#‘oh yeah if you late you can’t get excused because even if it’s reasonable this is just how life is lol. also we’re making it so if you’re

[souljahwwitch]

FUCKED UP! °‧🫧⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

°‧🫧⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ hc’s about thanos x best friend reader who’s just as energetic as him <3

(no squid game!)

(kind of fwb like in my every other best friend! reader fic 😔)

°‧🫧⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ choi su-bong (or thanos as he forces you to call him) have been best friends since diapers, both of your fathers being filthy rich, they were connected to the hip, and so you two are.

°‧🫧⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ one out of many things you two have in common is the pure hatred towards your fathers, you two always found a way to fuck up some family dinners or country club parties—and no one ever suspected a thing.

°‧🫧⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ no one suspected you, because how could y/n l/n, the oh so precious daughter of f/n l/n ever be so cruel? you were too pretty for that, too smart—no one actually knew you for who you are except thanos.

°‧🫧⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ they suspected thanos, of course they did—but he didn’t really care, only thing that mattered is having fun with you—like taking hits from the bong right before your father and his father and some prissy guests wait for both of you to come down to some boring dinner.

you sat there—trying not to burst out laughing at random things, thanos was beside you, gripping your thigh to stop you—and himself from laughing

“ sweetheart, you’ve gotta stop looking like your face is about to explode.” thanos mumbled beside you—and that just made you wheeze, he couldn’t hold it anymore also—so you laughed it out while making an excuse you have to go to a very important business walk!! (you two don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.)

°‧🫧⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ being his best friend means sneaking out at two am for whatever reason, you two were always in your pajamas too—even though you two are the same in personality—the style was a bit different.

“c’mon princess, jump i’ll catch you!” he whisper-yelled, between laughs because—why tf are you wearing a hello kitty pjs

“i can’t, asshole! what if you drop me-“ you hissed, sitting at your window, looking down at him.

“now don’t be dumb, i always catch you, angel, you know that.” he said cockily right before you sighed and jumped, he catches you, of course, but he doesn’t let you live it down

“see, dumbass! i told you!”

“fuck off >:(!!!!”

°‧🫧⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ being his best friend means you can come to him for everything and he can come to you, your family were always on some business trips, so you two were often taking care of eachother.

and that’s how you find yourself in this position, pouring rain, walking from your mansion to his because you got a fever, and your dad was on a business trip with his dad—and he didn’t left you any over the counter medicine, yeah, he left you shit ton of money, but pharmacies don’t work at 4am.

you knocked on his door as if you were dying, you were shivering, you were soaked, and relief washed over you as you heard a voice call out “who the fuck in this time of night-“

when he opened the door and saw you there, sniffling and shivering, teary eyed—he knew you had a fever, fevers were hard on you, so he knew exactly how you looked.

“woah, woah—easy there, it’s alright sweetheart c’mere” he mumbled

“but-but you’ll get sick if you touch me-“

“what? you think some cold will knock my ass over like it does to you, stop being a brat and c’mere.”

°‧🫧⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ being his best friend meant spending late nights in your girly room, laying on your bed as you two look at eachother—high or not, it always ended up like this—his hands on your waist, and you being stubborn first five minutes before you let him kiss you

“thereee she is..”

[theocddiaries]

Sonic: There's someone at school who's making Tails' life miserable. Shadow: What happened? Sonic: I don't know; he won't tell me. But he's more anxious than I've seen him in a long time. Can you take him to class today, please? Shadow: Why me??? Sonic: Because if I go, I'll lose it. You know me. I don't want to make it worse for him. Shadow: Yeah, you’re right. When that kid's involved, you can’t control yourself… Sonic: Exactly. So, you take him to school today? Shadow: But the kid hates me. Sonic: Please, Shads, it’s just dropping him off and leaving. It’s not that hard. --- Tails: I’m late for class. Shadow: …I know. I can read the time. Tails: Doesn’t look like it, because I’m late for class. Shadow [takes a slow breath]: Alright, I’m sorry, okay? Tails: At least you could write me an excuse. That’s what Sonic does. Shadow: Then you should’ve asked him before I had to drag you out of the house before we would be even more late. Principal: Well, look who’s late. Are you his brother? Tails: Ew, no. Shadow: No, no-- Principal: Honestly, I’m not surprised you’re denying it. Shadow: No, I'm no denying anything, he's really not-- Principal: I’d deny it too, seeing how the kid turned out. All he does is disrupt class and waste his classmates’ time. But what can you expect from a child who was basically feral until he was four? I imagine he’s driving you crazy at home too. [grabs Tails by the hand]: Off to class now-- Shadow [steps in front of them, blocking the way]: No, no. Excuse me, what did you just say about the kid? You know what, instead of going to class, why don’t we go see the principal and get their opinion on your teaching methods? Tails [whispers]: She is the principal. Shadow: Oh… Well, then I’ll say it to your face. Do you think it’s appropriate to insult your students? He’s just a kid. If your self-esteem is so low that you’re personally offended by him being smarter than you and everyone else in this dump of a building, then go to therapy. Don’t give him a complex. The reason we’re late is because you’ve got him so terrified and anxious that he barely wants to come here anymore. Got it? Shadow [grabs Tails by the hand and pulls him close, then picks him up]: And just so you know, if this kid wants to be an aerospace engineer, a mechanical physicist, or invent a whole new career, he’ll do it. Because my brother has the brains for that and more. [walks to the door]. Tails: You know what I want to be when I grow up??? Shadow: Of course I do; you talk about it all the time. Tails: And you called me your brother? Shadow: …Do you want to talk about that or go get some ice cream? Tails: Ice cream. [A while later, they return home] Sonic: Why are you back so early? Tails: Shadow got into it with the principal. Sonic: What? Shadow: I’ll explain later… If the school doesn’t call you to explain first. Sonic: What happened??? Tails: We left after Shadow told her off and left her speechless. It was awesome. [tugs on Sonic’s arm to bring him down to his level]: Can you date Shadow forever, please?? Shadow: That depends on how he takes the fact that I got you kicked out of school. Sonic: You got kicked out?? Tails: In his defense, we walked out. Sonic: Okay, um… Hey, why don’t you go check on the food in the kitchen, and you’ll tell me about it later? Tails [nods and leaves] Sonic [smirking]: So I’m the one who can’t keep it together when the kid’s involved? Shadow: …Shut up.

Part 1

[seonghwaddict]

falling and sleeping — choi jongho

in which falling in love with you felt like falling asleep; natural and unnoticed.

best friend!choi jongho x fem!reader. genre. fluff, crack, friends to lovers. warnings. cursing, none he's just a little nervous. wc. 1.5k. rating. pg-13

lilo’s notes. hiii here's a fluffy little jongho fic because i love him. this isn’t proofread btw i’m sorry for any errors! also, my upload schedule is now on saturday's :3

listening to. from the start, laufey

masterlist.

“hyung!”

jongho burst into the living room of his shared dorm with wooyoung and hongjoong. hongjoong was nowhere to be found, likely at the studio or something, and wooyoung sprawled on the couch, watching a drama on the tv, scrolling through his phone, and taking occasional sips of his comically large coffee cup simultaneously. at the sound and sudden appearance of jongho, he looked away from the screen.

“something wrong?” he yawned, turning his phone off and dropping it on his chest.

“yes. i figured out my problem-“

wooyoung snorted, eyes drifting back to the television screen. “yeah? which one?”

“shut the fuck up, i’ll strangle you,” jongho paused what was supposed to be his dramatic monologue to glare at the dark haired fox-resembling man on the couch. he waited a second before sighing. “my y/n problem. i figured it out. so-“

“you have a problem with her?” at the mention of jongho’s best friend’s name, wooyoung’s attention was captured. if he had a problem with you, that meant something terrible must have happened. truthfully, wooyoung would hate that. he’d been rooting for the two of you for years, even if neither of you were aware of how perfect you were for each other.

“hey! stop interrupting me,” jongho kicked his shin lightly before continuing, “well, no, we don’t have a problem but things felt weird for some reason and i have come to a conclusion.”

“okay… and…?” wooyoung gestured for him to continue, his dramatic pause putting him on edge.

“i’m allergic to her.”

“… excuse me?” it was then that he decided to turn off the tv, giving his full attention to his younger friend.

“i’m allergic to her.”

“oh, for the love of-“ wooyoung groaned and threw himself back on the couch, screaming into a pillow, “CHOI JONGHO YOU’RE IN LOVE WITH HER!”

a confused expression crossed his face as he watched his friend’s dramatic antics and jongho sat down, forcefully pulling the pillow from wooyoung’s face. he should’ve found hongjoong instead, maybe he would’ve been more helpful.

“no, no, don’t be silly,” he tossed the pillow aside and spoke, hands flailing around to emphasise his point. wooyoung was on he verge of banging his head against a wall, “lately when i go near her my stomach itches and i feel all warm and sometimes it gets hard to breath and…”

the realisation that spread across his face was a picture wooyoung wanted to take and print out, plastering it on his wall and also adding it to his resume with the caption ‘i’m literally cupid.’

“… and oh my god i’m in love with her.”

a loud cheer left wooyoung as he sprang up from the couch, going on a five minute rant about how long he’d been waiting for this and how he always knew there was something. “you should go tell her right now.”

“w-what- no! i just figured out i’m in love with my best friend and you expect me to just… go and tell her?”

“that’s exactly what i expect,” he nodded, crossing his arms and leaning his weight on one leg, “didn’t she tell you about how she overheard someone say some guy from her workplace wanted to ask her out for valentines?”

“well, yeah… but-”

“no buts!” he held his palm up, silencing jongho. “you can’t let that home-wrecker ask her out before you. so, get your ass off that couch, change into something nice and go tell her you love her. and buy some flowers in the way.”

“it’s not home-wrecking if we aren’t even toge-“

“that’s besides the point, now do as i say if you ever want a relationship with her.” wooyoung rolled his eyes and turned on his heels, walking to where his jacket hung on the coat rack. he pulled out his wallet and, surprisingly, fished out his credit card to give to jongho. “this is for flowers and some chocolates only.”

and so half an hour later he was walking down the hallway of your floor of your apartment building, wearing an all-black ensemble of slacks a shirt and a trench coat, holding a bouquet of various flowers he didn’t know the names of in one hand and a small box of your favourite chocolate ms in the other. he could still abort and leave without you ever knowing he was there in the first place. you’d given him a key to the building a while ago, trusting him with it since your apartment was practically his second home.

he considered doing just that again, but the bought of you going out with another man who wasn’t him had his heart aching, giving him some courage to finally step in front of your door. he practiced what he wanted to say to you under his breath as he stared at the familiar dark grey door. when he thought he was ready, he reached out to ring the doorbell.

only to pull away at the last second and begging pacing back and forth nervously. eventually, he stopped, clenching his eyes shut and forcing himself to ring your doorbell. there was no going back now.

when you opened the door and you looked at him with your bright eyes and enchanting smile, he felt the nervousness in his stomach melt away and get replaced by butterflies and a soft pink tint on his cheeks. “oh, hey, jjong-“

“i love you.”

you blinked at him, not noticing the very obvious items in his hands, eyes fixed in his face. not quite understanding, you chuckled lightly, “you know i love you too.”

“no, you don’t get it. i mean, i in love with you. i fucking love you and i’m not sure if i’ve ever felt so strongly about someone in my life. i smile when someone mentions you, my heart flutters when i’m around you, fuck, when i see your smile it feels like all my problems have been solved and… your presence, god, it just fucks me up in the best way possible. i can’t believe i didn’t realise this sooner, but i’ve fallen for you, y/n. though, i suppose i didn’t realise it because falling felt like sleeping and sleeping feels so natural and easy that i never realised it until now.”

you stared at each other. he stared with all the admiration he could muster and you stared with mild shock and, under that, relief. “you… you love me?”

“oh my god, i… i’m sorry, i shouldn’t have- i’ve made things awkward, haven’t i? just- just forget that-“

you soft palm covering his lips drove him to silence, looking at you with wide eyes as you pulled him into your apartment, closing the door with your unoccupied hand. his heart skipped a beat as you grinned and whispered your next words.

“jongho, i love you—in that way—too.” you dropped your hand from his mouth slowly, looking down at the flowers and the chocolates, giggling, “you really didn’t have to get all this.”

you took them out of his hands slowly, avoiding his gaze, flustered as you placed his gifts on the marble counter of the kitchen behind you. he hadn’t said anything since your confession, cheeks burning and jaw dropped slightly. he couldn’t believe it. he couldn’t believe you liked loved him back.

he drew your attention to him, breathing out your name. “you… you love me too?”

“yes, you dense cabbage, i love you,” your laugh was melodic as you took both his hands in yours, nodding, “now shut up and kiss me.”

jongho’s expression finally changed into a giddy grin as he pulled his hands out of your grasp to hold your waist, leaning forward and brushing his lips against yours. when you didn’t protest, not that he expected you to, he deepened it into a proper kiss that he hoped conveyed his need for you. he felt like his knees would go weak as your delicate hands trailed up his torso to his head, brushing his hair absentmindedly as you kissed him back with equal intensity.

eventually, you had to separate to catch your breaths and jongho mentally cursed the human need for oxygen. he liked kissing you, your lips slotting together like puzzle pieces. when he felt like the tension had gone completely, he leaned forward to press repeated pecks to your lips, basking in the way you giggle and tried to meet each one of his quick kisses.

“i think i have a tiny crush on you,” you muttered once he decided he kissed you enough (it was never enough, really, but he wanted to let you breathe), fighting back a stupid grin.

“you think?” he snorted, one hand coming up to cup your cheek, thumb tracing your jawline and eyes full of affection.

“yeah, a teeny tiny one.”

he laughed heartily, giving you one more peck “i paid with wooyoung’s card, by the way.”

“in that case you should’ve gotten at least five more bouquets.”

network. @cromernet

taglist. @ad0rechuu @sankatchu @mlink64 @yeosangsbb @seonghwasbbgirl @likexaxdaydream @dreamingofyeo

[howlett-dekarios]

𝙽𝚘𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎

▏Worst!Logan Howlett x Reader

▏Summary: After being forced to help Wade, Logan ends up finding himself a new purpose to live: showing you that you are so much more than just his other late variant lover.

▏Warnings: angst | canon death | depression | self doubting | MDNI

▏Word count: 4k

▏A/n: This is my first story posted here so it's probably not the brightest one since english is not my first language. I'm thinking about writting part 2 though if people gonna like it. Unedited, will fix possible mistakes later.

Yeah his tantrum in the car went too far. He had said words that even if they were true, shouldn’t have left his mouth. But the red suited clown got on his nerves. Saying how he was able to fix it all, damn well knowing how big bullshit it was. 

Oh no, sorry, it was a fucking educated wish. 

Waking up next to Deadpool wasn’t a great memory. First few seconds he had been considering possibly killing that prick in his dream. Suffocating or maybe cutting the head off. Anything to finally shut him up for good. 

But after seeing that one pic after Wilson blacked out, being tied up with safety belts, he just couldn’t. Most of the people on it were complete strangers to him. Some random group of idiots, enjoying their time together. No matter how pathetic excuse of a hero, the red suited man was, he had a family. Logan got it, fuck he understood it too well. That’s why it hurt. Not physically but he had to give to Deadpool for hitting a few good punches. It hurt his ego. How Wade, even being the biggest clown, was able to stand for his world. Not willing to wait and see how it all goes to shit. Not walking away the moment life fucked him to the ground. Not like Logan did. 

He did and he lost it all. Not turning around to fight with his friends. Fight for his close ones. Admit how deep he really cares. Show his vulnerability which he has always been hiding from everyone, even himself. And then instead of getting himself together, trying to do better, be better… he abandoned it all. Sunk in self pity and anger. Killing innocent people who hadn’t even had anything to do with the raid. Losing himself and becoming a dark shadow of himself. 

In his reality, everyone knew the name Wolverine. 

And every single one hated him the same. He fucking deserved it all which was one of the reasons why Deadpool attempts to made him look like a hero were frustrating him. He didn’t want to be one. Didn’t deserve to be. Because if he would, it would be a dishonor to their memory. 

Logan didn’t give a fuck when the angry guy destroyed the bottle. He had seen more of the alcohol hidden here when he searched through the room. While Deadpool took care of talking, Howlett only brought another whiskey, opening it and starting to zero it out again. Laughing at the pathetic attempts of his kidnapper to convince these god forgotten heroes to team up in the fight against Nova. Another lies and bullshiting. 

“Oh please, shut the fuck up!” He finally got irritated enough to interfere. “You’re just an asshole who can’t accept the fact that you fucked up.” 

“I wouldn’t have been here if your handsome old ass hadn't felt like dying in a tragic overpriced act of self sacrifice, because Hugh Jackman got tired of being the main mascot for FOX, thank you very much.” Wade reminded him about the other variant who was an anchor being for his universe. Logan still couldn’t believe that. Who had been stupid enough to choose Wolverine as a great hero to glue the entire world in existence. 

