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thedeathdeelers · 4 years

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Juke fluff, right this way (based on this post)

you’re music to me (now on AO3)

“So, how come you guys are always here?”

Julie was staring down at her latest doodle, contemplating adding some more purple to bring out the details, when the question popped into her head. She had been wondering for a while now why the boys weren’t using more of their supernatural ghostly powers to their advantage, and figured that now was as good a time as any to ask.

It was a Saturday afternoon, and both Reggie and Alex had disappeared off to wherever they liked to spend their free time. Whenever they weren’t practicing, the boys usually found ways to entertain themselves, mostly at the expense of the other members of the Molina family.

Luke on the other hand, could usually be found either in the studio cooped up writing new lyrics, or hanging out with Julie in her bedroom (although even then, he would still have his notebook on him, jotting down words and melodies as inspiration struck), as was the current case.

Julie and Luke were sitting cross legged across each other on Julie’s bed; Julie doodling on a school notebook, and Luke working on a particularly difficult bridge for a new song they were hoping to premiere at their next gig in a few weeks.

So when Julie had asked Luke her question and she wasn’t directly met with an answer, she had just figured that he was busy writing down new ideas in his song book. But when the silence stretched longer than was usual for Luke, Julie finally looked up and noticed him staring at her with an odd expression on his face.

“What? Did I say something? What’s wrong?”

“Do you- do you want m- us to leave? I- I mean we thought you were fine with us living here, what with the band picking up and- But of course, if you want us to leave, that’s completely fine. The boys’ll understand and-“

“No! No that’s not what I meant at all!” Julie’s eyes got incredibly large, as she realised how her words must have been perceived. She frantically shook her head, her ponytail whipping at her cheeks with the movement, as her hands, covered in smudges of colourful ink reached out to rest on his knees.

“No, Luke. Of course I don’t mind you guys staying here - I really do like- love having you guys around. I just meant- I mean you guys can literally teleport anywhere, do anything, and not have to worry about getting caught. But as far as I can tell, you guys just hang around here all the time, or meet up with Willie every now and then at some random celebrity’s house.” Julie pulled her hands back in her lap, shrugging. “I don’t know, I guess I was just wondering why?”

She could see him visibly deflating, the odd expression on his face having morphed into a more composed look. He let out a breath, tapping his pen loudly against the pages in front of him with one hand, while the other rubbed at the back of his neck.

“Yeah, we- I mean we just haven’t felt the need to do anything else, I guess? When we first got here, we explored all of our old haunts,” insert smirk here, “checked out some of the new music that’s been taking over the scene - we even went to a few concerts.” He shrugged, his hand coming back down to rest on his knee. “But nothing’s really pulled at us enough to seriously want to leave for any extended period of time.”

She found that quite strange. Here she was talking to the boy who told her that their instruments were attached to their souls, and he was simply shrugging at the idea of being able to go to any concert anywhere, for free, without any consequences.

“You’re telling me you’re not even interested in checking out some of the older bands you guys were really into? Attend some of the concerts you always wanted to go to but couldn’t because they were on the other side of the country? Of the world?” She could hear how dubious she was starting to sound, but she couldn’t help it. None of this made sense.

Luke tilted his head to the side as he looked at Julie with a look that made it seem she was missing the obvious.

“But you wouldn’t be able to come with us? Where would the fun be in that?” He smiled at her, a small glint in his eyes. She rolled hers at him in return.

“Ha ha, very funny. Seriously, Luke, aren’t you, for lack of a better word, dying to go see certain people, certain bands, live? For free?”

He shrugged again, seeming unbothered by her line of questioning.

“Not really. I haven’t really felt any pull to check out new music in a while. I’ve been more excited about the stuff we’ve been making anyway.” He paused, playfully tapping her knee. “Plus I’m not sure I’d be able to properly enjoy a concert if I knew you couldn’t be there. Not as fun.”

She stared at him, wondering if his sanity had been touched.

“Not as fun? Really? I hope you realise you’re not making any sense. You know damn well that having Reggie with you alone would be enough. He’s the life of every party, dead or alive.”

She heard him snort, his head bending back down as he prepared to refocus his attention on the song book in his lap.

“I don’t know, Julie. It’s hard to explain. I just-“ He stopped himself mid-sentence, suddenly seeming to be too engrossed by the words on the pages in front of him. Only she knew better.

She put her notebook aside, and crawled across the tiny space between them, coming to rest on her folded knees right in front of him. She put her hands on his, stilling the tapping of the pen, and covering the words on the pages. She patiently waited for him to finally look up, focusing his attention back on her.

“Luke, you know I’d never hold it against any of you guys if you were to go and have fun without me. You guys deserve it - all you do is hang around here, unless we’re playing a gig somewhere. You should be enjoying your afterlife, not spending it constantly practicing or writing new songs or worrying about our next gig. Live a little!” He was frowning throughout her speech, but she could see the corners of his lips twitching a little at her choice of words.

He stayed quiet though, just staring at her, his eyes searching for something on her face. What it was he was looking for, she couldn’t tell you.

But after a few minutes of silence, he took a deep breath, tilting his head backwards as he closed his eyes, his hands twisting around, threading his fingers through hers.

“It’s not that I- that we would feel guilty, Jules. We’re happy with the way things are here. And to tell you the truth, I haven’t really felt the need to look for new music for a while now - what we create, you and me and the boys, it keeps changing and shifting and surprising me everyday.” He sighs, bringing his face back down, his eyes opening as they centred back on hers. In a softer tone, he continued. “Why would I go looking for something else, when everything I need is right here?”

She had a feeling he wasn’t just talking about music anymore.

“Why would I want to go searching for something else Jules, when I’ve already found the best? Something that I have right here, right under my fingertips?” He let go of her hands as he reached for her face, hers falling limply into his lap. His fingers brushed her cheeks lightly, leaving a trail of goosebumps behind, before they settled under her jaw, cradling her face in his palms. She couldn’t speak even if she wanted to.

“I have no desire whatsoever to go to concerts or look for new music, new talent, when you literally live under the same roof as I do.” His thumbs caressed her cheeks, his face moving closer to hers.

“You are music to me, Julie. As long as you’re in my life, my afterlife, whatever you want to call it, I see no reason in looking for anything, or anyone, else.”

He closed the distance between them, his forehead coming to rest against hers. She could do nothing but stare up at him, eyes wide and mouth hanging slightly open, her mind furiously trying to process Luke’s words.

You are music to me, Julie.

Her heart was beating so quickly, so loudly, it felt like it was about to burst out of her chest and take flight. She tried to focus on her breathing, taking deep breaths to center herself, before she gave up and threw herself into the stunned ghost’s lap. She wrapped her arms around him, and pressed her face into the crook of his neck. With the shock of the impact, Luke lost his balance, sending both teenagers tumbling backwards onto the bed. But even then, all Julie did was press herself closer against Luke, hoping he wouldn’t try to pull away.

To her delight all he did was readjust their position, tucking her head under his chin as he wrapped his arms around her, hugging her tighter against him.

“What did I do to deserve such enthusiasm?” He chuckled, his hands rubbing soothing circles on her back.

Julie just shook her head, her lips moving against his neck. She felt him shiver beneath her, causing her lips to tilt upwards.

They remained in this position for a while, Luke rubbing her back, as Julie continued to breathe in his scent, enjoying this quiet intimate moment with him for as long as possible.

But then she felt Luke shift as he turned to his side, her head softly hitting the mattress beneath her. With their legs still tangled, and her arms still securely wrapped around him, she looked up at him, his face hovering a few inches above hers.

“I just want to try something,” was all he said.

And with that he moved down until his head cane to rest against her chest. His arms snaked around her waist, as he pressed his ear closer to where her heart was currently beating a mile a minute.

With a loud sigh, Luke stilled, remaining in that position. Julie tried to stay quiet, tried to keep her curiosity at bay, but she simply couldn’t.

“Luke, what are you doing? I mean, not that I mind but, is there a reason you moved?” She tugged lightly at his hair, her fingers finding refuge in his soft brown locks.

She could feel him shake his head under her fingers, as he quietly started to hum a melody she couldn’t recognise. His fingers then joined in, tapping along to an unknown beat on her waist. She shifted her head to the side, craning her neck trying to get a glimpse of Luke’s expression.

She could see a smile making an appearance on his face, and could swear she could feel his touch getting warmer, see light emanating from his every pore.

“Luke?”

A beat of silence. He opened his eyes, as he looked at her with a tender look and the softest smile gracing his lips.

“I’m just listening to my favourite song.”

“Oh? What favourite song? I heard you humming it, but I’m not sure I recognised it?”

“No, no. I wasn’t humming the song, I was just adding a little melody as an accompanying piece.”

Julie was thoroughly confused. “I don’t get it. Accompanying piece to what?”

“To my favourite song silly, I already told you. It’s more of a beat, really, but when I’m listening to it I swear I can hear the sweetest sounds in my head.”

When Julie still didn’t understand what in the world he was talking about, that frustrated look refusing to leave her face, Luke took pity on her as he started tapping out the beat on her waist again, demonstrating to her what he meant.

It took her a little while, but once she focused, she realised he was tapping along to her heartbeat. It stuttered at her realisation, and Luke’s fingers followed, not missing a beat.

Oh. Oh.

Her hands tightened their hold on his head as she tugged harder, guiding him back up towards her. She couldn’t hold it in anymore, refused to hold it in anymore. Once he was at her eye level, close enough she could feel his breath on her lips, she whispered-

“I love you.”

The brightest smile she had ever seen took over Luke’s face, his eyes shining as they competed against the brightness of his smile. His hands reached up, cradling her face again as he whispered back against her lips:

“You are music to me now, you are music to me forever.”

Forever. She liked the sound of that. If she could somehow manage to keep him for that long, it might just be enough.

FIN

#jatp #julie and the phantoms #jatp fic #juke #juke fic #my fics #fluff #so much fluff #it’s ridiculous #luke patterson #julie molina #julie x luke #thedeathdeelers fics

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ageofevermore · 4 years

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The Sun Met The Moon

SUMMARY — and finally the sun and the moon met, and they fell madly in love

WORD COUNT — 2.5k

NOTE — part three to part one + part two

───── ･｡ﾟ☆ﾟ: *. ☽ .* : ☆ﾟ. ─────

alex’s drums:

Sweat clung to his brow and shone in the golden light of midday. She smiled at the sight of him, stripped of all awareness and singled in on the task at hand. He had Alex’s drumsticks between his fingers, and a black ballpoint pen between his teeth. She watched him for a while, tracing the flex of his biceps every time he beat at the mounted toms. A blush of sheer adoration spread across her stomach lining, unleashing that same kaleidoscope of butterflies through her being that she had been introduced to weeks ago. Maybe it was too soon to say she loved him, but she could see the rest of her tomorrows in his arms.

“Hey, Ghostie.” She smiled at him from halfway across the room, advancing with less stealth now that he was aware of her presence. “What’cha working on?” She questioned. When her bare torso brushed against the snare drums, she leaned forward to kiss his lips sweetly. He tilted his chin upwards and pushed his bottom lip out, asking for another just seconds after she pulled away from the first.

“Just some new instrumentals.” He mumbled, setting the drumsticks and ballpoint pen aside on the floor tom. He reached for her hands, mumbling a gentle breathed, “come here”, and pulled her down into his lap when his hands could guide her waist. Luke smiled against her neck when she giggled, turning her head so she could tickle his ear with kisses.

“What are you doing?” She giggled when his hot breath tickled the patch of skin his tongue had just caressed. He was being his usually sweet self, though something else was prompting these touchy motives. “Alex is going to kill us if we mess up his drums.” She pulled away from the lips on her neck when they began to distract her, and instead she leveled her eyes with his.

“Said you wanted to play the drums with me.” Luke smiled, nipping at her lips when she pulled them tight in a sheepish grin. She broke out into a full fledged smile at his silliness, cupping his cheeks with her hands and pulling his lips to hers in a proper kiss. “Put your foot on that pedal.” His arms looped around her waist, holding her tightly against him so she wouldn’t slip away from his touch when they started. “That’s the bass pedal. Push it every four counts and when we get to the pre chorus every eight, yeah?”

Luke had gone through relationships and heartbreaks prior to what he had with Mia, but he had never been with someone who understood music like she did. He hadn’t ever met anyone like Mia.

hair braiding:

She left him with Julie and the boys while the sun was still high, letting the band get a few solid hours of practice in without her distraction. She loved Luke, but he was incapable of getting anything done while she lingered, always wanting a cuddle or a kiss. It was cute, made her feel desirable, but she feared it would get annoying for their friends.

She felt his gentle breath against her neck before she felt his arms snaking around her waist, pulling her back into his chest. She didn’t care that his hands were cold as he wiggled them between the waistband of her shorts and dug them into the flesh of her hips. She was just thankful that she still got to feel him against her.

“How was the rest of rehearsal?” She asked softly, reaching her hand up to gently twist silky strands of his milk chocolate locks. Her nails scratched against his scalp, encouraging his arms fall heavy across her sides for a few blissful seconds. She strained against his hold, but he didn’t seem to notice her writhing, or when she let out a soft whine of discontent.

Luke went on about practice, and the song he and Julie introduced to the boys. His smile was evident against her neck, and this time he noticed when she flexed against his hold and tried to twist in his arms. His retelling of practice seized, a smile cradling his lips as he squeezed her tighter, keeping her still.

“What are you trying to do?” Luke taunted, watching her strain once more before admitting surrender to his tight eskomo embrace. He kissed a path along her neck, but it did nothing to distract her from her ultimate goal.

“Let me hold you.” She managed through smiles and hums when his lips tickled her skin, heating the already dangerously hot exposed skin. Luke broke out into a full fledged grin, biting gently at the hollow of her neck.

She wrapped her arms around his shoulders loosely, digging her fingers into his hair, and smiling contently. His head was heavy on her chest, but the weight was welcomed greedily. She loved just getting to hold him like this, considering most days he was pulling her into his lap and showering her with love. Absentmindedly, she had twisted strands of shaggy brown hair into a french braid.

reggie + alex being younger siblings:

Mia and Luke had finally settled down in the basement for a movie night. Julie had been the cover story, though once Mia’s parents were convinced of the girls sleepover, she snuck out of the window and made a mad dash for Flynn’s.

