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sungbeam · 5 days

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𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧: 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬

nonidol!kang yeosang x f!reader

yeosang doesn't remember your name, but he remembers what kissing you tastes like and how you like your eggs in the morning. just your regular prince charming trying to find his cinderella, or in this case, his passenger princess..?

9.5k (lord.....), nc-17, s2l, frateez au, college au, mentions of alcohol, swearing, kissing, humor, fluff, minimal angst, another cinderella story au/trope(?), drama (i bring i bring all the drama-ma-ma-ma), a girl who is not a girl's girl :l, the barest of proofreading

a/n: this is for the @atzhouse you can't outrage us event! guys if the flirting is lackluster, it's cuz im running out of rizz

“I don't believe you.”—

The last place you expected to end up was in the front seat of some guy's white Lexus while the party raged on inside the ATZ fraternity house just down the street. According to him, he had to run out just before the crowd rolled in, and when he got back, somebody had snatched his parking spot.

—“Okay, but why don't you believe me?”—

The car smelled not like fresh leather, but an enchanting mixture of something like pine and smoked wood. Bitter, yet somehow, refreshing. You bet, even as the alcohol was hitting you, that it was what he smelled like.

His name was Yeosang—the guy sitting next to you in the driver's seat, the owner of this car, and the ATZ fraternity brother you bumped into at his house's own party. That had been just about twenty minutes ago when you'd ended up isolated from your pack of friends, and Yeosang had needed a desperate breather. It seemed he'd been running from someone (question mark), so you asked if he knew where the kitchen was. Eager to get away from whoever it was, he guided you straight to the kitchen and where the secret stash of flavored sojus were.

An offhand comment about wishing you didn't have to miss this one drama episode dropping tonight led to a longer conversation about the dramas you both enjoyed, which somehow landed you in his passenger seat.

The rest was history. Or—you supposed the rest was now.

“Because,” Yeosang said in a tone that sounded a lot like he was saying 'duh’, “you don't look like a biology major.”

He was gorgeous, even if the lighting in the party and out here was jack shit. The way the shadows cut across his face made him look like a faerie torn straight out of one of your old sketchbooks. You were half certain he had pointed ears beneath the cat-eared beanie he wore, but maybe that was just the alcohol doing its thing.

You sputtered out a laugh as he knocked back another gulp of his melon soju. He was more drunk than you were, maybe not by too much because that wouldn't have been fair, but it did take him seven tries to unlock his car seven minutes ago. “What's a bio major s'posed to look like?”

“Mmm…” he hummed, lips pressed together in a line that dug into his cheeks. “Not you.”

It only made you laugh harder. It wasn't even that funny. “That doesn't even make sense!”

“Does it have to make sense?” He squawked. His face shuddered for a moment as if he just experienced a glitch. “I forgot what I was gonna say, but it's the vibe.”

“The vibe,” you parroted in mild amusement. After you swallowed down your next gulp of soju, you gestured to him with the bottle, “Okay, now what about you? Your major, go.”

“I read shit.”

“Who doesn't?”

“Jared, 19,” he replied, dead serious.

Equally serious, you asked with wide eyes, “Really?”

He gave you an emphatic nod back. Really. Now, if you were a little less tipsy, you wouldn't have taken what he said at face value, but tonight was already miles away from your regularly scheduled program.

You pondered on that—the “I read shit,” not the misfortunes of one nineteen year old named Jared. “So if you read a lot of shit, does that make you a literature major? No, wait! I got it; you look like Comparative Lit.”

“Bingo,” he cheered, raising his bottle up into the air. “Wait. What do you mean I look like a comparative lit major? What does a comp lit major even look like?”

“I dunno, but it’s you.”

He pursed his lips into a deadpan at your callback to what he'd said before, and you merely stuck your tongue out at him like the mature adult you were. “Touché, my friend. Touché…”

Silence passed between you two for the first time since you met each other. In the distance, you could hear the muffled sounds of the party raging on. It wasn't that you didn't go to parties often; it was more so that you usually went to house parties hosted by friends or friends-of-a-friend. Making it all the way to Greek Row was not something you did every weekend, but a mutual friend—Chungha—knew the ATZ president and got you and your friends in.

Nearly finished with his third bottle (or was it his fourth?...), Yeosang knocked the remainder down his throat with a grimace. With the empty bottle, he set it at his feet on the car floor to join another—the cup holders were already occupied with yours and his second rounds. The first was abandoned on the frat house lawn somewhere.

“I think—” he slurred, blinking slowly at you like a cat, “—that you look like an artist.”

“An artist?” You parroted dumbly and felt warmth rise to your cheeks. “And why would you say that? Vibes?”

“Well, yes!”

You sputtered out a laugh at the way he said that. “Then yes, I am an artist,” you said, emphasizing the latter half of the word so it sounded like “teest” and not “tist.”

Yeosang gave a hoot. “I'm so good at this. Does that—does that mean you can paint me like one of your French girls?” He pulled his lips into an adorable, little smile, the back of his hand poised beneath his chin as he fluttered his lashes.

“I don't think I could do you justice,” you admitted. There was a rather annoying buzz at the back of your brain that was distracting you. With a shake of your head, you refocused your gaze on him. “You're too pretty.”

He preened at the compliment, unconsciously reaching up to adjust his beanie. “Like calls to like then.”

“What does that mean?” Your buzzed-out brain couldn't compute—

“It means that prettiness is attracted to prettiness, and I'm attracted to you.”

You whined, burying your face in your hands. Yeosang giggled to himself, incredibly proud at making you flustered, his knees curling upward to kick his feet in the cramped space. “I don't like you.”

“You don't?”

“No,” you raised your head up with a displeased frown, only to see that his eyes seemed to be twinkling with unrestrained happiness and something else. You weren't in the right state to hyper-analyze the way he looked at you, but it made your heart skip more than just a beat. “It's not fair that you're a literature major.”

“But I'm drunk,” he said innocently.

“That's even worse!”

He grinned boyishly at you, bashfully stretching his limbs and then cupping the back of his neck with a hand. “What if I told you I'm minoring in math?”

You deadpanned. “I don't think that makes me feel any better. You rule both the realms of words and numbers.”

“It doesn't mean I'm good at math,” he guffawed, leaning back in his seat. “It's only there 'cause my mom's a math teacher, and having a math minor makes my parents feel better.”

That sounded familiar… awfully familiar. The thought made you sober a bit, and it seemed your counterpart wasn't so wasted that he didn't notice the shift either.

“Uh oh,” he chuckled nervously, “what'd I say?”

You waved your hand around dismissively. “Oh, it's nothing. I'm kind of the opposite—my bio major is sort of to appease my parents and the fine art minor is for my sanity.”

He pressed his lips into a line, nodding in understanding. “Ah, I see,” he drawled. “So you don't… you're not happy? With what you're doing, I mean.”

Maybe it was the way he asked it, but it made the cogs in your head turn. You bit your lip. “I'm happy-ish. It's kind of a lot, but I'll survive.”

“'m sorry I upset you,” he pouted. “But,” he stammered, swallowing, “but I get it. My parents never wanna talk about my major anymore. Pretty sure they're just bitter and disappointed. I always feel like I’m walking on eggshells around them.”

You could tell that it affected him more than he wanted to admit. You wordlessly passed him your half-drunk bottle, and he gladly took a generous sip. When it was back in your hands, you guzzled down the remainder.

The buzz was getting better.

“Well, if they're not proud of you, I am,” you declared, setting the empty bottle at your feet. Your eyes blinked slowly for a moment as you got your bearings again. Maybe… maybe you should stop drinking! Yes, that would be the smart thing to do.

Yeosang hummed. “Thanks,” he said with a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He gazed over at you from his side of the car. “I'm proud of you, too. You'll be happy one day; it'll always turn out okay, Yn-ie.”

Something warm and fuzzy settled in your chest, like a cat had just curled up there, purring and content.

A thought suddenly popped into your head. “Yeosang, how do you like your eggs?”

He snorted and burst into laughter, coaxing a similar expression out of you. A moment later, you were trying your best to pout at him, “Hey! Don't laugh! I hear it's all the rage on the pick-up line scene.”

“You're trying to pick me up?” He giggled. All memories of the previous topic flew out the car window.

“Well, is it working?”

He licked his lips around a smile, leaning over the center console to rest his cheek against his fist. “Ask me again.”

You took another sip of your soju before returning it to its cupholder. “Okay. Yeosang, how do you like your eggs in the morning?”

“However you'd like them.”

You deadpanned, and that only made him laugh louder. His head tilted back so you caught a glimpse of his canines, before he brought himself back down to Earth. His cheeks looked as flushed as you felt—even in the dim streetlight you could make out the blooms of peony pink across his cheekbones. “Yeo.”

He reached over to pat your head a couple times, though the sloppiness of his movements made it feel closer to two affectionate smacks. “Okay okay. Sorry. How about we say it at the same time?”

“Okay.” That wasn't a bad compromise.

“Okay, one, two, three—”

“Sunny-side up,” you both said at once.

Your eyes and his eyes widened at once, gasps of delight sounding into the quiet car. Could this guy be any more perfect?

“You're not bluffing?” You asked with narrowed eyes.

Yeosang shook his head vigorously. “Mm-mm. I wouldn't lie to you, Yn-ie. Scout's honor,” he slurred, holding his hand up as if he was a boy scout.

You giggled at the gesture, and he broke form to melt into an ooey gooey puddle of liquefied butterflies. For a moment, he just stared at you with a strange look on his face, one that you couldn't quite place when you were in this inebriated state.

You chuckled, shifting your position when one leg started falling asleep. “What’s wr—?”

He leaned forward and—oh. Oh. Those were—his lips were on yours. He had leaned over the console and kissed you. He was kissing you.

And when you didn't kiss him back, he drew backwards, an embarrassed expression painted over the adorable flush on his cheeks. “That—I shouldn't have done that, should I? I'm sorry; I dunno what I was—”

You crushed your mouth against his this time, effectively stealing the apology right off his tongue. He tasted like melon soju, and his touch was gentle as he brought his hand up to cup the side of your face, cradle your jaw. He was tracing the outline of your features in the dark like he could sketch them in the lines in his mind.

He tasted like the color of amber, warm and bright, but not blindingly so. He was mellow and sweet, with the undertones of the burnt wood in his cologne.

You melded your lips against his mouth like you could engrave him into you, and you were practically half over the middle console already. Yeosang's free hand fumbled backward to find the button on the side of his chair—there. The chair began moving backward with a monotonous brrr sound, and as it moved you couldn't quite keep your lips physically attached to his.

You disconnected from him for what felt like an eternity in order to climb over—shoes knocking against empty soju bottles, ass nearly bumping the horn—and with some clumsy, awkward maneuvering, you were on him again, this time quite literally. You tumbled into his lap, his hands landing on either side of your waist and your hands bracing against the back of his chair.

He loosened a soft groan with the return of your lips to his, and he hauled you down closer to him, until your chests were pressed flush against one another and you couldn't tell which heartbeat was who's. His beanie fell off at some point, but your fingers buried themselves within the dark, silken mass of his hair, a hat in their own right.

When you both pulled away for breath, your chests heaved in tandem to catch it. You settled your cheek against his shoulder while you inhaled the smell of his cologne, much stronger now that you sat against his chest with your nose by his throat. His hand warmed the small of your back with the other cupping the back of your head in an affectionate cradle.

“I don't think I've ever kissed someone like that,” you admitted into the quiet. You suddenly couldn't hear the muffled music blasting from the party in the background anymore.

“Me neither,” he replied, voice hoarse from the kiss. “I've never met someone like you before.”

“Never in your life?”

“Never in my life.”

“So let me get this straight,” drawled Wooyoung with both hands poised at his temples, eyes screwed shut against the bright morning light coming in through the window. There were currently eight people crowded onto President Hongjoong's bed at a time that was far too early to be alive for a group of people who partied until four in the morning. “You're saying that you know this girl's family life, how she likes her eggs in the morning, and how she kisses—but you don't even know her name?”

Yeosang was propped up against the headboard, squeezed between a very unfairly serene-looking Seonghwa and a mildly hungover Hongjoong. Yeosang's bangs were flat against his forehead and he squinted his tired eyes through the strands. “No, that's not what I said. I said that I know her name… it's just not coming to me right now.”

He knew your name. Right? You told him your name, right? He addressed you by your name at least once last night, right?

(If he was being honest, as soon as Yeosang woke up this morning, he started whimsically recalling the events of last night in his head. But once he realized he neither had your number nor remembered your name, he jostled his friends up to invade the president's room for an emergency round table discussion. Who would have guessed their alarm clock would be a very panicked Maltese screaming, “I DON'T REMEMBER HER NAME!”)

“Which pretty much means you don't know her name,” Jongho piped up where he was laying against Yunho's back on the corner of the bed, his eyes closed while he attempted to squeeze in five more milliseconds of sleep.

“Well, do you know who she came with?” San asked. “She probably has at least one mutual friend or else she wouldn't have gotten in.”

Mingi furrowed his brows together. “Not necessarily. The pledges might not have been thorough when checking.”

Hongjoong's eyes narrowed. “You were supposed to be there with them at the door, Mingi.”

“Oh, was I?”

Yunho cut in before Hongjoong could tackle Mingi off the bed. He grinned to himself, “Okay, but San has a point. Usually people are only able to sneak in if they're with a group.”

“Awh,” Wooyoung cooed, reaching over to pinch at Yeosang's cheek, “Yeosangie fell in love with a stowaway—ow! Hey! He just bit me!”

“Deserved,” Seonghwa said plainly. He turned his head so as to not have to face Wooyoung's wounded puppy eyes. It was too early for this. “Do you know if she came with anyone, Yeosang-ah?”

Yeosang scrunched his nose up, disgruntled. “No. I'm pretty sure she was looking for her friends when we met… something like that. I remember some things, but not everything.” He pinched the place between his brows in an attempt to piece together his memory of last night. He could remember the way you made him feel—it was the jittery warmth that came with falling, and his heart had never grown wings before like it had around you.

After the kiss, the two of you had sunk into a comfortable, quiet conversation about anything and everything beneath the sun. For the first time in a long time, he felt comfortable and heard by someone other than his fraternity brothers. You were perfect, for lack of a better word. And he knew a lot of words.

But how could he fucking forget your name?

He was never drinking that much melon soju ever again.

“She's a biology major,” he offered with a defeated sigh, letting his hand fall into his lap.

“What does she look like?” Hongjoong asked.

Yeosang's gaze went up to the ceiling as he recalled what you looked like to his friends. It was pretty dark the entire time he was with you, but there were a few moments when the streetlights hit your face and his conscience was constantly trying to keep his drunk ass from kissing you within the first ten minutes of meeting you. He'd managed to hold it together for a little bit longer before throwing all caution to the wind.

When he was done, San said in light amusement, “I'm just surprised you kissed her first. She must be something then, huh?”

Yeosang couldn't conceal the smile that slowly crept onto his face. “Yeah, she's…” He cleared his throat. “I just don't want last night to be the first and last time I see her.” It couldn't be—just when he thought he clicked with someone, the universe couldn't possibly be so cruel as to rip you away from him, could it?

“Don't you worry!” Mingi chirped, “We'll help you find your passenger princess.”

Seonghwa snorted. “Passenger princess? What is this, Cinderella?”

“It might as well be,” San chuckled, lifting his shoulder in a half-hearted shrug. “Operation: Passenger Princess is a go!”

Yeosang wasn't sure if recruiting his friends’ help was a good or awful decision. But because his past, drunk self hadn't done many favors for his future, sober self, he would take all the help he could get.

You knew the moment you stumbled out of your bedroom and saw your roommate that you were in trouble. It wasn't trouble in the conventional sense; considering her eyes were laughing as she watched your pitiful walk of shame from your room to the shared bathroom, you knew you were not going to hear the end of everything that happened last night ever.

“Not a word,” you said to her as you winced at the blinding bathroom lights.

Her toothbrush hung out of her mouth as she slipped in behind you to spit her toothpaste into the sink. When her mouth was rinsed and clear, she made eye contact with you in the mirror, eyebrows wagging up and down. “So you and Yeosang, huh?”

You glared at her from around your own toothbrush. You would have taken the damn thing out to defend yourself, but you were already late.

Reina took full advantage of your occupied vocal chords. “I never knew pretty frat boys were your type, Yn,” she teased, practically floating out of the bathroom to go check on the state of her espresso in the kitchen.

“Aye hae yuu,” you grumbled around your toothbrush.

“What's that?” She cackled, bringing a hand up to the shell of her ear. “I love you? I love you, too, Yn. But you know who else loves you?—”

“Dompt shae it.”

“Yeosaaaang!”

You loathed the fact that her saying such things made butterflies flap their wings and dance around in your belly. It was simply delusional to think of love when all you and Yeosang did last night was make out in his car and accompany each other in deep, provoking conversation… conversation that definitely didn't make you feel incredibly seen or anything… definitely not.

Finally, you were able to spit your toothpaste out to make your argument. “Okay, first of all, I don't even have his number. And—how could he love me?” As if possession of a phone number could even correlate to love either.

Reina paused, her expression arranging into loud incredulity. “You what? After all I went through to separate the two of you to go home, you didn't exchange numbers?”

Okay, so maybe you shouldn't have disclosed that information—now you just looked stupid.

You lathered up facial cleanser in your hands and on your face. “Look. Exchanging numbers was just the last thing on our minds—” Oh, Yn. Have you ever said something smart?

Reina snorted. “Oh, I know.”

“We didn't just make out,” you grumbled, your cheeks warming beneath your hands. You furiously splashed cool water over your skin before patting your face dry. There likely wasn't much time left before you and Reina had to run to meet your other friends at your weekly volunteering session. “We talked.”

“Uh-huh, and you know that denial is a river in Egypt, right?”

Suffice to say that Reina most definitely did not let your shenanigans from last night go. The two of you managed to reach the food bank sometime before fifteen minutes past your original start time. Everyone else was already stationed and on time, and because you and Reina were the last to arrive, you were sent straight to dishwashing.

As you and Reina pulled on your twin pairs of pink rubber gloves, your friend Mark Lee (and brother with the NCT fraternity) barrelled into the backroom with a dirty ladle in his hands. His head perked up at the sight of you both, a smile blooming on his face. “Well, good morning, Party Animals. How was the ATZ party last night?”

He deposited the ladle into the sink for you to wash while he went to go find a clean one.

“It was cool, but I think Yn would love to tell you all about her experience,” Reina teased, bumping her elbow against your side.

Mark sidled up beside the two of you and leaned in close in proper tea-spilling fashion. “Oh my gosh, did something happen?”

You scowled at Reina, then said to Mark, “Nothing catastrophic—”

“She hooked up with Yeosang!”

You cut her a hard glance. “Reina, I don't think Neptune heard you.”

Mark's eyes went comically wide, jaw slackening. “Yn and Yeosang? That's so wild. Like—like Kang Yeosang?”

“I think? We didn't exactly exchange last names, but why would it be wild? We just kissed and talked.”

“Who kissed who now?” The new voice had you all glancing back over to the kitchen door where another member of the group, Yura, walked in. Yura was Reina's cousin, and the two grew up quite close, so it was natural that they ended up in similar social circles. You and all your other friends got along pleasantly with her. She flashed you all a small smile. “From the sounds of it, I'm guessing you guys had a fun time at the party last night?”

“We did!” Reina chirped.

“Shame you couldn't come with us this time,” you said offhandedly. It wasn't like Yura to miss a party.

Reina cocked her head to the side. “I could've sworn I saw you there though—”

“Ah,” Yura waved her hand to dismiss her cousin's thought. She chuckled, “You're probably mistaking someone else as me; I had that paper I needed to work on last night, remember? But Yn, you and Yeosang?”

You groaned. “I thought we were over this.”

“Dude, we can't not get over this,” Mark quipped back. “Yeosang just doesn't do stuff like that—hook up with people, I mean.”

“Yeah,” Yura chimed in, “I've seen him at a couple other Greek parties with some of my sorority friends and he looks pretty standoffish most of the time. He's usually always with one of his brothers. He's kind of cold, really.”

Mark furrowed his brows. “I wouldn't call him cold; he's just a little shy, is all.”

“My friends told me that a lot of sorority girls chase after him,” Yura said with wide eyes. “They get, like, aggressive about him or something.”

You and Reina exchanged a look. Was that who he was running from last night? “That must be kinda stressful,” you said softly with a small frown.

“Apparently, that's why his social medias don't take DMs unless approved,” she shrugged.

Well, there went your backup plan of finding him on social media. Then again, if he recognized you or your name, would that help if you requested him? That was if you deigned to change your profile picture to yourself and not one of your silly doodles.

You couldn't help the weight that your heart seemed to gain as it sank to the pit of your stomach.

“Well, that's mildly disappointing,” Reina muttered, turning to quickly wash the ladle Mark had just dropped off.

“I just wouldn't want you to get targeted by any of those crazy sorority girls, y'know?” Yura gave a laugh that sounded almost nervous. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear before snapping on a fresh pair of gloves.

You nodded, gnawing on your bottom lip. “Yeah, no, I—I get it. Thanks, Yura.”

She gave you a sympathetic look. “Of course,” she said. With a wave, she made her way back toward the kitchen door. “Mark, we better get back to work. See you guys at lunch break!”

When she was gone, Mark clapped a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “Hey, listen. I don't really know the guy personally, but me and Wooyoung are pretty tight. I can get in touch with them if you want—”

Baekhyun, the section leader for your session, charged into the kitchen with his arm piled high with dirty dishes. If you didn’t fear for the safety of the porcelain bowl at the top of the stack, you might have chuckled at the scene before you. “Mark! We don't pay you to stand around.”

“Hyung,” Mark huffed exasperatedly as he rushed over to help Baekhyun before the section leader could get knocked over the head by a rogue dish assisted by gravity. “You don't pay us. We're here out of the goodness of our hearts.”

“Well, I don't get paid enough for this,” Baekhyun said once all the dishes were transferred to the sink, and you and Reina were put to work. “Now come on; lots to do!”

Just as Mark was about to follow after Baekhyun, he caught your eyes. “I'm serious about the offer, Yn.”

You smiled. “Thanks, man, but let me think about it and I'll get back to you.”

“Yeah, just lemme know!” And he was gone.

Word broke out that someone in the ATZ household was searching for a girl. Word of mouth was a method of dissemination that could spread like wildfire, leaping from one tongue to one ear to another, leaving only ash and debris behind. And around Greek Row, it became a massive game of Telephone.

But while nearly everyone in the university's fraternities and sororities knew about his strife, Yeosang’s efforts seemed to be for naught. The only thing that emerged from this were more people harping after him, claiming to be 'the one he was looking for.’ None of them were you.

Your name had manifested itself in his head about halfway into the week. He'd been toiling over the theory readings his professor assigned for Thursday's lecture when he'd underlined a word, and it came crashing down upon him with ice cold clarity.

His eyes went wide as he shot up out of his chair, nearly sending Jongho careening off his bed on the other side of the room. “What the—”

“Yn,” Yeosang said. Then he declared a little louder, a giddy smile on his face, triumphant and bright, “Her name is Yn.”

Jongho resettled himself on top of his bed. “Well that narrows things down for us,” he drawled, taking his phone out and typing something out. “I don't suppose you have her last name.”

Yeosang fwumped onto the edge of his bed with his lips pressed into a line. “Dude. I literally just thought of her first name. Do you really think I can come up with—”

“Okay, okay,” Jongho laughed, flicking his wrist at him for a moment before resuming his typing.

“Who're you texting?” Yeosang asked as curiosity drew him across the room to Jongho's side.

His friend sat up so he could peer over his shoulder at the phone screen. “I'm doing the heavy lifting,” he teased. Based on the social media handle at the top of the direct messages channel, Jongho was texting Chungha, a friend of the frat's but a closer friend of President Hongjoong's, and the recently graduated head of the Phi Omega Phi sorority. “Hongjoong hyung mentioned offhandedly that Chungha wanted to get some friends into the party on Friday, so I'm seeing if she recognizes this Yn person you're looking for.”

Yeosang’s eyebrows flicked upward as he settled into a more comfortable position on Jongho’s bed while they awaited Chungha’s response. In the meantime, he pulled out his own phone in an attempt to search for your name amongst his mutuals. He frowned at the lack of a successful search—did you use a different name or did you not have a social media account? Was that why you hadn’t attempted to contact him in the past few days?

For a moment, a shard of self-consciousness pierced through his chest at the prospect that you didn’t want to contact him. Did sobriety make you embarrassed at what happened that night? Had he made you uncomfortable with the amount of vulnerability that was in the car—no, the vulnerability was mutual… but maybe—

“Gotcha.”

Yeosang’s head whipped back over to Jongho’s screen. Having your name and major seemed to ring a bell for Chungha, and she forwarded a social media handle, along with a “tell Yeosang good luck ;)”.

“Thank you, Jongho. And bless up, Chungha,” Yeosang muttered as he swiftly input the social media handle into his search bar. There it was—a private art account with your first name in the biography line. There were only one or two people who you both shared mutuals with, which made sense.

His thumb hovered over the request button, and he bit his lip. With little else left to do and his heart banging around in his ribs from the anticipation alone, he clicked the button.

It didn’t take you incredibly long to accept his follow request and to follow him back. (Though, half an hour felt like an eternity when he was so anxious.) He made it painfully obvious that you acted in response, because Yeosang fumbled his phone between his palms like it was a hot potato, before he dropped it and stubbed his toe with it.

Jongho sent him a strange look as he handed the device back to a red-faced Yeosang, who furrowed his brows together to think of an opening direct message to you.

“It doesn't have to be perfect,” Jongho said as he peered over Yeosang's shoulder this time. He had even paused the game he was playing on his phone to stay tuned into the live entertainment.

Yeosang made a face. “Yes, it does.” It had to be the perfect mix of witty and funny and subtle and—

He figured it out.

@/yskang99: how do u like ur eggs?

Jongho released a sound of utter flabbergast, and Yeosang shushed him, both pairs of eyes pinned to the three dots that appeared on the bottom left-hand side of the screen.

@/studioyn: sunny side up

Yeosang broke into a smile, and Jongho's face contorted into pure incredulity. “What kind of security question is that?”

“Inside joke,” Yeosang replied giddily, rising from Jongho's bed to cross over to his side of the room. He collapsed into his desk chair and propped his feet up along the end of his bed.

Jongho scoffed, shifting his lounging position. He threw his friend another incredulous glance before giving up and returning to his game. He'd done his job.

@/yskang99: congrats u passed the test!

@/studioyn: ahh so that was a test? i imagined us doing a virtual handshake tbh

@/yskang99: i like that better actually

@/studioyn: also how did u find me lmao

Yeosang bit his lip through a grin. I have my ways, he typed out cryptically, cheekily.

@/studioyn: wtvr u say ig… 🤨🤨🤨

For a brief moment, Yeosang wondered if he should bring up the concern lingering in his mind—why you hadn't reached out to him. He didn't want to simply assume that he was “popular” enough that just anybody knew who he was, but he was also aware that most people were able to track him down on social media. But would that kill the vibe? He liked the energy.

@/studioyn: i can't get a read on whether or not ur any different than how u were drunk

@/yskang99: would that matter?

@/studioyn: not particularly, no, but i've met people who r

@/yskang99: no i get that, i've met my fair share too :/

He began typing out slowly: I missed you… Then he swiftly amended it to: I missed talking to you.

@/studioyn: awhh wait ik we've only technically spoken the one time, but i missed talking to u too yeo :’)

A smile split his face from ear to ear. Would you wanna hang out again? Only if you're comfortable, of course.

He watched the three dots appear, then disappear. You were thinking and his heart was sinking.

Finally, your response came in. I'd love to, but I don't wanna disappoint you with my god awful schedule this next week.

@/yskang99: what abt the weekend? something low stakes maybe?

@/yskang99: my brothers and i r going to the nct house on sat

@/studioyn: oh!! im actually close friends w mark lee :] i'll see if i can drag my friends along, and we can link up there?

The thought of seeing you again, even if it was at another dumb Greek party, made electricity zip through his veins. His stomach filled to the brim with butterflies, and he had to shift his position because of how much it tickled.

@/yskang99: yeah sounds great :D i'll look forward to seeing u

@/studioyn: same here yeo :’))

@/studioyn: how's ur week been so far?

Yeosang leaned back in his chair again, propping his elbows on the armrests to sink into a comfortable position. He had a feeling he might be here awhile, but he would sit here all night if it meant talking to you.

“Yn! We're gonna be late!”

You nearly jolted at the sound of Reina's voice carrying through the other side of your bedroom door. You dropped your phone onto your bed, racing to finish up the rest of your makeup. “You can never be late to a Greek party!” You countered, swiping your thumb over the pigment you just put on your lips.

Your bedroom door opened just as you were slipping a chain necklace around your collar. Reina poked her head in, her eyes looking you up and down. “Ooh-la-la,” she gushed with a teasing smile. “Someone's gotten all dolled up. I wonder who for…”

You rolled your eyes and ignored the obvious warmth rising to your face. “I just felt like it,” you defended weakly while spritzing a light mist of perfume over your neck and wrists. You stood up from your desk to collect your wallet, keys, and lip gloss to dump into a purse, then went over to retrieve your phone.

The screen displayed another message from Yeosang, no doubt continuing the conversation you had to abruptly pause because you would be late for the NCT party. This was going to be the second Greek party in two weeks—a record for your books. But you had a feeling it was going to be a good time like last week, you were sure of it.

As you skimmed the message Yeosang sent, you slipped out of the room to join Reina in the main living space. She casted you a pointed look with arms crossed over her chest and lips pressed together.

“What?” You blinked over at her innocently.

“You're never gonna see your boy at this rate,” she said as the two of you picked out your shoes for the night.

You sent a text answering Yeosang and letting him know you would be at the party soon. “He's not 'my boy,’” you said.

“Right. He's your man.”

You hated how hard it was to keep the giggle in your throat down. It was embarrassing how you smiled just then, too, turning your head away from a smug Reina.

God, he was just a guy; how did you get so head-over-heels after just one night? It had to be the fact that you'd been texting him nonstop over the past few days. Though you were busy and exhausted, you continued to check your phone all throughout the days and stayed up long into the nights just to talk to him. He had you hook, line, and sinker.

At some point, you'd forgotten what Yura warned you about on Saturday.

Your friends picked you and Reina up in one of their family minivans. A round of greetings went up as you clambered in behind Reina, and your friend asked where her cousin was tonight if she wasn't carpooling with the rest of you.

“She said she was at her sorority friend's house,” Sieun said offhandedly from the driver's seat. The minivan door closed on its own with a mechanical whirring sound. “She's probably at the party already.”

Some nights, parties called for a pregame session, while others (not unlike this one) was attacked raw. Sieun parked the minivan about a block outside of Greek row where there were spaces between cars along the curbs and where there was less of a chance of her accidentally running over a drunk partygoer stumbling into the street. The party was already in full swing with neon green strobe lights blazing aggressively through the front windows, and Gasolina blasting at nothing less than one hundred percent speaker volume.

You felt your phone vibrate in your hand as Reina grabbed your hand to avoid instantly losing you in the crowd.

@/yskang99: im on the second floor where there's less people 😋😋 they've got a nice balcony we can hide on!!

“Mark said they've got spiked Capri Sun somewhere in here!” Reina shouted into your ear.

You nodded your head vigorously. “Let's find it then!”

@/studioyn: gonna grab hard caprisun and then head up!! do u want some??

@/yskang99: surprise me w a flavor, pretty pls x

You grinned to yourself and slid your phone into your purse to focus on the task at hand.

The NCT fraternity house wasn't a completely unknown landscape to you and Reina. Being friends with one of its brothers and friends-by-association with all the rest, you'd popped by more than a few times. You could likely navigate this house with your eyes closed; that was what it was like weaving through the dark rooms and throngs of people squeezed together like sardines in a can, anyway.

Along yours and Reina's trek to the kitchen, you gained a couple people in your conga line of linked hands, NCT's own Xiaojun and Jungwoo. NCT frat brothers always pregamed, so the two brothers were already tipsy and giggled about your kindergarten field trip line (with Reina being dubbed the poor kindergarten teacher tasked with keeping you together).

When you arrived at your destination, it didn't take long for you to lose both Xiaojun and Jungwoo to the game of Texas Hold 'Em being played at the breakfast table. The singular lightbulb overheard made it feel like a smoke-filled backdoor gambling den.

“Aha!” You cheered after playing a game of mystery cooler roulette, and opened the cooler lid that held the spiked Capri Sun juice pouches on ice.

“Mine!” Reina snatched up the last cherry flavored one, the shiny aluminum slippery and ice-cold as she impaled the opening with the thin, yellow straw.

You grabbed a Pacific Cooler flavored pouch for yourself, and a second for Yeosang.

“Ah, is that for the man of your dreams?” Reina said between sips, her pouch already half empty.

You sent her a look. “He has good taste, which means he'll probably appreciate Pacific Cooler as much as I do.”

“As long as it's not lemonade,” came a voice to your left. There stood a rather tall and lean man, his warm smile enunciated by the dim kitchen lighting as the green strobe lights from the living room painted across his face. “I can't deal with sour shit,” he explained, making a face.

You laughed. “That's valid. Fruit Punch is a classic though.”

“Can't argue with that,” he replied, leaning down to pick his poison for the night. He stabbed a straw into his pouch of strawberry kiwi juice, then arched an eyebrow at you. “I feel like I know you. Do I know you?”

“Hey,” Reina chimed in as she leaned over your shoulder, “you're with the ATZ frat, aren't you? I recognize you from Twister last week.”

He smiled sheepishly from around his straw. “Ah… haha, not my best moment, but yes. I'm Yunho.”

“Reina,” your friend replied.

“Yn,” you added on.

Yunho's expression jerked as if he'd just been delivered an electric shock. He waved his pointer finger at you. “Oh my god, you're Yeosang's girl!”

Your eyes shuddered in surprise. Yeosang's girl. “Sorry?” You stammered. There was an insane amount of possessive pronouns being used tonight, buy you definitely weren't complaining about it, and could he perhaps say that again—

“Yeah, he won't shut up about you.” Yunho slurped up the rest of his juice pouch, draining and flattening the life out of it in record time. “He loves Pacific Cooler, by the way.”

He took his leave then, saying nothing else to you and Reina except for shooting you a pair of finger guns like saying 'go get em, tiger!’

Reina wheezed, draping herself over you for a moment. “Oh—my god! Good thing Yeosang's just as down in the trenches as you are.”

“Don't do this to me, Reina,” you whined and dragged her along out of the kitchen toward the second floor staircase. “I don't need encouragement; the crush is enough!”

“It's never enough,” she declared with her pointer finger up in the sky. “You are gone, my friend! Gone, I say.”

You patted her head as you both began your ascent up the stairs. “Alrighty; then gone, I am. Do you remember where the balcony is on this floor?”

She hummed. “Ooh! Somewhere by Johnjae's room, abouts. I just remember because Mark told us how—”

“Right—the sophomore year Romeo and Juliet reenactment,” you snorted. You couldn't wrap your head around the batshit crazy things that occurred around these parts. “Who convinced Doyoung to play Paris anyway?”

She made a noncommittal noise. “Must've been bribed—oh, there it is, but I think there's a couple out there already…”

There was most definitely a couple on the balcony. Their outlines were silhouettes against the residual strobe lights shining up from downstairs, so it was a little too dark to make out who they were. They seemed close—the girl was all over the boy, the latter trying to hold her up by her waist. Maybe she'd had too much to drink, and for a moment, you were glad someone was taking care of her.

But when she leaned in for a kiss, green light glanced across their faces to reveal their features to you. It was only a split second, but it was all you needed.

“Reina,” you exhaled in shock, turning away from the balcony with enough speed to nearly give you whiplash.

She didn't question you, as you both careened back down the hall from where you came from, heading for one of the open bedrooms on this floor to collect yourselves. When the two of you were out of earshot of the balcony, she hissed under her breath in utter disbelief, “Yura?”

You'd seen it nearly clear as day, too. That was Yura kissing Yeosang.

Your head spun as you shouldered your way into Mark's and Haechan's room, their names plastered on the door in foam letter stickers from the craft store. As Reina closed the door and turned on the lights, you sat down in Mark's desk chair attempting to make sense of what you and Reina just witnessed.

Yeosang and Yura? But wasn't Yura the one who warned you that chasing after Yeosang was a risk because of how many others were, as well? Why would…

Oh.

Well, now you just felt stupid.

Reina dragged over Haechan's desk chair to settle in front of you, her expression less enraged than before, and more concerned over what she was reading off of your face. “Hey, don't do that. Don't think like that.”

“You don't know what I'm thinking,” you murmured, setting the untouched juice pouches on the desk.

“You're thinking that you're stupid.”

“Okay, maybe you do know what I'm thinking.” You inhaled, then exhaled slowly, leaning forward onto your knees. “I don't really know what to think or assume.”

Reina nodded, chewing on her bottom lip. “That's okay. I don't think I really understand what I saw either.”

“But that was Yura, right?”

She bobbed her head again. “That was my cousin, yeah.”

