin asked casually. Like that isn’t someone she’d always dreamed of being told, like you haven’t just given her enough material here that she’s going to spend the rest of her life daydreaming about this moment.

“I know so”

It was then that you cemented yourself as the girl that appears in every one of her dreams and fantasies, She knows she’s going to talk to Steve about you until he’s sick of hearing your name. She’s going to look for you every time she’s in the halls in hopes of seeing your nervous feet bouncing against the linoleum.

It was all a haze as you explained that you’ll be back to take some photos on Friday because since Johnathan left there's only one camera and someone else had stolen it, even though you booked it out. The adorable furrow of your brow is saved in her memory bank for her late-night daydreams.

By the time Robin see’s you again she’s learned everything she can about you from Nancy.

You hadn’t had a boyfriend since middle school and insisted that he didn’t count, Andy asked you on a date last year and you rejected him along with seemingly anyone else who tried to ask you out. Nancy was surprisingly loose with the information she shared, offering up far more than Robin had even dared to ask about.

Even though she had gone through a million possible talking points all day, as soon as she saw you, one foot tapping on the floor it all flew right out the window. The camera was looped around your neck and you were fiddling with the buttons, scowling at it in confusion.

“Hey,” Robin greeted, trying to be as casual as possible as she placed her trumpet case on the table and started to put it together.

“Hi” You mumbled, still staring daggers into the camera, “Sorry, I just,” You pressed the buttons a couple of times, “The settings have all been messed up and…I’m so hopeless at this” You murmured, “I asked Johnathon for advice on the phone last night, but it was so much easier when he was here, I have like no idea what I’m doing, god I’m sorry I shouldn’t be complaining.”

“No, it’s ok, I don’t mind, maybe-”

She flinches as you press a button accidentally and she’s blinded by the flash. “Shit, I’m so sorry, are you ok?” You say abandoning the camera and letting it hang from your neck. “Sorry, I’m not normally so… it’s just my first time being in charge of a whole section, it feels like so much pressure. I really don’t want to let Nancy down”

Robin rubs her eyes, trying to reassure you while acting like there aren’t spots appearing in her vision. “I don’t think there's much chance of that, she’s been telling me how great you are all day,”

“Really?”

“Yeah, plus you’re really good at interviewing, I mean, I’ve never been interviewed before, but you made me feel really well interviewed. I mean, just that it was super thorough, but not like an interrogation, trust me I’ve been through one of those and it was awful,” Robin says inching closer and closer. Her mouth once again moved without thinking.

“You’ve been interrogated?” You questioned, finally smiling as you push some hair from your face. “I didn’t realise you were such a trouble maker”

“Oh no, I was innocent,” Robin quickly corrects, “Falsely imprisoned”

“Wow, I didn’t think you could beat your Egyptian trumpet story, but this sounds like it just might.”

Robin blushes, she isn’t sure if you’re making fun of her at first, but the warmth in your eyes makes her think it's the opposite. Still, she knows she can’t actually tell you that story, so she tries to move on. “I could have a look at the camera if you want, my mum has one just like it.”

“If you don’t mind,”

“I don’t mind at all,” Robin grins, moving beside you as you hold out the camera. She has to look over your shoulder, chin slightly brushing against your cheek. She can feel the heat radiating from you, while she fixes the settings for you.

This was probably going to be the last time she would talk to you, once this issue was finished you would go your way and she would go hers. Maybe she could make up some reason to visit Nancy in the club room, see you in passing in the halls.

Only she wants to watch as your nervous smile melts away to a real one, just because of her. She wants to place her hand in yours, feel your palm pressing into her own while you listen to her stories and offer your own up as well.

She takes her time fiddling with the buttons, it didn’t really need much doing anyway, but she isn’t going to let you know that.

She just wishes she had more courage, or that she didn’t have to hide her affection for girls and she could just be herself. Without worrying that asking out the wrong person could ruin her life or at least make her need to move three towns over.

Once she’s finally done she settles the camera down in your hand, ignoring the way you lean away from her touch once she’s finished. “Thank you,” You say, moving your hand to tuck your hair behind your ear, even though it’s already tucked away.

“No problem, I’ve wanted to get more into photography anyway” It’s a complete lie. She isn’t even sure why she says it. She just hopes it will make you stop curling in on yourself, wilting right in front of her eyes from embarrassment.

“Oh really?” You question, brightening up again. “You could always use our darkroom if you need to. We could do with an extra pair of hands if you know anything about developing photos?”

Robin had absolutely no idea how to develop photos in a darkroom. “I would love that!”

While Robin didn’t know much at all about photography, she was going to become an expert if it meant she could spend time with you.

“Great! They’ll love some extra help, I was helping out last week but I tripped over a chair and spilt the developer everywhere, now it’s like every time I need to develop photos no one else is available to help” You laughed.

“Well, I’ll always help!” Robin grinned, loving the way you started to fiddle with your fingers. It was nice to make someone flustered for a change.

She had skipped gym class with a poorly forged note about her period and the male gym teacher immedietly let her go to study hall. Instead she found herself hoping you wanted to see her.

It took her a minute of pacing outside the door to pluck up the courage to walk through the door, a little worried she might immediately be kicked out.

Your smile when she came through the door threatened to spilt your face in half. “You really came!” You exclaimed, abandoning what you were doing and tucking your pen behind your ear. You immediately stand up from the desk you were typing at, Nancy watching with amusement.

It was worth it, it was definitely worth it she thought. Even if she died in the dark room from the fumes she was going to die happy. Never had she been greeted with such excitement.

Nancy smiled knowingly from her place next to you, looking up from what she was doing to raise an eyebrow at Robin, “I didn’t realise you were interested in photography,”

“It’s a recent interest” Robin defended.

“Nance” You scorned, at the same time “Please don’t,”

The two of you looked at each other, both thinking Nancy was referring to you. You picked at your nails as Robin ruffled at her own hair.

“You should get a hurry on if you wanna finish before next period,” Nancy warns, squeezing your wrist in reassurance as you sway on your feet next to her.

Robin glares at the touch, jealous even though she knows she had no right. Especially so when Nancy is very much dating Jonathan. It’s stupid when she knows you so little, she supposes you are on her mind so much it feels like you’re closer than you actually are.

“Right, I’ll lead the way” You offer. Your arm leaves Nancy’s hold and your hand presses gently against Robin's arm instead. She wishes she had gone for a short sleeve shirt today so she could feel your hand against her skin. She settles for the warmth seeping from your palm instead. She mourns the loss when you let go.

You lead her to the small darkroom, informing her that it will just be the two of you. Her chest warms and so do her cheeks.

You spend an hour in the dark room, giggling together over the chemicals. She taught you how to develop the photos step by step, pretending she hadn’t just absorbed all the information she was telling you hours prior.

Even using her hands at one point to guide your own. It was a move Steve had told her to use during their last shift, she swore it was stupid and she wasn’t going to do it. Yet here she was, rings cold against your own skin as she helped you shake the photo just right to dry it off a little before hanging it up.

Once you had finished the few photos that needed doing for the day, you both started packing up. Moving at a much slower pace than when you had been setting up the equipment.

Your hand brushes against hers as you both grab for the same pair of tongs and it makes you bump your hip into the table and the developer splashes over the sides of the tray. “Sorry…” You mumble, stepping away from her a little.

She wasn’t sure if you were apologising for the contact or for spilling the developer. Either way, she wished you wouldn’t.

Robin found herself skipping gym so often that the coach was concerned about her iron levels. He even pulled her aside to offer to make an appointment with the school nurse for her. The time spent with you in the darkroom was worth the embarrassment, especially that day.

Robin was wearing a tinted chapstick she had bought specifically because you had been wearing it the week before. She hadn’t meant to buy it, but just before she could even think her hand grabbed it and added it to her basket.

It made your lips look extra kissable, so she just wanted her lips to look the same. No ulterior motive whatsoever.

Every time she used it, she would blush thinking of your lips, wondering if that’s how you would taste. She didn’t think anything could fluster her more until you noticed her putting it on.

“We have the same lip balm,” You stated, pointing to your lips, covered in the same sticky tint. She panicked, thinking you thought she was weird, trying to find some way to explain. “I wouldn’t have minded sharing,” You say, grinning coyly.

Her brain didn’t work for the entire rest of the day. Behind a timid exterior, you were such a minx. You were always complimenting her any chance you got, barely hiding a smirk at her red cheeks.

It was that day Nancy had approached her, arms crossed and leaning against the table. You had gone to interview Gareth about his local band. You had talked all about it to Robin, you had been Gareth’s lab partner every year since freshman and had a soft spot for him. That was all she heard before her mind drifted off, eyes focused on your lips and nothing else.

Normally you talking about some guy would be enough to make her jealous, but she was still mushy-brained from earlier so she just nodded along to everything you said, missing her chance to offer to tag along.

“We both know you’re not interested in photography, Buckley” Nancy had begun, cutting Robin off before she could even come up with some excuse. “If you’re gonna spend all your time here anyway, might as well do something useful”

So that was how Robin ended up in charge of an advice collum she had no interest in. Nancy told her it would improve the readership to get more of the student body involved, but Robin wasn’t convinced.

Until you had eagerly nodded along, praising Nancy for such a good idea when you came back from your interview.

Every time Robin tried to get out of it she was re-persuaded.

“I’m awful at giving advice” Robin reasoned.

“You helped me” You encouraged. Smiling at her with teeth as you moved some of your papers and pens away from your cluttered desk, “I don’t think I could even cope without you anymore,”

“But..” Robin thought of the small darkroom, the enclosed space leaving no room for anyone other than you and her. She could talk to you in private, without needing to worry about other people.

The advice collum had no photographs, she would have no reason at all to go in there anymore. What if you didn’t even get to spend time together at all any more, she would have to actually write a whole advice section. It didn’t leave much time for staring at your face.

“And you can set up right next to me, it gets pretty lonely writing all by yourself, so we can keep each other company”

All her arguments died on her tongue as she realised what you were doing. Tidying things away and dragging a chair over, so that she could sit right next to you.

She was done for, today was far too much for her to deal with.

Her brain, which had been re-solidifying, abandoned her once again. All she could think of was you. Your sweet smiles, the pen you always tucked behind your ear and then would endearingly forget was there, your shaky hands and jumpy legs.

Even now, despite your confident facade, she could see the nerves in your foot as you tapped it against the floor. You gazed up at her, hoping you hadn’t overstepped by assigning her a place right next to your own.

“That sounds perfect”

So here she was, tapping away on an old typewriter to try and help a mystery freshman whose fiery girlfriend just wouldn’t stop dumping him.

You sat next to her, shoulder brushing her own. No longer so shy with touch, you were often glued to her side. You always sat next to her, writing your articles together. Giving each other advice and spell-checking for each other.

She wished she had an advice collum she could write to.

One day, when she was definitely not trying to impress you by speaking French, ( it totally came up naturally she swears) you look as lovesick as her. Only it’s difficult for her to actually talk to you about it, one wrong move and she could either have a girlfriend or be a bigger social pariah than Eddie Munson.

She’s almost at breaking point today, you’re playing with her rings. She had abandoned them on the table.

They had been irritating her, rubbing against her skin as she tried to type as fast as she could. You had taken that as an opportunity to investigate, scrutinising each one before sliding them on your fingers. You had finished writing a little while ago but were still waiting for her.

You’ve put another one of her rings on your finger, pushing it up and down and up again, twisting it back and forth. “These are really pretty Rob” You compliment, eyes not leaving your hands, twisting them back and forth in the light.

Rob. A little nickname you had recently started using that sent butterflies to her stomach.

“Thanks,” She says, her rhythmic typing stuttering for a second. Did you have any idea what you did to her? How a simple compliment from you made her heart skyrocket. She quickly shakes off the thought, typing even faster so she can get on to the final bit of advice for this week.

She was hoping to finish early so she could somehow segway into going to get some food together. Only she had so many people asking for help this week, Valentine's Day was quickly approaching, so it was taking even longer than usual.

Finally finished with her advice for Basketball Boy, so Robin could finally move on to the last bit of advice.

She looks down at the last bit of paper, you had picked out for her this week, insisting you didn’t have much to do for your article this time and wanting to save her the trouble.

She sighs, seeing another person asking for dating advice. This one is written in a glittering gel pen, they were pretty popular right now, especially the kind that smells like fruits.

She had seen you using one last week, and you had excitedly held it out to her asking her to smell it. She nodded along saying it smelt nice, but really all she could smell was your perfume and it had made her light-headed.

Shaking herself out of her daydreams, she reads over the flowery script.

Dear R,

There’s a girl in my club and she’s all i can think about, I took on a role in my club just to talk to her, back when she didn’t even know I existed. Now we’re friends and I’m terrified of ruining it, please help me, how do I tell her I like her without telling her I like her?

Robin reads over the submission again and again. It’s almost like she wrote it herself.

You rest your head onto Robin’s shoulder, cheek pressing against the sleeve of her shirt. She can feel the warmth of your skin seeping through the fabric. You’re always so warm and Robin is obsessed with it.

January is so cold, she wishes she could bury herself in between your legs, face pressed into your stomach. At least she wants to hold your hand, in fact, she’s pretty sure you’d let her. Friends, do that all the time right? Maybe if she held Nancy's hand first to set a precedence then it wouldn’t need to mean any-

“So…” You mumble, fiddling with her rings again, which are still on your fingers. “What do you think?”

Robin ponders, how could she give this person advice when she was going through the exact same thing and was clueless. “I’m not sure, if he likes her so much then he should just tell her, clearly he never wanted to just be friends”

“Do you think it’s creepy?”

“Do you?” She stutters, of all the weird submission’s you’ve read together, how can the one you think is strange be the one closest to her own situation?

You slump down into your seat and Robin immediately mourns the loss of your touch. “I just…well, the girl has no idea that they’re friends because…you know.”

“I think he should tell her” Robin decides, just because she has to suffer her crushes in silence, doesn’t mean everyone should. “Even if she doesn’t like him, they can still be friends. Look at Steve and me,”

“What if they couldn’t, what if telling them would ruin everything”

“What’s the worst that could happen to him,” Robin reasons, “A bit of embarrassment, maybe he would lose a friend, I think he has more to gain than he has to lose.”

You’re silent for a moment, and then you turn to Robin in your chair. You’ve dumped Robin’s rings and started chipping at your nail polish. A habit that you keep saying you’re going to break, but never do.

“You’re assuming it’s a guy”

“Huh”

“You’re assuming it’s a guy, but look at the writing, look at the glitter gel pen.”

Robin looks down, her thumb rubbing against the sparkly gel pen, the looped cursive is very feminine, but Robin can’t even believe it. Could it really be, could there really be another person like her?

She’s speechless as she takes in the possibility, and then she reads over the letter again.

Robins's heart pounds, she knows she shouldn’t get her hopes up, but it’s already too late. You have this kind of gel pen, even if half the year does too, you have recently made a new friend and you met because of your club. Surely it isn’t completely out of the realm of possibility that it might have been you.

