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Enumerate (Nathan Bateman x Reader)
ENUMERATE
(hey hey. this is one of my submissions for @wasicskosgirlâ and her 800 follower celebration! congrats on your milestone, lovely! i wrote this in one sitting, which i rarely ever do, but the idea was immediate and persistent so this happened. i just made some final edits, and it was a lot of fun to do and i hope you all enjoy it!)
Word Count: ~1750Â
Summary: You have a question for Nathan. He wants reasons. You have a secret weapon.
Warnings: Some language. Innuendo. Smooches. Nathan Bateman. No actual plot, just a thing. Hopefully decently proofread. Superheroes.
with the prompt -Â âDonât give me that puppy dog face. How am I supposed to say no to that?â
âThis is the worst idea Iâve ever heard.â
Nathan Bateman glares at you over his glasses. Or, he would if he bothered to actually turn his attention away from the monitors in front of him, which, of course, he does not.
On the other side of the room, youâre stretched out on the bed, on your stomach with your legs bent up and ankles crossed behind you, lazily flipping through a magazine.
For once itâs not a technical journal; youâd finally put your foot down a few months ago, told Nathan youâd had enough of the esoteric mumbo-jumbo he kept all over the house, and after a few pleas and a little please, heâd caved. He might make a case that, until now, these celebrity gossip rags were a worse idea, but he canât bring himself to do it. As a thank you, you always make sure to hand him his favorite one when youâre done with it.
You briefly debate arguing that building an AI and pissing it off so much it thought it had no other recourse than to try to escape and then stab you in the chest is probably a worse idea, but you donât want to actually fight with him. And youâre not mean.
âI donât know, I think it would be fun,â you call back to him.
The clicking of the keyboard never stops. He gets so involved in his work sometimes - okay, all the time, if youâre being honest - that nothing else seems to matter. You knew it isnât really true; the fact that youâre on the bed wearing nothing besides one of his old, soft henleys and a pair of wool socks proves that. The ability to occasionally engage him in actual conversation while his mind blazes through lines of code is rare.
âIâm pretty sure we have different definitions of that word.â
âHmm, Iâm pretty sure they more than occasionally overlap.â
He scans your voice for any hint of sarcasm, any tinge of facetiousness. When he canât detect any and canât determine your actual intent, his eyes narrow.
âEnumerate.â
Well, sort of actual conversation.
You toss the magazine aside and sit up on the bed.
âAnd for every step you take towards me, I want a good reason, not some bullshit half-answer,â he continues. Still typing away, still staring at his screens.
âHow do you even know I was going to walk over there?â you mutter.
âI know your operating system, kitten,â he says, âso. Enumerate. And count those steps for me. I know youâre good at counting.â If heâd bother to look at you, youâd see the slight smirk on his face, but it doesnât matter. You hear it in his voice. You know heâs mostly teasing you.
Then again, if Nathan bothered to turn around to look at you, heâd also see the giant, exaggerated steps youâre taking on the path to his desk. It isnât very far from bed to desk. Nathan is nothing if not efficient, and one never knows when inspiration or insomnia will strike or you might need quick data access.
But you have a secret weapon and you are going to deploy it with as little delay as possible.
The secret weapon has never failed you before.
You roll your eyes. Smug asshole. âOne. It gets us out of the house.â
âWe have everything we need right here. Hardly a compelling reason. Try again.â
Another giant step. âTwo. A little human interaction, other than verbally sparring with me and taking me on every imaginable surface of this house, would do you some good.â
The clicking might pause for a split second. You canât be sure because it picks up and keeps going just as it had before, as Nathan replies, âFalse correlation. I hate most people, in large part because they canât keep up with me. Not like the way you do.â
You smile, even though he canât see you, and open your mouth to keep going, but heâs not quite done. âAnd, if I remember correctly, and I always remember correctly-â you swear you hear his eyebrow arch â-that other part does us both some good. You havenât had any complaints thus far, and a few of those surfaces were actually rather un-imaginable. You gotta try harder, baby.â
Damn him.
Another step, another reason. âThree. Itâs what normal people do.â
The clicking finally stops and Nathan spins around in his chair. He takes you in - one foot as far out in front of the other as possible without you falling over, arms held out awkwardly to keep your balance, wearing only his shirt and your fuzzy socks, hair still a mess from the eveningâs previous activities - and gives you a pointed look. âThatâs what normal people do?â
You giggle, then straighten your face. You take another step. Now youâre almost in his lap. âFour. Youâd look really, really hot in some spandex and a cape.â
Nathan growls and pulls you into his lap. âI said no bullshit.â
Thereâs your opening. Secret weapon time.
You bite your lip and give him the widest, saddest looking eyes you possibly can. You think of lost puppies and kittens, the ending of Casablanca, that song in Coco that had you bawling. And you blink once, very slowly, just for dramatic effect. Not that you need to. Your trap is set.
Nathan groans and drops his head to your chest for a moment, and then looks back up at you, scowling under his glasses. âDonât give me that puppy dog face. How am I supposed to say no to that?â
You grin down at him. âYouâre not.â
âGod damn it.â
âNathan, it will be fun,â you insist.
In response, he stands suddenly, scoops you up and tosses you back on the bed, his body caging you underneath him.
âYou really want me to go to, of all the fucking things in the entire known universe, a comic con with you.â Itâs not a question.
âWell, I mean, you did already buy me the tickets.â
âBeginning to regret that decision,â the resignation in his voice is strong, but you can also hear some amusement. And maybe something a little more.
You pout at him. âAnd my sister canât go with me now because of some stupid emergency work thing.â
His brow furrows. âLike I donât have actual work to do?â
âAnd it would be a shame to waste themâŚ,â You blink at him a few more times.
âIâll donate them to a childrenâs charity or some shit.â
You smack him lightly on the shoulder, then your arms wrap around his neck as you lean forward and whisper in his ear. âAnd I still say youâd look amazing in a super suit.â
âBull. Shit,â he leans up and nips at your neck.
You smack him harder this time. âHey, those are good reasons.â
âWill it make you happy?â he sighs.
âYes.â
He pauses for a few minutes with his face buried in your neck, then pulls back to look at you. His stern expression cracks, ever so slightly, at the hopeful smile on your face. And those damn puppy dog eyes. âYou do make a compelling argument.â
You squeal in delight, holding his face and kissing him firmly on the lips.
âBut...people. A lot of people. In public,â Nathan grumbles, narrowing his eyes and giving you the fakest stern look heâs ever given you.
He knows you know he was never going to say no to you. He canât. He may know your operating system, but his own systems fail when you run this particular subset.
And the secret weapon never fails.
You smirk back, your grin and the light in your eyes threatens to throw his brain completely offline.
âThatâs where the costume comes in, Mr. Fantastic.â
Nathan scoffs. âIf I have to wear a costume, it is not going to be Mr. fucking Fantastic.â
âSo youâre saying you will dress up.â
âNo, but...thereâs better options than that.â A lie. He was serious about being seen by thousands of people in public, and at this point, heâs not above wearing a ridiculous costume just so no one actually sees him at a fucking comic con.
âIsnât he, like, the smartest superhero though?â
He pretends to think about it for a minute, lazily tracing a finger along your jaw. âTrue, but. What else does he do? I mean I know Iâm flexible butâŚâ
It takes every ounce of willpower you have to not burst into a fit of laughter as you stare back into his deep eyes. âOkay, fine. What about Wonder Woman? Iâd do almost anything to see you with some golden wings. And those boots? Damn, that would be hot.â
âJesus Christ, youâre a menace.â
âYou havenât had any valid complaints thus far.â
âFucking hell,â he mutters, then sighs. âAlmost anything, huh?â His hands have dropped down your torso, and his fingertips are gliding over your smooth skin under the hem of his shirt.
You can see the wheels start turning. Your lips purse and a smile forms. âDonât change the subject,â you chide him. âWhat are your other better options, then?â
âXavier. You could push me around for the day, it would serve you right for even asking me to do this.â
The laughter rises fully and bubbles over. âEven youâre not that lucky.â
âOr maybe Iron Man. I know I could make a working suit, and that would be pretty fucking cool,â he states, matter of fact. Youâre honestly not sure if you should be amused or a little worried that heâs not kidding.
âThose are definitely better options than Mr. Fantastic,â he says softly.
You raise your head up to catch his lips, but stop just before you make contact. He makes a small noise of protest, but you just shake your head ever so slightly.
âHmm, Iâm not convinced,â you whisper, your breath fanning across his mouth. âI need some good reasons. No bullshit, Bateman.â
Nathanâs groans are silenced as you surge forth and capture his lips, kissing him fiercely and thoroughly. But his silence is only temporary, and the groans return when you pull away and hook a leg around his hip.
He stares down at you as you look back at him with the biggest, saddest puppy dog eyes heâs ever seen, and you smile innocently and bite your lip. He bites his own as you softly issue one more word into the air around you.
