#not that I didn’t notice this all before I’m just paying more attention to marty as a character | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

80s4life · 3 years

Text

The Wolf In Sheep’s Clothing

Word Count: 4,438

Status: Not Requested

Fandom: Back To The Future 1985

Relationship: Biff Tannen x Female Reader

Summary: As time is altered for a total of 2 weeks (I extended it slightly), you and Marty struggle to get his parents under control, having problem after the next. But, when an unexpected solution occurs, you find yourself willingly okay with it, soon finding the exact reason as to why.

Warnings: language, fluff, Biff being a dick, slight angst, cute Biff

Masterlist Back To The Future Masterlist

Prompts: (from this list @youneedsomeprompts)

Y/C/S= Your Choice of Sport/ Your Chosen Sport (you don’t have to honestly play one, just choose one you like or one that comes to mind)

{gif and prompts are not mine, gif credits go to @backtothefuturemovies and credits were given above for prompts!}

No one ever said time travel was fun. No one ever said the job was easy. And no one sure as hell told you the consequences that come with it. Well, at least not before you, and your best friend, Marty McFly, had gone dead-on through a barn, sacred a neighboring family of ‘alien invasion,’ run into younger McFly parents, and altered time just enough to fuck you over for a few days.

I mean, who would’ve guessed right? Your mom just so happens to be romantically interested in you, their child. Well, that was at least in Marty’s case. For you, you had just managed to run into the biggest dickhead of the century, Biff Tannen. Or so you thought?

Making your way out of bed, you automatically go to where Marty was sleeping in the garage, waking him along with Doc up. The go-to plan for the day was to go undercover as usual students in the 50′s, secretly following Marty’s parents around, finding out where they lie in this part of time, and try to find ways into manipulating them together once more in time for Marty and you to get back home. Easy enough, right?

Groaning, Marty goes to slap your hands away weakly, mumbling something along the lines of ‘Just a few more minutes.’ You giggle slapping his hands back in an attempt to wake him up cheerily. Mornings weren’t really your forte either, so any upbeat wake-up is better than a pissy, tired, horrible morning.

Doc, on the other hand, was happy to return the affection, getting out of bed to give a quick hug and kiss to the forehead. Then he makes his way over to the bed, going to tickle Marty’s feet as you go to tickle his sides. Finally, in a fit of laughter, Marty gets up and goes straight for the bathroom. You were going to argue him, having to use the bathroom first, but decide to just leave it be, heading for the makeshift kitchen instead.

You smile fondly as Doc and Marty play around a while later, wrestling about, cracking jokes. It was only just a few hours ago that you and Marty had witnessed the untimely death of the currently very lively man in the house. Witnessing the blood loss, the machine gun in action, and the bullets that whizzed pass with only one malicious intent: to kill. But he’s here now; he’s safe and sound, having many years until that date will arrive.

With the freshly cooked smell of eggs, toast, and pancakes, the boys straighten up, Doc clearing his throat in an attempt to organize himself, and Marty leaving his shirt ruffled as he follows the smell of deliciousness. You giggle as both men of different ages act exactly the same, piling their plates high and digging in, giving thanks through mouthfuls.

///LATER///

After breakfast had finished, you and Marty made your way to the school, not wanting to be late, and, quite frankly, not wanting to miss a second in the disaster we’re in, wanting to fix it as soon as possible. Upon entering, the building erupts in laughter, tears, screaming, perfume, cologne, aftershave, and lots and lots of both testosterone and estrogen. Fucking high school, you smile.

Going to “your locker” right besides “Marty’s,” you both place the books and supplies that are unneeded inside it and take only the things you need for the first two classes, somehow having those together. As Marty catches glimpse of his father, George McFly, he winks at you, moving to catch up to him. Rolling your eyes playfully, you turn back towards your locker, just barely missing a group of young men some ways down the hallway, locking eyes with a particularly taller man, towering almost everyone in the halls.

You pay no mind, however, being blindsided by three girls your age. Instantly, you recognize the one right in front as Lorraine, Marty’s mother. Smiling nervously, your cheeks tint only a little, being unprepared to see her so quickly, not yet having a plan made up on how you could help tackle the situation with Marty.

“Hiya! I’ve never seen you before, are you new here? I’m Lorraine Baines, and you are?” she asks cheerfully, her books clasped tightly to her chest.

Taking an obnoxiously long time staring dumbfounded, you finally realize you haven’t spoken, quickly recovering with newfound purpose and confidence, “Ah, yes! I am new here! Sorry, I’m just trying to get used to this place a tiny bit. I’m Y/N Y/L/N.”

“Well that’s quite alright, you can come with us!” she says once more in a cheery tone, taking you by the arm and lacing her arm around yours, locked elbows. You smiled, knowing exactly where Marty’s cheerful and people-person nature had come from. Walking down the halls, she had asked for my schedule, checking classes to see what we had together, “English, History, and Agriculture- Hey! You should try out for cheer leading!”

Shaking your head lightly, “Nah, I’m more of a Y/C/S myself to be frank.”

“But...We don’t have that sport here? There are no girls sports at all actually...” Lorraine says confused. You go to cover it up, choosing to say it was a sport you play for fun at home, in the backyard. However, a beefy arm separates you momentarily from her, as the owner of the harm moves to pin her to the lockers.

You were going to walk away, figuring it was some sort of make-out session in the works, but upon looking at her before going, you notice that the man was absurdly unwanted.

“Get your meathooks off me Biff!” she screams at the man, his huge form towering her much smaller one. Not taking the message, the pair continue to squabble, neither of them being successful in winning. The warning bell sounds over the halls and classrooms, alarming kids to get their asses moving, but it seems whoever this dick is, he feels he is greater than the school, and god forbid, knowledge.

“Hey, you do realize your not making a damn bit a difference, right? She’s not interested! And, quite frankly, it seems as if no one does! Now, if you don’t mind, could you please be kind enough to unhand her as some of us treasure a piece of mind and how to take a hint?” you finish, quite ticked off as the last bell warns, cursing under your breath as you already know your in for detention on the first day.

It finally seems that he’d caught a grip, thankfully, letting go of Lorraine’s arm and she quickly scurries out of his proximity, taking your hand to lead you to the class you both needed to be in. As you go to walk in, you are stopped by the teacher, scolding both you and Lorraine. Looking at her regrettably, she smiles defeated. So you decide to do what’s right, take the fall.

“I’m sorry sir, I didn’t know where to go as I was trying to find where all of my classes were before I ended up lost every time classes switch. I caught up to Lorraine here at some point, and as she was hurrying to this class, she was kind enough to show me where I needed to be,” you finish, sighing guiltily.

“Well, as you’ve taken acknowledgment to your mistake, then you’d be just as happy with detention. After school, on Friday, as the first week is extremely busy. As for you, Miss Baines, thank you for your help. You are off the hook for now,” the older gentleman finishes, nodding to each of you personally before turning around and beginning just one of the classes you’d have today. This is going to be fun!

///LATER///

Finally, after grueling hours of just a few of your classes, lunchtime had came round, giving you a slight break. Catching sight of Lorraine, you smile and wave, going in the direction of Marty, or Calvin Klein, as you’d heard Lorraine go on and on about. You’d known it was him the second she’d said it, the brand not yet known to man yet; or at least in this timeline, it wasn’t.

As time had went on, it was only natural for the peace to be broken, as a newly familiar face was starting to appear more and more, Biff Tannen, as you’d known his name by now. But, instead of heading towards Lorraine, he makes his way over to the table you were residing with George and Marty, sitting himself right beside you.

At first, you were trying to ignore him, knowing his presence was there, but keeping your eyes trained on either Marty or George, eyes dancing between the two. Biff, being the everlasting child he was, tried to catch you attention, trying stupid ass things after the other: kicking your shins, pulling your ears of hair, flicking your head, and even trying to tug on the 50′s style dress you’d been forced to wear to play your part.

Only when he goes to tug your hair once more is when you finally snap, turning a furious glare to the hulking figure beside you, shoving his shoulder in a feeble attempt to create distance. He giggles at this, his body not moving an inch at all. “You can’t be serious right now! You don’t know when to quit it, do you?!” you scream, fed up with his shit.

“Well, if you’d give me the human decency of turning your head when I’m trying to talk to you, then I wouldn’t have to pester you, now would I?” he asks in a teasing tone, no doubt taunting you, but all you do is stare him down, getting lost in a staring contest, daring him to say something again. “Alls I wanted to say was that we have detention together. Just thought I’d let you know since you got me in all that trouble this morning.”

“Why you-!” And with that, he gets up with a shit-eating grin plastered to his face, prancing out of view and back to the table he and his gang usually sit. Watching the whole interaction, George smirks at Marty, the pair giving an unspoken mutual agreement to whatever they had both caught on to, bursting into fits of laughter moments later.

“You have a longer tolerance than I do, I-I-I’ll tell you that much,” George says, his usual slight stutter back in place, Marty laughing once more. As George joins in again, you couldn’t fight it either, giving into the childish antics.

///LATER///

To say your week had gotten any better than the first day was a lie. It hadn’t gotten any better, and your meetings with Biff at lunch had only gotten all the more common and all the more infuriating. He’d made it his duty to agitate you in any ways possible, even resulting in whispering something nagging in your ear when you weren’t paying attention, usually doing something in your locker.

Either way, he was on the countdown to Friday, it being constantly on his mind, mentally counting down the days, hours, minutes, and even seconds until the two of you were locked in a room alone.

Unfortunately, that day had seemed to come way faster than you’d like, Friday rolling around quite quickly. School had finished, and you were making your way to the front office, awaiting a tiring 2 hours with only yourself and Biff as company for the time being. You hadn’t known where the room was, and instead of spending time looking for it, you gave up and looked for the office instead, the nice front desk lady leading you where you needed to go.

Upon entering the room, there was Biff in his prime, casually spread across his chair, legs crossed atop his desk nearest the windows. Sighing, you ignore him, deciding to sit on the opposite side of him, the front desk lady giving you a sympathetic smile before she closes the door behind her. You look at the wall, head turned away from him like the plague.

You knew it’d only last so long until he’d speak, the time coming way faster than you pleased. Given it was Friday, you couldn’t even do homework or even study in order to block him out as he started to blabber, running his mouth over stupid shit once more. Inhaling through your nose, and exhaling through your mouth slowly, you straighten in your seat, hands clutching the desk so tight, your fists turned white.

“Biff, Sweetheart, Baby, Doll Face, Hun. Please. PLEASE. Shut up for five god damn seconds. I know you truly have nothing to say, so why do you insist on speaking so much?” you finally say, hands prying off the desk to turn in his direction exasperated.

“Well, if you’d just talk to me, Shortcake, I wouldn’t have much to say at random,” he answers, copying your actions and posture. With this change in childish demeanor, you give in, laughing at him in an unexpected rush, running your hands through your hair tiredly.

Although you hadn’t seen it, he’d smiled in satisfaction upon seeing you laugh, the glitter in your eyes much more captivating than it ever was when he looked at Lorraine. He hadn’t barely pestered her since you’d barreled into his life. It was weird, but he welcomed it with open arms. And for the first time, he learned what it was like to have an actual, clammy-handed, closed throat, warm, cheek-tinted, teenage crush. A crush that left his heartbeat loud and fast, breathing ragged and uneven, and his behavior out of character and out of his control. Lorraine was way under whatever level he’d placed you on, holding you up on a pedestal like you were the sun or sky.

Of course, you hadn’t taken notice to his antics, just thinking he was annoying. Just Biff being his notorious self. But, as you finally calm your breathing down, the giggles fading, you decide to give him a chance, knowing that sitting in silence is just going bore you. Smiling warmly, you say, “So what do you want to talk about then?”

///LATER///

Grabbing your bag, you get out of your seat, giggling at a story Biff had told you. He follows your lead as well, getting his own as he lets out a bark of laughter at a certain part. You guys looked like idiots as you shoved each other down the halls, making your way out of the school as your detention had came to a close. Sighing as the warm sun radiated on your skin with the light, spring breeze, you stretch out any kinks the classroom chairs and desks had left. Biff watched you intently, your small body easily swallowed by his shadow beside you.

The sun was setting and it was getting late, although you weren’t concerned. The boys knew you wouldn’t be home ‘til late due to the detention you had initially despised. Now, you and Biff were side by side, walking peacefully to his car in the school’s parking lot. For once, he was quiet, great company to have. It was something else for sure, but you enjoyed it. As you came up towards Doc’s place, you’d realized that Biff had drove you home like a gentleman, too lost in the conversation to notice earlier on.

Sheepishly, you itch the back of your neck, realizing your mistake and feeling guilty for making him walk all this way to now have to walk all the way home. “Ah- Sorry...I didn’t realize I’d dragged you all the way out here. Now you have to drive all the way back.”

“It’s no problem, really. I liked it. It’s nice to talk to someone other than the guys every now and then. And to have A female speak to me instead of screaming,” he answers, now being the one who is a bit shy.

“You do know that you bring that on yourself right?” you say teasingly, now leaning your head on your hands, propped up on the passenger side door. “Not every girl would want to kick you in the groin if you showed a little more respect, “ you finish off with a smile.

“Yeah...Yeah I know. I’ll try harder, I swear.”

“That’s all I ask,” you say with a wink, drumming your hands on the door as you take a step back, waving as you start walking down Doc’s driveway.

“Hey!” Biff calls from the car, stopping you in your tracks to turn around, facing him with a smile. “Uhm- Well- The Enchantment Under the Sea Dance is coming up next week...Would you mind being my date?” he asks, stuttering as he feels his cheeks heat up, nervous as hell.

“I’d love to!” you answer, turning back around to walk into the house. Biff does a little fist bump as he puts the car back in gear, excited for what is to come.

///

Marty was a little less than amused with this newfound knowledge once entering the door and going over the events of the day. It was only when Doc had suggested that the date with Biff would keep him away from Lorraine, giving George the freeway to attract her long enough for their True Love’s Kiss. Then, and only then, did Marty give the okay, shaking his head, but liking the fact that it’ll give George some time, being the nerd that you know and love.

///Enchantment Under the Sea Dance///

Checking yourself over in the mirror for the final time, you let out a nervous yet satisfied sigh, feeling like an absolute princess. You never minded dresses too much, although you couldn’t deny the fact that normal pair of shorts, jeans, or even leggings were your first choice. All that mattered was that you liked the dress you were wearing, it fit you; it was your favorite color, length, and strap(less) type to hold everything in.

Walking out, you grab the pair of heels to match, knowing that you couldn’t get away with sneakers in this generation, painfully grimacing at the reminder. Finally standing, you recount when you had gotten the dress just a few days ago, having gone with Lorraine and the her two friends, Babs and Betty. They were very endearing and supportive the whole time, you not having to worry about being “to picky” as they were just the same. You ended up loving the dress given that you’d taken the time without pressure.

As you walked into the main room of the garage, you heard a low whistle of Marty, Doc slapping him on the back of the head for it. Giggling, you curtsy and spin in the dress. Doc, the gentleman he always was, compliments you, “You look amazing, my dear. Let’s hope this boy deserves it, hmm?”

As an answer, you hug him tightly, knowing that, by the end of the night, he will be nothing but a dead man at home, in a lonely, dark parking lot. Your eyes tear up just at the mere thought of it, clutching him tighter. Marty seems to be on the same wavelength, going to interrupt the moment with great urgency, trying to pass him a piece of paper.

“Marty, if this has anything that involves my future, do not. And I repeat, DO NOT try to hand it to me. Whatever happens, happens young man. That’s how the world works,” he says in a warning tone. You wanted to disagree, but you knew the truth that was laced beneath it, as if it was a punishment. You whimper instead, pulling him in tighter; Marty looking down in defeat, soon switching to anger. In the midst of it, he storms out of the garage, getting in the car to go pick up who you’d hope was Lorraine for the dance.

“Just let him go...” you start, sadness evident, “He’s just not very happy with the outcome of what the future has in store for you. Quite frankly, neither am I.”

“I’m sure whatever the outcome is, that I wanted to go with it, dear. I assure you, I’m fine,” Doc answers in a consoling tone, wiping the tears that had slipped from your eyes. You knew it was just a mask, no one wants death, but you knew he needed to go no matter how much you hated it. So you nod, not having to say much more as a honk sounds from outside.

“That’s Biff...”

“Have a great time! Make sure the McFlys kiss!” Doc screams, following out of the garage, scolding Biff from behind you.

“Yes sir!” you scream back, saluting him as you take a seat in the passenger.

///

“You look beautiful Y/N,” Biff says after a while, finally working up the courage to speak.

“Thank you Biff. And you look handsome yourself,” you giggle, the car pulling into the lot.

He shuts the engine, grabbing his keys from the ignition and closing the door, making his way around to you as you let yourself out to straighten yourself out. He takes your hand as he leads you to the entrance of the dance, you sighing in relief as you catch a glimpse of Marty pulling up in a car with Lorraine. Finally, you relax, grasping on Biff a little lighter and with more meaning now as you have the night to yourselves. He smiles down at you as you wrap your arm within his, something Lorraine does with you quite often.

With the party in full blast, you let loose with the music, dancing and joking around with Biff. At some point, however, he says he needs a drink and will be right back. Although, he doesn’t seem to actually come back. You’d thought you’d seen him spiking the punch just as few moments ago.

Just as you were going to in the direction of the hallways to the rest of the school, you notice Match, one of Biff’s friends, storming out of the gym through an exit. Taking your bets, you follow behind him, soon being greeted by a huge commotion of screams, all of them from familiar people. Biff was in a car with Lorraine, her dress pulled and taken off in parts. He was no doubt about to do something stupid, the fact pissing you off, saddening you in some ways as well.

The others that were screaming were also George and Marty, the pair trying to get Biff to stop before he regrets it. He doesn’t listen, unfortunately, until your voice booms over the rest, “Biff!”

His head snaps instantly in your direction, the situation dawning on him the instant he looks at your face. You hadn’t meant to portray your emotions so clearly, but your face had shown such distraught and hurt. He lied. He had gotten over Lorraine, yet the moment she was alone, he runs right back to her.

With his momentary change of focus, George finally steps in, “You get your filthy hands off of her!” finishing with a blow to the jaw that knocks Biff off balance.

Marty looks to you sadly, but tries to smile in cheers as George and Lorraine leave together, motioning that he was going to follow them just in case. You nod, looking down now as your play with your fingers. You didn’t know what to do now as the only reason you were really here was for Biff. You weren’t needed for Lorraine and George, you knew Marty had it.

You decide to make your way home then, as there was nothing else you could do. Dances were just drags anyway, nothing worth while. “Your just going to leave? Just like that?” asks a deep voice, his body having gotten back off the pavement and stood by the car he was pinned against.

Without turning, you answer his question with another, “Why not? There’s nothing left here for me is there?”

“And why wouldn’t there be?” Biff asks once more, no doubt ticking you off at his usual teasing tone.

“Well, let’s see. You. You asked me to the dance as your plus one. I came here as your date. We have a good time, we dance, we talk, and then you come up with an ‘Oh I need a drink’ charade, not returning. Then, I come to find my date in the parking lot, about to get his licks in on a woman he was apparently over with! So tell me, what is left here for men here, Biff?” you finish, tears pooling your eyes over the time, although you don’t let the fall, keeping them there.

He looks guilty, you can see it, but you don’t care. Your not in the wrong this time. But, as your blood starts to cool down, you do notice the look in his eyes, the change in his demeanor, and the utter remorse that has overcome him. He has his head down, fists clenched at his sides, body stock still. He doesn’t know what to do, all he knows is that he’d fucked up.

“Or was this your fabulous way of telling me that you love me?” you finally ask, eyes moving to look up at him in a teasing manner.

He hadn’t expected you to speak, head snapping up to meet your gaze in confusion. Being as you’d looked at him with a glint in your eyes, he finally lets everything click together; you’d forgiven him. His face heats up in bashfulness however, as your words resonated within him as well, hand going to itch the back of his neck again.

You giggle, walking up to him now, hands going to his collar. Pulling him down, he gazes at you in amazement, his own hands falling to rest on your waist. Then, you crash your lips to his, pulling him ever closer. It takes him a moment to get the hang of it, soon pulling you closer to himself as well. Lifting you slightly, he sets you on the hood of his car, the height difference a definite stretch for him. But he wouldn’t have it any other way, you were perfect. Just the same as he was perfect for you.

#biff tannen x reader #bttf #back to the future #biff tannen imagine #bttf imagine #back to the future imagine #thomas f. wilson #crispin glover #george mcfly #christopher lloyd #dr. emmett brown #doc brown #doc #michael j. fox #marty mcfly #lea thompson #lorraine baines

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wizkiddx · 3 years

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was thinking for toms most recent ig story it sounds like hes working out early everyday, what if u did a blurb where the reader does it with his and its like best friend --> something else ? sounded like a you type of story, id love if you gave it a go ❤️💕

oohkay so sorry this lit just came through this evening and I suddenly got v stupidly into it (if u put in a req before that I promise I am working on it I just got way to invested cos this is stupidly cute) xxxx

summary: what starts off as tom taking you under his wing and some sunrise workouts together might just develop into something more

“It shouldn’t be legal…. to be doing anything… this fucking early!” Spoken, well yelled, in between the fake strokes of the exercise bike and your pants. All you got in response was the two men laughing at you, no sign of sympathy at all, as your gritted your teeth - fighting against every body instinct to stop the movements. Your heart was pumping like the clappers; breathing shallow and rushed and your arms… your arms felt like they were about to fall off. Combine that with the lack of sleep from waking up before the sun did at 5 am - meant you felt like your were in literal hell.

Why ever you’d agreed to do these workouts with Tom and Duffy escaped you. Being the new and rising actress, with a new supporting role in the next Spiderman, meant you’d spent a lot of time with Tom over the past few weeks. Not to inflate his ego either, but Tom had been a real life hero to you. See, you were the complete opposite of his experienced and seasoned professionalism - this was your first acting gig. And what a gig it was, the second biggest part in a Marvel movie. You never really believed you’d get the part and even when you did, were pretty sure it was some elaborate joke, where Ant and Dec were going to jump out from some corner and go ‘ha its a prank!’ or something.

Yet somehow it was all still happening, you had been flown halfway across the world to spend three months alone on a film set. Well obviously not alone, but you knew no one - you were a complete outsider. That, really, was the reason you’d agreed to do these sessions with Tom. He’d offered half heartedly while between takes as you were moaning about how out of breath you got in that scene. At that point, you’d only known each other for a matter of weeks, he really hadn’t expected you to commit to 5 am each and every morning. What he wasn’t aware of though, was how ocmplerly stranded and lonely you felt here, hence why you jumped at his offer.

And yes you loved to moan and complain when you were there, however you were also so incredibly thankful he ever offered. Duffy, Tom’s PT, was a right laugh too and he took great joy in torturing you - and was also entertained by the new and inventive ways you’d insult him after he ordered you about.

