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lavenderwhore444 · 3 years

Note

Ok so we all love pervert shigaraki ( Ik u do so please don’t lie to ur self love 😀) anyways what if shigaraki had a huge crush on the reader and steals there panties ( when there out in a mission working there ass off) but the reader notices and placed cameras in her room just to see who’s stealing them surprise surprise it’s ya boy shiggy and the reader finds it kind of cute that he’s that desperate but is also upsetting because there working and he’s here getting off on her stuff so.the reader catch’s him in the act and shows him the videos ( shigaraki at this point is crying from embarrassment and he’s begging for the reader to delete the videos) as a punishment the reader pegs the shit out of him and the ending is fluff since I do love shiggy

First of all English isn’t my first language so apologizes for any mistakes and for the ending please work ur magic sis

💍🧎🏻‍♀️marry me this is so good

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If you want to use interactive fics, it's easy and makes reading fics SO much better. First, you download the Google Chrome extension. You'll see it in the top right corner of your screen. Next, you enter your name in the first box. If you want to change something other than y/n, please click on the text that says “want to change something other than y/n?” here, you can change any word you want to a different word. When I talk about your quirk I will use y/q

Warnings: smut (obvi) shigaraki is a perv degradation a little I think #peg shiggy 2021 fingering for Shig 😌 humiliation??? Idk what to put man request says it all

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🌸 I have an irl on here rn because we both simp for crusty men, and she’s probably lowkey scared of me. I was drunk on having social interaction for the first time forever and was like, “omg, I write for them. I have Tumblr 🤪” Listen, I told you I would do anything for him, and I fucking meant it, ok? And he’s a little pervert, so they're kinda gross (indirectly making me have gross kinks too ig ☹️) Plus, I warned you about his piss kink, that should've been a good indicator to the rest of these 🙄 , Anyways anon has sent me THE BEST SCENARIOS OMG. I have read a lot of Shigaraki fics, BUT THESE ARE SO ORIGINAL IM SO HAPPY. There's one, in particular, I'm excited to write because it's just so cute, omg. 🌸

It was the fifth time this week. You were out on another mission, and Tomura was half-naked in your room on the verge of passing out from how many times he had cum into various articles of your clothing. It started off as just your panties. Perverted but not insane. As time went on, it only got worse. The panties weren’t good enough. He started putting one of your shirts over his face as he got off, and that worked...for a while. His next fix was to steal some of your perfume, but it wasn't good enough.

He felt disgusting the first time he got off in your room. He felt like he'd crossed a line (not that he hadn’t already), but it was the best orgasm of his life. What's done is done, so he might as well take advantage of the rest of your room. He was pretty comfortable now, face pressed into your pillow, inhaling your scent as his body spasmed for the last time. He was utterly spent.

And now, for the worst part, being in your room surrounded by your stuff, smelling your perfume, but still being all alone. It wasn't like Shigaraki had a crush on you or anything. Him having a crush on y/n? Unheard of. The rest of the girls in the league were like family to him. You two just weren't there yet, even though it had been five months, and he blushes whenever you talk to him. So what if he wants to punch Dabi whenever he looks at you? He wasn't in love with you. God damn it, he was just horny. That was it. That was the extent of his feelings, and they would go away.

They didn't go away, but more of your stuff sure did. It was becoming more common for clothing in your room to go missing only to end up clean and folded in the proper drawer. It was weird, but someone was doing most of your laundry for you. It wasn't Dabi taking your stuff. He could get his dick wet whenever he wanted. The other guys preached “don’t lewd y/n” and tried to fight Dabi when he put his hand on your thigh. Toga would steal your shirts but definitely not your underwear. If she did steal your clothing, she’d post a mirror pic and tag you in it.

So that left your boss. Tomura Shigaraki. You thought he hated you. He got all quiet and distant when you talked to him. Was he nervous? He glared at you and Dabi. Or was it just Dabi? Maybe the little creep did like you. He was kinda cute. His messy hair looked so soft, his eyes lit up when he won his games, Shigaraki had this little smile when he was watching the league sit together, and he had discarded father almost completely. But he was a creep, and you definitely didn't have a crush on him. Definitely not.

But part of you didn't want to tell him to stop. It took a while to cook up a plan, but it was foolproof when you came up with one. You found stole the money to invest in some hidden cameras. By now, you were starting to accept that you might like him just a little. But in a sad puppy kind of way. You didn't actually have a crush on him. Nope, not at all.

And it was kind of mean that he was making you do all this work while he got to jerk off in your bed. You'd come back with cuts, scrapes, bruises, and even a broken bone one time, just for him to totally ignore you. He had spent all day ruining your clothes and wouldn't even look at you.

Your behavior had changed towards Tomura, though, and he had definitely noticed. You were acting the same way he was. You were always blushing when you talked to him. You sat next to him while he played games, but it's "just because you're bored." Maybe you were starting to like him back. He had come to terms with his not-so-little crush on you. This didn't stop him from acting like a perv but still.

The cameras had been up for a while, and honestly, watching those videos back was way better than watching porn. Shigaraki looked so sweet and desperate. The way he laid in your bed afterward, holding your pillow, made your heartache for him. He just looked so lonely. You decided it was time to confront him.

"I'm going out for a couple days, guys!" you called, walking out with a backpack on your shoulder.

"I'll miss you, dollface," Dabi called back, blowing a kiss as you laughed at him.

The glare Shigaraki gave him could have dusted him right then and there. You stayed at a cheap motel for a while, watching the cameras. It was pretty nice to finally have some quiet. It didn't take long for Shigaraki to wander into your room with a raging hard-on. You took your time getting home, knowing he'd be there for at least a few hours. You glanced at your phone once in a while, catching two of Shigaraki’s orgasms. You’d hear a strangled cry and see his mouth wide open, eyes squeezed shut, and back arching. He’d coat his chest and your underwear in hot cum. You started to walk faster. Most of the league was asleep as you used your levitation quirk to float silently up the stairs. You opened the door.

“Who knew you were such a perv, Shiggy. All this time, I thought you hated me, but it looks like someone has a little crush on me, ” you said sweetly.

He looked like a deer in headlights, eyes wide as his body froze. A soft whimper left him as his face turned an angry shade of red that matched the head of his cock.

“N-no please, I'm sorry y/n I-i just didn't um ill leave. I'm so sorry, ” he muttered.

He got up, but you pushed him back on the bed.

“Not yet, Shiggy. I have something to show you, ” you said in a singsong voice.

You sat next to him, slinging your left arm around his shoulders. You pulled up the live feed.

“Aww, look at how cute we look right now, Shig, ” you teased.

His face told you that he was terrified.

“Y-you didn’t, ” he tried to fool himself.

“Oh, I did, ” you whispered in his ear.

You heard him sniffle. You slid the bar at the bottom of the screen back to show him what he was doing mere minutes ago.

“No, you can't, ” he choked as tears fell from his eyes, “please don’t show anyone y/n. Please I c-cant. I'm sorry, just don’t show anyone, ” he sobbed, “please don't. I’ll never talk to you again if you want I’ll do anything just don't show anyone, ” he cried.

“Anything?” you questioned.

“Anything, ” he nodded, still crying.

“Well, first of all, ” you said, “you can start by taking me out on a date, ”

He nearly choked as his eyes widened.

“What?” he whispered, wiping his eyes and nose.

“I said that you’re going to take me out on a date, and please use a tissue, ” you said.

He nodded and cleaned up his face the rest of the way.

“And second, you can take off your shirt and bend over the bed with your legs spread, ” you whispered in his ear, pressing a kiss just below it.

He looked confused for a second until his eyes widened, and he did as he was told.

“Now, don't play dumb with me. I know you’ll like this. I've seen you try and finger yourself before, but you did a shit job, and I promise this will be even better, ” you smiled, ruffling Tomura's hair.

He was getting more comfortable with you now, giving a nervous smile and humming when you touched his hair.

You walked back with everything you needed, only to sigh disappointedly, “oh Shiggy, that's not nearly wide enough. I know you can do better than that. Spread your legs more,”

He nodded, eager to please, and nearly did the splits. You giggled and smacked his butt. He jumped, causing you to laugh again.

“You’re so precious. It's a real shame I'm about to turn you into a slutty mess, ” you cooed.

He felt two slimy fingers press against his hole, and he shuddered. He tried to relax and let you press into him. It didn't take very long to get him moaning, bucking against your fingers. Two became three, and three became four before you decided he was ready. You were looking forward to eating him out, but this was supposed to be a punishment. You lined him up, rubbing the head against his hole that was still clenching around nothing. You pushed the entire thing inside of him as he screamed.

You scoffed, “do you know how many people you just woke up? Do you want the whole league to know you're getting pegged as punishment for being a disgusting, perverted slut? You want them to know that I'm fucking your ass? Huh? Do you? Cause I'll bend you over the fucking bar and show them who you submit to, ”

You started thrusting at a brutal pace. Tomura pushed his face into the pillow only for you to levitate him so he couldn't do anything to stop all the sounds coming out of his mouth. You were looking forward to all the looks you'd get as you smirked, and he struggled to sit next to you. You managed to go even harder.

“You’re not sitting or walking this week, Shiggy, ” you cooed.

“No, ” he choked out, “n-no call me Tomura p-please, ” he moaned.

“Tomura, ” you whispered in his ear, “pretty name for a pretty boy, ”

You reached around and twisted his nipple, causing him to cry out. Tomura only got louder as you reached around and grabbed his balls another hand-squeezed his tip between two fingers and pinched gently before jerking him instead. He was losing it now, tongue hanging out, and eyes rolled back. Little screams were ripped from him, and he jerked around.

“Y/n ‘m gonna, ‘m gonna cum, ” Tomura slurred.

“You gonna cum for me, Tomu? Go on, do it, ” you encouraged.

He cried out, his body going rigid as he shot cum out of his cock. He was gasping and panting as you let him flop down on the bed and pulled out.

“C-can you help me back to my room, ” he whispered, looking sad.

“No, ” you said as he frowned, eyes watering again, “because you're staying with me tonight. Get in bed, ”

He blushed and crawled into the corner. You yanked him closer, taking over as the big spoon.

“Goodnight, Tomura, ” you said. Kissing his back and shoulders, you rubbed his stomach and chest, “you're so pretty, baby. I forgive you. It’s obvious you’ve never had a crush on a girl before, and I think you learned your lesson, ” you said, rubbing his sore ass.

He nodded, “I'm sorry, I just didn't know what to do, ” he mumbled.

“I know, sweetie, ” you whispered, “I know. Was what we did ok? Did you like it?”

He nodded, “I liked it, ” he whispered.

“Do you need anything, ” you asked.

He shook his head, “just tired, ”

“Alright, baby, just get some sleep, love, ” you said.

He nodded as you both found an absurd amount of comfort in being so close to each other. You slept like a baby. You woke up to him gazing at you lovingly, pushing a piece of hair behind your ear.

He kissed your forehead, “I hope you know you're never getting rid of me, ” he smiled.

He kissed you, “y’know I'm kind of disappointed you didn't kiss me last night, ” he pouted.

“Mmm, I was too busy fucking you, sorry sweetie, ” you said, kissing him again.

“You enjoyed your ‘punishment’ a little too much, but having to go downstairs should be punishment enough, ” you grinned.

He groaned, “please don't make me. Let me stay in my room forever y/n, ”

“No, can do Tomu, you need breakfast, ” you said.

You walked downstairs, sitting at the bar and eating your breakfast. No one else was up yet, or so you thought until you heard footsteps coming down the stairs.

“You're not dead?” Dabi asked, completely dumbfounded.

“No dumbfuck, I'm not dead. Why the hell would I be dead?” he snapped.

“I dunno maybe cause you were screaming from y/n’s room all nigh- oh no. Oh god I think I'm gonna be sick, ” he fake gagged.

All you did was laugh at him.

“You two are disgusting, y’know that?” he said.

“We know, ” you smiled eating the rest of your breakfast.

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teddy06writes · 3 years

Text

Locked Away

Requested by this anon: “Heyo! Can I please request an Awesamdude x Fem!Reader in which the reader is an inmate at Sam’s prison? Not Stockholm syndrome or anything because the reader already had a crush on Sam before being put in there. Thanks!”

And also this one: “ please i will cry if i don’t get more awesamdude content. i’ve scrolled to the very end of his every hashtag.”

Awesamdude x fem!reader

trigger warnings: some swearing, yelling, manipulation (dream’s the reason your in prison), character death

premise: In game AU; or the past three months you’d been under Dream’s control, only half aware of what was going on, the last thing you can remember from before was talking to Sam almost telling him your feelings, but now, as you are suddenly yanked from his control you find yourself being thrown in prison, now under his watchful eye

{oh there is no fluff here fellas}

“blep” talking

‘belp’ talking but its the green bitches voice in your head

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You were drifting, drifting through your strange, foggy world, doing your best to forget about the way you could barley control your own body, just a puppet on strings, when yelling, not of the voice that you’d been hearing, but of someone else, cut through the smog.

-“It’s over!”-

-”none of this will ever be over”-

The voice, it was your own but it didn’t belong to you.

-”Dream has Surrendered (y/n), we can’t allow you to continue on his work”-

Growing bored you begin to drift away again, barley seeing, or feeling the people dragging you away.

Sometime later, you’d been drifting, and then were suddenly plummeting back down into your body, a strangled sound escaping your throat as you regained control of your own body.

“What the fuck?” A loud voice asked.

You jerked your head up, turning to see that it was Sapnap who had been restraining you as you shuffled along, weakly asking, “Wha-? Sapnap- what’re you? Wh- what?”

You looked around frantically at the smooth Blackstone walls, and down the hallway to where Bad and Sam are moving through unlocking a series of locks, “Where? Wha- Where I am I? Wh- wh- wh- what’s going on?”

“Yeah nice try,” Sapnap scoffed, “I’m not letting you go because of fake amnesia.”

“No- it- I-” Panic was rising in your chest as Sam and Bad finished with the locks and pulled open a door to what looked like a cell.

“You think we shackle her like we did with him?” Sapnap asked, all but dragging you forward.

Bad was clearly about to nod when Sam stopped him, obviously conflicted as he searched your eyes, “No. She won’t need them.”

“What is happening right now?” You asked desperately.

Ignoring you Sapnap nodded, pulling your forward and pushing you into the cell, the barred door closing behind you, “Well, you don’t need me anymore, I’m gonna go talk to Dream.”

“Be careful.” Bad advised and Sam began to relock the door.

You slowly, shakily, pulled yourself to your feet, look through the bars at Sam and Bad, “What is going on?”

Bad frowned, almost glaring at you, “(y/n) this is what happens to people who do bad things. Siding with Dream is just about the worst thing you could have done.”

“Side wit- side with Dream?” You blinked, rubbing at your temples as panicked tears began to prick at the corners of your eyes, “I- I didn’t- I wouldn’t-”

Bad simply turned away as Sam finished the locks, taking in a shaky breath, “We trusted you, you know?”

“I- Sam- I didn’t- Sam I don’t know whats going on? Where am I? I didn’t- I didn’t side with Dream- I would never side with Dream.” You said desperately.

“This is The Prison (y/n), entirely unescapable, made for people li- like you,” His voice wavered, and quickly he turned, “There's no getting out.”

You cried yourself to sleep that night, small sobs echoing through the empty halls of the prison; in his office Sam felt each new sob in his chest; in his cell, with each new sob Dream’s smile only grew larger.

Sam sighed, blocking out Dream’s monologue as he slid the tray of food through the opened slot in the door.

Dream’s cell had no bars, just a full steel door, and a tiny window in the ceiling, yet the man seemed to enjoy it, far to much.

“You know how funny it was to see (y/n) getting dragged in here?” Dream laughter shrilly.

“You were in here, there was no way you could’ve seen anything.” Sam replied sharply.

“Oh but I hear everything,” Dream laughed again, “Stupid bitch didn’t even know what was going on, god I didn’t think it’d be that easy to get in her dumbass head.”

“Don’t call her that,” Sam hissed, slamming the slot shut and locking it, “I don’t want another word out of you until you’re giving me that fucking tray back.”

Ten minutes later the hallway your cell was in was deadly silent other than Sam’s footsteps, “Food time.”

He slid the tray into the slot of your door, and look picked your head up from leaning back on the wall to look at him, “You do realize something’s wrong here, right?”

“I mean, you siding with Dream was certainly wrong.” Sam muttered.

You sounded utterly broken and defeated as you moved to lay back on your cot, turning to face the wall, “I didn’t realize manipulation was a form of agreement.”

Sam sighed, “Are you gonna eat this or not? I’m not suppose to leave till you do.”

“Then I guess your going to have to sit here.”

The first 15 minutes passed in silence, Sam resigning to sit on the floor outside your cell as the minutes ticked on, eventually asking, “You were saying you didn’t remember anything, what exactly do you remember?”

“You.” The word was simple enough, “We were talking- you said you thought you could do something. Tried to walk me home but I said I’d be fine. Dream was waiting at my house.”

Sam hummed, a slight anxiety rising in his chest, “What did I think I could do?”

You sighed, studying the Blackstone wall, “You said ‘I think I might be able to love you’ but with whatever I did there's no way it’s true anymore.”

Sam stayed quiet, thinking back on that night nearly two months ago, plans for the building of that very prison were being finalized, he’d felt so on top of the world he’d admitted the feelings weighing him down, but then you had become strange, distant.

“Why did you do it?” He asked eventually.

“Do what?”

“Y- you were helping Dream, with fighting New L’manburg, exiling Tommy, blowing up L’manburg again, you- you helped him round up the things that hold power.”

You frozen, distant foggy memories flaring up in your mind, a thousand answers presenting themselves, ultimately deciding on, “Do you know what it feels like, to not be in control of your mind? To be stuck in the passengers seat as a madman takes to the road?”

He was silent as you continued, “To have your consciousness so nearly severed from your body that you can barley see or feel what’s going on? I didn’t have a chance to ask what was going on. He was just there, in my brain. Do you know what that’s like? I’d say you shouldn’t. Just take that food back and leave. Let me go back to dreaming of a future I missed out on.”

“How did it happen?”

Another quiet question, another quiet silence interrupted.

“It’s- foggy,” You admitted, more to the ceiling than to Sam, “But I think- I think it was like a switch got flipped. Could still be flipped. Then he’d be in control again.”

A week had passed since you’d been locked away, and still Sam would sit, until you finished your food, or, more like, until you finally pushed the food away, still refusing to eat despite the pangs of hunger.

“I- I didn’t kill anyone, did I?” You hazarded.

“I don’t know,” He admitted, “Even if you did, that wasn’t you. Nothing you did then was you.”

“Stop doing that.” You muttered, rolling over to face the wall yet again.

“Doing what?”

“Saying things you would’ve said before,” You said bitterly, “You can’t treat me like a monster one second and then like a lover the next. I may be a monster thanks to him but I do not think I deserve that.”

“You’re not-”

“A monster?” You cut him off, “That why I can still fucking hear him sometimes? Taunting me? Threatening to take over again?”

Sam froze, looking back through the bars to your turned back, “You can here him?”

Your hands began to shake, thinking about the barren whispers that filled your head at night, forcing yourself to sit up and turn back to him, plucking a small piece of bread from the tray, “Sometimes.”

“How? His cell is on the other side of this place.”

“He’s in my head, still hasn’t fully left, that is,” You sighed, biting off a small chunk of the bread before tossing it back on the tray and pushing it toward the door, “Thank you.”

Reluctantly Sam took the tray, standing up and starting to trudge back down the hallway, “I won’t let him hurt you.”

Soon, he journeyed back down to the level where Dream was being held.

“I had a feel you’d be down here.” Sam could hear the smirk in Dream’s voice.

“What did you do to her?”

Dream chuckled, “I guess that depends on what you mean. Technically I didn’t do anything, that was all her.”

“What did you do?” He repeated.

“Nothing of consequence. For me at least. Honestly it was really quite easy to get in her head, didn’t even fight it,” Dream shifted, letting out a harsh laugh, “Part of me thinks it was like she was already that bad. Just as evil as me.”

Sam crossed his arms, “No one could be as evil as you, least of all her.”

“Of course you’d think so,” Dream laughed, “Course you’d think better of a monster.”

‘you think he’s ever going to forgive you?’

‘you’re a monster (y/n) nothing can change that.’

‘no matter how much you beg, no matter how much you try to get them to understand it was me, they will never let you out.’

His voice haunted you, keeping you up far into the night, words etching themselves into the walls of your mind.

‘he will never forget what you did.’

‘you ruined people, you worked for me, and that makes you evil.’

‘Your a monster. And even if you weren’t one before, I’ll make sure you become one.’

“You don’t control me.” You muttered up into the darkness.

‘oh (y/n) your so naïve.’

“Shut up.” You muttered more forcefully.

‘you think I can’t control you from here? you are a fucking fool.’

Almost immediately a feeling of panic surged through you as something changed, the switch in your head being flipped once again, the last thing you could truly hear as he took over was two harsh words.

‘you’re mine.’

It was early in the morning when Sam had woken up to a panicked sounding Bad over the coms, “I don’t know what's happening!! It- it sounds like- like someone's trying to kill her!”

Almost immediately Sam was up and sprinting down the corridor.

It took him all too long to reach your level, where Bad was frantically trying to undo the locks on your cell.

“Get out of the way!” He yelled, pulling out the master key card as he heard the obvious sounds of someone being choked.

It took yet a moment longer to get the cell door open, to find you one hand clamped around your own throat, the other desperately trying to pry it off.

“Bad go get healing pots!” Sam yelled, immediately rushing forward to help you as Bad went running.

It took him a moment to wrench your hand away from your neck, just long enough for you to cough twice, looking up at him in fear, “Sam, run.”

His brow furrowed, looking down at you confused as your face seemed to shift, and then suddenly you were throwing him across the room.

Sam watched, dazed as you bolted out of the cell and down the hall, master key card in hand.

By the time he had dragged himself to his feet, and his vision had cleared itself of the spots that had drifted through there were several alarms going off, and distantly, he could hear people running.

“Bad! Ant! Give me an update, what’s happening?!” He yelled into the coms, already starting to run to where he suspected the noise was coming from.

“The key cards! She got the key cards! They’re headed for south sector!” Ant yelled back.

“I want someone back in the control room,” Sam ordered, “Turn the mining fatigue up, set the lava traps and get guards on the outer perimeter. We can’t let Dream escape.”

Sam continued to run, listening to chatter over the coms as to where you were headed, quickly gaining.

“Freeze!” Sapnaps loud voice echoed through the corridor.

Dream turned from where you were toiling to break the wall to see Sapnap, Antfrost, BBH, and Sam all aprouching, crossbows drawn.

“Surrender now and we won’t take your last life.”

Dream merely laughed, looking his former friends in the eye, “You can’t stop me.”

“It’s four on two, seems like pretty good odds in our favor.” Sam hazarded, stepping forward and breaking the line.

Dream seemed to size him up, before glancing to you, “Kill them.”

The words were simple, and clear.

You stood, dropping your pickaxe and donning the armor nabbed while on the run.

“(Y/n), don’t-” Sam said cautiously, lowering his crossbow.

Dream sneered at him, drawing the other sword taken from the armory as Sapnap drew his own, “(y/n), fight him, I can take care of the rest.”

You nodded obediently holding up your sword before launching yourself towards Sam.

Sam raised his shield, blocking your first thrust, and then the second, quickly trying to back away from you as Dream attacked his comrades, “(y/n) don’t do this!”

His words fell upon deaf ears as you attacked again, this time grazing Sam’s arm with your blade.

He yelped in pain, instinctively starting to swing back, though not heavily enough to hurt you.

The sounds of fighting echoed through the corridor as you and Dream clashed with the guard, the men Dream attacked falling quickly until it was just you and Sam battling it out.

You slashed again at his arm, this time penetrating deep into the exposed skin on his inner arm, using his pause and yell of pain as time to kick him back knocking the sword out of his hand and pinning him to the ground with your boot.

Your sword poised at his throat you looked to Dream, waiting for confirmation.

When the man nodded Sam desperately reached out to you, “(y/n), (y/n) please- don’t- plea-”

You’d been drifting again, thinking of the night before Dream had taken you.

It had been late, you had stayed to long gazing at the sky, and Sam had found you sitting by the prime path.

He’d sat down next to you, and for a while you talked about everything and nothing all at once, until you’d laughed, and in some sort of sleep drunk state, leaned in and tried to kiss him.

Much to your surprise he had kissed back, giving you a murmured confession, the same one you heard now, yelled and frantic.

-”(y/n) please! I- I think- I love you- Don’t do this! Don’t-”-

The strings were cut, and you plummeted back into your own body in time to see a blade cutting into his neck.

“S-Sam?” Your eyes traveled up the blade, to the hand clasped around the grip- your hand.

“Sam!” You were desperate now, tossing the sword away with a clatter as fresh tears sprang in your eyes.

Distantly you could hear Dream laughing as you leaned over Sam’s body, “Sam no! Sam- Sam- I told you to run- I told you to run! Why? Why didn’t you? Sam! Please! No!”

The only thing you got in return was Dream’s wild laugh, and the blade being thrust into your back.

#mcyt x reader #mcyt imagine #awesamdude x reader #teddy06 writes

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obsessivelycapricious · 3 years

Text

18+ Jason Todd x fem!reader fic ramble.

Hey, so this is a idea i've had in my head for a while, but it won't leave me alone. I've kinda written the first part of it already? But idk if I'll finish it. I haven't worked out the ending yet either but a couple of lovely people were interested in hearing it so here goes! Thanks for the support! I'll tag you all separately.

Warnings: excessive torture, manipulation, gaslighting, rape, violence. kidnapping, interrogation, Stockholm syndrome, abuse. I dont specifically mention how old the characters are, but B-Man likes to pick them young so use your imagination to age them up a bit if you like. It's dark folks, and a super slow burn, though it might not be so bad written in brief here, but if those bother you it might not be a good idea to read it. (its hidden under the cut - PS it got super long - 2.5k words.)

You are Robin. Or, you were at least.

Batman picked you up out of crime alley, gave you a home and a purpose and trained you up to be one of the best deterrents to the crime in Gotham. You lived in the manor, and thought of Bruce and Alfred (even Dick) as your family. It's awesome and you love it!

Almost two years after donning the cape, something goes wrong. You get split up from Batman and taken by Jokers men. That night is the last night you see the sky for years.

Over the next three years, you are systematically abused, manipulated, gaslighted and tortured until you are a shell of your former self. Conditioned to obey his every whim, you micro dose of the small crumbs of affection Joker has to offer you. He gives you test after test, pushing you to your limit always in new and horrific ways. You don't hesitate when he asks you to shoot someone in the head or to beat someone to death. The consequences of fighting against him aren't worth it, you have learned that the hard way. He even doesn't always lock the door behind him and yet you don't try to escape.

You hate batman with a passion now, you regret ever having met the man, he has ruined your life and it's his fault that you are where you are now. He abandoned you. Used you for his games and then replaced you like you were nothing to him. It broke your heart when Joker showed you the footage of another Robin running along the rooftops. Your replacement. Heartbreak boiled over to fury and rage.

He passes you around his acquaintances, particularly Johnathan Crane who is eager to test his new strain of fear gas out. Under the gas you see the Bat sacrificing you again and again to get what he wants. If Scarecrow takes advantage of you while he has you in a vulnerable state, no one cares enough to stop him. He wants to know who the Bat is, but you know that telling him will put Alfred in danger and you'll do anything to avoid that

(Thankfully the joker doesn't want to know who the bat is, you're not sure you could defy him like that anymore.)

Then one day, a body gets thrown into the small cell you are kept in when joker doesn't want to play. Its a Robin. You panic, fear and anger confusing you while joker laughs in your face. You know it's another test but you can't figure out what the rules are.

This is where the fic starts. It's about Jason Todd's slow descent from a vibrant punk who loves being Robin to the dejected, abused shell of a boy who hates the caped crusader and will do anything Joker tells him. You know it'll happen, because that's what happened to you.

Only, Joker never does the same thing twice. Even if it works. You don't want to get attached to the boy, but birds of a feather and all that jazz.

Highlights (or lowlights) include:

Having to share a small confined cell with Jason.

Arguing about the Joker and escaping

"Don't you want to leave? Crazy bitch."

Finding out that Batman didn't even tell Jason about you:

“Why would he come for you anyway, huh? What makes you so special?” “I’m Robin. We’re partners. We’ve been through all kinds of shit together. We’re like this.” “Pah. You really believe it too, don’t you? Ya poor sap.” “What do you mean?” “Why go to the bother of finding a dumb punk like you when he can just make a new shiny Robin instead?” “He wouldn’t do that.” “He’s already done it. You ain’t the first.” “That Robin moved away, he’s doing his own thing now.” “I wasn’t talking about him. I meant the other one.” “What other one?” “The other one.” “There aren’t any other ones – I’m the only other Robin that there’s ever been.” “You motherfucker!”

Beating the shit out of Jason in a blind rage because he won't stop talking about how Batman will come for him.

“How long have you known Batsy for huh? If you know him so well.” “Nearly three years. How long have you known him huh? Oh that’s right – you don’t” “What? Three – Three years?” “That’s what I said. Look, I know this is scary, but I trust B-Man. He’ll come for me, we’ll kick all these guy’s asses, take Joker back to Arkham and get you out of here too. It’ll be okay, you’ll see.” “B-Man?” “Yeah, Batman.” “Shut up.” “What? Why?” “I don’t want to talk about him anymore so shut up!”