Mia grinned at the blue reflecting off of Luke’s eyes. She had seen Mamma Mia more than a handful of times, in fact it was her favorite modern musical, but Luke had never experienced it, and watching him was better then any scene between Meryl and Amanda.

“Do you like it?” She grinned eagerly, watching Luke’s smile widen when he looked down at her expression of sheer excitement.

She nearly shrieks when Reggie’s voice sounds instead of Luke’s, and her head snaps to the side to find both Alex and Reggie curled up in two spare blankets. Luke looks majorly annoyed, forcing a glare at his bandmates.

“What are you doing here?” He seethed, not lightening up despite the amused smile growing on Mia’s lips.

“You said it was movie night.” Reggie shrugged. “You know, Mia, this isn’t what I expected from you.” He vocalized, not batting an eye when Luke threw his head back in exasperation and threw a handful of popcorn in his direction. The leather clad brunette hummed, picking up a popped kernel and throwing it into his mouth, nodding towards Alex in confirmation of it’s good taste.

“So much for date night.” She whispers into Luke’s chest, though she was just happy to be beside her boyfriend and sharing her favorite film with him.

pre show + post show cuddles:

Luke’s head was buried in the crook of her neck, his anxious fingertips digging into the flesh of her hips. Julie and the Phantoms were playing the Orpheum, again, and his nerves were unrelenting in their assault towards his confidence.

“It’s gonna be great, baby.” She whispered into his ear, fingers twisting at the loose strands of hair that had slipped from the two braids down his scalp. She pulled the elastic tighter, laughing when Luke winced. “You’ll be great.”

“Phantom’s your on in 5!”

Luke squeezed her waist tighter, though whatever nerves had plagued him just seconds ago seemed to dismantle. He was hyping himself up, thrilled by the approaching gig. He got so in his head that he forgot he loved this, it just took a couple braids and kisses to set his confidence back.

“You’ve got your bearings now?” She teased, kissing Luke’s nose and standing from his lap. She held her hands out for him, helping him up and off of the chair. The blue eyed boy nodded, shaking out his hands and forcing a wide grin onto his lips that had her laughing. “Go knock your socks off, Rockstar.”

Luke made a b-line for her after their set wrapped, his sweaty body pinning her in a hug while she squealed and tried to worm away.

“Luke! You’re disgusting. You’re all sweaty.” She whined. Her arms were pinned to her sides and her face was pressed into his chest, filling her with only the scent and feel of his sweaty and smelly body. “Stop it!” She threw her head backwards with a laugh, somehow managing to break away from his embrace.

The braids she had tied into his hair were dripping with sweat so much so that the elastic was falling to the ends of his chocolate locks. She bats at his chest, nodding in the direction of the showers around the corner, “Go take a shower, smelly ellie.”

Luke breaks out into a grin, forcing a ket kiss to her cheek before rushing off in the direction of the communal bathroom and showers, chasing Alex and Reggie who had clearly had the same idea.

guitar lessons:

“These chords right?” She looked up with the same crescent moons in her eyes that Luke had fallen in love with. She had yet to stop trying to impress him, getting better and better at her musical craft by the day.

“Exactly.” Luke smiled, blue eyes glistening releasing the same kaleidoscope of monarchs in her stomach. “Move down to G, baby.” Luke instructed softly, not wanting to break the soft focus she held. He motioned to the neck of his own guitar, smiling widely when she mimicked his actions and strummed the same note.

Seeing her tongue poke out from between her strawberry lemonade lips when she focused and the crinkle of her nose every time she smiled up at him in delight made his half ghostly heart jump.

When she went down to the wrong chord again, and frustratingly looked up at Luke with stars in her waterline, he reached over and adjusted her positioning. His fingers lingered around hers for longer than was needed, but neither party minded as they shared a highly sought after moment.

“You play it.” She whispered, having had enough of her own lessons for the day, wanting to focus instead on her boyfriend's delicate craft.

Luke smiled complying to her demand, nodding her along to sing the softly aged lyrics, “Here comes the sun…”

finger kiss to lips thing:

She’s rambling. She knows that she’s rambling yet she can’t bring herself to stop. Luke had opened a wormhole of thoughts and hadn’t expected the emotional breakdown to follow. Her hands are fisting at his t-shirt, but her eyes are alight with wild emotion that he’s never seen before. She’s dangling over the edge and he’s unsure of how to pull her back to safety.

“Baby.” He tries, pointer finger beneath her chin and directing her attention to himself, “Baby girl. Mia.” Her eyes fall on his but she’s still a mess of hiccups and syllables, shuddering out apologies between every harsh intake of breath her lungs don’t reject. She’s gotten herself so worked up she can’t calm down. She wants him to understand her, but she knows that the more she talks the less he will.

“That’s not what I meant! Of course I want to spend forever with you, I mean, if you want to spend forever with me. I just, I didn’t mean--” She rambles, her eyes pinching tightly when she understands the bending of Luke’s expression.

Luke watches her struggle for a moment more, wishing he could just fill the miniscule amount of time before her next sob and tell her she had nothing to worry about. He wanted to spend forever with her as well; he loved her, but every time he tried to talk she shook her head and looked frantic.

Finally, he pulled his middle and pointer finger together, pressing them to his lips before smothering them against hers. Mia’s eyes drew wide as she tried to comprehend what just happened, but Luke only smiled at the silence at her doe-like expression.

“I love you too.”

forgetting they can feel each other:

They’re working together on a song, surrounded by broken picks and instruments. Julie’s keyboard is on the ground by her thighs and drumsticks are poking out from the tops of Luke’s ears. He’s nearly inverbal, mumbling broken words to her from behind pens and picks, but the sight of him pulls her heart in further.

She plays another melody on the keys, coupling it with the notes Luke had insisted on. It sounds sweet in her ears, and Luke looks up with a smile when it draws him away from his concentration with lyrics. A pick is between his teeth again, so the compliment he tries to throw at her is muffled and close to uninterpretable, but she understands him. She understands everything about him. She understands why he holds her for as long as he can and why he pops into her classes at random. She understands the way he mumbles behind his hands and pens and picks, and why he insists on her making the two of them food even when he’s capable of it. She gets it.

Luke watched Mia bring her lip between her teeth, eyes scanning the workspace before she lands sight on a faded leather notebook. Her path is blocked by his body, but she doesn’t pay it any mind as she pushes onto her hands and makes a start for the lyric book.

Her head collides with Luke’s chest firsts before she falls uncomfortably over the guitar and into his arms, looking bewildered for a moment before she’s brought back to the reality of Luke’s status. She can touch him now, it’s not like three weeks ago when they were condemned to ghostly hovering.

“If you wanted me to hold you, all you had to do was ask.” Luke beamed, moving the guitar aside so he could cuddle her properly. Mia’s cheeks flushed, “Did you forget you could feel me? Well, maybe I have to remind you.”

HONORABLE MENTIONS — the three times mia knew luke was in love with her and the seven she thought he was in love with reggie:

TAGLIST — @r0s3mm @midnightmagicmusings @joshy-obx @parkeret

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superworldunkown · 4 years

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Shea it ain’t so

It almost be winter out here. My skin is dry, I must hydrate with moisturizer, and some Baku-POC. It’s what best for my soul during these hard times.

Enjoy

Summary: Do not mess with a black girl’s skincare routine. Mineta, I’m talking to you. Bakugo x POC reader

I wish Bakugou would look at me like he do this pen

“Where’s Mineta?!” Was the question that escaped your lips as you dramatically burst open the doors to the Class 1-A dorms.

Bakugou, Sero, Kirishima, Kaminari and Mina were hanging out in the common area, all of them absolutely shocked by your outburst.

“Did she just ask for Mineta?” Kirishima asked.

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard a girl ask for Mineta before.” Sero added.

Mina chewed her gum nervously, “This might be the last time we see him alive guys.”

‘The fuck she want him for...’ was Bakugou’s thought. He dare not say that out loud.

The squeal of the boy in question rang in the common room as Mineta jumped from his chair in the dining area and dashed towards his dorm room, you following close behind.

“Get back here, you pervert!”

The group looked at each other nervously before quickly following. Bakugou stayed behind for a brief moment before getting up himself.

Luckily for Mineta, he made it to his room in time, slamming the door shut and clicking a series of locks on the other side. You never let a piece of wood get in your way before so you spent the next three minutes pounding the door and aggressively working the handle.

“You can’t hide in there forever!! I will find you, and when I do i’ll-”

“Whoa, easy there.” Kirishima made the first attempt to calm you, but it was a futile effort, “If you break the door down Ida’s definitely going to tell Mr. Aizawa-”

Your response was both dramatic and dripping with truth, “I fear no man.”

Needless to say, Bakugou was a little smitten. Most of the time, you were a very level headed individual who didn’t let things get too under your skin. But, like any person, you had your stressors and triggers, and when they were touched and poked you went from zero to 100, with no breaks in between.

Your eyebrows would narrow and your face would scrunch into a snarl that was truly terrifying. But, Bakugou noticed, despite how made you were, that the dimples that would still crease in your cheeks. You often threw your hands on your hips, your ultimate ‘i’m going to murder you’ power pose. It was that motion that made Bakugou notice the curves of your body and just how strong (and attractive) you were.

You also swore and/or spoke in complete sentences in your native English language when you got really angry. And while Bakugou was still finessing his translation skills, it was just all around a wonder to see you in all your pissed glory.

“Is everything okay, sis?” Mina’s voice was extra gentle in a attempt to soothe the tensions in the hallway.

You let out an extra loud sigh before releasing the handle and stepping back from the door. Bringing your hands to your face you groaned, “Do any of you even know how hard it is to find products that work for me on campus?”

Before anyone could even answer you continued, “Of course you don’t. I use a very, very special and very limited quantity shea butter moisturizer that the campus store only gets in once a semester and this asshole!” She threw her arms in the direction of Mineta’s door, “bought every last bottle and I have nothing! And it’s backlogged everywhere and I wont be able to get it shipped from the US for MONTHS!”

“I told you we could share.” Mineta’s voice was heard from the other end of the door.

“I’m not sharing ANYTHING with you!”

Mina drew a finger to chin, “Wait, why does Mineta need three bottles of moisturizer, he’s like, tiny.”

All the guys looked in her direction, including Bakugou. Then, it finally clicked, “...MINETA!!! GROSS!”

Another unrecognizable sound escaped your lips, hands making their way onto your hips. Despite the diversity of U.A, you were still one of three black students in the entire campus. It didn’t bother you too much. And while you had always had to deal with adjusting to cultures that didn’t particularly recognize or value your own, you were always good at finding comfort in the little things, like keeping your luxuriously brown skin smooth and soft at all times. But now that was ruined, by a miniature pervert.

“Forget it! I’m leaving.” You spoke suddenly while brushing past everyone. Mina ended up chasing after you, her helpful brain trying desperately to come up with any and all solutions to remedy your mood and skin situation.

“Well that was weird.” Kaminari said while crossing his arms.

“Girls are weird.” Sero nodded in agreement.

Kirishima, being the signature best boy and captain of the non existent respect women club chided, “C’mon guys. It’s a big deal to her. That’s like...someone taking the last....video game at the store or something. Not manly.”

“Don’t you mean, not womanly?”

“Yeah and girls play video games too ya’know.”

Bakugou walked away before the argument spiraled into a true place of stupidity. Besides, he needed to make a phone call.

**Two weeks later

“Bakugou I’m coming in-Hey?! I said I was coming in!” You went through three emotions while you stepped into the boys dorm. Confidence, fear and anger.

Fear and anger deriving from the small explosion that nearly grazed your face from the boy who was apparently not expecting your sudden arrival, despite your clear announcement.

“Don’t you knock dumbass!”

“I’m not a dumbass A,” You responded, “And B, I said I was coming in.”

Once his red pupils returned to a normal size and his heartrate returned to a normal beat, Bakugou lessened his naturally tense shoulders, “Well, whadya want?”

You gave him a rather coy smile, “Just curious how a package of my very expensive, very limited edition, only made in the US skincare products came to my dorm room this afternoon.”

Despite his nervousness, he kept a strong front, “Is that so? Well, it looks like Raccoon Eye’s stupid idea to calm you down worked.”

“...Didn’t I overhear that your parents were in America a few weeks ago? Bakugou...you didn’t have anything to do with Mina’s ‘stupid idea to calm me down’, did you?”

Did Bakugou have a hand in the idea? Did he spend twenty agonizing minutes on the phone screaming with his mother to pick up the stupid exclusive skincare products while she and his dad were on a work trip in the United States? Did he eventually admit that it was for a girl in the dorms, which caused twenty more minutes of his mother aggressively probing him on who it was and when she would get to meet her and how he never tells her anything going on in his life anymore and how he really needed to take anger management classes if he was ever going to get you to put up with him if he ever did work the nerves to ask you out? Was all of this true?!

“Tch, like I would be involved in a dumb idea like that.”

You took your time rolling your eyes, “Well...I’ll go thank Mina then. I think I’ll say,” you looked Bakugou directly into his red eyes as you continued, “That was very sweet and kind of you. And I really appreciate the care and effort...and what a great guess that lavender vanilla was my favorite scent, even though the campus store never carried that smell. I’ll definitely have to make it up to you sometime soon.” Your grin was so wide it was almost devilish. “How did that sound, Bakugou?”

#bakugou katsuki #bakugou x poc #bakugo #mha #mha poc #bakugou poc #poc reader #bnha

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stealingpotatoes · 4 years

Text

because you’re mine

Ao3 link

Summary: In a quiet moment at the Hound Pits Pub, Emily asks Corvo who her father is. Corvo knows he has to tell her.

n/b: I wrote a fluffy Emily-accidentally-finds-out-about-Corvojess fic a while back, and while I LOVE that idea, I also love the idea of Corvo telling her after the whole assassination thing (and I think that that might be more canon compliant, considering this). So yeah… here’s that!

---

Corvo hated waiting between missions.

Taking Lady Boyle out at her own party was a smart idea. There would be so many other masked men there that Corvo could slip right in, remove her from play, and slip out with no worry about the guards. It’d be a nice change from having to skulk past and knock out every City watchman in order to not be seen. Though the idea of going to one of those noble parties he hated so much wasn’t as nice a change. But he could do it. He’d probably been to more than a hundred of those. He could make it through one more.