“Come on Y/n, 200m more and then we are done, even your little arms can survive that.”

“Really … not the encouragement… I was looking for.” Still panting, face bright red and blotchy as you pressed your legs straight again.

“Tom? You wanna help Y/n out?”

“Nah you know… kind of enjoying seeing her in pain.” The British voice laughed from somewhere behind you, making you roll your eyes.

“Why the hell… are you not… torturing him?” He sounded way to comfortable and relaxed to be working hard.

“He’s got a stunt heavy day today so wanted to go easy this morning.”

Now that was a bloody joke. You were BOTH filming the SAME scene today, doing the SAME stunts.

“Did I forget to mention Y/n is on set too?” The joy in Tom’s voice made you want to do horrible things to him. Even though you felt like you wanted to collapse on the floor, you’d happily do a set or two on a punch bag right now - if that punch bag was Tom’s face.

Before you could hurl some fresh abuse at your costar, Duffy called time on the rowing machine, turning the display off and passing your water bottle over as you slouched on the slidey seat.

“Done good Y/n/n, I am actually super impressed with your progress” The stocky man patted you on the back genuinely, bringing a bit of smile to your otherwise grimacing face. He went over the chat to Tom about some boy shit that you couldn’t care less about, allowing you a couple minutes to get your breath back. As soon as you did and tried to dismount the machine of death, your ruined legs seemed to have other plans, shakily buckling so you ended up starfished on the floor, groaning at the dull ache that came with the sudden movement.

And what show of concern did Duffy show you? A belly laugh that echoed round Toms indoor gym making you groan again, throwing your forearm over your eyes. It was in fact the curly haired brunette, who came and knelt by your side, wordlessly balling up the towel and placing it under your head as you shot your eyes open in shock.

“You okay? Sorry… I might’ve taken our friendly competition a bit too far.”

“I just… just might have to gain the power of flight this afternoon cos my legs aren’t gonna bloody work.” Tom chuckled and shook his head at your dry humour.

“Oh I’m sure we can talk to Jon and get that arranged… not like Marvel don’t spend years crafting the script and storyline for a newbie actor to change it all.”

“Might I remind you… they wouldn’t have to if your weren’t such a dickhead!” You exclaimed, sitting up and staring at him with an exasperated look than only made him burst out laughing again.

“I’m sorry I’m sorry… I just cant take you seriously when you look like such a tomato!” His voice went an octave higher as he laughed at himself, the situation getting even worse for you when you heard Duffy join in too.

The boy was bloody lucky you couldn’t lift your arms right now, otherwise they’s almost certainly be attempting to ruin his pretty boy face.

/////////////////////////////

After a long day of shooting you and Tom were in one of the set buggies, being taken back to your trailers to change for the evening. There was a peaceful silence until Tom ruined it yet again.

“ Got any fancy plans for this evening then?”

“Well you know me, back to my lonely little old place and frozen pizza - so living the movie star life.”

“It’s a Friday! You not going out with your team or anything?” He sounded so bemused at your quiet plans, and mention of a ‘team’ had you cocking your head to the side.

“‘My team?’ Tom until I get my movie star pay check I can barely afford my pizzas, never mind a whole persons wage.” You were still only three weeks into filming and although you spent an hour every other morning sweating your ass off with Tom - apart from that you’d tried not to impose yourself on him too much. You didnt want to look clingy and naturally Tom always had a mountain of people vying for his attention - you would go to the back of a long line. So honestly, you were still a bit of a mystery to him, right now you’d both only scratched the surface on each other.

“Really? I know this is your first big job but I thought you’d have someone here?”

“Nah… I mean I’ve kinda clung to the Marty on the camera crew but he’s going to see family tonight sooo.”

“Come back to mine. I’ve swapped Harry for his twin Sam, which is a bit of an upgrade cos Sam’s a chef. He just arrived last night. I bet he can one up any pizza you were planning on.”

“Honestly I don’t want to impose, sorry I didnt mean for this to be a pity party or-“ The buggy slowed to a stop and Tom instantly vaulted out of it, standing right infront of you and blocking you exist off the back sofa. Both of you were still in costume, Tom in latex and you in your corset-esque two piece, but then both wrapped in matching long line black jackets supplied by set.

“No come on I’m serious… Sam’s dying to meet you and it’d be good to spend more time together. You know, cos of chemistry and all.” The last bit was a switch from his cool and smooth, normally easy going tone - into something a bit more… anxious? Just like that, before your brain even knew what it was doing, you agreed, smiling broadly and nodding.

So barely an hour later, you were knocking on the doors to Tom’s mansion-ish rented Atlanta home which was much much more grand than what the studio had arranged for you. Even though you were here most mornings, this time it felt different. Yeh it was stupid, but you can’t help the way you feel and you were stressed. For no real reason… just, just because.

Thankfully, it wasn’t awkward at all and you especially instantly hit it off with his younger brother Sam. Everything just felt easy and simple which meant so much more considering you’d felt so isolated an alone halfway across the world for your home comforts. Being British too, simply chatting to the two young men about your hometown and growing up was just so familiar, it really helped you feel less homesick. Naturally too, you’d fallen into a casual and friendly ribbing of Tom with Sam, making the three of you spend to majority of the evening cracking up (or in Tom’s case pouting at the abuse). It was a nice change from the two on one attack you got from Tom and Duffy that morning. You’d all cooked dinner together… well no, you and Tom had stood idly watching Sam cook an amazing chicken curry dish - which he promised to give you the recipe too. Honestly Sam felt like your long lost best friend, especially when it came to your shared ability to berate Tom for anything and everything.

About an hour ago Tom had stuck on the film, effectively shutting up you and Sam - thankfully for him since Sam was just about to get to some rather embarrassing stories of Tom as a kid. You and Tom were on the longer grey sofa; with Sam sat the other side of the coffee table in an impressively soft armchair - looking as though it was swallowing the lanky boy. The calm, the silence and the comfort was only going to go one way for you though. After your workout this morning, plus all the running and jumping during the shoot, after what had already been a pretty intense week, it was hardly surprising that you didn’t even notice yourself drifting off the sleep.

Who did notice though? Perhaps your brown haired costar who’d been stealing glances across to you ever since the movie had been put on? Because as much as he hated to admit it to himself, this didnt seem to be panning out as a normal job. A normal job is something you put your all into, for a couple weeks, and then leave with good memories and a good pay check. Yes, he had only known your for a matter of weeks or so but it already seemed to be unfathomable to cut ties with you. How would he go without your kind mannered abuse everyday? You were just refreshing, new and mysterious. And Tom was more than intrigued, his interest was peaked.

And it was stupid to feel like that…. Of course it was. You can’t fancy a colleague because things get complicated and awkward. Tom knew that.

Then why was he now delicately draping a blanket over your frame and smiling smally when you hummed in your sleep, in what seemed to be a show of appreciation for the layer of warmth?

Because you were his excited puppy of a costar who is giving everything she has for the job? Because he is worried and wants to look after you? Because he cares?

No matter why, in that moment you were contented and as was Tom. Oh and Sam?

Sam saw the tell tale signs in his brother. He saw the way Tom had been touching your arm or the small of your back just a little more than what would be considered normal while he’d been cooking. He’d seen the way Tom had been laughing purely because you had. His eldest brother never did anything rash, it was always a painfully slow process for everyone involved. But Sam thought this just might be the start of something. The start of a slow burn.

#tom holland #tom holland fluff #tom holland x reader #tomholland #Tom Holland angst #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x actress!reader #tom holland x you #sam holland

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nnightskiess · 3 years

Text

‧₊° 𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐢 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐨𝐞 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

‧₊° 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐢 𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐲 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐲/𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧.

Toni grabbed another handful of pebbles from the beach and played with them in her hands before throwing one out into the ocean every few steps. The sun was on full blast and started to hurt her forehead and thus she was on her way to the little cave that would shield her from the sun — the one she’d found on another stroll. She hadn’t run off this time, Dot had actually told everyone to wait until the sun was less vicious before continuing their work. Toni hadn’t felt like joining the others and apparently neither had Y/N, who had disappeared the moment Dot told them to take a break.

God knows what Y/N was up to now that she had some free time. What would anyone even do on an abandoned island? No matter how hard Toni had tried, Y/N was a hard one to read. She wasn’t as open as the others and kept to herself most of the time, but never disrespected anyone, or treated anyone badly, for that matter. She helped out whenever needed and seemed particularly interested in staying close to Toni, no matter the situation. She hadn’t shied away or looked at her differently when Toni had had one of her anger outbursts and that, in combination with her silent glances and soft smiles, had somehow reeled Toni in. The next opportunity that would arise, Toni would for sure try and start a real conversation with the girl. So far, they had only exchanged ‘thank you’s and ‘can you help me with this’s.

Toni threw the last pebble as far away as she could, watching until the ripple had disappeared. If only their problems on the island, and in the real world, would fade away just as smoothly. She sighed and threw her head back, trying to tame the curly baby hairs on her head and simultaneously hold a hand to her blistering forehead. This heat was no joke.

She wrinkled her nose and squeezed her eyes shut as she tried to look at where the sun stood right now. Probably three more hours before it would take away some of its heat.

Toni reached the small beach and sat down on one of the rocks after splashing some seawater in her face and neck. She took off her damp shoes and socks and buried her feet in the sand. Now that she was finally alone, her thoughts caught up with her and she suddenly realised how Marty had slowly started to slip away. Their friendship had never faltered before, so why would a stupid island suddenly be able to break them apart? If she didn’t have Marty, she would have no one. Sure, the others were nice, but if it weren’t for the need to work together to survive, she would be able to do without them. If she had Marty by her side, she’d be fine with whatever challenge the world would throw at her. Then there was Y/N, who seemed to be someone Toni needed around at all times, too. But if it hadn’t been for Y/N sticking around, would Toni have ever found that out? Probably, yes. Because even though Y/N was quiet most of the times, Toni always caught her eyes slipping and landing on the girl. She always looked at Y/N first when she made a joke, a suggestion or when she did something wrong— ready to see the judgement or disappointment, only for it to never show on Y/N’s face. It brought her a certain form of calmness she needed. Y/N’s smile would not only tell Toni that whatever had happened with the situation at hand would work itself out, but it would also soothe the many burns and scars Toni had gathered over the years.

Toni sat down on the damp sand and started to make random shapes in the sand with her hands, feeling more relaxed as she let her mind go blank. Moments like these were a necessity for her, moments where she could just walk away for a while and be by herself to not get riled up by anything or anyone else. But her mind couldn’t completely shut down this time, as it thought of Y/N. Toni was thinking of what to ask her. She’d been so quiet all this time, how was she supposed to know what topic to bring up? Y/N had never mentioned a favourite band or what she liked to do in her free time. Though Toni would never admit it out loud, this made her terrified to talk to the girl. What if she asked exactly that what would upset Y/N? Something that would spark up a bad memory, especially now that they all needed some more positivity and hope? She couldn’t mess up her first shot of a real conversation with the girl, she was too careful to scare away the only other person who seemed unfazed by her anger issues.

She let out a deep sigh, put on her shoes again after dusting off the sand and decided to walk a bit further— she needed a change of scenery to get it out of her head. However, Toni didn’t get far when her breath hitched at seeing the sight in front of her. She saw Y/N, at least she thought it was Y/N, seeing as she was wearing the same clothes, floating in the ocean a few meters off the coast, face down. Toni’s heart sank to her stomach and she was sure her sunburned face was as white as a ghost right now.

“Y/N!”

She sprinted into the ocean as fast as she could, though her shoes sunk into the sand with every step. The girl still face down, floating around. Toni swam the last part and closed their distance, immediately grabbing the girl’s upper body to try and turn her around— to let her breathe. She had expected Y/N to stay unconscious, having to carry her out the water, but the girl gasped loudly and moved her arms and legs around frantically, frightened by the surprise. Toni’s eyes widened as she let go immediately, unsure of what the hell was happening.

Y/N removed the pink goggles on her face and looked at Toni with the same wide eyes,

“Toni?!”

“Are you okay?!”

The two had now drifted more to shore, where they could stand just on their tippy toes.

“What’s wrong?”

Toni furrowed her eyebrows, “What’s wrong? I thought you had fucking died!” Her voice cracked as she raised it.

“O-Oh...” Y/N looked down for a split second, enough to make Toni panic she had scared her off, too. “I was just trying to stay still to look at the fish...”

Toni’s frown disappeared and she smiled softly at the girl, realising there was nothing to be worried about, “You scared the living hell out of me, fuck you.” She let out a breathy chuckle.

Y/N presented her with an apologetic smile and offered Toni her hand to help her out of the water.

“Sorry... Thanks for trying to save me...”

“Nah, it’s fine. I’m glad you had fun, though.” She tilted her head to get a better look at the girl.

Y/N rolled her eyes playfully, “Well, up until you scared me, I did. I thought you were some sea creature or something.”

“Yeah, for good reason.” Toni smiled, “I could’ve been. Please be careful next time, yeah?”

“Okay.”

“So...” Toni chuckled softly, readjusting her wet shirt, partly also because she suddenly became too nervous to say something else and decided to let Y/N take the lead, hoping she could get away with messing with her shirt a tad longer. She crossed her fingers the girl would say something that Toni knew a thing or two about.

Y/N gave Toni a sheepish smile when they locked eyes and looked back at the sea for a split second, “You know, I used to go snorkeling with my parents when we went to Egypt once. In the Red Sea, have you heard of it?”

Toni hesitantly shook her head, cursing at herself for not paying enough attention in class or she might’ve been able to talk along.

“Should I tell you a story about it?”

The girl nodded softly as she followed Y/N’s lead and sat down next to her in the sand.

“Well, I used to be really scared of the sea— in ways I still am, especially in deep waters, but this depth is just fine— so my mom signed me up for a snorkeling tour with a few other tourists.” Y/N snorted and shook her head at the memory, “It was a nightmare.”

Toni listened closely, surprised by the new, more open Y/N that was unfolding right in front of her eyes. She had already said more than the past few days combined.

“I was too scared to go any further when the water reached my waist and I just waddled around through the water a bit, looking ridiculous with my goggles on. Mind you, I was nine... or something...”

Toni laughed softly at the visualisation she made in her head of a little Y/N pouting in the water.

“When my mom found out I had spent the hour doing nothing while she’d paid a good amount of money for it, I got scolded so badly.” Y/N let out a soft giggle but Toni furrowed her eyebrows. Why would anyone scold a girl who was just scared? Even worse, why would her mom even sign her up if she knew she was afraid— it seemed like pure torture.

“She made me do it again a few years later and I must say, if it hadn’t been for the gorgeous instructor I was trying to impress, I’m sure I wouldn’t have gone any further than my waist either.” Toni smiled when Y/N tried to see her reaction. “And in the end, it wasn’t that bad at all.”

Toni cleared her throat, wanting to listen to her talk longer, “What did it look like? Underwater, I mean. With the... fish?”

“The water was so clear. There were a ton of different fish, tiny ones and larger ones, though I still tried to stay away from those.” She laughed. “Some had plain colours and others were a bright yellow or red. And so many different type of corals.”

Y/N’s voice died down, and she looked at her lap, thinking of the distant memory that seemed so far away now, and not only because of the years that had passed. Toni noticed the change in character immediately and bumped the girl’s shoulder in a playful manner, “Did you find that here too before I tried to save you?”

“No.” Y/N looked at her, “Not even close.” She suddenly seemed to realise how close the two of them were sitting and refused to look into Toni’s eyes, growing very conscious and nervous. “But I just wanted to clear my head and feel like I was in Egypt for a moment, not in this terrible nightmare.”

“Yeah, I get that...” Toni mumbled in response. “I was actually... trying to do the same thing, you know? Take a walk...”

“Did it work?”

“Not really.”

Y/N hummed in reply and stared out at the horizon, hoping to see a lifeboat sail their way. But the horizon was empty and dull. The sound of the birds, trees and waves replaced their words as both girls sat in each other’s company. Toni looked at Y/N’s side profile for a few seconds, debating what to do or say next.

“You know, I like that we talked.” She decided on saying.

“Really?”

Toni nodded sincerely.

“I talked way too much, you barely said anything.”

“Didn’t even notice.” She shrugged, “I liked listening to you.”

“To my pathetic, poetic story about Egyptian fish?” Y/N rose an eyebrow and challenged the girl. Toni smiled slightly but remained honest, “Yeah. It distracted me from all the other shit for a while. So, thanks.”

Y/N smiled shyly, “Anytime.”

A few seconds passed before Toni opened her mouth again, “You’re always so quiet. Why’s that?”

Toni’s blunt question took Y/N off guard, though she did her best to quickly form an honest reply.

“I just... I don’t... I never had a great experience with friends. Better to not have them than get left out or hurt, right? Especially when we’re already in this... weird environment.” She decided to not brush things under the carpet.

“I suppose...” Toni shrugged nonchalantly, she decided against asking further. Besides, she was kind of biased, seeing as she often tended to choose to be alone, too. Then again, why did she stick with Toni when she didn’t want to have any friends? The thoughts made her head hurt and thus she started to absentmindedly play with the sand.

“I’ve been on my own for years, I reckon I’ll survive another few days. Don’t you think?”

“You don’t have to be, you know.” Toni looked up and squinted her eyes when the sun blinded her. Y/N smiled genuinely, realising what she meant.

“Thanks, Toni.”

They lingered for a moment in a comfortable silence.

“So, um...” Toni started, bringing her hands up to comb through her hair, “Should we head back?”

Y/N accepted Toni’s help to stand up and smiled softy, nodding in return. The two talked and laughed softly as they walked back to camp, both girls happy that they probably had just gotten a new shoulder to lean on.

#toni shalifoe #toni shalifoe imagine #toni shalifoe x reader #toni shalifoe one shot #the wilds #the wilds imagine #the wilds imagines #toni shalifoe imagines

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miracleonice87 · 3 years

Text

juliaswinterwriting challenge, pt. 2

1. “Take another step and I can’t be held responsible for my actions.” with Mathew Barzal

a/n: finally! my second of two submissions for @wondershawns winter writing challenge. 6.6K. also features Mat’s boyfriend Beau lol.

summary: Mat has been falling for Beau’s cousin Genevieve since the day he met her. the main thing standing in his way? her.

warnings: swearing. alcohol. a smattering of angst. mentions of sex (not explicit). a healthy dose of fluff.

_____

Mat couldn’t have heard his best friend correctly. Convinced of that, he shook his head and tried to snap himself out of his stupor.

“Wait, Beau… what?”

“Yeah, Genevieve’s moving in with me,” Beau repeated casually, slapping a puck into the back of the net. “Finally convinced her. She just broke up with that idiot and she’s gonna go to NYU.”

The guys were on the ice at the practice facility for the first time since arriving back in New York after a long summer. They were conducting an informal skate to get their feet under them again, but most of the time had been spent simply catching up with one another — shooting pucks, yes, but also shooting the breeze. Mat had enjoyed the laidback nature of the on-ice session thus far, but he felt an undeniable jolt of electricity in his every nerve when Beau said that name — the one that elicited a thousand different feelings all at once.

Genevieve.

The girl who shared her cousin Beau’s big blue eyes and endless charm, but had a sassy wit and tender heart all of her own. The girl who was more like his teammate’s sister than a more distant relative. The girl who Mat had fallen for the very first day he met her, when Beau invited him to his family home in Quebec for a visit, now three summers ago. The girl who he’d been hopelessly, helplessly entranced by ever since.

Suddenly, a rubber disc was flying at Mat’s feet, the product of Marty dishing him a pass from the opposite side of the zone, expecting Mat to tap it into the goal as they’d already done a dozen times that afternoon. Instead, Mat let it whiz past him, only giving the puck so much as a glance when it bounced off the half-wall.

“Barzy!” Marty yelled from the far boards with a surprised chuckle, smacking his blade on the ice repeatedly. “Fuckin’ pay attention, kid!”

“You hockey much?” Beau teased, furrowing his brows at his teammate’s blank expression. Beau thought to himself that it looked as though Mat had just seen a ghost. “What’s’a matter with you?”

Mat turned to see Marty, Beau, Ebs, and Anders all looking at him as if he were a creature from a different planet. He cleared his throat and hunched once more overtop his skates, gliding in a tight circle before he faced them again.

“Nothin’,” he said nonchalantly, with a sniff. He put his stick to the ice and readied himself, trying to push Beau’s revelation to the back of his mind and focus on the task at hand. “Let’s go again.”

“Wait,” Marty said, putting a gloved hand up to halt the skating men around him. “I forgot. Isn’t Barzy, like, in love with that girl?”

Beau slowly turned his head toward Mat, who swallowed hard, trying to will his cheeks not to redden. Anders and Ebs chuckled, hands resting atop the knobs of their sticks.

“Shut up, Marty,” Mat nearly pleaded, anxiously tapping his stick on the ice. “Just... let’s go again. Come on.”

_____

In the three years since they’d first met, the math broke down pretty simply: Genevieve had had a boyfriend for all of those three years, until a month ago; Mat had kissed her exactly once on the forehead after putting her drunk ass to bed during a weekend visit to Beau’s; and they had made exactly zero progress toward becoming what Mat had always wanted them to be. Together.

One more number was soon added to the equation, not long after she moved to the city — the number one. Sponsored by the number of times they’d now had sex.

Genevieve’s twenty-first birthday fell right after she started at NYU as a junior transfer, when the Isles boys had just started camp. After a night at the club celebrating her, in a vodka-induced haze, with Tito’s attention wrapped up in a pretty blonde, Mat and Genevieve snuck away from the group, into an Uber, and off to his apartment in Brooklyn.

Mat realized immediately that he’d never felt a high like the one he did when she was kissing him, and he chased it all night long. He lost himself in her in every way as they melded together between his sheets.

He truly thought that her birthday was going to be the start of something between them. Something real. More than just a childish crush, stolen glances, and timid, blushing stares.

Which is why his heart broke when he awoke the next morning, after their passionate night gave way to dawn and the effects of the alcohol had faded, to hear Genevieve speaking quietly on the phone.

“Yeah, yeah, I went home with someone... No, you don’t know him. Just a guy from class.”

Mat felt a tightness in his throat and tried to swallow it.

“Shut up, Anth,” Genevieve said with a lighthearted groan.

Shit. Of course it was Beau.

“Brunch? Uh... yeah. Yeah, I can do brunch. I just have to come back to your place and change first... No, no, I’ll just grab an Uber. Yes, I’m sure.”

She was leaving. She was trying to sneak out of his place, while he was presumably still asleep. Despite that, pathetic as he felt for it, he didn’t want her to go. That was the last thing he wanted.

“Okay. Yeah, that’s fine. Okay, see you then. Bye.” Genevieve ran a hand through her dark locks and blew out a long breath.

