#really decided to whip this out in two days against my better judgement but HEY i think it turned out great right | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

soft-mafia · 5 months

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Troubled Girl [Buggy x Reader]

[part 1]

warnings: oc insert series, fem reader, fem y/n, age gap, slow burn, violence and blood, oc x canon, HEAVY on the oc insert, if you hate stuff like that don’t interact, barely proof read

a/n: I decided to redo part 1 because the first one was hot shit😭I hope this turns out better now that I have the actual lore figured out. I worked really hard on this so I hope this gets some attention😭

Y/n didn’t know what she was looking at, the way the sea lined up with the horizon in the distance, the way the waves crashed against the side of the ship. Or maybe she was listening to the call of the seagulls. She didn’t even know where she was, really, the sky was a bright pastel blue, the clouds were white and looked like cotton, the ocean below her was a saturated deep blue, it was so unusual. Where was she? Was she dead? When she awoke from her blackout her wounds were patched up, the stench of musk and alcohol greeted her as she rose, but everything seemed.. off.

It was a cramped room, a makeshift med ward but she was tended to with what seemed to be professionalism. The bandages around her arms had only a few faint dried bloodstains on them despite the severity of her injuries. Everything was so bright and saturated, even the light that poured in from the rounded windows.

Her brows furrowed, still trying to recollect what happened, or where she was. It was still clear in her memory, of course, she couldn’t forget what happened. However, in this moment she didn’t know if she should still be on guard or not. Y/n survived, and ran, but was this ship taking her back home? She figured the nuns or the apprentices found her and were transporting her back to Getica, but it couldn’t be that. The ship she was on was filthy and had circus print everywhere, a chipped pattern on the sides of the boat.

Y/n’s eyes were still heavy, she was tired and exhausted and hadn’t eaten since she’d been taken for judgement day.

Y/n froze and whipped her head back in alert when she heard the sound of footsteps creaking on the deck behind her, a tense feeling shot through her body, still in fight or flight.

“Hey! Finally, you’re awake! I didn’t think you’d make it through the night.” The man says, his face painted in makeup to match the circus print, two blue arches smeared almost symmetrically on each arch of his brow, cross bones mark his forehead and red was painted messily around his lips. He was tall with broad shoulders, a bit of a gut, but the main attraction to this man was a huge red growth on the center of his face. Y/n thought it was fake at first glance, but seeing now his nostrils blended so seamlessly into the growth and the gradient of red to a light tan immediately made her think otherwise. Despite the odd red nose, he wasn’t unattractive, in fact he was the handsomest man Y/n had ever seen in her life. His arms were crossed over his chest, there was thick arm hair over sun kissed skin, biceps bulging against his sleeves.

She opened her mouth to speak, sucking in a raspy breath. It had been forever since she actually spoke, the last few days the only thing coming from her mouth were screams and wails. Only now was she aware of the strain in her voice and the sting in her vocal cords. “Where am I?”

“You’re on my ship.” He answered, “Me and my crew were out looking for some treasure on this island but.. we found you bleeding out on the shoreline.” Y/n was still tense, not knowing if she should be threatened or not. “I was feeling generous, I think you owe me a ‘thank you’.” He was cocky, that’s for sure.

“W-Where are we going?” She didn’t mean to stutter, but the salty sea air wasn’t helping with the soreness in her dry throat, she felt so dehydrated in that moment, a bad taste in her mouth from it. Her disregard of his request for gratitude seemed to offend him, his brows furrowing and his grin turning into a slight scowl, “Are you even listening to me?! I saved your LIFE.” He spat, “I could’ve left you for dead!!” He clenched his fists, letting his hands rest at his sides now. “Do you have any water?” Y/n asked, continuing to disregard his words, and it seemed to make him more agitated. “WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?!” The man shouted, his voice was deep but shrill, there was a comedic charm to it though. Y/n didn’t feel threatened by him, if he really was a threat, her wounds wouldn’t have been tended to so precisely, she figured. “I just want some water.” She stated more clearly, “Or anything to drink.”

He grumbled something incomprehensible under his breath as he reached into the inner pocket of his coat and pulled out a flask, which he handed it to her. Upon drinking it, she choked it back and groaned, “What the hell is this?!” It was bitter, warm and unpleasant. It was an unfamiliar taste that she never wanted to have in her mouth again. “It’s liquor. What? You never had booze before?” The man scoffed, grinning and holding back a laugh at her reaction.

It’s not like Y/n never had a drink before, but she much preferred the overly sweetened beverages, the ones the boys would carry in six packs to the lake during the seasonal pardons. Y/n didn’t want to be rude, so she said nothing. “Thanks for saving me. I really appreciate it.” She finally thanked him, the man’s face softened into something serious, his gaze narrowing, “You look like hell, kid.” He muttered, noticing her tense stance, and shaky gaze that she could barely keep locked with his, “Wanna tell me what happened?”

“It’s.. a lot to explain.” Y/n looked down at the ground, crossing her arms tightly, feeling the soreness from her wounds, but it wasn’t unbearable. “Yeah no kidding. We almost thought about chopping your arms off all together.” The man chuckled dryly, before looking away with a grimace on his face, “No offense but damn, I wouldn’t wanna piss off whoever did that to you.”

“I didn’t piss anybody off.” She muttered, “Nobody did. It was nobodies fault we didn’t do anything!” She snapped, earning a confused grimace from the tall man.

Y/n looked back out at the sea, letting the wind blow through her hair. There was a minute of silence until the man decided to speak up again, “So.. uh, just tell me where you live and I’ll take you back home, your injuries should heal in a couple days.” His words struck a feeling of uneasiness in Y/n. She didn’t know if she was safe back home. Despite initially surviving her trap, she had been the only person who successfully escaped the judgement day hall without getting killed by an apprentice, to which she had killed 5 of them.

Besides, there was nothing left for her back home, considering everybody she knew had been killed. Y/n felt a chill run down her spine when the image of the blood vessels popping in her friend’s eyes right before his trap killed him, he didn’t free himself in time. That imagine alone would haunt her forever, it was so gut churning. “I don’t think I can go back.” She mumbled quietly, stuttering as she was unsure, but deep down despite her uncertainty she knew there was no way she could return home and survive. She kept her gaze to the sea below her.

She had already been kicked out of the orphanage after turning 18, she had been living with one of her teachers before apprentices killed her as well, so with no friends and her only living relative being as close to her as a stranger would be, she had nothing. As a survivor of judgement day she would’ve been recruited as an apprentice, Y/n didn’t think she could stomach putting people through the same pain and torture she experienced. On another hand, she could be imprisoned for escaping, her arms, legs and tongue could be carved off before being thrown in a cell, left to rot.

“Well.” The man looked over the railing with her, standing side by side, “I guess there’s always room on my crew for another. You’re already here so why not?”

“So I become a pirate?” Y/n couldn’t help but scoff quietly. The irony of it all, the entire point of judgement days was to make sure orphans wouldn’t grow up to become violent criminals, and immediately after Y/n’s escape she was being offered to become a pirate, a vocation that the dean described to be the worst of any crime. The dean’s hatred for pirates was a common joke around the school, but there was an eeriness to it. There was a rumor a few years back that a student was caught genuinely dreaming of running away and becoming a pirate, and that dream eventually made it around to the dean, so he had carved his tongue out before taking him away to the ward. There were theories about who the student was, but it wasn’t uncommon for people in Getica to go missing, and kids in the orphanage weren’t excluded from that, so whether if it was true or not, nobody would know.

“It’s not so bad. We’re always partying, eating, drinking. Hell, I spent the majority of my life out on sea drunk more than sober.” The man spoke up again. Yeah I can tell. Y/n looked him up and down, and as she thought about it more deeply, she was technically walking with a target on her back now, and if pirates were as cruel and scum as the dean had said, they could serve as good protection if him or any apprentices would find her out. “Ok. I’ll join.” She finally said, looking back up to meet his gaze, green watercolored eyes that she couldn’t help but get lost in, she didn’t think she had seen eyes that pretty before. They were soft in their earthy color, but they held a coldness to them.

Y/n found herself jostled suddenly, he roughly patted her on the back, reminding her of her injuries for a moment before she was pulled close to his body, “Fantastic!!! I’ve been looking for someone to swab the deck!”

The idea of that made her internally recoil, if what he said was accurate and the crew spent the majority of the time drinking, that would mean she would have to clean up the drunken throw up. She ground the back of her teeth. “Let me introduce you to the crew! They’re gonna love you.” He said as he was leading her back down to the lower deck, “Don’t be intimidated but.. you’re the only girl, but we treat each other here like family so you won’t have to worry about any creeps.”

He led her down into a cramped room, looking like a makeshift mess hall, a large crowd of men were eating, stuffing their faces with food. The scent coming from the kitchen was heavenly, the smell of fresh scrambled eggs, crisp bacon; which there was a heap of right in the middle of a table in the far side of the room. It perplexed her that pirates had better food than what was served at the orphanage; day old, sometimes molded bread tossed sloppily on trays. Most days there would only be enough food for 100 kids but that didn’t even make up half of the amount of kids. People would have to fight for food sometimes, leaving others severely injured or worse. There were no such things as ketchup, salt, or honey, Y/n didn’t even know what any of those things were. If you asked her if she knew what a condiment was, she would think you were talking about a book of some sorts.

“Where do you even get all of this food?” Y/n asked as she looked around at the room full of men gleefully stuffing their faces without a care in the world, “Hm? Well.. we make sure to stock up on food every few days, of course.” He replied, as if it was nothing, as if food was easily accessible to them at all times, which apparently it was. She took another look at the crew, they all looked as eccentric as their captain, some dressed in circus outfits, stripes and odd hats, someone rode a unicycle to a table while eating his breakfast. A man in the far corner caught her eye, he looked as if he was wearing fur garments, a fur hat and tunic, but as she continued looking at him she noticed that the fur was coming out of his skin.

The captain took an empty glass and a spoon from a nearby table and tapped them together, causing the room to fall silent, they all stared at the captain at first, but then all of their gazes fell upon her. She immediately felt a wave of anxiety rush over her, in the past having all eyes on her didn’t really bother her too much, but ever since she was called in for Judgement Day, she hated the attention. “Listen up men, this little lady just joined our crew, so let’s give her a big welcome and help her feel right at home!” Y/n wasn’t prepared for the amount of noise that would come after the captain’s introduction of her, she couldn’t help but cover her ears when a roar of cheers, hoots and hollers immediately bombarded her ears. They were an extremely enthusiastic bunch.

She felt a little bit out of place. She was now sat at a table, people were piling so much food on her table she didn’t even know what to do with all of it. They were all speaking to her at once, “You gotta try this!” “This goes really good with that!” “You need more syrup on that,” “No she doesn’t!” A fight started over whether or not maple syrup added or took away flavor from a meal. She didn’t even know what “maple syrup” even was.

The food on her plate looked so good, and the smell was enchanting. It actually looked too good to be food, she had never seen anything like it before. It was mesmerizing, the bread especially looked so golden and warm, glossed over with butter that gave it a shine, the sweet honey smell was intoxicating. Y/n didn’t even know it was bread at first, it looked so ethereal, this couldn’t be real food, right? All she had ever known was grey, bland and moldy. She couldn’t believe it. In Getica, they were taught that food was scarce and they had to save every last bite, that fresh food was impossible to obtain. People would kill each other for molded, rotted food, adults fighting with children for scraps and vice versa, but out on the sea, these pirates were just shoveling good, fresh meals down their throats every second without a care.

“Leave the poor girl alone and let her eat!” The captain came up behind her, his hands holding the back of her chair. In an instant, all of the men backed off, giving her some space. They finally stopped piling food onto her plate so she could further take in what she was seeing. “Eat up! You look like you’re starving, you deserve a good meal.” The man said again, patting her back, more gently this time than before. However, she just sat there, utterly awestruck at how unreal this food looked, “I.. I’m not that hungry.” She stated, though her mouth was watering. “What? Oh come on, don’t act like I can’t hear your stomach growling. Eat up, I insist!”

Y/n picked up a fork, it wasn’t wooden, it looked silver, with an elegant floral pattern at the base of it, it felt lightweight between her fingers. She started off with the bread, going to carve a piece off with the fork and matching knife, she expected it to have a hard exterior, but the knife cut through it like water; it was even more softer on the inside, the butter glazed on top gently dripped down into the center when she cut it. The intoxicating, honey-buttery smell grew stronger. She picked up the piece with her fork and held it to her lips, she could practically feel the butter against her skin from the light steam. It was the most flavorful thing she had ever tasted, it melted in her mouth. Even though it was only a small piece, the taste burst in her mouth and she couldn’t stop eating. She took another piece of bread, and then another.

Y/n ate until she was full, which was a new feeling. She didn’t even touch the other food, mostly because everything was so foreign and unfamiliar to her. “You know you can eat more than the bread, right?” The captain laughed. Y/n looked at him, wiping the excess butter from her lips with a napkin, “Oh, yeah. Sorry.” She mumbled, staring at him for a few more seconds, taking in the way he looked in the lantern lighting, “I never got your name.”

“Buggy. Captain Buggy.” He said. His name really did fit with his appearance, it was cute. Y/n looked back down at her plate and shoved the last piece of bread in her mouth, she didn’t even bother cutting it this time.

It was later in the evening, he had been training her all day for what she would be doing on the ship. She was basically in charge of cleaning everything, which included the mountains of plates left by his crew after every single meal and party. It wasn’t easy work. She felt stupid asking about the simplest of things, it was really all so foreign to her. Sometimes she didn’t even ask questions when she really should have, she felt dumb but she knew she wasn’t, right? What even was disinfectant spray? The sun was beginning to set though, and she would finally get some time to really think about what just happened, and what she had just gotten herself into. Y/n was still a walking target, and they were probably looking for her right now. The dean is probably covering up her escape right now, deleting footage from the Judgement Day feed to make it look like she died, while the apprentices were out behind the scenes in the hopes of making that a reality.

Most of the day didn’t even feel real to her honestly, she just joined a pirate crew and every event of the day was just glazing by her so quickly. Her thoughts were a jumble of mess and this creeping feeling of dread wouldn’t shake off of her back, like it was clinging there refusing to let go. There was a constant nagging feeling in the back of her mind, she wasn’t supposed to do this, she wasn’t supposed to be alive standing here. Y/n should be dead right now.

“Hey, listen Y/n.” Buggy stated, she had told him her name earlier in the day, he told her it was the prettiest name he had ever heard, he wouldn’t stop saying it. “I don’t.. really have a separate cabin for you. The crew has their own place where they all sleep but I would feel irresponsible putting you in there since y’know, a lady needs her privacy.” He scratched behind his neck. There was something so endearing about his voice, it was raspy, sometimes deep with the occasional crack, “For the time being I can set up a hammock in my quarters, just until we can find a space for you.”

Y/n gave him a half smile, scoffing lightheartedly, “You don’t have to give me any special treatment just because I’m a girl.” She could tell he felt genuinely embarrassed telling her all of that, but for some reason, she didn’t mind. Yes, she had met this man merely hours ago, but there was something so trustworthy about him, he was warm, friendly and funny. Buggy was relatively harmless, she then spoke up again, “But, if you really insist.. I wouldn’t mind.” She shrugged, her smile growing, to which she hid by turning her face away to look off to the side of the ship.

“Well I do insist! Trust me I know how my crew can get.. especially after a couple of drinks.” He rubbed the back of his neck, “I have responsibility as captain to make sure my new little recruit is comfortable!” He gave her a small pat on the head, his hand felt larger than she thought, it took up her entire scalp. She could feel the thick fabric of his gloves, white clown gloves that were unusual for a pirate to wear. She could see the dirt that had collected on the white from his years as a pirate, she hoped none of that gunk got into her hair.

Buggy’s room was awful, it was a mess. Y/n couldn’t stop her eyes from widening when she saw the sight. What the fuck happened? There were empty and half empty bottles of liquor scattered all over the floor, clothes tossed into piles, garbage littered everywhere. She couldn’t pinpoint what it smelled like, it wasn’t unbearably unpleasant, but extremely musky. Y/n looked over to a table in the far side of the room, right across from his bed to see an open bag of something, more food probably.

Y/n’s wide eyes didn’t go unnoticed by Buggy, which made him grimace slightly, “Uh. Sorry.” He mumbled, “I really should’ve cleaned this up, uh..” he stepped into his room, “Let me set up the hammoc-” before he finished, he tripped on a wayward bottle, letting out a gargled shriek before falling to the hard wood floor. His large body landed with a loud thud.

He rolled over, covering his face, “OW!! MY NOSE!!” He growled.

Y/n quickly rushed over and looked down at him, “Are you ok?!” She asked, kneeling down and putting a hand on his shoulder. Buggy slowly took his hand away from his face. Yeah, his nose is definitely real.

The man’s face was a bright red, he scrambled to sit up, his back now facing her. He was probably embarrassed again but Y/n couldn’t help but find his little slip kind of adorable, and that little shriek that he let out. He waved his hand before standing, boosting himself with a hand on his knee, “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine!” He grumbled, kicking the bottle that tripped him off to the side, to which it clunk against a pile of more empty bottles.

“I’ll help you put the hammock up.” Y/n stood up as well. She fidgeted with her fingers while watching Buggy dig through his rickety old closet. Y/n peeked her head from behind to take a look into it. Half of the clothes weren’t even hanging on the empty hangers, most of them were just crammed into one small pile in the corner of the closet. Lots of jackets, striped shirts, there were a couple of colorful button downs, a bright blue one with bright reddish floral looking patterns caught her eye.

Buggy certainly seemed to love color. She looked back up at him, the red grease paint on his lips had slightly faded which was expected since it was late in the day, but she could see more of his features now that it was smudged away. His stubble was unkempt but attractive, his skin was textured and had creases, probably from his life on the sea. Her eyes trailed, his jacket was off by now so she could see his biceps which flexed with every move he made. Y/n felt heat come to her ears, which made her quickly avert her gaze back to where Buggy was digging into his closet.

Although she noticed something strange, his gloves were gone, better yet his hands were completely missing. She did a double take before quickly grabbing his forearm, “What the hell happened to your hands?!” She exclaimed. Buggy looked down at her for a moment, confused, then a floating pair of gloved hands came flying out from the top shelf of the closet, hovering in the air which made her step back, nearly stumbling over the garbage on the floor.

Buggy was confused for a few more seconds before a look of realization came over his face, “Ohh.. I forgot, you have no idea.” He let out a deep chuckle, his hands casually attaching themselves back at his wrists. “No idea about what?” Y/n snapped, brows furrowed, a bit of an aggressive response, but she was on edge. “About my devil fruit powers.” He snickered, his hands popping off again, one of them floating over to her to pinch her cheek, making her shiver slightly before instinctively pulling away. “I can split apart my body at will, I can’t get cut by any blade, making me practically invincible.” He boasted as he popped his hands back onto his wrists again, rolling his right wrist as it attached with a hand on his bicep.

Y/n was still tense, staring at Buggy as she tried to make sense of what she was seeing. She was left speechless as thoughts ran through her head. She always thought devil fruits were something made up to scare kids from venturing too far beyond the towns by themselves. She glanced up to meet Buggy’s gaze, he seemed to be amused at how off put she was. Her eyes flickered back to the top closet shelf, seeing the nets of the hammock in the far corner of it. She walked over, slipping past Buggy to grab it.

“Ah- that’s where it was.” The man croaked out, embarrassed that he had managed to miss it when it was literally right in front of his face.

It didn’t take too long for them to set up the hammock, Buggy threw a few spare pillows and blankets on it, “It’s not much, but it’ll do.” He put his hands on his hips. “Thanks.” Y/n mumbled, looking back up at him, but then looking back down at the hammock. She then nearly toppled over when Buggy gave her a firm pat on the back, “It’s no trouble at all, new girl.” He chuckled before patting her head again, this time ruffling her hair with his filthy gloves. She didn’t seemed to mind it this time, her lips pulling into a soft smile.

“So, I can sleep in this thing without falling out?” Y/n looked back up at him. Buggy shrugged, “I mean, you’re not supposed to fall out, it really just depends on how much you move during your sleep.” He put a hand on his chin as he looked away. Y/n’s gaze flickered over to his mattress that could barely even qualify as a bed, a rickety bed post with pillows tossed onto the floor, his blanket hanging for life off the side, “So you get to sleep in a big comfy bed while everyone else gets these?” She joked.

“Hey! Being a captain is hard work which requires good sleep!” The man barked, making her smile grow. Y/n looked back down at the hammock and adjusted the pillows, “I’m gonna get some sleep too.” She smiled up at Buggy.

Buggy nodded, about to turn away before he looked back down at her, “Oh- wait! Before you do that, the doc said you need to replace those bandages before going to bed.” He walked over to his bedside table and opened a drawer, pulling out a roll of gauze.

Y/n looked back down at the bandages which she had completely forgotten about, she saw the dried bloodstains from her wounds which made the hairs on the back of her neck stand. All of a sudden she was reminded of everything, and the fact that she was most likely being hunted down at this current moment. A pit of dread began to consume her, making her clench her teeth. She felt like she was doing something wrong, she really wasn’t supposed to be alive. Her trap was fully meant to kill her in that moment, she wasn’t supposed to escape.

Buggy sat on the edge of his bed and motioned her, the roll of gauze in his left hand, “Just- sit here. I’m not good at this but I’ll try.” He mumbled. Y/n stood there for a moment, looking down at her arms before turning towards Buggy and nodding softly.

She sat beside of him as he carefully unrolled the bandages on her arms. Y/n’s injuries weren’t healed at all yet, just dried. As Buggy slowly unwrapped the gauze from her right arm, her injuries were slowly revealed to her, making her hold her breath. Her heart raced in her chest, as she kept staring at the gashes mangling her arm, it infested her brain and made her feel a small stinging feeling in her wrists, her breath hitched. Buggy noticed this, glancing up at her for a moment before looking back down at her arms, moving to take off the gauze on her left, “It’s best not to look at them. It’s— really bad.” He said quietly, his voice gruff. Y/n looked at him and nodded, keeping her gaze focused on him, the way he was handling her arms so gently, she even noticed that he had taken off his gloves, the way they were folded on the nightstand. She looked back at him.

“Explosives.” She said, “I had.. bombs, stuck into my arms. I had to rip them out before they exploded.” She added, her voice getting quieter. This made Buggy pause, glancing back up at her, he was in the middle of wrapping up her right arm, he was speechless at first, his mouth hung open, “Oh.” Was what left his mouth first, “Well, that explains it.” His Adam’s Apple bobbed as he swallowed, he paused for a few more seconds, their eyes locked. There was a softness to his gaze as he looked at her, he then broke the contact before continuing to wrap her up.

It was quiet, Y/n looked back down once her arms were nearly wrapped up, she looked at his bare hands. His fingers were strong, slightly calloused yet moved meticulously.

“You’re safe now.” Buggy broke the silence, looking up at her as he slowly moved his hands away, finishing her left arm, “You’re gonna be ok.” He put a hand to her face, his palm was soft and warm, a wave of comfort washed over her, the sickening feeling of dread from a while ago seemed to disappear at his touch. Y/n’s gaze softened as it locked with his. She slowly reached up to touch his wrist gently, holding his hand to her face.

He gaze her cheek a gentle pat, putting his hands on his knees before standing, “You should.. get some sleep now.” Buggy said, not looking at her as he walked to take his shirt off. Y/n couldn’t help but stare at his toned back, she had a better few of his biceps from this angle.

She then nodded a few minutes late before standing and walking over to the hammock, giving Buggy’s body a few more glances when he wasn’t looking as she got comfortable under the thick, but comfortable blanket. Y/n was surprised at how soft it was, the fabric wasn’t thin, rough or itchy like the ones back home. It was comforting, like a warm hug.

Y/n sunk deeper into the blanket until her entire body was engulfed, curled up underneath the soft comforter. But she peeked out, watching Buggy as he threw his pillows and blankets back on the bed, adjusting it and straightening his sheets. He looked back at her, noticing how she was looking at him from under the blanket. They locked gazes again for a moment, Y/n caught a glimpse of his thick, fluffy chest hair.

“Goodnight.” He said before turning away, crawling into his bed and laying with his back facing her.

“Night.” She mumbled, fully burrowing into the blankets before shutting her eyes.

#one piece #buggy x reader #buggy imagines #buggy the clown #buggy the clown x reader #one piece buggy #buggy one piece #buggy x oc

77 notes · View notes

jobean12-blog · 4 years

Note

Thank you for being here for me during this difficult time 💜💜 could I request a fluffy fic with Bucky? They like each other and he's asked her out a few times but she feels she can't give him what he deserves in the future - a family and is afraid he would lose interest anyway if she told him the reason why

More than Forever

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Word Count: 1,501

Summary: Bucky wants to take you out so badly but every time he asks you turn him down. When Steve gives him a good idea he runs with it and finds out exactly why you’ve been telling him no.

Author’s Note: Hello my beautiful friend. Thank you for requesting this of me. I really hope I wrote it well and you enjoy it. Sending you love and hugs always and forever! Thank you all for reading and much love always ❤❤❤

Warnings: Soft angst (please read the request above), lots of soft Bucky and sweet fluff, a happy ending!!! :)

“Steve, I don’t get it. It seems like she really likes me but every time I try to ask her to dinner or anything she politely declines. Am I nuts?” Bucky stares at his best friend, confusion and hurt etched across his features while he waits for Steve’s answer. With a heavy sigh Steve shrugs, giving Bucky an apologetic look. “It doesn’t make sense to me either Buck. Any time I see you two together it certainly seems like she’s happy and enjoying your company. I’m as clueless as you are.”

Dropping his head, Bucky rakes his hand over this face and groans into his coffee. “Have you tried something like a movie night? Maybe she’ll respond to something less formal?” Looking up Bucky smiles for the first time that morning, standing and clapping Steve on the back. “I knew you were good for something. This whole time I keep suggesting date nights out somewhere, maybe just relaxing in our room is the right start. Thanks Pal.”

Steve shakes his head and smiles into his coffee, mumbling, “good for something…sheesh.” Later that day Bucky finds you in the laundry room, humming a sweet tune as you fold your clothes. “Hey doll.” You spin around, a pair of your lace underwear clutched to your chest. “OH! Hi Bucky! I didn’t hear you come in, you scared me!” He tries to keep his eyes on yours, but they quickly dip down to the red lace in your hands and his cheeks begin to match their color.

Whipping them behind your back you give him a sweet smile, a quiet “sorry,” passing your lips. “No, it’s ok, those are really pretty, I bet they look amazing.” As soon as the words leave his mouth Bucky slaps his hand over his face, letting out a muffled curse into his palm. You walk over to him and pull his hand away, kissing his cheek. “It’s ok and thank you.”

His eyes drop to your lips, lingering for longer than they should before he looks back to you. “Hey, so I was looking for you because I wanted to ask you something. Since I can’t seem to get you out to dinner maybe we could just watch a movie together this weekend? You know, nice and relaxed in our pjs!” His tone is so hopeful, and his eyes are so bright you wouldn’t be able to say no again anyway. “That sounds great! But only if I get to pick the movie!”

Bucky instantly agrees and walks over to hug you, crushing you to his chest with a quiet thank you. “I can’t wait doll.” He leaves you to your laundry and you can’t help but feel excited for Saturday but you also can’t get rid of the niggling voice in the back of your head, telling you, he won’t want this once he knows your secret.

The weekend arrives and you’ve only wanted to cancel on him 5 times, however, you could never bring yourself to do it, his happy face a permanent image in your mind. He arrives to your room right on time with snacks and drinks in hand, smiling from ear to ear. “You ready?!” Pushing back your doubts you focus on just how much you like him and how much you enjoy his company. “I am Buck. I’ve been looking forward to this!”

Once you’re both settled on the couch and curled up under the blanket you turn on the movie. Bucky had admitted to never seeing Star Wars, so you decided to start with episode 4 and show him what he’s been missing. Halfway through the movie his arm finds its way around your shoulder and your legs are resting in his lap. You lay your head against his chest and relax into his warmth.

The movie ends and Bucky pulls you closer, hooking his finger under your chin, “I loved it!” His lips are so close to yours and you can’t help the way you lean into him. “I knew you would,” you whisper, trying to control your body. “You know what my favorite part was?” You shake your head no, starting to feel dizzy from his closeness. “Being here with you and having you in my arms.” Those are the last words spoken before his lips meet your in a soft kiss. It’s better than you ever imagined, and you melt against him, hooking your arms around his neck. Bucky drags you into his lap and deepens the kiss, moaning into your mouth as you open up for him.

The instant his hand brushes the warm skin along your stomach you pull away, all your insecurities rushing back and drowning you in a wave. “Bucky. I…I can’t,” you cry, getting off him and hurrying to the bathroom. “Doll?” he asks, running after you and lightly knocking on the door. “Baby, what happened? I’m sorry if that was too much. I didn’t mean to…I just…I like you. A lot.” You don’t answer, trying to hold back your sobs as your heart breaks.

He doesn’t say more and you’re starting to think he left until a small piece of paper slips under the door. ‘I’m going to sit out here in case you need me. Don’t feel pressured to come out, but I’m here when you’re ready.’ It makes you start to cry again, your hand covering your mouth as you sink to the floor. After what feels like an hour you slowly crack open the door and find Bucky sitting on the floor against the opposite wall.

He shoots up but doesn’t go to touch you, dropping his hand to his sides as he gives you a concerned look. “If you don’t want to talk, I’ll go, I just wanted to make sure you were ok.” Fresh tears start to well up and you throw yourself at him, curling into his chest when he wraps you tight in his arms. For a few minutes you just cry, and he holds you, no words spoken. When you finally start to calm down, he picks you up and carries you to the couch.

With you seated in his lap he waits patiently while you gather your thoughts. “I’m sorry,” is the first thing you say, and he immediately starts to shake his head to disagree. “No, no, just wait, let me explain.” He snaps his mouth shut at that and focuses on you. “I’m sorry that I’ve been saying no to all your dates and I’m sorry I wasn’t truthful as to why. This is just very difficult and to be honest I’m worried that once I tell you, you won’t want to take me out anymore.”

A few stray tears run down your cheeks and he softly kisses them away. “Bucky,” you whisper, cradling his jaw in your hand. “It’s ok, doll. I’m not going to run away, no matter what you say.” Taking a deep breath, you look into his eyes and they’re free of judgement and it gives you the courage to continue.

“I like you too. A lot,” you say with a sad smile, “but I can’t give you a family, if that is something you were to want in the future. It’s not easy to talk about this and I didn’t want to lead you on thinking I could give that to you when I couldn’t.” Bucky’s silence makes the knot in your stomach tighter, a sob bubbling up in your throat.

He senses your panic and quickly takes your face in his hands. “That’s ok. It’s ok baby.” He watches you let out a shuddering breath before he goes on. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry you’re hurting. I do want a family some day and I would be lying if I said I haven’t thought about that with you. But there are other ways for us to be a family. We could start by adopting a dog. Then maybe a kid or two…if that were something you would be willing to do. We could explore all the options. Together.”

The sob in your throat finally breaks free but this time it’s from relief. “Really, Bucky? You would consider doing that?” He smiles and it’s full of warmth and his eyes are full of truth as he vigorously shakes his head yes. “Of course. There are so many kids that need homes and dogs too! We could adopt 5 each!” he laughs, kissing your lips.

