#Other than the attempted one minute silence was a great way to forget about current events too | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

erodasfishtacos · 3 years

Text

Not Your Charity Case

prompt: Harry is a frat boy - who doesn’t need sympathy from anyone. He makes Y/N feel a sense of home when they’re together. But is Harry just like every stereotypical frat boy?

word count: 6.2k

warnings: minor violence, language, deaf!harry, smutttt

other: when Harry is talking to Y/N or any other characters - it is to be noted that he is signing. When Y/N talks to Harry - she is also always signing

Let me know if you’d want to see anything else from this verse:)

+++

You were rushed - you really shouldn’t stop at the local coffee shop for a sugary, delicious mocha chip frappuccino.

Despite what people say, professors are much more lax and carefree in college.

It was about two weeks into the new semester, - your third here- and the seasons were changing - becoming autumn.

Chilled breezes, falling leaves, and vivid colors of nature made you happy.

When you arrive in line, there are two people ahead of you. A girl currently in front of the cashier and a tall male with a red and black flannel on behind her- typing away on his phone.

When she moves to the left, the broad man steps forward. His snapback facing backwards, brown curls dancing around his neck. You can’t help but notice how tall and lean he is, shoulders broad and straight.

You definitely haven’t seen him before on campus. You’d remember.

From what you can see, he shows the young girl behind the counter the screen of his phone without saying anything at all.

The raven-haired girl’s face pinches in annoyance. “We don’t accept orders like that. You need to tell me what you want.”

You’re a little surprised by both the rude cashier but also the man who doesn’t respond right away.

He attempts to show her his phone again but she shakes her head - annoyed.

You become interested in the situation when I watch him sign, a few gestures before pointing to his ears. In the most obvious form of saying “I can’t hear.”

The clueless girl gives him a blank look, “Listen, there’s a line. I don’t have time for this.”

You hoped you weren’t overstepping your boundaries when you slide up next to him, tapping him on his shoulder to get his attention.

It is a bit startling how gorgeous the boy is. He was tanned with bright green-eyes and a defined jawline that was currently clenched in frustration.

You sign, “What are you trying to order?”

He studies you for a second with hesitance before his long slim fingers begin to move, slowly as if he thinks you may be inexperienced in the form of language.

He replies, “Large coffee with a little cream and two sugars.”

You squeeze in front of him, “It is not only rude but illegal to not serve based on disabilities. Refusing an order from a deaf person isn’t moral or acceptable.”

The girl has enough decency to mumble an apology and turned bright pink, “Sorry, he doesn’t look deaf. “You roll your eyes - how can you tell that someone is deaf based on solely appearance? This girls a fucking idiot, you think.

You repeat his order to her, along with yours - sliding your debit card towards her and give her your name for the order.

The man trails behind you to the small waiting area. “Thank you,” he signs simply. You nod and return the pleasantry. The. hand him his steaming hot coffee.

“Thank you again. I’m going to be late to class, so I have to go,” he tells me, seeming a little out of place signing with a stranger.

“Go ahead, I’ll see you around.” It was the first time in a long time you’ve signed to anyone outside your family.

+++

Sipping your drink as you are only five minutes late and the class hasn’t even started yet. The man you just helped was sat in the back of the classroom, unloading his laptop.

With a little bravery, you wriggle your way through and plop into the wooden chair easily. Letting your backpack fall to the ground. Curly looks over at you with a frown, he signs, “Why are you sitting next to me?”

You blush, “I don’t know? Thought it’d be good to have someone to talk to.”

His hands are tense as he replies, “I’m not a charity case, so you can leave me alone.”

“Never said you were,” you huff when you tell him. Not appreciating how rude he was being. Signing had its own tones and expressions so to speak. For example, when someone is happy their signs and movements are different than when they’re sad or frustrated.

Harry seems to be the latter. You wrestle out your laptop to the PowerPoint that was going to be discussed today in class. You noticed Harry stared very intently at the professor to read his lips and expression.

You was surprised he didn’t have an interpreter with him but you’re sure he got special accommodations elsewhere. Even though that was absolutely none of your business.

His shoulders are tensed and he makes sure your arms don’t brush like you have cooties for the entire two hours. The nameless boy is up and out of his seat as soon as the professor shuts off the projector and turns on the lights - signaling class to be over.

Well fuck him then.

***

You don’t make the mistake to sit next him again. But that doesn’t mean you could ogle his strong muscular back and big hands.

It wasn’t your place to care but you felt twinges in your tummy when you noticed him struggling to keep up with the fast-speed class on certain days.

You were in the large, rustic library that smelled of old books and damp wallpaper. It was dead silent as people furiously studied or worked on papers due.

As you paced the shelves, you could not find the book you needed for your American Literature class. Fuck the Dewey Decimal System.

Part-time uni students probably just stuffed returned books in any open space they saw fit. But you need this book in particular, a discussion board post due by midnight and it was currently eight-thirty. They had ran out of copies at the on-campus bookstore.

After a valiant effort, you trudge up to the checkout counter. A little sign reads, “ring me if no ones here!”

You impatiently ring the silver bell. But no one comes. You give whoever is working a minute or two but nothing. Another ring it is.

Silence. No one. Of fucking course, luck is not on your side tonight.

You dramatically clunk your head onto the high counter top in front of you - groaning at the fact you may fail the assignment.

A tentative pat on your shoulder makes you snap your head up. To see the boy you’ve been constantly avoiding standing behind the checkout desk.

“Are you okay?” He asks. He had a name-tag on - Harry. He honestly looked a bit out of place. Harry appeared to be a frat boy. He was still had a boyish air about him but an intensity that was unmatchable.

He didn’t look like he would work in the library. He looked like...well he looked like he would be a beer pong referee or something.

You couldn’t see below his torso but he had a plain black snapback on and a vintage Elton John concert tee. A cross necklace dangling over the worn shirt.

You smile, embarrassed, but reply, “Just being dramatic. I can’t find a book and I was waiting here.”

There’s mirth in his eyes when he points to the bell,”Did you ring the bell?”

Your brows furrow, “I did.”

“Well I can’t hear it, I’m deaf,” he deadpans with a straight face and a dry sense of humor.

You roll your eyes, laughing nervously, “I didn’t know you were working!”

“What do you need?”

He helps you locate the book in two minutes flat before checking you out and you rushing home to finish the homework.

You felt bad ignoring your little sister’s FaceTime calls but you promised to call her back tomorrow.

***

Though once again, you hadn’t interacted with Harry since last week - you constantly found yourself studying his stoic profile or fast moving fingers.

You would never befriend Harry because you feel bad for him - like he presumed. You enjoyed American Sign Language and it actually made you feel back at home.

You’re little sister was born completely deaf. She was much younger than you - eight years old. Fifteen years apart to be exact. You learned the language along with her and your parents.

When you were at home and your sister was there - you guys tried to only sign so she didn’t feel left out. So Harry felt like home - a little despite his completely off-putting demeanor. It made you a little bit more persistent than with any other frat boy.

***

The bulletin board in your advisor’s office caught your eyes. None of the little tabs ripped off in interest.

‘Student with ASL experience and above a 3.5 GPA needed for tutoring sessions - twice weekly. $16 dollars an hour.’

After your meeting, you tugged the little scrap of paper off and tuck it into your pocket. You couldn’t know for sure if it was Harry but you didn’t know of any other deaf students in the program.

You say ‘fuck it’ and type out an email to the advisor of academic affairs and accommodations to throw your hat in the ring.

***

You don’t hear back for three days - nearly forgetting about it in the mean time. Your eyes scan quickly over the email to grant you the position. They include contact information for no other than Harry Styles.

After psyching yourself out a little and a few paces across your kitchen tiles - you text him.

Hey! I’m your new assigned tutor. Would you like to set up a time and place? As well as what kind of help you’re looking for.

The reply text comes shortly after

Hello, thank you very much. I am just in need of hearing ears. I am deaf and have a hard time keeping up with the my professor. I have begun recording the lectures in hope that you can sign then to me.

Sure thing. That won’t be a problem!

I live in Alpha Sigma on 3rd street. I have my own room. I’d rather not have the tutoring session in public. However, if that makes you uncomfortable - we can figure something out.

You take a minute to debate. You understand why this would be a task too loud for the library and why he’d want privacy. You didn’t feel like I’d be uncomfortable with him.

I saw twice a week so does Tuesday and Thursday at seven work?

Sounds great. Thank you again x

Did he know it was me? Was he expecting it to me?

***

He was definitely not expecting you. You automatically knew that by the way his friendly smile dissipated into a frown when he opened the door for you.

You attempted to look nice today without trying too hard. A loose crop top with the university’s name, a pair of tight black leggings, bulky white socks bunched at your ankles, and white sneakers. Very 80’s.

You try to keep your composure, “Hi Harry, I’m going to be your tutor.”

He slowly nods at you, huffing out a breathe of irritation before inviting you into the frat house.

You’d only been here once or twice for a party so you had no idea what the house actually looked like when there weren’t bodies and booze everywhere.

He’s walking you past a group of boys playing FIFA on the flatscreen in the living room, white claws open everywhere.

“Y/N! Hey babe!” You look over to see Niall - one of your good friends from your part-time job at the bookstore - trotting over to you guys.

The blonde pulls you into an overexcited hug. He reminded you of a cuddly, soft puppy dog most of the time.

“Are you Harry’s little tutor?” Niall coos, leaning over to pinch Harry’s cheek.

Harry- who was observing the conversation, focusing in on our lips, immediately bats his friend away. A small scowl forming on his face.

It automatically turns into a playful brawl where Niall tugs Harry into headlock. But he has no strength on the brunette.

Harry turns out of it quickly and pushes Niall to the ground. He straddles his stomach and begins to jokingly pinch and slap at him.

Niall hisses, “Ouch! You motherfucker! Big oaf!”

Then you don’t know why you find this endearing but Niall signs the word, “uncle” a few times to signal he’s accepted his lost.

The fact that they wrestle so much that Niall learned to sign how to give up made you giggle more than it should.

Harry crawls off of him, running a hand through his messy curls, his face a little flushed.

“I’ll talk to you later!” You tell Niall as your trailing behind Harry up a flight of stairs.

His room is extremely neat. A fluffy navy comfort decorated his bed with a few photos of flowers and nature on his wall. A tidy desk tucked away in the corner that had all of his school work loaded on top of it.

He chooses to sit in his desk chair, motioning for you to perch on his bed. You look at him expectantly when he pulls out the tape recorder and sets it on the surface.

He pulls his laptop into his lap and begins signing, “I need you to transcribe the lecture for me so I can follow it. We can skip through the bits where he is rambling or off topic.”

You nod, letting him know to begin whenever he’s ready. He presses the side button and the recording starts but it super unclear and garbled.

“Did you record this from your seat?” You ask, the professors words nearly inaudible and fuzzy.

“Yes.”

“You need to bring it to the front of the room. Ask Dr. Morrison to lay it on his desk before class. I can’t hear anything but static and mumbles,” You tell him.

He laughs and shakes his head. His movements rough and angry, “Of course its fucked up. I get you as my tutor and then the recorder is shit.”

You glare at him, offended as you haven’t done anything to this boy. “Excuse me? I’ve literally been trying to help since I’ve meet you. What is your fucking issue?”

“I’m not a charity case! I don’t need you to feel bad for me. I’m not helpless! You’re probably just a silly little girl who took ASL in high school because it was cool and trendy. Go back to focusing on psych.”

“Fuck you, Harry,” Your gestures getting sharper and your face sour, “You know nothing about me so don’t act like you do. I don’t feel bad for you or think that you’re helpless.” You put up a hand and tell him to not talk.

“I was just being nice because I thought you were handsome and at first, seemed friendly. It turns out you’re just like every douchebag frat boy I’ve met. What a disappointment,” You chuckle, swinging your bag on your shoulder and storm out of the room without another look.

***

The cafe was jammed packed - it was Waffle Wednesday. You had said waffles in your tray and were about to plop down on a stool when you hear your name being called.

“C’mere, come sit with us!” He hollers over the commotion of the crowd. Niall.

You’re about to decline when some dude slips behind you and snags the stool. Shit.

A bit unwillingly you slide into the booth next to Niall, cracking open your sparkling water. “Mates, this is Y/N, we work at the store together and she’s Harry’s tutor,” he tells them. “Y/N, this is Liam and Louis.”

“Hello,” you try your best to come off as friendly even though you can feel Harry’s glare on the side of your face. You ended up falling to easy conversation with the boys. Niall has a very limited ASL vocabulary but tries.

The boys are also trying to talk slower and more pronounced so Harry can watch and understand. A couple of times he taps Niall on the wrist to repeat what was going on.

Your phone begins buzzing and you apologize for the interruption. It’s your little sister, Mazie, FaceTiming.

You answer the phone with a frown, signing “Aren’t you suppose to be in school?”

Mazie looks upset, eyes a little watery. She gestures back, “I left early. I’m sick.”

“Are you really sick or where you getting bullied again?” You asks her.

Your sister hesitates before sniffling, “You already know. I hate my school.”

Mazie has had other children bully her for her disability since she started preschool and it as still happening in fourth grade.

“What can I do to help?” You frown, never wanting to see your baby sister cry.

You chat for a few minutes to help her calm down. When the phone call ends, you don’t realize that all the boys were watching you in interest. Harry in particular, keeps his focus on you with a wrinkled forehead.

“My sister’s deaf,” You tell them. The whole time you’ve been sitting with them you’ve been signing and verbally speaking to help everyone be able to be included in the conversation.

“That’s sick!” Louis says, smacking Harry’s arm. “Just like our lad Harry.”

Harry grumbles when Louis shakes him a little. It seems like the boys loved to physically interact with Harry which was endearing.

Harry allows him to for a moment before he flicks his cheek hard and laughs when Louis flinches. The conversation goes back to normal.

***

Harry jogs up to you after your group shares farewells and a few punches. You pointedly ignore him as you trek to the class you two have together so it’s not like he can’t walk this way too.

“Please, wait,” Harry asks. He walks in front of you.

“What do you want?” You huff, keeping my glare firm and directed alley at him.

“I’m sorry. I made the wrong assumption.”

“You made a lot of wrong assumptions. The fact that you think of me so lowly is sad. I’ve been nothing but nice,” You try not to focus on his large palms that curve over the caps of your shoulders.

“I’m not very trusting of people.”

You snort rather unattractively, “No kidding”

“Can we please start over?” He asks, stepping back to give you space. He didn’t realize how close he’d been standing to you until your hair wisps across his nose.

“One more chance, Styles.”

Harry lays a hand on your upper arm and squeeze lightly before signing the simple gesture of ‘thank you.’

***

It turns out Harry is very handsy and physically affectionate. It wasn’t creepy though or something that ever made you feel uncomfortable.

You were still tutoring him but you hung around the frat with Harry nearly everyday. The days you just wanted to lay in bed resulted in a grumpy FaceTime from Harry.

Harry once stated during a tutoring session, “It is easier for me to show how I’m feeling with touch than words. If I ever make you uncomfortable - please tell me and I will stop.”

You smile slyly at his words that sounded more like a question, asking if he can touch you. “I guess I’ll let you feel me up every now in again.”

He giggles and looks down wolfishly - like an entertaining thought is dancing around in his mind.

You tuck your finger under his chin to gaze at you. “In all seriousness, I give you my consent to show your feelings with physical touch. I trust you and know you won’t do anything to make me uncomfortable.”

The curly-haired brunette smiles happily, his hand cupping the side of your neck and brushing over your pulse point.

He hadn’t touched you here before and it seems like it was his first goal to do so once he got permission. You can’t help but take in a deep gasp of air. You prayed he didn’t notice but by the small lift of his lips he did.

The simple touch made a flame of arousal swirl in your lower stomach. You felt like you were about to start sweating.

“Anyways,” You clear your throat and snatch back up the recorder. It now had better quality after Harry listened to you about placement.

***

The frat house was ridiculously full of drunk college students. Everybody on the dance floor was sweaty and sticky with a variety of different substances.

Niall had invited you - so you were searching about for him. Pushing through the crowd and nobody was able to hear you say ‘excuse me.’

You finally found fresh air in the backyard where beer pong and cornhole were set up. Niall was tossing his ball across the table, trying to splash in Liam’s red solo cups.

Harry was sitting on a cushioned patio chair, watching the game commence. Maybe he was a beer pong referee after all.

He looked so fucking good tonight. He had a yellow snapback taming his curls - backwards of course. A black Rage Against the Machine shirt and his signature black skinny jeans. **

You made eye contact and were about to wave when a girl plopped down in the seat across from him.

Awkwardly you turn away, greeting the other boys and taking a seat in a lawn chair to watch them start their third round of the game.

Your eyes keep darting over to Harry who is staring blankly at the girl. She starts stroking his biceps and tracing across the tattoos like they belong to her.

Harry is attempting to let her know he’s not interested. His signs uselessly as she’s staring at his lips and not hands.

You’re moving before you know it, without another thought, you squeeze in between the two - separating them. You dramatically slide into his lap, funnily enough one strong arm wrapping happily around your middle.

The pretty blonde pouts out her lips, “Is he your boyfriend?”

Before you’re able to reply, Harry signs the obvious signal for ‘yes’ to the girl. Then rudely makes the shooing gesture. She’s up with a huff and stomping back towards the house.

Harry turns you sideways on his lap so that you two can see each other’s hands, “You saved me.”

“You’re just such a stud, have to protect you,” You joke - but not really.

He raising his eyebrows and smiles, “You were jealous.” It was a statement not a question.

You blush wildly, avoiding eye contact which you know he hates. He hates anytime you cut off ways of communication.

Harry taps your lips until you look up at him, “it’s really fucking sexy when you are.” A perk of sign language. He could dirty talk just about anywhere and mostly no one would ever know.

His thumb drags on your full bottom lip, signing clumsily with one hand so you had to use context clues to piece it together “Don’t think I forgot when you called me handsome a few months ago.”

“I don’t remember, doesn’t sound like me,” You boldly lie, snickering and nipping at the top of his thumb

His eyes become a shade darker when your teeth meet his skin. He presses his thumb further in until it’s in-between your teeth. The moment is broken when Niall screams, “Styles! You’re up next!”

You and Harry become separated after you spent nearly two hours watching all these drunk boys play beer pong. Harry was ridiculously good at the game and only had to drink two cups from the table.

You had wandered back into the house where the party had died down. There were only a handful of stragglers left but mostly just the fraternity brothers and their close friends.

With a fresh alcoholic seltzer in your hand - you didn’t trust open bottles at parties like this - you gaze at Harry through the back window.

Harry was being jumped by Liam and Niall. He was snarling playfully as Liam toppled them all over into the grass. Niall tries to stand up but Harry’s hand wraps around his ankle and makes him fall right back on his bum with a girlish squeal.

Niall leans over to give Harry a wet-willy but Liam manages to throw a plastic cup directly at Niall’s forehead. Harry and the other boys dissolve in childish giggles. Faces red from laughter and liquor. You feel a smile painted fondly on your lips from watching them.

“Hey, Y/N right?” A voice interrupts from behind.

You spin to face a guy you barely recognize from a previous class you shared. You smile nonetheless, “Hi...”

“Jake, Jake from Social Constructs and Society last semester.”

“Oh yeah, that’s right,” You smile and allow him to talk your ear off because you struggle to say ‘no.’ He was fine, nothing special, typical business major who thought he was hot shit because his daddy owned a golf course he wanted to take you to.

It was a normal conversation until his voice gets lower as if he’s trying to be more seductive, “Want to head to a room with me?” He nods towards the staircase.

You chuckle in disbelief at his bold and forward question. “No thank you, I’m good.” You really had eyes for one person right now and he was currently cussing out Niall in sign language in the backyard before tackling him once again to the ground.

“C’mon, I can really show you a good time,” He persuades persistently, stepping into your space - causing your nervousness to spike.

“I said - no thank you,”You bite out, starting to feel scared when he blocks your way out of the kitchen and presses himself against you and the counter.

“You’re really something gorgeous, you know?” He asks, ignoring my struggles to get away from him.

“Stop touching me!” You scream, hoping Niall or one of the boys would hear your wail. He puts a hand up to your mouth to muffle you but that only results in you biting him.

“Fucking bitch!” He cries out, pulling his hand back and winding up to either punch or slap you right in the face. You prepare for the impact.

Then in a blink off an eye, it becomes a blur, a muscular figure is crashing into Jake with full force and knocking him straight into the linoleum floor with a loud crash.

It’s Harry. Broad shoulders and thick but lean tattooed biceps. He’s standing over the harasser and drops on top of him. It shouldn’t look as graceful and tactful as it does.

You��d never seen anything like this from Harry before. Once you really got to know him - he was a gentle giant who liked romantic comedies, soft blankets, and vanilla cupcakes with rainbow sprinkles.

Harry’s fist is repeatedly connecting with the dark-haired boy’s jaw with full force. The only noise is from Jake as Harry is dead silent but his eyes zeroed in on the target.

When blood begins gushing from the man’s nose - Niall and Liam decide it times to physically pull Harry up. Harry had a slight red mark on his jaw when Jake had managed one punch before being defeated quickly.

Harry signs to Niall, “Tell him.”

Niall places his foot on the dude’s chest to keep him down, “My mate wants to let you know if you touch her again we’re not going to pull him off and he’ll gladly beat you to a fucking pulp.”

Jake groans, clutching his nose to stop the bleeding, “Fuckin’ asshole.”

You were still blown away as you watch Harry’s heaving chest as he glares down at the boy. His fist clenched and knuckle bloody and swollen. Harry’s attention turns towards you. His furious expression melts into worry. You can read his face so clearly. He’s afraid he’s scared you off.

It was hard to believe you had this drop dead gorgeous frat boy defending you past midnight on a Friday night. A boy who didn’t need to hear but just to see you needed help to step in.

All your desires and lusts after the man in front of you burst like a rubber-band and the urge to have him felt uncontrollable. “Take me upstairs,” you demand quickly, arousal creeping up your spine.

He doesn’t understand you’re extremely turned on. Instead he looks like a kicked dog who’s about to get in trouble again.

Nevertheless, he takes your hand and maneuvers out of the kitchen and up the stairs until his bedroom door is closed.

Harry lips are turned down unhappily as he begins, “I’m sorry, love. I...” he pauses a moment before continuing. “I just wanted to make sure you were safe. I hope you don’t think less of me.”

You look him dead in the eye and sign, “Kiss me.”

He blinks slowly at you like he just hallucinate the gestures.

So you repeat your motions, slow and with intent, “Kiss me, touch me, do something.” No more time is wasted as he is stepping in front of you and cupping your face in his hands.

Without any hesitation now, he pressing a bruising kiss to your lips - taking your bottom one between his and sucking.

Your hands are immediately tugging at the hem of his vintage shirt, pulling apart to bring it over his head. Dark ink decorates his torso, for some reason something you weren’t expecting. A butterfly on his abdomen, two fern branches, tattoos on his side.

Harry chuckles, “This is new to me.”

Your eyes go wide and you sign, “You’re a virgin?”