“Who was that?” Mat muttered in a sleepy voice, making Genevieve jump. Despite trying to ignore it, he couldn’t help but notice the way she pulled his sheets tighter around her naked body at the realization that he was, indeed, awake. His chest clenched at the sight. Genevieve cleared her throat, stalling, before answering.

“That was Anth,” she said, tossing her phone on the bed in front of her. Mat watched the way her bare spine hunched as she sighed and then looked at him over her freckled shoulder. It took everything in Mat not to lean over and pepper her soft skin with warm kisses.

“He wants to go to brunch. The three of us. He’s gonna text you and invite you. He doesn’t know I’m here...” she spoke, wringing her fingers.

“Okay,” Mat said quietly, sitting up on an elbow. “Well, I’ll drive you back to his place—“

“No, no. I’m just gonna order an Uber,” she said hastily, followed by another long sigh. He wrinkled his brow, confused.

“We can’t tell him, Mat,” Genevieve said sadly, tossing him a forlorn glance, her fingers pressing into her temple. “We just... I can’t. I’m sorry.”

His heart broke a bit right then. In his mind, they would admit the truth about last night to Beau this morning, he would chirp them about it endlessly but be happy that they were happy, and they would all live happily ever after.

Evidently, Genevieve had different plans.

“So I’m gonna go, and then you can meet us at the cafe. Okay?” she asked, turning to face him straight on, seemingly so that he saw as little of her nude form as possible, despite having seen all of it last night.

Mat nodded, swallowing again. “You’re sure this is what you want?”

They both knew he wasn’t talking about the Uber. He was referencing something much more consequential than her ride home.

Genevieve pressed her lips together, looking down at her lap before meeting his eyes again. She nodded slowly.

“I just... I don’t think this is a good idea, Maty. I just got out of a relationship, and I don’t know how Anth would feel about...” She gestured between the two of them. Mat tried not to flinch, though he nearly did just that.

He nodded. Genevieve noted the pain in his eyes and averted her own to avoid being crushed by the knowledge that she had singlehandedly inflicted it upon him. Eventually, he found his voice again.

“Okay. Fine. I understand, I guess. I think you know how I feel about you, especially now, but it’s... it’s whatever you wanna do, G,” Mat said.

Genevieve blinked at him a few times, and for a fleeting moment as she opened her mouth, he thought she might change her mind.

His hopes crashed down in front of him as she shifted uncomfortably under the covers and requested, “Can you maybe just... look away while I get dressed?”

That time, Mat flinched.

_____

Mat couldn’t believe his eyes when he saw who was calling as he made his way home from the rink after practice on a snowy Monday nearly three months later, in early December. He pressed the green button on his dash display, said hello, and her fluttering voice filled his car.

“Mat… hi! Are you busy?”

Even if he were, Mat would’ve lied.

“No, no, not at all. What’s going on, G? How are you?” he asked as he switched lanes, fingers suddenly drumming on the steering wheel as nervous energy coursed through him.

Since the morning after they’d hooked up, the most they had communicated directly was texting half a dozen or so times, with Genevieve congratulating Mat on a good game or Mat asking if she knew where Beau was. Occasionally they’d bump into each other after a game, the ones she could actually make it to given her insane class schedule, or at the bar, and they’d both hug awkwardly and inevitably blush like schoolchildren. Mat missed her like hell, and he gently reminded her of that each time they touched base, but he respected her decision, even if he wasn’t fully convinced it was the right one.

Little did he know, Genevieve wasn’t fully convinced, either, but she willed herself to stand her ground, despite the sway he still held over her, without him even realizing it.

“I’m good. I’m good. Listen, um, I know this probably seems out of the blue, but… would you wanna meet up for coffee?” he heard her ask.

Mat’s brows shot up at her inquiry. He had long ago written off any chance at spending alone time with her and was caught off guard by her invitation.

“Sure,” Mat answered, though somewhat hesitantly. “I’d love to, you know that.”

She must have heard the surprise in his voice because she followed up with, “It’s just, I really miss you… and besides, there’s something else I need to talk to you about.”

Mat couldn’t keep the smug expression from his face. “Oh yeah? Other than just how much you miss me?” he asked arrogantly. He could practically hear Genevieve roll her eyes as she huffed into the phone.

“Just shut up and come here, you egomaniac,” she giggled. “I’m at my usual spot.”

“Alright, I’ll be there in fifteen. See you then. And, G?”

“Uh huh?”

A smile twitched at Mat’s lips as he replied.

“I’m glad you called,” he said, sincerity dripping from his words.

He heard the smile in her voice when she remarked, “I’m glad you answered. See you soon.”

_____

When Mat walked into the coffee shop minutes later, Genevieve was holed up at a corner table, notebooks and loose papers alike strung before her in a mass of organized chaos. She touched the tip of her tongue to her top lip and squinted at her laptop screen through her thick, tortoise-shell framed glasses.

Mat had never seen her wearing glasses before. Though he didn’t even think such a feat was possible, he fell a little more in love with her and became a little more tortured by her right then and there.

He approached her slowly so as not to startle her. As he came nearer, she didn’t even look up, deep in concentration as she typed. When she finally glanced away from her screen and toward a notebook across the table from her, Mat playfully crouched into her line of vision, tilting his chin upward as he waited for her to spot him.

Eventually, her eyes met his and immediately glimmered. She flushed slightly, putting her hand to her forehead with a groan.

“Oh, god, Maty, how long have you been standing there?” Genevieve asked, an apology in her tone.

Mat smiled and tried not to dwell on the way his pulse quickened when his nickname fell from her lips. “Long enough to observe that you might need your glasses prescription changed. You’re not supposed to squint at your screen like that, G,” he warned, approaching her and scanning the multitude of documents before her. “What is all this?” he asked, letting his gaze drift back to hers.

“It’s for my event this weekend. That’s kind of what I wanted to talk to you about,” Genevieve responded tentatively. “But first, coffee,” she said, reaching for her wallet tucked inside her bookbag.

Mat reached for her hand, pushing it away and shaking his head.

“No, c’mon,” he insisted. “Let me. What can I get you?”

Genevieve looked at their touching fingers as he slowly pulled his away, then she gave him that killer half-grin of hers and breathed a sigh, giving into him since she knew trying to protest was useless.

“How ‘bout a peppermint tea? I think I’m overcaffeinated at this point anyway so I should probably take it easy on the coffee,” she admitted with a chuckle as she tucked some hair behind her ear. Mat nodded.

“Smart girl. Tea coming right up,” he promised with a squeeze of her shoulder. Genevieve thanked him and watched as he sauntered to the counter to stand in line.

His hair was longer, and she thought it made him look even more handsome, if that was even imaginable. He caught her ogling at him as he turned the corner to wait for his order, and she simply pursed her lips into a tight smirk and tried to refocus on her notes. He tried to refocus on anything but her. They both were clumsy in their attempts.

When he returned, he placed a large paper cup before her and she wrapped her hands around it with an appreciative hum.

“You’re the best,” Genevieve praised. He waved her off as he took a sip of his cappuccino.

“So why have I been summoned here, G?” Mat then asked, teasing in his question.

Genevieve bit at her full bottom lip and Mat tried to force his eyes not to linger there as she snapped her notebook shut and readjusted herself in her chair, clearing her throat.

“Okay, so you know I’m taking this event planning class this semester? It’s part of my major. And our final project is to plan a large-scale event,” she began, and he nodded as he sipped at his coffee, amused by her bubbly mannerisms as she spoke. “Well, so… a friend of mine in class kind of accidentally let slip that I’m Anthony’s cousin, and it turns out that the prof is friends with some Isles execs. She suggested that I plan a gala to benefit the team children’s foundation, and obviously since the professor fed me that idea, I couldn’t really say no. Especially since it’s 50 percent of my final grade, and obviously because it’s for such a great cause.” Mat nodded again, already seeing where this was going, but not exactly minding it.

“So since you guys don’t play this Saturday night, Anth had originally told me that he would go and kinda be the face of the team for me, but he backed out this morning,” Genevieve said, playing absentmindedly with her fingers in her lap. Mat was getting ready to take another swig when she added that last little tidbit, and he narrowed his eyes at her as he lowered his cup.

“What do you mean he backed out? What the hell else does he have to do?” Mat didn’t try to hide his annoyance — Beau had practically begged this poor girl to come and live with him and go to school in New York, and now he was jeopardizing her academic future?

“I don’t know,” Genevieve shrugged. “He said some girl he’s been talking to bought him tickets to the Nets game on Saturday night and he—“

“Oh, you gotta be fuckin’ kidding me...” Mat spat, then noticed the disappointment in her features, and immediately softened. “So, what can I do to help?” he asked, deciding that he would deal with the Beau issue later.

She leaned forward, elbows resting on her knees, and drew a deep breath as she summoned the courage to make her request.

“I was wondering if... if you’d go with me?” she eventually mumbled.

Mat was certain he had misheard, just like that day months ago on the ice. He licked his bottom lip quickly and sat back in his chair.

“Say again?” he deadpanned.

“I was wondering if you’d come with me,” Genevieve spoke, clearer and faster this time. “I know I don’t even deserve to ask you a favor like that, and you probably already have plans anyway, and I—“

“G, stop,” Mat interrupted dryly.

“It’s not like you’re my second choice or anything,” Genevieve continued, talking with her hands just like Beau did when he got flustered. “I wanted to ask you — really, I did. Trust me. It’s just… I was afraid Anth would be weird so—“

“G, stop,” Mat laughed, his voice firmer this time as his hand moved to rest on her knee. “I don’t need an explanation. Of course I’ll come with you. I’d be honored.”

Genevieve finally exhaled, throwing her hands over her face in sheer excitement and shaking her head back and forth.

“Ugh, Mathew Barzal, I could kiss you right now!” she exclaimed before she could pay a second thought to her words. She covered her mouth then, eyes bugging behind her glasses. Mat couldn’t help but giggle at her reaction.

“Well, I wouldn’t be opposed to that,” he quipped softly as he raised his coffee to his lips once more, smirking pompously at Genevieve as she breathed a laugh.

As she launched into the details of the event — what he should wear, what she would need from him, when he could pick her up — he found himself spacing. No detail she shared much mattered to him — not really. It didn’t affect his decision. No matter what this would cost him, literally or figuratively, he was all in.

All in on the gala, all in on Genevieve. All in.

She was letting him in, however little, and he planned to take full advantage of the opportunity.

Mat insisted on giving Genevieve a ride to Beau’s apartment after they’d finished their drinks, convincing her that she needed to take a break from working and get a change of scenery. Surprisingly, she complied. He realized as she sat in his passenger seat just how much he had missed the way he felt in her presence. The world seemed to be in full color only when Genevieve was by his side.

Sadly, the drive was a short one, and soon Genevieve was hurriedly pulling her bookbag into her lap as Mat pulled over to the curb near the building’s entrance. Preparing for her to jump out of the car without giving him a second look, Mat was surprised when he felt her fingertips grasp his jaw. She placed a lingering kiss to his cheek, closer to his mouth than could be called chaste, and smoothed her thumb across the stubble on his chin.

“I really have to go, even though I don’t want to, but thanks a million, Maty,” Genevieve said, beaming at him as she pulled the straps of her bag onto her shoulders. “I can’t wait for this weekend. Bye.”

With that, she was scampering off, throwing him one last smile before disappearing through the doorway.

With a pursed exhale, Mat rested his forehead against the steering wheel and tried to talk himself down from the clusterfuck his brain had just launched into at her actions.

_____

The week dragged on for Mat. When Saturday finally arrived, he took far longer than usual to get ready, even FaceTiming his sister for her recommendations on the best tie and shoe combination to match his navy suit.

When Liana furrowed her eyebrows, curious why he cared so much about what he wore to what seemed to her to be a fairly routine team event, Mat knew what was coming and braced for it as she opened her mouth.

“Is this like a date or something—“

“Goodbye, Liana. Thank you,” Mat said curtly, cutting her off and quickly ending the call. Of course, it rang again immediately, but Mat chose to ignore it and tucked the device in his pocket as he gave himself one last glance in the mirror.

When the phone rang yet again, he huffed, prepared to answer and then immediately hang up on his dear, annoying baby sister, when he noticed it wasn’t Liana this time.

Stepping into his closet to choose an overcoat, he smiled and tapped the green button.

“Don’t tell me you’re cancelling on me now, G,” Mat said, half in jest, half in masked terror. “I just got dressed.”

To his dismay, Genevieve sounded panicked on the other end of the line.

“Uh, no, quite the opposite, actually,” she said nervously. “I’m kind of — okay, well, completely — freaking out over here, and I was wondering if you could maybe come over early and convince me not to call my professor and tell her I’m sick so I don’t have to see what a complete disaster this night turns out to be?”

Mat had pulled on a coat and flicked off the lights in his closet while she was talking, and he shifted the phone to his other ear to respond once she stopped rambling.

“Don’t do that,” he said firmly. “I’m leaving now. Sit tight. I’ll be right there, okay?”

Mat heard her breathe a sigh of relief. “You’re the best, Maty,” she said. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

His smile widened — he was always happy to play the role of knight in shining armor, but it meant more to him to be able to play it for Genevieve. His chest puffed with each word of her gratitude.

“You’re welcome, love,” he said before he realized the pet name that fell from his lips. But he couldn’t regret it, refused to even try, so he bid her goodbye for now and headed for the parking garage to ride away on his white stallion — er, Cadillac.

Ten minutes later — after navigating a route that should have taken at least fifteen — he was on her doorstep, the dozen red roses he had bought that morning in hand. Mat tried to act as though he wasn’t surprised to find her still in a set of Beau’s Isles sweats, donning her glasses, with her makeup half-finished and her hair not yet fixed. He glanced at the clock above her head that indicated only about forty minutes until they needed to leave the apartment, but decided to ignore that minor detail.

“Hi, gorgeous,” Mat said charmingly, extending the flowers to her. “These are for you. For good luck.”

Genevieve’s lips turned up momentarily into a grin, then folded into a frown, and she looked as though she may burst into tears at any moment. Forcing his way in the door, Mat set the bouquet on the entry table and gathered her into his chest, resting a hand on the back of her head and rubbing small circles on her back with the other.

“Hey, hey,” he soothed. “What’s goin’ on, G? Talk to me, baby.” Oh, shit. Another pet name. He really had to stop doing that.

Genevieve seemed unaffected by the term, though, and drew a shaking breath before squeezing his waist tightly and stepping away.

“Everything! This event is gonna crash and burn and it’s all my fault,” she cried, flinging her hands skyward for dramatic effect.

“What do you mean?” Mat inquired. “And while we talk, why don’t we go to your room so you can keep getting ready?” he added, placing a gentle hand to her hip. Thankfully, she nodded, despite heaving a sigh. As he turned them down the hall, she let her swirling thoughts erupt.

“The caterer called an hour ago and said they didn’t put in an order big enough for tonight so they’re gonna have to supplement the food with basically whatever they can find,” Genevieve began as they entered her room, motioning for Mat to take a seat on her meticulously made bed, which felt far more intimate than he was prepared for, not that he was complaining. She sat on the vanity bench nearby and hurriedly applied eyeshadow to her lids, prattling all the while. As she spoke, Mat glanced down at the dress laid out on the foot of the bed on a hanger, and he swore he forgot his own name for a moment as he gaped at it blankly.

“And I specifically ordered peonies, not poppies. Like how the fuck does a florist mess that up! I just—“

“Wait, sorry to interrupt, but this is what you’re wearing?” Mat choked out, sliding the shiny fabric between his first two fingers and thumb. Genevieve nodded, hurriedly fastening on a pearl cluster earring smack dab in the midst of her blush and bronzer routine.

“Yeah, Anthony insisted on taking me shopping and made me buy the most expensive goddamn dress in the store for some reason,” she grumbled. Mat made a mental note to thank Beau profusely. “I told him I couldn’t accept it but — wait, why? You hate it, don’t you?”

Mat’s eyes bugged at her question before he swallowed hard, shaking his head furiously. “No, no, it’s just... you’re gonna look so unfair,” he chuckled. Genevieve gave him a disbelieving look.

“Hardly,” she disagreed, apparently not noticing how gone he was at the moment. “Anyways, it doesn’t matter what I wear because it’s going to be an absolute shit show.”

She threw a fluffy brush into her makeup caddy with a clatter, and Mat approached where she sat fussing over herself anxiously in the mirror. She couldn’t help but notice the way her breath caught in her throat when his long fingers came to rest on her shoulders, stretching to her collarbone as he gazed at her intensely in their reflection. She felt herself relax under his touch.

“I know you’ve convinced yourself of that,” Mat began, his voice low, slow, sincere. “And that probably nothing I say will change your mind. But even if the food is wrong and the flowers are wrong and it doesn’t look exactly how you pictured it, it’s still gonna be a success. Because you made it happen. And you’re the most organized, most dedicated, hardest-working person I know,” he said as she finished applying her lipstick and sat up straight with a long, calming breath.

“And you’re the sweetest person I know,” she admitted airily. Mat beamed, squeezing her trap muscles. “Thank you,” she added, her hand finding his and bringing it to her lips, their eyes never straying from one another’s in the mirror until she stood up to face him.

He threw her hair over her shoulders and gawked at the perfect placement of her makeup, however much she had rushed its application.

“Makeup,” Mat spoke, drawing a pretend v-shape in thin air. “Check. One thing at a time.”

She snickered a bit, her hands ghosting across his suit coat for a moment, enchanted, before she snapped back to the task at hand.

“Okay, I have to go curl my hair, and then get dressed. And then, I’m ready,” she promised as Mat nodded and slowly returned to his seat on her bed. As she pulled a pair of strappy heels from underneath the bedskirt, he smiled down at her so fondly, and she realized she wouldn’t mind having him sitting right here more often.

Certainly wouldn’t mind.

She tossed Mat a wink as she picked up the dress, too, and hustled into the bathroom, suddenly feeling much more confident than she had without his presence — his reassurance.

Fifteen minutes later, after chattering with Mat through the door while taming her hair, she pulled on the dress and smoothed her hands over the skirt of it, tugged on her heels, and pulled open the door.

Mat stopped abruptly in the middle of a story about razzing her cousin at practice and stood to his feet, neither moving an inch.

Finally, Genevieve sighed and motioned toward her attire.

“So?” she spoke simply. “Acceptable?”

Mat scoffed, literally scoffed, and repeated, “Acceptable?” He rubbed a hand over his mouth and couldn’t help the boyish giggle he let out. “More than acceptable, G. You look... wow. Incredible. So incredible.”

Genevieve could admit to herself that she was pleased with his reaction — in fact, she couldn’t quite seem to detach her eyes from his face as his stare roamed her figure. She leaned against the doorpost and smirked.

“Remember what I said earlier this week? About how I could just kiss you right now?” she asked mischievously. He nodded slowly, eyes still studying the way her dress pulled tight in exactly the right places, then finding their way back to hers. “Kinda feeling that way again right now,” she added.

He exhaled sharply, standing up straighter, as she took a couple of paces toward him.

“Is that so?” he teased. She nodded, chewing at the inside of her cheek. Mat hummed in anticipation as she came ever closer. “You sure about that?” he asked firmly, extending his arms with his palms out toward her, trying his damnedest to keep her at a distance.

She only nodded again, a gleam in her eye, and paused just a couple of feet from him, waiting for his approval.

“Take another step looking like that and I can’t be held responsible for my actions,” Mat warned, giving her one final out.

A small laugh passed through Genevieve’s nose, and she looked down at their feet as she daringly moved forward.

“I’m okay with that,” she whispered as she looked back to his face. Mat only quirked his brow in response.

“I think it’s time I focus less on pushing you away, and more on just…” Genevieve tenderly wrapped her arms around Mat’s neck. “Just finally letting things happen the way they’re supposed to,” she spoke.

Mat froze for a moment, then broke into an enormous grin. “Yeah?” he asked in awe.

She bit down on her bottom lip and nodded, driving him insane. He pressed her lower back into his body as she assured, “Yeah. This is what I want.”

Mat barely let her speak that last word before capturing her lips in a searing kiss — all the nerves and anxiety about avoiding this melting away in a heartbeat as she moaned softly into his mouth, eliciting a smile from him against her skin.

“You’re beautiful, G,” Mat whispered when he finally came up for air. “You know that?” Genevieve blushed and tried to hide her face in Mat’s chest, but with a roll of his eyes, he caught her chin between his thumb and index finger and angled her face toward his own.

“No, none of that,” he said. “I’ve waited this long to be with you, G. Just let me look at you and tell you how gorgeous you are.”

Mat felt the warmth of her cheeks as he caressed them with the backs of his hands, losing himself in her criminally blue eyes.

“You are something else, Maty,” she said, letting her hands rest on his taut stomach as she leaned into him. “Now we really have to go, or we’re gonna be late.” With one last kiss pressed against his lips, Genevieve spun away from him, grabbed the pearl clutch from her bed, and tossed him a particularly wicked glance over her shoulder, laughing at his dumbfounded expression as she drifted out of the room.

And as he watched her walk away from him, hips swaying beneath the satin of her dress...

Mat knew he had no choice but to follow wherever she led.

_____

Whether she was aware of it or not, the girl knew how to command a room.

As Mat watched Genevieve engage the many high-profile sponsors and potential donors in the ballroom, he found himself thinking that he really didn’t even need to be here. She had this in the bag, and he was just arm candy for the night. And he realized he didn’t mind a bit.

Even so, he couldn’t help but swell with pride when she regularly turned away from conversations throughout the evening, searching the many faces in the crowd until she found his, her shoulders relaxing and her eyes flashing with affection when she finally did.

Finally, Mat sensed that the peace he had long ago found in her, she now felt in him. Nothing could ever make him happier than that.

Despite having different food and flowers than what Genevieve had planned, the event was a smashing success. She learned from her professor near the end of the gala that they had raised a quarter of a million dollars for the Islanders Children’s Foundation in this single night — a figure which made her nearly choke on her champagne and subsequently back Mat into a coat closet to reveal privately. Only he was more excited about the triumph than she, clutching excitedly at her sides as he pulled her to himself for a fiery kiss and gleefully congratulated her, both of them trying to stay as quiet as possible to remain undetected. When they regained their composure, they walked regally arm in arm back into the ballroom to say their thank you’s and goodbyes.

As they waited outside for the valet, Mat held Genevieve from behind, his arms encircling her waist under the grand stone archways of the old building. In her ear, he whispered her praises, pressing a kiss to her temple or jaw between each adjective as they awaited their ride.

“Smart. Beautiful. Capable. Stunning. Perfect. Worthy. Mine.”

That last one prompted her to spin in his arms, unashamed of who might see, and grasp his face for a firm kiss.

“Yours,” she whispered back dreamily.