You’ve never been to one without Jess, an unwelcome voice in his mind reminded him. He pressed his lips to a thin line. He could make it through one more party, even without her. He had to do it. He had to for her, to cut Burrows’ funding and get one step closer to ending his reign of tyranny. To get her justice.

But the real issue was waiting . He had to wait until the night of the party. It was so very soon -- only tomorrow evening -- but it felt too far away. There was too much time to think about things he didn’t want to think about, too much empty space. The waiting between missions was the worst part about them.

He thought it should have been missions themselves; pushing himself like that after six months of prison and pain should have been a bad thing. But on missions, he could distract himself from everything by focusing on the objective and nothing else. Finally not feeling useless and weak, finally feeling like he was doing something to fix things. To make up for his failure that day, and everything that had happened afterwards.

In times like this, in between, the feelings of restless uselessness crept back in. He’d had plenty of quiet moments to think in Coldridge; he didn’t need any more. He was doing nothing to help. Nothing to get justice, nothing to get Emily back home and on her rightful throne. Right now, he was sitting on his bed in the Hound Pits and sharpening his sword. He hardly used it on missions, but maintaining his weapons and training himself was a good way to pass the time. It was the best thing he could do to try and abate the useless feeling. Preparing himself for the mission ahead, making sure he would succeed. If he did want to use his sword, he couldn’t have it being blunt or failing to open. He couldn’t leave anything to chance.

His thoughts were interrupted by quiet and familiar footsteps coming from the stairwell. Corvo allowed himself a small smile. He knew those steps almost as well as he knew his own.

Knowing Emily, she was trying to move as quietly as she could -- trying to copy his own near-silent footsteps. She’d spent hours trying to perfect it back home, and was always annoyed when he could still hear her small footsteps coming, and when he could still sneak up on her.

The tread got closer and stopped where his room began. “Hi Corvo.”

Corvo glanced behind him, pretending to have only just noticed her in the doorway, holding some paper and pens in her small hands, and smiled at her, “Hey Em.”

She smiled back. “Can I come in here and draw?”

“Are you done with your lessons?” Corvo asked, despite knowing they would be by now. He had to remind her that her lessons were important, even if now they seemed like a silly thing to be concerned with.

Emily dropped her shoulders dramatically, “Yes. They were so boring.” She walked further into the room and plopped herself on the floor, evidently taking his question as a yes. She knew by now he would never deny her his company.

Corvo folded his sword in one practiced motion, not wanting weapons out when Emily was in the room, and caught her interested look at the blade. Swords and fighting -- particularly him fighting -- had always interested her. Certainly more than her lessons with Callista did. He wouldn’t have been surprised to find that Emily had tried to ask Piero for her own version, though Emily wasn’t going to be fighting with anything but wooden sticks for a long time. Hopefully she would never have to touch a blade, despite how much he knew she wanted to be a fighter like him. He didn’t want her to be like him. Anything like him.

“I just had history.” Emily laid out the paper and crayons on the wooden floor in between her and Corvo’s feet. “Callista was teaching me about some of the past Emperors and Empresses and dynasties.”

Corvo placed his sword hilt down by his side and leaned forward, “Anyone not boring?”

Emily kept looking down at her paper, and brushed a finger over her crayons, trying to pick the right colour to start with. “Some interesting ones. Some really not .”

Corvo gave Emily a slight huff and a smile.

Emily perked up and looked at Corvo, “I did learn about my grandfather, Emperor Euhorn.”

Did you learn he was a bit of an asshole? Corvo thought, but luckily didn’t say out loud. “What’d you learn about him?”

“Um… that he was the first of the Kaldwin rulers and he became Emperor in 1803, after a regency that started in 1801,” Emily turned back to her pens and picked a blue one. She set to drawing, “A bit like me. I’ll be Empress after a regency too.”

“Mm,” Corvo agreed, his mouth a thin line. It seemed strange to compare the two events. Then, he’d been a boy of just five, playing in the streets of Karnaca. Dunwall and everything that happened there had seemed so far away and inconsequential to him. If only he’d known. Now… now its events were practically carved onto his skin...

Corvo shook his head slightly, not ready to let himself go down that line of thought. To distract himself, he tried to get a better look at Emily’s paper. He couldn’t quite see what Emily was drawing yet. It looked like the beginnings of a building, perhaps. He loved her drawings. He just about preferred them to the perfect portraits hung around the Tower… though he might have been a little biased. Ok, he was definitely biased.

Emily suddenly stopped drawing. She set her pen down, but didn’t look up from the floor, and she sighed in a way that made her sound a decade older than she was. “Learning about my grandfather made me think… Mother always said she would tell me about my father when I was older. But… she’s gone now and she… can’t tell me,” Emily’s gaze remained blank on the floor.

As Emily spoke, Corvo’s heart felt like it shattered into a million pieces. An uncomfortably familiar feeling now, it seemed. He could ignore how everything made him feel, but any time Emily said something about it all that happened, the flood of emotions threatened to break through the dam of control he’d built.

She can’t tell me. Corvo thought of the Heart, that continuous echoing beat in the back of his mind. Her voice, but not her. Emily wouldn’t be able to hear or see it anyway. Only the Void-touched could. People like him. People like the assassins. She can’t tell me.

“Corvo, do you know who my father is?” Emily looked up from the floor finally, up at him, “Because you were always with Mother… so maybe you… know .”

Her question caught Corvo completely off guard.

He had been asked that near same question -- you’re almost always by Her Majesty’s side, you must know who the princess’ father is -- many times before, by prying nobles and gossips who thought he might share the secret when his Empress wouldn’t. But he never did. He usually insisted he didn’t know, though sometimes he would simply say he was sworn to secrecy, just to annoy people with the idea that he knew something they didn’t.

But he couldn’t lie to Emily. He couldn’t deny her this. Not now. Not when she’d lost her mother; Corvo couldn’t let her believe she was an orphan, couldn’t let her believe that the secret had died with her mother. She needed her father. She needed… she needed Corvo .

Just tell her. Tell her.

He couldn’t silence the voice in his head that was telling him that Emily deserved a better father than him. It was true; she did. She deserved a man who could openly be her father, not a lowborn Serkonan like him. She deserved someone who could have saved her mother, not the ex-Royal Protector who had failed in the worst way imaginable.

But he was what she had. He couldn’t change that. He didn’t want to change that. He loved Emily with every fibre of his being, and she… she was his daughter. Void, he could barely think the words; how was he meant to say them aloud to tell Emily?

This was hardly how he’d imagined telling her. He’d thought it would be when she was a little older, he thought it would be in Dunwall Tower, he thought it would be him and Jess telling her. Maybe he could wait. The latter was impossible, but the first two -- he could wait until they’d reclaimed Dunwall Tower and everything was as okay as it could be to tell her. Or he could tell her now. Or--

“You do know…” Emily said slowly and quietly, furrowing her brow. Corvo realised he’d hesitated too long to make the choice. She was a smart girl, she knew he knew.

Tell her. “Yes… I do.”

Emily’s brown eyes widened. Jessamine had always said Emily’s eyes were just like his own. It would have been a comfort, something nice to see in his daughter, if he hadn’t always been so stressed about someone finding out about him and Jessamine because of them. “Please tell me. Please, Corvo.”

Corvo moved his hand behind his back so Emily wouldn’t see the glow of the Mark and activated Dark Vision, glancing at the door and the room through it. Nobody was there to hear the secret. He wanted to think he could trust the Loyalists not to listen in on him -- or even trust the Loyalists full stop -- but something was off about them, and he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. He hoped it was just his own paranoia born from Burrows’ betrayal, but he wasn’t going to let his guard down too far.

Corvo deactivated Dark Vision, letting the world shift back to its normal colours and gave Emily a sure look, “It still has to be a secret.”

Emily sat up straighter, so very eager to learn the truth. “Yes. I promise. I promise I’ll keep it a secret.”

Corvo nodded. Maybe there wasn’t any point in keeping it a secret anymore, but old habits died very hard, and the anxiety was still pooling in his stomach.

Emily continued to look up at him hopefully, waiting. Say it . Tell her. She needs to know.

“I-” the words didn’t want to leave his mouth. He took a quick breath in- “It’s me. I’m your father.”

“What?” Emily’s mouth was open in shock. She was expecting someone better than you, Corvo thought. But then her expression spread into a grin, and the thought melted away, “Really?!”

“Really.”

“You’re actually my father?” Emily said, the grin still wide on her face. It hit Corvo that she wanted it to be him. She was happy that it was him. Despite everything.

“Mm. And you’re actually my daughter,” Corvo couldn’t help stop himself from smiling as he spoke.

Emily was up off the floor and hugging him in the blink of an eye, her arms tight around his shoulders and her face half-shoved into his coat collar. Corvo closed his arms around her small body and shut his eyes, focusing on the feel of Emily -- his daughter -- safe and sound in his arms.

They pulled away from each other after a few seconds and Emily continued to beam up at him. Corvo didn’t think he deserved that smile, but he would easily die a hundred times over for it.

“I knew it. I knew it was you.”

Corvo thought of all the times Emily had tried to convince him and Jess to get together, and didn’t completely think she was lying.

“This whole time… you were...” Emily glanced down. “You’re my father,” she repeated with a grin at Corvo.

Corvo’s chest ached with love. He couldn’t stop smiling back at her. “Yeah, I am.” And I’m the luckiest man alive to have you as my daughter.

It almost seemed like Emily smiled more after he confirmed it again.

Corvo quickly tried to look more serious, “But remember, you can’t tell the others. Including Callista.”

Emily nodded, then shut her mouth and squished her lips together to illustrate ‘my lips are sealed’ .

Corvo gave her an affirmative half-smile. I love you so much.

Emily glanced to the side and paused for a short second. “I know it’s a secret, but could I call you father when it’s just us?” She looked up at him with pleading eyes, “Please?”

The ache of love in his chest grew stronger. Corvo hesitated for a moment. He nodded, not sure he could actually form words through his emotions to say yes.

Emily grinned. “Father,” she all but whispered, trying it out. Then she went in for another surprisingly strong hug. “I love you, father.”

Corvo hoped his daughter couldn’t tell how close he was to crying. “I love you too, Emily.”

#[slaps roof of corvo] you can fit so much self doubt in this man #dishonored #emily kaldwin #corvo attano #dishonored fanfic #dh1 #potes wrotes

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bichlordstories · 3 years

Text

9: old advice

You walked down the hallway of your middle school, eyes staring you down in fear and disgust.

Some jeers were sent your way, but nobody dared to go near you.

Unlike the brainwashing kid a group of kids bullied, you didn’t use words. The last time someone started something with you, you ended it faster.

“Oi, duck tape his mouth!”

You paused near the entrance of a classroom. It wasn’t yours, and you didn’t know why you stopped, but you did anyway.

“Can’t use your evil quirk if you can’t ask questions, can you, villain???” A voice behind the door taunted.

“Hold him down.” Another voice said.

This wasn’t your problem. Whatever they were going to do to this mysterious kid, it wasn’t your business.

“Huh? Who’s there?”

You stood inside the classroom, staring blankly into the widened eyes of some middle school boys. One of them had the target pinned to a desk, hold down his hand and holding a pen.

“Fuck, it’s that All Might wannabe!” One of the goons exclaimed and released the lavender haired teen.

“Oh? Does the evil All Might doppelgänger want to save this freak?” The leader of the group forced the head of the teen down by gripping his lavender hair.

The boy beneath him grunted in pain, nose bleeding and mouth covered by tape. His eyes were puffy from the bruises and from the tears in his eyes.

A truly pathetic sight to behold.

“Tokoro-kun, don’t provoke them, they’re crazy as hell.” The sensible one of the group grabbed the leader’s shoulder.

“We have our quirks, don’t we? We can just-“

Something yellow and sharp stabbed him in the arm, earning a yelp of surprise from the kid. Before he could scream some more, a hand shot out and gripped his cheeks, covering his mouth.

You got between his legs and forced his back onto the desk behind him. You gripped the pencil lodged into his shoulder and twisted it deeper and deeper.

By now, the whites of your eyes were a deep shade of red, leaving your (e/c) irises untouched by the crimson.

“Challenge me again, and it will be your eye.” You said before pulling the pencil out of the boy, who laid back on the table in shock.

You gave the boys enough space to leave, one of them grabbing their injured friend and left. You turned to the lavender haired kid only to find him sitting on the floor with his knees.

He barely struggled as you pulled him up and ripped the tape off of the boy. Since his nose was filled with blood, he breathed through his mouth, spitting out bloody mucus.

“You’re an idiot for staying behind.” You stated after recognizing the teen as Hitoshi, the brainwash kid.

He sat in the chair weakly, wiping his bloody nose and staring forward through bruised eye lids.

“...I didn’t ask for this...” he muttered under his breathe.

“Okay? And you not asking for it is going to stop it? You need to stop mopping around and adapt.”

“It’s not that simple-“

“It is. Finding the solution is easier when you not sitting on your ass and letting this happen. I see you make the same mistake every damn day. Today, those assholes beat you to a pulp because they got you alone. You don’t even try.” You scowled at the teen.

The boy glared at you with a trembling lip.

“Then how would you do it? You can defend yourself, I can’t.” He said as tears rolled down his face.

“You have a quirk. Use it.”

“I ca-“

“Work smart, not hard. You don’t use it to brute force your way through. That’s not how your quirk works. It involves using your head and your words.” You said before walking towards the the door.

Once exiting, you were met with an empty hallway. Everyone seemed to have went home, leaving just you and the lavender haired kid, but you knew that word would get around about what you did.

And you were right.

Nobody dared to say anything in front of you, opting to just whisper behind your back. The brainwash kid was hidden among the crowd, no longer taunted but instead ignored.

The two of you never really spoke to each other after the first time, only coming across each other in the hallways.

Sometimes you wonder if what you said was too harsh, but then again, he didn’t put any effort into defending himself.

Someone like him was bound to lose in the game of life.

This felt eerily familiar, walking down the hallway. Nobody acknowledged you, hanging out in their respective groups early in the morning. You didn’t see any of your classmates amongst the crowd much to your relief, but you are bound to see them in class.

After losing control of yourself in training exercise yesterday, you were stuck in Recovery girl’s room recovering from the overuse of your quirk. Obviously, this meant that you couldn’t return to class that day, seeing that you passed out and attacked your teacher.