Harry snorts and rolls his eyes before telling you, “God no. I mean I’ve never been able to really communicate during sex.”

Then before You can speak, he cuts in a bit frantically, “I’ve always gotten consent - not like that. I mean-“ You cut him off with a kiss - knowing he would never do anything you didn’t want.

You wanted everything from him.

“If you’d believe it, I like a bit of dirty talk when I fuck - but no one understands what I’m saying,” He tries to crack a joke but for some reason seems insecure and nervous.

“Hey,” You take his chin so he shyly meets your eye, “I can’t wait to hear it - you’ve already made me so wet.” His eyes light up like a kid on Christmas.

“You’re such a good girl,” he signs before tugging off your shirt and instantly finding your lips again. His hands are skillful as they unclasp your bra without any struggle and tosses it.

You tugs a bit as his hair to show your enjoyment as his tongue finds your nipple - lapping before taking it between his teeth. As good as it feels, you want him to feel even better.

You push him back until he’s sitting in the edge of the bed, legs spread and hands behind him on either side holding him up. Jaw clenched with arousal and restraint.

He’s pressed against the zipper of his jeans. And all you wanted to do was see him in all of his glory. You’re quick to undo the button and determined to get the finicky zipper down as well.

His fingers come beneath your chin until you’re looking at his sparkling eyes, a look of lust made his lids a little droopier and his mouth slack from heavy-breathing.

“Are you sure you want to? You don’t have to - I want to eat your pussy either way, pet,” He signs, leaning in for a slow, wet kiss.

You sign back with a pout, “Shut the fuck up.” He huffs out a laugh, letting go of your chin and wrapping a hand in your hair to keep it out of your face.

As soon as he’s helping you wriggle his briefs and jeans down his narrow hips, you’re met with the prettiest cock you’ve ever seen.

When you make eye contact with Harry, he raises a eyebrow and grins cockily, “Is it nice enough for your liking, love?”

You nod breathlessly - wasting no more time before ducking down to take him to your mouth, a slight burning in your throat from how big he is.

His hands keep ahold of your hair, thumbs pressed against your temples as you bob down his length with sloppy, warm licks.

Harry’s moaning as you pop off to kiss and suck at the underside of him, hands coming to cup and roll his balls. It is a few moments later when he taps your cheek to get your attention, one hand leaving his hair to sign that he’s close.

Your mouth speeds up, wanting to give him all the pleasure you could. Your hand coming to stroke at what couldn’t fit in your mouth, pumping quickly.

Before you know it, Harry’s rutting his hips upwards and coming with a long, deep moan from the rumbles of his chest. He’s pulling you up into his lap, pressing appreciative kisses to your cheeks and jawline.

Big hands palming at your breasts before slipping down into your leggings, brushing softly over your mound.

You whine and hitch forward to grind against his palm as soon as he cups you. He smiles widely at your desperation, pressing the heel of his palm harder against you to create more pressure.

You were already so wet and turned on that it wasn’t going to take much. The ball of your climax was burning low in your tummy. However, you wanted him to taste you like he said he would.

You sign, “I’m close. Please, I want your mouth on me.”

With that, he’s flipping you until you’re laid out on the bed. His hands tugging off your leggings and underwear with no further ado. “Holy shit,” He gestures, gazing all over your body and not stopping on one spot for too long.

“What?” You ask, fishing for the compliments you know he’s about to shower you in.

“You’ve got such a pretty pussy,” he signs, dimples popping in his cheeks and a curious finger traces your entrance before dipping in.

You lightly kick at his stomach, “Get on me.” He pouts, crooking his finger against your spot before pulling it out. Fucking tease.

Then his face is disappearing between your spread thighs and a strong lick is delivered from your clit all the way down to your bum.

Since he can’t hear you, you grabs handfuls off his hair. Tugging at the roots, scratching your nails into his scalp to let him know how good he is. So fucking good.

When you accidentally buck your hips hard against his mouth, you curse and run a apologetic hand through the locks. He doesn’t look up at you but lift a hand and signs, “Again.”

You absolutely whine, begging to ride him with determination - climax on the brink. He hums causing vibrations on the sensitive nerves. With that, your hips are meeting his tongue and you’re coming. His face dampening with your release - happy as a clam when he pops back up.

You can’t remember the sign for condom, so you sign, “Protection?” Harry understands right away, rustling through the drawer until he finds a stray packets, “It’s been awhile.”

“Same,” You gestures - watching as he slides it down his length and crawls overtop of you. He was pink and swollen - having to be a bit sensitive from just coming a little while ago.

“Ready, love?” He asks, pressing soft kisses to your jawline. You nod, reaching down to guide him in.

And you weren’t lying, it had been a while and he was big. The stretch wasn’t uncomfortable, just a lot. But his wet, open-mouth kisses made you stay grounded.

Harry’s moans were absolutely obscene as he slide all the way in before stopping to give you a moment. His arms strong, holding himself over you. The cold metal of his necklaces brushing against your tight nipples.

When you have him the okay, he begin giving you deep, hard strokes on each thrust. His noises so loud they had to be able to hear them downstairs. They were deep and low - rumbling in his chest with pleasure.

Then his hand is coming to your throat. For a wild moment you thought he was going to choke you but instead he rest it lightly, palm flat.

It takes you a moment - then it hits you.

Holy fuck. He is feeling the vibrations of your moans - erupting from your vocal cords. Feeling out the movement from your throat so he can feel how much you’re enjoying it.

You should be embarrassed but you can’t find it in you when you come again right on the spot. His fingertips nudging into the skin to feel the intensity as it wracks through you.

When you’re done riding out your orgasm, he reaches for the headboard behind you with his other hand, gripping it tightly as he begins to pound in with all his strength.

The bedframe is hitting the wall so loud that the whole house must be able to hear it. Hitting with every directed thrust until his mouth is dropping down into a long, timbred moan and he’s coming.

---

Later, when the two are you have settled for the night in the warmth of his bed. Harry seems a little nervous, once again. It takes him a moment to meet your eyes and brushes a strand of hair off your forehead.

“What is it?” You ask, tucked into his side. His body so solid and comforting.

“It’s corny,” Harry frowns, eyebrows furrowing as his eyes flash across your face.

“Tell me,” You insist, bringing his hand to your lips to kiss his fingertips.

“I feel like you were made for me. Like...we were meant to be together,” Harry signs, hesitant to share his thoughts. But it doesn’t scare you away. You can’t help but agree.

“I think so too,” You reply before pressing another kiss to his puffy pink lips.

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marauderundercover · 3 years

Text

Taking Chances Chapter 4: Unexpected (Bonding)

AO3

Bruce Wayne felt lost. This wasn’t an unusual feeling for him, but he wasn’t particularly fond of the events that led to him feeling lost. First, he found out he had a daughter. Yet another child that he hadn’t known of their existence. Then, he acted as Batman. He researched the girl and found that her school situation was...less than ideal. As was the supervillain situation in Paris. The girl- his daughter- had been targeted several times. Sometimes the Akuma went after her from the start. Other times, she was unfortunate enough to be in its line of sight when it was on a rampage. Any way you looked at it, she was in danger. No, the biggest mistake in researching her came with the phone number for the bakery run by her parents. Two lovely people who had raised her and taught her right from wrong. Something he hadn’t done. Their phone call was what left him feeling lost. They hadn’t demanded that he stay away from his daughter- from Marinette. No, on the contrary, they thought it was a great idea for the two to bond. Especially once Bruce had mentioned his other children.

“Marinette was distraught when the only information we could give her about her birth father was his name.” Sabine had said, adding to Bruce’s confusion.

“You had my name but didn’t reach out?” Bruce asked, trying (and failing) to figure out the situation.

“We didn’t have much to go on. Just your name and that you were American and worked in business. Bridgette didn’t give any specifics, and back then it didn’t really matter. I assumed Bruce Wayne was a common enough name, especially in the US.” Sabine replied simply. The rest of their conversation had gone similarly, with Bruce growing more and more lost until the end. They hadn’t even suggested a DNA test (though he was planning on asking Marinette, just so that they could be completely certain). They just wanted Marinette happy. Even if it meant meeting and bonding with the man who hadn’t known about her existence.

---

Marinette Dupain Cheng was not having an easy week. No, her week was sucky. In fact it was beyond sucky, it was shitty. So many things were happening at the same time, and she was just grateful that she wasn’t currently in Paris, since she was certain she’d be akumatized. From being attacked by the Joker for simply looking like a Wayne, to meeting Batman who was just as angry in person, and then figuring out Bruce Wayne really was her dad and accidentally calling him Batman, to fighting an Akuma by herself (one that she could barely handle) and then to top it all off, Adrien is Chat Noir. And Adrien has a crush on her, as Marinette. And apparently has for at least a month. Oh and now he knows that she’s Ladybug and so last night was filled with her Chat Blanc nightmares all over again. The cherry on the top of this mess was the fact that the class was practically ignoring her. She was sure they weren’t doing it intentionally and that they were just kinda distracted by Lila’s tall tales of Gotham. Tales that include her dating one of Bruce Wayne’s sons. She wouldn’t clarify which one, which was probably for the best. They two closest to their age were 12 and 19. Neither a great option for the 15 year old Italian. A shrill ringing tugs Marinette out of her thoughts. Glancing down at the unknown number attempting to call her, Marinette silently prayed that this would turn her shitty week around.

“Hello?” She answers, wincing slightly at the way her voice sounds after a night filled with screaming and crying from nightmares.

“Is this Marinette Dupain Cheng?” A deep voice asks. Marinette frowns.

“Um, yes?”

“Good. This is Bruce Wayne and well, I’m not sure how to-”

“You’re my dad.” She blurts out, face instantly heating up. “Oh crap, I mean, um-”

“Well yes. I do believe I may be your father. I was in contact with your parents earlier, to ask about boundaries and such. Your mother says that you had shown interest in meeting me and seeing how we’re similar?” He says, the question clear in his voice. Marinette opens her mouth to respond, then frowns.

“Just like that? We’re gonna meet, just like that?” She asks, hoping that her distrustful tone doesn’t push the man away.

“I’ll admit that I was going to ask if you would mind a paternity test. After speaking with your mother, I have no doubts, but I thought it might make you feel better. And of course, if you would prefer to just act as though I didn’t speak to your parents and go on with your trip, we can do that as well. I just- I was caught off guard, if I’m being honest.” Bruce Wayne- her father- says.

“I’ll do it. I- I would like to get to know you. I can’t have a relationship with Bridgette, but if my parents are okay with it, I do want a relationship with you.” Marinette admits, holding her breath as she waits for an answer. There’s silence on the other end for a long moment, but just as Marinette’s about to apologize and tell him he can go and pretend she doesn’t exist, he answers. His voice a little softer this time.

“I would like that.”

---

The paternity test came out positive, to no one’s surprise. Bruce had given Marinette the option of meeting somewhere more public (like a restaurant or museum) to bond, or coming over to the manor. Not quite ready to deal with the possibility of paparazzi and the rumors (no matter how true they may be) that would stem from a public visit, Marinette agreed to going to the manor for dinner. Which is how she ended up sitting in silence in a town car with a man who seemed like he knew more than he was letting on.

“So, you’re the one who raised Mr. Wayne?” Marinette asks, not quite ready to call the man “Dad” or any variation of the word. The man nods and she meets his eyes in the rearview mirror.

“Indeed, Miss. I am Alfred Pennyworth.” The man, Monsieur Pennyworth, says calmly. She tries not to let the frustration that she feels building show on her face. She feels like she should know this man, like there’s something important that she’s just barely missing.

“Have we met before?” Marinette finally asks, racking her brain as she tries to figure out why this man is so familiar to her.

“I don’t believe so, Miss Dupain Cheng.” He says, and for the first time since meeting him, it doesn’t feel like he’s all knowing. Instead, it feels like he’s just as confused as she is. Drat. She opens her mouth to question him more, when the huge manor becomes visible in the distance. Eyes widening, Marinette forgets everything else and turns her attention to the beautiful architecture. The giant fence and metal gates do little to hide the massive house. Sections of the house rise above others, almost as if there are towers. Dozens of windows are visible, as is the giant fountain at the front of the house. Ripping her sketchbook out of her bag, Marinette immediately starts sketching out the ideas that attack her mind. Dresses and suits and skirts, all using the architecture in front of her for the basic shapes of the outfits. As the car goes past the gate and the gardens come into view, Marinette can’t hold back her shocked gasp. Shaped hedges and flowers, hundreds of different colored flowers, and trees and- it was beautiful. Almost too perfect. Like something that belonged in a movie. She jumps slightly as the car door is opened, Alfred standing on the other side with an eyebrow quirked up. Right. She was actually getting out of the car. And going into this massive house. And spending time with her biological- nope. She can’t do this. She can’t-

“Miss Dupain Cheng, if it makes you feel any better, Master Bruce seems to have run into some traffic on his way back from the office. You’ll have a few minutes to gather your bearings inside before he arrives.” Alfred says softly. Relief washes over her and she nods, finally moving to get out of the car.

“Thank you, Alfred.” She says, smiling at the man. He nods back at her before leading her up the steps to the door. He opens it and then steps back, allowing her to take a tentative step into the house. Her previous panic is pushed aside as she realizes the inside is just as gorgeous as the outside. Immediately turning back to her sketchbook, she tunes out the world around her and just stands in the foyer, scribbling furiously into her sketchbook.

“Um, hi?” A voice says, making Marinette yelp and jump, eyes scanning her surroundings until they fall on a guy. A pretty tall guy.

“Hi.” She says softly, also confused as to who this guy was. Not her- dad-biological father-other part of her DNA-father-Mr. Wayne- not anyone she had ever met, that’s for sure.

“I’m sorry, I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Dick Grayson.” The man says, extending his hand, a smile on his face. Anyone else probably would have thought the smile was sincere, but Marinette had always been good at reading emotions. And she could tell that he was wary of her. Why would he- oh. Grayson. As in, Richard Grayson, as in this man was her brother. Or, well, maybe he wouldn’t want to be. Maybe he would think that she’s ridiculous or that she’s just here to get money or here to try and pull apart Mr. Wayne’s family or maybe he would think that she was trying to take his place and she would never but maybe he would hate her and- She takes in a deep breath, trying desperately to ground herself and wishing she’d taken up Adrien’s earlier offer of him coming with.

“I’m Marinette. Marinette Dupain Cheng.” She finally says, reaching out and shaking his hand. He nods, obviously still confused. So Mr. Wayne hadn’t mentioned her. Did he hate her? Did he ask her here to have her sign a NDA? Did he not want anything to do with her? Of course he wouldn’t, he obviously already had a family. A family that he chose, not one that he had by accident. His name was on her birth certificate, surely he would have found her sooner if he actually wanted anything to do with her? He chose Dick Grayson to be his son. He wanted him. He didn’t want Marinette. He-

“Ah, Marinette. I see you’ve met Dick.” The last voice she needed to hear says calmly as he walks through the door. Marinette swallows back the thickness in her throat, the one that tells her the tears will be starting soon.

“Uh, yes. Mr. Wayne. Um, hi.” She says, flinching slightly when he winces. What did she do wrong this time? Was he really going to tell her to take a hike? If he didn’t hate her before, he surely did now.

“Bruce, what’s going-” Dick starts to ask but is cut off by screaming voices getting closer to them.

“What the hell is wrong with you, Demon Spawn?”

“Not my fault your blocking skills are subpar, Todd.”

“Sub- you almost stabbed me, you little shit!”

“Almost, yes. But I didn’t. I’m sure Father will be pleased with my restraint.”

“You little fu-” “Boys!” Mr. Wayne finally yells as the two screaming walk into view. Both freeze and the younger one’s eyes instantly fall on Marinette, narrowing as he takes a defensive position.

“Another one, Bruce, really?” The older one asks, making Marinette flinch back. Of course. Two more of his sons-her brothers- who he chose. Another two that he wanted. Not like her, someone he was going to be forced to know. Unless he told her tonight that he never wanted to speak to her again and made her sign a paper saying that she would never contact him again and then they would never have to worry about seeing her again and- oh this is a lot.

“What were you two doing?” Mr. Wayne finally asks, and that’s when Marinette sees the weapons in their hands. And the blood on the older man’s shirt. The man turns slightly so that that part of his shirt is hidden when he notices her staring.

“Uh, bonding?” He says, not at all convincing.

“Who is that, Father?” The younger boy asks, the utter distaste clear on both his face and in his tone. And this is it. This is where he’s going to say that she’s no one, she’s nothing, and then he’s going to make her sign that stupid piece of paper and the last chance she has at knowing one of her biological parents is going to fly out the window. Poof. And then she’ll be so embarrassed, she won’t be able to go back on the trip and then she’ll have to change her name but she can’t completely run away yet because of stupid Hawkmoth and-

“This is Marinette, my daughter.” Well that was unexpected.

Tag List: @maribat-bdbwm @vixen-uchiha @stainedglassm @liquid-luck-00 @when-no-wings-do-broomsticks @jayjayspixiepop @jjmjjktth @mizzy-pop @trippingovermyfeet @queenz-z @thepaceperson @iloontjeboontje @waiting247 @laurcad123 @toodaloo-kangaroo

#maribat bruce wayne #maribat #maribat marinette dupain cheng #maribat adrien agreste #maribat adrienette #maribat bio dad bruce #maribat bio dad au #maribat bio dad! bruce wayne month 2021 #maribat batfam #mbdbwm2021 #day four bonding #ao3fic

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leetotters · 3 years

Note

could you do a peter parker x reader where she can control her hair? and it can be any length she wants but prefers the length mid thigh and its and its unbreakable? so like fury asks if anyone in the team knows anyone they could recruit and he suggests her and all the avengers go meet her at a tailors shop she owns while she's cleaning and she shows her powers? please and if you do it, thank you

note: i hope you meant the powers to be reader's hair bc that's what i used it as lmao. also i used the gif because this is kinda how rocket got smacked with your hair. thank you for requesting<3

warnings: kissing, curse words

peter parker x reader

summary: something like request^

The swooshing of the broom and the melody of a random song played through the speakers of your tailor shop while you swept the floor. The small lengths of wool and silk thread tangling on the broom bristles as you scooped it up. The racks and unwanted pieces of cloth laid on the marble floor making you let out a sigh of exhaustion.

A knock on your glass showcase window made you jump. The movement making your hair disentangle from the neat twist plait. You lowly cursed as your hair touched the floor, the belly laugh behind the window noted you that your bestfriend was the person responsible for your little mishap.

"Couldn't you ring the bell like a normal person!" You annoyingly exclaimed, closing your eyes and controlling your hair to stop at mid-thigh length. Your preferred length. You picked your broom up and teasingly shook your head when Peter told you open the door. "I think I'm gonna leave you outside tonight, just for scarring the life out of me and my hair."

You resumed your previous activity, counting the numbers in your head until you heard the lock on your ceiling window open. The sound of Peter's displeased voice and childish complains filling your storage room.

"Can't keep me outside Y/L/N, I'll always find a way." He proudly dusted his shirt, taking the scoop from your hand while you grabbed the racks and placed them in your extra closet.

"Thanks to your super spidey powers." You teased, thanking him when he returned the dustpan. "Anyway, why are you here?" You inquired, curious why your best friend decided to stop by your little, tailor shop.

"Well I- wait," Peter scrunched his brows. "Can I not drop by to visit my bestfriend?" He sassed, hand on his hip giving you a quizzing look.

"Oh please Peter, you only stop by when you need something." You remarked, returning a pointed stare before you began to reorganize the formal wear you were currently adapting. "And that something is usually to stitch those huge ass holes in your spidey suit."

Peter didn't respond immediately, because you were right. He did stop by your shop for you to mend his suit. Because one, he loved your company. And two, you were the only person who knew his secret other than the avengers, Ned and MJ.

"Fine! fine!," He huffed. Not so discreetly looking over his shoulder as if he was giving someone a signal. "You're right-"

"I always am Parker." You boasted, using the ends of your hair to move the sewing machine and pins to there rightful place.

"Yeah- okay, but I really came to tell you life changing news!" Peter amazed, a gasp leaving his lips when he saw the movement of your hair. It never ceased to amaze him how your hair was basically magical. Being able to move stuff with your command, grow at whatever length you wanted, heal others and even be unbreakable. Epic, really.

"And what is this so great news-"

The words didn't leave your lips properly as your tailor shop entry door was suddenly yanked open. Your door handle and lock was surely broken, at the loud eerie sound of a metal crunching noise.

"Get out of my way Tony!" Stephen scowled.

"Shut it wizard dude, I'm the leader here not you." Tony rolled his eyes, removing the pair of expensive shades from his face.

"Since when? Fury sent all of us Tony." Rhodey said, dusting his shoulder.

"I wonder how much she makes in this shop, not much I bet." Steve scrunched his face, eyeing your little shop.

"Did we really have to bring Groot?" Clint groaned, flicking baby Groot off of his shoulder when he tried to grab one of his arrows.

"He's a baby, Clint. We can't leave him at the compound alone." Gamora remarked, tickling Groot's tree stomach as she picked him up.

"Okay if she does joins us, we will have to ask her to design new clothing! Look at this!." Wanda marveled, showing off the mid thigh silk dress.

"I should get this for the recruiting party Tony is planning for her." Natasha thought out loud.

"What the fuck!" You yelled, glaring at the talkative avengers standing before you. Looking mighty and high as always. "I just fixed that lock dude!" You whined, sighing gallingly when you saw the chunk of metal by Thor's feet. "You're repairing my lock, hammer man."

"Ah yes, I will have the Man of Iron restore your brittle lock Lady.."

"Y/N."

"Lady Y/N." Thor smiled.

Peter let out a small chuckle, rubbing the back of his ear and looking at you sheepishly. "Surprise?"

"Surprise my ass Parker! Why are the avengers in my tailor shop and why is this raccoon trying to cut my hair?!" You moved your hair with your mind, smacking the animal avenger with your y/h/c locks.

"Woah, did she just-" Bucky froze, mouth agape.

"Control her hair to hit Rocket, yeah." Peter Quill laughed at his co guardian misfortune.

"Okay her hair is very much un- unbreakable," Rocket coughed out, holding his stomach. "And strong."

"I am Groot." ˢʰᵉ'ˢ ᵃ ᵇᵃᵈᵃˢˢ

"You can not say that word Groot, but I do agree with you." Gamora smirked, finger bumping the cute tree.

You were mad, really fuming. You spent two hours cleaning and by the looks of it you'll have to do it a second time. So yeah, you wanted an explanation.

"Okay don't get upset." Peter spoke calmly. Holding his hand out and gesturing towards the superheroes infront of you, who had the same impressed expression on their fanciable faces.

"This is the life changing thing I was talking about," He paused with a smile. "You're joining the Avengers!"

"What?" You were officially bamboozled, with everything. One minute you were simply tidying your shop and next, half of the avengers are occupying your shop. Quarreling and interfering with your stuff.

And not to ignore the fact that your best friend just blurted out four questionable words to you.