âEnumerate.â
~end~
Taglist: @anetteaneta @autumnleaves1991-blog @be-the-spark-flyboy @deeandbobbymcgee  @itspdameronthings @jitterbugs927 @nathan-bateman @poedjarin @rosemarysbaby13 @sergeantkane @spider-starry @woakiees @writefightandflightclub @veuliee2 @yourbucky084 @waatermelon-sugaar
Nathan taglist:Â @millllenniawritesâ
>>taglist form available here<<
#nathan bateman x reader#nathan bateman x you#nathan bateman#ex machina fic#nathan bateman fanficiton#my writing#Amandas800#wasicskogirl#writing challenge#writing prompts
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So @wasicskosgirl here is my one shot from your 800 Followers celebration list. I didnât think Iâd be able to write it and I started and restarted this so many times ending with this little creation!
âWho did this to you!â âPromise me that if I tell you, you wonât go after them.â
Modern!Poe Dameron x Reader
Warnings: mention of hospitals, drug mention and accident mention, swearing, mention of marriage, fluff? đ¤ˇđťââď¸
Huge grey storm clouds roiled across the sky as fierce winds battered the car park you stumbled through, the rain pelted down onto you as you dived through the glass doors that opened. You shook your coat out, spraying large water drops all over the floor as you tried to drag your soaking hair out of your eyes. Youâd had a phone call to come as quickly as possible but it had still taken you forever in this weather. You marched through the next set of doors into the emergency department, people were everywhere as they wandered aimlessly around, your eyes searched the area in desperation even though you knew he wouldnât be in here. You joined a queue for the desk, your heart beating as you counted the amount of people waiting before you.
Too many, too many peopleâŚ
You rattled your car keys loudly drawing the glare of the person in front as you fidgeted. You just couldn't stay still as the line shuffled forward slightly.
âCome on, come on!â You whispered angrily, glaring at the hideous plain white walls. You hated hospitals, the smell, the colour it just reeked of death to you and you avoided them at all costs. Of course heâd drag you here.
âHello Iâm looking for Poe Dameron, I was told he was here!â You gasped finally reaching the dividing glass.
âAre you family?â She asked without interest.
âYes, Iâm his wife!â You tried not to snap, you tried not to think they should already know that but your nerves were frayed. You tapped your foot impatiently as the clerk slowly went through the records on her computer screen.
âHeâs down the hall, third bay on the right.â You didnât even say thanks you just left, making your way down the halls that all looked the same as you tried to listen out for his rich voice, your eyes counted the bays. All the curtains were closed and you hesitated not wanting to burst into the wrong section. You looked around for a member of staff but saw no one and you felt a flare of anger as you spun on the spot wondering where the hell everyone was? Then you heard him, a groan reached your ears and you knew it was him. You carefully twitched the curtain catching a glimpse of his curly hair. You slipped into the bay, casting your worried gaze over his broken form as he coughed slightly.
âJesus Poe!!â You hissed rushing to his side as you took in his bruised face. âWhat happened to you?â
âOh heeeey,â he whispered, his eyes widening slightly as he focussed on you but you could tell he was groggy, clearly theyâd given him something to help with his pain.
âWho did this to you?â Your hands shook as you reached for him but you werenât sure where to touch him without causing pain.
âPromise me that if I tell you, you wonât go after them!â
âWhat theâŚjust tell me what happened!â He tried to sit up but his efforts were futile as he just seemed to sink deeper into the bedding and he stopped with a loud sigh.
âIt was the neighbour's cat!â You paused as you tried to digest his words.
âIâm sorry, the neighbour's cat? Benji?â
âLittle shit was on the roof,â he groaned as he moved against the bed again. âShe came knocking on the door, the old biddy...â
âMrs Marsden?â
âYeah her...white hair was flying in the windâŚâ
âJesus Christ Poe, tell me you didnât get up that ladder in this weather? Is that what happened? It wasnât the cat, it was you!â
âNo no, definitely the cat,â he grumbled as he tried to pull his shirt down. âLook, fucker scratched me. Fell off the ladder, landed in,â he took a sharp breath in as he closed his eyes in pain. âFell in the tree, fucking hurt.â You put a hand over your mouth, you werenât so worried anymore, now youâd seen him and heard him talking the panic had finally died down to be replaced with amusement. âAre you, laughing?â You closed your eyes as you tried to subdue the laughter bubbling up inside you but it began to burst from you and he frowned. âYouâre laughing at me?â You sniggered loudly at his offended tone. âMy own wife laughing at my misfortune!â
âIâm sorry!â You managed to gasp out. He grabbed his pillow, feebly throwing it at you as he hissed in pain. âPoe Dameron you are such an idiot!â You said softly putting his pillow back behind him, his brown eyes locked with yours and his hand gripped onto your arm.
âBut Iâm your idiot,â he mumbled. You gently swept his disheveled curls off his forehead, feeling how soft they were entwined in your fingers as you brought your face close to his.
âYeah you are,â you leaned forward kissing his forehead breathing in his comforting scent as you did.
âI couldnât leave it crying on the roof,â his dark eyes were wide as he stared imploring up at you and you smiled, realising you couldnât love this man anymore than you already did.
âItâs ok,â you whispered. âWeâll just send her the medical bill.â He snorted with laughter and instantly tensed up in pain as it shot through his body.
âYouâre a mean one Mrs Grinch,â he groaned as he laced his fingers with yours giving you a reassuring squeeze.
âYeah well, I get mean when my husband is in pain.â
âIâll be alright,â he mumbled, his eyes getting heavy.
âI know. I know you will.â You watched as finally he slipped into sleep, still holding your hand tightly.
You were definitely going to have words with that damn cat.
#Amandas800#wasickosgirl#prompt one shot#poe dameron#poe dameron x reader#CW:hospitals#CW:drug mention#CW:accident mention#marriage#that damn cat
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Title: One-Hit Wonder Fandom: Inside Llewyn Davis Pairing: Llewyn Davis/GN!Reader Rating: General Audiences Word Count: 2.3k Summary: Your friend drags you to karaoke for her 30th birthday. When you finally get up to sing, a handsome stranger canât seem to take his eyes off you. A/N: So Iâve had this idea kind of floating around my head for two months, but then last week I saw the prompts for the follower celebration that @wasicskosgirl has set up, and one of them finally sparked the inspiration I needed to get the idea on the page! Congrats on reaching 800 followers, Amanda!! Prompt is marked in bold.
Cross-posted to AO3 here!
ââ
You want to be able to say that you had better things to do with your Saturday night.
Better things to do than tagging along to the birthday party of your co-worker who you like enough, really, during work hours, but youâve never exactly considered yourself her friend. Not that youâd be unwilling to put in that work to become better friends, if maybe she wanted to grab drinks after work sometime or something like that. Sheâs firmly in âwork acquaintance who could become a friendâ territory.
But drinks and karaoke with her and her college friends isnât your idea of a way to break the ice.
She tries, earnestly, to keep you a part of the conversation. She keeps explaining the backstory for inside jokes and references a decade old, and whenever possible, she asks you follow-up questions that invite you to share yourself with her and her friends.
Itâs nice enough. Itâs also clear, as soon as they begin to get tipsy, that it wonât last.
Theyâre so quickly reverting to their college group dynamic, and you canât begrudge them for that, not really. You just wish you had had something better to do than watch on, drink mediocre alcohol, and listen to strangers sing very badly. Because the problem with co-workers is that they know your bull shit face. So you couldnât lie, and you couldnât exactly tell her that youâd rather stay home and binge something on Netflix for six hours.
Maybe, you think, maybe you can clear out after singing one song. The group gets their first shot at the stage early enough in the evening, so if you play your cards right, you think you can get up and sing⌠loiter politely for another fifteen minutes⌠and then go home.
Again, theyâre sincere enough about trying to include you: when itâs your turn to sing, they cheer you on as you head up there and look through the song catalogue. Most of the titles hit you in a rush of songs that you half-know, which is your perpetual issue when you try to do karaoke. How so many people manage to retain such a wide array of nostalgic pop, classic rock and oldies, and more recent hits, youâll never understand, because you somehow remember none of them.
You strike gold with this machine, though.
Right out of high school, you got a job at the mall that you hung onto all through college. That was the most aware of pop music that you ever managed to be, and it was then that you first heard âMagic Mike.â The song was the greatest combination of upbeat and depressing that youâd ever encountered, and during the summer after sophomore year, it was everywhere.
Spotting it on the small karaoke screen, you think why not.
You select âMagic Mike,â and you sing about love and death and the heartache of a lingering loss. You sing it with a smile.
The performance is well-received, and you use it to lay the groundwork for your departure not too far down the line when you get back to the table and say, âWow, guys, that wore me out more than I expected.â
Yes. Youâre as good as gone.
Until five minutes later when you are gently elbowed in the side. âThat guy at the bar has been staring at you since you got off-stage.â
His gaze shifts the moment you look at him, but yes, youâve got no doubt that he was staring.
The guyâs not bad-looking, really, and it might be worth going over to himâperhaps heâs even the something better to do than sit around with an acquaintance and some strangers.
Alternatively, he could be a creep, in which case youâll need to be rescued, and then youâll feel obligated to stick around even longer.
But you do like his curls, and his beard, and the soft frown on his face.