Time seems to slow as you once again find yourself in his lap with his strong arms caressing your skin. He parts your lips with his tongue and silently asks for permission as his fingers smooth over your hips and dig into the soft flesh. You pull away to take a breath, smiling against his lips when he asks, “so does these mean you’ll finally let me take you to dinner?” With an enthusiastic nod you push him down on the couch, straddling his hips and leaning down to kiss him again.

@aesthetical-bucky @auro-ora @azurika-writes @breezy1415 @book-dragon-13 @buckys-broody-muffin @buckys-minty-breath @bugsbucky @devynsdiary @eurynome827 @emilylyoness @hiddles-rose @hailmary-yramliah @hawksmagnolia @itsunclebucky @imgaril-lindru @ikaris-whore @jewels2876 @jhangelface0523 @kaosera @loricameback @lorilane33 @littledarlinhavefaithinme @littleredstarfish @mushyjellybeans @metal-armed-cuddly-dork @marvelandotherfandomimagines @marvelgirl7 @nano--raptor @randomfandompenguin @sallycanwait68 @softpeachbarnes @scarletsoldierrr @tuiccim @addikted-2-dopamine @the-wayward-robot @yansi1923 @bucky-on-my-mind

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fluff #bucky x reader #bucky x reader fluff #bucky x reader angst #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x reader fluff #bucky barnes x reader angst #bucky fluff #bucky angst #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky imagine #bucky #bucky x you #steve rogers #sebastian stan #tw: infertility

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terrm9 · 4 years

Text

Everywhere I Go (Ethan X MC)

Words count: 3 800

Warnings: none? I feel like this is absolutely harmless but if you find something worth warning, let me know please

Few weeks after making their relationship public, Ethan decides to take Chiara with him to Providence.

Set few weeks after the gala, so in the first half of Chapter 18 I guess?

Author’s note: This follows the Count Me In fic, so for the better experience, I recommend to read that first. However, if you don’t want to, it is readable as a one shot too. I love Alan Ramsey and I just want him to be happy okay? I kind of broke my own heart while thinking about how unfair life is towards him

“And that’s why my sister is not talking to me now,” Bryce ended his speech with his typical wide grin, shrugging carelessly as he finished eating his fries.

Both, Chiara and Elijah burst out into loud laugh, attracting the attention of every other person in the cafeteria. The story itself wouldn’t be that funny, however the way Bryce didn’t hesitate to give them a detailed description of Keiki’s face expressions caused happy tears to fall from Chiara’s eyes, as she couldn’t contain her giggles.

“Oh crap,” Chiara muttered when her ringing phone interrupted the cheerful atmosphere at the table. “It’s Ethan.”

“Calling as a doctor or as a booooyfriend?” Bryce teased her, gaining an eye roll from Chiara in return.

Before she picked her phone up, she checked her pager, making sure that Ethan didn’t try to get her attention through it without her noticing. It was greatly uncommon for him to call her while they were both working, especially when calling her meant talking about not-work-related topics.

“Hello?” she picked up at last, confusion audible in her voice.

“Rookie,” she could see Ethan nod at the other side of the line as he spoke. “Where are you? I wanted to talk to you.”

“Uhm, I am having lunch in the cafeteria with the boys. Why? Do you need me for something? You could’ve paged me.”

“It’s not about work. Just wait for me, okay? I’ll be there in five minutes.”

Without giving her a chance to ask more questions or even respond with an ‘okay’, Ethan hung up, leaving her terribly worried about his reasons to call her.

No matter how urgent their private issues seemed, they always managed to bring them home with them, to talk about it after their shifts. When they were at work, they were working. It was that simple for them, a rule that has hardly ever been broken.

“He called as a boyfriend,” she spoke finally, noticing how both, Bryce and Elijah were looking at her with their eyebrows raised. “He will stop by.”

Just as she said that, the door to the cafeteria opened and Ethan stopped just for a second, searching the room with his eyes for a sign of the young redhead he needed to see. Against his better judgement, he smiled as he finally spotted her, cheeks flushed from the laugh she has just had several minutes ago.

Chiara noticed how some residents and even one attending stared as Ethan crossed the room, obviously ignoring the fact that he was about to sit next to the woman he kissed at the gala few weeks ago. They stared with hearts in their eyes and wishful smiles at their faces and even if it was embarrassing to admit, Chiara knew that their expressions mirrored her own.

“Chiara I think you might be drooling,” Bryce whispered, causing Elijah to laugh loudly for the second time in ten minutes.

“Hey,” Ethan smiled softly at her as he sat down next to her and then nodded in boys’ direction. “Bryce, Elijah.”

“Well helloooo, my fav buddy,” Bryce grinned and patted Ethan’s shoulder enthusiastically. “How ya doin’?”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Ethan muttered: “Lahela stop please”, while Chiara laughed, shaking her head.

“What has gotten into you today, Bryce? Do you need to replace a single ‘o’ with several annoying ‘oooo’s’ in every word?”

Shrugging carelessly again, Bryce opened his mouth to respond, but before he could say anything, Elijah put his arm on Bryce’s shoulder and gestured towards the door.

“I think we should go before you extend the list of people not talking to you.”

Even though unhappy with the suggestion, Bryce agreed and a minute later, Chiara and Ethan were left alone to discuss whatever Ethan came to discuss.

“So? What is bothering you?” Chiara asked openly.

“Nothing is bothering me,” Ethan replied, not quite looking at her, instead reaching for her hand on the table, interlacing their fingers together.

Chiara was aware of people observing them and of the fact that such gesture of affection would cause yet another wave of gossips in the hospital.

Ethan couldn’t care less about what would people say at this point. Ever since their kiss, people were talking about them and it didn’t really matter what Chiara and Ethan did or didn’t do.

They were holding hands now and so people would talk about Dr. Do-Not-Talk-To-Me being whipped. If they didn’t hold their hands, people would talk about troubles in paradise because ‘they didn’t even touch while talking’.

“I am going to visit my father in Providence this weekend.”

“Oh,” Chiara opened her mouth, not quite believing that he would look for her only to tell her that he would be gone for the weekend. “That’s great! It’s been some time since you last visited Providence, right? Two days out of Boston and with your dad, it will be good for you.”

“The thing is,” Ethan spoke, scratching the back of his neck nervously. “You have a free weekend and-“

“I think I do, let me check,” Chiara interrupted him, reaching for her phone to check her calendar.

“You do, I already checked.”

Or rather, I made sure that you would have a free weekend.

“However, I wanted to ask you if, by any chance, you would want to go to Providence with me? I mean, I survived the brunch thing with your friends and now I would like to introduce you to dad.”

“I have already met your father, Ethan,” Chiara laughed softly. “Several times.”

“Yes, but that was different. I would like to, well, introduce you as a… woman I am dating.”

His cheeks were deeply flushed at this point, his hands gently squeezing her in steady rhythm, trying to calm his own nerves down.

“I would like that very much,” she smiled at him. “Is your dad going to roast me the way my friends roasted you?”

Ethan laughed, truly and openly laughed and replied: “God I hope so.”

With a quick kiss on the top of Chiara’s head, he stood up as his pager went off, leaving her to finish her lunch with a smile on her lips.

“Your dad know that I am coming with you, right?” Chiara asked nervously as she stepped out of Ethan’s car, looking at the house in front of her. It was painted in a light blue color, the bushes surrounding a path leading to the front door precisely trimmed.

“Of course. He texted me in the morning, saying that they were both looking forward to seeing you.”

“Both? Both who?” Chiara turned on her heels, her eyes wide with shock. Surely Louise wouldn’t be here today, would she? Her time in the rehab clinic wasn’t over yet.

“Dad and Jenner,” Ethan replied flatly, getting their bags out of the trunk.

A very audible sigh of relief left Chiara’s mouth at that, her mind instantly calming down at the picture of Ethan’s – or more Alan’s – dog. It would be their first meeting and Chiara was equally nervous about meeting Alan as Ethan’s girlfriend and meeting Jenner, knowing rather well that Jenner’s opinion mattered to Ethan more than opinions of most people.

Locking his car, Ethan took Chiara’s hand and led her to the front door, smiling down at her, all the tension that collected in his body for the past few weeks seemingly gone.

Ethan didn’t resemble the Dr. Ramsey at all at this moment, his form relaxed as he knocked on the door, quietly humming one of Frank Sinatra’s songs they listened to on their way here.

“Chiara, Ethan!” Alan smiled widely as he opened the door, letting them both come in. Before he could as much as hug Ethan, the ball of brown fur sprinted through the hall and as soon as Jenner spotted Ethan, he put both his front paws on Ethan’s torso, barking excitedly.

Chiara shook Alan’s hand and he kissed both her cheeks politely. “Lunch is almost ready,” he smiled and led her to the sunny living room, granting Ethan some time to catch up with his best friend.

Seated in a comfortable armchair, Chiara took her surrounding in while Alan left to the kitchen to make them a coffee. The room wasn’t big, the huge window dominating as it provided both, light coming into the room and a beautiful view to the garden.

Before Chiara could examine the photos on the top of fireplace, both Jenner and Ethan came to the room and it was her time to impress the dog.

“Hello there,” she smiled as she kneeled down, letting Jenner to sniff and then lick her palm. “What a good boy do we have here, hmmm? Yes, it’s you, of course it’s you.”

All the tension was gone at that point, Jenner happily licking not only her hands but also her neck and her face, Chiara laughing and rubbing his belly happily while Ethan stood by the fireplace, his arms crossed, smiling affectionately at the scene in front of him.

Seeing that his presence was no longer recognized, Ethan decided to help his dad to finish the lunch, hoping that maybe in their moment of privacy, he could make sure that there would be no embarrassing stories about his childhood shared today.

It was all for nothing.

As soon as they finished eating and moved back to the living room to have their afternoon tea, Alan grinned at the two young doctors seated on the couch next to each other, Ethan’s arm casually hugging Chiara’s shoulders.

“So… dating, huh? How long?”

Ethan blushed and cleared his throat, thinking about the right answer. “Few weeks,” he replied after all.

“And unofficially?”

Chiara laughed at the question, the fact that Alan indeed knew his son both surprising and delighting her. Not wanting to make Ethan angry or uncomfortable, she decided not to answer that.

“Few weeks,” Ethan repeated, although it was obvious that not a single person in the room believed that. “The gala I’ve been telling you about the other day? That would be it.”

The mention of gala served them well, giving them a chance to talk about hospital for a long time, about the fact that it wouldn’t be saved anyway, about their work at free clinic.

They both intentionally avoided talking about the future, about what would happen when Edenbrook closes for real. Alan was polite enough not to ask.

Chiara was nervously waiting for Alan to start asking questions. After the trick her friends pulled on Ethan, she deserved to be interrogated by him. She was dating a respected doctor, famous diagnostician and a rich man after all. It was rather natural for his parents – well, his father – to make sure that she wasn’t using him.

I just need to be honest and everything will be fine.

The interrogation never came. Instead, when it looked like it would come, Alan asked her the question she hoped to hear.

“So, Chiara. I doubt Ethan has told you much about his childhood. Do you want to hear the stories of troublemaker Ethan? I have my two favorites.”

“Dad, you have to be kidding me,” Ethan muttered, squinting his eyes on the older man.

Next to him, Chiara jumped on the couch of excitement, nodding. “Yes, please. Tell me anything embarrassing. Anything. He like to pretend that such moments never happened in his life.”

“Do you remember our fish, Ethan?” Alan smiled mischievously at his son and from Ethan’s expression, he knew exactly what was about to come.

“I was six!” he exclaimed, crossing his arms at his chest.

“My brother came to visit us one summer,” Alan turned to Chiara, ignoring Ethan’s remarks about betrayal. “He used to smoke a lot back then, however me or Louise weren’t smoking and so there was no ashtray in this whole house. I found an old mason jar and gave it to him, so that he could use that instead. We didn’t throw the whole mason jar away the moment he left the house and Ethan took his chance. At the time, we had this huge aquarium here in the living room, full of fish. There were, like, fifty fish in it and as a six-year-old, we let Ethan feed them so that he would learn about being responsible. One day, I got back from work and almost all of the fish were dead. Really, maybe seven or eight survived. And I was so shocked because it’s not common thing to happen and I asked Ethan if he fed them that day and without a second thought, he said that he did feed them with the ash Uncle Thomas left here, because he wanted to see how they would react. I still remember him saying ‘It’s a pity they died. But at least we are left with the strongest ones now.’”

“He didn’t do that,” Chiara laughed and turned to Ethan, waiting for his reaction. The shrug of his shoulders confirming that the story she just heard was right. “Well, some things never change. Your strategy with interns is pretty similar.”

“Yet, here you are. That makes you one of the strongest ones, you know.”

She smiled at him softly, knowingly and turned back to Alan, greedy for more.

“My absolutely favorite is the one about Perrie McKingsley.”

Ethan’s eyes widened once again and he shook his head abruptly, looking at his father. “Dad, really, that won’t be necessary.”

“Okay now I have to hear it,” Chiara grinned wickedly.

“He was ten or eleven at the time, I can’t quite remember. It was my grandmother’s death anniversary and even though, as great-grandmother to Ethan, she wasn’t a big part of his life, he always agreed to go to the cemetery with me at the anniversary. That year was no exception and so we bought this beautiful bouquet and put it on the grave. Little did I know that the next day was Perrie McKingsley’s birthday – she was Ethan’s classmate and his first crush. Very nice girl indeed. Ethan wanted to impress her but was too shy to talk to me about it, about what he could give her as a present and so he came up with a genius idea. That morning, he left the house early and stopped at the cemetery on his way to school. He took the flowers we put on the grave the day before and gave them to the poor girl. He would never tell the truth, but I met Perrie’s mother two days after that and she told me how thoughtful it was of Ethan to get Perrie such beautiful bouquet.”

Chiara had to cover her mouth with her hand to tame all the loud sounds leaving it when Alan finished the story. Tears streaming down her face, she had troubles catching her breath between the laughing.

“Who would believe that you were such a gentleman, Ramsey,” she spoke finally when she calmed down. “The girl was very lucky.”

“I am glad you are having fun, Rookie,” Ethan said dryly, trying his hardest to maintain his poker face, even though the truth was that seeing his Chiara this happy and free of worries, laughing with his father while petting Jenner, it was a picture he wished to remember forever.

The rest of the day was filled with small talks about Alan’s work and Jenner, about Chiara’s life back in San Francisco. Alan showed her all of Ethan’s photos, from the cute baby ones to the pretty awkward high school ones.

Ethan pretended to be annoyed by the fact that his dad and Chiara became such a good friends, finding their entertainment in Ethan’s suffering, however every time they were not looking, he was smiling like a fool, his chest full of this unfamiliar warm feeling.

He was asleep in his old room now and as much as Chiara tried to rest too, the sleep wouldn’t come to her.

She decided to get a water in the kitchen and give it another try later.

As she stepped downstairs, she was startled by the light coming out of the living room – it was past midnight.

“Chiara,” Alan smiled at her from the couch, the bottle of beer in his hand as he stared into the fire. “Troubles sleeping?”

She nodded and took a seat next to him, the water long forgotten.

“I was just thinking about Ethan,” Alan broke the silence, turning his eyes to her.

They were the same color as his son’s, the blue darker than the bright sky but brighter than the stormy one. His gaze was as intense too, as if he could see straight into her head, getting his answers without needing to ask questions.

The only difference was that his eyes were surrounded by happy wrinkles, the ones a person only gets when they smile too often.

Ethan’s wrinkled weren’t permanent around the corners of his eyes. He didn’t smile often enough. His signature wrinkles were the ones between his brows, the ones a person only gets when they worry too much.

“I am glad he’s found you, Chiara. I have never seen him so content. So in love.”

Chiara froze at his words. She froze at the ease he said them with.

“Oh, he’s… he’s not in love,” she laughed nervously. “He doesn’t believe in such things.”

“You are the first girl he has ever brought home with him,” Alan grinned. “Surely that speaks for itself.”

Shock overtaking her, Chiara forgot to close her mouth for a long moment.

“You are kidding. He is almost forty, I can’t be the first one.”

Alan laughed at her statement whole-heartedly, the sound so common for him and so rare to hear from his son.

“You are. And I know what he says, about me not really knowing him, but he is still my kid and I can assure you, he is so in love.” Alan took a deep breath, sipping his bear for a long moment. “The girl I was telling you about today, Perrie? She was his first crush, his first love, the first girl that made him blush when he spoke to her. The first to bring those ‘in-love’ sparks into his eyes. He was ten, a kid. The same kid he was at eleven, when Louise left. He’s never really gotten over that, over her leaving us and I don’t blame him. He was just a kid. The first time I have seen those sparks in his eyes, he was ten. The last time I have seen them, he was eleven. He was just a kid, he was just my baby son, when all those adult things happened to him and I blamed myself for so long that I couldn’t protect him from that hurt.”

Alan’s voice shook and he took another sip of his drink, steading himself so that he could finish his speech.

For the past twenty-six years, he has never said these words to anyone.

“I stopped believing that those would ever return. All the way through the high school, Ethan never even mentioned a girl. He avoided women, he didn’t trust them and who was I to change his mind? It was my wife leaving us after all. And then, in his med school he let it slip that there was a certain girl he was seeing, but talking about her didn’t bring those sparks into his eyes. He was twenty-three and he was less in love than a ten-year-old Ethan. There was something there when he told me about you for the first time, last year. His Rookie. I could see how his face lit up at the mention of you, how his lips turned up so slightly anyone but his father would miss it."

"He probably never mentioned it, but I was with Ethan two days before the gala and when he said that you two would go together to represent your team, that was when I saw those sparks again, Chiara. After twenty-seven years, I have seen my son’s eyes light up with the force only love could produce.”

Chiara was smiling and at the same time, she felt like crying.

Crying for a man Ethan could be, hadn’t he been broken.

Crying for Alan, losing his wife and his happy little boy at the same day.

“Ethan can be difficult, I know. But please, as his father and as a person who loves him more than he has ever loved anyone or anything, I beg you to be patient with him when things get difficult. Because you are the only person I have ever believed could make Ethan truly and unconditionally happy again.”

Chiara nodded, tears spilling down on her cheeks now and before she could do anything, Alan was hugging her.

“Goodnight, Chiara,” he smiled as he broke the hug. After wishing him a goodnight too, Chiara got back into the room Ethan was sleeping in and tried to get into the bed as quietly as possible.

“I am not sleeping,” Ethan muttered, turning to his side so that he could face her. With his curls disheveled around his head and sleepy eyes, he looked so much younger it almost surprised Chiara. “I’ve heard voices from downstairs.”

“Yes, I’ve been talking to your dad,” she whispered softly, deciding whether she should tell him the truth or not. Almost immediately, she decided to keep her conversation with Alan to herself. “There were many more embarrassing stories to be told, you know.”

“I don’t get how, no matter who we are with, I end up to be the embarrassed one. All the time. I was thinking about inviting Naveen over for dinner later this week, but I am strongly reconsidering now.”

“Oh my God, yes, that’s totally happening. Awkward intern Ethan, that would be my new favorite thing.”

“I have never been an awkward intern.”

“I think Naveen will be the judge of that,” she smirked, rolling Ethan on his back so that she could straddle him. He groaned at the idea of Naveen telling Chiara yet another story about his past. “Well, it’s not my fault that you are so embarrassable, Ethan.”

“That’s not even a word, Ray.”

“Uhm, it just left my mouth, so I guess it is now. I will text Naveen myself in the morning.”

She leaned down to kiss him, his hot body and soft lips making her mind race into dangerous territory.

“Don’t worry, once we visit my mom and sister, you will be satisfied. I bet Alicia has already my TOP 5 awkward moments written and ready to be shared,” she murmured between the kissed.

Ethan chuckled at that and biting her earlobe softly, he whispered: “I am booking the tickets to San Francisco right now.”

Taglist: @takemyopenheart @maurine07 @senseofduties @mercury84choices @flightlessbirdiee @udishaman @honeyandsunfl0wers @ohchoices @adrex04 @queencarb @archxxronrookie

#open heart #open heart choices #open heart fanfiction #ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc #alan ramsey #play choices

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mycomfortblanket · 3 years

Text

If I Lose Him Like This

Chapter 7

Sitting on the roof of the palace, Aang watches the sun rise. After speaking with Katara and they had decided to end things, he needed time to himself. The conversation between him and Katara plays over and over in his mind and whenever he gets a small break from that heartache, he remembers what Toph had said to him just before Zuko and Katara had walked into the room.

He drops his head into his hands and rubs them along his scalp until he is clutching the back of his neck. How did he manage to screw things up with the both of them? Thinking back on the past few days, he sees little opportunities to fix the whole situation by a simple act or choice of words, if only he had stopped and thought for a moment.

"Well, looks like someone found my hiding spot," a voice comes from behind him. Aang turns around and sees Azula walking carefully down the roof until she can sit next to him.

"Hey, 'Zula."

"So, Katara found out?" she asks.

Aang whips his head over to look at her, but she is carefully avoiding his gaze. "Who told you about that?"

She takes a deep breath and draws her knees up to her chest and wraps her arms around them. She takes in a deep breath, "During the war, Father would have me interrogate prisoners. Get information out of them about secret bases, battle plans, whatever," she pauses and a shaky breath comes out, "The things I use to do to people..." her voice cracks. She closes her eyes and inhales deeply before exhaling long and slow.

Aang can't take his eyes off of her. The gold in her eyes are illuminated by the rising sun and her skin is so white and clear of any blemish, but he can see the aging the war did to her in the set of her shoulders.

"Anyways, I learned things about people, about how they hide certain aspects of themselves. How they can make the worst parts of themselves completely disappear or cover their worst pain. I learned how to search for these aspects of people without even trying to, to see their worst fear or worst judgement of themselves without even tearing them apart." She visibly swallows but turns to him and smiles, "So, no one told me. You and Toph are just very telling."

Aang draws his knees up to his chest as well and rests his forehead against them, "You're not going to tell Sokka, are you?"

Azula waves her hand in the air as if to disperse the tension, "Of course not, it's not any of my business. Although, I do think you should talk to him about it. He's not going to like it and he's going to be mad, but as his friend, I think it would be better that he hears it from you rather than some of the gossiping maids," her voice is back to the sharp edge he knows so well.

He rolls his head on his knees to look at her. It's still so surprising to see how different she is compared to how she was 6 years ago. He never would have thought they would be friends or have any kind of intimate moment, but he is glad she is here.

"I really messed up with them," he whispers. She doesn't say anything but waits for him to continue. "I love them both so much. But, Katara was right. We had been breaking apart for months, and neither of us had wanted to face that fact. We just stopped working. And Toph, I started messing that up several years ago and I didn't even know."

"You slept with her?"

Aang hesitates, "Yeah. Years ago. I didn't know how she felt about me at the time, I just thought it was..." he trails off, not wanting to say what he thought it was. "We kissed at my wedding and then she disappeared for 3 years. You think I would've put all of this together."

"Ha, yeah, you'd think," Azula laughs a little and wipes at her nose.

"I'm losing them both," he mumbles and hides his head in his knees again.

She looks over at him for a moment and considers his situation, "I think you're being too hard on yourself about it. You're only human. Yeah, you're the avatar, stopper of the Hundred Year War, Master of All Four Elements, but you're still just human." She looks at him for a moment longer. She places a hand on his shoulder before standing up and walking back to the window she came through.

--------------------

Toph feels him meditating in the garden and she mentally steels herself for this conversation. Katara had talked some sense into her and that she needed to talk with Aang about what all has happened between them and the futute. She had reminded Toph time and time again how she didn't blame her or Aang and that she shouldn't ever feel guilty about what happened.

So now, she just needed to talk to Aang. she takes a deep breath and walks over and sits beside him, keeping enough distance between them that they don't touch. Neither of them say anything for a moment, there's just too much to say to each other, that it's hard to find what to talk about first. His heart rate spiked the moment he realized it was her walking into the courtyard and it hasn't slowed at all in the few minutes she's been sitting here.

"I don't really know where to start," Toph mumbles.

"Yeah. I just really fucked up, T." his voice is low and sounds thoroughly exhausted.

She barely nods her head, "Yeah. I talked with Katara," she feels him wince slightly but she presses on, "She told me what happened between the two of you. She also told me that she doesn't blame you. That she doesn't blame either of us," she looks down at her hands and pulls a blade of grass out and twirls it in her fingers.

"What about you?"

"What about me?"

Aang looks over at her and takes in the bangs covering most of her face and the dark circles under her eyes from staying up all night, "Do you blame me?"

Toph lifts her face towards the sun and moves the bangs from her face, "Well, you certainly didn't do this on you own."

"The monks taught us to live without regret, and I've done a really great job of doing that so far. I've done really well at now allowing a decision I had made to hang over my head like a knife. But now, the one thing I will forever regret is hurting you," he pauses, willing his voice to steady. "And, I know that I can't make it up to you, at least not right now, I'm just asking for one more chance to earn your forgiveness. Not even your forgiveness, I just want to make it to where you are able to look at me without your heart breaking all over. I want to try and make this better for you, because I'm- I'm so fucking sorry, Toph."

He sees a tear streak down her cheek and he so badly wants to lean over and wipe it from her face, to clear it of existence. "Sometimes, I wish you never taught me seismic sense, because I can feel it. I feel your heartbreak every fucking time you feel me near you."

Toph sniffs and laughs a little, and here she thought she was being slick in hiding her pain, but then, a thought comes to her, "How come you couldn't feel it before?"

"I don't know. I don't know if I didn't feel it or if I didn't want to feel it, but, now... it's just so fucking prominent." She expects her hear to ache at this confession, but it doesn't. Maybe she's reached the limit of her heartbreak for the year.

"Is this what it was like for you, all those years ago?"

She lowers her head and remembers the way his heart would almost skip a beat anytime Katara walked into a room, or the way they both soared their wedding day. It was hell and she wasn't ever able to not feel it. Most people, when they're in love with someone who is in love with someone else, they can look away- they can choose not to see it. But, she felt it every time.

"Yeah. Yeah, it kind of feels like that," Toph whispers.

Aang nods his head and inhales, " I can't even ask you to forgive me, it's not right. But, Spirits. I'm going to try and make this better, I swear to you." He turns to her and her face is as impassive as ever. His heart sinks lower and lower the longer she is silent.

But then, he sees a small smirk come onto her face, "This is going to be fun to watch."

--------------------

Zuko finds her in the library curled up on one of the plus couches with her head down. The slouch of her shoulders is very telling of how upset she is and makes him hesitate just a moment. He doesn't want to go over to her and bother her, not when her whole world just came crashing down.

Straightening himself, he swallows his hesitation and makes his way over to Katara. Just as he is rounding the couch, she looks up at him and smiles. She seems like she is perfectly fine. Her head wasn't hanging down in defeat or heartbreak, but she was reading a book. There's no tear marks on her cheeks and the slump of her shoulders doesn't seem as dramatic up close. The smile on her face even reaches up to her eyes.

"Hey, how'd you know I'd be here?"

"Oh, uh. Lucky guess, I guess," he moves to sit beside her.

They're both quiet for a bit, both of them just staring into the flames. "Please don't ask me if I'm alright," Katara's voice is quiet. Zuko glances over at her from the corner of his eye. She seems okay, and even now, her voice doesn't tremble, and she shows no sign of the heartbreak he thought she would be suffering from.

"Wasn't going to. But, uh. I did want to ask you something," he clears his throat a little, suddenly becoming nervous. She turns to him, an eyebrow raised. "Would you like to be my date to the ball tonight?"

Read the full story on Ao3

#taang #taangst #angst #toph beifong #aang #avatar the last airbender #atla #if i lose him like this

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13-reasons-ideas · 3 years

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Can’t Go Back Part 15

Neither of us knew how to continue that conversation, especially when we were upset. We sat in an awkward silence for a while. We both seemed to unconsciously know that we couldn’t have it productively or honestly if we were both still this upset. “I uh… I need to go finish an essay so Mr. Jensen can proofread it. I’ll be at the table if you need anything.”

“Okay. Do you want to be alone or…?”

“Doesn’t matter. You can watch tv or something if you want. I’ll be in the zone soon enough.” Monty nodded and awkwardly kissed the top of my head. I sent Justin a quick text, just to update him so he knew I was okay. I told him. We are going to talk about it when we are both in clearer headspaces. It took a few minutes for him to answer.

How did he take it?

He’s upset. I mean obviously he was upset. But he agreed that we need to talk about it when we can have a rational conversation. I’ll let you know how that goes. I spent the night writing essays and finishing up a couple of writing samples. At some point Monty came over and slowly pushed a bowl of yogurt, berries, and granola over to me silently before going back to the couch. I accepted it silently. I looked at the clock a while after I finished my yogurt and yawned loudly. It was just before midnight. I saved my work, stood, and walked over to the couch. Monty didn’t seem to be watching anything exactly. More just… looking at the screen.

“Are you coming to bed?” I asked timidly, pulling the sweater I grabbed an hour or two ago around me.

“Are you sure you want me there? I’m fine on the couch.”

“No, I do.” I nodded. He nodded back and turned off the tv. I held my hand out to him and he took it gently. He seemed unsure if this was something I really wanted or not. I smiled and squeezed softly. For the first time in days, together we went and got ready for bed. I put on another one of his t-shirts while he brushed his teeth and crawled into bed. He joined me a few minutes later. When he didn’t pull me closer to him, I curled up against his side and laid my head on his chest. All is not forgiven but I really need the sleep. He ran his fingers through my hair. If you didn’t know what had transpired in the last few days, it would seem like we were simply going to bed like we had every other night since we got married.

“Night night Monty.” I muttered, halfway to what I hoped would be a peaceful slumber.

“Night night Addison.” He replied. For the first time since Wednesday night, I slept soundly through the night.

In the days that followed, it was much of the same as Sunday afternoon. We danced around each other at home. We were short but cordial at school with each other. Refusing to say more than single- or double-word answers unless necessary, spending as little time together before or after class as we could, and keeping quiet at lunch may have raised a few of our friend’s brows. They didn’t comment on it if they noticed though. It was uncomfortable. We may have been used to hiding and keeping quiet at school but that didn’t make it any easier. The whole point of telling people was to not need to do this anymore.

Monty pulled me aside after lunch on Tuesday. “I told Coach I have an extra PT appointment today because my knee has been stiff. Are you okay to talk after school?”

I stopped to think for a moment. Am I ready? I’ll take anything over this awkward silence and wedge between us. Even if I’m scared. At least he’s taking initiative to deal with it. “Uh, yeah. After school works for me. I’ll see you at home?”

“Okay.” I adjusted my bag and hurried off to class. This is going to be a very interesting afternoon. I tried my best to focus on my work, but my mind wouldn’t stop going over the possibilities of what could happen tonight.I don’t want this to be another screaming match. This could devolve so quickly. Am I ready to deal with him refusing to take responsibility again? What if I’m wrong? What if he really is ready to try and fix this? Maybe it could go well. It’s going to suck either way. But maybe if we have an adult conversation, we can move on and things can get back to normal faster. What if…?

Monty beat me home. Mr. Porter called me into his office during last period to give me a couple of documents to send along with my college applications. As a result, I was running late to get home. I burst through the door, clutching the files to my chest so they didn’t fly everywhere in my haste to get inside. “Hey, sorry I’m late. Porter had to give me some paperwork and I had some questions about it. Took a little longer than I expected.” I huffed.

“No problem. Get everything you need?”

“Yeah. I’ll stop at my parents place later this week to scan it all.”

“Sounds good.” I set my papers on the island and went to sit on the couch. Pulling the blanket around me, I settled in for what could be a very long night.