Jason finally figuring out who you are when Joker comes to punish you for denting his new toy.

Joker calling you pet names while manipulates you and you being terrified the Joker is going to replace you too

“Oh. Pumpkin, it’s alright. I thought we agreed we were over this, no? Batsy kicked you to the curb a long time ago. It’s old news! This shiny new toy of ours is your replacement.”. “What? You’re replacing me too?” “No, no no. I’d never dream of doing something so barbaric, Sweetheart. That’s the Bats’ M.O. You’re mine for keeps. I would never be that cruel, would I?”

Jason taking his anger out on you:

“Why do you hate B and not the Joker? He’s the one that’s doing this to you. He shipped you off to Crane and you didn’t even fight back.” “You have no idea what you’re talking about.” “No, I know exactly what I’m talking about. You’re screwed in the head. You’re a joke, you’ve given up. Some Robin you are. A real Robin fights back. You don’t deserve the title.”

Joker making you put your Robin suit back on to fight Jason for his amusement. Jason hesitates in the beginning but kicks your ass every time.

Jason trying to comfort you but being bad at it.

Joker asking your opinion on you what you think will break the boy:

"When he gets replaced. Show him."

Weeks of being beaten then long stretches of being left alone with Jason with no instructions.

Catching Jason staring at you when he thinks you're not paying attention.

Joker being caught and taken to Arkham so you both get knocked out and transported there too.

Joker ignores you the entire time he's there as he's being watched to closely, the separation sets you off into a panic when you think about it too much.

Most of Arkham is in on you being kept there. The prisoners who know about it are paid off by being able to play with you - and now Jason too.

Jason thinking in Arkham he would have more chance of being able to escape.

You being subjected to more of Crane's abuse and different types of gas.

Jason being brought back to your cell after being tortured by calendar man and offering him comfort for the first time.

Being cut open and tortured by Zsaz.

Huddling up in the abandoned wing of Arkham for warmth and comfort.

Remembering that you had met before, years ago in the Narrows before Batman took you to be his adopted daughter.

Jason taking care of you while you recover.

Giving Jason advice on how to cope and get through the different villains taking revenge on you.

Jason being hurt and tired and snapping at you, causing an argument where you lash out at him:

"I had to go through this all on my own, dickweed. I didn't have anyone to hold my hand and tell me I wasn't going to die. So fuck you! God forbid I try and help your sorry ass."

Jason being tortured by two-face and seeing Batman and a new Robin visiting Arkham. They don't hear him scream for them to help. It breaks his heart and his will to fight.

You knew it would happen, but seeing it first hand makes your heart break for him. You didn't want to be right. You hate Batman more for what he's done to Jason than what he's done to you.

"I was right there (y/n)! Right there and he didn't even look at me."

Talking about Alfred and how much he means to you both.

Thinking you might actually have feelings for Jason after all.

Being transported back to the compound when Joker finally breaks out of Arkham again only to be in separate cells.

Having major separation anxiety from not being able to tell if Jason is okay.

Joker being jealous of your attachment to Jason and doubling down on his control over you.

He tries to take you outside and you panic so badly you beg him to take you back because you're terrified of what being free will mean.

Joker telling you that you failed his test by getting attached to the boy. He tells you that he's going to kill Jason to teach you a lesson.

Being put back in a cell with Jason to find his face has been branded and he's just so utterly void of any hope or any life.

Sitting next to Jason in the cell with your head on his shoulder.

Jason knowing he's going to die without you having to tell him. His voice is quiet and resigned, almost with a shred of relief when he says:

"He's going to kill me soon, isn't he?" "I'm going to miss you, Jason Todd." "I'm glad I got to know you, (Y/N). I'm sorry I couldn't get us out." "It's okay."

You kissing his cheek as you drift off huddled together for the last time.

Joker forcing you to watch as he beats Jason repeatedly with a crowbar, ignoring your defiant cries and struggles for him to stop.

"Which hurts more Little Red? Hmm? Forehand? Or Backhand? I think (Y/N) would like to know!"

Joker blaming you for having to kill Jason:

"And all because of your silly school girl crush. What a waste. I'm very disappointed in you, Dolly."

Being dragged away screaming from his lifeless body and thrown into the back of a van just in time before the building explodes.

That's the first half. For the second half to the ending, I haven't quite figured out yet. I've got a few ideas, but I can't decide what would fit better, feel free to help me out here.

Batman could find her after all this time, new evidence being uncovered during the explosion and in his grief about finding Jason's body he could question that he never actually found yours. Of course then you'd be homicidal and try to kill him, resulting in you being locked in another cell, this time in the Batcave. You'd get to scream at him about all his failings and what a terrible person he is though so that could be cathartic. Alfred (And Dick a little) manages to talk you back to some kind of sanity but you are forever changed by this. You meet Red Hood at a later date: on your way to find an egg and cheese sandwich when someone pulls a gun on you. Seeing you again jars him out of his own homicidal rage long enough to care about the girl who he couldn't save, giving the BatFam an opening to reason with him some.

-Or-

Joker keeps you hidden away and the Bat still has no idea you even exist. It stays that way for two more years where you eventually become completely numb to everything he or his acquaintances do to you. Joker eventually gets bored at the lack of reaction and in his boredom he gets careless. A new vigilante takes it upon himself to blow up to compound and best all Joker's men, he escapes but the vigilante doesn't chase after him and instead he finds you. You resist his attempts to save you, knowing how angry Joker will be so instead, Red Hood punches you in the face, knocking you out. He carries out into the night and you wake up somewhere new and he tries to help unravel the fuck ton of issues you've got while dealing with his own. He'll probably enlist the BatFam to help once he's done wanting to kill them, unless you can talk him into killing the Bat together, after the Joker dies of course.

-Or-

One day, maybe a year after Jason dies, Joker decides he's bored of you and gives you one last curveball. After more than 6 years of being isolated and abused, you wake up in an alley on the streets of Gotham, alone. Abandoned again. After several panic attacks and not knowing if it was a test and that you should run back to the Joker or going to find Alfred because he's the only person in the world left that you trust, you decide to leave Gotham altogether. You make it out and somehow navigate your way to having an apartment, a job and even a quiet life in Bludhaven, away from the Bat and the Clown and the nightmares. Except that one day, while you're drinking your morning coffee in a café, Dick Grayson sits down opposite you. You're stable enough not to react immediately, and Dick seems to really care that you're alive and well. Turns out that the Bat found out about you and decided to leave you alone this whole time (which only serves to double down on your feelings of abandonment) Only the joker is out of control and they think that you could help them by giving them an insight into how the joker works. They've got a new Vigilante to deal with too so they're stretched pretty thin. You flat out refuse which is when it turns out it really wasn't a request. You are taken back to Gotham and confronted with the BatFam, helping them reluctantly when Red Hood breaks into your new apartment, demanding information. You argue, and it feels too familiar, setting off a panic attack when he ribs you about your complicated relationship with the Joker. Identities are revealed and you work together to take down the Joker.

The epilogue to this saga would be some time after any of those options.

Both you and Jason finally in a healthier place where you can actually acknowledge what has been growing between you two since you were paired together all those years ago. It's not a neat and tidy happily ever after, it's messy and full of arguments, fears and misunderstandings but it's also full of tenderness, softness and love. And the sex is really good too.

If you got this far, thanks for reading! Let me know what you think? Come chat to me anytime!

#jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #dc imagines #jason todd imagine #jason todd #dc comics #dark fic #18+#joker #TW

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morganaspendragonss · 3 years

Text

on the outside always looking in

"Why did we leave him there? We wouldn't have done that with anybody else? Heroic measure, right up to the hospital doors."

Nancy remembers when the captain's son got shot.

a nancy gillian character study

ao3 | 1.2k | 2.02-2.07

Nancy remembers when the captain’s son got shot. It had been chaos—more controlled than tonight’s, but chaos all the same. TK died in that hallway, or would have done had it not been for Michelle’s quick and steady hands working to patch the wound up and restart his heart. He would have died again in the ambulance, but Nancy had been there with the ambu bag, Michelle doing compressions while Tim drove as fast as he could.

Heroic measures, right up to the hospital doors.

It’s not that Nancy blames TK for surviving that day, nor is she bitter that he was allowed to live whereas Tim wasn’t. She knows that Judd is right, that there was no coming back from a lava bomb to the chest. But there’s a part of her that still wonders, what if?

What if the bomb had hit someone else? What if it had been Marjan or Judd or TK or, god forbid, Captain Strand? Would Nancy have been held back from the body then, like she was tonight, like she wasn’t when TK’s heartbeats had faltered then ceased?

She knows the answer, of course she does. A gunshot and a lava bomb are worlds apart; there’s no comparing the two.

Still.

There’s always been a divide in the firehouse between EMS and Fire. Less so now than it had been with the old 126, but it still felt like her and Tim against the world, especially after Michelle left. Nancy could handle it when she knew she had someone by her side to share an eye roll with where a firefighter did something particularly jock-ish; someone to forge inside jokes and mess around with.

She’s alone now.

Completely, utterly alone.

Captain Vega is kind and Nancy has huge respect for her—it’s clear that she’s a total badass in the field. But she’s not Michelle or Tim; they’re in a weird place right now, neither of them quite sure yet how to act around each other when not out on calls.

And she was okay with it when Tim was here. But Tim is dead and Nancy is alone on her bench, alone in the firehouse, alone in her home. She gets a couple of texts asking how she is—one from Captain Vega, another from Marjan—but Nancy ignores them both, preferring instead to curl up in her blankets and pretend that she doesn’t see Tim’s flaming body every time she closes her eyes.

When she goes back to work, things are… Not different, exactly. The firehouse is still just as divided as ever, but it feels more noticeable this time. She and Captain Vega have grown closer, and Nancy considers her a friend as well as a captain now, but she’s drifted so far from everyone else. Even Marjan, with whom Nancy has the closest bond out of all the firefighters.

The thing is, she knows they all hang out. They go to Marjan’s roller derby matches, they have game nights at TK’s boyfriend’s place, they go for drinks together at the bar. All of them, save for Judd—who has his wife to go home to and who prefers hanging with the ‘grown ups’—and save for Nancy.

And it’s—it’s okay. It doesn’t bother her, except… Except it does; god, it does. She’s never felt this alone in her life, and it feels like it’s crushing her. She could say something, she knows, but Nancy has her pride and her dignity, and she’s not going to hand the firefighters such a prime opportunity for teasing, all wrapped up with a fucking bow on top. Oh, they’d be nice about it, Nancy is sure; she’s never once doubted that they’re good people.

But she’s been burned before, and, besides, it’d feel like they were inviting her out of pity, which Nancy wants none of. Tim’s high school analogy may seem childish at times, but it’s also fundamentally right, and she has too much self-respect to go begging the cool kids for attention.

So it’s fine. She puts her head down, she works, and she finally, eventually, feels like she’s regaining some of her footing.

And then, just like that, it’s all gone. The surgery on her foot has her out for three weeks, and by the time she’s healed up, TK Strand has turned everything on its head.

And it’s not just the bus—that’s irritating for sure and she’s not going to pretend that seeing this last little bit of what she and Tim shared be stripped away doesn’t hurt. It’s not even that it’s him; Nancy knows TK was a good firefighter and she can see he’s a good medic, and if someone had to fill Tim’s spot, she’s just glad that it’s someone she knows.

But TK came in when Nancy was out, and now it feels like she’s the new guy, like she’s the one intruding on the dynamic. Not even just between Nancy and Tommy, though that’s the part that stings the most, but the dynamic in the entire firehouse.

She’s jealous, she can admit it. Jealous of TK and his easy way with people, jealous of the others and the bond they have that so clearly doesn’t extend to her. And she’s angry, because none of them even realise it, and Nancy doesn’t know how much longer she can continue to ignore it and laugh it off.

She’s on the verge of snapping when she gets a text from TK asking her to come to the firehouse. She rolls her eyes, wondering what the hell can’t wait until they’re on shift again, but she agrees to go anyway. It’s not like she has anything better to do.

And when she gets there, it’s— Fuck.

It’s Tim.

Tim’s name permanently painted on the side of the rig, there for everyone to see, to know. Tears well up in Nancy’s eyes and the others surround her, providing silent support as she carefully finishes the work the rest of the team started.

The team.

Her team, maybe.

Maybe, she won’t be so alone anymore.

She catches TK’s arm as they file out, all headed to Carlos’s place, Nancy included this time.

“This was your idea, right?”

TK shrugs. “It was a group effort,” he says, then sighs at Nancy’s raised eyebrow. “Carlos gave me a talking to. He made me realise… Well, he made me realise a lot of things, actually, but the most important one is what an asshole I’ve been. I’m so sorry Nancy. I hope you can forgive me, and that maybe we could start over?”

He’s looking at her so earnestly, and Nancy hardly knows what to do with it. She laughs awkwardly and clears her throat, then gestures back to the rig. “This was a pretty good start,” she admits softly, giving him a small smile. “Buy me dinner next and maybe I’ll consider taking you up on that second chance.”

“Carlos is cooking if that counts? I swear, his food is a million times better than anything you’ll find in a ten mile radius.”

Nancy cocks a brow. “Ten miles, huh?”

“At least.”

She laughs for real this time, shaking her head at TK. “Nuh uh, Strand. I’ll take the food, but you do not get to palm off your apology on someone else.”

“Fair enough.” TK grins, holding out a hand. “Partners?”

Nancy hesitates, then nods and takes it, a real smile spreading across her face as they shake. “Partners.”

And maybe, just maybe, things are finally on the up.

#911 lone star #911 lone star fic #nancy gillian #tk strand #firehouse 126 #lone star #911ls #fanfiction #my fanfiction #writing #my writing #userjillian #tuserjamie #userkimmy #tuserpaige #tuserjenny #reyeslonestartag #trick tag

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patt-writes-stuff · 4 years

Text

Cotton Candy

Pairing: Midoriya x female! reader

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: maybe some curse words?

Genre: very light angst and fluff

A/N: This took SO long. I had writers block but thankfully I’m pretty over it now! This is my first piece for the summer binge event hosted by @bnhabookclub

Summary: You may be in an amusement park but you’re far from amused. Instead, you’re just sadly eating cotton candy.

Crossed Off: Cotton Candy

Prompt: “Why did you choose me?”

Class 1-A was spending the day at a theme park near U.A. Everyone had been looking forward to this for weeks now, even Bakugou, though he would never let it show.

Everyone, but you, that is.

Under different circumstances, you'd be over the moon. A whole day of rides, friends, and games? The definition of perfect.

You had been excited for today’s outing up until this morning. Now, you were sitting in a picnic table next to some food stands, eating cotton candy, and being sad.

You tore off a piece of the cotton candy, letting the sweetness of it disintegrate in your mouth. So far, it wasn’t doing an excellent job of getting rid of the bitter taste in your mouth. With a sigh, you recalled what had soured your mood so much.

You had been getting ready for the outing, excited to spend the day with friends. Just as you were finishing up, there was a series of frantic knocks at your door. A bit startled by the sudden noise, you opened the door, curious as to who was in such a rush to see you. The group wasn't leaving for another half hour.

A very frazzled looking Uraraka greeted you upon opening the door. You let her in, ushering her to sit on your bed and waited for your best friend to speak.

After a couple of seconds, she spoke. ”I want to confess to Deku today!”

Oh.

She wanted to confess to Midoriya. The very same Midoriya you were crushing on. You could practically feel the air being knocked out of your lungs.

She took your silence as a sign to continue. ”I don’t know how to do it,” she flopped dramatically onto your bed as if to further prove her distress, ”Will you help?”

”I don't know Ochaco, ” you said, looking away from her and instead focusing on the trinkets on your desk, ”Isn't Mina better at these sorts of things?” You didn't want to help with this in the slightest bit. Sure, Ochaco was your best friend, and you'd do just about anything for her, but walking on hot coals sounded more appealing than helping your best friend and your crush get together.

”Please, ” she begged, stretching out the ’e’ sound while she gave you the best puppy eyes she could muster.

Goddammit, your people-pleasing ways would surely be the end of you.

”Fine, ” you said, letting out a sigh.

Uraraka broke into a grin, letting out a ’yay’ sound. ”Do you have any ideas?”

”The amusement park has a Tunnel of Love ride, how about that? The amusement park we're going to has one.” you proposed. If you ever were to confess to Deku, you'd probably do it somewhere like that. Not that you had ever thought of that, though.

”A Tunnel of what?” She inquired, looking at you in question.

”It's this two-person boat ride that goes through these dark passages. It's supposed to be romantic and private, I think.” you spoke as if you hadn't done any research on them.

Ochaco let out a pleased gasp. ”That’s perfect! Thank you so much, ” she pulled you into a bone-crushing hug, ”You're a genius!” she exclaimed as she raced out the door, most likely to finish getting ready.

Shaking your head, you took another piece of your cotton candy. You always craved sweets whenever you were upset, and cotton candy was the first thing you could get your hands on.

It's not like you could be upset with Ochaco for asking you for help, she didn't know you also had a crush on Midoriya. You hadn't planned on keeping it a secret at first, honestly. You were going to tell her, back when you didn't know she had a crush on him. Then, at a sleepover, some of the other girls had teased Ochaco about her crush on the curly green-haired boy. They'd gushed about how perfect the two would be together. She’d been embarrassed but pleased that other people thought they were an excellent match.

You remember feeling sick that night. The more you thought of it, however, the more you could see what everyone else meant. They were always helping each other become better heroes. They just clicked.

You wanted Ochaco happy; she was your best friend. And you wanted Izuku to be happy too, even if that meant he’d be with another girl. They could be happy together.

So, you made it your mission to get over Midoriya. The task, so far, had proven to be much more complicated than you had initially expected. The problem was how incredibly sweet and attentive he was. He was always so willing to help you with homework, or training, or listen to you ramble about the stupidest of things, and he seemed so fascinated by everything you said.

He was just so perfect. His fluffy green curls had you itching to touch, to brush them off his face while he was writing on that hero notebook of his. His rambling, while admittedly a bit concerning, made you swoon. You could, and often did, get lost in his pretty emerald green eyes or counting all the freckles you could see on his face. He was just so… entrancing. You could just watch him for hours.

God, you’re horrible. Your best friend is probably going to get with this boy today, yet here you are pining over him like a lovesick fool.

”I’m a lousy excuse of a friend, aren't I?” You asked your cotton candy woefully, eating another chunk of the sweet treat.

”I think you're a great friend, ” a voice behind you declared. You jumped in surprise; you weren't expecting anyone to respond. You looked back to meet a pair of concerned green eyes. Those eyes are much too pretty to look so worried. ”Are you feeling better now?” he asked, sitting down next to you on the picnic table you were currently occupying.

”Huh?” was your ever so eloquent response. You cringed at how dumb you must sound.

His expression didn't shift from concern, however. ”You weren't feeling well earlier, remember? You said the roller coaster had made you dizzy. Are you feeling better?” He seemed to inch closer to you subconsciously.

Oh, right. You'd forgotten. You'd told your friends the last ride you'd been on had made you feel sick, and that you'd rather skip out on the next few remaining rides and find somewhere to sit. The Tunnel of Love ride was the last one of the day, according to Iida’s extremely detailed schedule, so you hoped to stay away until it was time to go back to the dorms. You loved your friend, sure, but you weren't a masochist. You knew seeing them together would be far from easy, and you hoped to keep all the negative feelings at bay until you were in the comfort of your room.

Midoriya, being the absolute sweetheart he undoubtedly is, had been quick to offer to keep you company or even to take you back to the dorms. You'd be a big liar if you said you hadn't been tempted to take him up on that offer, to postpone your inevitable heartbreak for another day, but one glance in Ochaco’s direction had been enough to shoo the idea away.

You'd forgotten what you had told everyone, honestly. You were as lousy as a friend as a liar.

”Yeah, I'm feeling much better!” you said in a cheery faux tone, throwing a reassuring smile for good measure.

He looked down at your cotton candy, a frown growing on his freckled face. God, you wanted to kiss it away. ”Why are you sad?” he asked, looking up from the cotton candy to meet your eyes. You swore you felt a jolt of electricity run down your spine when your eyes met.

”I'm not sad, ” you denied, shaking your head. You are lying through your teeth, but he didn't need to know that.

”You always eat sweets when you're sad.” he countered, obviously not buying it.

You looked at him, wide-eyed, ”How do you know that?” You wondered aloud. Darn, his observant nature. You gulped down the rest of your cotton candy, trying to get rid of the incriminating evidence, and threw the paper cone in the trash can next to the picnic table.

His face flushed, going bright r, and l he covered his face with his hands, mumbling a bunch of excuses you couldn't quite make out. Adorable.

”I’m feeling a little better now, ” you spoke softly, trying to ease his worries, feeling slightly guilty for flustering him so severely. You glanced down at your phone to check the time. It was almost time for the Tunnel of Love ride. Taking a deep breath, you said, ”Um, I think Uraraka had something to ask you. You should probably head over there now, so you don't miss the last ride.”

”She already asked me, ” he said, fidgeting with his hands a bit, looking straight ahead. ”I- uh, I said I couldn't. There's someone else I want to go on the Tunnel ride with.” he gave you a meaningful look. You ignored it, mistaking it to be simply a projection of your feelings onto him.

”Who?” you asked incredulously. If not Ochaco, then who could he possibly like enough to go on the literal Tunnel of Love? Perhaps Todoroki? He is pretty handsome; you'd admit that.

”You, ” he revealed, a newfound determination taking over his features despite his face being cherry red.

You felt like your brain was going to explode. Midoriya liked you? What? Since when? You weren't sure what to think. On the one hand, yay, on the other, what about Ochaco?

Before you could say anything, you heard a call of your name, along with Midoriya’s. The pair of you turned your heads to find Kaminari jogging up to the couple of you.

“Hey guys!” he exclaimed, full of pep, utterly oblivious to the charged atmosphere. “Iida told me to come to get you guys. We’re about to get on to the boats. We need to get going; otherwise, we’ll miss our place.”

Midoriya stood up, grabbing your hand and tugging you up. Instead of letting it go once you were out of your seat like you thought he would, he intertwined his fingers with yours and led you through the crowd of people. From the corner of your eye, you could see Kaminari's surprised expression at seeing the two of you holding hands. It only lasted a second, however, and after that, he gave Midoriya a not-at-all subtle thumbs up. It only made the poor boy blush even more. He was practically glowing. You were a bit worried. Could someone pass out due to excess blushing?

When you got to the line, most of your group was already in the ride, Ochaco included. You weren't sure whether you were glad or not. You weren't sure how to feel about anything.

Izuku, ever the gentleman, helped you onto the ’love boat.’ It was one of those canoes they have in the Venice Canal, and it was, for lack of a better word, obnoxiously pink, with glittery red hearts of different sizes all over.

The first minute or so in which the boat floated through the ride’s dark passages was spent in awkward silence.

“Why did you choose me?” you asked, breaking the silence. You turned your head over to look at Midoriya even though you couldn't quite see him in the darkness.

”What do you mean ’why’?” he asked. Though it was too dark to see his expression, you were sure; his brow was furrowed in confusion. Maybe slight worry.

”I mean, why ask me when Uraraka asked you? She's cute and positive and kind and-”

”I think you're all those things too, ” he said, effectively cutting you off.

Your eyes had grown accustomed to the darkness, meaning you could make out Midoriya’s face reasonably well. And, God, were you glad you could see his expression. A stray curl or two were in his face, and you almost reached up to tuck it back into place. His eyes, only half-open, weren't quite meeting your own. Instead, they were trained between your eyes, mouth slightly agape. He was leaning towards you steadily. His lips met yours, and you closed your eyes shut. Every inch of you was tingling, and you felt like fireworks were erupting all around you.

The moment was cut short by the intrusion of sunlight. Upon realizing the ride was over, you snapped away from him, reality finally settling in.

You just kissed Midoriya. The same Midoriya, your best friend, was going to confess to today.

You were such a horrible person.

Thankfully, none of your classmates had spotted the kiss. Otherwise, all hell would have broken loose.

You stood up quickly, not quite meeting Izuku or Ohaco’s eyes. Instead, you practically jumped out of the boat, and sped walked towards the amusement park.

Midoriya tried to approach you in the train station, but you excused yourself, claiming you had to go to the bathroom. The look of hurt in his eyes was enough to make you want to cry.

When the train arrived, you once again chose the cowards way out by going into the cart that neither Ochaco nor Izuku were in. Sitting down, you key put a sigh.

You liked Izuku. And Izuku liked you. But Ochaco also liked Izuku. Only Izuku didn't like Ochaco; he wanted you.

You used the train ride to clear your head. You decided that before you talked with Midoriya, and apologized for being so flaky, you had to speak with Ochaco. No boy, no matter how amazing he is, us worth losing a lifetime of friendship.

You hoped you wouldn't have to choose, though.

Once you got out of the train, you tracked down your friend. She was talking with Tsuyu, her back facing you. Taking a deep breath, you walked over to her, tapping on her shoulder.

“Can we talk?” You asked, voice quiet, hesitant.

The two of you walked in awkward silence, not quite sure on what to say, several feet behind the rest of the class so you could talk privately. You tried your best to keep your eyes away from Midoriya’s back, but it was becoming increasingly difficult. There was an appealing aspect to everything the green-haired boy did. Even the sight of him talking normally with Iida and Todoroki drew you in. He was a flame; you were a moth.

As if he could sense your staring, he turned to look back. His eyes locked on yours, and from afar, you faintly see the steadily growing blush that adorned his face. His lips quirked up in a small smile, and he sent you an equally small, unsure wave. Cute.

Growing flustered yourself, you sent a small wave back before looking away, eyes meeting Ochaco’s. She had been watching the entire interaction, a sad sort of a smile adorning her face.

”Why didn't you tell me?” she asked. She didn't sound mad or disappointed like you had imagined she would. She just seemed confused.

Guiltily, you looked down, bruising yourself by counting the cracks on the pavement while you thought of what to say.

”I didn't want you to be upset, ” you answered.

She let out a laugh. ”Upset about what? About you having a crush on a guy I'm not dating?”

”I just- I'm so sorry-” you began to apologize profusely before being interrupted by your friend.

”You have nothing to be sorry about. You like Deku, and he likes you. Who am I to get in the way of that?” the question was meant to be rhetorical, you knew that, but you answered anyways.

”But Ochaco, you have a crush on him, ” you stated. You couldn't quite understand why she was acting so calm about this.

” It's just a silly crush, ” she said, racing you off, ”I'll get over it. Your friendship means much more than that. ”

You smiled at her. ”I think so too.”

The two of you continued talking after that, the awkwardness that was previously there dissipated. Ochaco filled you in on everything you missed while you were gone. Bakugou had gotten angry at a carnival-style target game and had blown up the target, resulting in Iida scolding him while poor Kirishima tried to keep some semblance of peace between them.

Once you arrived at U.A., you and Ochaco headed towards the dorm rooms, much like the majority of your classmates. It was late in the evening, after all. You spotted a familiar head of curly green hair. As if sensing your nervousness, Ochaco placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder before scurrying off to her dorm room, saying a quick ’Good Night Deku’ along the way.

Once the two of you were left alone, he started speaking. ”I am so sorry for kissing you! I guess I just got caught up in the moment and forgot to ask if you were okay with it. God, you probably hate me-”

”No!” you said, a bit too forcefully.

You felt like you were falling for him all over again. You had ditched him. Yet here he was, fidgeting anxiously in front of your doorway. This boy was going to kill you with that sweet nature of his.

He looked at you, a bit shocked by your reaction. You felt your face heating up. That had been sudden, hadn't it?

Clearing your throat, you spoke. ”No, ” you said, quietly this time, ”I enjoyed the kiss. A lot.”

The surprised ’Really?’ he let out made your face break into a grin. He was adorable.

”M-me too, ” he admitted, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly.

The two of you stood there for a couple of seconds, merely admiring the presence of each other.

”I should go, ” he said softly.

Feeling particularly brave, you grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him down for a kiss. He seemed to melt into the embrace, letting out a happy hum. After a few moments, he pulled away. Red-faced and smiling, he wished you good night before heading back to his dorm.

You entered your room, wasting no time in changing into your PJs and flopping on top of your bed, a massive smile on your face.

You may or may not have squealed into your pillow

#bnhabookclub #midoriya izuku x reader #izuku midoria x reader #deku x reader #izuku x reader #midoriya x reader #midoriya izuku #izuku midoriya #midoriya #deku #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #mha fanfiction #bnha fanfiction #mha x reader #bnha x reader #patt’s creations

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fishfingersandjellybabies · 3 years

Text

Still a Little Bit Yours (Part 1) - fic

Characters: Jon Kent, Damian Wayne, bit of Tim Drake and Maya Ducard Pairing: jondami Summary: Damian broke up with him, out of the blue. It didn’t make any sense. But, as it turns out, there’s a reason why it didn’t. A/N: Damian and Jon are in their mid-twenties and no longer go by Robin or Superboy (but not really Batman or Superman either, Tim’s last line is kind of a joke.) Title, and maybe vibe of this part, is based on ‘A Little Bit Yours’ by JP Saxe.

Part One | Part Two

The phone almost slipped from his fingers.