"You're going to be an Avenger, Rapunzel." Tony repeated, strutting to you with short steps. "If you want to of course, sidey here told us your hair power thingy and though I was a little iffy about it at the beginning, it looks like your power is truly powerful." Tony patted your shoulder. Looking over at Rocket, who was being assisted by Drax.

"As much as I would like to say it's an honor to be in your presence," You said. Controlling your hair to grow back at mid-thigh. "Why?" You faced Peter, inquiring him with the plain word.

Peter shrugged, giving you a bashful look. "Fury asked if we knew anyone who could be recruited, and without thought I suggested you." He sighed, feeling completely awful for the situation he put you in.

"And I know, I should've asked you first but I know how much you adore helping others and the money here isn't enough for your college tuition Y/N." Peter ignored the awkward silence in the room that was loud seconds ago before continuing. "I thought this would be a way to assist you."

You physically softened at his words. He was too kind and caring for his own good. You could never be upset with this idiot boy.

"I'm sorry-"

Peter didn't finish. His apology was muffled by your lips pressed deeply to his frowny pink ones. He was slighty awestruck, the feeling of your lips were breathtaking. He swore he could kiss you forever. His hands found your waist pulling you in closer, even including a little tongue movement inside your mouth.

As if reality kicked in, a teasing 'ohhh' sound came from a few avengers. Causing you to shyly pull away from Peter, who loudly groaned at the lost contact of your plump lips.

"Looks like Spidey is getting a little too handsy." Sam quipped, chuckling when Peter told him to shut it and hid his face in the crook of your neck.

"So is this a yes?" Peter hopefully asked.

You feigned ponder. "Yes."

Peter pecked your lips, mumbling a short 'yay' attempting to deepen the kiss.

"That's enough smooching spiderling." Steve uttered, obviously not enjoying the PDA.

A beeping sound came from Tony's watch altering the team about an upcoming mission.

"Looks like we gotta go," Tony spoke with a serious voice before turning to you. "Glad to have you on the team Rapunzel."

"It's Y/N." You corrected.

"Okay, I'll send some people by tomorrow to pick up your stuff. See ya soon, Rapunzel." Tony winked, exiting your tailor shop.

"He's not gonna give that up." Peter laughed, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

"I oddly don't mind." You responded, waving bye to the others. "Thank you Pete."

Peter grinned. "I didn't quite hear that, say it a little louder baby."

"Thank you mister Parker." You kissed his lips, playfully rolling your eyes. But you weren't that distracted to miss Thor stealthily trying to leave your shop.

"Hey hammer God! Don't forget to fix my lock."

"I will have Stark right on it Lady Rapunzel!"

#peter parker fanfiction #peter parker fic #peter fanfic #peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker fluff #peter parker x y/n #avengers x reader #peter parker x you #peter x reader #avengers x you #lee writes short fics

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moonlitceleste · 3 years

Text

marinette dupain-cheng’s guide to picking up cute guys

A/N: Chez Vous is real in the DC universe; it’s described as a restaurant but I decided to use it as the name of the café because I didn’t want to come up with one myself. It translates to “at your house,” which basically implies “make yourself at home.”

thanks to @ramos123 for being my beta reader! <3

ao3

“Bet.”

Marinette slapped a crisp 20-dollar bill onto the wooden table with enough force to slosh around the brown liquid in the cup sitting before Alya’s smirking face.

Chez Vous was the name of the café they had been sitting in for the past fifteen minutes. The place had a nice ambience, the quiet chatter of customers and aromatic smells combining to make what was an unusually cozy atmosphere considering the location.

Gotham wasn’t exactly known for being hospitable, but she supposed the fact that it was clearly fashioned after Parisian cafés contributed to the homey feel. It vaguely reminded her of her parents’ bakery as well, so it certainly lived up to its name.

Perhaps it was this sense of familiarity that had her and Alya reminiscing on how far they’d come. It hadn’t been that long since lycée or université—the two were only 22 and 23, respectively—but recalling the good times they’d shared was always fun to do.

Of course, their friendship had momentary blips (ahem, Lila), but the two had managed to sort out their problems eventually. Now that Alya had become more attuned to Marinette’s boundaries and there were no pressing superhero secrets to keep, they knew how to both ground and challenge each other in positive ways. Which was exactly what had caused Marinette to get herself into this situation.

While chattering about their lycée days, Alya poked fun at her once again for what had transpired on the day of the Animan akuma. How could she ever forget that while secretly masquerading as a superhero and locking her best friends in an empty gorilla habitat together, she had somehow helped them end up in a relationship? And now the two were engaged.

This topic somehow lead to Adrien and the stupid puns he spewed both in superhero and civilian form. Alya was insistent that Marinette was charmed by them at some point, to which she replied, No way! They were horrible. Even I could do better.

It was with twinkling eyes that her best friend asked “Bet?” and well, Marinette was never one to back down from a challenge. So after pulling out some spare cash from her purse and setting it down in front of Alya, she raised a brow.

A wicked smirk grew on her best friend’s face, and any lesser person would have faltered, but Marinette was prepared for anything that could possibly be thrown at her.

“Fine. If you’re so confident, I dare you to use a pick-up line on… him.”

As if on cue, the bell at the top of the glass-paneled wooden door jingled, and Marinette followed Alya’s pointed finger right on time to see a very attractive man walk through.

He had a confident stride, but not an arrogant one—his aura was one of someone who was assured and knew exactly what they were capable of.

Despite his seemingly laid-back disposition, she didn’t fail to notice how his eyes darted around the room cautiously, the same habit she had gotten used to doing after she had been given the Ladybug Miraculous. Then again, this was Gotham, so being on constant guard was only natural.

One thumb was hooked in the pocket of his jeans while the other moved up to ruffle his hair, and wow did he have nice hair.

It was perfectly coiffed, and if she didn’t have experience with hairstyling due to her career she would’ve thought it was as effortless as it looked. Most models would kill for the natural luster his locks seemed to have, and even from a distance she could tell that anyone who decided to run their fingers through his hair would be met with softness.

And she didn’t even want to get started on his face. From his glowing skin to his strong jaw and pretty eyes, she refused to believe someone so attractive could be real. It was unfair, really.

“...inette? Marinette? You good there, girl?”

A snap in front of her face broke Marinette out of her stupor, and she offered an instinctual yelp in response.

“What?”

Alya’s eyes twinkled knowingly, and Marinette shifted anxiously in her seat.

“You sure you weren’t checking him out?”

“Alya!”

Said girl let out a mischievous cackle at her hissed response.

“Now get over there!” she said, waving her hands around in a shooing motion.

Marinette glanced over to the line, where the man was no doubt giving the barista his order.

From what she could tell he was just about done, and she watched as he shuffled through his wallet to hand the barista a bill. But rather than proceed normally as most client-worker interactions would, his payment was met with wide eyes and flailing hands.

Marinette was much too far to discern what was being said, but from context clues she could deduct that he had just handed the barista quite a sizable amount. She had already guessed he was well-off from simply observing the quality of his clothes, but this was near confirmation.

It wasn’t as if status or wealth mattered much to her, but she did have a tendency to be wary of higher-class people due to past experiences with them. Being around them really wasn’t as pleasant as it seemed.

Her musing was interrupted when the man suddenly moved, relocating to the waiting line. There was her chance.

Marinette pushed herself out of her seat, steeling herself and lifting her chin high. This was no biggie. All she had to do was somehow convince this gorgeous man to give her his number by making a crappy pick-up line and a pun on the spot. It wasn’t anything she hadn’t done before, but this felt different, probably because it was a total stranger she was about to attempt it on.

She felt Alya’s gaze trailing after her with each step, and Marinette reminded herself that she absolutely had to succeed or she would never hear the end of it.

The closer she got, however, the more her confidence died. Apparently she had made a major miscalculation while gauging her probability of success, because she hadn’t accounted for the brain spasm she was currently having. Why, oh why did he have to be so cute?

Marinette had the sinking feeling that she was about to majorly embarrass herself, but she was determined to win. Screw embarrassment—she was Marinette Dupain-Cheng. All the trouble she had gotten into with Alix and Kim as kids had prepared her for this very moment. Nothing mattered besides victory.

So she sauntered up confidently, stopping right in front of her target.

“Hey, you must be Batman’s sidekick.”

“What?”

The man’s head snapped towards her, and Marinette didn’t fail to notice the subtle defensive stance he took. Years of hero experience had made her more perceptive towards these things—it was part of the job, after all. She filed the information away in the back of her mind, making a mental note to dissect all that later. Her priority was winning the bet—and oh, right, she still had to finish that pick-up line.

“...because you’re Robin my heart.”

The quip was accompanied by an uncharacteristically roguish smile, à la Chat Noir. She’d give herself a solid 10/10 points on delivery.

Her target seemed to agree with the verdict, because after a split second of shocked silence, he burst into full-bodied laughter.

The instantaneous shift in demeanor nearly caught her off-guard, but she was too occupied by the bright smile on his face and his melodic chuckle to notice. It was light and carefree, and she couldn’t help but crack a small smile as a result.

The only problem was that the laughter didn’t end, though, and she felt her face heat up more as the seconds ticked by.

Oh, Kwami.

Marinette buried her face into her hands with a soft groan, wishing the ground could just open up and swallow her whole.

She knew it wasn’t the greatest pick-up line ever, but she didn’t think her attempt warranted that much amusement.

The laugher ceased abruptly, and she peeked through her fingers in time to see the man quickly sober up.

“Sorry, I wasn’t laughing at you!”

A pause.

“Okay, not exactly. I just—wow, that was a great pick-up line.”

She slowly lowered her hands, though she kept her head down to peer at him through her lashes.

“Did it work?”

He chuckled and offered her a bright smile that made her blush like a high schooler with a massive crush.

“Yeah, you can tell your friend over there that you won your bet.”

If it was even possible, she turned redder.

“What? How…”

At the mention of Alya, Marinette sent a quick glance to their café table only to find that she was doing absolutely nothing to hide her rapt attention. She quickly caught on to the fact that they were looking her way and sent a very obvious thumbs-up and wink.

Oh, I am so going to kill her later!

But Marinette’s momentary vexation made way for embarrassment as the gravity of the situation hit her.

“I guess I wasn’t exactly subtle, huh?”

“Yeah,” the handsome stranger shrugged. “You probably could have been more discreet. But I liked it.”

“Okay, that’s the second time you’ve said that, but I have a hard time believing you. You can’t possibly tell me that you actually enjoy puns.”

“So I’m guessing I shouldn’t tell you that meeting you was a fortuitous aster?”

“Aster? As in the opposite of disaster?” she wrinkled her nose.

“You got it!”

Marinette rolled her eyes in exasperation, though the upwards tug at the corner of her lips betrayed her true feelings.

“Careful there, or you’ll be the one Robin my heart.”

She’d never admit to it, but she flushed a tiny bit before straightening up in realization. Hey, she was supposed to be the one doing the wooing here!

But before she could open her mouth to respond, her companion beat her to it.

“Since you’re stealing something so dear to me, I think it’s only fair that I get my thief’s name in exchange.”

He was clever, she had to admit.

“Marinette,” she proffered.

“Dick.”

She blinked in surprise at the seemingly random obscenity before it clicked.

“Oh, that’s your name!”

The words tumbled forward, and once she realized what she had said, Marinette tried to frantically backpedal. Her spilled apologies didn’t seem to be necessary, though, because that mesmerizing laugh came back.

“No, it’s fine, I get that a lot,” he breathed between chuckles.

She brightened immediately, glad she hadn’t offended him or embarrassed herself too much.

“Well, since I’m already taking something from you, may I steal your number as well?”

“Only if I can do the same.”

Her inquiry was met with a grin, and the two exchanged phones to type in their respective numbers. Marinette’s found its way back into her hand shortly after, and moments after she pocketed it the call of “medium espresso and beignets!” broke the quiet ambience.

“Well, that’s my order,” Dick said, words weighted by a silent apology. “I’d love to stay and chat, but I have a few things I need to take care of. Maybe we can meet up later this week?”

The end of his sentence lilted up in hope, and Marinette found her chest warming with affection.

“I’d like that.”

She bid him goodbye with a smile and a wave and quickly tacked on an “I’ll text you later!” in afterthought.

She’d forever deny squealing giddily as she unceremoniously dragged Alya out from her seat and through the café doors, but the sound didn’t escape Dick’s attention—or his enhanced hearing, courtesy of Bat-Tech.

As he watched her leave with Alya, a smile slowly spread across his face at the thought of seeing her again.

Yeah, he sighed to himself. She’s definitely Robin my heart.

PERMANENT TAGLIST *@astoriaandromeda @avengerthewarrior *@bluesimani @enternalempires @flower-girll @freesportspalacesalad @glastwime859 @h1sss @heart-charming @iloontjeboontje @jayjayspixiepop @jalaluvsu @kitsunebell @maskedpainter @moongoddesskiana @nathleigh @no-username2544 @too0bsessedformyowngood @ultimatetornshipper

#maribat #dickinette #cel's fics #celestewrites #ml x dc #mlb x dc #dick x marinette

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supernovafics · 3 years

Text

𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐃𝐎𝐎𝐑𝐒, 𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐒

pairing: chris evans x fem!reader

summary: in which you were about to get married to the guy you thought was the one for you, but a conversation with your longtime friend, chris, makes you question everything you thought was right

warnings: angst, angst, angst, explicit language, minor fluff at the end

word count: 3.8k words

author’s note: this started out as a very minor idea and then it turned into something bigger lmao anyway hope you enjoy!

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

This day should’ve been perfect, and everything should’ve felt right, but instead, it all was beginning to feel like a nightmare.

Maybe that was a bit of an exaggeration, but how else would you describe locking yourself in the bathroom of the hotel you were staying at, and being on the verge of a breakdown, two hours before your wedding was supposed to happen.

You paced around in the small space and tried your hardest to avoid looking in the mirror, not wanting to see yourself in the stunning white dress that your mom and bridesmaids helped you pick out on a day that now felt like a lifetime ago.

As vain as it may sound, you knew that you looked great in your dress, and the way that your makeup and hair had been styled only aided in your beauty. But, at that moment, you felt the farthest from great.

Your fiancé Tyler was perhaps one of the best people you had ever met, and from the moment he proposed to you, you truly felt like you wanted to spend the rest of your life with him. But now you were doubting absolutely everything.

All because of Chris.

An abrupt knock on the bathroom door slightly startled you.

“Y/N, please come out. We have to go take pictures soon.”

The simultaneous worried and confused voice on the other side of the door belonged to your good friend and maid of honor, Maria. She was amazing at reading almost any situation, one of the reasons why you liked her so much, at times it almost felt like she could read you like a book. However, this was one situation that had transpired so quickly, and she had no idea how to read it.

Everything started out fine that morning. You, her, and your other bridesmaids drove to the hotel in Connecticut that your wedding was happening at, you ordered breakfast room service to the room, and then you all started getting ready, laughing and smiling as you did so. You seemed happy, and you definitely seemed okay. But, then all of a sudden, things took a turn, and the next thing Maria knew, you were hiding out in the bathroom. And your wedding was starting in less than two hours.

Even though you knew your friend was waiting for some sort of a response to her previous statement, you stayed completely quiet. You really didn’t want to leave the bathroom anytime soon, especially not to take pictures. You knew that the doubt and uncertainty you were currently feeling would be clearly recognized in all of the photos.

“Y/N?” Maria said, speaking a bit louder to make sure you could hear her through the locked door.

An awkward silence began to linger, and you sighed, taking a seat on the closed toilet.

“Chris,” You finally said, responding in a way that only confused the girl on the other side of the door even more. “I need to see him.”

“Okay,” Maria answered tentatively, a curious tone in her voice. “Okay, I’ll go get him.”

You knew that your friend wanted to question you about what was happening, but she wasn’t going to at that moment. Not when time was of the essence and every minute mattered. Because each minute counted down to the time you would need to walk down the aisle and profess your love for your fiancé. It was something you were unsure if you wanted to do anymore.

If you weren’t about to bawl your eyes out, you think you would’ve laughed at how quickly everything managed to change. Before your conversation with Chris last night, everything was on the right path; it was almost like you could see your life with Tyler laid out in front of you. Marry him, travel for a bit before starting a family, start said family, etc., etc.

Now it was the first step that you were struggling with, and with that struggle, everything else slowly fell apart too.

What did it mean that a five-minute conversation with one of your best friends managed to completely change the trajectory of your entire life?

• • •

You were laughing, and it was a moment that you knew you’d remember forever. Not the exact thing you were laughing about, but instead, you would remember how you felt, which, in your opinion, was what mattered more.

“Glad to know I’m such a comedian,” Chris said, smiling at how happy you looked at that moment. The two of you were sitting on opposite ends of the couch in the living room of his Boston home, sharing a large throw blanket that was draped over you guys’ legs which were entangled in the middle. Chris could feel the blanket move with how much your body shook with happy laughter.

“I swear I haven’t laughed this hard in forever.” Your statement was only partially a lie because you actually did remember the last time you laughed this hard, and it was with Chris three weeks ago.

It never surprised you how easily you could fall into some sort of happy comfort with Chris. The two of you had been friends since what now felt like forever; you couldn’t remember a time where you weren’t friends with him. In almost all of your fondest memories, he was always right there with you.

“Are you excited for tomorrow?”

“Yeah, I think so,” You answered Chris’s question after a brief moment of contemplation. Your mouth then turned upward in a smile. “Are you excited for tomorrow?”

“Excited to be a groomsman for a guy I barely know? Not really. But, I’m doing this for you, and that's all that really matters to me.”

Having Chris be one of Tyler’s groomsmen was one of your biggest and most important requests for the wedding. He was your best friend, and you wanted him to play some sort of part in the wedding that wasn’t just being a guest.

“You’re the best; you know that, right?” You were still smiling as you spoke, feeling nothing but honesty drip from your words.

In your mind, that was the wholehearted truth, but to Chris, it was nothing but a lie. Because if he really were “the best,” he would have been completely honest with you a long time ago. Honest about the fact that he didn’t think Tyler was the one for you. And he was unsure if he thought this for selfish reasons or because he knew that it was a thousand percent true.

“I don’t know if I am anymore,” Chris finally responded to your previous words. Your brows furrowed in confusion at what he meant by his statement, and you were quiet, silently signaling him to continue.

In the many years you had known Chris, you’d rarely ever seen him nervous around you; you both had always felt completely comfortable around each other, always.

However, apparently, there was a first time for everything because a look that you could only deem as nervous was taking over his features. He was quiet for what felt like forever, and now you were worried because you genuinely had no idea what he was going to say to you.

“You can’t marry Tyler.”

And there it was. He finally uttered the words that he had wanted to say right when you told him that you and Tyler were engaged. He knew, at that moment, it was the selfish part of him that had wanted to say that to you. However, now after carefully noticing some things about you over the past year as you planned the wedding, and even in some small moments from tonight, he finally realized how right he actually was.

Because if Tyler was the love of your life, the last time you laughed so hard shouldn’t have felt like forever ago; it should have been happening every day with him. And if he was truly the love of your life, when asked if you were excited for your wedding day, you wouldn’t have answered with a passive, “Yeah, I think so.”

“Chris…” Your voice trailed off because you had no idea what to say. You had no idea what to think. Actually, it wasn’t that you didn’t know what to think; it was that you didn’t want to think about what he just said, not at all. “Don’t, please.”

Chris barreled past your soft-spoken words. “I know you, Y/N. I know you so well, and I know that you’re not truly happy with him.”

You shook your head, trying your hardest not to fully think about what he was saying. You were afraid of what can of worms would open up if you did so. Instead, you fully committed to the fact that what Chris was saying was not the truth. So, you said, “You’re wrong. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You said you hadn’t laughed hard in forever. He should be making you laugh hard all the fucking time.” Suddenly, Chris wondered if Tyler had ever made you really laugh because if he had, he would know how beautiful you looked when you did, and he would definitely want to do it all the time.

“Stop, Chris, really,” You mumbled as you pushed the blanket off of you and detangled your legs from his, sitting up straight on the couch.

You needed to leave. The faster you did so, the quicker you could start attempting to make yourself forget everything that happened in the past five minutes. Because fucking hell Chris was right, and you really needed to forget that.

“I have to go. I can’t be here right now,” You stood up from the couch and started making your way toward the front door; you could feel Chris following right behind you.

“I’m sorry that I decided to tell you like this. But, I’m not sorry that I said it. It’s all the truth, and deep down, you know it, Y/N.”

You didn’t respond to him as you put your shoes on because there was nothing you could really say. Yes, he was right, but you were going to convince yourself otherwise. It was the only thing that you could do.

Before opening the door, you finally looked at Chris. He looked worried and confused, and you wondered how you looked in his eyes at that moment. As fucked up as you knew you were? “I hope I’ll still see you tomorrow.”

You closed the door behind you, but you didn’t move for a long moment. You sighed and shut your eyes and willed yourself not to cry. It was almost as if Chris could sense your presence still lingering outside the door because you could hear him start speaking again, and you knew his words were directed at you.

“I could love you more than he does. I already do love you more. So much more.”

As much as you wanted to say something in response, you didn’t. Instead of acknowledging his confession, you finally walked toward your car. His heartfelt statement was just another thing that you convinced yourself you would need to forget before tomorrow.

You couldn’t stop your tears once you were sitting in the driver’s seat.

• • •

Forgetting everything was actually pretty easy to do. Until it wasn’t.

You buried everything deep down inside and locked it all away in a small box that you knew would never be opened.

Everything was fine, and all morning, you kept convincing yourself of that fact. But then you put on your wedding dress, and suddenly you realized how wrong this all truly was.

The box was opened, and you couldn’t close it.

Chris’s words were true; you couldn’t marry Tyler. And not only was it that you couldn’t marry Tyler, but you also didn’t want to marry him.

It should have felt like a relief, realizing something that you’d eventually come to regret before you did the action. But, what you felt was the opposite of relief. Instead, it was intense dread weighing heavily on your chest, almost making it feel as if you couldn’t breathe.

That was what led you to the bathroom and kept you in there for as long as you had been.

Your family’s opinions and approval had always meant so much to you, and suddenly, you realized that you were doing all of this for them. They were the ones that had pushed you and Tyler together, your two families already having been close for many years. And you were happy with him, but not as happy as you could be. You hated that you were just now recognizing all of this.

And finally, you realized how distant and passive to the whole wedding planning process you had been. Case in point, your wedding was in fucking Connecticut, and you hated Connecticut.

The sounds of voices on the other side of the door pulled you out of your scattered thoughts.

“She’s in here,” Maria’s slightly muffled words were what you heard first, but you knew they weren’t directed at you. “Please try to talk her out of there. The rest of us are gonna go down and start with the pictures. I’ll try to stall the photographer for as long as I can.”

“Okay.” You heard Chris’s voice and your heart sped up a bit. It should not have felt like a surprise hearing him right then because you were the one that told Maria to get him, but you still felt startled. Now you weren’t even sure if you wanted to talk to him anymore.

A soft knock was what you heard next, followed by Chris saying, “Y/N, it’s me.”