Surprisingly, you didn’t get kicked out of school, which you were grateful for.

But you now had unwanted attention.

You knew that your high school will be just like middle school after yesterday, but you just had to deal with it.

You stopped in front of your classroom door and clenched the straps from your backpack.

A few kids passed by, talking to each other, so you didn’t really notice a pair of shoes walking towards you. When they stopped beside you, you moved away, believing it to be the teacher or one of your classmates.

It was neither.

Instead, it was the brainwashing kid, Shinsou Hitoshi.

He stood next to you, staring up at the letter B.

“So this is your class. You got into the hero course...” he huffed out a bit of air before continuing.

“I’m not surprised, since you are the best in your class, and word got around to everyone that you beat up a teacher yesterday.”

Your stomach dropped.

“...everyone?”

“Yeah, the General Ed class wouldn’t shut up about it. You became a celebrity over night here.” Shinsou said while staring at the same door you were.

Rumors.

That’s how it always started.

Technically, what you did happened, but people liked to exaggerate and blow it out of proportion.

But you attacked someone outside of training.

You had a serious problem.

“...I can’t fucking do this again...”

Shinsou turned his head to you.

“I can’t be the evil All Might wannabe... I’m tired of being compared to someone else, someone great, only to be called a villain when I don’t act like that person...” you bit your lip as your face darkened at the memories.

Shinsou continued to stare before reaching up to rub the back of his head.

“...adapt to it.”

He turned away from you and slowly blinked at the door.

“Don’t brute force your way through it. Work smart, not hard. Try to prove to yourself that your not a villain without punching someone.” He said before walking away, leaving you to stand in front of the door.

You gripped the door, taking a deep breathe, before slowly opening it. The voices inside the class continued, only dying down a bit when you passed the desks towards your own.

“(L/n)-kun!”

You froze at the sound of a cheerful voice before getting engulfed in a hug from behind.

“I was soooo worried! You were gone the rest of the day yesterday! Are you okay?” Pony asked before hugging your stiff arm.

“E-Eh?” You breathed out in confusion.

“Dude, we thought you completely lost it!” The cheeky brown haired kid, Tsuburaba, exclaimed.

Soon, you found yourself surrounded by your classmates.

“We already knew you were a beast in combat, but you had 2 teachers struggling to hold you down!” Honenuki said.

“Not just teachers, Juzo-kun, heroes.” Kurorio smirked to the toothy teen.

“One of them was All Might!”

You were getting compliments left and right, confusing you to no end. You just stood there frozen, unable to form words.

“I gotta say, I’m impressed.”

You turned your head to look at Monoma, who had a mischievous glint in his eye.

“You’ve proven that you’re one of the stronger people fit for combat, even more so yesterday.”

He walked over to you, brushing his blonde hair away with a flick of his wrist.

“Class 1A so far doesn’t have anything impressive on display, but you fought a hero with ease. All Might himself struggled to hold you down, and that’s saying something.”

He stopped in front of you, grinning ear to ear. It was a chilling smile, something that was anything but innocent.

“With you, class 1A will be no more...” he said in a giddy tone.

The teens around you grimaced at this, some even backing away.

“Jeez, can you chill the fuck out?” The guy with the headband, Awase, snapped at the blonde as he was put off by the creepy factor.

Luckily for everyone in the class, Kendo walked up from behind him and chopped him on the neck, making the sadistic blonde collapse. She plucked him off the ground by the scruff of his shirt and smiled to you apologetically.

“I’m so so sorry, (L/n)-san, he’s just relieved to see you back, that’s all.” She said.

“W-W-Why would you tell them t-that?” Monoma stuttered while looking up at her with a pale face.

“...uh.” You said.

“Ooooooohhhh, someone’s in loooooove~” Kuroiro teased, earning a few chuckles from Honenuki and Kosei.

“Eh? Who’s in love???” Tokage asked with interest.

“I’m not in love, d-damn it!!!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He’s not in love guys.

Not yet.

Buuuuut anyways, I wanted to kinda have Mc interact with Shinsou, involving a bit of their past, the whole shebang.

As you can tell, those two aren’t exactly friends, but they aren’t enemies either.

They got some ✨history✨

#bnha fanfiction #bnha x y/n #bnha x gender neutral reader #bnha x reader #blood sport

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imnotwolverine · 4 years

Text

The marriage pact - Hitch

Henry Cavill x OC Alice - multi-chapter

< Part 17 | Part 18 Hitch | Part 19 >

Disclaimer: sad fluff, some body insecurities

Author’s note: Can you tell it’s Monday? It’s Monday. Gosh I feel like I need a hug after writing this. 😭

Word count: 1.764

(Link to my Masterlist)

Dear readers,

Do you ever look in the mirror, just to study the way you are slowly changing? I don’t want to say older. Just, changing. My eyes are practically always the same shade of brown, like milk chocolate, and my hair is often an equally chocolaty mess, pulled up in a bun. And I like it like that, too.

And then there is my skin. Sometimes pale like porcelain, sometimes sun kissed with a hundred small freckles, dusted over my cheeks and nose. I don’t understand why people wouldn’t like their freckles by the way. I absolutely love mine. Unfortunately now that winter has come, I mostly look tired. Thank heavens for concealer!

I wonder by the way if men also look at themselves in the mirror like that. Especially since it’s generally far less accepted and normalised for them to wear make-up, even if it is just a simple concealer.

Anyways. It’s winter and I look like a walking, talking zombie, my once fresh looking skin now showing some mean little creases and fine lines. Admittedly, I do sometimes rub my skin with a little bit of extra cream when I see those lines. Not that I am willing to invest in those luxury treatments or get my panties in a twist, but still. It does, in some way or form, influence the way you feel about yourself.

I embrace change, but today? I am most definitely wearing make-up. Thank you very much.

Done-with-winter-already,

Ali

With the loudest of sighs I flung the refrigerator door closed, my shoulders slumping visibly as I plopped down on my chair at the dinner table, dinner long cleared away from the table but my parents still sitting there.

My mom was the first to pick up on my sulking mood, her careful eyebrow raising up over her reading glasses as she put down her Swedish crossword, pen still in hand.

‘Looking for something?’ She asked casually.

‘No.’ I grumbled, looking over at dad who was still hiding himself behind a folded open newspaper. Mom sniffled and shook her head. ‘Then what is it, Ali dear?’

‘It’s just…’ My lip trembled - not even make-up could make me feel any better today. ‘..things are not working out like I want them to and..’ Sniff. ‘..it’s so frustrating.’

Slowly my dad lowered his newspaper. Usually it was my mom who dealt with any off-days on my end, which truly were sparingly. I didn’t really wish to share my troubles and thoughts with my parents too much, fearing they’d continue to see me as “their little girl”. I wasn’t a little girl for crying out loud. I was a grown woman of 37-years. I shouldn’t need my parents anymore, right?

‘Is this about eh..’ My dad started, squinting his eyes as if looking for any signs that I would go for his jugular right here and now. I didn’t. ‘..eh..Henry?’ He swallowed as I started to cry, shaking my head no.

Mom quickly moved aside her crossword and pen, reaching out her arms to smooth her warm palms over my shoulders. Even through the tight knit of my dark grey sweater I could feel the soothing calm of her touch. ‘What’s the matter baby? Tell us.’

‘UGH..it’s just.’ I sniffled and angrily wiped a few rogue tears away. ‘I..ugh..this feels so stupid. I just thought I had found a place of my own. I’ve been looking at some apartments..and..I thought I had found one. Ten minutes from here. Perfect. Finally. But..’ I furrowed my brows. ‘..I couldn’t get it. The owners chose someone else, despite me being first choice. I just got the news.’

Mom was quiet for a moment and dad swallowed harshly, the two of them deciding on how to go about it. I sniffled again and looked up. First at mom, then at dad, the both at them suddenly looking even older then I remembered them to be.

‘Oh..’ Mom finally exclaimed, seemingly relieved. ‘I thought it had to do with Henry. Woof! Thank god for that.’ She quickly pushed her chair closer to mine, wrapping a bony arm around my shoulder and pulling me in for a mom hug. ‘Come here.’ She hummed, squeezing me even tighter to her chest. ‘Hmmm! Well, you know you can stay here for as long as you want. We love having you here with us. Close to us. It gives our life a bit of…’ She leaned back and smiled, shrugging slightly. ‘..joie-de-vivre!’

I snickered, shaking my head in disbelief. ‘You could get a dog too, you know.’

‘Hahah oh we might, we might. We actually discussed it the other day. Would you like that, a dog?’ She asked at me, dad snuffing in amusement - either because he absolutely didn’t want a dog or because this whole shift of moods was amusing him.

Women.

‘That is yours to decide mom…dad.’ I gave him an exasperated look and he chuckled, quickly grabbing his newspaper again, hiding the cheeky grin that lingered on his lips.

‘But really, I am just glad that it’s not Henry. You and him are just such a fine couple together.’

‘Thanks mom.’ I smiled, wiping the last remains of my tears. I laughed. ‘I eh..actually confessed I love him the other day.’

‘OOOHHH.’ Mom near jumped with excitement and my dad quickly duck even further away behind his newspaper - he really felt uncomfortable with all this girl chat. Me and mom both grinned and before long we were deep in conversation about what had transpired between me and Henry the past few weeks. A talk that was long overdue honestly, because of course mom had HEARD a gazillion things, but in her motherly role she had decided to wait for me to spill the beans.

Well. The beans were spilled. And I couldn’t be happier to hear how enthused and adoring my mom was about everything Henry concerned.

—

Henry carefully read the words on the screen of my phone, the both of us sitting on my parents couch, the rest of the house quiet as my parents were out.

It was an e-mail I had received that afternoon. Bad news. Again. As if losing that house wasn’t enough, of course more shit had to happen. He slowly furrowed his brows as he licked his lips, scrolling back up - as if checking he didn’t miss anything in his careful read.

‘O..kay..’ He finally said slowly, sighing visibly. ‘Yea..’ I bit my lower lip and reached out for my phone, retrieving it from his hesitant fingers. ‘Are they even allowed to..’ He raised his eyebrows. ‘..make such a suggestion?’

‘I don’t know Hen. Ugh. What is it with this week?! I hate it. Two weeks ago it was all fine and now this? Please let it be over..’ I sulked, reopening the e-mail of the fertility clinic and giving it a once-over. Yep, there it was really in black and white; due to a rapidly growing waiting list they suggested that me and Henry would perhaps first check out “other means of fertilisation”, before enlisting for a sperm donor. Meaning, most probably and quite rudely; just forgo the condom and see where that takes you.

There went my plan B. My back-up plan. At least for another extra 6 months of extended waiting as they had simply pushed me back on the list now I had a “partner”. Could they do that? I don’t know, but it sure was a blow in the gut.

‘What would you do in this situation, Hen?’ I asked quietly, seeing him shift his weight to turn towards me. ‘Well, believe it or not. I think this is my situation too now.’ He swallowed and reached out for my hand, tentative fingertips stroking my palm.

‘True.’ I smiled with watery eyes.

We were after all a team now. Together. Boyfriend and girlfriend.

‘I eh..’ He shook his head. ‘Okay this is going to sound so stupid now, but I want to get it off my chest. Before I did the Durrell challenge, just really a few weeks before, I had a chat with a..’ He sighed. ‘..a woman who would wish to surrogate a ..-’

‘WHAT?!’ I sat up a bit and swatted his hand away.

‘No no..Ali. It..nothing happened. I just..’ He swallowed awkwardly. ‘I guess I just started my very own path in trying to become a father. It’s a thing that’s been on my mind for a long time now. I want it. Though it immediately became clear after that conversation with that woman that I could not do it like that.’ His eyes searched mine, hoping I would not hate him for it, understand him.

I sighed. ’Gosh..I thought you were going to say you had like a kid on the way and..-’

‘Ali.’ He grabbed my wrist and looked me even deeper in the eyes. ‘There is nobody else. There is no kid on the way. It’s just you and I.’ - ‘Okay.’ I quietly nodded and swam through the depths of his stormy blue eyes. I near drowned in them.

‘So, you want to be a dad, hmm?’ A tear rolled down my cheek before I could stop it and Henry’s eyes instantly tracked it as it moved over my cold skin. With a tender finger he brushed it off, his lips curling in a sad smile. ‘Badly.’ He swallowed harshly.

He suddenly looked so fragile, like I could see right through those big bulking muscles and handsome features and see within, see the most deep and hidden away piece of Henry that I had ever gotten to see.

With pensive blue eyes he was looking down, his hand re-interlocking with mine, his other hand now aimlessly hanging by his waist. He looked a bit forlorn, lost at the sea that I had found in his cerulean gaze.

The sea that was Henry. Sometimes calm and soothing, something strong and unbending.

A sea that wanted what I wanted. Badly.

Without words I crawled over to him, using whatever strength I had to pull him into my chest, his head resting in the crook of my neck and his breath slightly shallow. He was such a large man that it was hard to actually make him surrender and lean into me. Usually he was the one who was to protect and be strong. Now it was the other way around. Sighing harshly he finally gave in, his nose sniffing as his arms slowly folded around my waist.

‘All I learned is that I don’t want to do it alone.’ He finally gulped, softly.

I closed my eyes and let a hand roam over the soft material of his sand coloured cable knit sweater. Poor bear. My poor bear. I nodded.

‘Neither do I, Hen. Neither do I.’ I pushed my nose in his neck and whispered into his skin: ‘And I think you are going to be an absolutely great dad.’

He swallowed back a cry.

‘In fact I KNOW it is so.’ I smiled, pressing up a number of kisses on his skin until I reached his lips. ‘And all other things are just a hitch, a hiccup. What I really, really need.. is.. you. Let’s..let’s make this work.’ I sniffled.

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dcbbw · 4 years

Note

After our conversation last night/early this morning? I just randomly thought of this, and had to ask. Is there any sock that SGL absolutely refuses to wear? 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

Thanks for the ask, @bebepac! This is just a quick SGL x Penelope drabble, that answers your ask and gives us some insight into SGL’s thoughts towards his relationship with the one who is not Riley B.

All characters belong to Pixelberry.

Thanks so much to pre-readers @ao719 and @burnsoslow! And a special shout out to Burnsy for knowing/remembering future plots and storylines better than me!