Did you start writing for the entertainment section just to talk to her?

“I think she should tell her,”

“You…You do” You stumble, eyes staring into hers, searching for something.

Robin is pretty sure if you don’t confess to her within the next 30 seconds she going to physically deflate like a balloon. Despite herself, her hopes are sky high. She nods her head eagerly, sure if she speaks her voice will betray her by coming out squeaky.

She’s already biting back her grin before you even start to speak.

“Robs” You start, you sound so quiet and she leans forward in her chair. Both to hear you better and to hopefully give you easier access to her lips. “I…Have you ever read anything by Sappho?”

The breath Robin was holding in came out in a rough exhale. This must be it, it has got to be her. Her legs bounce from trying to hold herself back from throwing herself into your embrace and squealing at the top of her lungs.

She nodded her head again and your eyes lit up like a kid on Christmas, hands darting out to cup her cheeks, bringing more warmth to her heated skin.

“I like you,” She can feel your nerves as your hands shake against her cheeks.

She can’t really believe it. Any of it.

She lurches forward so fast that she almost sends her chair flying. Despite her lack of grace, her kiss is tender. Her hands dwarf your own as she tries to soothe you and your shuddering fingers.

You have the tinted lip balm on today and she greedily hopes it stains her own lips so she has a visual reminder of this moment. She swears she’ll never wipe her lips, eat, drink or do anything that could remove the stain from her lips, even if she dies of dehydration.

Her plan is quickly ruined when you're brought out of your stupor, moving forward with more ferocity than she would ever expect. One hand escapes her hold and clutches the back of her neck, drawing her and her rolling chair forward. You lick greedily at her bottom lip, thighs caging in one of her legs.

Her lips part in shock, your innocent kiss turning into something more. You clutch onto her like you’re terrified of her slipping away. She returns your kiss, one hand squeezing your own, the other moving to cup your cheek.

She brushes her thumb against the apple of your cheek, relishing the soft gasp it gets out of you.

When you part, your eyes flick to hers before quickly looking away. Your shyness returns and it's just as endearing as it was the first time she met you. Despite your embarrassment, you curl one arm around her waist, bringing her as close as you can until your chairs touch.

“I really like you,” You say, timidly, leaving no room for argument.

Robin smiles so hard her cheeks hurt, her brain practically a puddle at her feet.

Maybe Robin was better at giving advice than she thought.

Masterlist

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amoreva · 7 months

Text

SPIDERS AND THREAD

—– ٠ ✤ ٠ —–· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • · —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —–

pairing: racetrack higgins x reader

summary: race has been flaking on dates more and more. you think he’s cheating until he shows up bloody, bruises and in a hero costume, one evening.

warnings: blood, cursing, description of stitching

a/n: ending is a little meh and i couldn’t think of a title. i’ll try to revise it later.

—– ٠ ✤ ٠ —–· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • · —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —–

Race is rushing to your table from the restaurant, tugging on his jacket in a hurry. Your head titled in slight confusion.

“Race…?”

Race snapped his head towards you. The apology written all over his face masking the urgency. “My uh…mom called.” Race explained hurriedly. “She—fell down the stairs and I gotta go to—”

He’s been doing this often, but you shouldn’t throw out accusations. Just be a supportive girlfriend. “Hey, hey—I get it. Make sure she’s okay.” You spoke sympathetically. Your hand on his arm rubbing it comfortingly.

Race gave you a weary smile. He hates leaving you early on dates especially when you look so pretty in your outfit. He felt terribly guilty. You got dolled up for him and he had to go…

“I love you.” Race kissed you quickly and ran out of the restaurant.

Does he though?

You’re sitting at your desk, mindlessly moving the swivel chair side to side. Thoughts running through your head. The events of the day replaying itself out. You were supposed to be studying for your test, but…you can’t help but think about the date.

It’s not the first time Race ended a date early because something important came up. The first time it happened was because Albert was throwing up a lot. Then it was Jack needed him ASAP for a project and so on.

You’ve seen this happen to one of your friends; literally watched the events unfold before you. Your friend’s girlfriend kept canceling dates or leaving earlier because of something that came up. Turns out the girl was hooking up with some other guy behind your friend’s back.

Race wouldn’t do that, right? The sweet, charming guy that brings you little trinkets that remind him of you? No way in hell would Race cheat.

You scoffed just thinking about Race hooking up with another person. So, you rationalized these thoughts, it was late and you were thinking about this too much, overthinking it. Your mind is just making up stuff to keep you awake to study for your exam next week. That’s right.

Suddenly, a quiet creaking from your window grabbed your attention. Your curtains had been closed since you’ve got home from the spoiled date. You grab the nearest blunt object to throw. The dark figure on the other side of the window, slid it open.

A soft groan escaped the figure. It never occurred to you it could be your roommate. Your sleep-deprived, adrenaline filled brain screamed at you, “Robber, thief, murderer, stranger danger—!”

So, you threw your blunt object as soon as you caught sight of a head. A small yelp escaped your lips. You prayed to whoever you wouldn’t die tonight. You haven’t even finished re-watching Superstore yet.

The figure tumbled into your apartment, catching the object without even looking. “Get out, get out, get out!” You shouted and threw one of your textbooks at the person like they were a bug on the walls.

The figure caught it again and quickly put their free hand up. “Hey, hey! I’m not going to hurt ya’!” The figure stated quickly as they saw you holding a second book. “Please, stop throwing things.” You shrunk behind the book you held like a scared child.

“Who—?” You asked nervously. Intricate details of webs on the costume. Red and blue colors. A spider sewn onto the chest. It is a dead give-away. One of their hands was pressed against his abdomen. Blood oozing out, soiling their costume. Holy fuck. Why was Spiderman in your room? How did he even get here? Did he just stumble upon your apartment? Oh god, and he is hurt.

“What—?” Before you can even ask a question, Spiderman tugged off his mask. Soft blonde curls damp with sweat. Blue eyes filled with exhaustion and affliction. A sheepish smile on his lips.

“Suprise.” Race said dryly.

He thought it’d be better for you to know now instead of later and…he doesn’t think he can catch another book.

“Oh my god—Race!” You launch out of your desk chair to the blonde. Panic running through your veins, your hands cupping his face like he’s fragile. Then it clicks, you realize it isn’t anyone’s blood and wounds, it is Race’s. Race is hurt—how can he just…how?

Your boyfriend. The man who can’t stand spiders, especially daddy long legs, is Spiderman. Spiderman. The fucking vigilante swinging around New York. Is this why he ends dates early? Because he is Spiderman?

You don’t want to believe it, but Race is right here in front of you. Your blue-eyed lover subconsciously leaned into your warm touch. “M’okay.” Race mumbled and kissed the palm of your hand. The comfort of your touch distracting him from the pain. “Just…need your help patching up.”

You went into overdrive. The information you learned was overwhelming. How long has he been doing this? How bad are his injuries? Will he be okay? There are so many risks to this. Spiderman? How can he do what he does?

Your hands were too afraid to touch his upper body as you looked over him. “God…oh—how did..? You’re bleeding a lot…and you look so tired and….how bad is—? I don’t know what to do—! Fuck…you’re bleeding a lot. That wound is huge and—”

“Hey, sweetheart.” Race grabbed your attention from your stupor with the nickname. “Calm down. I’ll walk you through everything. Can you help me to the bathroom?”

Your eyes soften, but his words don’t reassure you. “Mhm.” You pressed your lips together, the worry evident in your eyes as you helped Race to the bathroom. He leaned against the counter.

The first aid kit is under the sink. Race is peeling off the top half of his suit. A wince escaped him as the spandex stuck to his large gash. He ripped it away like a bandaid causing you to cringe. There is dried blood, sweat and dust all over his toned body—which you will not admit you stared at a little too long.

“I would’ve done this myself, but—it hurt to swing any more. I mean, it felt like my body was being torn apart.” He softly said, trying to decrease the situation on why he was here in this getup. A soft blush on his face. It is clear he still felt bad about earlier that evening.

Only a man like Race would blush when he has a gaping wound in his side. “I don’t need your excuses—I just need to help patch you up.” Your eyes hardening after you take a shaky exhale.

Questions and thoughts racing (hah.) your mind. Was this convenient or was this pity for earlier? This is kind of ridiculous—you were dating Spiderman. Race is Spiderman. He could’ve told you—said something so you wouldn’t think the worst of the worst. So you could help him from hurting himself further.

“Okay.” Race nodded slowly. He noticed your snappy comments. He masked the worry and guilt. “Douse a rag in rubbing alcohol and—gently clean my wound, please.”

Race walked you through the steps of how to clean a wound. Your boyfriend had bit into a rolled up hand towel to muffle his agony. Tears brimming his eyes at the stinging. Luckily, the bleeding stopped. It looked slightly less gross than it did before, and it was done quickly.

Your annoyance, anger dissipates for a moment. You look at your boyfriend who removed the hand towel from his mouth. “I—I don’t know how to stitch.”

Race nodded, his head glistening with sweat from the enduring the pain. “You know how to sew though. Just—sew.” He mumbled.

“Race…that—that’s not the same, I can’t just—why don’t we go to an actual hospital? They know better than you or I.” You tried to rationalize.

“Can’t.” Race shook his head, looking at you with half-lidded eyes. “I can’t—my blood work and genetics are fucked—please, sweetheart.”

Race begged softly. It seem the blood loss got to him. “I need you to do it. Please. I trust you. Please.”

You grabbed his hand, rubbing your thumb over the back of his hand. “Okay…” You say almost inaudibly. Race brings your hand to his lips, a silent thank you. Just like before, Race has a rag in his mouth. Hand gripping your shoulder. His eyes closed shut as your dominant hand delicately holding a needle. The other was on his side. Race shivered at your touch. “Don’t move to much, okay?”

Race hummed in agreement. You pressed the needle to one end of the wound and punctuate the flesh. Race’s hand gripped your shoulder tightly, muffled sounds of pain escape him. You try to get this done quickly. In and out, through and through.

And pull.

You watch the wound close up together seamlessly. It sealed like a piece of cloth and look up at your tired boyfriend. His head immediately falls on your shoulder. “Thank you, sweetheart.” He whispered and kissed your neck once or twice.

Your eyes soften. You take Race’s face in your hands and bring his head in front of you. Lip quivering now that you finished stitching up your boyfriend. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I—”

“Race, you’re Spiderman—and I didn’t know! You made me think—think that…” Your voice is shaky, overwhelmed with a number of emotions. Race is Spiderman—he could die at any point.“you were cheating—what if you didn’t come back from fighting a villain? I don’t want to go to a funeral. I can’t—not when it’s the love of my life.”

“Oh, Y/N…” Race hugged you tightly despite the pain blooming in his side. “I’m not going anywhere, or dying—god, I wouldn’t even think of cheating on you, y’know that?”

A few moments of silence.

“Help me.” He mumbled and put his arm over your shoulder. The two of you exit the bathroom. Race was doing a little bit better than before, but you still had to support his weight. You both sit on the bed, Race taking your hands.

“I wanted to tell you, more than anything in the world, but—” He paused. “But…I couldn’t let you get hurt or worse for knowing about me.”

His voice cracked slightly. “If—if you got killed because of me…I wouldn’t be able to live with myself. I just—and what if you thought I was a freak. I—I can climb of walls for fucks sake and have a sixth sense—” All of the thoughts that kept him up at night spilling out.

“Race—you’re a superhero, shut up.” You stated bluntly. Sometimes Race just needed to hear things as is. You grabbed some joggers he left here and gave it to him. You were no longer anger or afraid, just tired. So tired.

A soft sight escaped you. “You’re tired, I’m tried—this conversation should be for tomorrow.”

Race’s lips parted slightly to retaliate, but a wave of exhaustion hits him. He changed into the grey joggers and got into your bed. You gravitate towards his body heat and bury your head into the crook of his neck. “My boyfriend is a goddamn superhero.” It sounded more in awe. You leaned up to kiss his lips. Race kissed back with a little more passion than intended. Race and you fall asleep in each others arms, knowing—

—at least for tonight, that everything will be okay.

—– ٠ ✤ ٠ —–· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • · —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —–

#newsies #uksies #racetrack higgins x reader #race x reader #racetrack x reader #racetrack newsies #race higgins #racetrack higgins #newsies x reader #newsies broadway #newsies fanfic #spiderman au #spiderman

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laneydays · 2 years

Text

you owe me, part 2 // billy showalter x reader

i dont rlly like this put here u go the long awaited part 2.

part 1 here

we're gonna IGNORE the fact that i was supposed to publish this like 5 days ago im so sorry for lying i had school and family stuff and guitar lmfao

anyways school is cancelled for the rest of the week cuz of a hurricane, i might start writing another oneshot ;) maybe vance? dont know! but i hope u guys like this, felt i couldve done better but eh :)

___________

after billy showalter had showed up by your house on his bike, your day was just a little brighter. he had really cared enough to go out of his way to deliver one more paper, just for you. he remembered, that you read the paper and kept it to make art or decorate your room with. even if reading the paper made you look like a total old man nerd, he went that extra mile for you. or in his case, a few blocks down from his route. the thought made you feel giddy and high.

you had came back in the house with a little more pep in your step, a stupid grin on your face that kept coming back whenever you looked at the flower pressing that you preserved on your dresser. the muscles in your face hurt from how good you felt. it was funny, to you. teachers would always say how one small thing a person can do can make another person's whole day. no one ever listened, including you. you thought it was bull, so it was amusing how the paper delivery boy proved you wrong. even if the flower seemed to shrivel slowly after a few hours, you couldn't help but think about it. billy showalter, of all people. he must be a goddamn saint if he can make me change my mind about him after a day, you thought.

"holy shit," donna had blurted out from the phone when you told her. you had hushed her, even if no one was there to hear you besides your sleeping dog early in the morning.

"he totally likes you." she teased. you almost stumbled, clutching the phone in your hand a little tighter. "thats funny, donna. well, i don't like him," you scoffed.

you told her that to get her to leave you alone about it. (you doubted she would) but you would be lying if you said billy showalter didn't intrigue you with his actions toward you. nevertheless, you owed him big time. so, begrudgingly, on the monday before school, you emptied your piggy bank and counted the dollar bills and cents to pay billy back for everything he did. it was five bucks. you sighed, it was a decent amount of money to owe a boy. and it made you realize just how nice he was being to you.

you pocketed the money, getting ready to go to school. you jumped down the stairs, alerting your dog. they circled around your feet, barking and jumping excitedly. you rubbed their ears, talking to them in a high pitch.

your parents said your name, making you look up. "i thought we told you not to jump down the stairs. you'll break something," they instructed with a disappointed voice. your mother was at the table, and your father cleaning dishes at the sink. you winced slightly. "yeah, sorry."

you sat down at the table, eating the slightly burnt piece of toast your mother had set out for you. chewing on it, you watched your mother open up the paper as she sipped her coffee. you nearly choked, coughing. she was reading the paper.

she looked at you. "yeah, where did you get this? we don't get the paper," she asked. drinking your water, you tried clearing your throat before you replied. "yeah.. you know billy showalter delivers the paper, right?" you said slowly. your father chimed in, "of course. he stops by every sunday to get what we type up." your mother turned back to you, finishing for him. "but he doesn't stop by our house."

you smiled sheepishly. "yeah. well, we're partners in class for a project. he stopped by yesterday because i told him i read the paper."

your dad looked over at you with a confused smile. "you read the paper?" he said, obviously making fun of you. your mother gave him a look before sipping her mug again. "how sweet. he's such a lovely boy. i'm glad you're becoming close," she said to you. "yes, it's about time you got a boyfriend," your father finished. you finished your toast, extremely flustered while your mother scolded him for assuming things.

you took a shy drink of water. "i have to go to his house later today. for the project." smiling, your mother held your hand. "good, that's good."