âIâm going to see what he wants,â you announce at last.
Your words are met with a chorus of approval, and you pick up your drink before crossing the room.
Heâs ordering a drink when you reach the bar, but as soon as heâs finished, you tap his shoulder; from the ease with which he turns toward you, it seems like he either saw you coming, or is unsurprised by your arrival.
âUm, can I help you? Why are you staring at me?â
The manâs lips quirk up just slightly. âIâm sorry, I didnât mean to. I was just⌠the song you sang up there.â He points needlessly toward the stage. âKind of a weird choice for karaoke.â
You shrug. âIt was one of the only ones I knew.â
âReally?â Now he looks genuinely bewildered. âYou werenât ready to do âMr. Brightsideâ or âDancing Queen,â but you had âMagic Mikeâ at your fingertips?â
Wow. You canât help feeling a little defensive, not so much for yourself â yeah, maybe itâs a little ridiculous that you werenât ready to belt even the most standard karaoke hits â as for whoever wrote âMagic Mike.â Admittedly, you donât⌠remember his name, right at this moment, because he didnât really get anywhere after releasing that single, but the song is good, and you say as much. âHang on, I think itâs nice.â
âShit, yeah, of course itâs nice, I justâŚâ He runs a hand through his hair a little anxiously. âI feel weird as hell saying this. I promise I donât mean this to be some kind of line, but itâs, uh⌠âMagic Mikeâ is my song. And I donât really hear it around these days, so it was just nice, is all.â
His song? âNo way.â
***
Maybe you finally start to believe it after Llewyn pulls up YouTube and shows you a performance of the song on Good Morning, America, but even then, it feels surreal. Mostly because you can tell how surreal it is for him. It also feels surreal when you ask, âHow come you never got another hit?â and he shrugs vaguely. âThatâs more like second or third date talk.â
Raising your eyebrows, you fire back, âWeâre not on a date.â
âI never said we were. Just said that topic is second or third date talk.â
You smile, and he follows suit.
Itâs just that he genuinely seems uninterested in talking about his music beyond thanking you for singing it, which⌠is not what youâd have expected. He tells you that he works as a librarian now and plays at open mics in his free time, and if heâs to be believed, he kind of likes it that way.
And you think you do believe him. You believe him because he turns the subject toward you and his music doesnât come up again. His brief dalliance with fame doesnât come up again.
You donât realize how long youâve been talking to Llewyn until you feel a hand on your arm andâGod, you flat-out abandoned everyone you started out the evening with. But thereâs no animosity there, just a gentle, âHey, weâre headed out. You coming?â
Giving you the out, if you want it.
âNo, thatâs okay.â You give her a gentle smile and say, âIâll see you on Monday.â
She glances at Llewyn for a beat, and her own lips curl into a smirk while she nods. âMhm.â
Llewyn is graciously drinking from his glass, feigning obliviousness when you look back at him. Youâre trying to decide whether you want to order another drink when he tilts his head thoughtfully and asks, âDo you want to get something to eat?â
Oh. You glance around the bar curiouslyâlast call from the kitchen happened before you even came over to him. âWhat, now?â
He shrugs. âSure. Thereâs a taco place down the street that has a late-night happy hour.â
For an instant, the suggestion gives you pause. Thereâs something so impulsive and spontaneous about it, and itâs not that youâve never left a bar with a near stranger, but something about the way that Llewyn asks you⌠It doesnât even feel like thereâs a presumption that the nightâs going to end with sex. He seems to earnestly want to just keep spending time with you and chatting.
But if the way heâs looking at you is any indication, you donât think sex is exactly off the table, either. If thatâs where you want the night to end.
âTacos sound great.â
***
Itâs a warm summer night, so you sit outdoors at one of the picnic tables they have set up outside the restaurant. You gorge yourselves on chips and guac and somehow still have the stomachs for what feels like a million tacos afterward. By the time you start to slow down, youâre both pretty firmly sobered up from whatever buzz you might have had when you left the bar.
Elbows on the table, you lean forward, settle your chin in your hand, and squint at Llewyn. âYâknow, if we wanted, we could call this our second date and you could tell me more about what happened with your music.â
Llewyn scoffs good-naturedly. âI donât think thatâs quite how dates work.â
âKaraoke and tacos definitely seem like two separate date activities.â
âMm, even if that were trueâŚâ Llewyn leans forward too, appraising you with an amused smirk. âI thought you said that us chatting at the bar wasnât a date.â
You purse your lips into a smirk of your own, and it doesnât escape your notice that it briefly draws his attention to your mouth. âWe can fudge the numbers a little bit for the sake of a good story.â
âHow do you know itâs a good story?â
âJust a hunch.â
He hesitates over⌠the answer, youâre nearly convinced that heâs going to tell you the answer. But his eyes are so damn sad, and his smile is a little bit less earnest when he replies, âIâd hate to ruin our late-night dinner with that. Maybe it should wait âtil date number three.â
So you ask him to tell you about what heâs been reading lately, instead.
When you try to put twenty bucks toward the check, Llewyn looks outraged, waving away your money until you say, âIâll let you pay if you walk me home.â
âDeal.â
You raise your eyebrows. âFor all you know, I could live an hour away.â
âWorth it if you let me pay for your dinner.â
Itâs sweetâso sweet that your heart stutters, just a little bit. âOkay.â
***
You donât live an hour away, but you donât live close, either, and youâve probably been walking for about twenty minutes when you briefly fall silent between stories. And itâs then, after a pause, that Llewyn shoves his hands in his pockets and says, âMy manager found out that I wrote âMagic Mikeâ about an ex-boyfriend, and he freaked out about it. Thatâs⌠thatâs what happened.â
âShit.â You nearly donât ask the real question on your mind, because it feels weird to say aloud to him. âCould⌠could he not tell right away?â
Because you could. Youâd assumed it immediately, thought that was part of what was gut-wrenching about it.
Llewyn actually laughs, loud enough that youâre briefly self-conscious about walking around this residential neighborhood and making noise so late at night. âI told him it was about my old singing partner. Which was also true. I figured Iâd just keep the boyfriend part a secret until I trusted him more, but that didnât really go well. He sabotaged my relationship with the label and made sure I couldnât get any other representation.â
âThatâs⌠I donât even know what that is, Llewyn,â you murmur.
âItâs shitty.â He says it matter-of-factly. No real sense of malice or resentment in his voice, and you suppose you understand whyâheâs had quite a few years to get over that life. But that doesnât mean that the hurt doesnât linger, and you see it in the moonlight as you look at him. âAnd I didnât enjoy that kind of career enough to fight, not when I knew I could play music anywhere.â
âDo you ever wish you had? Fought for it, I mean.â
âSometimes, I guess,â Llewyn concedes. And then he turns toward you and offers up a playful smile. âRight at this moment, Iâm feeling pretty glad I didnât, though.â
You roll your eyes and elbow him. âWhat a corny fucking line.â
He elbows you right back. âIs it a line if itâs true?â Before you even have a chance to answer, he sees your expression, and he sighs, resigned. âMaybe itâs a bit of a line. Itâs true, though, I promise. For the most part I think Iâm exactly where I need to be.â
Coming to a standstill, you smile gently. âMe too.â
âYeah?â Llewyn also stops, looking over your features with a curious expression. An absolute, is this the time to kiss you, expression.
So you clarify: âI meant actually where I need to be, we just got to my apartment.â
âOh, shit.â He looks around, his gaze falling on the building that youâre now standing in front of. âOkay. I, uhâŚâ
Even though he was so earnest and at ease a few moments ago, Llewyn is oddly tentative now that the end of your evening is staring him in the face. So you put him out of his misery. âDo you want to come up? If Iâm counting right, this is our third date.â
Lips quirked up, he inches closer to you. Getting into your space and you donât mind in the slightest. âYouâre absolutely not counting right.â
âNo?â
He shakes his head. The gesture makes his curls flop endearingly, and youâre already thinking about how good itâll feel to run your fingers through themâto pull them hard. âNo. But I guess we can fudge the numbers a little bit.â
ââ
tagging: @knivesareout @hyperfixatingmenever
⨠taglist form here â¨
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800 Follower Writing Challenge
Hello, hello! Thank you all SO much for 800 followers! I can hardly believe it! For this milestone, Iâve decided to do a writing challenge! The rules and prompts are below! Please select, have fun, and enjoy!Â
Due Date: March 31, 2021
Rules:
You do not have to be following me to participate!
Tag everything with #Amandas800 and @wasicskosgirl
Send me an ask with the prompt you want and a character! You can pick more than one prompt and character, but please make sure to do them all!
A prompt can only be used twice.
You can write for any Marvel, Oscar Isaac, or Pedro Pascal character!
You are welcome to post any time between now and the due date!