You didn’t respond. You were completely and utterly silent as fresh tears brimmed in your eyes for reasons you couldn’t even fully decipher anymore.

“Are you okay in there?” Chris asked after waiting a few moments to hear you say something, but you didn’t. There was a hint of worry in his tone.

You let out a small sigh. “No.”

“Do you wanna open the door?”

“Not really,” You told him as you began absentmindedly playing with the fabric of your dress. “I’m kinda spiraling in here, and I think it would be best if I kept it contained.”

“What happened?”

“What happened?” You scoffed out an incredulous laugh and blinked back the tears that were threatening to spill. “Last night is what fucking happened, Chris. You ruined everything, and I can’t stop thinking about it. My mind is a fucking mess because of what you said, and all I wanna do is bawl my eyes out right now. But, I can’t because that would ruin my makeup and I’m supposed to get married in, what is it, an hour now? God, I’m supposed to get married in an hour.”

You were rambling, and your voice was cracking because of the apple-sized lump forming in your throat. But, you had yet to start crying.

This time Chris was silent, and for a moment, you were sure that he had left, but then you heard his voice. “Please unlock the door.”

You were reluctant at first, but ultimately you stood from where you were sat on the closed toilet and went to unlock the door. Chris opened it a second later and entered the small space, a worried look was written across his features.

Seeing his face broke the dam, and all of a sudden, you were crying, no longer able to hold back your tears. Chris almost immediately circled his arms around you, and you accepted the embrace without a second thought.

“You’re right, and I hate it, but you’re right. I can’t marry him,” You spoke as tears streamed down your cheeks and onto Chris’s suit jacket that your face was pressed against. Your makeup was definitely a complete mess at that point, but right then, that became the least of your worries.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to,” Chris told you, and that was when that intense dread hit you again like a wave.

“No, I do. I have to marry him,” You said, heart hammering hard in your chest as you realized it all. “Our families; they’re so close, and they’ve been expecting this for years. My family really wants this for me. I can’t ruin everything, not like this.”

“No offense, I know how much you love your family, and they’re great most of the time, but fuck what they want right now,” Chris said, and you were only mildly startled by his bluntness. “This is about you and the rest of your life. Do not do this if you don’t want to.”

You pulled away from the embrace the two of you were still in and then shook your head. “I really don’t want to.”

“Then don’t, please don’t. Your family will understand eventually.”

You considered his words and wondered how true they were. Maybe the first year would be pretty hard, you definitely wouldn’t be able to show face at any family barbeques or other events, but eventually, this would blow over; it had to. At least that was what you sincerely hoped.

You were silent for a beat longer and then finally said, “I won’t do it.”

The small smile that broke out on Chris’s face made your heart squeeze a bit; it let you know that what you were doing was the right thing. You gave him a small smile back.

• • •

“The first thing I wanna say is sorry. I’m really, really sorry, Ty,” Your voice sounded slightly nervous as you spoke into your phone, leaving Tyler a voicemail that you hoped he’d listen to later rather than sooner because you had no idea what his reaction would be.

You anxiously looked around the hotel parking lot, worried that someone you knew would notice you in the hotel parking lot, standing next to Chris’s car, and about to flee your own wedding. You looked normal now since you were changed out of your dress and back into the simple t-shirt and leggings combination you had arrived in at the hotel early that morning, but you were still on high alert. Honestly, that morning now felt like years ago to you.

“This is wrong,” You continued on, your voice still nervous, but at least you knew you were telling the truth. You really didn’t want to leave the voicemail, it all felt so embarrassing, but you knew that you owed Tyler at least some sort of explanation. And since you couldn’t muster up the courage to actually face him, you decided that a voicemail would suffice for now.

“And it took me so long to realize that, but I think deep down you know how wrong this is too. We’re good together, but we’re not great, and now that I really think about it, I realized that we’ve never been great. And I think we both deserve to find that “great” person. If that makes sense. God, none of this probably makes sense, and I’m sorry for that too. I should probably stop rambling. I know you hate me, and that’s okay, but I do hope that one day you can understand why I had to do this.”

And with that final soft-spoken statement, you hung up the phone. You hesitated for a brief moment before taking a final breath and look at the hotel, and then you opened the passenger door of Chris’s car and sat in the empty seat; Chris was already sitting in the driver’s side.

He reached over and placed his hand atop yours and gave it a light squeeze. “You still okay?”

You took a moment to really think about his question. “I think I’m in that phase between freaking the fuck out and being completely okay with everything.”

Chris looked over at you for a brief moment. “I’m not entirely sure how to respond to that.”

“It’s okay, you don’t have to say anything,” You told him honestly. The fact that he was with you at that moment truly said enough.

His hand was still on top of yours, and you shifted your hand so that it was laced with his instead. It was quiet in the car. Quiet, but it also felt like a million things were being said in that silence.

“It should be you.” You muttered out the words that you had never verbalized but they had almost always lingered in the back of your mind. “It always should’ve been you.”

Chris gave your hand another tight squeeze.

You turned to look at him, and he looked right back at you. His eyes were saying something that you couldn’t decipher, but the look made your heartbeat quicken all the same.

“It’ll always be you too,” Chris said softly as he pulled his hand away from yours and rested it on your cheek instead; you easily leaned into his touch. Those five words and his small action managed to melt you from the inside out.

Before you could respond or even fully process what was happening, Chris was leaning in, and you were following suit, and suddenly you were kissing.

It was uncomfortable, the turned position you were in with the center console pressed hard against your torso, but you wouldn’t change anything. Because with the way his lips pressed against yours, you knew exactly how right this all was. There wasn’t a hint of regret beginning to linger.

It was the first time in your long friendship that you two had kissed each other, but for some reason, his lips felt so familiar. They felt like home. You silently wondered if Chris was feeling the same thing, a part of you knew that he did.

“We should’ve done that sooner. We should’ve done that so much sooner,” Chris said when you both pulled back from the kiss. Your faces were still dangerously close to one another because neither of you wanted to part too far from one another.

You smiled at his statement and nodded your head, not verbally saying anything because you couldn’t form any cohesive sentences at that moment. Your brain was only full of thoughts of Chris and the fact that this all had been so obvious, but both of you had been so nervous and scared to pull the trigger.

“I love you.” The words were soft and quiet, barely above a whisper, but Chris heard them.

“I love you too,” He told you and smiled before pressing another kiss on your lips.

After lingering for a few more moments, he then put the car in drive and finally drove out of the hotel parking lot. You didn't know where exactly you were going, but you did know that it would be away from Connecticut.

No longer were you feeling dread, but instead, there was a small inkling of hope and excitement for the future starting to spread within you.

.· .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

let me know your thoughts<3

#chris evans x reader #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans imagine #chris evans #chris evans x ofc #chris evans x female reader #chris evans x fem!reader #chris evans fanfic #christopher evans #chris evans fluff

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rrasado · 3 years

Note

Kinda random but what if MC/Yuu was one of Mother Miranda's children?

How would the first years react to MC not wanting to go home because of WTF is going in their world?

(i'm talking about Resident Evil 8 if you don't know who Mother Miranda is!)

Mother Loves You

First and foremost I’m with the first years here- nANI DAFU- second of all, I apologize in advance if I misinterpret the request since I don't watch nor play Resident Evil but the franchise is pretty cool in terms of art! So shall we see what it's like being a child of the catalyst of disaster in your world?

Tw: mentions of rebirth revival and world rune

When you're a child of Mother Miranda:

You've been around for a while so it's both confusing and understandable to him when he saw your initial reaction to Crowley’s ginger confession of finally finding a way back home to your world.

Like hey you and him have been together the longest out of the gang in terms of knowing each other so- wait can you repeat that for him?

you don't want to go back to you world because it's already in a state of severe rune ravaged by mutations deceases and monsters? yeah understandable- YourMotherIsWHaT?!-

Trust me when I say he'll attempt to scoff and shrug it off like hey you two joke around all the time how is this any different- but he admits deep down that the expression on your face when you finally reveal the details is just, proving to ace how much he actually doesn't know about you.

"H-hey! If that's the damned case then don't go! What type of dumbass goes back to a hell hole willingly?"

Suffice it to say, the red head would absentmindedly be more mindful with what he jokes around you, especially relating to concepts of rebirth and revival, he's cruel but not heartless.

It came across as off when you frantically shook your head in rejection of the headmaster's offer to personally escort you to the mirror chamber, he knew you made yourself home here but wouldn't you wanna go back to your true home?-

...Oh, OH- those few spurts of "Ruined" and "life crazed mother" garnered him to rethink his thoughts on your reaction, maybe even instinctively hold your shoulders because the way you trembled a bit was so familiar to him.

He may have been naïve with many things but he's pretty sure those words you said aren't what you'd associate with well- home sweet home.

So when he sat you down on a bench to ease your nervousness he didn't expect hearing the words revival and sacrifice in your sharing of your not exaggeratingly tragic backstory- wait does that mean you're a century old already?-

"Y...you don’t have to tell me anything right now...hey, wanna go grab something with ace and head to Heartslabyul?"

He takes the distraction approach but when the time comes you slowly explain everything? Let's just say he's already helping you with making settlements in Twisted Wonderland.

It happened fast, one minute you and jack were on your merry way to PE class the next thing you knew he was carefully leading you somewhere that isn't near the mirror chambers

Recap, deadbeat bird principal jumped you two looking like a child in a candy store because he finally by the great seven's graces found a way back to your home.

Like Deuce he found it odd how you froze up in numbness rather than jittering in excitement, you've been here in twst long enough why dealing with mishaps and overblots so why-

you gingerly tell him along the way, and hand to the great seven he honestly didn't know whether to believe you at first or get annoyed for telling such level of theatrical like history, but your current state snapped him out of his mental debate deeming it that this was no theatrics but rather your reality which you were damned with.

"I've got you- I've got you here alright? those things won't reach you here..."

The urge to protect you grew ever since, and he'd personally silence those who dare convince you to go home without knowing any better- of course he won't reveal why since its not his place but he'll sure as hell shut them up.

Epel unlike the others, found your refusal to go home as good news, you two can hang out more! He'll never admit it but things would be less lively without you-

Wait... you refused so why..do you look so distant? It took a bit of courage shamelessness from his end to ask because he knows how it feels to be asked about things you don't wanna speak of but he's worried-

...What-. The moment you even as so hint your true situation to him the pomefiore first year's joy relinquishes into horror, probably even have to grip the side of his seat.

But the way you told your lineage your story your world, just how much- no how long have you been keeping all this in?! How...are you sa calm?

"Y-yer not joking eh'...hey but really a-are ye..good?"

The context of the question dawned on him, you literally just explained your century conniving mother and he asks you- t-that's not what he meant! but in the end he'll make sure to give you the greatest friendship he can offer so you can forget that gorey past of yours!

Actually, it was sebek who personally escorted you to the headmaster's office when a staff said Crowley requested your presence.

The half fae decided to tag along under the excuse of keeping the young master's friend safe but really he was kinda curious what the headmaster needed from you in the middle of class.

The moment Crowely announced the news the boy immediately beams a victorious grin, the milestone of a comrade is something to share right- human ..why are you stumbling!...?

You personally ushered yourselves out of the office which to-sebek found it disrespectful but what you tell next had him rethink many things especially regarding you. Heck, what you described was probably equal to the stories Lilia would tell first hand!

"H-...Human we should go, tardiness is not acceptable!"

But really he wanted to seek Lilia's guidance right away, which ultimately ended with him not so subtly changing his behavior with you I.E. how he refers to you since you aren't 100 percent human to his understanding but, he's willing to observe to the best of his abilities.

#twisted wonderland #twst headcanons #ace trappola #deuce spade #jack howl #epel felmier #sebek zigvolt #twisted wonderland headcanons #resident evil #mother miranda #rras writes #writings from the eclipse

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sunrisefairy · 3 years

Text

Cameras and crushes

Pairing: George Weasley x reader

Warning: Alcohol, small mention of death, pure fluffiness

Summary: Y/N is used to being a background character someone you glaze over but never really notice. But more recently she longed for someone to see her, well she longed for a certain redhead to see her.

A/N: Wrote this for @theweasleysredhair writing challenge based off the prompt “You remembered?” very proud of this fic so i hope you love it as much as i do. All feedback is welcomed :))))

italics represent a flashback

Taglist: send me a message if you would like to be added @hufflepuff5972 @inglourious-imagines @klausdatprettyboi @georgeweasleyswhre

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Y/N is very content with being a background character, she’s quite used to it actually. Growing up with 3 older and much louder brothers she was pretty happy with sticking to the sidelines, letting them be noisy and crazy while she kept to herself. Y/N grew up with mostly boys around her, her mother passed away when she was young. Y/N would always beg her brothers and her dad for stories of her mother, wanting to feel closer to her. Y/N’s dad would fondly retell memories of his beautiful wife, reminiscing on how witty and charismatic she was. He’d mention all the small, quirky things she would do which made him fall hard and fast for her. Y/N longed for that kind of love, she longed for someone to take notice of her in the way her dad did for her mum. Ever since Y/N was a little girl she yearned to be heard and seen but that proved difficult when you’re as shy and quiet as her.

Judging by most of the people in Y/N’s life she seemed to attract the boisterous types, guessing her quiet nature balanced them out. She loved her friends with her entire heart, even if their personalities were the opposite of hers, Y/N wouldn’t change their qualities if she could.

One of her friends, although still lively and vibrant as the others, also had a calm and tranquil side to him. George Weasley. Y/N had only known George for a few years having met at Lee Jordan’s 18th birthday 3 years ago. Somehow that night she had ended up climbing a tree with the tall redhead whom she had only met 30 minutes prior.

“How the hell did you get up to that branch?” Y/N mumbled, trying to figure out how to reach the higher branch where George Weasley was currently sitting, his long legs swinging back and forth as he chuckled at the girl below him.

“I used that branch sticking out there and then swung my leg up to get here.” George points to the branch to the girls left.

Y/N grunts as she attempts what George said but huffs and pouts her lip feeling defeated, “you forget that I have little legs, unlike you Mr. giraffe.”

George rolls his eyes and stretches his hand out, “try again, I’ll help pull you up.”

Somehow, George manages to pull Y/N up and they sit comfortably next to one another up high in the tree. “There you go little bunny, don’t go falling off now.”

Y/N rolls her eyes at the nickname wishing she had brought her cider up with her feeling very self-conscious and unsure of what to do her shaking hands.

The pair fall into a comfortable silence, watching the party goers below them gathered around a very intoxicated birthday boy chanting as he chugs another beer, “we love to drink with Lee cause Lee is our mate and when we drink with Lee he gets it down in 8…7…”

Their voices drown out as George gently nudges Y/N’s shoulder pulling her attention back to him, “soo, Y/N I hear you’re not much of the talker?”

Y/N blushes hard grateful for the lack of light outside. “No I guess not. Not many are interested in what I have to say.”

George smiles, his eyes not leaving the girl beside him, “well I am. Tell me something.”

Y/N chews on her bottom lip nervously and looks back at the drunk crowd, “like what?”

George shrugs, he didn’t really mind what the conversation was about, he just wanted to hear the pretty girl speak. “I dunno, anything. Tell me about something that makes you happy.”

Y/N racks her brain for something to talk about, her palms getting sweaty from the long silence. Finally, she settles on something that always fills her with joy, her mother.

“Um okay so,” she starts staring at the leaves swaying in the tree, pushing down the anxiety. “Before my mother died she always had this film camera with her, my dad used to joke around saying that she loved this camera more than him,” Y/N chuckles quietly before continuing “She would take photos of the most random things, we have this big box back home filled with all the photos she ever took with that camera.” Y/N pauses, fumbling with her fingers. “I wish we still had the camera. You see after my mum passed, dad had to look after us 4 kids and with only one income coming in, it was pretty tough. For my 12th birthday I reeeaaally wanted a new bike, I’d complained for years that I couldn’t have my brothers old one because it was a gross boy’s bike. So, my dad sold my mums camera to get me a pink one. Kind of wish he didn’t because I would have loved to still have mum’s camera with us.”

Y/N finished and chewed her lip realising speaking about her dead mother probably wasn’t a great conversation piece, but any story of her mother always made her feel warm inside.

George hadn’t taken his eyes off her throughout the whole story, his heart fluttering when her eyes had lit up as she spoke about her mother.

“I’m sorry, probably not what you wanted to hear, it was the first thing that popped into my head.” Y/N mumbled.

George simply shook his head and replied, “you don’t ever have to apologise to me for saying what’s on your mind Y/N. I’ll listen to whatever you have to say.”

For the first time in a while, Y/N felt seen.

Y/N’s phone dings and she pulls it from her pocket to read the message.

-Hey bunny :) so 4 tonight, we’re aiming to get to urs at like 7. does that work for u?

It was from George. Even if she didn’t have his number saved, she’d be able to tell it was from the redhead simply from his choice of nickname. Y/N hated when he called her bunny but George insisted on using the nickname ever since Lee’s 18th mainly because he thought it was cute not that he would tell her that.

Y/N’s heart thumped harder in her chest purely from the fact that George had texted her. Her crush on George had amplified over the years of knowing the boy, feeling both thankful and uneasy at the fact that he had so effortlessly slotted into their tight friendship group mainly because he was always around making Y/N a stuttering mess.

Y/N’s fingers fumble as she types out a response, it was her birthday today and all her friends we’re persistent in throwing her a party. They had agreed to a small gathering at Y/N’s place, Y/N didn’t want them to make such a fuss over it.

-Hey Georgie, 7 is perfect! Cant wait.

-See u then bunny, hope ur ready to get ur drink on ;)