“Would it be fair to even think that she told me all that shit last week to discourage me from seeing him?” You didn't enjoy thinking that another person would have such malicious intentions without understanding their point of view, especially someone you considered yourself friends with.

“Well,” Reina drawled, “I think we both saw what we saw, and Yura was acting strangely about it on Saturday. It would be fair if you were hurt by it; I think your feelings have been clear.”

You gave a small nod. “Do you think he…?”

“I'm not sure, hon.”

You resolved to talk to him about it. If anything, you had these juice pouches left to console yourself, but you wanted to make sure you knew where his feelings laid. You would be lying if you said your heart didn't harbor even a glimmer of hope that this was all a misunderstanding, and that the kiss was an accident and didn't matter.

You and Reina left the relative safety of Mark and Haechan's bedroom to go find Yeosang. There weren't any new messages between either of you since the Capri Sun exchange, and you thought about texting him on his whereabouts.

The balcony by Johnny and Jaehyun's room was empty now, barren of any evidence somebody was there in the first place.

You and Reina wandered back down to the main floor. The party was nowhere near over; the night was still young. Hope was sinking fast in your stomach as the two of you traveled from room to room in search of him, but with no luck. Even asking around was useless.

“Text him,” Reina encouraged, as the two of you sipped on the juice pouches that were supposed to be for you and him.

She held your spiked juice while you texted him.

As time passed, and a response had yet to come through, you tossed yours and Reina's flattened Capri Sun pouches into the nearest garbage can.

If he wasn't going to answer, then maybe you would just go home for the night. You had a lot to think about.

Defeated, you let Reina sweep you under her arm and guide you to the front door. “Let's go home, hm?” She said, rubbing your shoulder.

On your way to the front door, you paused. You thought you heard someone calling your name—

You turned around to find Mark barreling toward you through the crowd with another guy at his side. “Mark?” You shouted over the music.

“Hey, we've been looking all over for you,” he said. Nodding to his friend, he told you, “This is Wooyoung, by the way, the ATZ brother I'm friends with.”

“Yeosang's been looking for you,” Wooyoung said in earnest, eyes as wide as Mark's. Had they been looking for you as much as you were looking for Yeosang?

Something like hope sparked in your chest again—you were at odds. The fight had nearly dissipated from your blood and you were ready to go home. But if he was trying to find you… it must be worth it then, right?

“Where is he?” You asked.

It was nearing midnight by the time you settled yourself on the concrete curb outside the ATZ frat house just down the block from the target being thrown at the NCT house. With everyone over there, no wonder it was quiet enough to finally hear yourself think. With the coming of deep autumn, a slight breeze wafted by that drifted over your skin and raised goosebumps on your arms.

You heard gravel crunching from behind you, coming down the ATZ driveway, and before you could turn your head to look, a warm jacket was placed over your shoulders. You held your breath, fingers finding the lapel to keep it from slipping as you glanced over at your counterpart.

Yeosang lowered himself onto the curb next to you, mimicking your position with his knees bent and arms resting upon them. “I—my phone died,” he said lowly.

“Oh.” That took care of at least two of your questions.

“Is there—” He stopped himself, amending his statement, “There's something on your mind.”

Understatement of the century. You pulled his jacket around you, the intertwining scents of alcohol and his cologne lingering on the collar. “I was going to meet you at the balcony, and I was there, but… but I saw you and Yura, and…”

It was his turn to say “oh.” He angled his body toward you now until his knees bumped against yours and he was muttering out an apology he didn't need to say. He laid his upper body over his arms that were folded onto his knees and peered up at you through lengthy lashes.

He was waiting for you to finish.

You swallowed, following his lead and turning your body toward him. “I saw her kiss you,” you said, the sound barely audible to anybody but you and him. “Reina and I went somewhere to kind of just soak in what we saw, and then we went back out to find you so I could talk to you about it, but we couldn't find you.”

“I'm sorry you had to see that,” he murmured, eyebrows furrowed together. “It—it didn't mean anything. She did try to kiss me, but I pushed her away before she could.”

You believed him. You loosened a small chuckle from your lips. “Y'know, it sounds silly to me now, but last week she told me that there were a number of girls who were pursing you and were very aggressive about it.”

He snorted. “If there were any, I only know of one.”

“She…?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, lips pursing. “I know she's liked me for a while, but I've made it clear I don't see her the same way. At last Friday's party, I was actually trying to lose her in the crowd when I found you.”

Your eyes widened. “So she was there?” Then Reina had actually seen her cousin at the party; Yura had lied about where she was.

“She told me tonight that she was scared about me liking you more than her,” Yeosang said as he lifted his body back up to rest his cheek against his fist. “She was really drunk—which was why you probably saw me trying to hold her up—and then she… tried to kiss me. I pushed her away, and one of her friends found us, so I handed her over and went to get some air.”

And that was why you couldn't find him. You released a breath you didn't realize you were holding in. “Are you—are you okay? I'm so sorry she did that to you.”

The corners of his lips tugged upward in a reassuring smile. “I'm alright, thank you. And it's not your fault.”

“I know, but still,” you insisted. “Your boundaries were violated, and it makes me feel so icky that I've called her a friend of mine, and—what?”

Your words came to a screeching halt when you realized that Yeosang was just smiling at you. Or rather, gazing at you, admiring you. It was whatever he did whenever his eyes possessed a set of twin jewels in his irises that needed no light to glitter like gold; and when his grin softened at the corners by a tenderness that knocked the wind out of you, all words and systems failed you.

You recognized this look, except this time, you weren't drunk.

“I'm really happy I met you,” he said in your silence. “And I'm happy I got to see you again.”

You nearly melted. You smiled back at him, replying quietly, “Couldn’t have said it any better. Thank you for being honest with me.”

“And thank you for believing me.” He reached for your hand, his movements slow as if giving you an opening to pull back if you wanted to. But you didn't, and you closed the remaining space to link your fingers and press your palms together.

You and Yeosang shared mutual smiles in the dim lighting outside his fraternity house. Your heart beat had quickened a considerable amount now that he was so close to you again.

You cleared your throat. "Just to be clear though—when you said she was scared about you liking me more than her—?"

His smile reached his eyes and turned them into upturned crescent moons. "I'm not scared," he said, "that I like you more than I have ever liked her." By a landslide.

Your heart gave a lurch in your chest. "Good," you smiled. "That's good, because I like you a whole lot, too."

“Do you wanna get out of here?” Yeosang inclined his chin toward where his car was parked a couple vehicles down. “Properly this time, now that we're not completely wasted?”

You laughed. “I would love nothing more.”

Pleased, he helped you to your feet. You must have stood up far too quickly though, because the blood rushed up to your head in a riptide current. You swore as the vertigo hit you, and your footing stumbled.

“Woah, careful there, pretty,” he murmured, his low voice by your ear as he steadied you with one hand pressed between your shoulder blades and the other around your waist.

Oh, there went your heart… it flew up to halo around Yeosang's head, and it wasn't yours anymore—

“You okay?” He mused.

You cleared your throat, straightening. “Yeah, I'm great,” you said sheepishly, ducking your head toward your chest.

A warm, fond chuckle left his mouth. “Cute,” he murmured. He lifted your chin up so you would look at him, his eyes darting down toward your mouth, and yours mirroring his movements. “I was wondering…”

“You can kiss me,” you blurted out, ignoring the utter leap in your pulse and the heat crawling up the back of your neck.

You tasted his smile as he leaned over to seal his mouth over your own, a long awaited return to the place that felt just right. You breathed him in, inhaled him, devoured him whole—you wrapped your arms around his shoulders to pull him closer just as his hands pressed you flush against him.

In the distance against the heavy house music in the background, a cheer went up into the night sky.

You and Yeosang parted only to crane your heads in the direction of the noise, only to find what looked like a gathering of your friends and his friends hooting and applauding like it was New Years.

“OPERATION: PASSENGER PRINCESS WINS!” The guy from earlier, Wooyoung, practically howled up at the sky.

You pressed your face against Yeosang's shoulder as he groaned. “I am so sorry about them,” he chuckled through a grimace, lips grazing over your crown.

You laughed along with him. “My friends are also among the guilty party, Yeo.”

He kept his arm around your waist and you kept your head against his shoulder as the two of you walked away from your friends and toward his car. Contentment curled itself up over your chest again, and it nestled in deep, as if it planned to stay awhile.

“By the way,” you piped up as he unlocked his car.

“Mhm?”

You opened the passenger side door and leaned over the top of it to ask, “What the hell is Operation: Passenger Princess?”

Yeosang sputtered out a laugh and his cheekbones burned red. “How about we save that for our third date?”

You blinked, lips parting.

Yeosang grinned impishly. “Close that mouth, pretty, or I'll close it for you.”

Your jaw snapped closed, and his laugh echoed against the houses along this street. You climbed into the car after him, flustered beyond words. “I don't like you,” was all you could come up with.

“I'm sure you don't.”

a/n: pls remember to reblog + comment if you enjoyed! also, the plan is to try and write another wooyo frat au as well, so pray for me...

atz m.list

permanent taglist: @flwoie @vatterie @seomisaho @hqrana @ja4hyvn @outrologist @rikizm @luumiinaa @tinkerbell460 @meosjinn @hyunjaespresent-deobi @stayarmytinyzenmoa-l @floatingpluto @gyulfriend @jaehunnyy @shakalakaboomboo @soonyoungblr @justanotherkpopstanlol @kangfication @pxppxrminty @fluorescentloves @haechansbbg @jaerisdiction @super-btstrash-posts @jundundun @http-gyu @mvvnsseul @mars101 @synthwxve @empire-x @kflixnet @atzhouse @cromernet

#atzhouse #cromernet #kflixnet #ateez x reader #kang yeosang x reader #yeosang x reader #ateez oneshot #ateez drabbles #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #ateez fluff #yeosang fluff #yeosang imagines #yeosang oneshot #yeosang drabbles #yeosang scenarios #rager: you can't out rage us

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torturedpoetemotions · 2 months

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Light & Framing in WWDITS: Nandermo Edition

I really have to give props to whoever does the lighting and cinematography for What We Do In The Shadows. They took what could easily have been an excuse to cheap out on those things--the show's format as a half-hour comedy mockumentary--and said a resounding fuck that.

Every frame of this show is gorgeously and thoughtfully lit and shot and colored, and not just the big pivotal moments. Truly every shot. The sets and the costumes also do a lot of heavy lifting here, but still everything is framed so carefully and intentionally. And considering this show is at least 55% fucking improv? That is seriously impressive. I've seen big budget network cornerstone series take less care with their most pivotal moments than this show takes with like...any random moment (I know, I know, it's okay, I can say Game of Thrones).

Take this shot for example (thanks to @indashadows!):

Now bear in mind, this is ONE shot in ONE scene in an episode. An important scene, but not a long one. And yet in this scene, every single detail--from the actors' body language to the framing to the lighting to their fucking outfits--reinforces the underpinning context and subtext of the scene.

Look at Nandor. His posture is so open and vulnerable. He's facing directly toward Guillermo, looking slightly up at him actually instead of down at him like he usually would be. They're almost eye level but not quite. His face is fully lit, and his body is more in light than shadow, with the parts facing Guillermo lit and the parts facing away from him in deep shadow.

Nandor is being very open, honest, and vulnerable with Guillermo in this scene, probably more so than he's ever been before! All the pretense, the aloofness he usually hides behind is now shoved to the back. They're also on nearly equal footing compared to their usual situation, with Guillermo possibly having a slight upper hand due to how thrown everyone, including Nandor, is by the revelation that he's a vampire slayer.

(I know Nandor knew he killed Carol and the Baron, but given those were both accidents I think it's reasonable to say Nandor was still surprised about the slayer from a long line of notorious slayers aspect of the revelation.)

Another way to read this is that Nandor is at a disadvantage because of what he doesn't know in this scene, i.e. that Guillermo can leave any time he wants, that Guillermo has been listening to their conversations, and that Guillermo is using that information now to manipulate him. It's left somewhat up to interpretation whether Nandor actually knows any of this or not, so YMMV there. But the point stands that in either interpretation, Nandor is on his back foot here a bit and the framing and lighting of the scene reflects that.

Now contrast that with Guillermo. His posture is closed off, he's hunched in on himself. He's leaning toward Nandor, but he's not facing him or looking at him directly. His eyes are downcast. He's positioned a little above Nandor, but he's not acknowledging or reveling in that change of position in any way; in fact, he seems to be minimizing it with the way he's standing. Almost his entire body including his face is in shadow, with only the parts facing away from Nandor receiving any light.

Guillermo is not being vulnerable, open, or honest with Nandor in this moment. Whether Nandor knows everything or not, Guillermo thinks he's playing Nandor here. He thinks he has information Nandor isn't privy to (the hole in the cage and the hidden cameras) and knows things Nandor doesn't know he knows (the conversations he's overheard). Guillermo is normally much more open and vulnerable with Nandor, which often results in him getting his feelings (at the very least) hurt. But this is one time when he's consciously choosing to push his care for Nandor to the backburner in order to take care of himself for once.

(I also have FEELINGS about light representing emotional honesty and vulnerability between these two characters in the show about vampires and what they do in the shadows. Maybe I'll scream about them later.)

And here's the real kicker: they are so in odds with their approach here, their usual roles in the relationship are being reversed in ways neither is fully comfortable with...and yet they're still on the same damn page.

They both have the same ultimate goal in this scene: to get Guillermo out of the cage and have the other vampires in the house accept him and stop insisting on killing him. They are both trying to take care of Guillermo in their own ways. And as the show often does, it underscores this in part via the similarities in their outfits (but that is a WHOLE other fucking massive meta-post currently sitting in my drafts).

#wwdits #what we do in the shadows #what we do in the shadows fx #wwdits meta #my meta #nandermo

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raibebe · 3 years

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Love Is On Air

Genre: fluff & smut Words: 8.722 Prompt: radio host Johnny x secret admirer female reader Warnings: soft dom Johnny, oral (f receiving), safe sex, dirty talk

A/N: Finally: My entry for the February event of my lovely network @neosmutcollective. This is totally not the fic I planned on writing. In fact this was started way later after I realized I was never going to finish my original fic on time. Not that this one is on time... Special thanks to everyone who sent our lovely DJs some music recommendations @sly-merlin, @moonctzeny, @lenaluvs, @lucas-wongs, @burtonized and to @ncteaxhoe who helped me figure out this idea. I hope you enjoy this even though it’s wayyy too late.

You hurried home to your apartment after your last class of the day that was horrifically late because of whoever had fucked up your schedule this semester. Panting heavily, you busted into your room and threw your jacket and backpack somewhere onto your couch, diving straight for your laptop that was perched on your desk. Cursing the old thing, you waited for agonizing minutes until it had booted up and your browser was open. You quickly opened the familiar page of your university’s campus radio just in time to hear the familiar voice saying: “Hi I’m John-D, welcome to NCT Night Night.” After that both hosts chuckled lowly before Jaehyun spoke: “Tonight we’ll read some of the letters you wrote us over the week again and we will try our best to help you out with whatever problems you throw our way.” “Exactly. Right after we play this song that was suggested by evangelie_99 over on our Twitter, it’s Pluto Projector by Rex Orange County and she said that she loves our show. We’re glad you like it so much, darling. This one is for you,” Johnny softly said before the soft tunes of the song filled your little one-room apartment.

Sighing, you leaned back in your chair, carelessly toeing your shoes off. Listening to NCT Night Night was your escape at night from the stress that classes brought you. The two DJs that were on air every Tuesday, Thursday and Sunday were your favorites though. Not only did they have great chemistry but they both could be incredibly funny as well as soothe all your nerves with their calming voices – especially Johnny or John-D as he was called on their show. You might have developed a slightly embarrassing crush on the fratboy with a heart as sweet as his voice from what you knew about him from his radio shows and your shared classes. Since they had started their weekly segment where they would read out letters that students could send them, you had gathered the courage to send Johnny little messages about how you were crushing on him and it had quickly become a running gag on the show. Jaehyun would tease Johnny about it every week while Johnny kept insisting that his secret admirer should just talk to him. But how could you do that? Johnny was everything one could want in a boyfriend. Not only was he ridiculously tall and devastatingly handsome but he was also smart, always seemingly staying on top of his classes and he also went to the gym regularly if his thirst traps on his Instagram stories were anything to go by. When he wasn’t giving out advice in a gentle voice on their radio program, he was out partying with his frat brothers on the weekends more often than not complaining about headaches on their Sunday show. How could you just walk up to him and talk to him? Right. You couldn’t. So you had to resign to sending him anonymous love letters through his radio show.

“Welcome back, hi,” Johnny chuckled once the song had gently faded out and you couldn’t help but giggle along. “That was Pluto Projector by Rex Orange County,” Jaehyun tried to stay on script but you could almost hear the grin on his face because of Johnny’s antics, “If you want your song to play on today’s show, please suggest something over on our Twitter with the hashtag,” Jaehyun paused momentarily and let out a dramatic sigh before continuing, “hashtag JohnDplaymelikeaviolin.” Jaehyun hadn’t even read the whole hashtag out loud when Johnny was already bursting out in laughter and how could you not laugh along with his melodic laughter. “I swear to god I am never letting you choose hashtags for our show ever again,” Jaehyun groaned while Johnny sounded like he was still dying in the background. “Don’t be mean to me Jaehyunie,” he whined and even though today’s episode was not viewable, you could vividly imagine how he was pouting. While the two friends were busy bickering and talking about what they had done since their last show, you pulled up your own Twitter to send a recommendation in.

“Aaaah, I see we’re already getting plenty of suggestions. Sly-merlin suggested us Sexy Dirty Love by Demi Lovato – a great song – and added ‘I wish John-D would actually play me like a violin.” After a potent silence, Johnny broke out in laughter again. “And this is why you won’t choose any more hashtags,” Jaehyun groaned again. “Baby,” Johnny rasped into his mic and even though you weren’t wearing headphones, it sent tingles down your spine, “Just come to our frat party on Friday and I’ll see what I can do.” “Stop plugging our parties on the radio,” Jaehyun scolded the elder, the slap audible over the radio, “Also sly-merlin has to stand in line. You still have your number one admirer who has sent in a letter yet again.” “She still hasn’t come up to me,” Johnny shared, “I can only keep up my chastity for so long. I am saving myself for this girl.” You know he was joking but you were just a simple woman and even in your secluded home, you felt heat rising to your cheeks, your thumbs stopping on your keyboard where you had typed out your song recommendation. Both DJs shared a quiet laugh before Jaehyun asked: “And you really don’t know who she is?” “I really don’t man,” his friend sighed, “Like I have my suspicions because she has to be in my major if she sees me in class that often. That or she’s a stalker which I do not want to think about. But for real, hit me up. I’ll take you out for a coffee.” “Now everyone is going to come up to you and claim that they’re her.” “I’ll take that risk,” Johnny laughed, “Maybe I’ll finally meet the love of my life and settle down.” At that Jaehyun snorted loudly. “The woman that can make you settle down gets free coffee for like a month from me.” “Watch me have a wife and kids at 25 Jae, just to spite you,” his friend snorted, “But up until then, let’s play sly-merlin’s song recommendation: Sexy Dirty Love by Demi Lovato.”

While the song was playing, you finished up your own tweet and hit post before you grabbed your bag that you had carelessly thrown away before to get out your notes. You actually had to start a project for one of the classes you and Johnny actually did share. The professor had announced that he would announce the pairings for a group project tomorrow and you didn’t want to seem like an actual idiot if your group would decide to already meet up and discuss after class. So while you listened to your favorite DJs discuss the questions and worries of whoever had sent them to their email address, you worked through the notes you had taken over the last couple of weeks, trying your best to organize them to remember the key points.

“Oh John-D, I have a very special letter here,” Jaehyun said, waving the paper in front of the microphone so it would pick up the wiggling noises. “What could that be?” Johnny asked with over-exaggerated interest. “It’s from your secret admirer, John-D. So I think you should read it out.” Just like every time, they read your letter, your heart began beating faster and faster in your chest until you were sure, it would break free from your ribcage. “Okay, here I go,” Johnny announced while Jaehyun was playing the same cheesy music he always played when they were reading your letters, “Happy Thursday, John-D. The weekend is almost in reach, keep up the energy for the last day of classes! – she’s so sweet, I’m holding up alright – One of my professors will announce the pairings he made for a group project soon and I am nervous. I don’t have many friends in the course and I’m praying that I will get good group mates I can work well with.” “Oooh, I get that struggle,” Jaehyun interrupted, “I once had to work with a bunch of stoners and ended up doing all the work for a presentation that made up 30 percent of my grade. Worst experience of my life, would not recommend. But we’re wishing you all the luck.” “But you know what’s more interesting about this story?” Johnny tuned in, “Coincidentally my professor for my literature class is assigning our group projects tomorrow as well. Say, my sweet admirer, are you perhaps in the same literature class as me?” In your otherwise silent room, the panicked squeak you let out was loud even to your ears. There was no way Johnny could figure out who you were, there were probably at least 20 more girls with a crush on him in that class alone, so you were safe. “Oooh, so maybe she’s a lit major so that’s why she’s writing love letters.” “Could be but lots of people from different majors are taking that class,” Johnny argued, “Anyways, back to her letter. But I won’t let that disturb me! I will be doing my best regardless! – That’s the spirit – I’ll work through my notes as I listen to your honey voice so I can be prepared. I’m glad you don’t do viewable radios on Thursday’s or else I wouldn’t be able to get anything done, you’re just too distracting John-D,” at that Jaehyun let out a fake gag while Johnny just giggled softly, “Thank you secret admirer, I do clean up quite nicely if I do say so myself. – On last Sunday’s episode you melted my heart when you hid in your hoodie for half the show. – God that was the worst hangover I had in a looong while, I was so miserable.”

“You should have seen him at home,” Jaehyun laughed, “I had to physically drag his whole 180-something-centimeters body first into the shower, then into the car and into the station. He is the biggest crybaby when he’s hungover.” “Don’t expose me like that, Jaehyunie,” Johnny whined loudly, “I was dared to drink a bunch of tequila and my mother didn’t raise neither a quitter nor a coward.” “No, but clearly an idiot,” the younger DJ laughed his deep laugh. “Let me read my love letter in peace,” the other grumbled, “I couldn’t follow for half the show because I was so focused on watching you. Not in a creepy way of course! – Of course not,” Johnny chuckled, “I hope you finished that essay you had to work on after the show in time and still had some time to relax. – I did, don’t worry.” That you already knew when Johnny had handed in his essay in another class you two shared just before you had handed in yours and he had thrown you a little smile that had kept you going through the whole day. “Take care of yourself and keep smiling your beautiful smile, I look forward to seeing you again on Sunday or in classes. And fighting to Jae-D as well of course! – I look forward to hearing from you again, secret admirer. I bet your group project will go just fine, don’t worry too much. If anyone is mean to you, just expose them here and we’ll fight them for you.” “Love that she acknowledged me in one sentence as well,” Jaehyun grumbled, cutting off the cheesy music abruptly. “You’re just jealous you don’t have a sweet admirer who sends you cute messages,” the other teased his friend. “Yeah, yeah, shut up and put that letter in the box under your bed.” “It’s in my sock drawer, thank you very much.”

Giggling, you listened to the two friends bicker, your chest warm with a feeling you were scared to put a name on. “Anyways, I think it’s time for another music recommendation you can still send in via our lovely hashtag JohnDplaymelikeaviolin. This one is from lenaluvies and she says: Please play Hurts So Good by Astrid S thank you. No, thank you for sending something in darling. This one’s for you,” Johnny announced and you couldn’t help but laugh a little pained laugh. That song title hit a little too close to home for your liking. The rest of the radio show went by smoothly and Johnny and Jaehyun tried to help a handful of more students with their problems that couldn’t be more diverse. From a boy who had fallen in love with his best friend which had send him into an identity crisis over to a girl who was failing her classes because she claimed the professor hated her to a freshman who wanted to apply for a fraternity but was scared because of the rumors surrounding them which the DJs quickly debunked since they both were in the same fraternity. In the end they had to cut themselves short, asking their viewers to vote on a poll they would make if people wanted a whole Tuesday episode surrounding fraternities.

“So.” “So,” Johnny copied his friend. “We’re almost at the end of our time with you guys. We couldn’t get through all of your submissions but we hope our team picked a few good ones and at least some of you could get some advice.” “As always you’re free to send us your own stories to our e-mail [email protected] to get some advice next Thursday from your favorite DJs: John-D.” “And Jae-D. Every Tuesday, Thursday and Sunday on your campus radio on 127mHz. On NCT-“ “Night Night,” they said their ending together and just like every night with them, you said goodnight to your computer screen, closing the tab which draped your little apartment in silence. Sighing loudly, you looked over your notes that needed a little more work if you wanted to make a good first impression on your fellow students tomorrow. Because you couldn’t stand the silence, you opened your Spotify to play the NCT Night Night playlist Johnny and Jaehyun had made with the songs that had been recommended to them, still missing the new additions from tonight.

The next morning found you in your literature class, sitting two rows behind Johnny, staring at the back of his head while doodling on your paper rather than taking notes on whatever the professor was saying. If you were to let your eyes wander, you’d see that almost everyone in the big room was paying as much or even less attention as you were; the students in different states of excitement and anxiety over the group projects he had yet to announce. “I’m sorry professor,” Johnny’s voice suddenly cut through the room, “I’m sure you have already noticed that no one is paying attention to whatever you’re trying to teach us right now. Could you please just announce the groups for the project?” That moment you swore you would be able to hear a pin drop until your eccentric professor chuckled lowly. “I like you, Suh. I was waiting for someone to mention it,” he spoke, getting the dreaded list out of his bag, “Listen closely now, you’ll be assigned in groups of four and each group will get a specific novel to work on. Deadline will be by the end of the semester and your individual paper combined with the group presentation will make up 40% of your final grade.” That made a bunch of people, including you, gasp out loudly. A group project with this much credit to your final grade was always dreaded. “I don’t want to hear any complaints, that’s how it’s always been. Now listen carefully, I won’t repeat myself but the list will be hung on our blackboard as well.” With that being said, the professor began listing names and novels in the most monotone voice he could muster. To say you were basically vibrating off of your seat was an understatement when he got further and further down the list and neither yours nor Johnny’s name had been called yet. “And lastly, an all-time favorite: Romeo and Juliet.” You didn’t even register anything else after the professor had announced that the group featured both Johnny and you along with two other students you didn’t know. Your brain was reduced to static noise while everyone else was getting up around you to pick up the books that had already been stacked in a corner, probably by a poor TA. Only when a person bumped into you, you broke from your stupor to quickly pick up your stuff as well to hurry down to steps to where a crowd of students had already gathered.

Luckily Johnny towered over most of the other students and you could easily spot him and the rest of your group that were two other boys you didn’t recognize. “Hey, you’re the last one we were missing,” Johnny smiled and handed you over your copy of the book. “Y... Yeah, sorry for making you wait,” you stuttered, clutching the small book tightly in your hands. “No big deal,” Johnny played it off, “Do any of you have any more classes today?” When everyone declined, you all agreed that you should get a head start on your project as it would be hard to make a good project out of such an overused love story. While walking over to the student center to decide on a concept, conversation flowed easily between the four of you even though you were still really nervous to be around Johnny. God, you really hoped he didn’t think you were stupid or something just because you were nervous.

The little study session went by in a blur and only further confirmed that you were so whipped for Johnny it wasn’t even funny anymore. You found yourself attentively listening to all of his ideas and laughing at every of his stupid little jokes and only mildly spacing out while looking at Johnny when the others were discussing ideas which had led to one or two mildly embarrassing situations where you would lose track of what you were actually discussing, your mind blank of any input when they asked for your opinion.

Soon you found yourself parting ways with your groupmates, leaving you and Johnny alone because his frat house and your little apartment were located in the same general direction. “Anything fun you’re doing this evening?” Johnny asked, trying to make some light conversation to fill the silence. “No, I’ll just binge watch some shows maybe or listen to the campus radio,” you shrugged it off. While today’s show wasn’t your favorite, you quite liked the DJs soft and gentle voice. “You listen to the campus radio? I have a show on there,” Johnny smiled. “I like listening to you and Jaehyun,” you confessed, trying to fight the heat that was licking at your cheeks. “Oh.” “You seem surprised.” “Yeah, it kind of still seems weird that people enjoy listening to Jae and me rambling for hours on end. You know with him it just feels like I’m hanging out with my brother rather than work.” “Your voices are really soothing, you know,” you tried to explain what you were feeling when listing to them, “And your friendship is kind of adorable. Like we can feel how much you care about each other and you always genuinely try to help your listeners without making fun of them.” For a while Johnny didn’t say anything and you thought you had fucked it up, that he thought you were weird now. “Thank you,” he suddenly said. “Huh?” “It means a lot hearing that. We do lurk on Twitter to see what people think of our show but hearing it like this is something else entirely.” “It’s nothing,” you mused, playfully hitting his arm, “No need to get this soft.” “Hey,” he laughed, “I’ll have you know that I am 180 centimeters of walking softness despite what people might say about me.” Smiling softly you caught his eyes for the first time since you two had started walking and the way his honey eyes were smiling back at you momentarily took your breath away.

“I- My room is right around here, sooooo,” you stuttered. “It was nice working with you. Even though you were spacing out half the time,” Johnny teased, “Thinking about a special someone?” You. The word sat on the tip of your tongue, the low light of the afternoon sun making you bolder than you actually were and Johnny just made you feel incredibly comfortable. “No... No- I- I’m single.” “A crush then?” “Something like that,” you mumbled, your fingers nervously playing with the hem of your jacket. “Talk to him. Or her. Or them,” Johnny advised. “I really can’t,” you sighed, “He doesn’t even know I exist.” “Well you don’t need to confess your undying love for him,” he laughed, not knowing he was the boy in question, “Just you know. Casually talk to him. Get to know him.” “I’ll try?” “Is that a question?” “Yeah?” “Have more confidence in yourself,” he gently nudged you, “You’re nice and very easy to talk to.” “Nice... Wow.” “Shut up,” he laughed, “I usually give better compliments but I have yet to get to know you better.” “Would you... Would you even want that?” “Sure,” Johnny shrugged and your heart skipped a couple of beats, “I have to get going or everybody will already be drunk when I arrive. So... I’ll see you in class? And you’ll hear me on Sunday?” “Yeah sure. Don’t drink too much or you will be miserable all show like last week,” you giggled. “Don’t remind me,” he groaned, “I’m never going to drink tequila on a Saturday ever again.” “Goodbye Johnny,” you smiled, really liking how his name sounded when you said it out loud. “Bye,” he waved before going his way.

Once you were sure he was out of hearing distance, you let out a little happy squeak and jumped up and down excitedly. You did it. You had actually done it. You had talked to your crush. And managed to not make a complete fool out of yourself in front of him. Which was a win in your books. A huge win. With a little spring in your steps, you stepped by one of your favorite pizza places to treat yourself before heading home where you spend your evening daydreaming about none other than Johnny while watching reruns of old dramas.

“Hi, I’m Jae-D.” “And I am John-D. Welcome to NCT-“ “Night Night.” “John-D.” “Yes, Jae-D,” Johnny chuckled. “It’s Thursday again which means it’s time to tend to our listener’s worries,” Jaehyun read off of the script, not getting distracted by his friend’s antics, “And today is a very special episode.” “Special?” Jaehyun barely repressed to roll his eyes at his friend’s over-exaggerated acting before continuing: “Yes, since tomorrow is a day off for all students, we have decided to make this episode extra lengthy and-“ he shortly stopped to flash the camera a peace sign, “Viewable despite it being Thursday.” “Do we look okay?” Johnny laughed, checking himself out in the video that was playing on one of their monitors. “Aaaaah, the comments say we look good tonight, thank you,” Jaehyun mused.

And they really did. Not that either of them had to do a whole lot to look good but today they were both wearing white button-downs with their sleeves rolled up to expose their forearms. Jaehyun had even gone so far as to put on some fake glasses. “And if you’re following us on our Twitter you also already know that this week it’s all about love on our campus radio and our show today is no exception,” Johnny read his part of the script. “Today John-D and Jae-D are Loveholics, trying our very best to help you with your problems surrounding love,” Jaehyun completed, “You can send in song recommendations through the hashtag JohnJaeLoveholic just like taryn1026 did – I hope I said that right – but they recommended Paris in the Rain by Lauv to set the mood for today.”

The soft tunes of the song made you relax a little into your sofa where you had chosen to watch today’s episode of NCT Night Night. You had to say that you were kind of nervous for today’s episode. Just like every week you had written your letter to Johnny, telling him about your week and cheering him on for your group project. At this point it should have been pretty obvious just who exactly you were and judging by how Johnny was acting towards you, his flirting leaving you flustered after your study sessions and your group mates mildly annoyed, he seemed to already have put together the pieces. But yesterday while writing your letter you had felt extra bold (and maybe also extra riled up and horny from Johnny’s shameless flirting) and had written him a message that should confirm all his suspicions and would hopefully lead him straight to you and into your bed. But until the end of the show or at least until they read your letter, which you really hoped they did today as well, you had to wait sitting in your apartment, for once not in comfortable clothes but in a nice shirt and pants.

“That was Paris in the Rain by Lauv, recommended to us by taryn1026 through our Twitter with the hashtag JohnJaeLoveholic,” Johnny’s raspy voice filled your apartment when he leaned close to the mic, “Jae-D are you ready to make some love happen?” “I already had my love juice,” Jaehyun answered, showing his pink Starbucks drink to the camera, “And my reading glasses are on.” As to prove his point, he hiked his glasses up his nose before scratching his eye through the holes in the frame, making both DJs chuckle. For the next hour Johnny and Jaehyun tried to solve several relationship dramas as well as a very tricky friends-with-benefits situation and telling a boy to break up with his cheating girlfriend which had been a rather heartbreaking discussion. “So after this,” Jaehyun sighed, “Let’s play another song recommendation. Burtonized has sent in a very fitting song, I hope you all don’t mind a little Korean: It’s God Damn by I.M – a song about heartbreak.”

While the foreign song was playing, the two DJs stretched their backs and sipped on their respective drinks: Jaehyun still on his pink sugar concoction and Johnny already on his second iced Americano. Jaehyun must have found something funny on his phone, nudging his friend to look at him but Johnny was busy typing away on his own, only acknowledging his friend after he had typed his message. Just after that, your own phone buzzed with a message, showing Johnny’s name on the screen.

From: Johnny Are you watching our show?

To: Johnny Sure, you look good today

From: Johnny Make sure to listen closely ;)

“That was God Damn by I.M suggested by burtonized over our Twitter hashtag JohnJaeLoveholic,” Jaehyun’s smooth voice tore you from your spiraling thoughts about the winking face Johnny had sent. “Sadly our show is coming to an end even with our extended airtime.” “But John-D a very important letter is still missing before we close our show. Dare I say it could be the highlight of our show,” Jaehyun joked, already playing the cheesy music he was always playing when Johnny would read your letters. “You’re right Jae-D my lovely secret admirer has sent in another letter,” Johnny mused, arranging himself so he could read the printed out letter while being as close as possible to the mic for it to pick up the rasp in his voice, “Happy Thursday John-D, I hope your week has been more exciting than mine. I have just been going from class to class without much thought, the only high points are my group meetings for the group project we have to hand in soon – That seems very familiar, baby – But since today is all about love, I’ll tell you about a little problem I have: – get your love juice ready, Jae – There is this boy in my group. And boy isn’t really the right word to describe him, he’s a man really,” at that Johnny couldn’t hold back a low chuckle, “I’m sorry, I’ll be serious – And he is flirting with me. Has been for a couple of weeks now. And it has gotten to the point where our groupmates are kind of annoyed at us. He has also walked me home a couple of times but he never so much as touched me. At this point I am so frustrated with him. Is he just playing with me? Or is his mouth bigger than his actions actually are? He has been riling me up all day today and I was ready to let him have his way with me but he only wished me goodnight and left again, leaving me to deal with what he had done all by myself – oh wow, I,” Johnny stuttered, sharing a gaze with his friend who was only barely repressing his laughter, “Wow, okay, I hope we’re in the good for reading this out and it’s late enough,” clearing his voice and raking a hand through his hair, Johnny continued, “John-D I hope this man hears what he has done to me and will deal with the consequences of his actions. Would you play Animal by Jin Yosef and RIELL for me? Just in case this letter hasn’t gotten my point across? – Y... Yeah sure, darling. We’ll play that once our show is over.”

“So John-D,” Jaehyun grinned while loudly slurping on his ‘love juice’, “What would you advice your secret admirer to do about this problem?” “Well if I were her,” Johnny started, his gaze going straight to the camera where he knew you were watching and it felt like he was looking straight into your soul, “I’d wait for him. I’m pretty sure he can prove that his actions speak even louder than his words.” For a while it was quiet between the two DJs, safe for Jaehyun’s obnoxiously loud slurping noises but even if they would have been saying anything, you weren’t sure if you could have comprehended any words with how furiously your heart was beating. “Anyways,” Jaehyun eventually broke the silence once he was sure there was nothing left in his ‘love juice’, “I’m afraid that was it for tonight. This has been your extra lengthy episode of Jae-D and John-D and we will leave you with this wonderful song recommendation: Animal by Jin Yosef and RIELL. If you’ve liked today’s show, we’re here every Tuesday, Thursday and Sunday night on your campus radio on 127mHz to listen to all of your worries on NCT-“ “Night Night,” Johnny joined in and they both waved into the camera as your song of choice started playing. The video stream didn’t cut off immediately, showing the boys gathering their things and if your eyes weren’t betraying you, you swore you saw Johnny tense up when the song turned a little more explicit. The two DJs waved to the camera one last time before the stream cut off, leaving the screen of your laptop dark.