You are more than welcome to write NSFW (some of the prompts came straight from a smutty prompt list lol) just no underage, p*do, inc*st, noncon, dubcon, etc
If necessary, please use appropriate warnings, tags, and ratings
Prompt list below:
âAre you flirting with me?â âYou finally noticed?â (Rydal - @nathan-bateman)
âNo, likeâŚ. Itâs just, I canât believe youâre actually wearing my clothes.â
âI really want to kiss you right now.â âDo it then.â
âDonât give me that puppy dog face. How am I supposed to say no to that?â (Nathan - @aellynera) (Nathan - @autumnleaves1991-blog)
âWould you mind if I kissed you?â (Steve - @megantje123)
âIf I kiss you right now, I wonât be able to stop.â (Javier - @houseofthirst)
âI know you said you didnât want to be late, but you look amazing, and Iâm trying not to kiss you senseless right now.â
âAre you jealous?â
âAre you drunk?â
âDance with me?â (Nathan - @be-the-spark-flyboy)
âIâm pregnant.â
"Why me?" "What?" "You could have anyone you want, so why me?" (Poe - @starryeyedstories)
âWeâre not just friends and you know it!â
âI donât deserve to be loved.â
âYou donât know what Iâve been through.â
âWhat did you just say?â
âThereâs just one bedâŚâ
ââŚ.Who did this to you?â âPromise me that if I tell you, you wonât go after them.â (Poe @mylifeisactuallyamess)
âHow are you holding up?â âHow does it look like Iâm holding up?!â (Poe - @anetteaneta)
âAre you bleeding?!â
âGet out!â âPlease, let me explain.â
âBite me.â
âMake me.â
âLike what you see?" (Reeves - @aellynera)
âIâve been thinking about you all day.â
âIâm going to be late because you canât keep it in your pants.â (Abel - @sergeantkane)
âUm, can I help you? Why are you staring at me?â
âBite your lip one more time. I dare you.â"
âDo you know how beautiful you are? Itâs truly distracting." (Blue - @autumnleaves1991-blog)
âYou know, there wasnât a single thing to eat in the kitchen until you walked in."
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The Best Years of Your Life (Reeves x Reader)
THE BEST YEARS OF YOUR LIFE
(hey hey, this is my other submission for @wasicskosgirl and her 800 follower celebration! and yes, you read that right - itâs REEVES. i had a lot of fun writing it and i hope you enjoy reading it! CONGRATS Amanda!!)
Word Count:Â um like 6200ish oops it was supposed to be a blurb
Summary: They say the best years of your life happen in high school, but what do they know?
Warnings: Some language. Female reader implied but no pronouns/description. Teenage angst. Adult wistfulness. Mostly fluffy tho. No promises about proofreading. Frog murder.Â
with the prompt - âLike what you see?â
It all started back in high school. Sometimes you wonder how often people say that, and if itâs really true or theyâre just falsely remembering how things happened because high school is supposed to be the best four years of your life.
But in this case, itâs true. Because high school is when you met Reeves.
Sophomore Year. High School. A Friday.Â
It was the third day of sophomore year, fourth period on a Friday morning, your last before the lunch break. Biology class was maybe the one you were least looking forward to, not exclusively because of the required frog dissection, but pretty damn close. Gross. And you never understood why the school year didnât just start on a Monday, but you were new here in San Diego. Maybe they just did things differently.
It was bad enough being the new kid. It was worse when you walked into class halfway through the lecture, even if it wasnât your fault. The timing of the move was weird, and youâd spent most of the first two days, and this morning, doing placement tests and talking to your counselor.Â
And now you were being called out in front of the entire class.
âAh, there you are,â your teacher announced as you walked in the door. âEveryone, this is our new student, please make them feel welcome. You can sit over there.â
Your eyes followed as she motioned to the empty seat at the lab table in the back of the room. Suddenly you werenât sure if your face felt hot because of embarrassment or because of the boy in the other chair.
Dark, curly hair cut close on the sides but longer on the top. Deep brown eyes framed by long, long lashes. Full, plush lips curling up into his cheek on one side. A nose that, okay, maybe might be a bit oversized but for some reason worked on his handsome face and--
Well, shit. Definitely not the embarrassment.
You shuffled your way to your seat and slid into it with your head down. A few students watched you curiously but soon turned their attention back to the lesson. You tried your best to focus on what was going on, to not look to your left at the distraction next to you.
You werenât very successful.
By now you thought youâd sneaked enough covert glances to know that we was wearing a leather jacket, had a small diamond stud earring in his left ear, a bunch of silver-studded brown suede wrap bracelets around both wrists, a silver ring on his right index finger, and oddly precise handwriting as he took notes. In between relevant facts the teacher was sharing, he was doodling tiny music notes in the margins of his notebook.
And he totally caught you looking.
âLike what you see?â he leaned over and whispered.
Your mouth felt drier than the Sahara but also somehow so moist you were afraid you might have actually drooled on yourself. You should have opened your mouth to respond but your brain refused to make the connection. Probably for the best.
At least, at first. When it finally caught up to you, the only response your brain could provide was, âMaybe?â
Now would be the perfect time for the floor to swallow you whole.
He just winked at you and his attention went back to the doodles around his notes.
You shifted your gaze back to your own notebook, but you donât know if anything else of importance was said, and donât remember writing anything down. The bell ringing sharply pulled you back to reality and you hastily shoved your books in your backpack, ready to escape.
Just as you were about to leave, a voice called out. âHey, sorry about earlier. If I freaked you out or anything.â
You looked up. He was smiling at you, a little shyly. You bit your lip, your brain and mouth still refusing to connect.
He stuck his hand out. âIâm Reeves. Youâre new here?â
âUmâŚâ you smacked yourself internally. This was ridiculous, you werenât really shy, you knew how to have a conversation, he was just introducing himself. You were going to have a serious conversation with your brain later about proper communication techniques.
It felt like hours had passed, but you finally pulled yourself together enough to respond. âYeah. My- my dad got transferred for work, we moved here like a week ago. He literally dragged the family across the country. Iâm originally from New York City.â
His eyes lit up. âOh, cool! I always wanted to go to New York City!â
You found yourself smiling back.
âDo you...wanna sit with me at lunch?â he asked, tilting his head to the side. âMaybe you could tell me a little about the city? And...about you, since weâre gonna have to commit heinous acts of violence on an amphibian together? Iâd like to know whoâs wielding a scalpel next to me.â
The giggle that escaped your throat could not be contained. This boy - Reeves - was adorable. âOh. Okay, yeah. Iâd really like that.â
The Present.
Poor Lenny the Frog never stood a chance. Then again, neither did you.
To be fair, Lenny was already dead when you and Reeves got your hands on him. Well, when you got your hands on him, because for the full first half of that specific class period, Reeves refused to touch him and nearly turned as green as Lenny once was. Thatâs when he insisted on naming your cadaver, because somehow giving it a name made it easier to deal with.
You were pretty sure Reeves was nuts.
By the middle of sophomore year, you were dead too, but not for the same reasons.
By the middle of sophomore year, you werenât sure how you were still alive, because every time he looked over at you and gave you a sly smile during class, gave you that look, you felt your heart go taut and you forgot how to breathe and certainly, rightfully, should have been dead.
Your friend Alexis stuck her head into your bathroom. âHey, weâre just waiting on Vanessa, and then weâre good to go. Drinks first? The show doesnât start until 8 so we have time.â
You glanced up from your makeup and nodded. âYeah, that sounds good. Iâll be out in a few minutes.â
Alexis grinned. âAaaaaah Iâm so glad you agreed to go out tonight! Itâs gonna be so much fun!â
âOh, itâs gonna be something,â you muttered, going back to your eyeliner.
Alexis had been the first one to see the concert announcement about a week ago. A benefit show at one of the clubs down in Greenwich Village, some punk revival thing (for charity) with a bunch of different singers and musicians. Not normally your scene, but Alexis scanned through the names and suddenly remembered youâd known Reeves in high school. You said yes, he was in your class, and youâd been lab partners once. Vanessa squealed in excitement and Alexis announced you were going to the show. There was never any actual agreement.
Because of course Reeves was going to be there. And of course, you had to be too.
Junior Year. The Parking Lot. A Tuesday.
âIâm just saying, it was a ridiculous foul, and it should never have been called,â Reeves groused as you walked out of the gym.
âWe also should have made like twenty more of our own foul shots,â you pointed out.
The Lake Howell Silverhawks had fallen to their arch-rivals in a somewhat glorious fashion. You didnât even like basketball that much. But that didnât really matter. The games were just an excuse to go out for burgers before and hang out with your friends during.
It was definitely an excuse to hang out with Reeves.
Junior year, you were both disappointed to find you didnât have any classes together, but you still almost always ate lunch together. Heâd come over to your house to study during the week and sometimes just to chill out on the weekends. Over the past year, heâd shown you all around the city and taken you to his favorite places. You told him all about New York, how you missed it and one day youâd go back, and all the famous sites and which ones were tourist traps that he was only allowed to visit the very first time and then never again.
You spent so much time together, even your mother liked to tease you about why he wasnât your boyfriend.
It took a while for you to find the words to tell her it was because he was someone elseâs.
As much as you liked to pretend she didnât change anything, Randie Rustenberg changed everything. It was gradual, like a creeping vine of ivy, and she slowly took him over. There was no malice; it was just one of those things that happened. Reeves spent less time with you, his best friend, and more time with Randie, his girlfriend.