"don't come back late," said your dad. you stood up, grabbing your backpack and slinging it over your shoulder. "yeah, don't worry." you kissed your mother on the cheek, and hugged your father goodbye.

"be polite, and tell billy and mrs. showalter thank you," she said before you left. you agreed, closing the door. you took a breath, trying to console yourself and your embarrassment.

you walked to school. it was starting to get colder out, now. and you wished you had brought a thicker jacket. you spotted more kids walking as you got closer to school. you rubbed your arms, feeling the chill of the weather.

hearing your name being called, you turned around. gwen was jogging to catch up to you, finney following right behind her. "hey," you said to the small girl. "hi," finney finished for her, as she was catching her breath. you three walked together to school every day. it was a shame donna couldn't, her house was further away from yours. "kinda cold out, huh?" gwen said. you scoffed, "no kidding. wish i had brought a different covering."

as you got closer to school, you turned to the siblings. "i have to go to the library, i'll see you later nerds." gwen hugged you goodbye. "why the library?" finney asked. you turned away. "for a project. see you." they waved you goodbye as you entered through the double doors. there were less kids in the halls because you were a little early.

you weren't lying to finney, you really did have to go to the library. you wanted to put effort into it the same way billy was, so you thought you'd find a book or two to help you with research.

upon entering, the library was pretty much empty. it was silent except for the pages being flipped by the librarian behind the counter. she muttered a 'good morning' under her breath as you walked in.

the isles were empty, but you saw a silhouette of a young boy. you searched through the books, in the history section. taking out many, reading the backs and then returning them to the shelf. you were impatient, and already becoming antsy. you wish you could just find a book already.

you turned the corner into the next isle, stopping when you saw the boy. it was griffin. he was reading a book, when he noticed you standing there and looked up. he was surprised to see you, you noticed. "hi, griffin," you said with a smile. "hi." he replied. you approached him, sitting next to him. "what are you reading?" griffin tilted the book so you could see the cover. it was the shining by stephen king. "stephen king? he wrote carrie. you like him?" he nodded at you. you were a bit shocked that a kid as young as him would be into that stuff. but he was smart, so it was probably okay.

"what are you doing here?" griffin asked you this time. he was right, you weren't usually in here. "i'm looking for a book. for a project."

"is it the one with billy?" he asked quickly. you almost stuttered, he was fast. you swallowed. "yeah. how'd you know?" you asked. griffin closed his book. "he told me." you smiled. "oh yeah? what else did he say?" you joked. the boy looked up at you. "he said you make him nervous sometimes."

you pressed your lips together tightly. a weird tight feeling in your stomach. "oh." griffin shook his head lightly, his curls bouncing. "but in a good way, he said. i don't know." the weird feeling was replaced by a new once, a weird kind of knot. you smiled sheepishly.

"he likes you. you should be friends," the boy said. you looked away, trying to tame the heat in your face. "o-okay. i just need a book first," you laughed. griffin asked what type of book you needed. you told him what your project was about, and he got up enthusiastically, taking your hand and dragging you into an isle.

"this one," he said, taking out a book and holding it out to you. taking it gently from his hands, you read the back. it was great for your project. you looked back up at him, smiling. "this is perfect. thanks, griffin!"

he smiled bashfully, his freckled cheeks rosy. you looked up at the clock, at the time. "the bells gonna ring in a minute," you looked at him. "want me to walk you to your first period?" griffin smiled wider. "okay. but its in the sixth grade hall," to which you replied that it was okay. you checked out your book, and the younger boy hung onto your hip the whole time.

the bell had rung as you walked out the door with griffin, the book tucked into your backpack safely. griffins classroom was a little further than expected, but it was okay. you said goodbye to him and went back to yours. you kept thinking about him as you sat down, and how you really saw him as a little brother. it was a sweet feeling.

the period was unfortunately very boring. you were learning about the layers of the earth, and honestly, you weren't really paying attention. you were just doodling all over your paper. until you felt a pinch in your back. you turned around to see robin arellano. "you free after school today?" he whispered. you shook your head. "no, i have to work on a project with billy showalter. sorry." robin's eyebrows furrowed, confused. "huh? showalter? for real?" you nodded, shrugging with a smile before turning back to your paper.

you continued drawing before a piece of wrapped gum dropped on your paper with a smiley face and an '-R' written on it messily. you turned around, blowing robin a joking kiss. he 'caught it' in the air, and held it to his chest. you held your hand to your mouth, trying to stop yourself from laughing as you unfolded the gum wrapper and placing it in your mouth.

the bell rang, the class was over. you didn't listen to whatever your teacher was saying, and you just packed your stuff to leave, stopping by the door to wait for a slow robin. he caught up to you, and you walked together.

"so, you and billy?" he asked. he had a teasing look on his face. what was it with people joking about you and billy? "yeah, i have a project with him in civics." robin rolled his eyes, looking off. "just say you're going out with him. i've seen you giving him heart eyes across the lunchroom before." you turned to him swiftly, pushing him harshly. "shut up! i do not!" you growled, a furious heat in your cheeks. robin held his hands up, trying to defend himself from your wrath as he giggled uncontrollably.

you sighed angrily. "i'm serious, though... its just a project," you mumbled. robin flashed a smile. "sure, okay. i'll see you later." you were about to make him stay so you could keep defending yourself, but you just sighed once more as you watched robin head off to his next class. you would keep getting teased. and you would be lying if you said you didn't have a crush on billy showalter.

you sat down in your next class, trying console yourself. it's not like you liked him that much. maybe the reason you disliked him at first, was because you wanted an excuse. but it was hard, with his stupid smile and his stupid laugh, and his stupid hair and his stupid job. it was stupid. you were stupid. you hated having crushes.

the rest of your classes went by faster. they mostly consisted of you laying your head on the desk and sleeping, and or ignoring anyone who tried to ask what was wrong with you. the only person you'd answer was donna.

"you're a mess," she shook her head. you peeked up at her. "no kidding." she sighed, slumping down next to you. "maybe you should just talk to him." sitting up straighter, you took a deep breath. "i will. when i see him."

donna looked at you pitifully. she knew how much you hated these type of things. you looked back at her, reading her eyes and sighing. "don't look at me like that. i'll get over it, i always do." donna pushed your arm slightly. "but do you want to get over it? it's nice when someone likes you, yknow," she told you. you didn't reply, you only put your head in your hands and groaned.

lunch came quickly. you sat down with robin, finney, donna, and gwen, chewing on an orange slice. they were talking about whatever while you zoned off, thinking about the upcoming week and your assignments. until there were fingers snapping in front of your face. you looked up to robin leaning toward you and snapping from across the table. you smacked his hand down with a growl. he sat back with a grin. "stop daydreaming about your boyfriend," he giggled. your eyebrows furrowed and you stood up in your seat, your hands placed firmly on the table. leaning forward, you gave robin a mouthful. "he is not my boyfriend!" you exclaimed with a heated face. finney and gwen looked at you both with puzzled expressions, while donna seemed concerned.

"leave them alone, robin," she whispered. taming your outburst, you looked away shamefully. you saw griffin and billy sitting with each other. and bruce yamada, was his name? sat with them, too.

"wait, you have a boyfriend?" gwen said dumbly. you sighed with a dry chuckle. "no. it's a long story." gwen and finney looked at each other before the curly haired boy shrugged. he looked at you again. "is it billy?" he questioned innocently. you shut your eyes tightly. "ugh," you groaned, and that told the siblings what they needed to know.

you felt the dread set in your stomach as you walked to your period after lunch. it was funny to you how people described getting butterflies as a cute fluttery feeling. you didn't get those. it was more like fuzzy worms crawling inside your organs. both of them still came from the same thing however; and it was liking someone. the someone that happens to be out of your league, and the someone you completely denied your feelings for a few days ago. you huffed, you weren't gonna be a pussy about it.

you sat down in your seat, watching as students piled in after you. you didn't care, until billy walked in. your chest tightened a little and you watched him sit down in his seat, his hair framing his face perfectly. he looked back, and caught your eye. he gave you a comforting smile, and your heart squeezed, giving him a simple wave back.

no! don't let him seduce you with his attractive antics! you furiously told yourself, placing your fuming head in your hands.

everyone was seated, your teacher beginning to speak. "settle down. settle down," she projected. people got quieter.

she interlaced her hands together. "alright, this period will be dedicated to working on your project. i will pass out a paper to fill in information, but remember it will have to be put on a project board. you may use your notes for it aswell," your classmates got louder once again. she cleared her throat angrily. "don't think this is a free period. i will be watching you and making sure you're actually working," she snapped. they muttered words under their breath.

"thank you. now, you may join with your partner while i pass out the paper."

everyone stood up, giggling and gossiping. you pushed your chair back dramatically, making your way to billy. you made eye contact, but you immediately looked away as you sat next to him. "hey," he greeted. "hi," you replied.

he coughed awkwardly when your teacher came to you, giving you one paper. you looked up at her confusedly. "don't we need another?" she nearly rolled her eyes at you. "we're sharing," she sighed. you slumped down in your seat slightly at her annoyed tone as she walked away.

billy looked at you again. "so, do you have any ideas?" he asked. he wanted to get you talking. he wanted you to talk to him, and hear your voice.

you perked up. "yeah! i do. i actually went to the library this morning because it felt like you were doing all the work, and you're probably smarter than me and i wanted to carry my own weight, y'know? so i got a book," you rambled, taking out the hardcover book. you mentally pinched yourself at what you said. sometimes billy made you want to talk ten times more or never talk again. the latter seemed more appealing when you looked up to see an embarrassed look on his face, his cheeks flushed.

"i-i'm sorry," you stuttered. "i didn't mean-" you cleared your throat. just stop talking, you screamed internally.

"you're smart, too," billy mumbled. you almost crumpled the paper from how tight you gripped it. you laughed nervously, averting your eyes to the paper. you tapped your pen anxiously on the table, extremely aware of the noise it made. "so, do you still want me to come over after school? to study, i mean. you got the supplies, right?" billy nodded at you. "yeah, i did. my mom freaked out i was having a friend over."

you stopped tapping the pen. "oh, was she not expecting it? sorry," you fretted. billy shook his head. "no, no." he looked away bashfully. "it's just, erm. she- uh," the boy stuttered. he cleared his throat when he saw you blink. "nevermind," he muttered.

it took a lot in you not to laugh at his embarrassment. and billy recalled the conversation he had the previous morning with his mother, and it made him even more embarrassed.

he had just gotten back from delivering papers, feeling extra good about the gratitude he saw on your face. his dog barged in before him, alerting his mother standing by the coffee maker.

"what took you so long?" she tapped the counter suspiciously. billy hung up his bright jacket on the hook by the door. "i delivered an extra," he replied. his mother sighed. "you know you're supposed to stick to your route, billy."

he shrugged, sliding into a chair at the table. "it was just someone from school.." he said shyly. unbeknownst to him, the woman felt a knowing switch in her mind.

"and i hope you don't mind them coming over after school. we have a project together," he stated innocently. she folded her arms, a grin on her face. "are you two dating?"

billy choked. "mom! no, i- they're just-" he stumbled over his words angrily, a furious flush on his face. he stood up, stomping upstairs to his room while his mother giggled.

he shook his head back into the present. "let's just work on this," he sighed loudly. you grinned at him warmly.

the class period consisted of billy doing most of the talking. he was really serious about school. you would add on your own knowledge and he would smile excitedly and scribble it down on the note paper. it made the wormy feeling in your stomach disappear. maybe the worms actually turned into butterflies.

eventually you took out the book you had checked out after you two went through all of the notes. you opened it up to the table of contents, sliding it over between you two and letting billy read the contents. you pointed your finger at a chapter, "i thought this one had a lot of good information." he nodded, flipping the paper to the right page number and leaning towards you to read what was inside. you held your breath as you saw the details of his face, the curl of his eyelashes. he looked up at you again to find you were already staring, and he swallowed, leaning back after he saw your face close to his.

you checked your watch awkwardly. "it's almost time to go. we can finish the notes at your house, yeah?" you asked. billy agreed. "yeah."

the teacher tried to tell everyone goodbye, but without success. the bell rung and everyone bolted. you waited for billy by the door as he got his stuff, and you two walked out together.

the halls were crowded, you and billy pressed shoulder to shoulder to get through without running into someone. you felt a sharp tug at the back of your hood, making you step backwards and grab billy's shoulder for balance, making him stop as well.

you turned around to see robin with a shit-eating grin on his face, looking from you to billy and back to you. huffing, you fixed your hood. "you scared the shit out of me. come on, you're crowding the halls," you snapped, taking robins hand and dragging him forward next to you and billy as you kept walking. the bandana wearing boy couldn't help but giggle at you two, and you almost pushed him into the wall telling him to shut up.

you made it out of the school, turning to robin. "fuck you," you said bluntly. he held a hand to his heart, "you make me blush." you sighed. "you make me blush too, unfortunately. tell finney and gwen i'll see them tomorrow, i'm going with billy for the project."

robin winked at you. "right, the project." you held back an angry remark, holding your breath instead and grabbing billy. "let's go.." you muttered. the blonde smiled awkwardly as he led you to the bike rack by the school.

you stopped as you watched him put in the lock combination for the bike. he held the handlebars. "wait, i don't have a bike," you said quickly. billy hesitated. "oh, right."

he thought for a moment. "you can ride on the back. just.. hold on," he told you, swinging his leg over. you nodded slowly, stepping over and sitting down, holding onto the sides of the bike. to say this was a very awkward situation was a huge understatement. nevertheless, billy pushed onto the pedals, harder because of your extra weight. he tried very hard to not show how weird he felt in the moment. he had scooted forward so you had room to sit, but it was tight, and you were nearly pressed against his back. he didn't know if it was the sun but he felt incredibly warm in the moment.

he must have ridden over a tree root, because you both felt a bump, and you reached forward on instinct and clutched billy's shoulder so you wouldn't fall over. "sorry," you breathed onto his back. "it's fine," he said. no, it wasn't fine, he almost crashed the bike but it was okay, he didn't want you to fall.

finally, you arrived at his house. you stared up in awe at it, the front door a pretty blue color. you finally jumped off the bike, billy kicking the kickstand down by his garage. "sorry if my mom is weird," billy told you, unlocking the front door with the key in his pocket.

he opened it, and you walked in. the inside was even prettier. you knew billy lived in a pretty white kid home, but it was still nice. until you heard barking, and saw a golden blur and felt a pressure on your chest. you were on the ground now, a golden heap of fur between your legs and barking at you. now winded, billy's dog began to lick your fingers.

he immediately grabbed it, yelling "no," or "bad dog." you held yourself up with your hands. billy turned to you after calming his pet down, rushing to help you up and rambling nervously. "are you okay?" "i'm so sorry," "are you hurt?" he helped you up on your feet, and you patted his shoulder reassuringly. "i'm okay, don't worry." he sighed.