“Do you understand why I’m upset?” I asked when he joined me on the couch.

“I think so.”

“Can you explain why you think I’m upset?”

“You’re upset that I didn’t communicate with you enough?”

“I mean, yes. That is part of why I’m upset. But it’s not the only reason.”

“I think you’re upset because you know that” he paused and thought about it. “You’re upset because I acted without thinking about the consequences. And it’s impact on you and our relationship.” Wow. He was listening.

“Y-yes. You have it mostly right.”

“Mostly?”

“I’m also upset because I know you know better than to do that. I’m upset that it seems to be becoming a pattern. We’ve talked about it before. I have no problem with you going out with the boys and doing stuff. I don’t even really have a problem with you drinking a little. I have a problem with it when you come home trashed, and I have to clean up the mess.” I reached out and took his hand on mine. We are in this together. No matter what. We are a team.

“I know. It’s just… you know I’m not exactly used to having to answer to someone.”

“I know. But at some point, that stops being an acceptable reason. At some point you have to own up and accept responsibility for your actions.”

“I know I’m responsible for my actions Addison.” He seemed to be getting upset now. I didn’t want this to turn into another blow up fight.

“Hey, I never said you didn’t know that. But there is a difference between knowing that you are responsible and accepting responsibility.” He didn’t respond so I continued. “This is becoming a more frequent thing and it’s concerning. When I say that you need to accept responsibility, I’m not trying to attack you or say that you think your behaviour is okay. I’m sorry if that’s how it comes off.” He didn’t respond again. I watched him look into his lap. “I need you to say something. We can’t have a conversation about this and fix things if you aren’t going to contribute.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say Addison.”

“I don’t want you to say any specific thing. I want you to contribute to our conversation. I don’t want to just sit here and talk at you. I don’t want to sit and just tell you how I feel. I want you to tell me how you feel.”

“I feel like I really screwed up.”

“Okay. That’s something. What else?”

“I don’t know. And I don’t know how to fix this.”

I decided to take a risk. “Do you want to fix this?” He whipped his head up instantly.

“Of course, I want to fix this. What kind of question is that?”

Okay, maybe that was too much too fast. “It was just a question. I know you want to fix this.”

“Why are you so concerned about this?”

“About you overdrinking when you go out with your friends?”

“Yeah.”

“Because you’re better than this Montgomery. I know you are. And you don’t communicate with me when you do. It’s like you’re trying to hide it. The fact that you don’t seem to see this as a problem is also worrying.”

“I’m not trying to hide anything. I just don’t check my phone that often with the guys, you know that.”

“I do. But any other time you’re with them, you tell me where you are or when you think you’ll be home. And you tell me when you’re leaving. The only time you don’t is when you do something that you think would upset me.”

“I never noticed that.”

“I didn’t think you did. That’s why I’m mentioning it.”

“Okay.”

“It also worries me that you really only do it when you’re with certain friends.”

“You mean Bryce?” He asked, raising a brow.

“Yes. When you’re out with pretty much any of your other friends, you don’t act like that.” He huffed out a laugh.

“And it all comes back to Bryce.” He muttered.

“Apparently yes. Since he seems to be the common denominator when we talk about this. And I haven’t spent enough time with your other friends to know otherwise.”

“He isn’t this horrible person that you think he is Addison.”

“Well, that may be true to some degree, but he’s not this amazing guy you make him out to be. He encourages you to do things that you know aren’t in your best interest.”

“You mean aren’t good for you.”

“No. I don’t. You know that when you drink like that, it causes problems between us. You know that when he’s around you act differently. I mean, you said yourself that it was probably a good idea not to tell him about us when we were considering who to tell about our relationship. If he was as good a guy you think he is, why would you say that? If you’re as close to him as you say you are, why wouldn’t you want him knowing about me? You were more than happy to tell Scott about us as soon as we told Justin. But not Bryce. That isn’t strange to you?”

“Bryce and I don’t have the same kind of friendship that Scott and I do. We don’t talk about important stuff.”

“Uh huh. Okay. We’ll go with that one.”

“I told you before I’m not going to stop being friends with him.”

“I don’t expect you to. I just think you need to think about the kinds of people you want to surround yourself with.”

“Addison. Your best friend is a recovering heroin addict who abandoned you for months. You don’t really have room to be passing judgement about who I choose to surround myself with.” My mouth fell open and I stared at him. I cannot believe he just said that.

“Excuse me.”

“Tell me I’m wrong.”

“That isn’t fair. That isn’t fair and you know it.”

“How is it not fair?”

“Because unlike you, Justin takes responsibility for his actions. Justin didn’t do it because his friends encouraged him to do it.”

“I don’t see the difference between what you said and what I said is.”

“The difference Montgomery is that I would say what I said to Bryce’s face. You would never say what you said to Justin’s face.”

“How do you know?”

“Because even though for some reason you seem to have forgotten this right now, I know you Montgomery. I know you better than I know myself. I know you wouldn’t.”

“Fine.”

“So is this how this is going to go? We were doing so well. We were having a mature conversation. And when I presented you with logical reasoning as to why I have a problem with the way your friend influences you, you hit me with that low of a blow?” He was quiet for a while. I huffed loudly and rolled my eyes. Honestly.

“I’m sorry.”

“Okay?”

“I’m sorry for what I said about Justin. It was out of line and it wasn’t fair. I know it’s not the same thing. I just… Bryce is my friend Addison. You can’t expect me to sit here and be okay with you telling me what an awful person you think he is. You don’t even know him.” It was my turn to be quiet. Maybe I was being unfair. I had never really spent a lot of time with Bryce, not that I wanted to. I mean, Justin was his best friend for a really long time. And giving him a chance wouldn’t mean I have to ignore all of the terrible things he has done. I wouldn’t have to be alone with him. A chance can’t hurt.

“Okay. I’m sorry too. He’s your friend. I’ll try to be nicer to him. I can’t make any promises though.”

“Thank you. If it makes you more comfortable, I can cut down on the time I spend with him.”

“I’ll think about it?” I still wasn’t super okay with the idea of telling him who he can and can’t be friends with.

“And I’m sorry that I took things too far when I was out Thursday night and it hurt you. When you told me that it scares you when I come home like that….” I didn’t urge him to go on. I knew it would come out eventually. Instead, I inched closer to him and held his hand a little tighter. I waited quietly until he was ready to proceed. “All of the sudden I was a little kid hiding in my closet from my dad again. I never…” he paused again, “I never wanted that for you. And I don’t want that to be what our kids go through. I don’t want them to be afraid of me. I don’t want you to be afraid of me.”

“I know. I never really realized that that was the reason I got so upset until I was talking to Justin. He called me out on trying to say that it was just a Bryce issue, when it’s not. Hey, can you look at me?” He looked up. “I’m not afraid of you. Not really. I know that you would never do anything to hurt me.”

“It’s hard to hear the woman you love. No, the person you love most in this world, tell you that you scare them.”

“I can imagine. Can I ask you something? You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to. If you do, I want you to be honest with me though, okay?”

“Go ahead.” He nodded.

“Is there something going on with you that you aren’t telling me about?”

“How do you mean?”

“I don’t know, just something. Is there a reason you pushed so far past your limit on Thursday?”

“No. I can honestly tell you that I just got carried away. And I will concede that Bryce and a few of the guys may have encouraged it.”

“Okay. If there is, you know you can talk to me about it, right?”

“I know. I promise to tell you if there is. And I promise I’ll be more aware of what I do and how much I drink when I go out.” I nodded to him and leaned over to kiss him on the cheek.

When I had a moment alone, I texted Justin. Hey, so we talked for a few hours after school. I think we are at least on the road to getting back to normal. We kind of laid it all out and we both have things we can work on. Thank you for helping me figure things out.

That’s good. I’m glad to hear it Addy. What are best friends for?

Stealing French fries off of at lunch?

Hahahahhaha I knew it was you.

No comment. I love you.

I love you too.

By Thursday, Monty and I were starting to feel more like ourselves. Things were still a little tense and they probably would be for a while. At least until some of the residual tension went away. I was getting undressed when Monty got out of the shower that morning. “Uh Addison?”

“Yes?” I was trying to put on my pants while simultaneously clawing at my arms.

“Two questions.”

“What?”

“One, why are you scratching at your arms like you’re itching to get your next fix? And two, what the hell is all over your back?”

“Stress rash.”

“Why do you have a stress rash?”

“Well, it could have something to do with fighting with my husband for almost a week.” So itchy. Make the itchy stop. “And that coupled with trying to get my college applications in on time for early admission, has made me a little stressed out.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think so. It should clear up after I get my applications done.”

“Okay….” He passed me a sweatshirt from the closet. “Here, this is loose. Or do you want one of my shirts?”

“This is good. Thank you.”

I took a cool shower when I got home and decided to work on getting my applications finished. The sooner they’re done, the sooner the rash will go away. I merely grunted when Monty got home. I was too focused on my computer. He chuckled to himself quietly and turned on the tv. “That’s my girl.” He muttered. I smiled softly. A few hours later, I had done it. All the early applications for my choice schools were complete. I just had to submit them. Finally.

“Done.” I said as I hit submit.

“What are you done?” Monty asked, swiveling his head.

“I just submitted my last early application.”

“That’s good. How do you feel?”

“Like my entire future is traveling at light speed and is now sitting in someone’s inbox.” I put my face in my hands and groaned. Monty chuckled. I couldn’t stop staring at my computer screen. I heard him open the fridge and grab something. “Are you doing what I think you’re doing?”

“No.”

“That’s communal food. And no sex jokes.”

“I’m not.” I heard him puttering around the kitchen, opening and closing drawers. “Do we have… never mind I found it.”

“Okay?” He didn’t respond and continued whatever he was doing. The sound of a plate being placed next to me made me jump. I looked up and Monty was grinning at me. He gestured towards the plate. He made me a sandwich. “Thank you.” I said softly.

“No problem.” He ruffled my hair and went to go sit back on the couch.

The next morning, I had Montgomery put some lotion on my back to soothe the itch while we were at school. He left little kisses down the back of my neck. I tried not to smile but I couldn’t help it. Things were still tense, even after our talk. I wasn’t sure I had completely forgiven him yet. We were still walking on eggshells around each other. This wasn’t an issue we could just sweep under the rug and pretend didn’t happen. Slowly though, our relationship was shifting back to normal. “Can you grab the cream cardigan out of the dryer when you’re in the kitchen please?”

“Sure.” While he was gone, I got dressed in black jeans and a maroon lace crop top. He whistled when he came back in. “Those should be at home jeans.” I rolled my eyes at him and he slapped my ass playfully.

“Monty!”

“What?” he shrugged, obliviously. I rolled my eyes and flipped him off. He chuckled to himself, knowing he couldn’t do anything. You got yourself into this. I slipped on a pair of black flats and grabbed my travel mug as we left the house.

Justin was waiting for us when we got to school. He had two cinnamon twists and a cup of tea from Monet’s with him. Apparently with my name on them. “A rather large birdy told me you had an important night last night.”

“Ooooo.” Garrison teased.

“No.” Monty ground out.

“I submitted my last early application for school last night.”

“Oh. Not ooo then. Jeeze Addy, had to go and make the rest of us look like slackers.”

“Well, I unfortunately don’t have schools calling and sending pamphlets begging me to attend their institutions. Some of us have to rely on academics to stand out.” The small group laughed around me. I hugged Justin as I took a chunk off the muffin. “Thank you. Now I just have to wait for responses.”

“How long will that take?” Bryce asked as he joined us.

“Too long.” I stated. Don’t want to be nice. Even though I promised I would try.

“O…kay.” The bell rang before I could say anything that would get me in trouble. I did catch Justin’s lip twitch though. He knew my expressions like the back of his hand.

Geography was easily the most boring class of the day for me. I usually didn’t participate much. Today however, I couldn’t stop myself. I don’t know if it was the stress or the fact that I had been running on fumes for the last week and a bit, but I couldn’t hold back my laughter when a student made a less than thought out comment.

“But Ms. Carlson. When my family and I were in Brazil this summer, the Spanish sounded different.” Carter said. Oh my. I tried so hard not to laugh but it just bubbled out. And once it started, it wasn’t stopping. People turned to look at me. Zach and Bryce looked at me like I had officially lost it.

“I… I’m sorry. I-it’s not you Carter.” I started. “I submitted my last college application last night and,” I paused again to try to catch my breath, “my stress level has been just a little high.” I paused yet again and took a deep breath. “The reason the Spanish sounded ‘funny’ is because it’s not fucking Spanish.” He looked at me funny. “It’s Portuguese.”

“No. It’s Spanish.”

“No. It’s not.”

“Yes, it is. Ms. Carlson?”

“It’s Portuguese. Brazil was colonized by Portugal Carter.” Ms. Carlson told him.

“Oh.” I had finally caught my breath.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to laugh. I get a little loopy when I get stressed.”

“No, it’s okay Addy.” He nodded to me.

I relayed the story of the Geography incident to our friends at lunch. The boys, even Bryce and Zach who witnessed it firsthand, found it absolutely hilarious.

“So, do you like, know any Portuguese?” Ryder’s girlfriend, Taylor, asked. Monty cleared his throat and grabbed my hand, squeezing. I turned to him, seeking permission, before answering. He nodded. I turned my attention back to the group.

“I can curse and that’s about it.”

“Oh?”

“Let’s just say there’s a reason I haven’t spoken to my father-in-law since before I married his son.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to overstep.”

“No, it’s okay.” I liked Taylor. She was nice. She wasn’t a cheerleader or overly pretentious. I could see myself being friends with her.

“We’ve talked about it and we are both comfortable with the situation.” Monty added.

“Can we get that story sometime?” Connor asked.

“You have to tell them.” Scott said.

“They need to hear it.” Charlie and Justin agreed.

“Maybe one day.” I smirked.

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leavetwn · 3 years

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* AMANDA CAMPANA, NOBINARY + SHE/HER/THEY/THEM | you know RAMONA GALLO, right? they’re TWENTY-THREE, and they’ve lived in irving for, like, TWENTY-THREE YEARS? well, their spotify wrapped says they listened to CRYING ON THE BATHROOM FLOOR BY MUNA like, a million times this year, which makes sense ‘cause they’ve got that whole COLD PIZZA AS A HANGOVER CURE, TALKING SHIT ABOUT CUSTOMERS IN THE BREAKROOM, LONGING FOR WHAT COULD'VE BEEN, thing going on. i just checked and their birthday is AUGUST 17TH, so they’re a LEO, which is unsurprising, all things considered. ( claire, 22, est, she/her )

HEY , BESTIES ! happy new year (the way it’s 11:55pm here so barely) !! my name’s claire and i’m 22. i’m livin in the est timezone, and my pronouns are she/her. i’m bringing y’all a mess of a muse 😈 because well ,,, it’s what i’m best at. if you’re feelin ramona & wanna plot, just go ahead and like this & i’ll hit you up. i usually plot on discord, but if you prefer the tumblr ims, that’s no problem at all. anyway, lemme stop waistin time and get to introducing you to ramona. * tw: mentions of cheating & alcohol.

𝐈. ━━ ˟ ⊰ ✰ 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐬 .

full name: ramona gallo. nickname(s): anything your muse wants to call her tbh. age: twenty-three. date of birth: august 17th. zodiac sign: leo. gender/pronouns: non-binary, she/her/they/them. sexual orientation: bisexual. romantic orientation: biromantic. hometown: irving, north carolina. current residence: irving, north carolina. occupation: employee at zoinkies currently, a lifeguard during the summer. eye color: brown. hair color/style: had long hair up until her breakup then had one of those breakdowns and cut her own hair into a bob and then her own bangs. i bet it was a mess lol so she probably called her friends or went to a salon the very next day to get it fixed. also highlighted the ends red but her natural color is brown. height : 5′5″. clothing style: simple and comfortable. t-shirts, croptops, turtlenecks, all usually paired with either jean shorts or jeans in general. she prefers to feel cozy rather than cute. tattoos: yes. a small one on her wrist. wants more eventually. piercings: both ears peirced & a navel piercing that she did herself against better judgement lol.

𝐈. ━━ ˟ ⊰ ✰ 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 .

you were born on a scorching hot day in irving , your father says so, anyway. you’re convinced he’s being dramatic. your birth went smoothly; after two previous children, your parents had become disillusioned by childbirth. just another one to add to the bunch, and one that was meant to save a dying marriage. still, they loved you nonetheless. your father, to this day. your mother, until you were ten, and then she up and left without a warning.

your father keeps food on the table by fixing cars. you spend your days in the hot sun watching him replace parts and continuously try to crank vehicles until they run. he fist pumps every time one does. ‘ how lame, ’ you think, but it’s inspiring how hard he works to take care of three kids. and he does a good job.

therefore , you spend much of your early life trying to make him proud. you’re smart as a whip, and all your teachers have good things to say about you when it comes to academics. you’re a bit of a troublemaker, though. your father doesn’t mind that too much; he was the same at your age. and he’s proud — proud to see you work so hard.

you spend your teenage years doing much of the same. though , you begin to come home a bit later than usual, and your excuse is that you’ve been at ashley’s or samantha’s, but really all three of you were out partying. you don’t think your father would care (your grades are fine & he wants you to live like a normal teenager) , but you still lie about it. why ? well, who knows, maybe you like the adrenaline rush it gives you. like most things, you do them for the thrill.

you join the swim team. you’re kind of bad , but that’s okay. just like always , you work hard, and you realize that you’re kind of a natural. your father cheers louder than anyone else in the stands. it pushes you to do better. with your good grades and athletics , your guidance counselor tells you you’re a shoo in for a scholarship from whatever university you want. you apply to several. if it’s one thing you hate, its this town. you can’t wait to make it out, and you figure, this might be your only way.

you’re eighteen, and you’re in love. it’s crazy how love can make you see things differently. suddenly , this town doesn’t seem half bad. all your friends find it cute , and you tell them everything. the things he tells you or the way he makes you feel. it’s a crazy feeling; you never want it to end.

you throw your cap in the air. finally , high school is over. college is looming. you’ve been accepted to several & received scholarships from at least a few. you lie in bed thinking about it. now, you suddenly don’t want to leave so bad. don’t want to leave him behind. how could someone leave another they love so easily? it makes you hate your mother more.

for the first time, you disappoint your father. you don’t go to college. you don’t give a damn. you want to stay where love is. you’re addicted to the feeling. this lasts for three years. now, you’re twenty-one; you’ve gotten a job at zoinkies, and that keeps you away for most of the day. you randomly decide to visit your boyfriend during a lunch break one day. you find him in bed with someone else. suddenly , you realize love isn’t as addicting as you once thought. what once made the world beautiful now made it hideous. what once made you feel so high had somehow made you feel so low. it was horrible, and you’d realized your mistakes.

you threw away your future for love. something as rotten and twisted as love. something you swore you’d never let yourself feel again. something that you put away in a locked box with no key. irving was the same place you’d always known it to be. boring, drab, familiar. at least you had your family. that was barely enough to keep you sane, though, and it was hard to feel normal.

you turned to the thing that help. alcohol, partying, any escape at all. you lacked coping skills — that much was clear, but you didn’t care. you blamed it on something else entirely. just as your teachers had said, you’re a bit of a troublemaker. you do anything to make yourself feel alive, to make yourself feel free of the hurt.

it’s two years later now. you’re still not over it in some ways, as regret turns to anger and resentment. you’re bitter. who wouldn’t be? but you feel like you’ve had time to mourn. maybe it’s because you never acknowledged it in the way you should’ve ( it’s still locked away in that box. ) you still have your bad habits. you still work at your stupid job that you hate. you’re lost, but you’ll figure it out. you always do. so, you continue to float , seemingly stuck in the town that you never let go of, and you wonder what comes next. only time will tell.

𝐈. ━━ ˟ ⊰ ✰ 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐨𝐮𝐬 .

still swims but doesn’t have as much time for it. probably not as good, but since she spends the summer lifeguarding, she uses that time to practice & try to get back to where she was. also kinda jaded asf so even if she says she wants to get back into it, she probably won’t lmaoo.

is a horrible driver. how did she get a license ?? not even she knows. def the type to like have a leg up on the dash board, hand out the window, and only one hand on the wheel while speedin idk how she makes it out alive

can take a car apart and put it back together again thanks to her dad. also changes her own tires so let her change your tires. im just sayin

stays up way too late & would sleep until 2 pm everyday if she didn’t have to work. should probably work on being an adult and going to bed at a normal time but just half the time doesn’t give a fuck so she’s probably sleep deprived a lot. therefore also has a

character parallels: alice ayres/jane jones (closer, 2004) , clementine (eternal sunshine of the spotless mind, 2004) , fiona gallagher (shameless, 2011-present) , more to be added.

𝐈. ━━ ˟ ⊰ ✰ 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 .

ok but plots really do be making my world go ‘round. 😳 i love em, so literally hmu with anything you’re feeling, and i’ll be down. just wanna plot & write with everyone 💕 but here’s a couple of wanted connections for y’all. i’ll prolly have a most wanted tag sooner or later & i’ma be make a plot page soon.

* the unholy trinity — these two are the friends she cherishes most. i’m assuming they’ve been friends since at least early high school , maybe earlier. they went through a lot together. these two were with her through all her relationship troubles. true ride or dies. she’s do absolutely anything for them, and she trusts that they feel the same way. they’re rowdy & wild, do whatever they want, and have a damn good time doin it. also have a gc where they just talk shit and send tiktoks idk just gimme this plsss 🥺

* friends with benefits / one night stands — this would probably be the extent of ramona. clearly not over what happened to her the last time 😭, so she’d have plenty of these tbh. she probably wouldn’t think too much about it, but it could be awkward for you muse maybe, etc.

* unrequited love / crush — here’s a toast to the ones who crush on ramona. it would be an absolute tragedy lmaoo. she’s not really mean about it, but she is 100% certain she’s not looking for any type of relationship. could be really dramatic and messy and those are tha best kind. literally this

* former friends / enemies — she’s lived here her whole life, so she’s at least got one. these two just don’t get along/no longer get along for whatever reason that can be plotted out.

* coworkers — she works zoinkies throughout the year and picks up shifts as a lifeguard during the summer so your muses could know her from that. could delve into a close friend territory too lmao. they probably just sit in break rooms and talk about rude customers or bossy managers lmaooo.

* literally anything your heart desires — a lot could work. we could even just start from nowhere & have them meet for the first time if they’re newer/just to town.

#irvingintro #tw alcohol #tw cheating #it is so sick & twisted that i have another one to write i can't believe lol #but it must be done #hi luv me plot with me

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miikrokkosmos · 4 years

Text

pairing: yoongi x reader

genre: fluff, angst, coffee shop!au, college!au, best friend!au, shy/awkward!reader (they say to write what you know)

word count: 6.3k

summary: “Yoongi begrudgingly rose to his feet and walked to behind the counter, but didn’t stop at the register, much to the chagrin of the young hipster man waiting to order his third iced Americano of the day. He instead went to the back and whipped out the biggest mug the coffee shop offered, and got to work on a drink that nobody ordered. By this point, the whole line of customers had their eyes glued to him incredulously. “Oh, I’ll be with you all in a minute,” he said to them nonchalantly.” aka Yoongi and reader have been dancing around their feelings for each for far too long and something’s gotta give

a/n:hey guys! i’m still trying to figure out my writing style for my bts characters. but i hope you enjoy, and as always, any feedback, ideas, and/or constructive criticism would be indescribably appreciated! inbox currently open for requests, as well!

You hugged your sweater tighter around your torso as you settled into the hard plastic chair of the lecture hall to get ready for your favourite class of the week – your M/W/F late morning marketing class. Not that marketing was your concentration, or even one of your favourite topics to study…it just happened to be the one class you shared with your best friend, Min Yoongi. Not a day passed by without you thanking the heavens above that marketing basics was something required for your business major, as well as Yoongi’s music production degree. It worked out perfectly. Almost as perfectly as when Yoongi had gotten an assistant manager job at the café you spent all of your study hours in (as well as your free personal hours, if you were being honest).

Fresh off the morning shift at said coffee shop, Yoongi’s face poked through the door with minutes to spare, fluffy black hair flying in every direction as he tried to keep two coffee cups in his hands from slushing over their brims. You hustled to lift your heavy backpack off the chair next to you, dutifully saved for him every time. He gave you a warm smile and slid one of the paper cups towards you, gently patting your head as he sits in his chair. You excitedly grabbed the cup and brought the side to your eyes to read WCM scrawled across the side. You eyed him sneakily as you raised the cup to your lips. “White chocolate mocha? You’re trying to make me fat, aren’t you?”

“Don’t act like it’s not your favourite,” he threw out. “Besides, we needed to have matching drinks,” he said, twirling his own cup around to show you the matching sharpie label scrawled across the side.

“You’re really annoying, you know,” you mumbled, but couldn’t hide the grin stretching across your lips.

“You’re welcome for the free coffee, by the way, hand-poured by your favourite barista,” Yoongi drawled out, attempting to match your annoyed tone, but even more unable than you to make his visage match his tone.

He moved to take his notebook and textbook out of his bag, neatly arranging them on the desk in front of him. You eyed him fondly as he did so, enjoying the coziness spreading throughout your body from both the hot drink in your hands, as well as from the warmth that you naturally felt whenever you got to spend time with Yoongi. Even if that time was sometimes spent just slouching next to each other in the far back of a business lecture hall, passing the time by sharing memes and occasionally jotting down notes only when it seemed most important. In those moments, there’s nowhere else you’d rather be.

Which is precisely why you decided then and there that you had to do something, anything, to move on, to keep yourself from basing so much of your happiness in someone whose depth of feelings for you surely didn’t match your own of his.

_______________________________________________________________________

After finishing up your classes the next day, you headed to the café as usual to work on your homework, Yoongi working to keep up at his register in the background with the rush of rude customers coming in to order minutes before the café was officially closed. You couldn’t help but notice how every second girl attempts to flirt with him, pausing your music each time to listen in on their suggestive comments every time against your better judgement. Jealousy would boil in your veins every time, but you were usually able to calm down fairly quickly given the fact that Yoongi never, ever appeared to reciprocate. You didn’t know if he was completely oblivious, or if he just plain didn’t care for girls who blatantly asked for his number in the same breath as their latte order, but either way you appreciated it. Not that you truthfully had any right to appreciate it. It’s not like he ever flirted with you either.

Minutes later, after ushering everyone out of the café on time, Yoongi rushed over to you, placing both his hands on either side of your head, kneeling in front of you. “The place is finally ours again,” he said, rubbing soft circles into your temples, “and…we didn’t sell out of those big ass expensive cupcakes today. They have to be gone one way or another. Interested?”

You lightly place your hands on his wrists, still hovering by your face. “Do you really need me to answer that?”

_______________________________________________________________________

You found yourself not ten minutes later seated across from Yoongi at your tiny round table, quickly putting away your study materials to make room for two cups of tea, giant cupcakes topped with bountiful icing in tow.

“I don’t think that last group of customers appreciated being kicked out while I so blatantly overlooked you lounging in the corner,” Yoongi said, a grin finding its way to his lips.

You weren’t quite sure how to take that one. “Oh, well, I can start leaving earlier if you think it’s an issue…I never want to do anything that could chance getting you in trouble, you know that.”

Yoongi quirked a brow. “What? No, I’m kidding, _____. Besides, what are they gonna do about it? I’m here more often than the regular manager. I practically own the place,” he added, with a wink.

You giggled, trying to hide the bright pink dusting your cheeks by practically stuffing your whole face in the cupcake. Yoongi rolls his eyes as he reaches across and wipes off a dab of icing off the top of your lip under your nose, which did absolutely nothing for your already furious blush. You both laughed at each other for a moment, a beat passing between you as you catch each other’s eyes. Yoongi had a way with his eye contact. You couldn’t quite put your finger on it, and there wasn’t a particular technique to it, it’s just the way he was. Something about it always felt so intense, but in a good way. It made you feel so…seen.

You felt a painful pang after you felt you had spent too much time gazing into his orbs, however, and soon looked off to the side. “So, I have something to say,” you started slowly, taking a big gulp to keep yourself from going further.

“Let me guess. You’ve decided to switch majors and we now have all of our classes together?”

“No, about my love life, actually.”

An expression flashed over Yoongi’s face that you couldn’t quite identify, but you didn’t have time to attempt to decode it. “Oh? How so?”

“Well,” you began, slowly pushing your teacup to the center of the table, “I think…I don’t know. I just feel like it’s a good time for me to be more open to looking for a relationship, maybe?”

“Oh. I didn’t know you were closed off to the idea before now, actually.”

“I mean, I wasn’t really. I just mean…I want to start being more intentional now about it, I guess? I didn’t really have time to think about it much the past couple years, with finishing my undergrad and then traveling around and working for a while.” AndbecauseI’vebeentooinlovewithyoutoconsiderdatinganyoneelse.“But now that I’m back in school and working on my master’s, and I know I’m gonna be here in one place for a while to finish that, I thought maybe it’d be a good time to look for something more serious, I guess?”

Yoongi was no longer even trying to make eye contact with you, his gaze firmly pointed at the empty cups in front of you both. “I mean, yeah. That makes sense,” he said rather quietly, throwing his head into a quick firm nod, as if to make up for the firmness he lacked in his voice.

“Yeah. So I think I’m going to break down and finally try a dating app.” You try to force yourself to look more excited about the prospect than you actually feel.

Yoongi threw a hand behind his head, ruffling up his already messy hair. “Ah, I see. You know, from most people I wouldn’t be at all surprised to hear that, but that isnews coming from you.”

“I know, I know,” you say as you let out a nervous chuckle. “I’m nervous.”

“Well, it’s a brave thing to put yourself out there,” Yoongi said, offering a smile that didn’t quite meet his eyes.

You nodded to him, rising to pick up your dirty dishes to bring to the café’s counter behind you.

“Hey, that’s my job,” Yoongi whined after you, which you completely brushed off.

You walk up behind him, letting your hands drop to his shoulders. You begin kneading in a massaging motion, causing him to drop his head down onto his chest. “Ready to go home and study for the marketing exam?” you quietly ask.

He tenses and raises his head back up, standing to his feet, causing your hands to drop back down to your sides. “Would you mind if we pushed that to tomorrow, actually? I have to sort through some stuff in the money room here that I forgot about, probably will take a good while.”

“Oh. Okay then, tomorrow it is,” you say, tipping your head in thanks when he hoists your backpack around your shoulders. You give him a quick hug before turning to walk towards the door.

“Hey, _____?” Yoongi calls out after you.

“Yeah?”

“Thanks…just thanks for being open and vulnerable with me and telling me about your thoughts and feelings. I know it’s not easy to do.”

Ouch.

“Of course, Yoongi. That’s what best friends are for.”

_______________________________________________________________________

Your study session with Yoongi the next day lasted all but fifteen minutes before you had both given into the temptation of moving from the stiff kitchen chairs to the enveloping coziness of his couch, marathoning episodes of your current favourite tv show all afternoon instead. Although you had begun the show by sitting upright next to each other, the sleepier you became, the more your body involuntarily decided to crawl into Yoongi’s welcoming hold. You eventually fell asleep with his arm around you, head tucked gently into his neck, television buzzing lowly in the background.

You woke up what must have been several hours later, almost feeling overheated by how absolutely entangled you and Yoongi were in each other: legs mixed up in each other, a protective hand pulling you closer to his chest rising up and down in soft breaths, and a plaid blanket that was strewn across you sometime after your eyes had first fallen shut. Not that you could complain, though. Settings such as this were where you felt truly the safest, and most at peace.