“Whatever.” Another gulp of whiskey landed in his throat. “Why are we even here? Who the hell dragged us here?” His tone was stern as if he would like to argue with whoever brought them there. 

“That would be me.” 

You were patrolling the area after storming out and slamming the door behind you. The arguments were an inevitable part of living in this shithole. Plus Gambit was sometimes really an irritating dickhead. 

Deep down you knew what got you on edge. Johnny not coming back nor giving any sign of life for the last few days. It only reminded you about how this all gonna end up. Every single person who had been sent to Void and hadn't joined Casandra’s gooses has eventually vanished or died. Frank, Eric, Matt and now Johnny. Sooner or later you all will die off. And you have seen enough deaths in your lifetime already. Including one particular one… The one which you never agreed with. Constant stinging that made you cry on lonely nights when Laura wasn’t around. You could still recall how tightly you had been holding his corpse. Begging for one more miracle that never came. 

Suddenly your attention turned to a car which you knew too damn well. Nicepool’s Honda. From all the Deadpools he was the only particular one who was allowed to enter the area. Keeping in touch by being a messenger between his other variants and other people who survived. Being considered as a normal one. Or more like as normal as any Wade Wilson could be. But nonetheless even he couldn’t barge in without any previous announcement. 

“For fuck’s sake Nice, how many times we need to-“ You groaned but closer you got, it was more obvious that something was really wrong. 

Looking into the vehicle, your heart stopped. 

It couldn’t be. 

The woman who entered the room was probably in her late twenties or early thirties but Logan couldn’t be sure. Unlike your friends you weren’t wearing the superhero suit. Looking very domestic even, considering their surroundings. 

“Oh my Faige, it’s her!” Deadpool looked back at his companion in disbelief and excitement, his inner nerd showing up. “I’m a big fan. Deadpool or Marvel Jesus, but you can call me Wade, peanut. Oh fuck me, the cameos really cost fortune.” By your confused eyes Howlett could bet that you haven’t understood any shit Wilson just said, but in the end you nodded acknowledging his introduction. 

You hadn’t talked much in the whole conversation, more focused on listening and hanging on young girl, Laura as Wade previously mentioned. When the man in the red suit finally came with a plan and recruited all the heroes in, you only nodded, looking indifferent. Presumably only agreeing because others did. It made Logan curious but not enough to stick with all the clowns in spandex. In the end, this whole plan was a suicide mission and he will take no part in it. 

Yes it would be easy to just die. Too easy. 

“Love, I know, I get it.” You sighed, couldn’t blame Laura for wanting to try. To talk with her father even if it wasn’t really him. But it was dangerous. Possibly giving younger girl's hope. You knew it all too well. You’ve already seen it all. Been there in Wolverine’s lowest. And this variant? It just screamed trouble. An unsuccessful suicidal who just wanted to stay in his self pity and misery hole. It was the last thing that your daughter needed. But either way, you decided to support Laura. The girl was old enough to make her own choices, only thing that mattered was her knowing the possible outcomes. “You want to talk with him, but… it’s not Logan.” Not yours. 

“I know it!” The desperation in teen’s voice made you close your eyes. It was already too late to change her mind. “I know. He died. He’s gone. But he’s still Logan. Maybe not ours, but… he feels familiar.” Drunk, broken and running from everything and everyone. “I want to try. Talk with him and see who he truly is.” 

You sighed once again but nodded, walking towards the younger one and closing your arms around the teen. 

“Okay. But be careful and don’t let him get in your head.” 

“I always am, you know me.” Laura smiled and left to meet the variant of her father who had been sitting outside. 

After a few minutes of standing there and overthinking, you decided to focus on training which was a routine for clouding your damn brain. Anything that could be used as a distraction. Exhaust you to the point where your muscles were sore. 

You had a very bad feeling about it all. At the beginning when you both ended up in Void you had been praying for any variant of Logan to be sent there. So you could’ve felt his arms one more time. Hear his voice and smell his cologne. But with every passing day that hope slowly vanished, leaving you with only grief and emptiness in heart. 

“Such a coincidence, huh?” Gambit leaned over the door with a smart smile, looking at how you’ve been boxing the punching bag. 

“Not in a mood for your teasing, Remmy.” You didn’t hold any grudges from the morning fight. Especially after agreeing to fight Cassandra. It would be a shame if one of your last memories together would’ve been an argument. 

“You let Laura talk with him. Quite impressive.” Clearly your friend had other plans. 

“And what do you think I should’ve done, what?” An irritated look was sent towards him, but Gambit only walked closer. “She’s almost grown up woman. She can do whatever she wants.” 

“Yeah, I know and I’m not saying it’s a bad thing. Actually I’m surprised you weren’t the first person who ran to him.” His smirk only made you instantly regret not leaving the room the second he entered. 

“Excuse me?” 

“I only say that you finally have a chance.” 

“Chance for what, Remmy? Because let me tell you-“ 

“Don’t act stupid because it doesn’t suit you. You’ve missed Logan since you got here. You can try to lie to yourself about being over him but we all hear your little sobs when you think no one is looking. This fucked up universe finally gave you a chance to heal. To get better by facing your past-“ 

“He is not my past for god’s sake!” Not that Wolverine. “And is none of your fucking business, Remmy!” You walked over to him quickly, pointing a finger into his chest. Your emotions conflicted even more than ever before. Shit, you warned Laura not to be brainwashed and here you were, getting more and more confused by it all. All the years you’ve spent with Logan, your Logan, just to see him die on your eyes. And now the other untouched and very alive one is talking with your freaking daughter. You looked in Gambit’s eyes, breathing rapid. “Listen I know what you’re trying to do. I get it that we all gonna die tomorrow but it’s not an excuse for me to do something stupid.” To betray Logan like that. 

“Honey.” Remmy’s hand squeezed your arm reassuringly. “I won’t make you listen to me, but… I’m your friend. Your happiness is my business. And believe me… maybe I didn’t know your Logan, but if he really loved you… he would like you to live. Not only exist in constant grief.” His tone was serious which was rather an unusual thing for Gambit. “Think about it, okay? That’s all I’m asking for.” 

You knew how your friend had your best interest in minds but fuck… he hasn’t got it any better. 

After making sure that Laura had already fallen asleep, you walked out of the hideout building with your arms wrapped around yourself. 

“You gonna get cold.” 

His grumpy voice reached you sooner than expected. Screw the heightened senses…

“I’m okay unlike you.” A basic observation. The light of fire illuminated his posture and the already half emptied bottle of whiskey. Thanks to his mutation it wouldn’t affect him as much as a normal human but it wasn’t about ending drunk and you knew it. It never has been about it. Not when it came to Wolverine. “You know that we have spare rooms, right?” Thanks to the constant rotation of people around in the Void. “Your friend already occupied Johnny’s bed. You’re not gonna really rest here. The ground is rather cold and uncomfortable. That is if you even want to sleep.” Which you doubted. 

“I’m fine.” Another rough grumble, while you sat next to him. 

“Yeah, clearly.” An obvious hint of sarcasm in your voice. You stretched out a hand, signaling to pass the bottle what was met with his judging glance. But he did it anyway. 

“So since the young one hasn’t done her job to talk me into going with you, they’ve sent another one?” A low chuckle left him. Logan wasn’t looking at you, his eyes longing, focused on fire. “Sorry to disappoint you sweetheart but I’m not a hero.” 

“I know you’re not. I’m not here to try to make you change your mind. It won’t work.” The sureness in your voice was evident and it surprised him a bit. 

“Then what are you here for? Want to share your teary story? The red asshole already told me what the other one did and-“ 

“There is nothing to share. He died, I survived but it made no difference.” Probably the most painful aspect of your lover’s death. How it didn’t fucking matter. Not even a week after the events in North Dakota agents of TVA showed up in the hotel room you and Laura stayed in, evaporating you two without much explanation. Some bullshit how you had no reason to exist anymore since Wolverine was gone. 

But your words… how you were so indifferent about it all. It didn’t sit right with Logan. Your facade and previous convo with Laura… it all made him curious. Waking up some part of him that Logan was so sure was already dead. 

“Listen I…” A long sigh left him, finally looking at your face. Shit, it was the first time he saw you so close and there was no doubt why his other variant was so fond of you, how really pretty you were. Your soft face, grey eyes intelligent and shining because of the warm glow of the fire. “I’m not good at this. Apparently I’m the worst person for it. I’m not him.” 

“You are not. And I don’t expect you to be.” 

“You’re always so pessimistic?” Logan couldn’t understand why he even tried to joke but he had that deep feeling inside of him that told him to just do it. To try. 

“Just when I’m alone. I’m trying to keep myself sane along Laura.” 

“Smart girl by the way. Didn’t take any bullshit. Did a good job in raising her.” 

“I know.” Gambit’s words still rang in your head so you decided to be less defensive. “Thanks.” Your tone changed to a more polite one. 

“She’s not your bio daughter.” It wasn’t really a question but you shook your head anyway, which made Logan smile lightly. “Damn, he had to be a lucky bastard if you were willing to treat his kid as your own.” 

“She is my own.” Not biological but Laura was your daughter. 

“How long you’ve been together?” 

“Asked me out not too long after he joined X-Men. Stayed with him to the end. Almost ten years.” 

He kept looking at you intently, his eyes searching the face as if trying to recognize any familiar features on it. Ten years of being together. How on earth could someone care about the broken man like that? He couldn’t understand it.

“You never… gave up on him? Despite knowing he was a complete mess?” You chuckled at that. The first fully honest reaction. Shit, Logan had to admit how lovely the sound was. 

“He was asking the same questions, you know? And no. I never gave up on him, because he never gave up on me.” 

He let out a faint laugh at that, thinking that the other him must have been a damn saint to deserve your love and loyalty.

“So you two… you were in love huh?” 

“Yes… yes you can say that.” A simple nod, feeling a mix of curiosity and something else he couldn’t explain. The idea of someone loving him was completely foreign to him, and the fact that you loved a different version of him was even weirder.

“What was he like? The other me.” 

You looked at Logan, first time being face in face since your lover died. At first glance this variant was completely different. Younger, healthier, more bulky… but the features stayed the same. Small wrinkles around the eyes which color reminded you of all the times you had woken up in his arms. The softness that appeared only when it came to you… 

“You are so sure of your difference. But the truth is that, fuck, you’re so similiar… familiar.” You couldn’t believe your own words. After all day of denying that, now sitting next to him it all came back to bite your ass. The memories, scent, how your body instantly relaxed just because of him being close. “Both of you are thinking that you’re fucked up, that you’re the worst one for your job, that you are only good and capable of hurting others. But it’s not true. You are always on the right side, protecting people you care about… you can’t stand and just watch how everything goes down.” 

Logan could see the honesty in your eyes and the words made his stomach clench. You,  sounding so sure and so convinced that it almost made him want to believe it. But he’s always been too aware of how messed up he was, too aware of the fact that he was just a broken old man who’s only good at causing pain and violence. That his whole universe turned their back on him exactly because of how he left and watched from afar how it all burned to the ground. 

“You don’t know me, bub. You know another me. Don’t go getting ideas that I’m anywhere close to him.” 

“Oh really? Then why are you constantly drinking yourself out? Why are you here, helping Wade, huh?” 

The accusations only made him grit his teeth. These words… just stating the obvious, but it bothered him anyway. He looked at you and couldn’t help the defensive tone in his voice, as if he was trying to prove that he was in fact, the wrong Logan. 

“You don’t know why I drink, sweetheart. You don’t know why I’m here. So stop acting like you do know me.” 

“You drink because you fucking care Logan. You care so much that it hurts you, the knowledge about losing people you loved. You’re here because deep down you know that you have to help Wade, that it’s your duty to help innocents.” At this point you weren’t even sure to which Logan you were talking to. Maybe it all were just unspoken words that you couldn’t have said to your lover because he died too soon. Or maybe your brain had other plans for her. 

A pang of surprise struck him. You were hitting uncomfortably close to the hidden part of himself that he so hard tried to kill off and it made him grow more frustrated and vulnerable than he’d like to show. 

“How can you be so damn sure about it?” How could you if he wasn’t even himself? 

“Because I know you, Logan. No matter if it was him, or if it’s you. No difference. You’re the same Logan.”  

“The same, huh sweetheart? Don’t make me laugh. That other me, the one you knew, was loved. Cared for. You obviously cared for him.” The walls he had built for all the time he was alone were slowly falling. “In my world everyone knows my name. Because I fucked up. Your Logan died as a hero. I can’t even die.” Not because he hasn’t tried to. But because of how his death would be a disrespect for all the other people he cared about in the past. Him living was the punishment he deserved. “I’m useless, darling.” 

“Yeah I loved him. But I buried him long time ago. And the moment I did the TVA came and told me that my purpose was over. That I was just a side lover with no further reason to be kept alive. You really think you are the useless one?” Your true feelings finally flowed out. All the concerns and insecurities. After years in the mansion, being an x-men you really thought that you found yourself. That you were so much more than you once thought. But no. The universe only needed you because Logan did. 

“What?” His confused face was enough proof that he hadn’t even thought about why exactly Laura and you were here. “It can’t be… you can’t say that stuff about yourself.” Logan couldn’t point out why, but he immediately changed his perspective. Something in his brain pushed him out of the self pity hole and guilt trap he has been in for years. Hearing that the most perfect woman he ever met, the kind and caring person who sat beside him was born only for his other self to be with… it didn’t sit right. “You are much more than that, sweetheart.” 

“You don’t know me.” The fact that you just repeated his previous words made his blood boil. For fuck’s sake why he had to be such an idiot all the time.

“Don’t be a smartass, and don’t you fucking dare to hide behind it now. You stayed with that asshole for ten goddamn years. You raised his daughter and are treating her like your own. You’re trying to help me, who’s just a pathetic excuse of a man constantly self pitying himself. Screw what those bastard told you. You are not just a lover. You are your damn fucking person.” Logan’s hand cupped your cheek. His eyes were so serious and demanding but at the same time gentle and worried. “Look at me, princess. You are an intelligent, patient, kind, strong and absolutely beautiful woman, who is not just a puppet that can be thrown away, you get it? I don’t have any idea why the fuck universe had chosen the other me to be this screwed glorified idiot, because it should’ve been you. I should’ve been the addition that was unnecessary for existing. Because you? You are the reason why he existed. Why I-“ 

The word slipped through his lips before could stop himself. All the emotions and things he heard that day, all he had seen. How Laura treasured you, how others respected you, how Wilson was fangirling and almost came just because of you being in the same room. Listening to your story of how much you’ve cared about the other him. It made him want it all. Wanted to be the other him. Do something to deserve your love. To show you how much you were supposed to be loved. How you should be a treasure to keep safe and protect at all costs. 

“Fuck it-“ 

And before you could’ve reacted, Logan reached for you, closing the distance and pressing your lips together. Trying to savor the taste of you on him, deepening it like his life depended on it. Living the moment of pure oblivion, wanting you to forget about it all. About the other him, TVA, Void and everything else. Tell you without using words how much he loved you. 

Yes, he didn’t deserve you. But it wasn’t about him. Not anymore. 

[star-girl-05]

Knight in Shining Armour

Stiles Stilinski x Reader

~★~❤︎~✦~

There were a hundred reasons why Stiles hates Theo Raeken. He’s a douche and on multiple occasions he has tried to kill his friends. Lately though his hatred for the man has grown, all because of you. More specifically the way Theo interacts with you. He’s always overly touchy with you, finding any excuse to touch you. Even going as far as whispering in your ear. The worst part is you let him do it. 

Stiles wants to be the only one allowed to be that close to you. To whisper sweet nothings in your ear. Instead you let Theo, and it takes everything in Stiles not to do something about it, scared you’d get mad at him. Tonight though that all changes…

Tonight is one of the few nights the pack is doing something normal teens do, Partying. Everyone’s just cutting loose, forgetting about all their responsibilities and just living in the moment. Of course just as they were having fun Theo has to show up souring everyone's mood. He only says a few words before disappearing into another room but his presence is enough to put everyone on guard, especially Stiles. 

While the others try to get back into a partying mood, Stiles is focused solely on Theo. Watching closely as he walks over to you, standing much too close for his liking. This time however instead of letting Theo stand close to you you're shoving him away earning a silent cheer from Stiles. However his smile quickly falls when he sees Theo roughly pull you back to him. 

Stiles moves on instinct making his way across the room to you. As he approaches Theo drops your arm rolling his eyes once Stiles is in front of him. 

“Are you okay?” Stiles asks immediately, concern evident in his voice. 

“Yeah I’m fine, Theo was just leaving” you set Theo with a glare making sure he got the message. Not that he ever does no matter how many times you tell him off he just comes back. 

“Oh come on Princess” he moves to reach you again but Stiles intervenes. Theo chuckles as Stiles stands in front of you, “Oh I see, you’re her knight in shining armour. Well when you get sick of this dumbass give me a call”, with a final smirk he walks away. 