Damian…did Damian just say what he thought he said?

“…What?” He whispered near breathlessly. “W-what did you just say?”

“I said I think we should see other people.” Damian replied calmly. “It would be for the betterment of both of us.”

“Since when?” Jon snapped, anger flaring immediately, but instantly morphing into confusion and sadness. His heart breaking by the second.

They’d been together for three years. Secretly pined after each other for the two years prior to that. Had recently talked about moving in together. Had been happy.

Jon was so, so sure they’d been happy.

“Since…recently.” Damian hummed blankly. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking.”

“And the thought of doing this in person didn’t occur to you in your fucking contemplation?” Jon snapped. “Christ, Damian, we were just talking about getting an apartment!”

“I’m sorry if I hurt you. I know this isn’t what you want.” There was a hint of regret in Damian’s voice, but not enough for Jon’s liking, so it only fueled his growing anger further. “I…I don’t know what else to say.”

“Oh, really? Three fucking years and this is all you have to say?” Jon hissed. “I know you’re emotionally constipated, Damian, but…god. This is low. Even for you.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re not!” Jon shouted. A store clerk nearby glanced at him. And that was right, he was in the grocery store. He’d…forgotten. Forgotten the whole world existed, forgot it was collapsing around him by the second, as Damian hummed those words. “Because if you were sorry, you wouldn’t have fucking done it this way in the first place!”

He heard a mother a few aisles down murmur to her children to not use language like that. That people who talked like that were pathetic.

“I…I don’t know what your game here is, Damian.” He whispered harshly.

“It’s not a game.” Damian promised. “I respect you too much to play games with you. I’m just trying to be honest.”

“But you don’t love me enough to break up with me in person, apparently.” Jon countered. He closed his eyes, wouldn’t allow the tears to fall. “I…Damian, I’m going to hang up on you right now. I…I don’t want to say something I might regret.”

“That’s fine.” Damian promised. Then again: “I’m sorry, Beloved.”

Jon scoffed and pulled the phone away from his ear. He hit the call end button so hard the screen cracked under his touch.

…Great.

He stood there a moment, trying to take deep, even breaths. But it wasn’t working real well. Each breath was trembling, and it’s like his lungs suddenly didn’t work, couldn’t hold any air.

Did he do something wrong? Did he say something? They’d fought before, all couples do. They were getting better at communication, Damian was coming out of that emotional shell the League of Assassins put him in.

They’d kissed yesterday. Jon had held him in his arms, had kissed his nose and told him how beautiful his smile was. Damian had laughed and held Jon’s face, stroking his thumb along his cheek.

And now…now they were here?

“…Honey?” Jon jumped as a hand gently touched his elbow. He spun to find an old woman in an apron matching the store’s color scheme glancing up at him. “Are you okay?”

The world around him came whooshing back. He was in the middle of the grocery store. He…he was sobbing in the middle of the grocery store. Fat, ugly tears rolling down his face as he practically crushed his phone in his hand.

“Do you need me to call someone?” The woman whispered.

“No, I…” He gently placed his shopping basket – half full of this week’s groceries – on the floor and backed away. He clumsily ran his nose along his sleeve, a trail of snot left in his wake. “I’m alright. I’m…I’m sorry.”

He turned and barely stopped himself from flying out of the store.

Jon laid in bed for two days, exhausting himself racking his brain, trying to figure out what happened, what changed, what he did.

He texted Damian, almost exactly twenty-four hours after the fateful call, but the other never answered. Never answered any text Jon sent. Or any call that he drunkenly made after that. Didn’t even give him the knowledge of being left on read.

He cried a few times, threw things a few other times.

None of this made any sense.

He thought about going over to Gotham. Walking up to the manor and banging on the door until someone answered. Thought about staging a protest until Damian agreed to see him, if the door answerer wasn’t said boyfriend.

…Ex-boyfriend.

Tears welled up in his eyes every time he thought of the term.

Ex. Boyfriend.

Jon closed his eyes, buried his face in his pillow. Honestly, he thought they were going to get married. He thought they were going to be together forever. He wasn’t ready to plan a life without Damian, not yet. They were supposed to grow old together, die minutes apart like in the movies. Holding hands until the end.

He didn’t lose Damian to death, like he always thought he would. He didn’t lose Damian to space or assassins or even to grief in the potential loss of Bruce or Dick. He lost Damian because Damian…simply didn’t want him anymore.

God. They weren’t supposed to break up after three years. They weren’t supposed to part ways in their twenties. They weren’t supposed to end things for no reason.

He thought he’d gotten pretty good at reading Damian. His ticks, his quirks. What upset him, what didn’t. He thought he was an expert. The world’s leading expert in Damian Wayne.

Apparently he was fooling himself.

He sighed, pressed his face further into the fabric of his pillow. Tried to ignore the memories threatening to overflow. Of he and Damian in this bed. Kissing, cuddling, lazing. Of Jon promising Damian the whole world, and Damian countering with the whole universe instead.

He wondered if he should call Kathy. Or Maya. Hell, one of Damian’s siblings. See if Damian had talked to them, if they had seen any signs. If they knew of anything going on.

He just burrowed under his covers, and kept his eyes closed.

In the end, he didn’t tell anyone about the breakup. Not even his parents. There were intergalactic wars starting and government coups commencing – they had more important things to worry about than their youngest’s love life. And judging by the fact he hadn’t heard from any of the Bats, he had a feeling Damian didn’t mention it to his family either.

Just as well. They were adults. They could handle this as just that. Adults.

So he wallowed in self-pity for a few days, but eventually forced himself up. Took a deep breath, dried his own eyes and distracted himself with continuing his life. Focused on his job, on heroing. The world kept turning, even if he and Damian weren’t together.

His heart hurt less as the days passed on. Not by much, his heart was still utterly shattered after all, but it didn’t hurt as much to inhale. Didn’t hurt as much to smile. Didn’t hurt as much to get a text or a call and it not be Damian.

Damian never answered when Jon tried to contact him. The first few days were understandable, but now the texts were housekeeping. Do you want your shirt back? I think you left Alfred’s cat treats here. I have a box of your stuff and your apartment key, if you’re in town soon, you can stop by and get it.

And still, like always, nothing. Damian was always stubborn, but now he was just being downright rude. It’d been almost a month now! Surely if someone as emotional as Jon could somewhat start to get over it, someone as stoic as Damian had probably completely forgotten about it by now!

He huffed as he watched a couple walk by the park bench he was sitting on, taking the momentary surge of frustration-induced courage to hit the call button on his (recently fixed) phone and hold it up to his ear.

They wouldn’t have to talk. This was just tying up the loose ends. Getting rid of the sentimental things. Getting rid of things that didn’t belong to him. That was all. That was all.

But the line didn’t even ring. It went straight to voicemail. And the frustration turned to hurt. Did…did Damian change his number? No, impossible. It still went to Damian’s voicemail, his phone was just off.

But Damian never turned his phone off. No hero did, and especially no one in the Wayne family. They were always on call, even when they shouldn’t be.

So, for Damian’s phone to be off…was he avoiding someone? Avoiding Jon?

He lowered his phone to his lap and stared at it. He was one of those people who put emojis in people’s contact names. Damian’s name was surrounded by the pink, growing heart, and the cat emoji that looked like Alfred.

He didn’t have the strength to take those away. Not yet.

He swallowed the lump in his throat that he didn’t realize was there, and put his phone back in his pocket.

He’ll just ship Damian his shit, then.

He shouldn’t have. He really shouldn’t have. It’d make him the crazy ex. The ones Taylor Swift wrote songs about.

But at least once a day, he found himself listening. Tapping into his powers and listening for Damian’s heartbeat.

He didn’t do it often while they were together. Mostly because while together they were almost always together. Physically. So he could just reach out and hold Damian’s wrist. Put his ear to Damian’s chest. Watch the pulse as it beat along Damian’s neck.

It was a coping mechanism back then, used to calm himself. When the world got too much. When his day was bad. He could just focus on Damian’s heartbeat in any form. Drown the rest of the noise out.

Damian’s heartbeat now sounded far away, but Jon didn’t feel like pinpointing how far. It was slow and even, and that almost made him angry. Damian was calm. Damian was relaxed. Probably sitting at his easel drawing without a care in the world, while here Jon was listening for him like some kind of fucking lost puppy.

Every time he listened, it was slow and steady.

Stupid Damian, he’d think as he tuned his powers back out, furiously go back to whatever he was doing. Stupid relationships.

Relationships were overrated. Damian was overrated.

“He what?!”

Maya’s shriek had Jon pulling the phone away from his ear with an amused grimace. He laughed as he switched the audio to be on speaker, and absently opened an app on his phone.

(A…dating app.)

“You didn’t know?” Jon hummed. His friend had called to ask some questions on a man she was tracking, someone who rumours said was from another planet. Kathy hadn’t known of the solar system, so she was trying the next best alien. As they talked, something about a crime scene came up, and she asked if Damian could help, if Jon could give him the phone. He had to break the news. “I thought you guys talked like…every day.”

“No way.” Maya scoffed. “Once a month, if that.” Jon could hear the frown in her voice. “And we did talk about a month ago. Maybe a bit longer. He didn’t say anything. In fact, he told me you guys were going to move in together, that he wanted me to plan a trip back to the States for a housewarming party.”

“Well…life comes at you fast, I guess.” Jon chuckled bitterly, remembering that call. He was in the room for that call, dozing in Damian’s arms, half listening to their conversation. He sneered at the choices the app was giving him. None of them were very attractive. “Because about a month ago was when he called it off.”

“Huh.” Maya mumbled. “I’m so sorry, Jon. If I’d had known that’s what he was planning, I would have beat the shit out of him. You were the best thing to ever happen to him, for gods’ sake! What the hell did he willingly throw it all away for?!”

“Your guess is as good as mine.” Jon shrugged. This potential match wore a shirt that said Joker’s Biggest Fan on it, and Jon cringed instantly. “He didn’t give a reason. Just said that it was for the betterment of both of us, and that he was sorry.”

“Fucking turd.” Maya sighed. “I’ll call him here in the next few days, and see if he’ll tell me anything.”

“Good luck.” Jon drawled. “He hasn’t answered a single text or phone call since he broke things off. And I don’t know if that’s to just me or everyone.”

“You ask one of his brothers? Which one’s friends with your brother again? Jason?”

“Tim.” Jon corrected. He hesitated on this potential match option. Just stared. It was a woman. Dark hair, tan skin, standing in a desert. She was beautiful. And she reminded him of Damian. “And I haven’t seen or talked to any of them either. No cases have taken me out to Gotham lately.”

The next match had sharp eyes, ones that said they were smarter than everyone else. Cocky. That was like Damian too.

“Eh, they’d probably cover for him anyway. They’re all a bunch of freaks like that.” She grumbled. “Are you…doing okay?”

“I’m fine.” Jon lied, and he knew Maya heard right through it. “Time heals all wounds and all that. Better every day.”

“Oh, Jon…” Maya sighed sympathetically. Jon didn’t even have it in him to be embarrassed at her pity. Not when the next person on the app was standing on a rooftop, flag tied to his neck, blowing gloriously behind him. Looking far too much like every hero persona Damian’s ever been. “Hey – I’ll be back in the States soon. And I promise, I’ll make my first stop coming to see you so we can get drunk and stuff ourselves with pizza and scream about what an asshole Damian is. Okay?”

The next match was posed in the photo in a fencing match. Damian. The next surrounded by Great Danes. Damian. The next playing a violin. Damian. The next wearing a Batman costume at a Halloween party.

Damian.

Damian. Damian. Damian.

He sighed and closed the app. Stupid.

“Yeah. That sounds like exactly what I need, Maya.”

“Great. It’s a date.” She paused a moment. “Love you, dude.”

Jon hesitated, because he hadn’t said those words since Damian. Hadn’t thought them. Hadn’t wanted to think them, not for anyone. Not for family, not for friends. Not for a single person in his life. Still left in his life.

“Love you too, Maya.”

Jon wasn’t a dreamer. He didn’t know if it was his Kryptonian side, or just how he was, but he didn’t dream often. And if he did, if he remembered them, it was only flashes. Only later moments of déjà vu. Never full sequences. Never lucid.

But…this.

They were in Kansas, out in one of Pa’s fields, lying among the wheat. Damian was flat against the ground as Jon laid over him, kissing him as hard and deeply as he could. They both had their arms around the other, grips tight and unyielding. Like if one of them let go, the whole world would disappear.

He doesn’t know why, but it was a noise Damian made. A quiet moan, and his fingers digging desperately into Jon’s shoulders that snapped him out of it. Made him realize.

This wasn’t real.

He began to lean back, pulled his arms from Damian’s shoulders to steady himself. Damian shifted too, but only to hold Jon’s face, to try and chase his lips.

“No, I…” Jon stuttered, his body wanting to do just that. Dive back in and devour Damian whole. But his mind didn’t let him, forced him to continue back until he was on his knees. “We can’t.”

He got to his feet and backed up a step, half turning away. Couldn’t bear the sight of Damian lying in the dirt, shirt half open and hair disheveled, chest heaving from arousal and exertion. “…Jonathan?”

“You’re not real.” Jon almost whined, running his fingers through his hair.

“Is that so?” Damian scoffed. “Since when?”

“Since I know we haven’t been back to Kansas in like a year.” Jon sighed, turning back. “Since I just remembered you broke up with me.”

“Absurd.” Damian laughed. Jon glared down at him, watched as Damian stood, and wiped the dust from his butt. “I would never do such a thing.”

“Well…you did!” Jon spat. “And over the phone! Not even in person!”

“You’re not listening to me.” Damian scolded. He raised his sharp gaze. “I would never do such a thing.”

“…What?” Jon whispered incredulously. “I just…I just told you that you did! And I…” He snorted, shook his head. “You’re not even real. Why the hell am I even trying to argue with you?”

“Because despite what you tell those around you, you miss me.” Damian sauntered over to him with a smirk, and poked at his temple. “Now I need you to use that big brain of yours and focus on what I’m saying. What it means.”

Jon looked down sadly. Gently reached up to take Damian’s hand in his, and turned so he could kiss his palm, could hide his face against Damian’s hand.

Damian just smiled warmly, stepped closer into Jon’s space. Cupped his other hand around the side of Jon’s throat. “Please just remember.” He begged softly. “I would never do such a thing. Never.” He leaned up on his toes, and pressed their foreheads together. “Not to you, Beloved.”

Jon leaned into the gesture, and parted his lips to kiss Damian again.

But then he woke up.

He woke up in the dead of night, with tears streaming down his face, and the memory of the dream burning against his skull.

I would never do such a thing.

“But you did, Damian.” Jon sobbed, clutching his pillow, curling his knees to his chest. Because it felt like his heart was going to tumble out, all the pieces that it had shattered into were going to come spilling out onto his sheets. “You did.”

He didn’t go back to sleep.

Jon let out a low growl as he stomped out of the café. That was a bust. That was a huge fucking waste of his time.

But that’s what he got for trying to jump back into the dating pool.

The girl seemed nice enough in their limited texting interaction. She was cute and not purposefully looked nothing like Damian. She was bubbly and loud, and also not purposefully acted nothing like Damian either.

(Totally not purposefully. Totally.)

But he’d just spent the last hour listening to her rant about conspiracy theories that were already disproven one hundred times over, and rave about how Lex Luthor was the best and coolest and smartest person to ever exist, because he was rich and going to get them all to Mars. She never stopped to let Jon talk. Never stopped to take a breath for herself either.

Needless to say, there’d be no second date. He’d frankly excused himself with a lie to get out of this one early.

(And she’d already texted him about how great of a time she had, and she couldn’t wait to see him again, despite still sitting in the restaurant ten feet behind him.

Jon didn’t like to ghost people – not like certain ex-boyfriends of his – but this one…he couldn’t wait to.)

So it must have been fate that he chose that moment to leave. Not a few minutes before, or decided to suffer through the rest of his rendezvous. Because as soon as he walked out of the café, he spotted one Tim Drake coming out of the building across the street.

Funnily enough, Tim spotted him at almost the exact same moment. Except instead of waving or smiling like Tim normally would, his face visibly paled and his eyes widened, like Jon was the last person on Earth he wanted to see.

Jon frowned when he saw Tim glance around, like he was looking for an escape route. “Tim!” He called before the other could do just that, glancing up and down the street before jogging quickly towards him. “Hey, wait up!”

Tim took a step backwards, like he was going to try to bolt, but in the end stayed where he was, waited for Jon to reach him. Quickly pulled his phone out and scanned the screen before pocketing it again. “Hey Jon…what, uh. What’s going on? How are you?”

“Oh…been better. But trying to stay positive.” Jon laughed knowingly. Tim didn’t react. “How’s the family?”

“Good. Busy.” Tim shrugged. “Lots of, uh…stuff to do. You know how it is.”

Jon nodded, and the two fell into an awkward silence. Tim pulled his phone out again, but quickly threw it back in his pocket.

“How’s…” And Jon didn’t want to ask, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t curious. Wasn’t desperate to actually know, instead of guessing and assuming. “How’s Damian?”

But to Jon’s the surprise, at the sound of Damian’s name, Tim seemed to practically deflate. He threw his hands across his face, began shaking his head. “God, Jon, I’m so sorry. I know we should have called, or kept you in the loop or something. But we didn’t want you to become a target too or get hurt, or…”

“What?” Jon cut off, gut suddenly dropping. “What are you talking about?”

Tim peeked between his fingers, eyes narrowed. “…What are you talking about?”

“I…I haven’t talked to Damian since he broke up with me.” Jon murmured. Tim’s eyes instantly widened even more in surprise. “I just…wanted to know if he was doing okay?”

“Damian broke up with you?” Tim whispered. “When?”

“Um, I don’t know a month or so ago?” Jon shrugged. “Why? Tim, what’s going on?”

“How did he break up with you?” Tim demanded, suddenly all but lunging at Jon. His eyes darted between Jon’s desperately. “Was it in person?”

“No, it was over the phone.”

“What day?” Tim asked, almost giddy now. “What day did he break up with you, exactly? What day did you get that call?”

“Uh…” Jon pulled out his phone, and went to the call feature. He scanned the list until he found the one he was looking for. The one that ruined his whole life. “The seventh.”

“What time?”

“Like three or four in the afternoon?” Jon huffed. “Tim, why is this relevant? What happened?”

“Have you talked to him since then?” Tim continued, undeterred. “In any way? Text? Call? Carrier pigeon?”

“What? No! I…I tried calling him a few times, to return his stuff and all that, but he never answered.” Tim suddenly backed away from him, running both hands through his hair, like a case was just blown wide open. For the third time, Jon asked: “Tim, what the hell is going on?”

Tim hesitated for a moment, then looked Jon dead in the eyes. “Damian’s been missing for a month.” He said plainly. “He disappeared on the morning of the seventh.”

And just like that day on the phone, it felt like the world was being swallowed into a black hole beneath him. That the universe was disappearing around him, that it wasn’t real.

He could barely breath. “…What?”

“He, Duke and Cass were on a case in France. Without warning all three of them went radio silent. When we got there, we only found Duke and Cass half dead in a vineyard. They said they were attacked by a…a shapeshifter or something, lured them in by transforming into members of the Justice League. That they saw the shapeshifter and their crew dragging Damian away, but they didn’t see where to, or even what direction.”

Jon’s head was spinning.

“We’ve been looking for him day and night ever since. And when you didn’t come looking for him…” Tim winced. “We assumed he’d told you that he would be away on a mission, potentially for a long time. So your absence didn’t concern us. In fact, like I said, we were grateful. We didn’t want you getting wrapped up in this too, and potentially hurt.”

Jon was barely listening anymore, too wrapped up in what he’d just been told. That Damian had been missing since that day. That the reason Damian’s heartbeat sounded so far away was because he was, he was somewhere in Europe. That he wasn’t answering his phone because he was being held captive.

…That it wasn’t Damian on that call.

I would never do such a thing. Never. Not to you.

“…Beloved.” He murmured. Tim instantly stopped in his ramblings.

“…What?” Tim asked.

“On the call, when he broke up with me. First, he never gave a reason, which I thought was crazy. I guess…I guess it makes sense now.” Jon said thoughtfully. “But before we hung up. He said ‘I’m sorry, Beloved.’”

“…So?”

“That’s what Damian had me as in his phone. Not my name.” Jon explained. “Why would he still call me Beloved if he was breaking up with me?”

“…He would have said your name.” Tim said, the truth dawning on him. “The kidnapper wouldn’t know that. They wouldn’t know your name. So they called you what you were listed as.”

“And recognized that I was someone important to him.” Jon finished. “But…why? Why call me just to…break up with me? Why call me at all?”

“I don’t know. We can think about it later.” Tim was instantly back in detective mode, holding out his hand. “Give me your phone.”

“Why?”

“Because we can track where that phone call came from.” Tim wiggled his fingers impatiently. With his other hand, he pulled out his own phone, typing furiously with his thumb. Jon realized that’s why he was checking it so much, that’s why he was in Metropolis at all. He was looking for clues for Damian, anywhere he could. “And that might take us to where this bastard took my brother.”

“...Need a ride to the Batcave?” Jon asked with a sheepish smile. “…The sooner we get there, the sooner we can track this fucker and find Damian.”

Tim pursed his lips in thought, clearly not thrilled at the idea of including Jon, not after they all tried so hard to keep him detached, but eventually returned the grin.

“Get us in the air, Superman.”

#jonathan kent #jon kent #Damian Wayne #jondami #Tim Drake

79 notes · View notes

cakesunflower · 4 years

Text

Just My Kind [Teacher!Calum AU] Part 3

Previous Parts: Part 1 | Part 2

The cool, salty rim of the glass remained pressed against Odessa’s lips as she watched the boys. Ashton’s drums were set a few feet in front of the stool, with Michael, Luke, and Calum all standing in front with their own instruments, playing beautiful songs that they had written on their own. She was kind of blown away, sitting on the backyard couch as she listened to them perform under the blanket of the night sky, the stars glittering above them and the blue hue of the pool lights only adding on to the blissful atmosphere Odessa had easily gotten lost in.

They were good—like, really good, beyond Odessa’s expectations. And as she sipped the margarita Crystal had made her, Odessa couldn’t help the way her gaze seemed to flicker over just a couple of centimeters to solely watch Calum. She’d let her eyes linger on the way he’d sing into the microphone, the movement of his fingers on the strings of his gorgeous red bass. But it was his voice that captivated Odessa completely, had her forgetting to take sips of the delicious drink Crystal had made her. When Calum sang, his voice was simultaneously smooth and held a rasp that threatened to send shivers down her spine, utterly mesmerizing her where she sat and entranced as she listened attentively.

From the slow ballads that tugged at her heartstrings too closely to the more upbeat songs that made her want to get on her feet, Odessa genuinely enjoyed listening to them, head bopping or swaying, feeling the need to mouth along to the lyrics she had never heard before. And there were definitely moments, ones she hadn’t expected, when her eyes would meet Calum’s from where she sat and his lips would curl up even more. Odessa wanted to assume it was only because he was singing, but she couldn’t ignore the way his smile reached his eyes.

“So what’d you think?” Luke asked Odessa after, the band receiving a round of applause when they had finished, as he reached for the bottle of beer Sierra was offering him. “Are we your new favorite band?”

Odessa scoffed in amusement, raising her eyebrows as she pointed out, “No one will ever top Cigarettes After Sex, but you’re adorable for assuming.” He stuck his tongue out as the rest of them erupted into laughter, and Odessa grinned before continuing honestly, “Seriously, though—you guys are incredible. I’m impressed.”

“I think if you see us play enough, we’ll become your favorite,” Ashton quipped, nodding with his lips puckered in assurance that only had Odessa laugh once more.

“The man’s got a point,” Calum spoke up, raising a pointed eyebrow at Odessa as he stood across from her in their little group. His lips quirked in a sly smirk as he continued, “If your favorite band isn’t your work-husband’s, then we’ve got a problem on our hands, Essa.”

She couldn’t help but roll her smiling lips into her mouth, shaking her head at him in amusement. Odessa was all too aware of the little jump her heart did when the nickname slipped past Calum’s lips—it was the first time he’d used it, likely hearing Luke use it before, and Odessa found herself liking the way it rolled off his tongue. But she ignored it. As always.

“I’m sorry—work-what?” Paige cut in with a bewildered laugh, looking between the two of them with raised eyebrows. The smile on her face though, Odessa could tell, was strained, and she wouldn’t be surprised if Paige’s eye started twitching. Apparently she couldn’t even take a joke when it came to Calum’s fake relationship.

Odessa pressed her lips together, glancing up at Luke who shot her a blank look, apparently being the only other person who caught the true intent of Paige’s question. At least Odessa wasn’t alone in that. Calum, though, chuckled and easily answered, “Yeah, we established today in the cereal aisle of Ralph’s that we’re married at work.” At the looks he received from the rest of the group and snort of amusement from Odessa, Calum shrugged and waved them off. “You had to be there.”

One look at the subtle narrowing of Paige’s eyes and Odessa knew she wasn’t satisfied with his words, was yearning to dig for more, but the conversation had quickly shifted and the moment was lost. Thank God.

The party continued on with Michael returning to his makeshift DJ stand, and Odessa enjoyed the company of her friends and new people she met just tonight in the open backyard of Michael and Crystal’s house. Their dogs were also running around, adorable little pups excited by the people that were around. She felt relaxed, sipping her drinks and getting to know everyone, never one to miss an opportunity of petting Moose or South as they scurried by.

At one point, as she sat at the edge of the pool, bare feet dangling in the water as she sat in between KayKay and some other girls she’d met tonight, Odessa’s gaze wandered around the area. As she sipped at her White Claw, she caught sight of Calum through the people lingering around, and Odessa watched as he remained completely enthralled by Moose’s company. She continuing sipping her drink in attempt to hide her smile and laugh, gaze locked on the way Moose licked at Calum’s face and his wide grin as his hands rubbed through her curly fur.

Odessa dropped her gaze to her feet, pale pink painted toes warped under the water as she attempted to push admiring thoughts of him out of her head and focus on whatever conversation the women she was sitting with were having. Even in her own head, Odessa felt like a hypocrite, telling herself she couldn’t, shouldn’t, have any kinds of feelings towards Calum, even if they were that of a mere budding crush, and yet she proceeded to keep looking for him, admiring him, feeling her skin flush because of him. It was a dangerous game she was playing with herself—one she could feel she was losing.

It was just a little after one in the morning when Odessa exited one of the downstairs bathrooms, the others occupied, and ended up bumping into Calum. She let out a soft exclaim, feeling a bit wobbly on her feet, letting out a breath when Calum grasped her upper arms to keep her on her feet. “You good?” Calum chuckled gently, raising his eyebrows as he looked down at her.

Odessa nodded, blue eyes meeting his brown, thankful for some of the alcohol that rushed through her veins that nearly numbed her to the burn of his touch. He was so tall—not as tall as Luke, though Odessa hadn’t meant anyone who was, save for Grandpa—but tall enough that his figure loomed over hers and she liked it. “Yeah,” she let out a short breathless laugh. Running her fingers through her straight hair, she added, “I think, uh, I’m gonna head out, though.”

Calum’s eyebrows furrowed as his hands dropped from her, and Odessa focused on his words rather than the loss of his touch as he asked, “You’re not drivin’, are you?”

“No,” Odessa scoffed, shooting him a look. She hadn’t driven there in the first place, getting a ride from Crystal since she’d been by Odessa’s house around the time and had picked her up on the way back home. “I’m gonna call an Uber.”

Clicking his tongue, obviously displeased with the idea, Calum suggested, “Let me give you a ride, yeah?”

Odessa felt her lips curl upwards, raising an eyebrow at him as she giggled lightly. Music was still playing outside where most everyone was, but it was muffled inside the house. “You take this work-husband thing seriously, huh?”

The words had slipped and even though she wasn’t entirely sober, Odessa still felt the need to cringe at her words, a voice in her head telling her to shut up. But it was far, nearly unheard, so she ignored it as Calum grinned. “That—and being a good friend in general. Come on, I haven’t drank in hours. I don’t mind.”

He added the last bit upon seeing Odessa part her lips to protest, and she merely closed her mouth before letting out a small laugh in acceptance. She knew he hadn’t drank in hours, had only stuck to beer when he had drank earlier. And that had been hours ago, plenty of time to sober up. She would be lying if she said she was more comfortable taking an Uber home at one in the morning in Los Angeles than getting a ride from Calum. But before she could accept the offer, something was itching at the back of Odessa’s mind, a thought her head was begging for her to remember, until it clicked just as quickly.

Hadn’t Paige made some sort of comment about going home with Calum? Odessa chewed on the inside of her cheek. She didn’t want to step on anyone’s toes, especially Paige’s because she’d get blamed for a broken foot, but surely if Calum was offering Odessa a ride home, then he hadn’t arrived with the expectation of going home with Paige. And if he had, he certainly didn’t still feel that way. But was a ride home worth the potential jabs from, or maybe even wrath of, Paige?

Odessa determined that she was going to accept Calum’s offer for her own safety. She didn’t particularly trust Uber drivers in big cities—especially since she wasn’t entirely sober. Paige would just have to deal with it.

“Yeah, I’d appreciate it. Thanks, Calum,” Odessa finally accepted, her words being responded with a grin.