_____

Soon they were back at her apartment building, rushing down the hall hand in hand, fully prepared to take advantage of Beau’s night on the town. Mat was mouthing hungrily at the back of Genevieve’s neck, from one side to the other, as she squealed and clumsily unlocked the door — a feat which took approximately five times as long as it normally did, considering the distraction hanging off of her, snaking its long arms around her torso as she finally tumbled through the doorway. Mat held onto her hips with a laugh to prevent her from falling on her face onto the tile beneath them, pulling her upward to resume their makeout until…

“Don’t you two look cute.”

Beau’s voice rang from the couch, startling both Mat and Genevieve as she pushed him away to create some distance between them. Mat cleared his throat as he unceremoniously gathered his footing beneath him. They both stood motionless in the entryway for several moments before Genevieve blinked at the basketball game playing on the television.

“Wait. What the hell, Anth… you’re watching the Nets game on TV? What happened to your date?” Genevieve asked as she took a few steps into the living room, tossing her clutch onto the couch so that she could put both hands on her hips and aim as much attitude as possible at her cousin.

“Yeah, I lied about that. The Nets are in Boston tonight, you geniuses,” Anthony informed them casually, taking the last swig from his beer bottle and placing it on the coffee table as he leaned forward.

“What do you mean, you lied? What the fuck, man?” Mat asked, incredulous.

“I did it on purpose!” Anthony bellowed, before the two gaped at him. “You two goons haven’t figured it out on your own by now, so I figured if I ditched, forced you into some alone time, bought G a pretty dress, maybe you’d see yourselves for what you really are. Hopelessly, disgustingly in love with each other. And apparently, it worked.”

Mat ran a hand slowly through his hair, tugging on his locks with a quiet laugh. Genevieve stood still, a hand suspended in mid-air, and whispered, “You planned this?”

Anthony rolled his eyes. “Of course I planned this,” he confirmed. “You really think I would just bail on you at the last minute for some girl? No! I knew you’d ask Mat, and I knew he would come to your rescue, and I knew you guys would have a great night together. Win, win, win.” Anthony rested his back against the couch once more, propping his feet up on the coffee table and folding his hands behind his head as he waggled his eyebrows. “I’m good, huh?” he remarked.

Mat took four quick strides toward his best friend and made a show of grabbing Anthony’s face and pressing a lip-smacking kiss to his forehead, which Anthony giggled over and wiped away, shaking his head.

“You’re my hero, man,” Mat spoke as he returned to Genevieve’s side and tucked her beneath his arm. Timidly, Genevieve asked Anthony, “You mean you’re not mad?”

Anthony’s big eyes grew even wider. “Mad?! My best friend and practically my sister are finally making each other happy. I’d be crazy to be mad! Or I’d be the Grinch. And I’m not the Grinch!” he assured as he pointed towards them.

Genevieve beamed, walking his way and placing a kiss to his cheek, squeezing his arm.

“Merci beaucoup,” she whispered when she pulled back from his face, only to see that he was smiling from ear to ear. He gave her a solemn nod.

Genevieve extended a hand toward Mat which he accepted gladly, then she turned back to her cousin.

“Well, on that note, since your plan was such a success, and so was my event, Mat and I are gonna go celebrate,” she informed him with a grin. Anthony chuckled and lifted his beer bottle in their direction.

“Cheers to that,” he said. “I’ll just turn up the volume.”

Mat and Genevieve laughed and said goodnight before making their way down the hall. Mat couldn’t close the door fast enough before spinning her and pinning her against it as she smirked, her form melting into his as he kissed her fiercely. For several minutes they stayed there as one, with their parting lips and their breathing the only sounds in the room. Soon, Mat pulled back, both his hands holding Genevieve’s face as he searched her eyes.

“Promise me this is really what you want, G. Promise me you won’t push me away again,” he implored, his voice sounding needier than it ever had. Genevieve felt the stab at her gut upon remembering once more that she’d really almost fucked this up.

She sifted her fingers through his long, coal black hair of his and looked into his green-flecked eyes, which begged her for reassurance. Mat swallowed thickly as she cupped his strong jaw.

“I promise I won’t, Mathew,” she whispered. “I won’t. I can’t. I need you.”

With that, she squeezed his cheeks between her fingers and smothered his lips with her own. Mat tasted the sweet champagne on her skin and moaned.

“Mine,” he said again, gruffly this time, into her ear as he trailed hot kisses down her jaw.

“Yours,” she repeated breathlessly.

#juliaswinterwriting #my writing #mathew barzal #mat barzal #barzal #nhl #hockey #mathew barzal fic #mathew barzal fanfic #mathew barzal fanfiction #mat barzal fic #mat barzal fanfic #mat barzal fanfiction #mathew barzal writing #mat barzal writing #hockey writing #nhl writing #anthony beauvillier

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keelywolfe · 3 years

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FIC: Not So Golden Opportunity (BAON)

Summary: Usually Stretch likes getting packages in the mail, but there is always room for an exception.

Tags: Spicyhoney, Established Relationships, Hurt/Comfort

Part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

~~*~~

Read it on AO3

Read it here!

~~*~~

The knock on the front door wasn’t much of a surprise, not when it came at delivery o’clock. Stretch always had packages coming in, everything from equipment for the lab to a new t-shirt that declared he was a ‘Karaoke King’, there was always something for their delivery person to drop off. At any given time, there was enough cardboard stored in their garage waiting to get dropped off at recycle to make one heck of a box fort, and that was on his list to do with the neighborhood kiddos one of these weekends.

So, the knock on the door? Not a surprise. What they were delivering on the other hand—

“uh, wow, thanks, marty,” Stretch said, a little dubiously. Marty let out an agreeable honk and meandered their way back to their little mail truck, leaving Stretch standing there with an enormous armful of flowers from an unknown source. Couldn’t be from Edge. Sure, he’d given flowers a few times, but Edge was more of an in-person sort of guy when it came to presents.

Welp, there was only one way to find out, wasn’t there. Time to get his Velma on and look for some clues.

Stretch carried the massive thing inside and plunked it down on the coffee table to give it a closer look. It was actually a very nice floral arrangement, even Stretch could see that and he didn’t know shit about flowers or décor. Tiny sprays of white, bell-like blooms and ferny green things surrounding several huge blooms of golden flowers, the likes of which Stretch hadn’t seen in years, not since they were Underground.

Hm. Golden flowers.

The card had Edge’s name on it, but Stretch didn’t bother sneaking a peek. Mystery solves, there was only one person who would’ve had this delivered to their door and he probably made it with his own fuzzy hands. The real question was why that asshole was having flowers sent to his husband, thank you, and the only way to find out if he needed to start making plans to yank out hunks of fur with his bare hands was to ask, with the minimum of simmering jealousy possible.

“babe?” Stretch called. Edge was in the kitchen, making preparations for their new cupboards to be installed next week. “hey, c’mere a minute!”

He’d expected Edge to be pleased, he did like his flowers, heck, maybe even excited in that adorably subdued way he had, and much as Stretch could have done without any surprise packages from Ass-gore in their house, eh, he’d deal with it if they made Edge happy.

The last thing he anticipated was for Edge to stop cold halfway out the kitchen door, the fleeting expression of disgust crossing his face quickly shifting to blankness. Edge wasn’t exactly the most emotive guy out there, but Stretch was pretty good at reading his facial version of charades and right now there wasn’t so much as a twitch of the eye socket or a curl of his mouth as he said, low, “Please put that in the garage.”

“the garage?” Stretch repeated doubtfully. He looked down at the extravagant display of floral dominance in his hands and wondered if he’d heard that right. “you sure?

“Yes, because someone might notice if you put it right into the trash.” That blankness cracked, a little, enough for Edge to snap out, “Just get it out of the damn house!”

Yeah, okay, got that message loud and clear, especially since Edge was starting to look a little glowy around the hands, like he was considering a little impromptu, and violent, floral rearranging. Stretch grabbed up the offending bouquet before it could end up as target practice and shortcutted out into the garage.

Like the rest of the house, it was neat as a pin, no oil stains on this concrete floor and all the tools neatly put away on the pegboard. In the back corner was the motorcycle, shrouded in drop cloths and waiting for Edge to be able to take it out for a spin again. Didn’t seem like putting the flowers anywhere special was part of today’s theme, so Stretch stuffed the thing into the furthest spot, away from Edge’s car so he wouldn’t have to see it when he came out on his way to work tomorrow.

Job successfully achieved, Stretch dusted off his hands and teleported back inside. Edge was already gone from the living room, no surprise there, but he hadn’t gone back to the kitchen. A quick, not-at-all-frantic search found him sitting out on the front porch and that wasn’t really a surprise, either. But the cigarette in his hand? Now that blew past surprise all the way into flabbergasted shock. Far as Stretch knew, Edge hadn’t bummed a smoke in months, his general attitude towards smoking was distaste with extreme prejudice. It took a helluva lot for him to give into the urge for a quick fix to a nicotine craving. Whatever his issues were with the flowers, whether it was the gift or the person who sent them, they were bad.

“babe?” Stretch asked, cautiously, still hovering half in the house. As worried as he was, he wouldn’t push, ready to leave if Edge wanted to be alone.

Edge only shifted the cigarette to his other hand and patted the concrete next to him in silent invitation. A little relieved, Stretch came out and sat down. He dug his own cigarette out of the crumpled pack and the two of them sat hip to hip, quietly smoking. Overhead, the sky was endless sea of deep blue broken only by the occasional streak of a puffy cloud. A nice day, too nice for the unspoken questions hanging heavily in the air, but Stretch didn’t ask them. Edge would talk when he was ready and if he never was, welp, that was fine, too. Edge wasn’t the only one who could be supportive, Stretch was more than willing to take his turn under the weight.

It wasn’t until Edge tamped out his cigarette in the ashtray Stretch kept out on the porch that he spoke.

“I’m sorry,” Edge said finally. “I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

“i think i’ll live, babe,” Stretch replied, dryly, “the wounds were superficial.” He gave Edge a gentle nudge in the side with his elbow. “you okay?”

Yeah, okay, that wasn’t pushing, thanks. Besides, it was a stupid question, because the answer was obviously going to be a ‘yes, fine’ and that’d be it.

Except that he didn’t get the obvious answer he expected.

“Not right now,” Edge said. His sockets were half-closed and instead of their yard, he seemed to be looking miles away. “I will be.” They sat in silence for a while longer, Stretch watching people walking by, waving as required and leaving Edge to his thoughts. He was lighting a second cigarette when Edge finally spoke again, softly. “Golden flowers.” The faint hitch in his voice could’ve meant nothing, if the person he was sitting with didn’t know him so well. “I haven’t seen real golden flowers in years.”

Stretch considered that. “i’m taking it they weren’t sorely missed.”

“Hm?” Crimson eye lights briefly flicked his way. “No, not at all. I hate the blasted things.”

Stretch only took a long drag and exhaled slowly, blowing a smoke ring up into that blue, blue sky. He didn’t ask or urge him to talk, simply being there if he chose to. And Edge did, slowly, as if choosing every word with care. “The only place in Underfell where golden flowers grew was the king’s chamber in New Home. My memories of that place are…not pleasant.”

Not pleasant. Yeah, like lava is a wee bit warmish or the Titanic sprung a little leak. Indisputable truths: water is wet, the sky is blue, grass is green, and any meeting with the king of all Monsters in Underfell was not pleasant.

The explanation made perfect sense, really; if Stretch’d had a minute to actually think about it instead of dividing his attention between ditching the flowers and then finding his wayward husband, he probably would have figured it out on his own. Perfect sense, yep, and that was why Stretch was torn between temptations. First, to grab Edge and hold him close, to keep him there in his arms and do whatever it took to chase away any of the mental ghosts that were creeping in, to be the protector for one damn time. And then there was the equal temptation to take that little flower arrangement on back to the source and see if he could find any handy place to stick it, because right now, he was ready to cram it so far up someone’s fuzzy buns that they’d need their dentist to help get it loose.

But Edge wouldn’t appreciate either of those options. All Stretch could do here was sit here, be here, and hope it was enough.

Stretch was so lost in his thoughts that he startled at the touch of a gloved hand as it settled gently over his bare one, sharp fingertips blunted by fabric lightly stroking his own. “He didn’t know, love. He mentioned to me in passing that he’d started working on floral arrangements again for the summer and that he’d be sending them out to Embassy employees, and I completely forgot.”

Trust Edge to know exactly what direction his thoughts were headed, right off the grid and into a little righteous revenge. Didn’t help that the things Stretch wanted to say to that excuse weren’t exactly helpful. Things like, Asgore should have been able to guess, homey reminders were only good for people who actually liked their past home, and maybe a reminder to pay some fucking attention to anything besides his own personal popularity contest was in order. Or how about suggestion for a visit to emphasis the whole ‘we don’t send my husband any gifts without pre-approval, asshole’.

None of those options were actually useful and either might actually get him banned from the Embassy this time, so Stretch kept ‘em to himself and only said, “i know.”

Then he let out a squawk as that gentle touch on his hand turned into a firm grip around his wrist and he was abruptly yanked over into Edge’s lap. He barely managed to put out his cigarette before it landed anywhere unpleasant. It took a little creative, and occasionally blatant, wriggling to get situated but in the end, he was settled across Edge’s femurs and snuggled in. His own hands were perfectly G-rated, Edge’s only slightly less so but it wasn’t like anyone on the street could see the hand he’d slipped under Stretch’s sweatshirt and settled over his sternum, right where his soul would manifest if he summoned it. Neither of them did, not yet, not out here in front of the broad daylight and the neighbors. The barest suggestion was enough for right now.

“I’m all right,” Edge murmured, and the warmth of his breath against the curve of his jaw was a tempting distraction. But Stretch wasn’t gonna forget to hand over a carefully selected piece of his mind to Asgore the next time he saw him.

Next time fuzzy ass wanted to send a present, he could stick with a gift card.

-finis

#spicyhoney #papcest #keelywolfe #underfell #underswap #underfell papyrus #underswap papyrus #by any other name

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ejzah · 3 years

Text

A/N: Well, that was a pretty resounding yes for part 2. I’m not sure if this is AU or not. Things got quite angsty and dramatic.

Rumor Has It, Part 2

***

Deeks pasted on a smile, trying to give the illusion that he was listening to the 29 year old sitting in front of him. Sophia Glossman was upbeat, funny and, attractive. On any other occasion, he’d probably be perfectly happy to share dinner with her. The problem was he wasn’t here by choice.

And she wasn’t Kensi. From her short blonde hair to her barely five feet of height, she was just about as different from Kensi as you could get.

He pushed that thought to the very back of his mind. Right now he needed to appear to be an attentive boyfriend and thinking about his issues with Kensi would not be helpful.

Despite his best attempts to draw her out, Kensi remained stubbornly standoffish. Every time she ignored him or answered in monosyllables instead one of her awful jokes, he the knot in his stomach grew a little heavier.

“Xavier?”

Deeks’ inhaled shallowly at his alias’ name, refocusing on Sophia. Based on her expression, he missed some integral part of the story.

“Oh, sorry,” he muttered, silently berating himself for getting distracted. “What were you saying?”

Sophia leaned forward, balancing her chin her cupped hands.

“I was just telling you about this jerk I had at the bar today,” she explained. “Are you ok? You’ve been really distracted today.”

“Yeah, just, uh, rough case.”

“Oh no, is it still the DCS case?” Clearly thinking his subdued demeanor was to do with concern for his client, she reached for his hand, rubbing her thumb along his, and brushed his hair back from his forehead. He resisted the urge to shake it back in place.

Xavier Moricz was a little more refined than Marty Deeks. He wore suits on a daily basis and drove a car that was far outside a cop’s pay.

“Uh, yeah, it’s not going well. I’m not sure I’ll be able to keep her from serving time. It might even be years,” Deeks said, taking inspiration from a dozen similar cases he’d worked as a public defender. He let the remembered emotion wash over him again and swallowed harshly, glancing up at Sophia with a shrug. “She could lose her kids forever.”

“I’m so sorry, Xav,” Sophia murmured, cupping his cheek. “You know, I think it’s wonderful that you do so much pro bono work for people who can’t afford a lawyer, but you’re working yourself way too thin. You need to take a break once in a while and-” she shrugged playfully, leaning even closer so he could see the flecks of darker blue in her eyes-“relax.”

He shivered at her touch, which wasn’t unpleasant at all, and made him think of Kensi even more. Grabbing Sophia’s hand, he kissed her knuckles, looking directly into her eyes. He saw her pupils widen with desire.

“What did you have in mind?”

“Why don’t you come over to my apartment and find out.” She skimmed her nose down his cheek, her breath warming his skin. “I have a bottle of really good tequila I might have “borrowed” from work and I don’t have to be in til 3.”

Deeks caught her mouth with his, kissing her for several long seconds and then pulled back with a groan.

“You have no idea how much I wish I could, but I have three depositions in the morning and I need to finish prepping,” Deeks said with an apologetic sigh.

“Workaholic,” Sophia teased, giving him a slightly exasperated look. “Ok, I’ll give you a pass. This time. But you owe me.”

***

Deeks got to his apartment just before 11. To make up for declining her mildly scandalous offer, he’d lingered at the restaurant, paying special attention to Sophia.

As he reached the front steps, he jerked as a figure slipped out of the dark shadows, instantly reaching for his gun before he realized it was Kensi.

“Kens, what are you doing here?”

She drew closer, but kept several feet between them.

“She seems nice,” Kensi said, her tone sarcastic. “A little young, but I guess that hasn’t stopped you before.”

“Wait, did you follow me?” Deeks asked, outraged and once again worried that he possibly hadn’t noticed her. He really needed to get his act together.

“You’ve been acting strange recently so I decided to matters into my own hands since you wouldn’t tell me.”

“Oh my god, Kensi...” Deeks shook his head and quickly brushed past her to open the front door. “We can’t have this conversation out here”

Kensi hesitated for a few second and then followed him inside, watching with her arms crossed as he turned on lights.

“So, are you going to tell me why you’ve been lying to keep your girlfriend a secret?”

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Deeks insisted.

“Really, because last I checked you don’t make out with friends.”

Deeks pinched the bridge of his noise, fighting the urge to let his frustration show.

“Or maybe she’s just a booty call,” Kensi continued recklessly and Deeks snapped, slightly outraged that she would suggest such a thing. He hadn’t dated anyone, let alone

“Kensi, do you really think I’d lie to you for a hookup? You know me way better than that.”

“I thought I did.” She shrugged. “But since you lied to me about where you were every night this week, anything is possible. For all I know, you’ve been seeing a different woman each day.”

“I would never do that to you,” Deeks said firmly and a hint of hopefulness crossed her face. God, he hated doing things to her. “And if I could tell you the truth right now, I would. Please believe me.”

Kensi’s face fell again, making his stomach clench uncomfortably, and she shook her head. She turned away, but not before he saw the tears shining in her eyes.

“If that were true, you’d find a way,” she said with quiet bitterness. “I thought we were-I thought we were friends, Deeks.“ Somehow that hurt more than anything she’d said so far. He took a step towards her, not really sure what he planned to do, but didn’t make it more than a few feet before his phone rang.

“Dammit!” he hissed when he saw the number and Kensi turned around with a slightly sad, knowing look. “Kens, I need to go right now, but I promise that I will explain everything to you.”

“No, that’s not necessary. You made it perfectly clear that we are partners and nothing more. Just like it should have always been.”

She moved around him, quickly heading for the door. He reached for Kensi, desperate to keep her from leaving even if he had no idea what he would say. He managed to catch her fingers and Kensi didn’t immediately pull away.

“Don’t go,” he begged, sensing that if she left now, something would be irrevocably broken between them.

“I can’t, Deeks,” she said raggedly. Her thumb moved against his, maybe unconsciously, and then she tugged free.

He immediately missed the warmth, the familiarity of her touch. She backed away from him, pulling up a mask of indifference in the time it took her to reach the door.

“I hope she’s worth it.”

***

A/N: Kensi may be just a touch OOC here. I figure that this takes place late season 4 and in my version of things, Kensi thought she and Deeks were close to moving toward a relationship and is now extremely hurt.

#ncis la fanfiction #marty deeks #kensi blye #not quite densi #rumor has it #au #angst #ejzah fanfiction

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wordynerdygurl · 4 years

Text

Seven Minutes in Heaven

Author’s Note: Well hello my friends! Since hitting 1000 Followers in July (WHAT?! STILL UNBELIEVABLE!!!) I’ve been working on the requests sent in by my amazing troop of readers! This is another one of those stories which I’m pleased to share. As always, help my unending need for validation but re-blogging or liking the story! Also, you can send asks, make your own request, follow me, or be added to my tag-list! Last, @sammy-jo1977 is my beta... and my ride or die home girl! Thanks lady! Pairing: Loki x Female Reader, appearances from most of the Avengers

Summary/ Request: @queenofmischief asked for a story where “Loki and you guys are friends growing up and you realize you like him and try to hide it but somehow at a party or something or another, maybe Seven Minutes in Heaven is involved, it comes out and really hot smut ensues?”

I used some of the ideas you gave me, dear reader, but made it a little more mature, so I sincerely hope you enjoy!

Warnings: Lots of 80′s references... music, movies, clothes, etc. References of smut, heavy petting and kissing

ENJOY!

"But, like, I really don't want to go." Your cellphone, pinned between your ear and shoulder, pushed your earring into the tender flesh behind your lobe. It probably didn't help that the jewelry in question was a pair of huge hoops, fluorescent in color and hard plastic.

You heard Wanda sigh, "Yea… I know. It's just, we all are… and you know it'll be worse if you don't show up."

"I really hate it." Using a sing-song voice didn't change the feelings behind your words. Going up to the main floor of The Avengers Tower for a theme party was not a thrilling idea.

"I know you do-", pulling open the door between your room and hers, you palmed your phone, frowning at your friend, "-But you look great!"

"Radical… or wicked… or tubular would be more 80's appropriate." Still, her compliment made you smile. It really was a great outfit, totally encapsulating the MTV generation's vibe, complete with hot lime colored leg warmers.

Your cropped REO Speedwagon t-shirt was cut off at the neck, dripping low enough to expose one whole shoulder, and a wide stripe of the magenta colored tank top underneath. Having tucked the camisole into your acid washed denim micro miniskirt, you finished the ensemble with a pair of black pumps, and the obligatory scrunchie of cheap yellow satin. It pulled your hair into a low, side ponytail.

For makeup you'd painted your eye-shadow on, bright turquoise with pink under your brows. Lipstick in a shimmery rosy hue brought extra attention to your lips. And you stored your cell phone, lip gloss and keys in your iridescent fanny pack.

Wanda couldn't help giggling at the sight of you and your collection of clashing colors. For her look tonight she'd dawned a pair of skin tight leggings, an over-sized button down shirt with a stretchy black belt that was about four inches wide. Ballet flats, teased out hair and stark makeup had Wanda looking like a video vixen. It was impressive.