That was when it dawned on you what you had done. Shit. With how Johnny had sounded, you probably had about fifteen to twenty minutes until he would be at your doorstep. Oh god. Shit. Taking a couple of deep breaths, you tried to ground yourself before hurriedly closing your laptop and cleaning everything that seemed messy in your little one-room apartment. That was until you heard a knock on your door.

With shaky hands, you slowly opened the door and while you knew who would be standing on the other side, you weren’t ready for how he was going to look like: Johnny was leaning against the doorway casually with his arms crossed over his chest so the tight button-down he was wearing would strain over the planes of his chest muscles but what really reeled you in was how dark his eyes looked when he raked them over your body. “Good evening miss,” he drawled. “Hi,” you breathed. “Tell me what you want so I’m not misinterpreting any of this,” Johnny all but growled, one of his hands coming up to cup your face. “I want you to have me.” If you thought his eyes were dark before, they turned into bottomless black orbs once the words had left your lips. “You don’t know what you’re asking for, baby.” “Please,” you whimpered and that seemed to break Johnny’s resolve as he pulled you close to him and all but crashed his lips into yours. The kiss wasn’t delicate in any way, shape or form with how Johnny was licking into your mouth the second a moan left your lips. His tongue was intertwining with yours messily and in no time both of you were panting into each other’s mouths. “Inside. Now,” you rasped. “All with due time,” Johnny chuckled but let you pull him into your apartment, slamming the door shut to crowd you against it, one of his strong thighs slipping between your legs like it belonged there, “If you’re a good girl and listen well, I’ll give you anything you want.” “Fuck,” you cursed before slamming your lips together again, a new neediness bleeding into the kiss as you tugged on the longer strands of hair at the back of Johnny’s neck which made him growl lowly. “Anything off-limits?” Johnny breathed into your skin as he kissed down your neck to suck a mark there while his hands were busy pulling your shirt from your pants so he could rake them over your naked skin. “Just,” you had to cut yourself off with a moan, “Don’t be mean to me.” “Never,” he promised, “You’ll be my pillow princess.” His sweet words were in stark contrast to how hard his hands were gripping your hips and how his teeth were grazing over your neck that must be littered with marks already. “Take me to bed,” you heaved breathlessly, positive your legs would give out if it wasn’t for Johnny holding you up.

Listening to your demand, he slowly started walking you backwards towards your bed until the two of you were toppling down on top of the covers, his lips never leaving your skin. Whoever had spread the rumors about Johnny being a great lover had been absolutely right, he knew just how to touch you to have you gasping for air and judging by the grin on his lips he hadn’t even started yet. “Please,” you whimpered, arching into his touch, not exactly sure what exactly you were asking for but Johnny seemed to know all the better when he freed you from your top and pants to leave you in your matching lace set while he was still fully clothed in his by now wrinkled button-up and pants. “All for me?” He chuckled and pressed a kiss right between the valley of your breasts, his big hands cupping the soft flesh to squeeze it gently. “Have me,” you gasped out and you could feel the growl he let out vibrating where you were pressed together. “I’m going to ruin you,” Johnny promised, pulling down the cups of your bra to wrap his plush lips around one of your nipples to tease the soft nub until it hardened under his ministrations, sending waves of pleasure down your spine and straight to your core where you could feel your wetness starting to seep into the fabric of your panties. “Johnny,” you mewled and arched into his every touch, his calloused fingertips setting your skin alight when he let them travel down your body to tease over your lower stomach. As if by reflex, you let your thighs fall open for him to finally touch you where you needed him the most. “Such a good girl,” he smiled, blowing cold air over your spit-slicked nipple to watch you squirm beneath him. Your remark got stuck in your throat when he finally cupped you through your panties, feeling how damp the fabric had already become. “Naughty,” he chuckled, his eyes never leaving your face as he circled your clit through the fabric, watching your eyes fluttering shut when his gaze became too intense.

“Johnny,” you sighed, forgetting all other words except for his name. “Relax, princess,” he rasped and kissed his way down your body, leaving love bites on the sensitive skin of your stomach and thighs that shook with anticipation. If you’d say you hadn’t dreamed about his lips on you like this, you would lie and you weren’t going to miss the sight of this for nothing. Fighting back the fog that had started to cloud your mind, you forced your eyes open to look down to where he had settled between your open thighs to find him staring right back at you. “Good girl,” he praised you again before pressing a kiss over your clothed sex that made your head fall back already, the anticipation of what was to come making you push up your hips which made Johnny chuckle lowly. He didn’t leave you any time to feel embarrassed by how needy you were when he hooked your panties to the side unceremoniously and licked a broad stripe up your center, tasting your arousal. “Oh fuck,” you breathed out, your hands flying down to tangle them in the long strands of his hair. Johnny worked his tongue in slow and clever strokes, leaving your mind reeling with pleasure and taking his time to take you apart piece by piece, not even paying attention to your leaking center or your aching clit. But when he did wrap his lips around your clit to gently suck on the nub, your mind almost went numb with how intense his touch was, your thighs clamping shut around him. To make it even worse, he started humming around you while prying your thighs back open, holding you down with his large hands. You felt your orgasm approach almost embarrassingly fast now that he was altering between teasing your clit with his tongue, lips and even his teeth and fucking your velvety walls with his tongue, setting your nerve endings on fire. “Johnny I’m close,” you warned him but instead of slowing down, he stretched his jaw wide to press his tongue further into you, his nose bumping into your clit in the process and with the combined sensation and his doubled effort, it took no time for your first orgasm of the night to wash over you, a scream of his name leaving your lips as you shook through it, your mind going equally as numb as your legs.

When you came back to it, Johnny had straightened up between your legs and he was grinning down at you while he was unbuttoning his shirt, his face still shiny with your arousal. “That was the first one,” he spoke darkly. “Come here,” you whined, making grabby hands for him until he took pity on you and covered your body with his before connecting your lips in a bruising kiss. You could still taste yourself on his lips but that somehow just made it even hotter.

“Want you inside me,” you panted against his lips when Johnny broke the kiss in favor of raking his teeth over your racing pulse. “Yeah?” He rasped and ground his hips down into yours, making you feel him strain against the fabric of his pants. “Need it,” you moaned at the sweet friction. “Think you can take me?” He laughed as he leaned back on his hunches to pop open the button of his pants, pulling down the zipper agonizingly slow. With wide eyes you watched him push his pants down his narrow hips, leaving him in just his navy boxers that showed the sizable imprint of his hard cock, the fabric against the head dark from where he had leaked precum. Chuckling, he stroked over the outline and just the sight alone made your mouth water. “Show me,” you breathed, spreading your thighs so he could see your needy core, clenching around nothing. “Hmm,” he hummed, dragging one of his fingers that wasn’t preoccupied with teasing himself through the mess of arousal and his saliva between your legs, only barely dipping it into you to feel the muscles trying to suck him inside. “Don’t tease me,” you whined high in your throat. “But I like seeing you squirm,” Johnny grinned but took mercy on you and sunk his finger into you up to the knuckle, gently pumping it inside you. Still sensitive from how intense your last orgasm had been, you were torn between pulling away and wanting more but Johnny made the decision for you when he pulled his finger out, wiping your arousal onto your thigh.

“Eyes on me,” he commanded and finally freed his cock from his briefs. “Fuck.” The curse left your lips without even noticing at the sight of his flushed cock, too heavy to properly stand up against his toned abs. The tip was tinted red and shiny with precum that Johnny generously spread down that whole length, his eyes not leaving yours as you watched him lazily jerk himself. “Like what you see?” You eagerly nodded your head. “Want it inside me.” “Yeah? Show me.”

Throwing all caution out of the window, you quickly sucked two of your fingers between your lips before guiding them to your weeping core to slip them inside you, letting out an over-exaggerated moan as you crooked them. “Oh you’re so naughty, baby,” Johnny groaned, squeezing the base of his cock tightly as he watched you fingering yourself and if you had even one coherent thought left in your head, you’d have the decency to be embarrassed because of how intensely he was staring. “It’s not enough,” you pouted, pulling your fingers free and spreading them to look at the slick covering them, “I’m so wet for you.” “Such a dirty mouth,” he groaned, quickly grabbing his pants to fish a condom from his wallet to roll over his hard length. “Please, Johnny,” you hiccupped, winding your legs around his waist to pull him closer to you. “Sssh, princess,” he soothed you, running his hands over your torso before bending down to press tender kisses to your stomach, “I’ll take care of you.” “Please kiss me.”

Dropping his elbows next to your head to support his weight, he covered your body with his and caught your lips in a kiss much too tender for your current situation, taking his time to explore your mouth until you were perfectly pliant beneath him. “Tell me if it hurts,” he whispered into the small space between you while he snaked a hand between your bodies to guide his cock to your core. When the head slipped in without much resistance, both of you let out twin moans of pleasure. Painstakingly slowly Johnny pushed inside you, centimeter by centimeter until his hips were flush to yours. “Breathe, princess,” he reminded you because you indeed had held your breath and had buried your nails in his biceps. “Shit, you’re big,” you cursed. “So I’ve been told,” Johnny chuckled and peppered your face and neck with little kisses while he slowly ground his hips so you could get used to him inside you.

“Move,” you demanded after a while. “What’s the magic word baby?” He grinned. “Please, Johnny,” you whimpered, clenching down on him. “Once more.” “Don’t make me beg.” “But you sound so pretty when you do,” he chuckled, only barely moving his hips. “Johnny please,” you whined, trying your best to move on his cock on your own but the angle was just not working out. “Oh, you want to do the work?” “I want you to move,” you groaned, pawing at his chest.

“But I think you’d look so pretty riding my cock,” Johnny rasped and in one fluid movement, he had sat up and pulled you onto his lap. Shit, it felt like he was even deeper now. “Come on, princess.” Whining, you wound your arms around his shoulders and pulled your legs beneath you so you could lift your hips up to make his cock smoothly slide out, the friction just right before you slowly dropped back down again, earning you an appreciative groan from Johnny. “That’s right, baby,” he praised you as you slowly found a comfortable pace, swiveling your hips until the angle was just right. Tightening the grip you had on his shoulders to use it as leverage, you began riding him in earnest, impaling yourself on his cock over and over again until your head was spinning and your thighs started to burn. “Come on, doll,” Johnny grinned, catching one of your nipples between his lips. Whining, you rolled your hips faster until your thighs began shaking. “Need help?” He just grinned, his big hands holding onto your hips to help you move up and down his cock at a steadier pace. “Please Johnny,” you hiccupped, hiding your face in his neck to ground yourself, “Please fuck me.” “Am I not doing just that?” He chuckled, filthily grinding his cock inside you. “Do it right,” you panted into his skin, “Fuck me like you mean it.”

“Then get on your hands and knees for me, baby.” He didn’t have to tell you twice, it was almost comical how quickly you obeyed his command and arched your back for him. “Hmm, that’s it,” he praised you, tracing the curve of your spine with his hands until he reached the space between your shoulder blades where he gently pushed down to make you arch even further. “So good and pliant for me, just waiting to be filled.” “Please,” you just whined again, past the point of caring about how pathetic you sounded, begging for his cock. “Say it baby,” he demanded, slapping his cock against your wet folds. “Please fuck me Johnny. Please. I want your cock inside me so badly. Want you to fuck me until I can’t even remember my own name anymore. Please I need it. I-“ your frantic rambling got cut off by the surprised moan leaving your lips as he thrust into you without any warning. “Don’t hold back baby,” Johnny rasped before gripping your hips tightly to finally fuck you in earnest, the sound of skin slapping together loud in the otherwise silent room. “God, your ass looks amazing,” he moaned, burying himself in your tight heat over and over again, mesmerized by how his cock was glistening in the low light and how easily your body opened up for him, “You’re basically made to take my cock.” You could only mewl at his dirty words and fist the sheets tightly in your hands as you tried to meet his thrusts as best as you could while you felt like you got your soul fucked right out of you.

“Feels so good,” you slurred when you felt the familiar knot in your stomach ready to snap, clenching around Johnny’s cock. “God baby, if you keep clenching like that I’m gonna cum,” Johnny cursed, grabbing you by the neck to pull you up against his chest, the pace of his hips only getting faster. “Please Johnny. Want it inside,” you whined, letting him use your body how he wanted to relish in the low moans he let out. “You want me to fill you up baby?” “Want it so bad, Johnny,” you mewled. “Then cum for me. Cum on my cock and I’ll give you anything you want.” And oh god. You had never thought that the strained sound of a couple of words could be enough to actually trip you over the edge but the rasp in Johnny’s voice had you falling apart in his arms, your orgasm ripping through you so hard it had your thighs shaking. “Such a good girl,” Johnny praised you before he let out a low guttural moan and fucked into you once – then twice – before his hips came to a halt, emptying his cum inside the condom.

For a while you two just panted loudly before Johnny gently laid you back down onto the mattress, chuckling lowly when you whined at the loss of his cock. “Shit,” you giggled while he quickly got rid of the condom, throwing it in the general direction of your trashcan. So tender you could have missed it, Johnny pressed a row of kisses down your spine until he reached the swell of your ass. “Cuddle me,” you pouted, making grabby hands at him. “We’re sweaty, princess,” he laughed but gave in when you kept pouting. “I don’t care,” you whined, fitting your head beneath his, wrapping your arms and legs around his body to cling to him like a koala. “You’re cute,” he smiled, pressing his lips to your forehead.

“For how long did you know?” “Know what?” Johnny asked, clearly confused. “That I was your secret admirer.” “I didn’t.” “It was so obvious,” you groaned. “Okay maybe I got a hunch after we started that group project. But you never said anything.” “What was I supposed to say? Oh Johnny, by the way, I’m the one who has been writing you cringey love letters for like half a year already. Please go out with me?” That made Johnny laugh, the sound melodic in the quiet of your room. “I would have said yes, you know?” He spoke lowly, “I’ll miss your letters.” “What makes you think I will stop writing them?” “Because you can tell me all that stuff in person now when we go on dates.” “We’ll go on dates?” “That’s what people do when they like each other, princess,” Johnny chuckled, “And I really like you. Both as my secret admirer and my classmate.” “Oh my god stop,” you whined, hiding your hot face in his chest, feeling shy all of a sudden while Johnny was just laughing.

“I like you too,” you eventually mumbled once it had gotten quiet again. “I figured,” he teased you. “I changed my mind,” you immediately shot back, rising from where you were cuddled into his chest but every other protest died on your tongue when you saw his dreamy expression, his honey eyes finding yours and completely ignoring the fact that you were still very much naked. “Date me,” he said. “Okay,” you answered, easily meeting his lips in a sweet kiss that wouldn’t be the last one you two shared tonight.

“Hello and welcome back, that was Middle Of The Night by Monsta X, suggested to us by raibebe through our Twitter with the hashtag JonJaeLoveTalk. We’re your DJ’s John-D.” “And Jae-D on NCT Night Night. Hello again to all of our listeners. John-D.” “Yes Jae-D,” Johnny chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “Something is off today. I looked through our mail and there was no letter from your secret admirer.” “Oh really,” he feigned surprise. “Either they didn’t send anything in or our director got sick of the pining.” “I can calm you right back down Jae-D,” Johnny smiled, “Because she simply doesn’t need to send any more letters. I finally found her.” “No way. For real? And you didn’t tell me? I have to find out through our radio show? Friendship is dead,” Jaehyun sighed dramatically and you couldn’t help but chuckle. “Jae-D you know you’ll always be the number one in my heart, you know that.” At that Jaehyun let out fake gagging noises that made both friends chuckle.

“No but for real. I finally found her and asked her out. It’s going great so yeah,” Johnny shrugged, “In case you’re listening baby: I’m dropping by later and bring sushi.” “This is so domestic already,” Jaehyun sighed dramatically, “Where is my secret admirer?” “Maybe you could find love as well if you stopped acting like the textbook example of a frat boy.” “What is that even supposed to mean?”

Smiling, you leaned back on your sofa and listened to your boyfriend bickering with his best friend. Boyfriend. That sounded good even though it still felt unreal. Love Letters weren’t dead after all it seemed.

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maddiwrites · 3 years

Text

Beauty is Pain

Pairing: Mostly Platonic!Pogues, mentions of JJ Maybank x reader

Summary: You and Kie try to wax your legs yourselves for the first time and accidentally get yourselves trapped in a sticky situation that gets you locked in your room with JJ and Pope while you listen to Sarah and John B fight outside your door. Routledge!Reader.

Note: I got this idea from a Friends episode. If you watched the show, you’ll know exactly which one I’m talking about. Mostly wrote this without the intention of doing a JJ x reader pairing but then I got an idea(: Hope y'all like it!

Word Count: 3.5k

Warning: Language, maybe angst??

For her birthday, Kie was gifted a hard waxing kit. At first you thought it was odd, a Kook like her was better off going to a professional to get evenly waxed brows or a perfectly clear bikini line. But when she asked you to try it out with her, you were intrigued.

You invited her over to your messy home everyone calls the Chateau. Your brother had a date with his Kook girlfriend, Sarah Cameron, which meant you had the house all to yourself. Even though it was just Kie, your best friend of four years, you decided to clean up the place before she got there. Your house was littered in empty beer cans and ends of JJ’s rolled blunts. You noticed John B was drinking more, smoking JJ’s weed, and even sleeping in later than usual. He’s called out of work two times in the past two weeks, and if he does manage to a say hello to you, it’s a grumbled mumble of words you can barely understand. You chopped it up to him just being moody, but there was also a small part of you that wondered if something serious was going on you didn’t know about.

You tried questioning your friends about it. Kie said she had no clue but noticed his change of attitude too. Pope would get nervous when you brought up John B’s name and claimed he didn’t know what you were talking about. Before you could question him further, his dad whisked him away to clean up the store and run a couple of last minute groceries. JJ, your boyfriend, tried to tell you it was probably nothing, but he wouldn’t make eye contact with you when he talked. He busied himself with rolling another blunt or folding the tossed laundry on your bedroom floor. When you called him out on it, he got snippy and frustrated, which just led you to drop the topic because you didn’t feel like dealing with a second moody teenager.

Kie showed up right when she said she would with the boxed waxing kit in her hand. You raised one brow up at it as you tossed the filled trash bag out the door.

“This it?” You said.

“Yes. You haven’t shaved your legs in a while, right?”

“Yeah. It’s been two weeks like you said. JJ says my legs are looking hairier than his. He’ll barely even touch them. One time he called them monkey legs.”

Kie rolled her eyes. “Boys are such hypocrites. If they had to do half the stuff we did, they wouldn’t be complaining at all. They shouldn’t even get to complain about what women decide to do with their bodies.”

Kie continued ranting about how pain is beauty and men will never understand it unless they lived in a woman’s body for a whole month, including the week a woman’s period started, as she set up the kit.

You worked in your room because there was more space for both of you to try your best to be comfortable. Kie plugged in the warmer on your nightstand and mixed the pink wax pellets with a flat wooden stick until it turned to a warm goo.

“Okay,” Kie sat up against your bed’s headboard and patted her thigh to motion for you to give her your leg. “You’re up.”

“Why do I have to be first?” You asked.

You’ve never waxed your legs before. Only your brows and sometimes bikini line and even then, you usually just pluck and shave. Getting your hair professionally waxed was expensive and you tried to prioritize your purchases as much as possible to stabilize the life you and John B still had.

Kie sighed. “Fine, we’ll do it together. Let me just put the wax on you.”

You gave Kie your left leg and she slathered the warm wax up the left side of your shin. You watched as she did the same to her own leg and grimaced nervously when you felt the wax hardening against your skin.

“Ready?” She asked with a teasing smirk.

“On the count of three?”

Kie nodded. “One.”

“Two.” “Three.”

At exactly three, Kie pulled the long waxing strip from your leg and you did the same with hers. A searing hot pain ran up you leg as Kie ripped the wax off, making you bite down a scream.

“Fuck!” Kie screamed up into the ceiling. You looked down at both your legs. There was a thick line of red from where the wax was. “That shit hurts.”

“Let’s try it again,” You suggested. “Maybe we’ll get use to it if we keep doing it.”

Kie nodded. “Okay. Yeah, let’s try again.”

This time, Kie slid two long strips on both your left and right leg. The warm wax felt soothing. You almost wished you didn’t have to rip it off in the first place.

“On three?” You said.

Kie nodded.

On three, you each ripped one strip off your own legs. You cursed against gritted teeth from the pain. You were wrong about getting used to it. You didn’t think you would ever be able to tolerate this pain.

“What the hell? This has never hurt this bad.” Kie said.

“I think whoever gave this to you secretly hates you,” You said to her.

Kie sighed and looked down at the hardening wax still left on your legs. “Well, we have to finish. We’ll just rip them all off really fast.”

“Okay.”

You ripped three out of the four strips that were left at rocket speed, but they all hurt exactly the same. It felt like you were ripping more than just the hair off your leg. You wouldn’t be surprised if you looked down and saw half the layers of your skin ripped off.

You blinked back the tears at the exact same time Pope and JJ busted into your room looking around frantically. JJ was holding a baseball bat and Pope a pan you just washed and placed on the drying wrack an hour ago.

“What’s wrong?” Pope yelled.

“What the hell is going on?” JJ narrowed his eyes at you, surprised he wasn’t looking at you being attacked by an intruder or covered in cuts and bruises. When he first heard you screaming when he and Pope walked into your house, his heart raced a million beats per minutes. His mind wandered to all the different things that could have happened to you. He swore he was going to make you lock your door every day and night now.

But here you were, safe and sound and laying in bed with Kie. Although he could see your labored breathing and clouded eyes, he knew you weren’t in any imminent trouble. His eyes traced from your face down to your legs where a pink strip of wax was still waiting to be pulled off.

“We’re fine. We’re just waxing our legs.” Kie said.

“What are you doing here?” You asked your boyfriend.

“Pope said Kie was here so we came to hang with you,” JJ said absentmindedly. “I thought you were being murdered.”

“It sure felt like it,” You rolled your eyes, but your heart fluttered from JJ’s protective side.

JJ scoffed. “It can’t hurt that bad.”

Kie tutted her head forward. “Oh yeah? Come here.”

“What? No.”

Kie ignored him and grabbed his arm from across your body and slapped on another slab of wax. JJ hissed from the heat then visibly relaxed.

“Y/N, wanna do the honors?” Kie smirked at you.

You glared at her. “I’m not volunteering to hurt my boyfriend.”

Kie scoffed at you. “What did he call your legs again?”

You clenched your teeth together and nodded once. Kie made her point, and you remembered everything she said about how men will never understand the pain women go through to please not only themselves, but their lovers too.

“Oh, yeah,” You said within a split second and ripped the wax off JJ’s arms. He flinched away from you, rearing his arm back far away from your reach. His mouth was opened in an ‘O’ shape and his brows pinched together. “Monkey legs.” You smirked at him.

“Fuck,” JJ shook out his arm as if you physically lit it on fire.

“It can’t hurt that bad, right, JJ?” Kie mocked him.

Pope laughed at his blonde friend and shook his head. “Stupid.”

“Y/N, you have one left.”

“Shut up, I know,” You rolled your shoulders back like you were getting ready to run a marathon.

“Want me to do it for you?” You nodded. JJ came up next to you and offered his hand for you to squeeze. “Okay. On three. One, two -” Before Kie even said the word three, she ripped the wax off. You closed your eyes and squeezed JJ’s hand hard, until his knuckles rolled in your closed fingers.

“Shit, baby,” JJ crouched next to you awkwardly, trying to mend his fingers back together.

“Sorry,” You huffed. You weren’t that sorry. He called you monkey legs.

You heard the screen door open and close. Figuring it was just John B back from his date, you relaxed against your headboard again and made a promise to yourself to never wax your legs again. Beauty wasn’t worth this pain. You’d rather be monkey legs than go through that again.

Or just simply shave.

“ - And that’s supposed to make this all okay?” Your eyes opened when you heard, not JB, but Sarah Cameron screaming right outside your room. Pope quickly closed your bedroom door as quietly as possible and held up his finger to you and Kie to be quiet. “That’s your excuse?”

Your brows pinched together in confusion and you looked at your boyfriend for some kind of answer. This was the first time you ever heard Sarah raise her voice at your brother. As far as you knew, the couple never fought.

JJ was looking down at the ground and avoiding your stare. His hands were wracked through his blonde strands and resting on the top of his head. He and Pope didn’t look as surprised as you and Kie.

“What the hell is going on?” Kie asked in a hushed whisper.

“I - I was scared. I’ve never done this before -” John B stuttered.

“Here’s some advice. Rule number one. Don’t cheat!” Sarah yelled. You swore you could hear the pain behind her voice.

You gasped in surprise and snapped your head in JJ’s direction. He wouldn’t look at you, which mean he knew about this long before you did. You put the pieces together. No wonder John B has been acting miserable. Who knows how long he’s been holding onto this.

Well...apparently JJ and Pope know.

“What the hell...” Kie sits up straighter. “Is she serious?”

“Did you know?” You asked your boyfriend. This time he did look at you. And he looked guilty as hell.

Your eyes snapped back to the door when John B yelled back at her. “That’s gold coming from you. Did Topper use that same line when you got together with me?”

You physically cringed at the mention of Topper’s name. It may have been a low blow, but John B had a point.

“Shit,” Kie cursed and sped walked towards the door.

You followed in her footsteps and pressed your ear against the door. One thing was for sure, you couldn’t leave your room now. You couldn’t walk in on that. But at least you could be nosy and eavesdrop.

“That’s not fair. I didn’t love him. I loved you. I left Topper for you!”

“You cheated on him.”

“Because I loved you, John B! You cheated on me because you were scared because...why? Because I’m a Kook? I’ve always been a Kook and you’ve never had a problem with that! Not until now!”

You and Kie crouched on the floor so JJ and Pope could hover over you and listen. It sounded like John B cheated on Sarah a couple weeks ago with a Pogue from your school because he got scared of his feelings for Sarah. Rafe got in your brother’s head, telling him how he will never be enough to care for Sarah when she’s no longer reliant on her father’s money. He became insecure and looked to someone who wouldn’t ever think of him like that - someone who would understand him.

John B was in the wrong and your heart cracked for the couple you once swore was going to be the first to get married out of your group of friends. Although you and Sarah had a rocky start, she quickly became the sister you never had. You got along just as much as you and Kie did. Sometimes John B would find it annoying when Sarah would come over to hang out with you instead of him, but the other part of him loved that the two most important people in his life were as close as he was with JJ. You couldn’t imagine him with anyone else. Not even another Pogue.

“Why didn’t you just tell me?” Sarah asked. She sounded broken and her voice cracked with exhaustion. You wanted to walk out of the room and hug her tightly while yelling at John B for being an absolute idiot.

You heard John B sigh. “I was going to. I regretted it the second it was over and I was afraid to tell you because I didn’t want you to leave me over some stupid mistake. JJ and Pope said -”

“JJ and Pope knew about this?”

You and Kie looked up at your boyfriends with the deadliest glare either of them have seen out of both you. JJ took a step back and held his hands up in surrender as if you were holding a loaded gun to his head.

“I can explain -” JJ said quickly as Pope’s mouth moved silently to come up with an excuse.

“I didn’t know what to do! They said telling you would only hurt you -” John B weakly tried to explain.

“Of course it would fucking hurt me! You’ve been lying to me for weeks. You had sex with another girl!”

You heard something shatter before a deafening silence. You waited for John B to say something, praying he was smart enough to say anything that could salvage what little of a relationship he had left.

You didn’t want to make this about you, but you wondered how many times JJ didn’t tell you something because it would hurt you. You wondered if he did anything just as detrimental to your relationship and didn’t tell you because he was afraid you would break up with him.

John B and Sarah continued to fight for another hour. You wondered if John B was worried about where you might be. If you go somewhere without telling John B, you usually text him later in the day to tell him where you are. It’s something both of you started doing ever since your father disappeared. So that if something were to happen, you would know where to look first.

You thought about jumping out your window, but your window frame was rusty. Even if you moved the window up a little bit, the wood would grind against each other, and your cover would be blown. You were getting hungry and JJ was getting antsy, probably afraid that John B would say something more to push him in the dog house. You’ve barely looked at him since John B threw him under the bus.

“Baby...” JJ said quietly to try to get your attention. “Come on, baby, let me explain.”

You glared at him and continued braiding Kie’s hair with your back to the door.

“We had good intentions,” Pope tried to save his own ass but Kie’s look mirrored yours. “We just didn’t want them to break up.”

“Shut up, Pope,” You said for Kie.

“We were wrong,” JJ said, making you advert your attention from Pope to your boyfriend. “I was wrong. It was my idea for John B not to tell Sarah. But the more time I spent with you, I knew I’d never be able to do that to you. It would eat at me inside, and that’s exactly what it was doing to JB. So yesterday I told him he had to tell her. Or else he would hate himself for the rest of his life if he didn’t.” Your eyes soften under his ocean blue ones and your hands fell from Kie’s hair. “I know I would.”

The corner of your lip twitched up into a lopsided grin, and just like that, you were entranced by the blonde Pogue all over again. JJ had his way with words. It’s gotten him both into certain situations and out of other bad ones. But you knew JJ like the back of your hand. You knew when he was lying. He wouldn’t look at you and if you questioned him on it he would get angry. Looking at JJ, you knew he was telling the truth.

“Yeah, what he said.” Pope said, pointing at your boyfriend.

You and Kie rolled your eyes playfully. Pope, on the other hand, wasn’t so great with his words. That’s why it took so long for him to score Kie as his girlfriend.

“Where are you going?” You heard John B yell. He sounded defeated.

“I can’t be here. I need...I need space.”

“Sarah...”

“Please. I just need time to think. Okay?”

Your front door slammed shut and you held your breath, waiting for John B to run after her or break more shit in your living room. But nothing like that ever came. Instead, you listened to John B cry to himself probably somewhere on the couch.

And just like that, you didn’t care about being caught. You didn’t care if he screamed in your face for eavesdropping or calling you nosy and inconsiderate. Your brother needed you, and in that moment, it didn’t matter to you that he was the one in the wrong. At the end of the day, he was your brother. Your blood. Your family. And you’re the one who will always be his rock.

Kie stood up with you and watched wearily as you showed yourself to your brother. John B looked up with wide eyes, surprised to see not only you but the rest of the Pogues hidden away in your room.

He wanted to be mad, but he didn’t have the energy to be. Instead, he cried harder because he hated that you of all people knew what he did and that he was now being weak by crying about it in your living room. He wanted to be the role model you could always look up to, especially now that your dad was gone. And he thought he failed at it.

John B was pleasantly surprised when he felt a pair of gentle arms wrap around his shoulders and pull him into a side hug as you sat on the couch next to him. Kie sat on the coffee table in front of you and rubbed John B’s knee comfortingly. Pope and JJ knew the girls were better equipped to handle John B’s emotions, so they busied themselves in the kitchen, grabbing a couple beers and pretzels and setting them down on the table next to Kie.

Even though John B cheated and created a big mess in not only his life, but the rest of yours too, you were family. You would never leave him on his darkest day and play the blame game. You’ll help him get control. You’ll help him fix it. You’ll help him live his life to the fullest. And that’s what John B loved about you. You never turned your back on him, even when he deserved it.

The five of you spent the rest of the night drinking beer, ordering pizza, and watching comedy movies to get him to forget. Later in the night, you and Kie left to comfort Sarah. You admitted that you two heard the whole thing and would support her with whatever she chose to do about her relationship. You and Kie slept over her house and discussed the pros and cons of her staying with John B. You ate popcorn and applied face masks while Keeping Up With The Kardashians played in the background.

“You know, Kie’s waxing kit is still at my house,” A mischievous smirk pulled at your lips. “We could cause a lot of damage while he sleeps.”

Kie encouraged the idea and Sarah laughed, feeling grateful that the two of you would even come to see her when you both had loyalties to John B. She really did love you guys and would be devastated if her relationship with John B drove you guys apart.

In the end, Sarah ended up taking John B back. It took a while for them to get their relationship back to the way it was, but they loved each other enough to salvage it. John B worked his ass off to prove how much he loved her and Sarah appreciated every second of it.

And as for you and JJ...well you made sure to give him one really good reason as to why he should never cheat on you (;

#jj maybank fic #jj fic #jj x reader #jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #outer banks #outer banks fic #outer banks imagine #john b routledge #john b #kie carrera #pope heyward #pogues x reader #pogues #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank one shot

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nealcassatiel · 3 years

Text

Supernatural and Russia and the mess of Television Legal Contracts

One of the most important aspects of a television series’ life cycle is its distribution. It is in the stage of distribution when the production companies/studio recoup the largest amount of costs.

By looking at who distributes the show, as well as which companies stand to gain the most from distribution profits, we can gain greater understanding of the various complex agreements and finances at play.

Viewing Statistics in the USA, Russia, and other International Territories

Let’s take a look at where Supernatural is distributed, and it’s popularity in the countries in which it airs.

After the US, in the past 30 days, Supernatural’s next biggest market is in Russia. The next is in Brazil.

This got long - more under the cut (I’ll be talking about cuts shortly)

In Russia, Supernatural has been in the top 0.2% watched shows in Russia (link) . This is also the case in Brazil.

In 2019, a modest survey was done on urban and rural Russians asking them what foreign television they watch. Supernatural was the 6th most mentioned foreign television show (link).

In 2017, Supernatural was three times more popular in Russia than it was in the US (link - this article has just a whole other host of information about it being popular amongst urban and rural US residents, as well as popular amongst both Republics and Democrats, however i haven’t looked further into that data so not going to discuss it much here)

So selling Supernatural to Russia and airing it in Russia is going to bring in a lot of revenue for The C*W and the production companies. That is a lucrative distribution territory and of a huge amount of importance to the network. Russia will air both new episodes, and reruns. Of course, if Supernatural made a queer love story a central premise, then execs are going to get scared that not only will the finale may not be aired in one of their biggest, if not their biggest market: Russia, but that the broadcasters who distribute the show in Russia might also pull the rest of the show and stop broadcasting reruns too. That’s a shit tonne fo distribution profits gone for The C*W, and who knows, maybe their relationship with Russian broadcasters who air their other shows will be on the rocks. After all, trying to sell gay tv to Russians right now is, sadly, never going to happen. This is not an indictment on the Russian viewers, but me saying that the show won’t be sellable to Russian broadcasters if it is too queer.

A huge huge majority of US Supernatural fans are progressive and wanted the more queer focused and found family ending. But the C*W and Warner believes that there are still enough US fans who don’t want something that progressive to be shown. They also know that one of their biggest markets is Russia, and Dean being shown to be bi will not go down well there. I’m just speculating, but The C*W may have looked at those chunks of audience who give them money and decide that they only care about those profits.

The frustrating thing however, is that no matter the power of Russian Supernatural audiences, looking at the other progressive countries and the popularity of Supernatural there - these numbers as a collective outshine those of Russia. So maybe Russia isn’t that important. Or maybe all The C*W needed to think was ‘we don’t want to stop profits from our biggest international viewership’ and so they never even went further and thought about the collective viewership of the audiences from progressive countries. As I said at the start, distribution is where the companies who invested into making a show recoup the most costs. All the money that comes from distribution is incredibly important.

DISTRIBUTION AND CO-PRODUCTION AGREEMENTS

The writers, the crew, the actors, don’t really get the distribution profits. They may get small cuts of things or bonuses here and there, but they’re all essentially employed by the production company. It is the production company and studio who has sunken money into making the show who will get a cut of the distribution profits. So the production companies and co-production companies, the creator (maybe still if they had a good agent when they first sold the pitch), the network are all going to be the ones to care about how much a finale will matter to profits from showing reruns in less progressive countries. Dabb is an employee - he personally will be paid a fixed sum which is given to him by the production company. He does not care if SPN can’t be aired in Russia - that has no personal affect on him. He was paid to showrun the series and he’ll get nothing more even if it becomes the most watched anti-gay homophobic celebrated show in Moscow. He has no financial reason to cater to anyone. He’s just an employee.

But if information like this, the knowledge that for multiple years TPTB have wanted Supernatural to cater to a non-progressive international and national audience for the sake of distribution profits, then the show should have never have taken the narrative to a place whose ending could not be green-lit.

If for the sake of these pofits and other secondary rights, for the sake of appeasing rural/southern USA viewers, and trying to keep an audience for Walker, The C*W derailed the final two episodes, then I still don’t fully understand why the ending was heading towards destiel when all of this distribution finance information has been known for many many years.

It makes sense why such a terrible finale would happen, but it doesn’t make sense why up until episode 18, the entire narrative of the show was leading somewhere completely different? Why were the writers of SPN heading straight towards one thing, if they knew they always knew that they’d have to have a completely different ending?