You let out a breath of relief, before turning to Stiles. “Thank you, he just never listens” 

“This has happened before?” He looks so concerned, it warms your heart that he cares so much. 

“Yeah he’s always bugging me can never take no as an answer”  

“Well if he tries something again call me” you can’t help but chuckle a little, stepping closer to him. 

“Guess you really are my knight in shining armour”, Stiles blushes at your words, “Every hero deserves an award” he freezes as you lean in, placing a kiss on the corner of his mouth. 

“I- it was no problem” he stutters doing his best to try to seem like he wasn’t totally freaking out. 

“Come one my knight, let’s dance” you grab his hands leading him into the crowd of teens all dancing.

[charliemwrites]

what if Price is literally the only one to come out of a mission unscathed so while Ghost, Soap, and Gaz are in the infirmary, Price has to go take care of reader?

Oooooh now we’re talkin’ anon. A couple people said price was mean when I introduced him to reader….. what do you guys think this time?

You know before the door even opens that something is Wrong. You know because Simon is late again and last time he was late, Johnny came to babysit.

It’s not johnny that comes in the door.

You happen to be slipping from the kitchen with a bowl of marshmallows when Price walks through the door. You freeze. He freezes. Slowly, his eyes fall to the marshmallows in your hand… and your puffed out cheeks stuffed full of them.

“Have you had dinner?” he asks.

You look very far away. “Mmm….”

“That’s not an answer.”

“Mm!” You make a show of chewing.

He huffs in amusement and drops his bag at the door. Your eyes flick to it with concern, shuffle on your feet when he moves closer.

“Remember me?” he asks when you finally lose your nerve and take a step back.

You swallow the last of the sugar and nod. “Captain Price.”

“Attagirl.” He beams. “You can call me Price, little one. Or John, but only if you’re nice.”

You frown at him, hugging you bowl to your chest.

“Don’t give me that look, I’ve heard all of soap’s horror stories.”

You huff, scrunch your nose. Where is Johnny, anyway? Simon said that he’s the designated “babysitter.”

“Everyone’s laid up in hospital right now, so it’ll just be me and you.”

You can’t keep the nervousness off your face.

“H-how long…?”

“Few days, at least.”

You frown. That’s not specific enough. He doesn’t explain further.

When he takes another step forward, you take two back, heart starting to pick up.

“Dunno why you’re so afraid of me, little one, but look. I just want to get some proper food in you, yeah? You look like you haven’t eaten and Simon will have a fit if he finds out.”

You swallow and nod, but don’t creep closer. He doesnt press this time.

“Alright, how’s this, you keep snacking on those while I get dinner ready. But you come eat when I call, yeah?”

Seems… reasonable. You nod and retreat to the couch, eyes never leaving him.

It’s not, uh….. easy. You can’t pinpoint why you’re so skittish. He’s not done a thing to make you afraid. Not one! Is even a pretty decent cook.

Later that evening, you try to retreat to your room, but he click his tongue, calling your attention. He holds out a hand, coaxing.

“C’mon, stray. Don’t you wanna watch your shows?”

You try to find excuses, but he just sits there patiently, watching. Eventually you cave, creeping closer. Hesitate at his hand, just out of reach. He wiggles his fingers teasingly. You carefully slip around to the other side of the couch and curl up.

He allows it for a little while. At some point he gets up, gets a water that he sets in your hands. When he sits down again, it’s much closer than before. You finally find something like annoyance, grumbling and trying to press into the arm of the couch.

“Listen to you,” he chuckles, reaching for a scritch. “So dramatic.”

And this time you do get your teeth in him. Bite down and then almost immediately realize what you’ve done. You go still, mouth still clamped around the meat of his thumb.

When your eyes venture up to his, he looks… amused. “Are you happy with that choice?”

You shake your head very carefully.

“Would you like to change it?”

You carefully unlatch, running your tongue over your teeth.

“There a reason you’re biting?”

You always have a reason to bite, the hell kind of question is that? You scowl.

“Too close. Back up.”

“Simon says you need cuddles.”

You hmph. “Simon’s not here. I don’t even like cuddles.”

“Oh, we’re lying now is that it?”

You make a frustrated noise and try to climb off the couch. Price sighs and snags your shirt, keeping you from getting far.

“Stop it!” you cry, pressing your hands to your face. “I’m scared because you keep pushing! I want Simon. I wanna be alone.”

His expression softens. “I know, little one, I’m sorry. I have to push because I need to make sure you’re being taken care of. Can’t do that if you’re hiding away, understand?”

You make a helpless noise, tears boiling over.

“Are they okay? I want them to be okay, even if they’re the worst.”

“They’re alright, lovely. They’ll be here to visit you soon. Come here? I don’t have to touch you, but just come sit and calm down. Sip some water.”

You do as your told, upset and exhausted. Price keeps his word and gives you a little more room, not touching. Even offers a pillow for you to hug. It still smells like Simon.

“Now look. I know I’m not Simon, but I can’t do things the way you like if you don’t give me a chance to try,” Price explains. “No more running. Compromise with me.”

You nod, and even go so far as to press your knee against his thigh. He nods, offers you a smile that is… rather nice now that you can manage to look at his face.

“Good girl.”

“That’s for Simon.”

He pauses, looks thoughtful. “Attagirl?”

You nod.

“See? You’re alright. Now settle in. One more episode and then bed time, yeah?”

You nestle down into the cushions. Don’t make it one more episode before conking out.

[shortbcofkoffee]

1 | 2 | 3 < Last |

CW: implied grooming/sa (misunderstanding), cursing

They moved out of Drake Manor a few months after their argument. A lot happened, actually, between going bankrupt, moving, and Jack marrying Dana. They couldn’t afford Ms. Mac anymore. Jack gave her enough to move back to Ireland with her sisters, but it’d be a few more weeks until she actually went. Until then, she was still cooking for them in their now much smaller home. Jack didn’t have the energy to punish Tim after the first month. He still could only go between home and school, but he got his phone back. They never really talked it through either, Tim always avoided the topic, and Jack could never get him to talk if he didn’t want to. 

Jack didn’t even know why he punished him. Well, he snuck out and talked back, that was the reason, but most of his anger was because of Bruce Wayne. He shouldn’t punish Tim for a situation where he’s the victim. But it was late, he was tired and stressed, and Tim kept riling him up. Not a very good excuse, he knew, he was the adult, but it happened. And they didn’t talk about it, and everything was pretty much back to normal between them.

Right now, Jack was sulking in his new, much smaller office when someone knocked at the door. Someone knocked on Jack’s office door, and he half shouted a “Come in.” Dana poked her head in the door, and Jack’s eyes widened a bit. He still couldn’t believe this was his wife.

“Just coming in to see if you were okay. And to tell you that Ms. Mac finished dinner.” She smiled softly.

Jack’s heart skipped a beat. Everything about Dana was soft. Her smile, her voice, the shape of her face. He felt perverted thinking about it, but he knew her body was soft too. She’d accidentally pressed against him a lot during physical therapy, and he’d felt him against him almost every night since they got together. She was beautiful. She had the most beautiful eyes, and the way he blonde hair framed her face was just… She was nice too. She got on well with Tim, and Ms. Mac loved her. She was the type of person who said sorry to tables when she bumped into them. Jack felt whipped.

“Jack?” Her voice pulled him out of his thoughts. He hadn’t noticed he was staring, and he suddenly felt very embarrassed. 

“Yeah, sorry. I’ll go eat in a minute.” He smiled at her. “Just admiring my beautiful wife. And wondering if she had plans after dinner.”

She took a step closer to the desk, and Jack felt his pulse skyrocket. “How forward, Mr. Drake,” she laughed. She walked around the desk. “But you should go eat soon. Mental health can affect your physical health, I don’t want you getting too stressed. Especially sitting at a desk all day. It can give you some serious knots in your back, but I can’t in good conscious ask you to get a standing desk yet.” Her hands found his shoulders, and Jack could hear his heartbeat in his ears. “I told you I’m also a masseuse, right? I could work out some of these shoulder knots if you want.”

Jack’s mouth felt dry. She had mentioned. A few times. And she was really good at her practice, he was putty in her hands.. “If- if you’d be so kind.”

She laughed in the same way she existed. Softly. “I would be.”

Jack leaned back, or she leaned forward, he didn’t know, but his head was leaning on her chest. He tilted his head to the side and listened to her heartbeat. It wasn’t nearly as fast as his, but it was notably faster. It was nice to know he wasn’t the only nervous one. Ms. Mac had teased them about still being in their honeymoon phase for weeks now, but Jack wouldn’t have it any other way. He was happy. He was ready to let himself fall into her completely when the door swung open.

“Oh! Shi- Shoot!” Tim closed the door as soon as she opened it, and Dana pulled away just as fast. “Sorry, I should’ve knocked, I just wanted to tell Dad something.”

Dana and Jack looked at each other, both blushing and wide-eyed. Dana was the first to speak. 

“Um- Sorry, Tim,” she said as she crossed the room and opened the door. “Talk all you want, I’m gonna help Ms. Mac set the table.”

Once she was down the hall, Tim re-entered the room. 

“What’s up, son?,” Jack asked, red-faced, pretending to look at the papers on his desk.

“Oh, um…” Tim cleared his throat. “I’m going to DC with some friends for the museums and a photography competition. So I’ll be gone for a few days.”

“Huh. Which friends?” It was good that Tim was going out with kids his age, but this mattered. That Bernard kid was kind of an asshole, Jack wasn’t sure about him. Sebastian, on the other was a good kid. Darla was alright, Tim barely talked about Kevin and Callie. 

“Guys trip. Me, Ives, and Bernard. And Dick’s gonna supervise us.”

Jack blinked. That was a name he didn’t recognise. “Dick? You mean Richard?”

“Yeah, Richard Grayson,” Tim nodded. “Bruce’s son.”

Jack’s mood soured immediately. Not the fault of Richard- Dick or Tim, just even hearing Bruce’s name, especially out of Tim’s mouth. It pissed him off. He gritted his teeth and moved on. He knew Tim and Dick were somewhat close, he always swept Tim away when he was in town.

“How old is Dick again?”

“24. He said he’d pay for our hotel, and he’s gonna bully Bruce into paying for everything else.”

Okay. That was fine. But… “And Bruce isn’t coming?”

“No? Like I said, it’s just me, Ives, Bernard, and Dick.”

As long as he wasn’t interacting with Bruce, Jack didn’t care. Well, no, he did care. As long as Bruce wasn’t interacting with Tim, Jack was okay. And as far as he knew, Tim had kept good on not interacting with Bruce. They didn’t even look at each other at social events anymore. “Alright. When are you leaving?”

“A couple of days?”

“Make sure to call.”

Bruce Wayne was trending on Twitter. Well, he was trending often, and usually, Jack didn’t care to check it out. But Bruce was in a photoshoot. In DC. During the same time, Tim was supposed to be there. And right now, Jack was staring (read: glaring) at a picture of the man tanning by the pool. It wasn’t part of the photoshoot; it was from a thread of candids pulled from multiple accounts from what he could tell, but that didn’t matter. The problem came in the back of the photo.

Tim was at the pool bar in his swim shorts, standing between his girlfriend's legs while her arms were around his neck. His other friends were at the bar too, so at least he didn’t lie about that. The next photo had Tim on the shoulders of another black haired, blue-eyed boy, Jack had never seen. They were playing chicken against Bernard and Sebastian. Jack couldn’t remember the last time he saw Tim without a shirt, but he didn’t think Tim was muscular. All of his clothes were baggy, something about skater fashion that he’d never get, so Jack probably wouldn’t have found out for a while. 

After scrolling through far too many pictures of Bruce lying out in a pool chair, there was the last photo of Tim. It was still technically a picture of Bruce, entering a hotel room, but there was a pair of pale legs on one of the beds in the room, barely visible to the camera and dismissed in the replies as some beautiful woman he brought to his room. But there was a birthmark on one ankle. One Jack knew very well because he saw it the first time he held Tim. And now he was seeing it again. On Bruce Wayne’s bed. Over a state away, where Jack couldn’t save him if something happened.

And Tim wasn’t back yet. He wouldn’t be back for two days. Jack immediately picked up his phone to call him. It was dark out, but he doubted Tim was asleep. And he wasn’t. He picked up after three rings.

“Hey, Dad. What’s up?”

Jack wants to say, to ask a million things. Are you okay? Did he hurt you? Did he force you to do something disgusting? But he had to keep it somewhat cordial. Their last conversation about Bruce was awful, nothing got done. Jack failed to bring up his concerns, lost his temper, punished Tim, and probably definitely pushed him further into Bruce’s arms. 

“Hey, kiddo. What are you doing right now?” Good job, Jack, start it off neutral.

“Oh, me and Conner went out for ice cream. We’re headed back to our hotel right now. Kon, say hi.”

“Hello, Mr. Drake,” another voice came through the phone.

“Um, hello, Conner. I don’t believe we’ve met.” Who the hell was Conner? Why was he there too? Tim said our hotel room, so those two beds were probably for Tim and Conner. So Tim wasn’t in Bruce’s bed; it was his own, and Bruce was just in his room. Which made sense because why would Bruce Wayne get a two-bed room? But why was Bruce in Tim’s room in the first place?

“Oh, yeah, I guess you haven’t. Kon’s one of my best friends, but he lives in Kansas, so that’s why. I don’t see him a lot, but he was visiting DC at the time, so he joined us.”

“I see. Well, I hate to say it, but we might have to cut your trip short.” He needed Tim home yesterday. Away from Wayne and home safe, where Jack could protect him. He still had a few guns lying around.

“Huh? Why, did something happen, are you okay?” He rushed out the questions.

“Apart from the fact that you blatantly lied to me? Everything is fine.”

Tim was silent for a few moments, and Jack almost said something else before he was interrupted. “Why do you think I lied to you?”

The way he spoke was layered. Calm and calculated, not accusatory, just asking a question. He was turning it around on Jack, making it so he'd said the outlandish thing. Janet used to do the same thing. They were just like each other, finding a way to talk themselves out of any situation. But being married to Janet for so many years gave Jack a leg up. He knew these tactics like the back of his hand.

“Don't try it with me, Timothy. I've seen the pictures.”

“Oh, shit, yeah. People were taking a shit ton of photos of Bruce when we were at the pool,” Conner said.

“Kon, shut up,” Tim hissed. “Listen, Dad. I didn't lie to you, originally it was just supposed to be Bernard, Ives, and I, but plans changed last minute, and I forgot to tell you. That's hardly worth cutting the trip short.”

A sound explanation, again like his mother. Add in truth to make it plausible. Tim would be a good businessman eventually. But it pissed Jack off.

“Who all is there, Tim?” He asked, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Tim took a deep breath and sighed, like he had the right to be annoyed. “Me, Ives, Bernard, Steph, Cass, Kon, Darla, Cassie, Bart, Bruce, and Dick. That all?”

Jack had never even heard of half of those people. He was joking when he said Tim taking trips with girls was a sign of him growing up, he was still too young. And Tim had the gall to ask if that was all? No. It wasn't. Jack had several more questions, starting with 

“And why didn't you tell me about this change?”

“I told you I forgot.”

“Tim,” Jack warned. Tim was quiet again, and Jack could hear Conner's voice, too far away for him to make out words. “Take me off speaker.”

“You're not on speaker, Kon is just really close. But you're right, I didn't forget to tell you. The reason I didn't tell you was because… well, you're not the most subtle about hating Bruce. I don't know what your problem is, but I didn't think you'd let me go if you knew he was coming.”

Jack bit the inside of his cheeks. He didn't think he was being too obvious, but apparently he was. That still didn't give Tim the right to lie to him. 

“You're right, I wouldn't let you go. Hence, the reason I'm calling you to come home. And in case you “forgot” again, your punishment has been expanded for another four months.” Oh God, Jack, shut up.

“Uh… no? I just said I don't get to see Kon that much. Same with Cassie and Bart. I'll come back in two days like planned.”

“Timothy Jackson Drake, I will drive down there and get you myself. You're not staying there for another two days with Bruce Wayne!”

“Oh my God! What is even your problem with him?! He's never done anything to you.”

“It’s not about what he’s doing to me, Tim, it’s about what he’s doing- what he might’ve already done to you!” Jack’s voice rose higher than he meant. Not quite yelling, but getting there.

“What- What the hell are you talking about? What would’ve Bruce done to me to make you hate him so much?”

“Timothy, everyone knows that man has a thing for kids who look exactly like you! Forgive your father for being worried that something might’ve happened, especially since he’s apparently been creeping around you since you were in the 8th grade!!”

Tim’s line was silent until Conner spoke. “Dude, what the fuck?”

Jack sighed. He shouldn’t have said that. Or he should have said it differently. He should’ve brought up his concerns more carefully when they were both calmer. Tim was reasonable, he would’ve heard him out then.