The girlfriend you desperately wished was you, because ever since that first biology class youâd had the biggest, stupidest crush on him.
Eventually you had a boyfriend of your own. Theo was a nice guy, he really was. Polite, friendly, had a good sense of humor, liked your family. And your family loved him. Your mother was so happy that you had a boyfriend, she seemed to forget to ask how Reeves was and if youâd seen him lately.
Of course you saw him. You saw him every day, in the cafeteria, at his locker, passing by in the halls. Sometimes you could find him playing the grand piano on the stage in the empty auditorium. Yes, if your mother bothered to ask, you saw Reeves all the time. Now it was just always with her.
Except this week. It was a break of sorts, no classes, just some sports and other school activities. Randie was on some trip with her parents for some kind of church function, and Theo was fishing with his dad on some lake up north. Heâd told you where, but you honestly couldnât be bothered to recall. So when a bunch of your friends and a bunch of his friends all said everyone was going to the basketball game, there was no debate.
As if there was any way youâd say no.
Sometime during the game, your friends wandered off to the snack bar and never ventured back. His friends started a game of hacky-sack under the bleachers. And you found yourself pretending to understand all the finer points about hoops strategy, cheering and yelling along with Reeves and having a great time, just like you used to.
âWhereâd you park?â he asked as you left the gym and headed out into the sea of cars. You vaguely pointed in the direction of yours and he grinned. âOh, good, Iâm that way too. Come on, Iâll walk you.â
The faint glow emitted by the lampposts in the parking lot bounced off his curls and his eyes, when you could catch a glimpse, were bright beneath them.
As if there was any way youâd say no.
The walk wasnât very far, but it felt like it was over in a second. You hadnât said anything on the way, just soaked in the comfort of walking next to him as he kept commenting on the game.
He was waving his hands everywhere, looking at them as he talked as if his hand motions would make things make any more sense to you, in the middle of saying something about your center and how they needed to get better about blocking out when you finally spoke.
âOh, shit.â
Reeves looked up at you. âWhat, you donât agree?â
You dropped your bag on the ground and rolled your eyes. âNo, my car is locked and I left my keys inside.â You pointed to the passenger seat. Your keys stared back at you derisively.
You both stared back at them for a moment, then he grinned. âHang on, I got you.â He held up one finger and trotted off to his car, coming back a minute later with something in his hand. âThis should take care of it.â
You took a step back. âReeves? Um. Okay, why do you have a coat hanger in your car.â
He rolled his eyes back at you. âFor emergencies, duh.â He quickly twisted the hanger into a hook shape and went to your passenger side window.
âAnd why do you know how to break into a car with said coat hanger?â
âLike I told you,â his tongue poked out between his teeth as he worked, âfor emergencies. You think I havenât locked my own keys in my car once or six times?â
âDid Randie teach you how to do this?â The words were out of your mouth before you could think. She probably had. She might have been churchy when required, but she was also responsible for about half of Reevesâs stints in detention (the other half just being him making the wrong joke at the wrong time and pissing a teacher off.)
Thank god he didnât seem to hear you as he kept working at the lock. Finally you heard a *click* and he pumped a fist into the air with a little âyessss!â
And then youâre not really sure what happened. You bent down to pick up your bag and then you were standing up and Reevesâs face was literally about three inches away from yours and for the eight thousandth time since youâd know him, you forgot how to breathe.
Neither of you said anything for what felt like days. You just stared at each other under the dim halo of the parking lot lights.
âHere you go.â He took your hand and dropped your keys into it.
âThanks,â you whispered.
âLike what you see?â the corners of his mouth quirked up, just the slightest little bit.
â...Maybe.â
And the staring recommenced. Were you two getting closer? Physically closer, you meant, of course you were close, youâd always been close. Well, at one time you were really close but then Randie Restenberg happened and it wasnât fair that she got to know what those lips felt like and did he always smell this good or--
âYo, Reeves!â A pickup truck full of guys skidded to a stop behind your car and one of his friends - Jake? Jack? you barely remembered your own name right now - stuck his head out the window. âFight to the death ping pong tourney at Mattâs house! You in?â
Reeves bit his lip and closed his eyes for a second before he pulled back with a soft âIâm sorryâ before turning to his friends. âUm, yeah, sure. Sounds brutal. Iâll meet you there.âÂ
The pickup sped off, tires screeching out of the parking lot. Reeves turned back to you, but youâd already gotten into your now unlocked car and started the engine.
You rolled down the window a fraction and gave him a weak smile. âHey, um. Thanks for saving my butt. Now go kick theirs at ping pong, yeah?â Your face felt so hot, and for once you were grateful for the dim lights in the lot.
âYou could, um, come along if- if you want.â
âNah, Iâm...Iâm tired, Iâm just gonna...um, head home. But Iâll see you tomorrow maybe?â
Reeves looked like he was about to say something else, but he didnât. He just stepped onto the curb in front of your car, smiled, and raised his hand in a little wave as he watched you drive off.
The Present.
A series of shrieks and the slamming of the door told you Vanessa had finally arrived. It sounded like they were jumping up and down on the tile just inside your front door, which was ridiculous since youâd all just seen each other the day before. But typical.
You smoothed a pinkie under your eye, checked your makeup one final time, and went into the living room.
âOh, you look hot,â Vanessa gushed. She grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and plopped down on your couch. âWho are you trying to impress tonight?â
âReeves, of course,â Alexis laughed, leaning on the kitchen counter. She sorted anything she might need from her big purse into a little evening bag as she talked. âYou know we go to all his shows. And you know they went to high school together.â
You snorted. âThat was a long time ago. Iâm not even sure heâd remember me.â
Vanessa waggled her eyebrows. âYouâre probably right, No offense, honey, but no one was that hot back in high school.â
He was, your brain supplied. Very helpful. You smiled wanly.
Vanessa continued. âBut you were friends, right? Youâve never really talked about it. God, it must be so cool now to think that you were friends with Reeves back when he was an awkward high school teenager.â
âReeves was never awkward,â you laugh. âIt was kind of unfair.â
âBut you totally had a crush on him,â Alexis offered.
Had? What do you mean, had? Oh my god, shut up, brain.
A pillow flew in your direction and you ducked as Vanessa giggled and Alexis rolled her eyes. âCome on, tell us something about him,â Vanessa goaded. âWait. Was he, like, your prom date? Thatâs your secret! You totally went to prom with Reeves and you never told us!â
Senior Year. Prom. A Saturday.
The night was not supposed to go this way.
It was supposed to be limousines and corsages and dinner with dates and friends. It was supposed to be endless pictures while your mother told you how gorgeous you looked and how handsome he was and your father gave a thinly-veiled shovel talk about how he knew what happens on prom night and what would really happen if that actually happened. It was supposed to be punch and cookies and balloons. It was supposed to be dancing closer than the chaperones were comfortable with and kissing with tongue when they werenât looking.
It was supposed to be the best night of your life. It was supposed to be fun.
Nowhere in your weeks of dreaming of this night did it involve sitting on a bench in the girlsâ locker room, knees pulled up to your chest, while the party carried on in the gym just beyond.
It definitely didnât involve crying.
The bass beats of the deejay and the harmony of laughter temporarily got louder as the locker room door opened, and then faded back into a muted thumping as the door closed again a second later. You could hear footsteps headed in your direction but before you could unfold yourself and wipe your tears away, a familiar voice called out.
âHey, there you are!â
Being able to find the words to describe how he looked in his tux, his curls slightly tamed by some gel, the blue rose (of course it would be an off color, why would he pick something standard?) pinned to his lapel, his lopsided grin⌠Finding the words was nearly impossible.
Of course he would show up now. Because your night wasnât already crappy enough and half the reason you were sitting there weeping instead of out there dancing was standing right in front of you.
You realized that wasnât fair. It was probably more like, twenty-five percent of the reason, and it wasnât his fault. But that didnât make it any better.
âWhy are you in the girlsâ locker room, Reeves?â you sniffled.
He furrowed his eyebrows and his nose scrunched up in concern as he took in your mascara-streaked cheeks and puffy red eyes. âOne of your friends said you came in here like half an hour ago and nobodyâs seen you since. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.â
âIâm fine.â
âClearly not.â He sat down next to you. âWanna talk about it?â
A deep, shaky sign left your chest. You didnât really want to talk about how, earlier in the evening, youâd excused yourself to use the restroom and come back to the gym to find Theo dancing with...you didnât remember her name, nor did you care. You didnât mind that he was dancing with another girl, in theory, but it was another matter entirely when his hands were on her ass and she was sucking a deep purple mark into his neck. And he was laughing.Â
A short, vicious argument ensued in the coat room after youâd cut in and dragged him off by the elbow. And it turned out that heâd been seeing whats-her-name for months, somehow, behind your back while pretending that everything was perfect with you. When he was supposedly visiting his grandparents? He was with her. When he had to work an extra shift? He was with her. When he got off the phone with you, saying he needed to get to bed early? He was calling her.