The Right of Final Cut / Final Cut Privilege

The answer may lie in the fact that The C*W wasn’t really paying that much attention to SPN, they couldn’t really see all the subtext, but suddenly the subtext all was going to become text and they were all twiddling their thumbs and looking for something to do during COVID when the industry shut down, so they suddenly got way more involved.

Let’s quickly clear up who The C*W is and how they relate to SPN as a company. Supernatural lists The C*W as one of it’s distributers, but lists Warner Bros Television as a production company. When SPN started it was made by The WB (which is now The C*W). It’s all under Warner Media anyway, but we can basically say that Warner Bros Television (listed as a co-producer of SPN) is the sam as The C*W who is listed as a distributer of SPN. They’re essentially the same so The C*W is both producing and distributing SPN, as well as owning the format rights to the show - sorry that’s all complicated anyway The C*W are the big dogs who own Supernatural and have done from the beginning back when they were called The WB)

Essentially, The C*W have a co-production and distribution agreement for SPN. The power they have from that first agreement when they bought the show off Kripke is almost certainly still MASSIVE today. They are not only the ultimate distributers, but the ultimate producers with all the agreements and all the rights.

Anyway, back to that first agreement: This was Kripke’s first big deal, and he almost certainly gave Warner Bros/The C*W a whole host of creative control in exchange for them sinking a shit tonne of money into making the show. Which makes me wonder if The C*W has something in entertainment law called “the right of final cut/final cut privilege”. If a studio or distributer has sunken a heck tonne of costs into making the series and are the ones who most need to recoup the distribution costs, then in their contract they may try to give themselves the ‘final cut privilege’ - essentially, this is the final edit. There’s the Director’s Cut, but then after that there is the Final Cut. The Final Cut is what is broadcast. Nowadays, most series and films don’t allow the directors to have final cut privilege anyway - it’s fairly rare from my understanding (one of my hats is a television legal contracts assistant, and all of these contracts still confuse me even though it’s an element of my job - I’m not trained in this outside of work so i apologise if this isn’t clear). The studio or distributer doesn’t even need to clear their final cut with the writer/director/producer. They can just do it. Cut it up and broadcast it, because they’re allowed to in their contract.

So with the finale episode being so short, a mess of montages, Carry on My Wayward Son versions back to back, a narrative mess, the pacing completely off, some scenes way too short and others way too long - this really could insinuate that the stupid clause of ‘the right of final cut’ was utilised by The C*W and without the need to get the permission or allowance of Dabb or even the other production companies, they edited everything they didn’t like out of the finale, citing their contract and the fact that they’re the ones who need to recoup distribution costs, and they don’t want to piss off large swathes of their national and international audience.

In Conclusion

So positives? Well, now that SPN is done and dusted, if there is a spin-off then this shouldn't affect distribution deals in Russia or Brazil. If whoever buys the format rights for Supernatural, allows The C*W to still sell the old series distribution rights, then market the new season of SPN not as a new season but a spin-off, then this will give them more freedom to not cater to the conservative international and national audiences SPN was beholden to due to distribution profits. What I’m saying is - a spin-off could free itself from catering to anyone who isn’t progressive. The old audiences can carry on showing reruns of SPN and completely ignore the new ‘fake’ gay spin-off. They can say that it’s a different production company, a different network - and therefore not the legitimate show. Great. Free SPN.

A new format agreement could also mean that the new producers could ensure that not the distributer, but the director, or the new trusted production company themselves gets the Right of Final Cut. If another agreement is made, please please please take that right away from The C*W/Warner.

The difficulty in getting the SPN rights would be caused by the mess of a Format Agreement to even get those rights... Supernatural is co-produced by Kripke Enterprises, Warner Bros. Television, Supernatural Films, and Wonderland Sound and Vision. I’m assuming Kripke Enterprises and Supernatural Films may be under Warner Media (as Warner Bros and The C*W itself is). If Jensen wanted to produce the new spin-off then his new production company is under WB/Warner Media too... so. Disentangling meddling and shitty Warner Media execs from a spin-off would be difficult because they own everyone.

All in all, it’s easy to see now with that mess of a finale that this was caused with whoever has “The Right Of Final Cut/Final Cut Privilege’. And I HIGHLY doubt Singer or Dabb or any mere employee on the show has it. It’s more and more obvious to me that this power lies in the hands of The C*W/Warner and they didn’t even try to loop Dabb or the main cast in when making the final edits. I’m sure the C*W started to get involved at episode 19 and in the development stage of episode 20, but i’m certain they had a hand in the disastrous final cut.

I hope we’re able to pry our beloved show out of the hands of those who don’t care about its narratives, but have more power than anyone to change the show’s narratives. Thanks for coming with me on this essay/me working out this complicated mess. It’s 00:50 and I'm super tired so I hope all this makes sense. Television contracts confuse me and I work with them so i dunno how clear any of this is.

Anyway - I hope it was totally boring.

#spn #supernatural #spn statistics #spn analysis #fuck the cw #fuck the finale #viewer statistics #i dont know if i find contracts interesting or dull #i haven't worked with contracts since covid happened #so i may be kinda rusty on my knowledge #but hope this was of interest nevertheless and sorry for any legal errors #supernatural finale #spn finale #tv industry #industry stuff #final cut privilege

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renaerys · 3 years

Note

Prompt 50. But Berserk & Boomer😔👉👈💕

50. “I thought you left.”

We’re calling this one Unfortunately, She Impressed Him. This is a pair of characters I love with all my heart in any flavor of relationship and can’t wait to write more of in my ongoing multi-chapter fic Trinity House over on AO3.

This fic is part of a prompt challenge that is now closed to new requests, but you can read all the completed submissions here. Reminder that the challenge is to make everything SFW, so we’re getting creative here.

xxx

Boomer was halfway across the deserted lobby of Faust Keating Rogers, LLP when he realized he’d forgotten his keys at his desk. He groaned aloud because it was 8 p.m. and no one was around to hear him because they had all gone home to their families hours ago like normal people. Boomer didn’t have two to three kids and a house in the suburbs, though, and neither did his boss. The three hour lull reserved for dinner, baths, and bedtimes before the evening work-from-home grind offered him no alternative but to power through. He fully planned to grab take out on his way home and enjoy an episode of whatever was on HBOMax before getting back to the tedious work of reviewing the draft prospectus statement his boss had sent him to proof by tomorrow morning.

Except, his keys were forty floors up and he now had to risk running into her again when he’d managed to slip away so neatly. He’d even removed his tie on the elevator ride down, and now he rubbed his exposed neck, flushed with anxiety over what might happen if she saw him and asked him to stick around to finish the work here.

“Nice going, dumbass,” he lamented as he stepped onto the elevator and hit the button for the fortieth floor.

It wasn’t that Boomer disliked his job. In fact, he didn��t mind it at all. It was better than slinging drinks or waiting tables. He had health insurance, a steady paycheck, and a resumé that could proudly display the name of one of the most elite accounting firms in the country. He could pivot his career if he wanted to, as Brick would say. Boomer wasn’t thinking about his next job right now, though. Right now, he was thinking about this one and how his boss was a hard-ass and a workaholic even if she was brilliant, and how there was a one hundred percent chance she would detect him coming back to his desk (which was annoyingly set up right in front of her office so that he could answer her calls, manage her meetings, and deal with whoever passed close enough to her event horizon to get suckered into the latest heinous audit in need of staffing).

There were his traitorous keys sitting on the desk next to the framed picture of his brothers. He glared at them, as if they were a forgotten household item that had developed a supernatural grudge like in those old Japanese folktales he liked to read online. He half expected them to jingle and alert his boss to his presence, just to spite him.

They didn’t, and he slipped them into his pocket as quietly as could be. He released the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding and took a beat. It was quiet. Most of the offices were dark, save for a few poor souls in the large conference room stuck on the ongoing year-end audit for one of the firm’s most important clients: Unicorn, Inc. His boss’s office was also lit up behind her closed door, but she hadn’t called out to him like she would during the day when he got back from his lunch break hoping for a few minutes to catch up on emails in peace before she dumped more work on him.

This, of course, was odd. The small legion of assistants who had come before Boomer were notorious for their short-term employment working this specific desk. The work was demanding and so was the boss, but there was something else that set her apart from other senior associates in the International Tax Services division, something that seemed to intimidate away any support the higher ups sent her way. Denise a couple desks down had warned Boomer not to bring too many personal effects to the office; chances were he wasn’t going to last long. Boomer had smiled thinly and thanked Denise for her advice, and brought the picture of his brothers in the next morning because he had his pride and Brick told him it was healthy to indulge that once in a while. Brick would certainly know.

So here he was, uncertain. Anxiety over having to sit here for another two hours finishing work and having tepid Doordash delivered pulled him toward the elevator and escape, while that annoying, rare pride demanded he check on his boss and make sure she knew he was here to support her, lest she get the idea that he needed to be fired.

The longer he stood there, indecisive, the greater his curiosity grew. What was she doing in there? It was quiet, even when he strained his Super hearing. He could hear Dean Matheson pouring whiskey a few offices down (that guy had a drinking problem and everyone knew they only kept him around because he had the Unicorn, Inc. account), Adebayo Hansou on a conference call with Dubai that was escalating to profanity, Shelly Kim with her head down and typing away at an Excel spreadsheet like a pro. Their assistants were long gone for the night, but here was Boomer, loitering and indecisive and what is she doing in there not yelling at me when she definitely knows I’m here?

He couldn’t take it anymore. He knocked on the closed door—rap, rap, rap—and called out softly, “Berserk?”

A beat, then: “Come in.”

Finding his boss in upward facing dog while still in her pencil skirt was not a sight Boomer was prepared for. Berserk had her eyes closed as she stretched at a near ninety degree angle and listened to music on her Airpods. Boomer had never seen her with her heels off and her mane of red hair thrown together in a messy bun; it was so casual that it was almost obscene.

“You’re staring.”

Fuck, he was staring and now she was looking right at him down her nose, even though she was the one on the floor. He stood up straighter, unable to help himself when she took that tone that reminded him so much of Brick’s when he was about to criticize, but he didn’t avert his gaze. “Sorry.”

She breathed in deeply through her nose and hoisted herself up into downward dog position. “Why are you here?”

Forgot my keys seemed like a really lame excuse that she’d probably laugh at him for, but he also was not in the habit of making shit up on the spot if he hoped to make people believe him. “I forgot my keys.” He took them from his pocket to show her, as if she might not know what keys are, as a concept.

“Smart locks.” Berserk exhaled and slowly walked her hands back on the yoga mat until she reached her feet and began to swing slowly left and right.

Huh? he almost said like an idiot, until he caught himself. “Don’t think my landlord would approve of me installing that.” Also, those things were like $200 a pop, which was not worth the occasional inconvenience and shame of forgetting his keys and then catching his boss doing yoga in her office after hours.

Berserk made some noncommittal sound like whatever, peasant and slowly uncurled upward one vertebra at a time. Boomer realized he was back to staring again, literally lingering in her door watching her and trying to equate this subdued, casual version of Berserk with the terse, no-nonsense businesswoman he was used to dealing with on a daily basis.

When she finally achieved her full height, she popped her neck. The hair that was too short for her bun fell in around her narrow face in a stylish, athleisure sort of way. The top buttons on her blouse were undone. She wore a small, golden necklace he’d never noticed before because he wasn’t in the habit of checking out his boss. “I thought you left.”

The accusatory nature of her words were totally at odds with her flat tone, only the barest hint of curiosity dangling there at the end, like she expected him to respond.

Oh, she expected him to respond.

Boomer took another step into her office because he was full of poor judgment today. “I forgot my keys.”

At which point he showed her his keys again and also had a mild stroke, because what the fuck are you doing, mate?

Berserk smiled. “Yeah, I got that part.”

Was she laughing at him? He had never heard her laugh before, unless it was at Dean Matheson, that comb-over in denial who, in addition to being a high functioning alcoholic, also had a reputation for throwing associates under the bus when a client wasn’t happy.

Boomer smiled back, because that was what he did when people smiled at him, and ‘people’ now included Berserk, apparently.

“Well, since you’re here,” she said as she padded around to her desk.

Crap, there was the work he was afraid of soliciting from her by remaining in the building. He debated an excuse to give her: picking up dry cleaning? Plausible, but transparent. Meeting up with his brothers? No, she’d probably make him stay all night for the chance to ruin Brick’s plans.

“Thai or Mexican?”

Boomer stared dumbly. He was becoming quite good at that (10,000 hours and you can become an expert at anything, they say). “Huh?”

The yoga must have put Berserk in an exceedingly gracious mood, because she actually repeated her question without getting that look on her face like she was picturing him getting trampled by stampeding monsters. “Thai or Mexican? I don’t have a preference.”

Oh.

Boomer’s stomach picked that time to snarl at him—8 p.m. and still no dinner, the fiend.

Berserk snorted in laughter and fanned herself with her phone. “Jesus. Mexican it is.”

Which was how Boomer found himself on the small sofa tucked in the corner of Berserk’s office, shoes off and belt loosened, with enough tacos, tamales, and rice and beans to feed a small family. He even had a beer from the mini fridge Berserk kept under her desk.

She hadn’t stayed late to work. Well, she had, but only because she didn’t have a reason to go home.

“I just hate getting home to a dark apartment sometimes,” she said in between bites of food. She had her legs tucked up under her on the sofa close enough to brush Boomer’s thigh if he reached to grab the salsa.

“I thought you lived with your sister?”

“Brute got her own place a few months ago. The arrangement was only temporary while she was in between jobs.”

It was weird knowing so little about a person whose whole family had been in Boomer’s inner orbit since childhood. As far as he knew, Berserk wasn’t close to any of her cousins, not even Blossom. Boomer himself had never been more eager to leave a room than when Brat walked into it. Only Butch, Brute, and Buttercup had ever found common ground among each other once the sworn rivalries and blood feuds of their youth gave way to teenage rebellion against their respective overlord fathers and then the slog of adulthood that was inescapable even for a bunch of Supers flying high on Chemical X.

The fact that Boomer had gotten this job surprised him more than anyone. After drifting from restaurant jobs to office temp placements over the last six years, he’d never thought he would dust off his economics degree and land a temp-to-permanent position that seemed way above his qualifications. And he never thought it would be working for a woman he’d most definitely electrocuted in battle at least a dozen times before puberty.

“What?”

Boomer blinked. He’d been staring again, Jesus Christ. “Sorry, I was just thinking… I didn't know that. I’ve been working here for five months and I don’t actually know much about you at all.”

“Hm.”

Her magenta eyes were wine-dark against the murky sky beyond the window forty stories up. Boomer did avert his gaze this time to reach for the salsa, but he didn’t use it.

“I don’t even know why you invited me to stay for dinner in the office if we’re not going to do any work.”

“Why did you stay?”

“For the free food.”

Berserk grinned—the third time she had smiled at him tonight (or ever). He needed to stop counting; he’d be disappointed when it stopped happening tomorrow.

“Don’t get used to it. Much as I appreciate the company now and again, there’s no need for both of us to be stuck here while Matheson’s breathing down the associates’ necks. Can’t have him poaching you out from under me.”

“Well, I don’t work for him; I work for you.”

“It’s sweet how you don’t understand office politics.” She ate a lone slice of avocado with a fork. “He landed Unicorn back when they were early stage, and back when he was still putting in the work to earn his reputation. But since they IPO’d three years ago and make up twenty percent of our revenue now, he’s just another big name coasting by on associate work. You know he regularly schedules client calls and just doesn’t bother to show up? He forgets half the time, and the other half he’s busy playing golf or buying a yacht or whatever the fuck rich, white Boomers do.”

“Well, as a Boomer myself, I can say I’ve spent exactly zero hours buying yachts.”

She chuckled. Fourth time. “Oh, really.”

“Never even thought of yachts. As far as I’m concerned, they’re not even real.”

“Thanks for your expert opinion.”

“Any time.” Boomer turned his body to face her and draped his arm over the back of the sofa. With only the soft light from the floor lamp in the corner, he imagined himself adrift in the darkness, the sky scraper lights nearby stars. It was a lonely thought, one made romantic in the knowledge that she was here too, and he wasn’t actually alone.

“Matheson almost did poach you, you know.”

“What do you mean?” Boomer couldn’t recall exchanging more than a few words with the man.

“When we were filling support positions. Someone recognized you from the news a few years back, when the Cyclops Monster attacked the marina district and you and your brothers took it out. Matheson got it in his head that you’d be able to work at Super speed and help lower his billables.”

“Wow. Maybe you should’ve let him. What do you think the net savings would be in yacht units of measurement?”

Berserk rolled her eyes, but she was smiling again. “I claimed you before he could get the paperwork in.”

Boomer hyper-focused on that word: claimed. He also pointedly ignored it entirely, much in the same way he ignored the new count of five smiles tonight. “Showed him your bending powers, did you?”

Berserk’s Corona bottle turned frosty under her hand in a totally unnecessary, big dick energy display of said powers, and she took another sip. “No. Sharon from HR likes me. And I promised her I wouldn’t fire you after three months like your predecessors.”

Flattered was not how Boomer would describe the feeling of being claimed by Berserk and eluding Matheson’s vampiric clutches. But he was a bit tickled all the same. This was the woman Butch had once described as essentially Brick, if he were constipated all the time.

And then he realized what she was doing. “Hey, you’re sharing things about yourself.”

She clinked her bottle to his, and Boomer shivered at the frosty chill she transferred on contact. “Aw, you figured it out all by yourself.”

“Ha ha.”

She didn’t quite smile, but she did look kind of serene then, content even, as she lay back against the arm of the sofa and yawned. Her gold necklace—just a simple disk with an engraving Boomer could not make out—reflected the lamp light when she moved. It rested just beneath her collarbone, which had suddenly become the single-most interesting part of Berserk, and oh no, was he interested—

“You’re staring again.”

Son of a bitch.

“Sorry,” he said automatically. “I didn’t mean to.”

Hard no. He was not allowed to be any percent attracted to Berserk. First, she was his boss, and there was a cliché here that, while subverted on the gender role spectrum, was still very risky for both of them. Second, she was Berserk, a fellow Super, cousin to his best friend Bubbles and a shrewd, stiletto bitch in Brick’s estimation, which sounded bad. Not that she was bad, or even evil, unless you counted helping rich corporations accurately report their taxes while taking advantage of the many egregious loopholes in the Internal Revenue Code. Which, okay, point taken, but he also worked here and anyway, people should not be deemed good or evil so much as their choices ought to be—

“Are you thinking about fucking me?”

You shrewd, stiletto bitch!

She was smiling again, and Boomer pathetically logged that as the sixth time, although he wasn’t sure he should count it given the overt malice behind it.

Unfortunately, Boomer was, as had been previously established, very bad at making shit up on the fly. So he miserably said, “Yeah.”

“Hm.”

She sipped her beer slowly, and of course he watched. If it was out in the open, as fleeting a bout of insanity as it may have been, at least he could wallow in it without worrying about appearances.

It was the yoga. That fucking upward facing dog, Jesus Christ.

It was more than that too. Over the last few months, he had worked closely with her, watched her navigate the cutthroat halls full of piranhas like Matheson and other account managers, getting herself work on the best clients while managing her juniors with efficiency and professionalism. She was excellent and sharp, and she demanded excellency and sharpness in kind. After years of going it alone or temping for bosses who didn’t care enough even to learn his name, much less provide him with guidance and mentorship, it was an unspeakable relief to work under someone who knew how to rally the troops. Someone who knew how to lead, how to motivate, and how to reward loyalty with loyalty in return. It didn’t hurt that she looked amazing in her daily stilettos, either.

Unfortunately, she impressed him.

“I have some work to get done tonight.” Berserk stood up and smoothed her skirt.

Boomer scrambled to his feet. “Of course! Um.” He began closing food containers and repackaging them in the bags they’d come in, because he was panicking. “I’ll get rid of the trash. Do you want the leftovers in the fridge?”

“You take them. Otherwise my office will smell like a burrito for a week.”

“Okay.” Numbly, Boomer finished packing everything up, while Berserk made her way back to her desk and logged into her computer to check her emails.

Boomer lingered at the door. “I’ll have the prospectus back to you later tonight.”

“Thanks.”

Wow, way to go, stud.

He turned to leave, but her voice stopped him.

“Boomer?”

“Yeah?”

“Friday is good.”

He stared back at her in expert mode. “Huh?”

Berserk poked her head around the side of her large, external monitor. She was smiling again. Lucky number seven. “For fucking.”

“Okay,” Boomer said.

Okay?!

She pulled back behind her monitor. “I was going to get a cat, but you’ll do much better.”

Because she didn’t like going home to a dark, empty apartment alone. With no one to fuck.

“That was a joke.”

“Yeah, I got that,” he croaked.

Friday is for fucking, he thought, which was delightful alliteration and also completely insane and one hundred percent something he was getting more on board with by the nanosecond.

“See you tomorrow,” she said.

Boomer clutched the leftover Mexican food in his fist. “Okay. Goodnight.”

It took him the time to fly home and put the food away in his small fridge to realize that he had a sort-of date with Berserk lined up for two days from now.

He Y-posed at the window and whooped, “Hell yes!!”

Loud pounding in the floor followed by old Mrs. Cruikshank’s muffled Keep it down! couldn’t bring down his mood.

Boomer leaped onto his threadbare, living room sofa with his work laptop and took to the prospectus with alacrity. He’d send over superior work product and make Berserk’s job just that much easier tomorrow morning.

xxx

If you enjoy my writing, check out more of my fics on AO3, link in my profile. I’m currently updating Trinity House (which has a lot more Berserk and Boomer content, btw!) and The Alchemy of Us. Thanks for reading!

#powerpuff girls #powerpuff girls fanfic #bersoomer #ppg berserk #ppg boomer #september fic prompts #so this turned into a 3k one shot because i love these characters and i couldn't help myself #tfw considering a part 2

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airplanned · 3 years

Text

Trill AU part 4

Sad times on the bridge, and I get to write technobabble

***

Part 1

They hurried down three corridors before Zelda said, "Does it seem strangely quiet to you?"

It did. In the dim light, Link was trying not to ask himself the obvious question of where everyone was. He made a sorry attempt to explain it. "It's late and this deck is all personal quarters."

"But no one's reporting to emergency stations but us?"

So of course they turned the last corner to find a body on the floor.

Ensign Bogts. Zelda checked his pulse and rolled him over while Link popped open a nearby locker and pulled out a tricorder. She took it out of his hands before he could start taking readings. Lifting an eyebrow, he let her rudeness pass.

"He's...fine? His vitals are all normal."

His body did look relaxed, his face at ease and his chest softly rising and falling.

"He just passed out here?"

Her eyebrows pinched together as she continued to scan. "He has an abnormal delta wave pattern. It looks like a kind of artificial sleep."

"Is everyone on the ship like this?"

She looked up at him in concern.

He swallowed, looking down at Ensign Bogts as all the hair on the back of his neck stood on end.

"So why not us?"

The bridge crew was passed out at their stations, and Link went straight to check the commander's pulse where he was slumped back in his chair. Ensign Xik had fallen out of his seat at ops, and Zelda stepped over him neatly to take his seat. "I should be able to get main power up," she said. Link headed for the con, removing Lt Tate from his chair as gently as possible and laying him out on the floor.

A low hum built under their feet and the lights blinked back on. Link took a relieved breath and pulled up a status report.

"I have thrusters," he said.

"Bringing the main engine back online."

"We need shields and sensors."

"Give me one...you've got sensors."

He immediately ran a sweep. "Sensor report coming in."

"On screen."

It was as if a sheen of oil was draped over the ship, a shimmer of green and pink dancing like the northern lights. Zelda pulled up an image on her console and turned the whole thing so he could see. It was as if the ship had run into a flat sheet, dragging it with them until it wrapped around the ship's nose and trailed behind them. "It's giving off delta wave pulses. That's what's putting everyone to sleep. At a higher amplitude it could have knocked out main power. Probably when we first hit it."

"We're caught in a net," he said.

She nodded. "It doesn't look natural."

He turned back to the con. "Let's not stick around and find out who caught us. Can we get the shields back up?"

"Raising shields."

The lights went out. The gentle, omnipresent rumble of the floor stilled as the engine shut down again.

Link tried to bring up a status report. "Well, that didn't work. Main power's back out."

She sighed. "Bringing it back online."

Lights turned back on and they both held their breath, waiting for power to fail once more.

"No sudden moves," he said.

He checked the sensor's image of the phenomena. "If we use minimal thrusters, it looks like we can back out of it."

"Decrease thrusters to quarter power."

That made it slow going, but there wasn't really a rush. He eased the ship back, back, watching the power read outs and the sensor image on the side of his console.

"Down two degrees," she said, and he adjusted course, hissing as the edge of the net caught around the port nacell, sending a tremor through the ship.

They froze. He let the net settle, then tried again, pulling up and forward, only to strain against part of the net draped over the saucer section.

"It's tightening," she said. And sure enough where before it looked like they were dragging an inanimate sheet behind them, that sheet was now tangled, adhering to the hull.

He lifted his hands from the console in surrender.

Zelda had out her tricorder again, this time running it over herself. "I think it's the symbionts."

"Their brains aren't affected by delta waves."

"They must be keeping us conscious."

Link looked down at his terminal, running through his options. Then he narrowed his eyes at her.

She straightened. "What?"

"You come aboard and the ship gets attacked by something that doesn't affect bonded Trills."

Her brief anxiety melted into annoyance. "You think I did this."

He gave her a blank stare.

"Why would I do this?"

"Handing over a Federation vessel could be profitable. Risky. But you've gotten away with worse."

She folded her arms over her chest, giving him a scathing look. "Everyone on board is asleep and you're still going to pretend that it was me that gave away the defense codes."

"Only two people knew those codes."

"That's right. And of those two people, one of us vanished in the night. The other stuck around and cleaned up your mess."

"The mess of my dead body? That mess? Tell me, how much blood was there? Did you cut Fi out yourself or did you get someone like Groose to do it for you?"

Her change in expression was subtle--a barely noticeable stiffening, a faint drain of the color in her cheeks. She looked horrified. Haunted. She turned away, and tapped out some new controls on the console.

"What are you doing?"

"There's no point explaining myself to you." Her voice shook. "You're..." Her fingers faltered. She covered her mouth with a hand and took a shaking breath. "You're just going to torment me until whoever comes to collect us shows up. You're just going to blame me for everything you've done until I feel like I'm going crazy."

Link frowned. When a tear skipped down her cheek he started to panic.

"Wait."

She shook her head, her trembling hands back at work.

"Zelda." He reached for her, and she jerked away, spinning to glare at him, her arms gripping the console as if ready to run, her jaw set in a way that looked so much like Sheik--Sheik when she tried to look threatening to hide her fear.

He lifted his hands in surrender, searching her face.

He couldn't see the lie. He'd never been able to see the lie.

But it must be there. Right?

"What...what do you think happened?"

He didn’t have to specify when, which of the many incidents in their shared past was at the forefront of both their minds.

She stared at him for a long moment, gathering all her righteous indignation to power herself through her speech. "Ravio vanished. Everyone searched for days. We didn't know what had happened. And then suddenly...Suddenly the defense grid just dropped. And one little shuttlecraft flew past. Up and away toward the warship. What I think happened was that Ravio sold us out so Fi could return to Trill."

Return to Trill.

He stared at her, shaking his head over and over as if that would make it stop.

He had to fight to find his voice. "Tetra sent Ravio a message to meet at tower 2. She said she had good news, and he thought... He was looking out the window, and the door opened behind me and I saw your shape in the reflection of the glass. And then you shot me in the back. I woke up four months later in an asteroid mining facility in a different host. It took me days to get news and by then it was too late."

"Tetra never sent you any message."

"Ravio didn’t cut a deal to go back to Trill."

Her eyebrows pinched together. "Fi wouldn't have survived for four months without a host."

"Yeah, but Pipit was a hot mess of a host. It was an unstable bond. He started off in a comma and then he was confused and panicky for more than a year before he calmed down. He'd think it was the wrong year, that he was the wrong host. He had disordered episodes for the rest of his life. He lost time so often that four months is nothing." Link caught himself. "I say all that with love. He went through a lot."

It startled a croak of a laugh from her.

And then they were staring at each other again.

"I would never have killed you," she said. “Please don’t make me think about his body.”

He quirked a sad smile. "I want to believe that."

"I want to believe you, but...that might be me who wants that. It might be someone else. Someone younger. Less wise. Someone who still looks at you and feels..."

Warmth lit in his chest, and he hated it and loved it, and maybe it wasn't so messed up after all that he wanted so badly to trust someone who had hurt him so thoroughly.

"Yeah," he said. "That about sums it up."

They stared at their consoles. She wiped her eye with her wrist in a way she thought was discreet and he thought was endearing.

Carefully, he asked, "What's your next plan?" and gestured at the tricorder.

She cleared her throat. "The EM pulses from the symbionts neutralize the delta waves, so if I can adjust the deflector beam to the same frequency modulation--"

"--With a wide enough confinement beam, we can neutralize the delta wave net." He was already on it, his fingers flying over the console.

"We need to lower the power so we don't cause another blackout."

"It we adjust the--"

Something dinged on his console. Proximity alert.

He shared a look with her, trying to tell if this was the moment she'd shoot him again. It was that same fierce look to protect herself, and who knew what that meant.

Another ding, and her voice turned tight as she said, "They're hailing us."

"Putting them on screen," he said.

A pair of Trils stared back at them. "Oh," one of them said. "We were wondering how you had power, but this makes sense."

Link tried to sound calm as he said, "This is the Federation Starship Naboris. How can we help you?"

The Trills scoffed. "I don't think you're in any position to help anyone."

Part 5

#Zelda #my fic #Trill AU

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sokkascroptop · 4 years

Text

traitor (sokka x f!reader) pt 18

part 1 | part 17 | part 19

A/N: ah, so the long awaited “The Puppetmaster” episode. This has always been one of my favorites ❤️ Take Y/N’s commentary at the beginning how you want. Either Hama got the idea from an old Fire Nation scary story... or she’s been at this a lot longer than we originally though 🤭

Y/N looked up fondly at Sokka as he recounted what he called, “the scariest story he knew”. It was not scary in the slightest and from the other disinterested looks Y/N got from Katara and Aang and the way that Toph lolled her head back in boredom, none of the others thought so either. Every now and then Sokka would glance down at Y/N and she would give him an amused smirk and however he took it spurred him on through the story. When he was finished, he waited with a sly smile like he thought the four of them were about to start screaming.

“I don’t know, I liked the story about ‘the man with the sword for a hand’ better.” Aang shrugged.

Sokka pouted and sat back down next to Y/N. “You thought it was scary, right?”

Y/N raised her eyebrows and nodded. “Terrifying.” She linked an arm through his and they both leaned back on the fallen tree behind them.

Y/N watched Toph wrinkle her nose. “Water tribe slumber parties must suck.”

“I have one. And it’s a true Southern Water Tribe story.” Y/N’s ears perked up at the sound of Katara’s voice. She hadn’t spoken all night and she was the only one who hadn’t recounted a scary story. Her knees were pulled up and she had her arms wrapped around them, and the light from their fire danced across her face.

Sokka seemed unperturbed. “Is this one of those ‘a friend of my cousin knew this one guy’ stories?”

“No.” Katara’s voice was sharp. “It happened to Mom.”

Y/N didn’t know what about Katara’s story scared her the most. Maybe it was her voice, or the way she told the story. Or maybe it was the way Sokka tensed underneath her arm that led Y/N to believe that there was more truth to this story than she originally thought.

But the thing that freaked her out the most and had her jumping from Sokka’s side immediately to Katara’s was Toph’s gasp.

Toph jumped to her feet, her milky eyes widening. “Wait. Guys did you hear that?!”

Sokka bumped into Y/N’s side, pressing her against Katara even more. Y/N wrapped an arm around Katara and grabbed onto Aang shoulder, pulling them all into an impossibly smaller ball.

“I hear people under the mountain! And they’re screaming!”

Chills worked their way down Y/N’s spine and she shivered between the two Water Tribe siblings. She recalled a story she heard at school, something about full moons and missing people… but it was just a story that little kids told to one another. Albeit, one that Toph shouldn’t have known.

“No, no… you’re lying. You don’t hear anything.” Y/N’s voice was shaking.

Sokka scoffed. “Nice try, Toph.” He started peeling himself away from Y/N’s side and moved back to their seat.

But the look on Toph’s face didn’t look like she was joking. “I’m serious! I hear something.”

Y/N tugged on Sokka’s arm and pulled him back, closer to her. “Uh, I really don’t think she’s kidding, Sokka.”

“Wait, you believe this?” Katara asked, her eyes wide with fear.

“Kids at school used to tell these scary stories about a witch or evil spirits who would take people and hide them in a space between the spirit world and our world. They’re everywhere around us but we just can’t see them.” Her voice trailed off as the wind picked up and began howling through the trees, almost as if it was in response to what she said. “But it’s a Fire Nation story, Toph wouldn’t know it,” Y/N said quietly.

Aang looked up to the tops of the trees above them. “Spirits aren’t evil,” he ventured, his voice small.

“Hello, children.” A voice said behind them.

---

Y/N didn’t think that she could scream as loud as she did. Aang, Katara, Y/N and Sokka, who had been huddled together on one side of the fire, holding one another as close as possible, suddenly shoved each other away, each of them trying to get as far away from whoever had just walked up behind them. Y/N in her haste, leapt over the fire nearly knocking Toph over in the process. Her heart was pounding as she stared at the woman. Y/N just kept telling herself, this is not the same as before, this is not the same as before. That, and she wasn’t alone this time. Aang could airbend the woman away or Toph could knock her off her feet before Y/N could even reach her sword. Nobody had to die.

“I’m sorry for scaring you. My name is Hama. You children shouldn’t be out in the woods by yourselves at night. I have an inn nearby, why don’t we go there for some spiced tea and warm beds?” The old woman had white hair and her shoulders were hunched but Y/N could see her bright blue eyes even from how far away she was. She seemed sincere. Y/N couldn’t find a reason not to take her offer. Normally she was suspicious of everyone, but this old woman wasn’t going to do them any harm.

“Yes, please.” Y/N said gratefully.

---

A couple of torches and the almost full moon lit their way back to Hama’s inn. Sokka was holding Y/N’s hand and she appreciated the contact. The trail, the cool night air, the darkness was eerily similar to that night that wasn’t so long ago. Every now and then she felt like she was transported back there; that she and Sokka were running through the woods back to Appa, stumbling over uneven ground, trying to get back to Katara so Y/N didn’t die. Then, a stiff breeze or a snap of a stick under their feet would bring her back to the present.

Sokka leaned over to whisper in her ear. “So we just trust anyone we meet in the woods now?!”

“I know it’s kind of weird, but she doesn’t seem that bad to me. Besides being in these woods is really starting to freak me out,” she admitted. “I think if she turns out to be some criminal mastermind, the five of us can take her.”

Sokka’s face softened. “Sorry. I didn’t even realize…”

“Don’t worry about it.” Y/N squeezed his hand, grateful for the comfort of her friends around. This time was different, that was for sure.

---

Y/N hadn’t slept in a real bed since she was in the Fire Nation palace. Sure, in Ba Sing Se, she and the girls had been given nice beds, but Y/N hadn’t done more than sit up against the headboard and worry all night before she left Azula.

Just as she was pulling back the covers she heard a light knock at the door. Y/N brushed it off as just the old house settling but then she heard it again, this time a little more forcefully.

Sokka was standing on the other side of her door when she opened it, clutching his pillow. She looked at his bare chest and his hair that was down and framing his face.

“Um. Whatcha doin’, buddy?” Y/N greeted, trying to keep her voice light despite her being a little breathless that Sokka was shirtless, in the middle of the night, standing in the doorway to her room.

“I’m freaking out.” Sokka didn’t wait for an invitation, just pushed the door open further and walked inside. Y/N shut the door behind him, only to open it once again to scratching on the wood. Momo ran around Y/N’s legs and jumped onto her bed, making a spot for himself on one of the pillows.

“This house is creepy. Can I sleep in here?” Sokka asked, looking at her hopefully.

“Yeah,” Y/N sighed. “But on the floor. I haven’t slept in a real bed in forever and I’m not about to give half of it up because you’re a scaredy cat-snake.” She tossed one of the spare blankets at the end of the bed at him and crawled under the covers.

Sokka settled on the floor next to the bed and Y/N moved to the edge so she could look down at him. She rolled onto her stomach and dangled one of her hands down next to him. “Night, Sokka.”

He grabbed it and intertwined their fingers. “Night, Y/N,” He yawned and snuggled his head into his pillow.

Y/N waited until she could hear soft snores coming from him before she let her eyes fall heavy and drifted off to sleep.

---

“So, Hama seems suspicious to everyone else, right?” Sokka leaned on the counter in Hama’s kitchen while they unpacked the food she’d bought at the market.

Katara exchanged a glance with Y/N who just smiled and shrugged.

“She reminds me of Gran-Gran,” Katara said.

“Didn’t you hear that comment that she made about us being ‘mysterious children’ before she left us to go run more errands?”