“Tim, listen,” he started. “I’m sorry, but I need you to come home. I don’t trust that man, and I’m worried about you. You won’t be punished, I just lost my temper. You know me…”

“I’m blocking you,” Tim answered. “You’ll be unblocked when I get home. Don’t bother contacting me until then.” He hung up.

Jack cursed under his breath and tried to call Tim again, but he was already blocked. He cursed again, violently, and threw his phone at the wall. He kept cursing as he got out of his chair to collect the device from the floor. Screw him. Screw him and his stupid big mouth and his inability to talk to his own son. There was no way he was actually this bad at this. Jack’s face felt hot. Close to tears hot. He’d never been worried about someone like this. Of course, he worried for Tim every time he and Janet left on a trip. He was worried when Tim was a toddler and loved to run into any danger his little feet could get him into.

And he was fucking it up. Like it was all he knew how to do. He felt like it was all he knew how to do. He didn’t even know where Tim was right now. Sure, he knew he was in DC, but he didn’t know which part, which hotel. He wanted to drive down there and find him, bring him home, keep him safe. He wanted to explain himself, how this all looked from his perspective. He wanted to be wrong, he wanted to be wrong so badly, but how could he be? Two days. He wouldn’t know Tim’s status for two days. Unless he did something now. Tim was a minor and had gone somewhere without his parent’s permission. Legally, he was a runaway. 

After making sure his phone wasn’t cracked, Jack dialled 911.

[lavendertales]

dinner party || Steven Grant x f!reader

summary: after attending the same book club for weeks, you and Steven run into each other at a dinner party and all of your curiosity and tension finally clash together.

word count: 3.8k

A/N: first fic of the year yaay😌 felt like writing something lighthearted so no warnings besides tension, a hot makeout session & Steven being a sweet literature nerd. I'm actually having a very hard time getting into writing & posting lately but I'm working through it. anyway, feedback is always very much appreciated ❤️

You weren't planning on showing up to this dinner, but according to your friends, "it’ll do you good" to socialize and get out more. While they may have been right about joining the book club to begin with, you don’t want to reveal the real reason why you're attending this event because they’re gonna be all over you, asking incessant questions and badgering you all enthusiastically and frankly, you need some time to process what you're feeling.

What are you feeling exactly?

You're excited about the possibility of seeing Steven again tonight. He’s the big reason why you're going to your book club’s owner’s house for this dinner party in the first place. You can’t help but be attracted to him; that much is clear, blatantly obvious. You are definitely attracted to him. He’s so damn intelligent and curious about things and open-minded and sweet… oh lord, he is so intoxicatingly sweet. And so shy! Steven seemed like the kind of man to wear his heart on his sleeve and that is like a breath of fresh air to you.

And when he mentioned the dinner party happening tonight… you figured it was the perfect excuse to go. It’s not a sin to want to see someone you're attracted to, right?

And it’s been such a long time since you’ve felt this attracted to someone.

Okay, so bottom line is, you're here tonight to show support for the book club, to have some wine and maybe talk to Steven.

You definitely want to talk to Steven. Or at least see him.

He’s got such a sense of humor too. The kind where he doesn't necessarily intend to joke but it comes out funny anyway and it makes you giggle involuntarily. He can make you laugh by saying dry and bad jokes, and when he talks about poetry and interprets it, about history, the way his eyes flicker when he talks about literature in general...

Yeah, one might say you are dangerously attracted to him.

Maybe tonight is a mistake. Maybe you shouldn’t be around him and wine. The combination oozes trouble, and you are not a troublemaker. You are certainly not a reckless person when you drink. You're fun and lighthearted and honest, a little too giggly sometimes, but never reckless. You don't plan on binge drinking, so you should be alright.

Unless your nerves get the best of you and you remain tongue-tied around the sweetness that is Steven Grant.

By the time you soothe you nerves, you are on your second glass of wine, politely engaging with the guests, with Miranda—bless her for starting this book club in the first place—and then you decide to indulge into some appetizers and look around her library. Man, she’s got a huge collection! She has a library in the living room and, from what Miranda herself says, three smaller ones in the three bedrooms.

She says it’s okay to take a look throughout the house—or should you call it a mansion because damn!—and so you look in the first bedroom. You are more interested in the library. The book collection is so damn impressive. She even has first editions of books that would be considered extinct nowadays and you are in absolute awe.

“Oh, hi.”

You turn around so violently you nearly pull a muscle in your neck and spill your drink. There’s Steven, holding his own glass of wine in one of the hands, a boyish grin on his face. You instantly feel your cheeks burn at the sight of him: he’s wearing black suit pants, a turtleneck sweater with the sleeves rolled up and his hair is so curly and luscious it almost makes you sigh.

“Hi,” you finally reply with a flustered smile. “Sorry, I didn’t realize anybody was gonna sneak off to look at books.”

“That’s my idea of a party to be honest.”

You both chuckle, and you can’t take your eyes off him. There’s simply something magnetizing about his presence, about the way he makes you feel just by being around you and that’s dangerous. This has the potential to be a fatal attraction and it’s scaring for all the reasons that it's exciting.

Steven approaches you, although visibly hesitant himself. You clear your throat in an attempt to diffuse your own tension. “But it is a great dinner party though,” you say, avoiding his gaze. “Everyone’s so nice.”

“They are, yeah.”

“The music’s nice too. The food is—“

“Nice too?”

You break into nervous laughter. “I’m babbling. I’m sorry. I tend to do that when I’m nervous.”

“That’s alright. It’s—quite endearing, really.”

Your eyes shoot up at him. Your cheeks burn by this point, and you're fairly certain he can see how red they are, too.

“But why are you nervous?” Steven asks and his voice is so sweet and filled with care that it's impossible to not melt.

“Um… this is not a conversation for a second glass of wine.”

“For a third glass maybe?”

Your eyes widen some more and you find yourself absolutely flabbergasted at the notion that this sweet, intelligent and introverted guy is being flirty right now.

He’s flirting with me.

He’s actually flirting with me.

“Maybe,” you decide to tease against your better judgment. “But I wouldn’t want to ruin my image by binge drinking tonight.”

“I was thinking about getting a third glass myself, so I doubt you’d ruin anything.”

It’s tempting. Too tempting.

You shouldn’t.

But he’s so close to you and he looks and smells so good it impairs your judgment. There is no judgment to be done though. You are feeling needier and more impatient than you have in a long time, and you can barely keep it together.

“If you’re having one, then fine,” you reluctantly agree. “But three is where I have to draw the line.”

Steven giggles. The sound is so youthful and pleasant it’s almost like it tickles your skin.

There’s a moment of hesitation and silence between the two of you as you both acknowledge the fact that you should probably head back downstairs, but you remain locked in some sort of trance looking at the books on the shelves, still nursing on your second glasses of wine and stealing glances at each other. The tension is so thick that you're starting to wonder whether a knife would be able to cut through it.

“Can I confess something to you?” you foolishly ask.

Steven offers a polite smile and a nod right next to you and you feel your heart racing.

“I wasn’t totally sure if I wanted to come tonight,” you muster up the courage to say.

“After what I can assume are a lot of dinner parties over the years, this one probably seems a bit dull.”

“No, it’s—“

“Nice?”

You both giggle and exchange a glare that’s filled with yearning. Oh god, the yearning is consuming, devouring from inside out, clawing with unbearable hunger.

“Yeah,” you laugh. “But I’d agree with you in the slightest. It’s just an ordinary dinner party, nothing fancy. And I am all for that. But... I’m glad you’re here tonight.”

Silence. You gulp, afraid to find his eyes this time around.

“I really like—“

No. Stop before you say something you’ll regret and scare him off.

“I really like talking to you,” you smile at him, and you are so relieved to see Steven smile as well. Watching him be so flustered is an absolute delight. “So you’re pretty much the big reason as to why I decided to come tonight. Don’t get me wrong, I do enjoy the other members of the book club, but it’s just—“

“I was looking forward to seeing you tonight too.”

That shuts you up real quick. Your pulse has skyrocketed, and all you can do now is gaze practically shamelessly at this beautiful man, now in front of you. Your knees weaken, your yearning suppresses all other sentiments, and he is all that you can see. All that you want, the sole reason why you can scarcely think straight at the moment.

 It’s a primal instinct, to want and to have, and to be had.

The more you look at him, breathless, the more you wonder if he feels like that too. He probably thinks in far more decent terms than you do because you can get a bit too dark on the inside to think straight and decent.

“I really enjoyed getting to know you over these past few weeks, to connect on a human level,” Steven continues. “I mean, who you are. And who you are is… really fucking spectacular.”

You haven’t heard him cuss before and you wouldn't have pegged him as the kind of guy who cusses, but it’s definitely doing something to you. Might be him, might be the wine, or it might be a combination of the both. At this point, it's futile to try to understand.

Tonight is shaping up to be quite the evening after all.

“I’m—not,” you smile flustered. “I try, but sometimes I—I go a little dark.”

“That's alright. Everyone does, don't they?"

You scoff. “How are you so open-minded and okay with the idea that someone is telling you upfront, ‘hey, I’m kind of a mess sometimes’? How are you so—so dreamy?”

Steven laughs, scratching his head, and you realize you might’ve made him a bit uncomfortable with your previous remark. But it’s a genuine question because how is he this dreamy?! Can he actually be the ideal man?

All you know is that Steven makes you feel things you haven’t felt since high school, if maybe ever. You haven’t felt anything this intense in years. It might actually rekindle your hope for the male species.

“I wouldn’t call myself that,” he giggles. “A couple of my former dates might disagree with you. I'm not actually a pro at dating."

“Yeah well, an ex might be bitter enough to think that way. But I do think you’re an amazing guy, and… I’m glad you’re here tonight.”

“I’m glad you’re here tonight.”

Oh fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuuuuck. The way he says your name right after that sentence, your full first name, with that British accent sprinkled in, oh my God.

You discover, much to your dismay, that you are feeling things you haven’t felt in years. Carnivorous, urgent, tingling and prickling your skin and you're in imminent danger.

“So did you find what you came in here for?” Steven asks all of a sudden and just like that, when your eyes meet, you're a puddle.

Your heart’s thrumming in your ears, pounding away in your chest; so, so loudly you're afraid it might burst out for him to see it too. You haven’t felt this way in a long time, that much has been established; but this just seems incessant and over the top. You barely know him as a regular person and you just wonder… can you be this insanely attracted to someone you barely know?

“I think I did,” you respond eventually, your voice scratchy against your dry throat, like sand on paper. “Except now I’m debating… um… whether I should or should not have it.”

Steven takes a step closer to you, thus indirectly forcing you to look up at him and you swear you feel your knees buckle under the weight of this solitary glare. Then he clears his throat and stares at you, cheeks flushed and all.

“If you really want it, perhaps it means you should have it,” he says. “There should be no hesitation with the things you want.”

“What if—what if I’m not fit to have it? What if I do something to ruin it? Because this thing, it's—it's beautiful and sweet and kind and a lot of the time I'm not. What if when I inevitably hold it in my hands, I'll stain it?”

This would be a great time to claim this is a metaphor about a book on the shelf, but it isn’t. You know it, Steven knows it. There’s no need to pretend, even if no specific words are given.

“I suppose you have to take a chance and see what happens,” Steven says nearly breathless and to my shock, you see his eyes drop straight to your mouth. “It’s a gamble, as with most things.”

You unconsciously lick your lips and bite on your bottom one, and something changes in his eyes. You swear it fucking does. It can’t be just your imagination, however hormone-soaked it may be right now.

“Take Orpheus and Eurydice for instance,” he continues. “Their love was no gamble, no what if’s. They just knew it from the moment their eyes laid on each other. They knew they had to have each other.”

Okay, so citing one of the most infamous love stories of all time is not helping right now because you're really about to throw caution to the wind and live in the moment, for once in this damned life.

What repercussions would there be, anyway? You simply want to kiss him, that’s all; to kiss him on his cheeks, his nose, his lips, down his neck and down his whole body till he’s writhing beneath you and he’s a pleading, mumbling and sweaty mess. Pleading for the kind of release only you could give to him.

Okay, maybe some repercussions. And this isn’t the time or the place for any of that.

Shit, the image of a sweaty, pleading Steven haunts you now as you're met with his blown-out eyes, somehow still kind.

“That’s… I can’t argue against that,” you smile, way too flustered about the images running through your head. “Thank you for the wise words.”

“I have often been told I am somewhat of a wise man,” Steven jokes.

You chuckle. “You really are though. Um, Steven?”

You're not really sure what happens after you call out his name; all you know is that you pull him in by the wrist, our eyes locked in what seems like a pleading glare, both of us begging the other to move, to do something, anything, and then your body is pressed against the bookshelf, one large hand on the small of your back and the other in your hair, while a sweet mouth is a hot furnace on yours, pressing and touching relentlessly.

And you feel like you're straight up in heaven. You taste, see and feel heaven.

Christ, his lips are so soft, and yet the way he kisses is passionate, tender and ferocious all at once. It’s like he’s trying his hardest to let you know he’s gentle and caring but that he wants this so fucking much and the mixture, the entire idea in and of itself, has you absolutely feral. So much so that you kind of groan into his mouth, and that seems to spur him on. He pushes a bit of himself into you, and you're melting. You're melting and burning up and you never want to be apart from him, from any part of him.

You're left confused when you don’t feel his mouth on yours and oddly disappointed, but then you notice why he stopped. Miranda’s in the doorway, her hand on the knob, chuckling at you.

“My apologies,” she smiles at you. “Didn’t realize I was interrupting.”

“No, we were not—it’s not—“you start, losing the string of your own sentence as you manically lick your lips in what appears to be a feeble attempt at memorizing the taste of Steven's lips.

“If it’s urgent, the bedrooms are all free, and the bathroom’s stocked.”

You feel a rush of embarrassment flood you, and your cheeks are even redder than before.

“We weren’t planning on—on any of that,” Steven mumbles.

Miranda cocks an eyebrow at you, and you both feel like two teenagers being scolded—oddly enough. “Didn’t look like that from here. I was wondering how long it will take you two to finally get your act together. Enjoy the evening!”

With that, she leaves, and you feel even more determined to explain yourself, even if… really, there’s no reason to feel this way. You only shared one kiss, albeit a very heated one. Nothing else happened.

Could it have happened? If Miranda hadn’t walked in… would you have gone all the way?

You know you could have, with the way you felt so devoured and consumed by that kiss and by Steven himself.

Steven clears his throat, scratching the back of his head as he looks at you, his whole face red, just like his lips. Now that you’ve had a taste of his lips, of the way he can be when he wants something—someone—you feel feral, in an absolutely unhinged desire for more.

And it scares you as much as it thrills you.

"I'm really, really sorry," Steven apologizes.

“No, I’m the one who’s sorry. I feel like I sort of lured you into this… bookish trap.”

And then something hits me. “Actually… no. I’m not sorry,” you correct yourself.

Steven seems surprised, only pleasantly. “I’m not sorry about this. We didn’t do anything bad, right? Unless the kiss was bad, in which case…”

He giggles, and he’s so damn sweet you could eat him up, spread him on a cracker.

Naked.

Okay babe, focus. Stay on topic.

“It was the stellar opposite of that,” Steven smiles reassuringly, though his eyes maintain that look in them that’s rather… feral as well.

“I’m not sorry about the kiss because… truth be told, I’ve been sort of… thinking about this for quite some time.”

“Yeah? Anything else you thought about?”

Oh shit, when he’s intentionally flirty is just so attractive you can barely hold yourself together in one piece.

“A lot of anything else,” you admit and gosh, how is it possible that your cheeks are burning even more?! “But this is a third glass of wine conversation. Or—maybe for another setting.”

Steven smiles, still flustered himself. His cheeks are rosy, slightly reddened, and it paints such a beautiful image. It is now that you realize he truly is beautiful: his chocolate brown eyes, long eyelashes, gorgeous hair, and simply the kind aura about him that makes you want to be around him at all times. He exudes safety and warmth and you have genuinely become frightened by how much you am into him already.

“Maybe that glass of wine isn’t such a good idea in the end,” Steven mutters affected.

“Oh? How come you changed your mind?”

“Full honesty?”

“I usually appreciate it very much.”

He leans back in, his eyes roaming your figure and your spine tickles with electricity. A hot and cold shiver passes through you; you tremble. You actually tremble. Holy shit.

“It’ll have quite an effect on me and I might want to take Miranda’s advice from before. Get on with what we started.”

Nothing but a faint oh leaves your mouth; and that’s barely the word itself, just a gust of wind that resembles the word oh, because your brain cannot compute anything at the moment besides what he just said.

And what he said is… well.

“And that would not be the gentleman-y thing to do,” he carries on, and his face is so flustered and yet riddled with something akin to neediness that your head starts spinning again.

Of course he wants to do gentleman-y things. Of course. How on brand for someone such as Steven Grant.

But oh how much you'd love to tell him—and show him—that he can easily do the opposite of that.