"who's this?" a voice said. you turned your head, to see a woman with a striking resemblance to the boy next to you. puffy blonde hair, with pink lips and glittery blue eyeshadow. you smiled. "hi, i'm billy's friend. i came to work on a project with him, i hope you don't mind." the woman smiled, flashing her pearly white teeth. "oh, yes! billy told me about you, it's so nice to meet you!" she gushed, grabbing your hand and clasping it between her red nail painted hands.

"would you like anything to eat, or drink?" she asked cheerfully. you shook your head. "i'm okay. thank you, ms. showalter."

she smiled. "of course. you two hurry on up and get your work done," she ushered. you and billy looked at each other. he pointed to the stairs.

you sat down on a chair in his room, spinning and admiring the interior. the habitat of billy showalter. he had a few posters up, and a messily made bed. "cool room," you said. he sat down on his bed, opening his notes. "thanks. i have the poster board over there, so we can start working on it now," he got straight to the point. you sighed, throwing you head back as you spun. "oh, right," you groaned.

billy stopped for a moment, watching you spin around endlessly, and then back to the binder in his hands. he looked back up. "we don't have to do this, you know."

you stopped spinning, feeling dizzy as you turned to him. "i thought you wanted to?" you asked, confused. he sighed. "you think i actually like doing schoolwork?" you bounced your leg. "yeah, you're like, the grade golden boy," you stated, waving your hand around. billy shrugged. "i'm still a teenager."

you watched him as he put the binder back in his backpack. "then what did i come here for?" ouch. did you not want to be here? billy inhaled. "we could do teenager stuff?"

"i don't do drugs!" you said frantically. billy stuttered in shock. "i don't either! i meant like, cards or something!"

you blinked. oh, that was embarrassing. you couldn't ever see billy doing that stuff either. "okay, okay, good. keep being golden."

speaking of golden, billy's dog burst through the door, trotting laps around you and the boy excitedly. you ran your hands through its thick fur, it turned around to sniff and invade your personal space in reply. you laughed, it tickling your ears with its breath. "what's the name?" you asked. billy watched you carefully. he was glad you liked dogs. "cooper." you rubbed cooper's ears, staring into his big black eyes. "he's cute."

he watched you, his heart swelling. he was really, really glad you liked dogs.

"so, you got a girlfriend?" you asked out of the blue. you were actually curious. not that you would be jealous or anything. he just looked at you, a furrow in his brow. "what? no." you looked at him in return. "a boyfriend..?" billy shook his head furiously. "i don't have anyone." you gave him an 'oh' face. he hesitated, looking away. "do you?"

you set your hands in your lap, cooper licking your fingers. "no, i don't. do you like anyone?"

"maybe," he replied. "what about you?"

you broke eye contact sheepishly. "maybe."

it was quiet for a few moments, neither of you looking at each other. you coughed. "so, what about those cards?" billy got up from his bed, you on the floor. he got the pack of cards from his bedside and sat down on the floor directly in front of you. "you know how to play uno?" you squinted. you had seen them in the grab 'n go, but you never cared to buy them. "no."

he smiled at you. that god awful, perfect smile that made you want to crush him. "cool, i'll teach you then."

he distributed the cards between you, each getting seven. you had grinned idiotically while you watched him struggle to shuffle the cards.

"okay, so basically, you have to match the card to the one the other person puts down. so if i put down a green 8, you have to put down a green card or an 8. but there are also special cards, and they can make the other person draw more cards, or skip them. but the objective is to get rid of all your cards. you get rid of them, you win. got it?" he looked up at you from his eyelashes. you nodded. he explained it well. "okay."

he set down his card. a red 4. you looked through your cards, making sure he didn't see any as you set down a red card. he set down his, and it kept going between you. either of you would put down a plus two or plus four and the other would groan dramatically, the other laughing. billy won, eventually. so you played again, over and over. and billy beat you every time.

"you've gotta be cheating," you huffed. you were a sore loser. he squinted. "beginners.. misfortune?" he said questionably. you threw your cards up. "man, thats not even a thing, you just wanna make me feel better." he chuckled at you. "yeah." billy scratched cooper's chin. he sat next to both of you the entire time, wagging his tail when either of you got excited.

you were interrupted when billy's mom called you and him from downstairs. "i made dinner!" she sang. you checked your watch. "ah, i didn't realize it was that time."

billy and you headed downstairs. you smelt the food she prepared, and it smelt good. "thank you for dinner, mrs. showalter. i hope you don't mind." she set down the hot plates on the table, your silverware already out and ready. "of course not! billy's father is coming home late because of work, so i really appreciate the company. and billy does, too," she winked at you, making your cheeks warm. you sat down at the table, billy across from you next to his mom. she instructed you to eat, and you started. it was delicious, noodles and cheese and bacon bits sprinkled on the top. good thing you remembered your table manners, or else you would have wolfed the whole thing down.

"so, you two. how's the project going on?" she asked you. you stopped eating for a moment, looking at billy who was already looking at you. you tried to hold back a smile. "it's, uh, going good. we have the notes ready."

she nodded. "that's good." it was silent after that, just the sound of the forks on the plate as you ate. you looked at billy again, who was trying to hide his smile as well. you decided not to tell her that you two were just playing cards the whole time.

you all finished up, bringing your plates to the sink to wash them. "billy, would you take out the trash, please?" his mother asked over her shoulder. he nodded, pulling the trash bag out of the trashcan and leaving your view. mrs. showalter stood next to you, drying the plates you cleaned. "so, are you two dating?" she asked innocently.

heat bloomed in your cheeks, and you scrubbed a little harder. "aha, no, it's not like that, we're just friends." whether you were trying to convince her or yourself, it didn't work. she sighed. "denial, denial. from a mother, i see how my boy looks at you. and i see how you look at him. look a little harder, okay?" she murmured sweetly. you handed her the last plate. you hated it, but she was right.

billy came back, and told you it was getting late. almost 7:00. you went upstairs to retrieve your stuff to go home.

you had to say something to him now. "i never got to thank you, by the way. for the newspaper," you said slowly, slinging your backpack over your shoulder. billy was sat on his bed.

he shrugged. "it's no big deal."

you sat down next to him, looking away and fiddling with your fingers. "no, it is. i don't know why you did it. but thank you."

thats why billy did it. he would never admit, but he was a sucker for praise. hearing it coming from you felt ten times better. he could have kissed you, if you were looking at him.

"you're welcome," he whispered.

you turned to face him. his heart was beating, and he wouldn't be surprised if you could hear it. the air felt thicker and heavier than it did a minute ago, as he stared at your face, which seemed to get closer the more he looked.

his eyes were so pretty, and so brown. his skin seemed glowier than it did in school.

you looked away again, trying to steady your breath. "christ, showalter."

billy frowned. "what is it?"

you ran your fingers through your hair. "i don't even know. you make me feel things i don't want to," you huffed. billy's chest squeezed. reluctantly, he touched his pinkie to your hand next to his. you flinched slightly, but interlocked pinkies with the boy. a simple, innocent gesture that made you feel fuzzy.

you inhaled sharply. "i should go home now," you said quietly.

billy stood up, holding his hand out for you to take it. fighting a smile, you slid your hand in his and got up.

"you're free to come any time," mrs. showalter said gently. "it's our pleasure having you here," she winked. you grinned faintly, thanking her for her hospitality.

"i'll walk you home," billy volunteered. you furrowed your brow, "are you sure? i know its-"

"no, i want to walk you," he insisted. you nodded, smiling at him. "okay."

he pushed the door open for you. the sun was down, the sky a beautiful mix of purple and orange. you walked silently, side by side with the delivery boy, your hands interlocked.

you didn't want to hide your feelings from him anymore. when you did, you felt that wormy feeling. but when you were with billy, it wasn't there. mrs showalter was right, he did look at you. he saw you. he saw the way your hair rounded over your head, the curve of your brow and the dip in your nose. he saw the way you looked away when you got shy, and the way you fidgeted and held your fingers, and the way you would flinch ever so slightly when he made contact with you. and he loved every part of it.

you saw billy, not just in the halls, or on the streets. you saw the corner of his lips twitching upward into a smile, the scars on his palms, the golden glow of his brown eyes. and you were attracted to him.

your house got closer, the slightly scratched up door in your line of sight as you walked beside billy on the sidewalk.

just say it.

you breathed. "i think i like you, billy."

both of you kept walking. you didn't hear the quickened pace of his heartbeat, or see the growing hotness in his cheeks, or feel the slight sweatiness of his palms.

"i think i like you, too."

you stopped, your front door not even 15 yards away now. you turned to him, slowly. he looked at you, from the corner of his eye. you gave him a closed-mouth smile, to which he smiled back instinctively. a pure, genuine smile. both of you laughed slightly, your hands still interlocked.

you felt weird now, like you had just taken multiple shots of pure caffeine. but you stayed in place, your knees threatening to give way as you and billy showalter stared at each other.

you slipped a hand into your pocket. "right, i, uh. i wanted to pay you back for, everything. i owed you," you told him awkwardly, holding out the crumpled dollar bills. he frowned at you, asking if you were sure, that it was really okay and you didn't have to pay him.

you shook your head. "no, i want to. let me do this." you flipped his hand over, sliding the money in his hand. "so we're even now."

he closed his hand around the money, a smile growing on his face. "yeah, we are."

you averted your eyes bashfully, looking to the ground. his converse were almost touching yours, by an inch. you stepped back, a sweet, nervous look on your face.

"i'll see you, then?" you said unsteadily, backing towards your house.

billy nodded, shuffling his feet. "yeah. you bet."

you grinned, your fingers wrapping around your doorknob. "okay. bye, billy."

he raised his hand in response, watching you close the door, and standing there for a second before turning around and making way back to his house. all with a stupid smile on his face.

you stood behind the door for a while, rubbing your eyes and your warm cheeks. it felt like a dream. a really good dream.

you ran immediately to your room, ignoring the yelps of your dog and your parents greeting as you dialed donna's number with shaky hands.

you liked billy showalter, a lot.

_________

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carrs-universe-writes · 19 days

Text

Well what in tarnation-

Um hello 👉👈 funny seeing you guys here...uh...come here often? Still wondering about my silly little writing? Oh haha...yeah...about that...

Crazy how fast time flies when you have time blindness.

So let's get the big stuff out of the way. I am no longer writing Wolfwater, WCA, or M715 as interactive fiction. I am still writing the stories, but no longer as interactive fiction.

No one knows what's happening with dragon smut because it was just a silly little side project so as of right now it's on indefinite hiatus/canceled.

But the other three are still deep in the holes of my brain. These characters mean a lot to me at this point. But I've lost the passion to make them IFs. Not only is it way too much work for my Swiss cheese ADHD brain to stay focused on, writing is also something I can just kinda do mindlessly. But with IF I have to pay WAY closer attention, and that makes it a stressful thing, not a fun, relaxing form of expression.

To put it simply, it's way too much work that I don't want to do.

So where does that leave the stories? Well, as novels.

I've already started rewriting chapter 1 of Wolfwater, and I'll post it in it's entirety here when I'm finished. Some things have been changed, like now Alex is the protagonist. And given Alex obviously isn't interested in a lot of the romance options, one of the subplots will finally be Ezra and Aim kissing all on their own. Big day!

WCA will be split between Casey and Quincy’s POV's mainly, but there will be no serious changes to the plot, other than the fact that...well...you aren't there.

And M715 will be changed so that Zelda is the main protagonist. Again, very little to change in that story, other than shifting who things happen to.

The original playable IF version of WW ch1 will stay up forever if you ever want to reread it. And nothing is being deleted or changed on the patreon, all the original drafts will stay up. But they are not going to be edited again.

I know Wolfwater especially has been in the works for like 4 years, but unfortunately I used all my dopamine up writing Far Cry fanfiction when I was in middle school, so I'm now a very slow writer.

If you've been here a while, get ready for some deja-vu because: I'm leaving my job at the gas station soon and starting basically my dream job driving a truck. Just me and my dog in a truck all day, not a single customer interaction to be had. Hopefully around the end of summer I'll be there full time and can quit the gas station, which will be better for me. (I feel like I've seen this movie before....)

Um I struggle with genuineness but ummmm thank you to those that have stuck around while I was doing absolutely nothing. But I am writing again, I am back, everything is sorta back to normal.

Now stop looking at me 😖

#update #the rat lives #the rat speaks #ww #wca #m715 #also go follow my other blog where i post little midwest gothic horror snippets

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starsstuddedsky · 2 years

Text

Shall We?

gn reader x chan

summary: having a crush on your best friend made everything more complicated. would you be able to tell him how you felt, or will you be stuck in this limbo forever?

genre: fluff, tiny bit of angst, university au, sports au, non idol au

warnings: none, inaccurate soccer, both main characters are dumb?

wc: 6.3k

a/n: this is the first story I’m posting!!! it was really a gift for a friend but I enjoyed it a lot so hopefully y’all do too! thank you for reading :) i wrote it in first person bc second is kinda awk for me

title: Shall We? - CHEN

masterlist

I wasn’t the type to have crushes. I could count on one hand the number of people I’d ever admitted to having a crush on, and three of them were fictional characters. It wasn’t that I didn’t find people attractive - there were plenty of people in that category. Crushes just didn’t come easily.

That was why I couldn’t decide how to deal with the big fat crush I had on our school’s star forward, Lee Chan. I wasn’t used to having butterflies when I talked to him, losing focus in class, wondering what he was doing, dropping my phone when he posted (his second ever picture on Instagram) what could only be labeled as a thirst trap.

The worst part was that he was my best friend. I’d known him since kindergarten where I ironically swore to hate him for ruining my art project. I couldn’t escape these feelings, no matter how recently they’d come upon me. I glared at Seungkwan, who sat next to me on the sofa. It wasn’t fair that the athletes got better dorms when all they did was kick some balls around, but I stopped complaining out loud when I realized I had enough friends that lived in the athlete dorms that I could stay in their rooms (with actual bathrooms!) as much as I wanted.

“First of all, you’ve been in love with him at least since freshman year,” Seungkwan said. “That’s being generous, actually, it was probably middle school. I can’t be sure it wasn’t elementary school. Maybe it was love at first sight, actually, no, I take it back, you guys are probably soulmates.”

“Are you finished yet?”

Seungkwan laughed. “All I’m saying is that I have been saying that you have been in love with him for years.”