Prom wasnât supposed to involve a very public break-up.
And things didnât get any better when, deciding you needed something to drink, you went back into the gym and immediately saw Reeves and Randie, dancing cheek to cheek, arms snugly wrapped around each other as a soft, romantic song wafted through the air. Because of course he was with her. She was his girlfriend and Reeves wasnât a detestable cheating asshole.
There was always another her.
You couldnât handle it.
So you took off to somewhere almost guaranteed to be empty. You figured the locker room wasnât really the kind of place kids would want to make out, and you were right. It was blessedly empty. Until now.
But you couldnât tell him the second part, so you just went with the first. His eyes got wide as you blubbered through the sordid details of Theo being a complete and utter twat. Another quivery sob half-burst from you and Reeves got up. He grabbed a few paper towels from the dispenser and handed them to you as he sat back down.
âThanks,â you hiccuped.
âI never liked him,â Reeves announced.
You found yourself choking on a huff of air. âWhat? Yes you did! Everybody loved him. Thatâs what makes it extra shitty.â
âDid you?â
âWhat?â
Reeves cocked his head and looked at you with an expression you couldnât quite place. âDid you love him?â
Your mouth opened and closed but nothing came out. Why did you always seem to forget how to make words when Reeves asked you questions?
âWhat?â
He shrugged. âEveryone else loved him. Did you?â
You used every last ounce of willpower you had to not jump up on that bench and shout that of course you didnât love Theo, you idiot, because I love you.
That would not make this night any easier.
The next thing you knew, Reeves put an arm around your shoulders and pulled you into his chest, hugging you soundly. He rested his cheek on the top of your head. âDoesnât matter. Youâre better off without him.â
You dabbed at your eyes. Nope, still couldnât make words.
Minutes, hours, days. You had no idea how long you stayed like that, pressed to him and feeling him breathe beneath you. You no longer had any idea how long it had even been since everything crashed around you and heâd come to try and help you pick up the pieces. You just listened to his heartbeat, strong and steady, as the muffled music and joyful shouts of classmates went on past the closed door.
Finally he spoke again. âHey, you wanna get one of those complimentary pictures?â
âWhat?â Oh, great. You were finally able to answer his question but you could still only come up with that one word? Stupid brain.
âWell, IâŚâ he sat up straight and, after the briefest look into your eyes, he glanced away. Was he blushing? You werenât sure. âI always kind of...I kind of thought weâd have a prom picture together. I mean, I just figured, yâknow, weâd go with a bunch of friends, but I always hoped Iâd get a picture with my best friend.â
The sniffles were back in an instant. Damn him. âReeves, I...you really want to get a picture now? I look horrible, I canât get a picture taken like this!â
He took the paper towel from your hand and gently dabbed at your cheeks. âYou couldnât look horrible if you tried. Come on, itâll be fun. And just think how excited your mom will be when she gets a copy of it.â
Despite your best efforts, you had to laugh. âOkay.â
You headed to the photo area after you washed your face, Reeves helped you wipe off the stray streaks of mascara, and you reapplied just a bit of makeup to make yourself feel better. You were never sure what Reeves said to the photographer before the shots, but he seemed quite happy to take multiples. Reeves stayed pressed against your back with his arms down around your waist, hands clasped together in front of you, for each and every one.
At some point between the second and third shot, he leaned just a little closer into you and you suddenly felt his breath against your ear. âLike what you see?â
For maybe the first time that entire night, your face broke into a genuine smile. âMaybe.â
For a few minutes, your night was absolutely perfect.
The Present.
It was the greatest date that never was.
âNo, Reeves was not my prom date,â you told your friends with a shake of your head.
You left out most of the other details, partly because you didnât want to answer eight hundred questions from Vanessa and partly because, well, you just wanted those moments for yourself.
After the pictures, Reeves had asked if you would like to dance. Until then you didnât realize it was possible for eyebrows to shoot that far up a personâs forehead, but yours were up for the challenge. Youâd mumbled something about if Randie would mind, because you were sure she absolutely would, but he brushed it off. Randie had gone off with her friends when he came to find you, and he really wanted to dance with you, just one dance with his frog murder accomplice. And he said that with a straight face and a twinkle in his eye and there was no way you could refuse.
As if there was any way youâd say no.
One dance turned into two, and then several, until the girlfriend in question finally did show back up and Reeves was pulled away, leaving you with a soft smile and a mouthed âsorryâ.
Definitely the greatest never-date.
After prom, life returned to what vaguely resembled normal. Your love life sucked and Reeves still had a girlfriend that wasnât you, and you didnât see him much. To be fair, the end of senior year and graduation did creep up pretty fast so there wasnât a lot of time anyway. Graduation was there before you knew it; he cheered for you and you cheered for him as you each walked across the stage. You made brief appearances at each othersâ graduation parties and talked a bit and then, once again before you knew what happened next, it was time to leave for college.
You went back to New York. Reeves stayed on the west coast.
And over the years, like so many other people before you and after you, you just fell out of touch.
âAnd anyway,â you asserted, âwe were just kind of friends. Yeah, like I told Alexis before, we were lab partners sophomore year, and we hung out sometimes, but that was it. Really.â
Alexis snorted and Vanessa narrowed her eyes. âMmmhmm.â
You threw the pillow back at her. âMmmhmm.â
âAll right, you two,â Alexis chided. âCome on, letâs get going.â
Somehow, you managed to get down to Greenwich Village without further interrogation and minimal shenanigans.
The Present. One Hour Later. Another Saturday Night.
The bar inside the club was pretty packed. Granted, it was a Saturday night down in The Village, so it wasnât too uncommon, but you were honestly surprised that this many people showed up for a punk retrospective.
There were a few other relatively big-name acts you recognized on the bill, and a fair number of people were wearing t-shirts with Reevesâs most recent album cover on the front. There were even a few that had shirts with his face on it, which was frankly kind of weird.
âLooks like youâre not his only number one fan,â Vanessa smirked.
âI just enjoy his music,â you said off-handedly as you tried to flag down a bartender. âBut anyway, tonight isnât even about him. Weâre just here to support charity, right?â
Alexis pretended to agree with you. âRight.â
You glared at both of them before turning your attention back to the bar. Yes, you came to every one of his shows in the area. When you had time. When you could take the night off. When you could rearrange your schedule and switch shifts at the last minute and promise favors to be able to attend them. When you maybe once or twice just called out sick because nothing else worked. So what.
They were really starting to get on your nerves.Â
The bartender finally noticed you and took your order, and you looked around the club again while you waited.
Lots of people, ranging from just-allowed-to-buy-booze to mid-sixties businessmen. A few folks that looked to currently be in their golden years but were clearly once punks in their prime. Many people in black and chains and mohawks and neon hair and piercings, to the point where you honestly couldnât tell who was a performer and who was a patron.
The one person you were looking for was the one that you couldnât pick out of the crowd.
âHeâs gotta be here somewhere!â Vanessaâs voice shouted from somewhere behind your shoulder.
âVanessa, youâre getting a little weird about this,â you called back as you grabbed your drink and turned around.
âLike what you see?â
Eyes wide and mouth slightly hanging open, you almost dropped your full glass.
Vaguely, nearby, you heard the sound of glass shattering and shot a glance to your left. Alexis really had dropped her drink, and Vanessa was clutching onto her arm for dear life. She was holding her glass at a slightly odd angle and the contents were dripping onto one of her shoes.
The crowd silently pulsed backwards as one, clearing out around the four of you for a respectable distance. Several people watched curiously; surprisingly, they just stood back and stared instead of trying to get involved.
Reason Number One why you really couldnât blame them: Reeves stood there, right in front of you. Literally less than two feet away, looking right at you. His mouth pulled up into his familiar lopsided grin, his hair still dark but shot through with strands of silver, curly on the top and shorter on the sides. His nose with the little dent, perfect on his face under those dark, luminous brown eyes and...holy shit, was he wearing eyeliner? He was wearing eyeliner.
Reason Number Two why you really couldnât blame them: Leather pants. Under his old, faded t-shirt and black leather jacket (you were used to seeing him in brown, but you had to admit the black looked good) he was wearing leather pants.
Reason Number Three why you really couldnât blame them: Quite simply, Reeves was standing in the middle of a bar in New York City and he was talking to you.
You blinked once, then twice. You may have blinked more times but all you could think about was the fact that, after all these years, your brain still couldnât make words when Reeves asked you a question.
That same old question.
Suddenly you were grinning back, completely ignoring your friends and their dumbfounded squawking and sputtering next to you. You were smiling because even though your brain couldnât make full sentences of words, it could pull one particular word out of the void and let it come out past your lips.
âMaybe.â
Reeves grinned fully now, his eyes lighting up and the crinkles at the corners deepening.
Someone - maybe Vanessa, maybe a total stranger, you couldnât be sure - might have swooned from the sidelines.
âAlways told you I wanted to come to New York,â he said.
âAlways told you Iâd go back.â
And the next thing you knew, the next thing that made any sense anywhere in your mind, was that Reeves had stepped forward, wrapped his arms around you, and placed the softest, sweetest, most heart-achingly gentle kiss on your lips.