They quickly made their rounds after, saying goodnight to everyone, thanking Michael and Crystal for having them over as Calum grabbed the case his bass was in in his hand. As they did so, Odessa couldn’t help but notice that Paige wasn’t around, maybe in the bathroom, but neither she nor Calum waited around for her before leaving the house and getting in his black Range Rover. It smelled nice, his car. A mix of Calum’s cologne and leather and some kind of air freshener that all came together in a pleasant combination that had her closing her her eyes briefly and resting her head back after telling Calum her address.

There was a comfortable silence that had settled in the car, save for the music softly playing through the speakers as Calum drove. Odessa found herself breaking it as she said, “You guys were really good. I had no idea you could sing like that.”

Calum glanced at her, features shadowed under the occasionally gleaming light of the street lamps and buildings they passed, but the smile on his face was a soft image with the help of the glow of the dashboard. “Just one of my many talents,” he joked gently, his voice as quiet as hers, neither wanting to disrupt the comfort of the overall silence.

He was kidding, but Odessa agreed with him.

There had been something nostalgic about listening to the boys play tonight, especially during their slower ballads, and as Odessa’s gaze wandered back out the windshield, the unfiltered thoughts spilled past her mouth without much consideration. “My dad used to play songs for us. My mom and I.”

She could feel Calum glance at her, one hand on the steering wheel, elbow resting on the console separating them. “Oh yeah?” he asked, the upward tilt in his voice showing his curiosity.

“Yeah,” Odessa answered, her throat dry as her lips twisted to the side. Her eyebrows knitted together, fighting the words from escaping her, knowing they’d make things awkward and tense unnecessarily.

“Why’d he stop?”

Odessa’s lips puckered thoughtfully, head still tilted back, the lights passing by in blurs as she scoffed lightly. “He decided he wanted to play for a new family.”

Her jaw tightened as soon as she uttered those words, inhaling sharply, quietly, as she chastised herself for dropping something so personal out of nowhere. She could blame it on the alcohol, but both Odessa and Calum knew she hadn’t drank enough to not be in total control of her words, and her face felt hot with an embarrassed flush as she looked out the window in hopes of completely obstructing her view of Calum. What was wrong with her? Talking about her father, the man who left and her mother when she was fifteen to be with a woman he’d been having an affair with, who lived just outside of their small town, with a little girl who was Odessa’s half-sister.

For too long Odessa had resented them—all of them. Until she couldn’t be bothered with the amount of energy it took to keep up with it. So she just stopped. She stopped caring. Became hollow in that situation. Which was why she never allowed herself to think about it for too long, afraid of the anger and bitterness that would come rushing back.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered through a small, embarrassed laugh. She gave a shake of her head, too humiliated to look at Calum. If only she could keep her mouth shut. “That was—unnecessary. Sorry.”

Calum had already began protesting halfway through her apology, giving a shake of his head as he assured, “No, no—don’t apologize, alright?” His gentle tone had Odessa glancing at him, saw him shoot her a small, reassuring smile that had her chest tightening. “If you don’t wanna talk about it, that’s fine. But, like—I’m here if you do, yeah? Just want you to know that, uh—” Calum let out a soft, almost sheepish chuckle that had her gazing at him gently, curiously. “If I can be someone you can talk to about these things, then I’m there.”

The air was trapped in her lungs and Calum wasn’t making it any easier to not like him. He wanted to be someone she could talk to? She looked at him as he looked towards the road, but Odessa didn’t miss the subtle way he chewed on his lower lip and she wondered if he felt nervous telling her that, the way she felt in awe he would even think to offer. The gesture was beyond sweet, undeniably kind, one that threatened to melt Odessa on the spot.

He was kind, more so than any man she’d ever met. So Odessa smiled, effortlessly, and responded, “Thank you. I—The feeling’s mutual.”

Calum glanced at her then, lips curling upwards in a soft smile, which Odessa returned because she was being honest. If he wanted to be there for her, she wanted to be there for him. And maybe that only teased the dangerous game she was playing with herself, but how could Odessa turn away from him? Especially when he smiled at her like that? A smile that was soft on his lips and his eyes that was enough to leave everyone breathless, she felt.

Her phone buzzed in her lap then, and Odessa unlocked it to see a message from Luke, biting the inside of her lower lip to keep a scoff from escaping.

I can totally tell Paige is pissed that Cal left with you without even saying anything to her. Help. I’m not sober enough to not laugh in her face.

Odessa raised a hand to rub at her forehead with her fingers, biting back the smile that strained to upturn her lips. Paige’s reaction wasn’t funny, per se, as more expectant. She wanted to roll her eyes, to tell Luke to tell Paige to shut up because clearly Calum wasn’t as bothered as she was. But Odessa knew better. Knew it was none of her business even though she was, without really trying to, being inserted in whatever narrative existed between Calum and Paige. If there even was one. Odessa wasn’t sure.

At this point, she didn’t really have a good grasp on anything.

*****

“Have a good weekend, everyone. I’ll see you Monday,” Odessa smiled, getting multiple responses in return as her students shuffled out of the classroom right when the last bell of the day rang. She was going to stick around to get a head start on some grading, and as she shut the Smart Board off, one of her students approached her.

“Hey, Ms. K.,” Donny Crane said as he walked towards her desk, hands grasping the straps of his black backpack. “Are you coming to our game after school? Coach said you were.”

Odessa raised an eyebrow at the sophomore, feeling an amused smile tug at her lips as she took in his words. Donny was on the boys varsity soccer team, and Odessa was well aware there was a game an hour after school got out. Odessa had promised Calum a while back that she’d check out a game, and it had been nearly two months since she started and she had yet to attend. And with Donny, a boy quite taller than her, asked, a hopeful grin on his face, Odessa easily gave in. Not just because Calum was telling them that she was attending.

“Yeah, of course,” Odessa told him, smiling knowingly. “Coach says the team looks great this year—I gotta check that out myself.”

“Awesome,” Donny grinned, walking backwards to the door. “See you there, Ms. K!”

She laughed after him as she settled in her chair, looking at the pile of papers she had to grade. She would be able to get through a handful, maybe more, until she had to go to the game, so she didn’t waste time in getting started. Odessa was an expert in not allowing herself to get distracted when grading work, especially papers her students took time in writing, and so the next hour flew by far quicker than she’d anticipated. Putting the papers in a folder before gathering her things, Odessa left her classroom and headed towards the main office, signing out for the day and bidding goodbye to the secretaries still inside before heading out.

The parking lot was by the soccer field, so Odessa put the bag full of work in her car before heading over to the field, where she saw many people already gathered. A school bus was parked nearby, its label that of a different school, and Odessa saw their school’s team and the visitors’ doing practice drills on the field while everyone else waited for the game to start. A gentle breeze danced through her dark hair, the sun bright above them as Odessa folded the sleeves of her cropped denim jacket as she got to the bleachers and sat towards the front.

As people around her chattered with each other, Odessa narrowed her eyes slightly behind her sunglasses, catching sight of Calum on the other side of the field. Black track pants replaced the jeans he had been wearing earlier, and she watched as he did some foot work with a soccer ball while animatedly talking to two of the players standing by him, watching him.

And when the game began, of course Odessa would watch the team, track their movements with her eyes. But she would also allow her gaze to innocently, occasionally, glance back to her friend the coach, because just like with a bass or in front of a Smart Board, Calum was in his element on the other side of the field, too. Even from a distance, Odessa could see the utter concentration furrowing his eyebrows as he watched the boys play, making gestures and shouting things Odessa couldn’t hope to understand—or hear, really, not with the cheers of everyone she was surrounded by as the boys scored a goal or defended their own.

When Calum had mentioned a while back that the team was looking great this year, he hadn’t been kidding. Soccer was one of the very few sports Odessa kind of understood, but just by watching them for the first time, she was impressed. It sort of swelled her teacher’s pride, given that a few of the boys were in her classes, knowing she was teaching many intelligent, talented students. It only added onto her comfort of teaching in Los Angeles, another win for her for accepting the job and moving out of bumfuck, Nevada despite her big city hesitation.

The game had been exciting, with Odessa letting out cheers of her own and clapping along in support of their team, a grin on her face when it was over and they had won. After the teams had shaken hands and dispersed after Calum gave them a quick talk, breaking off with a clap, Odessa got off the bleachers and wandered across the field. She wasn’t the only one, a bunch of others heading over to talk to the players, and Odessa offered Calum a smile when he glanced her way while in the middle of conversing with a couple of parents.

She waited patiently, passing the few moments talking to Donny and another boy on the team she taught, Jude. Calum wandered over shortly after, grinning triumphantly as he ran his fingers through his blonde hair, “You made it to a game—and a good one, too.”

“Yeah, finally,” Odessa laughed in agreement. “I was just telling the boys I was impressed with what I saw.”

“As I said you would be,” Calum shrugged, not at all modest with the half smirk that played on his lips. Then, with a jut of his chin, Calum added, “The team and I are heading out for some celebratory pizza—you’re more than welcome to join.”

Odessa’s eyebrows raised, the invitation unexpected as her lips parted. “Oh, uh,” she stammered, a short nervous chuckle escaping her as she played with the bracelet on her wrist. With a shake of her head, she said, “I don’t want to impose—it should just be you and the team, right?”

Before Calum could respond, Jude spoke up with a grin, “Nah, Ms. Kline—you should definitely come with.”

With a laugh, Donny added, “Yeah, Coach could definitely use the company of a grown up when he’s with all of us.”

Despite the grin fighting its way to Odessa’s lips, and the roll of Calum’s eyes, Odessa pointed out to the two younger boys, “We’re barely ten years older than you.” She took a breath then, blue eyes meeting Calum’s brown as she raised her eyebrows and asked, “You sure it’s fine?” Honestly, she could really go for some pizza right now. She was starving.

Calum’s smirk returned, looking as boyish as the two students, yet in a complete league of his own as he told Odessa, “I’m buyin’.”

Around twenty minutes later, thanks to Los Angeles traffic, Odessa was sitting at a small table with Calum at a pizza place near the school, the boys from the team scattered around at different tables around them, loud and talkative like the heart of the place. Odessa didn’t think much of Calum sitting across from her as he enjoyed his slices of vegetarian pizza while she ate her extra cheese and jalapeño peppers ones, reminding herself of the innocence of this invitation.

At least, that’s what she was hoping. It was difficult enough to battle whatever feelings for Calum were swimming in the depths of her heart, telling herself time and time again that she needed to keep her mouth shut, heart calm, and thoughts pushed back. And, God, there were so many moments where Odessa tried to talk herself out of it, questioned if she was really that afraid of Paige that she would keep whatever feelings she may have to herself. But every thought was countered with the reminder that Calum wasn’t just someone Paige had a territorial and—in Odessa’s quiet opinion—unjustified claim on, but was also her coworker, someone who had so effortlessly become such a good friend. It was just like when she had met Luke, instantly clicking with her blonde across-the-hall neighbor during the first day of her junior year in college. That’s how she reminded herself of it.

Except Odessa was painfully aware that Luke had always just been a platonic friend of hers. Calum didn’t feel as such in her disillusioned head. She tried—and failed—not to think about it.

Right now, though, Odessa was hoping was just innocent. Was hoping that Calum only invited her to get pizza with him and the team because they were good friends outside of work. She hoped he’d invited other teachers out like this before her so rumors didn’t circulate about her joining them. Odessa knew the functions of high school, knew even teachers weren’t safe from high school gossip. She didn’t want this to be made into a big deal when her running mind was already trying to dissect every inch of it.

“So have you thought of a Halloween costume yet?”

Calum’s voice pulled Odessa out of her thoughts effortlessly, watching as he raised a dark eyebrow to go along with his question. He sipped the soda through a straw but his brown eyes never left Odessa, waiting for an answer. “Uh, no, not yet, actually. I haven’t decided what iconic character I want to do yet,” she answered with a light laugh.

Halloween was approaching and Odessa had been pleased to know that all students and teachers were encouraged to dress up. It fell on a Friday this year, and Odessa figured she’d just wear her costume for school to the party Luke and Sierra were throwing.

“Yeah, I haven’t either,” Calum clicked his tongue with a shake of his head. As he picked up a pepper that had fallen onto the plate from the slice, gaze on it thoughtfully as the chain bracelet he wore on his tattooed wrist glinted against the lights above. Odessa caught the moment Calum’s eyes widened, a grin on his lips that clearly read of an expression that he’d just gotten an idea. “How would you feel about, like, pairing up for the costumes? We could be a notable couple from any piece of literature.” Smile turning into a smirk, too charming for his own good, he added, “We’d really step up as work-husband-and-wife.”

Odessa laughed at that, but his idea circled her brain for a minute. She shouldn’t really consider the idea, knew it would only serve to dig her into a deeper hole, but Odessa couldn’t lie—it sounded like a fun thing to do. A bunch of other teachers, Odessa knew, were pairing up for costumes—the gym teachers all had a group one—so it wouldn’t be too out of the blue if two English teachers dressed up as a fictional couple. Odessa could do this—it would be totally professional and platonic.

“That’s not a bad idea,” she finally conceded, chuckling when Calum’s grin widened, showing off the soft lines of the crinkles by his eyes, willing herself not to lose her breath at the sight of it. “As for the costumes. . .” She trailed off, letting her brain turn as she thought of potential ideas. There was one that immediately sprouted in her mind, and Odessa willed her racing heart as she finally looked back at him and slowly suggested, “How would you feel about Pride and Prejudice?”

A classic novel, one for the ages, Odessa felt. She wondered if Calum did, too.

His grin remained, nodding his head as he folded his arms on the table, ever so slightly leaning forward with his gaze locked on Odessa’s. With a tilt of his head and a low rasp in his voice, Calum concluded, “Think you just found the Mr. Darcy to your Elizabeth Bennett.”

The hole was definitely getting a little bit deeper.

tags: @irwinkitten @sweetcherrymike @meetashthere @loveroflrh @astroashtonio @loverofhood @captain-what-is-going-on @angelbbycal @singt0mecalum @hopelessxcynic @lfwallscouldtalk @bodhi-black @findingliam-o @softlrh @highfivecalum @calumsmermaid @erikamarie41 @quintodosuniversos @longlastingdaydream @babylon-corgis @lukehemmingsunflower @miss-saltwatercowgirl @pastelpapermoons @conquerwhatliesahead92 @rotten-kandy @metangi @neigcthood @ohhmuke @mindkaleidoscope @5sos-and-hessa @trustmeimawhalebiologist @vxlentinecal @pettybassists @vaporshawn @lu-my-golden-boi @visualm3nte @dontjinx-it @lifeakaharry @neonweeknds @antisocialbandmate @ixcantxdecidexwhosxmyxfave @calpalbby @grreatgooglymoogly @sunnysidesblog @miahelizaaabeth @madelynerin @dramallamawithsparkles @kaytiebug14 @hoodskillerqueen @bitchinbabylon @empathycth @xhaileyreneex @inlovehoodx @bloodlinecal @sublimehood @madbomb @raabiac @britnicole11 @outofmylimitcal @wildflower-cth @bloodmoonashton @vxidhood @gosh-im-short @thesubtweeter @mycollectionofnuts @cthwldflwr @everyscarisahealingplace @socorroann @talkfastromance4 @calumftduke @musichoney @treatallwithkindness @partlysunnycal

283 notes · View notes

alrighttevans · 3 years

Text

invisible strings

chapter 1: well i wonder

Ao3 link

chapter 2: well i wonder

Marinette wished she knew who the apparently cheerful boy behind that black mask and cat-like green eyes was, as she doodled a butterfly on the margins of her notebook, in French class.

Despite being so adamant in keeping their identities as a secret, she’d be lying if she claimed she never wondered who he was, especially now. Before last night, she had never worried about Chat Noir’s civilian life. Why would she? He was always so merry and well disposed that it was contagious — it was hard to picture her partner as the same boy she had met last night, she mused, as she sketched the pink long dress she was currently working on —, but the boy she saw last night wasn’t cheerful. He was so determined in shrugging her concern away with some of his light comments, however his body language couldn’t lie to her with the same determination. Chat was her best friend. Marinette couldn’t let him hurt, all alone. But what could she do? He wouldn’t talk to her. He was shutting Ladybug out. She didn’t know how to look for him as Marinette. Something was wrong with her kitty, and that made her question her entire relationship with Chat. What other problems was he burying under his merry personality and dealing with all alone? Was he hurting all that time and she had never known? She wished she knew who he was so she could try and help him and hold him and tell him it’s gonna be okay.

However, until the day the reveal of their secret identities arrived, she had to trust Chat Noir to talk to her, in case things got too bad on his side.

The problem was she didn’t think he would.

What were her options, then? Perhaps, she could—

“Marinette!” She jumped on her seat, whilst her head snapped at the sound of her name, only to find no one other than Adrien Agreste, with his soft golden hair, bathed by the sun that shone through the window just so it could flatter even more his looks, and deep, welcoming green eyes, in which she would gladly drown, waving his hand on her face. Marinette felt her cheeks burn — a very common sensation for when she was around that boy. For how long had he been calling her, as she ignored him? That was so embarrassing. She was so caught up on her thoughts that she didn’t realise Adrien, of all people, wanted to talk to her!

“Y-yes?”

“S-sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you.” He quickly apologized, scratching the back of his neck, as a light blush creeped into his features.

“It’s okay! You have to apologize! I m-mean you don’t have to apologize!”

Perfect as always, he decided to ignore her bad manners and the stuttering mess she still became sometimes, when he caught her off her guard, and chose to both nod and give her his most brilliant smile, that melted her whole heart, that easily. “Class is over. It has been for a few minutes, but you didn’t seem to notice.”

“Oh”, Marinette spared a glance on her surroundings, watching a deserted classroom, other than for her and Adrien, a clean blackboard and empty seats before her, “Thank you, Adrien.” She added, as her eyes came back to find his, once again, but his gaze was too busy to meet hers.

Following the trail left behind his stare, she found that what had caught up his attention was her notebook, full of the doodles she did while she didn’t mind any attention to the teacher. There was the butterfly, her long dress, a few hairstyles she wanted to try, and— “Is that Chat Noir?” He questioned her, as he, all of the sudden, decided it was a good idea to look in her eyes as intensely as he did to the notebook, with some kind of fondness and bewilderment, which felt like Adrien could see her beyond her skin.

“Yes...?” was her response, which sounded more like a question, as she glanced back to the notebook, unsure if she could sustain Adrien’s stare for much longer, where yesterday’s Chat Noir lied, looking back at her with that mournful expression that was so out of character for him. A Chat Noir she didn’t know she had drawn. A Chat Noir that made her heart break at the sight of his melancholy.

A Chat Noir only Ladybug had ever seen.

A Chat Noir Marinette shouldn’t have known, her eyes widened at the realisation, as she quickly closed the notebook with a loud noise, and shoved it, along with her other materials, inside her bag.

“Oh, look at the time! I should probably go.” Marinette announced, while she stood up and dashed to the door, feeling panic run through her veins. What was she thinking, doodling this in class? “My parents must be waiting for me! Bye, Adrien!”

“Marinette?”

She bit back all the curses that rose through her throat, for she couldn’t resist the way her name poured like honey from his mouth — that boy made her weak —, but, instead, she walked away from the close escape she had managed to reach, to look at the soft frown on his gorgeous face. “Yes?” She asked, trying to sound as nonchalantly as she could, at the same time he held a quizzical look on his face.

“We’re having lunch at Nino’s today. Have you forgotten?”

Oh.

Right.

Nino had invited her, Alya and Adrien over.

Marinette repressed the overwhelming need she felt to slap herself and forced an artificial smile into her lips. “Of course I didn’t!” She began, searching for the first excuse that would pop into her mind. “I… I was just checking if you remembered! You did! Ha-ha!”

“Shall we, then?” Being the gentleman that he was, Adrien didn’t comment on her behaviour, but grinned at her, while he ruffled his hair, before pointing at the exit, in a request for her to take the lead, which she promptly took, after a fair amount of nodding from her part.

This is a disaster her heart knew, when she walked all the way from their classroom to the front of the school with Adrien — thankfully, brilliant as he was, he filled the silence left by Marinette’s absence in their conversation while excitingly talking about this new game he had bought, and she could get away from it by excessively nodding.

This is a complete disaster her eyes screamed as she met Alya and Nino at the end of the stairs and she basically grabbed her best friend’s arm before she could choose to walk with her boyfriend, so Marinette would have at least a little bit of time to recover herself from her embarrassment.

This is totally, utterly disastrous, she was sure as Adrien, whom, for some ungodly unknown reason, had decided to sit right in front of her during their meal, kept staring her, every, now and again with that same gaze that did things to her back at school — things she wasn’t used to him making her feel!, which spoke volumes since she had been infatuated with him for a long time, now.

It would be an euphemism to say that Marinette was freaking out.

What if Adrien thought she was a Chat Noir fangirl? She would never hear the end of it, if Chat himself happened to hear about it. It would be so embarrassing, especially considering she was Ladybug! Or worse! What if he thought she had a crush on Chat? Then he would never know she actually fancied him! How were they going to buy a house together and adopt a dog, a cat and a hamster if he didn't know? Oh my God, what about the kids?! And why the hell was he still looking at her like that, but now almost holding back a grin? Adrien didn’t grin like that to her! Oh my God, what if he thought she was Ladybug? Of course, only Ladybug would know something so personal about Chat Noir to put it on paper like she had; only Ladybug would have looked at her kitty close enough to capture the extent of his sorrow; only Ladybug could have drawn that! She was doomed, completely and utterly doomed.

He knew. She had ruined it all and given herself out. He was only waiting for the perfect time to confront her on it.

And he would think Ladybug fancied Chat Noir, above all!

This was a disaster!

“What?” Alya’s voice interrupted her track of thought, as she turned right to see her friend staring back at her, with a frown.

“What?!” With a confused expression of her own, Marinette stared back, waiting for someone to explain to her what was going on.

“What’s a disaster?”

Oh, no, did she say that out loud? How fucking much had she said? She could feel her face reach an yet unknown shade of red as she realised all three of her friends were gazing at her, expectantly.

“Oh, n-nothing! Don't mind me”, she tried to dismiss their questions and worried complexions with a wave of her hand, “I was just thinking out loud, that’s all!”

“Is everything alright, Marinette?” Adrien bloody Agreste just had to look at her with his bewitching emerald eyes, while all his concern for her sanity cascaded through his voice — how ironic was it that he was the one driving her mad?

“Sure isn’t! I mean, sure is!”

She wanted to die.

Maybe she could make a go for the window and off herself before anyone could stop her, she guessed. She was quite fast.

“Okay…” Alya, being the darling that she was, took the attention away from Marinette as she changed subjects, after giving her a pointed look that demanded an explanation later. She breathed in relief — when had she stopped breathing? “Have you guys heard? Ladybug and Chat Noir were spotted together before dawn.”

Oh, she started breathing too soon, she realized, as Alya showed them the pictures of the duo, which were sent to her on the Ladyblog.

Marinette loved being Ladybug, loved the people of her city — that seemed to love her just as much —, but sometimes it was too fucking much. They weren’t fighting an akuma at that night, they weren’t giving an interview, nor were asked to take a picture. She and Chat Noir weren’t playing superheroes, they were just two people (who were public figures that happened to have superpowers) having a very personal moment, a moment that felt stolen, as she watched her friend’s finger touch the screen to reveal even more photos. It was theirs, and nobody had the right to take it from them and share it to the world. She felt irritated and sad for Chat, for it was his moment of vulnerability, and having it exposed for all of Paris to see and speculate was just cruel.

“Chat Noir looks sad, doesn’t he? I wonder what happened.” Alya pondered, sliding through the screen.

“Poor dude. I hope he’s alright”

“Alya, you should take the photos down.” Marinette chastised, throwing a pointed look at her friend, who held an expression that was a mixture of both confusion and discontent.

“What? Why?”

“How do you think Chat Noir will feel when he sees those?” She stressed; her hands gesticulating throughout her sentence, before she folded her arms on her chest, whilst arching her eyebrows, scoldingly. “It’s not right. I’m sure he doesn’t want all Paris prying into his problems.”

“But... I should inform people on our heroes.” The redheaded insisted, even though she didn’t sound as convicted on her argument as she usually was. “Maybe we can help him, somehow.”

“If you want to help him, delete the photos and then make a post saying you're doing it in respect for him — as everybody should.”

Alya sighed guilty and gazed back at her mobile, “You’re right. I’ll do it.” She promised, as she started tapping on the screen.

If Chat Noir wouldn’t allow Ladybug to help him, then Marinette would. She would do anything for her kitty, and if acting backstage was, for now, all she could work with, she’d do as such.

She turned back on her seat, reaching for her orange juice glass that laid on the table, only to accidentally meet Adrien’s piercing gaze. Something shone on his eyes, in a strangely familiar way. It was… wonder.

chapter 3: dancing with our hands tied

#so chapter 2 is out #invisible strings #mari writes miraculous #mari writes something #miraculous ladybug #ml fanfic #adrienette #adrinette #adrien agreste #marinette dupain cheng #ladybug #chat noir #ladynoir #ml #mlb #love square #ml love square

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smooshjames · 4 years

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Promise?

smash bros, gay panic, and spicy cheese jell-o salad: the story of two women in love

word count: 4.4k

a/n: first courtney work and i gotta say, i’m extremely proud of this one. i hope i did the request justice! as always, here’s a link to my ko-fi if you want / are able to donate, which is, of course, never an obligation. whether you support me with your money or just with your eyes, i’m so grateful that you take the time to read my work, and i hope you enjoy!

warnings: some mild angst, mostly just gay panic and fluff, exceedingly dramatic descriptions of super smash bros gameplay

request: here

The first time you appeared as a guest on Smosh, they had you film a Try Not To Laugh. When that went over well with the fans, they invited you back for another. Then you appeared on a SmoshCast, and then an Eat It or Yeet It. And on it went. You became a staple to the community. You loved Smosh, though you declined to work there full time (you had enough of your own independent creative pursuits without adding on a full-time job, no matter how wonderful that full-time job might be).

But more than just the larger following and the fond memories that Smosh had gotten you, you also found quite a few good friends. You spent time with the Squad constantly, always going out to lunch or coffee, getting invited to dinner parties and other random hangouts, playing video games with Damien or talking with Sarah well into the night. Despite not officially working at Smosh, you had been accepted into the family, and you had come to consider the cast and crew as some of your closest friends.

All this to say that when Ian reached out to ask if you wanted to participate in a video for Smosh Games, you said yes without a second thought. It was a pretty casual video, just everyone sitting around and playing Smash Bros. There were two twists, one tamer than the other. The first was that everyone had to choose random characters, which was to prevent people who played the game a lot from picking their mains; it would provide some interest as people struggled to learn the mechanics of characters they didn’t usually play. The second twist was that at the end of each round, whoever won got to choose a punishment for whoever lost (losing, in this instance, defined as being the first person out). You settled on the familiar red couch with Courtney next to you and Shayne to her right. Damien, Keith, Noah, Matt, and Sarah settled in chairs around and behind you.

Shayne introduced the video and the rules, explained a few of the punishments that the winner would get to choose from (and that the loser would have to endure), and then the game began. Everyone hit the randomize button. Various groans of annoyance and/or cheers of pleasant surprise went up around you. Matt lucked out with Bowser, Shayne got Isabelle, Keith got Lucario. You had Villager, which you felt pretty neutral about.

Immediately, you set your sights on Courtney. Of everyone at Smosh, you were by far closest to her. The two of you had hit it off instantly and become fast friends. Though, much to your excitement and frustration, it sometimes seemed like she wanted it to be something more. The two of you were constantly flirting back and forth, veiled as teasing or just Friendly Complimenting. There was one incident that would be seared into your brain until the day you died: the time she had gotten a little too drunk at a party and leaned in to kiss you fully on the lips, but you’d been interrupted by Shayne before she could. You had fallen asleep in the same bed multiple times, for multiple reasons: the time she had called you after a bad breakup and you held her while she cried; the time you called her after a bad breakup; the time you’d been too drunk to make it home, so she’d invited you to stay the night at her place but neither of you wanted to make the other sleep on the couch so you just both slept on the bed. All things that could be explained away as close friendship (except maybe the almost kiss, but that was explained away with alcohol; you were pretty sure she didn’t even remember it). It wasn’t like you weren’t physical with your other friends. You’d cuddled with Sarah and held Shayne’s hand. But all that stuff felt way different when you did it with Courtney. With Courtney, it felt consequential, important.

Even now, having her next to you on the couch had your heart pounding in your chest. The couch was small (more a loveseat than anything), so her leg was pressed against yours from ankle to hip. Your arm kept brushing against hers as you played. You could smell the occasional whiff of her perfume.

You were in full, unadulterated gay panic.

But you also had a game to win. You weren’t a sore loser under normal circumstances, but one of the punishments involved drinking straight mayonnaise and you were not about to endure that. You knew you just had to outlast someone else, and you figured you could tease Courtney in the process. You went after her every opportunity you got, managing to knock her off twice.

The first round came to a close. Damien won and Noah lost. Damien chose to tweet something on Noah’s account, which Noah wasn’t allowed to delete or address; he just had to leave it up to let people speculate about it until the video came out. Damien strung together a bunch of non sequiturs that made exactly no sense, the group laughed, and the next round began.