As slow as possible, you hoisted the blanket off of yourselves and attempted to extricate yourself from Yoongi without waking him. But the second he noticed in his drowsy state that you, his source of warmth and comfort, had been ripped from his hold, his eyes snapped open with a start.

“Don’t get up,” you whispered in a soothing voice, hoping to coax him back into his comfy position. “I didn’t mean to stay so late, sorry.” You walked over to the kitchen area to pick up your study materials you had left strewn about the table.

Ignoring your instructions, Yoongi picked himself up and sauntered over to stand next to you, your hips touching. “You can stay, you know,” he said in a raspy voice still full of sleep, gently placing a hand atop your own to stop you from continuing to pack up.

You glanced up to meet his eyes as you contemplated his offer. It wasn’t like you hadn’t accidentally stayed over before, late night study sessions and movie nights never ending and never moving from his couch in time to beat the sun rising. It also wasn’t as if you didn’t desperately want to spend more time with the boy, especially if that time involved reverting back to your previous position of having your bodies tightly snuggling into each other under a woolen blanket on his oversized couch. It’s just that you really didn’t know if your heart could handle that any longer.

“No. No, thank you. Thank you though. But no,” you awkwardly stuttered out, dropping your gaze almost as quickly as you rescued your hand from his tender grasp to snap the straps on the front of your backpack.

“Oh. Okay,” he said, and did his eyes look…sad?, “But text me when you get home. It’s getting pretty late.”

You nodded dutifully at him as he reached over your shoulders to grab your bag, lifting it over your shoulders and patting it twice for good measure. “I will.”

This was clearly the moment you were supposed to leave, but somehow you were both kept standing there in front of each other, stubbornly refusing to be the first to move. He looked down at you through his shaggy bangs, eyes still not fully open as the not-so-distant promise of sleep tried to pull at his eyelids, lips pressed together in a maddeningly adorable pout, and you were sure in that moment that you had never before seen him look so beautiful. You had definitely never before had such a pulling feeling in your gut that was just begging you to reach forward, just a few inches more, to capture his soft strands in your fingers, and pull his delicate mouth against your own.

In the midst of unknowingly staring at his lips, you felt his hand reach down to grab your own, slipping his fingers in between the spaces that always felt like were made to house his digits perfectly.

You only noticed how your close your faces had become when you felt the heat dancing on your cheeks, causing you to once again unceremoniously yank your hand from Yoongi’s. “Okay, I will, I’ll text when I get home. Okay. Bye. Goodbye,” you stumble out, fiercely making your way to the door. The last thing you see as you pull the door shut behind you is Yoongi still standing in the middle of the kitchen, eyes trained on his still outstretched hand, dangling empty above his floor.

_______________________________________________________________________

As you sat in class the next morning, backpack saving the seat next to you, you did everything in your power to think about absolutely anything other than Yoongi. You didn’t have enough time, however, to focus on any one thing for too long before the man in question hopped into the seat next to you, placing a warm, handcrafted beverage in front of you. Once again, “WCM” was printed into the side in his tiny, meticulous handwriting.

“I brought your favourite again today,” he offered, a smile in his voice.

You brought the drink to your lips, a grateful smile on your face, but unable to meet his eyes. “So, I’m actually talking to someone on that dating app already.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I’m surprised. Most of the guys on there are as gross and vulgar as can be, but this guy is actually talking to me like I’m a real person.” You tried to sound excited. You tried to make your little chuckle sound convincing. Whether your efforts were more for you or for Yoongi though, you weren’t sure.

“Ah, well that’s exciting. And most guys are gross.”

“Yeah. Wanna see a picture of him?”

“No,” Yoongi said, probably faster than he intended. “I trust your judgment. I’m sure he’s very good-looking.”

You looked up to Yoongi at that, but his gaze was trained on the PowerPoint on the back wall, refusing to meet your eyes.

_______________________________________________________________________

Later that night, you found yourself on your balcony having an evening cup of tea with your roommate, Kelsey, who knew your relationship with Yoongi probably better than anyone. You inhaled a deep breath in an attempt to ward off some of the stress of your current situation, the burnt orange sunset reflecting off your face.

“I just can’t continue on like I’ve been going,” you practically whine. “It’s getting to a point where it’s almost painful to be around him. And I don’t want to ruin the friendship I’ve built with him because I got greedy with my affection or something.”

“Well, I’m not saying that I’m not in support of you talking with your dating app boy,” Kelsey began, “But having feelings for someone does not mean you’re being greedy, _____. And you know I’m not convinced Yoongi doesn’t have feelings for you.”

You placed your head in your hands and groaned before sitting back up in your rocking chair. “You always say that, but let’s be real. We’ve known each other for several years now. If Yoongi really wanted me he would’ve said something by now.”

“The same could be said about you though, couldn’t it?”

You rolled your eyes at that. “I’m too shy. I’m not good at being open about my feelings. Yoongi knows that better than anyone.”

“But isn’t Yoongi quiet and shy as well? Particularly when it comes to his true feelings on things? At least, that’s what you’ve said before.”

“Yeah. I mean…yeah, but still.”

Kelsey nudged your knee with her own. “Hey. I just want to see you happy. You know that. And you also know I think Yoongi is a great guy, and I’ll never be convinced he doesn’t feel something for you. But I’m gonna support you doing whatever you think will make you the most happy. And if that means moving on from Yoongi, then go for it.”

You gave her a small, sad smile. “I don’t think I have much of a choice.”

_______________________________________________________________________

Once classes were finished the next day, you spent your evening time at your usual table at the cafe going over homework. There was a bit of a lull in the traffic of customers at this point, so Yoongi took the opportunity to just sit with you for a while.

“I don’t know what to be doing with myself at this point, Yoongi. We talked on the phone for a little bit today, and I was so awkward. He said he liked my accent though, so I guess that’s a good thing?” Yoongi nodded to this, offering a small smile. “I think it went well. But I’m getting terrified at the idea of meeting him in person.”

“Why?” Yoongi cocked an inquisitive brow.

“You know me, Yoons. I’m shy enough over text, but much more so meeting people in person.”

You noticed a couple of customers walking towards the counter, and nodded your head towards them so Yoongi could take notice. He turned around, and immediately rose from his chair. He walked closer to you until he was a foot in front of you. “Just remember to be yourself, _____, and if he doesn’t fall head over heels for you he’s a complete dumbass, because you’re perfect.” Right as he finished his sentence, he quickly dipped down to place a kiss to your forehead, before skipping back over to behind the counter to serve his customers.

You were left sitting in your seat, your lips forming an “o”, completely unprepared for the sudden public display of affection from your best friend. The only thing your mind knew in that moment was that the butterflies in your stomach wouldn’t let you sit still for a moment longer.

You rose to your feet, grabbed your stuff, and called out a quick “Have to go now!” to Yoongi. His eyes were ripped away from the customer whose order he was taking, and his legs rushed to meet you at the other side of the counter.

“Wait! Don’t forget your tea!” he practically shouted into the café, outstretched hand offering you a paper cup.

“I didn’t order tea…” you breathed out, but found your hands reaching for the drink all the same.

“Well, it’s still your tea.” Yoongi smiled, locking eyes with you for a few moments until his waiting customer loudly cleared her throat in the background, causing him to dejectedly walk back to the other side.

You pushed your way through the doors into the cold night, and took a sip of the welcoming warmth. Peppermint tea with vanilla steamed milk. Your favourite soothing, caffeine-free drink that you only treated yourself to nights before you had a big exam or stressful day ahead of you. A treat Yoongi usually insisted on making for you himself. At this point you weren’t sure whether you enjoyed and got so much comfort from that particular drink because of the drink itself, or because of its association with Yoongi. You also weren’t sure you really wanted to know the answer to that question.

_______________________________________________________________________

The next afternoon was spent comfortably sitting next to Yoongi at the campus library, catching up on studying for the marketing exam. Or at least attempting to, as your brain deemed it fit to focus entirely on the boy next to you instead of the thick textbook in front of you. You chewed on the strings of your hoodie, sneaking a glance here and there at Yoongi’s adorable focused expression whenever you felt you had the best chance of not being caught. Eventually you failed, however, causing Yoongi to take one of his AirPods out once he saw your face studying him.

“What’s on your mind?” he asked.

“Uh, so…he asked me out! To your café, actually.” “What?” Yoongi asked, and ripped out the remaining AirPod.

“Yeah. I want to do it when you’re not working though,” - you attempted to throw out a giggle – “So what’s your schedule like tomorrow?”

Yoongi scrunched up his face, as if he couldn’t comprehend the simple information you were giving him. “You’re going out with him? The guy from the dating app?”

“Well, it’s a date. Just to meet up in real life and see how it goes. I’m really nervous…but you said it’s good, right? To be ‘vulnerable’, and put myself out there?” You gave him a wide-eyed, questioning glance.

Yoongi broke your gaze, and dragged his eyes to his clasped hands settling on the table in front of him. “I just close shop tomorrow,” he said quietly, as he dragged a hand through his hair.

“Okay, well I’ll suggest early evening, give us enough time. I just don’t want to look over my shoulder and accidentally lock eyes with you and think of an inside joke and laugh in his face, thus ruining any chance of a good first impression,” you tried to reason good-naturedly, though your smile didn’t meet your eyes.

“Makes sense,” Yoongi said.

You grinned as you reached over and gently punched Yoongi in the shoulder. He did not respond. _______________________________________________________________________

Yoongi entered the café for his closing shift with a sulk on his face, tying his apron perhaps a little tighter than he usually did. He stopped dead in his tracks, however, when he noticed you still sitting at your usual table in the back of the café. He didn’t expect to find you still there, but he most definitely didn’t think he’d find you there sitting alone.

Upon moving closer, he happened to notice that the gloomy expression on your face was rivaling his own. He gently walked towards you, wordlessly coming to a stop right in front of you, hoping your eyes would meet his own.

Although you took notice of the quiet boy standing in front of you, you continued to scroll mindlessly through your phone, refusing to look up for fear of your current emotions betraying your vulnerability. “So! He didn’t show, stopped answering any messages about an hour before he was supposed to show, and probably has no intention of ever answering messages from me again anyway. I was right, I should have trusted myself, online dating sucks butts.” Your tone was firm and final, and your eyes still refused to meet Yoongi’s.

You sensed him standing awkwardly still for a few moments, unsure of how to react to you, but you couldn’t blame him. You eventually sensed him dropping to his knees on the floor right in front of you, most likely dirtying his apron in the process. Strong, gentle hands were placed on either side of your face, physically dragging your focus away from your phone and onto your best friend’s face.

“What are you do – don’t look at me like that, Yoongi.”

You couldn’t stand the pitiful look he was giving you. If your heart wasn’t already heavy that night, it was at that moment being crushed to pieces.

“I’m not a hurt puppy, Yoongi…I’m just frustrated, is all. I didn’t really like him all that much anyway,” you said, trailing the last bit off into a mumble.

“Angel,” Yoongi breathed out.

You quirked an eyebrow at the endearment. Why did he have to make everything so much…harder?

“You don’t deserve to be treated like that.”

As if on cue, the final rush of customers seemed to be gathering by the counter all at once, some of their eyes pointedly trained on Yoongi. You grasped Yoongi’s hands to take them off your face. “You have customers again,” you said, nodding your head behind you.

Yoongi begrudgingly rose to his feet and walked to behind the counter, but didn’t stop at the register, much to the chagrin of the young hipster man waiting to order his third iced Americano of the day. He instead went to the back and whipped out the biggest mug the coffee shop offered, and got to work on a drink that nobody ordered. By this point, the whole line of customers had their eyes glued to him incredulously. “Oh, I’ll be with you all in a minute,” he said to them nonchalantly.

Although you pretended to focus on your phone and not know what was going on, your insides lit up when he walked over and laid the drink down in front of you, extra whipped cream spilling over the side. You had half a mind to just reject it and leave, not wanting to have to face Yoongi any longer that night, but you couldn’t make yourself budge. “You really are trying to make me fat.” Yoongi laid a tiny pat on your head and made his way back to the counter. Feeling deflated, you sunk down even further into your seat, and decided to drown your sorrows in the tub-sized white chocolate mocha in front of you.

By the time Yoongi had rounded everyone up and out of the shop, you were so deep in your thoughts you had no concept of the time until you heard the lock on the door click, leaving you and Yoongi alone once more. A position you really didn’t trust yourself to be in in that moment. Before he had even fully made his way over to you, you had stood up, hastily rushing your dirty cup over to the counter and running back to pick up your phone and the bag you had thrown aside as soon as you knew your date wasn’t showing.

“You know you don’t have to leave yet,” he called out softly to you.

You pushed your chair back into the table, your back still turned to him.

“_____.”

You still had to force yourself to ignore him, running a hand through your hair as you surveyed the area to make sure everything was in place before you left. You knew he didn’t deserve to be treated in such a confusing manner, but you also knew what you had to do to keep yourself together in that moment.

Before you could make your break for the door, however, you felt two strong arms wrapping around your waist in a loving manner, and a warm face nudging gently into your neck as his chin laid over your shoulder. “I’m sorry about today. Truly.”

You couldn’t do it anymore. You swung out of his grasp and around to face him, tears stinging at your eyes. He gingerly reached out again, this time stroking your hair. “Hey,” he cooed, “You’re gonna be okay.” You scrunched up your face and looked down to your feet, causing the first silent tear to swim down your cheek. How could he be so…good,but so oblivious to what his actions did to you?

“You’re crying?”

You push against his chest to try to bring some distance between yourselves, so you could move around him and finally go home to your bed safe from boys who ghost you and from boys who fill your heart to the brim with unrequited love. “No, really it’s okay, just stop being so nice to me, please, Yoongi.”

A concerned expression graces Yoongi’s face as he cups your face in his palms for the second time that night. “What?”

“Please stop,” was all you could weakly muster out, pushing against him again. This time his hands fell limply to his side, and you took your escape out into the night, once again leaving him in a dejected confusion.

_______________________________________________________________________

You couldn’t bring yourself to get up to go to class the next morning, especially not marketing, especially especially not when you were supposed to save someone a seat in that class. You saw a notification come up on your laptop that you had one attendance point for today, and laughed, realizing it was the only time you had skipped class all semester. Maybe the first time in college, come to think of it. And all because of your best friend.

You were mindlessly flipping through tv channels when you realized you had a voicemail from Yoongi, voice full of worry, telling you about how sorry he is about that dumb guy, how much better you deserve, and whether or not he could drop by with the class notes from today for you.

You felt guilty enough to force yourself to compose a quick text just to let him know you were okay and that you’d see him in class the following Monday, but felt a ball of anxiety knot in the pit of your stomach when his immediate reply to your text was simply “come down please”.

You inch over to your curtains, pulling them back just a smidgen to look out, and there it was – Yoongi’s white car, parked directly in front of the staircase to your apartment.

You threw your favourite grey hoodie over yourself and tiptoed out of the apartment, trying not to alert Kelsey, who was getting ready for class. You took a deep breath when you began walking down the stairs, bracing yourself for whatever was ahead.

When you got to his car, Yoongi leaned over to open the passenger door for you, welcoming you into the warmth of his car. Two cups of coffee and a bag of steaming breakfast sandwiches lay on the dash, Yoongi ever the provider.

You sat in the seat next to him, and eyed him carefully for a moment, neither one of you offering to speak yet. Eventually, Yoongi nervously reached a hand over to cradle the back of your hand that was rested on your knee. “I just don’t understand it.”

“Understand what?”

“How a man could be brave enough to ask you out and then not follow up on it. The logic of that is beyond me. And –“ he held a finger up with his free hand – “I know it must be a blow to the ego. But, _____, please don’t let yourself dwell on it. He doesn’t deserve any more of your time or thoughts. You do deserve someone who takes care of you.”

You shook your head. “Yoongi, please stop talking about that stupid boy. I keep telling you, I don’t care about him. It was just a minor frustration.” You felt the familiar sting of hot tears rising to your eyes for what felt like the hundredth time that week. Using your free hand, you quickly brushed away the beginnings of any that threatened to slip out.

“I know you’re hurt…” he said, ever so gently.

“Yes! I’m hurting!” you yelped in his face, maybe a little too loudly.

“And it hurts me to see you like this! I need to know how to help!” Yoongi’s tone easily matched yours in passion, but he could never bring himself to actually raise his voice. Especially not to you.

He tried to interlace his fingers with yours, but you pull your hand back. The anguished expression on his face at your rejection was just enough to push your tears over the edge, and they once again flowed freely.

“Stop hurting me then! We can’t keep going like this, Yoons, I care about you too much, I…I –“ you trailed off almost at the point of hyperventilation, crossing your arms across your chest in an attempt to do anything to keep yourself calm.

The shock on Yoongi’s face was unlike anything you’d seen on him before. He was almost to the point of tears himself now. “What? Angel, am I hurting you somehow? You have to tell me, I love you, the last thing in this life I want to do is hurt you…”

“I love you too! But not in the way you think! And I’m sorry, I’ve tried so, so hard to not think about it and, and to just move on but. I can’t! I fucking love you, Yoongi!” You didn’t try to scream it out as loudly as you did. But there it was. Out there now, and it couldn’t be taken back…there was no mistaking your feelings this time. You couldn’t bear to see what would come next, and buried your face in your arms as you sobbed your heart out.

If Yoongi’s shocked silence was any more deafening, your ear drums would’ve burst. It took way too long for an eventual soft “Hey…” to roll of his tongue.

“Stop crying.”

You kept your head hidden, sobbing onto your own arms.

“I love you too…I mean it. I’ve tried to show it to you for years, but I just wasn’t brave enough to say it, oh my god I love you so much, oh my gosh please stop crying you’re breaking my heart – “

Your heard whipped up now, puffy red eyes meeting his own swollen ones. “What are you talking about?”

“I. Love. You.”

You knew you probably should’ve stopped crying as loudly at that point, but you couldn’t. “You do?”

“Yeah. I do.”

Yoongi whipped the arm rest backward to remove the only barrier from between you two, and pushed his chair till it went as far back as it could go. “Come here,” he said, patting his own chest.

You took the hand he offered out to you, awkwardly trying to maneuver yourself over to him. You sat facing him, straddling his lap, and he pulled your sniffling form tight into his warm chest. “Please don’t be sad anymore,” he whispered into your hair, hand rubbing soothing circles into your back.

You pushed off of him to bring yourself to an upright position so that you could see his face. He looked so beautiful, eyes staring at you full of emotion, his delicate hand thumbing at the hair on the nape of your neck. Your head still swam with all of the new information it was trying to hold, but for the first time in a long while, you truly felt like everything was going to be okay. He leaned forward and rubbed his nose against yours, barely touching it. You tilted your head up to place a gentle kiss on the tip of his button nose.

He let out a soft giggle – music to your ears - and gently placed a palm on your cheek. He rested his forehead against your head, but kept his eyes fully open and trained on yours. “So…is there any chance you’d like to be my girlfriend?”

You nodded and giggled like a silly schoolgirl, but were cut off by his warm lips pressing against your own. You were caught off guard at first, but soon melted into the kiss, becoming putty under his touch.

A few seconds later he pulled away, not wanting to overwhelm you, but you were having none of that. Your fingers curled around the collar of his hoodie, dragging him back to you as soon as you caught your breath. Just like you had dreamed about so many times before, you let your fingers tangle in his dark locks and twisted them accordingly. The small groan of appreciation he let slip out of the back of his throat was all the encouragement you needed to melt into him further. You felt him push against your shoulders, leaning backward until a loud “HONK” sounded from the horn under you, causing you to break apart with a jolt. Yoongi hugged you back into his body with a chuckle, leaning backwards against his seat. You buried your face in the crook of his neck, and placed a soft kiss under his jaw.

“Maybe we should try to make it to our last classes of the day,” he said with a laugh, the reverberations in his chest rumbling against your hand that was laid there.

“Maybe we should,” you said, peppering his jaw with gentle kisses.

_______________________________________________________________________

Twenty minutes later, you were being driven to class, Yoongi’s right hand intertwined with your left, resting against your lap. You felt your phone buzz and checked to see an attachment text from Kelsey. You opened it with curiosity, to find a photo she had evidently snapped on the way to her car earlier.

You on Yoongi, front seat of his car, making out like high schoolers. The caption? “Happy for u”.

You were happy for you, too.

#yoongi x reader #bts fluff #bts imagines #yoongi imagine #suga x reader #pls even if you have notes on how i can make his character or something #any and all feedback is so appreciated!!#also please forgive my master list and blog still under construction #my stuff #pt #yoongi

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chloebeale · 4 years

Note

I was rewatching episodes of AF and the scene where Brittany tells Roxy she doesn’t want her there, that gave me major idea vibes of Chloe Beale having an argument with Beca’s father and kicking him out of their home at Thanksgiving for disapproving of their relationship and never supporting his daughter, spending much of Beca’s life absent from her life except to show up and pass judgement. Cause nobody belittles or upsets Beca and gets away with it.

TURNING TABLES

RATING: T.WARNINGS: Homophbia.PAIRING: Bechloe.WORDS: 3.3K.NOTES: Let’s pretend Beca’s father isn’t the same one from Barden pls. Thank you for this, I could totally see it too!

Chloe can count on one hand the amount of in-person interactions she has had with Warren Mitchell. (She’s willing to bet Beca could count hers on two.) Beca doesn’t really talk about him, and given the way he didn’t even walk Beca down the aisle at their wedding, and instead sat in the back with his wife and proceeded to leave before the reception, Chloe already has a pretty clear picture of the type of person he is.

So, Chloe understands why Beca is currently so jittery, why she’s seemingly lost in her own world as she rearranges the place settings at their Thanksgiving-ready table for what feels like the millionth time, and Chloe finds herself watching the other woman sympathetically from across the room.

“Bec, everything looks great,” Chloe states in a gentle tone—though not quite gentle enough apparently, because Beca jumps slightly along with the sound of her voice.

“Yeah,” Beca nods, clearing her throat somewhat awkwardly. Her gaze scans over the table, and while Chloe can’t actually read her mind, she knows she’s still questioning the seating arrangements. Almost like she’s forcing herself away, Beca slowly turns from the table, and Chloe catches sight of just how exhausted she looks. It’s worrisome, considering the day has barely begun yet, but again, Chloe understands it. “I just feel like I need to be doing something, you know? You won’t let me help with the food.” Her brow wrinkles in that familiar way Chloe can’t help but adore, and prompts a subtle smirk in return.

“You remember the green beans last year?” Chloe reminds her, auburn brow arching knowingly. “We were still finding them under the fridge at Christmas.”

“Fine,” Beca grumbles, turning back toward the table without missing a beat. Her hand outstretches to pick up Warren’s name label, though Chloe decides it’s time to intervene.

“Hey, stop,” she mumbles soothingly, pale arms wrapping delicately around Beca’s middle. While she hears a sigh fall from her lips, she also feels the way Beca’s body relaxes into the embrace. “It’s going to be fine,” Chloe continues, her chin resting gently against Beca’s shoulder. Her heartbeat drums gently, hopefully reassuringly, against Beca’s back. Slender fingers settle on top of her lightly freckled arm, and Chloe allows herself a brief glance down toward the wedding ring on Beca’s finger, painted lips tugging up into a contented smile.

Soft fingers squeeze delicately onto her arm, and Chloe tightens her hold slightly. “You just…” Beca’s shoulders slump, volume lowering some, “You don’t know my dad.”

READ THE REST BELOW OR ON AO3!

Given how genuinely wonderful her own parents are, Chloe really can’t relate. She does know she’s glad they’ll be there to act as some kind of buffer today, though. But that doesn’t help Beca’s situation, that doesn’t help to calm her nerves, so Chloe simply pulls her body closer to her own, pushing a gentle kiss into the crook of her neck. “I know,” she whispers softly, “But it’s going to be okay.”

If it were up to Chloe, Warren wouldn’t be joining them at all. But he’s in town for the first time since they moved into their new home, and when Beca had panicked and invited he and Sheila to Thanksgiving dinner, Chloe had been nothing but supportive. She’s very protective of her wife, but Warren is her father, and if Beca wants to try to salvage some kind of relationship with him, then Chloe isn’t going to stand in her way.

Over the years, Chloe has learned to read Beca Mitchell. She knows when she should try to coax something more from her, and when she should leave her to her own thoughts. Right now feels like the latter, and Chloe realizes she’s correct in thinking so when Beca finally releases another soft sigh of defeat, before twisting her body to face her again. Chloe’s arms loosen slightly, though they remain wrapped around Beca’s middle, while Beca’s rise to drape comfortably around Chloe’s neck.

“You look pretty, by the way,” Beca comments, the corner of her lips tugging up into a half smile. “Have I told you that yet?”

Chloe’s soft smirk returns, shoulder shrugging gently. “Mm, once or twice.”

Even after spending the better part of ten years together, it’s easy for them to become entirely wrapped up in one another, completely consumed by the other’s presence alone. And that’s fine when it’s just the two of them, though the sound of the front door opening promptly pulls them back to reality, with Beca freezing in Chloe’s arms.

“Knock knock!” Marie Beale chirps, bright grin plastered across her face as she comes into view. With her dark green dress and small bow holding back her red curls, she’s essentially just an older version of Chloe. “Happy Thanksgiving!”

Chloe’s arms unwrap from around her wife, and she can see the clear look of relief on Beca’s face. Still, even in the company of the most approving of people—Chloe’s parents very much fit that bill—Beca doesn’t love PDA, and tucks a chunk of hair almost shyly behind her ear as she steps out from Chloe’s embrace.

“Hey, Mr. and Mrs. Be—” Beca begins, though corrects herself upon seeing the warning glance shot her way. “Uh… Marie, Andrew.”

“That’s better,” Andrew grins, stepping forward to wrap his daughter into a welcoming hug. Marie quickly pulls Beca into her arms, too.

“Girls, everything smells great,” Chloe’s father comments, stealing himself away toward the kitchen to admire their work.

“Oh, that’s all Chloe,” Beca corrects, following dutifully behind.

Marie shoots Chloe a knowing look. “Green beans incident?”

Chloe nods her head in response, smirk settling onto her lips. “Green beans incident.”

For about ten minutes, there’s a very relaxed, cheerful atmosphere surrounding the four. The food is pretty much ready, and everyone takes the time to huddle on the couches, chatting casually amongst themselves. Beca isn’t a big wine drinker, but she accepts the glass Andrew pours for her, and drinks it perhaps a little too quickly, Chloe notices. However, she chooses not to comment; she knows Beca is stressed, and if a little liquid courage will help her to relax, then who is Chloe to stop her?

For a brief moment, that stress seems to leave her, though the sound of the doorbell almost has her dropping her empty glass, and Chloe quickly glances toward her, offering her a reassuring smile. “Want me to get it?”

Beca shakes her head, handing the wine glass over to Chloe. “No, it’s okay, I’ve got it.”

Chloe responds with a short nod, though exchanges a knowing glance with both of her parents, trying hard not to focus too intently on the sound of Beca greeting her father and step-mother. However, Warren’s first words (“That’s your Thanksgiving attire, Beca?”) are hard to ignore, but Chloe bites her tongue, and proceeds to stand in polite greeting, just in time for Beca to lead both Warren and Sheila into the living room.

“Mr. Mitchell,” Chloe beams, focus shifting to his wife momentarily, “Mrs. Mitchell. You look really nice. Can I take your coat?”

The energy shift between the arrivals of the Beale’s and the Mitchell’s is incredibly apparent, though true to their nature, Marie and Andrew make a point of welcoming the two newcomers warmly into their small party, and both swiftly ignore the judgmental looks they receive in return.

“What are you drinking?” Warren questions, blue-gray eyes moving between the two glasses in Chloe’s hands.

“Oh, just water,” she explains, shaking her glass gently.

“And the wine?”

“Chloe’s favorite!” Andrew responds for her, though Warren has already made his way over to the table, and proceeds to peer curiously at the almost empty bottle.

“This is what you’re serving?” Warren’s brow arches, head tilting as he studies the label, before quickly dismissing it. “Never mind, Sheila and I brought better stuff.”

It’s those comments, the ones that prove Warren Mitchell thinks he’s of a much higher class than everybody else in his vicinity, that cause Beca’s shoulders to sag and her cheeks to darken a shade, but Chloe knows how to play nice, and simply responds with a kind smile.

He doesn’t stop there, of course. He has comments to make about every little thing, it would seem. His chair is uncomfortable, the table is too small, the potatoes aren’t properly mashed. Fortunately, for every negative comment Warren has, both Marie and Andrew have something positive to say, and Chloe does well to bite her tongue. It’s a little upsetting, the way she feels Beca tense up whenever Chloe’s hand slides into her lap reassuringly throughout their meal, but yet again, Chloe understands the resistance. She knows Warren isn’t the biggest fan of their relationship, and while Chloe doesn’t care much for his comfort level, she doesn’t want to make Beca uncomfortable in her own home, too.

“I see you got your mother’s culinary skills,” Warren mumbles as he inspects a shred of turkey. Not for the first time, Beca looks entirely embarrassed, and turns to shoot Chloe an apologetic look, though she’s met with another kind smile, and Chloe gently shakes her head.

“Actually, Mr. Mitchell, the food was all on me this year. If it isn’t good, you don’t have to eat it. I can go whip up something else for you, if you’d like?”

Warren’s brows raise in what Chloe perceives as an entirely judgmental way, and a sickeningly smug look overtakes his weathered features. “Leaving the cooking for someone else? Even more like her mother,” he sneers, turning to shoot his wife a look. Sheila responds with a small snicker.

Again, not for the first time, Chloe bites her tongue, and it’s Beca’s turn to reach for Chloe’s hand under the table this time, giving it a small, reassuring squeeze. The feeling of Beca’s wedding band, the way it sits so comfortably on her finger, only adds to the gentle reassurance.

Apparently, Mr. Beale senses the tension. “Hey, why don’t we do gratitudes?”

“Oh, yeah, that’s a great idea, Andrew,” Beca chimes in quickly, clearing her throat. Her father, meanwhile, practically chokes on his food.

“Mr. Beale,” Warren corrects, “Have some manners, Beca.”

“Oh, no, Andrew is fine,” Marie pipes up, her kind smile the same one Chloe wears. In many ways, Chloe and her mother are very much alike; their fiery red hair, their piercing blue eyes, both with gentle demeanors that will quickly switch when triggered. They both know how to play nice too, though—something Beca is incredibly thankful for. “We’re Beca’s in-laws. We like her to call us by our actual names.”

Warren simply picks up his wine glass, shoulder shrugging briefly, before taking a long swig from his glass. The bottle sits beside him, and he seems to notice the contents are not going down very quickly.

“You know, when someone brings wine to a meal, it’s polite to at least try it,” he says, glare pointed toward Chloe. It doesn’t surprise her that he isn’t her biggest fan, and if her reluctance to try his wine offering is the most he has to throw at her, that’s fine by her.

“Oh, yeah, I’m sure it’s great,” Chloe nods, though motions toward her glass. “I’m fine with water, though. Thank you.”

Her choice in beverage hasn’t been an issue until now, though unlike Beca, Chloe is a wine drinker, and the conversation seems to catch her parents’ attention.

“Is everything okay, honey?” Her mother questions, a look of concern filling her eyes.

“Just try the damn wine,” Warren urges, standing from his seat and picking up the bottle to hand it across the table.