"See, you went sexy… and I went silly." Pouting now, you flopped onto your bed, "Can I just not?"

Sitting down next to you, patting your knee, "You don’t look silly, but you do look like you could be a hair band groupie! That’s sexy!” Shrugging your shoulders, unconvinced, Wanda added, “Besides, tonight… It may be fun. And, worse case? You get blitzed like a teenager on prom night."

"No… that's not the worst case. Worst case? He's there."

Sighing, Wanda shook her head, "He does still rub you the wrong way, huh? And, yes, he may be there… but-" standing, taking you with her, "-it would be a shame to waste all your wicked cool work!"

Hearing her use the dated vernacular made you grin. She was right. Tonight could be a blast, if you were able to get out of your head. Jumping off the bed, unsettling one of those fashionable leg warmers, you hugged your friend tightly. You could do this. You wouldn't be alone. And if Loki was there, he'd just have to get over it. You weren't going to pay him any attention.

---

"Mr. Loki… can we please go? We're already stupid late."

Bending to straighten his red suspenders, Loki smirked at himself, "Greed is good."

Sighing, exasperated and edging into anger, Peter pulled open the front door, "I don't know what that means, but you look… greasy."

"Like I could steal your company in a corporate take over? Maybe steal your woman too", Loki questioned, excited at the idea.

Crossing his arms over the red puffy vest he had bought specifically for tonight, Peter grunted, "Uh… I… I guess. I meant more like one of the assholes in Wolf of Wall Street."

God, you had better be there tonight. Loki was putting a lot of hope on Stark’s little shindig and he wanted to make sure that all of the little details were absolutely perfect, giving him every advantage. Standing now, slicking back his long dark hair, "That, my young spider friend, is exactly what I am going for… Evil 80′s CEO."

"Great."

Loki heard the frustration in the young man’s voice. Someday he would understand, Loki thought, turning to the youthful Avenger beside him, "You certainly make a dashing Marty McFly, Peter. Truly."

"Aw! Really, Mr. Loki? Ya mean it?" That made the Spider Boy preen, popping his collar, and standing a little straighter.

"I do! Now-" flashing a rakish smile to his reflection as he passed, "-let's get upstairs and see how everyone else is doing!"

---

Everyone else was ready to party. The last mission, a particularly difficult one, involved Hydra agents banging it out against our heroes along the rough terrain of the polar ice cap. Draining the physical and emotional resources of everyone, including you and Loki, Tony had planned a little party to kick off a period of rest and relaxation.

As soon as the elevator opened you knew it was going to be an insane night. Everything was brightly lit. Paper streamers were strung up haphazardly along the walls and ceiling. Big plastic buckets of chips and cheese curls were put out on the counter along with a huge punch bowl that reeked of rum and sugary fruit juice. On the floor in the kitchenette was a garbage can, freezing, full of ice, only the keg tap visible. A stack of red plastic cups was at the ready.

Someone had ordered pizza. Well, dozens of pizzas. The boxes were piled along the table already crammed with pretzel bags and Doritos.

Steve was being instructed on the basics of Beer Pong and, you decided, definitely being hustled by Sam. Bucky looked on with curiosity, quietly sneaking closer to the chips and dip, hoping no one would notice. Rhodey was watching them both through the reflective lenses of his aviator shades, doing a great job of looking like a Top Gun cadet, including the tight jeans and broken-in bomber jacket. Grinning as he drank down a bottle of beer, Rhodes shouted, "Hey Stank! Is all of this really necessary?"

"Don't come for me Rhodey!" Wearing a pair of neon leopard spotted knit pants, a green polo shirt and white sneakers, Tony was clutching a glass bowl filled with little slips of paper to his chest. No one had managed to figure out what they were or why he held them. Drinking two beers from his plastic, can holding helmet, Tony would answer only with a slightly slurred, "It's my trashy 80′s party and I do what I want!"

And Tony had thought of everything. Sounding like a mixed tape pulled from the radio, the tunes didn't let up! Ratt, Foreigner, Cindi Lauper, Madonna and Tom Petty all took turns blasting through the room. So many hits from the past pumped through the sound system, getting people on their feet and keeping them there. You were swinging and swaying along, having a blast, but when Bon Jovi hit the group of Intergalactic Warriors went wild.

Clint, rocking a mullet wig and a vest with no shirt, jumped onto a table making the motions of an air guitar champion. Singing into a beer bottle like it was his microphone, "Whoooooaaaa we're halfway there…"

Guffawing, you hid behind your Bud Light filled cup, already red cheeked from the non-stop laughing and alcohol in your system. At some point you had given up Wanda to Vision in a varsity jacket, doing his best jerk-off jock impression, and not quite pulling it off. It wasn't his fault that he was too polite to put people down in the way of Eighties movie bad guys. Alone, feeling flushed, but happy, you needed a break and some quiet. Flinging yourself onto the soft sofa, watching the frat house style antics unfold all around, you couldn’t help laughing. Tony always found a way to knock the group out of their post mission funk. Sometimes that meant week long Caribbean vacations and sometimes that meant dressing up in retro attire and scream singing with a cold beer in your hands. Either way, it seemed to bring everyone closer together, and the pictures were certainly worth framing. The couch dipped as someone joined you. Swiveling, not quite drunk but not quite sober, you couldn’t help the groan that left you. “Oh. It’s you.”

Not exactly the response Loki wanted, he was just grateful that you spoke to him at all. Lately you seemed to flee any room he entered, a hurt and heavy sigh escaping you before you'd make your exit, never looking back. Loki couldn't understand why.

After all, it had been two months since that night. The one where he'd stumbled on you, glowing blue in the light of the television set, alone and in the darkness. You asked him to join you, he had accepted.

The movie was called "Say Anything" and Loki had to admit, as far as romance on film went, this story was very moving. But that was an unexpected bonus to being so near to you. Before the credits rolled, you had burrowed against him, snuggled under his arm with your head on his chest.

Stroking your hair, Loki pressed a kiss to your forehead, thoughtlessly, naturally. Pushing away, looking up at him through hooded lashes, "You… you kissed me?"

Words failed the silver tongued devil, something he still pondered all these weeks later, so a nod was all you got for a response. Kneeling, your sleep shirt riding over your thighs, Loki watched your small hand rising to cup his cheek. Feeling your lips against his own was the beginning of the best night of his life.

And then, nothing. It was like a switch had been thrown and no matter how many ways he tried to reach out for you, Loki wasn't able to connect. Not like that night.

So, he was going against his nature tonight. Joining the group, drinking a bit of his brother's mead, wearing a dated but pristine business suit. All done in the vain hope that something would shift in his favor.

He had already lost too many nights to memories of you. Soft, full skin under his broad palms. The tiny moan you exhaled when Loki’s tongue met your own. How your wet, willing body accepted him, without question or stipulation. And in the afterglow, when your head rested in the crook of his neck and your cherry cola scented breath circled him, you let Loki hold you close.

But he buried it all. Tonight he was the embodiment of all things slick. Nothing could stick to him; not when he had a goal in mind and this much gel in his hair. Loki Odinson would be taking you home tonight, come hell or high water. Wolfish, Loki’s grin was wicked, “Yes. Your dream has come true.” Sitting back, he crossed his designer suit covered knee at the ankle, exposing socks with little golfers on them. He let his right arm rest along the back of the sofa, not around you… not yet, but inching closer. “What is that cologne you’re wearing?” “Don’t you like it? I’m told Drakkar Noir was quite the scent of the 80′s. I did my research.” Twisting, you looked him over, impressed despite yourself. The suit was totally of its time. Black, pinstriped and you were sure the jacket that came with it was draped somewhere safe. His shirt was shiny but soft and bright, blinding white. Suspenders of red matched the tie that draped down the center of his chest. With his hair combed straight back and held in place with some kind of product, Loki looked like he was capable of eating a six course lunch at Sardi’s, complete with dirty martinis, then jetting back to the office in time to defraud a corporate spending account. The kind of executive that blackmails a co-worker with pictures of a mistress. The kind of douche bag that tries to take over a rec center to build a mall. In short, an avarice little asshole. So, why was it so hot? “It’s… overpowering.”, boy, was that an understatement. Loki’s whole aesthetic was overpowering right now. And, was he moving closer? His bent knee brushed against your own as he leaned near enough to be heard at a whisper, “You look adorable, you know that?” Scrunching into the corner of the couch, eyeing him suspiciously, “Oh? Really?” “Really.”, his hand brushed over your exposed shoulder, making you jump at his touch.

Uh uh. No way. You would not be so easy to seduce this time around. Even if those wide hands sent goosebumps growing all over your body, Loki would not charm his way into your panties again. Not like last time.

It had been spontaneous. Genuine, at least for you. And in the moment, it felt like Loki had given you a little piece of himself, a tenderness that no one else ever saw in the far flung Frost Giant.

Maybe that's why Clint's words hurt so much. He had told you so casually, holding up a spoonful of Cheerios, "Loki said his last girl was a drag. Basic bitch? Is that what the kids say?"

Thinking about it now made your heart hurt. You had given yourself to someone who thought you were beneath him. Loki couldn't want you. You would never be good enough.

But that night haunted you. His soulful kisses that stole your breath. The drag of Loki’s hands over the swell of your bottom as you straddled his hips. His solid chest under your own hands, dark head curved against the couch cushion, but those burning eyes never leaving your face. “I thought you said I was plain. Simple. Boring.”

Leveling his own words back at him made Loki straighten in his seat. How could you think that? Unbalanced, stammering, “Uh… I… I’d never…” “Never expected me to find out? I believe that. And, let me tell you this-” Pushing yourself up with the help of the couch’s arm, you rose on unsteady legs, “-I’m not nearly drunk enough to fall into your arms again.” Spinning away, you made a dash towards the people in the kitchen, without looking back. Watching you go, Loki could do nothing but stare after your retreating form, flummoxed.

“That was… painful.”

He knew that voice well enough, frustrated, confused and unfit for company, “Go away, Tony.”

“I don’t think I will. In fact-” sitting down in your empty spot, patting Loki’s knee, “-I’m going to make myself comfortable. Now, tell Uncle Tony all about it.”

Rolling his eyes, unable to find you in the crowd, Loki risked a sideways glance at his replacement companion. Was he really going to indulge in this? Tell his almost friend about you… about your one night together? Loki raked his hands through the pomade in his hair, growling low, “If you breathe a word of it Tony, I’ll-” Lowering his wrap around sunglasses, peering at Loki, Tony smiled, “Your secret is safe with me.” ---

Thinking less and less about Loki as the night went on should have been a relief but it seemed like the scent of him followed you everywhere. Unable to get free of him, you busied yourself with drinks, dancing, and munching like you were a kid again. Anything to keep your mind from wandering.

It's not like the party was boring. Not at all! There was plenty to distract you and you let it. Natasha made you her partner for beer pong and somehow you successfully won against Rhodey and Sam.

Next, Wanda needed you, which is how you wound up sitting on the bathroom sink listening to her go on about Vision in that wistful, loving way that made your own heart ache. Being a little drunk, you had to fight the urge to cry because you were lonely and hurting. “I saw you talking to Loki… what was that about?” She was reapplying ruby red lipstick, studying herself in the mirror, not looking directly at you.

Wanda's voice cut through your self doubt spiral though, something you were thankful for, and with a casual tone you countered, “He was trying to get something started, I think.” Eyebrows lifting, Wanda’s interested piqued, “Really? Loki was hitting on you?” “Yea… I mean, I think so. Was coming on awfully strong too. But… he’s been a jerk, right?”

Wanda cleaned up her eye make-up taking a minute, after washing her hands she looked at you, “I mean, he is here.” “So?” “So, you know he’s not really a joiner. More of a lone wolf. In fact, I think this may be the first of these little parties he’s come to. Maybe he’s changed… grown a bit? And, honestly, you never asked him about-”

Hopping off the counter, cutting her off, more than a little huffy at her good sense, “No, I didn’t and I don’t plan to. Loki thinks I’m a bore? Too basic for him? Fine. I have better things to do with my time.” Laying her hand on your shoulder, Wanda stopped you, eyeing you in the mirror once more, “I know his words hurt… but you’re going to have to clear the air eventually. Especially if we’re all going to work together.”

Shrugging, you offered your friend a small smile. There was truth in her sentiment, even if your slightly drunken brain rebelled against hearing it, “Yea, you're right… plus-” looking around the small washroom, just to make sure no one could hear the pair of you, “- he looks really hot tonight!”

Giggling, Wanda hugged you close, “I didn’t want to say anything, but… yea he does!” The pair of you were still laughing together, standing at the back of the crowd as Tony turned down the music, announcing, “Gather round children, Uncle Tony needs your attention!” There were a few groans, mostly from the beer pong table, as apparently Bucky was unhappy about forfeiting his winning match. Everyone else, in all their high haired glory, were congregating near their host, curious and more than a little drunk.

“Tony, what the hell, man? You killed the tunes!”, Clint shouted, spilling Bud Light foam as he joined the tightening circle. “Patience, my drunk friend. You all remember this?” From the table nearby, Tony picked up his glass bowl, triumphant, “Our Destiny!”

Pepper, sighing with a smile, “So dramatic!” Shaking the bowl in her direction Tony smirked, “Ok smarty, then you pick first. Go on… Pick!” There were oohs and ahhs from the assembled Avengers. Rolling her eyes, Pepper reached in, grabbing the first slip her fingers found. Pulling it free, she grinned, eyeing Tony, “It says ‘Loki’...” Hearing his name, Loki snapped his head up, surprise registering on his face, “Excuse me?” Holding it up for his examination, Pepper waved the slip under the regal nose of the junior Odinson, “See… your name.” “Yes, but why?”

Butting in, Tony snatched the scrap from the hand of his lovely fiance, practically dancing with glee. Turning to Loki, “Now you, Gordon Gecko, pull a slip.” Aware of all eyes locked on him, Loki reached into the jar, digging around a little more than necessary. Finally satisfied, the thin paper pinched between his fingers, Loki opened the folded note. When his fierce gaze met yours, you knew without a doubt. It was your name he had grabbed. Throwing a thick arm across Loki’s broad shoulders, Tony hugged him close, “Well? What’s it say?” It all made sense in that moment. The tacky costumes, flat beer and endless music. A drunken moment of clarity had descended. Tony, waving his arms, eating up the crowd’s reactions, heads turning to gauge your response. Swallowing hard, your hearing failing you, you just faked a smile. You and Loki were going into the closet for Seven Minutes in Heaven. Only there was no way you were going to do that. Not after what he’d said. Not after your one night together, right? But you felt a gentle hand pushing your forward, into the center of your circle of friends and for some reason, your feet followed.

Refusing didn't enter your mind. With everyone ogling you and Loki, making a scene would only cause more speculation, something you weren't keen to do. Instead, you stepped next to Tony, outwardly eager to play along.

You just shouldn't have dared to look at your proposed make out partner. Laser focused, Loki’s lusty look hadn’t wavered. No, the light in those thundering blue eyes was carnal, darker than you had ever seen, matching your own. Against your better judgement, you wanted Loki, too.

Whatever Tony was saying was a blur, merely sounds, because you were utterly stunned by the nearness of Loki. The roaring laughs of the rest of the group were drowned out by your pounding heart. A door opened to a dim room, the pantry maybe? You didn’t know and in that moment you didn’t really care.

With a small smile, Loki ducked into the cupboard, lacing his fingers with yours, offering a bit of his strength. Dragging you inside, your body pinned between a shelf of snacks and the hard body of your frenemy, a whimper of want passed your lips. Loki still smelled so good and now he was so close. “Have fun you two!”, Tony’s words were accompanied by the door shutting you and Loki inside, in the dark. Surrounded by silence, Loki’s sharp pants were the only sound louder than your racing pulse, which was saying something. Afraid to move, afraid of spooking you, Loki struggled to search your stare in the low light. He had already experienced your angry dismissal of his attention tonight. It wasn't something he wanted to relive, not when you were so close with sweet and speedy breath, your chest brushing against his own at each exhale.

Lifting a hand, grazing over your uncovered shoulder, Loki's touch was electric. You moved towards it, towards him, needing more of his energy. Craving it.

Bold in the dark, you grabbed at Loki’s suspenders, tugging him closer. Rising on your toes, covering some of the distance between your mouth and his, you pressed a hot kiss to those soft, pink lips. Under your fluttering fingers Loki shivered, "Darling-"

"Shut up. I… I don't care."

"But I never…"

"I told you. I don't care. Now kiss me like you mean it, because we only have about six more minutes!"

Not needing any more encouragement, Loki found the flare of your hips in the shadows, molding your curves to the rigid planes of his body. Desperate, needy, you felt his tongue move against your own. Want, plain and simple, led your own fingers to the collar of Loki’s starched shirt and the tangle of his raven hair. Fisting it, tugging against those luscious locks, you couldn’t seem to get close enough to the tall God sharing your cupboard. Whining, his name on your lips, you drew Loki tight enough that the press of your breasts was edging towards pain. Demanding, true to your word, with every pass of Loki’s magical mouth over your own the last few weeks were forgotten. Hungry for more, Loki roughly squeezed the flesh of your ass, grinding you against his wool blend covered crotch. Stuttering, his arousal was so stiff, for a minute Loki worried about making a mess. But that feeling was replaced with unbridled ecstasy when your lips found the tender skin below his ear.

A nip, enough to make Loki hiss, was soon soothed by your sucking on the same spot. Resting your butt on the nearest shelf, you didn’t have to stand on tip-toe to reach the soft, sweet sections of Loki where you longed to lavish attention. He took advantage of your new position by sliding a free hand along the swell of your separated thighs. “I just need to feel you, dove. I need to know that you want me as much as I want you.” It was a husky whisper, directly into your ear, and it sent an arc of icy fire to your core. When his long fingers skimmed over the silky slick of your panties you moaned in unison, bucking into Loki’s touch, lost in the moment. Stepping between your legs, Loki took one of your hands into each of his own, pinning you wide open against the boxes of cereal and granola bars that lined the pantry walls. Devouring you slowly, Loki kissed along the column of muscles at your throat, across the exposed line of your clavicle. You could do little more than take his delicious torment as more and more of your sweat dappled skin was serviced by his silver tongue. “Yes… Loki…”, tumbling out of you, just like the night when you first came together, you crooned his name in delight. Breathless, boneless and broken with need. CLICK! The sound made you both freeze. Snapping swiftly, Loki’s head swung towards the door where the bright light and noisy crowd of the party was intruding into your private pantry. “WHOA, WHOA, WHOA! What do we have here?” Swinging into the tight space, Tony’s shrewd look took in the scene in seconds, “What were you two doing in here? It was a very quiet seven minutes!” Straightening to standing, Loki stood, blocking you from sight as you readjusted your clothes. Smoothing down his tangled strands, sarcasm dripping, “Talking. Very quietly.” When he was sure you were decent, Loki offered you his hand, and blinking you stepped back into the wild and raucous party still in full swing. Tony, flashing a knowing grin your way, nodded, “I hope you didn’t smush the chips! We still need those!” Giggling, you locked onto Loki’s arm, letting him lead you towards the keg and away from the shouted questions of your friends. You knew there was no mystery about what happened in those seven minutes. Hair mused, makeup smudged, lips swollen and shirts twisted, the pair of you were walking neon signs for getting to third base.

Silently Loki poured you a beer, taking a small glass of Asgardian mead for himself, before raising his glass your way. Returning his gesture, you downed the frothy ale fast, feeling a little parched after your spit swapping time in the hall closet. Boring into you, his eyes followed each of your movements, searching for a sign of your feelings. Dropping your empty cup on the counter, you turned and jumped onto the marble ledge, feet dangling. “Loki?” Placing his own glass down gently, Loki took his position between your bent knees, looking down at your darling face, “Yes?” “Did you say those things? That I was… boring? Basic?” Shaking his dark waves no, Loki bit into his bottom lip, “Never. What I said was, my last girl, ages ago, was those things… but my new lady-” tracing along your jaw, tipping your chin his way, “-she is everything I could ever want.”

“Am I… am I your new lady, then?” With a fierce flicker of fire in his eyes, Loki nodded yes this time, “Absolutely.” Leaning into him, arms around his neck, you tugged him down to meet your waiting lips. “Good. Good to know. Because I think I’m going to watch a movie tonight.” “Really? I recall really enjoying the last one.” “Hmm… me too.” Sliding off the counter, ducking under Loki’s long arms, you turned back to face him, “My room… say, an hour?”

Snapping his suspenders, smirking, “I’ll be there.” Watching you skip away made Loki’s pulse pound in anticipation. Pouring himself another glass of clear liquor, he chuckled, amazed at the change seven minutes had created.

“You’re welcome.” “Ah! Yes, many thanks Tony.”

Leaning against the counter, Tony knocked into Loki’s shoulder, “You’re cute together, Rock of Ages, but don’t make me regret helping you tonight! Treat her right.”

“Of course. I... truly, thank you.”, sincerity seeped from Loki at the favor from Tony. “No worries! No worries!” Waving away any additional gratitude, Tony looked over the group of half cocked, and totally cocked heroes before him, “Of course the real bitch was getting Pepper to pull your name from the bowl…”

My Marvelous Minxes tag-list: @queenofmischief @vodka-and-some-sass @just-random-obsessions @brokenthelovely @lots-of-loki @thefallenbibliophilequote @iamverity @iluvsumbucky @unadulteratedwizardlove @wolfsmom1 @procrastinatinglikeabitch @mizfit2 @shxdowofdarkness @nonsensicalobsessions @ahintofkiwistrawberry @jessiejunebug @rorybutnotgilmore @crystalizedcaramel @lokislittlecorner @scrumptious-finicky-illusion @capcapcapsicle @jamielea81 @caffiend-queen @thenatalie @sammy-jo1977 @otakumultimuse-hiddlewhore @is-it-madness @jenjen8675309 @alexakeyloveloki @poetic-fiasco

#loki x reader #loki x you #hot loki #loki smut #loki love #1000followers #mcu smut #mcu fanfiction #loki fanfiction #loki fanfic #80's #80's loki #80's mcu

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glenncoco4 · 3 years

Text

You Can Count On Me

A/N: Chapter 2

••••

18 years later...

She steps into the gym, immediately sensing something in the air shift. It’s not a bad shift more like a welcomed shift, almost the same feeling whenever she enters a room that he’s in. Taking a quick scan across the room, her eyes land on a familiar mop of golden blonde hair attached to a man who’s pounding away at a punching bag.

Schooling her features, Kensi or “Tracy” strides over to a man that introduces himself as Janklow and begins talking about Danny, how she wanted to come to the place that her boyfriend talked so much about.