In the second round, you went after Courtney yet again. It was fun to antagonize her; being as expressive as she was, she couldn’t keep a poker face, and she kept yelling unintelligible threats at you as her character plummeted off the side of the stage. As you laughed gleefully at her annoyance, you flashed back to the time in third grade when one of the boys wouldn’t stop pulling your hair on the playground. When you’d complained to your mother, she told you that he probably had a crush on you and didn’t know how to deal with it (she’d also told you to stand up for yourself, which led to you kicking the kid where the sun doesn't shine, which was a very interesting meeting between you, your teacher, and your mother; but that’s a story for another day).

Point being, you realized now how that kid had felt.

Once again, at the end of round two, you didn’t win or lose. You were perfectly content to run in the middle of the pack. In fact, until the last round, you were actively trying not to win. Your strategy for this game was going unnoticed. If you won too much, everyone would start to target you; if you lost too much, you’d have to deal with punishments.

By round three, you and Courtney were in a complete, unspoken war. The two of you ignored the other players as much as you possibly could, choosing instead to constantly pursue each other. She got a few hits in on you, but you were too good; months of playing with Damien and Shayne had prepared you for this moment. You knocked her off once, twice, three times. Your trash talk was louder and more constant than anyone else’s. Even Damien and Shayne weren’t ribbing each other as much as you and Courtney.

Round four went similarly. You knocked her off once, and then again. As her character fell into the abyss, she looked like she was sincerely considering putting her controller through the television screen.

God, you were in love with her.

“Y/N!” she said. You’d never heard such visceral exasperation. You went after her once again.

“What’s up?” you asked, voice light and breezy. It was a joke you’d picked up from Damien. You forced her character off the screen and she shouted so loud you were pretty sure passersby might’ve thought she was getting murdered.

“Quit it or I’ll bite!” she yelled. Shayne started laughing so hard that Noah managed to knock him off the stage while he was distracted.

Maybe it was the sheer adrenaline you felt as you turned to fight Keith, maybe it was the fact that you were so utterly love drunk, maybe you just weren’t really paying attention to what you were saying, maybe you were desperate for the last word. You weren’t sure why you said what you said next, but you sure as hell said it, and the room sure as hell went quiet when you did.

“Promise?”

There was a second, two seconds, three, of silence as everyone processed what you’d said. And then the room erupted in laughter and cheers. Meanwhile, on the screen, Keith beat you, and then Shayne beat him, and then Matt forced Shayne off the edge of the stage and was declared the winner of round four.

Sarah had lost, and as Matt doled out her punishment (drinking mayo, the one you’d been so staunchly against), you snuck a glance at Courtney. She was completely occupied with cheering Sarah on; she barely even noticed you looking at her. She didn’t seem particularly upset by what you’d said. In fact, she didn’t seem upset at all. It looked like she had just shrugged it off as a joke, which both relieved and disappointed you.

On the one hand, it was good that she hadn’t realized the deeper meaning behind your words — or, well. Word. Singular. If she had realized just how serious you were, your friendship might have gotten weird or awkward. You figured she didn’t like you back; if she had, she would’ve asked you out by now. You knew that Courtney wasn’t the type to stop being friends with someone just because of a crush, but you didn’t want her to think that your friendship with her had ulterior motives or anything like that.

On the other hand, you sort of wished she had taken it seriously. After all, she flirted back with you, and she initiated physical contact more often than you did. There had also been the infamous Almost Kiss Incident of 2019. It seemed like maybe, just maybe, there was something there. As much as you tried to rationalize it away, you couldn’t ignore the lingering touches, the tenderness she seemed to save for you and only you, the double entendres that came with a joking eyebrow waggle but a serious heat in her gaze. Maybe you needed to take the initiative.

So went the paradox you’d found yourself stuck inside of. It seemed like you had a good shot if you made the first move, but it might get weird if you were reading the signs wrong, which meant you did nothing, and maybe she took that as a signal that you weren’t interested, which meant she did nothing, which you took as a signal that she wasn’t interested, rinse and repeat.

Feelings were a complicated web and you were very close to throwing in the towel completely. Maybe you could fast forward to the inevitable spinster-slash-cat-lady days which seemed to be your destiny.

You forced yourself to stop thinking about it. Round five was starting, and round five had the biggest punishment of all, which meant you were really screwed if you lost. Plus, whenever you let yourself overanalyze your relationship with Courtney, you ended up with a migraine and exactly no progress on your game plan.

“Y/N,” she said as the round began, “let’s call a truce until it’s just us. And then we can settle this one on one.”

“Hm,” you said, pretending to think about it even as you turned away from her and started attacking Noah. “Tempting. But it sounds a little bit like you’re just trying to get me off your ass for a while since I’m so much better at Smash Bros than you.”

You heard someone (probably Damien) let out a low “oooo” from somewhere behind you. You were barely conscious of your surroundings. Your world had narrowed to the screen in front of you and the feeling of Courtney’s thigh pressed warmly against yours.

“No,” she said. She was fending off Shayne and Damien simultaneously, which was actually really impressive. Courtney was a good Smash player when you weren’t beating the shit out of her. You made a mental note to tease her about that later. “I just want to settle this without distraction. Then we’ll see who the better Smash player really is — damn it!” Shayne had gotten the better of her and knocked her off the stage.

“I’ll call a truce with you on one condition. If we both survive to the end of the game, whoever loses has to take the punishment.”

She considered. These were technically not the rules of the challenge: in the last four rounds, it had been that whoever died first had to take the punishment, rather than whoever died second-to-last. But you wanted to up the stakes, and hey, no one could say you didn’t know good television.

“Fine,” she said. Everyone else murmured their assent; it was better for them, anyway, since it basically guaranteed they wouldn’t have to take the punishment.

And it was settled. The two of you stayed away from each other. The game went on. After a few minutes, as you forced Keith off the edge for the third time, you realized that you and Courtney were the only two left. There was silence for a moment as you sized each other up in real life, both of your characters frozen in their respective places on the screen. All your friends were holding their breath.

You held your hand out to Courtney. “May the best woman win,” you said, and you meant it. She took your hand and shook it firmly, and you felt like the bones in your arm were melting as she did it. Even that simple touch was enough to have your heart pounding. Every nerve in your hand stood at attention. And as you pulled away, the feeling lingered like an electric shock.

The next few minutes were fraught with tension. You’d never fought harder in a Smash Bros game in your life. Courtney was fighting with a vengeance, and she was so good that you wondered for a moment if she’d been letting you win earlier. All of your trash talk ceased as the two of you focused on the game with the intensity of people whose lives were actually at stake. Your friends were forced to provide commentary as you and Courtney played silently, utterly focused, but you were barely hearing them. At one point, you felt Damien rubbing your shoulders and you were distantly aware of Shayne doing the same to Courtney, both of them talking in your ears like trainers at a boxing match. Matt was doing his best sports announcer imitation.

She killed you. You killed her. She killed you. The two of you were each down to one life. The playing field was completely even. Your fingers flew across your controller. You had broken an actual sweat.

And then, the unthinkable: Courtney, the underdog, forced you off the edge of the stage. The room erupted. Everyone was screaming, yourself included. It was absolute madness. Shayne grabbed Courtney’s wrist and held her hand in the air like the ref at the end of a match. Sarah and Matt were jumping around behind the couch. You were yelling things that even you couldn’t make sense of. Keith and Noah were scream-laughing and leaning on each other for support.

It took a solid couple minutes for everyone to settle down, and then it was time for your punishment, which had been kept a strict secret until this moment. Courtney didn’t get to choose anything. All anyone knew was that it was the worst of them all. Your heart was thundering from adrenaline and anticipation.

You knew you were in for a treat (in the worst possible sense of the word) when Garrett entered the room with a silver platter. You had a flashback to the ghost pepper pasta you’d been forced to eat on Eat It or Yeet It. Your heart dipped.

“No…” you said, more to yourself than anything. Everyone waited with bated breath as Garrett walked in and set the platter on the coffee table before you. You took a deep breath. You looked at the camera. “Well,” you said, “if this is what kills me, it’s been real.”

You uncovered the platter. It was a Jell-O salad, that much was clear. The smell had your stomach churning. It was indescribable, but if you had to try, you’d describe it as boys’ locker room with a side of wasabi. You picked up the fork and poked at it a little. You were pretty sure you heard Courtney gag as the smell hit her.

“Do I get a puke bucket?” you asked. You were actually kind of terrified for your digestive tract. A crew member walked out of the room and came back a few minutes later with the Eat It or Yeet It bucket. Fitting.

You got as much of the Jell-O salad onto your fork as you could and, with the bucket firmly in hand, put the bite in your mouth. You gagged, but persevered. Somehow, it tasted better than it smelled. That’s not to say it tasted good (it didn’t), just that the dirty sock smell got buried under the wasabi/ghost pepper/whatever spicy bullshit Garrett had found this week.

You swallowed, grimacing all the while, and opened your mouth for the cameras to see. Everyone clapped, you felt Keith put a hand on your shoulder, and Courtney began doing the outro for the video. She asked where the fans could find you. You plugged your Twitter and YouTube as usual. Someone brought you bread so you could drown out the spice in your mouth.

The cameras cut and you stood up, eager to stretch your legs after sitting on the couch for so long. “That was fun,” you said. Everyone agreed. Courtney stood up, nodded, and then made her way out of the room. Your heart dropped. You couldn’t help thinking it had something to do with you. Maybe she had been freaked out by your comment but just didn’t show it while you were recording. Maybe you’d hurt her feelings by singling her out throughout the game. Maybe the smell of your Jell-O salad had been so bad she needed a bathroom.

As you watched her go, Shayne sidled up next to you. “‘Promise?’” he asked in his best imitation of you, shit-eating grin on his face. You turned and slapped him on the arm.

Shayne knew about your crush. You’d been forced to tell him after he caught you in the middle of the Almost Kiss Incident. You had tried to play it off, say she was just drunk, say it didn’t mean anything to you, but Shayne was smart. He saw right through you. You had confessed your feelings. He’d been doing his best to help the two of you ever since, but he absolutely refused to tell you what he knew about how she felt; if she reciprocated your feelings and Shayne knew about it, he wasn’t letting you in on the secret. He insisted that it wasn’t his place to tell you one way or the other, which you respected as an adult and as his friend, but despised as someone stuck in romantic limbo.

“Shut up,” you muttered. You glanced back toward the door where Courtney had exited. “Did she seem upset to you?”

Shayne just shrugged. “Don’t know,” he said. And then he nudged your arm with his elbow and nodded pointedly toward the door. “I’m sure she’d tell you if you asked. You’re pretty much her best friend.”

“I don’t know…” you said. “What if it’s because of me?”

“Then she’ll tell you and you’ll talk it out like the grown women that you are.”

You bit your lip, debating. You knew he was right (Shayne, when he dropped all the bravado and the Comedy Man act, was seldom wrong).

“Go, Y/N,” he said.

You squared your shoulders and left the soundstage in search of Courtney.

You found her sifting through costumes on the Try Not to Laugh set. You knew that she came here sometimes to think of new bits and clear her head, so finding her now didn’t come as a surprise. You closed the door behind you and then knocked on it quietly to let her know you were there. She jumped, but relaxed when she realized it was you.

“Hey,” you said. Being alone with her had the butterflies in your stomach going haywire. “You ran off kinda fast after we wrapped the video. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

She nodded and turned back to the costume rack. Her hands were shaking slightly, that much you saw from your position by the door. You wanted to hug her, but given the events of the day, you weren’t sure if it was a good idea. You waited for her to say or do something; you decided you would let her lead.

Finally, she took in a sharp breath and turned to you. There was something utterly indescribable in her eyes, but whatever it was sent you overboard. You felt like you’d been launched into space without a helmet, screaming inaudibly, head about to explode from the pressure. The look on her face almost made your knees buckle; you had to grab the doorknob behind you to stay upright.

“Are we…” she stopped, took another breath, and started again. “Am I fucking insane for thinking that whatever we are, we’re more than friends? Because I keep getting it in my head that you look at me a little too fondly to just chalk it up to friendship. But every time I flirt or hold your hand or anything you just… you don’t seem into it like that. And I mean, even when I tried to kiss you — with the help of a little alcohol — it seemed like you were leaning away. But maybe I was just drunk. But after today, I mean… God! ‘Promise,’ Y/N, really? How the fuck am I supposed to take that? And the whole time we’re playing I’ve got your fucking leg up against mine distracting me.” She took a break to gulp in some air, but she was nowhere near finished, and you wouldn’t know what to say even if she was. “And no one else is willing to fucking help me! I know Shayne knows something but every time I ask he plays the It’s Not My Place card. Well what the fuck am I supposed to do with that! But it seems like you don’t want me, so I haven’t said anything because I don’t want to ruin what little of you I do have, so I just sit around feeling like I’m going into cardiac fucking arrest every time you’re near me but not being able to do anything about it!”

By the time she was finished, her shoulders were practically heaving with the effort. She looked close to tears. She was looking at you pleadingly now, terrified of what you might say.

Two equally inane realizations hit you in rapid succession. First, Shayne did know, the little shit; you were going to have words with him as soon as you were done here. Second, Courtney remembered the Almost Kiss Incident. You had assumed that she’d been so drunk she wouldn’t remember. That was part of the reason you’d leaned away; you weren’t sure if it was fueled by her actual desire to kiss you or just an alcohol-addled mistake, and you didn’t want to risk it being the latter.

Far more importantly, you realized how much time you’d both wasted on the same fear. Both of you walking on eggshells, afraid to say something because it seemed like the other didn’t feel the same way. The force of how monumentally idiotic you’d been knocked the air out of your lungs.

You debated how to go about resolving this. You knew one way or the other, you’d walk out of the room with a date scheduled. You considered just kissing her then and there; it would certainly convey all the words spiraling through your head. It would also be the romance movie thing to do. But you sort of felt like if you tried to walk you might pass out immediately. The doorknob was the only thing grounding you in reality.

“We’re both dumb as hell,” you said, finally. Not the most eloquent response to a declaration of love. She furrowed her brow. You hurried to elaborate, worried she would take it the wrong way. “I mean it’s been at least a year of both of us overanalyzing every time we so much as breathe in each other’s direction, and we’re just now confessing our mutual love. Kind of pathetic, if you think about it.”

Courtney laughed as she realized what you were saying. She made her way over to you, swearing as she almost tripped over the costume rack, and wrapped you in a massive hug. You buried your face in her neck, happy to finally have confirmation of the things you’d suspected for literal years.

You had a lot of time to make up for.

You pulled apart, though neither of you went very far. You were still in each other’s personal space, and it was taking a lot of brain power for you to speak coherent sentences when she was very much within kissing distance.

“How’s Saturday for you? Would dinner work?” you asked.

She grinned and nodded, and there was a moment where neither of you said anything, either too happy or too dumbfounded to speak.

“I’d like to kiss you now,” she said. “I know that’s not proper date etiquette, but I think we’ve wasted plenty of time.”

“Courtney, we’re far beyond first date,” you said. “If you leave this room without kissing me I’ll be so wounded, I don’t know if I’d be able to go on.”

She rolled her eyes at you but leaned in to kiss you anyway. It was perfect, everything you’d ever dreamed of and more. One of her hands was on your cheek, the other on your waist. When she pulled away, she made a face, and your heart plummeted.

“What?” you said, trying to keep your voice light despite your fear that she was disappointed with something. “Not good enough for you?”

“No, not at all. It was perfect except for one thing,” she replied.

You quirked a brow.

“You taste like spicy cheese Jell-O salad.”

#courtney miller x reader #courtney miller #shayne topp #damien haas #matt raub #sarah whittle #keith leak jr #noah grossman #smosh #eliza.txt #inspired by my very real desire to play smash bros with the squad

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bazzledazzled · 4 years

Text

Would You Be So Kind (As To Fall In Love With Me)

Fic for @absolute-nightmare for the @coexchange!!

Description: Simon Snow doesn’t remember quite when he fell in love with Baz. Maybe it was when he first met him, running gracefully across the football field with his hair tied up. Or maybe it was when they were playing video games at a sleepover and Baz’s leg bumped against his, sending a thumping pulse through his heart. Or maybe it was this year, when Baz came out to him and Simon realized he had a chance.

They’ve been friends since the beginning of High School, but Simon longed for something more.

Tags: High School AU, Normal AU, Friends to Lovers, a bit of Punk/Pastel AU

Trigger Warnings: Minor mention of alcohol abuse and emotional abuse in one of the paragraphs

I hope you enjoy!! I decided to go with a bit of a Highschool AU for this one and it evolved into a friends to lovers fic so yeah! Enjoy :)

Read it on AO3 or read it below ->

Simon Snow and Baz Pitch were polar opposites, anyone could see that.

Anyone who spared a glance at the odd pair knew this, from Baz’s obnoxious floral shirts and well maintained hair, to Simon’s haggard appearance and leather jacket.They fit together like two pieces of a puzzle, complimenting each other, like Persephone and Hades, or yin and yang. Despite everything; who they were, where they came from, and what they looked like, they still were inseparable. They matched.

Simon Snow doesn’t remember quite when he fell in love with Baz. Maybe it was when he first met him, running gracefully across the football field with his hair tied up. Or maybe it was when they were playing video games at a sleepover and Baz’s leg bumped against his, sending a thumping pulse through his heart. Or maybe it was this year, when Baz came out to him and Simon realized he had a chance.

They’ve been friends since the beginning of High School, but Simon longed for something more. He laid awake in bed, staring at the ceiling, his heart thrumming in his chest. He thought of Baz’s inky black hair and thought about what it might feel like to run his fingers through it. He thought about how he always smelled like something citrusy and crisp, like Earl Grey tea that made Simon wish for a soft, domestic morning with him full of soft kisses and morning tea.

And Simon hated it. No, hate wasn’t the strong enough. He loathed it. He loathed it because here was someone who was completely and utterly perfect, someone he actually had a shot with that wouldn’t care that he’s a guy and knows him inside and out, but for some reason Simon kept holding himself back. He held himself back, not daring to test the waters of their friendship and ruin what they had. He didn’t want to lose Baz as a friend, crush or not. He refused.

So Simon kept his crush bottled away deep down inside him, not daring to let it see the sunshine. He thought that maybe, if he tucked it away, he might be able to shake off these feelings. Maybe they would dissipate and he wouldn’t have to worry about it. Maybe it would work.

————

“We need to find Si a girlfriend,” Agatha says at lunch, her face screwed with determination. Simon sighs, putting down the scone he was eating.

“Ags, please tell me you’re not on this again.”

“Oh she totally is,” Penny says, waving a hand dismissively. “And she has a point. You’ve been moping about like a sad puppy lately saying you’re lonely and want a girlfriend.”

“I didn’t say I wanted a girlfriend,” Simon says, stabbing a strawberry with a fork.

“A boyfriend, then,” Penny says, not a hint of a question in her voice. Simon almost chokes.

“Pen. I don’t need a relationship.”

“Then why do you keep moaning about being single?” Agatha says with a condescending tilt in her brow. Simon huffs, averting his gaze.

“Because I want a boyfriend.”

“Aha! I knew it.” Penny grins victoriously. “Now come on. You have to have a crush on someone. Give us some ideas.”

“I don’t like anyone, Pen.”

“What about that one kid? Rhys I think it was?” Simon scrunches his nose.

“Right. Not him. What about Phillipia?”

“Oh god no.”

“Right. Hmm....” A chair beside Simon moves out and a lunch tray plops down on the table as Baz slides in next to him. He’s wearing a pink shirt with red roses on it and dark jeans that make Simon flush. He pushes his hair out of his eyes, a smile on his lips as he looks at Simon. His gaze lands on Penny and he sighs.

“What are you three up to this time?”

“Who says we’re up to something?” Agatha says, leaning over the table with a mischievous glint in her eyes.

“Bunce has that look in her eyes and Snow just looks lost, so obviously you’re hatching an elaborate scheme.”

“We’re trying to find someone for Simon to date,” Penny says, tapping her fingers against the table.

“Ah. Good luck with that. It would take some pretty skilled matchmakers to find someone to date Snow.”

“Hey! I could be a good boyfriend.”

“I have no doubt.” The look in Baz’s eyes is... intense. Simon has no idea how he should read it.

“Hey Baz, you’re gay right?” Agatha pipes in. Baz snorts.

“Does this have a point?”

“I mean, you’re gay and single, Simon’s single and somewhat into dudes.... you know you guys probably could....” Agatha gestured vaguely. Simon’s heart starts to beat out of his chest, a nervous chuckle escaping his lips. His stomach twists dangerously and he feels like he might puke.

Fuck.

Baz rolls his eyes. “Ok, Wellbelove.” They move on to a new topic, Penny rambling about some book she read and Baz seeming completely invested in the conversation. But one thing sticks in Simon’s mind even after lunch.

Baz didn’t say no.

——————

When Simon gets to Baz’s car after school that day, Simon immediately knows what he’s going to say. It’s obvious in the way his brow scrunches in concern as Simon runs his hands through his messy curls.

“Is your lip bleeding?” Baz says, reaching out his hand towards Simon’s cheek, then pulling it back.

“It’s fine,” Simon mumbles, even though it isn’t. It’s the second time this month this has happened.

“Simon...” Baz says in that soft voice, the one he saves for when it’s just the two of them. He picks up Simon’s hand, running his thumb over Simon’s knuckles that are cracked and bleeding, rough from countless fights. They’re all over stupid things, but Simon can’t seem to stop himself. He can’t just turn away when someone corners him, calling him names. He can’t just keep walking when he sees some kid picking on another kid in the halls. And he definitely can’t stop himself when he hears people throwing homophobic comments about Baz behind his back.

“What happened?” Baz says, looking at him with the same sternness he always uses in these situations. Simon huffs.

“Just some kid. It’s not important.” But it is. Because it wasn’t just some kid. It was some kid gossiping about Baz, saying mean, hurtful things. It was some kid who, when Simon told him to stop, taunted him and called Baz his boyfriend, not realizing that that’s all Simon’s ever wanted. It was some kid who threw the first punch, not realizing that Simon has done this before, and he wasn’t scared.

Baz sighs, squeezing Simon’s hand in his. It makes his heart leap, beating so fast that he wondered if maybe this would be the moment. Maybe he’d confess to Baz, announcing his undying love, and Baz would say he felt the same way too, and then they’d kiss in the school parking lot on the hood of Baz’s expensive car, their future set from here on out.

Baz pulls his hands away, grabbing his keys from his pocket. “Get in the car, you nightmare. We’re going to the mall.” Simon groans.

“Again? You were just there yesterday.”

“Yes but the Christmas present I got for Mordelia is something she already has so I have to return it and get a new one. Please? You know you’re better than me at picking presents for her.”

“Alright, fine. But you’re buying me a pretzel.”

“Fine.”

—————

Christmas break was at the end of the week, and Simon didn’t want it to come. Well, he did, because it would mean a break from the mountains of school work he had, but he also didn’t, because it meant it would be a lot less time with his friends and a lot more time with his father, pretending they weren’t a dysfunctional family.

Simon’s father wasn’t terrible. He never hit him, but he also wasn’t the best. He was drunk a lot of the time and was always yelling about how much of a disappointment Simon was. He didn’t like that he didn’t make the football team and he hated that Simon’s grades were just barely passing. None of Simon’s victories seemed like victories to him, and Simon was just done with it. He wanted to find a way to be away from the house as much as possible during break, but he also knew that his friends had families that they needed to be with for the holidays, too.

Nonetheless, when Simon came home on Friday night to his dad drunk in the living room, mumbling incoherently, he turned right around and called Baz.

Baz picked up on the second ring.

“Hey is everything ok?”

“Do you want to go out for dinner,” Simon says in a rush. Baz coughs.

“Um—“

“I mean— not out— I mean, yes, I just-” Simon huffs. “Can we hang out tonight? I know it's the last minute and all that but I just... I don’t want to go home.” Baz doesn’t hesitate.

“I’ll be at your house in five.”

————

This, in Baz’s opinion, was one of the worst parts of being gay. Yes, there were the homophobes and the bullies and his not at all accepting father, but he could deal with that. He could tune them out until all that was left was white noise.

But this, this was something Baz couldn’t ignore. How was he supposed to handle a crush on his best friend? If he asked Simon out directly, it could backfire on him and he’d ruin the friendship they spent four years building up. But if he didn’t say anything, he obsessed over his crush, picking apart every little detail of his interactions with Simon wondering if maybe, maybe Simon might feel the same towards him.

So when Simon called him at 5pm, asking if he wanted to go out to dinner, Baz was left wondering how to interpret it. It was probably just the same old “I’m lonely and I need someone to hang out with.” But if that were the case, why didn’t Simon call Agatha or Penny? He was much closer to them. Or why not suggest a sleepover with everyone? Or invite everyone to dinner? The more and more they hung out alone, the more Baz drove himself crazy wondering.

Maybe he was blowing it out of proportion, but it still didn’t stop his beating heart as he pulled into Simon’s driveway. Simon climbed in, his curls wild and free and his blue eyes piercing through the darkness. He smiled his warm smile at Baz, a smile that was full of dimples and sunshine and made Baz's heart do belly flops.

“Where to?” Baz asks, putting the car in reverse. Simon’s eyes light up.

“iHop.”

————————

Simon drowned his fifth pancake in maple syrup and butter. He asked for more butter a while ago and they brought him a plate full of the stuff. He slathered it on his golden pancakes, laying down a thick layer of white saturated fat.

It was absolutely disgusting.

When Baz became friends with Simon at the beginning of freshman year, he learned to look away when Simon was eating. He was a little messy and lacked more than a few table manners, but it wasn’t terrible. None of Simon’s eating habits were awful, save for the unholy slathering of butter. Baz didn’t understand it, nor did he want to.

“I think there’s more butter and syrup on that pancake than actual pancake.” Simon swallows his bite, grinning toothily at Baz.

“It’s delicious though.”

“Disgusting.” Yet Baz still couldn’t help but think about how beautiful Simon’s dopey grin was and the way his cheeks turned red.

“You wanna try a bit?” Simon asks, holding up a fork with a bit of pancake on it. Syrup slowly dropped from it, golden brown like Simon’s curls. Baz wrinkled his nose.

“I think I’ll skip on that, thanks.” Simon shrugs, continuing to shovel food in his mouth. Baz ordered some eggs, but Simon ended up eating more of them than he did. Baz never had much of an appetite, but Simon’s seemed never-ending.

“You excited for Christmas?” Simon asks, looking up at Baz with his plain blue eyes. Baz snorts.

“Not particularly, but I’ll get by.” Simon frowns.

“Your dad?” Baz runs a hand through his hair.

“Yeah, but what else is new.” Simon reaches out across the table, taking Baz’s hand in a comforting manner. Baz gulps.

“Guess we both god shitty fathers, huh?” Baz offers a weak smile.

“Guess so.” Simon bites his lip, as if thinking. His eyes spark in the way they do when he gets an idea or is about to make an impulse decision.

“Hey we should try to hang out over break! Get away from family and stuff, you know?” Baz smiles.

“Yeah.” Simon taps his fingers against the wooden table.

“How do you feel about going to see a movie on Monday?”

——————

It’s not a date.

Obviously it’s not a date. There will never be a universe where Simon Snow asks Baz Pitch out on a date other than in Baz’s dreams.

So why was Baz stressing over his outfit for the past hour? He honestly had no idea.

Nothing he tried on seemed to work. Some stuff looked like he was trying too hard, others looked like he wasn’t trying hard enough. It was honestly too much work considering that they were just friends going to see a movie together in the dark where they won’t be able to see each other anyway so theoretically what they wear doesn’t even matter, but Baz was Baz and he had to be extra about everything.

Eventually he settled on a light grey button down and a pair of jeans. It wasn’t one of his best outfits, but it was casual enough for him that it didn’t seem like he was trying too hard. Even though he spent an hour on his hair alone.

The drive over to Simon’s house was shorter than Baz would’ve liked. He didn’t have enough time to organize his thoughts before he was in the driveway, watching as Simon locked the door behind him and bounded down the front steps of his house, his hair bouncing off his forehead. He was wearing a worn grey sweater and tattered jeans. He looked slightly like a disaster, but that didn’t stop Baz’s heart from pounding. In fact, he found it almost endearing.

That didn’t mean he didn’t make fun of him, though.

“Snow your sweater sleeves have holes in them for god's sake,” Baz says as Simon shuts the car door behind him. Simon smiles back at him.

“It’s comfy though.” Baz rolls his eyes, a hint of a smile on his face. They lapse into a comfortable silence as Baz pulls out of the driveway and onto the street. Simon fiddles with the radio, turning the dial until he finds a song he likes. Some American song starts playing and a guitar solo fills the car. Simon starts to mumble along to the lyrics, bobbing his head and tapping his fingers against his legs. He smiles, getting more and more into it. Baz flashes him a look as he bursts into chorus, singing at the top of his lungs. Baz laughs, shaking his head. The song finishes and Simon grins, his eyes wild and bright.

This goes on for a few more songs, with Simon obviously trying to get Baz to join in on his shenanigans. Baz refuses, but can’t seem to help himself once Bohemian Rhapsody starts playing. Simon’s smile only seems to get more dazzling.

They make it to the movie theater, already buzzing and laughing. Simon skips ahead of Baz, the sun catching in his bronze curls as he turns to him, almost creating a sort of halo around him.