You can’t get the sensation of his lips pressed against yours out of your mind. You can’t get his taste out from your lips or your mind. It’s like he’s infiltrated far below the skin, straight into your bloodstream, swimming in your veins, becoming one with your entire system, and you find yourself absolutely speechless. You have genuinely no idea what to tell him or what to reply to him, so you kind of just stare at him in disbelief whilst also wishing for more, almost begging through that single stare, begging him to do anything remotely close to that kiss. Any touch right now would send you into a pleasurable orbit, even a breath in your direction would set your whole body on fire, and as you're thinking this, you come to realize maybe it isn’t such a good idea.

After all, you're still at the dinner party where loads of other people are and something like this, with someone as special as Steven, requires to be in a very intimate setting.

“Is there ever a time when you don’t think of the gentleman-y thing to do?” you chuckle and immediately face palm yourself mentally. Why would you so shamelessly pose such a flirty question when both your minds are in very fragile states right now?

Good god, get a grip over yourself, woman.

“Right now would be a very solid example,” he replies and you could so easily faint right now knowing that those words actually came out of his mouth. “But we can’t always give into our very first urges, can we? Otherwise it’d be so much chaos in this already chaotic world.”

Your jaw slightly drops as you look at him in awe. “You are... impossibly poetic.”

Steven chuckles, a soulful and hearty sound, and to know you are capable of rising such crystalline sounds from him, from such a beautiful man, it means so much to you.

“I just say what I think, nothing to it,” he keeps laughing.

“You’re really making things difficult right now, you know?”

“How so?”

“Well… let’s just say I have half a mind to surrender to that very first urge regardless of what might happen.”

“Kind of an unreliable narrator that urge, isn’t it? Saying it wants things, and it wants things badly, but rationality knows that if we do give into it, into that lust, we also become unreliable in a way.”

Your jaw drops further, and you shake my head. “Steven, you have got to stop with this, seriously. You’re making things very hard for me right now.”

“Sorry! I'm sorry.”

But he keeps laughing and laughing, even as he allows you to leave the room first and leads you back into the kitchen where we end up having a glass of water and talking about literature for another hour.

And around midnight, you arrive at the startling realization that you might be falling in love already.

[patroxlos]

home base . ch1

"friends who have dinner once a week" - 2.5k words

ultraman: rising (2024). kenji sato x reader

master post. ao3 link.

next: ch2. "friends who reconnected and who certainly don't want to be more"

where you're left sitting alone at a restaurant and your best friend thinks it's funny to use ultraman-caused traffic jams as a reason for why he's late.

---

30 minutes. You told yourself 30 minutes.

30 minutes and then you’ll stand and leave because you have the dignity not to wait around.

Because you know that if he doesn’t show up by then, he won’t show up at all.

You are seated at the corner of a neighborhood restaurant. It is family-owned, with recipes that boast three-generation longevity, yet it still maintains a calm and quiet atmosphere at this hour in the evening. Just enough for a celebrity to blend in without risk of being hounded by overeager fans. You have carefully taken this into consideration when you selected the spot. When you had proposed the time and place to him, you particularly noted that he may like their famous yakisoba.

You wonder whether he places as much thought about you as you do with him.

“Hello, are you ready to order?” You are asked. You have only had a water and a side of popcorn karaage.

It’s time. Half an hour of sitting all alone in a booth too big for you was getting a little humiliating. You should stand and go.

“Yeah, I’ll have a platter of the signature yakisoba?”

Oh what the hell.

You gave a smile to the waiter.

“The solo serving?”

“Oh no, I really do mean the platter.” Your smile aches a bit as the waiter kindly reminds you it is good for two to three people. “Yes, I have company.”

And if said company does not show, you will have the noodles packed up and sent to his house. How sweet.

You slump in your seat as the waiter leaves. You’re trying your best to be understanding— you really are, but this is getting too much for you. Your eyes flicker towards the TV above the restaurant bar, playing the news of a Kaiju attack in Roppongi.

Maybe he got stuck due to the traffic? You soothe yourself as the screen shows Ultraman getting struck by the tail of the raging monster.

You scoff. No way. It’s too far from the Dome.

Everyone uses Ultraman as an excuse to be late to work. You will not put it past the amazing Ken Sato to do the same.

He stumbles into the restaurant half a serving of yakisoba later.

You pause mid-chew to watch how his eyes dart all around the restaurant, frantic and panicked. You glare at him even if he can’t see you. You did pick a booth that would be easy to hide in. It is working well in your favor as you see him hopelessly look for you. At least he has the decency to feel bad about arriving an hour and a half late.

He talks to the waiter, who starts guiding him towards your booth. You sit up straighter, ready to give him the coldest shoulder you could muster. Ready to tell him off for his perpetual tardiness. For wasting your time.

His eyes finally meet yours, and his posture fills with relief. “Hey!” He leaves the waiter behind as he jogs towards your table. Fuck.

“Took you long enough.” You do not know why you greet him so warmly as you stand up, and he leans in to give you a side hug before sliding into the booth with you.

“I was so scared for a minute that you already left.”

Your smile stretches a little tighter. “I was just waiting for your usual text saying you can’t make it. I guess I got a little worried since you didn’t send me anything this time, Ken.” You try to keep your voice even and pleasant, wrestling down any inner goblin that threatens to spill out what you truly feel.

“I am so sorry, it was a little traffic with the KDF and the Kaiju business. Got really distracted trying to dodge the debris on my bike.” He sounds genuinely apologetic. He always does.

“Did you see Ultraman?” You ask.

“Huh? What about him?” He has a little jump at the start.

“He fought the Kaiju?” You tilt your head. “In the middle of the streets.”

“Oh yeah, he did. Quite heroic I must say, from what I saw.”

You wish you could call him out for lying like that to your face, but you notice the rigidity of his shoulders and the forming bruise on his face. You decide to let it go. Again.

“Rough practice?” You say, sympathetic. He looks like a wreck. Maybe he just lied so I wouldn’t have to worry.

Ken makes an exaggerated stretch, his cocky attitude seemingly unbruised. “You could say that again. But don’t worry, I’m on top of my game.”

You remember the news coverage of the past few weeks saying that he is at an all-time low in his career. Every poorly timed dive into the dirt and rough swing of his bat have been televised for the nation to see. He notices the concern etched in a growing frown you couldn’t control.

Even if it has been a few months since he arrived in Japan, he knows you well enough to brace himself for your eventual comments about his deep-set eye bags. You don’t say anything.

“Yakisoba?” You push the platter towards him. “The noodles aren’t that warm anymore though.”

“I’ll be fine. Haven’t eaten all day so I just need something in my gut.” He waves off your comment as he begins feasting like a man starved. He groans, delighted with the savory sauce and chewy noodles. “Man, you sure know how to pick ‘em.”

Your chest puffs a bit at the compliment. You were about to reply when his watch beeps red. You glance down at the watch face as it says ‘CHECK-UP NOW’ at the front. “Am I keeping you from an appointment?”

He inhales two more mouthfuls before saying “Nah. Wanted to get here as soon as possible. I’ll get to it after we call it a night.”

“You’re keeping your doctor waiting?”

He snorts, holding his chopsticks in one hand and reaching for his water with the other. “She’ll manage. I want to be here with you.”

On any other day that would have warmed you up, but this time it left a sour taste on your mouth. “Really? I wouldn’t have been able to tell.” You say before you could stop yourself.

He pauses, before setting down his glass. “Huh? What do you mean by that?”

You panic. You do not want it to come out like this. Avoiding eye contact, you fumble to find the right words. “I-It’s just…you’ve been leaving me hanging lately that it…yeah.” You finish lamely.

“Ah…” He looks like he got slapped across the face, cringing from the guilt. “I’m so sorry— I don’t mean to. You know how much you mean to me. You’ve been my only friend since I’ve moved back here.”

“Only?” You cannot believe it. It has been more than two decades since the two of you were sneaking around his father’s laboratory, trading baseball cards underneath a steel table as your parents discussed science and business. More than two decades of him in the States, where the only contact with each other is limited to video calls and your occasional family trips to Los Angeles (you do not count your impulsive flights).

He sucks in air through his teeth. “Hurts to admit it but yeah. I haven’t…vibed with anyone else lately. I’ve just been swamped with all this work and—“ he took a deep breath. “—At least I didn’t leave you hanging tonight?”

You bite your tongue. Not now. Don’t say anything now. He obviously has so much on his plate.

But can’t he understand that you are busy too?

“Yay…?” Fuck. Why do you sound like that?

He fully put down his chopsticks now. “You’re kind of off tonight.”

“Oh, I’m off?” You feigned ignorance.

“Yeah…you have a problem?” He raised one perfectly sculpted eyebrow.

“I should be asking you,” You try to be sincere, because you are. You are worried about how hard he has been pushing himself lately. Instead, your words are stilted, defensive. “Well…You…”

“Me…?”

“I— I mean how has adjusting back home been?”

He seems uncomfortable when you say the word home . Ah. You slump back into your seat, cursing yourself for making this awkward.

“You don’t have to answer that I just…”

“Is this about my stats?” His words are sudden, cutting.

You blink, lost at the direction this conversation is suddenly going. “I’m sorry?”

“Because I’m well aware this is my weakest season and I don’t need a lecture from you right now about how it’s been going.” The yakisoba was growing cold on the table.

“Kenji you know I hate talking about business when it’s just the two of us. This isn’t about your play.”

“Oh so this meeting wasn’t about pulling my player sponsorship?” He barked sarcastically. “Because that’s just what I needed! On top of the threat from Coach to trade me to the Tigers. Me, Ken Sato. Traded!”

You throw your hand up, signaling a pause. “Woah slow down, I don’t know anything about that. You’re going to the Tigers?”

“No!” He snaps. “My coach just threatened me.”

“Why would he threaten you?”

“Because of my stats this season! God I thought you were paying attention.”

“I am! I have to because I have to monitor your progress.”

“So this is about your sponsorship.”

“It’s not about the sponsorship! I only wanted to see you!” Your heart is pounding. You forgot he can get mean. Really mean. You know he was like this but he was never like this with you. “Fuck, man, can’t we just be friends who meet up for dinner once a week?”

He senses his mistake, and tries to reel himself back in even if he already got himself worked up and overheated. “I just don’t need another thing on my plate right now. Hell, I didn’t feel like going tonight but I dragged myself out here for you.”

If he can be short-tempered, so can you. “Do you want a fucking medal?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“If you don’t want to see me then I think we’re done here.” You grab your bag and stand up. “I paid for the meal already. Get it packed. It’s still good microwaved.”

“Where are you going? Sit down.” He begins standing up himself. “I didn’t mean it.”

The waiter stands awkwardly nearby, unsure about whether he should intervene. Both of them are drawing attention. Some other dining customers surreptitiously pull out their phones. That’s the baseball player right? Ken Sato. And that’s the scion of the—

He follows closely behind as you leave the restaurant. You see your bodyguards already preparing the car to leave, but before you can approach them he quickly grabs your wrist. “Wait. Please.”

Sighing, you turn around to face him.

“Can we talk?” He was careful with his words this time. “My bike is parked there. Can you at least hear me out before you go?”

“Kenji–”

“ Please .”

Something is different about him tonight. Or maybe it didn’t start tonight, but it has been like this ever since the season started. For a moment, you can place yourself in his shoes. You feel his constricted breaths, his fatigue. Something is wrong.

“Okay.” You signal to your guards to wait, before following him towards his bike.

The gravel crunches beneath you both. He leans against his bike as you stand in front of him, arms crossed.

He takes a breath, before saying a concise “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For talking to you like that.”

“I didn’t realize the famous Ken Sato apologized.”

He scowls. “Can you make this anymore difficult?”

“Okay, okay. I’ll ease up. Now what’s going on with you?”

He wrings his hands in the air before letting them fall to his sides. “I … A lot has been going on. I can’t explain everything but. I know that I’ve been messing up a lot lately and I really don’t want to mess this up too.”

“Kenji,” you say softly, taking a step forward. “You’re an ass but we’re still friends.”

He groaned. “God thank you—”

“Wait,” you cut him off. “I’m still…hurt.”

He stood up straight at your words.

You shrug. “I have also been really busy. It isn’t easy following in my dad’s shoes, running the family business. I’ve only been doing this for a few months and already I feel like I’m ready to quit.”

Ken laughs. “I understand that way more than you realize.” There is a hidden meaning behind his words that you’re not sure you can pinpoint at the moment.

“Despite all that, I also know that I want to reconnect with you. It’s been so long since we’ve been in the same location, and I knew it would be hard for you to adjust back to living here. I want you to feel like you can rely on me but now it feels like I’m only a second thought when I constantly put in the effort to put you as a priority.”

“You’re my oldest friend,” he admits. “I didn’t mean for you to feel like that.”

“I know you didn’t and that’s the worst part.” You are somber.

“I can’t— I can’t put in the time to fix this now.” He is resigned, yet realistic about what he can offer at the moment. “But please give me time.”

You nod, bringing up a hand to rest on his arm. “Kenji, I’m not the type of person to abandon a friend when he’s obviously going through something. It hurts but I understand.”

The relief seems too much on his body that he takes a step forward and engulfs you. You hear your guards at a distance start to shuffle forward, but your hand signals for them to stand down before you return Ken’s shaky embrace. He is hunched over to rest his forehead on your shoulder.

“If you need me, all you have to do is say so…” You murmur close to his ear. “I’ll give you the space you need, just don’t forget that I’m here for you.”

He seems to shake a bit more in your hold, almost as if he’s struggling not to cry. He doesn’t though, and he releases you from his arms. “I’ll call you?” His voice much smaller than normal.

“The famous Ken Sato? Calling me?”

He cracks a smile, rolling his eyes. “Shut up. I’ll email your secretary for your availability so that the next time we meet, I will be the one adjusting to you.”

Huh. “That’s…oddly considerate of you.”

“You act like I’m normally not.”

“...So you’ll send an email?” You quickly change the subject, which doesn’t go unnoticed by him.

“I am considerate!” He defends himself.

Both of you stand in the parking lot well longer than a few minutes. You have said your goodbyes at least three times by then, but it is natural after the tense moment in the restaurant to just take in each other’s presence. You wave him off as he finally got onto his bike, exchanging promises that you will give each other time to figure out whatever you both needed to figure out. You trace the red of his rearlight through the streets until it no longer could be seen.

[freedomfireflies]

iFall for Harry pt. 8

Summary: The eighth part to iFall for Harry

You and Harry have your final phone call.

And you tell him the truth you've been avoiding since that fateful day in the diner.

Word Count: 3.2k

“So…what have you been up to?”

“Oh, you mean since I fled from the diner in a fit of dramatic rage? Not much. Just…picking up the pieces of my pathetic excuse for a life. The usual. You?”

“Honestly? Pretty much the same.”

You feel your heart flutter as you flop down onto your bed, phone still pressed tightly to your ear. “Yes, I’m sure your fabulous, glorious, and very expensive life is quite pathetic.”

“Maybe not that. But the diner wasn’t my proudest moment. Been picking up those pieces since you left.”

Shit. There's not enough alcohol in the world to soften that blow. “Harry…I’m so sorry—”

“No. Don’t be,” he interjects through a bit of static. “Seriously. I get it. I thought about it a lot after you left, and you were right. I mean, you were right to be…wary. I guess.”

You swallow thickly. “Still…I should have heard you out—”

“Wouldn’t have changed anything,” he says, once again cutting your response short. “Really, it’s fine. I’ve made peace with it. Or…I’m making peace with it. Right now. Talking to you. For the last time.”

Shit, shit, shit. The tears are already working their way back up your throat as you roll over onto your back and stare up and the ceiling. “I like the idea of us being friends. And I appreciate you for…offering to make space for me. I just…I can’t—”

“Really, you don’t have to explain. I get it.”

“No, I know, I just…I know you’re probably a good guy, and you’re trying to…make this work—”

“No, you said no, and I pushed you anyway. I even did it again, like…five minutes ago. Tried to make you do something you didn’t want to—”

“It’s not that I don’t want to, it’s just that I don’t think it would work—”

“Right, and I can’t change your mind about that—”

“It’s not that you need to change my mind, it’s just…I wouldn’t want to hurt you—”

“I’m telling you, you don’t have to explain. I get it—”

You huff. “Harry, would you please just let me apologize—”

“No.” His reply is resolute. Slicing through the phone until you bite your lip and swallow the rest of your argument. “No, you don’t have to apologize. It’s…a weird situation. You had every right to be wary and I jumped the gun. You don’t know me. You have no reason to trust me. We’re good, Cheese Girl. Seriously.”

Even still, your eyes flutter shut. “You being so nice and understanding is not helping me let you go.”

You hear a gentle chuckle. “Oops?”

 “Did you decide all this in the past five minutes, then? Because you were pretty adamant when I first called.”

“Kind of, yeah.” Some rustling. You imagine him sitting down. Because you can actually imagine him now. Put a face to the voice. To the name. The idea. “If I have to say goodbye, I don’t want our last conversation to be me trying to convince you to do something you don’t want to do.”