Janklow drops his guard just enough, calling the rest of their teammates over to introduce her, including one Marty Deeks, only today his name isn’t Marty and he’s not her best friend. Today he’s Jason Wyler fighting for a spot on an MMA team full of Marines.

••••

The three agents along with the tech operator and psychologist continue to stare at the monitor displayed with men from the gym, trying to figure out each ones possible motive to kill Zuna.

Callen’s brow furrows, his focus solely on the shaggy blonde. “What about Wyler?”

“He’s a bit sketchy.” She sends herself a mental high-five as she pictures her best friend’s reaction at her quip. “But he’s definitely not our guy.”

“He’ doesn’t fit in with the others. What makes you so sure its not him?” Sam questions, turning his attention to the brunette agent.

She shrugs, trying to remain nonchalant. “It’s just a feeling.”

The team leader share a look with his partner. “Or maybe its his baby blues.”

“Or his fluffy hair.” The ex-Navy SEAL finishes.

She huffs a laugh, shaking her head. “Listen, guys, I’m telling you, it’s not him.”

“Tell us, what makes you so sure.” Nate finally interjects, wondering what she saw in the blonde.

She wasn’t sure if she was going to have to out her friend but now she knows she does, there’s no way around it because if she doesn’t her best friend could end up hurt so she takes a deep breath. “Because his name isn’t Jason Wyler, it’s Marty Deeks and he’s an LAPD Detective.”

Callen’s eyes widen in shock. “And you know this because...”

“I was with him when he got his promotion.”

All four men’s brows simultaneously furrow in confusion.

Knowing they’re not going to give up until she gives them a little more, she relents. “He’s my best friend, the person I trust most in the world. He’s not our guy.”

The confidence in which she says it must be enough for the leader because he just shares aa look with his partner before turning back to her, trust written in both their eyes. “Okay.”

••••

Kensi’s just about to open Zuna’s laptop, when the doorknob starts to jiggle. Slowly reaching for the small of her back, where her weapon is secured, she watches as the door slowly opens and is caught off guard for the second time that day.

His cerulean blues widen in surprise when he meets her mismatched chocolate orbs for the second time that day. He really missed her, but that’s besides the point right now. “What the hell are you doing around here?”

“We’re investigating Zuna’s death. What are you doing here?”

“I’m undercover.”

“No shit.”

Before anything else can be said, Callen steps in from the kitchen, joining the two childhood friends.

“Marty this is Special Agent G Callen. Callen this is Detective Marty Deeks.”

The team leader takes the detective’s offered hand in greeting. “So I hear you know Kensi.”

“Yeah, know might be a bit of an understatement.”

Callen watches in awe of his coworker exchanging a smile with the detective. He’s not certain, but something tells him that the two are fighting something that’s inevitable. “Well we don’t want to step in on your investigation but we do need to find out what happened to Zuna.”

“Understandable.”

“Can you tell us what you’re under for?”

Deeks shakes his head, knowing that someone from the gym could and most likely is watching them. “Not here. There’s been a couple guys coming in and out from the gym since I’ve been here. I can probably slip away in a few hours.”

“You got your cell on you?” Kensi questions her friend, already knowing the answer.

“Just a burner.”

Callen nods in understanding. “Okay, give Kens your number and we’ll send you an address.”

“Sure thing.”

••••

She nearly jumps out of her skin when there’s a knock at the window. He’s definitely gonna pay for that later. Rolling down the window, Kensi see’s the confusion on his face.

“A Wendy’s, really?”

“Well, I couldn’t very well send you the address to the boat shed on a burner.”

When the words hit his ears, realization spreads across his face like an excited puppy that just got a new toy. “No!”

“Get in before I leave you here.”

Not having to be told twice, Marty hightails it around the SUV and quickly jumps in the passenger seat, shaking with excitement. “Kens, are you serious?”

Shaking her head, she checks her rear view as she slowly backs out of the parking lot. “I don’t know what your fascination with the boat shed is.”

“Are you kidding? It’s a secret hidey hole on the water, what’s not exciting about it?”

“Oh right, the Aquaman fantasy.”

“Okay, Miss I wanna fall in love on a ship and have sex in an old jalopy.”

She feigns shock and a little bit of outrage. “Hey, I told you that in confidence.”

“Yeah, but it’s slowly becoming my fantasy too so technically it’s okay.” He wiggles his eyebrows at her playfully. “Besides its just us here.”

Something in his demeanor feels a little flirty to her. Is she going crazy? When he flashes her a smile, she feels an unfamiliar surge of excitement run through her body. What the hell is going on?

He notices a look cross her features that he’s never seen before. “What?”

“Nothing. It’s just...I missed you.”

“I missed you too, Kens.” Marty feels a sudden sense of contentment as he watches her look back to the road and sees the blush rise to her cheeks. There’s a fluttering in his chest that’s unfamiliar to him. What the hell is happening?

••••

Deeks caught the team up on his op and all that was involved. He explained how Danny hadn’t come home the previous night, something about meeting up with this new girl Tracy. That earned him a famous Kensi trying not to smile, smile, which to be honest is one of his favorite things.

It didn’t go unnoticed by the other two agents in the room at the change in their coworker when she was around the detective. She seemed happier, like she wasn’t carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders.

The rest of the case goes off without a hitch, NCIS gets their killer and LAPD gets their drug ring bust, but most importantly Marty gets to go home...to his own bed.

••••

There’s a knock at his door, a smile spreading to his lips knowing exactly who it is. He unlocks the deadbolt, twisting the knob and pulls it open. “Well, well, well, if it isn’t Agent Blye.”

Kensi steps around him and into his apartment, case of their favorite beer in her hand. “Well, well, well, if it isn’t Shaggy Rogers.”

“Oh, touché.”

She sends him a smile over her shoulder and something washes over him. The spark in her mismatched orbs, is something he can’t quite describe. He shakes his head, trying to rid this unfamiliar feeling as she goes to the fridge, depositing the rest of the beer after taking two out.

“Pizza should be here in 30 minutes.”

“You got-“

“Hawaiian, yeah, yeah, but only half.” She shivers with disgust at his preference for toppings as she hands him the bottle.

“I would expect noting less.”

She squints her eyes, stepping up to him almost in a challenge. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Kensi Blye doesn’t eat any fruit unless its covered in chocolate.”

“I-I ate that apple that one time.”

“Only because your mom hadn’t gone to the store for groceries yet.”

She wants to retort but knows he’s right. So she steps around him, walking over to the couch, landing a soft punch to his shoulder on her way. “Just play the damn movie.”

“You’re the boss...KayKay.”

“I will kill you.”

“No, you won’t.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“You’re my best friend and the person I trust most in the world.”

“Clearly you’ve never seen Snapped.”

He shakes his head in disbelief, unable to stop the grin from appearing on his face. He missed this. He missed her and their banter.

A sudden knock on the door draws him out of his trance. “I think maybe you should get it. I don’t really want to have my back turned to you right now.”

“Haha.” She steps over his legs, whacking him with his cat pillow as she heads for the door. When she pulls it open, the last person she’d ever think it would be is standing there, all four foot and nine inches of her. “Hetty?”

“Miss. Blye.”

“Come in.”

Kensi ushers her boss into the apartment, eyes wide as saucers as she locks on with his.

Sending him a hint of a smile, Hetty takes a seat in the chair next to the couch. “Hello, Mr. Deeks.”

“Hello, Ms. Lange.”

“Please, call me Hetty.”

“What can I do for you, Hetty?”

“Actually its more what I can do for you.”

Kensi’s brow furrows along with Marty’s as the OSP manager hands the detective a manila folder.

Opening it he’s a little caught off guard when he sees all his information spread out before him. Everything from his statement from when Donald Blye saved him and his mother all the way to his most recent case. “Wow, Kensi was right. You are a secret ninja lady.”

The brunette feels the heat rise to her cheeks, feeling the scrutiny of her boss’s gaze fall on her.

Shaking her head, a tiny smile curls at the old woman’s lips. “It’s clear to me that you two work quite well together...even better than Mr. Callen and Mr. Hanna.”

“Tell us something we don’t already know.” Marty playfully nudges his best friend, trying to get a smile out of her but is unsuccessful. Instead her features are unreadable. What Hetty’s asking would be a huge deal...monumental. I mean working with his best friend, not going under by himself anymore, working with a team...with her. “Can I think about it?”

Kensi’s eyes find his, trying to figure out which way he’s leaning. She can tell he’s holding back because of her, he doesn’t want to over step. He deserves this, a team and people that will truly watch his back and selfishly she wants to be the one to do it and he do the same for her.

He sees the hopefulness in her eyes and knows the same is mirrored in his own. Getting a nod of approval from his best friend, he turns to his new boss with a smile. “I’m in.”

After he signs the form, Hetty gladly takes the folder back from their new liaison before taking her leave. “Well then as I understand it, you have a major undercover you’re working on and when the time comes you’ll get pulled back in but in the mean time, you’ll be reporting to OSP.”

“Thanks, Hetty.”

“I’ll leave you to it.” She sends them each a smile, showing herself to the door.

Once the door click shut, Kensi turns to her best friend and now partner...he’s her partner. She can’t help the Cheshire Cat like grin on her face. “We’re gonna be partners.”

Unable to stop himself, Marty closes the distance between them, wrapping his arms around her in hug that’s so familiar to them its like second nature. “We’re gonna be partners.”

••••

The following Monday had Kensi leading her best friend, now partner into the OSP Headquarters. She couldn’t help the smile that was tugging at her lips as she watched the shaggy blonde in his awestruck wonder as she showed him around the building.

Their first case together is a high profile missing persons case which results in Kensi being held captive but like always, her partner along with Sam and Callen has her back and they live to see another day.

••••

He’s waiting at the car for his partner when the buzzing from his phone draws his attention. Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out the offending object and immediately rolls his eyes as he reads the caller ID. “Bates, what do ya got?”

As his Lieutenant fills him in on what’s going on, Marty’s brow furrows and his body deflates, his eyes catching those of his best friend as she walks towards him with a bright smile on her face. One thing he hates most is having to cancel plans with her.

“Alright, I’ll be there.”

She waits until he hangs up the phone, her eyes meeting his, already knowing that their plans to go to the music festival this weekend are trashed.

“I’m not gonna make it in tomorrow. Bates just called me, undercover op we’ve been working on and I finally got my in.”

A sad smile crosses her face, she knows its not his fault. This is what they signed up for. “The sex-trafficking case?”

“Yeah.”

“When do you leave?”

“Tonight.”

“Okay.”

Her reaction is something he can’t quite describe. He knows what he wants it to be, but he’s just not sure. One thing he knows for sure is that now is not the time to lay it all out on the table. “Kens-“

“You’ll be careful, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

She scolds herself for letting her emotions slip, he doesn’t need this right now. He needs to be focused on his mission, but if she can get a little more time with him, she’ll gladly take it. “Do you have time to grab something to eat before you leave?”

He throws his arm around her shoulders, placing a kiss to the top of her head as they turn to walk towards the pier. “Always have time for you.”

There’s something about this goodbye that shifts their entire relationship, what it may be, they’re not sure. One thing is certain though, their lives are even more intertwined than they thought.

#Densi #Densi Fanfic #AU #Kensi Blye #Marty Deeks #Kensi x Deeks #You Can Count On Me #Chapter 2 #NCIS: LA #NCIS: LA Fanfic

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contrabbandiera-di-elia · 4 years

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Elippo Week 2020 Day 4 Canon compliant.

—

Salento was supposed to be a small trip. Only the five of them, at most six, if Gio would manage to convince Sofia to go. But somehow it became a journey with over fifteen people, including those who Elia knew not that well or not at all. Elia didn’t have much of the problem with that, although the perspective of a trip consisting mostly of couples (including his very recent crush and her new boyfriend) and strangers seemed like quite a challenge. Good thing that Elia liked challenges.

It turned out not to be so bad. After they planned out how to transport and accommodate so many people, the trip itself was great. A little bit crowded and chaotic, and too many kissing people around, but Elia really enjoyed himself. His friends turned out not to be a bunch of douchebags who would spend time only with their significant others, the girls were cool, although he subconsciously avoided being alone with Sana, Rami and his friends proved to be chill guys, Edoardo Incanti was trying his best to fit in, and he was doing a great job at it, and Filippo...

Filippo was the biggest surprise of all. Elia was surprised himself how quickly they clicked together. He had so many chances to talk to him before, but it was Sana’s Eid party that brought them closer. Maybe that was this whole renting thing, which was a sure thing for Filippo even trough Elia still didn’t give him a clear answer. Or maybe it had something to do with how similar they turned out to be. Elia couldn’t help but enjoy their little exchanges of sarcastic remarks and light jokes. Or maybe it had something to do with how somehow they were around each other more often than before. Whenever they were all meeting together, Filippo was somewhere close to him. And even if he wasn’t, Elia would somehow make his way towards Filippo. He wasn’t sure why himself. He simply decided it’s fun to be around Filippo and didn’t pay it any more attention.

With so many people around, it was loud and chaotic all the time. And even though Elia was generally a personification of these two words, sometimes even he needed a moment away from all this mess. Which is why one day he found himself on the beach, all alone. It was an early evening, quiet and peaceful. Everyone divided themselves into smaller groups or couples and tried to find their own quiet corner. Elia took this occasion to sneak away with his guitar and play a little. He could always use some additional training, Gio was constantly on his back telling him to play more because “he couldn’t carry the whole band on one guitar alone, for fuck’s sake.” He was surprisingly dedicated to this whole idea, even though Elia wasn’t sure how much longer they could last without a proper drummer and with their shitty songwriting.

“There you are! Luchino was looking for you everywhere!”

Elia looked up to see Filippo going towards him. He was waving at him as if he really thought Elia couldn’t notice him. It was impossible, not with Filippo’s splendid collection of colorful shirts. Right now, he was wearing a short-sleeve shirt, light pink with colorful flowers all over. Elia often thought about his own style as simple and toned down, but comparing to Filippo, everyone was simple and toned down.

“What does he want?”

“Marti and Gio were telling some story from the middle school, but it turned out they both remember it differently. Their argument got too heated, and Luchino hoped you’d provide some details to settle who’s right,” Filippo explained. Still, instead of waiting for Elia to get up, he sat down himself. Elia looked at him, amused. Typically for Filippo, he didn’t even ask if Elia want his companionship; he decided it himself.

“And what was it about? That story.” He asked, turning his eyes back to guitar’s strings as Filippo seemingly decided to stay instead of going back.

“Something about a school trip and how they both got terribly lost. Something like this. And they can’t decide whose fault it was.”

“Mine, actually,” Elia decided, smiling widely while remembering the story. “I mean, theoretically, Gio. But I kinda got them more lost.”

“You little piece of shit!”

“No, no. It’s their fault for being stupid. It was like… Gio accidentally joined the group from another school, he got distracted while he was picking a present for Eva. And Marti wouldn’t stop freaking out, obviously. So I kinda worked him up even more, so he went to look for him. Long story short, they got terribly lost, Peccio and I wouldn’t pick up our phones just to make it all more fun, the teachers finally figured out they were gone, they found him, Gio and Marti wouldn’t stop arguing whose fault it was that they got lost, because yes, Gio was the one to get lost at first, but Marti was the one who made them even more lost… And over the years, they magically forgot that I had something to do with it.”

Filippo was laughing, and it made Elia smile himself. That wasn’t their peak comedy story, but he was glad that it managed to make Filippo laugh. He liked this honest, spontaneous laughs of his. It made Elia think that he is, in fact, funny. Most people thought he’s just dumb, so it was a nice change.

“What a good friend you are, really.”

“I told you, it’s their fault. They could have been smarter.”

“It still makes you a little piece of shit.”

“No, it doesn’t.”

“Are you into sightseeing?”

Elia raised his head, looking from his guitar to Filippo. There was something in Filippo’s eyes that made him feel uneasy. Something he has often seen in the looks Filippo was giving him, but couldn’t clearly interpret. A glint, a sparkle, some deeper meaning. Elia wasn’t used to people looking at him like this.

“Eh... Yeah, sure. If there’s something cool to see, why not?”

“Ostuni is cool to see. Have you ever been there?” Elia shook his head, and somehow, it made Filippo smile. “Okay. Do you wanna go? It’s nearby, we can make it a one day trip, or maybe even half-day, it depends. I’ve heard it’s gorgeous, and it’d be a shame not to see it when we’re so close.”

“And who else is going? Or are we all going? Did I miss some planning, or did you guys made some plans when I was not around?”

There was a bit of silence that made Elia uncomfortable. He wasn’t used to sitting in silence with Filippo. It was the first time it happened, and it felt unnatural. Finally, Filippo sighed, which made Elia partly relieved and party stressed. He felt as if he said something wrong, but he had no idea what exactly.

“You’re quite clueless, aren’t you?”

“Excuse me?”

“There are no ‘others,’ Elia. I meant you and me only.” Having no answer, Filippo clarified after a short while. “I’m trying to ask you out.”

There was another moment of silence, but this time Elia wasn’t even thinking about whether it was uncomfortable or not. He simply didn’t know what to say. Filippo asking him out was the last thing he expected. Yes, he knew Filippo was gay. But it never crossed his mind that he could be possibly interested in him. Not that he was used to people being interested in him. Each of his serious crushes ended with his object of affection getting together with somebody else. It was pretty unusual for him to get somebody’s affection. And even more unusual to get it from a man. He never really thought about himself with another man. He didn’t have an occasion to.

“Look, it’s—”

“There you are!”

Elia turned his head so quickly that he was almost sure that something cracked in his neck. The rest of the boys were slowly approaching him, seemingly fed up with waiting for them. Typical for Gio, he liked resolving misunderstandings as soon as possible. The problem was, Elia wasn’t really ready to end the conversation.

Filippo, however, was.

“You don’t have to answer,” he said quietly. “This silence was quite telling. But that’s fine.”

He flashed him one last smile before getting up. Elia didn’t make a move, trying to analyze the situation twice as fast as he usually would. On the one hand, he definitely wasn’t gay. And he was never really interested in guys. So there was no reason for him to go on a date with Filippo.

On the other hand, there was no reason not to. He was never really interested in dating guys, but did it really mean that he couldn’t give it a try. And Filippo… Well, he had to at least hope Elia will say yes. So maybe he wouldn't mind being Elia’s first guy experience. Maybe he wanted to be. Otherwise, why would he even ask?

“Yes,” he spoke up. Filippo looked at him visibly confused. Theoretically, he could withdraw. He could change his mind. But he didn’t. Instead, he got up, looked Filippo straight into his eyes, and repeated. “Yes. Yes, I’ll go out with you. Hope you have a plan because I’m terrible at making them.”

He gave him one last smile and went to join the boys. He still wasn’t sure if that was the right decision. But did it have to be?

#elippo #elippoweek #elippoweek2020 #skam italia #skamit #my fic

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oldies-enthusiast · 4 years

Text

She’s A Sensation: Ch. 1 | Marty McFly x reader

A/N: Hey guys! So basically, I’m in the middle of one of my many BTTF marathons & since I’m clearly In The Mood™️, I decided to bless your feed with some Marty McFly content.

The name of the band in this story is inspired by my favourite band, Psihomodo Pop from Zagreb, Croatia & their song Sexy Magazin.

Have a great day! —Ally xx

Chapter 2

For as long as you can remember, you’ve loved music with inexplicable passion. Some of your earliest memories involve blasting out The Sweet’s Ballroom Blitz on your old radio & jamming out to it with your dad. Your parents noticed you had talent when you would sing or hum absent-mindedly while dressing up your Barbie dolls or playing outside.

You got your first guitar at the age of 13, but your parents couldn’t afford guitar lessons as well. You spent that whole summer saving up for the lessons & finding all sorts of ways to make money, which sounds easier than it was for a 13-year-old, though. Most of the time you would walk dogs for other people, mow their lawns or babysit little kids when needed. Old ladies were especially fond of you & made sure to pay you a dollar or two extra when you carried groceries for them. It wasn’t the hardest work, but it definitely was a fair responsibility given how young you were.

On the other hand, you’d been dreaming of playing the guitar for years beforehand and that’s why you were so determined.

When the day of your first lesson arrived, you were ecstatic. Playing the guitar turned out to be a lot more difficult than you’d thought it was going to be, but your enthusiasm never subsided. It required talent, patience & hard work, and you had it all. You got better and better with each day.

Sophomore year of high school you made friends with some cool guys who liked punk and glam metal and you started playing together soon after. At first, it was only for fun. You would goof around on your instruments pretending you were Iggy Pop or Joan Jett; at parties people would sometimes ask you to play something & that was when you first realized that as a group, you sounded really good. By the end of the school year, you were officially a band.

Your main influences were the Ramones & Alice Cooper. First you started as a cover band and soon began to write and play your own stuff. You’d been searching for a proper band name for weeks before you agreed to be called Sexy Magazine. The main theme you represented combined proto-punk style with shock rock elements. What you actually were was intimidating, and that’s how you chose the name—you really wanted to shock people.

One morning, you saw the announcement for the rock band audition at your school. You knew that with the name you had and songs you played you wouldn’t even stand a goddamn chance. After all, the school was looking for a group that would play at the upcoming dance and there was no way in hell a bunch of punks singing taboo shit would win—which was exactly why you signed up. All four of you thought it would be hilarious to walk up on stage and see how long it would take the judges to cut off the ultimate atrocity that you were.

On the day of the audition, you arrived somewhat early because you wanted to take a look at other bands. While you were hanging around, checking out the music and waiting for your name to be called, some cute guy in denim brushed hurriedly past you, slipping his guitar strap over one shoulder and heading to the front. His bandmates were already onstage. He walked up to the microphone, cleared his throat and said:

“We’re, uh... We’re The Pinheads.”

The Ramones’ Pinhead immediately started playing in your head and within an instant, all your attention was on those guys.

You were surprised to find out they weren’t going to play any Ramones. Instead, they started playing a thing you quickly recognized—it was The Power Of Love by Huey Lewis & The News.

And actually, they sounded amazing.

If this was a fair, honest-to-God rock band audition, these guys would make for some serious competition, you thought to yourself.

To your complete and utter shock, the judge stood up with a loudspeaker and cut them off within the first guitar riff. You couldn’t believe your ears.

Too darn loud?? It was a rock band audition, for crying out loud! Since when’s rock ‘n’ roll supposed to be soft?

The guy in denim looked disappointed. He quickly gathered his stuff and descended.

You honestly felt sorry for them because they sounded great and didn’t even get a proper chance. After that, it was almost final: you weren’t going to make it past five seconds on that stage, but you decided to go for it anyway.

You had agreed to play a song you wrote together called The Midnight Hour, which was basically the Cinderella story full of more or less subtle dirty references. You did have butterflies in your stomach despite the fact that you were there just for kicks. But as soon as you grabbed the mic and started singing, the feeling faded away—it was like an instant transformation.