You pulled away in a daze, felt the heat rising in your cheeks, as you heard a muffled choking sound halfway behind you. Definitely Vanessa.
Alexis and Vanessaâs eyes, already bugging out of their faces, nearly fell out of their sockets when Reeves turned to address them.
âHey, ladies. Iâll come talk to you after the show, but for now, I just need to borrow your friend for a few minutes, okay?â
There were somehow still more bizarre, mostly inhuman noises that came out of your friends and even later, when theyâd deny ever acting like that in front of a famous rock star (and rolled their eyes at you when you corrected them that he was a musician, not a rock star), it wouldnât matter because you werenât paying a single bit of attention to them them anyway.
You only had eyes for one person.
He took your hand and pulled you past the bar, into a little room in the back; the office, presumably. The second you were both inside, he wrapped his arms around your waist and looked you in the eyes. He just stared for a few minutes, or maybe hours, you werenât sure.
It really didnât matter.
âDo you have any idea how long Iâve wanted to do that?â he whispered.
âThird day of school, fourth period biology class, sophomore year?â
Reeves smiled softly. âThe second you walked in that door.â
âWhy didnât you?â you tilted your head to look at him. Okay, to gaze into his eyes. You tilted your head to gaze into his eyes and your subconscious hoped to any gods that would listen that you did not have actual hearts or stars in your pupils.
Not that it really mattered.
His arms never left you but he gave a little shrug. âNever seemed to be the right time. And then I had a girlfriend.â
âYeah,â you laughed. âAnd I ended up with that lame excuse for a boyfriend. But do you know how long Iâve wanted you to do that?â
âWhen you couldnât stop staring at me when you sat down at the lab table next to me?â
âHmmm, maybe. But definitely when you told the teacher we had to have a funeral for Lenny.â
âHey, Lenny was a fuckinâ hero,â Reeves batted his eyes at you innocently. âHe performed a brave and great service to his country.â
âI am oddly happy youâre still an idiot,â you giggled.
âIâm ecstatic that you kept coming to all my shows in the city.â
You pulled back slightly and looked at the ceiling. âYou noticed?â
Reeves gave you that look. That look he always gave you, when you were teenagers, when you said something either completely ridiculous or completely profound. That look he gave you when he thought you might not be looking, even though you were always looking. That look that said he always had your back and you were his best friend. That look that you thought youâd be lucky to see one more time but probably never would.
That look.
âOf course I noticed. I thought about having security make you stay back, but thatâs just...no. You always looked happy, and I donât know...I just didnât want to intrude, I guess? Just always wondered why you never stuck around after the shows, never stayed to talk to me, never came knocking on the dressing room door.â
You thought about that for a minute. You really did try, but you couldnât come up with a decent answer. You were happy. Just seeing him was enough, you told yourself. Just hearing him sing was enough, just being in the same room with him, just being near. Just like it was back in high school.
Only it wasnât high school anymore, and now that heâd finally, finally - after years of wouldâve and shouldâve and maybes - kissed you, you knew enough wasnât going to be, well, enough.
So thatâs what you told him.
And Reeves pulled you close, leaned in closer, and kissed you again.
You pulled apart, breathless again, and rested your foreheads together.
After minutes, or maybe days, or maybe hours, and definitely years - it didnât really matter - Reeves was there. You were there. And for once, you were really there together.
âLike what you see?â
â...definitely.â
The Future. Any Day. Every Day.
You always thought, and your friends always said, that the best years of your life happened in high school. And to a certain extent, that was true and you believed in that notion for a very long time.
But ever since that night, that one glorious night in a Manhattan bar, you realized you were wrong.
The best years of your life were still happening.
~end~
Taglist:Â @anetteaneta @autumnleaves1991-blog @be-the-spark-flyboy @deeandbobbymcgee @huxdameron @itspdameronthings @jitterbugs927 @nathan-bateman @poedjarin @rosemarysbaby13 @sergeantkane @spider-starry @woakiees @writefightandflightclub @veuliee2 @yourbucky084 @waatermelon-sugaarâ
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#reeves#reeves x reader#reeves x you#reeves 10 years#10 years fanfiction#reeves fanfiction#Amandas800#wasicskogirl#my writing#writing challenge#writing prompts
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ALLISON!!! This was so perfect!! I love that he is going with them to COMIC CON! Also Nathan would totally build a working iron man suit 𤣠this is so perfect!!
Enumerate (Nathan Bateman x Reader)
ENUMERATE
(hey hey. this is one of my submissions for @wasicskosgirlâ and her 800 follower celebration! congrats on your milestone, lovely! i wrote this in one sitting, which i rarely ever do, but the idea was immediate and persistent so this happened. i just made some final edits, and it was a lot of fun to do and i hope you all enjoy it!)
Word Count: ~1750Â
Summary: You have a question for Nathan. He wants reasons. You have a secret weapon.
Warnings: Some language. Innuendo. Smooches. Nathan Bateman. No actual plot, just a thing. Hopefully decently proofread. Superheroes.
with the prompt -Â âDonât give me that puppy dog face. How am I supposed to say no to that?â
âThis is the worst idea Iâve ever heard.â
Nathan Bateman glares at you over his glasses. Or, he would if he bothered to actually turn his attention away from the monitors in front of him, which, of course, he does not.
On the other side of the room, youâre stretched out on the bed, on your stomach with your legs bent up and ankles crossed behind you, lazily flipping through a magazine.
For once itâs not a technical journal; youâd finally put your foot down a few months ago, told Nathan youâd had enough of the esoteric mumbo-jumbo he kept all over the house, and after a few pleas and a little please, heâd caved. He might make a case that, until now, these celebrity gossip rags were a worse idea, but he canât bring himself to do it. As a thank you, you always make sure to hand him his favorite one when youâre done with it.
Keep reading
#nathan bateman x reader#nathan bateman x you#nathan bateman#ex machina fic#nathan bateman fanficiton#amandas800#writing challenge
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𤣠the cat! Thatâs hilarious
So @wasicskosgirl here is my one shot from your 800 Followers celebration list. I didnât think Iâd be able to write it and I started and restarted this so many times ending with this little creation!
âWho did this to you!â âPromise me that if I tell you, you wonât go after them.â
Modern!Poe Dameron x Reader
Warnings: mention of hospitals, drug mention and accident mention, swearing, mention of marriage, fluff? đ¤ˇđťââď¸
Huge grey storm clouds roiled across the sky as fierce winds battered the car park you stumbled through, the rain pelted down onto you as you dived through the glass doors that opened. You shook your coat out, spraying large water drops all over the floor as you tried to drag your soaking hair out of your eyes. Youâd had a phone call to come as quickly as possible but it had still taken you forever in this weather. You marched through the next set of doors into the emergency department, people were everywhere as they wandered aimlessly around, your eyes searched the area in desperation even though you knew he wouldnât be in here. You joined a queue for the desk, your heart beating as you counted the amount of people waiting before you.
Too many, too many peopleâŚ
You rattled your car keys loudly drawing the glare of the person in front as you fidgeted. You just couldn't stay still as the line shuffled forward slightly.
âCome on, come on!â You whispered angrily, glaring at the hideous plain white walls. You hated hospitals, the smell, the colour it just reeked of death to you and you avoided them at all costs. Of course heâd drag you here.
âHello Iâm looking for Poe Dameron, I was told he was here!â You gasped finally reaching the dividing glass.
âAre you family?â She asked without interest.
âYes, Iâm his wife!â You tried not to snap, you tried not to think they should already know that but your nerves were frayed. You tapped your foot impatiently as the clerk slowly went through the records on her computer screen.
âHeâs down the hall, third bay on the right.â You didnât even say thanks you just left, making your way down the halls that all looked the same as you tried to listen out for his rich voice, your eyes counted the bays. All the curtains were closed and you hesitated not wanting to burst into the wrong section. You looked around for a member of staff but saw no one and you felt a flare of anger as you spun on the spot wondering where the hell everyone was? Then you heard him, a groan reached your ears and you knew it was him. You carefully twitched the curtain catching a glimpse of his curly hair. You slipped into the bay, casting your worried gaze over his broken form as he coughed slightly.
âJesus Poe!!â You hissed rushing to his side as you took in his bruised face. âWhat happened to you?â
âOh heeeey,â he whispered, his eyes widening slightly as he focussed on you but you could tell he was groggy, clearly theyâd given him something to help with his pain.
âWho did this to you?â Your hands shook as you reached for him but you werenât sure where to touch him without causing pain.
âPromise me that if I tell you, you wonât go after them!â
âWhat theâŚjust tell me what happened!â He tried to sit up but his efforts were futile as he just seemed to sink deeper into the bedding and he stopped with a loud sigh.
âIt was the neighbour's cat!â You paused as you tried to digest his words.