-IDK, after the other weekend I dont think im ready to face alcohol again

-nope! no excuses from u, u only turn 21 once

Y/N chuckles at George’s message and goes back to tidying her house, ready for tonight.

~~~~

As soon as it hits 7pm her friends are barging through her front door lugging drinks.

Each of them greet Y/N giving her a hug and wishing her happy birthday.

“We’ll do presents later, first let’s get some drinks into us!” Angelina cheers as she starts to mix some deadly concoction. Alicia connects her phone to the speaker, the living room filling with music.

Y/N jumps as a voice pipes up from behind her, “happy birthday little bunny.”

She turns facing George as he places a brightly coloured wrapped box on the counter with the other presents. He opens his arms, engulfing her into a giant hug. Y/N wraps her arms around his waist, giving him a tight squeeze, “thanks” she mumbles into his chest before pulling away looking up at his warm eyes. They stare at each other for a second before the moment is broken when Fred places something on Y/N’s head.

“A birthday tiara for the birthday girl” Fred states loudly, Y/N glances at the mirror hanging from the wall on her left sees a plastic silver and pink tiara perched upon her head.

“Oh god,” Y/N mumbles adjusting it slightly.

Lee shouts over the music, drawing everyone’s attention over to him. “Okay everyone, the ever lovely Angie has made us each a questionable looking but delicious drink to start the night. So get your butts over here and let’s get this party started!”

A few hours and many, many drinks later, everyone is huddled in the living room, sitting on the couches watching Y/N open her presents. So far, she had gotten some perfume from Angelina, chocolates and a gorgeous photo frame from Alicia and Fred and Lee had gifted Y/N with a bottle of wine and voucher from the little boutique at the corner of her street. Y/N’s cheeks were hurting from smiling so much and her heart swelled at the sweet gifts her friends had gotten her.

“Okay, only one left,” Alicia says, clapping her hands excitedly.

“Probably the best one,” Fred whispers to Lee.

“Of course it’s going to be the best one you idiot,” Angelina says as a matter of fact, overhearing the two boys.

George, who is sitting to Y/N’s right, hands over the brightly colour box, trying to hide his excitement and nerves. “Here you go Y/N, happy birthday.”

The box feels heavy in Y/N’s grasp as she places it in her lap tearing off the wrapping paper. Y/N glances around, noticing everyone’s eager eyes on her. She sees Angelina nudge Alicia’s side smiling at each other knowingly. Y/N furrow her brows, slightly confused then draws her attention back to the box. She ripped off the paper carefully and uncover a brown box, no hints as to what is inside.

“Oh my god, hurry up and open it the suspense is killing me!” Fred says impatiently, George whacks him across the head telling him to shut up.

Y/N take off the lid and immediately her mouth gapes open finally seeing what’s inside. She shakily lifts the film camera out of the box and hold it so gently as if it’s made of diamonds and gold.

Small tears prick in Y/N’s eyes, shocked and surprised at George’s gift, it looks exactly like the one her mother had.

She manages to squeak out a small, “you remembered?” referring to the first conversation they had 3 years prior.

George has a small smile etched onto his lips. “Of course I did, I remember everything you tell me. I take a lot of pride in knowing everything about you actually.” He says, puffing his chest out proudly.

“Yeah like what?” Y/N cradles the camera in her arms.

“Well,” George starts. “I know that you hate the smell tequila because it reminds you of your 18th when you spent most of the night by the toilet. I know that you can’t sleep if the room is dead quiet. I know that you love buying plants but can never seem to keep them alive. I know you never wear matching socks because you think it’s a fun way to spice up an outfit.” He finishes smugly.

Alicia and Angelina let out a small aww in the background reminding Y/N of the 4 other sets of eyes watching her and George right now.

“Well there’s one thing you don’t know about me.”

“Yeah? What’s that then?” George counters.

Y/N doesn’t know where she musters up the courage from to speak the next words, maybe from the alcohol buzzing through her body or finally being sick of keeping this to herself for the past 3 years. Whatever it may be, she’s rather proud of herself, ignoring the way her stomach churns.

“That I have a huge crush on you.”

She expected George to laugh in her face before rejecting her gently. What Y/N definitely didn’t expect was him to cradle her face in his large hands, pressing a sweet but passionate kiss to her pink lips. She squeaks in surprise before melting into the kiss, gripping onto his shirt tightly, scared he would slip away.

Much to Y/N’s dismay George pulls away from the kiss tucking a strand of her hair back behind her ear, “no I knew that too.”

“Wha-how?” Y/N stutters.

The attention is pulled to Alicia as she begins to speak, “it wasn’t much of a secret babe. Everybody knew you were crushing on George. Can’t believe it took either one of you so long to do something about it.”

“Little Georgie here spent months trying to find that camera for you as a way to confess his undying love for you.” Fred reaches over and ruffles his twin’s hair who shoves him off.

“Yep, we were all so bloody excited for you to open his presents so you two can stop pining over each other.” Lee adds downing the rest of his drink then standing up. “Right, now the two love birds have finally confessed their feelings. Who’s up for a round of beer pong? Reigning champion here has yet to be defeated.”

“You’re on Jordan, that ego of yours has gotten large enough.” Fred challenges, everyone moving over to the table to set up for beer pong. Leaving Y/N and George alone on the couch.

George wraps his lanky arm around Y/N’s shoulder pulling her into his side, “I hope you’re enjoying your birthday bunny.”

Y/N grins widely, playing with her new camera before lifting it up and aiming it at George. “best birthday ever Georgie, thank you.” She squeezes the button down, snapping a picture of George who is staring at her like she’s the only person in the world.

Y/N is very content with being a background character, she’s quite used to it actually. But for once she doesn’t mind being the centre of someone’s undivided attention.

#George weasley #George weasley one shot #george weasley x reader #george weasley x you #george weasley fanfic #george weasley fluff #george weasley fan fic #Fred and george #george weasley imagine #twrh9kwritingchallenge

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squiggledrop · 4 years

Text

Forgotten Days - Spencer x Reader

Masterlist

Summary: Spencer and Reader both have feelings for each other, but haven’t told the other. The team forgets Reader’s birthday, and Spencer tries to fix it before it’s too late.

Word Count: 3.1k

Pairings: Spencer Reid x Reader

Category: Agst, Fluff

Warnings: Kissing

Note: To the anon that requested this: Happy Happy Birthday!! Everyone should feel loved on their birthday, so I just wanted to let you know you are cared for and so appreciated. Happy Birthday!

The monotonous beeping of the hotel alarm clock pervaded your ears. You groggily peeked open your eyes, groaning at the sunlight bleeding through the window. You saw Emily shuffling in her bed as you reached over to turn off the incessant beeping before rubbing your tired eyes. It was six in the morning on the twelfth day the team had been in Kansas on a grueling case, and it just so happened to be your birthday. Needless to say, it was not off to a great start.

You sighed, willing yourself to get out of bed in an attempt to avoid a scolding from Hotch for being late. You pulled your head off the rough cotton pillow and swung your legs onto the ground. You took a long look around the room, taking in the way the deep red wallpaper had mocked you for the past eleven nights, reminding you of the unsub who had continuously avoided all the team’s attempts at catching them. Your jaw clenched as you turned back over to your half-asleep friend laying in the bed next to you.

“Em, we have to get up. We have to be back at the station in thirty minutes”, you said between a yawn. Emily groaned as she sat up, rolling her eyes as she nodded. You looked at her for a moment longer, not getting up to go to the bathroom just yet.

“What?”, she questioned. You knew it was early that she was just as tired and frustrated with this case as you, but you still waited for her to wish you a Happy Birthday. Your mouth hung open at her question before you quickly closed it, realizing you would not be getting any birthday wishes this early in the morning.

“Nothing. I’m going to hop in the shower”, you replied, getting up and walking towards the bathroom. You saw Emily nod as she began to get herself up and ready for the day. When you closed the door and started the shower, you couldn’t help but frown at the pit you felt in your stomach. Of course, there were more important matters at hand, such as the serial killer that was still on the loose, but that didn’t make your friend forgetting your birthday hurt any less. You closed your eyes and sighed, letting the hot water run over your shoulders.

You and Emily met up with Derek and Spencer outside the hotel as Hotch, Rossi, and JJ had already left. Derek drove and Emily claimed the passenger seat. You didn’t mind, however, because it meant you got to sit next to Spencer, whom you had developed feelings for over the past few months. Under any other circumstances, you would have loved the opportunity to spend more time near Spencer. But, in your current irritated state, it was torture, because he was the last person you wanted seeing you like this.

Spencer noticed how you were much quieter than you usually were, and he missed the stupid jokes you would always make that never failed to make him laugh. He also noticed you checking your phone constantly throughout the ride to the station. He bit his lip and frantically thought about anything that could have caused your shift in behavior. When you and Emily walked out of the hotel to where he and Derek were waiting he could already tell you were on edge, but when you dismissed Derek’s ‘good morning’ without one of your radiant smiles that he swore shone brighter than the morning sun, he knew something was wrong.

As you pulled into the station, you quickly checked your phone once more before heading inside. Garcia hadn’t sent her infamous, essay long birthday text, none of the team had wished you a happy birthday, none of your family had messaged you yet, and Spencer, in all his eidetic memory glory, hadn’t even acknowledged you. You pushed back the tears that threatened to fall from your eyes as you tried to focus on the case and not the feeling of worthlessness that protruded your brain.

Later in the day, Garcia had texted the team a lead, and Hotch sent Derek and JJ to check it out. Emily and Rossi were still at the latest dump site, so that left you and Spencer alone at the station. You had been short with everyone today, you knew that. You felt guilty, knowing you had let your emotions affect your work, but no matter how hard you tried to hide your emotions, working with a group of profilers meant they could always tell when something was off.

“Hey, (Y/n), are you okay?”, Spencer asked hesitantly, after almost an hour of working in silence. He missed how you could always brighten up a room with your vivacious personality despite the subject matter of your work. You always reminded him of all the good that there was in the world. He always knew he had feelings for you, but until he had to go a day without you brightening up his day, he hadn’t realized quite how hard he had fallen.

“Yep”, you snapped, internally berating yourself for how harsh your voice had been. You looked up apologetically at Spencer before burying yourself back into the files in front of you. After a few moments of watching you hastily flip through the papers in your hands, he spoke up again.

“It’s just”, he sighed, using his desperate gaze to will you to look back up at him. You, however, had no intentions of having to look at him or anyone else on the team for the rest of the day. “You haven’t been yourself today. And I’m sorry if I’m overstepping, but I care about you, and I can tell something is bothering you. I just want to make sure you are okay”. You scoffed under your breath, rolling your eyes before glaring at him.

“You care about me?”, you harshly asked, “Spencer, if you cared… if any of you cared, you would know what’s wrong”. You had never seen so much hurt in someone’s eyes before. Spencer looked as if you had just ripped his heart out in front of him. He tried to think of what to say, what he could do make it clear that he does care, much more than any colleague should. Just as he opened his mouth to say something, Hotch opened the door and you both turned to look at him.

“The address Garcia sent checked out and JJ and Morgan were able to get our guy”. You and Spencer feigned relieved smiles and nodded. At least you could sleep in your own bed tonight, you thought. “We’ll all meet at the jet in 30, so finish up here and I’ll see you there”, he said, sensing the tension in the room, before turning back to add, “And good job. You all deserve some rest after this case”. He let out a small smile before turning to leave the room. You began to pack up the files, wanting nothing more than to just get on the jet and sleep, and let this horrible day finally end. You looked up to see Spencer still looking at you. The sympathy pooling in his eyes mocked you, a constant reminder of how insignificant you were to those around you who couldn’t even be bothered to wish you a Happy Birthday. You felt your eyes water again, knowing you wouldn’t be able to hold them back this time. You abruptly stood up, throwing your finished paperwork in front of Spencer before practically running out of the room.

“(Y/n)-”, he called out, wanting to just wrap his arms around you and tell you everything would be alright. He just wanted to bring as much happiness into your life as you did his. But, he knew it would be no use. You were clearly upset with him, and he didn’t want to do anything to upset you further. Spencer looked down and picked up the file and began scanning the documents inside. He stopped abruptly, however, when he came across the date written at the top. His heart sank at the realization: It was your birthday.

He thought back to every interaction he saw you have today, and couldn’t recall anyone wishing you a Happy Birthday. He felt like the biggest idiot and worst friend in the world. His heartbeat quickened as he tried to figure out what he could do to make it up to you. The case had been so long and draining, all the days had bled together. He even had a gift for you in his bag, which he brought in the event that the case went on longer than anticipated. He couldn’t believe how stupid he was. He had been planning this for weeks and he forgot. He quickly grabbed his things, racing outside in hopes you hadn’t left yet. His chest deflated when he got outside and saw you had already left, taking one of the SUVs’ with you, only leaving one for him and Hotch, meaning he couldn’t even leave until Hotch was ready. He fell to the ground and sat on the curb with his head in his hands. He pulled out the neatly wrapped gift in his satchel, cursing himself for not realizing sooner.

When you got to the tarmac, you made your way onto the jet, avoiding everyone there. Derek reached out to stop you, curious as to why you had been acting off today, but you shrugged his hand off your arm and brushed past. The rest of the team looked at each other will confused glances as you situated yourself at the back of the jet.

When Spencer and Hotch finally arrived, they quickly got onto the jet, eager to get home. When Spencer stepped inside, he saw you curled in the back and his heart broke even more. Derek pulled him out of his miserable gaze and motioned for him to sit across from him and JJ. Spencer took the empty seat next to Emily and looked up guiltily at Derek.

“What’s up with (Y/n)? She’s been acting weird all day”, he asked, concern lacing his voice.

“Yeah”, Emily added, “She was out of it this morning, but I thought she was just tired. Now, I’m not so sure”. Spencer sighed, not knowing how to tell everyone they were the worst friends in the world.

“Spence, what is it?”, JJ pressed, knowing he clearly knew what was bothering you.

“We uh-”, he shook his head, “It’s her birthday”. Everyone gasped, realization hitting them.

“No”, Emily shook her head, “her birthday isn’t for another two days, it’s on the…”, she stopped, having realized the days got away from her, and it was in fact, your birthday.

“Ugh!”, JJ hissed, “What should we do?”

“I’ll call Garcia. If anyone can get reservations at that fancy restaurant (Y/n) likes it’s her”, Derek said while taking out his phone. Everyone solemnly nodded, still in disbelief that they could have forgotten something as important as your birthday. Spencer tried to listen to their plans, but all he heard was muffles. His entire focus was on you.

“I-I’m going to go talk to her. Make sure I, uh, we didn’t screw up too bad”, he said while getting up, making sure to take his satchel with him. The group nodded as he stood up, cringing as Garcia’s curses could be heard through the phone.

As Spencer approached your seat, you looked up at him. Your eyes were puffy and your cheeks had tear stains running down them. Spencer resisted the urge to hold your face and wipe away the tears that tarnished your beautiful face.

“Can I sit down?”, he whispered, fearful that even talking too loud would cause you more damage than he had already done. You softly nodded, and he slowly sat down in the seat next to you. You bit your top lip, timidly meeting his gaze. “(Y/n)”, he stated, hesitantly placing his hand on yours, “I’m so sorry. I-I had everything planned, and then this case got really crazy. Everyone was tired and frustrated, and I know that’s no excuse, but I just need you to understand”, he rambled, “I never wanted this to happen. And then this morning you were really distant, which you had every right to be, and then I tried to figure out what happened until I realized nothing did. And that’s the problem, we all did nothing”, he sniffed, “Then you said I didn’t care, and (Y/n)”, he grabbed your hand more securely, looking into your eyes, “I care so much. I hated seeing you so upset all day. It broke my heart”, he choked out between tears that matched the ones trailing down your face, “And I’m so sorry I was the cause of your pain”, he gasped, squeezing his eyes closed.

“Spence, i-it’s okay, calm down”, you rubbed your thumb over the back of his hand, “it’s okay”, you soothed. He melted into your touch and his breathing calmed down.

“Happy Birthday”, he whispered, looking deep into your eyes. A smile crept its way to your face at his words, a warmth radiating out from the pit you had felt in your stomach all day. He reached into his satchel and pulled out a small box, neatly wrapped in dark blue wrapping paper with a small gold bow on top. “Here”, he said, handing it to you, “I’m so sorry I forgot to give this to you earlier. I just need you to know that I didn’t forget about you, I just may have momentarily lost track of time”, he frowned. Your eyes softened and you placed a gentle kiss on his cheek.

“Thank you, Spencer, this means more than you will ever know”, you smiled, taking the gift, your hands brushing against each other as you did.

“Well, don’t thank me yet, you don’t even know what it is”, he joked, feeling better now that he got to see your mesmerizing smile. You laughed, shaking your head as you began to unwrap the gift.

“You know, just having people like you in my life is the only gift I need”, you half-joked, smirking at him as you finished opening your present. Before opening the box, you looked up into his eyes, your demeanor much more serious, “And, I’m sorry too, Spencer. I shouldn’t have said you guys don’t care. I know you care, and I’m sorry for doubting that”.

“I know”, he said, caressing your shoulder, “But come on, just open your gift already”, he smiled giddily.

“Okay, okay”, you laughed, “It’s almost like you are more excited about this than me and-”, your giggles stopped as you saw what was inside the box. “Spencer”, you gasped, looking up at him. “You. Did. Not”, you squealed. Spencer smiled bigger than he knew was possible when your face lit up. You picked up the two pieces of paper, still not fully comprehending you were holding two tickets to go see your favorite band in two weeks. You looked up at Spencer, “But, how?”, you questioned in disbelief. “I tried so hard to get tickets to go see them when they went on sale like seven months ago. H-how did you…”, you trailed off, excitement and adoration flooding your brain.

“Well, I overheard you mention how much you love them to Garcia once, and I have my ways”, he smirked while wiggling his eyebrows at you.

“You, Dr. Spencer Reid, are something else”, you laughed, shaking your head.

“I hope that’s a good thing”, he meekly teased.

“It is a great thing”, you smiled, lost in his eyes. Not knowing what to say next, you both sat there, looking into the other’s eyes, feeling as though your hearts would beat out of your chest. Eventually, you broke away from his gaze, figuring he still deserved a bit of teasing. “So um, two tickets? Guess I get to bring someone along?”, you asked, looking up at him innocently.

“Uh, y-yeah, well, I um. I figured-”, he stumbled over his words, acutely aware of how his cheeks flushed.

“I wonder if Emily would like to go”, you cut him off, “or maybe JJ. She deserves a night of fun away from her kids”.

“No!”, he abruptly stated. “I-I mean, no. I thought we could go together”, he said, not able to make eye contact. You smiled at how cute he was when he was flustered.

“Oh”, you amused. “I would love that”, you said, squeezing his hand.

“Really?”, he questioned, his eyes lighting up at your words.

“Of course”, you said matter of factly, as if it were that obvious. He smiled and hummed in response, bringing your hand to hip lips and placing a kiss on your knuckles. You smiled back at him, relishing in the comfortable silence that had fallen between the two of you.

“Oh!”, he said, startling you as you looked up at him, “um, are you free tonight?”, he asked. Your heart picked up its pace once again at the implications of his words.

“Yeah, I am”, you smiled, “why?”, you asked excitedly.

“Well, we all feel really bad. So, we got reservations to that restaurant you love for later tonight”, he smiled, a hint of guilt still present in his eyes.

“Oh”, you sighed, trying to mask the disappointment in your voice.

“Unless you don’t want to go. We can do whatever you want. Today is all about you”, he rushed as he spoke, trying to reassure you.

“No”, you saw the panic that swarmed his face in fear of messing up again, and you gently cupped his cheek with your hand. He leaned into your touch, his anxiety visibly subsiding. “I guess, I just hoped you were asking me to dinner just the two of us”, you trailed off, looking expectantly into his eyes.

“Like a date?”, he asked, starting to understand what you were saying.

“Yes, like a date”, you replied, biting your top lip, “If that is something you would want”, you smiled up at him. Spencer couldn’t get a response out quick enough before his lips were pulled towards you as if they were magnetic. When your mouths connected you softened into his touch. You smiled into his mouth after a few moments of kissing, happiness flooding your brain.

“Happy Birthday”, Spencer whispered into your ear. His hot breath tickled your skin and you let out an excited giggle.

“Yes”, you laughed, leaning back into him, “a very Happy Birthday to me”.

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intheticklecloset · 3 years

Text

The Great Academia Road Trip, Part 1 (My Hero Academia)

Primary Universe

Summary: Class 1-A (plus Shinsou) is going on a road trip! In this first installment, Bakugou contemplates how he's going to get Deku back for cornering him before, having a little fun with the nerd along the way.

A/N: Welcome to the first official mini-series within the Primary Universe! I was hoping to do this more in the middle of summer than towards the end, but better late than never! I hope you enjoy taking a road trip with the students of Class 1-A - with plenty of tickling included! ^^

Shoutout to @ticklishscumbag for the "Bakugou loves strawberry milk" headcanon that is briefly referenced here.

Word Count: 1,796

**SPOILER ALERT:** This fic contains spoilers from Season 5 of the anime. (Below the cut.)

~~~

The door to Bakugou’s dorm room slammed open.

“Road trip!”

“What the—?!” Bakugou yelled, instinctively shoving his covers off and scrambling to his feet, heart racing from the anticipation of an oncoming battle. When he saw it was just Kirishima, he clutched his chest and yelled, “Kiri, you idiot! You gave me a heart attack!”

“Forget that,” Kiri replied easily, bounding inside with a huge grin on his face. “It’s road trip time! Where’s your bag? You packed it already, right?”

“Freakin’ – yeah, it’s over there.” The blonde gestured to his closet. “God dang, Kirishima.”

Kiri laughed, punching him lightly in the shoulder. “Sorry, dude. I’m just so excited, and we’re leaving in less than an hour! How could you still be asleep? Get dressed! Eat some breakfast! We’re gonna hit the rooooad!”

Bakugou grumbled as he shoved Kirishima back out his door, barely registering that his friend had grabbed his bag on his way out. Still, he couldn’t help but smile once he was alone. Today was the day. Their entire class – along with Shinsou, who would be entering the hero course next year – were taking a month-long trip around the country as both part of their training and as a vacation. Officially, they were touring the different prefectures and meeting the top heroes across the nation, learning how things worked in different places and sometimes even helping out if needed. Unofficially, they were getting away from the stress of school and the League of Villains for a while, making stops at popular tourist locations and having some down time to balance out the work they’d still be doing.

No rest for the weary, but honestly, Bakugou was looking forward to this trip just as much as Kirishima and the rest of the class were. He couldn’t wait to meet pro heroes in other prefectures, beat up some bad guys, and take a dip in the pool at the end of their long days. It was going to be great.

But first, he had to get dressed.

Downstairs, the entire dorm was alive with activity. It seemed everyone was either finishing up breakfast or hauling their gear out to the bus that was already waiting outside. Bakugou made a mental note to ask Kiri if he’d actually gotten his luggage all the way out there before they left. In the meantime, he headed to the fridge, hoping Sato hadn’t taken the last strawberry milk.

It was still there. He grinned, grabbed it, and twisted open the cap.

Just beyond his hearing range in the living room stood Iida, Kaminari, Ojiro, Shinsou, and stupid Deku. Bakugou narrowed his eyes. He still hadn’t gotten the nerd back for tickling him to death while he was trapped under his bed last week. He was rather looking forward to finding ways to mess with him on this trip in retaliation.

“Baku-bro!” Sero said by way of greeting, slapping him on the back. “Good morning! Ready to go?”

“Yeah, sure.” Bakugou took a swig of strawberry milk, savoring the flavor, trying not to let it show how much he loved it. “Where’s Kiri?”

“Probably taking Mina’s bag out to the bus. He already grabbed mine and his own.”

“Mine, too.”

Sero laughed. “He’s pretty excited.”

“Yeah, well…” Bakugou shrugged. “It’s a good opportunity.”

“I take it that means you’re excited, too? Good! It wouldn’t be any fun if you were a grump the whole time. Though we have ways of making you cheer up nowadays, don’t we?” Sero winked, nudged him, and moved on to the next person, greeting them enthusiastically as he made his way to the front door.

Bakugou scowled. He supposed he would have been stupid to think he’d get a break from his own torture just because they were on a tour of the country. Oh, well. As long as no one else found out, he’d survive.

He took another drink just as Deku suddenly broke away from his group and hurried past him toward his own dorm room.

Must have left some All Might backpack or something, he thought, grunting. Stupid nerd.

Somehow, despite the fact that it was obvious the two of them didn’t get along, Bakugou wound up seated next to Shinsou right in the middle of the bus. Kaminari had practically shoved him into the taller boy’s lap, much to both of their annoyance.

“Bakugou,” Shinsou greeted coolly, polite but not much more than that.

The blonde bit his tongue to resist calling him a mind-reader again. “Shinsou.”

After that, the two lapsed into silence as the bus finished loading, pulled out of the school grounds, and made its way onto the highway.

It was a long, grueling twenty minutes before Bakugou finally sighed angrily and got up, turning on his heel to stride toward the back of the bus to where Kiri and Deku were sharing a seat.

He interrupted their conversation without an apology. “Deku, switch with me.”

Deku blinked. “What?”

“Swap seats with me. You’re friends with that freak from 1-C, right?”

“He’s not a freak. And yes, we’re friends.”

“Then swap with me. I don’t want to be near him.”

Kirishima gave him a withering look. “You’ll have to get used to having him around sooner or later. When he joins the hero course, there’s a fifty percent chance he’ll be in our class.”

“Doesn’t mean I have to like him.”

Deku poked his head up over the seat in front of him, glancing to where Shinsou now sat alone. He stood to do as Bakugou asked, but before he could even get a step down the aisle, Kirishima shot out in front of him, declaring, “I’ll sit with him! I never get to talk to the guy.”

“Wait – I don’t want to sit with stupid Deku, either!” Bakugou yelled. “What are you doing?”

Kiri turned back to him. “It’s Shinsou or Midoriya. Take your pick.”

Bakugou gritted his teeth, growled, and shoved Deku down into the seat he’d just vacated. “Fine. Move over, nerd.”

Deku smiled, scooting over to the window seat to allow the blonde to sit with him while Kiri moved up to join Shinsou.

More silence.

“You’re not going to make it, you know,” Bakugou said at last, crossing his arms.

Deku startled. “What?”

“To the end of the trip. You won’t make it back.”

“Why?”

“Because you declared war, idiot. And I’m not going to lose to you.”

The greenette was silent for a long moment, seeming lost. Then it clicked, and his face brightened. “Yeah? Well, I’m not losing to you, either. So where does that leave us?”

“With you begging me for mercy.”

“Or you begging me.”

“Never.”

Deku smirked, then glanced out the window at the passing scenery. Bakugou smirked, too. This was going to be an interesting road trip for the both of them.

Several hours later – after they’d arrived at their first destination, unloaded, trained, had dinner, and were wrapping up for the day – Bakugou stood just inside the door of the four-person room he was sharing with Kirishima, Tokoyami, and Shoji, waiting patiently. Any minute now, Deku would pop into the hall on his way to the shared bathroom to clean up before bed, and he’d pass Bakugou’s room on his way to do so. It was just a matter of time now.

There he was.

Bakugou reached into the hall, grabbing Deku by the back of his shirt and pulling him into the currently empty room, throwing him onto a bedroll. Then he pounced, climbing on top of him and digging his fingers into his sides, ribs, and underarms in rapid succession.

Deku burst into hysterical giggles, shocked and confused for just a moment before his brain caught up to what his body was feeling. “Ahahahahahahaha Kacchan! Nahahahahahahaha!”

“So about this tickle war you’ve so stupidly decided to start with me, nerd.” Bakugou spoke casually, though he smirked at his friend’s useless attempts to get away. “How do we know who’s won? Begging for mercy doesn’t seem like enough, since I get you to do that anyway during our normal tickle fights.”

“I-I mahahahahahake you beheheheheg, too!” Deku protested, earning a sharp jab into his hip bone for his trouble. He squealed and laughed. “NOHOHOHOHOHOHO!!”

“Like I was saying, I don’t think it’s enough to end a tickle war. What exactly was your plan going into this?”

“I dohohohohohohon’t knohohohohohow!” Deku writhed on the ground, smiling wide and pushing at Bakugou’s hands weakly. “I dihihihihidn’t thihihihihihihink about it!”

“Well, think now.”

“I cahahahahahahahan’t! Y-You’re distrahahahahacting me!”