Their hands brush as they head to the ticket line and Baz wonders if he might be dreaming.

_____________

So Love, Simon may have not been the best movie to go see on Simon’s not-date with Baz. For starters, Baz started crying halfway through.

In retrospect, Simon should’ve expected this outcome, even though he didn’t realize Baz was a crier. The entire plot of the movie is something that resonated with so many people, especially people like Baz and… well, he guesses himself, even though he’s not really sure what he is.

Simon never knows how to deal with someone who’s crying. Back when he used to date Agatha, there would be times where she’d have a breakdown over something and everytime Simon felt like he was making the situation worse instead of helping. He’s not cut out for this.

Tentatively, he reaches out to Baz, taking his hand. They’re rougher and boneier than Simon’s, and a lot longer. He blushes as Baz looks over at him. Baz squeezes his hand and Simon feels his heart stutter in his chest, faltering for a moment as their eyes connect.

They don’t let go for the rest of the movie.

________________

“Pen. I have an issue.”

________________

“Ags….. we have a slight problem.”

_________________

“What is it Si? Is it that math test? I told you you have it down you just need to breathe and remember what we worked on.”

_______________

“Since when do you not have a problem, Baz? You’re literally a bigger Drama Queen than me.”

_______________

“No Pen…. it’s not that it’s just….”

_______________

“This is a real problem, Agatha, listen—“

————————-

“I kind of, maybe, sort of, possibly—“

————————

“I may or may not have—“

______________

“Have a crush on Baz.”

_______________

“Fallen in love with Simon.”

______________

Agatha huffs, hanging up the phone after listening to a 30 minute rant on Baz’s part about how perfect Simon’s hair is and the specific shade of blue his eyes are. Honestly .

Immediately, the phone rings again. Grunting, Agatha picks it up, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“Baz I swear to god if I hear one more word about Simon holding your hand I will end you.”

“So he did call you?”

“Penny!”

“Let me guess. You just got off the phone with Baz and his emo bullshit about how Simon will never love him.”

“How did you know?” Penny sighs.

“Because. I just got off of the phone with Simon and his emo bullshit about how Baz will never see him as anything other than a friend.”

“They’re idiots, aren’t they?”

“Yep.” There’s a moment of silence.

“Are we going to intervene?”

“Of course we are.”

________________

All things considered, Baz knew the love letter was a bad idea. He knew the unspoken rule about love letters: if you weren’t planning on sending them, you shouldn’t write them.

But they were a great way to get out frustrations. It was a way for Baz to use his pent up emotion towards something productive and fantasize about telling Simon how he truly felt.

Simon was never meant to read it.

__________________

Was it wrong? Possibly. Was it needed? Most definitely.

Valentine’s day is this Friday, and both Penny and Agatha are sick and tired of Simon and Baz’s complaining, Simon a lot more than Baz. They just didn’t seem to be able to stop with their lovesick moping and at this point it was ridiculous. Neither of them were courageous enough to make the first move, so it was left to Penny and Agatha to make it happen.

When Agatha saw the love letter, she knew exactly what to do.

___________________

Friday was one of the gloomiest days of the week. It was raining, the sky was cloudy, and Simon woke up late and barely had time to run out to Baz’s car to make it to school. Baz threw a fit about it, but Simon couldn’t see why it mattered, considering they still made it there half an hour before school started. Baz complained about how the rain made his hair frizz up as he desperately tried to slick it back again with no avail. Simon liked it better this way, falling loosely around his face in waves, but he didn’t tell Baz that.

When they arrived, they found that the halls were decorated with bright red and pink hearts and couples stood close together, whispering things in each other’s ears with smiles on their faces as everyone was swept up into the euphoria of Valentines Day. Boyfriends gave their girlfriends roses and cheesy heart shaped boxes filled with chocolate. The hallways were a mess of teenage hormones and whispers of happily ever afters.

Baz seemed to be in a particularly sour mood today, and Simon didn’t blame him. Valentine’s day was just another one of those made up holidays that encouraged consumerism and made single people feel like shit (at least that’s what Baz had said on multiple occasions).

Simon and Baz did all the things they usually did in the morning before school. They dropped off Baz’s violin in the orchestra room, they dropped the books Baz finished off at the library, and met up with Penny and Agatha. Agatha gave them all heart shaped lollipops and little handwritten cards that made Simon tear up a little and give her a big hug. Baz rolled his eyes, but he had a small smile on his face as he whispered a curt, “thank you” to Agatha.

The bell rang. The overhead speakers played some cheesy love songs from the early 2000s, when love songs were in their prime. Baz rolled his eyes and made some sort of snarky remark about the music that made everyone laugh. They walked to class and parted ways, Simon and Penny heading for their math class and Baz and Agatha going towards English. They listened to the monotonous morning announcements and Penny gave Simon a look when he played on his phone instead of paying attention.

Sighing, Simon pulled out his math textbook, grunting at the weight of it. Most teachers didn’t even issue textbooks to the students, let alone used them. At this point, most of them were out of date and teachers found the internet to be a lot more useful. But not Ms. Ortiz. She refused to use the internet and did everything the old fashioned way: textbooks and a white board. A student tried to talk her into using the smart board, claiming that it would be a lot easier to do notes with, but she refused, saying they didn’t have time to fuss with projectors and calibrations.

Simon opened up his textbook to the section they were currently working on. He already had the page marked since he and Baz were working on it last night. It was honestly a miracle Simon passed any of his classes before Baz came along. He was such a calm and patient teacher, not caring how many times Simon messed up. It’s funny, because Simon thought he would be the opposite, but he wasn’t. It’s no wonder he wanted to get a teaching degree when he got out of high school.

Penny taps Simon’s shoulder.

“What now, Pen?” She holds out a white envelope with his name written on it in neat, elegant cursive.

“This fell out of your bag.” Simon frowns, taking it from her hesitantly. He hasn’t seen it before, but he wouldn’t be surprised if it was some letter from his teacher addressed to his father that he shoved to the bottom of his bookbag. His bag was always a disaster of crumpled papers that Penny and Baz teased him relentlessly for. They insisted he organize it, but Simon didn’t really see the point. It was just going to become a mess again.

“Thanks.” Curiously, Simon unfolds the letter, wondering what it might be. He doesn’t remember receiving it at all, so he has no idea what he should expect.

Immediately, he recognizes Baz’s handwriting:

Simon,

I hate you. I hate the way you make me feel, the way you make my heart beat out of my chest and the way you smile at me in a way that makes me feel special. I hate how you’re always there when I need you and will do everything you can to help someone in need. I hate how you have this stupid hero’s complex where you feel like you need to protect everyone in this goddamn school. I hate how you try to hide your pain from me, putting on a brave face. I want to reach out to you, to comfort you, to let you know that it’s ok and you have people who love and care for you; that you aren’t alone.

I don’t know what even drove us to befriend each other Freshman year. We were from completely different universes, but somehow you chipped away at my walls until they crumbled into nothing, and I hate you for it. I hate what the sight of you does to me and I know you will never feel the same.

Simon Snow, you beautiful disaster. How could you be so cruel to make me fall in love with you?

Penny’s looking up at Simon with a curious glance, acting like she isn’t interested when she very much is. Simon doesn’t say anything, just grins widely as he folds the note back up and sets it under his textbook. Penny raises her eyebrow. It’s a skill Simon knows she’s picked up from Baz, but she refuses to admit it.

“You look like Christmas came early. You feeling alright, Simon?”

“Wonderful.”

___________________

Simon corners Baz in the hallway at the end of the day as he’s heading to his car. He bounds up to him, looking like a ray of sunshine as he smiles brightly. Something has him in an outrageously good mood and Baz has no idea what that could be.

Baz, on the other hand, isn’t feeling as good. His teachers assigned him an outrageous amount of homework and he got a low mark on one of his quizzes, even though he knew the material and studied before the test. Baz Pitch was not one for failure, and he felt very embarrassed when Agatha pointed it out to him.

On top of all that, his guilty pleasure love letter to Simon was missing. He hasn’t seen it in two days and he has no idea where it could be, or if it’s in someone else’s hands. Thank god he didn’t sign it. It’s better if nobody knows about his silly crush on Simon.

“Baz,” Simon breathes, his cheeks dusting with red as he stands in front of Baz, looking up through his wild curls. Baz can barely stop his own blush that rises into his cheeks.

“Snow. Need a ride?” Simon looks around.

“Yeah um….” He runs a hand through his curls. “Yeah.”

They walk out to Baz’s car in silence. Usually, Baz is fine with silence between them. It’s always a comforting silence that doesn’t really have a need to be filled, but something about this silence was different. It was thicker, full of a sort of tension Baz couldn’t quite place. Simon seemed to be anxious about something, as if he were trying to find a way to put it into words.

Simon Snow is shit with words. He’s gotten better over the years, sure. English class did wonders on him, but he did seem to have a hard time annunciating his feelings in a way Baz could understand. After four years of friendship, Baz is proud to say he can usually interpret Simon’s mutterings, but it wasn’t always like that. Middle school was awful for the both of them and Baz was always frustrated with Simon’s incapability to string together sentences. He was short tempered, and it took him a while to finally give Simon a chance to get out what he needed to say.

So he did the same now. He didn’t say anything, didn’t pressure him, didn’t force him to say anything. He let the silence stretch on, letting Simon fill it on his own terms when he was ready

They climb into the car and just as Baz is about to put it in reverse, Simon puts his hands over Baz’s, stopping him from leaving. Baz looks up at him, grey eyes meeting blue. There’s a moment of tension, then Simon pulls his hands away.

“Baz, I—“ Simon stops, furrowing his brow.

“Go on, Snow.”

“It’s just…. I guess…. I just… Ugh.” Simon pulls at his curls in frustration, his face getting redder by the minute.

“It’s ok. Calm down. Take your time.” Simon takes a deep breath.

“It’s just…. I saw your letter.” Baz freezes, going stiff all over.

“What letter?”

“The one you wrote to me? And slipped into my bag?”

Oh no.

_____________

“Shit.” Baz knocks his head against the steering wheel, groaning.

“Look, Simon I'm sorry I—“

“I feel the same.”

“What?” Simon gulps.

“I… I like you too.” Baz scoffs.

“No you don’t,” he says, leaning back in his seat and brushing his charcoal locks out of his eyes. Simon lays a gentle hand on his arm.

“Yes I do, Baz.” Silence fills the car. Simon feels like he can’t breathe as each moment stretches on, the only audible sounds being their heartbeats and breaths.

“I—“ Simon says, averting his gaze as he coughs awkwardly, seeming very uncomfortable. “I’m sorry, it must’ve been a mistake I—“ suddenly, so quickly it happens between one blink and the next, Baz grabs his shirt and pulls Simon to him, planting a firm kiss on his lips. Almost as quickly as he leaned in, Baz pulls away.

But Simon doesn’t let him. He puts his hands on either side of Baz’s face, kissing him with years of pining and desperation. He feels Baz sigh against his lips, bringing his hands up to rest on Simon’s broad shoulders, not daring to move them. Simon threads his fingers through Baz’s hair, marveling at how soft it is. He feels like he’s floating, his heart beating as fast as it can, on the verge of exploding. He doesn’t really mind though. Because he’s kissing Baz. I’m kissing Baz.

Simon pulls away, a grin on his face. His face is so open in that moment, so vulnerable. Baz feels a small smile that’s unbearably soft pull at his own lips.

“I like this version of you, Baz.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I like it when we aren’t friends.”

“Wow that’s really nice—“

“I wanna be your boyfriend,” Simon says, a wide grin on his face. Baz sucks in a breath, his grey eyes searching Simon’s.

“Yes,” he says breathily. Simon grins and leans in for another kiss.

----

“Welbelove this was your doing, wasn’t it?”

“What ever could you be talking about, my dearest Basilton?” she asks innocently. Baz huffs.

“You stole my letter! And gave it to Simon!”

“Oh that? It sounds more of a Penny plot to me.”

“Wellbelove.”

“Don’t get mad at me, Basil. You got the boy, didn’t you?” Baz can practically hear her wiggling her eyebrows at him over the phone. He’s sitting in his car in Simon’s driveway as Simon walks up to his doorstep. He turns around at the last moment, grinning brightly and waving back at Baz. Baz waves back.

“I hate you more than you even know, Wellbelove.”

“Thought so,” she says, hanging up on him. Baz can’t help the smile that crosses his lips.

#snowbaz #simon snow #baz pitch #carry on #wayward son #any way the wind blows #snowbaz fanfiction #fanfiction #candy writes #carry on exchange #high school au #normal au #punk/pastel au #simon x baz #baz x simon #rainbow rowell #awtwb

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haikyuu-scenarios-drabbles · 4 years

Text

Professor Kuroo Part Two

slides this across the table in a humble offering that it’s been 3 weeks since my poll pls forgive me

part one

Love y’all, J

You hate yourself for what you’ve done. But with the convention around the corner, your higher-ups are rightfully confused as to why you want out of Dr. Kuroo’s project so late in the game. You try to chalk it up to wanting to ‘broaden your horizons’, but even that doesn’t convince them fully. Instead, they tell you to continue working with Dr. Kuroo while also giving you some small task on Dr. Yu’s project that you’ll probably complete in two days.

So, Monday morning after that meeting crushing your hopes of just brushing what happened in the library Friday night under the rug, you trudge back to your desk trying your best to ignore the whispers following you as you go. Word spreads like wildfire around here. You’re not surprised, your request came out of the blue, particularly since up until now it seemed like you’ve been working fine with Dr. Kuroo.

Which…you have. Up until last week.

It isn’t that you don’t like him anymore, or that you don’t return his feelings—obviously not considering your reaction to his move on you. It’s more that you think it won’t be fair to either of you to go on pretending like nothing happened, because god knows you don’t even know if you can. Which is why it would be best if you stayed away from him, no reason to torture yourself like that. Or him.

Though, it looks like you’re just going to have to grin and bear it. No matter that you spent the entire weekend trying to stop thinking about what happened—and miserably failing. Any spare moment you had, without your permission, your brain would drift to the sensation of his hands clasped to your waist; his lips on yours, and from there you couldn’t stop imagining what would have happened had you let him continue.

That’s usually about the time you shoved your face into the nearest pillow to scream into or slapped your cheeks to bring you back to reality.

You think you can do it, act normal around him, give no inclination that anything is different. As much as you’re going to hate it, mainly because it’s going to hurt him, nobody—and you mean nobody can have any suspicions.

That is until he strides in the office door, looking more jaw-dropping than usual. You always had a hard time controlling yourself whenever he rolled up the sleeves of his button-up, but today he’s topping it off with the rare sight of his glasses and tousled hair looking notably unruly this morning. Judging from the glasses, hair, his bag practically bursting, and the numerous rolled up papers beneath his arm, it’s been a rough morning.

The dark circles under his eyes suggest it’s been a tough weekend as well.

You bite your lip, hoping it’s because of the conference and not you.

His eyes land on you almost immediately, expression giving away nothing. You are surprised that he makes his way over to you, drops his things on your desk in a huff, breathlessly explaining, “I have a meeting in like two minutes, I can’t make it back to my office in time, I’m sorry to ask you this but—,”

You go on autopilot mode, reassuring him, “I’ll handle it, just go!”

He gives you a grateful smile before jogging off to the conference room.

Truthfully, he’s glad he’s had a whirlwind of a morning, otherwise he doesn’t know how he would have approached you so normally. And he’s surprised at how receptive you were to him, he thought you’d be avoiding him, especially since you requested to switch off his project.

He frowns. He is not in the mood to think about that right now. It was bad enough being unable to focus this weekend, because if he lets himself, he’ll get consumed with thoughts of you. He’s thankfully able to think about something else during the meeting, distracted by data reports from other faculty and details about the conference. Upon the conclusion of the meeting, he’s surprised there’s no discussion about your request to transfer. As of now, all he knows is that the request has been made, there’s been no word on its verdict.

Before he can head out, he is by no means shocked when the head of the department asks him to follow him to his office. He does his best to remain as indifferent as possible as he follows him, making a point to ignore you as he passes your desk on the way to the back.

The door closes behind him, and Kuroo sets his expression straight, no need to give Dr. Takahashi any reason for suspicion.

“Are aware that your graduate student requested to be switched off your project, Dr. Kuroo?”

One of the reasons Kuroo respects his colleague so much is that he never dances around the subject, but right now he wishes he’d sound a little less accusatory with that statement.

No reason to lie here either, so Kuroo nods passively, replying with a noncommittal, “I did. Dr. Yu emailed me about it this weekend.”

He raises a brow. “Any idea why? There hasn’t seemed to be a problem all year, and with the conference coming up, it’s a bit unexpected.”

Kuroo takes a moment to consider what you might have said when probably asked a very similar question when you made the request. He’s certain you didn’t come clean about the situation, otherwise he’d be dealing with a much different person right now. “I’m sure they were looking for more to do,” Kuroo rolls his eyes good-naturedly, and judging by Takahashi’s expression he hit the nail on the head. “I can’t seem to give them enough, every time I turn around, they’re already finished and onto the task.”

Not entirely true, you do finish tasks quickly and diligently, but you’re pretty good about keeping yourself busy. He rarely has to explicitly tell you what to do next. He did when you first started, as expected, but by now you’ve gotten the flow of things and can work seamlessly with him like you’re reading his mind. Other professors are jealous and wish you were their graduate student, so he’s heard.

“Ah, well. Unfortunately, I denied the request. We’re winding down to the conference anyways, there’s not much to do anywhere. I’ll revisit it once things pick up again and see where they’re at.” He waves Kuroo out, and he almost sighs a breath of relief once the door closes until he realizes what comes next.

Facing you.

God, he’s gone over this situation over and over in his head all weekend, but now that it’s here his stomach is twisting into knots at the thought of confronting you. He wants to bring it up, thinking it would be best to talk it out, see where the other person is at, but not here. Not somewhere with the risk of someone overhearing.

He at least gives you the curtesy of approaching your desk from the front instead of behind like he usually does, as he found it amusing watching you jerk in surprise in your chair—no, even that’s too dangerous. You watch him carefully, wondering just what exactly he’s going to open with.

“Are you doing anything right now? Do you want to go over this week’s plan in my office?” He asks, unaware that the nerves coiling in your chest unravel slightly at his mundane request. It’s familiar, the two of you usually hash out the week on Monday to ensure an efficient plan, and you’re glad he started with that and not something ominous like, we need to talk.

Though there is an underlying suggestion in the seemingly simple question.

Go over the plan, in his office. A key detail that anyone else wouldn’t blink twice at.

You, on the other hand, fear an ambush. But part of you wouldn’t mind talking it out so there isn’t this air charged with anxiety that you can already feel simmering between the two of you.

“No, I was waiting for you to finish your meeting so we could go over the week.”

He smiles softly at you, and the expression that sends your heart thundering against your chest. The trek back to his office lets your nerves ramp up, making you paranoid about all of the possible things that aren’t the plan for the week he’s going to bring up once the door shuts. The closer you get, the more your mindset shifts from maybe being willing to discuss things to wanting to completely and utterly forget it, and go about your lives blissfully ignorant.

You’re glad he doesn’t take a seat behind his desk, which would have made you feel even more skittish that he’s planning on having a serious talk with you. Instead, he sinks into one of the two armchairs in the corner; a place the two of you have spent many hours in discussion over a cup of coffee in. You didn’t think it possible, but somehow that’s worse that him sitting behind his desk. This is far more…intimate.

He just looks at you, reading you so easily you hate it, saying, “I’m not going to bring it up. Not here.”

“Why not?” The words tumble from your mouth without much thought. You loathe how pathetic it makes you sound. His eyes softening only make it worse.

Choosing his next words carefully, he eyes the door behind you and lowers his voice, “Do you want to?”

He notices the flicker of your jaw. You’re contemplating something, so he just waits, despite his emotions rearing to bubble to the surface.

“I—uh…no. I’d rather not.”

You aren’t expecting the finality of those words to make your heart feel heavy in your chest. Like you’re closing a door that you’ve been wondering if it would ever open since meeting him and…it doesn’t sit right. None of this does. But you must continue on the way it is, there isn’t another choice, as much as you hate it.

You’re shocked to hear what he says next.

“Do you ever?”

Up until now, you were finding it difficult to look at him. But with those words, your attention snaps to his, getting pinned by his golden gaze. Without much thought you say softly, “I don’t know.” You wish he would wipe that stupid fucking expression off his face. It simultaneously makes you want to grab his head between your hands to kiss and slap him across the face. You have to resist the urge to do either, unfortunately.

“That’s fine,” he says, so nonchalantly you grit your teeth. He was the one to confess his feelings to you. It’s making you feel so childish how much you’re struggling with your emotions when he seems perfectly fine. Little do you know; he’s hiding his channeling his true feelings into gripping the armrests as hard as he can. At least you didn’t shut him out completely. “So,” he scratches his chin. “Your request to switch projects was declined.”

You visibly straighten. “Now that’s something I don’t want to discuss.”

He smirks, unable to resist his prevocational tendencies. “What are you afraid of?”

He watches as your fists ball, unsure if his tactic is going to work out in his favor or not. “You said we wouldn’t talk about it here!” You hiss, lowering your voice to barely a whisper.

Leaning forward in his seat and resting his elbows on his knees he proposes, “You’re right. How about tonight, The Brew at eight?”

“I am not going on a date with you! That’s the complete opposite of what we should do!” You whisper as angrily as you can muster.

“Just a humble meeting between colleagues,” he says simply. “Nothing else.”

Your eyes narrow, and he hopes with all his might you’ll agree to his request.

His heart soars as you say, “Fine. Just talking.”

“Just talking,” he nods, sincerely meaning it. You’re both adults here, and he’d like to settle this before it blows up in your faces.

He’s glad that you relax and slump into the chair beside him. “Can we talk about the week now please?” You hate how much you love the grin that lights up his face.

And as nervous as you are for tonight, you also feel a strange sense of calm about it. Relieved to get some things straight after a rather tumultuous weekend.

and now forgive me that there’s going to be a part 3 😈

part three part four

#haikyuu x reader #Kuroo Tetsurou x Reader #Kuroo Tetsurou #Kuroo Tetsurō #kuroo scenario #kuroo x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu!!#haikyuu #kuroo tetsurou imagine #kuroo tetsurou scenario #professor kuroo #kuroo tetsurou reader insert

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captain-emmajones · 4 years

Text

Love, Emma (6/7)

(Art by the wonderful @carpedzem <3)

Loosely based on Love, Rosie (2014).

Killian and Emma are best friends and neighbors. They’ve always been – until he leaves for the Navy when his brother dies. When he comes back, nine months later, summer has begun and childhood is ending. Emma can tell something is changed in him, but she doesn’t know what. Until she does. He’s fallen in love with someone else.

And then, suddenly, they’re kissing on her nineteenth birthday. When she asks him to forget their night out, and never talk about it again, Killian thinks she means to tell him she regrets the kiss they exchanged. Except she has no memory of it.

Killian and Emma will dance around each other, until their heads spin and their legs hurt, and everything becomes blurry and it has to stop – for both of their sake.

A huge thank you to @profdanglaisstuff who beta’d this and gave me her precious thoughts <3

Friends to Lovers - Mutual Pining - Angst - Fluff - 6000 words - ao3

Part 1 - MIRRORBALL, Part 2 - AUGUST , Part 3 - HOAX, Part 4 - PEACE, Part 5 - THIS IS ME TRYING, Part 7 - INVISIBLE STRING

Note: Everyone gives a lot of love to @carpedzem who drew this wonderful art for this fanfic :’))

Quick Summary: Last chapter ended on Neal finding Killian's love letter to Emma. This chapter opens on Emma, a week after Killian and Emma's kiss.

Reminder: Present time is Emma’s wedding to Neal, and that scene on the balcony during which Killian congratulates Emma on her wedding -- although he’s mostly dying inside. The words “I love you” slip out of his mouth, however he’s quick to add “as a friend” which leaves us with two very sad individuals who are both committing a grave mistake.

PART 6 - CARDIGAN

Six months before Emma’s wedding, a week after Emma and Killian’s kiss.

Emma tosses and turns in her bed. She does not want to glance at the clock sitting on her bedside table. It’s probably joyfully, painfully displaying a horrendous number set between 1am and 5am and Emma wants nothing to do with it.

There is not a spark of light in the room she shares with Neal, the heavy window shutters closed down.

Emma wishes there was some kind of light. Perhaps then the weight over her chest would feel less terrifying, would feel less like the terrible, dark blue waves of a tormented sea she watches swallow her alive and spit her back onto the sand.

She’s battered between the waves, back and forth, back and forth, skin rocking against water, until she manages to reach the surface and breathes in deeply.

But she’s only inhaling sea water and it fills her lungs and brings her to tears and it’s bitter, and it’s shit, and she cannot forget the taste of Killian’s lips.

Another turn, a grunt of anger and despair.

How dare he kiss her and let her leave him when he was in pain. How dare he.

It was inevitable, whispers another part of her, but that part she ignores diligently.

Nothing is inevitable. Especially cheating on her future husband. With her friend whose feet were barely out of the surgery block.

Well, she didn’t properly cheat if he was the one to kiss her…that would have been true, had she not furthered their kiss.

Had she not backed him into his chair and sucked his breath away and marked his scalp with her fingers and tugged on his hair and filled his entire being with her, and her only. It was long overdue, after all.

She turns, more aggressively this time, nearly knicks Neal out of the bed, her right foot whizzing past him.

She kissed him back because he was clearly seeking support and comfort and because a part of her will always love him, has always loved him and there’s nothing wrong with that.

Horseshit.

It is wrong. Utterly, completely, wrong.

Nobody deserves to be cheated on. Nobody. Period.

She’s just a piece of shit, now, is she?

She glances on the side. Neal is still laying on his back, peacefully snoring, one arm flung across his face. She nearly hates him for it. She totally hates him for it.

His chest raises up and down, comfortably, peacefully. What would Emma give for just an ounce of peace in her veins.

Her breath is coming out in short puffs.

It was inevitable, stammers once again her inner voice.

“NO.”

And the scream she thought only existed in her mind causes Neal to startle next to her, and this time she’s thankful it is complete darkness in their room, because he cannot see the flush on her cheeks.

She can make out the shadow of his head lifting in the dark, and she imagines his features groggy with sleep. “You okay, Emma?”

She turns back, grumbles. “Yeah, don’t worry. It’s just a nightmare.” And she definitely sounds like she’s blaming him for it.

A long, tortuous week flies by. Emma’s under-eye circles darken with each passing day, and she is alarmly pale when Graham asks her in a weary tone: “You’re sure everything’s okay, Emma?”

She nods and glances down at where Graham has been looking, and she realizes she’s been holding the files upside down.

Well.

“Shit. Yes. Sorry, Graham. I’ve been having a rough couple of days, is all.”

And then Graham does this thing where he leans into her space, with his big brown eyes, and this kindness in his smile, and he inquires again: “Everything okay with Neal?”

And Emma nods a bit too abruptly for it to be believable, and she knows Graham is smart enough to see it, but she nods harder, it’s the only movement her brain seems to know. “Neal? It’s never been better.” And a quick, lively chuckle to seal the deal.

And really had she laughed harder she would have choked on her fears.

(Her fears have blue eyes and are missing a limb now, and she does not dare to send him a text, to ask him “How are you?” because he must be feeling like shit, and in part it is because of her, she left him, but he had no right to kiss her like this and she had no right to kiss him back.)

She has David on the phone later this week.

“Hello, Emma. I’ve arrived in Portsmouth. I’ll be spending the week with him.”

She hates the feeling of guilt that circles her heart, even as she sighs her biggest sigh of relief.

“Thank you, David, it means the world. I would have come, you know, but I’m so busy with the wedding and the sheriff station and—”

“Sure thing, Emma,” he blurts out and Emma thinks he sounds so accusative, it nearly knocks her out. She is convinced she deserves it. “I’ll take care of him, don’t worry.” A few words more, and he hangs up.

For the first time in ages, Emma feels like Killian and she are on opposite teams, and David has chosen his.

She swallows a lump down her throat.

Emma caves in on Saturday night. Outside, the rain is pouring heavily against her windows. The wind is also howling, curling around the walls of the house and threatening to crush it under its strength.

Neal is out at Granny’s watching a soccer game with friends when Emma sits down on the hard wooden floor of their living room. Her legs are crossed and her heart is drumming in her ears, and she calls him. There’s a bottle of red wine in front of her, and it’s looking at her with a lot of judgement in its glassy eyes but Emma doesn’t care.

She cannot go on like this. She needs to know that he is alright, and that this was all a grave, stupid mistake, and she needs him to say something like “I’m fine, Emma, I’ll survive this” but also “I meant to do that for years” and then it would be her cue to nod under the ceiling light, tears in her smile and she’d say some stupid shit like “Oh god, I’ve been waiting for you to say that” and then she’d drop everything to fly back to him and they’d be happy together or some shit.

Ring, ring, ring.

That’s a lovely dream indeed.

Ring, ring, ring.

And just as Emma gets impatient, not to say she gets scared, a voice answers her. It’s a groggy, foggy voice, and it does not belong to Killian.

“Hello, what is it?” The voice echoes, chuckles, as music resonates behind it, and it is the voice of a woman.

Emma figures they must be in some kind of pub, just like Neal is.

“Is this Killian’s phone?” attempts Emma, fingers clutched onto the phone, and heart on her sleeves.