“Dad, no,” Beca interjects, “Chloe…” She trails off, gaze moving toward the woman beside her. Chloe sees clear fear filling her eyes, and honestly, the sight is heartbreaking. Yet again, she shoots her a reassuring smile, hand reaching out to take ahold of Beca’s beneath the table.

“Chloe?” Marie pipes up, that same look of concern still filling her eyes. “Is everything okay? What’s going on?”

Now’s not the time, not with Beca’s very judgmental father seated at the same table, but all eyes are on both Chloe and Beca, and the two exchange an almost cautious glance, before Chloe gently nods her head.

“Uh, yeah,” Beca proceeds, fingers wrapping tightly around Chloe’s. She clears her throat, and Chloe swears she can feel Beca’s palm beginning to sweat. “Everything’s fine. Great, actually.” Blue eyes point downward toward the food, and something they’ve been so excited about for the last two months now suddenly feels like the most terrifying thing in the world. So much so that Beca can’t even continue, not with her father’s stare burning into her the way it is, so Chloe decides to take over.

“Okay, we weren’t going to say anything yet,” Chloe continues, strong gaze shifting between the four sets of eyes on the two of them. “I’m not drinking because,” she glances toward Beca, a softness filling her eyes. “Well, we’re going to have a baby. I’m pregnant.”

“What?” The response is one of shock for the briefest of moments, before Marie rises quickly from her seat, an excited yelp sounding from her throat. “Pregnant? Oh, Chloe! Andrew, we’re going to be grandparents!”

Despite the prior atmosphere, despite the presence of Beca’s father, Chloe can’t help the wide grin that spreads across her lips as both of her parents pull both she and Beca into their arms in congratulatory hugs. She can even hear Beca chuckling softly from the middle of Andrew’s bear hug, and for just a moment, it’s easy to forget that there are two other people in the room, neither of whom has said anything thus far.

“You have got to be kidding me,” Warren suddenly pipes up, the newly stern tone to his voice catching everybody off guard.

Even Sheila reaches out a hand to settle gently on his arm. “Warren, don’t,” she warns quietly, though he promptly shakes her off, clear anger written across his face.

“No, Sheila. It’s bad enough that she insisted on marrying a woman, but now they’re going to bring a kid into this? Mess up your own life all you want, Beca, but a child’s, too? Really?”

For a second or two, it would seem everybody is in shock. Beca opens her mouth to speak, but swiftly closes it again, and Chloe can just tell how hard her wife feels like she has just been punched in the gut. She doesn’t like what Warren says, but it’s that look on Beca’s face, that sheer, undiluted pain, that has Chloe finally seeing red.

“Excuse me?” Apparently, Chloe is done biting her tongue.

“Chlo, leave it,” Beca whispers, hand reaching out to settle on her arm the same way Sheila’s had on her father’s only seconds prior.

“No,” Chloe shakes her head, brows tugging together. Both Marie and Andrew have taken their seats again, and it’s clear that nobody else is going to try to stop her, so Chloe continues. “Mr. Mitchell, we invited you into our home to spend this holiday with us, something Beca won’t admit, but that she has wanted to do for the past only God knows how many years. Her whole life, probably.”—Beca doesn’t correct her, so Chloe proceeds—“We invited you to our wedding, because Beca wanted you to be apart of one of the most special days of her life, and you didn’t even have the decency to stay and actually celebrate with us. You’ve come into our home and basically insulted your own daughter any chance you’ve gotten, and now you think it’s acceptable to talk that way about our unborn child?”

As taken aback as Warren looks, he evidently still has his own strong—and in Chloe’s mind, wrong—opinions, and continues with the same conviction. “A child is supposed to have a mother and a father. You realize it’s going to be bullied, right?”

There’s a rage deep within Chloe that she hasn’t felt before, not like this. While she’s normally the epitome of respect for her elders, Warren Mitchell has lost his right to that by now, so Chloe chooses not to hold back.

“Right, the same way Beca had a mother and a father? I don’t know you, Mr. Mitchell, but I do know that I have spent more holidays, more celebrations, more time with your daughter than you ever have. And the way Beca has been so terrified of you showing up here today, so desperate for your approval, I can guarantee that our baby will never feel that way. Our baby will never have to fight for our affection, because we are going to be incredible parents. Beca especially, and you want to know how I know that?” By now, Chloe has risen from her seat, and again, nobody has tried to hold her back. She hasn’t exactly lunged toward Warren, she’s still in her place, but she towers above him as he glares up at her from his seat, and it’s clear who has the dominance in the situation. “Because you’ve given her the perfect example of what not to do.”

There��s a surge of venom behind Chloe’s words that is almost unrecognizable even to her, and it has Warren glaring back at her, red-faced. “How dare you—” He begins, though Chloe cuts him off abruptly.

“No, Mr. Mitchell, how dare you? This is our home, and I’m sorry, but you’re just not welcome here anymore. I think you should leave,” Chloe states firmly, never breaking eye contact. “That’s not a request.”

It’s not often that Chloe loses her temper, not really. But this is an exception, and honestly, she feels like she’s well within her rights. However, her blinders are up, her pointed glare on Warren and his wife as they rise from their seats, so much so that Chloe doesn’t even think to check on Beca, to make sure that this is okay. Instead, she pushes back her chair and quickly escorts the two toward the front door, ignoring the grunts and grumbles sent her way. It’s only once the door is closed on their unwanted guests that Chloe finally comes back to her senses, back pressed up against the hard wood of the door.

And suddenly, she wonders if perhaps she went too far.

Even more so when the sight of her wife, wide-eyed and almost disbelieving, comes into view.

“Bec, I’m so—”

“Do you know how much I love you?”

The words catch Chloe off guard, stop her in her tracks. It’s not like she doesn’t know it, but a part of her had been expecting a hysterical Beca, or at the very least for her to yell. But she doesn’t. Instead, Beca takes a few steps forward, until small hands are rising to delicately cup Chloe’s blush-covered cheeks, blue eyes meeting blue.

“Of course I do,” Chloe nods, finally finding her words. “I’m sorry, I know he’s your dad, I just—”

“No, you don’t have to apologize.” Beca’s voice is gentle, kind. It’s like all of the fear, all of the hesitation built up inside her has suddenly dissipated, and Chloe suddenly recognizes her again. She’s her Beca again.

“He doesn’t get to talk to us like that, he doesn’t get to talk about our baby like that. And everything you said, it’s all true. You’re going to be the most amazing mother, Chlo. Our baby is so loved already.” She pauses, one hand falling from Chloe’s cheek to rest feather lightly against the small, barely visible swell of her stomach hidden beneath the loose fabric of her dress. “We’re both in the best hands possible.” Beca stretches up slightly, soft lips brushing against her wife’s.

“Seriously, Chloe,” Beca whispers, closing the gap between them. She doesn’t care that Chloe’s parents can see, doesn’t care that there’s anybody else in the room with them. It’s just the two of them in Beca’s mind—or three—and she chooses not to hold back, the same way Chloe hadn’t only moments before. “Thank you.”

#beca mitchell #chloe beale #bechloe #bechloe au #bechloe fic #mine #mine:writing #anonymous #question #turning tables

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gilmores-glorious-blog · 4 years

Text

Coder Boyfriends Quarantine Fic

I wrote this months ago and never finished it... so yeah take this somewhat complete work. Maybe if enough of y’all like it I’ll write more. Also I’m too lazy to come up with a real title :)

They were two weeks into quarantine, and Tobin was officially stuck with a ferret. And it wasn’t even his ferret.

“What are we going to do about this, dude?” He asked Leif one morning, flopping down at their kitchen table and staring at the stupid little creature in his cage across from them.

“There’s nothing we can do. Colin is stuck with his family in New York, and we promised we would take care of him.”

“Yeah, for a week! Not for six freaking months!”

“Tobes, you have a commitment to this thing. You have to watch out for it. So for now, you are officially a ferret daddy,” Leif said while holding back a smirk.

Tobin just glared at his friend.

“I don’t think ferrets are supposed to live in bird cages for months on end.” Leif commented from his spot on the couch. Tobin was busy rearranging the ferret’s living space to accommodate for him being a long term resident.

“Yeah, well, I don’t just have ferret cages laying around.” Tobin snapped.

“Why do you have a bird cage laying around?!”

“I-” Tobin started.

“Hold on.” Leif pulled out his phone. “I think I’m going to want this on tape.”

“For your vlog?” Tobin asked mockingly.

“The viewers need to know.” Leif cleared his throat and put on a dramatic announcer voice. “So tell us, Tobin, why do you have a bird cage laying around?”

Tobin rolled his eyes. “A few years ago, I got a pet bird. After two weeks of having said bird, I decided I wasn’t cut out for bird ownership so I… I gave the bird away.” Tobin hoped his hesitation wasn’t visible on camera. He hadn’t actually given the bird away. He let it free, but moments after realized it was definitely not a native species. It’s haunted him ever since.

Tobin snaps out of his bird-guilt to see Leif cackling on the couch. “I had forgotten about that! Dude, you were so bad at taking care of that stupid thing, I’m suprised it didn’t just die.” Leif glances over to where Greyskull the ferret was sitting. “Let’s hope the same thing won’t happen with the ferret.”

“It won’t.” He’s determined to make certain of that.

“Good.” Leif turns off the camera and puts his phone away before leaning back and watching Tobin continue to move ferret equipment around. Tobin could feel his eyes tracking him, and he had to fight back a blush. He glanced over at his best friend, who was watching with a smile smile that Leif reserved only for Tobin.

Tobin quickly turned around as he felt his cheeks warming. The beginning of months of quarantine probably wasn’t the greatest time for your best friend to find you’ve been in love with him for years.

“Tobes hurry up!” Leif called. “The work call starts in five minutes!”

“I still don’t see why we can’t do this from two different computers.” Tobin replied from his bedroom, rushing to make himself look presentable.

“Because it’s stupid, bro. Everyone knows we live together, and it’s going to get annoying if we’re just talking over each other from different rooms.”

“Okay, fair.” Tobin slides down the hallway and collapses on the couch. He very nearly crashes into Leif, but he manages to stop himself, luckily.

They log on to the zoom meeting, and Tobin has to stop himself from thinking about how couple-y they look on the camera. Jesus christ dude, you need to stop pining, he tells himself.

Joan lets them onto the call, and there’s an awkward minute where it’s just her and the two of them. Leif is staring at the ground and Joan staring at her wall. Against all better judgement, Tobin makes a sarcastic comments.

“Lover’s quarrel, huh?” He regrets it as soon as Leif turns to look at him with hurt in his eyes. He’s about to apologize when Zoey and Max join the call.

“Hey guys!” Zoey says, and suddenly Joan and Leif perk up.

“Hi Red, ‘sup Max!” Tobin says, ignoring Leif’s stiff body beside him.

“So Tobin, I hear you’re stuck with a ferret.” Max comments, holding back a laugh.

Tobin whips around, staring at Leif. “Max watches your vlog?!”

Leif just shrugs. “I gave him the password a while back, figured it couldn’t hurt.”

“Now the whole office gets a glimpse into my private life!” Tobin didn’t know why he was upset about this. He was a pretty open person, he barely shut up about his private life at work anyway.

“Hey, it’s my private life. You just happen to live with me. Why are mad about this?” Leif’s eyes flicked briefly to the computer screen, where it was still just Max, Zoey, and Joan, staring awkwardly at the interaction.

Just as the boys were staring daggers at each other, ready to keep fighting, Joan spoke up.

“Lover’s quarrel, huh?” The sarcasm and pride in her voice was obvious.

“Wh- I- no!” Tobin stammered, not daring to look at Leif. He stared at the screen, where he saw Max mouth lovers? to Zoey, who promptly elbowed him in the ribs.

Luckily, right then, a bunch of the other SPRQ point employees joined the call, and the five who were previously there ignored the argument from before as they talked about work things.

Tobin payed no attention to what was happening, he was too busy staring at Leif from the corner of his eye. Leif didn’t seem mad anymore, just his normal awkward and nerdy self as he talked about the coding projects they were planning to start from home. He laughs at something Max says, and Tobin fights back a smile. Nothing makes him happier than hearing Leif laugh. He notices that his friend’s hair is already getting longer after three weeks stuck at home. It’s curlier, more floppy in the front. He also hasn’t shaved in a few days, and his mini-beard is adorable. Tobin briefly thinks about how much he wants to run his hands through that hair, but then remembers they’re on a work call and he should probably stop that train of thought right there.

Before he knows it, the call is over. Hopefully he didn’t miss too much, but if he did, he can always ask Leif.

Leif, however, gets up silently and moves toward the kitchen. Suddenly Tobin remembers the argument they were having. He shoots up from the couch and rushes towards the kitchen.

“I’m sorry, bro.”

“Sorry for what?” Leif asks, clearly playing dumb.

“For saying that thing about you and Joan. For getting upset about the vlog thing. For…” Tobin pauses before finishing, “... for what Joan said about us.”

“Ah,” Leif says, holding tight to the glass he’s grabbed from the counter. Neither of them say anything for a moment, and the silence is deafening to Tobin.

“Look dude, I’m really sorry. I know I shouldn’t have brought up the thing with Joan, I know you’re still pining over her or whatever-”

“I’m not,” Leif interrupts.

You’re not? There’s a flutter of hope in Tobin’s stomach, but he pushes it down. “Well, regardless, I shouldn’t have said that. And I don’t know why I got so upset about Max watching your vlog. I guess I’m just self-conscious sometimes, no matter how much I act the opposite. And I like having moments that are just between the two of us sometimes.” Tobin really hopes Leif didn’t read into that last part the way he just did as he said it.

“That makes sense.” Leif bites his lower lip before adding, “what about the last part?”

“What?”

“The last part of your apology. About what Joan said.”

“Uh, I guess she just said it because she was mad at me for saying it about you guys? She saw an opportunity and she took it. She probably only said it because we were arguing like an old married couple. Not that we act like an old married couple. We don’t. It’s just, y’know, we live together, and we were arguing, so we’ve got those two key ‘old married couple’ traits down. But not any of the other ones, not like being in love or married or a couple-”

“Jesus, Tobes, take a breath.” Leif chuckled. “It’s totally fine that she said that, I just was wondering what you thought about it.”

“Oh?” Tobin fights the urge to melt into the floor as a way to forget everything he just said.

“Yeah. Like you said, we live together, plus we’re both bi, so there’s not really any offense in the joke.”

“Oh. Right. Yeah, totally.” Tobin still feels like melting into the floor. He’s saved from doing that, however, when his phone buzzes in his pocket.

“It’s from Zoey.” He says, mostly to himself. He’s a bit confused. Zoey doesn’t text him much, and when she does it definitely not to say We need to talk. “I think I should answer this.” Tobin walks into his room and locks the door, leaving a confused Leif behind him.

“Hey?” Tobin had barely begun to dial the phone when Zoey answered.

“Hi Tobin.”

“Hi?” Tobin’s even more confused than he was before.

“How are you doing?” Zoey’s voice is strained.

“I’m fine?” Tobin can deal with a few more polite greetings before he snaps and asks Zoey what the heck is up.

“How are things with Leif?” Zoey asks, sounding nervous, which makes Tobin nervous. What is she thinking about me and Leif?

“Good, good. Just chillin’ in quarantine, y’know.” Tobin’s started to pace around his room now.

“Cool.” There’s a long silence from Zoey’s end.

“Why do you ask?”

“Well, you know, sometimes when people, uh, spend a lot of time together…” Zoey trails off and Tobin can almost picture her gesturing vaguely.

“Yeah?” Tobin prompts.

“When people spend a lot of time together… sometimes feelings can develop.” Zoey finishes.

Tobin ignores the pit in his stomach and decides to play dumb. “I’m not going to murder Leif, if that’s what you’re implying.”

“What?! No! I mean…” He can hear Zoey take a deep breath. “Tobin are you in love with Leif?”

Tobin hangs up.

She calls again.

He declines.

She calls again.

He declines.

She texts him.

He blocks her number.

Tobin collapses on his bed. How the hell did she know? It’s not like he and Zoey are best buds. There was that one time she helped him out with the Spelliversary drama, but that’s the extent of their close conversations. And now she hasn’t seen him in weeks, and it only takes one zoom call for her to figure out he’s been in love with Leif for fifteen years?! He screams into his pillow before flopping over and staring at his ceiling. His eyes trace the stars stuck to the wall, flitting over the sharpied-in constellations, and trying desperately not to think about Leif or Zoey.

There’s a knock on his door. “Tobes?”

Tobin just groans.

The knocking intensifies. “Tobin, please open the door.” Tobin really doesn’t want to, but there’s a desperation in Leif’s voice that he can’t say no to.

He flops off the bed and unlocks the door. “What is it, bro?”

Leif hands his phone to Tobin. “Zoey ne-”

Tobin slams the door in his face.

Before he has time to lock it, however, Leif tries to open it again. Tobin makes a worthy fight against his weight and the door, but eventually his taller friend manages into the room. Leif closes and locks the door and hands the phone to Tobin.

“Talk.” He says.

Tobin sighs. “Fine.” He gestures to the door. “Leave.”

“What? No! Dude, you think I trust you to be alone with my phone? I don’t want you seeing everything that’s on there. Plus, you’ll just hang up again, and I for one don’t want my manager’s number blocked on my phone.”

Tobin tries desperately to think of something to say, any reason for Leif to leave other than the truth. But he can’t. And the longer he waits, the more suspicious he seems. So he puts the phone to his ear.

“Oh hey Zoey, what’s up?”

“Ok I really want to take the time to be mad at you for blocking my number, but I don’t have the time and Max is mouthing at me to get to the point.”

“Uh huh, okay.” Tobin is trying to act nonchalant.

“So… are you in love with Leif?” She asks and Tobin prays to any and every existing deity that Leif can’t hear through the phone.

Tobin isn’t sure what to do. He’s strangely scared of Zoey, in all of her five foot tall, quarantined miles away from him, glory. Something about her is making him want to tell the truth. Time for Tobin to pull out those rusty acting skills from when Leif convinced him to do the high school play.

“Uh, yeah, I love watermelon. Why do you ask?” Tobin tries not to cringe as Leif looks at him confused. Watermelon?!

“Tobin, what the-”

He interrupts her. “Leif’s here too, do you wanna ask what he thinks?”

He hears Zoey gasp through the other line. “Ohhh. Um, so, you love Leif. Watermelon. Whatever. How long have you liked him? Are you gay? I didn’t know you were gay. I’m asking too many questions. Sorry. This is hard to do over the phone.”

Tobin sighs. “I’ve been a fan of watermelon since high school.”

“High school?! That’s a long time.”

“It sure is.” Tobin tries not to stare at Leif, now distractedly fiddling with trinkets on Tobin’s cluttered desk. “Oh and since you asked, I don’t just… love watermelon. I’m also a fan of… grapes.” Tobin hopes this isn’t too confusing of a metaphor for bisexuality for Zoey to grasp.

“So you’re bi?” Zoey asks, catching on. Guess she’s smarter than Tobin thought, although considering she manages their company, he probably should have figured that out.

“Yeah.” Tobin can’t believe he’s coming out to Zoey Clarke, of all people. And in the worst possible way, too.

“Cool, cool. So are you planning on telling Leif?”

“No. Too much work, dude. Don’t want to fuck things up, y’know?”

“I know it’s not my place to say so-” Tobin scoffs. It wasn’t her place to ask about this in the first place. “- but I really think you should tell him. It might make things easier, you wouldn’t have to hide your feelings. Then you can… you can love him with no strings attached.”

Tobin freezes for a moment. That sounds familiar. But he can’t remember how right now, and he’s too concerned with other more pressing issues to think of it.

“I’ll think about it.” He says, lying. He won’t even consider telling Leif. He’s gone on pining for fifteen years, where’s the fun in stopping now?

“Good. That’s good, Tobin. I’m glad you told me.”

“Didn’t have much of a choice, did I?” He mumbles. Zoey chooses to ignore this.

“Hey, how about you unblock my number and we can talk some more when Leif’s not there. Only if you want to, of course.” She adds the last part on as an afterthought, seeming to remember that forcing people to talk about their secret gay crushes probably isn’t the smartest idea.

“Sure. Thanks, Zoey. Bye.” He hangs up. Scared, he looks up at Leif, now sitting on Tobin’s desk (that gay disaster).

“What the hell was that about, bro?” Leif asks.

“Oh, just… y’know… girl things.” And with that, Tobin leaves his room.

Leif doesn’t bring up the phone call again until after dinner, when Tobin is preparing popcorn for their movie night.

“So dude,” Leif calls from the couch. “What was that call with Zoey about?”

“I told you already.”

“No you did not! ‘Girl things’ is not a valid answer.”

Tobin brings himself and the popcorn to the couch, sitting down. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Please…” Leif turns to Tobin and rests his head on his shoulder, giving him puppy dog eyes.

Tobin shoves Leif off of him. “That’s not fair, man, you know I can’t resist you when you give me that face.”

Leif smiles. “Exactly. Come on, man, it can’t be that bad. And no matter how good of an actor you think you are, I know that it wasn’t about watermelon. There’s no way you blocked our boss’ number over watermelon.”

Tobin tries desperately to think of something believable that’s not the truth. “She wanted help with relationship advice.”

Leif looks concerned. “Is everything ok with her and Max?”

“Oh yeah, they’re fine it was about… her brother.”

“I thought her brother was married?”

Damn Leif for knowing so much about Zoey’s personal life. “He is! Her older brother, that is. Her younger brother is unmarried and struggling with dating.”

“And she asked you about this?”

“Don’t look so surprised, bro. There’s just something about me that makes people want to open up to me about romance.” Tobin waggles his eyebrows at his friend.

“I’ve known you since third grade and I’ve never once wanted to open up to you about romance.”

“That’s bullshit, man. I was the one who helped you realize you were bi. That’s helping you with romance if I ever saw it.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t want to. You were just my only friend, and therefore my only option. If I had a choice I would have chosen someone way cooler than you to open up to.”

Tobin glares at him. “Just shut up and watch this movie with me.”

***

Leif knew Tobin was lying. He knew Tobin, and he knew Zoey, and he knew that there was no way the two of them would join forces for relationship advice. But he also knew when Tobin was getting anxious, and he could tell his friend was not ready to tell Leif the truth. So he doesn’t press it.

Leif has an interesting relationship with movie night. On one hand, he loves it. Curling up on the couch with popcorn and his best friend to watch a cheesy movie? That’s basically heaven to Leif. Although heaven might have a few more sketchbooks, and Bob Ross videos, and cardigans, and pretty people complimenting his genius.

One the other hand, movie night was hell for Leif. Tobin always made obnoxious commentary, and threw popcorn at the screen, and laughed way too hard at funny scenes, and cried at emotional scenes.

And it was simple things like this that made Leif fall more in love with Tobin. So movie night was basically a weekly reminder for Leif that he was absolutely whipped for his best friend and had done nothing about that fact for over ten years.

Halfway through the movie, Leif starts feeling tired. In all honesty, he’s only a little bit tired. But he always plays it up so that every movie night he’s overcome with exhaustion and has no choice but to fall asleep on Tobin’s lap or shoulder.

Okay, so maybe he has a bit of a problem. But hell, this is the only opportunity Leif has to cuddle with Tobin and he will exploit it to the best of his ability, damn it!

So Leif lays his head on his friend’s shoulder, smiling as he doses off, lost in the smell of Tobin’s hoodie.

“Tobes, I’m going fucking insane.” Leif announces, collapsing on their kitchen table.

“Ok. What else is new?” Tobin asks him from where he’s sitting eating cereal.

Leif lifts his head a bit. “I’m not kidding. It’s been six weeks of this shit and it’s still only the beginning. I’m way ahead in work so I have nothing to do, I’ve been drawing more than I ever have and my hand is cramping from filling two sketchbooks already, my hair is longer than I’ve ever wanted it to be, and this damn ferret is driving me crazy!”

Tobin nods. “I see. Well, this will take care of the hair problem for you.” He hands Leif what appears to be a hot pink sparkly scrunchie.

Leif takes it tentatively. “What on earth is this?”

“What does it look like? It’s a scrunchie. I’m already rocking one, as I’m sure you’ve noticed.”

Only then does Leif look up fully and realize that Tobin is, in fact, ‘rocking’ a scrunchie. His long brown hair is half-tied up in a weird Sokka-from-Avatar-the-Last-Airbender type look.

“You look absolutely ridiculous.” Leif says. And cute, he thinks, but would never admit out loud. Because it’s weirdly true- the neon green hair tie look somehow makes Tobin even cuter.

“And you can too! Just wear it, at least your hair will stop falling in your eyes.”

“I’m not wearing it. Why do you even have these?” Leif hands the scrunchie back to Tobin, who puts it around his wrist.

“Believe me, bro. You do not want to know.”

“I don’t doubt it.” Leif stands to get himself a bagel.

“Oh and by the way, don’t you dare disrespect my son, Sir Greyskull the Brave.” Tobin stares lovingly at the ferret.

Leif rolls his eyes. “I miss start of quarantine Tobin, who wouldn’t shut up about how much he hated the ferret.”

“Leif, don’t be rude. He’s grown on me, and he should grow on you too.”

“I’m never going to let a ferret grow on me.” Leif remarks as he returns to the table with his bagel. “But seriously, dude, I need things to do.”

“Okay…” Tobin looks contemplative. “How about after we both finish work for the day, we play some old-fashioned, kids-sleepover party games, just the two of us. You know, truth or dare, two truths and a lie, never have I ever, stuff like that. But since we’re not kids, we can play it the fun way: with booze.”

Leif realizes the endless ways this could go wrong- getting drunk with your crush and playing truth or dare? That’s a high-school level bad decision right there. But he’s too bored to say no.

“Sounds good to me.”

Leif, of course, finishes work around four in the afternoon. Tobin, on the other hand, has been procrastinating his work for weeks and still isn’t done by seven. So Leif decides to fix dinner. Might as well have a nice meal together before they get absolutely wasted and Leif admits things he doesn’t want to admit.

Tobin finally comes out of his room a little before eight, just as Leif is setting the stirfry he made on the table.

“Oh, sweet, food!” Tobin sits down and starts eating.

“Yes, I figured I might at least do something with the hours I’ve spent waiting for you to finish.”

“Hey!” Tobin says with a mouth full of food. “At least I did the work!”

“That’s true, but if you had done any of the work throughout the week, you wouldn’t have to spend so long on it.”

“Yeah, well, where’s the fun in that?”

Leif sits down and takes a bite. “Oh, of course, how could I forget. Nothing screams fun like putting work off until the last possible minute.”

“See, this is why you went to some fancy college while I went to jail!”

Leif stares at him. “One of those things is considerably better than the other, and I’ll tell you right now, it’s not jail.”

“Doesn’t matter now, does it? We both have the same job, and you’re only a little bit higher ranking than me. But let’s be real, that’s probably only because you fucked the boss.”

“Shut up.” Leif says, and he means it. He hates when Tobin brings up his whole fling with Joan. It’s been over a year, and Leif has made it abundantly clear that he’s over it and doesn’t want to talk about it, but Tobin doesn’t listen. Nothing’s worse than the guy you love constantly bringing up your bad past relationships.

“I’m not wrong though-”

“Tobes.” Leif looks up from his plate. “Please just drop it.”

“Okay! I’m sorry I brought it up, I was just trying to make a joke.”

“Whatever. Just… don’t do it again.”

They eat in silence for a while, and Leif’s worried that he’s crushed the vibe of the evening.

“So, Tobes, how much are you planning to drink tonight?”

“All of it.” Tobin replies.

“All of our alcohol?” It’s not that it’s that much- they don’t keep a lot of drinks at home, since they usually just go out to bars. But they can’t do that anymore.

“Yep. It’s been too long since I’ve been drunk.”

“Okay, you make a fair point, but I raise you this point: if you drink all we have right now, you have to suffer however many more months we’re stuck in here sober.”

Tobin pauses for a minute- he clearly hadn’t thought of that. “Ah, fuck that. We can buy more online or something. Live in the moment, bro.”

Right. Live in the moment. Leif gulps. This isn’t going to end well.

Well, Leif was definitely living in the moment. At least, that would explain why he’s opening his mouth and asking Tobin, “ok, ok. What’s… what’s a secret you’ve never told anyone before?”

Leif lifts his head from where it’s laying on the couch so he can judge Tobin’s reaction. It’s three hours after dinner and they’re both plastered.

“Uh…” Tobin takes a while to respond, and Leif can’t tell if he’s nervous about the question or just too drunk to think.

When Tobin still doesn’t respond, Leif starts to panic. He may be drunk but he can still remember how stupid a question that is to ask your crush.

“Oh! I’ve got it!” Tobin finally answers. “So… y’know the bird I had? For two weeks?” His words are slurred.

“Yeah?” Leif is both relieved and disappointed that the answer is about a bird.

“I didn’t give it away.”

“Huh?”

“I didn’t give it away like I said I did. I set it free.”

Leif pauses for a moment, then bursts into laughter. “You set it free?! Dude, that’s an exotic bird!”

“Well I realize that now!”

“Tobes, what if you accidentally created a mutant species of a tropical bird and a-whatever birds live in San Francisco! You could be famous but for, like, a really bad reason.” Leif can’t stop laughing.

“I know that! I’ve been haunted by my actions for years! That’s why I’ve never told anyone!”

“Bro, how are you sober enough to say haunted by my actions? That’s fancier than you usually talk, let alone after however many drinks you’ve had.”

“Maybe the alcohol powers me. I should have it more often.”

“Yes, do, maybe you’ll admit more bird-related crimes.” Leif says, still through fits of giggles. He slowly sits up and flops on the other side of the couch, his head almost touching Tobin’s legs.

“I really hope you don’t remember this tomorrow morning.”

“Oh I will. Trust me, I will.”

“It’s my turn to ask a question, right?” Tobin asks.

“Yeah, though I doubt you can get me to admit something that will top your bird confession.”

“Well, what about you?” Tobin asks suddenly.

“What about me?”

“What’s a secret you’ve never told anyone?”

And maybe it’s just for Leif, maybe the drink is going to his brain, but it seems to him that the whole mood shifts dramatically as Tobin says that.

He has an answer, of course. And the part of his brain that’s still sober knows he can’t say it out loud.

But a much larger part of his brain is drunk, and drunk Leif tends to speak impulsively. Drunk Leif tends to do things like sing an Air Supply song to his ex.

Drunk Leif is opening his mouth.

Drunk Leif is saying, “I’m in love with you.”

There’s a long pause, and the realization of what he just did is setting in. Leif sits up and turns so he’s face to face with Tobin, who has a blank expression.

Finally, he speaks. “... well that tops my bird confession.”

“Tobin, I-”

Leif doesn’t have time to finish before his friend is kissing him.

Sober Leif would pull away. Sober Leif would talk through his feelings, and ask Tobin how he felt, and take things slow.

But Sober Leif isn’t here.

Which possibly explains how the next thing he knows, it’s morning, and he’s still on the couch. And Tobin is sleeping on top of him. And neither of them are wearing a shirt.

Well, shit.

Leif tries to move out from under Tobin without waking him, because he’s currently far more concerned with his throbbing headache than the fact that he made out with his best friend last night.

Of course, Tobin wakes up anyway. He stares sleepy-eyed at Leif, who’s putting on his crumpled up shirt.

“Where- what-” Tobin looks around before running his hand through his bedhead. “Fuck, did we-”

“I’m going to get some food and water.” Leif says, not looking at Tobin. He goes to the kitchen and pours himself a glass of water, but Tobin is still talking despite Leif’s obvious signs that he doesn’t want to talk.