Bakugou hummed, swinging a leg over to straddle Deku and reach up into his underarms, drawing out a fresh burst of laughter and kicking. “Better come up with some excuse.”

“NAHAHAHAHAHAHA KACCHAHAHAHAHAHAN!!”

“Is it because you can never beat me on your own? You’ve got to use furniture to help you come out on top?” Bakugou half-mocked, half-teased. “Is that why you decided it was smart to challenge me like that?”

“IT WAS JUHUHUHUHUHUST – JUST AN OPP-P-PFFAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!” Deku tossed his head back and laughed freely, still trying to push Bakugou away with whatever strength he had left after the long day and the surprise tickle attack. “STAHAHAHAHAHAHAP!!”

“Opportunity? Is that what you were trying to say?”

“YEHEHEHEHEHEHES!!”

“Interesting. An opportunity to come after me while I was completely helpless, right?” Bakugou left his underarms at last, trailing back down to his sides and belly. “Because that’s the only way you can really win against me.”

“P-Plehehehehehease,” Deku whined, looking up at him with mirthful but tired eyes. “Lehehehet me gohohohoho, Kacchan…”

Bakugou thought a moment, then relented entirely, grabbing Deku’s wrists and pinning them down by his head, looming over him. “I’ll let you go for now, nerd, since the others will be back soon. But you’d better start watching your back extra closely from now on, because when I catch you, I will not show mercy until you’re pleading for it.”

Deku’s eyes widened, but he nodded, and Bakugou released him and stood up just as Tokoyami returned from the bathroom.

“Midoriya,” he said, “I’m fairly certain sleepovers are not allowed.”

“Oh, n-no, I was just…” Deku trailed off, then laughed and got to his feet. “Ah, never mind. I’ve still got to get ready for bed. Night, guys!” And he hurried out of the room, waving as he went.

Tokoyami turned to Bakugou. “Why was Midoriya here?”

Bakugou scoffed. “Stupid nerd wanted to get his butt handed to him, that’s what.” The blonde flopped onto his own bedroll and turned toward the wall, facing away from Tokoyami and the door.

“All right, then…” Tokoyami muttered, then went blissfully silent.

Bakugou grinned at the wall.