You didn’t even notice how far into the song you’ve come and before you knew it, it was over and people were cheering, their voices snapping you back to reality. You exchanged incredulous glances with your friends, your breath caught in your throat. Even the judges seemed impressed. In fact, you saw the one with the glasses whisper something to the guy next to him, who nodded and immediately turned to the rest of them.

You thought it was all a joke. You couldn’t believe they’d let you play in the first place! This was the exact opposite of what you’d planned on doing. As much as you hated to admit it, you felt a wave of excitement wash over you as you watched the audience applauding with joy.

You sticked around for a short while afterwards and pretty soon the judges arose from their seats and signaled for everyone to gather around. They’d apparently decided on the winner.

“All right, everybody. Thank you all for participating. Your effort is appreciated. To be fair, we had a tough time choosing among so many great groups...”

A couple of kids exchanged amused looks and you heard faint snickering somewhere behind you. This guy talked like he was an actual game show host. It was ridiculous.

“...Congratulations to...”, he trailed off, taking a breath. When he spoke at last, it seemed as though he didn’t say, but spat out: “Sexy Magazine!”

Your bandmates started laughing in disbelief. You couldn’t seem to wrap your mind around what had just happened.

We won? Us?! We are going to play at the dance?

A couple of kids came up to you to say congrats and tell you they’d really enjoyed the show. Some dude you recognized from earlier who looked as if he was high all of the time, the lead singer of some mediocre blues rock band, gave you a slow nod and a high-five and then proceeded to disappear somewhere in the crowd.

You turned around, searching the room for a specific face, but not his. You were trying to spot the one in denim, the Pinhead.

He was standing on the other end of the hall with his back to you, packing up his guitar. You pushed your way through the crowd, trying to reach him before he left. He unexpectedly turned around just as you were going to tap him on the shoulder.

“Hi”, you said, pulling your arm back.

He started, his brows furrowed. “Oh, uh... Hey.”

You wondered how come you hadn’t realized he had such beautiful eyes. Up close, he looked much more handsome than you’d thought at first.

“So, uh, I guess I just wanted to tell ya that I saw you play and you were really good. I mean, you sounded almost like Huey Lewis himself!”

You swore you saw a smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he scratched his head nervously, shifting from one foot to the other.

“Well, thanks, but, uh... We didn’t play much, to be fair.”

“I know! I was really pissed when they cut you off like that. And then they let us play!”

He smiled uneasily and you thought he didn’t believe you.

“I’m not trying to sell you that fake modesty bullshit, I really think you guys were awesome. I was so angry they made you stop before the first verse. I wish I’d been able to hear you sing.”

His smile now grew bigger and more sincere as he locked his eyes on yours.

“Thank you”, he said, “it really means a lot. And, well, uh, congrats to you... I mean, you rocked that stage for real!”

You chuckled, feeling your cheeks redden all of a sudden. “Thanks! My name’s [Y/N], by the way.”

He shook your hand with a grin. “Nice to meet you, [Y/N]. I’m Marty, Marty McFly.”

The warm look in his eyes made your heart flutter. He was clumsy in a cute sort of way. He’d almost dropped his guitar case when he took your hand, which made you both laugh awkwardly.

“I ought to join my friends now, but it’s been real nice talking to you. I guess I’ll see you around, then”, you said, trying to sound casual.

“Yeah, sure thing. Thanks again. See you around, [Y/N]!”, he smiled and waved before he left.

You turned slowly and walked back over to your bandmates, trying to hide how flustered you were. His eyes and his laugh were the only things you could think about at that moment.

Marty? Such a nice name...

200 notes · View notes

bittysvalentines · 4 years

Text

You Can’t Hear My Soul

From: @eatallofthepumpkinthings

To: @corgiberus

Rating: T

Tags: Soulmate AU, Angst, mentions of anxiety, mentions of loneliness, mentions of defamation of character, mentions of paparazzi being rude, OC, ASL/RSL/Sign language, NHL Chowder, NHL Whiskey, Open Ended, mentions of Zimbits

Note: Sorry I can't write fluff! I hope you like it anyways.

Alexei wakes up groggy. The night before he'd tried to stay up until midnight, his heart racing with anticipation, yet he'd fallen asleep at some point. As soon as he is awake enough to realize why he's so groggy, his heart starts running again and his face splits with a grin. Immediately he feels for that space in his head where the connection to his soul mate should exist. When he finds it, nestled just behind his eyes, his heart sinks.

There is wind blowing past his ears and he knows he won't be able to hear his soulmate. He'd hoped that they'd fall into that small statistical chance and have the same birth date. He knew it was unrealistic, but he still had hoped to hear his soulmate. He often stayed up at night wondering if their voice would be airy and melodic or deep in soothing. Would they be Russian like him, or would they be foreign and the translation weird and distressing. Of course, it wouldn't matter if his soulmate was foreign, living half way across the world even – but it would be so much easier if they were Russian. If they were, then the likelihood of them being close by would be higher. They could be together sooner.

His daydreaming didn't matter now. The connection was open. He could tell his soulmate all about himself and maybe they'd come and find him before their 18th birthday. Even if they didn't come and find him – he had to stop himself . There were only 24 hours in the day and he'd already wasted several sleeping.

“HI! I'M ALEXEI!” He shouts into the connection. His cheeks heat. Why am I shouting? I'm going to sound desperate. he thinks.

He tries to reign himself in, but he knows its going to be difficult. “Uh sorry for shouting. I'm just really excited to talk to you. I've been dreaming about this day for a long time. I can't hear you now. But I'm sure in no time I will be able to hear you. We will talk non-stop on your birthday. I just know it.”

He stays up until midnight telling his soulmate everything about his life.

********************

Months pass and Alexei's hopes fade. He throws himself into his hockey career again. His father is right, if he's going to transition to the NHL he should do it now. He's been working with agents and talking to teams. By the end of the regular NHL season he's secured his spot with Falconers.

********************

Nervousness sits in the pit of his stomach everyday. Without any games to play, he refocuses his energy into learning English. It's profoundly frustrating. After a particularly disastrous lesson, he decides to take out his feelings the only way he knows how – on the ice. He's laces up and heads onto the iced over pond behind his family home.

Who knows when I'll get to do this again, he sulks.

He's skating laps, pushing himself as fast as he can. Suddenly he's tripping over himself. There are words flashing behind his eyes. As he falls forward, he becomes aware that the room where his connection lives is open and the wind rushing past his ears is just from the fall.

“Hello, can you hear me?”

“Are you awake? I hope I'm not waking you.”

“I'm really excited to talk with you Alexei.”

As he catches his breath and tries to push up off his knees, his mind is racing. After a few minutes he realizes he hasn't said anything back and he probably should do that.

“OH, HELLO... Hi. Uh... Happy birthday!” He replies awkwardly.

“Thank you! I'm so happy to finally talk to you.”

Alexei is excited but he is so very confused.

“Why can't I hear you?” he asks.

“WHAT?” his soulmate replies.

“It's like I'm seeing your words. I... I don't hear them. Is there something wrong?” Is he sick? He's heard that colds can sometimes mess up these conversations. Or maybe it's because of his concussion. He hopes that that isn't the case. Concussions have all sorts of long term affects, and in his line of work, its likely he'll have another if not more.

Suddenly he feels a door close. He frantically feels behind his eyes for that space where his soulmate just was but its gone. The void is overwhelming and he's back on his knees. What just happened?

********************

Alexei's 19th birthday couldn't come sooner. He's managed to stay up all night this time. Midnight finds him sitting up straight as a board, staring out the window of his senior teammate's guest bedroom. The city lights are stunning. He feels the connection open and he's speaking as fast as he can. Every question that's swirled in his head for the last few months spews out of him. He gets silence in reply and in just a few minutes the door is slammed closed, the connection lost. He cries himself to sleep.

********************

When he decides to put his mind to something, Alexei always manages to see it through. Going into the NHL, learning English, making friends with his teammates, becoming rookie of the month – he set his mind to those things and he did them. He makes his mind up to be as positive as he can about his soulmate. He may not know why they've hung up on him, why they've not talked to him, why they haven't tried to find him, but he knows he can't control what they do. He can only control himself.

With his mind set on positive, when his soulmate's birthday comes back around, he keeps it casual and light. He talks about his life. He talks about hockey. He talks about his teammates and friends. Every birthday flies by like this. His soulmate never speaks, but the connection stops closing right away.

********************

A few years go by. The Falconers win the cup. But his soulmate never talks to him.

********************

There is a movie playing on the plane. It was a tough game against the Capitals and every muscle in Tater's body is beat. He thinks that the movie is a romantic comedy, but he isn't really sure. The actors all seem to be mumbling or talking too fast. Lulling his head to the side, he asks Poots to translate again for the 5th time.

“Dude, Aren't you paying attention?”

“Yes, I'm just very tired.” He gives him his best puppy dog eyes.

Poots smiles. Tater sees a light go off in Poots head and suddenly Poots is climbing over him and stumbling towards the front of the bus.

“Hey who has the remote.” Someone produces the remote up front. Tater watches Poots struggle with it. Eventually Snowy gets up, rather reluctantly, and helps Poots with whatever he was doing.

When Poots returns, Tater turns back to the movie and is amazed. There are words steaming at the bottom of the screen, highlighted in black, and in Russian.

“Now I don't have to translate.” Poots says victoriously. Tater nodes dumbly. This is what my soulmate's voice looked like.

********************

Its been awhile since he's thought this much about his soulmate when it wasn't his or their birthdays. Stewing on this new information is easy. Making any sense of it, that isn't easy. He tries to Google for some answers but he must not be using the right search words because none of the search results make much sense to him. Once again he finds himself wondering if there is something wrong with him.

After a couple of weeks, he decides to talk about it. He trusts his friends, and the old guys have worldly experience. Maybe one of his teammates will know something that can help.

He's hanging out with the guys, having a few beers when he musters up the courage to bring it up. They're all silent for a few minutes. It unnerves Tater. Am I the only one this has ever happened to?

“Maybe they speak a different language?” Poots says.

“If they speak a different language he should just hear them in Russian. That doesn't explain why he sees the words and not hears them” Snowy refutes.

“Oh right”

“Ive never really heard of anything like this before” Marty says. A couple guys nod in agreement.

“Maybe they're sick all the time?”

Thirdy brings up, “I read a story once that a guy started hearing his soulmate's voice in a whole different language than either of them knew and it turned out he had a tumor.”

“I just had a scan when I had that minor concussion” Tater replies exasperatedly.

“Maybe they're deaf?” Jack offers.

“What?” Everyone turns to Jack.

“I read a book on historical figures with disabilities and it explained that many deaf people and their soulmate's see each others thoughts.” That makes sense.

He goes home and googles some more.

********************

On his next birthday he tries to casually slip in “Are you deaf?”

It doesn't come off casual. Thankfully his soulmate responds.

“Yes”. Then the connection drops.

********************

His family and friends start to worry about him as the years go by. Its not uncommon for people in their early 20s to be single or dating around. But when you're close to 30, people notice. His parents set him up with a Russian National figure skater. She's nice enough but they don't last long with their mismatched schedules and distance between them. He hooks up regularly with a goon on the Bruins for almost two years before he gets traded to the Lightning and meets his soulmate.

On home game nights, when his teammates head home to their soulmates, he returns to his empty apartment. The silence is overwhelming. When he feels like the loneliness will crush him, he turns on ASL and RSL tutorials and clumsily signs along.

********************

It's the off season. Usually he tries not to schedule anything on his soulmate's birthday. But admittedly he's starting to give up hope. When Jack invites him to his summer home for a cookout and a friendly game of hockey with friends, he accepts. Its made easier by B's promises of pie and jam. He's pretty excited until he gets there and is slammed with regret.

Milling about and taking pictures are several PR people from the Sharks, the Aces, the Baby Penguins, the Belleville Senators, and of course the Falconers.

“Sorry guys, I was just so excited.” He overhears Chowder saying. A few Samwell alumni and Falconers are huddled around Chowder and the keg.

“It's alright Chowder. This is good PR.” Whiskey assures him aloofly.

“Yeah and its not like they are staying the whole party – right?” Poots asks.

They all shrug.

Tater makes his rounds. He gives crushing hugs to his teammates, the wellies, and the players from other teams that he has grown to care about. He shuffles in and out of the house. He helps Bitty keep the tables full – and subsequently helps to empty them of their contents. He plays games on the living room's Nintendo Switch, pongs it up with the Pong Master, and gives piggyback rides to the various little ones. He's enjoying himself, but he can't shake the feeling that he's being watched.

He's pouring himself another beer when he glances up and catches the stare of a Shark's photographer from across the room. The guy is lean, with broad shoulders, and flaming red curls. He's also wearing a serious expression aimed right at Tater. His unnerving blue eyes bore into Tater and suddenly Tater feels very self conscious. He trains his eyes on his cup as he takes a drink. When he looks back up, the photographer's face is buried by his curls. The guy is looking down at his camera. Tater is suddenly filled with the fear that he'd just had his picture taken. For years tabloids have tried to make him out to be a heavy drinker. It wasn't true and he didn't need a photo of him chugging a beer to stoke those flames.

He makes his way across the room and stops a few feet from the photographer. “Hey” he says lamely. He was upset a moment ago but now up close, with the man's pale face turned towards him, he can make out the freckles on his nose. He always had a weak spot for freckles.

He was hoping the guy would at least say hello back. Instead it seemed like Tater had returned the favor and unnerved the guy. His eyes were wide and frantically searching around the room, looking everywhere but at Tater. Finally they seemed to settle on something behind Tater. Turning Tater sees Chowder and his soulmate chatting with another couple.

“Uh, hey Chowder” Chowder turned to Tater and Tater pointed his thumb at the photographer. Out of the corner of his eye, he could make out movement behind him, but by the time he had turned back to the photographer the movement had stopped and Chowder had materialized between them.

Then Chowder started introducing them and signing.

“Hey Tater, this is Cody. He's one of our team photographers. Cody this is Alexei Mashkov.”

“Nice to meet you” Cody signed. He offered a handshake.

Tater shook his hand, then he signed back “Its nice to meet you too”

“Oh you know sign language?” Chowder asks exuberantly.

“Yeah, a little” Tater replied sheepishly.

Cody's expression relaxs somewhat, but he still looks apprehensive.

“How do you know sign language?” he asks.

Surprisingly without hesitation Tater responds “I learned it for my soulmate.”

He regrets it almost immediately. He had almost managed to forget that it was his soulmate's birthday. It felt like he just dropped himself in an ice bath. Cody looked about how Tater felt.

Chowder doesn't pick up on the tension.

“Is your soulmate deaf?” He asks.

“Yeah”

“I didn't know that! Are they here with you? I don't think you've ever introduced us! I know Caitlin would love to meet them too!”

“Well I haven't met them myself so.”

“Oh”

Tater wishes the floor would open up and swallow him.

“I'm sorry” Cody signed. His face looks pained, like he felt what Alexei was feeling.

Chowder offers an escape. “We should probably get padded up for the game. I think I overheard a couple guys talking about starting it soon.”

Tater was about to agree, when Cody cuts in. “Wait, can I get a picture of you both before you're all sweaty.”

Tater chuckles at that. “Sure”

Cody maneuvers them to stand beside some of the Zimmerman's tall houseplants and underneath one of the living room's skylights. Tater is a bit disappointed when Cody takes a few steps away to take their picture. Up close he could see the sun bouncing off of Cody's curls. He even got to see his eyes light up when he joked that Chowder and himself should pose like a falcon and a shark respectively. He's still smiling when he aims the camera. Tater is smiling too.

Cody raises his hand and counts down from 5. With the click of the camera shutter Tater sees words flash behind his eyes.

“Wow he really is a sweetheart isn't he.”

Tater's heart jumps and flutters wildly. He watches Cody's face transform from embarrassment to terror, flaming red cheeks turning to ghostly white. They both stand still, staring at each other.

Finally, Tater asks “It's you isn't it.”

“Yes”

#tateroc #bv2020 #bitty's valentines #omgcp fandom #omg check please!

41 notes · View notes

rebelcourtesan · 4 years

Text

Thicker than Water Sneak Peek Ch. 13

Has not been edited nor put through Grammarly.

“Something’s wrong,” Marty muttered, talons tapping the back of his phone as he awaited a response.

“Nothing’s wrong,” Shard told him with a lit cigarette between his teeth.

“She hasn’t texted back . . .”

“In give fuckin’ minutes. She’s probably on the john or busy with somethin’. Give her time.”

“I need to go in there.”

“How? They aren’t going to let a chump like you in there,” Shard retorted, tapping ashes out the window. “Just be cool.”

“She’s in there with the Von Eldritchs.”

“Right and she’s with Angel Dust, the celebrated porn star. They’re probably just brushing elbows and tryin’ to chat ‘em up. Nothin’ to worry about.”

The car was parked in an alley, just a street down where they could see the front of the Midnight Song glowing like a beacon in the night. He should be in there with Liz. She didn’t know all the dangers Hell could pose for her and if she’s mingling with the Von Eldritchs . . .

“I can go invisible and . . .”

“You’re not going to do shit,” Shard replied with a dangerous edge in his voice. “A place like that has wards to keep out any magic or unwanted guests that go through the front door. And if ya do make it in there, what then? You gonna offend the Von Edritchs, one of the top noble families in Hell because they talked to your daughter? Give her away her disguise and paint a big fuckin’ target on her back?”

Marty wanted to argue, hell, he wanted to deck Shard for saying things that made too much sense. Taking a deep swig from his flask, he checked his phone for a response and his worry deepened when none came.

***

She returned to consciousness in phases. First she could feel the cold floor beneath her, then hear a voice calling her name, then smell a sweet candied musk.

“Hey, hey, Liz, baby, ya gotta snap outta it,” the voice was telling her.

Who was that? She recognized the voice, but not the name attached to it. Whoever it was, spoke as if they knew her. And why did her feet ache?

“Hey, wake up!”

A slap across her face made her eyes water, but she was able to focus on the source of the voice. A pink face with large heterochromia eyes hovered above hers and she was able to pluck a name from memory. “Angel Dust?”

“Yeah, doll, yeah, that’s me. Are ya alright?”

“I will be . . .I just need a few minutes.” Her head was pounding and she was very tired. “How long . . .how long did it last?”

“Too fuckin’ long. Jesus, maybe a minute?”

“That’s good . . .”

“What the fuck happened, Liz? You blacked out and began twitching.”

Sighing, she tried to sit up and her head swam. Nope, wasn’t quite ready for that yet. “I have epilepsy.”

“Shit . . .” Angel Dust breathed. “Does Marty . . .”

“No, he doesn’t know and you don’t tell him,” Liz shook her head and regretted it as nausea almost made her gag. God, she hadn’t taken her anti-seizure medication since the night the imps attacked her. That was two days ago so the medicine must have left her system by now, especially since its been in overdrive with all the stress of everything that's happened since she’s been in Hell. “I’ll tell him . . .but not right now.”

“What if you . . .ya know . . . black out again?”

“I shouldn’t black out again for a few more days,” Liz promised. “At least, I don’t think I will. Jesus, my head hurts.”

“I got some vicodin,” Angel Dust offered, snapping open his purse. “It’s great for hangovers.”

“You have vicodin? In Hell?”

“Oh yeah, you get all the drugs down here, doll.”

Hope rose in her heart. “What about gabapentin? Or phenytoin?”

“Never heard of those, but I ain’t never looked for ‘em neither,” Angel Dust shrugged. “If they’re prescription drugs or narcotics, then someone is selling it somewhere in Hell.”

She felt a heavy weight lift off her shoulders at the possibility of controlling her seizures down here. It was a good feeling that her nausea ebbed away and she was able to sit up, but with some help from Angel Dust. After a drink of water from the sink to swallow the vicodin. She kicked off the stilettos as her legs were still wobbling and her sense of balance completely back yet.

While she recovered, Angel Dust began smoking a cigarette that gave off an oddly crimson line of smoke from the lit tip. It didn’t have that noxious smell of burning nicotine, but a sweet musk that send a pearl of desire through her lower belly. It must be a positive sign that the throes of the seizure was leaving her.

She checked her phone and saw over a dozen messages from Marty. “Shit, Dad, just calm down.”

“What?” Angel Dust asked, lowering his cigarette which continued to fill the air with its fragrance.

“My Dad is worrying about why I haven’t replied to each and everyone of his texts,” she muttered as she sent a reply assuring him that everything was alright. I’m fine. Angel and I went to the restroom.

Marty’s response was so quick, she believed he had been staring at the phone awaiting her reply. Did you get away from the Von Eldritchs?

She texted: For right now.

Marty texted: Stay away from them!

“Angel, can you tell me who those guys were?” She was tired of being warned without being given clear information of why. “I take it from how you handled them that they’re important somebodies that you don’t want to cross.”

“Got it in one, doll,” Angel Dust said, dropping the cigarette into the toilet. “The Von Eldritch Family is nobility and close to the royal family. So much so that prick Seviathan used to date the princess.”

“Really? That’s the one that said something about Hell being purer earlier.” She opened her purse and checked her makeup. It was a bit smeared around the mouth, but easily remedied.

“Oh, don’t listen t’ that bullshit,” Angel Dust said, rolling his eyes and fluffy out his hair and chest puff in the mirror next to her. “If it wasn’t for us Sinners, then Hell would be nothing more than fire and brimstone. Where do ya think the nightclubs, television, porn, and smartphones they enjoy so much come from? Oh, please, whenever the hellborn nobles got somethin’ to bitch about, it’s always about the Sinners and how we’re muckin’ up the purity of Hell.”

“So what do we do? They’re looking for Rathel too.”

“Dunno. If it was anyone else, I’d say get to work on Dorkon. That’s one who has loose lips,” Angel Dust said, checking his makeup. “He may be a little shit, but he’s the Von Eldritch’s little shit. They don’t exactly like others t’ make fun of their clowns, ya know what I mean?”

“Damn,” Liz sighed. “So we can either cut our losses and sneak out of here or take a risk and use them to find Rathel.”

“It’s your call, doll,” Angel Dust shrugged all four shoulders.

***

“Would you relax? You did all that panickin’ and they were just on the john like I said,” Shard groaned.

“Shut up, Shard,” Marty snapped, thumbing a text message to Liz. “I’m calling this whole thing off.”

“What the fuck, man!? They got a lead on Rathel!” Shard grabbed the phone from Marty’s grasp.

“I don’t want her anywhere near the Von Eldritch. I want her out of there now.”

“Jesus Christ, she said it herself they’re fine. What are you going to tell Tony Shark? Telling him that Rathel is connected to the Val Eldritch will not be enough and you know it.”

“I don’t give a shit.”

Marty didn’t know how to explain the sudden weight in his stomach that told him something was wrong, that something had happened to her inside. He hated this feeling of helplessness or this restraint that kept him from running inside and taking her out of there, even if it was over his shoulder.