Song Inspiration: Open Your Eyes, Snow Patrol: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=30buQ1jEDas&list=PL4gAMikm-cPhkzvcBNPo0bV7l3YrwgyJR

Liam gently pulled his bedroom door closed behind him before heading into his kitchen. He wore a wife beater, his boxer briefs, and his socks adorned with dancing Care Bears and the phrase: “heart full of dumb.” He called them his Penelope socks.

It was Saturday night; early-ish on a Saturday night: 9:30pm. It was warm and humid outside, cool and comfortable inside. Liam was pulling a tuna and pasta salad out of the refrigerator when his eyes landed on the reason he was indoors eating dinner alone, instead of sharing Thai food and sushi with his girlfriend at Regent Thai: a pair of Indianapolis Colts socks, still on their hook.

The abomination.

Liam kissed Penelope lightly on her lips as she entered his apartment. She wore a semi-sheer blue maxi dress that matched the color of her eyes. Her dark brunette hair was brushed away from her face, falling in soft waves about her shoulders. She and Liam were spending the weekend together: Saturday night dinner, followed by a play and brunch on Sunday.

“I still don’t know why you never want to spend the weekend at my place,” Penelope complained as she walked past Liam, enveloping him in a cloud of Flower Bomb perfume.

“Because you live in a sorority house,” Liam explained as he went back to mixing the tuna and pasta salad together.

Penelope shared a three-bedroom, two-bathroom row house with two other ladies, Annabelle and Katie. Annabelle was dating a guy named Ernest Sinclaire, and Katie’s boyfriend was named Rashad Domvallier. Liam had met them all on several occasions, usually when the men were waiting in the living room for their girlfriends to finish getting ready for their respective dates.

Between shrieks and giggles from the women as they ran up and down stairs wearing slips and hair curlers, Liam discovered that Ernest was a property manager for several commercial buildings in downtown DC, and Rashad was co-founder of a technical security start-up. The men had exchanged business cards and phone numbers and met up monthly for drinks and dinner.

Penelope dug in her oversized tote and pulled out a plain brown bag. She held it out to Liam. “I brought you something!” she said brightly.

Liam raised an eyebrow at his girlfriend. “A present? For me?” Penelope was not known for her gift giving ability.

He held out the mixing spoon and let her taste the tuna. Her eyes widened. “It tastes …. delicious! And different!”

Liam smiled proudly. “I added avocado lime ranch dressing and crushed red pepper flakes to it!”

Penelope reached for a fork to scoop more tuna and pasta while Liam took the bag from her, opening it eagerly. His expression fell when he pulled out the pair of cobalt blue socks decorated with white horseshoes.

Penelope had brought him the socks of his sworn NFL rival team. What the hell was wrong with her?

“I’m.Not.Wearing.These,” he gritted out between clenched teeth.

Aside from obviously feminine hosiery, and children themed socks (except Sesame Street characters … one was never too old for Sesame Street), Liam would be hard pressed to name a sock he wouldn’t wear.

Leave it to Penelope to find the ones.

Penelope looked at him with surprised eyes. “What? Whyyyy?” She whined.

“Because if you knew me AT ALL, you would have known to buy me Patriots socks! Or ANY other NFL team except the Colts! I CANNOT STAND the Colts. They are the sworn enemy of the Patriots, and I refuse to support that team in any capacity!”

Penelope’s hand slammed on the counter. “It’s SOCKS, Liam! A fucking pair of socks! I saw them; I know you well enough to know you love football and socks! I THOUGHT YOU WOULD LIKE THEM! Instead, you are biting my head off because you don’t like the team!”

She wiped away angry tears that were beginning to fall. “You’re an ass. And I wasted my time and money even thinking you would appreciate ANYTHING I do for you!”

Penelope picked up her bag which was sitting on the counter and tossed her fork into the sink. The clattering of the utensil against the stainless steel seemed especially loud. Liam had his hands splayed against the kitchen island, his head down.

“Pen, don’t go. I’m sorry. Please stay.” He looked up at her, his dark eyes remorseful.

Penelope stood at the edge of the kitchen, her blue eyes filled with anger and hurt.

“I’m trying, Liam. I thought you would like them.”

“I know you are. Come here.” He held his arms out.

He spent a few minutes reassuring Penelope that she was a good girlfriend as he kissed her hair. He gave her soft kisses on her lips which quickly deepened; he willingly followed her into his bedroom where his lips, tongue, and manhood apologized in ways words couldn’t. Afterwards, there was cuddling, and before Penelope drifted off to sleep, she told Liam she loved him.

Liam didn’t respond.

Now he was sitting in his living room, eating a solitary dinner as a thousand thoughts went through his mind: Penelope didn’t know him, not the way he knew her. She didn’t know Liam’s favorite color, book, holiday, or movie. She didn’t know his favorite drink, or favorite meal. Obviously, she had no idea about his favorite football team. She barely knew when his birthday was.

She was not good girlfriend material; at least for him she wasn’t. She was clingy, needy, and always had a crisis going on, usually financial or emotional. She was jealous and insecure. She had no skill set and no job stability. She was not supportive of his professional goals and not understanding of his ambition.

Liam exhaled a long breath as he watched the Housewives of Atlanta spill tea; he reached for his phone and dialed Riley B. The phone rang four times; Liam was about to hang up when she answered with a breathless hello.

“Hey, Riley B. Were you busy?”

She responded with a loud shriek, followed by giggles.

“Are you okay?” Worry laced Liam’s tone.

“Drake is kicking my ass in a water gun fight!” Riley explained.

Liam’s expression was a myriad of happiness, sadness, and jealousy. That could be him having a water gun fight with her, but she didn’t see him that way. Hell, it could be him and Penelope having one, but she was so anal about her appearance.

“Sounds like fun.”

“Whatever!” Liam could hear the eyeroll in her response and chuckled lightly. “Did you miss the part where I said I was getting my ass kicked?”

Another shriek, and then her berating Drake for almost getting her phone wet. “Are you good?” she asked Liam.

Liam nodded, even though Riley couldn’t see him. “I am. Just wanted to check on you.”

“Hey, let’s get together Monday after work, okay? I can tell you where I buried Drake’s body.”

“Monday. You got it!” Liam hung up while Riley was yelling at Drake that he was gonna get it!

He finished his dinner, and washed dishes. His eyes kept glancing at the socks. Penelope’s I love you reverberated throughout his brain. When he placed the last dish in the rack, he rinsed the sink and then wiped his hands. After a moment’s hesitation, he grabbed the socks and carried them with him back into the living room.

He cut off the television before removing the Care Bear socks. He wiggled his toes as he stared at the Colts socks. The material felt nice against his hand. He closed his eyes and tensed his jaw as he pulled one sock over his foot and pulled it up his calf.

Forgive me, Tom Brady.

He pulled the other sock on swiftly, drawing in a deep breath as he stared at his outstretched legs. The socks fit well and felt good against his skin. His thoughts turned back to Penelope.

Penelope was trying. She was cute enough, and she made a mean drink; topless, at that. They had some things in common. They had good sex. She liked his cooking. She brought him a present. Aside from Riley B., no woman had ever brought him present. His mother didn’t count.

Riley B. and Drake were happy and having fun. Riley B. and Drake were in a relationship that was still going strong after two years.

Liam wanted a relationship. Liam wanted love.

Penelope loved him.

He turned out lights as he made his way back to the bedroom. Penelope stirred when she felt Liam press up against her back.

“Where’d you go?” she asked sleepily.

“To put on my new socks.”

Penelope snuggled closer to him. “Do you like them?”

Liam bit his lip and swallowed over the lump in his throat. “I love them. And you.”

Tagging: @sirbeepsalot @wannabemc2 @jared2612 @katedrakeohd @hopefulmoonobject @custaroonie @jovialyouthmusic @thequeenofcronuts @amomentofsinclairity @bobasheebaby @ao719 @sashatrr @marietrinmimi @ladyangel70 @gardeningourmet @umccall71 @angi15h @romanticatheart-posts @drakeandcamilleofvaltoria @blznbaby @tabithacarlisle @emceesynonymroll @bbrandy2002 @ab1901 @janezillow @debramcg1106 @radlovedreamer @jessiembruno @lodberg @thecordoniandiaries @ramseyandrys @caroldxnvxrs @princess-geek @burnsoslow @annekebbphotography @merridithsmiscellany-blog @queenjilian @emichelle @indiacater @loveellamae @forthebrokenheartedthings @kingliam2019 @texaskitten30 @glaimtruelovealways @zaffrenotes @bebepac @liyanin @dibberdipper @choiceslife @ac27dj @yungnayque

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sad-af1121 · 5 years

Text

It’s You: Part 2

Summary: In which your date doesn’t go well and you meet a stranger who makes you forget all about it with his witty charm. But no numbers or names are exchanged between you two, leaving you both hopeless yet love crazed, never to find one another. Or so you think. | Modern AU | Requested by Anon | Pairings: Bucky Barnes x CurlyHaired! Reader Word Count: 2.7k Warnings: Full-on fluff & comedyyyy, bickering between sam and bucky, language

A/N: I’m trying to get this story done before August ends and I’m just so happy I’m not experiencing writers' block *crosses fingers* And thank you so much for the incredible feedback from the first part you guys, it’s truly amazing! | Thanking @isaxhorror for giving this a look through! Feedback is welcomed 💜

PART 1

Focused on work, Bucky gnawed the end of his pen, trying to see where he may have messed up his calculations for a new design of technology that Stark Industries hired him to work on. Being an engineer wasn’t Bucky’s golden choice when it came to a career but he was pretty damn good at it. However, as much as he was a hard, talented worker, he always got too buried in once he devoted all his attention to it.

“Buck, it’s almost 5. You can’t wear your work clothes to that date,” Steve breathed, sitting on his desk as the brunette continued to look down at his paper.

“'N why not? I always look good when I come to work,” he stated, leaning back in his chair and twiddling the pen between his fingers now.

Deeply sighing with annoyance, Steve crossed his arms over his chest, giving Bucky a stern look, “For the love of God, please go home and change into something decent. You’ve got grape jelly stains on your shirt. AND you smell of coffee and sweat.”

Bucky pursed his lips and shook his head. Steve did have a point but Bucky couldn’t care less. He opened his drawer and pulled out a Tide pen and Axe spray, two solutions to two problems Steve brought forth. After being stood up, Bucky didn’t want to continue the dating scene until after he felt the need to. As of right now, he wants to get his design done and manufactured before the year ended and having fewer distractions seemed necessary.

“You’re fucking kiddin’ me right?” Steve gritted through his teeth, rolling his head back, “So what you got stood up! Big. Fucking. Whoop. Stop acting like a child. Clint told me his roommate is a really nice girl and with a great personality! Just give it a chance, please? Put yourself in her shoes; would you want a half-ass date?”

The more Bucky thought about it, the more he realized Steve was right. It wasn’t fair and there was no way in hell he was going to ditch the date because being on the receiving end wasn’t fun. If Bucky was being honest, his retaliation and cold demeanor were all because he couldn’t get you out of his mind since last night. To think about someone else when you’re in the presence of another seemed cruel and it toyed with Bucky to the point that he just wished you’d get out from his thoughts. It pained him for wishing that but in a world this big, how was he going to find you; a needle in a haystack.

Looking up at his friend, Bucky slowly sat up, clearing his throat, “Fine, I’ll be the best version of myself I can be.”

A victory smile graced Steve’s face as he placed his hand in front of Bucky, the two high-fiving each other, “Atta boy! And before I forget, her name is Y/N.”

Bucky nodded in acknowledgment.

“What I miss?” Sam walked into Bucky's cubicle with a smile, chewing on his food that he held in a Tupperware.

“Is that my fucking food, Wilson?” Bucky growled, clenching his left fist that sat perfectly on his desk, his brows deepened with anger as he saw the ‘Property of Barnes’ written in Sharpie.

“Mhmm, sure is. I figured since you’re going out for dinner, you wouldn’t mind.” He smiled smugly, taking another bite of the chicken linguine pasta with alfredo sauce; one of Bucky’s favorite meals.

The pen in Bucky's hand snapped in two as his anger progressed. “I hope you choke on it.”

***

The soft panic that resided deep inside your chest kept coming and going, like a wave crashing on the shore. It wasn’t unusual, you were used to having this feeling whenever you were embarking on something new, something that you’ve never come across before. Online dating apps made things easier because you had a face to put with their descriptions and it allowed you to talk to them before setting anything up. But one thing you were good at was keeping your cool when things didn’t seem as bad as your mind had pictured it.

Adjusting the sleeves to your off the shoulder striped blouse, you admired the way your outfit sculpted your body as you gazed into the full-length mirror. You wore black mid-rise jeans with your blouse tucked inside, extenuating your figure a bit more. Loose curls that you were accustomed to wearing down were now stuffed tightly into a bun that rested on the crown of your head, a few loose strands shaping your face. You kept your make-up light and soft which balanced off nicely with a bold berry pink lip and highlight.

While you were lost in thought, Nat entered your room, softly knocking on the door frame in hopes to pull you out from wherever it was you seemed to go when you zoned out. “Damn, you look good.”

Your eyes shifted from your reflection in the mirror to Natasha’s, a smile blossoming upon your lips. “Thanks, I know I do,” you playfully stated, flipping your imaginative hair then turned to face her.

“Is Clint here yet?” She asked.

“He said he'd be here in 5 minutes but that was 10 minutes ago.” You breathed out with a smirk, walking to your closet. “I’ve got an hour before I have to meet up with the guy anyway. I hope he isn’t shitty like the one I had last night.”

“Hmm, that’s right,” she paused with a lop-sided grin. “You’d prefer that so your ‘knight and shining armor’ can save you like he did last night, huh?”

You dropped your shoulders and glared at Natasha, frustration creeping up your throat. “It’s like you want me to kick your ass.”

Natasha snorted with a laugh, “I’d like to see you try.” Her amusement didn’t deflate after you gave her a scowled look, only prompting her to laugh some more.

“Fine, fine! Suppose you’re not interested in the date, do you want me to call and pretend our apartment is flooding or something?”

Thinking, you bit your lip, trying to decipher if that was necessary or not. Then again, you didn’t want your time wasted if you really weren’t all that interested and didn’t see the date progressing to another. “That doesn’t sound like a bad plan. Kinda like an SOS?”