âIâm sorry, the neighbour's cat? Benji?â
âLittle shit was on the roof,â he groaned as he moved against the bed again. âShe came knocking on the door, the old biddy...â
âMrs Marsden?â
âYeah her...white hair was flying in the windâŚâ
âJesus Christ Poe, tell me you didnât get up that ladder in this weather? Is that what happened? It wasnât the cat, it was you!â
âNo no, definitely the cat,â he grumbled as he tried to pull his shirt down. âLook, fucker scratched me. Fell off the ladder, landed in,â he took a sharp breath in as he closed his eyes in pain. âFell in the tree, fucking hurt.â You put a hand over your mouth, you werenât so worried anymore, now youâd seen him and heard him talking the panic had finally died down to be replaced with amusement. âAre you, laughing?â You closed your eyes as you tried to subdue the laughter bubbling up inside you but it began to burst from you and he frowned. âYouâre laughing at me?â You sniggered loudly at his offended tone. âMy own wife laughing at my misfortune!â
âIâm sorry!â You managed to gasp out. He grabbed his pillow, feebly throwing it at you as he hissed in pain. âPoe Dameron you are such an idiot!â You said softly putting his pillow back behind him, his brown eyes locked with yours and his hand gripped onto your arm.
âBut Iâm your idiot,â he mumbled. You gently swept his disheveled curls off his forehead, feeling how soft they were entwined in your fingers as you brought your face close to his.
âYeah you are,â you leaned forward kissing his forehead breathing in his comforting scent as you did.
âI couldnât leave it crying on the roof,â his dark eyes were wide as he stared imploring up at you and you smiled, realising you couldnât love this man anymore than you already did.
âItâs ok,â you whispered. âWeâll just send her the medical bill.â He snorted with laughter and instantly tensed up in pain as it shot through his body.
âYouâre a mean one Mrs Grinch,â he groaned as he laced his fingers with yours giving you a reassuring squeeze.
âYeah well, I get mean when my husband is in pain.â
âIâll be alright,â he mumbled, his eyes getting heavy.
âI know. I know you will.â You watched as finally he slipped into sleep, still holding your hand tightly.
You were definitely going to have words with that damn cat.
#amandas800#wasickosgirl#prompt one shot#poe dameron#poe dameron x reader#cw:hospitals#cw:drug mention#cw:accident mention#marriage
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WHY AM I SO OBSESSED?! Itâs AMAZING!
Allison, I loved this so much! I need more Reeves in my life! All the details and the repetition of the like what you see?! I am gasping for breath, I want more Reeves! Is this how you felt when I wrote Outcome?! BECAUSE IM FREAKING OUT HERE!
The Best Years of Your Life (Reeves x Reader)
THE BEST YEARS OF YOUR LIFE
(hey hey, this is my other submission for @wasicskosgirl and her 800 follower celebration! and yes, you read that right - itâs REEVES. i had a lot of fun writing it and i hope you enjoy reading it! CONGRATS Amanda!!)
Word Count:Â um like 6200ish oops it was supposed to be a blurb
Summary: They say the best years of your life happen in high school, but what do they know?
Warnings: Some language. Female reader implied but no pronouns/description. Teenage angst. Adult wistfulness. Mostly fluffy tho. No promises about proofreading. Frog murder.Â
with the prompt - âLike what you see?â
It all started back in high school. Sometimes you wonder how often people say that, and if itâs really true or theyâre just falsely remembering how things happened because high school is supposed to be the best four years of your life.
But in this case, itâs true. Because high school is when you met Reeves.
Sophomore Year. High School. A Friday.Â
It was the third day of sophomore year, fourth period on a Friday morning, your last before the lunch break. Biology class was maybe the one you were least looking forward to, not exclusively because of the required frog dissection, but pretty damn close. Gross. And you never understood why the school year didnât just start on a Monday, but you were new here in San Diego. Maybe they just did things differently.
It was bad enough being the new kid. It was worse when you walked into class halfway through the lecture, even if it wasnât your fault. The timing of the move was weird, and youâd spent most of the first two days, and this morning, doing placement tests and talking to your counselor.Â
And now you were being called out in front of the entire class.
Keep reading
#reeves#reeves x reader#reeves x you#reeves 10 years#10 years fanfiction#reeves fanfiction#amandas800#I need more Reeves#talented af mutuals
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Thank you so much for participating!! This had me so worried in the beginning but the ending made me laugh. Wonderful work, love!!
So @wasicskosgirl here is my one shot from your 800 Followers celebration list. I didnât think Iâd be able to write it and I started and restarted this so many times ending with this little creation!
âWho did this to you!â âPromise me that if I tell you, you wonât go after them.â
Modern!Poe Dameron x Reader
Warnings: mention of hospitals, drug mention and accident mention, swearing, mention of marriage, fluff? đ¤ˇđťââď¸
Huge grey storm clouds roiled across the sky as fierce winds battered the car park you stumbled through, the rain pelted down onto you as you dived through the glass doors that opened. You shook your coat out, spraying large water drops all over the floor as you tried to drag your soaking hair out of your eyes. Youâd had a phone call to come as quickly as possible but it had still taken you forever in this weather. You marched through the next set of doors into the emergency department, people were everywhere as they wandered aimlessly around, your eyes searched the area in desperation even though you knew he wouldnât be in here. You joined a queue for the desk, your heart beating as you counted the amount of people waiting before you.
Too many, too many peopleâŚ
You rattled your car keys loudly drawing the glare of the person in front as you fidgeted. You just couldn't stay still as the line shuffled forward slightly.
âCome on, come on!â You whispered angrily, glaring at the hideous plain white walls. You hated hospitals, the smell, the colour it just reeked of death to you and you avoided them at all costs. Of course heâd drag you here.
âHello Iâm looking for Poe Dameron, I was told he was here!â You gasped finally reaching the dividing glass.
âAre you family?â She asked without interest.
âYes, Iâm his wife!â You tried not to snap, you tried not to think they should already know that but your nerves were frayed. You tapped your foot impatiently as the clerk slowly went through the records on her computer screen.
âHeâs down the hall, third bay on the right.â You didnât even say thanks you just left, making your way down the halls that all looked the same as you tried to listen out for his rich voice, your eyes counted the bays. All the curtains were closed and you hesitated not wanting to burst into the wrong section. You looked around for a member of staff but saw no one and you felt a flare of anger as you spun on the spot wondering where the hell everyone was? Then you heard him, a groan reached your ears and you knew it was him. You carefully twitched the curtain catching a glimpse of his curly hair. You slipped into the bay, casting your worried gaze over his broken form as he coughed slightly.
âJesus Poe!!â You hissed rushing to his side as you took in his bruised face. âWhat happened to you?â
âOh heeeey,â he whispered, his eyes widening slightly as he focussed on you but you could tell he was groggy, clearly theyâd given him something to help with his pain.
âWho did this to you?â Your hands shook as you reached for him but you werenât sure where to touch him without causing pain.
âPromise me that if I tell you, you wonât go after them!â
âWhat theâŚjust tell me what happened!â He tried to sit up but his efforts were futile as he just seemed to sink deeper into the bedding and he stopped with a loud sigh.
âIt was the neighbour's cat!â You paused as you tried to digest his words.
âIâm sorry, the neighbour's cat? Benji?â
âLittle shit was on the roof,â he groaned as he moved against the bed again. âShe came knocking on the door, the old biddy...â
âMrs Marsden?â
âYeah her...white hair was flying in the windâŚâ
âJesus Christ Poe, tell me you didnât get up that ladder in this weather? Is that what happened? It wasnât the cat, it was you!â
âNo no, definitely the cat,â he grumbled as he tried to pull his shirt down. âLook, fucker scratched me. Fell off the ladder, landed in,â he took a sharp breath in as he closed his eyes in pain. âFell in the tree, fucking hurt.â You put a hand over your mouth, you werenât so worried anymore, now youâd seen him and heard him talking the panic had finally died down to be replaced with amusement. âAre you, laughing?â You closed your eyes as you tried to subdue the laughter bubbling up inside you but it began to burst from you and he frowned. âYouâre laughing at me?â You sniggered loudly at his offended tone. âMy own wife laughing at my misfortune!â
âIâm sorry!â You managed to gasp out. He grabbed his pillow, feebly throwing it at you as he hissed in pain. âPoe Dameron you are such an idiot!â You said softly putting his pillow back behind him, his brown eyes locked with yours and his hand gripped onto your arm.
âBut Iâm your idiot,â he mumbled. You gently swept his disheveled curls off his forehead, feeling how soft they were entwined in your fingers as you brought your face close to his.
âYeah you are,â you leaned forward kissing his forehead breathing in his comforting scent as you did.
âI couldnât leave it crying on the roof,â his dark eyes were wide as he stared imploring up at you and you smiled, realising you couldnât love this man anymore than you already did.
âItâs ok,â you whispered. âWeâll just send her the medical bill.â He snorted with laughter and instantly tensed up in pain as it shot through his body.
âYouâre a mean one Mrs Grinch,â he groaned as he laced his fingers with yours giving you a reassuring squeeze.
âYeah well, I get mean when my husband is in pain.â
âIâll be alright,â he mumbled, his eyes getting heavy.
âI know. I know you will.â You watched as finally he slipped into sleep, still holding your hand tightly.
You were definitely going to have words with that damn cat.
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