With his attention on the Midnight Song’s gibbous glow, he failed to notice the street darkening as shadows crawled along the walls and pavement. A cane tapped the asphalt while tap-shoes clicked along while a low musical hum carried an old tune as the figure continued along the street, a pinstripe coat swayed with each step, catching a silent wind.

Oblivious to the sudden change in atmosphere and the figure strolling past the car, Shard was yelling at Marty. “Are you out of your fuckin’ mind, Marty!? Tony is going to bite your goddamn head off if you don’t pay your dues.”

“And I will! But not at Liz’s expense!”

“She’s the reason why you’re in this mess!” Shard hissed, baring his teeth in barely contained fury.

“Give me back the phone, Shard,” Marty growled, tail lashing his legs and floorboard.

“No,” Shard’s eyes were narrowed into yellow slits.

Marty’s eyes began to narrow, then suddenly went wide. “Shard . . .”

“What?”

“What’s going on over there?” Marty was pointing at something up the street behind Shard.

“You've been watchin’ too many cartoons,” Shard retorted sardonically. “If you think I’m just gonna turn around so you can punch me in the back of the head and get your phone back.”

“Goddammit, Shard, look at the club! Look at the moon!”

It wasn’t much as the ferocity in Marty’s voice, but the fear in them that made Shard turn around. The Midnight Song’s neon sign of the moon was blood red and people the people lined outside were fleeing for their lives in all directions.

A couple were charging down the street towards them. Shard rolled down the window and stuck his head out. “Hey! What’s going on? Why ya runnin’?”

A female demon with yellow fur stopped, but her boyfriend, a demonic horse, almost dragged her along in his haste to get away. She managed to shout before being towed along, “The Radio Demon just went into the Midnight Song!”

“Oh shit,” Shard breathed. “Marty . . .”

But Marty wasn’t there. He was already sprinting up the street towards the Midnight Song, going invisible as he went.

#hazbin hotel #thicker than water

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cyberdva · 4 years

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Trick Or Treat- Richie Tozier X Reader (Imagine☆)

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Summary- The reader and The Losers Club decide to go Trick Or Treating, while Richie tries to continuously flirt with Y/N. The rest of their friends are fed up with Richie’s banter and try to get the two together with a bit of help from each other. Just their luck Richie had already done the job for them.

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Main Masterlist

IT Masterlist

Word Count: 2k

Date Uploaded: 10/30/19

Pairing: Richie Tozier x Reader

Warnings: Cursing

A/N: Halloween is tomorrow, so why not bless ourselves with a poorly written Richie fic.

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“Hey Eds, what the hell are you supposed to be?” Richie bolted out his front door running to meet up with his short friend who was inconveniently covered in toilet paper.

He shot his friend a glare, “I’m supposed to be a mummy, you think my mom would let me be anything else.”

Richie laughed, “Aw, your mommy picked out your costume again.” He made a kissy face and inched towards Eddie. The other boy jumped away.

“What the fuck are you even supposed to be anyways?”

Richie pulled his cape under his eyes and hissed, “I’m a vampire, it’s completely obvious Eds.”

Eddie rolled his eyes, “What are you going to do? Bite Y/N?”

Richie went even paler under his white makeup, Eddie was one of the only people who knew about Richie’s enormous crush on Y/N.’

“That shut you up,” he mumbled. Just in time, Stan met up with the two bantering boys, his face had makeup with cold dark eyes and light green skin, a zombie.

“Are you guys fighting again?” Stanley tried his best to remain neutral in these arguments, even though they make no sense.

“Richie is talking about how much he loves-“ Richie slammed Eddie’s mouth shut. Only muffled shouts could be heard.

Stanley looked around for Bill and tried to stay involved in the conversation, ”Wow, Richie has a crush. What a shocker.” The two boys were barely paying attention as they fought in the background. Eddie ended up winning and vigorously tried to wipe off any germs that Richie has left on his mouth. Beverly came up behind the disheveled ‘mummy’ and jumped on his shoulders. It resulted in a shrieking sound, Eddie was just about to head home if Bill didn’t show up moments later.

Beverly has decided to dress up as a cat, a normal costume for someone her age, and Bill dressed up as Marty McFly. He was late on the trend but hadn’t gotten the chance to dress up like him before.

Ben came wandering up the street and sat next to Beverley on a half-empty bench, Bill took notice. He was dressed as one of the New Kids On The Block, which highly amused Beverly.

“Where’s Mike and Y/N?” Bill wanted to get the show on the road and stay near Beverly as much as he could. There were so many houses to explore and so little time with the dumb curfew in place.

Beverly sat down on the grass, “Mike said he was meeting Y/N at her place, they should be here any minute.”

“Since when do they hang out alone?” asked Richie.

“Why do you ask Richie, are you jealous?” Eddie snickered at the confused boy.

“Am not!”

“Yes, you are.”

“Eddie you know wha-“

Mike cut both of them off, “Sorry we’re late, Y/N wanted to make sure she had everything ready.” The whole group relapsed when they saw her costume, a makeshift clown, that looked a tad-bit like Pennywise, stood in front of them. Mike was dressed as Doc from Back To The Future to match Bill. All of them had exceptional costumes, except for Eddie.

“Eddie, what are you wearing?” was the first thing to come out of Y/N mouth.

“See even she agrees with me that your costume sucks!” Richie gaped.

She frowned, “I didn’t say that I just want to know why he’s covered in toilet paper.”

“Well, you meant it.”

“Yeah, I did.”

Eddie let out a huff, “Are we going to get candy or not.”

The sun had already set and the already cold temperature began to drop even lower. It was only 7 and that didn’t leave much time until 10. The day before everyone tried to map out what houses would be the best to go to, but it ended up with Richie scribbling all over the paper and Bill lecturing him on proper behavior, exciting isn’t it. They ended up scrapping the map and just running around through town.

“How about we start by Main Street and make our way to Jackson?” Mike had the best sense of direction out of all of the Losers, a natural talent he developed while bucking through town.

Stan nodded, “That sounds like a good plan.” They all made their way up the street, separating into their smaller groups. Eddie, Richie, and Y/N held up the back, mostly joking about Eddie’s trashy outfit. Beverly and Bill decided to lead all of them, flashlights in hand, discussing some leftover English homework. The middle has a mix of Ben, Stan, and Mike as they chatted about which house had the most candy.

The streets began to quickly fill with smaller children. Really no one in their grade had decided to go out for candy, a party had been the main focus for the high school students. As per usual, none of the nine kids had been invited, they didn’t even know of the event, better that they didn’t. All they hoped was that Bowers or any other new bullies, or harassers had decided to gang up on them.

Ben stopped the group and pointed at a giant green house, “Guys look at the size of that one! I bet you they have a lot of candy!”

“That’s what she said.” Richie joked.

Y/N just looked at him, “How does that even make sense.” They both laughed as they approached the house. Richie has the need to be funny in front of her, regardless of how loud he really was, if he made her laugh it was worth it. The rest of the teens were halfway up the driveway while the other two jokes about phony decorations.

“Could you guys be any slower,” complained Bev. Her voice was strongly overpowered by the teens’ hearty laughs. The night began like that, the group would get candy and move onto another house and so on. All of a sudden the perfect idea popped into Richie’s head.

“Do you want to go do something?” Richie beamed, he had a devious plan and it had to work.

“What do you mean?” he pulled her away from the rest of the group.

“Let’s go do something fun, come on this is so boring.” Y/N shrugged in response, as much as she wanted to hang out with her friends whatever Richie was thinking sounded a lot more entertaining. Richie tried to compromise, now was his chance!

“Come on, please!”

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The moon loomed over the Losers Club as Mike shivered, his costume wasn’t enough to keep him warm. He felt like his parents were getting impatient just by the hour, they weren’t too happy with him being out with his friends so late. He wished that this could go quicker, but with Bill that might just be impossible.

“Come on guys, this is the last house on the street.” He huffed. Wait… someone’s missing. He tried to do a headcount and two were gone. Y/N and Richie, of course.

He looked around, but there was no sight of them. No one seemed to notice their disappearance, but it was quieter. Stanley noticed Mike behind him and they linked up. They filled each other in. The rest continued on in confusion.

“Where did they go?” Stanley shined his cracked flashlight around the neighborhood, all he could see was heaps of children. “Have you guys seen the two jokesters around anywhere?” Stanley called out a few shouts of “No!” and “Where are they?” emerged from the teens.

Eddie smiled, “Maybe Richie finally made his move.” He slapped his mouth shut, no one else knew about Richie’s ‘dirty secret and he sure as hell didn’t mean to enhance it.

The group stopped walking, “Wait he seriously likes her.” Ben asked. None of them really seemed to care anyway. It wasn’t a huge revelation.

Eddie shook his head, “Just pretend I said nothing.”

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“Just this way,” Richie guided, “I swear we’re almost there.”

A singular beam of light gleamed in front of them, Y/N could barely see anything. The area was of course familiar, The Kissing Bridge. She had no idea on why Rich brought her there, her costume began to itch, few bugs began attacking her arms and legs. The bumps would be worth it in the end. They made their way inside the rickety old bridge, it creaked with on small footstep, ready to collapse. Frogs croaked in the bathroom and Y/N didn’t know why she was there.

“Rich, what are we doing?” she slapped a mosquito on her elbow, the silence was cut with a knife.

“I dunno,” he shrugged, “I personally didn’t want to go collect candy with them.”

She laughed, “That’s an interesting way to put it, but seriously, what do you want to do?”

He thought, what could they do that would be fun, curfew was coming in quick and there was no stores open.

“We could skip rocks?” What kind of response was that? Skipping rocks, how interesting.

Surprisingly she nodded her head and the two began to walk down a hill. Leaves crunched below them, the boy started to collect pebbles

He handed her a few, he picked the small and round ones just for her, “Here, take these.

“Thanks.” Their hands brushed together and the throwing began. Few rocks managed to skip, none of them paid any attention to the activity. Both drifted off into a sort of dream-like state.

“You know what, I’m just gonna say it.” Richie’s emotions got the best of him.

Y/N turned to look him in the eyes, completely oblivious to what was happening, “Say what?” He took a deep breath, “I like you alot and I needed to know if you want to go see a movie with me. Only if you want.”

Y/N’s eyes went big, “Wait really? I’d love too!”

Relief washed over him, “Good, I thought you liked Eddie or something.”

“Wow, good one.” she laughed.

The rest of their night went swimmingly, jokes and stuffing their faces with candy. The perfect Halloween night for a teen, even if they were home late, far passed the curfew. All worth it.

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#richie tozier x reader #richie tozier imagines #richie tozier x you #richie tozier #fanfiction #fanfic #it #it chapter 1 #it chapter 2

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sapphosclown · 5 years

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Treat You Better - Tyrus AU

Cyrus finds himself stuck in a toxic relationship and TJ knows that if given the chance, he could treat Cyrus so much better.

this is inspired by an edit i saw on yt and it’s kind of a fun fic idea so here i am. I haven’t written a multi part fic before but honestly i’m so inspired by this idea so i really hope you like and want a second part, but i’ll probably do a second part anyway. so yeah, enjoy this vv angsty part 1

tw: toxic relationship

“Okay, I’ll see you after class.”

Cyrus looked his boyfriend in the eyes and let out a small sigh. “Okay.” Exhaustion tainted his voice, but Dylan was none the wiser.

“Okay.” He smiled before kissing Cyrus on the cheek and then walking off to his next class.

Cyrus watched him walk down the hall, his chest feeling heavy. He walked into the classroom and took his usual seat by Andi and Buffy. They were already chatting animatedly as he sat down, so in an attempt to keep the mood light he pushed back the ache in his chest and forced a smile onto his face as he watched his friends gossip about some other boy drama Andi was having. Although, Cyrus couldn’t seem to hear their words. All he could think about was Dylan. He truly cared about him, so why did it feel like someone swung a baseball bat at his heart every time they had a conversation?

“Earth to Cyrus?” Buffy was waving a hand in front of Cyrus’s face, making him realize he must have failed at looking unbothered. However, he put on another plastic smile, hoping to avoid the topic as long as possible.

“Yeah, what’s up?” He tried to sound nonchalant but it came out exhausted.

Andi and Buffy exchanged worried glances. “Cyrus, what’s going on?” Andi asked.

“Yeah, you haven’t been your usual self lately. We’re getting kind of worried.” Buffy added.

Cyrus sighed. “I don’t know. I guess things with Dylan have been kind of weird. I still really care about him but it’s like, every moment we spend together the farther apart we seem to drift.”

“Why don’t you break up with him then? You’re clearly unhappy.” Andi said, the worry on her face only making Cyrus’s gut twist more.

“I-” Cyrus began to speak but was cut off by the sound of their teachers voice. Relief began to flood his body, that is until Buffy leaned over to him and whispered, “This conversation is not over.” Oh well. For the next 45 minutes all he had to do was focus on conjugating verbs and he couldn’t be more thankful for the distraction.

Alas, the bell rang signifying the end of class. As they put away their papers, a vaguely familiar voice greeted them. Well, one of them.

“Aye, Driscoll!”

The three of them turned only to be greeted by Marty, Jonah and another kid Cyrus didn’t know walking up to their table.

“Sup Marty.” Buffy greeted before turning to the kid Cyrus didn’t know and giving him high five. Andi and Jonah started talking amongst themselves as well and Cyrus looked back down at the table and picked up his pace. Dylan was gonna be there any minute and he really didn’t want to get in a fight with him, so it was best he didn’t stay longer than he had to. He had just finished putting all his stuff away and was about to walk to the door but then-

“Hey.”

Cyrus inhaled. So close. He turned around and was face to face with the guy he didn’t know. He had dirty blonde hair that was styled up with what was probably considered too much hair gel, but for some reason, Cyrus found it endearing. He was wearing a hoodie with some ripped jeans and he was currently smiling at Cyrus, causing his eyes to crinkle ever so slightly. His eyes. They were light green, packed with vibrance and yet were perfectly calm as well. They weren’t so much an emerald color, but more of a grassy meadow on a nice summer day. They perfectly complimented the pale freckles he had running across the bridge of his nose that you could only really notice if you were paying close attention. But Cyrus wasn’t paying close attention, so he really didn’t know why his heart was beating so fast.

“Hi, I’d um- I’d love to chat but I- um- I really gotta- go.” Cyrus was picking at the corner of the notebook he was holding, a nervous habit he had picked up a few months ago. He turned around and began walking to the door but was once again stopped.

“Wait,”

God what does this kid want?

“Can I at least get your name?”

“Cyrus.” His attempt at holding back an aggressive sigh caused his response to come out strangled, but the blonde boys expression softened anyway.

“Cyrus.” He repeated, no longer looking at him. “I like that name.”

Cyrus simply nodded and then turned back to the doorway, finally able to leave. But of course, just his luck that Dylan was standing right there. He saw the whole thing. But it wasn’t even a thing really, so he doesn’t need to panic.

Don’t panic.

“Hey!” He greeted his boyfriend innocently. Because he was innocent. He didn’t do anything.

“Who the hell was that?” Dylan wasn’t looking at him, but rather still into the classroom where the kid was now talking to Buffy and Marty.

“I don’t know, he was just asking for the time.” Cyrus said casually. Please let it go.

Dylan continued to stare down the guy for a moment longer before turning to Cyrus.

“...Okay. Just, don’t talk to him again.” He said eventually.

Thank god. “Wasn’t planning on it.” Cyrus smiled.

But Dylan’s face remained hard. “Good.”

He took Cyrus’s hand and squeezed it, a little too hard causing Cyrus to wince, and then proceeded to guide them down the hall. For whatever reason, Cyrus felt his head swivel back towards the classroom. And there were those green eyes, staring right into his brown ones.

***

“Cy he’s not good for you! Look, you’ve barely touched your taters at all.” Buffy was never good at controlling her tone when she was irritated, which she seemed to be a lot with Cyrus recently. He just kept staring at his hands but he could feel the hard stare Buffy was giving him. He didn’t want to see her face.

“Dylan and I are going out later, he doesn’t like when I eat before hand.” Cyrus said, his voice small.

“Cyrus, look at me.” Buffy demanded, and Cyrus complied. He slowly raised his head and saw his two best friends staring at him. Andi’s face riddled with worry, Buffy’s hard and cold, but her eyes were begging. Exactly why he didn’t want to look at them.

“You don’t have to live like this. Why can’t you break up with him?” Her voice was soft, but steady.

And suddenly Cyrus was really irritated. He hated the way they were looking at him. He hated the way everyone had control over him. He hated that he had no control over himself. And he wanted to yell, he wanted to scream so loud that his vocal cords bled. But right now his eyes were welling with tears, and the last thing he wanted to do was cry. Not in front of them at least. Dylan said other people don’t need to know he’s upset, he said “it’s a personal issue”. So Cyrus stood up and threw some cash on the table before he ran out the door.

He didn’t stop running until he reached the park. It was rather cloudy outside so it was also colder than it usually was this time of year. It’s early november and the leaves have well turned bright oranges and reds and yellows. They’re colors looked photoshopped in contrast to the dreary atmosphere. The park was empty, probably due to the fact that it could start raining at any second, but Cyrus didn’t care. He didn’t want to be locked up in his room. He needed the space to think and if that meant getting rained on, so be it.

He walked over to the swings and sat down. He knew Andi and Buffy were right. He was unhappy. He really didn’t enjoy being around Dylan at all. But he couldn’t break up with him. “Why” they asked him, and the question scared him. “Why?” Why? What was he so afraid of?

Maybe he was on the verge of a break through, but he wouldn’t know because suddenly there was someone else with him.

“Hey, Cyrus, right?” The voice should have been unrecognizable, but Cyrus knew who it was immediately. Why did he know who it was?

He turned his head and just as he expected, there were those green eyes staring right at him.

“In the flesh.” Cyrus said, attempting to conceal his sorrows with a light tone.

“I didn’t get to properly introduce myself earlier. I’m TJ.” The blonde boy stuck out his hand for Cyrus to shake. Dylan wouldn’t like that Cyrus knew his name now.

“Pleasure.” Cyrus took his hand and gave it a quick shake. It barely lasted a second, so why did it feel like electricity was coursing through his body?

“Do you mind if I sit?” TJ asked. Cyrus knew he should get up and leave, this whole situation was begging for a fight to start up with him and Dylan. But his hands were gesturing towards the empty swing next to him and he didn’t have it in himself to stop them.

“What brings you here?” TJ asked.

“Just clearing my mind I guess.” Cyrus answered. There was a voice in the back of his mind screaming at him, what do you think you’re doing, you shouldn’t be talking to him, leave now. He ignored it. “How about you?”

“I was walking around and saw you here looking all,” He stopped talking and made an exaggerated sad face. “I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Why wouldn’t I be okay?”

“You tell me.”

Cyrus looked at the boy in the swing next to him. He didn’t sound worried, he wasn’t being condescending, he just sounded curious. And it felt like that should have made Cyrus mad, but it didn’t. And for whatever reason, the next words came falling out of his mouth before any sense of logic could stop him.

“Relationship stuff.” He looked back to the ground and begun kicking the mulch at his feet.

“Man, that’s rough. You wanna talk about it?”

Cyrus furrowed his brows. “With you? I just learned your name.”

“I guess. But sometimes it’s easier to talk to someone who has an unbiased opinion.”

“And that’s you?”

“Maybe.” They looked at each other for a moment. Cyrus just noticed TJ’s smile. It was just a casual one, resting on his face, acting as an accent to the invitation his eyes were handing out.

“It’s stupid.” Cyrus said eventually. “I just feel us drifting apart, I don’t know how I feel about him anymore.”

“Ah, a classic dilemma. But there’s more, isn’t there?”

There was. “My friends don’t like him, they want me to break up with him.” Cyrus answered cautiously.

There was a pause.

“Do you want to break up with him?” TJ asked, turning his head to face Cyrus.

Another pause.

“I don’t know.” Cyrus’s head now turned toward TJ’s. And they continued on looking at each other. It was a weird feeling, one Cyrus hasn’t felt before. It was like, TJ saw him, he saw every secret hidden within him, like he knew everything about Cyrus just by looking in his eyes. And Cyrus felt he could do the same.

“Well, your friends don’t like him, you don’t seem to like him very much,” TJ looked back to the ground front of him for a moment and then back to Cyrus. “I think you should break up with him too.”

“That’s your unbiased opinion?” Cyrus asked, unsure if he was satisfied with the answer.

“Yes.” Came the response. “Do you want my biased opinion?”

“Why not.” Cyrus looked back to the sticks he was kicking. But TJ didn’t look away.

“I think you’re too cute to be sitting by yourself worrying about some guy who clearly doesn’t appreciate you as much as he should.”

Suddenly an alarm was going off in Cyrus’s head. Oh my god what are you doing?! Dylan is going to kill you! Why are you talking to this guy, you cheater.

He jolted out of the swing very suddenly. “I uh- I have t- to go, um-” He suddenly was at a loss of words as he looked frantically around the park. It was empty still, but how long had they been talking, what if someone had saw them? What if Dylan saw them?

“I didn’t mean to upset you, I just-” TJ started but Cyrus cut him off.

“Just, do me a favor, don’t talk to me again. Please.” And with that he was running again. Cyrus knew he sounded harsh, but he was just covering up the much more present feeling that was currently twisting around in his stomach; fear.

***

That same feeling remained as Cyrus layed awake in his bed, staring at his ceiling. It was well past midnight and the moonlight was streaming into his room through his open window. Cyrus’s thoughts were racing a mile a minute and he couldn’t stop them.

Why was he so afraid of Buffy’s question? Were they not the same questions TJ had asked him? Why could he so easily trust this random guy he had just met, but he couldn’t trust his own friends? He remembered a time when he wasn’t afraid to cry in front of them. When they would hug him and tell him he’d be okay, no matter how big or small his problem was. He expected Dylan would do the same for him, but he didn’t. He told him to stop being a baby, that he didn’t want to hear his problems, that no one did. And Cyrus believed him. But TJ wanted to hear his problems. Why did Cyrus feel so safe talking to him? He hasn’t felt that safe talking to someone since he and Dylan started dating. So why now? And why was it TJ?

There it was again. That damned question, “Why?” “Why” this, “Why” that. It made Cyrus so angry. He didn’t know “Why”. It just was. That’s how it is. TJ was just easy to talk to, Buffys questions just didn’t have an answer. That’s just how it was, right? Like, he knew she still loved Dylan right? He still loved him. Did he still love him?

And that’s when his heart stopped and it hit him.

Was Cyrus afraid of Buffy’s question? Or, was he afraid of his answer?

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#ooooooo angstyyyy #tyrus au #tyrus fanfic #tyrus #cyrus goodman #tj kippen #andi mack #Treat You Better Tyrus AU

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