“But I haven’t!” I punched his arm when he scoffed. “I’m serious! These feelings are new and weird and I don’t like them, and Chan is one of my best friends- actually, he is my best friend because you’re being annoying.”

“I take offense to that.”

“Good, you were meant to,” I said. “Now shut up and let me rant. I really like him, Seungkwan, I can’t even think about him without my stomach getting butterflies. There’s no way he hasn’t noticed how weird I am around him, and just can’t imagine my life without him in it.” I buried my face into a pillow. “Why does my stupid heart ruin everything?”

Seungkwan patted me on the back. “Don’t you think you’re being a little dramatic?”

“I have been friends with Chan my entire life,” I said, raising myself from the cushion. “I think it’s worth being dramatic over.”

“What if it were me? And we were fighting and you were worried we would never be friends again?”

“Ew, gross,” I said automatically. “No offense, but I’d be glad to be rid of you.”

“First of all, you can’t say no offense and expect it to cancel out the meanest thing you’ve ever said to me. Also, I don’t believe you at all; who else have you told about your little crush?”

“No one,” I mumbled.

“That’s what I thought.” Seungkwan sounded smug. “Now, I’m going to assume confessing is out of the question?”

“Don’t even joke about it,” I hugged the pillow against my chest.

Seungkwan whipped his phone out, snapping a picture. “Sorry, I’ve literally never seen you this vulnerable, and I’m going to need blackmail at some point.”

“You are the worst, I gave you the best blackmail in the world, do you really need a picture, too?”

“Oh, yn, I can never have enough blackmail.” Not for the first time, I was scared of Seungkwan.

“Can’t you just give me advice?” I asked. “Weren’t you known for being the love doctor or whatever in high school?”

“First of all, I was not called the love doctor, that sounds weird, please never call me that again,” Seungkwan said. “And it was a lot easier to give advice to people that weren’t both my friends. I think I have to be Switzerland on this one.”

“You’re worthless,” I said, sliding onto the floor.

“Wow, I was just about to offer you food as compensation,” Seungkwan sighed.

“Did I ever tell you that you are my best friend in the entire world?”

Having a newly realized crush on your best friend apparently doesn’t excuse you from going to all of his games, no matter how strangely nervous it made you. Normally I came early to say hi during warmups (a tradition that began during the preseason because Chan forgot something every other day, but spending so much time with two teammates meant that I got to know pretty much the entire team). The thought of trying to act like everything was fine in front of the entire team, including Seungkwan, who would undoubtedly tease me, made me sick, so I texted Chan, telling him I needed to do homework but would be there in time for the game.

It technically wasn’t a lie, but all I did was I sit in my dorm, staring at the door, watching the seconds pass by one at a time. I wondered if he would even notice if I wasn’t there.

“Don’t you have to go?” My roommate asked. “The game starts in like five minutes.”

When I didn’t answer, she said, “You’re usually at every game like half an hour early. Is everything okay?”

I shrugged. “I’m that predictable?”

She smiled. “Did you and Chan fight?”

“No, nothing like that!” I paused. “Wait, why did you ask about Chan?”

“You’re going to be late,” she said, turning back to her desk.

I was torn between questioning exactly why she thought something happened between me and Chan or going to the game. I decided going to the game would at least involve less conflict.

I had to sprint to the stadium so that I wasn’t late, for once grateful Chan made me train with him every once in a while. Luckily it was one of the regulars checking tickets, and they waved me in as soon as they saw me sprinting.

I made it to the fence line just as they finished announcing the lineup for the opposing team. I didn’t need his number to pick him out, at the far end of the field, swaying back and forth a little, tapping the toe of his left cleat to the ground and sliding his foot forward until it was flat on the turf, then doing the same with his right. I couldn’t see him clearly from this far away, but I still knew his eyes were closed, and he was taking a slow deep breath, the same routine he’d performed since he first started playing soccer.

I’d seen him in his uniform since the beginning, but in the last few days, something had changed about the way he looks, as if I was only just now noticing the toned muscles in his arms, the way the uniform was loose yet still showed off shoulders that I knew from experience were firm and perfectly fit for my head. How many times had I rested my head on those shoulders without feeling a thing? Why was everything different now?

They were halfway down the lineup when he turned to the crowd. I watched him as his head turned slightly, scanning the stands, then lowering his chin and looking along the fence line. I could see the moment his eyes passed over me, fully expecting him to continue looking at the crowd. Instead, he stopped, holding my gaze despite the fact that I could barely see him. I froze when he smiled and lifted his hand in a tiny wave, forcing myself to wave back.

I was a grinning idiot, even when he forgot to pay attention to his own name and Vernon had to push him forward when his name was announced. He hastily waved towards the crowd, though I could have sworn his eyes were still on me.

The team went into a quick huddle, whispering among each other for a few seconds, then chanting the school mascot until the entire crowd took it up and the noise was deafening. I had always been curious about what they said in those huddles and finally remembered to ask a few weeks ago.

“Usually it’s just, like, ‘let’s get this done,’ or repeating something coach said about the other team,” he said. “But every once in a while it’s something dumb.”

“Like what?”

“Like jokes and bets between us,” he said, taking a sudden interest in the forks at the restaurant. We had gone out to eat after they lost their first game of the season.

“What was it today?”

He shrugged, shoving the food on his plate around. “Nothing interesting.”

As soon as the referee blew the whistle everyone was moving. It might look like chaos, but I’d seen enough soccer to know that it was an organized dance, how, much like all sports, there were patterns that were followed. My eyes followed Chan as he jogged ahead, waiting for someone to pass him the ball. Our team had taken control of the ball first, one of the seniors, Joshua, dodging around their defense before passing the ball across the field to Jun, the left forward.

Chan was in a good spot to score, the defense mostly focused on Jun, all he had to do was get the ball to him. I could feel the tension building, not just on the field, but in the crowd, as Jun dodged them again and again, then suddenly kicked the ball straight across the field. It looked like the ball wasn’t going anywhere, sliding across the fake grass without anyone from either team to stop it. And then Chan was there. Even I had lost him while watching Jun and the ball. He seemed to have come out of nowhere, kicking the ball as hard as he could before any of the defenders could react, sending it soaring up, the goalie reaching in vain, the ball soaring just over his hands and into the top corner of the goal.

The crowd erupted into cheers, myself the loudest of them all. Chan sprinted back to the home side of the field, grinning like an idiot. He ran past where I stood on the fence line and I could have sworn he winked at me. The rest of the team half tackled him as if he’d scored the game winning goal, chanting, “Dino! Dino! Dino!”

I frowned. Where had they learned that? As far as I knew, I was the only one to ever call him that. I supposed it wasn’t a big deal that other people called him by that name, but it still felt strange. I didn’t like that something that was ours was suddenly shared.

The referee blew his whistle and they finally reorganized themselves. Scoring a goal so early on could be dangerous, encouraging them to relax and let their defenses down. As they spread out on the field, I didn’t notice any of that. Chan was focused from the second the referee blew his whistle and the game play started again. I glanced at the team, and they all seemed equally intense.

I tried to think of why they were so focused. Were they playing a rival? The other team was good and a win would count toward their conference ranking, but it wasn’t anyone I thought warranted this level of focus. Maybe they were still upset that they lost the game last week, though they’d swept the tournament they played this past weekend.

The rest of the first half was uneventful, neither team able to score. Chan and Minghao, another forward, both came close but the balls were stopped by the other team’s goalie. Jihoon, our own goalie, only had to stop one ball. Everything else was stopped by what we affectionately called the Great Wall. Mingyu and Seungcheol were the main defenders, and were famous in our region for rarely letting a ball through our defense.

After the quick break, the teams returned to the field, switching sides. Now Chan would be closer to my side, running most of the offense almost in front of me. As soon as the whistle was blown he was moving, running right past me. I was probably imagining the smell of his detergent as he passed me by.

About half an hour in, I thought they might be able to score, but Chan lost the ball to one of their defenders and it was sent halfway across the field to their midfielders. Seungcheol and Mingyu did a good job, but even they weren’t quite able to stop the other team from pushing them down the field, closer to our goal. I held my breath as their forward got a good kick on the ball.

People tended to underestimate our goalie because he was pretty short. They didn’t know how quickly Jihoon could move, how good he was at anticipating where the ball would be kicked. I wondered if he was consciously aware of what he was seeing or if it was all instinct now. He made snagging the ball out of the air look easy, hanging on to it until the outfielders were back on the other side of the field.

Chan passed by me again as Jihoon threw the ball across the field, staying just in front of the defenders. They passed the ball around, not able to get past the defense, but also not giving up possession. Five minutes passed, then ten, and still neither team scored. We were still up by one, but as the time ticked down, the other team grew more desperate.

At 4 minutes and 47 seconds, they pushed through the defense. One of their forwards swung his foot back to kick the ball but turned slightly at the last second, slamming his foot into Mingyu’s shin. The taller boy dropped to the ground, but no whistle was blown, and the forward got a shot off. Jihoon couldn’t quite get to the ball and it just barely made it in.

1-1

While Seungcheol, the captain, and the coach shouted at the referee at the blatant foul that wasn’t called, the rest of the team regrouped. Mingyu had gotten up after a couple seconds, and from where I was looking he looked fine, though clearly mad. The referee gave Seungcheol a yellow card and he finally backed down, and our coach called a time out.

The crowd began the usual chants, though there was more passion after the horrible calls. When I was in the stands, I was normally screaming along with them, sometimes even leading them. I didn’t have any energy tonight to join in.

The time out wasn’t nearly long enough to cool them down. I could tell by the way they stalked back out onto the field that most of them were still mad, and I couldn’t blame them. The second the referee blew the whistle they were on the attack, sending the ball down the field recklessly fast. Chan was moving better than I’d ever seen before, anticipating where the defense would be and dodging before they even moved into position. The ball was passed to him quickly, though he immediately shot it off to one of the midfielders.

The lower the time got, the more desperate each team was. We somehow still held control of the ball for two full minutes, still unable to get a shot off.

At 2 minutes and 13 seconds, Chan had the ball again. He was moving like everyone else was stuck in quicksand, dodging the defenders and driving a path towards the goal. I could feel that he was going to get past them, going to score, and then he found and opening, swinging his foot back and-

And he got slammed to the ground by one of their defenders. This time the referee couldn’t ignore it, blowing his whistle. I was pretty sure there was about to be a fight, but I couldn’t look away from Chan, who was still on the ground. I could feel my heartbeat in my throat as I waited for him to get up, for him to move. He was only a few feet away from me. The idiotic part of me wanted to hop the fence and jump onto the field but what would I do? Yell at him until he woke up?

His back was to me and the longer he went without moving the more scared I got. Had he hit his head? Was something broken? I desperately wanted him to do something to at least show he was still alive.

Jun and Minghao, the other forwards, got to him first, kneeling next to him until the trainer finally reached him. I was vaguely aware of Mingyu and Seungkwan holding Seungcheol back as he yelled at the other team, but I couldn’t look away from Chan. From my angle, I could only see him reach his arm out, but I felt like I could finally breathe again. He was alive, at least.

The trainer spoke to him for a minute or two, then apparently decided he could be moved. Jun and Minghao helped him up and half carried him off the field, setting him on the table the trainer had set up to treat the athletes. It was foolish, but all I wanted to do was run over there, to see with my own eyes that he was okay.

After another time out, this time by the other team, the game started again. I couldn’t pay attention to anything, only watching Chan from across the field as the trainer made him go through yet more exercises, finally gesturing for him to follow her to the athletics building. I tried to decide if that was a good thing or not. It meant that he was well enough to walk on his own, but what did she need in the building? Did he need specialized treatment?

I had given up on paying attention to the match. The second half ended with the score still tied but all I could think of was Chan, suffering alone.

“Screw it,” I muttered. I pushed off the fence, walking towards the building with long strides. I’d been there more than a few times with Chan while we were hanging out before practice, sometimes wandering the building but often while he got treatment in the trainer’s office. Sometimes it felt like I was around Chan so much that I might as well be a part of the team.

I knew exactly where the office was. A week ago I wouldn’t have been nervous making this trip. I probably wouldn’t have left the stands at such an intense match, though I might have been a little worried. Everything had changed so quickly. I could feel adrenaline coursing through my veins as if I had been the one on the field playing.

I got to the trainer’s office and froze. Normally I would walk in without a thought to it, but I was suddenly not sure of anything. What if he just wanted to be alone? Or what if he didn’t want me there?

I decided I would at least rather see that he was alive. I knocked once then opened the door.

“Yn,” the trainer said with a warm smile. She’d been so happy when I told her I was interested in athletic medicine, inviting me to come with Chan whenever I wanted. The whole summer she’d been hinting at a relationship between me and Chan, despite both of our protests.

I waved, looking for Chan. He was laying on one of the tables on his stomach shirtless, wires hooked up to something on his back covered by ice packs, his eyes closed, looking like he was asleep.

“Is he okay?” I asked softly.

“Oh he’s fine,” she answered. “And he’s not sleeping, I don’t know who he thinks he’s fooling.” His eyes flicked open and he glared at her.

“Well, I need to see if anyone else decided to get hurt while you get pampered,” she said. “I’ll be back in like five minutes, so just don’t die.” Chan gave her a thumbs up and she was gone.

I pulled a chair next to his table, leaning against the side. Chan’s arm only a few inches away from mine.

“Did we win?” He asked before I had a chance to say anything.

“That’s seriously all you want to know? You’re not even going to tell me if you’re okay?”

“That’s not an answer.”

“Fine,” I said, “I have no idea, it went into overtime so I came here.” He was silent. “Are you okay?“ I asked again.

He let out a dramatic sigh. “I got the wind knocked the fuck out of me. Seriously, I’ve been hit before but that hurt. You need to check my chest for shoulder marks later.”

My cheeks flushed at the thought of being in front of him while he was shirtless, and I was happy his face was pressed into the leather cushion. I’d seen him shirtless plenty of times, but thinking about it now…

“What’s this?” I asked, brushing my fingers lightly on the wires, trying not to think about brushing them against the bare skin of his back.

“Stim,” he said. “My back was sore from getting knocked into the ground by that asshole and I just thought it would feel nice.” He turned his head at an awkward angle so that he could look at me. I could only meet his gaze for a few seconds before I looked away.

“Do you think it’s over yet?” He asked, breaking the silence that lasted for nearly a minute.

“You could have gotten seriously hurt and you’re still more worried about the game? Are you sure you didn’t hit your head?”

“Hey I am concussion free!” Chan said. “She did the test and everything. I just- I want to know if we won or not! It’s important that we don’t lose to assholes that body slam people!”

He was right, but I had known Chan for too long. He was lying.

“Besides, since when have you been worried about me?” He turned so that he could see me. “When I almost broke my wrist two years ago you said you would rather die than miss the end of the game.”

“That was playoffs!”

“We were up by four goals!”

I opened my mouth to argue back, but he was right. I was different now. I just didn’t have the guts to tell him why.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I know I’m not always the best friend to you.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Chan said immediately, brushing his hand against mine. He looked so uncomfortable trying to face me while laying flat on his stomach. I slipped out of the chair, sitting on the floor in front of the table so that he could look straight at me, trying not to think about how he almost held on to my hand.