“Yup...” Another giggle. Emma decides she hates the voice. “But he is currently unavailable. Do you want me to give him a message?”

And then Emma hears his voice, emerging from a twirl of songs and other talks. “Why are you using my phone, Tink?”

Emma thinks Killian’s voice irrupts into her empty house just as a gust of wind rattles her shutters. She flinches. And for a minute, glances above her shoulder, afraid that he might appear behind her back.

But silence is her only companion. And this house is so impressively, distinctively silent.

Something clicks inside of Emma’s brain. Tink. She knows Tink. What’s her real name? Mary something. They went to high school together, and she had a disgustingly big crush on Killian, and, and –

“I dunno, some chick.”

And Emma barely has time to hear Killian’s “Which chick?” before she hangs up on a whim.

She heaves, hands trembling around the phone, and something grotesque disfigures her face.

She was worried about him and he’s been having the time of his life with this Tink, and, and – what was she expecting?

She stares at the floor as though she is able to distinguish the broken bits of her heart spilled there, and the bloody marks they leave, and it’s such a goddamn mess, and how could she allow herself to feel this way after all these years, after having been shown all the goddamn reasons why Killian Jones will never love her back a hundred fucking times.

Rose-Mary, of her surname Tink, tosses and turns in Killian’s bed. He is fast asleep next to her, one hand thrown across his face. He snores lightly.

Tink has this tingling desire deep within her, this desire to grab the phone he left on his nightstand and delete Emma Swan’s call from it.

“Give me the phone, Tink!”

Back in the bar, she was quite lucky to find out in the shape of his raised eyebrows that Killian Jones wasn’t actually serious, that he was seriously hammered and couldn’t have cared less for his phone if he had tried. As her only answer, she had simply locked her lips to his and pressed his phone’s home button to switch it off.

Because Tink knows Emma Swan.

Killian Jones was already in love with her when Tink asked him out, during their senior year. She cannot forget the look on his face, as she was standing in the middle of the hallway, risking her heart. Behind her, Emma Swan was leaning against a locker with Mary Margaret and Ruby, and Killian simply, positively wouldn’t look Tink in the eyes.

“I’m sorry, love,” he said, “but my affections lie elsewhere.” And Tink remembers thinking he surely didn’t have to sound like he escaped from one of Shakespeare’s plays, and she turned to discover the pretty blonde smiling at Killian, waving with mischief, and his arm around her shoulders as soon as he reached her.

Some things were truly unfair.

As luck would have it, Killian’s path crossed hers years ago – when he moved to Portsmouth to join the Navy whilst she began Nursing school. But even then, he didn’t seem interested, was dating an older woman.

And then, finally, two days ago, their paths crossed again in a bar. He is missing a hand now, but he is still the same handsome guy she crushed on in high school. Perched on a stool, he looked disheveled, desperate, nose in his rum glass, and he welcomed her into his warm, solid arms.

“Still in contact with Emma Swan?” she asked, and it wasn’t like she cared. She didn’t want more than he could offer. But still, she asked.

“Emma? Who’s Emma? I only see you.”

Although she knew that to be a lie, she still decided to kiss him back, knowing the instant Killian Jones heard Emma Swan’s name again, well then, he would find a very gentle, delicate way to make her go away.

And that’s fine. But if she can prevent it, well –

Tink stands up as silently as she can, and like a feather in the wind, grabs his phone. He casually gave her his pin number earlier during the night — change this bloody song Tink will you — and Tink deletes Emma’s call in the blink of an eye.

Satisfaction sparkles in her heart. No one will bother them anymore.

As Neal and Emma go on tasting wedding cakes, Emma thinks about how Killian never called her back. Not the morning after her conversation with Tink, not the night after, not the day after, he did not call. Period. It’s the only answer he is willing to give, and she accepts it.

He doesn’t care about her. Not like she cares, anyway.

“The chocolate one,” Emma mumbles, trying not to spit crumbs of cakes out of her mouth and failing, “it’s perfect.”

Delicacy remains a skill she has yet to learn.

But Neal doesn’t seem to mind when he chuckles and kisses her cheek. Emma grabs his face and doesn’t care that there are still chocolate chunks in her mouth and she kisses him, hard, to forget the taste of Killian Jones’ lips.

Killian stares at the picture of Emma and himself on his fridge. It’s been a month, stammers his heart. She will not call, now.

Tink is still sleeping in his bed. He needs to call things off with her as well. She’s too attached, he’ll break her heart. That’s one too many hearts to be responsible for.

He swallows stone, but he takes the picture off the fridge. It’s too painful to stare at what ifs.

A few minutes before Emma and Neal say “I do”.

Taking a picture off a fridge is simple enough. Not racing towards the town hall of Storybrooke to try, one last time, and stop Emma’s wedding, isn’t nearly as easily done.

Hope and denial are, after all, two very close kingdoms and both of them inhabit Killian’s heart.

At least he’s got that going for him. However, Mary Margaret and David – who are also running beside him – really have nothing going for them except for their foolishness.

How dare they show up in his home and tear him out of his cobweb of misery and self-pity. How bloody dare they.

“There’s no use arguing, I’m not going!” he yelled, and then Mary Margaret had this very dangerous smile, and before he knew it, his ass sat on a plane between the two of them and he was wearing his most expensive tie.

“And look sharp, Killian.”

Which is why, as Killian races down that street corner, and up that small hill by Granny’s, and then down again Main street, towards the town hall, Killian no longer expects Emma and Neal to come out of the building, holding hands, married.

But that’s exactly what happens.

They come out as a crowd of strangers surrounds them, and they look like the sun has set all of its rays of sunshine on them, they are shining, shining, much like the waves of fear down Killian’s belly because he is too late. Of course he is.

And he wants to turn around and hit David in the face.

But what’s the use of fighting anymore? The war is lost. Lay your weapons down. Bring the soldiers home.

And in that moment, as the sun seems to align with some divine power and its golden beams shine on Emma’s eyes, glittering green lakes, she gazes at him and he holds his breath. In spite of everything, he still thinks she is the most beautiful woman on earth. He smiles, as his heart shatters to the ground, as Neal kisses her open mouth.

What is there else to do but smile?

“Fuck,” exclaims Mary Margaret next to him, and Killian sure does nod.

“Aye. Couldn’t have said it better myself.”

Present day – Neal and Emma’s wedding reception.

Neal watches as Emma shuts the large French windows that lead to the balcony behind her. He puts down his glass of champagne on the white table in front of him. The bubbles fizz inside, as if to mock him.

For there’s not the shadow of a smile on his wife’s face. In fact, she looks utterly devastated. Her complexion is pale, her cheeks have lost all the colors they gathered during their dances, and there is not one sparkle of happiness left in her green eyes.

A frown. Why does his wife look devastated at their wedding?

He sees her glance down, seemingly lost, and she does this thing when she doesn’t know where to put her hands, so she folds them in front of her. And she plays with the bracelet around her wrist, twists the little charms, twists, twists his heart.

And then he realizes. She’s waiting. But for what? Or rather, for whom?

He wishes the answer didn’t come quite as soon, not quite as sharply, he wishes the room did not start spinning as Killian Jones leaves the balcony in his turn – devilishly handsome as he’d say and looking entirely like a mess.

What a picture. They both look devastated. They look like the bride and groom, him in his white shirt and her in her white dress. Two bleeding snowflakes under a golden chandelier.

Neal watches as Emma risks a glance back, but Killian doesn’t look up, only stares at the hard wooden floor, Neal watches as she presses her lips together and straightens her back, but still glances back at him.

Always back at him. Of course.

And that’s when one realization hits Neal quite hard.

His wife… His wife is in love with someone else. He just married someone who is irrevocably and for all of eternity in love with someone else.

Why did he do this to himself? For the longest of times, Neal thought it didn’t matter that Emma’s gaze was filled with green, shimmering clouds of pain whenever Killian Jones’ name was mentioned in a conversation, he really thought it didn’t matter that her cheeks would always flush whenever she received a text from him, because he was the one kissing her lips and sleeping between her sheets.

He was such a fool.

He married a woman in love with someone else.

Such a fool.

Neal grabs his glass of champagne again, downs it in a few angry mouthfuls, and gathers courage and legs to stand and stride towards his wife.

Emma might be in love with Killian, but she loves him too, surely she does, or she wouldn’t have agreed to this marriage, right?

And there is something very scary vibrating in his chest, fear, a green and viscous fear, he’s losing her, she’s slipping between her fingers…

“Neal,” Emma’s voice is very soft as it greets him, but her smile doesn’t reach her eyes.

How dare she, how dare she be in love with Killian, when Neal gave up everything for her, when he…

From the corner of his eye, Neal can see Killian lean against the wall. He is looking at them. Perfect. Now watch, you little fucker.

“Hello, baby,” two words, and Neal dips Emma and savagely presses his lips onto hers.

A burst of applause rattles the crowd.

Neal tries his best to muffle the voice inside his head that sneers that the only thing their guests are cheering at, is the end of their love.

“I’m going back to our room, I’m really tired” mumbles Emma over her empty mojito glass.

The sea whispers behind her back. Neal doesn’t look up from his piña colada.

On the terrace of this luxurious hotel by the French Riviera, Neal and Emma are sitting and everything sucks.

It is the third day of their honeymoon, and for Neal, it is the last straw. There is no way in hell he can keep up this charade. They both deserve better than this.

She’s been looking miserable since they arrived here – it isn’t for a lack of trying to conceal it. Actually, no, it’s worse than that. She’s been looking miserable since Killian Jones left their wedding without a look back at her. Should have seen her face, Eurydice left by Orpheus in the depths of hell.

It’s killing him to see her like this, to know there’s nothing he can do to make things better. Purely and simply because, as much as he’s tried to, Neal Cassidy will never replace Killian Jones in Emma Swan’s heart.

And as she bends towards him to give him a quick peck on the lips, a very vicious sentence tickles his tongue and he lets it out without a second thought.

“Bet you looked more eager to kiss Killian.”

It is a dick move, yes, but after all he isn’t the one who cheated on her, and Neal thinks she deserves a little karma.

The look she darts on him then would have probably killed him, had there not been empty glasses standing between the two of them to shield him.

“What the hell are you talking about?” she spits out in a sharp, defensive tone.

Neal is surprised she tries to deny it all.

“Your lover sent you a letter,” he hisses back.

Satisfaction sparkles in his heart at the sight of her face turning crimson under the moonlight.

He watches as she angrily gulps a last mouthful of rum, watches as her knuckles whiten around her glass and her jaw clenches. “Who are you talking about?”

“Who the hell do you think I’m talking about?”

And then the god forsaken, sacrilegious name. “...Killian sent me a letter?”

And from guilt to anger, there is only one, treacherous step. And she seems eager to jump it.

“Oh yeah, he did. Said it all about your kiss and loving you, and I nearly vomited…”

And then it is really upsetting because he wants to be mad but her face does that thing where it just freezes, mouth open wide and eyes even wider, and it would have been funny had he not been putting an end to their short-lived marriage.

“He…he loves me?”

She cannot possibly not know it. She can’t be that oblivious to reality.

“I’m telling you I know you cheated on me and that’s your only reaction?” A roll of eyes, his voice coming out shriller, to mock her, mock her pain, because he wants to hurt her like she hurt him. “ “He loves me?” Of course he loves you, Emma!” he blurts out, because the entire world knows it except for her, apparently.

He can’t have married someone as oblivious.

Well, you did marry her knowing she was in love with someone else.

And she stands up, cheeks hot and burning and red, and she isn’t making any sense anymore. “What the hell are you talking about? Killian doesn’t love me, he never has.”

And seeing her wrath, the way her body trembles and shakes, he knows she is truly convinced Killian Jones isn’t in love with her.

But how…

“You really don’t know, do you?”

“Where is that letter?”

“I got rid of it, of course!”

“Then you have no proof! How convenient.”

He wants to stop her then, to yell “Hey YOU cheated on me,” but he can tell that in her grand order of things, her cheating on him has nothing on Killian Jones possibly loving her.

And then a small, mad chuckle jolts out of her mouth. “Killian would never write a letter. You made that up.”

“But how would I know about the kiss?”

“I don’t know, and I don’t care, and I, I—” A turn, and then she is gone, disappearing in a tornado of anger and guilt and sand.

Neal doesn’t try to hold her back, remains very still on his seat, lets her go, much like he should have years ago. He glances down at the empty drink between his fingers.

The waves crash against the sand, whoosh, whoosh, and Neal feels terribly lonely.

But at peace.

But mostly lonely.

Damnit, she is stubborn, and she is lucky he’s in love with her. That he’ll always be, somehow, even if he is a fucking idiot who probably blew his only chance at love when he stole those watches.

Later that night, Neal finds her sitting on their king side bed and its perfectly white blankets, hands folded in front of her like he knows them to, shoulders down and head bent towards the floor, and Neal desperately wants to hug her.

There is not an ounce of anger left in his body. Only sadness.

There’s not a flicker of light in their room as he sits down by her side. The rustle of the waves can be heard from their room. It’s the only reason why he chose it. He knows she loves that sound.

(He doesn’t know she loves it because of him, but that’s fine.)

“Hey…” he begins softly, and his shoulder gently bumps against hers. “You okay?”

She’s twirling her wedding ring around her finger. Of course she is. She always has been. And that should have been a clue, too.

“Are you being sincere right now?” she asks, and her voice is nothing like the voice he’s grown to love.

Emma’s voice has always been soft, but vibrating with a very triumphant confidence as well.

“What do you mean?” he asks, because precisely he doesn’t know what she means.

He’s never understood her like Killian can, in spite of how much he loves her. And while he spent most of the beginning of his adulthood hating him for it, he realizes now it is simply a battle he cannot win.

She lifts her face up, and he makes out her shimmering eyes in the darkness.

“I cheated on you. Aren’t you mad?”

A gigantic sigh shakes his shoulders as these past six months flash before his eyes.

“I was angry, Emma. But it’s been too long, I’m not anymore.”

“Too long?”

Oh, right, that. She’ll hate him, but well, she deserves the truth. He winces, fidgets with the collar of his shirt.

“I might have been hiding this letter from you for a good six months now…” he whispers, and forces a smile on his face as an apology.

“You what?”

She doesn’t sound nearly as angry as he expected her to. In fact, she doesn’t sound angry at all. She sounds defeated, hopeless.

“I was so scared that if I confronted you, you would just run and never marry me, and I thought I could hold on to you by not telling you…But I was wrong. There was no holding on to you.”

And something terrible rattles her body then, as she cups her face and disappears even more in a small, scared puddle over the bed.

“Fuck. I’m sorry Neal. I ruined everything.”

And he shakes his head then, grabs one of her hands. “There’s no need to apologize, Emma. We both fucked up. I should have let you go a long time ago.”

His throat is tight, but he knows this is the right thing to do.

“What are we going to do now?” she whispers, just as one of his arms comes to wrap around her shoulders.

She muffles a sigh in the crook of his neck while he gently brushes her hair.

“I don’t know. Is there some kind of three weeks wedding notice?”

She chuckles then, but he can clearly imagine the tears rolling down her cheeks as she sniffles into his neck.

“You’re an idiot.”

“I am.”

Silence. By then, it’s somehow raining in the room and his shirt is soaked.

“I’ll always love you. You know that, right, Emma?”

She nods in the darkness, her hand clutching onto his shoulder, and she seems to him a firefly caught between a child’s chubby hands.

“I know, Neal.”

“Good.”

Moving out of this house is one of the weirdest things Emma has ever had to do.

“Emma, you’re not coming?” calls David’s voice, and Emma looks up to see his head peering from the driver’s seat of his old, orange truck.

Safely packing all of the pieces of furniture was a collective effort. Mary Margaret, Ingrid and Ruby also came to help, and Emma is quite thankful. It’s such a blinding, sunny day of August, and if not for the fresh breeze that swirls between the tree branches, it would be unbreathable.

Emma simply shakes her head. “No, don’t worry. I’ll join you guys later at Granny’s.”

Her right foot nearly knocks out the small cardboard box at her feet, sending a loop down her stomach.

This one she’ll carry herself.

Neal and Emma agreed to sell the house and the furniture, and Neal – well Neal decided to move to Boston, and Emma cannot quite blame him.

This last month has been…weird, on so many levels, and Neal wasn’t the weirdest thing about it.

“Alright. Call us if you need anything.”

As David drives away, Emma stares back at the house. Her feet seem buried into the doormat, the door still open wide, and her fingers clutch onto the keys.

It is a bittersweet sight, those empty walls.

She thinks life has a funny way of coming around. She thinks she thought she’d have a family there, with Neal, she thinks she thought this was what she wanted, what she could bear to have and risk losing.

She’s glad that Neal showed himself braver than she ever could. That he refused to settle, for both of their sakes.

She inhales deeply.

Exhales.

And lets it go. All of it.

Click, she locks the door, and turns her back on her past.

A summer breeze greets her face, swirls around her legs and tangles her hair, and she closes her eyes into the warm embrace. It carries childhood smells, this smell of burnt wood, and Rocky Road ice-cream, and Killian’s cologne.

“Heard you needed help moving out?” Her eyes snap open. Her heart skips a beat.

It’s August in Storybrooke, Maine, and anything is possible again.

The wind carries the first fallen leaves to her feet and his scent to her heart. Something mystical splits her face as she takes a step towards him. She nearly trips on the cardboard box at her feet, again, grunts and picks it up in a blink, and she hears it – his laughter in the wind.

As she looks up, a flower blooms in her chest, carries blood to her heart and her face with its roots, and her lungs are soon filled to the brim with petals.

“Yeah.” A quivering whisper, it is hard to breathe when the sun drops golden and blue beams into his eyes. “Thank you, Killian.”

And in a few strides he imprisons the cardboard box she held against her chest, the one containing memories of her childhood, and his eyes are so warm on her face that he steals her breath away.

“Any baggage left?” he asks, and it is a hoarse whisper as well.

She swallows hard.

She shivers beside him. She’s a fallen leaf herself, caught in a whirlwind. Her eyes are open wide and she feels completely swallowed by his gaze but it is a wonderful kind of fear.

“Not at all.”

And he smiles then, and it is one of the most gentle smiles she’s seen on his face, and at last, he is Killian and she is Emma.

“Good.”

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@yasbio2015 @bubblegum1425 @daenerysmyhsa @dancingnancyy @elizabeethan @farewell-courgette @beca0912 @stina-g @tenaciouskittynightmare @noensnaringnet @klynn-stormz @sekretny13 @tiganasummertree @vvbooklady1256 @brustudyblog @peggyyswan @thisonesatellite @ohmightydevviepuu @courtorderedcake @snowbellewells @kingofmyheart14 @teamhook @mariakov81 @folkloreismylullaby @officerrogers

#cs ff #cs fanfics #captain swan #my stuff #love emma #thank you guys again for your support <3

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devil-in-those-eyes · 4 years

Text

Duchess of the Kooks part 5-JJ Maybank

Oh, lord. Okay, I didn't think i’d continue it, so let’s hope you guys still want it.

Taglist: @lovelymaybankk @hyuckiesoftie @outerbanks123 @heimdoodle @downbytheouterbanks Sorry If I missed someone!

Warnings: death, so please, do not read and if you need it to be explained, lmk and I will update you. It’s V sad :(

It had been a few weeks since you started dating JJ. Your nights had been filled with sneaking him in and falling asleep while listening to his heartbeat. It was rare you were ever awake when he snuck back out, but every once in a while you’d feel a gentle press of his lips against your forehead. Your days were filled with his fingers folded between yours, cuddles on the hms pogue and sneaking kisses when you didn’t think anyone was paying attention to you two. You couldn’t remember the last time you smiled this much, laughed so hard. Everything just seemed easier with JJ.

There had been a time when you didn’t think you two could be anymore polar opposites, but you saw sides of JJ that your friends didn’t know existed. You saw the gentleness in his eyes, felt it when he touched you late at night, heard it in his voice when he called you my girl.

It had been mere days when JJ finally opened up about who hit him that night and how his dad was the reason behind the bruises. It absolutely broke you to know it was his father, you may not get along with your parents but they would never raise a hand to you. It made you feel better when he slept over, because if he was over with John B or you then it meant he was out of his father’s path.

JJ always tried to downplay the hurt his dad caused, but you knew better. You constantly wished that Topper would suddenly become the kid you grew up with and followed around, you constantly wished your parents started caring more about you then appearances and money. Deep down you knew none of those things would happen, but they were still your family and you would probably always hold out some sliver of hope and you could see it in JJ’s eyes. You just did what you could. You laid with him, ran your fingers through his blond hair and felt the grit of the salt. You ignored the pang in your heart as his arms circled your waist and he dug his face into your neck.

My girl makes everything better.

The first time he called you that, it was like you could have dropped dead right then and there. You had been with Kie when he said it and watched his bright eyes light up even more, like a freaking neon sign, and half of you thought it was a fluke. Then he did it again in your bedroom, whispering it across your mouth and causing a flurry of butterflies.

His kisses ignited a fire inside your stomach and the more his lips moved against yours, the further the fire spread throughout your body, lighting up your fingers and toes. You could spend hours kissing JJ and he could spend days feeling your skin in his hands.

Currently, you were laying on your bed with JJ’s hips nestled between your thighs. You giggling softly up at him, his lazy but goofy half smile as he stared down at you made your cheeks burn.

“Are you serious?” You whispered, struggling to keep your laugh quiet so you didn’t wake your parents on the floor above you

. “Swear to god, babe,” he answered, holding himself up by a hand next to your head and the other holding onto your slatted headboard. “You don’t believe me?”

“No,” you blurted out, shaking your head. “I really don’t. You hated me.”

“I definitely didn’t hate you, I hated your last name, there’s a difference.” He smirked, eyes heating up as your fingers danced up his bare chest.

You scoffed, “Okay, JJ.”

“It’s true,” he answered, swiveling his hips softly and making your gasp as his hard dick brushed over your center, a barrier of his board shorts, your underwear and PJ shorts between you two. JJ dropped his head, bringing both hands to fist the pillow, and ghosted his lips over your mouth. “I remember the first time I saw you,” he whispered, his words low.

Your heart stammered in your chest, eyes fluttering shut. Teasingly, you licked at his bottom lip and twisted your hips against his, hearing a low murmur of a moan fall from his mouth. “What was I wearing then?”

“Black overalls, dark purple lace sports bra under it.” He kissed the corner of your mouth. “You were standing with Kie, drinking beer, dancing to Fly by Sugar Ray.” JJ groaned and reached for your hips, giving a light squeeze, “fuck, watching these hips move.”

Vaguely, you remembered the night he was talking about. It was the first time Kiara had dragged you to meet her friends at a kegger at the Boneyards. She had recently discovered Sugar Ray and had started playing the music through his phone, both of your singing and dancing, ignoring the judgmental eyes of everyone else. It was the night you realized JJ would never fully accept you, you just didn’t know the look in his eyes had been full of filthy heat, not hate.

“And,” he pressed a light kiss to your mouth. “the first time you stole my breath away was the first time I made you laugh.”

You pried your eyes open and stared up at him, his eyes growing soft. He moved to rest on his elbows and brushed a hand over your forehead. He smiled wistfully, as if remembering that moment. “I couldn’t tell you what the hell I said, all I remember if watching you laugh and thinking about how much I loved that laugh.”

“So, let me get this straight, you spent months making my life a living hell when in reality you were crushing hard core?” you asked, raising your eyebrows and felt a laugh bubble past your lips. “JJ, that’s so elementary school.”

“God, fuck, I know,” he groaned, dropping his head to rest his forehead against your jaw. “I couldn’t help it. You just made me so nervous, I couldn’t handle it.”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re such a moron.”

“Hey,” He said, lifting his head to look at you. “Eventually, I got the girl, didn’t I? I’m not a total lost cause.”

You snorted, and lifted a hand to cover your face. “Oh, my fucking god.”

JJ snaked an arm around your waist and rolled, forcing you to lay against his chest. “All of that was well worth it,” He murmured as your head settled into his warm neck.

“Yeah?” you shivered as his hands dug into your hair.

“Absolutely, pissing you off was like my favorite game to play,” You laughed, rolling your eyes. “Not gonna lie, it always turned me on.”

You weren’t gonna lie either, you could remember a few arguments between the two of you that left your stomach burning and your cheeks hot. Weeks ago, you thought it was just the anger he riled up inside of you but now you realized it was the sexual tension.

“Now your favorite game is sneaking into my bed,” You said as his other hand touched yours and you touched his rings on his fingers.

“You bet your sweet ass,” you could almost hear his grin.

Eventually, you fell asleep, listening to his deep breathing and steady heartbeat. In the morning, JJ was no where to be seen. It always made you feel a bit sad when you woke up without him because you always went to sleep with him and you started to look forward to the day you could wake up with him. You and Kiara had plans to join the boys later that night after work, so the day was spent at The Wreck. John B, JJ and Pope were all busy working, so you and Kiara decided to follow suit and work.

Until Rafe walked into the restaurant.

“Get lost, we don’t serve dickheads.” Kiara said, walking back behind the counter to grab some food while you pulled out a receipt out from the register.

You fought a smirk as Rafe sighed and came to stand in front of you. You kept your eyes down as he spoke, “I came to pick you up, Y/N.”

“Excuse me?” you asked, your eyes looking up at him, confused.

“She’s not going anywhere with you,” Kiara answered, coming to stand beside you.”

Rafe licked his bottom lip and rubbed the back of his neck. “Your mom asked me to pick you up, can you just… please, come with me?”

You rolled your eyes and scoffed, “get lost, Rafe.”

“For god’s sake, your mom seemed freaked out, Y/N. I’m not lying,” he answered and dug his phone out of his pocket. You stared at him as he opened his phone and saw a text conversation between Rafe and your mother.

You snatched his phone and quickly read it.

How close are you to The Wreck? – Mrs. Thornton

A few miles. Why? -Rafe

Please pick up Y/N and bring her home. There’s been an emergency. -Mrs. Thornton

You looked up at Rafe. Family emergency?

His eyes rounded, “I’m not lying.”

“Y/N,” Kiara said, “you want me to come?”

“No,” you breathed, finally looking at her. “Topper probably did something and she’s overreacting.”

Kiara looked a little unsure, she really didn’t want you to go with Rafe but you knew Rafe wouldn’t leave until you went with him. “I’ll meet you at JB’s tonight.” You promised her, “tell your dad I’m sorry for running out.”

You peeled the stained apron from you and followed Rafe out, getting into his car. What the hell could be the emergency? “You really don’t know what’s wrong?” You asked Rafe as he peeled out of The Wreck and headed to your home.

“No,” he shrugged. “Topper keeps sending me to voicemail.”

Your stomach started to fill with nerves and you sighed. You crossed your arms over your chest. It was awkward between you and Rafe, you two never got along. He was literally the biggest dick you had ever met. He had the biggest ego, the worst mouth on him. You could see how Topper was his closest friends, but he also charmed the pants off your mother and she utterly loved him. You rolled your eyes at that thought.

The second Rafe pulled into your driveway, you noticed Deputy Shoupe’s truck sitting beside Topper’s car. Uncle Mac’s car wasn’t here, but seeing the same truck that took JJ away in handcuffs had you a little worried. You got out of the car and Rafe followed after you, both of you silent as you pushed your front door open.

Nerves mixed with fear as you walked into your kitchen to see Topper resting against the island, tears in is eyes. Your mom and dad sitting at the table, tears streaming down your moms face while you dad just sat there, his cheeks white as a ghost.

“What’s going on…” you said slowly as Rafe stood beside you. Your mom looked up at you, usually she looked so perfect. There was never a hair out of place, makeup done so well, but right now, as she stared at you, she looked like she just lost her whole world and so did your dad.

“Honey,” your mom started. “Uncle Mac… there’s been an accident.” You shook your head, not fully understanding her but all of sudden it clicked. So, when you shook your head, you started crying. “No, no, no,” you struggled to speak.

Your dad finally looked at you, confirming that what your mother hadn’t said but what you realized she was trying to say was actually true.

“Y/N,” your dad said, his voice filled with tears. He cleared his throat. You felt a hand touch your elbow and you recoiled quickly. “Don’t touch me,” you hissed, stepping away from Rafe. Shoupe stood up and faced you. You held up your finger, “Mac, he’s fine. I spoke to him an hour ago.”

“Y/N, I’m sorry,” Shoupe whispered, his eyes filled with regret. “Your uncle’s gone.”

“Don’t say that,” you cried, tears streaming down your face. You felt as if someone had just slammed a freight train into your chest. “Please, don’t say that.”

Gone? Like… gone? He couldn’t be gone. You thought to yourself but he was gone and you were suddenly hit with all of that pain again. It was like wave after wave of soul crushing pain.

Rafe touched you again. You recoiled again and faced him, his own eyes filled with sadness. “Oh, my god.” You sobbed, covering your mouth as your stomach rolled.

You leaned over at your hips and let out a cry. Your hands were covering your face but you felt foreign arms wrap around you tightly and Rafe’s soft voice beside your ear. “I’ve got you.”

You wanted JJ. You didn’t want to believe this was happening to you. Your uncle had to fly home in a few days and he promised that next summer you’d vacation with him and catch waves. He’d take you hiking. You had just made so many plans with him and now he was.. gone?