“Exactly!” The red-head beamed, shifting on your bed. “Just shoot me a text and I’ll call. But if you can’t pick up after my second call, I’m coming down there then. Deal?”

“Deal!” You laughed, excited that you had a backup plan just in case. You weren’t sure if you were looking more forward to Nat’s mission to save you or the date in itself, hoping you weren’t being overdramatic.

As your waves of laughter died down, the notification to your phone goes off with Clint’s text appearing across your screen. “I think Clint’s outside,” you wiggled your phone in the air and grabbed your bag before blowing Natasha a kiss goodbye. “See you soon!”

***

A whistle withdrew from Bucky's mouth as he observed the restaurant before him. It was a two-story turn-of-the-century townhouse with a lavish old-wealth charm. The night sky was vacant of any clouds, painting the perfect atmosphere for the event. He was glad Steve sent him home to change out from his basic work clothes to something more compatible with where he’d meet his date.

His hair was brushed back into a neat bun that sat at the base of his neck. The brown blazer he wore fit nicely upon his broad shoulders, the contrast between the warm brown and black t-shirt he wore underneath was a nice combination. His black pants were pressed and sharp without a wrinkle in sight and his black shoes were shined to perfection, enough for him to see his own reflection. The musky scent of his cologne followed as Bucky walked into the establishment, smiling at the man by the front desk who then guided him through the wave of diners.

Seated by the long bay windows, Bucky looked around the room, gazing at the pendant lights that were scattered across. He basked in the architectural beauty, the white walls and furniture creating an illusion of a space so large, that you could fit more than a crowd. The view of the city streets through the windows was the cherry on top. It brought a sort of relaxation to Bucky that he couldn’t quite explain but could get lost in the sea of life.

Sighing with anxiety in his seat, Bucky peered at his watch, reading 5:35 p.m. on the dot. Just another 25 minutes before his date would show up and god knows what was going to happen. He could hope for the best and pray this date doesn’t stand him up or else Bucky was making a date with the bar and its' drinks.

Bzzzt Bzzzt! Bzzzt Bzzzt!

Bucky reacted quickly to the sound of his phone going off in his pocket before grabbing the device out and accepting the call, groaning in silence. “What do you want, Wilson?”

“Did you make it to your destination?”

“Yes! Now leave me alone. She could be here any minute now and I don’t want to be on the phone with you when she does. It doesn’t look good.” Bucky whispered harshly, scanning the room to see if anyone was making their way to the table.

Sam furrowed his brows, “Boy, shut up. I just called to check up on you. Had to make sure you weren’t fucking things up. Now, remember to be nice and smile, okay? She doesn’t wanna see a grumpy cat.” He teased, practically hearing the anger on Bucky’s face.

“At least I can smile without having my teeth look like a picket fence,” Bucky snickered, covering his mouth with his hand from releasing a heartfelt chuckle as Sam let out a chain of curses. Looking around the room once again, Bucky locked eyes with a woman whose face was painted with an expression of disgust and concern. But Bucky doesn’t let that get to him, flashing the couple a sweet smile before looking away.

“Alright alright, I’ve gotta go. Bye.”

A few more minutes passed by and Bucky glanced at his wristwatch again, absentmindedly bouncing his leg with anticipation. As the minutes click away, Bucky's chest weighed heavy, making it harder to breathe properly. He was so nervous that he had to pee really bad but didn’t want to get up from the table. There was a chance you could be coming at any second and he refused to miss that.

But when the waiter comes by to refill his glass of water, the pressure in his abdomen worsened and Bucky had enough. Rising from his seat, he decided to make his way to the gentlemen’s room, knowing he had a few minutes to spare. He didn’t want to stay in discomfort the entirety of the date nor pee himself, the pain a constant reminder of how awkward it was. But before he went, Bucky stopped by the host at the front desk.

“Hey, so I’m stepping into the restroom and if my date arrives, could you possibly notify her and seat her too? I won’t be too long.” He swallowed, earning a nod of approval then rushing towards the men's room.

~ 5 minutes later ~

With a smile painted across your features, you stepped through the doors of the restaurant, looking around the place to capture the sense of atmosphere and energy. You were glad to spot the bar, your tongue craving for something bitter yet sweet to relax your muscles and nerves. Just a little bit of alcohol in your system brought you down from anxiety and it would help in a situation like this. You were jittery and anxious, to say the least, a million thoughts running across your mind. All of what and how the date would turn out; for the best or possibly the worst.

As you’re about to be helped by the host, Bucky treads out from the restroom, peeking over towards his table to see if his date had arrived or not and she hadn’t. Something inside him was relieved but also sad because he wanted to get this night over and done with.

Unable to break his gaze from his table, Bucky hadn’t noticed you were walking in the same direction as he was. Without breaking his stride, he ran into your chest, causing both of you to lose your balance. However, if it wasn’t for Bucky’s swift like movements, he wouldn’t have saved you from falling onto your ass as he firmly gripped your arms and helped you ground your feet onto the surface.

People watched and did nothing, going about their business.

“Oh god, I’m so sorry,” Bucky spluttered, helping you stand up properly as a wave of utter embarrassment and mortification washed over him.

“No no, I'm sorry. I should've paid close attention,” you said, letting go of Bucky and adjusting the strap of your purse over your shoulder. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“No, I’m fine. What ab-” Bucky paused, his eyes studying your face once he saw who he had collided into. They widened in shock. A happy shock. His stomach felt heavy with familiarity, lips twitching into a cheeky grin. Words didn’t fall out from his mouth, he just stood there like a love-struck puppy, drenched in bewilderment.

When you don’t hear the man finish his sentence, your brows knit together in confusion, prompting you to look up and see his reasoning. And as you do, you stiffen momentarily before your mind registers what was going on.

“Oh my god,” you breathed with a smile slowly building across your face, heart fluttering with every beat.

It was your knight and shining armor.

“It’s you!” you both marveled in unison, laughing that you said the same thing. It was unbelievable, the realization hitting both of you hard and fast.

“What are you doing here? I mean,” you chuckled breathlessly, scrunching your face at your question, “How is it possible to see you here? It’s not like the city is that small.”

“Trust me, I’m as surprised as you are,” Bucky grinned, his jaw dropping with amusement, but it immediately faints away, remembering his reason for being here tonight.

“I, uh, have a date,” he half-heartedly smiled and ducked his head, shoving his hands in his pockets, the twinkle in his blue orbs losing its shine.

“Oh,” you pouted but forced a smile to hide the disappointment, “Me too. I’m supposed to meet him now but… ,” you chuckled, trailing your words as your gaze traveled across various tables.

Bucky remained quiet, scanning the room himself because the tension between you two increased. Becoming awkward and frustrating.

“I got worried for a sec.” He admitted, breaking the silence.

You turned your attention back on him, eyes raking over his facial features. “And why is that?”

He cocked his head, “I thought it was the same guy from last night.” Bucky smirked, recalling the incident.

“Oh god no! Why would I after his behavior,” you laughed, placing your hands on your chest. Lips urged to smile hard but you bit it from doing so, feeling your cheeks warm up in the presence of Bucky. You both stared at each other with soft eyes, silence casting its blanket over you two again but a good kind.

The host cleared his throat, pursing his lips with a grin as his eyes darted between you and Bucky. Realizing what time it was, you snapped back to the depressing depths of reality. “Well, I don’t want to keep your date waiting.”

“Neither do I,” Bucky swallowed, turning his attention to the host.

“Please, would you both come with me and I’ll escort you to your table,” he informed, earning confused looks from you and Bucky.

Assuming the host would guide both of you to your appropriate tables, you quietly follow the gentleman before sensing something was way off. Hesitantly, you peered over at Bucky who had the same look as you did, a mixture of fear and uncertainty.

As the distance to the table grew closer and closer, it clicked in your brains.

“James?”

“Y/N?”

PART 3

___________

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351 notes · View notes

elizabeth-234 · 4 years

Text

The Supplejack

Previous Chapter Twelve: The End

Hi all! Hope you are doing well and staying safe. I'm not entirely happy with this chapter :/

Thank you all for reading and commenting!

Chapter Thirteen: A New Normal

Routines were the foundation Peter built his life on. Like playing the long game in chess, Peter chose his pieces carefully and played each move keeping the end in mind; only moving when all routes had been thought out. He made his decisions when he knew it would be safe.

But his routine was gone now and Peter was walking on a crumbling chess board. Or maybe he had never been playing chess. Maybe it was a different game altogether.

His body stiffened under the sheets that clung to his skin. Peter ran a hand through his hair, grimacing at the sweat at the back of his neck.

A sliver of moon shined through the window and into his room. Peter turned his phone on the dresser, blinking at the brightness of it and groaned at the late hour. With one eye closed he read through the messages and put the phone back down on the nightstand without answering.

He threw a wrist over his eyes and focused on his breath. The sheet moved with every inhale and exhale. Still feeling restless, Peter turned to face the wall. He reached out, brushing his fingers against the imperfections in the wall.

Peter sighed and waited until it was early enough to get up for the day.

Allowing himself a few days of moping was hard as he only wanted to stay in bed for longer but he couldn’t stand the hovering May was doing. How she was casting worried eyes on him for longer and longer.

He created a new routine for himself. It was just as good as his old one, if not better, he argued with himself.

He was fine.

Peter sighed as he bypassed the hallway he knew Ned was waiting in and made his way out of the school. One in the midst of a crowd.

He slipped away, down the stairs and outside. Breathing fast he quickened his pace and kept his head forward when he heard his name being called from behind.

“Peter!”

The toes of his shoe dangled off the top step. Peter turned around as Flash reached him. Flash put his hands in his pockets and Peter shifted under the gaze of his friend.

“You’re avoiding me.” He said.

Peter rubbed the back of his neck, pulled the hair there when he felt the blush rise on his neck and cheeks.

“No, I’m not.”

“Let’s not pretend I’m stupid. I know you’re avoiding me and the rest of the little group.” Flash said. His eyes pierced Peter until he dropped them to the ground, looking small for once. “We need to talk about it, Peter.”

He was beginning to hate the sound of his name anytime someone said it. Since Oscorp, his name became more of a plea, a worry from the people around him.

Peter glanced at his watch.

“No, we really don’t. I’m late so I’ll see you around sometime.” He said turning around and walking down the stairs.

“Answer your text messages.” Flash yelled from the top of the steps to Peter.

Peter shook his head to himself and continued on his way. His stomach clenched at the confrontation and he turned off his phone, even though it was only a matter of time before something would happen and everyone wouldn’t be content with only trying to talk to him.

Still, they hadn’t tried anything too uncomfortable yet and after the conference he could distance himself further in the summer. He would have to keep working, now in the library, until after their presentation.

The subway ride was full of people on their way to jobs in the city.

It was the same subway he’d taken before to get into the city. The same one to get to the internship.

Peter put his headphones in, blocking out the thoughts that threatened to overrun him.

He was fine.

After he got off the subway he walked by a rusting news stand. Across ten screens a woman was crying, speaking between breaths about being mugged. She called for help to the people and the government to stop the frequency of crime in her neighborhood. She called for someone to help.

Peter pulled his jacket tighter around his body and began walking again. Peter navigated through the other hordes of people and kept his head down.

Barry Electronics was situated across from a Bagel & Coffee and a Starbucks. Barry, the owner, joked with Peter that they would never run out of snacks and more often than not Peter found himself waiting in line, food order in hand.

The small brick and mortar shop door was innocuous and the sign nonexistent. Dave, his Ham friend from Dayton was the one who the one told Peter about the store and their opening.

The bell rung as he entered the shop and rows of transmitters and radios greeted him. Classical music wound through the aisles. Peter sat behind a desk in the back where a Yaesu FT-DX3000D sat exposed. Its parts were scattered across the desk all in place where he left them yesterday.

“How’s it going back here?” Barry leaned around the doorframe, taking in the tense set of his newest employee’s shoulders.

“It’s going well, Mr. Barry.” Peter said. He stood up, pushing the chair in to face his boss. He played with the hem of his sweatshirt before looking down at the man’s shoes. The white plastic covering the toes of the Converse were pealing and brown but the red color of the canvas was bright. Peter looked at his own black ones and the holes forming in the side.

“I just wanted to apologize again, sir. I’m not the best with peo-”

“Now stop there, young man. You don’t have anything to apologize for. Mr. Steffes has been coming here for a long time and you were doing your job is all. Not your fault you knew more about the FT than he did.”

“But isn’t the customer always right?”

The man stepped into the room, pulling the ends of his beard and observing Peter.

“Well, normally that’s right but us radio folks sometimes think we know everything and when a new comer, especially a young one such as yourself, arrives it can be intimidating.”

“Intimidating?” Peter never in a million years would have thought he would be described as that.

Barry shrugged and Peter smiled with a fresh blush and another thought to the sale he’d lost them at his boss’s next words.

“You’re young and you know your stuff. That’s why I hired you, kid.”

At the nickname Peter flinched, curling his shoulders in on themselves.

“Sorry again, Mr. Barry, and thanks for putting me back here.”

The man sighed and Peter stopped himself from remembering another person who sighed the same way only a couple weeks ago.

“Think nothing of it, eh? If you’re more comfortable back here, I can deal with those pesky customers, alright?”

His shoulders dropped a smidge when Barry left and Peter got back to work. He allowed himself to get lost in the turn of the screw and the electrical board.

The street lights were long on by the time he arrived back at their apartment. May was already asleep and Peter leaned against the counted in the kitchen watching the ramen spin around the microwave.

He piled blankets over his lap and ate the siracha soaked noodles in bed while trying to finish some last-minute math homework for the next day.

The empty bowl sat on his nightstand beside his turned off phone. Peter worked until he fell asleep, slumped over the Pythagorean theorem.

His woke with a start, chest heaving against his pounding heart. Peter grabbed his t-shirt. Hands raked down his chest trying to wipe the blood dripping off of it away.

He brought his knees to his chest knowing in a distant part of his mind that there was only sweat there. There was no blood now. It was only a memory now.

Shivers racked his spine. Without turning on a light Peter swung his legs off the edge and walked over to his backpack. By feel he found his old notebook and brought it

Without turning on the light Peter swung his legs off the edge and walked over to his backpack. By feel he found his old notebook and brought it back to his bed. He curled under the covers and flipped to a random page.