Y/N burst out laughing. “Sokka, she found five kids camping in the woods last night. That’s strange, don’t you think?”

“If we’re so strange and mysterious, why did she let us come back to her house without her?” Sokka pressed.

Y/N looked to Katara for help. “I guess that is kind of weird…”

“Yeah! So let’s go have a look around!”

The four of them followed Sokka as he picked his way upstairs peeking into every unlocked room along the way.

“Sokka! What are you doing?” Katara exclaimed.

“You shouldn’t go snooping around someone’s house!” Y/N echoed. She looked wildly to the front door, expecting Hama to be walking in on them wandering through her house at that moment.

Sokka slid open another door and stepped inside. “It’s fine, you guys.”

“She could be home any minute,” Aang warned. Sokka ignored all of their protests and went deeper into the house. He came across a cabinet built into the wall. He began pulling on the handles but it wasn’t budging. Y/N against all better judgement nudged one of his hands away and began pulling on one of the doors to help him.

Suddenly, the doors gave way and both of them stumbled backwards, Y/N falling to the floor. Katara was able to catch the dolls before they tumbled out. She quickly shoved them back into the cabinet and shut the doors but Y/N got a good look at what was in there. Puppets. And scary ones.

“Okay, that’s pretty creepy,” Aang admitted as he helped Y/N back to her feet.

“She has a hobby, what’s wrong with–Sokka, stop!” Katara jogged after her brother who was now climbing the steps to the attic. Toph, Y/N and Aang followed them and watched as Sokka yanked on the door handle.

“If she’s so ordinary, why does she have a locked door?” Sokka demanded.

“Probably to keep people from snooping in her stuff!!” Katara was getting increasingly louder each time Sokka said something new, so if Hama didn’t know they were skulking around her house yet, she would now.

“Guys, we still have time to go back downstairs and act like we weren’t looking through her stuff.” Y/N was trying to placate the siblings. She really didn’t want to get kicked out of the inn because Sokka’s curiosity got the best of them. That meant more sleeping in the woods. “Let’s just go and finish putting the groceries away–”

“Yes! I got it open!” Y/N watched Sokka sheath his sword that he had just used to pick the lock and she wondered why she even tried to be the voice of reason.

Sokka picked up the box that was sitting in the middle of the empty room. “What do you think is in it?” He asked the group.

“Treasure!”

“Toph, don’t encourage him,” Katara chastised.

“It’s locked,” Sokka said with disappointment. “There’s got to be a key around here.”

“Here.” Toph took the meteorite bracelet off her arm and melded it into a key shape. Sokka handed her the box and she began wiggling the key inside the keyhole.

Aang, who initially followed Sokka into the room, started inching back towards the door. “Guys, I don’t know about this…”

Katara joined him. “This is crazy. I’m leaving.”

Y/N was caught somewhere in the middle of them. Both siblings stared her down, trying to work out who she was going to ultimately side with. On one hand she wanted to see what was in the mysterious locked box that sat in this locked room. Hama was weird and Y/N was naturally curious. Who knows what she would keep hidden away? On the other hand they were invading this woman’s privacy. Even if she was strange she had taken them in in an effort to protect them from the angry spirits kidnapping people, and if they betrayed the trust she’d given them they would be back to sleeping on the ground outside.

Luckily, the choice was made for her. Y/N heard the pins click.

“Got it,” Toph smirked and gave them a thumbs up. All five of them rushed around her, trying to get the first look at what was in the box, when once again, they were startled by a voice from behind.

“I’ll tell you what’s in the box,” Hama stated.

Y/N bit her lip and looked down, not willing to meet the woman’s eyes. Sokka held the box out guiltily in front of him. Hama opened the top and pulled out a comb.

“This is my greatest treasure. The last thing I own from growing up in the Southern Water Tribe.”

---

“I’m excited for you to try Southern Water Tribe food.”

Y/N looked up from where she was setting the table for dinner. Sokka was fiddling with a spoon, messing up what she had just set out.

She giggled. “Excited? Why?” She slid the rest of the silverware towards him to finish and began working on setting out the plates.

Sokka spun a fork in his hand before setting it down. He moved it around until it was more than perfectly straight, ignoring her question. The tips of his ears were turning red. Finally when he spoke, his voice was sheepish. “Maybe you can come visit me. You know, if you like it.” He didn’t meet her eyes.

Y/N smiled. It was sweet that he was thinking of her, but he knew that just liking the food wouldn’t warrant a trip all the way to the South Pole, he wanted to know what was going to happen after the war. Y/N leaned across the table. “Even if I didn’t I’d still come visit you.”

---

Hama being a waterbender wasn’t surprising in the least to Y/N. The part that surprised Y/N–no, it was wrong to say that–the part that scared her the most, was that Hama then told them that the reason Katara had never met another waterbender from their tribe was because the Fire Nation had wiped them all out; stolen the waterbenders from their home.

Hearing the story Hama told about how she was the last waterbender to be captured, how she was led away in chains and taken to an awful prison, here in the Fire Nation, made Y/N want to cry. She wanted to cover her ears and leave the dining room so she didn’t have to know what her people had done to Hama.

And Katara and Sokka. Y/N reminded herself.

It was evil, what they had done. It was vile and Y/N felt sick about it. Oddly enough, as mad as those things made her–as awful as it felt to hear them–she welcomed the uncomfortable feeling it gave her. It reaffirmed that she was different. She had changed and that she was moving in the right direction.

Something that also soothed her was that while Hama was speaking, Sokka noticed the bouncing of her knee under the table.

Y/N always did it when she was nervous and what could make her more nervous than a woman sitting in front of her telling her story to all of Y/N’s friends about the viciousness of Y/N’s people.

Sokka reached under the table and tapped her knee with one finger. She slowed her knee to a stop and looked down at her bowl filled with soup, not able to meet his eyes, or the eyes of anyone at the table. Sokka didn’t care, he grabbed her hand from her lap and rubbed comforting circles on the back of her knuckles. On one hand she was thankful for it, but that little voice in the back of her mind told her that she should be comforting them. They were the ones that had been wronged. She should be begging for their forgiveness. The back and forth of it all was beginning to become exhausting.

---

Y/N caught Katara in the hallway before she retreated to her room. “Hey,” Y/N’s voice was quiet, even though it was just the two of them. It was the first private conversation they’d had since their fight a week ago. Y/N didn’t realize it would be so awkward. Especially, since before their friendship had been so effortless.

“What’s up?”

Y/N was at a loss for words, she had been since dinner. She knew she wanted to say something to Katara, but now in the moment she couldn’t even remember what she had been thinking about. Y/N dug her big toe into the wood floor. “I guess I just wanted to say that I’m happy for you. Finding Hama was a blessing but then, you know, she turns out to be from your tribe and it’s just really amazing–sorry I’m rambling–” Y/N pinched the bridge of her nose and tried to get back on track. “I guess what I’m trying to say is you should learn everything she has to offer to you. You told me the other day that you wanted more, more than healing, more than the fighting you knew. This is an opportunity to connect with someone who is special to you in more than one way. I’m excited to hear what you get to learn.” Y/N ended with a small, noncommittal shrug and an embarrassed smile.

Katara, however, was not embarrassed by Y/N’s awkwardness at all. She pulled her in for a hug. “Thank you, Y/N. It means so much to hear you say that.”

“I’ve missed talking to you,” Y/N mumbled into the other girl’s shoulder.

“Me too.”

---

“I think you might be lying to me,” Sokka stated as Y/N walked ahead of him.

She jumped up to pull down a dangling leaf and turned back around to see his skeptical face looking back at her. “I swear! As we were walking to Hama’s the other night, I thought I smelled firelilies! If I can just find the trail we took maybe I could find the patch!” Y/N had been itching to do something all day. Being cooped up in Hama’s inn after weeks of traveling and doing anything they wanted was wearing thin on her patience. Evidently Sokka’s too. All Y/N had to do was ask for him to come with her and he’d jumped at the chance.

“What’s so important about some flowers anyways?” He asked, catching up with her.

“Nothing really I guess. I just haven’t seen any in forever and they only bloom in this really short window so if I miss them I’ll have to wait a whole year before I can see them again.” Of all the problems they’d come across as a group, this was by far the silliest, but firelilies were so pretty. “Ooh, wait! I think I can smell them.” Y/N stuck her nose in the air and inhaled deeply. There was just the hint of a sweet aroma that reminded her of home.

Sokka sniffed next to her. “I don’t smell anything.”

“Come on!” Y/N took off running, every now and then sniffing the air like Momo did when they would cook dinner. And then there it was. And it was much bigger than just a patch, it was a whole field of firelilies. “I told you!” She socked Sokka in the arm and ran off into the field.

---

Sokka found her sitting in the middle, surrounding herself with the flowers. She reached for one and picked it, holding it up for Sokka. “Aren’t they pretty?”

“You’re prettier.”

Y/N rolled her eyes and smiled. She tucked the stem of the one flower she had picked behind her ear and patted the ground next to her. “Come sit.”

“Since I called you pretty, does that mean I get a kiss?” Sokka sat and smiled cheekily.

Y/N hummed in thought. “Can I braid your hair?”

Sokka furrowed his eyebrows. “If I say yes do I get to kiss you then?”

“Maybe!” Y/N said brightly. She moved to kneel behind him and pulled out his wolf tail. She raked her fingers through his hair before starting to braid close to his hairline. “I really appreciate you guys,” She said quietly.

“What do you–” Sokka moved his head to turn and look at Y/N but she grabbed the sides of it and forced it to stay forward.

Her deft hands moved halfway through the braid before she spoke again. “After everything you’ve heard about what we’ve done to you. None of you think of me differently. You look at me the same–well, I guess Toph doesn’t.” Y/N laughed quietly.

“You say ‘we’ like you’re still part of the Fire Nation. Y/N, you don’t still think that you’re like them, do you?”

Her hands lingered on the last bit of Sokka’s hair. “I am Fire Nation. I was just like them, Sokka. For a long time. It’s hard to separate who I was before and who I am now, because they’re almost the same person.” She tied off his wolf tail.

Y/N rested her hands on his shoulders and stared out into the sea of red. “After hearing Hama’s story, hearing what my people did to your people, I’m just surprised you can look at me; let alone come out here and sit in a field of firelilies or let me braid your hair,”– Y/N ran a finger down the center of the braid–”or say you want to kiss me.”

When she finally sat back down she noticed Sokka’s face was crestfallen. “I don’t care that you’re from the Fire Nation,” He stressed. “You didn’t do any of those things.”

Y/N let her head fall back. She closed her eyes and felt the sun warm her face. “I know. I do. I’m just so ashamed of it.”

Soft lips pressing against hers made Y/N crack open her eyes. “One of these days you’re gonna understand how we can’t hate you for things you haven’t done.” Sokka shook his head in disbelief.

What about the things I have done? Y/N wanted to ask. Instead, she stayed silent and licked her lips, the taste of Sokka’s still lingering long after he was gone.

---

“I want everyone to know–” Y/N panted “–that I do not like this plan.”

“We know!” Toph yelled from in front of her. Y/N wished she had seismic senses, Toph ran gracefully over the dark forest floor while the other three of them tripped over roots every other step.

Y/N sword thudded heavily between her shoulder blades, that and the darkness of the night flashed terrifying images behind her eyes. All she could do to keep herself from having a full on breakdown was focus on the ties of Aang’s headband flying in front of her.

She could tell they were getting higher into the mountain; the ground was getting steeper and the trees were thinning out, the moon lighting their way. They ran until they came to the mouth of a cave.

Y/N squinted into it. “I can’t see anything.”

“That’s why you have me.” Toph grabbed Y/N’s hand in her much smaller one. Y/N reached for Sokka’s and then they were running again, except this time she was relying on the girl next to her to tell her when to jump or dodge a rock in her path, because otherwise it was pitch black.

They spent so long running through the dark that when they saw light again, it burned Y/N’s eyes. In front of them was a reinforced metal door. Toph made quick work of it, folding it into a ball as easily as one could a piece of paper. Down a short, rocky corridor was a cavern with high ceilings. Y/N stopped cold when she saw them; inside the cavern were ten, maybe twenty people chained up to the rocks. The worry on their faces was quickly replaced with relief when they saw the four of them enter.

“We’re saved!” One of the men shouted.

“I didn’t know spirits made prisons like this,” Aang muttered to no one in particular.

“It was no spirit who brought us here, it was a witch,” Another man said.

“It’s a old woman!” A woman spoke up. Toph began unlocking her chains with her makeshift key. “She looks harmless but…”

Y/N’s heart stopped. Hama. That’s why she was out in the woods and that why–

“Hama!” Sokka growled next to her. “I knew there was something off about her.”

“You guys, Katara is with her!” Y/N yelped.

A look of fear passed through Aang’s eyes. “We have to stop her!”

---

The guilt was crushing Y/N’s chest as she ran with Sokka and Aang to find Katara in the woods. Toph had stayed behind to free all of the people Hama had captured but she would be on their tails soon. Y/N felt so bad. Sokka had known something was up and she had totally disregarded what he had said, even encouraged Katara to go out with Hama! Y/N should have known. If people were going missing from the woods, why was Hama out there alone two nights ago!

Just off in the distance, Y/N could see Hama and Katara squaring off. Katara knocked the old woman to her knees and she was just rising as the three of them ran up.

“Give up! You’re outnumbered, Hama.” Aang shouted.

“No,” she said sinisterly. “You’ve outnumbered yourselves.”

Y/N’s whole body tensed as her legs went numb. She slowly marched forward even though she was desperately trying to stop. By the looks of Aang and Sokka next to her, whatever was happening to her, was happening to them too.

Y/N gasped as her arm reached back and pulled out her sword. “No! What’s happening?!” She swung at Katara but was pushed away by a blob of water before she could even get close. Y/N’s movements were stiff and she teetered over like a falling tree but whatever was controlling her muscles had her standing back up in an instant.

Over her shoulder, Y/N could hear Katara dealing with Aang, but Y/N was more concerned with what was in front of her. Y/N’s arm straightened, pointing her sword right at Sokka’s undefended chest; his own sword dangling from the tip of his fingers.

His eyes widened just a fraction. “Y/N…”

“I–I can’t stop it!” She sobbed. Y/N fought against her own body so forcefully that she thought she was going to break her arm. It was futile, her arm drew back in what would be a deadly blow, and Y/N had no say whatsoever in it. Y/N was going to kill Sokka. Her nightmares were coming true right in front of her. She did the only thing that she could think of; called out for the only person she knew could come to her aid.

“Katara, help!” Y/N screamed. She squeezed her eyes shut. If this was going to happen she couldn’t watch it. She’d die before watching herself kill someone she loved. Just as her arm swung down, Y/N regained control. Y/N twisted her wrist and stabbed her sword straight into the dirt. She fell onto her hands and knees, her legs no longer able to hold her up.

Y/N looked up in horror to see that Hama’s body was contorting just as hers had been seconds earlier. Hama fought it, but much like Y/N, it was useless. She glared at someone behind Y/N. A shudder rolled through Y/N’s body when she turned to see Katara’s determined face as she used her bending on Hama.

Y/N didn’t move from her spot. She watched from her knees as Hama was led away in chains by her previous captives, sputtering drivel about how Katara had betrayed her culture by saving the little Fire Nation girl. Y/N was enraged. Most of her anger was directed at herself. She’d become complacent, she’d allowed even welcomed Hama into their lives and hurt Katara by doing it, judging by the crying she could hear behind her. Y/N had encouraged Katara to learn from her without even knowing this woman. The way Hama had used Katara, well, Y/N thought this might have been one time she wouldn’t have been afraid to use her sword on someone.

Over and over Y/N had proven to herself that she was the worst judge of character. When would she learn that trust was earned and not given freely to every person who asked for it?

---

A/N: because I always feel like I have to give a reason of why I do what I do, I know Sokka and Y/N hold hands in like every single scene together but I feel like they’re both young enough that 1) they feel like they have to show each other affection in some type of way and 2) it’s also really grounding for them? Sokka’s love language is touch (fight me if you think otherwise) and Y/N likes that he likes it/while also using it as a tool to calm herself in frightening or upsetting moments :)

Taglist: @myexgirlfriendisthemoon @reclusive-chicken-nugget @astroninaaa @aangsupremacy @beifongsss @crownofcryptids @welovediaaxx @littlefluu @lozzybowe @thebluelcdy @ohjustlookalive @sugarmoongey @fanficdepot @teenbiology @13-09-01 @riespage @davnwillcome @naanlianid @creation-magician @lunariasilver @vintagerose1014516 @bcifcng @rockinearthbending-marauders @francesciak @thia-aep @aphrcditeee @milk-n-cheese @solarsuki @sendnuwudes @humbleseame @my--shitty--art @lovingcupcake51002 @loganrwebb @celia-not-cecilia @treestarrrrrrrr @p--e--a--c--h--e--s@velveteencurls @izzieserra @oddment-nitwit-blubber-tweak @salsasadd @nataliahaslosthershit @awkwardnesshabitat @lanie103 @emogril @im-the-galactic-starfish @charlotteisabella @alienmotel @smarshere @crxsshatcht @starxtt @sugamonster22 @natsbelova @mellisophilia @calumsfringe @whatsuphoesandbros @samsmultifandomblogs @ask-kfc-siblings @i-love-superhero @justasukisimp @grouchiest-hufflepuff @zukostan221 @feverish-dove @catchingrhythm @zuko-and-sokkas-simp @euphoricmads @ivetoldamillionlies @fanficsformyperusal @mikxyu @someonekeepstakingmyusernames @earthtokace @bison-whistle @justamessandahalf

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chwepen · 3 years

Text

stacy’s mom ↦ hvc

♢ genre: fluff, bits of angst and crack(?) ♢ word count: 4k ♢ summary: it may sound crazy, but you have good reason to believe your best friend may have a crush on your mom.

read on ao3!

The first inkling of suspicion began with a bouquet of flowers.

Driving home, you had expected your mother to be in her rose garden by the time you arrived. She often spent the afternoons tending to the flowers in the backyard. Whether it was clipping leaves from the stems or simply soaking in the summer sun, she enjoyed her hobby. Likewise, you liked that she had something to take comfort in while your father was at the office until the late afternoon and you and your younger brother were off with friends or in class.

What you didn’t expect was Hansol’s car to be parked in the driveway. You could recognize his beat-up Volkswagen anywhere, never mind by the house where it was stationed countless times before today. He had morning classes before yours, so it was common you’d come home to find his car parked on the grass near the street and him inside with his feet up on the family couch, headphones in and head bopping back and forth. However, this time, that wasn’t the case. You checked the garage and kitchen, but neither his bag, his headphones, nor the man himself were anywhere to be found.

Fed up with the busy day you had, you walked through the living room and towards the glass door leading out to the yard. You stopped dead in your tracks though once you saw your friend and your mother in deep conversation. Your mother was in her usual gardening gear: a blue gingham apron tied to her waist and her old visor sitting atop her head. Hansol was wearing a Metal Gear Solid t-shirt and cargo shorts, not a speck of dirt on him compared to your mother who had soil-stained hands.

With your palm still on the door handle, your eyes darted to the bouquet of flowers in Hansol’s, wondering if you had to blink twice to see the scene in front of you clearer.

“Hansol, I can’t believe it,” your mother spoke, eyes alight. Her words were breathless but loud enough for you to hear through the door.

“I know. It took me long enough right?” Hansol laughed. His smile was usually bright, brighter than it should’ve been allowed to be, but his voice was shaking and the curves of his body fidgeting in a way you had never seen before.

A blush sprang up on both of their cheeks, and you felt bile in the back of your throat. Your whole life, the only man capable of making your mother blush was your father, whether by making an inside joke or kissing her without warning.

She took the flowers from him, inspecting each one with only the knowledge of someone with a green thumb. The entire time, she beamed. “They’re perfect.”

“I know it’s sudden—“

“You don’t have to explain it to me. I understand.” She placed her hand on his forearm, squeezing it with either motherly reassurance or something else entirely. “Don’t worry, honey. Our secret’s safe with me.” Your mom winked.

You backed away, tiptoeing until you made it to the stairs and ran up to your room. More than a dozen questions ran through your head once you sat down on your bed. Why was he giving Mom flowers? Why were they acting so weird about it? Where did he even find flowers? How did he pay for them? He just got fired from Prince’s Pretzels.

The thoughts swam on, circling and burrowing in your mind. Then, a theory broke through and made you freeze in your spot. He has a crush on her?

No fucking way.

Hansol never gave you a reason to suspect such a thing. He didn’t joke with Seungkwan or Doyoung about it, at least not to your knowledge. Of course, he never would tell you if he did, but you were certain he respected you and your family more than enough not to.

Still, you knew he had dated some junior cheerleader his freshman year of high school. Guys were known for finding older women attractive, but could that mean that attraction, particularly Hansol’s, could extend to your mother?

“That’s ridiculous,” you whispered out loud to yourself, pushing the speculation out of your mind to stop yourself from feeling nauseous. There was no way on the planet one of your best friends would be into your mom. And even if he did, he definitely wouldn’t act out on those feelings and expect you to be okay with it, right?

Your door opened out of nowhere. Before whoever was on the other side suspected you were acting abnormal, you grabbed the novel on your nightstand and flipped it open to a random page. You pretended to read as Hansol strolled in with a bag of chips in his hand and no bouquet in sight.

“I didn’t realize you were back. Did Professor Lee let you out that early,” Hansol asked, hopping into bed next to you. He reached his hand into the bag of chips, putting a good amount of them into his mouth. You set your book down in disbelief, the guy outside shaking like a leaf so foreign compared to your best friend stuffing his face next to you. How could he be so nonchalant?

“Y-Yeah,” you stammered, “Lee’s kid had some sort of issue at daycare so he ran out half an hour before we could do lab-work.”

“Sweet. Time for Hulu.“ He turned to you, his face looking at yours with a tinge of confusion. “Are you alright?”

Besides the fact that I think you’re into my mom?

“Yeah, everything’s great.” You stuck your own hand into the bag, feigning a smile as you popped a chip in your mouth. He smiled back at you with joy, believing your guise, and grabbed the TV remote. His shoulder brushed yours as he reached over, and you felt the static of his shirt cling to your sweater. Something akin to a spark lit inside of your chest, but before you could ruminate on it further, you stamped it out.

Hansol flickered through the show and film previews with blissful ignorance of how unsettled you were by what you knew and what feelings it brought to the surface.

You couldn’t help but speculate more after Sunday dinner, three days after the bouquet episode.

Hansol and Joshua in tow, they had spent a good portion of the night discussing FIFA and current music releases with your brother. He was only a few years younger than you and your friends, but he got along with them so well it was like you rarely needed to be there for them to hang out. Your parents had been deep in their own conversations all night, mostly about your father’s new business lead and your mother’s visit to see her sister on Friday.

They had touched hands throughout, happy to be in each other’s presence when they didn’t have time during the week. You could tell on your mom’s face. And Hansol looked like he always did—ridiculously chipper and goofy. There was no way two individuals would ruin such happy lives for some irrational and pointless affair.

Once you had cleared the table, you strolled over to your mother at the kitchen sink, eager to help her. “You don’t need to do this, I got it.” Your mom shooed you off. She loved doing chores on her own for some ungodly reason, but you tried all the time to be included to ease the burden. Your father, brother, and the guys all wandered off, and you wanted to help even if your mother didn’t ask for it.

“Can you let me help you just this once,” you replied, a pout on your lips.

“How about this? Go grab your brother’s hamper from his room. That way after I wash his clothes he’ll actually have something to wear to school on Monday.”

You laughed and kissed your mom on the cheek before walking away. Your brother’s bedroom was right across from yours upstairs, so you took the usual trek to pester him and complete your mother’s request all at once.

A step away from the door, you could make out the rumbling sounds of a video game and your brother’s voice. “Dude, are you sure about this? I mean, I know it’s how you feel, but is it worth fucking things up?”

Your eyes widened.

“He wouldn’t be asking you if it wasn’t, dumbass,” Joshua chimed in. The night’s dinner almost made its way back up your throat, knowing the “he” in question was neither your brother nor Joshua. “But he’s got a point, Han. You’ve had more than enough time to spit it out.”

Finally, you heard Hansol speak up. “I know, okay? It seems like the worst timing, but I really care about her. I may even— Look, I know I should consider all the complicated shit in the middle. But I have to give it a shot.”

“Well, I can’t stop you, man. Just do it before you chicken out,” your brother responded.

You can stop him, you fucking idiot.

You stepped into the room, and the boys were surprised to see you there as though you had entered private territory. “What are you guys chatting about,” you asked outright, fed up with speculating.

“None of your business,” your brother replied, never looking away from the television.

“Don’t forget who helped change your diapers, asshole.”

“It was nothing, honestly,” Hansol interrupted, flinging the controller at Joshua. “Take my place. I was dying out there, anyway.”

Hansol looked at you with his typical warmth and concern, but that fresh, foreign spark rose up inside of you. This week had been an amalgamation of oddities. Why did now have to be the time for your feelings to be so tangled up? Especially when he looked at you the way he did so easily without noticing its effect on you?

Or could it be that you finally noticed it and that newfound clarity scared the shit out of you?

“What’d you need,” he asked.

“I was grabbing the asshole’s hamper. Mom asked for it.” Your brother stuck his tongue out at you in response, and you kindly sent the same expression his way with the addition of your middle finger.

Hansol laughed. “I can help.” He took it from your hands and made his way to the door. When you didn’t move, he turned his head and smiled. “You coming?”

With a nod, you remained silent as you both exited your brother’s bedroom.

You hated that you were questioning the simple act of him helping you do an uncomplicated task for your mother. You hated how Hansol seemed unbothered by what he had been hiding from you, all while you both walked down the stairs and handed over the hamper to your mother, the two none the wiser to the fact that you were questioning them. You hated a lot of things in the moment, the biggest one being the jumble of questions in your brain that got bigger with every suspicious moment you caught Hansol in. And when the night came to a close, you knew all the aching feelings inside of you weren’t going away until you got to the bottom of the situation.

“You can’t be serious!” Rin cackled, almost doubling over and running into a random stranger. The mall was quiet on a Monday at 12 o’clock, a few mall-crawlers and the occasional mom-with-a-stroller passing the both of you. Professor Lee had to run out for another parental emergency, so you appreciated the free impromptu day off from class. It allowed for you to deal with your issues head-on, especially with the advice of a friend. Typically, you would run to Hansol with a problem this big, but seeing as he was part of the problem itself, it hurt even more that you couldn’t confide in him.

Abnormal was the only word to describe how it felt dodging his phone calls and text messages, only replying once or twice in the past few days. You gave him enough so he wouldn’t notice anything weird but without any of the typical humor you both exchanged. How could you tell your best friend that you were thinking such things about him, only made worse by the feelings budding underneath the surface of those thoughts?

“You sound like a goddamn crazy person,” Rin said. Her bags bounced off of her hips as she walked, but she didn’t notice. She just looked at you like a you were the funniest and most insane woman on the planet. To her credit, you didn’t blame her.

“I know, okay,” you whined, “I know it sounds nuts, but you haven’t seen what I’ve seen this past week and a half. He’s been so weird around me, and then when I see him and her together…” You blanched, horrified that you made your mother sound like the other woman in this fucked-up equation. “Anyway, I just needed to ask you what you would do in this kind of situation.”

Rin scoffed. “Well, I would first not expect my best friend to want to bang my mom, that’s for sure.”

“What the fuck, Rin?”

“Okay, too far,” She admitted with a smile. “What I mean is you have to think about how realistic you’re being here. Like come on, don’t you think he would’ve shown some signs a lot earlier if he was really into your mom? I know we’re not teenagers anymore, but Hansol has never been the type to hide his feelings.”

“I get it, okay Rin? But how do you rationalize any guy your age and—“ You stopped yourself when you noticed Rin’s smile fade slowly, eyes alight with surprise and confusion until they widened completely. “What?”

You turned in the direction of her gaze. The sight of your mother and your best friend walking towards a jewelry store was one that stung to the bone. Your mother dragged Hansol to the entrance. His eyes were skeptical but the two of them shared knowing, humorous glances. They vanished into the store hand in hand. You felt the pit you had been making a home for in your stomach for the past week expand like a balloon. The weight of it became so heavy you couldn’t feel anything besides it, its mass too agonizing to bear any more today.

“I gotta go home,” you croaked, turning back in the direction of the main entrance.

“Hey, wait a second! Maybe it’s not what you—“ Rin tried to put a reassuring hand on your shoulder but you brushed her off.

“Rin, I just need to go home.”

The house was still vacant by the time you arrived home. You sank into the living room couch, clutching onto a frilly throw pillow for support. Not only was the predicament getting ridiculous, but so unnecessarily painful. If they could just prove your suspicions either wrong or right, you could move on and forget the whole thing ever happened.

After another twenty minutes of contemplating, the front door opened. Your mother had no shopping bag in her hand or any outward evidence she had been at the mall, only her satchel strapped across her chest and a Lowe’s bag filled with what you assumed was more flower seeds. “Hey kiddo. Didn’t think you’d be home so early! Was class rescheduled again,” Your mother asked.

The carefree tone of her voice spiked a nerve, and before you could contain yourself, you said, “Why do you care? Worried I’ll find out something you don’t want me to?”

Your mother’s face contorted into surprised confusion with a twinge of hurt in her eyes. How could she pretend for this long with this much effort?

“Forget it, I’m going upstairs,” you said before she could respond. Your shoulder almost knocked into hers as you passed her to make it to your room. You were grateful you didn’t get closer, otherwise you would’ve broken down or screamed and it would’ve made it worse. All you wanted to do was lay down and forget for a minute.

The pillow was soft under your head as you tossed and turned, your desire to take a nap outweighed by your stubbornness to know what was going on. After a minute of struggling under the covers, you pressed your back flat against the mattress and splayed out like a starfish, listening to the cars pass on your street and eyes boring into the popcorn ceiling.

I can’t do this anymore.

With a deep sigh, you promised yourself the next time you saw Hansol, you would ask him to tell you the truth. And whatever the truth was, you would be grateful for the burden being lifted off of your shoulders, even if it hurt.

One dull Psychology lesson later, Wednesday was shaping up to be one of the better days of the last two weeks. You had spent all of yesterday hanging out with Rin and your mother, Rin biting her tongue for a majority of the time and your mother showing you the newest garden catalog she got in the mail.

You had been taken aback by the fact your mother so easily forgot your outburst the day prior, but you were grateful to pretend for one day that things weren’t in silent disarray. Maybe you could fake it too for a little longer, just until the next time you saw Hansol and then everything would be out in the open, and that was what you were afraid of most.

Arriving home, you mother and father were in the kitchen, the aroma of pasta and garlic bread wafting into the hallway for you to smell immediately as you closed the door.

“Hey! Good to see you before five, stranger.” Your dad was wearing his “Kiss the Cook” apron that your mother bought for him a Christmas ago, even though she was the best cook of the two of them.

“What are you doing home so early,” you asked, beaming.

“I closed another account with one of the firm’s head honchos, so they gave me the rest of the week off as a thank-you,” he responded.

“And thank you, indeed.” Your mom winked, mixing the sauce and pasta shells together. “Since this is the last time I can think of that your dad has had time away, we’re going to stay in the city for a few days to celebrate.”

“Perfect time too. Your mother’s been raving about that botanical showcase for a month now.”

“You remembered!” Your mother grinned.

“Of course. How could I forget,” your dad asked, coming up behind her and giving her a kiss on the back of the head.

What. The. Fuck?

Did you imagine the past few days in your mind? It couldn’t be that easy for things to go back to normal.

“Honey, I forgot to bring in my gardening gloves. Can you get them for me,” your mother asked you with a smile.

“Sure, no problem,” you replied. Dropping your bag near the kitchen island, you walked towards the glass patio door that led to the backyard. Maybe things were that simple and it could be like the worry and hurt had never existed. It was all in your head, you assured yourself.

Then, surprisingly, you came face to face with Hansol in the backyard, a bouquet of flowers in his hands.

He was wearing his favorite plaid blue button-up with a wife-beater peeking out underneath, a pair of denim jeans to match. The flowers were identical to the ones you had seen Hansol give your mother a week ago. The most you had ever seen Hansol style his hair was by putting a thick comb through it, but it was obvious he primped himself up.

Your chest sank, perplexed as to why he was at your house and if this had to do with what had been going on recently. Despite the realization you couldn’t shrug off those events, you were happy to finally be alone with him after what felt like eons ago.

What were you doing with my mom?

Why is everything so confusing?

Do you know that I’ve missed you?

“Hey loser,” you replied, knowing what came out didn’t convey everything that was on your mind. And while you tried to sound lighthearted, the words were flat as they left your lips. Nevertheless, Hansol replied with his boyish smile.

He stepped closer to you, but you held a hand up to stop him. “Before you say whatever you’re about to say to me, I need to say something first,” you interrupted him, feeling a sudden cord around your throat.

“I know what’s been going on… between you and my mom.” Tears welled in the back of your throat as Hansol looked at you with a gaped mouth and wide eyes, speechless. “And I may not understand it, but I do know my mom is an amazing person and it’s not crazy to imagine she was a catch in her day, weird as that sounds,” you said, holding back a flinch.

“That being said,” you continued, “you’re my best friend, Han. And I—“ No matter how hard you tried to or how many times you had said those three words to him in the past, they struck differently now. The realization had been there for awhile, planted somewhere down the line and in the smallest of ways, but it had grown and sprouted like the flowers in his hands until you couldn’t hide it anymore. But now because of this predicament, you wondered if you would ever be able to say you loved him the way you yearned to.

“—I just want you to be happy,” you whispered, tears falling slowly down your face. “And while this may make you happy, I don’t know if I can accept it, and if that means that we can’t be friends anymore, then—“

As quickly as you had said the words, Hansol dropped the bouquet of flowers and strode forward, pressing his palms to either side of your face and kissing you hard.

You stood there for a moment, stunned it was happening and instantly, extremely shaken by how wrong all of the signs had been. “Idiot” was too easy of a word to describe how you felt and how you had been acting, coming to such a ludicrous conclusion before you had all the facts in front of you. But it didn’t completely explain what Hansol had been doing all those times you caught him in less-than-stellar acts. The answers could wait until later, though.

Shifting your focus back on your best friend, you kissed Hansol back and grabbed onto the front of his white tank peaking out of his plaid blue shirt. You both stood there clung tight to one another until you heard a whistle come from the window that looked into the kitchen. “I know you’re in love and all but quit making out, you two. You’re still my daughter,” Your dad yelled.

You both separated immediately, tiny but meaningful blushes on both of your faces.

“Why now,” you asked.

Hansol shrugged, breathless. “I don’t know, I just— I just remember walking to the cafe one morning and wanting to show these new lyrics I had written the night before. And then when I was waiting in line I wanted to buy you a cold brew because I know without one before your morning World Lit class you go ballistic,” he said, a laugh erupting from both of your throats. Your eyes became watery again as he spoke. “I woke up wanting to do a lot of things with you, and for you, and I guess I knew after I realized that that I wanted nothing more than to just be with you, whether you wanted that too or not.”

You wrapped your arms around him in a hug when he finished his speech, thinking about how ridiculous he was for believing somewhere inside of him you wouldn’t want everything he wanted and more. Even if that meant watching dumb falling compilations with him on Youtube or listening to his mixtapes that he would never finish, you would do it for him.

“Now, what the hell were you saying about me liking your mom?” You could hear your dad’s chuckle and your mother gasp in the kitchen, the two clearly eavesdropping on your conversation.

“It’s a long story,” you replied, “but I had seen you bring my mom flowers—“

“Which I was asking her about because I know she would know what you’d like,” he interrupted. “Oh!” He turned and quickly picked the bouquet back up, dusting off the wrapping paper that held the flowers in place. “For you.”

You laughed and took the flowers with a smile. “And I heard you and my brother talking last time you and Josh came over for dinner.”

“And we were obviously…“ He had a playful look in his eyes, waiting for you to finish the sentence as a way of teasing you.

“About me, jerk, I get it.” You scoffed. “But then why were you at the mall with my mom a few days ago?”

“What, were you spying on me?!”

“It was an honest coincidence!”

Hansol rolled his eyes and placed his hands in his pocket. “Well, I was gonna wait until after our date to give this to you, but fuck it.” A box inside of his palm caught your attention. When he opened it, a pair of golden teardrop earrings glistened in the afternoon sunlight. You gawked, but Hansol stopped you, knowing where your thoughts were going. “They were within my budget, so don’t tell me to take them back. All those tips I saved from Prince’s paid off, even if I could’ve done better.”

“Shut up, they’re beautiful.” They were textured but a simple yellow-gold color.

“You always said necklaces made your neck itchy,” he said.

You beamed ear to ear and pressed a quick kiss to his lips. This was more than you could have imagined. At the beginning of last week, you wouldn’t have predicted a bouquet of flowers you believed were for someone else would lead to such a surprisingly beautiful conclusion. And there was still more to come, but hopefully what was waiting for the both you involved less bizarre antics and misunderstandings.