We stayed like that for a moment, Chan staring into my eyes and me staring right back. In the end I couldn’t take his gaze, looking down at the tile floor and realizing the pattern was really fascinating, even if it was clearly from 1990.

“I’m sorry,” Chan said. “I’m not upset about something from two years ago. I just… I want to tell you something but I don’t know if it’s right and they said I should do it when it’s right but I have no idea what that means, and then they said that maybe it wouldn’t ever be right, so I just… I don’t know.”

I could feel all of my courage crumbling as I looked back at him, dark eyes filled with an emotion I couldn’t decipher. I felt like he could see right through me.

“Chan…” I said. “You’re my best friend. I’ve known you for so long I don’t think I know who I am without you, and I think that’s what really scares me. You’re like this weird carrot that’s grown next to my carrot and we’ve coiled around each other and they exist on their own as separate carrots, but if they aren’t together, it just looks lonely.”

I peeked at Chan and he was frowning. Not my best metaphor. “I’m trying to say that I don’t like who I am without you. You mean everything to me.”

“You mean a lot to me, too,” he said slowly.

I groaned. “You’re not getting it! I’m trying to tell you that I like you, Chan!”

He quiet for a moment. “Yn, did you just confess to me while I’m laying on a table after being knocked out?”

“When you put it like that…” I stared at my hands. So that’s what I felt like to ruin everything.

“Yn.”

I wondered if I could successfully vanish, maybe start a new life raising sheep in Mongolia.

“Hey,” Chan said, reaching his hand out to brush against my cheek. “You’re an idiot.”

“I feel so much better,” I said, burying my face in my hands. “Thank you for that.”

“Please look me in the eyes for this,” Chan said. As much as I wanted to dig a hole and rot away in it, I couldn’t deny him this, especially not when he was using such a gentle yet firm tone. I forced myself to meet his eyes, finding comfort in the familiarity, even if I knew everything had changed and it was my fault.

“I have been trying to tell you I like you for months and you do it in pretty much the least romantic way possible,” he said. “Seriously, there are electrical impulses being shot down my back.”

“I take it back, I feel nothing,” I said, standing up.

He laughed, that stupid, infectious laugh that never failed to make me smile, reaching out and catching my hand. “Can you give me like five seconds to at least be sitting upright?”

I nodded, still facing the door so that he couldn’t see my smile.

“I might need some help, actually,” Chan said after a moment. “This stuff is kinda stuck to my back.”

I turned to him, taking in the situation. He’d gotten the ice packs off but the pads for stim were stuck to his back. This wasn’t the first time I’d helped him with stim, in fact I’d done it for half the team (albeit usually on their knees or shoulders). Helping Chan now, my cheeks were probably bright red, fingers tingling every time they brushed against his skin. The four pads came off easily and I stuck them back onto the plastic they normally were stuck to, turning off the machine and putting everything back where it should be. When I turned around, Chan was sitting up rolling his shoulders back. If my face wasn’t already a tomato it was now. Chan laughed as I looked anywhere but at him.

“You’re not going to check for shoulder marks?” He asked. He was probably batting his eyes and pretending to be innocent.

I glanced him over, trying hard to force my eyes past his bare chest, then tossed his shirt at him. “Shoulder mark free.”

“Are you sure, because you didn’t look very hard and-”

“Oh my god, Chan, just put on the shirt!”

He laughed, pulling it over his head. “You’re so easy to tease.” He caught my hands when I tried to step away again, gently tugging on them so that I was facing him while he still sat on the table.

“Yn,” he said softly, running his thumbs over my knuckles. “I had a whole plan of how I was going to tell you how I felt. We’d go to that cafe, or sometimes I planned it for the library, and once I even planned to try to tell you on the field. None of them worked because every time I saw you I couldn’t figure out a way to get the words in my heart out so that you could hear them.” He held my gaze and I knew he wasn’t lying. I hadn’t lasted a week with these feelings. How had Chan been able to stand it?

“I really, really like you,” Chan said. “And I-”

The door was slammed open and all of a sudden the room was filled with noise. I let go of one of his hands as half the team came streaming in. With the hand he still held, Chan pulled me closer to him until I was shoulder to shoulder with him, lacing his fingers with mine.

“Chan you’re alive!” Seokmin shouted.

“Yeah I was going to go to the light but I remembered you guys are hopeless without me.”

“Hopeless?” Soonyoung laughed. “Just for that I’m not telling you who won.”

“I don’t think that matters anymore,” Jeonghan said, gesturing to me and Chan.

“Hey!” Seokmin shouted. “That’s cheating!”

“What’s going on?” I whispered in Chan’s ear.

“I’ll explain later,” he whispered back, then said to everyone, “I appreciate your concern for my love life, but seriously, did we win or not?”

Seungcheol leaned against the counter with a smug smile. “You think we’d let a team like that win?”

Chan grinned, turning to me. I hoped he couldn’t hear how loud my heart was beating when he turned his gaze on me like that. “Yn, will you go on a date with me?”

I forgot about the team who were hollering around us, forgot about the game, forgot about everything except me and Chan. “Of course.”

Chan only let go of my hand once as we walked back to the apartment, and it was only to let me put on his sweatshirt. As soon as I pulled my arms through the sleeves, his hand was back in mine. It should have felt weird to be this intimate after a lifetime of friendship. It felt like we should have been like this from the beginning.

“You’re sure you feel the same way?“ Chan asked.

“If you ask me one more time I’m going to change my mind,” I said.

“I’m sorry,” he said, squeezing my hand. “I had resigned myself to being your b-f ‘best friend,’ not b-f ‘boyfriend.’”

“First of all, Seungkwan is my best friend,” I said.

“Um, wrong, I’ve known you for longer.”

“That’s not the point but I have a feeling you’re going to win this one so I’m just going to give up now.” I turned to look him in the eyes. “But seriously, how long have you liked me? And don’t you dare say from the moment I met you or some bullshit because I know that’s not true.”

“No, I’m not that dramatic. I think the moment I realized it was at graduation.” He smiled at the memory, pausing on the sidewalk.

“Do you remember how we went straight from the ceremony to the beach and that first night we stayed up all night talking about the future and we watched the sunrise over the water?” He waited for my nod. “I remember listening to you talk about your life plans and realizing how lucky I am to know you, and then realizing that I couldn’t imagine my life without you in it.

“Do you know how magical you looked watching the sunrise? I know it’s the cheesiest line ever, but you really were prettier than the sunrise and ever since then I haven’t been able to think of anyone but you.” Chan smiled and my heart felt like it was going to explode. I leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips, then suddenly felt shy, turning and continuing to walk. Chan didn’t move until I was tugging on his hand.

“Your turn,” he said after a few moments passed and the heat in my cheeks had finally died down. “When did you realize?”

“Last week,” I said. “Right before you left for the tournament you asked for a kiss goodbye, and I thought it was just a joke but then I spent all weekend thinking about your lips and about how that’s definitely not best friend thoughts, and then I started thinking about you and then I realized that for everything in my life I go to you, and you are the only person in the world who knows how to make me smile when I am having a horrible day, and you don’t complain when I’m being mean or grumpy, and you are the only person I could ever see myself spending the rest of my life with.

“I know it’s not as romantic as watching the sunrise with you and maybe you think these five days aren’t long enough to feel anything as strong as you, but, Chan, I swear I know my heart and you are the only one in it, and the only one that will ever be in it.” It was terrifying to say these things out loud, but I turned to Chan and he had the biggest smile on his face.

He stepped closer to me until there were only a few inches between us, bringing one hand to my cheek. “Can I kiss you?” He asked so softly I almost didn’t hear it.

I nodded, closing my eyes as he leaned closer, nose brushing against mine, and it was not a gentle kiss like mine had been. His hand slid to the back of my head, the other one finally letting go and slipping to hold my waist. I wrapped my own arms around his neck, pulling him as close as I could.

Chan pulled away first, though his arms stayed wrapped around me. “Feedback?”

I laughed, burying my head in his chest. ‘Feedback’ was always for class presentations, or how I thought he did in his last game. “Only if you tell me why your team calls you Dino.”

I disentangled myself from his arms, lacing our fingers back together and beginning to walk again.

“You better not be mad about that because it’s your fault,” he said, catching up to me easily. “Seokmin and Soonyoung saw you spamming me with those dinosaur stickers while we were at an away game and I had to explain to them that you made the nickname when we were six and already a cruel monster.”

“It’s not my fault you cried unless you brought your stuffie to school with you.”

“Don’t you dare tell them that part!” He said. “They’ll never let it go, it’s bad enough I have Seungkwan holding it over me.”

I laughed. “You haven’t explained what was going on in the training room either, by the way.”

“Right.” I glanced at him and he avoided my eyes.

“What is it?”

“It’s embarrassing,” he whined.

“More embarrassing than getting dumped fifteen minutes after the relationship started?”

“You wouldn’t,” Chan said and he was right, but it still worked because he let out a dramatic sigh and kept walking. “Do you remember last week after we lost and we went out to eat and you asked me about what we say in the pregame huddles?” He waited until I nodded to continue. “Well, apparently my crush was obvious to everyone other than you and Seokmin and Soonyoung specifically were determined to ‘help’ me confess so they thought it would be funny to say ‘when we win Chan has to tell yn how he feels,’ but then we lost and someone said that maybe we just weren’t meant to be and it was a joke, but I’ve been overthinking it since then.

“Then today, Seungcheol said it, and I think it was supposed to be a joke but everyone took it really seriously and I don’t know, I really felt like if we didn’t win today then maybe we really wouldn’t ever work out.

“But then you showed up and confessed to me in the least romantic way possible and I realized how dumb I was,” Chan said, grinning.

“You’re kind of an idiot,” I said.

“Yeah, but I’m your idiot,” he said, leaning into me.

“You’re ridiculous.” I tried unsuccessfully to hide my smile.

He snuck closer, pressing a kiss to my cheek, then wrapping his arm around my shoulders and pulling me closer to him. I couldn’t think of any more insults to throw at him, so I leaned into him.

“So, are you going to give me feedback on my kissing or not?”

“I’m not sure, I think I need to try again before forming an opinion.”

Chan laughed, turning to face me with a smile that could break hearts. “You better pay attention this time.” He kissed me and I was floating.

When I finally pushed back, he raised his eyebrows expectantly.

“Two out of ten, honestly, I’m disappointed, I thought you could do better than this,” I said, pushing his arms off of me before I could react and sprinting away.

“Hey!” He shouted. “I’m still handicapped! I got knocked out today!” Despite his protests, he caught up to me easily, wrapping his arms around me from behind, pressing a kiss to my cheek.

“Want to try again?”

“Hm, nope,” I said, giggling when he wrapped his arms even tighter.

“You are so lucky I love you,” he said, pressing another kiss on my cheek. I wondered if he noticed that he let the word slip. I settled my hands on his arms, holding him to me just as tightly as he was. There was a gentle breeze in the air, the streetlights warm and cozy, and I decided I would spend the rest of my life like this, me and Chan, together.

#🌟 stars galaxy #seventeen #seventeen x reader #svt #svt x reader #dino #lee chan #dino x reader #lee chan x reader #fluff #svt fluff #seventeen fluff #svt reader #seventeen fanfiction #seventeen fanfic #soccer boys!#chan x reader #dino fluff #chan fluff

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siriannatan · 5 months

Text

Float

This one was sitting in my notes for a long time, unfinished, I read it, and I had to finish it.

I just randomly picked Float by Call Me Karizma from Youtube's recommended as the title...

Scott was not having a good time lately. His whole life has been falling down around him and no matter how much he struggled he could not stop it. All he spent so much effort, energy, time and money building crumbled around him.

His fiance left him mere weeks before their wedding. The company he worked so hard climbing the ladder of suddenly announced bankruptcy. Just after he had to take a massive debt to cover all expenses of cancelling a wedding. His ex was all but gone. No sign of him. No excuse. No apology. No help with this mess.

Over the last month, Scott felt more and more like he was in a hole that was slowly filling with water. Chained to the bottom of it. Only able to powerlessly watch the distant clouds over his head.

When he thought things could not get worse he learned his ex took a massive loan from the mafia to pay for the wedding just to run away with the money. And he put Scott down as a guarantor for said loan.

How did Scott find out? When said mafia group came and grabbed him from his new, mostly empty and terrible apartment. "Boss wants to talk about lover boy and when he can start paying back," they said as they pulled him out and into a back car with tinted windows.

Scott practically forgot how to speak from how afraid and confused he was. Debt? He thought he paid back all his debts but the one. About halfway to their destination, he realised they weren't normal debt collectors but the mob. And felt even worse. It was a miracle he didn't puke.

Once the car stopped Scott was once again dragged. He didn't struggle hoping there was a way out of this. Maybe I'd he explained he wasn't with that guy anymore 'boss' would let him go? No way...

He was prepared for death the moment he was told to kneel on the uncomfortably hard wooden floor. And left to wait under the watch of four guards. As if he could even move with how scared he was.

A cold shiver went down his spine when he heard the door open. He could only stare at the floor, too terrified to look up as someone moved around him. "So, this is that idiots guarantor?" Cold but nevertheless attractive voice mused. "Look up," the voice ordered and Scott forced himself to look up at the source.

He was met with the cold blue eyes of an undoubtedly handsome man in a dark suit. Copper hair gathered in a ponytail at the back of his head as he whispered something to the tall brunet next to him. Those blue eyes didn't leave Scott for one second. Freezing him in place, unable to explain himself as they leveled him with disinterested curiosity. "I made up my mind," the boss smirked, his entire attention back on Scott. "Everyone out," he ordered, "I want to talk to him alone," he added, sitting back. Relaxing in his seat. "Not like he can hurt me in any way," he rolled his eyes as the guards dragged their feet a bit too much for his liking.

Scott watched in fear as all other people left the room leaving him alone with possibly the most dangerous person in the building. And the hottest but that part of his brain should shut up. It was not helping at all.

"Not going to beg I forget the deb?" The man asked lips forming an amused smirk.

"What would it do? You likely already know what you want to do with me..." Scott shrugged. There was no escape. Why else would he send his men away? "I don't know where my ex is. Why he did do it. When..." Scott froze as time man shifted and removed his blazer. Did he not want Scott's blood on it?

"I see," he hummed, eyes glancing away for just a second. "I want a drink, brink me one," he suddenly grinned, pointing to where he glanced with his chin.

Scott scrambled to follow the order. Who else would he be asking? Where he was pointed was an elegant, likely very expensive mini-bar set-up. Glasses for various drinks. Various bottles with expensive labels. "What would you like?" Scott asked even if he'd prefer to run away.

"One Bloody Mary," the man requested as if it were simple to make.

Scott nodded, feeling his hands shake. How long was it since he was a bartender? College was a long time ago. Luckily he occasionally practiced at home. Nothing as crazy as he was asked now but he used to be able to make a good Mary. With deep focus, he got to work.