Somehow you ended up on the couch with Rafe holding you. If you tried hard enough, you could pretend he was JJ. Eventually the tears dried up, but you felt numb. Topper sat on the coffee table in front of you and was leaning on his elbows, his knuckles just centimeters from your knees. This was the closest you had been to Topper in a very long time. This was the closest you had ever been to Rafe.

Sometime during this, Shoupe had left but your mom was still at the kitchen table. Your dad was pacing.

Your head was leaning on Rafe’s shoulder and his hand was pushing the hair off of your sweaty forehead. Topper’s tears had dried and he just stared at you, wondering how you two had come to this. How you two never spoke anymore, he knew nothing about you. He didn’t know your favorite color, your favorite type of music, all things he knew growing up, but now he knew nothing.

In the distance you could hear the front door slam open, followed by Kiara’s voice. “Y/N!”

You lifted your head just in time to see JJ running into your kitchen, his eyes wild as he looked for you, Kiara hot on his heels. Your tears started again as you stood up and ran towards him. His arms opened instantly and caught you. You never felt so much relief before as his arms circled you and squeezed so tight you felt your back crack, you dug your face into the safety of his neck and felt Kiara’s arms wrap around you from behind.

“The hell is he doing here?” Your heard your dad ask and only then did you remember that your parents had no idea that you were dating the guy that got arrested for sinking Topper’s boat.

“I called them.” You heard Topper state as JJ kissed your cheek. He slowly let go of you and you turned towards Kiara, who had tears in her eyes. Her arms wrapped around you and squeezed tightly, both of you unable to find the words to say. You pulled back and felt JJ’s hand touch the back of your head, both him and Kiara stood in front of you.

“Thanks for calling us, Topper.” JJ said over your head before looking back down at you and wiped your tears away. “Let’s get some fresh air, yeah?” he whispered, nodding his head to your back door.

You followed JJ and Kiara out of your house and sat on the desk chairs. JJ sat beside you and wrapped his arm around your shoulders and this time, when you curled into him you didn’t have to pretend because JJ was really here. Kiara sat in the chair in front of you, holding your hand.

“Did Topper really call you?” You whispered, feeling JJ’s lips touch your forehead.

Kiara nodded softly, “We had just gotten to John B’s when he called.”

“I can’t believe he’s gone,” You whispered, your throat tight again with tears. “He can’t be gone.”

Kiara’s eyes filled with tears as JJ’s arms wrapped tightly around you and pulled you into him. “We’re here for you, Y/N,” Kiara whispered, squeezing your hand.

#jj x reader #jj x you #jj maybank x y/n #jj outer banks #jj maybank #obx #obxstuff #obx netflix #pope #pope obx #kie obx #kiara carrera #kiara obx #Outer Banks #john b routledge #john b #john b x reader #john b x y/n

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missorgana · 4 years

Text

interrupt me

pairing: finn/poe dameron

fandom: star wars (sequel trilogy)

rating: teen and up

word count: 2502

warning: swearing

summary: Finn wants Poe to be his boyfriend, so badly, it's sort of unbelievable he hasn't asked him already. But he doesn't know how. (high school AU)

(finnpoe week 2020 is here yall!!! so excited for my baby event tbh. annddd here’s my first fic for it, i chose high school au bcus well im cheesy ok. if u want to enter finnpoe week with me you can check out the event blog and my post here!! hope you enjoy this fluffy mess!)

read on ao3

“So?”

When Finn realises this is the only greeting he’s getting from his best friend, he gives her a semi-awkward chuckle, as he always does when he can’t quite figure out what she’s on about.

Very much not the first time.

“So… what?”

And she raises her eyebrows in an offended look.

Offended in the only way Rey can be, because she’s never seriously been mad at him, mind you.

“I can’t believe you.” she simply tells him, opening her locker in the process.

Okay, maybe Finn has an idea of what’s frustrating her. After all, she texted him about it last night. A text he was keen to avoid at that time.

“I got your text, I swear-”

“And you didn’t respond because of the reason I suspect?”

Man, Rey really should be a psychic or something. Kind of freaky how she’s always two steps ahead of him.

Her annoyance did fade slightly when Finn let his defeat show.

“I know, I promised you.” and he tells her while shoving the chemistry book down in his bag, the bell interrupting before he continues, “But, I, uh. It just wasn’t the right time, okay?”

Rey’s shoulders are still tense, she huffs, but ultimately shrugs.

“You also said that after your last three dates, you know.”

He does know. Yes, he knows too well.

Long story short, Finn’s been going out with Poe for nearly three months now. Exactly, pretty Poe, the prettiest person ever in the entire world, probably.

The boy who asked him out after many history lessons of looking at each other in secret, and talks of doing homework together that only resulted in giggling and gushing about Hozier.

Well, Rey thinks it’s about time they became official. Like, officially a couple.

She does this because she loves Finn, and she loves them, and yes, he wants Poe to be his boyfriend, so badly, it’s sort of unbelievable he hasn’t asked him already.

But see, he doesn’t know how.

Or of course, he knows the words, but it’s like, whenever he’s with Poe, his mind implodes and revels in whatever they’re doing, and at the end of the day, he’s none the wiser.

They’re on the way to class, and they’re gonna be late either way, so Finn asks his best friend, “I know. But, you know, what if… I mean, what if he doesn’t want to?”

Rey still looks at him in all her stubbornness, but rubs her shoulder, clearly sensing his worry.

His worry goes deep, because yes, they’ve been going out for three months, but, you know, Poe’s like the star of this school. Star of the student council, if anything.

Finn just can’t help doubting himself. Wondering, Poe’s too good for him, or maybe, Poe hasn’t asked him because what they have, what made him ask out Finn isn’t there for him anymore.

He hopes none of that is the case. But he’s always had a habit of overthinking.

“I love you.” she tells him, a certainty in her voice, tugging on his arm just a bit so they won’t be in real trouble with Ms. Holdo, “And he’s so lost in you. I know it’s scary, but he isn’t asking, and if you don’t ask, nothing’s gonna happen.”

She’s right. So right.

So he links their arms and runs down the hall, figuring it speaks louder than words.

…

Finn finds himself thinking a lot.

This isn’t exactly unusual, but, you know, sometimes he overthinks.

Seriously, he knows he needs to ask Poe already.

But his concerns aren’t crazy, okay?

He’s actually already met Poe’s mom, last month, albeit it wasn’t planned. It was maybe too fast. They’re going fast. Or what?

Rey’s assured him enough times now that three months is a perfectly healthy time to become an item, or whatever you call it.

It’s not like they’re popular. Poe’s got a bit of hype, but he’s not at the top of the food chain.

And you know, reputation isn’t all that matters.

Or he tries to tell himself that, because what if it is to Poe?

Before his best friend made him promise to make the move, as she calls it, she was visibly upset, perhaps more than himself, when the other boy hadn’t asked him first.

Maybe he’s just as nervous as Finn. Like, it’s valid, right?

But also, Poe’s been in a couple of relationships before, and yes, that might not sound like much, but Finn’s never been serious with anyone prior to this.

And he didn’t really think it would bother him until now, where Finn ponders his inexperience, and might be edging towards a mental breakdown in the middle of the history lesson, when said boy on his mind touches his hand under the table.

Yes, Rey was only bitter for a few days when the boys started sitting together, “leaving her behind”, as she called it. But she doesn’t really mind now that Rose transferred, he’s sure.

Finn always thinks Poe wants to borrow a pencil when he touches his hand, or has a question, or something mundane.

But he might be getting used to Poe reaching out just for the sake of the touch, sooner or later.

Only the other boy whispers when Ms. Holdo has her back turned, “You okay?”

Oh, so he can tell. That’s great.

No, really, it’s great, because this boy’s so empathetic, when he’s not fiercely protective, or sarcastically defensive.

Finn wonders if he’s thinking of the same thing.

He actually got started on a question last time, some form of it, anyway, but they were not so generously interrupted by some of Poe’s friends, Jess and Snap, he’s pretty sure. That scared him off. Embarrassing, he knows.

Besides, it was like, ten minutes, and Poe seemed just as embarrassed, and they more or less cheered them on. Lovebirds, they called them.

“Ignore them, please.” the other boy told him, like, a million times. He was so cute blushing like that.

If only Finn hadn’t abruptly chickened out when he tried to get the question, instead distracting Poe with whatever he saw first, which, very fitting, was ice cream.

Man, the other boy eats so much ice cream, he has to admit he’s slightly worried about his health.

He’s got a lot of things to worry about, huh.

“Of course I am.” he whispers back, and fuck, he’s just barely caught when Ms. Holdo turns around, and he’s got this feeling like Poe doesn’t believe him, but the conversation’s over like that.

The boy’s smile is a reassurance. A little bit, at least.

…

Is he avoiding Poe? Or is Poe avoiding him?

Finn doesn’t really know, to be honest.

They haven’t seen each other in, what, four days now, because he’s letting his head get the best of him, and he declined the boy’s offer to accompany him for the football game, instead having another nerve wracking conversation, filled with possible ways his crush could call them off.

Rey probably thinks he’s overdramatic, but she doesn’t say, and spends a good two hours calming him down, because she’s lovely.

It isn’t just a crush anymore, Finn realises.

God, he likes him, so much.

And on their last date, it started raining, like in every cheesy teen movie ever, and when he couldn’t hide that he was freezing, Poe, of course, gave him his jacket.

It’s just too much.

Not long after his phone call with Rey, his roommate returns from the game, and Rose tells him that Poe missed him.

Does that make him feel good or bad?

They text a lot.

Like, late into the night a lot, to a point where his sleep schedule might’ve gone for the worse. He’ll restore it sooner or later.

Anyway, Poe seemed like he had something on his mind yesterday. At least, he was taking a while to answer, and usually, his texts keep flying almost a second after Finn’s replied.

But whatever he felt coming never came. The other boy had to go, that is, and Finn thought, maybe this time, he’ll ask.

Or maybe he was looking for a sensitive way to break up. Shit. He wouldn’t break up with him via text, though, surely? Poe’s respectable. He’s got manners.

Or maybe the world just doesn’t want them to communicate anymore, ever, and will just continue to interrupt them, which is rude and totally unfair.

Even at the library this guy, honestly, he can’t remember the name for his life, but this guy had some issue with a suggestion of Poe’s in the council, which he apparently felt the need to bring up then.

The curly haired boy in front of him gave an, “I’m kind of busy, right now.” three times before the other student, finally, minded his own business.

Maybe Poe thinks Finn doesn’t want him around him anymore after avoiding him. Why does he do this?

He hates conflict. It can die in a pit.

Even though it isn’t a conflict, like his best friend so wisely told him, maybe he’s just a bit stupid, or maybe his worst nightmare is true and Poe doesn’t want anything serious.

His head feels like it might explode.

The girl discarding her shoes shoots him a weird look.

Of course, she can tell he’s nervous, just as much as Rey, or probably anyone else, at this point, but Rose has developed a sense of knowing when Finn needs to be left alone.

So, she brews them both tea and lays down with her headphones on, but not before handing him something cold and metal, which turns out to be a pin.

It’s a tiny yellow sun.

Finn doesn’t have to ask who it’s from, or who he’s hoping it’s from, anyway, because the boy is so utterly cheesy that he’s compared him to sunshine on more than one occasion.

Even more cheesy that Poe got him a gift relating to a stupid nickname. But also, he loves it. Loves it a little too much.

It’s ridiculous.

So he’ll opt to sleep now, tugging Poe’s jacket a bit tighter around him.

…

Poe’s suggested to skip school today, and Rey swears she’ll nag Finn to no end if he doesn’t go along, so here he is.

Of course this boy wants to get ice cream.

And of course he knows a perfect place, as he says, which, surprisingly, is a junkyard filled with old cars, which Finn sees little wrong with.

He’s pretty sure the rich people in this stupid town probably discard these for the newest model. Poe laughs and agrees when he voices his thought.

When they’re side by side on a blue Corvette hood, ice cream and marshmallows long gone, it’s silent, except the other boy’s humming.

Maybe this is the right time. Or the worst time. Wait, he can’t think like that, he should listen to Rey.

Finn might as well get it over with, if the worst case scenario is really gonna happen, right?

And so he decides to open his mouth with his thought along with him, only Poe does the same, and there’s a small cluster of “Hey-”s and “Oh-”s and “Sorry”s.

So maybe the boy has decided to end it on a good note, like a goodbye date.

Could be worse, right?

“I was thinking, uh…” Poe begins, but it doesn’t seem to end, and Finn nods him along, and sits up straighter, maybe it’ll be easier to bite the emotion in him like that.

“Yeah?”

The boy chuckles at himself.

It’s like he doesn’t want to look at him, cause he’s keeping his eyes on his lap, but then, gaze turning towards Finn again and biting his lip.

“Do you want to be my boyfriend?”

And Finn’s ready to deflect, to shrug off the hurt, get up and leave, when, holy shit, what did he just say?

Exactly the thing he wants him to say? Exactly the thing he wants to say? Unbelievable.

He’s got to have a few seconds to process that. Which is probably what makes Poe freak out, because he’s suddenly, almost, taking the words back, “If you think it’s too fast I understand, I-”

“No!” he exclaims. A bit louder than he wanted, alright, good thing this yard’s practically abandoned.

“No, Poe, I really want that. Like, oh my god.”

“Really?”

The nods are eager, and Poe’s smiling so much brighter now. Finn can barely hold himself from copying it.

“But seriously, I thought you’d break up, or I mean, stop our dates or something.”

Now that offended look is familiar, has Poe been spending time with Rey? Could fool him, at least.

He almost gasps, which reminds Finn how truly ridiculous he is, when he’s not keeping up his status in debate.

“Is that why you’ve been avoiding me?” he asks, and yes, is the answer, and Finn can’t help feeling bad, so he tries to make it better by touching his hand, the same way the other boy’s got the habit to in class.

“Yeah, I mean, I thought maybe I wasn’t good enough.”

Now Poe looks distraught, like Finn told him a puppy died or something, and Finn wants to shrug it off, but the boy meets his lips before he gets the chance.

Okay, he would call this a rude interruption, if he didn’t like this so much. He’ll let it slide, just this once.

“Who put that idea into your head?” Poe says, like he’s already out of breath, it’s adorable, “You’re, like, God. Too good to be true.”

And instead of answering Finn continues this cycle of kissing his boyfriend’s lips and cheek and neck, really, they’re a lot better at this than talking.

It’s so much nicer than talking too, but Poe has to finish his sentence, he assumes, “I would’ve asked sooner, you know. But I feel like everyone keeps interrupting us lately.”

It’s like their minds are one, Finn’s sure Rey’s gonna roll her eyes at them after this.

He almost can’t speak when they’re both laughing, and Poe’s touching his face, now, that’s what’ll take up his mind, “Me too.”

Honestly, Finn would let the boy say more, if he wasn’t his boyfriend now, right, so when Poe is starting on a rant of those exact problems, there’s really no other choice than direct him away from the negativity and back to kissing him again, because he loves his voice, but that’s just about enough talking now, he thinks.

“Boyfriend?” and of course, Poe laughs again at that, tipping his head back, but quick to turn his gaze back, because every quirk just makes him even more pretty.

“Yes?”

And he replies, “Can I interrupt you, though?”, not even waiting for an answer before he’s pulling him in for the millionth kiss, it seems, cupping his neck and tugging on his hair.

It’s impossible that Poe can smile even wider, surely, but he does.

“I guess I’ll allow it.”

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naysaltysalmon · 4 years

Text

Shoutout to @tiburme for tagging me~!

Rules: Name 10 favorite characters from 10 different things and then tag 10 people.

Oh, massive spoilers below btw.

1. Gon Freecss from Hunter x Hunter: My favorite shounen protagonist by far. At first you think he’s your typical happy-go-lucky bouncy boye :D who definitely doesn’t have abandonment issues or self-destructive tendencies that literally actually almost kill him later on, and then, uwu... The amount of complexity that Gon has as a protagonist who hardly ever has stand-alone development is nothing short of astounding. How during the Chimera Ant Art his characterization totally dips off to the side to become an unknowable entity even to the audience, while still retaining amazing character development regardless -- not to mention how brilliantly daring his decision to threaten Komugi is that nearly every other author with such a happy-go-lucky protagonist would shy away from in cowardice -- is absolutely surreal to me. The more I think and write about Gon, the more I fall in love with him. If I ever meet his father, and by that I mean his real father, the creator, Togashi, I have nothing else to say but,,, well done, sir.

2. Tanjirou Kamado from Demon Slayer: I’m really hoping the Demon Slayer movie comes out soon because I absolutely love this boy and how charming he is. Unlike most protagonists, not just of shounen anime but of seemingly macho story lines that involve power-ups and training in general, Tanjirou never lets go of his kind heart. (Welp, except maybe in some cases when he’s facing the Upper Moons later on -- I haven’t caught up yet -- but WE’RE GONNA IGNORE THAT for now.) From the beginning, Tanjirou’s kindness isn’t an obstacle holding back his power, though other characters pose it that way, but rather he cultivates his empathy to grant peace to the demons he faces. He smiles in the face of anyone who treats him poorly because of his cluelessness, and that’s just so heartwarming to see, and dare I say subversive to the hardened, calculating, and cocky male protagonists we so often get. Good job, Gotouge.

3. Joseph Joestar from JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure: Giorno Giovanna was a close second, but I gotta go with Joseph. He’s the one who made me fall in love with the series, and with the later parts too. Unlike Jonathan Joestar, who was chivalrous and manly, Joseph was a riot: colorful, arrogant, funny, but also extremely clever. I absolutely loved his, “Next you’ll say...!” because at first I expected it to just be him being an overconfident asshole and eventually he’d be proven wrong at the ~Dai Pinchi Moment~ (please excuse my weeb speech, I legit didn’t know what else to call it), but then he hit the mark every time and eventually I was just waiting for when he’d pull that out and it was so hype. Also I surely can’t forget his transformation as an old dude in Part 3 -- him screaming “OOHHHH MY GAAAWDDDA!” and “HOLY SHIIIT!” murdered me every time. And of course, last but not least, the raw fucking emotion when Caeser died -- the dude actually gave a shit and wasn’t made entirely of wit and absurdity, but heart too. Joseph set the tone for what JJBA was as a whole for me (fuck off with that “but Part 3/Part 4 is the best Part” bullshit, Part 2 will always be top tier for me because of Joseph Joestar’s brilliant, bright, and beautiful absurdity -- but Part 5 was really good too). Araki really is a genius.

4. Link from The Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess: My love for this series is a bit older than the series I’ve already mentioned, and TLoZ: TP was actually probably the first time I got seriously obsessed with a fandom. I love all the Links in their own ways, but Twilight Princess really drove home the “lone wolf chosen by the gods, fighting against the world” narrative for me. It made me feel important and strong at a time when no one cared about me. Seeing Link struggle silently through his quest with villagers who meant well but did nothing for him, and Midna who started out as a reluctant acquaintance and eventually became so much more, meant so much to me at the time I played the game. I will always love Twilight Princess the most because of what it did for me at one of the darkest times in my life, and because I felt completely and utterly immersed in every part of the story and gameplay through Link’s character, who was, and in many ways, still is, so relatable to me: Silent courage really is what I use to get through every day.

5. Greedling from Fullmetal Alchemist (Brotherhood): For once I’m not naming the protagonist of a series! Lissen, I still smile whenever I see the slightest reference to Edward Elric, but now he’s more of my childhood love. He’s just a part of my personality already? LOL. Anyway, FMA(B) has so many good characters that choosing just one doesn’t feel right (I mean, same with HxH tho). I say Greedling because that encompasses both Ling and Greed though, two of my favorite characters from the series! Ling’s apparent childishness in constantly running away from fights, making other people pay for his food, and failing to grasp the seriousness of the situation (until Lan Fan’s arm gets cut off lol oops) is so adorable and entertaining. He’s the best kind of idiot asshole, and I especially love how he teases Ed. After him and Greed fuse, Ling’s stout heart becomes even more apparent, as he constantly eggs Greed on to remember his past life, his friends, and become someone outside of Father/the Dwarf in the Flask. Conversely, Greed’s nonchalance and (of course) avarice are nothing short of entertaining and heartbreaking. Greed’s realization at the end, when he finally admitted to himself that what he wanted all along were “friends like these,” completely crushed me the first few times I watched FMAB. And when he’s screaming in the tunnels under Central after having killed Bido, remembering his friends, and he doesn’t understand why, and later attacks Wrath/King Bradley... that shit was so entertaining and cathartic to watch. None of his development feels like forced redemption, nor like it was too little development, since it mostly happens in the background and away from the “validating eyes” of the protagonists other than Ling. And at the end, when Ling and Greed work together to take down Bradley and all the soldiers invading Central HQ... it’s so beautiful. Many have said this before but I’ll say it again: Hiromu Arakawa wrote the perfect series.

6. Ciel Phantomhive from Black Butler: Another protagonist! And another older obsession of mine. Ciel remains in my mind to this day mainly for his heartlessness in relation to his age, and the fluidity with which Toboso tells his story. Normally when authors write younger characters into their serious stories, they make “child adults” of sorts, but Ciel feels totally realistic to the extent that he is both childish and adult to me. Obviously, Ciel is responsible and (normally) level-headed due to being the head of the Phantomhive household, but also from trauma. Yet, his cruelty at times is what sticks in my mind the most: You really feel that he’s someone who feels he’s been abandoned by the entire world, given his experiences, and that makes him disregard or use others sometimes in order to reach his own ends. Normally, authors would be too cowardly to let their protagonists, let alone child protagonists, go to such lengths to avenge their family, or carry out their duty as the dog of the military (looking at you, Arakawa -- she’s still a goddess tho). But Ciel is unforgiving. He lies to Snake and tells him his troupe is still alive. He murders the entire troupe because he’s triggered -- a childish decision, but driven with adult-like power due to trauma. It’s devastatingly riveting, and I cannot forget his unrelenting, contained rage to this day.

7. Ahsoka Tano from Star Wars: The Clone Wars: This one may come as a shock to most of you, because I hardly ever post Star Wars let alone Ahsoka content on here -- but it’s true. Other than the blatant, half-assedly inserted heteroromantic partner they gave Ahsoka in, like, idk season 3??, Ahsoka is a fucking goddess. From her origin as a wee baby in the earlier seasons who didn’t really know what she was doing and was a bit of a cocky brat, to how she matures and becomes wise, resourceful, and fierce in the later seasons, I just love Ahsoka’s design and character to this day. The episodes that stick in my mind aside from the obvious are when she’s possessed by the Dark Side of the Force on that Force balance planet and her arrogance becomes so exaggerated that she threatens and attacks Anakin, her teacher. It was so fucking cathartic. Normally female characters, let alone young protagonist female characters, are never allowed to show the ugly sides of themselves in fiction, since women are always portrayed as perfect beautiful majestic angels or some bullshit like that. (Or they’re cocky/sexy/slutty villain women. ‘Kay then.) Seeing Ahsoka devolve into her basal desires and come out of it like hardly anything happened and she’s still a perfectly valid character was so amazing to see on a meta level; it wasn’t about her learning a lesson or anything, it was a thing that happened like any other character and then they moved the fuck on. I also distinctly remember the episode where she was trapped on that island/planet and she had to take out the aliens that were after her all by herself. That was so fucking empowering to watch and god fucking dammit I need to rewatch this series now. And of course, let us not forget the fact that the entire time, we were all expecting Ahsoka to just be another domino in Anakin’s downfall -- and she was, but not through the refrigerator -- but through walking away from it all. That was so powerful and moving -- and heartbreaking. By the end of TCW, her character carried weight and agency in the narrative, and god, I only wish whoever wrote her could write more female characters in the future.

8. Tigress from Kung Fu Panda: Maybe another surprise, but I think she deserves this spot. Tigress is a female character who starts out as kind of an antagonist, given how she outright tells Po to leave the kung fu temple within the first day of him arriving. She’s even jealous of the fact that he’s chosen as the Dragon Warrior rather than her -- but that’s due to the backwash of years of trying to live up to the memory of Tai Lung in order to please Shifu (which means “master” in Chinese but ok I’ll shut up now), her master and mentor over the years. She never says this out loud in the movie, which is what makes her character more believable. Others even joke about how stoic she is (and not in bad taste). Her character development is definitely present for those who are looking -- but I put her on this list because I’m so happy the movie doesn’t make it some huge dramatic emotional thing, because so often in media women are depicted as being overly-emotional and here Tigress is just a hurt child trying to make her mentor happy. But, she gets over it, her and Po become allies, even friends to each other -- she and Po talk like equals in the second and third movies, and she even tells him to back out of the fight with Lord Shen and he listens (I mean he doesn’t stay put but he doesn’t undermine her opinion either lol, like most jokesy protagonists of Western media would -- looking at you, Marvel). I like Tigress because she’s an antagonist without being a bitch, she’s powerful without being overpowered, and she’s not sexualized despite being a well-trained, at times jealous, and even emotionally awkward kung fu master. And I almost forgot to mention the best part: There is never an indication of romance between her and Po, or any other character, for that matter. She’s perfectly capable, complex, and lovely on her own terms. And that’s that on THAT.

9. Bilbo Baggins from The Hobbit: I wanted to include at least one character protagonist from a live-action movie/book, lol. I feel like Bilbo’s pretty self-explanatory. He doesn’t wanna go on an adventure because he likes his doilies and warm sheets, but then Gandalf seduces him with the call to the outside world and possible death (LOL), and he fucking goes for it, grumbling the entire time. Isn’t that what any of us would do if given such a proposition? I like to think so. Bilbo obviously has his own gradual, evil transformation with the One Ring, becomes murderous and uses it to disappear, and grows a strong bromance with the King Under the Mountain (which happens in both the movie and the book), but I think what I like about him is that he really feels... down-to-earth? Like even though the adventure changes him, it never feels like he’s been stretched in a way that makes his core character traits of grumbling and bluntness disappear. He gets better at the whole adventuring thing, for sure, but he remains Bilbo, at least, to me, throughout the journey. It was heartwrenching watching him try to save Thorin in The Battle of Five Armies, honestly, but Bilbo’s the kind of character that I feel like has his own story and mythology aside from The Hobbit, and maybe that’s just the result of J.R.R. Tolkien writing the lore for every aspect of his universe, but My Point Still Stands. He feels like his own man apart from the series he’s in, yet he’s still so much fun in his series.

10. Barley Lightfoot from Onward: And last, this one is because I saw Onward yesterday and was pleasantly surprised by the characterization in it -- and anyone who thinks differently can kiss my *ss. :) I was not expecting the movie to take the twist of fleshing out the “annoying” (more like adorable) overconfident nerdy big brother. Normally those characters are swiped to the side because God Forbid The Comic Relief Have Any Sadness In Them. I was expecting the movie to focus on Ian’s journey to meet his fatha and that the movie would pull something stupid at the end like “oh actually there’s another phoenix gem underneath the school” or “actually since only his legs appeared then you still have 24 hours with him” or some shit like that, but I guess this isn’t an anime so those absurdist explanations wouldn’t hold water anyway. But still, for a kid’s movie, I was NOT expecting this movie to go so hard with the characterization. For once, the main character doesn’t get what he wants at the end, and instead realizes it’s his big brother, Barley, who’s been looking out for him his entire life. Meeting his dad would betray that reality. What happens instead is that the lovable big brother never actually said goodbye to their dad before he died, because when their dad got sick, said brother ran away from the hospital room in fear of all the life-sustaining equipment. (Is this some meta thing about Chris Pratt and Guardians of the Galaxy? Off topic and call me stupid, but I didn’t realize Chris Pratt plays him until I saw everyone freaking out about it afterward on Tumblr laksjdflak.) So instead, the lovable big brother talks to the dad at the end, and unconfident younger brother grows confidence and thanks big bro for being with him his entire life. It was so touching, dude. I cry. But the moment that sticks in my mind the most was when Ian was crossing the invisible bridge... Ian needed to have confidence in himself to be able to cross over a chasm in their path, and Barley knew that if Ian didn’t believe in himself, he would fall and die. They tie a rope around Ian for good measure, and Barley encourages him the entire way, but halfway over, the rope comes loose and slips off. Barley sees this and starts panicking, but of course continues to encourage Ian so that Ian will get to the other side. What got to me wasn’t the fact that he faked it for Ian, but that there are actual tears running down his face as he’s encouraging Ian to get to the other side, because he knows otherwise Ian wouldn’t have the confidence and would fall to his death. Like dude, that raw, complex emotion in a kid’s movie?! DUDE?! I was fucking surprised. The clear anxiety and grief in Barley’s face as Ian’s totally clueless and even dancing around in the air was just too much, omfg. Of course, then it’s played off for laughs, but... I guess that makes sense for the annoying overconfident nerdy big bro character. :’)

Okay these are way longer than I anticipated and I’m sorry, but also I’m really not. Hope you enjoyed reading my thoughts on my favs!

Seems I don’t talk to that many people on here anymore: @stupidbluejay @mirycactusito @chronicstarlight

#Nay talks #a lot #i'm sorry but not sorry #TL;DR: Deku isn't on here because Tanjirou is a better boy sorry #Fullmetal Alchemist #Hunter x Hunter #The Legend of Zelda #The Hobbit #Onward #Kung Fu Panda #Star Wars: The Clone Wars #Black Butler #JoJo's Bizarre Adventure #Demon Slayer

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