“Dude, come back here, we should tal-”

“I’m going to check my email.” Leif says, rushing into his room and locking the door behind him.

Leif falls on the bed and screams into a pillow.

Fuck!

He’s tempted to just close his eyes and fall back asleep, ignoring the pain and the consequences of his actions.

And he may have done just that, had it not been for the incessant knocking at his door.

“Go away!” Leif shouts, still muffled by the pillow.

“Dude, just open the door. You’re acting immature.” Had Leif not been so hungover, he would have laughed at that. He’s the immature one?!

He continues to ignore Tobin, and once again almost dozes off but then he hears the door swing open.

He sits up very slowly and turns around. “How did you get in here? I locked the door!”

Tobin holds up a paper clip and grins. “I hacked into the CIA, do you really think I wouldn’t know how to pick a lock?”

“Well, you’ve never done it before, how was I to know?”

“That’s because,” Tobin sits on the corner of Leif’s bed. “I usually try to give you your privacy. But I thought that this situation was more important than your privacy.”

“Gee, thanks.” Leif sits up a bit more, clutching to the bedsheets to avoid getting dizzy. “You seem surprisingly sober.” Leif remarks.

“Yeah well, I handle my alcohol better than you. Plus I’ve been hungover way more than you, so I’m more used to it. Plus-” Tobin stops talking abruptly and rubs the back of his neck awkwardly.

“Plus what?” Leif asks, suddenly also feeling a lot more sober. Tobin doesn’t respond, and the longer the silence between them grows, the more Leif remembers last night’s events. “Tobes, plus what?” He asks again, more desperate this time.

Tobin takes a deep breath. “Plus having the love of your life say he likes you too and kiss you back tends to clear your mind.”

“The… I… what?” Leif can’t process anything that Tobin just said to him.

Tobin looks up at Leif with fear in his eyes. “Okay, well maybe love of my life is a bit dramatic, but it has been fifteen years, so it’s not that far off.”

Leif still doesn’t respond.

“...Oh.” Tobin says in a small voice. “Well, if you don’t actually- if you- if that was just a drunk Leif thing, if you… didn’t mean it… that’s fine.” The way his voice cracks shows that it’s clearly not fine.

Leif thinks his brain is broken.

Tobin stands from the bed and shakily moves towards the door, but luckily Leif’s mind and ability to move kick back in right then.

“Wait!” He tries to stand up but falls on the floor. So much for that ‘ability to move’ thing.

Tobin turns around and despite the hurt expression he’s still wearing, he laughs a bit. “Bro, are you ok?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine. Just hungover. And in shock.” Leif stands up again and rubs his head. “But please, wait. Sit back down.”

Tobin does so, even though he still looks like he desperately wants to leave.

“Tobes…” Leif starts. This would be a lot easier to do if he wasn’t in immense amounts of pain. “It wasn’t just a drunk Leif thing. I mean, sober Leif wouldn’t have done it, but that’s just because he’s a coward. It doesn’t mean I didn’t mean it.”

Tobin looks up, a small smile on his face. “Yeah?”

Leif smiles too. “Yeah.”

They both look down, smiles still on their faces, blushing.

“So…” Leif says after a while. “Fifteen years, huh?”

“I… uh, yep.” Tobin says. “Ever since eighth grade, when you showed up to that stupid school dance in that stupid baby blue suit, and tiny Tobin just went ‘shit, do I like guys?’ and then tiny Tobin grew into slightly larger Tobin and went ‘yep, I definitely like guys, specifically the guy who’s been my best friend since third grade’ and then slightly larger Tobin grew into an even bigger Tobin who decided that fact was very embarrassing and he should never tell it to anyone and then even bigger Tobin grew-”

Leif cut him off with a small kiss. “I think I get the point, Even Bigger Tobin.” He says, laughing.

“Oh no, I’m not even bigger Tobin, I’m biggest Tobin. Even bigger Tobin was sometime around college.”

“Of course, my bad.” Leif laughs. He nudges Tobin with his knees. “You’re smitten, you loser.”

“Well you don’t seem very… whatever the opposite of smitten is yourself.”

Leif smiles at him. “I’m not. It’s been a bit over ten years on my end.”

Tobin does a double take. “Over ten years?!”

“Yes?” Leif answers, confused.

“You’re telling me I could have been gettin’ some of this for over ten years?!” Tobin gestures to Leif’s whole body, and Leif tucks into himself, self-conscious.

“I’m not quite sure I would word it like that, but… yeah? I guess?”

“Jesus.” Tobin shakes his head, looking disappointed. “I should have just said something.”

“I should have too.” Leif says quietly. “But hey, it only took me ten years, quarantine, and copious amounts of alcohol.”

“I should get you drunk more often.”

“You don’t need to get me drunk anymore. You have me.”

Tobin smiles. “Yeah, I guess I do.”

“Tobes?”

“What?”

Leif leans in and kisses him. “Let’s make up for lost time.”

***

“Hey,” Leif starts, sitting down at the table where Tobin is already eating. It’s the day after The Big Confession™, as Tobin has decided to call it.

“Hey?”

“Don’t think that just because we’re dating now it means I’ve forgotten about your secret life as a bird criminal.” Leif smirks at him.

“Oh, geez.” Tobin forgot that he admitted that.

“And I will turn you into the authorities if need be.” Leif adds with a faux-serious face.

“Really? And betray your own boyfriend like that?!” Tobin doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to using that word.

“Sorry, babe. I care more about the good of bird-kind.” Leif stands to get food and stops to kiss Tobin’s forehead. It takes all of Tobin’s self control not to melt.

“Hey, you know we have a work call in an hour, right?” Tobin asks, leaning his head back over his chair so he can see Leif.

“Yeah? What about it?”

“Well, I was just wondering how we act. Y’know, now that… yeah.”

“You have such a way with words.” Leif says sarcastically, returning to the table. “But since you asked, I wasn’t planning on saying anything. They’re our coworkers, they don’t need to know about our dating lives.”

“I just thought I should tell Zoey.”

Leif raises an eyebrow. “Zoey? Out of all the people we work with, Zoey would be the last one I would think to tell.”

“It’s just, she…” Tobin pauses. “Remember the watermelon call?”

“Of course.”

“It wasn’t about watermelon. And it wasn’t about her brother’s dating life, or whatever bullshit excuse I came up with. It was about us.”

“Us?”

“Yeah. Zoey asked if I liked you. I still have no idea how she knew, or why she thought it important enough to call me about, but she did. So I feel like I should tell her.”

Leif sighs. “If you want to tell her, go ahead. But I’m never sharing anything with Zoey Clarke unless I’m forced to.”

“Dude, she’s not really that bad, you know. When you and I were in that weird fight, she was actually pretty nice to me, in her own awkward way.”

Leif sighs again. “Yeah, but it’s been fun to have a workplace rivalry for as long as I have. I don’t want to give it up now.”

“Geez, babe, you’re petty.”

“And you’re pretty.” Leif says, staring at him with fondness in his bright blue eyes. Tobin blushes.

“That was barely an opening.”

“And yet…” Leif grabs Tobin’s arm and pulls him in for a kiss. “I took it.”

Tobin doesn’t know why he’s nervous for the call. There’s nothing obviously different about the way he and Leif are sitting or how they look in the camera. It’s the same as last time, squished together awkwardly in front of the camera. Maybe that’s the difference. They don’t look awkward anymore. They look happy to be this close. Is it obvious to others or is Tobin just overanalyzing the situation?

“Tobes, chill out, I’m about to join the call.”

“I’m chill!”

Leif gives him a look. “No you’re not. You do realize it’s going to be way more obvious that something’s up with us if you’re visibly panicking.”

“Fine.” Tobin gestures at the computer. “Start the call.”

Leif does, and this time the only people on are Zoey and Max, since Joan’s not involved with this particular meeting.

“Hi you two!” Zoey says, stopping whatever secret romantic conversation she was having with Max and paying attention to the new members of her call.

“Hi Zoey.” Tobin says tensely, and Leif nudges him subtly, another message for Tobin to chill.

“Hey.” Leif nods at them.

“Anything new with you guys?” Max asks, and Tobin mentally smacks his head, remembering that Max heard him and Zoey’s call, too.

“Uhh…” Leif turns to Tobin and cocks his head.

Tobin knows he said he wanted to tell Zoey about them, but he’s currently regretting saying that.

He decides to go for a subtle approach.

“Not much.” Tobin says, winking, and taking Leif’s hand. He plops his head on Leif’s shoulder and feels his boyfriend relax.

Zoey’s smile is wide. “Not much on our end either.” She says, although she presumably means it.

The rest of the call goes fine, Tobin lifts his head from Leif as soon as someone else joins, and although they keep holding hands under the view of the camera, no one seems to suspect anything.

“Hey,” Tobin says, once again putting his head on Leif’s shoulder as soon as the call is over.

“Hey what?” Leif asks.

“I just thought of a new way we can pass the time.” Tobin says with a smirk.

“Oh? What’s that?”

“This.” Tobin says, moving so he’s sitting on Leif’s lap.

“Oh?” Leif says again, blushing.

Tobin kisses him passionately. Like Leif said, they have a lot of time to make up for. And maybe, just maybe, they can make up fifteen years worth of missed kisses, and soft glances, and tender touches, and exploring each other’s bodies in the dark over the course of months stuck at home together.

***

“Two and a half months. Two and a half months!” Leif shouted to no one in particular. Tobin sticks his head out of their room- yes, their room. A week or so ago they decided it was pointless to have two rooms so Tobin’s room is more of a guest room/office now- and hollers to Leif.

“I swear to god, if I come out there and you’re making more baked goods, I will throttle you!”

Leif smiles to himself. “Is that a threat or a promise?!” He calls back.

He can hear Tobin say. “There’s a time and place, dude.”

“Not in quarantine, there isn’t!”

“You are quite purposefully avoiding my baked goods accusation and I’m coming to the kitchen, so you better be hiding all evidence of cookies!”

Leif doesn’t bother trying to clean up the mess of a kitchen in front of him.

“I knew it!” Tobin shouts, startling Leif.

“I’m sorry, ok! It’s just, baking is fun, and very few things are fun anymore and I need something to do otherwise I’ll go crazy!”

Tobin puts his hands over his ears. “I’m not listening! If I have to clean up flour from this kitchen one more time I’m going to lose it.”

Leif just crosses his arms. “What about that promised throttling?”

Tobin faux-lunges at him, and Leifs arms flash out and pull him in for a kiss.

Tobin pulls away after a moment. “You taste like cookie dough.” He kisses Leif again. “Could be worse, I guess.”

#TAKE IT!!#I AM SO GLAD TO FINALLY BE POSTING THIS #i'm actually pretty proud of it overall #obviously there are a.. lot. of flaws. but considering i wrote it so long ago and still like it?? not bad #coder boyfriends fic #coder boyfriends #coder bfs #tobin batra #leif donnelly #leif x tobin #tobin x leif #zoey's extraordinary playlist #zep #eli.writes #usermickey #this one's for you mickey

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urkingbby · 3 years

Text

@jenevievemccoy

"They said the school covered it up as long as she agreed to leave, so thats how she got away with it." Jenevieve said referring back to the letter she received. Jenevieve looked away from him. "Are you sure?" she said as she nervously twisted her rings around her fingers nervously. "Okay. If you insist, only because I'm....legitimately scared, I do feel bad putting you out of your own bed though." She said looking back up at him. "Thank you." She said pulling him into a hug.

Jackson didn’t spend much time resenting the aristocratic students; some of his best friends being among them, but it was in times like this that he honestly wondered how the upper class managed to get away with half of the things they did, especially if it involved someone being killed by another student. He shook his head, his expression saddened in thought of this poor girl and her family. “And she pushed her?” He asked for clarification again, really trying to imagine what had taken place. “Down the stairs...” he trailed off, feeling as though it was all really rhetorical, still remembering everything Jene said very clearly.

He shook his head again. “Don’t feel bad.” He insisted, not wanting Jene to have to worry about anything other than relaxing after the day she had... and especially after the weeks she would continue to have, having to face Maddie after revealing her secret to the school. He released a heavy sigh, feeling the weight of the events at the school lately. Wrapping his arms around her again, he carefully rested his chin on the top of her head. “Do you need water or anything?” He murmured.

☆*:.｡. [ From Bottom to Top ] .｡.:*☆

“Especially if she actually got away with it.” He agreed absentmindedly before releasing a bit of a sigh. Suddenly, the thought of Maddie having jumped Leo a few months back was swarming his mind, and the fact that Maia had beaten her up. He wondered what could have happened to Maia, had Maddie been willing to hurt her in that way as well. He only allowed himself to think of it long enough for his stomach to churn and he brushed it off once again. Standing before Jene in his room now, he lowered his chin as he kept his gaze steadily on hers. “I’m not gonna pretend I don’t care just so people won’t be mad that I want to help you.” He insisted, releasing a bit of an incredulous laugh when he did. “And you’re not kicking me out of my bed, I’m offering to not sleep there so you can.”

Jenevieve shrugged. "I mean, I don't blame them. The benefit of the doubt, murder is a far off concept. Whatever happened that day, a girl fell down the stairs because maddie pushed." she said shaking her head. Jene nodded as she followed him out of the common room, it made her feel a bit better, she was on edge Axel would come in at any moment. "Um, no. I couldn't. I couldn't do that you.. and if Axel... if he found out I don't think he would be the nicest to you because he pretty much hates me." She said feeling bad. "Plus, I can not kick you from your bed because I started drama with the resident bitch."

With the brief description of Balo, Jackson pushed his lips to the side in thought, his expression falling to one of deep distress and wariness when Jene suggested that Balo may actually allow people into their dorm to go after Jene. He released somewhat of a scoff. He had only really known Balo from arts club, but wasn’t sure who she was outside of it or what she might be willing to do when upset for her friends. “I don’t know how anyone just blindly defends something like that.” He said before he had a chance to stop himself. He knew he shouldn’t have been leaping to any sorts of judgements, knowing very well how much dread he felt knowing that others would be judging him when it had been his secret to be revealed, but murder? He shook his head with the thought, unsure if he even wanted to evaluate much further. He knew Axel was close with Maddie, but there was something particularly off-putting to him about allowing Jene to return to her dorm that night. “Let’s go into my room.” He suggested, figuring that it would be safer in there than out in the common area of his dorm, unsure if and when Axel would return. “Do you wanna stay here tonight? You can sleep in my bed, I’ll just sleep on the couch.” He offered.

Jenevieve shrugged, honestly she knew that people really close to maddie would think she made it up, but she was surprised how many people didn't believe it, it was kike they instantly forgot the crusade even existed. Jene knew the circle was bad, but this was next level. Forcing others to do their dirty work was insane. "I live with Balo who is basically Maddie and Jacks little yappy puppy." Jenevieve said with an exhale. "I don't think she would do anything, well... except open the door and let people in to come after me." She said looking away from him. This was stressful, the months Maddie were gone were honestly Jene's happiest. She wished she would just leave again. "I don't think I'm safe anywhere. At this school, safety is just non existent."

Jackson’s lips turned down a bit at the edges with her words. Although it was never ideal, he knew that this was the approach that was likely necessary to pull through knowing how Maddie could get... but also knowing that there were countless people likely of the belief that Jene did something like this on her own. He pressed his lips together when she explained and he released a terrible sigh, shaking his head. “I’m so sorry, Jenevieve.” He released amid his sigh. He knew that the pair of them had faced terrible things at the hands of The Circle and he couldn’t help but fear that what they were walking into would be much worse than even that. “Are you safe at your dorm? Who’s your roommate?”

Jenevieve pushed her hair out of her face. She bit her lip as Jackson said she wasn't okay. "I know, but if I say I am enough... maybe I'll believe." She said almost in a whisper. The one thing she loved most about Jackson was that he was understanding. "They gave me a choice. A choice between two evils. I could do horrible things to a person, say some pretty fucked up things to this person I care about or get a secret to reveal. I didn't know it would be... hers... but then they sent me a letter with when, where and what to say. The crusade is so much worse than the circle... They don't just go after you... they go after the people you care about most and let them suffer knowing its because of you"

Jackson peered sadly at Jene when she pulled away from the hug. He pressed his lips together a bit when she spoke and took a deep breath, trying to take a few seconds to process what The Crusade’s last message had been before reevaluating exactly what Jene had done that day. He couldn’t help but wonder if there would be more. “You’re not.” He whispered. “And I don’t expect you to be...” he released a small sigh. “What did they do?” He asked. “How did they tell you about... Maddie? What did they say to make you do it?”

Jenevieve knew her leaking makeup had to coming off in his shirt as she buried her face into his shoulder. There was something about his gentle touch that calmed her. SOmehow she knew that out of all people, JAckson would be the lask to judge or yell at her, not the way Maddie Sav and Axel did. The way Axel looked at her, like she had just killed his puppy or something, really broke her to pieces. And the fact that she was on edge and had threats coming her way scared her. Jenevieve pulled away and whipped under her eyes before taking a deep breath. "Its okay. I'm okay" she forced out before added a small smile. It was clear she wasn't but bottling her feelings was aways a good option.

Hearing the emotion arise from her, Jackson inhaled slowly, trying to steady himself, pulling her just a bit closer when he did. He pressed the pads of his fingers against her back and shook his head. "Don't worry about my shirt." He murmured somewhat firmly, finding some level of amusement in the concern but being unable to dabble in it for very long as his mind ran over the events from earlier again. Gently rubbing her back, he felt a certain level of urgency, wanting to be able to do something but knowing that whatever had taken place today was far beyond anything he could control or help in any meaningful way. He didn't ask if she was okay or how she was doing, of course how she was doing was not well. But all he could think to do was be present with her, unsure if he even had anything to say that could begin to scratch the surface. "It's okay..." he insisted through a breathy whisper.

That was their thing, comfort in the silence. She wasn’t sure why still. But she didn’t mind it. Sometimes she thought they could just feel eachothers emotions and thoughts without having to say the words. She wrapped her arms around him and exhaled as she felt she could finally breath. The exhale was the sound of a whimper before a breakdown. Tears fell from her eyes. “I’m straining your shirt...”

Hearing the familiar voice, his head shot in her direction and he immediately got to his feet. “Hey,” an exasperated and worried sort of sigh pressed from Jackson’s lips with his greeting, the feeling clear in his eyes as he peered at her. He pressed his lips together. There was no doubt in Jackson’s mind that Jene wouldn’t have simply done what she had done that day on her own, and although there would definitely be people who thought otherwise, he couldn’t decide whether or not that somehow made it worse. Would it have been better if she would have done it without some sort of prompting? He stood in an uncomfortable sort of silence for a few seconds, unsure where to even start. Before taking the chance to ask how she was doing, he quickly closed the space between them, not hesitating to wrap her in an embrace; still not exactly finding anything to say just yet.

After ythe whole exposé, Jene was not really feeling social, especially with Maddie on her back. It was late at night while Jenevieve roamed the halls. She made her wsy over to Jacksons room, letting herself in at this point, she did not want to be a sitting duck waiting for him to answer the door. "Jackson." She said as she pushed into his dorm, landing in the common space. "Hey"

#c: jenevieve #jenevieve.004 #tw: murder mention #tw: death #tw: violence

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banghyung · 5 years

Text

and they were roommates (s)

word count - 3k

warnings - parties, drinking, minimal drunken smut scenes, alcohol, fingering

member - Hongjoong of ATEEZ

request - “Can I request a tsundere Hongjoong (ATEEZ) angst/fluff.” and “Hey can you write smut with Hongjoong from ATEEZ?”

a/n - ok so i know that being turned on doesn’t sober you up, but let’s just pretend that in the world where you’re best friends with san and share an apartment with hongjoong that being turned on does in fact sober you up ok thanks :) ngl the angst is a little,,,, weird?? just because i knew i wanted the scene of them yelling at each other but when i went to go write it i realized that they didn’t really have much of a reason to yell at each other so i just kinda pulled something out of my ass. also,,, i know this was supposed to be posted monday but i went a little overboard with it since i was combining the two requests :))) p.s i have an interview in approx 10 hours,,, its about 5 am,,,,, and i havent slept yet soo wish me luck

You weren’t sure what you were signing up for when you agreed to share an apartment with a friend of a friend that you had never met until a few days before he moved in. What you were sure of, however, was that you were in desperate need of someone to split the rent with, and how bad could they be if you had mutual friends? You convinced yourself that, at worst, they would be messy, loud, and way too outgoing for your tastes - at best, clean, friendly, and just the right amount of social anxiety to spruce everything up. What you got? Kim Hongjoong.

“Come on,” your mutual friend, San, urged, “he can’t be that bad to live with.”

“It’s not that he’s bad to live with,” you explained, “I just don’t know how to take him.” San raised his eyebrows suggestively. “Oh come on, you know that’s not what I meant.”

“Well, what do you mean? Do you not get along?”

“That’s the thing - I don’t know.”

“How do you… not know… if someone doesn’t like you,” San asked incredulously.

“He just,” you flailed your hands around, not quite sure how to word what you were trying to say.

“Oh yeah, no, I completely understand. He just,” San mocked, moving his hands in a similar fashion.

You glared at your friend, who laughed and continued to sip on the milkshake sitting in front of him. “He just, locks himself in his room constantly, which is fine I mean to each their own - but whenever I try and talk to him he either acts like I just bored him so much that he lost 5 years off of his lifespan or he just blinks at me like I’m speaking another language. I don’t think he dislikes me, and I don’t dislike him, but…”

“But you just don’t know how to take him.”

“Exactly!”

“I mean have you considered that what you’re saying is either so boring that you really are depleting his life force and/or saying something so stupid that he really does think you’re talking in another language?”

“Please, for the love of everything good in the universe, please remind me why I’m friends with you?”

“Because your life would be boring without me.” San winked. “But, I do have a class starting in, about 2 minutes ago so I better get going,” he said, getting up from his seat as if he has all the time in the world, “I’ll talk to you later, sweet cheeks.”

“Hope you don’t trip on your way!”

“I’ll do it just for you, honey bunches.” You smiled and rolled your eyes. Pulling your phone out of your pocket, you checked the time and noticed that you were almost late for your daily nap, an appointment you couldn’t afford to miss at this point in the semester. You quickly picked up your bag and began the trek home.

Walking into your apartment, you hung your keys on the rack and immediately ran to your room - not in fear of seeing your roommate, but in excitement of seeing your bed.

“Hello gorgeous,” you spoke as you flopped down onto your mattress, “I’ve missed you.”

“Do you normally talk to your bed like its your lover,” you heard a voice ask.

You whipped around, sitting up quickly as you realized who was standing in the doorway. Your mouth hung in an ‘o’ shape, starstruck by the fact that he was even talking to you, nonetheless how casual his statement was.

“I see I walked in on a very important milestone in your relationship, I’ll leave you to it, then,” Hongjoong said as he began to walk away.

You sat there for a few minutes after he walked away, your mind reeling. Months into your cohabitation and the first words he speaks to you are after hearing you gush over your bed. As expected, you though, I am an Idiot.

The commotion, or lack thereof, left you thoroughly confused. So confused that your nap time had come and passed, and you were still laying on your back, staring at the ceiling, trying to figure out what you possibly could have done to make this man act so coldly towards you. Was it something you said when he first moved in? Were you too strict about cleanliness before even allowing him a chance to get settled? Did you unknowingly interrupt something that he was doing in his bedroom and he just held a secret grudge against you for it? Maybe he has a girlfriend and the fact that he’s rooming with you is causing problems with their relationship. Maybe San had hyped you up too much and Hongjoong found himself very disappointed in the person that he now has to live with until the end of the leasing contract. Maybe - you didn’t know. You were sure that you had given Hongjoong no reason to dislike you. Most of the cleaning that he did - he just did, without you having to ask him. The only words you’ve spoken to him are greetings when you see him around the flat or inquiring as to whether or not he would be going to some event held by your mutual friends, as far as you knew you were never harsh or short with him, but yet he looks at you like you’re some kind of alien species.

“Whatever,” you mumble to yourself. “Let him be this way, I could be a much worse roommate.” You finally rolled out of bed, the grumbling of your stomach the only thing keeping you from just calling it a night, and head into the kitchen. Of course, who else would you see but Mr. Judgemental, as you had decided to call him, sitting at the table with his nose buried in a book while he shovels cereal into his mouth.

Hongjoong looks up for just a second, long enough to make eye contact before looking back at his book. You steeled yourself, ready to be the cold, hard bitch you had just convinced yourself that you were. You opened your mouth, ready to start a fight, when instead you asked, “Are you going to that party San and Yunho are planning?” Hongjoong shrugged, not taking his eyes off of his book. “If you decide to go maybe we could carpool, or something. Ya know, saving the environment and all.”

“I’ll let you know,” he replied abruptly, quickly putting an end to the conversation.

“Alright,” you said awkwardly as you grab a box of cereal out of the cupboard. “Well, have a good night.” And with that you all but sprinted back into the safety of your room, only a box of cereal in hand.

Three days later and you were still rolling in self hatred over your multiple awkward encounters with Hongjoong. However, as the party that San and Yunho promised would be an “absolute rager” started in a little less than four hours, you were bound and determined to turn your luck around.

“What I need,” you said to yourself as you walked to your closet, “is a good fuck.”

You nodded to yourself, a small smile growing on your lips in anticipation of the possibilities that the night might hold. You moved over to your phone, pressing play on your favorite playlist and dancing across your room. The words of your favorite song fall out of your lips as you glide across the floor while, unbeknownst to you, your smile is mirrored on the face of your roommate as he stops shortly in front of your door and gazes upon your lightheartedness.

“You’re here,” San yells excitedly as you walk through the door, throwing his arms around you in a common drunk-San manner. Hongjoong had turned down your second offer of giving him a ride to the party, explaining that he wasn’t feeling up to the party scene, except in fewer words. You wrapped your arms around your best friend, telling him of your plan for the night.

San’s eyes lit up. “Alright then, we have work to do. Let’s go!” He grabbed your hand, pulling you to the dance floor, or the area where people seemed to be dancing. You looked warily at the people that were packed into the room, pressed against one another and spilling alcohol everywhere. “Oh stop worrying. Here, drink this.” San handed you his cup and you took a swig, your eyes watering as you struggled to swallow the disgusting liquid.

“Are you drinking straight vodka,” you asked, your throat on fire.

“No,” San yelled back, “it’s gay vodka! Have some more!”

You rolled your eyes despite the smile growing on your face, taking one more swig before handing the cup back to San. He downed the rest of the drink before grabbing your hand once more, pulling you into the throng of partygoers.

The amazing thing about parties is that reality is never quite what it seems - what feels like hours could be only minutes, and what feels like minutes have been hours. That’s how you feel when you unlock your phone for the first time since arriving and read the time: 2:38 AM. You groan inwardly, the night was escaping you and you had yet to find someone to give you what you needed. Thinking you weren’t drunk enough, you move towards the kitchen, getting into the hidden cabinet where San hides his favorite alcohol. Forgoing a cup, you pour the equivalent of at least 5 shots of vodka right down your throat and turn back to the crowd.

You weren’t sure when it started, but all you were aware of was someone’s lips drunkenly crashing into your own. You opened your eyes slightly, wondering if you had somehow made a grave mistake and wound up kissing San. The good news: you weren’t kissing San. The bad news: you definitely recognized the man who was feverishly kissing you, but you couldn’t place from where. Knowing you were too drunk to think properly, you threw yourself back into the kiss - wrapping your arms around the stranger’s neck and pulling him closer to you.

He pressed his body up against yours, pinning you to the wall as his hands moved to grab hold of your hips and pull them to his own. Your breath hitched as you felt his length against you, the anticipation of what was to come slowly pulling you out of your drunken stupor. His hands were desperate as they ran up your sides, and yours found themselves entangled in his hair.

As the kiss grew in intensity, you found yourself searching for some type of friction, and rolled your hips against his in your search. A strangled groan escaped him as he pushed you back against the wall, his lips moving to your neck and leaving wet kisses down your skin. You reached down, placing your hand against his growing bulge and stroking his length through his jeans.

Another broken groan escaped his mouth as he whispered in your ear, “Two can play at that game.” You felt his hands slide down the sides of your thighs before moving towards your heat. The man, whose identity you still were not sure of, pushed your skirt up onto your stomach, revealing the lacy underwear that you had worn for this exact occasion. He moved his head from the crook of your neck, where it had fallen as you continued to try and rub him through his jeans, as he looked down at you. “Delicious.”

Your eyes shot open at his words, and you quickly looked down at his jeans. Your hands flew to the button, desperate to rid him of the material when you felt his fingers gently ghost over you. You bit your lip in frustration as your eyes fluttered shut once more, and you heard the man laugh breathily. “I wish I could see you like this all the time,” he whispered in your ear as he lightly traced his fingers along your thighs, inching closer to where you were desperate to have him touch, but not getting close enough. “You look so adorable all desperate and worked up, I wouldn’t mind seeing this every day.”

Having enough of his teasing, your hand flew back to his hardened bulge, his pants unbuttoned but unmoved. You pushed his pants down his hips just enough to slip your hand into his boxers. He gasped loudly as you made contact with his throbbing member, and his fingers immediately pushed aside the barely-fabric of your panties and his thumb began rubbing circles onto your clit. Your eyes rolled back as he pushed a finger into you, his thumb never stopping. Your hand, which had started to haphazardly jerk him off, stuttered as your knees grew weak.

“If I knew it was this easy to get you wet I would have done this ages ago baby girl,” the man groaned, his voice hitching every few words due to your actions on his length. He pushed another finger into you, and a deep moan left your mouth. Your free hand wrapped around the man’s shoulders, pulling him closer to you.

“Do you like that?” You nodded quickly, biting your lip to keep endless moans from spilling out. “No, no, no. Let me hear you.” He moved his free hand up to your mouth and pulled your lip from between your teeth, before pressing his lips against yours. He began moving his hand faster to match your rhythm and he drank up every single noise you made.

“Fuck baby, you’re so tight. Let’s just go home, hmm?”

It was then that you realized, you recognized that voice. Your eyes flew open as you went to confirm your suspicions and suddenly wished it was San that you were kissing. There, with his fingers still working magic inside of you, and your hand still jerking him off, was Kim Hongjoong.

To say that the next week was tense would be an understatement. I mean, you regained your bearings in your best friends bathroom with your hands down your roommate’s pants and his down yours. And you didn’t even get to orgasm! You both tried to avoid each other as much as possible - which wasn’t an unusual thing for the household, but now under much different circumstances.

It was going into the second week of avoidance when you finally lost your patience. You walked into the kitchen, wanting an actual meal after days of eating nothing but snacks in an effort to stay locked in your room as much as possible, and saw Hongjoong standing at the counter, preparing his own food. You quickly turned around, ready to head back to your room, when you changed your mind.

“No,” you said.

“No?” Hongjoong’s voice sounded utterly uninterested, but still teasing.

“No. This is my apartment, too. I’m not going to hide in my room until the lease is up just because you decided to shove your hands down my pants.” You turned and opened a cabinet, studying its contents.

“I did what?” Hongjoong turned towards you, looking at you like you were insane. “As far as I remember, I was just kissing you until you decided to start… to start rubbing on me!”

“Fuck you, I was drunk! I didn’t know what I was doing!”

“You think I wasn’t?”