He was pretty proud of the result as he brought it to the man on a silver platter. He watched with held breath as the man took a sip to then...

Spill it over Scott.

"Good enough," he grinned as Scott blinked away shock. Biting his tongue to not snap at the man as he set the now empty glass away. "You're wet. Strip."

Scott could not move for a second. Strip? As in naked. No way... With those cold eyes narrowing he slowly got to it. It beat dying, right?

"The name's fWhip and unfortunately for you, while I tend to avoid human trafficking I like your face so I decided to keep you," the man grinned as Scott fought the urge to curl up and cry. Keep him? Like a pet? "All you have to do is be pretty, stick close to me and be fine with being touched. A lot. Don't worry I'm not the type to share his toys."

Scott shuddered at his words. Toy. He could feel tears welling up in his eyes as he let his shirt slowly slide down his arms before working on his jeans. At least fWhip didn't mind the slow pace.

"Stop looking like I'm about to kill you, as long as you behave you're very safe," fWhip hummed. His tie was gone and he was slowly opening his dark red undershirt. Scott's breath hitched. He wouldn't... It wasn't part of the... A lot of touching... It absolutely was. He absolutely was about to be fWhip's sex toy. With that realisation, tears started to slowly flow for real.

fWhip sighed and stood up. "Stop," he said grabbing Scott's chin shockingly gently for how annoyed he looked. "I don't think any got in your eyes... Are you really so scared of me touching you? Fucking you?" He asked, not letting go of Scott's chin.

"Yes..." Scott said with a simple nod being out of the question.

"Unfortunately, I do not care how you feel about this whole thing," he grinned petting Scott's cheek briefly before returning to his seat. "But be sure that as long as I'm happy with you, no one is allowed to harm you." Scott nodded, thankful that fWhip's hands were off of him. "I'm more of a jealous type, don't like to share, as I said."

Scott just nodded and hurried to finish undressing. He never felt as naked as with fWhip's eyes taking him once all his clothes were a messy pile on the floor. "How about you make me another drink? Martini perhaps?" fWhip requested, his shirt mostly undone. Comfortably lounging in his seat.

Scott nodded and went back to the bar with the tray and the empty glass and set to make the best martini he could while naked and observed constantly. He focused so much on the drink he missed fWhip stood up and walked up behind him. He froze as he was pushed into the minibar. "Is it done?" fWhip asked, breath tickling Scott's ear and neck.

"Nearly," he managed to choke out.

"Carry on then," he could almost feel fWhip's lips against his ear in that drawn-out whisper.

With shaking hands, Scott finished the drink. He hoped fWhip would back off once it was done. "Grab my blazer and follow me," he said instead, grabbing the drink and quickly leaving Scott's personal space.

Scott really hoped they were as alone as they seemed to be. Not one person was in sight as Scott followed fWhip's leisurely pace through elegantly decorated corridors with hardwood floors and occasional soft carpets. He really hoped fWhip wouldn't keep him naked forever. If he was as jealous as he was saying then he surely wouldn't... Would he?

Eventually, fWhip stopped and opened a door motioning for Scott to walk in first with the so-far untouched drink. What did he even want it for?

"Is there a problem?" fWhip hummed, once more far too close as Scott froze. He was led right to a bedroom. "Keep moving, blazer on any chair," a cold hand pushed him forward.

Scott slowly walked deeper into what had to be fWhip's bedroom. Dark curtains hung ominously around most of a giant bed with dark red bedding. All windows were covered by more heavy curtains. Scott hung the blazer over one of the chairs upholstered with red and black flowers. "Come here," fWhip gave him no time to look about or overthink. Motioning him to a door he missed as he looked for chairs and avoided looking at the bed.

fWhip dragged him to a bathroom of dark tiles and gold details. Fluffy white towels lined one level of the only shelf Scott could see. Next had some bath products and third a mysterious basket. "Bathe," fWhip ordered, setting himself on a stool.

Scott waited for a second. In case he decided to leave him alone. fWhip stayed in his spot, finally taking a sip of his drink. "Go on, I already see everything anyway," he encouraged with a cruel smirk. Eyes taking in Scott's exposed form. "Everything you need is on the shelf."

Shuddering in shame Scott collected what he needed and brought it to the already filled with warm water massive tub. He'd much prefer the shower but he had a feeling that fWhip wanted him in the tub. And it covered him for at least some time.

"What exactly do you want from me?" Scott asked, his back turned to fWhip. There was no argument against it.

"In general? Make me good drinks, be sexy next to me, and spread those pretty legs when I tell you to," fWhip listed off and stopped. Likely for another sip. "Don't worry you'll be dressed at least most of the time," he added, a voice suddenly close.

fWhip was indeed right next to the tub, fully shirtless, and insisted on washing Scott's hair. Not that he stopped on just his hair. His hands slid down to Scott's shoulders and his chest.

Noticing that fWhip had no intention of ceasing to touch him Scott blurted out he was done. Realising too late it likely meant worse things. Like fWhip helping him dry out faster just to drag him to the bed by his wrist.

To his shock, all fWhip did was cuddle him. Naked, yes. But that was it. Could fWhip decide he freaked Scott out enough for one day? When did it get late enough for sleep anyway? It was evening when Scott was pulled out of his apartment. And the ride took a while. And there was the whole thing with fWhip's drinks and everything... It wasn't like he had to decide when he wanted to sleep anymore.

Refusing to overthink it Scott did his best to fall asleep. And shockingly did so rather quickly.

He woke up more rested than he did n a while. About since his fiance vanished... His joy of a nice sleep was quickly gone as he felt lips on the back of his neck what had his eyes snapping. Dark sheets and curtains instantly had him remembering fWhip's cold blue eyes. "Morning, hot stuff," fWhip's voice had his shuddering. Was it memories of it tickling his neck was up to debate.

"Mornin'..." Scott muttered not sure what to do with himself. He tensed up as fWhip got in his last cuddles before pulling Scott to have a shared shower.

After the shower Scott was presented with clothes for the day. When did fWhip even have time to arrange it?

"I have a few meetings, nothing should go wrong so I'm taking you along," fWhip announced as Scott eyed the white button-up, black, really short shorts, garter belt, knee-high socks and shining oxfords. Was he really supposed to go out like that? With a sigh, he started getting dressed.

"And what would I do if you're suspecting there might be trouble?" Scott asked, he really hoped fWhip would not drag him to dangerous places.

"Well, if trouble is expected I'll leave you at home," fWhip shrugged. It was unfair how well he looked in suits. "Someone will bring your stuff and set you a room for such cases," he added pulling on a dark forest green shirt. Dark grey and green looked annoyingly good on fWhip. But it was nice to know he'd be getting at least some of his stuff. He was not dumb enough to think he'd get all of it.

"Am I allowed to let my family and friends know I'm alive?" slim chance but he might as well ask. fWhip certainly had ways of getting cops to not look for Scott even if someone reported him missing without Scott being involved.

"You're free to do anything as long as you don't try to run away," to Scott's shock fWhip didn't mind.

Scott decided he was done talking to fWhip so he stayed silent. And close to his... what should he call fWhip? Boyfriend? That'd do for now. It beat alternatives. And made the situation sound more sane. Even if he was sticking close to a literal mafia boss... He chose to not think about that element too much. If fWhip was telling the truth then all he had to do was be a clingy, cute boyfriend. Which was honestly, the best that could happen to him in his situation.

fWhip took him to breakfast which was served by staff Scott would expect to see in a high-end restaurant. Not private breakfast area - it was too small to be the proper dining space of fWhip's house - overlooking a lush garden full of mostly all kinds of roses. It was also rather intimate. Scott chose to sit as close to fWhip as he could on the comfy loveseat fWhip chose over the no doubt comparably comfy chairs. A kiss to his jaw told him the other was happy.

"Not so scared today?" fWhip hummed as coffee and tea - as per Scott's request - were served.

"I was rather shocked yesterday, I thought about it a bit and... I guess I don't mind being your boyfriend or whatever you want to call it," Scott found himself only partially lying. He'd need some more thinking to decide if the boyfriend part was true. He certainly didn't mind being safe from any other secret debts his boyfriend put him as guarantor for. He just had to stay on fWhip's good side.

fWhip hummed with a small smirk. Clearly pleased as one of his hands found an exposed part of Scott's thigh and lightly squeezed. "I should get you in a maid outfit sometimes," he hummed as the frankly big for just two breakfasts was served. He was likely trying to shake Scott, to make sure he was not lying to him or something like that.

Too bad for him, when not shaken up and tired Scott could easily play along. "It'd certainly look good in one," he hummed and sipped some tea. He could certainly play along if keeping fWhip happy meant he lived longer.

That seemed to pass the test. As fWhip didn't press too much for the remainder of breakfast. After which Scott was led, fWhip's arm alarmingly low around his hips, to a familiar-looking dark car with dark tinted windows. Apparently business was taking fWhip outside his house. Scott made sure to sit as close to fWhip as seatbelts allowed him.

At the first meeting, with two dangerous-looking blondes - Jimmy and Tango as fWhip called them - Scott made a possibly dangerous decision. He ignored the lack of a seat and just sat in fWhip's lap. Lucky for him it was a good decision as it made everyone else uncomfortable and fWhip visibly happy.

They were out the whole day. Whenever Scott even looked at a storefront fWhip bought - had someone go in and buy - whatever Scott even glanced at. And when Scott even muttered something about being hungry they ended up in the best restaurant in the area with fWhip encouraging him to pick whatever he likes. Was fWhip trying to get Scott to genuinely like him with gifts?

Well. When they were back fWhip was, unlike their first evening in the mood to get to know Scott... closer. And was rather rough in the process. Leaving Scott covered in bites, scratches and bruises. When Scott was sure fWhip just left him to clean himself up he was picked up and gently taken care of. Apparently, fWhip left him to get tea and a warm bath ready. And was more than willing to clean and spoil Scott until he passed out from exhaustion.

And he didn't stop there. No. Scott woke up to breakfast in bed. "Today might be a bit dangerous so you'll be staying home, I can carry you to your room if you'd like," fWhip informed him as he got dressed in an all-black suit. "Someone will bring you all your meals and if you need anything just tell someone and they'll get it," he added as Scott considered how confident he was in his ability to walk after last night.

"Fine, I'll stay at home," Scott pouted. Shocking even himself with how genuinely upset he was fWhip had to go. At least fWhip had the decency to promise he'd be back as soon as possible after he carried Scott the short distance to his room. Amount of guards and other staff present had Scott glad he wrapped himself in a blanket.

A whole day without fWhip was shockingly boring. Scott called his friends and family to assure them he was safe. Just going through some life changes. He avoided giving out too many details just in case. But with that done he had little to do. He reorganised his closet. Bossing fWhip's 'staff' around has provided some amusement.

But by the time the fWhip and his unfairly sexy suit were back, Scott was ready to scream at the 'guards' to tell fWhip he was lonely. At least with fWhip around he wasn't bored. Having hardened criminals scared of him was only fun when he was fWhip's pretty showpiece—not locked in his room.

So of course as soon as fWhip was back Scott jumped him demanding they redo the last night. He did take the offer of it being gentler but after just an hour he was whining and begging for a proper repeat. Who needs gentle when he can have fWhip's tooth marks on him for days after?

#my stuff #my stories #fanfiction #empires smp #empiresshipping #empires fwhip #empires scott #implied smut

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saucy-sassy-sparkly · 1 year

Text

Moments: a 2013 drabble

Pairings: Chris Evans x reader

Word Count: ~2.5k

Warnings: none

Note: Just a little something to tide ya over for a while :) Happy holidays everyone, hoping to have part seven to you after the new year as well as some new things I've been working on AND a return to Flight 1311 that I paused when I started expanding Moments.

Moments Masterlist

2013: DC/Boston/on location

Chris started at his phone, trying to convince himself that if he looked at it hard enough, it would ring. He’d been doing this off and on for the last 15 minutes. If he was honest with himself, he’d been doing it since he woke up. His nerves were frayed, he’d had to cancel two other phone meetings today to have his phone free. But now, it was closing in on 7 pm and it was getting harder to breathe.

“I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“What time?”

“Tomorrow.”

“Y/N, are you going to call?”

“I love you, but I’m hanging up right now. I need to think and I can’t do that when I’m this mad at you.”

He convinced himself to set his phone down long enough to get dinner together. If she’d waited this long, he wouldn’t miss it in the time it took to heat the meal that the nutritionist had prepared. Bumbling around the kitchen he crashed into drawers he left partially open and things fumbled out of his hands. He could hardly see straight; he was so worked up. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t stop himself from glancing at the kitchen island to see if the screen had lit up.

24 hours earlier, he’d woken up in Y/N’s apartment. The weekend he’d envisioned while he stood at Lowe’s and had a spare key made was much different than what had panned out. He’d pictured hugging and giggling and googling interior design changes. He’d pictured making love and whispering sweet nothings while they worked towards this new stage in their relationship.

He had not pictured the argument.

“Chris,” Y/N paced her bedroom, her hands running through her hair, “I just don’t understand how you can think this isn’t a lot to put on me.”

“And I don’t understand why you won’t see that this is the way it has to be!” Chris snapped back. He was sitting on the end of her bed watching her pace back and forth.

“Why is this how it has to be? Because you make more money than me? Because your job is more important than mine? You know I love Lisa, but I don’t want to work at the theater. I want to do my job with my clients and come home to my apartment with my friends. You’re asking me to move my entire life and you want me to do it immediately.”

“I didn’t say any of that other stuff. And I didn’t say immediately.”

Y/N dropped her hands to her sides and they slapped aggressively on her thighs, making a loud smack, “you’re right, you said in 10 weeks when your filming is wrapped and you’re settled back in Boston. Excuse me, that’s not immediately.” Sarcasm dripped off of every word.

“Why is this so awful? I want a future with you, Y/N, and I want it to start as soon as possible.”

“Don’t try to make me the bad guy here because I’m holding my ground.”

“So I’m the bad guy?”

“No one is the bad guy!” She cried while real tears filled her eyes, “This is just so like you. You’re so impulsive and you’re so passionate and fuck if I don’t love both of those things about you but not when it comes to my entire life. You dropped this on me within an hour of being here and then it’s been a cloud over the whole weekend. We get so little time together, Chris, I just wish this could’ve gone differently.” Y/N winced as soon as the words were out of her mouth. She didn’t mean to make it sound like such criticism. This was just so overwhelming. She’d thought this weekend would be a lovefest before he finished out his latest project. She hadn’t anticipated this massive change of plans and she really wasn’t ready to drop her whole life for him.

“Okay, so if you don’t want to move in with me, you could’ve just said no. You don’t have to call me an impulsive passionate bad guy who ruins our time together.” Chris knew he was laying it on thick, but he was hurt. He truly thought Y/N would agree immediately and jump into his arms while they celebrated.

He hadn’t thought about what he was asking her to do. He thought about how it impacted him– she’d said as much the day before and they’d agreed to put a pin in the conversation until now so they could enjoy the time they had.