This was going to be the best road trip ever.

~~~

Part 2

#fanfiction #tickle fic #boku no hero #my hero academia #bnha #mha #road trip #katsuki #bakugou #izuku #midoriya #deku #tickling #ticklish #tickle

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wavesmp3 · 4 years

Text

you jump; i jump

sunwoo x reader

requested from sensory prompts #46: the waver in someone’s voice when they’re stressed genre: spy au, exes (ish) to lovers wc: 5.6k warnings: cursing, tiny bit of gore/blood

Sunwoo used to pride himself for being able to keep his cool, in even the most unimaginable situations. He kept his exterior when Haknyeon turned out to be double crossing their agency, Creker, and secretly sending information to a rivaling one the whole time. Sunwoo didn’t crack when his entire mission in Sydney blew up right in his fucking face, never even flinched when his gear malfunctioned dumping him in a hospital for a week. But all those instances seem to fall flat now. All the times where Sunwoo stayed strong seem to disappear the moment he feels a tap on his shoulder and turns around only to come face to face with you. “What are you-“ he falters, grasping at the last bits of crumbling pride and hanging on to the dip in his voice. “What are you doing here?”

“You forgot this,” you continue, ignoring him entirely, “forgot it in Vienna specifically.” You dangle a watch in front of his face. The same watch he lost somewhere in Austria three months ago, at the same time that he was in the middle of the most intense and longest mission the agency had ever given him, and more notably, around the same time he met you. “Don’t look so shocked.” You scoff when he fails to respond. “You told me you were gonna be here.”

Sunwoo laughs, except it’s less of a laugh and more of an exhale of pure disbelief. “I know what I said, but you’re…” his voice trails off, some part of him unable to finish the sentence and another part of him still too disturbed to believe it.

You tilt your head with faux confusion. “I’m what?”

Sunwoo gulps. “You’re supposed to be dead.”

VIENNA, AUSTRIA THREE MONTHS AGO

Sunwoo remembers, with a starling amount of clarity, all that happened three months ago. He can recall every day he spent roaming the streets of Vienna with you despite the way he’s been trying to drown out the memories and douse his lingering feelings.

When he met you at a pub on one of his first nights there, he told himself he entertained your conversation because, well, to put it bluntly, he thought you were cute. Although the small tug in his gut doesn’t help justify why he found himself stumbling back to his hotel room with you by his side. And there’s really no good excuse for the tiny sting of disappointment Sunwoo feels when he wakes up alone the next morning.

It’s two days after that night when Sunwoo sees you again, sitting on a bench with a book in one hand and a to-go cup of coffee in the other. It’s an odd coincidence that he should see you in Vienna again, but the small pang of doubt is quickly replaced with a more promising burst of elation. Sunwoo can’t tell if it’s exhilarating or terrifying.

“Ah,” you mutter when you notice him approaching, “Sunwoo right?” It’s a facade, Sunwoo thinks to himself, he knows you remember his name, knows you only pretend to forget. But he doesn’t mention that, instead he nods rather lamely, shoving his fists into his pockets and burying away the voice of reason in the back of his head telling him this is a mistake. “Sit.” You say, moving your things to the other side of the bench and patting the now empty spot next to you. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

And in retrospect, it’s quite obvious that Sunwoo should have found the words alarming. Really, he should have begun to put his guard up the second he spotted you in Vienna again. But at that moment in time, the only thing Sunwoo can think to ask is if he was worth the wait.

Your tongue darts out, swiping at your bottom lip in thought for the smallest of seconds, before disappearing into your mouth again. “Yeah,” you say, lips turning up into an intrigued smile, “you were.”

—

Sunwoo doesn’t think much of the way he comes to trust you so easily, telling you the truth about his job in the darkness of the hotel room. He doesn’t think anything of the way you hang onto his every word without ever sharing much about yourself. And when one day, you sit down at the cafe booth across from him and ask, “what’s your current mission,” Sunwoo doesn’t think twice before telling you everything about his objective to infiltrate Pegasus. He also doesn’t notice the phone call you make soon after.

—

When the truth does come out, it comes fast, like water rushing off a cliff and crashing into Sunwoo sitting unsuspecting at the bottom. It comes in the form of a charity event that he only attends as part of the mission which sent him to Vienna to begin with. The truth arrives, like a rock in his gut, at the same second that Sunwoo sees you across the hall. You, who he last saw at the hotel, and you, who’s supposed to be on a train to Paris right now. And when your eyes finally catch his, there’s something unmistakable swimming in them. You’ve been caught, Sunwoo thinks, finally placing a name to the familiar way you swallow and dart your eyes around the room. Sunwoo recognizes the feeling, vaguely remembers the rush he felt once in Santiago and again in New York.

“I can explain,” you hiss, quiet and breathless, finding him outside the hall after a few minutes.

And Sunwoo knows he should be dying for an explanation of what you’re doing here or who you’re really working with. Some small part of Sunwoo knows that he should already be replaying every conversation and trying to determine how much information he’s given you to use against him. But another, larger part of him, that’s poking at his heart and prodding at his brain, chooses to stare at your lying eyes, study the face he’s come to memorize, and lamely ask, “how much of…” his voice tapers off, gesturing to the empty space in between you two, “of this was a lie?”

You don’t respond, but in the silence Sunwoo finds the answer anyways.

All of it.

—

It’s not long after that night that a new message from the case officer shows up for him.

You’re on thin ice. New mission: get rid of that Pegasus agent.

PRESENT TIME THREE MONTHS AFTER VIENNA

“You still haven’t told me what you’re doing here?” Sunwoo asks you again, shifting in his plastic red chair and keeping his gaze focused on the street you’re both seated beside. He hadn’t planned on hanging out after crossing paths with you earlier today. In fact, the only thing he wanted to do was put as much distance between the two of you as possible, but when you offer him a meal in exchange for a conversation, his rumbling stomach agrees before he can even consider the offer. The scene you lead him to is a busy one, filled with people rushing down the road and bustling behind each of the food stalls. It’s a mosh-posh of neon signs, kicked up dust, and the aroma of food being fried. More importantly, it’s a loud area, one where you and Sunwoo can talk freely without the worry of being heard by someone seated nearby. He takes a bite into his skewer, waiting for your response.

“And you still haven’t told me why you didn’t follow through with the mission,” you counter, twirling your lime green straw with the tip of your finger. “The one where you were supposed to kill me.”

You say it plainly, but something in Sunwoo’s stomach turns hard at the reminder anyways. “We’re spies,” he mutters behind clenched teeth, “not assassins.”

“I don’t know,” you shrug, taking a sip from your coke, “the job description is pretty vague.”

The words are met with a taut silence, a snap of Sunwoo’s eyes towards yours, and a search for any implication of murder behind the sentence.

“It’s a joke,” you choke, wiping the coke that slips from your mouth and quickly shaking your head, “I haven’t killed anyone.”

“Well anyways,” Sunwoo continues, “I tried to finish the mission. Even hired someone to find you.” And as soon as the words leave his mouth, Sunwoo realizes he’s told you too much, realizes he’s let the truth slip too easily--again. Biting his lip, he thinks this must be what people mean when they say ‘old habits die hard’.

“He didn’t follow through.” You tell him as if to fill him in on how exactly you’re still alive and sitting across from him right here, right now, miles away from Vienna and months after Sunwoo’s hire took his money and ran. “But you knew he wouldn’t, didn’t you?”

And this you say with a taunting smile, catching his eyes like there’s a private joke concealed behind them. Sunwoo only gulps and pulls his focus back to the busy street.

“So what do you want with me?”

“I left Pegasus.” You answer, clearing your throat.

Sunwoo waits. He waits for you to take it back, for you to laugh at his widened eyes and say it’s a joke. The punchline never comes. “You’re an idiot.” He settles on.

“And I’ve got two agencies who’d prefer me to be dead right about now.” You grimace. “But despite the bounty on my head, I’m still here which means you’re probably not on great terms with Creker either.”

“Get to the point.”

“We both have people who want us dead. We both have next to nothing to lose at this point. So let’s team up.” You pause, checking Sunwoo’s reaction. He watches you intently, body pushing against the creaking plastic table in an attempt to hear you better. With an almost mischievous glint in your eyes and a satisfied quirk, you continue: “Let’s take back what we stole for them.”

There’s a long moment where Sunwoo just stares at you, deciphering what to make of the proposition. You appear genuine, Sunwoo decides leaning away from the table until his back hits the chair, but Sunwoo isn’t exactly sure how much he trusts his own judgement considering the last time he decided you were sincere you had been lying to him left and right.

Sunwoo lifts his hand to the vendor of the food stall you’re sitting by. The previous glint in your eyes is gone, overshadowed by a darker shade of doubt. “What are you doing?” you finally ask, voice lower and less excited than it had been a second ago.

With a tired sigh, he replies, “I’m gonna need more food while you explain your plan.”

Sunwoo has to swallow back the smile that nearly emerges at how happy you get.

It’s a simple enough idea. Clear our names, you had explained, wipe ourselves entirely from both agencies. And it’ll work too, Sunwoo realizes when you begin the second explanation on the logistics of the whole operation. The only downside to your plan is you. Because the last person Sunwoo wants to start a new mission with is the same person who broke his heart three months ago. And it’s bothersome, almost, how calm you are and how collected you appear, especially compared to how scattered Sunwoo feels just to be around you again.

“What do you think?” You ask once you’ve explained your plan completely, tapping anxiously on the table.

“I think,” Sunwoo starts, inhaling deeply, “you’ve thought about this way too much.”

“Well, yeah,” you scoff, gulping down some more coke, “three months is kind of a long time.”

And yeah, he thinks, it is. But despite the time that’s passed since you’ve last seen each other and despite the way Sunwoo thought he was over you, his stomach still flips each time you look his way. He just prays that the past three months have at least somewhat watered down how he used to feel about you.

“How do I know you won’t ditch me after we clear you?” Sunwoo asks, pushing away the thoughts of lingering heartache to a corner of his mind.

“We’ll do you first.” You state simply. “Steal your file off Creker and get the bounty off your head first. Then we’ll do me.”

“And then how do you know that I won’t ditch you?”

You falter at that, frowning for the smallest of seconds, then say, “I don’t.”

Sunwoo nods, pretending to contemplate your offer. But in all transparency, Sunwoo knew he’d agree to your plan despite the bile that turns up at your name because with the way he’s been hiding in a crappy motel and eating instant ramen every night, it’s kind of hard to refuse any proposition that gives him the slightest chance at an out from Creker.

“Okay,” he finally utters, wiping the crumbs of his second skewer off his hands, “let’s do it.” You meet his eyes expectantly. Nodding, he says,

“Let’s team up.”

You and Sunwoo clash more than anything else on the first day of prepping for the mission, crammed in a corner of Sunwoo’s dingy motel with two half finished cans of red bull sitting forgotten on the table, fighting about even the smallest details.

“I know the building,” Sunwoo argues, pointing to the floor plan you have pulled up on your laptop, “and this is the entrance we should use.”

“But using this entrance,” you refute, dragging your finger across the screen to show him exactly what you mean, “will give us better access to security and admin. And trust me, I know the building better than you do.”

“How do you—” Sunwoo stills. Something seems to register in your eyes at that moment as well, a small recognition of the tiny slip up, a barely audible acknowledgement that comes in the form of a cough. And all at once, Sunwoo’s reminded of the time he spent spilling his heart to you in Vienna under more covers than he was aware of. Sunwoo’s harshly thrown against the realization that you must’ve been watching him, surveying him long before you ever found him in that Austrian pub.

“See, I knew this wouldn’t work.” He grumbles, shaking his head. “You know too much about me. No, actually, you know everything about me. And I--” there’s a dip in his tone, “I know nothing about you.”

“Fine then, ask.”

“What?”

“Whatever it is you think will even the playing field between us. Whatever it is you want to know about me,” you shut the laptop and turn your body to face him completely, an action that exudes largely frustration but more faintly, guilt, “just ask.”

Sunwoo learns more about you than he had intended to. He learns about the origin of the scar that runs along your spine. A fucked up operation in Shanghai, you tell him, writing over the lie you told him three months ago about it being from your childhood. He learns about your old partner Younghoon and about the shadow falling over your forehead at the sound of his name. He’s told about how you got involved with Pegasus to begin with, a similar story to Sunwoo’s beginning with Creker: an unlucky concoction of desperation and coincidence. You tell him, with reluctance, your most embarrassing story, followed by a long list of firsts and favorites. So by the time night falls, with two empty red bulls at the foot of the bed and the building’s floor plan now forgotten behind the black screen of your laptop, Sunwoo learns enough to rebuild a fraction of the trust he lost.

Everything goes smoother after that. You and Sunwoo seem to fall into a rhythm, meeting at a café in the morning and at the motel in the afternoon, planning out the missions with far less difficulty than before. A rather quick adjustment, from both of your ends, and an even faster allocation of responsibilities. He finds himself looking forward to sitting in front of your open laptop each day and conjuring new ways to distract you every hour.

And it’s after meeting up with you one night, not as partners but—perhaps more cruelly—as friends, that a dangerously familiar warmth blooms in his chest and refuses to wilt away when he sees you again the next day. Sunwoo knows that he should be doing something, anything to blow out the flame, but instead he feeds the fire and prays that this time it spreads from his heart to yours.

“Where’d you get all of this?” Sunwoo questions one day when you show up at the motel with a suitcase full of equipment. An assortment of laptops, earpieces, weapons, and randomly picked gadgets.

“Took it from Pegasus before I left,” you smirk, pulling out an earpiece and holding it out in front of his ear. “You’re usually on the field, right? The one in action?” He nods. “Good, you can be the agent for this mission then,” you mumble, setting down the earpiece and holding up another. “I’m usually the person behind the computer anyways. Was even a handler for a mission in Seoul once.” You place the earpiece in his palm and begin to pull out the other pieces of equipment from the suitcase.

“What about Vienna?” Sunwoo says, inspecting a certain gadget from the case. “You were on the field then.” And it’s a question that would’ve been asked with malice if it had come up a couple weeks ago, but right now, there’s nothing but curiosity behind Sunwoo’s words.

“Oh,” you hesitate, a small smile appearing briefly, “I guess I do both.”

Sunwoo doesn’t ponder over your answer for long.

It’s later that day, right as you’re about to leave, that you frown at Sunwoo’s head, matter-of-factly saying, “you should change your hair before the mission.” Then, with a laugh bubbling behind your teeth, you add, “again.”

(Sunwoo changed his appearance a lot. One of the tactics that had stuck from his training days. Never really in big ways, but small changes here and there every couple of months. Sometimes it was a new piercing that he’d wear for a year and let close up in the next, and other times the change came in the form of a temporary tattoo imprinted on his neck whilst in Vancouver with Kevin. When Sunwoo met you in Vienna his hair was a light brown that he had gotten done in Tokyo and hadn’t bothered to touch up since. So when the time had come to change something again, he headed to the hair salon.

“When’d you do this?” you asked him that night, running a hand through the new red hair.

“Just today.” He answered, hoping you wouldn’t ask for a reason.

“I like it.”

“More than the brown?”

“Way more.” You whispered, leaning in until he felt the breath of your words on his lips.

And in the moment before you closed the distance, Sunwoo had made a silent vow to never change his hair again.)

Sunwoo gets his hair done the day after you suggest it, and when he returns to the motel from the salon, he finds you already there.

“Oh good, you’re back.” You mumble, arms full and an extra key card to his room that he had given you out of convenience a while back held between your teeth. “I just came to drop these off because I have to go to—" you stop, straightening yourself and eyes fixated on him. “You got your hair done.”

It’s an observation, a small, stupid thing really. A comment made in passing that should feel routine with as much time as you and Sunwoo spend together and one that should feel even more mundane considering you were the one to suggest it. But there’s something about the way you say the words that makes Sunwoo feel slightly breathless anyways. “Yeah,” he finally affirms, running a hand through his now black hair, “I did.”

You nod in acknowledgement, setting the things in your hands down, then turn to leave.

“Wait,” he calls out. You do, pausing three paces away from the door and give a long look to the hand he’s placed on your arm to stop you before turning around to face him. And the next words seem to fall off the edge of Sunwoo’s mouth at that moment, tumbling back down his throat and landing heavily in the pit of his stomach. “Do you still…” he hesitates, attempting to smooth over the nervousness folding up in the corners of his mind.

“What?”

“Do you still like my hair?”

You consider it for a moment, bringing a hand up to tug at the new black fringe. And there’s something unmistakably domestic about the way you tilt your head in concentration, eyes fixed on Sunwoo’s hair as if there’s nothing more important for you to be doing in this moment. He watches you evaluate his hair closely.

“Yeah,” you finally say, eyes meeting his and something like a double meaning swimming in them, “I still like it.”

The first mission goes smoothly thanks to you sitting back at the motel instructing Sunwoo which turns to take and what files to download. So with a flash drive containing all the information he needs to free himself from the agency stuffed in his pocket, he turns to leave, whispering into his earpiece, “is the exit path clear?”

“Shit.”

He stops walking. “What?”

“It’s blocked. I think I can get you out another way, but you’re not gonna like it.”

“Just tell me.”

“Okay, go one story below. Take two rights and then a left.” He does as you say, feet hitting the ground as quietly and as quickly as possible. The less time he spends in the building the better. “At the end of the hall, there’s a window.” You say once he’s near the place you directed him too. His stomach drops. “Jump from it.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” He breathes, studying the drop with grimace. “I really hate heights.”

“I know.” And there’s a misplaced softness when Sunwoo hears you mutter, “I remember.” You wait a beat. “Do you trust me?”

“Do I trust you?” He echoes, dread and disbelief coating his words. “I don’t even—”

“Just answer the question, Sunwoo. Do you?”

“I—” he studies the drop again, thinks and overthinks the newfound steadiness in your voice. Quietly, he mumbles, “yeah.”

“Then jump.” You tell him how exactly to do it as well, where to find the rope you packed and which hook is best to use. He does as you say, preparing for a jump he hasn’t decided to take yet. And once everything is prepared, the only thing that passes between you and Sunwoo on the intercom is silence. “Hey,” you mutter after a long while, something like a joke audible in your voice, “you jump; I jump, jack.”

“Except you aren’t jumping.”

“Technically, yes, that’s true but—”

“Okay, okay, okay. Shut up.” Sunwoo inhales deeply, closing his eyes and letting silence fill the intercom again. The silence, however, is interrupted the second he hears a group of voices travelling from somewhere down the hall. His eyes snap open.

“Sunwoo—”

“Fuck it.”

He jumps.

—

“You’re bleeding.” Is the first thing Sunwoo hears when he walks through the motel room’s door, quickly followed by you rushing to him, tilting his head with a finger against his chin, and inspecting the cut above his eyebrow.

“Yeah well your little jump stunt didn’t make for the smoothest of landings.”

He means it as a joke. A bad one he realizes when you pull your hand away, eyes dropping from his face and guilt hanging over your head. “Sorry about that.”

He shrugs. “It didn’t kill me.”

“Come on,” you beckon, grabbing the first aid kit and heading to the bathroom, “I’ll help you bandage them.”

Sunwoo sits on top of the closed toilet lid, folding up his pant leg to examine the gash running across his shin. The cut, he realizes, isn’t nearly as bad as it feels, but you make a small face at the sight of it anyways. It doesn’t take you very long to clean the cut on his leg, quickly finishing it while kneeling on the cold bathroom tile and asking him questions about the mission.

“No stitches?” He wonders when you pat a bandage in place.

You shake your head. “You should be fine. Nothing more than a gloried scrape really.” You add teasingly while rearranging the objects in the first aid kit. And when you laugh at the look he gives you for the comment, Sunwoo does his best to ignore the fluttering that appears in his gut at the sound.

You move on from the cut on his leg, placing the first aid kid on top of the counter and poking the bruise that’s forming above his knee before getting up yourself. He smacks your hand away.

“How’d you know about my fear of heights by the way?”

“You told me one night in Vienna.” You answer, tearing open an alcohol wipe packet. “Do you not remember?”

He shakes his head.

Frowning, you let out a small, “oh.”

Neither of you say anything after that. And Sunwoo’s so focused on the frown that’s yet to leave your face that he barely registers the way you lean towards him for better access, propping your knee on top of the toilet and between his legs for balance. Although he does notice the warmth that radiates off your body. And a minute after that, he notices how much longer it takes you to clean this, smaller cut than it took to clean the one on his leg.

“Sorry.” You quickly apologize when you press against the cut too harshly. Sunwoo waves you off. “I am sorry though.” You repeat, seriously, lips still turned down in a frown and brows knit together.

“It’s really fine.” He chuckles, amused by the amount of gravity in the apology.

“No. For Vienna.” The amusement dies in the back of his throat. “I never apologized for…” you falter there, fingers paused against his forehead, “for that. But I am sorry.”

“It was your mission.” Sunwoo gulps. “You were being a good agent.”

“And a shitty person.” You say, no hint of a joke laced in the statement. “In fact, the mission was just to observe you. Make sure you didn’t find out anything too important about Pegasus. Meeting you was mostly on accident. And everything that followed,” you bite your lip, and Sunwoo can’t tell if you’re biting back a smile or a frown, “all those other parts just sort of came naturally.”

The flame in his chest from before bursts into a bonfire, filling his lungs with a hopeful smoke. “Naturally?” He echoes.

“Yeah,” you repeat, tongue darting out in concentration while you complete the last step of smoothing out the bandage. You don’t lean away when you finish. You don’t remove your knee from between his legs. Don’t pull away the hand you have holding back his hair or the one resting against the side of his face. Nothing but your eyes move, trailing down until they find his, visibly gulping, then wandering further below. “Naturally.”

And the word is like a spell, lifting his chin and drawing him towards you until his lips are brushing against yours. It’s barely a kiss, a small hesitant press of lips that lasts no longer than a second, but one that has Sunwoo’s heart pounding wildly in a way it never did three months ago. He pauses there, lips unmoving and hovering just below yours, waiting for you.

You don’t move. Neither leaning in nor away. His gaze flickers up to your eyes, finds them half open, focused on the upper curve of his lip. He captures your lips between his again, a second attempt that is met with response when you lean into it, inhaling him in for a tiny blissful moment and exhaling him out in the next, pushing him back by the shoulders and stepping away yourself.

“I should…”

“Fuck.”

“I should go.”

And you’re gone before he can say anything else.

The kiss is ignored by both of you while prepping for the second half of the mission. A silent agreement to act like it never even happened and another one to not discuss whatever misplaced feelings led to it. It’s almost sickening how easily you and Sunwoo fall back into being just partners. Especially considering the fact that Sunwoo’s feelings haven’t faded, the bonfire in his chest still burning with the same brightness. So Sunwoo spends his days with you, attempting to put out the fire between his lungs, and he spends his nights alone, replaying the kiss you both pretend to ignore.

“Tomorrow’s the big day.” You mutter on the last night, a trail of anxiousness slipping off your tongue. “And then we’ll be done.”

Sunwoo only nods, watching how your tongue pokes the inside of your cheek and mulling over whether you mean done with the mission or done with him.

The Pegasus mission doesn’t go nearly as smoothly as the Creker one, complications toppling around Sunwoo from the moment he begins. They start small first: a locked door resulting in a change of entry and a janitor straggling in a hallway that should have been clear. He makes it to his first destination eventually, quickly shuffling through the room of file cabinets until he finds your physical files, slipping them into his bag, and heading to the next room with you whispering directions into his ear. The next room is empty when Sunwoo arrives. He works quick, bypassing the security system and fingers flying across to find your information.

“Faster.” He hears you mutter over the earpiece. A hasty reminder of what you had told him earlier that week: the room never stays empty for long.

“Got it.” He exhales, finally pinpointing your files and beginning the process of downloading and deleting them.

“Sunwoo,” he hears an elevator ding from somewhere outside the room at the same time he hears you, “someone’s coming.”

He doesn’t move. Keeping one eye on the closed door and the other on the still-pending status of your files. “I’m almost done.”

“If you leave now, they won’t see you.” Voices fill the hall. “But you have to leave now.”

“I’m not done yet.”

The voices move closer, louder. “It’s not worth it. Please, just go!”

He hears them behind the door. “It’s you.”

There’s a jingle of keys. “How will you—”

“Hey,” the door unlocks with a click, “you jump; I jump, right?”

“Sunwoo—”

He pulls the earpiece out at the exact moment that the door swings open.

The rooftop is obscenely pretty at this hour, with the golden sun partly hidden by a high-rise building but still growing in the distance, scattering its light across the sky, and casting a golden shadow on everything it touches. It’s a gorgeous sight, and yet, there’s no one but Sunwoo here to appreciate it.

“You’re okay.”

He whips around only to find you standing on the rooftop with him, body trembling and hands clasped over your mouth. Behind you, the door to the roof is still falling closed. Your eyes are red, dark circles hanging under them that make it look as if you haven’t slept days. Silently, Sunwoo wonders how he’s just now noticing your sudden restlessness, and a small part of him hopes—no prays that whatever’s chasing your sleep away is the same thing chasing his.

“I got it.” He says, pulling out the flash drive he stayed to retrieve. Your eyes never flicker off his. “How’d you find me?”

“How’d you get out?”

Neither of you answer. Instead, you begin to walk towards him, asking if he’s hurt with a voice that’s too soft and too concerned for Sunwoo to make out an answer. You ask it again.

“No, I’m not hurt.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.”

You stop in front of him. Close enough for Sunwoo to see the tears welled up in your eyes. “You’re okay.” You repeat, voice wavering with a sudden gust of wind.

“I am, but I—” he hesitates; you take a step towards him, “I miss you.” He succumbs to the fire in his chest; lets it fill his lungs, burn up his throat, and throw the sentence, “I just miss you so much,” out of his mouth without bothering to hide the crack in it.

He meets your eyes and finds a starling amount of clarity in them. “I missed you too.”

“Really?”

You laugh at that, nodding your head and stepping closer to him again. “I missed you before we ever met.”

He stares at you. For too long probably. Watches a smile grace your features, spreading like a fire. The flame feels familiar. And for the first time since seeing you after Vienna, Sunwoo doesn’t have to hold back the urge to ask, “Can I kiss you now?”

“Please.”

He does. Lips crashing into yours, and you meeting the motion halfway, leaning into his lips, his body, him. A fervent want present in the way you pull at his neck and grab onto the collar of his shirt that would’ve probably been surprising if it wasn’t matched completely by him. He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling your body flush against his and deepening the kiss for a second more.

You both pull away, just barely, faces still close and bodies pressed against each other.

“Hey,” you begin, breath hot against his lips and a knowing smirk appearing briefly, “was I worth the wait?”

And suddenly Sunwoo’s in Vienna again, sitting on a bench, and asking you the same question.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, smiling, “you were.”

a/n: i apologize this request took me forever to get around too. and if the actual spy aspects to this fic make zero sense then my bad i was spit balling here. brownie points if u can find the scene inspired by queens gambit and the other scene inspired by the office lmao

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mooniefics · 3 years

Text

bye bc i have not been able to get the thought of like,, you working as the candidate manager for the warrior program (aka glorified babysitter / school counselor) and reiner slowly falling for u over the years

— you’d first met him around a month after he returned from paradis, after he was finally debriefed and given countless ideological assessments, and he was just exhausted by the time he was finally allowed to see his family again but he still woke up early the next day to go with gabi to training. he saw how happily gabi greeted you, how warmly you smiled back, and he thought that if anyone was taking care of his little cousin over the years he was gone, he was grateful that it was someone who came off as nicely as you did.

— your first conversation initiated after gabi dragged him over by the arm and introduced the two of you herself, but you didn’t get to speak long before you all had to go your separate ways. the way you tucked a piece of gabi’s hair behind her ear and gingerly wrapped your arm around her as you led her off to her classes for the day makes his heart flutter.

— you two made small talk when you ran into each other, sometimes talking about the kids, sometimes talking about yourselves, nothing terribly personal, but he always found himself feeling much lighter after he got to see you.

— reiner accompanied you once when you chaperoned the kids’ recreational time in town and sat on the bench beside you while you both watched them all play around at the park you usually took them too. your voice was soft and affectionate as you told him that you sometimes forgot that they were just children, letting it slip that you couldn’t help but feel disheartened that they had been made to grow up so fast. you were worried that he, the one revered as the most loyal warrior, would report you for disrespecting the methods of marley, but he only sighed, smiling sadly as he replied, “me too.”

— one day when the kids were training, you and the warriors were standing to the side watching them, discussing casually amongst yourselves as you watched them run laps with all their gear. on the last go around, udo fell flat on his face, and before reiner can even turn to see your reaction, you were already running over to make sure he was okay. the exercise instructor forced you to wait for udo to make it to the end on his own, but as soon as he reached finish line, you rushed him away into the main school building. when you didn’t return for a few minutes, reiner ventured in to see where you’d gone, he found you both in an empty classroom—you kneeling in front of udo, handkerchief in hand, gently wiping the tears and dirt from his cheeks and telling him that he had done a good job, that everybody makes a mistake once in a while, that he was just as capable as the other candidates. he stood beside the door, listening to you comfort udo, feeling his own eyes watering as he did. he wished he had someone like you when he was young.

— the first time the two of you had a proper, in-depth conversation was the evening that the mid-east allied forces had declared war against marley, the only two left at the privacy of his quarters, sharing the last bottle of wine leftover between yourselves. the facade of perfect patriotism that you had both been careful to maintain had dissipated, whether because of the alcohol or because of the gravity of such impending doom weighing at your hearts. he’d learned that you’d been apart of the warrior program yourself, an unselected trainee in the class just a year below his own. you told him that was how you’d managed to secure yourself this position, but he said that it was much more than that, that you were a natural at a position that require such patience and compassion. the way your lips had turned up into the smallest of smiles made his cheeks flushed.

“i heard the war is going to be mostly naval. i doubt we’ll have to worry about any of us being shipped out to fight any time soon.”

you took a long sip from your glass, finishing off what remained, taking in a deep, pensive breath. “god forbid they send any of those kids away to the battlefield. god forbid they send you away.”

“me?” he said after a moment of silence, an odd sort of tightness cinching around his heart and lungs, squeezing tighter with every fine detail he noticed in your sorrowful expression—warm eyes filled with sympathy, mouth drawn down into a delicate frown, brow slightly knitted.

“you’ve seen enough. you’ve gone through enough, more than anyone should have to go through by themselves.”

reiner felt a lump beginning to form in his throat, an almost tangible ache echoing through his chest. that was the first time someone had ever told him that before.

— despite the worsening tension of war, reiner saw that you were just as cheerful as ever with the kids, bringing them sweets and desserts you made yourself when you got the chance, taking them out on their weekly outings and making sure they were doing alright just as normal. but he could see the way your face would shift when one of them piped up with something regarding the current battle being waged, spouting out the same propaganda he’d been force-fed for his entire life. you would only smile, patting them on the shoulder or rubbing their back, responding with a simple assertion that you were sure marley’s troops were doing great out there before changing the subject

“they’re so young. sometimes i forget they’re only children.”

your words from the park bench flitted across his mind, the words that you silently spoke when your eyes widened at gabi’s proclamation that marley’s glory would forever prevail, or when your lips pursed briefly at the four of them squabbling over who would inherit which titan.

“they’re too small to be holding such big weapons. those rifles they give them are taller than they are. it’s.. it’s...”

perverse? distressing? horrible? it was all of those things, and so much more. but you saw it. you didn’t egg them on like porco or zeke, you congratulated them without drenching it in more and more lies. you didn’t see them as soldiers-in-training, you didn’t see them as warriors, you saw them as they were. as children. you cared for them like he did.

— when the time came, you were shipped off to fort slava alongside the warrior unit, your training and your extensive experience working with the candidates for the past five years serving as the justification for your necessity. though reiner had wished to be around you more often, he didn't at all enjoy it in this context. seeing you in a full soldier’s uniform, skin dusted with dirt and gunpowder, a helmet that only seemed to have more and more dents and scratches in the metal with each day that passed—it felt so incredibly wrong. you didn’t belong in the trenches of war, and yet he still saw you running about every morning, previously soft hands becoming roughened and scarred, growing thinner and thinner from the stress and minuscule rations that were barely enough to get everyone through the day. and yet you were lively, still tending to the kids and attempting to give them a space away from the warfare outside when you could all retire to the unit’s dugout at night.

— one night, reiner had woken from his sleep and was too restless to return to it, unable to ignore the distant sounds of gunfire and shouts from outside, staring up at the ceiling from his bunk and allowing himself to drift away into his thoughts. he remembered all the nights he’d spent like this in his own home as a child, barely able to force himself to sleep for a few hours despite knowing that he had another long day of training ahead of him. but he turned over on his mattress at the sound of soft murmuring, the sound of sheets shifting and the quiet protest of the flimsy bed frames squeaking. in the dimness of the lantern that sat at the foot of gabi’s bunk, he saw you seated at her bedside, looking down at her as you spoke.

“are you okay? do you want me to wake up reiner?”

he couldn’t make out gabi’s mumbled response, but he saw the small silhouette of her head shaking from side to side on her pillow.

“i know he’s been looking tired lately, but i promise that he won’t be upset if we wake him up for a moment.”

another unintelligible reply from the young girl just barely occupied the air. a part of him wanted to step out of his bunk and see what she needed, but another, more persuasive thought kept him still, laying silently, watching on to see how you would tend to her. he knew that gabi admired you deeply, the fact that you’d managed to win her over was something that impressed him, but at the same time didn’t surprise him at all. he couldn’t imagine how anyone could dislike someone as gentle and thoughtful as you.

“you’re a big girl, gabi, so am i. but that doesn’t mean we don’t all need a little bit of help sometimes. it’s scary out here, and i’m so proud of you for holding your own out there. it’s okay to be scared.”