“How the fuck should I know? I’m not your fucking nanny. And from the way you were moving I’m pretty sure you did know what the fuck you were doing.” After realizing what you just said, and pretty much admitting that Hongjoong was the source of the best fingering you had ever received, you felt your face heat up.

“I-” Hongjoong started, his mouth opening, and closing, as he struggled to find what to say in response. “I genuinely don’t even know how to respond to that.”

“Good, then just shut the fuck up!”

“I don’t know what kind of fucked up victim complex you have going on here, but like you said, I live here, too. I’m not going to put up with you yelling at me like I’m a child just because you’re frustrated that I could’ve given you the best orgasm of your life and you decided to freak out instead. Maybe you should go buy a vibrator or something, I hear their good for people who enjoy the sticks up their asses.”

“Speaking of asses,” you said, turning to face him. “You can kiss mine.”

“Fuck you. I will.”

“Fine.” You didn’t realize how close you had gotten, until you could feel his breath fan over your face. He looked down at you, not a sign of any emotion on his face, before grabbing your cheeks in his hands and pressing his lips against yours. You froze, unsure of how to react to the situation. After a few milliseconds of internal debate, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders and kissed back. Hongjoong pushed you against the counter, his arms wrapping around you and trying to bring you as close to his body as he possibly could. It was minutes before you finally broke apart, the need for air outweighing the feeling of the kiss.

“You know,” he whispered against your lips, “that was the stupidest fight I’ve ever had with anybody.”

You laughed airily before nodding your head in agreement. “You know, in the past 30 minutes you’ve spoken more to me than you have since you moved in. I really thought you hated me.”

He pulled his head away from you to look down at you incredulously. “I never hated you. Honestly, I’ve always thought you were so beautiful, from the day that San introduced us a couple days before I moved in. But you had a guy over the day after I moved in, so I took that as your way of saying that you wouldn’t want anything to do with me, and that I was just here to split the bills.”

It was your turn to look up at Hongjoong with disbelief written in your eyes. “So you’re telling me this entire time I could’ve been having amazing orgasms and not feeling awkward in my own home if I would’ve just clarified that I wasn’t implying anything with that one night stand?”

“Well, the blame is partially mine, too. I was definitely being oversensitive, there was no reason for me to act the way I have these past couple of months. But-”

“But?”

“But, I’m not a ‘no strings attached’ kind of person.”

“What do you mean?”

“Either you get the annoying, clingy side of me along with the amazing orgasms, or none of it.”

“Well,” you said, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I suppose I wouldn’t mind that 2-for-1 deal.”

Hongjoong smiled down at you before picking you up and carrying you to your room. “Now,” he began, “how about I give you that fuck you’ve been needing?”

Your face immediately warmed. “You heard me?”

“Absolutely, it was adorable. Now, should we begin?”

#mine #request #banghyung.txt #ateez imagines #ateez smut #ateez angst #ateez fluff #hongjoong smut #hongjoong angst #hongjoong fluff #kpop smut #kpop angst #kpop imagine #hongjoong imagine #kim hongjoong #ateez #atz

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chancellormatt · 3 years

Text

Just Another Orbit of the Sun

(Not Voltron. Just something I whipped up with last night, based off a dream I had. Might turn into a series)

New Years Eve - 2021

Miles didn’t care much for parties. They were loud, obnoxious and tended to keep him up on work nights. And of course, no awful party was complete without fireworks.

That characteristic hiss followed by a sharp crackle and burst of light had been a regular occurrence throughout the evening. It was starting to grate on his nerves. And if that wasn’t doing it the music of the non-stop parade sure was.

Floats, marching bands, the works were active in the street. As a result, the sidewalks were crowded. Some watched the display, cheering. Others stumbled in and out of bars or simply drank on the street in obvious displays of intoxication. No one minded. They were all too excited.

Miles weaved between and around these ones, not hiding his disdain, but not dwelling on it either. He, regretfully, had somewhere to be tonight.

No, Miles didn’t care much for parties, and New Years Eve was the worst party of all. Practically the whole world decided to forgo such luxuries as sleep for one night to celebrate the arbitrary end and beginning of a unit of time. Just another orbit of the sun. What was so special about that?

He'd hoped for a more reserved celebration this year. With the Covid pandemic of the year prior having neutered partying in much of the world, he’d been hopeful that this year would have been a repeat. But they’d had to go and make a vaccine. Even still he’d hoped people would’ve at least learned and recognized parties for the writhing, disgusting, virus-breeding cesspools that they were.

But then it happened.

He sighed, letting his gaze finally tilt up to the sky above. More fireworks crackled, but beyond those, distant lights burned in the sky. They weren’t stars. Light pollution from the city made most stars invisible. These lights were varied in color. Some were stationary. Others zipped up and down the skyline, earning oohs and aahs from watching pedestrians.

They were alien ships.

It had begun six months prior. Messages broadcasted from outside the solar system with insistent regularity. It had taken some time to decipher the messages, not on account of their complexity, but actually because of the lack thereof. Everyone was so busy trying to decode an alien message, that it was some time before anyone checked if it was actually something we already understood. English, at least at first, written in binary code. The message was three simple words:

We Are Coming.

Eventually it’d changed to Mandarin Chinese. Then Spanish, French, Russian and so on.

The governments of the world had naturally tried to hide this fact. They’d done their best. But the message had been spread too wide. Corporations had discovered it before long. And before even they could figure out how to monetize the discovery, the scientific community seized a rare bout of expediency. Astronomers wrote, reviewed and published journals on the monumental discovery in record time.

Gag orders had been circumvented, the internet had done its work, and before long the whole world had known the truth:

Humans were not alone in the universe. Aliens were real, and they were on their way.

Panic had naturally followed. There was the usual rioting and fear mongering, but the world had gotten used to that sort of reaction with disturbing efficiency.

Miles didn’t really mind fear mongering itself that much. A healthy amount of paranoia was good, so long as it was well balanced and didn’t end with you tossing molotov cocktails into department stores.

The next development had helped calm the masses. The alien’s messages had grown in complexity. They explained that they’d been observing humanity for some time. They’d seen our various trials and weaknesses, but also our strengths and victories. They’d decided to share some of their knowledge with us. Everyone needed help from time to time. Once, long ago, another species had helped them just as they now helped us.

A layer of cautious optimism settled after that. Many still didn’t fully believe. There was the usual round of conspiracies, like that it’d all been made up by the government and was a cover for satellite mind control devices. And there were also fears that the aliens were flat out lying and would pull a War of the Worlds soon as they were close enough to do so.

When their ships had first appeared in the solar system, real communications had begun. Back and forth between aliens and representatives of Earth. They answered all questions posed to them. Even started an Ask Me Anything on Reddit. Explained what their home planet was like, aspects of their culture, and gave very general explanations of their technological capabilities. They even told jokes and shared memes.

That’d won most people over.

The aliens had come off downright personable. These aliens were no longer a theoretical presence. They were real, communicating people. This was no conspiracy, you could see their ships with a good enough telescope for crying out loud.

And Miles had. He’d needed to see for himself. He’d never forget the chill down his spine when he’d first seen one of those ships hanging in the night sky.

As the months grew on the aliens had inched closer, only of course, after clearing everything with all suitable officials, be them governmental, scientific and even religious. They’d ended up setting up shop in earth’s orbit, with promises to come down and visit soon. However, they’d decided to wait until humans had completed their ‘celebratory solar rotation.’ The Chinese government hadn’t much cared for that reason for delay, but hey, they were still trying to hide the aliens from their masses so who cared what they thought?

So here they were, giving a light show to the whole world on New Year's Eve. Floats with little green men and every other depiction of aliens in fiction. The actual aliens had pointed out that most of these were wildly off the mark, but also didn’t mind the association. One of them even had ET as his profile picture.

That wasn’t to say the whole world had decided to simply trust the aliens. Contrasting the revelers were the classic doom and gloom types. Signs declaring: “End is Nigh!” “Alien Overlords Here!” “Nuke Them Before They Eat Us!” and so on and so forth.

They were loons, of course. And yet...some part of Miles found more kinship with the crazies than the people that simply bought all this. It seemed too...perfect. Aliens, it turned out, were kind of boring. Or so they wanted to seem.

Miles finally found the place he was looking for. A bar by the name of Terry’s Tap. Miles let out a sigh and walked inside.

The debautercy continued within. Drunk sang songs welcoming our new “Friends from the Stars”

Miles scanned the booths and spotted the architects of his annoyance: His two friends and roommates, Jack and Harper. They spotted him and waved excitedly. He rolled his eyes and walked over to take a seat beside Jack.

Jack was a six-foot, two-hundred pound, muscle-bound welder who couldn’t hold his liquor as well as his size would suggest.

Harper was a five foot two, ninety-pound blonde who worked in insurance and lived by the phrase ‘dance like nobody’s watching.’

They were tragically his two best friends in the world.

“You made It!” Harper exclaimed.

“Against my better judgement, I did.” Miles nodded.

“You’ve been missing a great night, dude. Did you see the parade?”

“I don’t see how I could have missed it.”

“Nah, don’t listen to him, the Parade is lame. In here is where it's at!” Harper declared raising her pint to the rest of the bar who cheered in reply.

“She was dancing on the bar earlier.” Jack informed “It was wild!”

“Now that I actually would have liked to see.”

“Well don’t worry, the night is still young!” Harper shook her arm, waving one of the waitresses over.

“Whatcha having?” The perky woman said, far more lively than anyone working on New Years ought to be.

“Just a beer.”

“Awe, come on man,” Jack shook his head. “Try something a little harder for once.”

“When’s the next time we’re gonna party like this!? It's New Years Eve and there are aliens above our heads!” Harper argued.

“Yeah…there sure are...” I said, eyes drifting out the window towards the lights in the sky above.

They noticed my hesitance and both sighed.

“Why the long face, hon?” The waitress inquired.

“He’s just suspicious of the aliens.” Harper said conspiratorially. “Thinks they’re all gonna probe us.”

“Ah.” The server said, understanding.

“I have a healthy amount of caution, that’s all. And I will be having a beer.”

The waitress nodded and walked off.

“You’re gonna have to come around to the aliens sooner or later.” Harper said pointedly.

“That’s what I’m worried about…”

“Here he goes again.” Jack let out a sigh.

“I’m just saying that I think they’re trying a little too hard to get us to put our guard down.”

Harper shook her head. “Look, why would aliens come thousands of light years, overcoming the very laws of physics just to try and pull an Independence Day? We’ve got no resources that you couldn’t find all over the galaxy. They’d benefit nothing from an interstellar war. It makes no sense. You’re just programmed by movies.”

“Maybe.”

Her arguments made sense. Harper was an intelligent woman. It really didn’t make logical sense why aliens from such an advanced society would harbor any malicious intent for what to them would be a primitive and relatively harmless civilization. That didn’t make the uneasy in Miles gut go away.

Mainly for the simple fact that human beings had accomplished an astonishing amount in their time on the planet and had still managed to be real pieces of crap when it suited them. Advanced technology didn’t equal and advanced people.

But there was really nothing he could do anything about it. In a few years China would control their economy, the ice caps would be melted, and everyone would have chips in their brain. Change, good or bad came. And there was little that one man like Miles could do about that.

The waitress came back with his beer. So he settled into the booth and started drinking.

“Alright,” Jack finally said. “I’m gonna see if any of these guys want to play a drinking game. Everytime a firework goes off, take a drink!”

Miles shared a look with Harper. It seemed they’d be carrying him home once again. She only shook a head and put down her own drink. She started bouncing to the song that came on on the radio.

“Welp, I’m gonna see if anyone wants to dance! I love this song!”

The night wore on and everyone kept partying. Even Miles wasn’t immune. That was perhaps the biggest problem with parties: They were contagious. He even found himself singing along with some of the drunks at one point.

But later, when 12 o'clock was approaching, things were really heating up. Fireworks blastest with little pause, and few in the bar were truly sober anymore, Miles being a notable exception. The nonstop partying of the night was fast-approaching its zenith.

And then it happened. Harper was singing along with a group of partiers, their words slurred and broken, when one of them swayed something awful. A young guy, that Miles would have described as extraordinarily ordinary looking, suddenly doubled over and vomited on the floor. It was a violent retch that made everyone around scatter. Some of it, tragically, got on Harper’s dress. She’d be moping about that later. But there were a few laughs and some even ignored it all together. But then the man fell to his knees quivering.

“What’s wrong? Just found your limit, buddy?” Harper asked, leading in to touch him on the shoulder comfortingly. She was too nice sometimes.

Then the man looked up, eyes hazy. The skin on his face had bled to shades of indigo in patches. People around him scattered backwards. His eyes focused and he seemed to notice that he’d become the subject of some attention. He looked down at his hands which were fast bleeding to indigo as well. His eyes twitched in a strange expression.

“Xfildrq’Hnin!”

With that peculiar non-word, the man sprinted out the door. Distantly, Miles heard the fireworks crescendo and a collective cheer outside. It was a new year. No one in Terry’s Tap joined in the cheer or kissed each other. They all stared at the door. Harper who’d actually touched the man and still had his vomit on her dress looked petrified.

Miles then did the only thing he could think of, and ran after the man.

He heard Jack curse behind him and chase after. Miles quickly caught sight of the man outside. It wasn’t hard. He was indigo after all. He was also one of the few people not gazing upwards to appreciate the conclusion of the fireworks show. Miles sprinted down the street, shoving people out of the way when necessary. The Indigo Man darted down an alley and Miles was hot on his heels. Jack might have been able to bench press an obscene amount of weight, but Miles had always been more of a track and field man.

Above, the crackle of fireworks light up what would have otherwise been a dark alley.

A fence split the alleyway halfway down. The indigo man didn’t waste a moment scaling it like a spider. Miles was fast after, but couldn’t quite launch himself right over the barrier as easily, so he lost some time.

They broke out onto a street parallel with the waterway. The Indigo Man was trying to put some distance between them. Miles redoubled his efforts. He wanted answers. Needed answers!

He was close, closer, just a little more...

Miles tackled the Indigo Man to the ground, sending them both tumbling across the pavement. But the Indigo Man kicked Miles off him in an instant and shot to his feet. Miles was up almost as quick. The Indigo Man had turned around to run in the direction they’d just come, but found Jack standing there, cutting off his escape.

“Nowhere...to run, buddy.” Jack panted out, spreading out meaty arms.

The Indigo Man looked back and between them, seeming to weigh his options.

“Now, how about you explain just what-”

The Indigo Man spun around and dove into the river. Miles cursed. They ran over the edge but there was no sign of the man. Just dark waters.

“...good job blocking him, we almost had him.” Miles eventually said.

“And what exactly was ‘him?’”

Miles looked up, past where the fireworks were beginning to die down, to scattered lights of the spaceships beyond.

“You can’t think…”

“I can and I do. Let’s get back to Harper.”

The walk back to Terry’s Tap was quiet. They found Harper crouched down near the pile of vomit. Miles approached, thinking she might have been in shock when she suddenly stood up and handed him a bottle. Jack Daniels.

“The guys over there-” She stuck a thumb over her shoulder indicating a group of drunks. “-said he was hitting this stuff pretty hard. Put it down like it was water. Bartenders hadn’t seen him around here before. No one else I asked had either.”

Miles nodded, taking the bottle. Harper always was good about getting the facts. Part of her job, Miles supposed.

“...I don’t think he realized he was essentially drinking poison.” Miles finally said.

“Really? But don’t uh...” Jack said, glancing over one shoulder, “...they know all about us?”

“It sure seems that way.” Miles said, distantly. “But if you pay close enough attention, they make plenty of mistakes and misconceptions all the time on their media accounts. I’d be willing to bet the bulk of their more ‘friendly’ material is auto-generated based on our internet patterns.”

“What, you mean like those generated memes?”

“Something like that.”

“What...does all this mean?” Harper finally asked.

“It means they lied. They aren’t going to be here soon. They’re already on the planet.” Miles finally looked up from the bottle, meeting the gazes of his two friends.

“We should get out of the city. Tonight.”

The entire bar seems to chew on that. Jack and Harper both nodded. The trio moved out of the bar, as inconspicuous as possible. Outside, those oblivious to the revelation continued to party. Miles decided he needed to make some calls. There were some other people besides just Jack and Harper that he wanted to have around in case...in case what? Miles looked up once more at those glowing lights.

They were up to something, after all. He really hated being right.

Ten minutes into the new year, and things were already far too interesting.

#new year #new years ev #2021 #short story #flash fiction #aliens #alien life

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darlingpetao3 · 4 years

Text

Seducing the Gem (Nash Wells x Reader, Chapter 7/9)

Rating: M (Smut in Chapter 6 only)

Summary: When a mysterious package shows up at your front door, you (a famous Romance novelist) are hurtled from your virtually uneventful life and into one of danger and adventure. In a quest to save your captured friend Caitlin from impending harm, you run into a suave adventurer named Nash who helps you along the way. Or is the charming Nash simply after something in your possession…?

Tag List: @tardis-23 @thecaptainsgingersnap @the-marvelatic @itsprongs

“We don’t know how we could ever repay you for your kindness,” you tell the lovely couple the next morning on their porch.

“Anything to help,” John replies kindly.

“Just remember to write! I would love to hear from you,” Mary adds happily. “And thank you for signing my book!”

“I will, I promise. And you are so welcome.” When you go to hug both of them, you hear a motor rev as Nash appears from around the back of the house in John’s old Jeep. It looks to be in pretty rough shape, but honestly, it’s better than nothing at this point.

“Hop in, Princess,” Nash says with a grin. “Your chariot awaits!”

“Good luck to you both!” the two call out to you once you take a seat in the passenger side of the vehicle. You wave goodbye to them and buckle your seatbelt, but an approaching rumble makes your heart stop beating. You glance into the rearview mirror, then turn all the way around in your seat.

An envoy of trucks drives into the village from the other end - they have to be Wade and his men. Can’t they just disappear already?!

“Nash, drive,” you order him. “But not too fast. Do it casually. Like you’re not trying to flee an army of men.”

“You got it.”

It must take everything in him not to peel out and press the pedal to the floor, but you imagine Nash has been in stickier situations than this. As you both drive down the road, leaving the village behind, Nash soon picks up speed. You open your bag and retrieve the GPS to turn it on - the little light that shows your location blinks on the holographic map and moves at a swift pace. The further Nash carries on, the closer your dot gets to the stationary one - the treasure. The piece of tech beeps as you approach a rough-looking turn off on the road.

“I think it wants us to turn right,” you note. Nash leans over and peers at the map.

“Right here is the geographical makeup of a waterfall,” he points to a section on the hologram. “I think you’re right. It should be just up here. Good eye, Princess.”

Your heart flutters at his praise. Nash turns the steering wheel sharply to make the right turn, and about half an hour later, you hear the unmistakable roar of water.

“Wow,” you remark, getting out of the car. “What a view.” The streams of water tumble over the cliff above into a deep blue pool, which then flows out to continue downriver. You aren’t sure at first how this can possibly be the right way to the treasure, but when Nash takes your hand to lead the way, you have so much more faith that it’s right.

The pair of you keep close to the rock face, and soon you begin to see a stepping stone path hidden behind the falls.

This is so freaking cool. It’s like I’m inside one of my novels!

The noise of the water is incredibly loud at this point, so when Nash says something to you, you don’t hear him.

“What?!” you shout, but slip on the slick rock underfoot. The adventurer holds tight to your forearms - keeping you up effortlessly. You notice the merriment in his eyes.

“I said, ‘Watch your step,’ Princess!”

Where would you be without him?

Eventually, you reach an opening directly behind the tumbling water that leads into a cave. With the final bit of battery left on your phone (a miracle, really), you use its flashlight again to help you on your way through the dim and damp grotto. Falling droplets of water echo through the small cavern, giving off a slightly eerie effect. Nash holds the device and watches the hologram blink furiously as your yellow dot and the red dot of the supposed treasure converge.

“It says it should be right about… here?” he says, motioning to this dead end.

“A rock wall? But that can’t be right…”

We’ve made it all the way here and there’s just A WALL??

Groaning loudly, you add in a huff here and there at having come up short after all this trouble. Seriously? After all that you’d been through? You pound the wall against your better judgement. It hurts, to say the least.

But wait.

A piece of rock is loose.

“What’s this?” you look to Nash, then back at the cave wall. After wiggling the rock, you let it fall to the ground and begin digging out the remaining debris within the hole.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” you exhale breathlessly.

“What?”

“Digging for treasure.”

“Welcome to my world, Princess,” Nash grins like the sun. There’s a pause where you lock eyes, and in this moment, you couldn’t imagine anything more exhilarating.

“Nash?”

“Yes?”

“You’re the best time I’ve ever had.”

He looks pleasantly taken aback. “I’ve never been anybody’s best time before.”

You both smile, and you return to digging frantically until you feel something soft. Your hand reaches into the back of the hole to pull out... a fabric doll.

“It’s a doll?” he says, wholly confused when you hand it to him to survey. “Someone must have been here before us…”

It takes a moment before a realization hits you. “No, wait. In my fourth book, Off the Coast of Love, I hid the treasure inside a decoy object. Here, give it to me.”

“I thought I did,” Nash replies cheekily while nudging your shoulder with his, playing the innuendo card.

You’re suddenly glad it’s dark in here, or else he’d see your flushing face. But, when you take the doll back and rip a seam at its heart - a glowing red aura shines out and turns both your faces the same colour.

It’s the treasure!

I did it!

“It’s amazing,” you admire the shiny, crimson gemstone in your hands.

“It’s beautiful,” Nash agrees but stares at you instead.

“It’s mine, now,” comes a third, unexpected voice.

You give a start upon seeing a very large, bald, and scary man standing behind you. You wonder why he feels vaguely familiar to you, but that thought quickly disappears when the man points a gun into the air and shoots actual fire from the barrel.

Then, he points it at you.

“Is there anybody who isn’t following you?” Nash asks you, ignoring the frightening flame-wielding man.

“Hand over the rock and no one gets turned into a shish kebab…” the dangerous stranger says in a gruff voice. “Now move it, before Batman comes home! I don’t got all day, and neither does your doctor friend!”

***

You feel defeated and hopeless after this man - Mick Rory, as he introduced himself on the forced return to the Jeep - pockets the ruby red gemstone from you.

“You’ve sent me on a wild goose chase girly,” he claims. “If you just stayed put at the airport and didn’t get in the truck with that General bastard, you’d be on your way home with your feisty lady pal.” Mick grabs your arm with no care for your well-being.

“Ow, hey!” you protest.

“Hey, back off, creep, alright?” Nash growls, daring to take a step closer towards this scary-ass criminal. “Keep your hands off her.”

“Oh, I’m the creep? That’s rich, Indiana. At least I’m upfront about what I’m taking. At least I’m not trying to seduce the damn gem out from under her.”

What did he just say?

“Wait a second,” you say, “finally deciding to search for the treasure was my idea.”

It was, wasn’t it?

“Ahaha!” Mick laughs with a monotone voice. “Yeah, lady, that’s what all the con artists want you to think! He made you think you needed it! He might actually run well with us Rogues.”

Nash wouldn’t really try to trick you into going after the stone, would he? He said it was “treasure” when he mentioned that was the area where he was initially headed. But Nash was also looking for a magic stone for his research. Wait, did he know the treasure and his stone were the same thing? Was he going to con you out of your bargaining chip for Caitlin by seducing you?

How well do you really know this man?

Mick shoves the flamethrower gun into Nash’s back. “Get in the front and drive. I’m sick of- oh, shit.”

You follow the crook’s gaze down the road from which you came, and wouldn’t you know it…

“I just can’t catch a break,” you mumble while dragging a hand down your face and proceed to curse wildly in your head. They’ve found you yet again - Wade’s fleet - but how did they know to follow you from the right turn-off? Mick turns to run, fleeing with the gem, surely because there’s no way his face-melting gun could take on this size of this envoy.

“Get in!” you shove Nash out of the way and take control of the driver’s seat. You’re still pissed at him for the possibility of backstabbing you, but your current crisis is more important. You don’t even wait for him to close his passenger side door and peel out to follow Mick further down the road.

“Step on it!” Nash yells. Soon, you’re driving right up next to the thief, and Nash tells you, “Pull up ahead of him a bit. When I say, ‘Now,’ I want you to break hard, got it?”

You nod and do as he said, making sure the Jeep is driving just ahead of Mick, and wait for the magic word.

“Now!”

Your foot slams on the break. Nash whips open his door and Mick runs straight into it. You can’t help but make an ‘Oof’ sound at the brutal hit. Your partner jumps out of the car and pins the other man to the ground, wrenching the stone out of his big, monstrous grasp.

“I’ll take that,” he says, then hops back in the vehicle and slaps the side of the door. “Go, go, go!”

You take off at an insane speed through the forest road, but once you reach a certain miles per hour, it’s hardly even noticeable - all a blur.

“Princess, you better slow down,” Nash warns you.

You don’t reply, nor do you take your foot off the accelerator.

“Princess?”

Eyes on the road. Don’t listen to him.

“(Y/N)! Slow! Down!”

As it happens, you should have indeed listened to Nash. You couldn’t see past your anger and adrenaline, so naturally, you didn’t anticipate the sudden end to the road, and where it was washed out from the rushing river.

You swear repeatedly and brace yourself when the car drives straight into the rapids, water washing over the windshield. The inside of the vehicle is already starting to fill up with water, which causes you to panic.

Seatbelt off, open window, escape, escape.

Your whole body feels as if it’s on autopilot as you try to exit the river-swept car. The second you manage to pull yourself out from the window, the swift current takes hold of you. You’re sure Nash got out too, though you don’t see him. Trying to keep your head above water takes priority.

“Nash!” you shout for the adventurer despite your current confused and angry feelings towards him.

There’s a huge rock up ahead, up and off to the side. You use every amount of power in you to try to reach it, and thank goodness, you do, and cling to it for dear life. Shimmying and clinging, you move sideways, and make it to safety on the river bank.

But where’s Nash?

Had he been swept away? Drowned? Eaten by a river monster?

“Princess!” comes his voice, sounding distant. You search and spot him across from you on the other side of the river. “That was amazing, right?! Woooo!”

You don’t answer, and just stare at him with the bright red stone right there in his hand. Your head is still reeling about Nash. Your heart rate continues to spike through the roof. He must notice your quietness. “Are you okay?” he calls out.

“Oh yeah,” you finally reply, “I’m just FINE!”

“From what I know about women, I don’t think that really means you’re fine!”

“Oh, right, because you seduce so many women for a living to get what you want!”

“What the hell are you talking about?!” he shouts back.

“You planned this all along, didn’t you?! You tried to get close to me - to have sex with me - to use the GPS and take the stone for yourself!”

There’s a pause. Only the sound of rushing water fills the void.

“What’s the name of that hotel in Kinshasa?” he asks.

“Pullman Kinshasa Grand Hotel!” you tell him. “Why do you even care?”

“Just keep heading east, that way, and I’ll be there!” he promises.

“Yeah, sure! While you just disappear forever with the stone! What about Caitlin?!”

“You still have the GPS!” Nash points out.

“Yeah, but you have the stone! They’ll know!” Your stomach jumps up into your throat at the sound of gunshots. Goddammit!

Nash hollers something else across the rapids, but you couldn’t quite hear all of it.

“What?!” But by the time you’ve yelled your question, the adventurer has already turned his back to you and sprints in the opposite direction.

Something inside tells you that you’ve just been conned.

#reader insert #harrison wells x reader #harrison wells imagine #harrison wells fanfiction #nash wells x reader #nash wells imagine #harrison nash wells x reader #the flash imagine #the flash fanfiction

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gaycrouton · 5 years

Note

oh my goodddd i loved your underwear fic and would be so happy if you ever decided to continue it

Thank you so much!! For those that didn’t see it, a while back ago I posted this fic called Lingerie. Here are a few more random bonus takes!

Lingerie Bonus:

“Scully?”

“Hm?”

“Why are you wearing your coat?” he asked, finally broaching the question that’d been on his mind for the last two hours. He’d initially not taken much notice, but then he started picking up on the way she kept trying to roll up her sleeves and failing miserably because of the bulk. He’d thought she’d just forgotten until it became overwhelmingly obvious this was a purposeful suffering she was putting herself through. he knew his new partner had some quirks, hell so did he, but this just seemed uncomfortable.

“Um, I’m just a little cold,” she shrugged. That might have passed if it weren’t for the extreme binaries working in the basement in winter came with. In this realm of the building, the heat was always either broken, leaving them to freeze, or it was overcompensating, leading them to boil. This was a boiling day and he was uncomfortable even looking at her.

“Scully,” he repeated accusatorily, not letting the lie slide.

“I’m dressed innapropriately for work,” she replied, letting her eyes fall back down to the paperwork on her desk as if to signal her indifference on the subject.

Every fibre in his body wanted to make a suggestive joke, but he was too worried about her overheating in the name of modesty. “It’s just a paperwork day,” he offered. She didn’t say anything and he followed with a sympathetic, “It can’t be that bad.”

“I’m not wearing an undershirt,” she blurted as if it was a big reveal.

It wasn’t.

“So?” he prompted, uncertain of what was causing the issue.

“I’m wearing a thin white blouse and a black bra,” she elaborated, still not making eye contact, but not making much progress on the paper she’d been staring at.

Oh.

He laughed sympathetically and did his very best not to imagine what that looked like. “No one ever comes down here but us,” he offered.

She finally looked up at him and she looked like she was carefully trying to choose her words.

Double oh.

“I hope I’ve never made you feel uncomfortable-” he started apologetically. Was she really suffering because she thought he’d just leer at her?

She cut him off immediately as if already knowing what he was thinking. “No, it’s not you, Mulder.”

They stared at each other for a moment before awkwardly laughing off the uncomfortable situation. “I just didn’t want you to think this is how I normally dress. I didn’t even realize how noticeable it was until I took off my coat at security.”

“You can dress however you want,” he offered. At her raised eyebrow he quickly added, “I mean, what’s important is your work. I’d never judge you for whatever you choose to, or not to, wear.” He was digging himself in a hole, but based off her smile, she wasn’t mad.

She stood up and started unbuttoning her coat. “Good, because then I’d have to start being vocal about my opinions on your ties.”

He let out a little laugh before looking down at his current tie with pigs on it. “Hey, what’s wrong with my ties?” he asked before lifting his eyes back up to her.

No wonder she’d been shy. The silk blouse was nearly see through and her black bra was undoubtably visible through it. He’d taken a big glimpse of her back as she hung up her coat, but only saw the two front cups for all of one millisecond before giving her privacy and darting his eyes down to his work.

“Aside from the fact they’re tacky?” she teased goodnaturedly. He could hear the smile in her voice, but didn’t want to look at her and accidentally look down and make her regret her decision.

He was able to keep his eyes away for the whole rest of the day and for that, when the coat was back on her shoulders in preparation for the walk out, she gave him a grateful smile and an appreciative “Thank you, Mulder.”

He was proud of himself for proving that he was a good partner and would never oogle her, but later that night his thoughts kept flashing to that hint of black lace and he remembered a millesecond’s glance can go a long way with a photographic memory.

“Mulder! I need your help!”

The bright flash of the crime scene techs make him blink his eyes and wipe a hand over his face. He’d been here once before, when he quite literally kicked her door down to rush to the bathroom and find her fighting with Tooms.

Sometimes he liked to imagine what it’d be like for them to be the average, everyday partners. Would she have ever invited him over for a cup of coffee? Or would he have never seen the inside of Scully’s domain if it wasn’t the scene of a crime?