But now, his flight back home was in three hours, and she hadn’t given him an answer. Rather than admit that he was hurt and sad, he dug his heels in; unfortunately, his girlfriend was equally stubborn.

“Let me be clear,” she came to stand in front of him and he resisted the urge to put his hands on her waist. She was in her short, fuzzy bathrobe and her long legs were calling his name. The belt around her waist was cinched tightly but in her pacing and flailing, her cleavage was more exposed. Chris forced himself to focus on her face. That beautiful face he’d loved for forever. The same one that was crushing him right now as he thought about the rejection she might give him, “I love you, Christopher,” she put her hands on his shoulders and he took the invitation to touch her waist and pull her in between his legs, “and I’m not trying to make you feel bad or to make this seem like I don’t want to live with you. I’m just begging you to see this from my perspective. I love my apartment, I love my job, I love my friends, and I love my life here. To change all of that is a big deal and I need to think about it.”

“So you’re saying no?” He asked quietly.

“I’m saying no right now,” she clarified. “I’m saying no this weekend. But really I’m saying give me time to think it through and figure out what I want.”

Chris nodded. On some level, he did understand that this was a significant life change that she should have the time to process. He’d had the time to think about it and how it would change his life, so he needed to give her that time.

“Can you just let me bring it up again? When I’m ready to talk it through with you, I’ll bring it up. I need you not to push it right now.”

“I can respect that,” he nodded again and gladly accepted the kiss she leaned in to give him.

He had, however, not respected that.

Y/N dropped him at the airport and they said an awkward goodbye by the car; she’d kissed him but they’d both felt the strain. He’d flown home and called her when he got there. The whole flight and drive back with his mom, he’d thought about everything. He had another few days in Boston where he had a few odds and ends to take care of before he went back to location and in the car running errands he’d called her. He’d apologized profusely and she’d been grateful for his understanding.

And yet even with such a productive, mature conversation with his partner, he couldn’t help himself. He’d still said, “So when do you think you’ll have a decision.”

Y/N’s response had been terse and tried to change the subject, asking for him to respect her process.

He’d pushed again, saying, “I just want you here as soon as possible.”

That hadn’t been the right sentiment and had led to her frustration and hanging up and now here he was, standing at the kitchen counter eating boiled chicken and broccoli and hating every bite while he stared at his phone. After he’d finished the plate, rinsed it in the sink, and loaded it in the dishwasher, he came back to the phone to a text notification. Frantically he swiped through the screen to find messages from Y/N.

Y/N: i’m not ready to talk today Y/N: i love you, i’m just really frustrated Y/N: i don’t want to argue with you. it won’t be productive if we talk tonight

Chris wanted to cry. He also wanted to throw his phone across the room as hard as possible. He was mad at Y/N and mad at himself and mad that none of this went the way he’d thought it would.

Chris: ok. i love you. call me when you’re ready

Her replay came quickly: of course, babe 💕

Y/N set her phone on her nightstand and twisted the gem of her sweatshirt— Chris’s sweatshirt— between her fingers. She was so angry with him that she could hardly stand it.

The last six months had been a whirlwind of love and passion. Chris’s energy was contagious and they’d gotten quickly wrapped up in their love. She loved him so fiercely and would be lying if she said it wasn’t what she wanted: moving in, building a real life that wasn’t out of hotel rooms and suitcases, planning for a future together. But it was just so fast. And Chris had a habit of hoping she’d yield to him.

She didn’t think it was intentional and she knew part of it came with the territory. No one does well in Hollywood without a little vanity and selfishness. He was always asking her to travel- often offering to pay and make all the arrangements, but still asking her to come to him. He liked things his way and he liked things on his terms. She usually held her ground and found that it was something he liked about her. Y/N had her own mind and her own passions and she wanted to be heard. She didn’t want to just be his girlfriend. She’d worked too hard in her career, her hobbies, and her friendships to just roll over and let him push.

And he usually respected that. When she punched back, it usually woke him up and they’d talk and find a compromise. But this was huge; they'd never had to compromise on something this significant and life-changing. And he hadn’t thought about her changed at all. It was clear in their conversations about it that he didn’t want his world to change.

Y/N knew that he saw her as more than a bed warmer but it was hard not to feel that way when he’d so cavalierly suggested she move to Boston as casually as one might suggest having pizza instead of sushi for dinner.

If he didn’t see her and think about her perspective in something like this, what about when it came to marriage? Or kids? Or illness? Or jobs? Or any other major life event.

Her heart ached and she reached for her phone. She needed to tell him no. She needed him to understand the weight this put on her. Instead, she let herself scroll through pictures and remember moments in time- their stolen moments as a couple. They didn’t get to just be together. They were always between his locations or her work schedule.

If she moved in with him… they could have Sunday mornings together every weekend. There were plenty of children in need of a good therapist in Boston. She loved his family and hers would love the excuse to travel. If she could make long-distance work with a movie star she could make it work with her friends…

But if she moved she’d have to quit her practice that she loved and set her clients up with other therapists. She’d have to give up her beautiful apartment. She’d have to change her entire life while all he had to do was add her name to the mailbox and make some space in his already spacious closet.

They’d text each day, but between him getting ready to go back to set for the home stretch of filming, and trying to respect Y/N’s request for space, it was four days before Chris’s phone lit up with Y/N’s contact photo.

“Bunny,” he was breathless when he answered the phone; he’d practically sprinted across his rental apartment to snatch it off the counter.

“Hey,” her voice was quiet and Chris’s heart started to thunder in his chest. She was silent for a long moment and then said, “I missed your voice.”

A sigh of relief escaped Chris before he replied, “I missed yours too. How’s it going, honey?”

“I’m ready to talk.”

“Okay,” he was afraid to bring up the move, so he waited for her to continue on her own.

She took a deep breath, “my lease is up May 31.”

He didn’t speak right away and when Y/N didn’t either, he pressed, “that’s in two months.”

“I know,” she paused, “it seems silly to renew my lease if I’m going to end up moving.”

His heart pounded, but he tried to be casual, “so what are you thinking?”

“I want to move in with you,” Y/N’s voice was quiet, “if you’ll still have me.”

“Is it too soon to make jokes? Because I have jokes.”

She laughed, but said, “maybe not quite yet. I know that it's basically the timeline you were thinking of anyway, and it still feels really fast to me. I’ve been trying to think of a way to do this without rushing in and I only have two ideas. One: I find a place and rent it. I can sign a short lease and find a job and we can be nearby and see how that goes.”

Chris could deal with that. Of course, he wanted her at his house. He’d sell this house and find another home with her if that’s what she wanted. He would live in a tent in the woods for the rest of his life if it meant he got to be with her. But he held his breath while she kept talking.

“Option two is all in. I sell or give away most of my stuff, I don’t re-up my lease, I quit my job and start sending my resume to clinics up there.”

“Do you want me to listen or give my opinion?”

Y/N grinned, forgetting he couldn’t see her, “what a perfect response.”

“Well, which do you want?” He was practically panting he was so worked up.

“I want your opinion. Do you think it's smart to go all in or should we try living in the same zip code first? Or should we just for it?”

He tried not to rush his words but they came tumbling out fairly quickly nonetheless, “All in. Please." The prolonged silence made sweat prickle on his hairline. She'd asked for his opinion but she was now silent and he could hear the rustle of her movement on the other end of the line. Chris's phone started to vibrate in his hand and he saw that Y/N was requesting to switch to FaceTime; he accepted quickly and rested her on a pillow next to him.

"Hey, handsome," she cooed, her cozy set up by the window of her apartment back in place, her hair in a messy bun on her head, and her beautiful body wrapped in his sweatshirt. "I needed to see your face."

"You're killing me here, Bun," he admitted, trying to grin but knowing it was more a grimace.

She played coy, "why?"

"Y/N," he said quickly-- a rare occurrence, he seldom called her by her full name. "Come on."

"What, babe?" She was trying and failing to resist giggling and grinning. He wanted to settle his mind: he needed to hear her say it.

"What about the move?"

"Oh that," she took a long sip from the mug she was holding and took her time setting it on the windowsill before turning back to the camera. "I already told my landlord that I'm not renewing my lease."

Chris held his breath, "really?"

"I'm all in, too, Chris."

Taglist: @bellaireland1981 @before-we-get-started @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @elrw244 @maylaysia109 @royalwritersoftheuniverses

#chrisevans #chris evans x you #chris evans x reader #chris evans fic #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans fanfic #chris evans #chris evans drabble #chris evans series

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starstuddeddsky · 2 years

Text

Shall We?

gn reader x chan

summary: having a crush on your best friend made everything more complicated. would you be able to tell him how you felt, or will you be stuck in this limbo forever?

genre: fluff, tiny bit of angst, university au, sports au, non idol au

warnings: none, inaccurate soccer, both main characters are dumb?

wc: 6.3k

title: Shall We? - CHEN

“Are you finished yet?”

Seungkwan laughed. “All I’m saying is that I have been saying that you have been in love with him for years.”

“I take offense to that.”

Seungkwan patted me on the back. “Don’t you think you’re being a little dramatic?”

“I have been friends with Chan my entire life,” I said, raising myself from the cushion. “I think it’s worth being dramatic over.”

“What if it were me? And we were fighting and you were worried we would never be friends again?”

“Ew, gross,” I said automatically. “No offense, but I’d be glad to be rid of you.”

“No one,” I mumbled.

“That’s what I thought.” Seungkwan sounded smug. “Now, I’m going to assume confessing is out of the question?”

“Don’t even joke about it,” I hugged the pillow against my chest.

Seungkwan whipped his phone out, snapping a picture. “Sorry, I’ve literally never seen you this vulnerable, and I’m going to need blackmail at some point.”

“You are the worst, I gave you the best blackmail in the world, do you really need a picture, too?”

“Oh, yn, I can never have enough blackmail.” Not for the first time, I was scared of Seungkwan.

“Can’t you just give me advice?” I asked. “Weren’t you known for being the love doctor or whatever in high school?”

“You’re worthless,” I said, sliding onto the floor.

“Wow, I was just about to offer you food as compensation,” Seungkwan sighed.

“Did I ever tell you that you are my best friend in the entire world?”

It technically wasn’t a lie, but all I did was I sit in my dorm, staring at the door, watching the seconds pass by one at a time. I wondered if he would even notice if I wasn’t there.

“Don’t you have to go?” My roommate asked. “The game starts in like five minutes.”

When I didn’t answer, she said, “You’re usually at every game like half an hour early. Is everything okay?”

I shrugged. “I’m that predictable?”

She smiled. “Did you and Chan fight?”

“No, nothing like that!” I paused. “Wait, why did you ask about Chan?”

“You’re going to be late,” she said, turning back to her desk.

I was torn between questioning exactly why she thought something happened between me and Chan or going to the game. I decided going to the game would at least involve less conflict.

“Usually it’s just, like, ‘let’s get this done,’ or repeating something coach said about the other team,” he said. “But every once in a while it’s something dumb.”

“Like what?”

“Like jokes and bets between us,” he said, taking a sudden interest in the forks at the restaurant. We had gone out to eat after they lost their first game of the season.

“What was it today?”

He shrugged, shoving the food on his plate around. “Nothing interesting.”

1-1

The lower the time got, the more desperate each team was. We somehow still held control of the ball for two full minutes, still unable to get a shot off.

I had given up on paying attention to the match. The second half ended with the score still tied but all I could think of was Chan, suffering alone.

I decided I would at least rather see that he was alive. I knocked once then opened the door.

I waved, looking for Chan. He was laying on one of the tables on his stomach shirtless, wires hooked up to something on his back covered by ice packs, his eyes closed, looking like he was asleep.

“Is he okay?” I asked softly.

“Oh he’s fine,” she answered. “And he’s not sleeping, I don’t know who he thinks he’s fooling.” His eyes flicked open and he glared at her.

I pulled a chair next to his table, leaning against the side. Chan’s arm only a few inches away from mine.

“Did we win?” He asked before I had a chance to say anything.

“That’s seriously all you want to know? You’re not even going to tell me if you’re okay?”

“That’s not an answer.”

“Fine,” I said, “I have no idea, it went into overtime so I came here.” He was silent. “Are you okay?“ I asked again.

He let out a dramatic sigh. “I got the wind knocked the fuck out of me. Seriously, I’ve been hit before but that hurt. You need to check my chest for shoulder marks later.”

“What’s this?” I asked, brushing my fingers lightly on the wires, trying not to think about brushing them against the bare skin of his back.

“Do you think it’s over yet?” He asked, breaking the silence that lasted for nearly a minute.

“You could have gotten seriously hurt and you’re still more worried about the game? Are you sure you didn’t hit your head?”

“Hey I am concussion free!” Chan said. “She did the test and everything. I just- I want to know if we won or not! It’s important that we don’t lose to assholes that body slam people!”

He was right, but I had known Chan for too long. He was lying.

“That was playoffs!”

“We were up by four goals!”

I opened my mouth to argue back, but he was right. I was different now. I just didn’t have the guts to tell him why.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I know I’m not always the best friend to you.”

I could feel all of my courage crumbling as I looked back at him, dark eyes filled with an emotion I couldn’t decipher. I felt like he could see right through me.

I peeked at Chan and he was frowning. Not my best metaphor. “I’m trying to say that I don’t like who I am without you. You mean everything to me.”

“You mean a lot to me, too,” he said slowly.

I groaned. “You’re not getting it! I’m trying to tell you that I like you, Chan!”

He quiet for a moment. “Yn, did you just confess to me while I’m laying on a table after being knocked out?”

“When you put it like that…” I stared at my hands. So that’s what I felt like to ruin everything.

“Yn.”

I wondered if I could successfully vanish, maybe start a new life raising sheep in Mongolia.

“Hey,” Chan said, reaching his hand out to brush against my cheek. “You’re an idiot.”

“I feel so much better,” I said, burying my face in my hands. “Thank you for that.”

“I take it back, I feel nothing,” I said, standing up.

He laughed, that stupid, infectious laugh that never failed to make me smile, reaching out and catching my hand. “Can you give me like five seconds to at least be sitting upright?”

I nodded, still facing the door so that he couldn’t see my smile.

“I might need some help, actually,” Chan said after a moment. “This stuff is kinda stuck to my back.”

“You’re not going to check for shoulder marks?” He asked. He was probably batting his eyes and pretending to be innocent.

I glanced him over, trying hard to force my eyes past his bare chest, then tossed his shirt at him. “Shoulder mark free.”

“Are you sure, because you didn’t look very hard and-”

“Oh my god, Chan, just put on the shirt!”

“Yn,” he said softly, running his thumbs over my knuckles. “I had a whole plan of how I was going to tell you how I felt. We’d go to that cafe, or sometimes I planned it for the library, and once I even planned to try to tell you on the field. None of them worked because every time I saw you I couldn't figure out a way to get the words in my heart out so that you could hear them.” He held my gaze and I knew he wasn’t lying. I hadn’t lasted a week with these feelings. How had Chan been able to stand it?