“I love you, loser.”

author’s note: I’m back!! After a million years!! I am so glad to be back on here and writing again. I missed you guys and i missed this, just writing for the hell of it and not worrying about all the stuff that kept me away for so long. I hope you all love this story as much as I do and I can’t wait for you to read what else I have coming! x

#vernon fic #vernon fics #hansol fic #hansol fics #vernon x reader #seventeen fic #seventeen fics #vernon fluff #hansol fluff

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damianwaynerocks · 4 years

Text

Zuko & The Waynes

tag list: @bi-fr0000g

batfam x avatar crossover

PT 1

Description: Prince Zuko has just seen a light; the Avatar has returned. He was just about to go capture him, when he falls through a portal, and lands in Gotham City. He’s angry. He was just about to regain his honor, to regain his father’s love. After he is adopted by Bruce Wayne and becomes Zuko Wayne, the second youngest child, Zuko starts to have second thoughts about regaining his honor. Living as Zuko Wayne makes him think that maybe, just maybe, he’s deserving of love just the way he is.

This started out as an incorrect quote, but then I loved the idea of Zuko having his Book 3 realization through becoming a member of the bat family, so I did. Also, there will 110% be a part 2.

this takes place in episode 1. like the beginning. he hasn’t even seen aang yet.

Fire Navy Ship, Near the South Pole, Earth 24

The story of Zuko Wayne begins with a bright light over an icy sea.

A bright light rocketed into the sky, parting the clouds. A boy with his left eye horribly scarred in a military uniform on a Fire Navy ship, his black ponytail fluttering in the wind, gripped the railing of the ship as he watched the light.

"Finally!" Prince Zuko yelled, whirling around to face a smaller man in a similar uniform who was playing some sort of board game at a small table, "Uncle, do you realize what this means!?"

Iroh, Zuko's uncle, looked up at his nephew with a calm expression, a game piece in his outstretched hand. "I won't get to finish my game?"

Zuko rolled his eyes and he turned back around, staring at the space where the light had been. "It means my search is about to come to an end." At his uncle's disinterested sigh, Zuko turned around again, gesturing behind him. "That light came from an incredibly powerful source! It has to be him!"

"Or it's just the celestial lights. We've been down this road before, Zuko," Iroh said, placing the game piece back on the board before looking back up at the prince. "Please, sit. Why don't you enjoy a cup of calming Jasmine tea?"

"I don't need any calming tea!" Zuko snarled, "I need to catch the Avatar-" he broke off to shield his face with his arms from the sudden wind.

A small purple tornado was in between Zuko and Iroh, pulsating with a strange light. It started to flatten into a portal, moving towards Zuko.

"Zuko, Move!" Iroh cried, lunging to grab his nephew out of the portal's way, but his cries never made it to Zuko's ears as the prince fell into the swirling vortex.

Crime Alley, Gotham City, Earth 2

"Oomph," Zuko grunted as he landed on a hard concrete surface. He sat up slowly, resting his hand on his forehead, dizzy. He blinked several times, trying to take in his bizarre surroundings.

A carriage-looking device was rolling through the street, no animals pulling it.

There were poles on either side of the street with lights shining out of them, lights that weren't coming from lanterns.

However, the most bizarre thing he could see was the man dressed similarly to a wolfbat in front of him.

Zuko scrambled to his feet, igniting a fire in front of his fist threateningly. "Stay back!" he snarled.

The man said nothing, looking at him closely. Zuko's skin was crawling; there was something unsettling about this man- or at least, he thought it was a man.

After thirty seconds of only the sound of Zuko's heavy breathing, the man spoke. "What's your name?" he said in a deep, gravely voice.

Zuko tightened his fists. "I am Prince Zuko of the Fire Nation," he said, "Now tell me; where am I!?"

"Gotham City," the hulking man replied.

Zuko swallowed. His father had made sure that Zuko knew the name of every city in the world.

He'd never heard of Gotham City.

"You've never heard of it." The man's words were more of a statement than a question. "Well, I've never heard of the Fire Nation. It doesn't exist."

"What are you talking about!?" Zuko was struggling to keep his voice even at this point. "The Fire Nation is the most dominating force in the world!"

"Not in this world, it isn't," the man growled.

"What do you mean 'this world!?'"

"You fell through a portal, you claim to be a prince although there is no record of a prince named Zuko ever existing, and there is no such thing as the Fire Nation," the man listed, "It's clear you aren't from this world."

Zuko's eyes flew open as his breathing became heavier. A different world? That wasn't possible. The fire in front of his hand fizzled out as he gripped the sides of his head.

The man was silent, before; "Come with me."

Zuko, too mind-boggled to argue, followed the man robotically to one of the carriages. The man opened the door for him, and Zuko stepped in. He didn't register anything else until he heard another man speak.

"Batman," an elderly man on a holographic screen was saying, "How was your night?"

"Alfred," Batman grumbled, "Prepare a room. I'm bringing someone."

"Would this 'someone' happen to be another child?"

"Yes," Batman replied. The man sighed.

"Of course I will prepare him a room, but Batman, you really need to get a hobby other than collecting children," the elderly man said before the screen disappeared.

"H-How did you do that!?" Zuko asked, dumbstruck, "How did you speak to that man!? He isn't in this carriage!"

"Car," Batman corrected him, "And it's video chat. I'm assuming technology was not as advanced in the Fire Nation?"

"We had war balloons," Zuko defended with a sniff. He looked out the window at the surroundings zooming behind them. "How are we moving so fast?"

"Five cylinder engine."

"That makes no sense."

"It will, once you've been here a while."

"What are you talking about!?" Zuko said with a start, "I need to go home!"

"That portal," Batman said, turning to look at him, "has been a problem for the past three years. It only opens annually. We'll try to get you back, but you'll probably have to wait until next summer."

"Next summer," Zuko repeated. His eyes narrowed. "That's unacceptable! I just found the Avatar, I need to capture him so I can regain my honor!"

Batman said nothing. Another screen appeared, the words 'call from Nightwing' displayed. At Batman's word of approval, a man with black hair and a domino mask appeared on the screen.

"Batman!" Nightwing yelled with a wide smile, "I hear I'm getting a little brother! Who is he?"

"Someone who came from Ziphran's Portal," Batman replied. Nightwing whistled lowly.

"Ooh, a dimension hopper! Like Jon! They can bond- no Damian this does not mean he won't be your friend anym- Damian put down your utility belt you are not hurting your new brother."

"I'd like to see him try," Zuko snorted.

From off-screen, Zuko heard someone screech, "Was that a fucking challenge?!" before Nightwing turned around, scolding whoever it was for using that kind of language. The video feed cut out as they pulled up to a waterfall.

Batman drove the car through it, entering a cave. Zuko's eyes widened. There were machines everywhere. More high-tech than Zuko could have ever imagined.

Batman stopped on a circular platform, and the doors opened. Zuko stepped out, looking around at the room. His gaze landed on three people.

One was Nightwing, the other a boy in a red and green outfit who looked to be about thirteen, and another boy around Zuko's age in a red outfit. All were wearing masks.

"This is Zuko," Batman introduced, putting a hand on Zuko's shoulder, who quickly ripped it off. "He's a prince from a place called the Fire Nation."

The boy in red laughed. "Prince? Aww, poor Robin isn't the only prince anymor-" he was cut off as the youngest punched him in the stomach.

"So, are we adopting him?" Nightwing asked excitedly, looking Zuko up and down. Zuko stepped back nervously, not used to someone being so happy at the thought of spending time with him.

Batman didn't answer, instead looking down at Zuko. "How did you get your scar?" he asked.

Zuko almost didn't respond, but the glare Batman was giving him was too much. "I spoke out of turn and told my father that we shouldn't purposely kill our troops," he spluttered, "And so he challenged me to an Agni Kai, and when I refused to fight him, he lit my face on fire."

"Ope, he's got trauma!" the boy in red yelled from where he was seated at a chair, "And black hair! He meets all the qualifications for adoption!"

"No!" Zuko snapped, glaring at the boy, "I can't stay here! I have to capture the Avatar so I can regain my honor!"

The boy laughed again. "Okay, Edgelord, chill. You'll be able to go back in a year."

"He will be staying here," Batman said before Zuko could verbally assault the boy, "Because he's from another world, we can't put him on the streets."

"So, we should introduce ourselves!" Nightwing suggested. He took off his mask. "I'm Dick Grayson," he pointed at the boy in red, "That's Tim Drake," he pointed at Robin, "And that's Damian Wayne. There's also Jason Todd, Cassandra Cain, Duke Thomas, Stephanie Brown and Barbara Gordon."

Damian rolled his eyes. "Father did not adopt Brown or Gordon."

"Maybe not legally, but emotionally? Waynes." Dick turned back to Zuko, "We usually aren't all here together, but my apartment in Bludhaven got bombed and Tim got sick of his neighbors, so we're here until we find a new place. Jason's coming in a couple days to see Alfred, and he's supposed to start coming to breakfast once a week."

At that moment, two girls walked down the stairs. One had blonde hair, the other black hair. The blonde one smiled. "Ooh! Bruce, you got a new one!" she did a flip off of the stairs, landing in front of Zuko. "My name's Stephanie! I'm excited to get to know you!"

Zuko glared at her. "You won't have the chance to get to know me. I'm leaving so I can capture the Avatar. I need to regain my honor!"

Stephanie scrunched her nose as she took in Zuko's hair. "The only thing you need is a hair cut."

"On it," the other girl- Cassandra -said, before taking out a throwing star from her pocket and hurling it at Zuko, slicing his ponytail clean off. Zuko's jaw dropped as he watched it fall to the ground.

"No!" he yelled, "My top knot was the only thing distinguishing me as a member of the royal family!"

"Oof," Stephanie winced, "Sorry, dude, but it's ugly."

"On that note," the elderly man from the call- Alfred -said from the top of the stairs, "I think it's time Master Zuko get some rest. He's had a long day."

As Alfred spoke, Zuko realized that he was, indeed, dead on his feet. Maybe it was lack of sleep, maybe it was the fact that he didn't have anywhere else to go, or maybe it was Dick's bright smile, but Zuko felt that he would be safe at this place. He nodded, trudging his way up the stairs.

Alfred led him to a room on the third floor, and turned on the light. Zuko scrunched his eyebrows in surprise.

"How did you do that!? You just flipped that switch and that lantern lit!"

"It's a lightbulb, Master Zuko," Alfred explained, "I take it your world didn't have electricity? Here, almost everything is automatic, made to make activities easier. I'm sure you'll grow to enjoy them. Take a shower while I get you some of Master Timothy's clothes to wear to sleep."

"Shower?" Zuko asked.

"Yes, it's like a bath but the water falls on you." Alfred led him to a smaller room in his bedroom. "Here, I'll show you."

As Zuko stepped into the shower, his mind was reeling. A shower was warm rain solely used for washing. Cars were carriages with no animals to pull them that traveled ten times as fast. He was in another world, away from everything he'd ever known.

Away from Uncle Iroh.

Zuko sighed, stepping out of the shower, grabbing a towel to dry off with. He opened the door of the bathroom, and saw clothes on the bed. Putting them on, he noticed how strange they were.

They weren't robes. It was a plain red shirt and the comfiest pair of pants he'd ever been in. It was the comfiest outfit he'd ever been in, really.

But it wasn't Fire Nation apparel. Alfred must have taken his military uniform to wash it. His ponytail gone, Zuko had nothing to remind him of home.

As he laid his head on the pillow, one last thought fluttered through his brain: I'm completely alone.

The next two days consisted of Zuko staying either in his room or wandering around the manor, trying to learn the layout. Alfred would bring him meals three times a day, but other than that, he left him alone. He was starting to relax. If these people were going to hurt him, they would have by now.

On his fourth day, Zuko was in the library, when he overheard Damian complain that he had nobody to practice broadsword with.

"I'm good with those," Zuko said. Dick and Damian looked up from the corner where'd they been.

"Finally, someone who is willing," Damian replied, "Come, Zuko, let's go."

Damian and Zuko were circling each other, each holding blunted broadswords. Dick was watching from the sidelines, smiling.

Zuko struck first, spinning around and using the momentum to drive his sword into Damian's side, who did a backflip to dodge.

Damian rushed forward, slashing downward at Zuko's head. The latter quickly brought up both swords, blocking Damian's attack.

They were evenly matched, the 'princes' were. The fight went on for an hour, neither landing a hit on the other.

A 21 year old man with black hair came in 30 minutes in, cheered Zuko on, yelled that his name was Jason, and at the 45 minute mark began texting on his phone.

Finally, the two called a truce, both drenched in sweat. Zuko turned to Jason and Dick.

Dick was smiling widely at him, and Zuko was shocked at the effect it had on him. The smile made him feel like he was the only person in the room.

Zuko nodded at Dick, before turning to Jason. "What's that?" he asked, gesturing to the phone.

"This, my dear boy, is a phone," Jason waved it in the air. "You can talk to anybody in the world with it, no matter how far away they are, and they get it instantly and respond instantly. And you can search through the internet, which is like a giant library with every single thing you could ever want to know about in a split second."

"Seriously?" said Zuko, "That's insane."

"Tim's already working on one for you," Dick said, "He's putting all of our phone numbers in it and stuff." he gasped, slapping Jason on the shoulder. "We gotta put him in the group chat."

Four hours later, Zuko had his phone, and was in the group chat called 'The Waynez'

dick: YO ZUKO'S HERE duke: whaddup dude i'm duke i'm in san fran rn

Zuko frowned. He went to safari, and googled "san fran."

zuko: what are you doing there? duke: mission with kon tim: how is my bff duke: if he doesn't take those stupid sunglasses off i will literally steal his kneecaps jason: lmao me

Zuko sucked his teeth as he read the conversation, hopping on to his bed. "Steal kneecaps?" he muttered, "Just what kind of family did I get myself into?"

zuko: what kind of family did i get myself into ? dick: the best! jason: just wait till b lets you join us in our nightly activities zuko: like that nightwing and batman thing? zuko: also does b stand for bruce or batman? jason: it stands for Bitch jason: & yes that thing. i'm red hood, tim's red robin, duke is signal, and damian's robin damian: if you call father a bitch one more time jason: iF yOu CaLl FaThEr A bItCh OnE mOrE tImE jason: what are you gonna do ur like four feet tall damian: say goodbye to your kneecaps motherfucker dick: DAMIAN NO tim: AHAHDJ DAMIAN duke: GUYS HE'S GONNA THINK YOU'RE SERIOUS jason: you literally started it??

Zuko let out a huff of laughter. Siblings who only fought in a joking manner?

He could get used to this.

Zuko was nine.

He laughed, looking up at a younger Uncle Iroh with shining, happy eyes, unscarred. "I love you, Uncle!" he chirped.

Iroh smiled warmly. "I love you too, Zuko."

"ZUKE!"

Zuko woke from his dream with a start to see a figure standing over him.

Dick grinned. "Hey, do you wanna go on a- put that fire out, it's me -do you wanna go on a drive?"

"But it's-" Zuko looked at the clock beside his bed "It's 2:00 AM! And I was sleeping!"

"Did you have any dreams?"

"No," Zuko lied, looking at Dick's shoes, "I don't have dreams,"

"Fine," Dick said, putting up his hands in surrender, "Don't tell me. But come on, get dressed!"

"But it's so early!"

"It's only 2:00 am, I'm usually out right now!" Dick huffed, before walking to Zuko's closet and grabbing jeans and a blue t-shirt- Alfred must have gone and got him clothes -and threw them at him. Zuko groaned as the clothes hit his face.

"Alright, alright!" Zuko gave in, getting out of bed with a stretch of his arms. "Give me five minutes."

"I'll make you some coffee, so you'll be awake!" Dick said as he left the roof, shutting the door behind him.

"Coffee?" Zuko said aloud as he put on the clothes, slipping blue Nike tennis shoes on. "What's that?" His phone chimed- the group chat -and Zuko grabbed it off of his nightstand to look at it.

dick: hey Tim I'm giving Zuko some of your coffee

tim: ??? why

dick: So he'll stay awake. we're going on a drive.

jason: take the bat mobile i dare you

dick: no we're taking my mustang

jason: coward

dick: ANYWAY

dick: i don't think he's ever had coffee before

tim: like ever? fine but only this once maybe then he'll go to Starbucks with me

tim: SINCE NOBODY ELSE IN THIS FAMILY WILL

damain: will you all be quiet, I'm busy.

jason: yeah he's at emiko's

duke: OH SHIT

damian: i haven't spoken to emiko in months, you imbecile.

jason: that's not what Roy said, brat

"Who's Emiko?" Zuko asked Dick as he opened the door to his room where he was waiting for him.

"She's this girl Damian tried to get to join his team," Dick explained, leading him to the kitchen as he put a pack of coffee into the keurig, "Jason gives him crap about her because they're so much alike."

Zuko nodded. "So, what exactly is coffee?"

"It's this drink that has caffeine in it, which is a drug that gives you energy, in simple terms," Dick explained, "Tim loves it. I don't think he's addicted, but he loves the taste." Dick poured the coffee into a different cup, took a gallon of almond milk out of the fridge, and poured some into it. "Starbucks is a huge coffee chain. They're all over the world. They have tons of different recipes, but almond milk lattes are how I like mine." He handed the cup to Zuko.

Zuko took a sip, and he hummed. "This is really good," he said, "Kind of bitter, but good."

"Right?" Dick led Zuko to another room and opened the door to a garage filled with cars. He pressed a button on his keys, and the car blinked, the doors opening. "Hop in, Zuke!"

"Don't call me that," Zuko grunted, getting in the car as he took another sip of the coffee. Dick, not fazed, told him to buckle up and took off.

"Did you have music in the Fire Nation?" Dick asked as they drove down the road, not yet in Gotham.

"Yeah," Zuko replied, looking out the window. "We had sungi horns and folk songs."

"So... no My Way by Queen Key, I'm guessing?"

"What?"

Dick smiled widely and turned on the radio. "Play My Way," he said to the car, and a song started playing.

Zuko's face scrunched up as it started. "This is music?" he raised an eyebrow.

"Meanwhile I'm turnt as fuck!" Dick sang off-key, "I left my pizza in the oven that bitch burnt as fuck!"

Zuko raised his eyebrows with a flat look on his face, but to his annoyance, he found himself not minding the song. And eventually, with Dick's calming presence and encouragement, Zuko began to sing with him."Bitch, my way! My way! My way!" the brothers sang, Zuko's voice quiet while Dick's was loud. As the song ended, Dick handed Zuko his phone.

"Here, pick one!" he said, before turning his eyes back to the road.

"I won't know any of them, though," Zuko reminded him, "What if I pick a bad one?"

"Then we'll sing it anyways!" Dick replied, "Because you picked it out!"

Zuko looked down, scrolling through the playlist. Go Hard, Watch Me, Love Story... he didn't know any of these songs, but tapped the song Starstrukk.

Dick gasped as the song started. He turned up the volume until the car was vibrating from the bass. Headbanging, Dick started screeching.

“Nice legs, daisy dukes, makes a man go WOO HOO!"

"Dick, wasn't that a whistle?"

"I can't whistle so I have to say woo-hoo."

Zuko found himself liking this song too, and once again, sang along with Dick at the second chorus.

"I think I should know!! How!! To make love to something innocent without leaving my fingerprints out!! Now!! L-O-V-E's just another word I never learned to pronounce!"

"Here," Dick said, grabbing the phone and pulling up the lyrics, "Sing along!"

With the lyrics in front of him, Zuko sang the rest of the song with Dick, gradually getting louder until the both of them were screaming at the top of their lungs. At the end of the song, the two laughed.

"That was so good!" Dick praised. Zuko started to answer, before both of their phones chimed.

tim: zuko did you like the coffee

zuko: yes

tim: ok good we r going to Starbucks tomorrow

duke: ?? don't you have work??

tim: i'll tell them I'm spending time with the newest wayne so i'll be late tam will understand

duke: bro bruce hasn't had a press conference about him yet

tim: tam knows I'm red robin i think she can keep this secret

zuko: what time?

tim: 9 so u can sleep in

damian: you're being oddly nice, drake, you're never that nice to me

tim: i literally took a bullet for you like three months ago.

zuko: it's okay, you don't have to wait that long for me

tim: ?? what r u talking about ur my brother, ofc i do

Zuko blinked, not expecting that. They'd only known him for two days, and they considered him family? "Isn't it really soon to accept me?" Zuko said aloud to Dick, "I mean, I haven't helped or contributed or anything."

"So?" Dick gave Zuko a weird look. "You don't have to earn our acceptance. You had it from the moment Bruce decided to adopt you."

Zuko didn't answer. He must be lying, or just trying to make him feel better. You can't just accept someone into a family without cause.

"Now," Dick turned down the volume, "Look outside!" Zuko did as he was told, and his eyes flew open.

It was beautiful. Multicolored lights blurring as they sped past them, architecture that Zuko had never seen. "It's gorgeous," he whispered.

"I figured you'd like it," Dick chuckled. They drove around the city for a while longer, Zuko in awe. Finally, they pulled back into the garage at the Manor.

"So, you have fun?" Dick asked as they got out of the car. Zuko nodded.

"Yeah. I did."

"WAKE UP!"

Zuko lurched awake, glaring at Tim above him. "Do you guys always wake each other up like this?"

"Only when there's things to do!" Tim answered, "Now come on! We'll take my car. I'm so excited man."

Zuko, exhausted, yawned as he followed Tim down the stairs to the garage he'd been in seven hours earlier. Getting into a Ferrari, they took off.

"So, Zuko, what was life like in the Fire Nation?"

"Very different."

"How so?"

Zuko pursed his lips together, not answering. Tim shrugged.

"Alright. Keep your secrets." Tim pulled into a parking lot and shut the car off. "We're at the second most glorious place in the universe!"

"What's the first?"

"My therapist's office," Tim replied casually, "My friend Kon's making me go. I'm the only one in the family who goes, even though we all need it."

"What's therapy?" Zuko inquired as they got out of the car.

"It's, like, treatment for your mental health. Your issues. Dealing with your past. I needed it for sure," he pointed at his head, "Lots wrong up here." He laughed. "You probably need it too, Edgelord."

Zuko grunted in response as they stepped inside the building. Tim inhaled the air with a smile. "Doesn't that smell amazing?"

It did smell good. It smelled like coffee. He'd only smelled it once before, but Zuko had decided that it was one of his favorite scents.

"So, Dick gave you his almond lattes with no sweetener, right?" Tim looked at Zuko with a raised eyebrow. At his nod, Tim added, "Was it too bitter or was it good?"

Zuko looked around the coffee shop, surprised at the number of people in line. "Too bitter," he answered.

"Okay," You could tell that the gears in Tim's mind were turning, and he asked, "Are you hot right now?"

"I'm always hot, I'm a firebender-" he was cut off by Tim slapping his hand over his mouth.

"Maybe in your world, people are open about powers," Tim said sternly, "But in our world, if anyone finds out who you are, bad things will happen. That's why Batman and everyone else wear masks."

Zuko nodded, and Tim took away his hand. The firebender cleared his throat. "Well, yeah, I'm always hot. Doesn't usually bother me though."

"So do you think you'd like a cold drink or a hot one?"

"Cold coffee?" Zuko echoed, crossing his arms over his chests, "I'll try it."

"Alrighty," Tim said with a grin, gesturing for Zuko to follow him to the line. Zuko flinched as he saw people staring at him, at his scar. Hearing mutters about it, he looked down, trying to hide it.

Noticing this, Tim scowled. He raised his head high. "My name is Tim Drake-Wayne, ward of Bruce Wayne," he said loudly, "And if any one of you continue whispering about him, or make him uncomfortable in any way, I will personally sue you for harassment!"

Apparently the name 'Wayne' carried some weight, as everybody looked away. Tim turned back to Zuko. "So, let's try a caramel macchiato."

Zuko took a drink after the barista handed it to him, and he nodded. "I love it, really good."

"Starbucks is always good," said Tim, "Now come on, let's get you back to the manor."

Another week passed, and Zuko started to grow comfortable. He wasn't happy there, sure, but the Waynes were welcoming, and he was actually starting to consider them friends.

In therapy, Tim had been talking about his trauma, and because it helped, he'd roped the family into doing the same.

Zuko was shocked. He couldn't believe how much they've went through. Damian's childhood. Jason's death and resurrection. Bruce and Dick watching their parents die, and their sexual assaults. Tim, who'd watching everyone he cared about die. Cass, who was treated as nothing more than a weapon for most of her life.

Finally, it was his turn. "Do I have to do this?"

"Zuko, if I have to, you have to," Damian snorted. Zuko sighed, biting his lip nervously.

"So, my mom was banished before me. Then when I was 13, I was sitting in during a military meeting, and I spoke up, telling my father that he shouldn't purposely kill our troops," he laughed bitterly, "So instead of grounding me like Bruce does, he challenged me to an Agni Kai, and when I wouldn't fight him, he lit my face on fire and banished me, saying I could only return if I captured the Avatar, who hadn't been seen in a hundred years."

Jason whistled lowly. "No offense but your dad fuckin sucks."

"He only did it to teach me respect!" Zuko snarled, clenching his fists.

"Jason," Tim scolded, "The rule is that after we share our story, nobody comments on it."

"Okay, but Zuko's acting like Damian did when he first came here," Jason argued, "Thinking that the people who are supposed to protect them are allowed to hurt them." He turned to Damian. "Is that something your grandfather would do?"

"Yes," Damian said without a beat, "Absolutely."

Zuko gritted his teeth. "You're wrong. All of you!" He rose to his feet and stormed up the stairs to his room.

My father loves me, that's why he gave me the chance of capturing the Avatar! Zuko thought as he slammed the door to his room. If he didn't care for me, he wouldn't have gave me a chance to earn back his love!

Then why do these people love you without conditions? a small voice in his head spoke.

Zuko clenched his fists, and started punching the wall. He continued punching until his knuckles were bloody. He continued punching until he fell asleep.

And yet, he woke up in his bed. He blearily opened his eyes, confused as he looked at the spot where he'd fallen asleep. The holes in the wall were there, but the blood was gone, and his knuckles were bandaged. Looking to his nightstand, Zuko saw a note.

I'm sorry for carrying you without asking, but I didn't want you to hurt your back from sleeping on the tile. Come down to the cave in the morning to change your bandages. - Bruce

Bruce had listed him off the floor solely so Zuko's back wouldn't hurt. He'd cleaned up the blood in the middle of the night so Zuko wouldn't have to see it. He'd even bandaged his hands.

This family didn't make any sense.

A week later, Tim and Zuko were at Starbucks. Zuko was sipping his caramel macchiato, repeatedly checking his phone while Tim worked on his laptop.

Tim raised an eyebrow. "Nervous?"

Today was the day that Bruce Wayne was announcing that he had adopted another kid. There would be pictures of him, Zuko would have to post on the Instagram that Tim had made for him, and he couldn't imagine all of the comments about his scar. "No, not at all."

"It'll be okay," Tim said, shutting his laptop so he could better face Zuko. "It can't be worse than whenever Damian was revealed. 'Bruce Wayne has love child?' "Young Wayne looks to have serious mental health issues'" he rolled his eyes, "Damian was so mad."

"When will I be interviewed?" Zuko asked, tapping his fingers against the table.

"We don't know yet," Tim replied, "We're hoping to get anybody but Vicky Vale. She's a vulture." he paused. "But don't worry. We'll all be there with you."

"I'm not worried," Zuko insisted, "I just... need to know so I can clear my schedule."

Tim raised an eyebrow in disbelief. "Oh? Brooding take up a lot of time?"

"Shut it, Tim-Wit." Zuko's phone chimed, and he jumped with a start before looking at it. Sure enough, the article titled 'Bruce Wayne Adopts Another' was up.

"It's out!" Tim said, "Great! Time to post on Instagram!"

"What?" Zuko panicked, "Already? But- but my scar!"

"It'll get shown eventually," Tim pointed out, "Plus, Dick and I already have our pictures picked out. Dick has the one of you smiling when he got you two matching shirts."

Zuko smiled softly, tugging on the hem of the before mentioned shirt, a dark blue Ralph Lauren.

"And they're up!" Tim said with a grin, shoving his phone in Zuko's face, "Take a look!"

"That's a good picture," he voiced. Tim nodded, muttering an agreement, before showing him Dick's post.

Zuko replied to Jason’s comment with an eye roll, before he froze, the caption sinking in. He blinked in shock. Dick would... die for him? He shook his head. "I still don't get why you guys care for me so much. Like I said, I haven't done anything to earn it."

Tim gave him a sad look. "Zuko, don't you get it? We don't love you because you did something to earn it or whatever. We love you simply because you exist."

524 notes · View notes

heyheydidjaknow · 3 years

Text

I do not have a decent title for this. I’m also not even going to bother with an image (even though I know it would generate more traffic) because I’m not going to steal someone’s shit. It’s about 3500 words, so have fun with that.

Chapter 1

Dying is not fun.

I do not know if you knew that until last night. Maybe you figured that since it was romanticized so much that it would not suck as much as it so clearly and obviously did. Maybe you dreamed of dying relatively peacefully, surrounded by your loved ones. Alas, those dreams were dashed last night when you, oh so wise Y/N, decided that you were going to try baking and forgot the most essential step; taking the thing out of the oven. You remember that night so clearly, the screams of your family begging for their lives still bouncing around in your ears like a torturous golf ball that made a habit of forcing itself into your throat, the feeling of your hair catching alight as your skin bubbled and charred, and rational thought became a foreign concept. You do not remember if you had died from a heart attack or hyperthermia or smoke inhalation, but you had a general idea that, yes, that night had been your last on Earth.

So, where the fuck are you?

You pull yourself into a sitting position, your back pressed against something hard as your eyes struggle to adjust to the darkness. The air smells like rotten food and exhaust engines as you pull yourself off the concrete, looking around the alleyway that you had found yourself in. It’s small, narrow, unremarkable in every way, with graffiti covered dumpsters near the entrance. Dazed, confused, generally out of sorts, you make your way to the entrance, patting yourself down for injuries you did not seem to have.

You rub the side of your face with your hand. ‘My head is killing me.’ You slip your hand into your jacket pocket, feeling a key and a piece of paper. ‘God damn it is cold in this alley.’ You zip up your jacket, walking out into the open as you pull the note out, beginning to read.

“Dear Y/N,” you mumble as you read, “we are pleased to inform you of your acceptance into our transference program, yadda yadda yadda, whoopdeedoo…” You skim ahead of some introductory jargon before getting near to the point of the note. “From this point forward, enjoy your permanent residence at ten West.. fifteenth street… apartment number six two two… New York, New York?” You blink. ‘I… that’s not my address.’ You pull out the key. ‘Wait, hold on.’ Your eyebrows furrowed. ‘New York? Wait, I was dead, wasn’t I?’ Your eyes become unfocused. ‘I don’t live anywhere near NYC. Where am I?’ You look around for some sort of landmark, street name, anything to give you some idea of where you are.

You hear a car squeal to a stop on the street corner in front of you, snapping you out of your stupor. As identical men start climbing out of the back of the vehicle, all marching deliberately towards you, a fifteen-year-old girl, your immediate reaction is to run like hell. Unfortunately for you, apparently your speed was not comparable to that of the men who quickly apprehend you, scooping you up and dragging you kicking and screaming into a van. You hear vaguely familiar voices outside, but your focus is less on the mayhem and more on the more pressing matter of getting yourself out of the van. You pound at the door, feel for any sort of locks on the inside, something, anything to get you out of the van, still screaming your head off as you hope whoever was outside had the common sense to call nine one one. You feel your eyelids droop as your breathing slows, your voice dying as your pounding becomes less intense. You slide to you knees, eyes closing even as you mentally scream at yourself to get up, keep at it. You passed out.

You wake up laid on the floor this time, the pulsing of electricity above your head almost soothing as you open your eyes. You stagger to your feet, looking around your well-lit enclosure, pink florescent lights lining the ceiling and walls like arteries. After taking note of your new bruises and checking to see if you still have your few personal belongings—you do—you ran over to the door, eyes fixated on the mind boggling, ridiculous scene taking place in front of you.

‘Oh, for fuck’s sake.’ You back away from the slot in the door, trying to process the blatant larping headassery. You had not thought that you would honestly be able to say that, apparently, you were kidnapped by the mother fucking Kraang, yet, in some stroke of tomfuckery on behalf of whatever deity controls your universe, you have, obviously, been kidnapped by some seriously hardcore cosplayers. If nothing else, you must admire the obviously advanced set up.

You run your fingers through your hair, chuckling almost manically. “So,” you say to yourself aloud, “I got kidnapped by TMNT fanboys. Great. Fantastic, even!” You pace around the room, throwing your hands up in exasperation. “I guess this makes me April O'Neil, then? Cool.” Your voice is extremely tight as you shake with intense, mostly negative emotions. “So, I’m somewhere in New York, kidnapped by the Kraang in the worst convention ever. Let me guess,” you laugh, losing your mind a little as you speak to nobody. “I’m gonna have a run in with the Teenage Fucking Ninja Turtles next, right?”

As if on que, you hear laser blasts and shinking metal. The high pitched beeping on an alarm sounded as you heard people—‘Male, teenagers… fuck my life,’— talking about power or something as their footsteps approach your room. You pound on the door. “Hey! Over here!”

You see a brown set of eyes look in through the window. Your suspicions are confirmed; ‘Definitely TMNT larping.’

“We found her,” the owner of said eyes, the one cosplaying as Donatello, calls to the others. Lasers shoot by his head as he turns to stare death in the eyes.

“We’ll hold them off. You pick the lock.” ‘Leonardo.’ You breathe a soft sigh of relief; if nothing else, you are apparently on the side of the people trying to get you out in this game. You hear footsteps going towards the firing.

“Don’t worry,” “Donatello” reassures you, voice tight with apparent anxiety, “I’ll have you out of there in a second!”

“Thanks, Donnie.” You give him a half-hearted thumbs up, trying to see what he was doing through the window. “Take your time.”

His eyebrows furrow. “Wait, how do you know my name?”

You sigh. “Look, man, I don’t know the script for the first episode by heart. You’re gonna have to cut me some slack for not being off-book.”

“Off—what?” He stares at you blankly.

You purse your lips. “I’ll explain if you let me out,” you promise. “Just pick the lock before the blue one gives you shit.”

“Oh, right! The lock!” He nods, grasping onto the logical thing you say and leaning down to start working on the alien technology. He pulls the cover off a control panel by your door, starting to fiddle with the wires.

You lean against the door, watching him work curiously. You hear the battle cries of “Michelangelo” and the toppling of robots as he works, clearly focused on his task. You zone out again. “This is some serious shit,” you mumble.

He mutters in frustration. The one dressed as Raph marches over, more impatient. “Oh for the love of—get out of my way,” he snarls, proceeding to take a very real looking sai out and stabbing the panel with a very in-character ferocity. You almost feel the urge to applaud the acting, and you might if this weren’t such a high stakes situation.

The door in front of you and behind you open at the same time and, deciding against getting captured again—you remember something about hanging from a helicopter in that scenario and you want nothing to do with that—you run alongside the turtles like your life depends on it, stumbling to a halt once you reach outside and slamming the doors closed behind you, blocking it with your back.

Your feet scramble to gain some traction on the cement. “Donnie,” you snap, almost impressed by the force used to pound against the doors, “put your staff in the handles of the door. We gotta go ASAP.”

“Wait, hold up.” The one dressed as Raph jabs his thumb towards you. “How do you know his name?”

You groan. “For fucks- it’s Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, not fucking Happy Sugar Life. Get the thing in the thing before the vine thing kills us!”

“The what?” Donnie and Raph seem much more confused than before, staring at you inquisitively and angrily respectively.

“Uh, guys?” Mikey pointed. “I think she means that vine thing.”

From the shadows emerges a towering creature made of plant life, its vinelike limbs draping across the ground like roots as it rears its ugly head. Its exposed, pulsating heart pressed against what remains of the creature’s ribcage. “You did this to me,” It growls. “Now you’re going to pay!”

“It’s-“

You cut Leo off. “Snake guy. Mutated into a weed. If you wanna kill it, go for the heart.”

He looked back at you, joining the other two pairs of piercing stares. “Cut that out.”

“Then don’t monologue and kill it before it has mobility!”

“On it.” Raph charges at its lumbering form, and within moments, it falls to the ground in a heap.

The pounding against the door is getting more intense. “Donnie! Staff!”

“Right!” He runs over, sliding his staff in between the door handles.

You stumble forward, the pounding already starting to crack the wood. “Alright, now we can leave.” Without waiting for the others, you sprint away from the building like your life depends on it. The others, clearly confused, follow.

You got a fair few city blocks away before you slow down, breathing heavy and palms stamped with the outline of the key you were holding desperately onto. “You run really fast for cosplayers,” you pant, “with all the- the paint and all.”

“Yeah, about that.” Donatello stops next to you, a thousand questions apparently swimming around in his head. “How do you know our names?” His mouth moves a mile a minute. “How did you know the weakness of that vine creature? What do you mean, cosplay? Who are you? Who were they?”

You cut him off. “One question at a time, hot stuff. Deep breathes.”

His pupils dilate. “H-hot stuff?”

Leo cuts in. “How did you know what we were—uh—cosplaying?” he asks tentatively.