Peter couldn’t see the words but he knew they were there stained across the page. The indents from the pen on paper created strange patterns on the tips of his fingers. Some were deep and others he could barely feel at all.

He knew his were the deeper scratches. His scrawling handwriting stabbed into the paper in an attempt to sow all his thoughts into something coherent. In the urgency to prove himself Peter often found his wrist cramping and the sides of his hand smeared with black ink. He wrote as if this was all he could, as his life poured onto the page along with the ink.

The other handwriting took up the margins and like small vines plunged into the spaced between his own thoughts on the page. The indents there were shallow, casual, in their impression. They began sparse, only filling in spaces here and there with notes of encouragement or corrections, but as Peter flipped farther into the book they began to intermingle with his writings. The two merged, playing off of each other and entangling.

Tear drops fell onto the pages, smearing the words into something illegible.

And sleep stayed a stranger till the morning. Peter woke to find the notebook crushed between his fist.

He shoved it in the crack between the wall and his bed frame as the alarm blared, before stumbling to the shower.

Please answer. We’re all worried about you - Julia.

Peter shoved his phone into the locker and straightened the visor he was wearing. He’d have to make sure to email her the rest of his work for their project later.

Suppressing a yawn, he walked to the front of the café mentally going over the different coffee recipes he needed to learn.

Cindy, his manager, stared at him as he began cleaning the counter and he wondered again why she was a manager at a coffee shop if she was not a morning person.

“You’re taking orders today. Can you handle that?”

No.

“Sure.” he said.

The cash register glared at him. He tapped the counter wishing the shift would go faster and hoping, against prior reason, school would get there faster.

As he typed in the code for a chai latte and toasted bagel, he berated himself for thinking he would excel at a job at a coffee shop.

There were appealing aspects such as the routine which was filled to the brim with recipes and schedules, but there were drawbacks. People, however kind they were at normal hours of the day, weren’t at their best in the morning.

His late hours were making work before school a problem he should have seen coming. But all he thought about filling out the applications was that he needed to keep busy, to do something with his time now and not how to talk with customers.

Not to mention, now that his involvement with Stark Industries had ended so prematurely, he had to make up for it with something for his applications.

Cindy wasn’t as accommodating as Barry it turned out and this morning Peter was taking a woman in a smart suit’s order.

“Right up, Ma’am” he said, not making eye contact.

The woman stepped aside, she was a regular and knew the drill, and two teenagers around his age stepped forward asking what their specials were and how they were made.

He couldn’t wait till school.

He couldn’t wait till school was over.

Peter sat in stacks of the library, lunch forgotten beside him. His eyes traced over his work and school schedules again. He swallowed. One more glance at all the deadlines in red and closed his planner.

His eyes closed. He exhaled. The air around him was still.

Peter’s mind wandered around safe topics: his new jobs, May’s attempt at making flan, and the laundry he needed to do.

Someone poked him and Peter flinched back, hitting his head against the books.

“Sorry.”

Ned sat next to him munching on pretzels. The boy glanced over from the corner of his eyes and back up the aisle. Peter went to gather his stuff but Ned interrupted him before he could stand up.

“Don’t go. I- I’ll go if you want to be alone but I won’t pester you. Not right now at least.” He said the words softer than necessary for the library and Peter settled back tensed against his spot.

As if calculating his movements, Ned settled back against the shelves. He handed the bag over and Peter grabbed a pretzel, nibbling at the ends of it.

Ned smiled at Peter.

They sat in silence until the bell rang. Ned squeezed Peter’s shoulder before he hurried off to class and handed him the rest of the pretzels.

Peter held back the tightness nestled in his chest.

The time in the library replayed in his mind on the subway into the city.

He’d almost forgotten how understanding Ned could. How patient his friend was.

But he knew the questions would start soon. From Ned or Julia or someone. The curiosity practically burned in their eyes and he couldn’t talk about it. Any of it.

Barry smiled from the front desk when Peter walked in.

“The FT is waiting for you in the back. I got the part she needed.”

Peter nodded and after punching his card, wandered into the back.

May was gone when he got home and a note sat at her place on the kitchen table. He didn’t heat anything up for dinner and played his filled lunchbox back into the fridge to use tomorrow.

Peter climbed into bed, clothes on and cracked his back. He set an alarm for the coffee shop in the morning and refused to think about May’s handwriting and her missing him at dinner.

He closed his eyes and thought about coffee orders and radio parts.

The new routine was good. Peter was busy now and busy was good.

Not two hours passed from when he laid down that Peter jerked up with nightmares clinging to his pores and sweat sticking to his back.

He groped the notebook in the slot besides the bed and laid there thinking about how tomorrow and the next day would be the same.

How he hated his new routine.

Thank you all for reading! :)

A/N: Barry Electronics is a real shop in New York!

Thank you all!

You can check out my fan fiction (Elizabeth234) or AO3 account as well :)

Taglist (message me if you want to be added): @demi-starzak @whatisthou @warmwithafewfrostymoments

Next Chapter Fifteen: Encounters of a Third Kind

#peter parker #tony stark #ned leeds #irondad #spiderson #prepowers #fanfiction #marvel fanfic #peter parker fanfic #shy peter parker #angst #AO3 #my writing #the supplejack

6 notes · View notes

mwdders · 5 years

Text

Tea bags

Summary: Who knew moving to America would mean drinking awful tea?

Warnings: None

Pairing: Tom Holland x reader

Word count: 1.7k

Enjoy!

—

“Hi can I order a hot chocolate and a tea please?” You ask the barista, “Sure. Take a seat and I’ll bring them over.” You nod at her and turn to your brother. “Go find a seat and I’ll be over in a minute.” He runs off and you watch as he sits by the door, having the perfect view of everyone coming in and out of the small cafe, he was such a people watcher. “Hi I just ordered a tea and hot chocolate can I add to my order please?” You add a pasta salad to your order and walk over to the table. “See anyone interesting?” You ask him and he shakes his head, picking up his rucksack and pulling out his toys.

The cafe was a small business on a busy street in L.A and it was the first place you came too after moving here from England, you’d be craving a coffee and happened to pass by on your way from the airport, finding it be only a 10 minute walk from your flat. “Hi here’s your food, your tea and hot chocolate.” The barista brings it over and your brothers eyes light up at the drink with whipped cream and marshmallows on top, “Thank you.” She smiles and then walks away. “Here.” You hand your sibling a napkin and tuck it in his top, not wanting him to spill anything down it.

“Be careful with the tea.” A voice sounds and you look to your left seeing a man reading a book, “Sorry?” He puts the book on the table and you instantly recognise him, “I said, be careful with the tea, it’s not quite PG Tips.” He comments with a chuckle, this makes you smile. “It can’t be that bad?” He points at the cup, “Try it yourself.” You do as he says and screw your face up as the hot liquid runs down your throat leaving a nasty after taste in your mouth, “Oh wow.” Your face causes him to laugh, “Told you. American tea isn’t as good as English.” You place the mug down and turn to him, “I’ll never be having tea again.” He smirks at you, “Well if you’d like I know a shop that sells all English groceries, I could show you? You can get PG Tips, Yorkshire tea, Twinnings and even Tetley!” You gasp, “I need it, I can’t go without tea,” You play along with his joke, “It’ll cost you.” You smirk, “Anything.” He laughs again, his eyes flickering over your face. “Your name.” You blush, “Y/N.” He leans back in his seat, “I’m Tom.” You look back at your cup as his stare makes your cheeks heat, “Nice to meet you.” You finally say looking back up at him.

“Y/N.” Your brother says quietly and your head snaps to him, for a moment you’d forgotten he was there, he’d finished his hot chocolate and was now playing with his toys, “Yes buddy?” You lean over the table slightly, “I dropped Iron Man, can you pick him up please? He’s under your seat.” You shuffle out of your seat and stand up, leaning down to get the toy that was lay on the floor. “Here.” You hand him the toy and he smiles before going to his game. “So where is this shop?” You ask catching Tom’s attention again, “Oh, well it’s top secret so I’d have to show you rather than just tell you.” You nod, “Lead the way.” He chuckles, “Now? You could at least buy me a drink first.” He jokes and you laugh, “Sorry, but tea is more important and as an Englishman you should have your priorities straight.” He laughs loudly throwing his head back which makes you giggle, “I guess you’re right.”

He stands up and signals to the door, “I’ll wait outside for you.” You nod, “Buddy put your toys away, we’re going to go now.” He pouts a little before putting his toys in his bag and putting it on his shoulders, grabbing your hand as you leave the cafe.

As you leave the cafe your brother looks around, his eyes lighting up as he takes in his surroundings, his gaze stops on Tom as he waits in the street for you. His chubby hand pulls on yours and you look down at him, “Y/N, that’s Spider-Man.” He pulls your arm down so he can whisper in your ear and you laugh, he must have only just noticed Tom. “I know.”

You whisper back as you reach where Tom was stood, “Ready?” He asks, you nod and watch as your brothers eyes go wide and you giggle at his reaction, “Tom this is Y/B/N by the way, my brother.” He stops and crouches down to be at his level, “Nice to meet you! I’m Tom.” Your brother shakes his outstretched hand, “I thought you were Peter Parker?” He asks curiously, Tom smiles, “I am but I have people call me Tom as well, it’s another way of hiding that I’m Spider-Man so don’t tell anyone, okay?” Your brother nods his head aggressively and you smile.

“So how long have you been in L.A for?” Tom questions as you follow him. “Just a week.” He nods, “How long you staying?” You stop at the traffic lights waiting to cross, noticing a few heads turning and looking in Tom’s direction doing double takes, “We live here now so a long time hopefully.” You cross the road as the green man appears, “Why’d you move?” You pull your brother a long slightly his short legs not being able to keep up with you, “My mum got a job opportunity she couldn’t turn down.” He looks back at you, realising you were slightly behind him and he slows down, walking at the same pace. “Sorry if I was walking too fast, forgot about little legs over here.” He chuckles as he rubs your brothers head, causing his hands to instantly fly up and fix the hair Tom messed up. “S’okay.” You carry on walking and soon see a shop, the logo reading ‘sainsdury’s’ causing you to laugh, “Very original.” Tom chuckles as he opens the door for you, “Thank you.” You skip every aisle and head straight for the tea one, your eyes lighting up as you pick up 4 boxes of PG Tips. “Blimey.” Tom laughs and you blush, “That desperate for tea? I’m glad I showed you where this shop is.” You look at him and notice for the first time how much hotter he is in person, realising the big screen did not do him any favours. “I’m glad too.” You head to the till and pay for the tea boxes, and leave the shop. “I have to ask, I’m a stranger, why bother to show me where this shop is?” You ask Tom as you absentmindedly walk back home.

He shrugs, “I’m not sure, a fellow Brit with a pretty smile, hard not to.” You blush and look down at your feet, “That’s sweet.” He walks beside you, as you walk in silence your hand tightly around your brothers, your other arm brushing Tom’s every now and then.

You spot your building and stop, “This is us.” Your brother automatically keeps walking and goes and sits on the stairs waiting for you, clearly tired after a long day of exploring, Tom looks up at the building, “You live here?” You nod, unsure as to why he’s asking that. “I live just around the corner.” He points in the direction of the building on the corner. “I don’t think that’s a coincidence.” He comments and you roll your eyes, “Maybe not.” You place the boxes of tea on one of the steps, “Thank you for showing me that shop, it is definitely going to be my go to supermarket now.” He looks down at his feet as a small blush appears on his cheeks, hoping you wouldn’t notice but you did, “You’re welcome, maybe we’ll bump into each other.” He looks hopeful as he stares into your eyes, you avert your gaze from his eyes, knowing you’d get lost in the gorgeous brown orbs. “Maybe,” you walk over and start up the stairs, “It was great to meet you Tom.” You go to pick up the boxes of tea but before you can he picks a box up and opens it, pulling a pen out of his pocket he writes something on one of the tea bags, “Here.” He puts it back in the box before you get the chance to look at and hands you the box, your hands brushing ever so lightly as he does causing you to blush but also feel sparks up your arm, “I’ll see you round?” He asks before he begins to walk away, “Sure.” He turns away and looks back when he’s half way down the road, a small smile tugging at his lips as he waves.

You shake away the warm feeling radiating over your body and walk up the steps, opening the door allowing your brother in. He slowly walks over to the elevator pressing your floor number, you step in as the doors open. The whirring sounds and soon the doors are opening again this time into your living room. “Mum we’re home and I bought tea!” You yell, you hear a faint reply as you enter the kitchen placing the boxes on the counter, you pull out the box Tom opened and fish around for the tea bag he wrote on, you find it and read the words written with also his phone number.

Call me sometime?

Maybe we can share a brew x

You blush and place the tea bag on the counter, pulling out your phone and copying the number into your phone and texting him.

You: Hi Tom, it’s Y/N. Just wanted to say thank you again for showing me the tea shop, honestly life saver. I’ve got enough tea to last me now. The kettles always on so you’ll have to come over for a thank you cuppa x

Tom: You’re welcome. Glad you found my little note. I’ll hold you to that brew x

You: Can’t wait x

Tom: How about tomorrow ?

You: So soon? You are eager! ; )

Tom: Only if it suits you.

You: Of course. 11am? If you’re lucky I’ll throw in a biscuit too.

Tom: You’re spoiling me now, tea, biscuits and a gorgeous girl to keep me company? I am lucky x

You: Haha, see you then x

Tom: Can’t wait x

You blush at your phone, already thinking of what tomorrow might hold.

—

If you think I should write a part 2 then comment please cause I’m not sure

217 notes · View notes

juleswolverton-hyde · 5 years

Text

Confessions of a Coffee-Eater | 02

Genre: Smut, College/University AU

Pairing: Student!/Poet!Namjoon x Student!/Poet!

Warnings: sub!Namjoon gets a handjob in the classroom during a lecture, allusion to smoking

Summary: It is in hard times beautiful things can occur and the addiction of primal instincts be suppressed in their proximity. However, when two souls from different social worlds meet in a poetry class, any former urges gain a new direction.

Some of which are sensual in emotion.

And may not be reciprocated.

Masterlist

Previous part / Next part

There is a lyric which dictates that “sorry” seems to be the hardest word and last night while pondering a way to offer sincere apologies for the unintentional harassment the true meaning came forth as the song played on the radio. Replayed itself again and again as a pen twisted between fingers free from the engraving ink on skin, waiting for any potential customers. The last of the twilight cigarette smoke dissipated before settling into the corner of the back office to catch a few hours of sleep since the last hours of the night shift are dead in business.