you were quiet for a moment, allowing for gabi to speak, a hand reaching out to gently stroke the side of her head and run through her hair. a quiet, genuine laugh slipping from you when she concluded.

“i promise i won’t tell anyone. i’ll get back to my bunk as soon as you get back to sleep. deal?”

he caught the end of an affirmative nod from his cousin, and the two of you fell silent. you stood for a moment to tuck the covers around her, sitting back down and returning to your soothing motions, looking almost like a dream in the glow of the soft illumination at your side.

he realized in that moment what that feeling in his chest was, the one that made his throat tighten just the slightest bit, that made him feel light as air for those few fleeting moments before the spell of you in his gaze was broken by some menial interruption. but the interruption didn’t come this time, nothing to remind him to bury his feelings and not ruminate on them long enough to figure out exactly what they were. he had been running from this revelation for far too long, and he knew exactly why—because it would be unfair to burden you with these feelings that he knew he shouldn’t have.

he loved how you made him feel. he loved seeing how cheerful you were even when it was too early in the morning for him to even be properly awake himself. he loved seeing how you smiled when the children hung onto you on your days out. he loved that you could see the appalling indoctrination of marley’s military might on it’s citizens for what it was. he loved how you saw him for more than his failure four years ago. he loved how tender you looked stroking his younger cousin’s hair, assuring her that you wouldn’t leave her until she was fast asleep. he loved you, honestly and wholeheartedly.

it was a selfish desire, a longing that he would have to keep to himself for your sake. but, in moments like these, where the vision of having something more seemed so close to his outstretched grasp, the thought of sharing his final years together rather than in a respectful coexistence, he found it so difficult to resist temptation.

if only he had more time.

24 / 7 reiner brainrot. i have an unfathomable amount of love for this man ( ; ω ; )

#reiner braun #reiner braun x you #reiner braun x reader #reiner fluff #reiner #reiner x reader #reiner x you #reiner brainrot #snk reiner #reiner braun snk #reiner braun drabble

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coeurdastronaute · 3 years

Text

Nerd 15

Previously on Nerd

It hadn’t been a particularly good sleep. Lexa felt like she woke up every hour or so, each time checking to make sure the softly snoring girl beside her was still there, still asleep. Despite her own tossing and turning, Clarke didn’t seem to move much, just curled up tightly into herself, against Lexa’s side. Lexa kind of liked the feeling of the other body in her bed. She kind of liked that she was the person Clarke wanted.

Sometime after the tenth to twelfth time she woke up, Lexa realized the sun was up, and she couldn’t fight with her body waking any longer. Clarke didn’t move, and the night weighed on her girlfriend.

With a certain effort, Lexa decided to extract herself from the bed, even though Clarke didn’t seem to notice. It actually appeared as if Clarke was a very sound sleeper, as Lexa moved around the room and bumped the edge of her elbow on her desk and hissed at the contact. But as she stood still, she realized Clarke didn’t budge a bit.

Lexa scrolled through her phone as she tugged on some fresh clothes, checking over her shoulder quickly to make sure Clarke wasn’t peaking for some weird reason. She didn’t want Clarke to know how curious she was about the party before she arrived, but a part of her was incredibly interested in what might have panned out.

Like a thief, Lexa tugged on socks and buttoned her pants as she danced through the door in her attempt to remain as quiet as humanly possible. It took her a minute to close to door, watching it slowly inch toward the clasp, and finally it clicked nearly silent. She pushed her hair out of her face and slid into the bathroom, shoving a toothbrush into her mouth as she leaned against the counter and scrolled through the feed of Bellamy Blake’s infamous party.

As she scrubbed she watched the night happen in glimpses. She watched her girlfriend taking shots. She watched her girlfriend in that bikini. She watched her girlfriend look like she was desperately chasing an escape and numbness and it made Lexa mad for her. Lexa spit and rinsed and brushed and decided it was a good idea to scroll through Bellamy’s posts and she couldn’t understand how Clarke could like such different people. Bellamy Blake held week long parties and won state championships and got scouted. Lexa made movies and played board games and couldn’t figure out how to take a bra off.

With a final rinse she called her sister, hoping the time difference would mean she was awake, but as she bounded down the steps, she was met with a voicemail and furrowed. She needed research and information. Anya knew about all of this.

“You’re up early for someone having a sleepover with their girlfriend,” her mother greeted her as she looked up from the newspaper spread out across the kitchen island. Her father looked up over the edge of the sports section before looking back down.

“I told you we didn’t have to worry,” he muttered, flapping the paper out. Lexa rolled her eyes and took a seat.

“It wasn’t a sleepover.”

“Your girlfriend spent the night in your bed. I’d call it a sleepover, and I’d say we’re pretty cold parents for allowing it.”

“I appreciate it, but nothing was going to happen.”

“Good, because we discussed how alcohol can alter perception and consent--”

“Yes, yes,” Lexa sighed and reached for an apple as her father droned on yet again, hoping to avoid another sex talk. “I know, Dad.”

They all remained in a respective silence while working past the moment. It was weird, to want to talk to someone, let alone to have anything to talk about, but Lexa felt this need to figure something out, though she wasn’t sure what it would be. She wished her sister had just picked up the phone.

“So is Clarke…”

“Still asleep.”

“Did you have fun at the party?”

“I wasn’t there long,” Lexa shrugged. “I was at Luna’s working on our submission until late. Gus was there, so I knew people.”

She didn’t mention Michelle from math and her bikini. That felt inappropriate.

“How’s Clarke doing?” her mother pressed, sipping from her coffee again, warily watching her daughter.

“She’s… I don’t know. Sad. Mad. Stuck. Overwhelmed.”

“It was nice that you went to get her. I appreciate you telling us what’s going on instead of trying to sneak around. Anya did that. I can’t tell you how many times I had to pretend not to notice boys sneaking around the yard.”

“Really?”

“We trust you both,” her father explained. “We just appreciate you doing making us have to stretch it so far.”

“And we like Clarke, so we’re happy to help.”

“I don’t really know what else to do, you know?” she muttered, wiping her mouth and leaning against the counter, her knee coming up on the stool. “I think I’d be a little upset too if I were in her shoes, so I would want to probably do a bunch of stuff, but also I don’t want her to be upset.”

Lexa’s father looked at her and then to his wife. She cocked her head and gave him a look, to which he returned a shrug and ushered her to do something. They were stuck as well because no parenting book prepared them for teenagers. And Anya was very different.

“You can’t do anything,” he finally offered.

“Tim!” his wife warned.

“It’s true. You can’t make this better. It’s between Clarke and her mother and her father. But you can be there for her, and try to encourage her to be healthy about grief and pain. You have some experience, I’d say.”

Lexa looked back at him and clenched her lips, worrying the bottom one as she mulled over his words.

“And as much as we love what you want to do and be for Clarke, please don’t forget who you are in all of this. You have needs nad you have goals. Someone else’s wellness is not entirely on your shoulders.”

“I know.”

“But just be around. That’s all anyone can do. Be of service to others.”

“Your father’s right though,” her mother continued. “You can’t fix it, just be there. It’s a boring answer.”

“If Dad were dying would you have an affair?”

“Jesus, Lexa.”

“What?”

“I’d haunt you,” Tim decided before turning back to his paper. “I’d haunt you really hard.”

“I’m done with both of you today,” she decided, tossing her part of the paper in his lap as she walked through the living room. “It’s not even eight and I’m retreating to my office. I hope you’re both proud.”

The pair shared a smile and shrugged as she disappeared down the hall.

“You know, just because we gave you one sleepover, I hope you don’t get too comfortable asking. This was an emergency. It’s always okay in an emergency, and you know the difference.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“I have golf in a bit, but this afternoon we could do some driving practice if you wanted?”

“Sounds good,” Lexa smiled.

For no reason at all, except maybe utter relief that she didn’t have to deal with the same problems Clarke did, she hugged her dad’s neck lazily over the back of the couch before making her way back upstairs.

XXXXXXXXXX

The vague memories of the night lingered like the stale taste of terrible vodka and beer, and Clarke smacked her lips, hoping to find any kind of liquid to get rid of the dry mouth. But her eyes felt heavy and glued shut, and her stomach felt like it was currently on the spin cycle, so moving wasn’t entirely feasible.

It had been dumb. It’d been stupid, even. Possibly as far as moronic, to go to Bellamy’s party, but it was the best alternative and boy did it feel nice to escape. Even the current state she found herself in was a welcomed punishment from feeling fine and being unable to exist in the world. Her current physical ailments felt like finally, the universe was manifesting itself, and she could fix the swirling stomach and cottonmouth. She could fix the spinning and soreness and bruises from God-knew what happened last night.

There wasn’t much else to be done, she suspected. Fix this moment, this hour, this day, and hope to survive to another one. It all had to end at some point.

Clarke finally managed to open her eyes, a feat she was certain no other human could have accomplished. She looked around Lexa’s room and gratefully accepted the water bottle and aspirin waiting beside the bed.

It took until halfway chugged, that she realized she was empty and the room was quiet. So she took a breath and held her stomach, certain she could hold it down. Carefully, she dressed, stealing Lexa’s old track sweats and an older soccer shirt, before making her way down the hall in search of something to fill her stomach.

“Someone else’s wellness is not entirely on your shoulders.”

“I know.”

Clarke paused at the top of the stairs when she heard the family talking. It felt like it was about her. She knew it had to be. It made her want to vomit.

“But just be around. That’s all anyone can do. Be of service to others.”

“Your father’s right though. You can’t fix it, just be there. It’s a boring answer.”

It was hard to be the subject of needing things. Clarke wasn’t someone who needed anyone. She wasn’t someone who wanted or needed to depend on anyone, and yet there was a girl, a girl who was too afraid to make a move, who imagined the world in terms of movie scenes and interpreted her own existence in the great world as a cosmic joke, always waiting for the punchline-- and this girl wanted to fix things.

“If Dad were dying would you have an affair?”

“Jesus, Lexa.”

“What?”

It hadn’t been a joke, but it made Clarke smile. No one expected that Lexa was serious, and she wanted to know the answer. There was shuffling and moving, and Clarke crept her way back to Lexa’s room.

She felt even dumber than she thought possible for going to see Bellamy. She wouldn’t do it again. She wouldn’t. She wouldn’t. She wouldn’t. The words echoed in her head. She meant it, she was certain. She wouldn’t.

“You’re awake,” Lexa grinned as she quietly closed the door behind her only to find her girlfriend sitting in her bed.

“I’m never drinking again.”

“Mhm, we’ll see.”

“Don’t be mean to me, I’m sick.”

“You’re hungover.”

“You don’t know what it feels like, do you?” Clarke accused, accepting the orange and another bottle of water that was handed to her as her girlfriend joined her in bed.

“Don’t see much appeal.”

“It always seems like a good idea at the time…”

Lexa just shrugged and crossed her legs. She ran her thumb along the faded script on the side of Clarke’s knee.

“I should head home,” she decided softly. “Sleep this off and such.”

“You could sleep here. I’m just going to work on the car a bit. Maybe go for a run. I have homework to finish.”

“I have to go home at some point.”

“Maybe.”

“It was very sweet of you to come get me.”

“I’m just glad you texted.”

“I’m not going to be like this, you know?”

“You can be however you want.”

It was a sweet sentiment that Clarke didn’t have the mental capacity to sit with, she decided, because she wasn’t ready to decide to be anything. But tomorrow, maybe, she’d think about it. She knew what she didn’t want to be, and that seemed like something, at least.

“I texted Raven to come get me.”

“If you’re sure.”

“I needed last night to cleanse myself, I think. I need today to regroup.”

“You have a very weird process,” Lexa decided.

Clarke just chuckled and leaned forward, burying her face in Lexa’s thigh and sighing.

XXXXXXXXXX

For the moment, the very tiny, very quick moment, everything felt like it was caught up, and Lexa allowed herself a few moments of quiet in the garage, because come hell or high water, she was going to finish the car by the last day of school. SATs were done, finally, and something that didn’t need to be explicitly worried about until scores were released in a few weeks. Her prom outfit was already purchased and prepared. Homework and studying were done. Sports were over for the season and conditioning wasn’t set to start for another two months, though she’d start her own soon enough. Her girlfriend was at work and then going off to a cheer competition for the weekend. Luna was putting the finishing touches on their film school application project. And anyone else that might ask Lexa to do anything was promptly ignored.

Two weeks before spring break, and Lexa was feeling high on her on efficiency.

All in all, Lexa decided that she had at least three days to power through as much as she could with her dad in a final push before sending it off to the paint appointment.

She hadn’t counted on her sister though, and as her phone blared, interrupting the music playing over the speakers, she smacked her head on the body of the car and slid herself from under it, grumbling the entire time.

“Don’t you have fancy plans. It’s a Friday night,” she chided the eldest.

“I’m getting ready, I was just thinking about you.”

“Gross.”

“Because I ran into a girl that asked about you and I had no idea you had a friend at CMU, let alone a drop dead gorgeous film student.”

Lexa furrowed and twirled her wrench around before trying to dive back in under the seat and finish installing the seatbelts in the back. It dawned on her then and she snorted.

“That’s just Costia.”

“Ohhh, just Costia-- who the fuck is Costia?”

“I met her when I came to visit last fall remember? You were the one telling me to make a move but I was very drunk, something you did to me as well?”

“Doesn’t ring a bell.”

“At the party. I posted a picture…” she grunted and twisted. “She found me on Instagram. We talk about movies and I’ve shown her some of my stuff and junk.”

“Interesting.”

“Why?”

“Just not many freshman looking to hang out with high school juniors.”

“I’m clearly advanced.”

“Clearly,” Anya rolled her eyes over the phone.

“I’ve been talking to her about film programs and applying--”

“Here? You’re thinking about coming here?”

“Fuck!” she hissed and sat up, doing her best to suck on the cut that came to her thumb from her maneuvering. “I don’t know.”

It wasn’t a serious inquiry, Lexa thought to herself. She was set. She had a plan with Luna. They’d had it since they were ten, and there was really on reason to deviate from it. But then a stranger liked her stuff, and this stranger made stuff Lexa liked. And the stranger became a friend who gave her some screenwriting tips and pushed her to get better at it. And the stranger told her the east coast was just as important to film.

But it didn’t matter.

There was a plan.

“You should seriously consider it. It’s a great program I hear. Come out for spring break!”

“I should stay here.”

“And do what? Work on that car? Dad already told me he’s sending it out for interior and paint. You’re pretty much done anyway.”

“Mom and Dad have conferences that week. I was going to watch movies all week with Clarke.”

“Bring her too. Sounds like she needs an escape.” Anya was getting excited, and Lexa was tugged along for the ride. “You can crash in my dorm. Even just for a few days, not the whole week.”

“Mom won’t like me missing so much time to study.”

“Call it a college visit for a potential school.”

“Luna will lose her mind,” Lexa shook her head and pinched her thumb to try to stop it without a bandaid.

“Fuck Luna. I’m going to ask Mom if she’d rather you were here, supervised by me, or home alone for a whole week.”

From the change in volume, Lexa knew she was texting immediately. She sighed. It would be fun to see the school as a potential option. It might even be nice to catch up with Costia. It would even be better to see her sister, who just at the moment, she realized she’d missed since her last visit.

“Should I ask Clarke if she wants to go?” Lexa finally ventured, returning to her work.

“Definitely.”

“Should I really consider your school as an option?”

“You should.”

She had a plan, Lexa remembered, and there was no point deviating, but she did want to see her sister.

“If they say it’s okay.”

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eyoricka · 3 years

Text

Pete’s assistant - Pete Davidson

Words: 2160

Warning: 2 curse words

Requested: yes

You had been Pete’s assistant for many years now. You had begun as an intern at NBC and that’s how you met Pete. The two of you immediately clicked, there was like a strange bond between you like you always knew each other or were meant to meet, to work together. So at the end of your internship, Pete asked you if you wanted to be his assistant, to help him with pretty much everything. He wasn’t famous enough to really have a publicist, so you also fill up this role. It was funny at first. Pete was nice to you, never asking for anything impossible to get. Contrary to many other celebs with their assistant, he treated you like his equal. Planning interviews was something you enjoyed, he was mostly in some presented by his friends, so it was pretty chill, and you learnt so much. You let Pete took charge of his social media presence, he was more than okay at it, was natural and able to create a connection with his fans.

However, at some point everything changed. Pete got way bigger, he was famous like really famous, not just known by SNL and stand-ups afficionados. Things got out of hand quickly. You still liked to work for Pete, he was still adorable to you but handling negative comments, the infamous song about him, people reactions and the repercussions on his mental health was a nightmare. You had too much to think about: to make sure he was feeling okay or at least not too bad, to make sure he would sleep, eat, not take too much drugs, go to work, go outside, try to stop the continuous harassment… Pete hired a publicist to take some weight out of your shoulders and have someone who would focus only on his impacted public image. Even though, Pete was probably at rock bottom, it was nice to see that he would still be kind to you, trying to smile a bit when you were ding your best to cheer him up.

And this is how the problems began for you. You knew the rule number one of any assistant: never fall for your boss. But you couldn’t help it. You had always loved his personality however you never considered having feelings for him. However, seeing him hurt, fragile but still caring about his close circle, still trying his best everyday for people he loved, still being nice when he could easily be an ass and take the heartbreak as an excuse, was enough to make you acknowledged that maybe you wanted to be more than a friend to him.

You decided to keep your emotions for yourself. You didn’t want to make a fool of yourself or lose your job and friend for feelings that would never be reciprocated. To forget about them, you went on dates with several people, it was a failure. Every time you could stop yourself from comparing your date with Pete. Even if some people were funny enough, smart enough, kind enough, they were simply not enough. A date with them was pleasant but you couldn’t picture more, and it would be cruel to force a relationship with someone you didn’t have feelings for just to hide your current crush. So after some dates you gave up on the idea of finding someone for the moment and preferred to take time for yourself. As the year went on, you were the witness of Pete’s different and non-working relationships. You were happy for him, truly. He was able to move on which was great and he felt more like himself. But it still hurt to see him get far too involved in relations that were doomed to fail. He was too intense and passionate for his own good. You advised him to follow your example and take time for himself, to love himself and understand what he wanted, needed from a partner. Surprisingly, he did it and it did good on him.

A few months later, you were at a small gathering to celebrate Pete’s Netflix comedy special. The reviews were good, and the audience was following, it was great to watch Pete’s career on track to success, he would finally be recognized for his art. You were talking to Dave about the process of writing when you are down and how cathartic humor is. You glanced distractedly several times in Pete’s direction confident that you were discreet. As your drink was empty, you scanned the room to find the nearest bottle of a beverage you like. Your eyes met Colson’s ones and he grinned mischievously at you. You rose an eyebrow wondering why he looked like a devious elf and quickly manage to appease your thoughts, rationalizing that it was only Colson being his drunk and high self.

As you made your way to the counter full of bottles to pour you a glass, you felt two hands clapped your shoulders. You turned promptly and faced Colson who was smirking even wider.

“What do you want?” You asked not surprised by his presence but cautious about what he was about to say.

“Well just to chat with a lovely assistant, it has been a while since we haven’t talk.” He replied sweetly, an innocent smile replacing his smirk and you understood fully well why so many girls were crazy about him.

“Cut the crap” You deadpanned, not in the mood for his banter.

“I still wonder why I try to sugarcoat things with you” he mumbled certainly more for himself. After some long seconds of silence, he let out in a charming voice: “Don’t you think that would be the perfect night?”

You weren’t sure of what he was implying. He liked flirting but you seriously doubt that he was since he would never cross that border, maybe he was just bored or wanted to tease you. You didn’t give him the satisfaction of an answer that would fuel his joust.

“You don’t ask me the perfect night for what?” He added kind of amused by your lack of reaction. “Well I will tell you anyway because else it wouldn’t be funny. So my dear don’t you think it would be the perfect night to admit your badly hidden feelings for you know who.”

You gulped at those words. You attempt to come back with a witty, chill repartee that would show that you were diverted by this non-sense and not knowing about what he was talking about, but your mind was blank. You were sure that tonight before sleeping while your mind would replay this scene, you would think of many clever replies.

“Still no answer, I bet that this time it is not for the same reason, right” Colson joked, and you cursed yourself.

“I just don’t understand what you mean” you eventually managed to say, cringing at this lame attempt to act cool.

“Your blushing cheeks and stiff body are telling the opposite” Nice even your own body was now betraying you.

“I get that you are bored Colson and even if it would probably be the funniest thing of your night, I don’t plan on becoming the biggest idiot of the party for your entertainment. I know Pete doesn’t like me and it is okay, you can’t control someone’s feelings and…”

“I hope you realize that you already are the biggest idiot of the night” He cut you “and Pete is too. I can’t get my head around the fact that you are both blind, incapable of seeing the way the other looks at you. Shshshsh don’t reply, don’t want to waste my time on hearing you tell me that I am lying, imagining stuffs, and complaining about my behavior, I‘ve already had this long speech from Pete. You can do whatever you want, go tell him or don’t but just know that you don’t risk much. And don’t count on him to come, he is sure he has no chance. So please have the balls for the both you.” He was about to leave you there with many contradictory thoughts filling your head when he leaned to whisper: “But really please do tell him tonight, I bet some bucks with John that you would be the brave one, don’t prove me wrong.”

You nudged him and he burst out of laughter as you showered him with imaginative curses. You decided to sit few minutes just to take time to reflect. You needed to process what you just heard. If indeed had feelings for you, things would change drastically. You felt yourself slowly but surely drifting into panic. A part of your brain was screaming that it was lies maybe because it was easier to accept than the truth. You had dreamt of this but it was a dream and you weren’t sure that you were ready for that right now. Intrusive thoughts were running in your head defeating your ounce of rationality and calm. One of your hand was clenched on your drink firmly and you closed your eyes while inhaling and exhaling to relax yourself. From the outside you certainly looked crazy but you didn’t care, it didn’t even crossed your mind.

You were so focused on your breath that you didn’t notice someone siting next to you and neither feel this person hand on yours. When you opened your eyes, you detect that you were no longer alone and the person with you was none other than Pete. He softly smiled at you and you felt like dying inside, this smile was enough to make you forget any doubts, anything, to appease. You smiled back at him kindly. He seemed to be struggling to say something and you took the lead.

“I guess that Colson talks to you too, huh?” You questioned, your voice was a bit shaking and you had eaten half of your words however you knew that he had understood you.

“Kind of” he stated and your next words died in your throat, you were losing your confidence. Those tow simple words held a clear message: yes we talk but no I don’t like you. “Actually, John did most of the talking” he joked or at least try to. He was also way to stress to really be funny.

You wanted to say something, to admit what was consuming you inside nevertheless you were scared, you refuse to be too blunt on this. You had to be subtle, to find a way to make him realize but without saying it, so if the feelings were not reciprocal it would not be too awkward.

“Colson mentioned a bet on us” You hid your reddening face behind your drink and casually take a sip or at least as casually as you can considering your current position.

“I heard about it too” His fingers were drumming against his tights in nervousness. “I am kind of bother by it you see.” You nodded, you felt crushed inside, of course he would be bothered, who would not be bothered to be shipped with someone they don’t have feelings for. You did everything you could to remain still and not crack, not now, not in front of him, of his friends. “I don’t really any of them to get this money like I guess I want them to be right, but I don’t like them betting on us”. You blinked several times not sure if you were on the same page. “I am not very clear, I am? Well obviously, I am not, I have never been very clear in those situations. Maybe clearer than now, because now what I am saying is a mess, well normally it is confused but understandable. And I am rambling right now and I don’t even know why. Maybe because it is intimidating, like we know each other for so long and what I am saying is that it is different.”

He had lost you with his confused sentences, was he trying to reject you or the contrary. You wanted a certain answer, not an interpretation based on a wrong reading of the situation, actually you did not want this answer, you needed it. He was still digressing when you took the courage to interrupt him: “Pete please listen to me okay.” He shut up and looked at you in the eyes, sort of hanging of the words you would pronounce. “I like you Pete and not like I like Ricky or John, I mean not like a friend. Do you understand?”

There were few awfully long seconds of silence before you felt Pete’s forehead against yours and his hands on yours. “Fuck, you are a lot better at verbalizing this than I am” He smiled brightly, he was so beautiful when he was happy. “Can I kiss you?” He asked still quite unsure and you gently pressed your lips against his. It was a short and sweet kiss, the kind that promise wonderful tomorrows full of love, full of life.

#pete davidson #pete davidson x reader #pete davidson x you #snl fic #pete davidson fic #pete davidson oneshot #pete davidson imagine #pete davidson fanfic

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sokkas-honour · 4 years

Note

hii if ur taking requests can i get a zuko x reader where they get into an argument & they dont talk to each other for sometime but then they make up & its just angsty & super fluffy? also can it be when zuko's firelord? thank u!!

ofc you can! hopefully this works :) it’ll be a two parter

The ember island failures: part one - zuko x reader

summary : zuko and you had been growing slighty apart from all his duties as firelord. in order for him to catch a break as well as spend more time with you, you both planned a trip to ember island months ago but what happens when the avatar shows up stating he had a diplomatic trip with the firelord planned the same day you’re set to leave

wc : 1.8k

notes/warnings: i tried to make this as gender neutral as possible but didnt know how to switch out firelady to it being gender neutral so i apoligise. i use a curse word here and there but thats about it. stay tune for two though!!

part two

taglist (always open) : @draqondance @biqherosix

you woke up, excitement cursing through your veins as you immediately remembered what was happening today, you were heading to ember island with your boyfriend to finally have some time alone to relax, away from all of the problems in the world for just a few days. your excitement dimmed a bit as you realised zuko was long out of bed but it didn’t matter, you’d have him all to yourself later today.

you finished packing a couple of things, even taking the time to make zuko’s bag so that he didn’t have another responsibility on top of everything he already has to deal with. your excitement was still going strong as you gently put a couple of bathing suits into your bag. once you were done, you called a nearby servant that you adored to bring the bags to the airship.

your smile and happiness filled the nearby palace corridors, making nearby servants and guards chuckle as it had been a while since they’d seen anyone in the palace seem so carefree. you made your way to the kitchen and asked the cook if you could have a fruit tart and of course he gave it to you, you had always been so nice to him and his staff, constantly complimenting the food, they couldn’t wait for you to finally become firelady.

munching on a fruit tart, you made your way to the courtyard where zuko and you met each morning if he’d awoken long before you. you waited patiently while watching the baby turtle ducks splash around making you smile at how adorable they were. suddenly, you heard a voice that you recognised but it wasn’t the raspy one you loved but the chirpy voice of the young avatar.

“y/n! it’s so good to see you!” he exclaimed while walking towards you, turning your head to meet his gaze you grinned. it had been a couple of months since you’d seen your friends with whom you’d traveled the world with in order to defeat the old firelord. though his presence did confuse you.

“aang! it’s been so long!” you met him half way and embraced him in a hug, god it had been a while.

“it has, it really has. i’m sorry that i can’t talk for awhile, appa has become a bit impatient these days but hopefully we can catch up on him while we see how yu dao is going! speaking of that, any idea where zuko is?” he chirped. his words bright and cheery confused you, since when were you and zuko going to yu dao? you were both supposed to leave for a couples getaway to ember island, not a diplomatic trip to the ex colonies.

before you got to ask your friend about what the hell he was talking about, you saw the love of your life from over his shoulder.

“aang! it’s so great to see you!” his sweet, slightly raspy, voice beamed. his facial expressions all showed the sheer amount of happiness that the firelord felt to finally see a friend of his that he’d been away from for awhile. with greeting aang on his mind, zuko didn’t notice the look of confusion on his partner’s face.

the airbender turned around, his back now facing you, in order to embrace his close friend.

“there you are! how was the fire nation been since i last saw you two?” aang asked after they separated from their hug. he had directed the question to the both of you but you were still confused as to what was going on to even bother to answer the question but apparently your face didn’t express your current feeling as your usually attentive boyfriend hadn’t looked at you in any way other than just happiness. he even made his way next to you, placed an arm around your waist and gently kissed your forehead as a way to say good morning.

“it’s been worse that’s for sure.” he joked nervously, not wanting the avatar to be worried. both boys turned to you for your answer but were met with silence until you realised they were waiting for you to speak.

“yeah, it has.” you absentmindedly said but quickly composed yourself as to not alert the benders near you. you added on to your response in a more cheery and reading manner. “firelord business has been stealing this boy from me.”

all three of you nervously laughed.

“we should probably start heading out, appa’s been a bit impatient these last couple of days so i don’t want to keep him waiting for too long.” aang was the first to speak, urging the couple to bring their stuff into the flying bison.

“i’ve already told a guard to bring my bags to the barn, i just need to double check something with a general and i’ll meet you out there.” zuko informed him and removed his hand from your waist. he turned around but before he could even make a step, you grabbed his wrist to stop and interrogate him.

“when did you plan this trip to yu dao?” you asked rather harshly as his head turned to face you in order to hear what you wanted to say.

“aang wrote to me about two weeks ago in order to check on how they’re doing ever since they’ve been left to do their own thing. didn’t i tell you about this the other day.” he turned his body around completely to face you.

“no, you haven’t told me anything zuko. we haven’t had more than ten minutes to each other in so long!” you exclaimed and his eyebrows furrowed in confusion, he was so sure he’d told you about it.

“i’m sorry then, i genuinely thought it’d told you. now, if you don’t mind i’m gonna go to general ikoso to make sure that he’s got everything under control. then i’ll come back to say goodbye okay?” he reasoned with you, eyes darting to your grip on his wrist, trying to make you get the hint to just move on and let him do his job.

“don’t you even remember what today was supposed to be? or are you stupid enough to forget about it?” you asked accusingly, removing your grip rather aggressively.

“hey guys, i’m just gonna go wait by appa. y/n, it was to see you, zuko, i’ll see you by appa.” the airbender awkwardly said trying to get out of the area, not wanting to see any sort of fight between his friends. you felt a bit guilty about bringing this up while aang was around but you couldn’t bother to wait.

“that’s fine aang, youre good.” you turned your head briefly to give him a small smile before he rushed out awkwardly and turned back to your boyfriend.

“no y/n, last time i checked it wasn’t our anniversary, it isn’t your birthday or mine. believe me, i would never forget those even when i’m swamped with work.” zuko smiled warmly reassuring you which just made you even madder.

“you’re right, you didn’t because i would be even more pissed at you.” you calmed down a little making him chuckle a bit at your statement. you continued.

“you forgot about the fact that we’ve been planning a trip to ember island for months!” your anger and annoyance came back, completely ditching the softer tone you’d taken just a second ago.

you watched as his face went from a simple smile to confusion, to realisation to then regret and embarrassment.

“shit, i completely forgot we even planned that, it’s fine we can reschedule.” he asked for forgiveness while attempting to reason with you, if only he knew that it only pissed you off.

“no we can’t zuko! i’ve been prepping for this for months! it was a time for us to finally see each other because you’re never around! i understand you have duties as a firelord, believe me, i agreed to deal with all of this when i followed you to the fire palace after ozai. but you also agreed to make time for me! and guess what? you’ve completely neglected me for the last couple of weeks!” you vented, your voice getting louder and louder as you continued.

“y/n-”

“no! listen to me! not only have you been neglecting me but you have also been neglecting yourself! you wake up before me and go to bed after me, so not only do i not see you, you’re barely getting any sleep zuko! you’re tiring yourself out, i can see it, aang probably saw it, hell everyone who works in this stupid palace can see it! you’re gonna hurt yourself and you keep denying to open up to me or even just relax!” you interrupted him, not wanting him to interrupt you before you finished. your tone switched from accusing to just pleading after you took a breath. “you promised me this trip! you promised yourself this trip! two weeks, that’s all i’m asking for zuko! everyone in this damn place was ready to take over while we enjoyed time together, something we haven’t experienced in months. please zuko, i’m sure aang would understand.”

his eyes had averted from your gaze a while ago and was just staring at the ground, trying to figure out what to say to his partner that as he personally believed was in the right but he just couldn’t take a break now. him cancelling a diplomatic mission could come to hurt him later but he knew that aang could deal with it.

you stared at him while his gears were turning, your right hand had suddenly placed itself on his upper left arm to add to the fact that you were pleading him to understand your point of view.

he lifted his head and stepped back, making you drop your hand to your side and search for his gaze to try and anticipate what he was going to say.

“seeing how yu dao is going is more important than a stupid little trip y/n.” he harshly stated, his usually warm gaze turned rather cold which took you aback. you swallowed literally and figuratively the information, taking in your boyfriend neglecting the trip that had planned months ago, his mental and physical health, and your relationship together.

“well zuko, if you feel that way, i guess i’ll see you in two weeks. believe me, my trip wouldn’t have been any different than my every day life.” you replied, your tone matching his before sharply turning on your heals and left towards the docking area before he could even reply.

zuko watched you leave, realisation washing over him at his words as you were out of his eyesight.

“damnit, how stupid could i be?” zuko cursed under is breath, head leaning slightly on his arms. he took a deep breath and made his way to the stables where he assumed appa was with his head down in shame. he just hopped that when you saw each other again everything would be forgotten.

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