“Odd time to cut the act, but alright.” Your heart rate lowers to a decent pace as your mind still struggles to comprehend what had just happened. You slow your breathing. “I mean,” you explain, gesturing with your hands, “it’s TMNT. It’s iconic.”

“Iconic?” He nods. “Well, since you know so much about it, then why don’t we test your knowledge? To see if you’re a real fan..”

“Y-you think I’m hot?”

“I don’t see the point, but I’m down.” You shrug, deciding to ignore the melting turtle for a second. “Shoot.”

He thinks for a moment. “Who’s the main character?”

You shrug. “You four, I guess.”

Mikey jumped in. “What’s the theme song?”

“Gonna have to be more specific there, buddy.”

“Is it really a great idea to just talk out here in the open?” Raph crossed his arms across his front.

“Probably not.” You look around. “Unless you have a map on you, I’d suggest we go back to your lair.”

“Our—what kind of stalker—”

“Look, honey,” you sigh, “if we’re going to go over every aspect of their lives that I know about we’re going to be here for a long time. For our purposes, just assume I know everything I need to know, and if you’re curious about specifics, we’ll go on a case-by-case basis.” You start walking down the sidewalk. “I’m guessing you guys hang out in the sewer, right?” You feel almost tempted to say that they’re just flat out psychotic, their blatant conviction in their own characters almost frightening. ‘I’ve heard of kinning,’ you think, pulling up a manhole cover you see at the end of an alley and wincing at the smell, ‘but this is ridiculous.’ You blink at the surprising lack of weight.

“Yeah.” Mikey—no, the Michelangelo cosplayer—walked over, already hopping in. “Our show must be super popular, right? Who’s the favorite character? How long have we been running?”

“Oh, you guys are—” You stop talking. “Wait, what year is it?” You start climbing down.

“Two thousand and twelve. Why?”

You step off the ladder, starting to walk behind him as he lead the way. “Well, it’s not tweny twelve where I’m from. It’s twenty twenty.”

“Wait, hold up.” He turns around to face you as he walks. “You’re from the future? That is so freakin awesome!”

You rub the back of your neck, trying to ignore the smell. “I mean,” you confess, “being from the future would be cooler if I was from a better time, I think.” ‘I wonder where they—’ You shake your head. “But, If we were running on the same time, I’d only be seven, I think, so it’s pretty cool I get to be here, I guess.”

“Dude, totally!” He turns a corner. “Our first day up top and we meet a time traveler?”

“Technically,” a voice from behind you makes you jump, “if what she’s saying is true, she somehow also knows interdimensional travel as well.”

‘Mother fucking ninj—cosplayers, focus. Don’t let them pull you in too.’ “Well, I really wouldn’t say—”

“Guys, is there not a clearly bigger concern on our hands?” You were already getting sick of not hearing footsteps. “Like, say, I don’t know, the fact she’s claiming we’re fictional characters?”

“Look, man,” you roll your eyes, “I already said I’m more than happy to answer any questions I can. In fact,” you continued, stopping in your tracks as you stared the red—clad turtle in the eye, “I’ll even stay put until we sort this whole situation out.”

“Fine by me.” Leo and Raph both face you, eyes boring into your soul as you stand there awkwardly.

“Let’s start off with the basics.” Leo’s tone is awfully light compared to his blatant skepticism. “What is everyone’s name?”

You force yourself not to roll your eyes again. “You’re all Hamatos.” You point at the tall one with the gap in his teeth. “That one’s Donatello, the yellow one next to him is Michelangelo, you,” you point at the red one with the broader shoulders, “are Raphael, and the sensei appointed leader is Leonardo. Easy.”

Leonardo nods. “Okay, you got the easy one.” It is at times like these when you wish you could read people. “What are we?”

“Teenage mutant ninja turtles.” You don’t have to hesitate.

“How did we become the way we are?”

“Splinter had a Kraang run in and you got ooze on you. Last thing you touched before you transformed was a person, so you became turtle/human hybrids.” You rest a hand on your hip. “Oh, happy birthday, by the way.”

A sea of blank faces face you. “Wait, you know who those things are?” Donatello is the first to speak after a pregnant pause.

“Well, yeah.” You shrug, the reality of the situation not yet dawning on you. “They almost take over the world in at least two season finales.

“They what?”

“Yeah.” You stick your hands in your pockets, fingering the key and note, confused by their apparent horror. “I mean, I’m still on the season three finale, but alien invasion is this show’s bread and butter for the most part.”

“I- what?” Raphael appears to be having a stroke. “What- bre- I- huh? What the-“

“Is he okay?” You look, completely unconcerned, at Donatello, who is swaying on his feet.

“Alien.. invasion…”

You blink, walking over to him and placing your hand on his cheek. You were surprised at the feeling of skin under your palm. ‘Not face paint..’ You look his incredibly pale face over curiously. ‘Not a mask…’ “Oh.” Your fingers slide down and off his jaw, falling slackly. “You weren’t joking, were you?”

If nothing else, he seems less concerned than he did a second ago.

Leonardo—‘The actual—hold on a minute.’—grabs your shoulder. “This isn’t a joke.” His face is stone. “You’re being serious, right?”

You felt blood drain out of your face. “Sadly? Yes.” You force yourself to take deep breaths so as to not pass out. “But, on the bright side,” you smiled weakly, “I can guarantee your survival for at least a few months.”

“What do you mean a few months?” Raphael is shaking as he yells, his voice roar echoing in the enclosed space. “How is it only—what the hell?”

“The show only ran over the course of an in-universe year.” You fight to keep your voice steady as dread seizes your throat. “I don’t know what happens after the year is up, or if it even lasts the whole year.”

“So we have less than twelve months to live?”

“This is so not cool.” Michelangelo is having a bit of a mental breakdown. “So, so not cool.”

“Hey, it’s not a guarantee!” You put your hands up reassuringly. “That’s just how long the show runs. Besides, it’s a kid’s show. There’s no way they’d kill off the main characters.”

“The hell they—who the hell is they?”

“Nickelodeon.”

“What the fuck is Nickelodeon?”

You groan. “Look, I’m just saying that you four are definitely going to survive the next few months!” Your voice rises easily to his volume. “I don’t know what happens after those months are up! I haven’t gotten to that point!”

“Why the hell not?”

You ran your fingers through your hair, laughing incredulously. “What, do you think I knew I was going to meet the IRL Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and had a chance to plan accordingly? No!” You throw your hands up in the air. “I died last night and now I’m here! Hell, I don’t even know where the fuck I’m going to go, fuck knowing who’s going to get the fucking axe between now and the series finale!”

“Will you two both cut it out?” Leo snapped, shutting you two up.

You put your hands up, still fuming and glaring at Raphael. He responds in kind.

“What’s your name?” He looked at you.

“Y/N. Y/N L/N.” Your breathing slows slightly.

“Alright. Y/N, you said you’ve seen up to season three, right?”

“Yeah.” You nod.

“Meaning you know what’s going to happen in the next few months, right?”

You nod at the leader.

He thinks for a moment. “Then we need to stay in contact. If what you’re saying is true, your knowledge of our show could be extremely valuable to us.”

You rub your eyes with your hands, sighing, trying to cool down. “I can do that.” You put your hands down. “If nothing else, I’m more than happy to offer up emotional support. The next few months are going to be extremely physically and emotionally difficult for you guys.”

Donnie pipes up. “Do you have a place to stay?”

You pull out the piece of paper. “I have an address and key, but I don’t know my way around NYC.” You smile slightly at the unintentional rhyme. “Do you guys know where ten west fifteenth street—wait, it’s your guys’ first day.” You nod. “I forgot.”

“It’s alright.” Donatello is oddly quick saying that. “I-if you want, I—we can help you find it.”

You rub your arm, your previous indignance replaced with extreme embarrassment at your previous actions. “Nah, it’s alright,” you reassure him. “I’m sure I can find a map or something.”

“It’s really not safe to just wander around New York so late.”

You pause at that. “That is an extremely good point.” You nod. “Alright. But I owe you guys dinner or something for trusting me this far. Also,” you smile teasingly, “what you’re currently eating is legitimately revolting.”

“Amen to that.” Raphael, if nothing else, seems to have calmed down.

Mikey hopped in. “Oh, we just found this crazy awesome food—”

“I can order pizza,” you reassure him.

He punches the air excitedly. “Let’s go!”

“If you want, you can sleep on the couch for tonight,” Leonardo offers. “It’s going to get light pretty soon, and we really shouldn’t be seen.”

You shrug. “Works for me.

As you follow the teenagers down the sewer, conversating as you walk, you take a moment to reflect on all that has happened so far. A part of you, oddly enough, is almost excited by the prospect of spending time with these guys. But a stronger, darker part reminds you sweetly of the dangers you knew lay ahead.

You close your eyes. ‘I’m never going to see my family again, am I?’

How that is the least of your worries, you don’t know.

Table Of Contents

Chapter 2

79 notes · View notes

abarbaricyalp · 3 years

Note

Hi! If you're still taking propmpts. SamBucky, sequel to Push All My Buttons. Established Relationship: Sam comes back home to Bucky after Riley gets shot down during a mission and is a complete mess. Bucky comforts him to his best ability.

Friend. Friend. Friend. Why.

This is a sequel to Push All My Buttons. You don't necessarily need to read it to read this. This one is certainly not the same kind of fic.

CW: Severe suicidal ideation, discussions of grief, loss, and trauma, discussions of suicide

Link in the reblog

Excelsior

Bucky had nine months with Sam and Riley before they shipped out with the wings. He and Sam had been sleeping together for that entire time minus three days and they’d been dating for about two weeks less than that. As Riley had always said, ‘When you know, you know. Even if all you know is that they’re an irritating little shit.’ Which is what he thought both Sam and Bucky were, especially together.

It had been a really good nine months.

They shipped out late afternoon on a Saturday and that was a very bad month.

Bucky wasn’t military and Rhodes had left with the project and taken on his duties again elsewhere. Stark, in his own haze of being left alone, did not fill Bucky in on any developments with the wings, if he was even asking Rhodes.

The only thing Bucky got was the occasional phone call or text, in which Sam could barely talk about anything to do with the wings. Well, those and the program Bucky had on his computer. It was just the monitoring datastream for the jetpacks, essentially a condensed readout of what showed up on the wristlets. BPI and vitals of the wearers, elevation, fuel reserves, GPS, temperatures, difficult to decipher radar readings.

Bucky kept up with the readings religiously. He slept in his office space more often than not and scrolled through the information every morning when he did leave. So he was there at 6PM when the reading came screeching in. It was nearly a year to the day that they’d shipped out. It was a Friday. Bucky was actually packing up to go home and shower for once.

The program lost its mind the same way the wristlets would be. EXO-7 Suit 2 had lost all BPI and dropped elevation until… It hit the ground and went off line.

Bucky was pretty sure he passed out because he opened his eyes and he was on the ground, staring up at the fluorescents. There was almost no way to know for sure which pilot was in which suit. Suit 2, the Redwing suit, was usually Riley’s, but there was nothing to say that Sam hadn’t grabbed it that night. It would be about 2.30 in the morning over there. Mission like that could’ve been last minute. Could’ve taken them right out of bed. They could’ve grabbed whatever was closest. And Sam and Riley shared everything down to toothbrushes.

Bucky could comb through the data from the minutes previous. Try to rationalize out the BPI readings and find patterns, but the point of it being Sam and Riley was that they were similar pilots. Their build, their resting heart rate, the way they jumped into action. It was like watching twins move. Their readings weren’t different enough to prove anything, even if Bucky could make his arms and hands work enough to scroll back.

The other suit was still online. It dove halfway down before stopping as the radar lit up with projectiles. Again and again, like a bird dashing into traffic for another’s dead body, Falcon tried to get down to Redwing against enemy fire.

Bucky snatched his computer from its dock and raced to the elevator. His hands were shaking so badly he hit a few numbers below. The elevator went up to 88 and Bucky jabbed the door close button over and over. 89. 90. 91.

Bucky burst out on floor 92, tried not to think about the fact that just looking at elevator buttons had made him start crying, and ran towards Stark’s workstation.

“Call Rhodes!” he shouted and didn’t give a shit about the tears in his voice. “Call Colonel Rhodes right now.”

Stark sprawled upright, having apparently been asleep, and reached for his phone before narrowing his bleary eyes at Bucky.

“Barnes? What’s going on?” he asked.

Bucky set the computer down on a mess of other electronics. “One of...one of… Fuck!” A sob ripped its way out of his throat and he angrily swiped the heel of his hand across his eyes. “One of the suits went down. Someone...someone…”

“Shit,” Stark said and grabbed the phone again. He scrolled through the data reports and flinched which made Bucky snatch the computer back to look at what he was seeing. It was the radar report for Redwing. A large, explosive projectile had been launched into radar zone just before the suit fell. Bucky dropped the laptop and it landed lid first in a box of papers but didn’t shut so he still saw the WARNING WARNING WARN--

“Rhodey,” Stark said. “Rhodey, what’s going on on that end? No, I said I’d stay out of it if-- I don’t care. I’ve got-- Rhodey don’t you--” He fell silent but Bucky could hear Rhodes speaking on the other end. Stark kept shooting glances at Bucky and flinching like he didn’t have control of his body. “Alright. Thank you. That wasn’t so hard. Yeah. Yeah. No, I won’t tell anyone. No, not even Barnes,” he said. “Yes, especially not Barnes.”

He hung up and then looked at Bucky. “I’m not telling you this. It wasn’t Sam.”

Bucky fell back to the ground, catching himself on his knees this time. His arms were too heavy to pick up and the tears were falling even faster now that he knew Sam was okay. Because if Sam was okay that meant that Riley… That meant that Riley… That meant that Riley was wearing the Redwing suit.

Bucky curled into himself on the floor and screamed until his throat went sore. Stark, bless him, did not try to comfort him. He fell forward enough to press his forehead to the tile and shouted again, banged his fists on the floor and then buried them in his hair instead.

He did not go home.

Stark gave Bucky a cot to keep in his office. Bucky learned to live on it while he stared at the computer screen. That night, Sam had given up on getting to the ground and had to retreat. The suit was taken off and it had been quiet since. That did not stop Bucky from staring at it. One night, it pinged a reading--something like 3 PM their time--and Bucky watched the jetpack get taken up into the air. Higher and higher and higher and higher. Higher than he’d ever meant for them to go. High enough that he started to worry for whoever was wearing it. They were running out of oxygen. It better not have been Sam.

Then the wings retracted and the suit plummeted. Bucky nearly knocked his computer over jumping up. There was nothing in the vital readings to suggest the pilot had lost consciousness or suffered any medical episode. They were just falling. And it wasn’t a mechanical malfunction. The wings had been pulled in.

The pilot was letting themselves fall.

It better not be Sam.

Bucky was really going to watch another one die. He was going to see Sam k*** himself.

The pilot opened their wings ten feet before impact and soared back up, looping around one and then landing heavily on the ground.

The wings came back off.

Sam did it four more times, once each night, before the wings came off and stayed off.

That’s when the GPS started to move.

Two days later, Bucky was at an airport.

It had been slightly more than a week since Riley died. Riley died. Riley died. The words were wrong in Bucky’s head. His tongue rejected them without even trying to say it.

Here’s what Bucky knew about Riley. He knew Sam and Riley had known each other since their first tour. He knew that they took their education leave at the same time, went to the same school, and lived together for the three years it took them to get a degree. He knew Riley knew Sam better than Bucky did. He knew Sam had a sister who loved Riley like another brother. He knew Riley loved Sam like his own brother and Sam loved him back.

He knew that in the nine months he and Sam had been dating, he’d really only give himself six, maybe seven of those because Riley got the rest of the time and half time for the months Bucky did claim. He knew Sam called Riley before he called Bucky when he was upset. He knew Riley was such a good fucking guy and so important to Sam that that didn’t even make Bucky jealous.

He knew that Riley didn’t like coffee unless it had been turned into a sweet drink and had whipped cream on it. He knew Riley was from the middle of nowhere and sometimes talked like an obnoxious parody of a cowboy when he was tired or drunk and definitely when he was both. He knew he was a baker. He knew he liked poetry. He kept books in his army bag.

But even if he didn’t know that and nine months worth of other things, the only thing he needed to know was that Sam loved Riley more than he loved breath in his lungs or wings on his back. He loved Riley to the point of giving up concert tickets because Riley got sick and couldn’t go. He loved Riley enough to listen to bad country music in the car. He loved Riley more than he loved sex, if the number of nights he cut out on dates or netflix and chill to pull Riley out of a bad decision was anything to go by.

Sam loved Riley, Riley loved Sam, and Bucky loved Sam so Bucky loved Riley.

And Riley was dead.

Bucky had paced a hole in the floor waiting on Sam. His flight had been delayed three times already and they were two hours past the first arrival time. Energy and despair and hurt thrummed through his body and Bucky couldn’t dispel it no matter how hard he tried. He’d tried to use the gym at the tower. He’d tried to run it off. He’d tried to eat. Tried to not eat. Tried to sleep. Tried to not sleep.

Okay, that one he didn’t need to try to do. He just didn’t sleep.

It remained, locked around his heart and his head.

Sam was coming back on his own. They apparently hadn’t been stationed with a real unit, so there was no one else to send home. Even if they had been with a real unit, Sam was the only one who needed bereavement. So there was no sea of camo or cropped hair to alert Bucky that Sam was coming.

One second he was alone in his grief, the next second Sam was stepping off the elevator. They met halfway across the floor. Bucky was surprised there wasn’t a noise as they crashed together, arms coming around bodies, faces pressed to shoulders, tears escaping again. Sam wasn't in his fatigues or civvies. There was nothing distinctly airforce about him, so they were just two men losing it in each other’s arms and no one knew the depth of it.

Bucky thought about apologizing but there was nothing to apologize for. There were no words to do so anyway. So he just held onto Sam, one hand coming to the back of his head to hold him close. Sam sobbed once, twice, and then collected himself.

Bucky had no idea how long they stood like that. He could’ve stayed for days longer. The hole in his heart was still very much so there. But the luggage turnstile next to them had turned on and off four times and Bucky really wanted to get home and cry in private.

“Baby, let’s go,” he murmured softly, kissing Sam’s chin and then his cheek. “Let’s get you home.”

“I-I-I need to get to our storage unit. I need to-to sort his things,” Sam hiccuped without lifting his head.

“Later. Not right now. You’re coming home with me, alright?”

Sam nodded and wiped his eyes on Bucky’s shoulder. He lifted his head and actually looked at Bucky for the first time all afternoon.

“Hey,” Bucky breathed, brushing his thumb over Sam’s cheek to catch other tears.

Sam held his wrist and kissed his palm. “Hey.” He leaned down to kiss Bucky, tentative at first and then Bucky remembered that he’d thought it was Sam who’d gone down in Redwing for three minutes. He’d watched Sam free fall hundreds of meters to the sand below over and over. He’d almost lost him so many times. And Bucky crashed into him all over again and Sam pushed back. New tears fell, mingling together against their noses and lips and pressed cheeks.

“I can’t lose you,” Sam breathed into Bucky’s mouth. “Not you too.”

“Don’t you ever scare me like that again,” Bucky said.

Sam’s mouth slid off of his, anguish on his face again. His forehead leaned against Bucky’s temple. “He’s gone, Buck. I couldn’t even look for…”

Bucky squeezed his eyes shut and saw Falcon dashing through enemy fire. “I know, Sam. I know. You tried.”

“Not hard enough. I saw it on the radar before he did. I was going to call out but I…I didn’t, Buck. I didn’t say anything.”

Bucky had nothing to say to that so he wrapped Sam in his arms again. “Let’s go home, Sam. There’s nothing else we can do here. Just breathe for me. Come on.”

Bucky grabbed Sam’s bag and lead him out of the terminal.

Sam slept on the floor, which was fine by Bucky. Something about how beds were too soft. After a week on a cot, Bucky might’ve thought the same thing. So he shoved his coffee table out of the way and threw all the pillows he owned on the floor and laid down several blankets and they slept on the floor.

Sam barely spoke the next day.

He went through the motions of washing dishes after Bucky made breakfast. It was just cereal, so there was little to clean up. He turned on the TV and let it play a documentary about the oceans. It played all day. Over and over. Bucky was pretty certain he could ask Sam anything about it and Sam wouldn’t be able to answer. He ate barely half a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for lunch. He read a book of poetry on the floor all afternoon. He ate dinner and Bucky washed the plates.

The second day was much the same, but then Sam was agitated. He flipped through shows and got mad when he couldn’t figure out what to watch. He slammed doors when he left rooms. He threw the pillows and blankets on the couch when he lost his phone, which he hadn’t been answering at all anyway. Bucky had left it plugged in on the arm of the couch. They skipped dinner that night and sat on the couch with the TV off and Sam laid in Bucky’s lap and cried again. They fell asleep like that.

The third day, Sam got up and made breakfast. It was cereal again. Bucky put on music. Sam washed the clothes in his bag. Handed Bucky a beautiful leather bracelet he’d picked up when they’d first landed overseas. Gave him another box and managed to say, “For the birthday he missed,” before he dashed to the bathroom and got sick. Bucky left the box on a bookshelf and went to Sam’s side, rubbing his back and massaging his neck. The gift was a jean and sheepswool jacket. They skipped dinner again.

The fourth day, they sat on the floor, staring at the bare couch. Bucky got tired of counting how many buttons had gone missing, so he said, “You have to talk about it.”

Sam choked but didn’t run for the bathroom. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Sam, you can’t keep it bottled up. Listen, after I got back from…”

“You wanna talk about things we should talk about: how’d you lose your arm, Bucky?”

“This isn’t about me. And I was just about to tell you that when I got back from my mission, I had to do a shit ton of therapy. And I hated it. And it took me a really long time to start being honest, but once I did, it helped me recover more than getting a new arm did.”

“How’d you lose your arm?”

“I saw him go down. I saw all the readings.”

“That’s not the same thing. I watched my best friend…” Sam gagged again and brought his hands up to his mouth. Tears filled his eyes and Bucky was sure it was a combination of getting sick and being upset. “I watched him die. I don’t know why I even thought I could find a body. I could… Fucking pieces if I’d gotten to the ground. That would’ve been it.” Bucky flinched and Sam zeroed in on it. “That what you wanted to hear, Barnes? Is that what I needed to say to heal myself? My best friend is dead. Maybe his body could be cold before you ask me to fix myself.”

Bucky squeezed his eyes shut. “That’s not what I was saying, Sam. Don’t attack me. I’m on your side.”

Sam stood suddenly, swayed on his feet, then found his balance. “I’m going to shower. Please just...give me time to myself right now.”

Bucky dropped his head to the couch.

The fifth day, they were both called into Stark Tower by Rhodes.

It was too early, Bucky thought, to ask Sam to do more debrief. It was too early to ask him to face the world. Bucky had laid on his sister’s couch for two weeks before he could so much as answer the door when he got back.

Sam was in a mood again. Actually, the mood hadn’t ever lessened from the afternoon before. It was back to the silent treatment and if Bucky did push him to say something, he’d be cruel and biting, over descriptive and intentionally mean. Nothing at all like Sam. Or maybe, just like him. This was, after all, Sam at his lowest. How was Bucky to know what that looked like? The only man who could’ve told him was dead.

Bucky had called ahead and had two of the strongest, plainest black coffees waiting in the lobby of Stark Tower for him and Sam. Anything that wouldn’t smell like Riley. They got into the elevator alone and Bucky passed Sam one of the coffees. The doors closed and before Sam could reach over and choose floor 92, Bucky selected 2 - 91.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Sam asked. It could’ve been a snarl if the day hadn’t already been so long. If they hadn’t already argued about Bucky wearing the jacket Riley had given him. If Sam hadn’t knocked a glass off the coffee table and shattered it on accident then cut his fingers picking up shards. If Bucky hadn’t slept in his bed like a normal person.

“We have to talk,” Bucky said.

“I don’t...fucking want to talk,” Sam said, trying to double click the floors like something said would unhighlight them. It didn’t. The doors opened on the second floor.

The doors shut. “I saw what you did the days after Riley died.”

“Don’t fucking say that,” Sam snapped, like he hadn’t told Bucky this morning about the blood that had been on his suit when he landed.

“I saw you free fall. Over and over. I watched that, Sam.”

Sam’s jaw steeled and he stared at his reflection in the stainless steel siding. “I free fall all the time. It’s one of the things we learn how to do.”

“Not like that, Wilson. You went into the fucking atmosphere. There’s no telling what the wings would have done at the speeds you were clocking.”

Sam’s mouth remained a straight line.

“You could’ve died,” Bucky said to get it out there.

“Good,” Sam said, ripping off the bandaid.

The doors opened on the fifth floor. “Don’t,” they both said to the woman who tried to step in.

“I’m still here,” Bucky said.

“I know. And I’m sorry I did that. I’m sorry I felt that way. I’m sorry I still feel that way. I can’t make myself stop.”

Bucky swallowed hard and rubbed the heels of his hands into his eyes. “Sam...I tried too, alright? You don’t… I haven’t told you the whole story about my discharge and I will one day. This isn’t the day for that. But my story isn’t clean. Not even close. And I tried it too. I thought that’d be a lot simpler than the bullshit I was about to go through. I thought it’d be a justice for the people involved in my story.”

Sam looked at Bucky sharply, eyes red, tears wet on his cheeks.

“It wouldn’t’ve been. So I need you to tell me what’s going on and how we can fix this.”

Slowly, the fight seeped out of Sam’s shoulders. Common ground at last. A shock to his system. A bitter, bitter win for Bucky for the time being. Sam sank down and stared at his coffee cup. “I’ve known Riley for over a decade. More than anyone else in my life who ain’t blood.”

Bucky sat beside him. The elevator stopped on three floors.

“I’ve known him for a third of my life. The first serious third. I think I grew up more with him than anyone I went to school with. I’ve never had to do this on my own. He was always right next to me. I haven’t made a decision without asking him since I decided to sign up.”

“So, poor track record of making your own decisions,” Bucky joked softly.

“I was going to let myself do it,” Sam whispered then. “I wasn’t going to pull the wings back out.” Bucky’s heart went cold and still in his chest before roaring back to life. “I’m sorry you could see the readings. I didn’t know that.”

“I’m not upset I saw it. I’m upset that you felt the need to do it.”

Sam looked over at him. “Sure, but let me ask, what stopped you from following through?”

Bucky stomach twisted painfully. It was his turn to get nauseous. “I didn’t want my sister to find me. It wouldn’t be fair to her.”

Sam nodded. “If I know you might be watching those readings, I won’t be able to do it again.”

Bucky nodded and brought the coffee to his lips. It scorched his mouth and throat and he didn’t taste it all but the point wasn’t the taste. The doors opened on the seventeenth floor.

“We’re going up,” Sam said in a quiet voice.

The doors closed.

“He was my friend too,” Bucky said, voice raw. “You can talk to me about him.”

“I know that. I’m just not in the sharing mood right now.”

The doors opened. Closed. Opened. Closed. Opened. Closed.

“I fell off a train,” Bucky said. “I told you my SpecOps mission was in the mountains. I was knocked out of a moving train going around the side of a mountain and I… I’m not really sure how it happened. I might’ve reached out for the cliff face. I might’ve just hit it on the way down. I didn’t have my arm when I woke up on the ground.”

“Well, shit, maybe a bear ate it while you were out.”

“Nah, the doctors said it was too smooth. It was ripped off all at once.”

Sam flinched and then closed his eyes.

“I actually had a little bit left. I dunno, half of my upper arm, maybe. It was removed later. So, I guess it wasn’t that smooth and pretty. You know what I remember most?”

Sam hummed without lifting his head.

“I remember the jacket I was wearing. We’d been undercover when we were called into action. I was wearing a beautiful jacket that I’d picked up somewhere when the mission was still an adventure and not a nightmare. And I remember laying in the snow, looking at all that blood and my missing arm and being upset that my jacket had been ruined.”

Sam snorted and then lost the battle against sobs again. He set the coffee aside and moved over to hug Bucky, crying into his shoulder. Bucky wrapped his arms around Sam and kissed his hair. “We’re gonna get through this, Sam. You’ve just gotta trust me to hold you up. And you’ve gotta trust me to be on your side. I’m not gonna say shit to make you follow the rules or whatever. I’m gonna say shit that helped me, rules be damned.”

“I miss him so much. It’s only been five days. How am I supposed to go seventy more years without him? I’ve called his number a hundred times already and no one ever picks up.”

Bucky rubbed Sam’s back and nodded. “I know, baby. C’mere.” He pulled Sam more into his lap. Sam clutched at his shirt with trembling fingers “I’m gonna be right here. You don’t have to do this alone.”

“I feel so fucking alone.”

“You’re not, Sam. I’m right here. I’m with you.”

Sam pressed his face further against Bucky’s neck and Bucky felt his tears, cool and heartbreaking. He didn’t have words. He just kept rubbing his hands over Sam’s back, kissing his temple and his hair and saying, “I’m here, I’m here, I’m here.” Hoping Sam would hear him through his grief and believe it.

He held him for forty more floors and they cried together. The elevator continued ever upwards. They pushed forward ever onwards.

“I’m right here,” Bucky said as the doors opened on floor 92. Sam nodded against his shoulder and slowly stood up.

Upwards and onwards.

#sambucky #sambucky fanfic #sambucky fanfiction #sam wilson #bucky barnes #the falcon and the winter soldier #the falcon #winter soldier #captain america #writing #i answer things

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katie-writes24 · 4 years

Text

Standing Right In Front Of You

Pairings: Alexander Hamilton x reader, Thomas Jefferson x reader

Warnings: a complete VENT, indecisive reader, kinda fluffy in the end, the reader is l o n g i n g, but overall sad and unfair :(, mean girl Eliza if you think about it

OKAY! So, I had a thought the other day, since I’m a total sucker for the Alex vs Thomas fics, because truly, I love them both. So, I thought: let me make a fic where you could really choose who you, as the reader, want to be shipped with? Or, even better, can be BOTH! I hope that makes sense, because despite not having a real ending, I left it open so you can choose which man you want to go for, even though both are shown to have feelings for the reader? Okay, anyway, next thing. Where am I to ever figure out a plot for this fic, you ask? Well...I totally based this off an episode of The Office. I have NO regrets! DM me if you know what episode this if from hehe! Okay, sorry I’m rambling, enjoy! I love feedback, and let me know if you wanna be tagged!

The party was in full swing; with the sun setting and various kinds of alcohol being passed around, everyone was warm and giddy. People were dancing in the middle of the room, others were sitting at tables laughing. The top lights had been dimmed and replaced with flashing lights of different colors near the stage.

It was definitely a kind of party that Y/N wasn't used to.

Once the ceremony was over, they had moved inside and she hadn't left her seat since. John had left to go dance and Anjelica only came to talk to her every once in a while. Currently, Y/N was sipping on her straw and watching the crowd in front of her.

She was lost in her own thoughts and when she heard the chair beside her scrape across the tile floor, she jumped in her seat.

"Some party, huh?" Alexander sat and looked across the room before lookign at Y/N.

"Yeah, it's uh...it's nice," She shrugged and sat up in her chair, suddenly becoming nervous from the man being so close to her.

"I bet you twenty bucks that John ends up bellyflopping on a table," Alexander smirked as he watched his friend do shots with Hercules and Lafayette.

Y/N scoffed, "I bet you double that the three musketeers try and steal the swan over there."

They both laughed as Lafayette looked suspiciously at the ice sculpture in the corner, whispering to John and pointing accusingly.

"You know what, I don't doubt that," Alexander folded his hands behind his head as he leaned back. "So, when are we going to see those dance moves? A little birdie told me that you can swing pretty good."

Y/N rolled her eyes, "Whoever told you that was a liar, I've never danced in my life." Alexander obviously wasn't buying the lie as he looked up at the ceiling and groaned.

"That's not true, I know you can at least do a shimmy!" Alexander raised a brow teasingly as she gave a glare.

"That's what you want to see? A shimmy? How classy." Y/N tossed her hair over her shoulder and ducked her head, oblivious to the way Alexander was looking her up and down adoringly.

"So, I was thinking-" Alexander was cut short by the burst of excitement from Eliza, who wrapped her arms around his shoulders and giggled.

"I am loving this venue," Her eyes were lit up in excitement, Y/N always wish she had her attitude of constant positivity and bliss. "I'm so glad we got to come!"

Alexander looked up at her with a soft smile, caressing her arm with his hand. He looked peaceful, looked at Eliza with adoration. Something lovingly.

Something Y/N would never have with him.

"You know this could fit maybe another fifty people, Alex? It would be a perfect place to hold another wedding don't you think?" Eliza rambled on and on and Y/N had to sip on her drink in order to keep her mouth shut. She couldn't stand that they were talking about their hypothetical wedding in front of her, not that they could know that it bothered her that much. They couldn't understand that Y/N was pained every time they kissed, or every time they called each other cute pet names. They didn't understand that she aches for Alexander and his warm hands and witty smile.

They didn't understand that she craved something she could never have.

Before they could talk about their future even more (if she heard the names of their children, she might explode), Aaron came over and clapped Alexander on the shoulder. Eliza gave him a hug and a wide smile.

"Glad you could all make it," Aaron smiled and kissed the top of Y/N's head.

"Congratulations, Aaron! This really is a beautiful set up!" Eliza smiled at him as Y/N put her drink down.

"Yeah? I thought it would be too much, but this is what Theo wanted, and if it makes her happy, then I'm happy." It was so sappy that Y/N wanted to punch him in the face.

Screw everyone being in love and happy, I want that, too.

An upbeat song started playing and Eliza gasped, "I love this song! Alex, babe, come dance with me!" She took his hand and pulled him to the dance floor. Alexander went easily, smiling at Eliza with such passion.

Y/N had to admit, she had never seen Alexander happier than now. Ever since the two started dating, he smiled more and was high spirited, he even took days off from work, could you imagine?

She must of had a somber look on her face because Aaron placed a hand on her shoulder and looked down at her with a sympathetic look in his eyes. "You okay?"

Y/N nodded, "I'm fine..."

Aaron pursed his lips, but nodded nonetheless. He knew about her feelings, at least that's what he thought it was. To Y/N, it was something that grew incredibly.

She used to only imagine what his lips would feel like, imagined what it would be like with his arm around her shoulder. Now, she imagined how he would look in the morning, when the sun would wrap around his skin. She imagined if he would whisper to her late at night, when the world was quiet. She imagined what he was like when he just came back from work, if he would be all grumpy, or if he'd want to take a shower, or if he'd just wrap his hands around her waist and give her a kiss on the neck and tell her about his day.

But she didn't tell anybody that, of course not. Because it didn't matter. He probably did all those things with Eliza anyway.

"Well, I'm gonna give Laurens some water before he knocks something expensive over," Aaron tapped the chair and went to walk away, but Y/N called his name.

"Congratulations, I'm really happy for you," She smiled and he returned it before walking away.

The song switched to something slow and Y/N kept her eyes on her cup, refusing to look up because she knew her eyes would land on Alexander holding Eliza close as they swayed slowly.

Yet, temptation fought her, and the moment she looked up she saw them. Alexander was resting his cheek against Eliza's, whispering something in her ear. Her arms were wrapped tightly around his neck and their bodies were closer than imagined.

Moments passed and she was still watching them, a mix of envy and guilt resting in her chest. Suddenly, Alexander's gaze found hers and she quickly looked away, pretending like nothing happened.

Footsteps approached her and she saw Thomas walk over, waving softly. "There you are,"

"Hey, Thomas," She sighed, hoping that he didn't notice the way her mood changed, how she was totally different than earlier that afternoon, when they talked in the courtyard briefly, his smart charm making her laugh.

"Well, don't sound so excited to see me," He raised a brow and sat in the chair Alexander had previously been in.

"No, sorry...just- it wasn't at you," Y/N rubbed her temples and sighed again, looking up at him and giving a half smile. "Sorry."

"No worries," Thomas smirks and lays his arm on the back of her chair. "Nice ceremony, huh?"

"Yeah, it was beautiful," She never been to a beach wedding before, and while she didn't appreciate the sand in her shoes, she liked the fresh air. She wouldn't mind having a beach wedding one day, if she found someone who she could spend the rest of her life with, someone who appreciates her and listens and laughs with her and loves her.

Once again, her eyes fall on Alexander, and she pushes the thoughts away.

Thomas follows her eyes and clears his throat, "You want to dance?" He holds out his hand, and Y/N is hesitant before she takes it.

He has big hands, promising hands. They hold her own with such care, and as he lead them to the dance floor, his grip staying the same.

Thomas wrapped one arm around her waist and held her own hand with his other. Y/N held onto the back of his shoulder with her free hand, and for a while they just held each other close.

Y/N could feel his breath near her ear, his fingers finally intertwining with hers. It made her stomach flip, not used to such affection. She leaned against him and laid her head on his shoulder, closing her eyes.

It was peaceful.

While others around them danced in a soft sway, they moved slowly in a circle, more focused on each other's warmth than the actual dance. As Y/N buried her face into his neck, she could hear him swallow. She hoped he was feeling what she was feeling.