Your stomach wrenches. “Again, it’s not that I don’t want to…I just…I don’t…”

You can’t seem to force the explanation free, but your silence seems to tell him what he needs to know.

He sighs. “I get it. Really. Like I said, this is…a strange thing. It’s not a fairytale. We can’t make something work just because we want it.”

You bite the inside of your lip. “But you still think I should have given it more of a chance.”

A beat.

“Maybe,” he admits, and a tear slips from your eye. “But maybe you’re right. Maybe this saves us some heartache.”

Tell him.

The command rings between your ears as you suck in a sharp breath. It’s not the first time you’ve contemplated telling him the truth. Telling him why you’re so hesitant. Why you’re so nervous.

But even with all this wine…you can’t make the story come out.

After all…it wouldn’t change anything.

It’s too late.

“Tell me something good,” you whisper. “Tell me…tell me what the best part of your day was.”

He hums, and you wait. Changing the subject is the only way you’ll get through this phone call. Creating some final memories before you go.

“Saw a ladybug on my hat,” he tells you, sounding rather excited. “It was really cute. It rode with me all the way through town. We became buddies.”

You laugh through the desolation. “How sweet. I love ladybugs.”

“Yeah? Me, too. I named him Francis.”

“Francis?”

“Yeah. Like the ladybug in A Bug’s Life.”

“Oh…you a big Bug’s Life fan?”

“Yeah, why not? Pixar is great.”

“Pixar is great. That’s cute you’re such a Disney follower.”

“What can I say? I have taste.”

“I bet your millions of Twitter followers would absolutely love to know that.”

There’s another moment of silence before he snorts to himself. “I think they know a little too much about me already.”

“Oh? Why is that?”

“Just…because,” he replies coyly, and you smirk, “I might have…accidentally…liked some porn on there and everybody saw.”

You gasp so hard, you nearly choke. “You’re kidding. Seriously?”

“Seriously.” You think you hear him grin. “God, I was so fucking embarrassed. I didn’t realize you could see what somebody liked on Twitter. Nobody ever told me.”

“So…you liked the porn and then what?”

“I…okay, don’t fucking laugh,” he begins hesitantly, and you feel yourself smile. “I thought if I just…liked a bunch of other stuff immediately after, like pictures of cute kittens…people would think it was a glitch.”

You bite back a laugh. “And did they?”

“What do you think?” he snorts. “My pussy plan was a complete and utter failure and to this day, my sister still makes fun of me for it.”

You slap a palm over your mouth to hide your laughter as Harry groans from his side of the phone. “Okay, then what did you do?”

“Well, what else could I do? I said, ‘So…the weather?’ and that was that,” he replies, and you can hear his amusement. “My mum threatened to ground me.”

“Oh, as she should.”

“Not for the first time, either. Apparently, I have a problem.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. There was this TV thing…I don’t know, basically I said pussy on national television, and she was pissed.”

“Oh…my god.”

“Okay, in my defense…I was being a good friend. I was telling him how much tail he was gonna get, and I think that was a very nice thing for me to say.”

“Mhm.”

“Oh, what, like you’ve never done anything like that?”

“Like responding to porn on twitter and saying pussy on TV? No. No, I can’t quite say that I have.”

“Shame,” he retorts, and you hear his gentle chuckle. “It’s quite liberating.”

“Oh, I’m sure.”

The conversation lulls then, leaving you to listen to the soft breaths in your ear.

And you listen for quite some time, overwhelmed by the comfort you feel in knowing he’s there.

And overwhelmed by the fear that comes with it.

“His name was Nico.”

“What?”

Your eyes squeeze shut. “The guy I was being catfished with. A few years ago. His name was Nico.”

Silence settles between you as Harry seems to await the rest of the story.

“It was….god, it was so dumb,” you begin, waves of remorse washing over you. “It was back in college. There was this guy in my class that was kind of cute. I really liked him, and my friends and I used to…you know, giggle about it all the time.”

You hesitate, fingers curling even tighter around the small device against your cheek.

“Anyway, one day my friend told me that he wanted my number and had given it to her to give to me. So, I started texting him. And we texted for…shit, for months. All the time. Like…all the time. From the moment we got up to the moment we went to bed.”

 You hear some static from his end and feel slightly calmed by knowing he’s still there.

“I told him…everything. Everything. I mean, things I had never told anyone else. Not even my therapist,” you admit, voice dissipating into a whisper. “And…and we sexted a bunch, and he asked for nudes, and I sent them because I’m an idiot.”

You take a deep breath.

“And for some reason, it never struck me as odd that he never actually talked to me in person,” you continue. “Or that he told me he was too busy to hang out. Or that he couldn’t call and actually talk. Or that whenever we were in class, he wouldn’t even look at me. I just thought…you know, he’s popular, he’s a good student…at least he texts me. And I felt so lucky.”

Harry inhales quietly as well, almost as if he knows where this is going, and you feel your skin grow hot.

“Then one day…he ghosted me. Just completely stopped replying. Wouldn’t answer a single text that I sent, and whenever I called, it went straight to voicemail,” you recall. “And I cried about it to my friends, and I tried really hard to get over it, but eventually, I got so pissed…I went up to him in class.”

“Shit,” Harry murmurs, and your heart lurches.

“Yeah. He had no idea who I was,” you snort bitterly. “Introduced himself and everything. And I explained about the messages, and he was so confused. And then he took out his phone to show me that it wasn’t him. Even showed me his number. Which was not at all the number I had been texting.”

Another quiet stillness as this sinks in.

“Long story short, it had been my friend,” you reveal, the admission nearly catching in your throat on the way out. “Actually, it was a few of my friends. They thought it would be funny, and apparently, they didn’t expect it to get so far. But then it did, and they couldn’t back out. So, they went with it. For months. Through the sexting, and the pictures, and all the secrets.”

“Fuck’s sake,” he grumbles, and you nod to yourself.

“Yeah. So…Nico was really sympathetic when I found out. He apologized on their behalf and said he hoped there were no hard feelings. Which was nice, but…you know, I didn’t know what to do,” you breathe. “The rest of the year, I just kept waiting for the girls to do something with everything I had said and sent. Waited for all the things I had told them to get posted on a blog or for the pictures to get leaked.”

“Did they?” There’s a certain apprehension to his question. Almost as if he’s nervous to hear the answer.

“No,” you say, rather relieved. Even after all this time. “No, they just never talked to me again. And I spent a long time learning to be okay with what happened.”

“But it wasn’t okay,” he argues, and you can almost hear the frown he must be wearing. “And you don’t have to be okay with it. I…that’s the most fucked up shit I’ve ever heard.”

“Yeah, well…I can’t do anything about it now,” you sigh, reaching over to absentmindedly fiddle with a loose string on your duvet. “Anyway. Then I started texting you. And it was great because I didn’t know you from Adam. And it was never gonna go past a few cheese puns. And I had told myself that this is where I get over what happened. I make a better memory. I let the past go.”

He's quiet.

“And then you wanted to call,” you mumble. “And I figured, what the hell. Because if you were someone I knew, I’d recognize the voice. But I didn’t. And you sounded really nice. And hot. And for just a minute, talking to you…I forgot. I forgot why I was so scared. I forgot what had happened…and I had fun.”

He takes another breath, and you sink further into your mattress.

“And then you wanted to meet,” you whisper. “And I almost didn’t come, but then I decided that if this was another joke…I’d stand up for myself this time. I’d tell you off. I’d give myself a better ending. And then…I saw you.”

Another beat before you hear him murmur, “Shit.”

“And I know it wasn’t fair of me to assume the worst,” you tell him. “But I did. I saw you, and I saw a hundred and one opportunities for you to humiliate me. And I saw Nico, and I saw those girls, and I realized…I couldn’t trust you.”

You’re not sure when, but the tears you had been trying so hard to swallow are now streaming down your face.

“Not that I didn’t want to trust you,” you blubber. “But that I couldn’t. I couldn’t—can’t—trust anybody. I don’t know how anymore. And…and I don’t think that’s gonna change. I don’t know how to make it change, and that’s not fair to you. It’s not fair to put this on you when all you’ve done is try…try—”

“Okay, okay,” he interrupts, attempting to soothe you through a softer tone. “It’s all right. You’re okay, yeah? You’re okay. You don’t have to explain, okay? I understand. I understand, ladybug, and I’m so sorry.”

This new nickname brings your soft sniffles to a halt as your lips tug up in a smile.

“I’m…shit,” he exhales. “I don’t even know what to say. I’m…I’m so fucking sorry you had to go through that. And I’m so sorry that meeting me brought it all back up—”

“No. No, it wasn’t you, I just—”

“Still, it was probably way too close to home—”

“Maybe, but I know you were just being nice, and—"

“Can you let me finish?” he snaps but you can hear the playful undertone. “I understand why you don’t feel ready to give your trust away again. Believe me. I understand. And I would never want you to do something before you were ready. Ever. So…thank you for telling me. And I’m so…so sorry.”

You swipe your knuckles across your cheek as you work to steady your breathing. “You don’t have to be sorry.”

“Don’t care. I am anyway.”

A steady calm echoes between you.

“Harry?” you whisper.

“Yeah?”

“…thank you.”

“For what?”

“Not hanging up.”

You hear him sigh, and it sounds heavy. “I won’t hang up until you’re ready.”

Another beat.

“Harry?”

“Yeah?”

Your heart pounds.

“I’m really gonna miss you.”

He takes another breath, and you feel the hole in your stomach grow a bit wider.

“Yeah. I’m really gonna miss you, too.”

 You spend the rest of the night exchanging stories about your lives. He tells you about his X-Factor audition and his family. You tell him about your dog and your weird fascination with Back to the Future.

He makes you promise that one day, you’ll watch the movie together.

And despite the fact that you both know it’ll never happen…you agree with a giant smile on your face.

Hours go by. Until the sun is beginning to come up and your eyelids are beginning to go down.

You don’t want to hang up. Don’t want to let him go or say goodbye.

But the longer you talk, the more stories he tells, the more little quirks you become enamored by…the more you realize you’re beginning to really like him.

And the more you realize that losing him…just might kill you.

You’d wanted a happier ending than the one you got before. And perhaps this is your happier ending. Even if it ends in a dial tone.

Either way, you can’t shake the feeling that you’ll never be able to give Harry the kind of partner he needs. Or the kind of friend or confidant. Your trust in the smallest of things has been shattered, and with his life…you never know what might come out of the woodwork. 

You don’t know if those girls would come back to claim their five minutes of fame. If they’d attempt to blackmail you, or even worse…him.

You don’t know if you’d ever feel safe with cameras following you around or if you’d ever be able to trust that he wasn’t using this situation for personal gain.

And you hate that you wouldn’t. You hate that you can’t just believe him. You hate that your own mind is working against you.

But you especially hate that he’s been nothing but great cheese puns and amazing phone sex. That there’s so much more to discover about him. That he’s so kind.

And that you’re so…broken.

The soft golden streams of light slip through your curtains and offer you their morning greeting. It’s a new day. 

For both of you.

It hits you then. Letting him go—actually having to press the button—might ruin you. You aren’t sure you have the strength. You aren’t sure you can let these few wonderful things go and block him out of your life for good.

No matter if it’s the right or wrong thing. It’s the only thing you can do.

You haven’t spoken in a few minutes. Instead, listening to him recall his favorite spots in London. The soft, silky sound of his voice luring you deeper into your infatuation.

 You realize you can’t do it. You can’t be the one to hang up the phone. To tell him goodbye.

You can’t. Your tongue physically won’t let you.

So…you devise a plan.

“Ladybug?” he calls after his story has finished. “You there?”

Silence.

You are here. You are, and you don’t plan to go until he hangs up. Because that’s the only way you’ll ever do this.

You have to force his hand.

“Cheese Girl?” he teases before you can practically hear the smile slip from his face. “Are you asleep?”

Nothing.

Your pulse bounces against your ribcage like a basketball as you hear him sigh.

“I think you’re asleep,” he decides. Softly. As if speaking to himself. “And I think that means it’s time to go.”

Your eyes squeeze shut. No…

“In case you aren’t asleep…and you can hear me…” he begins as your throat constricts, “…I want you to know how happy I am that I met you. That you got my number instead of his. And that you gave me some of the best cheese puns I’ll ever hear.”

I’m happy I met you, too.

“I’m so fucking sorry for what happened,” he sighs. “And I’m sorry I couldn’t have…fixed it for you.”

Don’t say that. Please don’t say that.

“You deserve so much better than what happened.”

You deserve better than me.

“And I know you’ll find someone who can help you rebuild your trust.”

It should have been you. It should be you.

“Please take care of yourself, Ladybug.”

I don’t think I know how.

“And please remember me in a better light than the I-Liked-Porn-On-Twitter light,” he chuckles.

You smile.

“I will always…brie here…if you need anything,” he finishes, and your grin gets a bit wider, forcing a tear from your eye.

Don’t say goodbye.

“Goodbye, Cheese Girl.”

With that…the phone beeps three times.

And the call goes quiet.

“Goodbye, Harry.”

Dedicated to @nof0odallowed for the original ask! 💞

Next Part:

~ iFall for Harry pt. 9

Previous Part:

~ iFall for Harry pt. 7

~ Full iFall for Harry Masterlist

~ Other Harry Blurbs

~ Full Masterlist

Taglist (if I'm doing this right, and if you'd rather be taken off, just let me know!!):

@walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @keepdrivingkisses @swiftmendeshoran @tiredinwinter

[xetlynn]

Jacob Black x fem!Reader

Anything For You

Warnings:kind of angsty, cursing.

You’ve been best friends with Jacob for years, being so close with him his friends were your friends. Even Billy counted you as family. Especially due to your parents always being away for business oriented reasons, never having time for their daughter.

But as of lately Jacob has been distant, only because of an old friend back in town. Bella Swan. The girl who made your best friend ditch you for every plan you guys have made these past weeks.

Something you didn’t realize was truly bothering you until you called him one night. The one night you begged him not to miss and he did. It was the night of your concert for your school orchestra. A thing you took pride in.

When you looked in the crowd to find Embry, Quil, Seth, Paul and Billy. But no Jacob. His excuse was that he had forgotten, simple mistake.

Simple mistake that crushed you beyond belief.

It was one thing for your parents to miss your concerts, to not even come home for dinner. But Jacob doing this was a betrayal even you felt childish for being upset about.

And then today, you waited outside where he said he would meet you after dropping Bella off at home. He said that he would be there at 3 pm. As it is now reaching 5:30 you pulled out your sketch book. You talked to your school counselor who gave it to you, telling you to draw or write down how you feel.

Today you wrote, filling two pages front and back about how you miss your best friend.

Who you thought even at one point could have been more than your best friend. Thinking you guys were just reaching that point in life.

“[Name]!?” The voice made you hopeful but once it actually reached your ears you frowned slightly as it was not who you were waiting for. “Hey, Seth.” You forced a smile.

“Hey, uh Embry, Quil and I were gonna go to the beach. We noticed you’ve been sitting here a while. We wondered if you wanted to join?” His eyes looked hopeful.

The boy had a crush on you, he’s had one for a few years. Knowing who your heart belonged to he never said anything but everyone knew.

Even you.

“Uh, I guess.” You shrug, getting up from your spot.

Trying to enjoy yourself with the thoughts in the back of your mind was irritating, forcing yourself to laugh along with their jokes you actually didn’t understand.

The four of you tossed a ball to each other, Quil now had it in his hands and you sighed. Waiting until it came to you. “Hey, you alright over there?” Embry shouted with a grin on his face, not knowing you actually were not doing well.

“Oh, I’m fine!” You wave a hand to motion you were okay. Quil raised an eyebrow. “You sure it has nothing to do with Billy Blacks son?” He questions and your eyes spiked open from what he said.

“What?” Was all that could form out of your mouth.

“We’ve seen how much of a douche he’s been, [Name] we aren’t blind.” Embry tells you, not meaning to be so harsh but it just came out that way. You glance down, catching the ball from him. “I uh, didn’t know other people noticed.” You gripped the football, not wanting to make eye contact with them.

“Of course we noticed, especially when he fucking didn’t come to your concert you’ve been non stop talking about.” Quil rolls his eyes.

You laugh,

“It’s whatever, he’s happy hanging out with her. I can’t rely on him all the time.” You try to force up a lie on how you feel. “Yeah, okay. Throw the ball, princess.” Embry winks.

Taking in a breath you chucked it at Seth, not realizing how hard you threw it. And the fact that he wasn’t ready it hit him right in the face. “Oh my god!” You gasp, covering your mouth as the other two burst into laughter.

He groans, holding his nose, checking to see if it was bleeding and luckily it wasn’t. “I’m so sorry, Seth!” You run over to him. Trying not to laugh now as the others bent over holding onto each other as they can’t contain it.