Wordlessly, passively listening to the ongoing conversations around him that were saying nothing more than abduction, blood, missing, is that her partner? He had to see everything - he had to make sure no stone was left unturned.

He entered forbidden domain without hesitation. Of all the times he imagined being in Scully’s bedroom-

He shook the thought from his mind and glanced analytically around the room. It was as he’d imagined: clean, orderly, feminine, so very Scully. A closet in the corner was cracked open and he mindlessly went over to it. Realistically, he knew it was his memory of her telling him about Donnie Pfaster keeping her in the closet mixed with his desperate hope that maybe, just maybe, Duane Barry was stupid and this was all a misunderstanding and he’d find her there. But, as his heart knew, as soon as he opened the door there was nothing.

Well, nothing wasn’t accurate. This was the closet that she kept her clothes and hamper in, and upon opening it he was met with a strong waft of her scent and all the clothes he’d do anything to see filled again.

His eye was caught by a cup of a white bra dangling off the laundry basket, caught on the rim by the bridge in the middle and a matching pair of white panties sitting on top of the other dirty clothes. He swallowed thickly and felt a crashing wave of guilt for feeling like he was invading her privacy.

He needed to find her.

III

Either she didn’t hear him knock on the adjoining door or he didn’t hear her tell him to wait. His brain was too overwhelmed in this moment to actually know which it was.

All he knew was that he just walked into see Scully on all fours with her ass in the air towards him as she looked under her bed for something. That in and of itself would have been enough to kill him, but she was currently in the middle of getting dressed and all she was wearing was her underwear. Which, he was eternally greatful for because he may have just died on the spot if not.

Her back was pale and milky with an intermitten smattering of freckles that reminded him of starlight, but what stood out most in this moment was how round and perfect her-

“Mulder!” she screamed as she completely fell to the floor, as if trying to dissolve into it. Her hands quickly came to her front to cup her breasts as she whipped her head over her shoulder.

He only met her eyes for a moment before snapping them shut and running back to his room, slamming the door behind him. “Scully, I’m so sorry!”

It would be a miracle if he didn’t crash, plain and simple. It was just impossible not to look.

Scully’d fallen asleep in the passenger seat, a gift he’d forever be envious of, but as she slept she inadvertenly unbuttoned the top button she’d previously had buttoned which opened her blouse down to the front middle clasp of her bra. She was dead to the world, her lips parted slightly as her chest rose with each deep breath. It was just him alone in the car now with the sounds of the seventies and Scully’s sleeping body turned towards him.

Because of course she was.

What really didn’t help was the intermitten groans she’d release as she’d squirm in her seat in an attempt, he presumed, to get more comfortable. Oh, and to add to it all, her skirt was riding up as her hand just innocently rested at the hem. It was a sight that was as endearing as it was arousing.

She made a gasping sound and his eyes left the road to look at her face, which was now accented with a furrowed brow of sleepy concentration. Was she having a nightmare?

His own brows furrowed in concern as he glanced between the stretch of desolate highway and the passanger seat to make sure she was okay. From mile marker 66 to 78, she gasped three times, moaned twice, and readjusted one time that resulted in her brushing her breasts against his arm that was resting on the middle console, and now Mulder was cursing himself for not wearing better pants.

“-der,” she whispered. He’d heard those three letters together enough to know it was the ending half of him name, but he’d never heard them in quite that inflection. Curiosity started to turn into hopeful understanding as he realized that Dana Scully, his beautiful partner, sounded like she was having a sex dream.

But there was no way-

He glanced at her colored cheeks as she sleepily nuzzled herself against the headrest. Against his better judgement, his eyes darted down to the valley of her breasts and stared appreciatively before she breathily whispered, “Fuck.”

Then, with the timing and grace of a bull in a china shop, he drove over a rumble strip and she woke up with a start. “Wha’s wrong?” she slurred sleepily but alarmed.

“Sorry,” he coughed, readjusting himself in his seat while praying she didn’t see his hard on. “I was looking at a billboard and drove over a rumble strip,” he explained, hoping she didn’t turn around and notice the large expanse of nothingness behind them.

Luckily she was too preoccupied with herself to notice anything else. She started pulling down her skirt and rebuttoning her shirt before squirming in her seat uncomfortably. “Are you okay?” he asked.

“Yeah, uh-” she started, but stopped herself.

“Hm?”

“Did I talk in my sleep at all?” she asked nervously.

With her behaviour confirming his hopeful suspicions, he bit back a smile. “No, not at all.”

Extra Bonus

She wasn’t sure if there was a sight more jarring but welcome to her than that of a sleeping Mulder in nothing but his boxers in her bed. It was a sight she’d imagined countless times over, though she’d never admit it, but she didn’t think it would take these circumstances for it to have to happen.

She’d seen his body in an assortment of ways and segments throughout their partnership, but she’d never gotten a chance to really appreciate it up close. It truly wasn’t fair that he lived on a diet of fast food and Kraft Mac and Cheese yet could simply run on occasion and have a body like this, but she was too stunned by it to be resentful.

This is what he was hiding beneath his clothes every day. Mulder was always kind, gentle, and sweet towards her, but this was a body of elegant strength and power. He wore his masculinity well and she wasn’t saying that jsut because, in her efforts to document his recovery, she’d observed his nocturnal tumesence come and go in flares.

It just amused her to no end he was sleeping like an angel on the very same spot she’d been in while imagining him with her hand between her legs.

Though he’d been wearing a little less in her imagination.

#gaycrouton #my fanfiction #I feel very rusty so I hope this is even decent lol #THANK YOU FOR THE PROMPT BOO #x files fanfic #mulder #scully

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elsaclack · 5 years

Text

the smell of coffee runs through my veins

or,

five times jake smells like fresh coffee grounds (and one time he doesn’t)

hi @winnietherpooh!!! so i wasn’t originally your assigned writer for the @b99fandomevents summer 2019 fic exchange, but they unfortunately had to drop out due to some unforeseen circumstances, so i stepped in!! i loved all of your ideas, but i decided to go with a jake/amy coffee shop au (with a liiiiiiiittle bit of jake/rosa friendship thrown in for good measure). it’s also the first time i’ve successfully finished a 5 times fic ahhh!!! i hope you like it!!!

He smells like fresh coffee grounds.

She isn’t sure what to do with that, at first. She just honestly wasn’t that into coffee. It always played the role of a last-resource fuel to keep her awake when all else failed - never something to be independently enjoyed in an otherwise leisurely setting.

It makes sense, then, that she falls in love with a man who loves coffee.

He smells like fresh coffee grounds on the morning she meets him, looking haggard and disheveled at five in the morning, the stains on his flannel shirt just visible in the early morning light. Shattered glass litters the sidewalk just outside of his coffee shop’s door, catching the flickering street lights above them like urban diamonds forgotten in the rough. There’s another man, a shorter, older-looking man, pacing back and forth in the street just beyond the curb, looking more like a worried first-time father outside of a delivery room than a man whose place of business was robbed overnight.

Rosa is busy examining the busted windowpane in the door, so Amy turns to the shop-owner - whose stained flannel shirt smells like fresh coffee grounds despite him not even entering the store yet that morning.

“My name is Detective Santiago, and I’ll be the lead detective on this case.”

He shakes her hand and manages to flash a smile - albeit a shaky one. “I’m Jake,” he says, “Jake Peralta.”

His hand is warm, and when she pulls her hand back to her side, the faintest scent of coffee grounds wafts toward her.

It’s a B&E - security cameras from the flower shop across the alley caught images of three perps hauling off through the back door with armfuls of merchandise and a particularly heavy-looking espresso machine - and within four hours Amy and Rosa are cuffing all three and calling in assistance to recover the merchandise from an apartment in the Bronx. The espresso machine is toast - apparently they dropped it three times in their attempt to escape unseen - but other than the general stench of cigarettes clinging to the merchandise, everything else is relatively unscathed.

The open sign hanging in the shop window is turned off, the front door is locked, but Amy manages to spot Jake through the window inside the shop as she approaches. He darts to the door immediately to let her in, looking anxious and hopeful in a way that makes her stomach bottom out despite her best efforts to remain unaffected. He up and hugs her when she tells him they solved it - and it’s like the scent of fine Colombian coffee has come to life and enveloped her fully.

(She wonders, briefly, if this is the kind of sensation Manny gets when he talks about food being so good that it’s all-consuming.)

“Do you like coffee?” he asks once they’ve parted.

“I love it,” she hears herself say.

His grin is brilliant, nearly blinding, and he trips over his own shoelaces as he quickly backs away from her. “Great,” he says as he rounds the far end of the front counter. “This one’s on the house. In fact, all of ‘em are. Forever.”

“Oh - you’re very generous, but I can’t accept -”

“Sure, you can,” he interrupts loudly. “Your money’s no good here, detective.”

She stares for a beat, biting the inside of her cheek to tamp down her smile. “It’s, uh, Amy,” she finally says - and some of the frenetic energy that overtook him moments earlier seems to dissipate, if only slightly.

“Amy,” he repeats, voice low and warm in a way that sends a thrill down her spine.

He smells like fresh coffee grounds every morning she returns - which is often, for a person who doesn’t drink coffee. The windowpane is replaced after a few days and the shop is reopened for business, and every morning she stops by on her way to work, he greets her loudly by name and introduces her to every other customer in the shop as the detective who saved the store.

“I’m just sorry I couldn’t save the espresso machine,” she says on the fourth morning, pointing up to the chalk-written menu hanging behind the counter - at the COMING SOON written over the line that advertised espressos before.

“It’s fine, it’s why I’ve got insurance,” he shrugs. “New machine should be here by Thursday of next week, which means we’ll have it up and running for the Friday morning rush. Here, try this one - I added a couple of shots of cinnamon. I think you’re gonna really like it.”

(She does.)

Charles, Jake’s cook, takes a shining to Amy right away - in addition to the free coffee, she often finds herself juggling several pastry bags on her walk to her car. Some are certainly better than others; while Jake seems to be learning about what Amy likes and dislikes and customizing her drink accordingly, Charles tends to be a far more adventurous eater and seizes any opportunity to expand Amy’s palate.

“It’s a poppy seed bagel with a wasabi-infused cream cheese, drizzled with a caramelized citrus simple syrup,” he tells her proudly one morning while loading the bagel into a pastry bag. He’s pressed up against the edge of the counter, leaning toward Amy as he speaks; it’s how he misses Jake’s exaggerated gag from by the register, earning a nervous laugh from Amy. “I know the flavors don’t sound like they’ll go together, but trust me, it’s delicious. You’ll love it.”

(She doesn’t.)

“You can tell him you hate it, y’know,” Jake tells her after Charles walks away.

She shoots him a look as she straightens her blazer. “I don’t wanna break his heart,” she sighs, and he nods in understanding. “Besides, not everything he gives me is inedible. I like poppy seed bagels. And the citrus stuff actually sounded kind of good -”

“It’s really adorable that you’re trying to be gentle with him, but I hired him to make, like, blueberry scones and chocolate chip muffins. Stuff that normal people want to eat when they go to a coffee shop. If you don’t nip this in the bud, he’s gonna want to try to sell that stuff again and I’m not about to have that fight for the fourth time -”

“Alright, alright,” she interrupts, briefly raising both hands in defeat before snatching her briefcase, the pastry bag, and the to-go cup of coffee from the counter. “I’ll tell him the next time I’m in.”

“So, tomorrow,” Jake says.

Heat drips from the tips of her ears, but there is no judgement or derision in his expression - just expectancy, as if her presence is a given. “Actually, it’s - tomorrow is, um, my day off,” she stammers, “so I don’t know if -”

“Oh.” She’s fairly certain there’s disappointment in his voice - his shoulders definitely dropped, his gaze definitely lowered to the countertop between them. “Sorry, that was presumptuous -”

“No, no, it’s - I mean, I’ve been in here every other morning this week, so -”

“Well, uh, hey, have a good day off -”

“I might still -”

“You don’t have to -”

“I’ll be here.”

He pauses, a crease appearing between his brows. “Are you sure?”

“I’ll be here,” she repeats, “but maybe not ‘til after the morning rush.”

He smiles, the dimples in his cheek flashing. “I’ll see you then,” he says with a two-fingered salute.

He smells like fresh coffee grounds at the end of the day, battle-worn and weary but smiling and groaning in all the right places as she recounts her harrowing arrest of a man with a bag of human ears on the subway earlier that day. The hysteria of it all had taken up most of her day - she was only able to break away from paperwork at eight o’clock this evening, putting her on the coffee shop’s front stoop at precisely nine-oh-three, three minutes after closing.

Which of course didn’t stop Jake from holding the door open for her as he insisted she come inside. It turns out he had quite the day as well - his afternoon barista called in sick, leaving him with a sixteen-hour workday she unwittingly extended. “Stop apologizing,” he tells her as he passes her a mug full of steaming decaf coffee. “This isn’t work.”

His eyes are bloodshot and his eyelids seem to stick together every time he blinks, but he’s awake, he’s invested in her story, and there’s something a little different about the way he smells tonight - like the fresh coffee ground scent infused in his very atoms has blended with something spicier, something tangier. He’s slouching in his seat, legs splayed out wildly beneath the table, and even with one leg bouncing he’s practically emanating exhaustion.

“I should go,” Amy says for the third time. “You’re practically falling asleep over there.”

“You don’t have to,” he says, voice quiet and worn. “I think I have some stuff here to help me stay awake.”

She laughs, and he grins, eyes twinkling in the low light. “You’ve had a really long day, Jake.”

“So have you,” he reminds her, tone taking on the faintest edge of a disgruntled toddler refusing to nap. “You don’t see me trying to kick you out.”

“I don’t have to be at work at five in the morning,” she reminds him, and he rolls his eyes, a strangled grunt escaping his throat. “You really, really should go get some sleep.”

“I don’t wanna,” he mumbles, crossing his arms a little tighter over his chest. “This’s been the best part of my day. I don’t want it to end.”

“I’m the best part of your day?” she asks skeptically, ignoring the now-familiar thrill in the pit of her stomach to focus on the blush igniting in his cheeks. “I didn’t know you loved me so much, Peralta.”

“Whatever,” he grumbles, “I had a bunch of, like, snooty soccer moms come in and bitch me out because I didn’t make their mocha chai lattes with extra whip and extra sprinkles at the exact right temperature, and then they all blasted the shop with one-star reviews on Yelp,” he leans forward to bury his face in his hands. “And then Daisy called out sick, and Charles tried to crucify me over some oregano or something. Today sucked, and you’re, like, super nice, and I like talking to you because you don’t yell at me about coffee or oregano.”

It’s quiet for a beat - and then Amy finds herself leaning forward, her fingers closing over his left forearm. His skin his just as warm as she remembers; his eyes liquid and piercing as he peers at her through his fingers. “I’m sorry today sucked,” she murmurs sincerely. “D’you want me to track all of those soccer moms down and arrest them for disorderly conduct?”

He snorts and drops his hands to the table, and she quickly retracts her hand. “Maybe,” he says with a pseudo-thoughtful nod. He studies her face for a moment, his gaze darting over her face as she pulls a long drink from her coffee. “Thanks, Ames,” he says softy.

It’s quiet enough that she almost misses it, but he holds her gaze when she meets his eyes. “For what?” she asks.

He shrugs. “Being you. You just - you always know what to say.”

“Well that’s definitely not true, but - you’re welcome.”

He hugs her right outside the coffee shop, and she hugs him back - he’s warm and soft in that unique half-asleep way, and she curls her fingers into the loose folds of his flannel shirt, fighting back the urge to squeeze him to her as hard as she can. He’s slow to pull away, slow to retreat; it’s not until he’s a good ten feet away that he finally raises his hand in farewell, nearly tripping over a stray cafe table from the bistro next door to the shop before turning his back and walking away in earnest.

She can still smell that spicy, tangy something wafting off of her blazer when she gets home.

He smells like fresh coffee grounds when Amy finally convinces Rosa to come back to the coffee shop with her - a good four months after the case officially ended. By then Jake’s perfected Amy’s entirely unique order and has had it added to the menu; The Santiago Special now graces the bottom of the left hand side of the chalkboard, written in Daisy’s perfect looping scrawl.

“Detective Diaz!” Jake leans across the counter to shake Rosa’s hand as they approach, looking every bit as thrilled as Amy hoped he would be. “Welcome back! It’s good to see you again, how have you been?”

“Fine.” Rosa grunts, already scanning the menu over Jake’s head. “What d’you recommend?”

“Well, what do you like?”

“Coffee.”

It’s silent for a beat - and then Jake seems to realize she won’t be expanding any further. “I can respect that.” he says, casting beneath the counter for the already-opened bags of coffee grounds they keep stored there. “Sweet or savory?”

She ponders it a moment, lips pursing slightly. “Sweet.” she finally says.

“You got it. Regular for you, Ames?”

“Obviously.”

He flashes her a grin over the countertop before setting about working, and Rosa leans against the edge of the counter, seemingly taking in the rest of the shop. “It’s nice,” she finally says as she returns her attention to Amy’s face. “I can see why you like it so much. Is all of this artwork local?”

“The paintings are,” Jake confirms as he measures out coffee grounds. “The photography isn’t. A lot of those are stock photos that came with the frames - I just needed to fill empty space when I first moved in here, but I didn’t have the budget for legitimate photography. I’ve been meaning to take them down, but I haven’t gotten around to it yet.”

“There’s a farmer’s market not too far from here that sometimes has a photographer selling in a booth,” says Rosa. “She’s pretty good. You should check her out.”

“You go to a farmer’s market?” Amy asks incredulously.

Jake snorts as Rosa rolls her eyes. “I’ll definitely check her out. Are there any painters there? Like, murialists, I should say?”

Rosa frowns thoughtfully. “I don’t know,” she says. “I mean I’ve seen some people selling paintings, but I’ve never stopped and asked. I usually go for the fruit, the locally sourced honey, and the pottery.”

“You’re into pottery?”

“No.”

Jake pauses, a peculiar grin on his face. “Aren’t you partners? Shouldn’t you guys know, like, everything about each other? Or did the cop movies lie to me about that, too?”

“Well up until about sixty seconds ago, I thought we did know everything about each other,” Amy sniffs. Slowly, Rosa shakes her head, eyes never leaving the corner of the menu board. “Is your name even Rosa?”

Rosa turns her head, holding Amy’s gaze. “No. It’s Emily Goldfinch.”

“Oh, ha-ha, very funny.”

“I’m not kidding.” Before Amy can get another word in, Rosa returns her attention to Jake. “Are you thinking of putting a mural on that wall?”

“Yeah, but I really want to find a local artist who won’t charge out the ass for it, y’know?”

“Amy paints.”

“Wha- I don’t - I mean -”

Amy splutters as they both turn to look at her. “You paint?” Jake asks, the corners of his lips quirked upwards.

“I mean I - I sort of - I’m not that good -”

“She’s excellent,” Rosa interrupts, “I’ve seen some of her stuff. I think it would fit in with the vibe you’ve got going in here.”

“Well, I’d probably pay out the ass for you to paint a mural in here,” Jake says, abandoning the coffee grounds to plant both hands on the counter. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to, of course, but I’d love to talk to you about it.”

“Um - I mean -”

“Take some time to think about it,” he says, moving to resume making their coffees. “I’ll ask again later.”

Amy’s still staring when Jake slides their cups across the counter - on Amy’s sleeve, he’s written Ames, and on Rosa’s, he’s written Emily??

“I like him.” Rosa says once they’re back in Amy’s car. “He’s funny. You should paint the mural.”

“I don’t know if I’m good enough to paint an entire mural,” she mutters, tucking her cup into her cupholder and starting the car.

“You won’t ever know until you try. And I think that this is the place where you should really try.”

There’s something significant to Rosa’s tone, something meaningful in the slant of her head and the angle of her brows, but there’s traffic coming, and they’re three minutes late coming back from their break, so Amy just heaves a sigh as she pulls out of her parking spot.

He smells like fresh coffee grounds when he hands her a shirt with the shop’s logo on it - a simple, minimalist drawing of a coffee mug on a plate in side profile, thin white lines against dark blue material - and he’s grinning like a fool when she pulls it on over her ratty painting clothes.

“You’re officially on payroll,” he declares, dragging a table backward to make more room. “Welcome aboard.”

“Thank god, I was really struggling to make ends meet.”

He laughs outright at that, pausing halfway through dragging two chairs away. “Please,” he says once he’s recovered, “you probably have, like, eight savings accounts.”

“I have one, thank you very much.”

He’s still chortling as he drags the last table away - leaving an empty stretch of wall sprawled before her, a slate-grey canvas that stretches from floor to ceiling. She’s got sketches taped around the outer edges of her work space and a respectable collection of paints and brushes clustered together on the floor to her left; from the corner of her eye she sees Jake draw even with her to her right as she studies the space, staring at the wall as well. “It’s gonna look great,” he assures her.

“I just feel bad that you have to be closed for two full days.” she says as she turns toward him. “That’s a lot of money you’re losing out on.”

“I’d rather miss out on two days of business and have an incredible piece of artwork done by an incredible person than be open for one more day with lame stock photos on the wall.” he says earnestly, and the tips of her ears burn. “This is gonna bring more people in, Ames. We’ll make our money back in a week.”

“What if the painting sucks?”

“We paint over it with the stuff I have in storage and you start over.”

“That’s another day wasted, though.”

“What are you talking about? I don’t have to deal with any annoying Brooklyn hipsters and I get to hang out with you. That’s not what I’d call a wasted day.”

She bites the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling too broadly as she turns back toward the wall. “I’ve never done anything like this before.” she reminds him, voice small.

He touches her shoulder, fingers curving over the upper ridge and squeezing as his thumb sweeps down her arm several times. “It’s gonna look great.” he says again. “I’m really, really excited.”

He retreats to a chair dragged to the opposite wall and sits, and Amy inhales deeply, praying he can’t read her nerves despite her shaking hands. It’s a painting, Amy, she reminds herself. Relax.

The first touch of paint to the wall is agonizing, but a split-second later she’s liberated; Jake kicks on music over the shop’s speakers from his phone and she’s back in the groove, like she never left her last college painting class. She pauses only occasionally over the next several hours - for bathroom breaks and lunch and once, briefly, when paint dripped into her coffee - and by the end of the day she’s studying a nearly-completed mural, taking notes on her sketch for areas that need touch-ups when she comes back tomorrow.

“Okay,” Amy says, folding her sketch and tucking it into her pocket with one hand while tucking her pencil behind her ear with the other. “It’s not all-the-way done yet, but it’s mostly done. I just need to do a couple of touch-ups in some spots once the paint is dry, but that’ll take less than an hour tomorrow. What do you think?”

Jake’s silent, an unreadable expression on his face, when Amy turns toward him. He seems almost winded as he slowly stands; his eyes follow each line of the mural, sweeping up and over and down and up again. It’s pretty abstract, considering her penchant for still-lifes, more of an explosion of muted pastels in sharp geometric shapes that fade back into the grey of the wall along the outermost edges. “I love it,” he breathes.

There isn’t a single modicum of insincerity about him, so she tamps down a smile and turns back toward the mural. “I wanted it to feel like Brooklyn, and like the shop itself, which is why it’s kind of modern-looking and has a lot of sharp edges and clean lines, but...I also wanted it to feel the way that I feel when I’m here. Which is why I used pastels.”

From the corner of her eye, she sees him draw up even with her; he’s no longer looking at the mural. “What’s important about pastels?” he murmurs.

“Well, they’re - they’re soft. Cool, but not cold - they’re refreshing, like an oasis. It’s like an unexpected bright spot in the midst of a lot of sameness. They’re sweet, and calming, and - and I just - I really, really, really like them.”

She can’t bring herself to look him in the eye, but she can hear his sharp intake of breath. Tension radiates off of him in waves, and it’s suddenly near-impossible to draw a breath. “I love it,” he repeats, softer than before, and the too-familiar thrill bottoming out in her belly feels like the opening of a bottomless cavern and the smell of coffee grounds grows stronger as he leans closer -

A sharp knock on the window behind her has them both jumping backwards - an unfamiliar face is pressed against the glass, peering inside. “Are you open?” she asks as she jiggles the locked doorknob.

“No.” Jake says back loudly, stepping around Amy to point to the darkened open sign. Amy watches him go, one hand over her heart, the other pressed to her suddenly burning cheek. “We’re not open again until day after tomorrow.”

“Can I get a coffee to go, then?”

“What? No, we’re closed. We’re not making coffee today.”

“There are two of you in there, why can’t one of you make me a coffee?”

“Because we’re closed and we don’t have any coffee to make today. Come back on Tuesday and we’ll have some for you.”

“This is ridiculous, I thought this place was supposed to have good service!”

“It does. When it’s open.”

The would-be customer rolls her eyes and storms off, shouting obscenities and promises to drink only Starbucks moving forward as she goes, and Jake watches her go with his hands on his hips. “There goes another one-star review. You see what I deal with every day?” he mutters as he turns back to Amy.

“Well, at least your place has a reputation for good service,” she tries.

“Oh, you and your silver linings,” he says with an affectionate smile.

The heat still burning in the tips of her ears has spilled down to her cheeks now; slowly, eyes never leaving his face, she steps backwards. “I should - I should let you go -”

“Right, yeah, it’s nine,” he murmurs, glancing at the clock above the front door to confirm. “I’ll, uh, walk you to your car?”

“You’re parked way further away, I should be offering to walk you to your car.”

They both laugh, Amy’s filtered with nerves, and in the dim lighting she can see his throat moving as he swallows. “Maybe - maybe I could walk you to your car, and then you can give me a ride to mine?”

“That’s fair,” she concedes with a nod.

They’re in the front seat of her car ten minutes later, parked behind his beat up old Mustang four blocks away from the shop. He’s in the midst of recounting an exchange not unlike the one they just had with another customer, imitating a high-pitched Long Island accent perfectly with a comically distorted face, a smile twitching across his face with each new peal of laughter from Amy. The tension from earlier has not dissipated, but she finds she doesn’t mind it here - not with him sitting so close, smelling so good, smiling at her like that.

“It’s late,” he finally sighs, patting his palms against his thighs.

It’s not, not really. She’s off tomorrow. “A little,” she murmurs, hoping her reluctance to leave isn’t as evident in her voice as it feels.

He smiles, warm and affectionate, and lets his head fall back against the seat. “The mural is really beautiful,” he says softly. “I can’t wait to see it again tomorrow.”

It’s hard to tell with what limited light is spilling into the cab of her car, but she’s fairly certain he’s looking at her lips; she swallows thickly, and his eyes dart back up to meet hers. “Me either,” she whispers.

She’s not sure if it’s him, or her, or the gravitational pull tugging at her very heart, but the next thing she knows is his lips on hers and his fingers in her hair. He tastes like cocoa and indulgence, like every sweet thing in her life; he sighs against her and shifts closer, and the familiar scent of fresh coffee grounds envelopes her every sense.

He smells like soap, like clean earth, like fresh rain falling on grass and trees, like something spicy and tangy. He’s awake when she opens her eyes - he’s been watching her sleep, she realizes with a touch of embarrassment.

The look of awe-struck wonder in his eyes doesn’t allow the embarrassment to last for long.

“Hi,” he murmurs as she shifts her head on her pillow to look at him more directly.

She laughs and he flushes pink, head dropping down just far enough that the still-damp curls at his hairline brush against her arm. She bites down on the inside of her cheek to keep from reaching out to touch his hair - before realizing that she can do that now, probably.

So she does.

He lifts his head just slightly the moment she cards her fingers through, and his expression is so soft and so affectionate she’s certain her knees would have given out from under her were she standing. “You smell different,” she whispers.

“Different...bad different?”

“No, good. But different. You usually smell like coffee.”

“Well, I typically try not to bathe in it,” he mutters, and his fingers gently close over her elbow bent up against the mattress. “But it’s hard not to smell like coffee all the time when you own a coffee shop.”

“Hey, I’m not complaining,” she says, grinning as she ruffles his hair. “I’ve actually always loved the way coffee smelled, even if the taste is kind of so-so.”

He furrows his brow, and a split-second later she feels her stomach bottom out. “The taste is kind of so-so?” he repeats, and she retracts her hand to pull his comforter up over her head. “Amy, do you not like coffee?”

There’s laughter in his voice and the mattress beneath them is quaking, and she lets out a groan she’s sure is comically muffled on the other side of the comforter. “I’m - it’s not that I don’t like it, it’s just - before we met, I never really - I mean I did, but only when I was, like, on the verge of passing out asleep at work - I just never really -”

“You said - on the day we met - that you love coffee.”

She flips the comforter down with enough force to bounce them both slightly, earning another volley of giggles from Jake. “Well, I do now!” she half-shouts.

“But you didn’t then?”

“What was I supposed to do? You were really cute and you were being so sweet and I had no idea we’d - that you and I would -”

“Oh, my god, you are so cute when you’re all flustered,” he interrupts, lightly poking her upper arm before curling his fingers around her bicep in earnest. “I’m really glad you lied about liking coffee.”

She rolls her eyes, but can’t fight back the smile spreading across her face. “Me, too. Even though I have a feeling I’ll never live it down.”

“You definitely won’t.”

He leans down before she can retort, and his lips are as soft and warm as they were the night before. His kiss is warm and sweet, thorough and electric, and before long she forgets her embarrassment and instead focuses only on the way his hair feels thick and soft between her fingers.

She’s practically panting by the time he pulls away, her eyelids fluttering open to find him looking down at her with an undeniably satisfied expression on his face, his kiss-bruised lips parted as his own chest heaves. “So glad you lied,” he murmurs before leaning down to quickly nip at her chin.

“I need to take a shower before we go back to the shop,” she says as he rolls out of bed and arches his back. “Do you mind if I use your stuff?”

“Do I mind if you smell like me for the rest of the day? Uh, no,” he winks cheekily as she rolls her eyes. “Towels are in the cabinet to the right of the toilet. I’m gonna make a breakfast run while you’re in there - muffins okay?”

“As long as Charles didn’t make them.”

He laughs as he tugs his shirt on, eyes twinkling with mirth. “I’ll make sure he doesn’t get within a city block of them,” he assures her as she sits up in bed. “Can I get you something other than coffee to drink? Like maybe tea or apple juice?”

Despite his obvious joking tone, she senses the note of sincerity beneath the question - like if she really wanted something other than coffee, he’d take no personal offense. And it’s like all of a sudden, every insecurity of his is laid out bare before her - and she knows he’s not only asking about coffee. “I want coffee,” she assures him, pouring every ounce of conviction into the words. “I’ve been wanting coffee for a long time now.”

He smiles, small and shy, and steps toward the bed to kiss her soundly once more. “You’ve only been up for five minutes,” he murmurs against her lips.

She smacks his shoulders and he laughs, recoiling backwards. “Go get breakfast and I’ll shower and then we can go straight to the shop to finish this mural up. I want to be done before ten.”

“You have other plans today?”

“Yeah, I’m spending the whole day with you, and I’d rather not fight self-entitled hipsters through the shop windows.”

“Fair enough!” he shouts through a broad grin, yanking his jeans up his legs and bounding out the bedroom door. “I’ll be right back!”

It isn’t until well after the front door has slammed shut, after the water has begun pouring out of his showerhead and the steam has enveloped her body, that the scent wafting off of her own skin reaches her consciousness -

She smells like fresh coffee grounds.

#b99 summer 2019 fic exchange #b99fandomevents #my b99 fics #b99 #jake x amy #winnietherpooh #peraltiago #peraltiago fanfiction

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