Seconds passed, maybe minutes or hours, she couldn't tell, too lost in the tempo of the song in the background mixed with the safe feeling she had. Suddenly, Thomas was pulling back, licking his lips and looking at her with soft eyes.

"Y/N, do you want to get out of here?" He asked nervously, she'd never heard him sound so shaky. Looking into those dark orbs, she knew that he held promise, of what, she didn't know yet. But, she'd like to find out.

"Yeah," Y/N whispered and he nodded firmly. He took their untwined hands and lead them back to her table, gathering her purse and saying goodbye to the others at the table. As they headed for the door, she looked back to the dance floor to find Alexander looking back at her.

It made her pause; he looked unsure, eyebrows raised and mouth parted slightly.

Y/N would like to think that one day, he would try. He would stop distracting himself with work and worrying about what's next. He would sit down and have an honest conversation about them and that he would let her see that vulnerability that he hides so well. She'd like to think that they would be the one dancing right now, or even the ones sneaking out.

It was too late.

She mentally shook herself as she blinked, looking away and walking out of the reception, the look of what seemed to be heartbreak on Alexander's face.

Let me know if you want to be tagged!!!!

@notebookgirl30 @dontblinkumightmiss @companionjones @tinywhim @checkurwindow @21bruhs

#hamilton #alexander hamilton x reader #thomas jefferson x reader #alexander hamilton x oc #Hamilton imagine #hamilton fanfiction #hamilton fanfic #thomas Jefferson x oc #thomas jefferson imagine #my writings #I did a THING #i actually really like this one :)#but Alex is such a heartbreaker #Alexander when will you get your shit together

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janeykath318 · 3 years

Text

Family Ties and Flirty Guys

“What brings you back here, Doctor?” Sam asked, making her blush a bit with the way he emphasized her new title.

“You, for one,” Darcy told him, eyes looking him up and down approvingly. She was just as pretty and charming as he remembered and he didn’t feel averse to picking up where they left off if she showed signs of being interested.

“Oh?” He asked, smirking a bit.

“Yeah,” she confirmed with a fleeting, almost nervous smile. “I’ve heard of your exploits with Bucky lately and the unfortunate episode with the fake Captain America.”

Sam winced and Darcy sighed, eyes glancing at the shield in his hand.

“It looks good on you,” she said simply.

“Thanks,” Sam acknowledged. “But why else are you here? Not that I’m not happy to see you…”

She chuckled awkwardly and he saw she was holding a file folder in her hand.

“So, I was doing a little research into my family tree for funsies when I stumbled upon this.”

She held out a piece of paper and Sam’s eyes widened.

“You mean…..”

“Yep,” she confirmed proudly. “Is he here?”

“Last I saw, he was fishing with my nephews,” he told her. “Want me to take you to him?”

“Sure, if it’s no trouble,” she said nervously. “I’d better speak up now before I chicken out. I hope he won’t think I’m crazy.”

“I think he’ll be elated to find out he has living family,” Sam told her seriously. “The records you have make it pretty clear you can back it up.”

So, in a few minutes, Darcy was following Sam to the docks, where three figures were having the time of their lives. Bucky looked a lot different from the last time she’d seen him, but he was joking and smiling with the kids, who were plainly having the time of their lives.

“Wow. He’s great with kids,” she commented.

“I know. They took to him pretty fast,” Sam admitted. “Never would have guessed it.”

“Are the two of you…...okay?” She asked. “I remember your epic clashes back in the old days. But Steve was there to keep the peace.”

Sam looked thoughtfully off into the distance.

“We’re in a better place, I’d say. We’ve been able to finally have conversations that should have happened a long time ago. He can be a pain in the ass, but he’s a great guy. Never tell him I said that, though.”

Darcy laughed and Bucky suddenly noticed them.

“You bringing girls home, Sam?” He yelled smugly, standing up and putting his hands on his hips. The boys giggled beside him.

“Zip it, Barnes!” Darcy yelled back. “If anything, I’d take HIM home.

Bucky’s smile got even bigger and he rushed over to join them, grabbing Darcy in a hug.

“Lewis! Long time no see!”

Darcy smiled as she was bodily lifted and twirled around before being set back on her feet.

“Yeah. Right back atcha. I see you got tired of the hobo chic look.”

Sam snorted and Bucky chuckled, rubbing his head self-consciously.

“Yeah. I got tired of hair flying in my face in a fight,” he explained. “S’not practical. But what brings you all the way out here, other than hitting on Sam?”

There were more giggles from the boys and Sam fixed them with a stern look before glancing at Darcy and leading the kids away to give her some privacy.

Darcy stood in front of Bucky, trying to find the right words to break it to him gently, but in the end the first thing that came out of her mouth was “You’re my great-great uncle!”

Quite naturally, Bucky looked at her like she was off her rocker, and Darcy face-palmed with the hand that was not holding the paper.

“Ummm, here,” she sighed, handing him the paper. “It’s from the records I found when researching my family tree. I meant to ease into it, but my big ole mouth just went and got ahead of my brain.”

His eyes widened as he read it and a rather incredulous smile lit up his face.

“Here I was thinking I had no living relatives,” Bucky said in wonder. “No wonder we were so in synch in our mischief making. Genetics.”

He hugged Darcy again, this time much longer. She could practically feel the delight radiating off of him and it made her feel very satisfied in the decision she’d made. Back in the pre-Snap world, Darcy had befriended Bucky and roped him into her prank schemes against the avengers. He was super stealthy, so no one but Natasha ever knew who was really responsible for the terror rained down upon their friends. Their crowning achievements had included glitter on Steve’s helmet and shield, smiley faces on Tony’s suit, and trick arrows that squawked like chickens when fired. (The look on Clint’s face!!)

“So, should I call you Uncle James now?” She asked slyly, grinning at him again.

He groaned and shook his head decidedly.

“No. That just makes me feel old,” he declared.

“Well, you technically are.”

“In that case, respect your elders, young lady,” he said, wagging his finger and making his voice creaky. “Oh, and get off my lawn!”

They doubled over laughing until Sam came back and shook his head at them.

“I hate to interrupt this charming family reunion,” he said dryly. “But I’d like a turn to catch up with Doctor Lewis here. We have some unfinished business.”

He looked at her meaningfully and Darcy fluttered her eyelashes. Sam was very good at saying a lot with one look, and she was liking what that said very much.

Bucky’s eyes narrowed and he looked between them suspiciously, clenching his metal hand a bit.

A woman appeared on the porch and suddenly, his whole demeanor shifted and he smiled an utterly charming smile and strolled toward her.

Sam groaned and face palmed.

“He seems smitten,” Darcy remarked, eying the way Bucky was chatting up the woman, whom Darcy guessed was probably Sam’s sister. She’d never met her, but he’d mentioned her quite a few times.

“Unfortunately.” Sam snorted. “I warned him not to flirt with her or I’d feed him to the fish, but does he listen? No!”

“Well, I guess you’ll get some good payback if he sees you flirting with his great-great niece,” Darcy suggested, a very sly expression in her blue eyes. “And lay it on thick. I want to scandalize him.”

“Man, I’ve missed you,” Sam stated, grinning evilly as he pondered how awesome Darcy was and how he could annoy Bucky the most.

“And I’ve missed you, too,” she told him, giving him the hug she’d been wanting to for a long time.

They talked outside for a long time, discussing Darcy’s journey to getting her doctorate and the adventure in Westview, and Sam’s struggle with the legacy of the shield and the mess with John Walker.

Darcy’s eyes were wet when he’d finished and for a moment she didn’t say anything, just stood there in supportive silence.

“That is a LOT. Wow, Sam.”

She shook her head, then stepped forward and poked him in the chest.

“The world needs more heroes like you, and that’s the truth. You, Sam Wilson, are a good man. Steve knew that and the rest of the world is going to know that too.”

Before Sam could respond to this, a voice yelled out, “Sam! Don’t make her stand there all day! Bring her in and introduce us!”

“Sarah?” Darcy asked, with a knowing smile.

“Yup,” Sam sighed. “And that was her mom voice, so we’d better get going.”

When they made it inside, Bucky was helping Sarah put dinner on the table and being far too friendly about it, in Sam’s opinion. Before he could give his friend a quelling death glare, he felt a soft hand wrap around his arm as Darcy scooted in close.

“Remember the plan?” She whispered, giving him a flirtatious smile.

Sam swallowed hard. He wasn’t sure it was such a good plan now, but he found he wasn’t willing to object, so he smiled right back at her and went along with it.

Darcy was a big hit with the rest of the Wilson family and soon had the boys captivated as she told the story of how she’d met Thor and tased him.

“And how did you wind up meeting these two?” Sarah asked, nodding at Sam and Bucky, who were currently engaged in another stare down. Bucky had caught Sam holding Darcy’s hand and had nearly turned purple. Darcy thought it was both hilarious and adorable how protective both men were being.

“I met Sam when sad puppy Steve brought him in after the whole mess in DC. I was visiting one of the Avengers facilities and saw him swooping around and oh, boy, I was Very Intrigued, to say the least.”

She winked suggestively at Sam, who smirked.

“I met Bucky here a few months later when he was on his Destroy All Hydra bases rampage and he happened to hit the one I was held hostage in. Normally, I’m pretty good at being self-rescuing, but Hydra is Hydra. He found me in the Nick of time.”

She gave Bucky a grateful look, and he nodded in acknowledgment, both feeling even more thankful for the rescue now.

“Sounds like you’ve had a lot of adventures, Darcy,” Sarah commented.

“Yeah,” Darcy chuckled. “It would probably be better for my nerves and blood pressure if I just hung around non-superheroes, but I’ve become too attached to them. They’re just so darn irresistible!”

She looked up at Sam with an exaggerated adoring smile and he gave her back a look that had her getting hot all over.

Bucky glowered and paid Sarah another compliment.

And so on it went until Sarah shooed the boys off to bed and Darcy was on the porch standing between Sam and Bucky, who were both piling up the spoken and unspoken threats.

“If you hurt her, Wilson, I’ll go full Winter Soldier on your ass!” Bucky growled.

“Oh, yeah? And if you hurt HER, I will drop your ass from five hundred feet, THEN feed you to the fishes!” Sam shot back.

“Down, Boys!” Darcy soothed, laying a hand on each of their arms.

“Sarah and I are perfectly capable of kicking the butts of whoever hurts us, but somehow, I don’t think either of you will. Now, can we all peaceably say goodbye, so I can give my man a Goodnight kiss?”

Grudgingly, the men shook hands and Bucky gave her a huge hug.

“Look me up when you get back to New York,” she told him. “I’ve got some old photos you might want so see.”

“I sure will, Darcy. Thank you. This means so much to me,” he said earnestly.

When Bucky had gone around to the back, Sam moved in close.

“Were you serious about that Goodnight kiss, Lewis?” He asked.

“Very serious,” Darcy grinned, rising up on tiptoes as he leaned down. It was a very good thing Bucky left, she reflected afterwards. Sam sure knew how to make a girl’s knees weak!

#TaserWings #darcy lewis #Sam Wilson

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obxdrewseph · 4 years

Text

Hard to Love - Rafe Cameron

Description: Pushing away people came easy to you. You pushed away your friends when they urged you to get out more and you pushed away your family when they urged you to eat more. You felt like a burden to everyone and you didn’t want that. You were hard to love with your harsh attitude and pickiness. Once Rafe Cameron, your new friend and classmate, tries to convince you to give him a chance, you wonder what it would mean to be a girlfriend-- someone who gives love and receives it... you wonder: are you even capable of being loved?

so this is sort of a continuation of High Maintenance, but also can be read as a standalone? I thought it would be interesting to explore the romantic relationship that didn’t get to develop in that fic ... so here ya go! :D

--------

Being your friend was hard, but being your boyfriend was much harder (not that you had one yet, just for future reference).

Being your friend was hard because you cancelled plans last minute because of chronic pain/aching or because you were going through a depressive episode that made you unable to socialize.

No one talks about the mental side of physical pain.

Trust me, you wouldn’t be nice either if you were hungry half of the day and in pain the other half.

You didn’t want your diet to define you, yet it was like you revolved your entire life around your meal times.

You pushed your friends away who wouldn’t do enough research on your condition. You obviously didn’t expect them to look up everything about it, but when they gave you food you couldn’t eat or asked you to go on hikes you couldn’t trek without feeling dizzy (or even fainting), you couldn’t help but distance yourself.

You didn’t want to share all your negativity with them; they didn’t deserve that.

You were used to being the rock of your group; not exactly the mom friend, but the happy, funny friend everyone went to for a laugh or to have fun. You weren’t the one with problems. You didn’t get to be that person.

You didn’t want to be that person.

“I’m a fucking idiot!” You shouted at no one in particular.

“We know!”

You glared at the girl standing in the hallway who happened to be your best friend and your house mate. You and 3 other girls decided to stay in apartment together for your freshman year and you never regretted your decision. You could never live in the dorms with people making noise all day and night.

You were already agitated all the time.

“Go away, Ames.”

The girl sighed.

“I made some rice krispies. Do you want some?”

Yes.

“No. I’m not hungry.”

That was a lie.

“Ok, well then why are you so upset today?”

You paused, wondering if you should confide in her. Despite you guys being best friends, you never truly felt like you could confide in anyone. It was a fucking miracle that you spilled so much to Rafe Cameron, a boy you never thought would become one of your best friends. You honestly thought he would leave you the second you got off that wooden bench, yet you two hang out all the time.

You decided to give her a lighthearted version of what you were feeling.

“I’m not it’s just... random question: am I high maintenance?” You asked finally.

The girl snorted.

“Yeah, everyone knows that.”

Your heart sank. You were starting to hate that joke. You knew you had a lot of dietary restrictions and people had to work around what you ate, and before you didn’t mind that, but now you hated when people did that for you.

You just wanted people to stop asking you out to eat or asking you to hang out. You just wanted people to leave you alone.

“Fuck you.” You said laughing, it was fake. But she didn’t need to know that.

“Whatever, is that all you wanted to ask?”

“Nope, I wanted to ask are you still having your bachorlette party next Saturday?”

“Yup, you better be there! No ditching me for whoever old lady author you wanted to see.”

You bristled at her harsh tone and flinched when she slammed your door shut so that you couldn’t argue with her.

You heard her soft footsteps fade away which allowed you to slip back into your negative feelings.

All you could think about is that if your best friend didn’t even want to deal with you or fully understand you, how could anyone else?

---------

“Hello~ Earth to y/n?”

A black line skitted across your face, snapping you out of your trance. You swatted at the pencil floating in front of your face with an angry look.

You were currently in the library, working hard on your essay that seemed like it would never end.

“What do you want?” You snapped.

You were in the middle of focusing your attention on a small dot at the back of the room. You did this to try to take your attention off of the discomfort in your stomach. You wouldn’t exactly call it pain, but it didn’t feel great.

The poor boy’s eyes drooped at your anger.

“Um, sorry you just were spacing out.”

“Well, don’t interrupt my space outs.”

“Got it.”

Why were you being so mean? You never were like this before you got diagnosed. You were so irritable all the time and felt anger build up in you faster than expected.

It wasn’t fair to the boy sitting across from you.

Rafe Cameron.

The boy was dedicated, you could give him that.

You didn’t expect much from the obviously Southern boy who sat next to you in a Shakespeare class. You felt like you were sitting on pins and needles until Rafe started talking to you; you didn’t know why you took a male-dominant class. You weren’t used to talking to guys so often, but you wanted to push yourself. Get out of your comfort zone you embraced so much in high school.

After he apologized for being a dick about eating standards, you easily started to fall for him a bit more.

But that didn’t matter.

His feelings wouldn’t last.

They never did.

“Um, are you okay?” Rafe finally said. You wanted to snap at him once again, but when you saw his concerned blue eyes, you lost your bite.

You forced a smile. “I’m fine, just a bit tired.” If you had a nickel for every time you gave that excuse, you’d be a billionaire.

“Oh, then we should finish here.”

“No!”

You said abruptly. He lifted a brow.

“No?”

When he saw your face turn a soft pink color, his eyes lit up and he softly bit his lip. He knew what he did to you.

“Um... no, it’s ok. I can still study. I’m ... I’m mostly just upset because I wanted to go to this book signing that’s like a week from now, but I have to go to my friend’s bachelorette party. I really love this author, but I won’t get to see her and she rarely goes on tour... But it’s fine, I’ll get over it and studying helps me keep my mind off things.” You shrugged.

Yes, your friends were getting married that young. You simultaneously loved and hated your friends. You seemed to always be dropping things you loved for them, but you knew they wouldn’t do the same for you.

Your friends were great to live with, harder to be friends with. Plus, two were avid bakers and another was an aspiring chef. You hated all of the temptations of their baked goods.

He laughed at your nerdy confession which rubbed you the wrong way. He stopped laughing when he saw your dark expression.

“Sorry, I was only laughing because I totally get that. There are some authors that just leave an impact on you and you would die to meet them. And plus, those parties are lame. All they do is drink and drink and drink, which you can’t do because it’s not on the low fodmap diet.”

Well, boy definitely did his research.

“Exactly! Finally, someone who understands.” You turned your head away so he wouldn’t see you blush-- it wasn’t because you were shy, but it always happened when you got excited about something.

He nodded and saw your head wobble. A sharp pain fluttered through your head. You probably needed to eat something.

“Are you... hungry?” The boy said hesitantly.

This got you in the mood to be mean again.

“No, I’ll tell you when I get hungry, Rafe.”

The bite in his words made him move away from you. You hated this. You wanted someone to comfort you, but you pushed everyone away.

Self-sabotage was your middle name.

--------

You felt a warm hand softly tap your shoulder.

“Library closes in less than 10 minutes.” Rafe whispered to you.

Shit, I fell asleep.

You lifted your head and saw the once full library empty out.

“Shit. I fell asleep.” You said your thoughts.

Rafe chuckled. God, you loved his laugh so much.

“Yeah, I know. You look cute when you sleep.”

You smiled, but can’t believe you fell asleep in public. You weren’t the type to let your guard down so easily. When did you get this tired? When did you become this weak?

You felt your stomach rumble silently, signaling your hunger.

“Um, do you wanna get out of here and get some food?”

You began to say no, but he stopped you.

“Ok, let me ask that once again, do you want to get out of here and I can cook you food?”

You felt anxiety build up in your chest. You never trusted other people to cook for you. You had this irrational fear that people would deliberately try to sabotage your meals, but truly people just didn’t know what you can and can’t eat.

“Uh... you know.”

“Yes, I know, strict diet. I’ll look it all up to be safe.”

You were going to say no, but you wanted this so badly. You just wanted to hang out with a really cute and nice guy without feeling abnormal. It was almost 11pm, but you weren’t going to pass up the chance to hang out with him.

“Ok, take me to your place.”

-------

His apartment was dark and organized. You tried not to laugh at the display of books on the ground... you definitely needed to get him a bookshelf.

“Do the books feel better on the ground or something?” You teased.

“Yup, they need their sleep too.”

He nudged you on the shoulder to let you know he was joking.

“Oh, and watch the hiking supplies. I went last weekend and haven’t had time to clean it up since I’m going on Sunday again.”

Hiking...

“You like to hike?”

The boy nodded, his face brightening. “Yup, I’m an outdoorsy kind of guy. Love hiking, going to the beach, sports, all that jazz.”

You nodded, not relating to any of that.

You looked around, but realized there were only two doors, and one leading to the bathroom.

“Oh, you live alone?”

You fiddled with the hem of your shirt nervously.

“Yeah... is that ok?” He asked softly.

Yes, yes, it’s more than ok.

“Of course! It’s just I don’t know many sophomores who live alone.”

What you meant to say is you didn’t know many sophomores who could afford to live alone. JJ always joked about Rafe being rich, but you weren’t aware of the extent of his wallet.

He chuckled. “Yeah well, it’s easier to focus on my studies this way. No distractions.”

You nodded. You would live alone if you could afford it.

“Got it. Perfect for the ladies too, right?” You winked.

Rafe choke on air. You enjoyed flustering the usually confident Mr. Cameron.

“God, um, I don’t know how to respond to that.”

You shrugged. “Can’t deny the facts.”

He gave you a gentle look. “Y/n, you’re the first girl I’ve had in here since my last girlfriend.” Your jaw dropped.

“Really? You haven’t had a single girl in here for... a month?”

“Unless you count my little sister, then yup.”

“How does a guy as hot as you not bring a single lady friend here for over a month?” He let out a strangled laugh.

“You think I’m hot?”

“I know you’re hot. And you know you’re hot.”

The pink blush that formed on his face made you want to run over and kiss his cheeks.

But friends didn’t do that.

“Well, I guess... I guess I’ve been waiting for the special girl to come along.”

He gave you a look you couldn’t quite decipher.

“Yes, I’m the most special girl in your life, right?” You teased, trying to be nonchalant about the tension in the room.

He just smiled at you.

“So! What are you cooking?” You said, changing the subject.

This distracted him. “Well, I have leftovers from yesterday... I have rice noodles with chicken broth--”

“Um, I can’t eat pre-made chicken broth.” You interrupted before he could get too excited. Thankfully, you hadn’t gotten your hopes up about eating much at his place. People could rarely accommodate to your needs.

“Oh don’t worry, I made the chicken stock last night with... a real chicken. So it’s not out of a box.” He opened his fridge and you saw a cooked chicken that was sitting there. “See?”

You paused and evaluated the situation.

“So... you made chicken pho?” You said blankly.

He blushed. “Yeah, yeah I did.”

You thought back to that night. That night when you confessed to him your deepest and insecurities.

You yelled at him about how you basically only ate Asian food exclusively.

“Did... Rafe... Ok, if I didn’t know any better, I would say that you expected me to come over today. Unless you just happened to have IBS friendly food.”

You were joking, well half-joking. You guys always met on Thursday nights to study, so he knew you would be hanging out then. You hated the excitement and fondness filling in your chest; it would be only a matter of time before you pushed him away. Or until he left. Whichever came first.

His face was red now. “Um, I may have anticipated it.”

Oh God, your heart was so full right now. You didn’t even want the food anymore, you just wanted him.

But he had put great effort into this. You had to eat it.

“Thank you.” You whispered.

He shrugged off your words. “It’s no biggie, I know I see you Thursdays and we always study pretty late.”

You set the table while he dipped the noodles in water to cook them. He made two bowls, one being larger than the other. He remembered that you rarely ate big meals.

As soon as he set your food down, you realized he had to watch you eat. And you had to make conversation while eating. You hated talking and eating.

And you got a lot of gas while you ate. Shit. This was a bad idea.

You pushed those thoughts aside and took a sip of the soup.

It was amazing.

“This is really good.”

He smiled widely. “Thanks, I tried my best.”

Thankfully, you didn’t have to talk much while you ate. The TV served as a good distraction to that. When you finished your bowl, you waited for the pain to hit you. You felt your stomach gurgle around and you clenched your fists to avoid the pain.

You had good and bad stomach days. Some days you could go the whole day without feeling any pain, but then you had days where you ate any food and felt a mild discomfort and had to lay in bed.

You felt a mild discomfort, but it faded quickly enough. Thank God, a good stomach day.

After you both finished eating, Drew put both the bowls in the sink. You tried to do the dishes, but he wouldn’t let you.

“Thanks for the meal again.” You said, anxious to leave.

It wasn’t eating that was the worst part of IBS, it was the anxiety afterwards. You were always nervous that your stomach would flare up hours after you eating, which it sometimes did if you ate something not IBS friendly.

“You’re always welcome here.”

You checked your phone. “Um, it’s getting late. I should go.” You turned to leave, but he caught your wrist softly.

“Wait, y/n.”

You stopped and turned to face him. He looked nervous as he was still holding your hand gently.

“Yeah?” You tried to say casually, but you were now extremely anxious for a reason besides food.

He let go of your wrist to brush his fingers through his hair. You loved his messy hair.

“Um, ok, well... ok I’m just gonna say it.”

“Say it then.” You said out of habit. He glared at you, but you knew he didn’t mean it.

“Fine, well, you’re... you’re really fun to hang out with. Do you want to... go out with me sometime?”

“We go out together all the time.” You said stupidly.

He let out a strangled laugh. “Yeah but... like ... as a date.”

Your heart stopped.

“A date.”

“Yes, a date, if you want.”

A date? What could you both possible do on a date? You hated eating at restaurants, you can’t go hiking or backpacking because who knew when your symptoms would pop in and you were stuck on a mountain with no bathrooms and nowhere to sit. Not to mention, you didn’t eat much so you got lightheaded easily. You weren’t compatible. You would just be a burden to him.

“y/n?” You almost forgot you were in the middle of a conversation.

You looked up at his pretty blue eyes that were full of hope. You couldn’t do this to him. You couldn’t hold him back like that.

“I... I’m sorry, Rafe... I can’t.” His face fell. “You’re an awesome guy, I swear to God you’re the best guy I’ve ever met. But... you just... we’re just... we’re just different.”

That was a cop out answer and you knew it.

“Different.” He echoed.

You nodded.

He paused, like he was wondering whether to keep talking to you or just kick you out. You wouldn’t blame him if he chose the latter.

He then laughed bitterly.

“That’s bullshit, y/n and you know it.”

His harsh answer stunned you.

“What are you talking about?” You bristled. Now you were irritated.

“Oh, c’mon, you know I like you, and I know you like me. You can’t ignore what we have.”

“We’re just friends, Rafe. Just friends.”

“But I want more.” He said sadly.

You were on the brink of tears too.

“I do too.” You blurt.

“Then why-”

“Because Rafe! You want to go out and do things. You want to treat your girlfriend like a princess-- you’ve said that to me before. And you just can’t do that for me because it’s not possible.

He scoffed. “What do you mean by that? You think you’re undeserving of love? Are you trying to say ‘it’s not you, it’s me’?” He was angry, and he had a right to be. You were running him in circles and you felt bad.

“That’s not it! I just--” You felt your legs becoming weak, you could never stand for too long, especially in a heated conversation like this.

“Y/n? Do you need to sit down?”

You nodded as he was already guiding you to his couch.

“Finish what you were saying earlier.” He said softly. God, you hated how kind he was to you even during an argument. You were trying to push him away!

“Right, well, I don’t think I’m undeserving of love, but it’s too hard to love me.”

“What does that even mean?”

“It means, you don’t know how to love me! You can’t take me on dates-- I hate eating at restaurants which is a normal date, so you can cross that off your list of fancy dinners or whatever. I can’t go hiking because what if my stomach starts to hurt on the mountain? And you just fucking saw me getting woozy standing and talking for you too long while arguing. I’ll just be a burden to you.”

He grabbed my hands and forced me to look at him.

“Listen to me. You will never, ever, be a burden to me. Got that?”

His voice was low and pained, like it hurt him for you to think about yourself like that. You didn’t need his pity so you pulled away from his hands.

“You don’t deserve someone who can’t do all the things you love.”

“Relationships are all about compromise, y/n. I can do those things with my friends.”

You shook your head.

“Rafe, you’re a great guy. Too good if I might add. And I’m so picky about everything. When I’m mad at you one day and you want to make it up to me, you can’t buy me chocolates or ice cream or whatever. For anniversaries, you can’t just take me out to a fancy restaurant. There might be a day where you run out of tricks and you’ll realize how hard it is to love me.” You laughed bitterly.

“I can learn what makes you feel good. I can learn how to love you--”

“You can’t learn how to love me! I don’t even know how to love myself!” You shouted.

A deafening silence washed over the room.

I don’t even know how to love myself.

The honesty in your own answer made you cry.

How could anyone love you when didn’t even know how to love yourself? You didn’t even know how to make yourself happy. You didn’t know how to spoil yourself. You lived your life just to get by.

How sad.

“I’m sorry Rafe, I just can’t do this.”

This time, he just nodded.

He’d already given up.

----------

Around two weeks had gone by since Rafe asked you out and you embarrassed yourself. You had never been the type to be so negative or so insecure. You hated what you had become.

You hated how you felt some sort of relief when Rafe let you go. He grabbed you an uber and you went home.

You both were ignoring the obvious conversation that needed to happen, but it was better this way. You were back to being the chatty girl in his English class and he was back to being the guy who laughed at all of your jokes. Normal. Everything was back to normal.

“Sup, y/n, how’s it goin’?”

You tried not to look surprised as JJ Maybank said hi to you.

You two weren’t exactly friends, but you were friendly to one another. Yes, he could be a dick sometimes, but he was clueless about it.

“Oh hey, it’s going good so far. How about you?”

“He and his ‘girlfriend’ got into a fight yesterday and needs advice.” Pope blurted. You tried not to laugh at the bluntness of his friend.

JJ hit the boy. “Dude!”

“Hey, she was going to figure it out soon enough. You can’t shut up about it.” Their banter was always fun to watch.

“What are you guys talking about?” Rafe asked when he sat down.

“JJ got into a fight with his ‘girlfriend’”. You made sure to use the same air quotes like Pope.

“Yes, thank you for embarrassing me further.” You shrugged.

“It’s not like Rafe knows her.”

JJ sighed and adjusted his hat to hide his tired face.

You grew soft on the poor guy. “What kind of advice do you need, JJ?”

JJ looked at you with sad eyes, but hopped right into his story.

“Well, so this girl I’m into, she’s this big city girl. Grew up in Los Angeles, and you know me, I grew up in a small town in Alaska. We’re just so... different. She likes doing all this city girl stuff like going to the malls and just walking around a crowded town which is so different from me who didn’t even have a big mall where I was at and you could walk miles without running into another person.

“I just don’t know how to keep up with her all the time... and she’s rich so she has to go to these fancy events. She told me I had to dress up if I wanted to meet her parents.

“And she doesn’t like to be on the water ‘cause she gets seasick. And I practically lived on the water when I was in Alaska! What should I do?”

You paused, taking in his situation.

You heard Rafe scoff.

“Dude, it’s fucking obvious. Man the fuck up and buy better clothes and learn how to hold all of her shopping bags. Isn’t it obvious?”

JJ nodded, like this made sense.

You nudged Rafe harshly. “What are you talking about? JJ, you guys sound really different, you have to ask yourself: do I like how I have to change myself to be with her? Am I ok with that? Am I ok with sacrificing things I love to be with this girl?”

JJ nodded, soaking in your words.

“Relationships are about compromise.” You rolled your eyes at these familiar words. “If you really like her, you are going to be willing to change.”

“You shouldn’t have to change for someone else.”

“Everyone should change, it’s good for the soul. Staying static is boring.”

“Guys, guys,” JJ stopped you and Rafe.

“Ok, I get both points. But, I do really like her. I’ve been pining after her for a while now and... and I don’t know, I just want to win her heart over. She’s already starting to push me away because she also doesn’t want me to change who I am. But I’m willing to put in the extra effort.”

“See? Putting in extra effort to impress the girl he likes, that’s what you should do.” Rafe commented.

You grit your teeth.

“I agree, JJ, you should always try to be better in a relationship. If she’s pushing you away because of her own fears, that only means you need to work harder.” Pope noted.

“Or maybe she’s right, maybe you shouldn’t push people to make them feel like a burden to you. Maybe she just wants the best for you because she obviously knows you very well!”

“Maybe he wants to challenge himself because he wants her to feel safe and comfortable around him!” Rafe raised his voice.

“Maybe he just wants to do that because of his ego.” You said with an equally angry tone.

“Or maybe he wants to do that because he loves her!” Rafe slammed his hands on the desk and suddenly the room was silent.

“Um... are you guys good?” JJ whispered, his problems now forgotten.

--------

Because he loves her.

Loves her.

Love.

Was Rafe still talking about the hypothetical JJ in this situation or was he talking about himself?

Because you knew you were talking about yourself.

Was he doing the same?

You sprinted out of that classroom once your professor dismissed you.

“Y/n, wait.”

You paused outside the door. If you left, it would make you look mighty suspicious. If you stayed, then you could pretend everything was ok and that the “argument” you just had wasn’t about yourselves.

You decided to make a run for it.

Unfortunately, Rafe jumped in front of you before you could leave.

“Y/n, please. Talk to me.”

“What? There’s nothing to talk about. JJ can make his own decisions. What a handful of a girl, right?” You tried to step around him, but Rafe kept blocking you. “Move-”

“We need to talk and I have a class soon. Meet me at my apartment when your classes end, ok?”

You hesitated, but the desperation in his eyes made it hard for you to say no.

“Ok.”

-------

Rafe’s apartment wasn’t too far of a walk from campus, plus you took the bus for part of the way. You secretly ate a bowl of rice with beef and broccoli before going just in case he didn’t have any more pho left at his apartment.

You felt your heart beating out of control as you plucked up the courage to knock on his door.

“C’mon, you can do this.” You whispered to yourself. You raised your hand to knock, but the door flung open.

Rafe had been back for a while since he was a morning person and finished his classes before noon. You on the other hand, finished classes at 5pm. No hate in the game, this was college.

You took in his appearance and looked him up and down.

He was wearing gray sweatpants with a white tank top and a red flannel over it. He looked too good right now for being casual. Fuck.

You gulped. “Hey.”

He gave you a tight smile. “Hey.”

You both stood there awkwardly.

“Can I come in?”

“Oh shit, yeah, of course.”

As you stepped into the well-lit apartment, you noticed he was sweaty; it seemed like he just got done with working out. All you wanted to do was to take off that flannel and see what he was hiding underneath.

“Did you just come from the gym?” You asked nonchalantly.

He raised a brow at your random question, but nodded. “Yup.”

You both stood in silence for a hot minute, the tension filling the air. You noticed his eyes trailing down your body; you knew you wore tighter clothes up top to try and impress the boy. You didn’t think it would work... but it did.

“Oh fuck it.” You spat. His eyes grew confused at your sudden outburst, but when you took 3 large steps and grabbed his face, they widened.

“Can I kiss you?” You whispered.

“Please.”

And then you kissed him.

His lips were soft, but his hands were rough on your body. He pulled you close enough so that your chests touched, making you groan at the contact. He deepened the kiss, teasing you with his tongue.

“Rafe,” you chanted. You didn’t know what you were asking for, you just wanted him.

He smiled, moving to kiss you all over your face and your neck. He smoothly pulled you into his bedroom.

His bedroom was bare; only a bed sat in the middle and one desk to the side of it. You didn’t care, as long as there was a bed in there, that’s all that mattered.

Except you happened to miss a large box near the side of the bed that almost made you hit your head on the wooden floor.

“Oops.” Rafe caught you before you fell.

“Sorry, I forgot to move those.”

Before he could move them out of sight, you noticed something familiar looking.

“Wait... are these--?”

“Wait-”

You picked up the box before he could stop you. You grew confused staring down at the object inside of it.

“Are these... what I think they are?”

He ruffled his hair and nodded, trying to hide his red face. “Um, yeah. It’s... yeah.” He finished lamely.

You looked down and gently traced your fingers across the extravagant book covers. When you looked inside, they were all signed by your favorite author with a cute message. You felt tears well up in your eyes.

“You went to the book signing.” You said numbly.

He nodded hesitantly. He wasn’t sure how you would react. “I did...I wasn’t sure which book you liked from her so I got all 3.”

He played with the bottom of his flannel, anxiously waiting for your next move.

You set the books down and pulled him in by his shirt.

“Kiss me.”

He paused, but only for a moment before he stripped off his flannel.

Yes, finally.

He laughed. “You’ve been waiting for this to come off?” Shit, you said that out loud.

He wasted no time pressing his lips to yours. You clung onto his neck, not being able to get close enough to him. Kissing was great, it was fantastic even. But you wanted more. You gently lifted your hips to meet his, rocking back and forth experimentally.

He groaned at your movement. “Baby,” He whispered.

You thought you would hate that pet name.

You didn’t.

“Yes?” You teased, planting little kisses on his neck, his collarbone, right under his ear. When he didn’t answer, you tugged him back down to you by his hair.

You’re sure you had been making out for at least half an hour at this point when suddenly he lifted his head up.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

And you meant it.

-------

You woke up in the morning with the best sleep you’ve had in years. You immediately turned to your side and saw Rafe still fast asleep. You saw his bare chest move up and down, up and down. It was hypnotic.

You gently moved your fingers across his chest, soaking in the smoothness of it. The feeling of soft pleasure woke Rafe up. He smiled when he saw your mischievous look.

“Good morning, gorgeous. How’re ya feelin’?”

“Hmmm, alright.”

He gently kissed your shoulder blade. What a tease.

“Only alright?”

He tried to pull the blankets down to uncover your naked body, but it was the morning and you were still shy.

You laughed at his attempts to turn you on.

“Stop, Rafe, you horny ba-”

He then leaned in closely to you and whispered in your ear.

“If I knew getting you books would get me laid, I would’ve done it years ago.”

You laughed.

“You didn’t know me years ago!”

He gave you a crooked smile.

“Plus, my love language is receiving gifts, so you got lucky.”

He shrugged, but his eyes softened when he stared at you longer.

He pulled you down for another soft kiss. You wanted more, but he pulled away before it could get too racy.

“Told you I would learn how to love you.”

#outer banks #rafe cameron #obx #outer banks fanfiction #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron fanfiction #obx fanfiction #obx writing #drew starkey #drew starkey x reader #rafe cameron scenarios #this is the most dialogue ive written i think #this was the most challenging fic to write LMAO #hope u like it ! :D

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