“It’s okay,” he waves it off but you shake your head. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah.” He says and you pull him into a hug.

“You got one hell of an arm.” Embry snickers.

“Shut up.” You mutter silently to them as you hold the younger boy.

“Im really okay, [Name].” He tells you as his face burns hotter and he grows flustered.

“That’s what’s going to give him a nosebleed.” Quil teases and the two laugh again.

“Oh leave him alone.” You tell them then look down at him and your mouth goes into the shape of an ‘o’ so you let him go. The boy clears his throat. “I’ll go get the ball now.” He announces but as he turns around Jacob was standing there handing him the football.

His face laid no expression. Your heart races from him just being near.

“Can I talk to you?” His eyes meet yours and your posture straightens. “Can it wait for later?” You nervously glance at the other guys who stand awkwardly.

“We will just go.” Embry says, grabbing Seth nod pushing him away, Quil follows. You mentally curse at them for leaving you.

“Please, just hear me out.”

“What is it Jake?” You snap, acting impatient wanting to get whatever this conversation will be to just happen.

He reluctantly pulls out your sketchbook and your eyes widen. You instantly run to your bag, digging through it to find that exact same book, not believing you actually left it back at the house.

“[Name] why didn’t you-“

“Oh don’t give me shit! I can’t believe you read through my book!” You snatch the book back, throwing it on the ground. “Why would you read it?” Your voice cracked as tears threatened to peak through. Trying to shove the feeling down.

“Hey, calm down.” He steps closer but you step back and a pained expression shoots across his face.

“Go vent to Bella about it.” You sat on the sad, picking the book back up and staring at it.

“Please.” He comes closer. “What!? Just say what you need to say. Get it over with since you obviously won’t give up.” Tears fall and you quickly wipe them away as you feel ashamed and embarrassed.

“I.. I didn’t realize I was being such an asshole.” He says, he follows every movement you make, “[Name] there are no excuses to how I have been treating you.” He falls to his knees in front of you. “No, there’s not. No excuse for going through my shit either.” You point a finger in his face, hiccuping as you cried.

“I know,” he sighs. “I don’t know why I got so excited when Bella needed me. I don’t know why I left you out and forgot your fucking concert. It was unexceptional of me.” He tries to get closer so you would look at him but you turned your head to stare at the waves of the water, gripping the book.

“You’re worth more than that. You’ve been my person- my number one for years.” He takes the book out of your hands, throwing it aside and holding your wrists. You don’t resist. You close your eyes, not wanting anymore tears to fall in front of him. “I got confused, I… I realized I need you. More than anything, more than the food I eat, the water that graces this Earth, I’d rather lose sleep that’s how much I need you. I need you near me or I can’t breathe. The distance that pulled us apart was slowly breaking me and I didn’t even know that feeling was because I wasn’t with you.” He expresses, his voice wavering throughout his words. Your body shutters as your silently sob, your lip quivering as you shivered.

The look on your face physically hurts him, his body feels like crumbling knowing that this was because of him.

“I want- need you to know I will do anything. Anything to make it up to you. To never see these tears fall from those pretty eyes unless they were happy ones.”

Your eyes follow from his hands holding tightly to your wrists, going up his torso then to his lips, and then lands on his eyes.

For the first time, the world shifted. Everything grows brighter, his touch burning but you don’t move an inch. An energy switch from wanting to hate him more than anything to just wanting him around you. Even without speaking you’d be okay.

A small noise escapes passed your lips, then you speak. “As much as I want to punch you, to tell you to go away and never speak to me again after you hurt me. I don’t truly wish for that. I want to trust every word and don’t look back.”

His eyes soften, he lets you go slowly. “Please forgive me.” He whispers, his voice trembling which breaks you. You pull him into an embrace, one hand stabilizing himself on the ground and the other wrapped around you. “[Name] there’s nothing in this world I won’t do to be yours.” He holds you closer.

“Just be here. With me.”

Then pushing him back to look at him again. “Always.”

Like magnets, force brings you two together, his lips on yours. Igniting a fire from every touch you lay on his skin.

Pulling away his fingers wipe away your tears and you grin at him. “More of that and I’ll forgive you for everything.”

He laughs, pulling you onto his lap. “Anything for you.”

[ghostfacd]

LACY — QUINN HUGHES43

“smart, sexy lacy, i’m losing it lately.”

listen to olivia rodrigo’s lacy for better experience!

summary; you have always been insecure of quinn’s girl best friend, so what do you do? you swallow it down. it wasn’t until the jealousy started to eat you up that everything explodes all at once, and what comes out of it was never something you’d expect.

pairing; quinn hughes x fem!reader, implied oc x fem!reader

genre; angst, midlife crisis arc goes hard! reader gets massive self realization, lots of commentary (you see through reader’s brain with this one) quinn is confusing, everybody’s so confusing

Would it be mean for you to say you didn’t really like Quinn’s friend? Sure, she was one of his best friends and made sure to always compliment you whenever you were in close proximity. But why couldn’t you just like her?

Lacy Willers. According to Quinn, she had gone to Umich with him and they became inseparable after he accidentally fell asleep during class because he had ended hockey practice late and stayed up doing his assignments. He woke up with zero notes in his computer and had awkwardly asked the girl next to him, Lacy Willers, for help.

Lacy Willers was beautiful, inside and out. She was sweet to you, always keeping her distance with Quinn and respecting your boundaries as his girlfriend. She had long blonde hair before dying it brunette because according to her “YN looks so pretty brunette, I wanted to try it out.”

How could anyone hate her?

Her skin was like puff pastry, and you hated how perfect Lacy seemed to be. You just wanted one reason. One good reason to hate Lacy and not hate yourself for doing so.

“Babe?”

The voice of Quinn makes you snap out of your trance.

“What’s up Quinny?” You ask, shooting him a smile so he wouldn’t notice what was up.

“Are you still going to my game?”

Ah right. Quinn’s game. Shit—you had been so wrapped up in your thoughts these past few days that you seemingly forgotten all about it.

“YN..”

“No no, I’m going Quinn!” You reassure him, “don’t worry. I’ll get all my assignments in by then so I can go to your game.”

Quinn gives you one of his small smiles, the smiles that is only reserved for you.

Or does he give them to Lacy too?

“You okay?”

Curse Quinn’s big brother instincts. He always knew when you were feeling down, and you hated it.

“I’m fine Q,” you say, standing up to kiss him on his cheek. He’s so cute, you sometimes wonder what you did in your past life to deserve someone like Quinn.

“Okay,” Quinn doesn’t seem so sure of your answer but he doesn’t push. If there’s one thing about Quinn is that he knows his limits. He pulls, not push.

When Quinn’s game comes by, you find yourself sitting next to Lacy Willers and the youngest Hughes, Luke.

You excuse yourself for a few minutes, needing a breath of fresh air. Even past the seats, Lacy’s perfume lingers through the air. You swear that you see her everywhere.

When you come back, you see Lacy with her hand on Quinn’s back, a bright smile exchanged between them.

A knot forms in your stomach.

“YN! Hi!” Lacy waves you over, “Quinnier here made a winning goal last minute!”

Oh Lacy, it was like you were out to get me.

“Really?” Your face brighten up, eyes looking up to meet Quinn’s. In the corner of your eye, you see his hold on Lacy’s waist, but you don’t say anything, too tired to overthink or accidentally start a fight.

The familiar toss of keys and the turning on of the lights seem suffocating to you. You had no idea what was wrong with you. Quinn was a great boyfriend, Lacy was nice, so why does it feel like you can’t breathe?

“Lacy asked me to ask you if you wanted to have a girls night with her.” Quinn mentions as he takes a bite of his peach.

“Lacy asked you to ask me?”

“That’s what I said, baby.”

You don’t know why you feel so nervous. Lacy Willers asked you to have a girls night with her?

“I mean, yeah, I guess.” You shrug. Quinn throws the seed of the peach he’d just finish into the trash, making his way towards you.

He wraps his arms around you—a all too familiar sight from when he previously had his arm around Lacy, and placed his hand on your head, pushing it slightly so he could place a kiss on it.

Saturday night. Girls night with Lacy. You were scared shitless.

You clear your throat, pushing away the negative thoughts. It’s just Lacy Willers. Umich Lacy. Quinn’s Lacy.

“Hi!” The excited voice of Lacy sends you into a spiral of emotions. She’s in a pretty white silk pajama set with little hearts all around. Her hair looks so naturally perfect that you wanna curl up and cry. Lacy Willers, without even trying, can already take your breath away.

Smart, sexy Lacy. You remembered Quinn mentioning how Lacy was a nursing major. She was good at the arts too, you knew as soon as you stepped in her living room and glanced at the portraits on the wall.

“So,” Lacy sits the both of you down, the beautiful smile of hers never leaving her face. “You okay? Did Quinn’s dumbass do something?”

Your eyes go wide, “no! What makes you think that?”

She laughs slightly, eyes genuine. “Call it.. girls instincts. But really, you can talk to me. I know we aren’t that close but I’d love to become closer. I mean, you’re beautiful and so kind, doing Quinn a charity case if you ask me.”

Although Lacy’s so genuine and her compliments would’ve made anyone else drop to their knees, they feel like bullets on skin.

“Well I don’t know, I just feel weird.” You say awkwardly. “Quinn’s great, don’t get me wrong.”

“Yeah,” Lacy wraps her hands around her hair, making a quick ponytail and grabbing a ribbon from her cabinet to tie it up with. “I get it.”

Ribbons in her hair. She looks as pretty as ever. Almost as if she was made of angel dust. Your stomach is all in knots.

That night you slept on the bed fort Lacy had made, your heart thumping in your chest. Even in your dreams, Lacy Willers is there.

“How was the sleepover babe?” Quinn asks, placing a kiss on your head. He shoots a smile at Lacy who smiles shyly at him.

“It was good,” you say, looking between the two. It was as if they spoke to each other with their eyes, a language you didn’t understand.

“Quinn,” you say as soon as Lacy says her goodbye after dropping you off, clearing your throat.

“Yeah?”

“Have I told you I haven’t been feeling well lately?”

Quinn’s eyes shift to concern, his eyebrows furrowed. “You okay babe? Is it the flu?”

He reaches to feel your forehead, searching for a burning sensation, but to his surprise, you seem perfectly fine temperature wise.

“No, it’s not that.” You say.

It’s never been that. It has never been about you being jealous of Lacy being close to Quinn. It’s never been about you being scared she was gonna take him away from you.

It’s always been about Lacy. Smart, pretty, kind Lacy Willers. The girl who made your stomach turn in knots and your words into stutters.

Lacy Willers, the girl you seem to loathe lately. The girl that poisons your mind and everything that you do.

The girl who made you despise your own eyes for how hard they fell for her.

Lacy Willers, the girl you’re in love with.

[petit-naldo]

JEALOUSY

Charles had never experienced jealousy. When you were Charles Leclerc, there were very few things you had a reason to be jealous of. Don’t get me wrong, he had his fair share of tragedies. But when it came to petty jealousy, he was kind of immune.

He had the prettiest girls, the best clothes, the best cars, the best team.

He had the prettiest girls, the best clothes, the best cars, the best team.

So it takes him a moment to realize what that burning feeling in his chest stands for.

It happens, for example, when Carlos is holding Lando's hand AND looking at him for what feels like an eternity in the hallway before the sprint. And this strange feeling makes him uncomfortable and angry, so he tries to intervene. And he does it in the stupidest way possible.

He puts his hand on their handshake. Because he's getting angrier by the second.

He just wants them to stop touching.

Of course, there are cameras capturing his stupid move.

He doesn't really know why he did it.

 He's known for a very long time that Carlos and Lando are really good friends, it never bothered him more than that. But lately they seemed to have some kind of renewed spark, giggling and hugging on the podium.

Even though Carlos said they're his two favorite teammates.

It still bothers him.

 Yeah, right. It's the fourth year, Carlos, and we've been laughing every damn day, why can't you say I'm your favorite teammate?

Maybe something changed last week in Monaco. In fact, if Charles is honest with himself, he knows exactly what ignited a little fireball in his belly. It was right after the Monte Carlo Masters final. He was talking to George and Carmen in the VIP hospitality area. George was a good friend of Lando's. Of course, because Lando was so charming. Lando sitting with a pretty blonde across the court. And George, always the first with gossip, smiled and raised his eyebrows.

"So, he’s back to girls...," Carmen laughs as if she perfectly understands what it means. And Charles frowns.

"What do you mean?"

"You know," answers George, moving his face in a suggestive way.

"Mmh, ah yeah," answers Charles, who really DOESN’T know but can’t really imagine anything besides one thing. Is Lando bi ?

He can’t keep this idea out of his head. So one night in Shanghai, while he and Carlos are sat on boxes outside the Ferrari garage, softly chit-chatting and the dusk is wrapping them in blue and purple and the frogs are starting to wake up, he tries to bring up the subject as casually as he can.

He first pushes the direction of the conversation towards the tournament.

"Weren’t you a bit disappointed? I think the semi-finals were more interesting matches."

Carlos answers and says it’s okay, but what he’d really like to do is go to Roland Garros. Watch Nadal's final game. Shit. Charles prompts again, redirecting.

"Were you with Lando?"

"No, he was with a girl." Jackpooot. He switches with what he hopes is the most casual tone he could adopt.

"Oh yeah, it’s true... by the way, ahah, George told me he was surprised because… well, he said Lando used to… date boys."

"Ah, George, such a nosy bitch," Carlos says, looking at his phone without bothering to respond any further.

Charles bites his lip. He wants his answer. He NEEDS his answer to ease the ball of fire he feels growing in his chest. Charles doesn’t know how to be subtle.

"So, Lando is bi?" he blushes because really, it’s nowhere near subtle.

"Why do you care?" asks Carlos, suddenly looking at him intensely.

Charles falters, luckily, the night is fully set upon them because his face might be close to crimson, and he blurts out the first excuse he can think of.

"A gay friend of mine has a crush on him."

He never panicked so hard, it’s weird, he’s usually a chill dude. But his heart is at the edge of his lips. A wave of heat floods him, and his breath shortens.

"Who?" Carlos asks, frowning. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

"You don’t know him. From Monaco." He clings to this thread. Fortunately, his overheated mind found this excuse because Charles has no friends who know Lando and that Carlos doesn’t know, and if Carlos had realized that, it would have made the rest of the conversation very uncomfortable.

Luckily, after what feels like suffocating seconds, Carlos lets it go with a grunt and shakes his shoulders.

"Yeah, he is… well, if you consider showing up with a girl once every blue moon, being bi."

SO LANDO IS GAY???

He feels that sting, that crazy sting clouding his mind, making him act like a foolish fool and he watches himself open his mouth again to utter, "Oh...I didn’t know, if you knew."

"Ha…," scoffs Carlos, shaking his head, letting his eyes gaze into the faraway... "oh believe me, I know."

Charles knows he should shut the fuck up. But he can't because this sentence alone and the tone with which Carlos said it, stir up a thousand more questions. He should leave before it's too late. He’s already asked too much.

He isn’t close enough with Lando to keep pushing, for his curiosity to make sense.

But nonetheless he asks.

"How did you find out?"

"Mmh… " Carlos looks at him a bit surprised by his questions. Usually Charles isn't the kind to ask personal questions. "I’m not really comfortable sharing his personal stuff, Charles."

The "Charles" should be his cue to fucking stop pushing. Because Carlos said it in a way that doesn’t offer contradiction.

But he is stupid. He is the most stupid man to ever exist. So he fakes a laugh.

"Come on, Cahrlos, tell me, I’m your favorite teammate " He tries to be playful, but he so desperately needs to know that it must be really obvious in his tone. He feels cringe and shameful and immature and he wants to burry himself into the ground.

But he also wants the answer.

"Why," laughs Carlos, "your friend wants to know?"

And Charles backs down. He isn't brave enough.

"You’re right, I shouldn’t gossip like that, damn George really rubs off on me."

They keep chatting about tennis. He tries to focus on Carlos deep voice to avoid getting lost on thoughts about Lando.

But that night, as he lies in bed, the overthinking starts.

He keeps replaying the conversation, trying to extract from it every bit of info he can.

"Oh yes, believe me I know" - why this tone, why this almost tragic tone, melancholic.

Ideas start to swirl.

Did Carlos stumble upon Lando being with a boy? Did Lando make a move on Carlos? Did Carlos make a move on him? Could Carlos have done something with… no, no, no, Charles, come back to your senses.

He lies awake.

The little ball of fire starts swelling in his chest at the thought of Lando being near Carlos.

But that’s stupid.

Because Carlos is straight.

And Carlos is only friend with Lando.

He is.

Is he?

Isn’t it weird though how close and touchy they are?

Well, Carlos is a touchy guy.

But especially with Lando.

And him.

No, but it’s not the same.

Charles is straight.

Maybe after an exhausting sim session back when they were teammates he and Lando could have…

NO !

Carlos is straight.

S t r a i g h t.

But maybe he tried.

Or maybe one day he will.

Lando is not ugly.

Not as pretty as Charles, but…

Charles shakes his head.

C’mon, is he really judging other drivers’ looks now?

But then, the weekend happens and he notices Carlos staying glued to Teto.

And Carlos makes a joke about Teto being his WAG on Instagram.

Carlos is way too comfortable with every other boy around.

Charles tries to reassures himself about what ? he doesn't know.

He says to himself that it’s okay.

Because there is no one else’s waist Carlos puts his hand on while he walks.

And it was a real close hug during the shell event. No ?

What?

Jesus Christ, Charles, get your shit together. He’d really like to take some time to acknowledge what the fuck is going on inside his mind. What are his feelings for Carlos, does he really have a crush on him. That would be a very bad idea. And he is straight. As Carlos. Supposedly.

Anyway, he can’t because 90% of his brain is focused on the race and the ten other % are literally occupied by… okay, he wanted to call that rage ? But it’s that burning itch making him want to punch every man too close to Carlos. Making him want to act like an imbecile just so Carlos would look at him.

It takes up too much space in his mind to let anything else in. He scooches alongside the Spaniard anytime he can. He develops weird strategies to be sure he’s next to him during the parade.

He keeps an eye on Lando at all times. He scrolls down Teto’s Instagram and re-watches the Don’t Blink on YouTube. Clenching his teeth at the winter one. Carlos lifting him like that, like a feather.

Teto acting exactly like a wag, getting along with Sainz Sr, sitting near Carlos in restaurants,

Teto, who is actually very pretty. Shiny golden hair. Big eyes.

When Charles sees him leaning against a railing above one of the numerous ponds of the Shanghai paddock, he has the urge to throw him overboard.

Maybe a crocodile could eat him. Are there crocodiles in Shanghai ?

That way, he would never again hold Carlos’s shoulder while laughing.

Then the weekend is over.

He looks through the window of the plane. Today he flies back to Monaco. He has been a nightmare to deal with, yelling at everybody. He feels restless and irritated.

Yet the weekend has been good. Everything ran smoothly. Carlos had even congratulated him for the third place, gave him a hug. But after, at the corner of his eyes, he had seen him hugging Lando, holding him by the neck. Diving into one of their secret conversations.

And just a few hours later. He had heard they were flying back together on the same plane.

TOWARDS MONACO.

He goes to Monaco too!!! He is Monegasque! Why can’t Carlos ask him to fly with HIM? Why Lando? Always Lando! Insufferable, childish, giggly, never-won-a-race Lando!

HE is il predestinato, HE is Ferrari’s sacred child! He is nice, and every girl are at his feet.

He slides a hand over his face. He feels like he's going crazy. What is this fury burning in his chest for days?

But he doesn’t need to think about it for long.

It’s pretty obvious.

It is well…

Jealousy.

[cofay]

★ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁.ᐟ➤ sleepy.

PARTFoUr PREVIOUSLY

You broke the kiss looking around awkwardly I mean it’s not like you didn’t like it you just didn’t know what to do or say now. Bakugou speaks up

“Look I’ve been meaning to tell you that—“

“Baku bro!” Kirishima, Denki and Mina walk back up to you two Kirishima placing a strong hand on Bakugou shoulder.Bakugou grunts shrugging Kirishima off

“Never mind we should get ready to go home.”

“Oh..yeah..we should it’s pretty late.” You chime in starting to pack up the bag left with leftover sprinklers “See you guys…” you start to walk off almost speed walking I mean you can’t believe what just happened!!

Bakugou watches you walk off standing with the group for a moment before going in your direction because he ‘Has to make sure you don’t get lost’

The walk to the dorms wasn’t awkward but silent as you made it to the dorms you slow down your pace stopping a few inches behind him noticing your behavior he stops and turns to face you.

“Are you okay?”

“Uh- yeah it’s just that—“

“Look if it’s about the kiss I get it you don’t have to talk about it if your uncomfortable”

“No! I’m not uncomfortable! I-it’s just that it was so abrupt and- I just-I..didn’t know what to say..?”

“What? Why? You didn’t have to kiss me back if you were unsure.”

“That’s not what I’m saying—“

“Sounds like it.”

“Katsuki I-i just think we should…”

“It’s fine.” you look up him furrowing your eyebrows

“What?”

✶⋆.˚꩜ .ᐟ˙⋆✶

I mean after that kiss it was like things changed between you and Bakugou you did become closer but it was like you both tried to act like it never happened. Which was weird because on the inside he was absolutely DYING on the inside.

Slowly he started to notice how you would avoid him it started to piss him off. Are you serious avoiding him after what you guys just shared?

୧ ‧₊˚ 🍮 ⋅ ☆

It was a normal day you were practicing on the field you ending up missing the ball again and losing a point causing you to sit out a round and go off the field heading inside the school for a cup of water as you’re getting the water and filling up your bottle you feel someone grabbing your shoulder spinning you around hastily.

“Um excuse me—“

“You’re excused. Now how long do you plan on ignoring me?”

“What-“

“I didn’t fuckin’ stutter answer me you know what I said.”

“I’m not ignoring you it’s just-“

“I don’t want an excuse give me a straight up answer”

And that was the end of it.You knew you had now real reason to ignore him or separate yourself from him you just did. And it feels weird it makes you feel guilt now that you know he’s not really going to let this go easily you can’t even give him an answer let alone a reasonable excuse. You fucked it up bad.

“I…I’m sorry.” You say looking down at your shoes “I have no reason..I just did it okay? I don’t know why…”

“Look at me.”

You look up at him slowly

“Look I’m just really sorry okay?”

“I get it we all mess up but listen don’t ignore me here let’s talk about this more n’ private later kay’ meet me at the park in the middle of the night” and with that he walks off.

~~~~~

You show up to the park with your hoodie and a pair of jeans shoving your hands in your pocket to keep warm you sit on a bench waiting for him until you see him from the corner of your eye you get up almost immediately taking off your hood to face him

“Look Katsuki I-“

He walks up to you kissing you abruptly catching you off guard he pulls back slowly

“Y/n. I like you a lot.”

“W-what?”

What is he even talking about is he crazy!?! No way you fucked it up and he likes you this has to be an absolute joke. He can’t be serious

HELPTHESE GOD DAMN LINKS PARTS 6

@armeenix @sukunasbottomlefteyeball

[levi501ackerman]

Silly | Hange x Reader Fluff

masterlist

I have this in my head but I'm too lazy to write so bullet points it is

You didn't know anyone in Levi squad most of them came from the southern cadet corp. You are from the north. They all knew each other and to them you were the new one.

You met them along with Captain Levi in a hide out cabin.

They were all very nice and welcoming. You remained reserved and barely spoke.

You roomed with Sasha and Mikasa. They're the ones that hear you talk the most. You felt the most comfortable around them and Armin.

You cleaned well and you were helpful with Eren's titan experiments. Captain Levi took a liking to you. He thought you were intelligent, quiet, respectful and didn’t complain.

While doing an experiment you see a woman you've seen many times along with a man talking to Captain Levi. She and the guy lept down the cliff to pull Eren out of his titan form. You saw this as an opportunity.

"Excuse me, Captain, who's that woman you were just talking to?"

"Section Commander Hange Zoe." Levi said.

You look at her pulling out Eren and screaming.

"Will she be around us, a lot?" You asked politely.

"Why?" Levi asked, you blushed then turned away.

"Just curious, thank you, sir." You walked back to your post seeing Hange pulling Eren all the way out.

"L/N," you looked over your shoulder giving your attention to Levi. "The tea you made last night was good. Please make some tonight."

"Thank you, yes sir."

You made the tea and you made sure to do it perfectly knowing your Captain actually likes it.

While at dinner with everyone you ate your soup and you are in your head like you usually are. You thought of story ideas and some books you've read.

Along with the rest of the table, you laughed at a joke Connie told.

You knew Sasha will always take your left overs and so you passed your bowl of soup to her.

"You're the best! I love you!" Sasha exclaimed.

Later Levi squad are in their rooms and Levi and Hange are talking about tomorrow’s schedule. About an hour later Hange decided she should go to her squad’s hide out cabin.

Levi stays seated at the dining table sipping his tea and rereading plans.

As Hange passed the stairs, you muster out a “Hi.” She turns to you on the stairs and smiled.

“Hi there!” Hange said.

“Section Commander Hange Zoe, right? My names Y/N.” You said descending the stairs and extending a handshake.

“Yes Y/N! Ive heard of you, its nice to formally meet you.” Hange shook your hand and noticed how short you are.

You can’t help blush, but you’ve been wanting to talk to her, so you try your best to continue to conversation. “Your glasses are really cute, they suit you.”

“THANK YOU! I’m practically blind without them!” Hange said beaming. You boldly take them off her face and hold out your hand.

“$100 and you get them back,” you said deadpan. Hange bursted laughing and you laugh too, happy she liked your joke. While you both are laughing you offer her glasses back. “Here.”

“Oh I’m grateful you dropped your ransom.” She put them back on her face..

“Yeah I don't need them since I can see better than you.” You shot back. Hange laughed more, her smile bigger, and because of her contagious laugh and energy you join. She pushed your shoulder playfully.

“Who even are you?” Hange rhetorically managed to ask through her red face and teary eyes starting develop. You feel satisfied that she is enjoying conversing with you.

Levi heard all this from the dining room and is in disbelief that you were saying all this considering you rarely joined conversations. It’s late and he's ready to send you back to bed.

“You’re funny, I can see why Levi picked you to be in his squad,” Hange smiled ear to ear.

“She’s more talkative than usual.” Levi said behind Hange and it made Hange jump. “What’s the reason you’re down here?” He asked.

“I’m sorry Captain, I just wanted to get a drink of water then I ran into section commander Hange and wanted to introduce myself.” You said genuinely.

“Get your water and back to bed. We have early hours tomorrow.” Levi remembered that you were respectful and not a trouble maker like Jean and Sasha.

“Yes, sir."

“You keep chatting to Hange, she might piss herself.” He said.

“Piss for me.” You said while looking into her eyes. Hange cackles throwing her head back then puts a hand on your shoulder holding herself up from doubling over. You giggle then gradually laughed harder. To the point where you both are laughing silently.

Levi stood there with his arms crossed watching this play out. He's confused where this witty side came from. He's wondering how your stupid line is causing you both to cry from laughing.

You're pleased that you're making this extremely cute woman laugh at everything you say. Both of your energies are causing you both to find everything funny.

When you both start calming down. Hange glanced at Levi's expressionless face, she couldn't contain her laughter, causing you to giggle a little more.

"Okay, you go back to your cabin" he said with a slight amusement in his tone. He began pushing Hange toward the door. "You, off to bed."

"It was nice to meet you," you said wishing you could talk to Hange more.

"Goodnight Y/N! I'm glad we officially met!" You feel so satisfied with the outcome as you walk to the sink.

You replay the conversation in your head. You grab a glass and start getting water from the faucet. Hange enjoying your company and having her laugh with you makes you elated. You notice your heart beating out of your chest.

You chug the water and and then refill the glass to take upstairs. You spot Levi standing with his arms crossed, as you turned to start heading upstairs.

"You're secretly weird, aren't you?" Levi asked and you didn't know how to answer it. You couldn't tell if he was mad or wanted a certain answer.

"I'm sorry Captain for the late night disturbance, I'm heading to bed." You said strolling pass him.

"What's with the formalities when you just told a commander to piss for you?"

Megan's Note: Finals is over I can write more! I just wanted to get this out cuz I had this idea of a reserved reader with a silly side and just wanting to make hange laugh. I've been thristing over hange these past few weeks lol. Anyways hoped you enjoyed. There's not enough Hange x reader out there I'll make more lol <3

I've also thought of a Reader in Wonderland. They fall in and meet Hange as the Mad Hatter, Armin as McTwisp, and I haven't thought more into it except basically she gotta fuck Hange, fuck Levi in order to escape. Idk Im just horny going on 2 weeks of being single and I want Hange's strap.

I also have a vampire AU in mind but its dirty af and smutty? Lmao

masterlist

[idciminlove]

Take a Slice

Part Nine- Gala Part I

f!reader x Tashi Duncan x Art Donaldson x Patrick Zweig

Cinnamonacid on AO3

Warnings- age gap, anxiety, sexual tension, poverty/class gap, etc.

You prepare for the foundation’s gala.

You can’t do this. You feel like you’re drowning. You feel like you can’t breathe. But you can. You can. You’re trying to ground yourself and mentally prepare to go to the gala for the foundation. Not only will you be surrounded by rich, powerful, and extremely intimidating strangers, but it’ll also be the night that you confirm your leave from college. It’s going to be the night that you go through with this. The night that everything turns real.

Anneliese is trying to soothe you, squeezing your hand softly and holding you close, but all you can think about is how absent she’s been lately, using excuse after excuse. All you can think about is how she’s going to leave you.

“I would go if I could, I swear, but we’re finishing up our final project tonight and I have to be there. It won’t be that bad, I promise. But if anything goes wrong you can just text me okay? I’ll send a cab, or something.”

You didn’t respond, just stared down at her hand, running your finger along hers. She cupped your chin, making you look up at her. “Hey, look at me. It’s going to be okay.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I just do. They’re all gonna love you. Everyone does.” She stroked a hair out of your face and your heart ached. You miss her so much. “You’re just saying that.”

“No, I’m not. You’re wonderful. You’re a talented athlete, and you’re kind, and beautiful, and a light to everyone around you. There’s a reason why they call you sunshine, after all.”

You couldn’t help the smile that crossed your lips. “You’re so corny.”

She kissed your cheek, wrapping her arms around you. “Maybe a little. But you love it.”

“Yeah, I do.” You hugged her back, squeezing her tightly, like if you let go, you’ll lose her forever. “I miss you.”

“Me too.” She admitted. After a beat, she let you go.

“Okay, enough of this sappy shit. Let’s get you ready.”

She got to her feet, opening her closet and going through her wardrobe. You’ve never been great with style, but Anneliese was. Ever since you started being friends, she’s helped you, picking out outfits for you, styling your hair, and even doing your makeup. That was your favorite part. When she would sit right in front of you, leaning in so close, her eyes focused and concentrated as she applied it. You would always want to kiss her, especially when she would put lipgloss on your lips, her mouth parting with yours, it would be so easy to do it but you never worked up the courage, not until the two of you were drunk one night at a party, and one thing led to another…

The memory was bittersweet to you now and you tried to push it to the back of your mind, focusing on what she was doing instead. Facing you, she held a lavender colored gown with lacy off-the-shoulder sleeves, grinning to herself.

“Oh, this is it. This is the one. You’ll look perfect.”

–

Art and Tashi chose to host the gala at their home, and their place was huge, to say the least. You’ve always seen mansions on tv shows and movies, with huge rooms and windows, and a massive swimming pool, but seeing it in person is something else. It left you awestruck and intimidated, unsure of what to do with yourself. Not until some of the caterers managed to find you and usher you over to where Tashi was.

She looked beautiful in her white dress that hugged her curves perfectly. You tried not to stare for too long, but it seemed like she was doing the same, her eyes drifting up and down your body. Was she looking at you the same way? Her eyes were always so cold and calculative, you could never tell what she was thinking. Were you underdressed? Were you wearing too much makeup?

You cleared your throat nervously. “Hi Coach, I hope I’m not too early, or anything.”

“No you’re right on time. You look beautiful.” You didn’t expect her to say that, and suddenly, you felt all warm and clammy, your heart racing. “Thank you.”

Just then, Art entered the room. He was in a white suit, matching with Tashi, of course, telling something to one of the caterers that were setting up the party. “Art, doesn’t she look beautiful?”

He paused when his eyes fell on you, his eyes tracing your body, before he forced his gaze to your face, where it stayed. They’re married, of course. They would never be looking at you like that.

He swallowed thickly, struggling to find his voice. “Yes, she does. It’s good to have you here.”

“Thanks, I’m glad to be here.” You replied with a polite smile.

Tashi placed a palm on your elbow, steering you away from Art. You tried to ignore the way your skin burned from the contact, and how your heart was pounding in your chest. “Here, why don’t you help us set up?”

“Sure.”

–

The gala was overwhelming, you were by Art and Tashi’s side, being introduced to countless people, some you recognized, and some you didn’t. Famous tennis players, millionaires, and celebrities. You felt so out of place, so beneath them.

You never had what they had. You were just an amateur college tennis player who won one Juniors’ US open, and beneath that, poor. These were the types of people that would make fun of you for wearing hand me down clothing and having holes in your shoes. They were so far above, rich and powerful, they could never understand. The only person who could was Tashi. Her story had motivated you ever since you were young, a girl who fought her way to the top, who provided for her family, just like you, but now as you watched her converse with the others, she seemed worlds apart.

The sound of someone calling your name brung you back to earth, focusing on where you are now. It’s Tashi, standing at a table with your college coach. You took a deep breath.

Here goes nothing.