The sole idea is offering a cup of anything but fantastic coffee from one of the machines spread around the building and hope a listening ear will be given to a remorseful poor man from Ilsan. A concept that becomes more and more terrifying with each step advancing towards the university building outside the city centre that both students and professors complain about, especially with having to attend and give morning lectures.

The cafeteria is bland like the rest of the dated interior which makes one think more of a high school than a proper academic environment, the only attempt at enlivening the area being the crisp white picnic tables standing in a neat row against an ugly brick wall between the stairs and the guard’s booth. Across from the still empty benches sits the wronged woman, engrossed in noting something down and thus not paying any attention to the anxious onyx beanie passing by towards the tiny coffee corner.

Ignorant to the split second of stopping to simply gaze for a little bit at how flowing hair falls over the shoulder clad in nighttime fabric, the outfit of the day not out of place in an office as the blouse on top of monotone pants and made more interesting with golden accents in the form of a belt and watch radiate a chic mood.

She’s way out of my league. But still, I have to apologize.

Bearing the thought in mind, begotten in that instance of allowing romantic fascination without perverse intent to overtake body and soul, the debit card with little money on it is used to pay for two cappuccinos. Fortunately, last night’s tips make up for the expense so some groceries, later on, will have to be paid for in cash.

The coffees in hand, slowly the table at which Y/N is still working on something is approached while trying to keep breathing under control and composure steady. Notwithstanding, it crumbles to reveal a hint of panic when the busily scribbling pen is put down and eyes look from the page to the steaming cup of caffeine to a well-meaning man in a denim jacket beneath a grey vest with a brown collar.

A slim finger points at one of the bright yellow cups on the table. ‘Is that for me?’

‘Y- Yeah.’ A hand automatically rises to rub the back of the neck, gaze slightly averted to hide cheeks burning as the temperature inside seems to rise. ‘I want to say sorry. For yesterday, because what I- I shouldn’t have done what I did bu- but I couldn’t-’

‘Namjoon. That’s your name, right?’ The inquiry halts the apologetic stammering waterfall likely leading nowhere, a brief nod confirming the assumption. ‘It’s fine.’

‘But I looked at-’

‘Really, it’s okay.’ A welcoming hand gestures casually at the chair of which the back has been unconsciously gripped tightly, knuckles turning white. Strangely, though it could have been due to still being half-asleep, the same motioning fingers appear to want to reach out but can barely withhold themselves. A silly idea, judging by the even voice continuing to speak. ‘Have a seat. We still got a bit of time before we need to go. If you want to, of course.’

Without a second thought, any outerwear is draped over the offered seat before rapidly plopping down. Apparently doing so with much eagerness for a stunned breathless laugh escapes the girl about to take a sip of the peace offering. ‘Thank you, Miss.’

‘Miss?’ An inquisitive eyebrow raises, the unconsciously made mistake only realized too late.

Lips part in panic, wanting to protest yet all words fail to string themselves into a proper excuse. ‘I- I mean- I didn’t mean to- Y- Y/N, I swear I-’

‘Namjoon,’ kind digits wrap around the nautical map covering tensed muscles bared from beneath denim, ‘take a deep breath. Like that. There you go. Good b- Good.’

The slip of the tongue is laughed off, locks shaking slightly in unjust embarrassment fueling a heart truly wanting to shrink before vanishing from the earth entirely.

Or so it did want to, the warmth in the chest now spreading its rosy glow throughout while repeating the error over and over mentally.

I’m pleasing her. She wanted to say I’m her good boy. I can be. I am. I am your good boy, Y/N.

‘Uhm, are you alright?’ The digits that retracted in a fashion wrongly perceived as trembling reach out again, slightly shaking the feather resting eternally on skin. The warmth of the palm perfectly enveloping it is comforting, a steady beacon guiding consciousness back to reality.

Away from the perverse thought of that same hand pinning an absent-minded poor soul to the mattress in the same manner. Henceforth, albeit with a suppressed jolt of surprise as if waking from a dream, sight gradually focuses on the beautiful woman wearing a concerned expression. ‘Huh, what?’

‘You were spacing out.’ A whimper can barely be silenced before being made audible at feeling the light squeeze asking for attention, fast-beating heart skipping beats. Once again distracted by the contact and the lips that want to be experienced from up close instead of far away.

Yet sharply sane enough to muster a half-hearted excuse blaming the morning for the ridiculous behaviour. ‘Oh, ehm, yeah. I’m fine. It’s early.’

What am I doing? She doesn’t know me and I don’t really know her. I need to get a grip on myself.

‘Fortunately, there’s coffee to wake us up.’ The worry melts away into gentle kindness, leaving digits creating a cold wake as they wrap around the bright yellow cardboard cup bearing the university’s logo. But not chilling the honest man turned into a lovesick puppy mimicking the normalcy of drinking coffee while ignoring the pooling heat below.

We still have some time and I can’t move until I’ve calmed down. She shouldn’t know what she does to me, not yet. Not... ever.

‘Can I ask you something?’ To keep the conversation flowing, an innocent desire appears to form the lead to follow. Awkwardly shuffling to hide the strain in jeans, voice is kept as steadily as possible regardless of shyness overtaking demeanour slowly.

‘Sure. Fire away.’

‘What were you penning down earlier? I- I saw you... uhm, just now- I saw you write something in your notebook.’

Why did I stutter? Why is she looking like that? Oh God, what do I do?

‘And you don’t suppose it actually has to do with the course?’ The sarcastic chuckle on the rim of the cup has a strangely flattered undertone, almost to be called endeared.

Withholding innermost personal emotions.

That circulate beneath the indecipherable surface of breathtaking affectionate irises locking gazes with genuine curiosity. ‘Why would it at this hour? It’s just a random thought more than a poem but then again, so is all my poetry. If it can be even called that.’ However, all playfulness fades into under-the-breath muttering as melancholia takes over and Y/N’s focus moves away to finish the cheap warm drink. ‘Just an amalgamation of thoughts.’

A loathsome sight to a boy with love for a woman whom he barely knows yet wants to ensure the happiness of.

Without being aware of it, a hand glides over the thigh clad in obsidian as speech becomes urgent. ‘Hey, don’t talk like that. I’m sure it’s good.’

And moves away as if burned by fire when the intimacy is noticed thanks to a tilt of the head, enchanting eyes leaning to the side in rather odd fascination. ‘Oh God, I’m so sorry. Still, may- No, what am I saying? Y/N, I didn’t-’

‘Namjoon, it’s alright.’ Softly smiling fingers brush over shivering honey skin, gliding over it and drawing intricate calming patterns over inked stories to still the panic. ‘I don’t mind.’

‘Y- You don’t?’

‘No, I don’t. Please, say what you wanted to say.’

The bottom lip is briefly worried between teeth, a sigh rolling off the tongue when deciding to speak up at last in spite of wanting to disappear, be swallowed whole by the onyx beanie hiding earthly brown locks in dire need of a cut. ‘May I read it?’

‘Promise you won’t judge? You seem to know a great deal more than I about the genre.’ Mayhaps unaware of it, the palm resting on the place formerly deemed forbidden is enveloped as much as possible by a smaller one as a tiny thumb caresses the back of it.

Thus for a few seconds stretching into moments we sit, newly met strangers already of a bond with one another that does not touch grounds with that of lovers nor mere friends. It is of a different indescribable nature, testing the waters of uncharted territory.

But it feels safe.

Trusted.

Like a safe haven the map on the arm leads to.

She is my anchor.

Which is shown by flipping the tables enough that Y/N’s hand rests between those of a poor sod from Ilsan on foreign soil. And it takes all inner strength to not put it on the cheek, to bask in the kindness. ‘Tell you what, I’ll let you read mine if you let me read yours. ‘Fair?’

The last sip of coffee is quickly gulped down before answering with the same confidence that shines bright in illuminated irises. ‘Fair.’

That dim when noticing the time. ‘We have to go.’

For nine o’clock on a September Tuesday will always be too early to analyze poetry.

But never too soon to see her.

‘Let’s go.’

Nine o’clock on a September Tuesday will always be too early to analyze poetry.

But never too soon to see him.

To lean against the deep-voiced mixture of nicotine and cologne wearing glasses with a thick black frame that others shun, ignorantly afraid of the person they deem a delinquent. However, they cannot see the gentle soul beneath a prejudiced exterior, not feel the fast stiffening of muscles that melt away at a pleased hum.

‘Are you still awake?’ A low giggle resonates in the baritone inquiry, having a chance to talk in a short ten-minute break after processing a ton of poetical and theoretical analysis.

Judging by the sloth-like sensation spreading throughout, the information might not be committed to memory until notes made on the automatic pilot are read through. ‘Barely.’

‘Want to get another coffee?’

‘Mhm, I’d rather sit here.’ A pleased smile naturally carves itself into lips. An odd thing to happen, but there is something in the subdued scent of soap beneath the heavier aromas of musk and tobacco or perhaps the combination of the three that creates a small piece of happiness. ‘Thank you.’

‘For what?’ Regardless of not being able to see Namjoon’s face, lashes fluttering shut, the quizzical look can vividly be imagined behind closed eyes. And it enhances the sense of kind joy, glad to be in the company of a good friend.

Or more. No, less. What are we? What do we mean? Hm, doesn’t matter now. Gods, should have drunk another espresso before heading out the door.

‘For letting me lean against you like this.’ As a sign of honest appreciation and to be more comfortable, the warm tribal jungle of aquatic blue and emerald green is further snuggled up against. ‘I like it.’

‘Don’t fall asleep, though. We’re halfway there.’ For a split second, there is the curious wish or, rather, expectation for the statement to be sealed with a chaste kiss on the top of the head. Withal, to unjust disappointment, it does not come for. It would have been absurd if it had, of course.

And yet the desire keeps gnawing on the inside.

‘If I do, please wake me up before the professor sees.’ Fortunately, inner sensations can be suppressed by taking on a playful tone barely shy of badly lying. Nevertheless, a sudden memory of a promise erases the thought of being like this outside of the university, huddled together on a couch.

Or between the sheets.

The timid giant spent in the arms of a girl turned weirdly mischievous as of late.

Eyes languidly open, brought back from the equally as sudden and vibrant recalling of the awkward shuffling to apparently hide the endearing hardened shape in jeans. Voice remains even, luckily, when reminding the buff sweetheart of what is due to him as well. ‘Oh, right. I promised I’d let you read my new poem. Hold on, let me grab my notebook.’

Perhaps thanks to the fear of being caught red-handed with furiously blushing cheeks, locks immediately duck under the table to rummage around the backpack that is hardly filled with anything. Notwithstanding, the opposite is acted out until the rampant thoughts of a racing heart have calmed down.

Only to almost start anew when bumping into Joon’s hand upon rising from beneath the piece of furniture.

‘I- I didn’t- Just making sure you wouldn’t get hurt.’ Swiftly, composure crumbles appealingly into haphazard helplessness as the shield against injury is retracted while actively trying not to stutter.

‘Much appreciated. Truly.’ To quiet the doubt in the fellow poet’s behaviour, an assuring tone naturally slips into soft-spoken smiling speech. And works effectively as a rapidly breathing chest falls slower.

Once more, comfort is sought by leaning against the jungle-shaded arm, leafing to the correct page before closing eyes again with the risk of falling asleep. ‘Here you go.’

Without waiting for another cue, Namjoon starts reading the poem in the only manner one should read poetry.

As much shame as it may cause.

It has to be done out loud.

‘Youth shouldn’t think

About Death yet it

Contemplates its very

Existence and the relation

Between them.

Why fear something distant?

Distant.

But incredibly close.

Lurking in effervescent ever-

Present shadows.

Waiting patiently.

For Age.

For Chance.

For Fate.

For Opportunity.

For Time.

For Me.’

A breathless laugh attracts the tall man’s attention. ‘What?’

‘Nothing.’ In spite of partially meaning to mock oneself for the quality of the writing, the sudden outburst is mostly due to the surprising effect a voice, Namjoon’s voice has on the piece of writing. A hand unconsciously comes to rest on a muscled thigh, basking in the warmth and the slight movement leaning into the touch by pressing it against the one secretly wanting more. ‘I just like the way you read poetry. You have a good voice for it. It’s nice to listen to.’

‘Y/N,’ breath hitches in a beautiful whimper when the palm moves slightly upward, ‘people are looking.’

A shrug dismisses the worry, not bothered whatsoever by the ones who have silently cast a peer out on grounds of appearance. None would admit this outright, of course, but it is obvious in behaviour during seminars and lectures. ‘Don’t care.’

‘What if they think we are... you know... together?’

‘We’re all adults here, grownups with a sense of what a relationship entails. Besides, does it matter? Let them think whatever, Namjoon.’ As languidly as a cat, eyes open again to blink a few times before looking up at a flustered tanned face. Mayhaps a misperception, but it seems closer than before.

He looks adorable. No, what am I doing? Focus! He read your poem, so this is not the time for fantasy.

Moving away a little bit from the intoxication caused by the combination of musk and tobacco, enhanced by the sensation of a big palm enveloping the one wandered more towards the inside of denim, speech is endeavoured to be made steady. Nevertheless, the attempt only succeeds in part as careful guidance testing the waters beneath the table leads to an intenser heat. ‘But what did you think of it?’

And ends in boldly being spread out across clothed hardened skin of which the ego rapidly grows breathless. Especially more so when willingly applying pressure, thoroughly enjoying the parting of plush lips risking being heard and expression contorting into laboured concentration. ‘Come on, don’t be shy.’

‘I- Is this what you, ah, ehm, think about in the morning?’ Hips slowly rock against the offender, seeking the desperately needed friction as skin begins to pass the state of glowing and grows dewy.

‘“I was a woman who thought of dead things. All the time. I couldn’t help it.”’ Enough mental stability can be gathered to manage a blank stare signifying ignorance as to where the applicable quote stems from. Forcefully, the ability to pay attention is compelled to be enhanced as the waist is suppressed with a smirk into sitting quietly on the chair. ‘Ah, ah, ah. Sit still before someone catches you. Lidia Yuknavitch said this in The Chronology of Water: A Memoir. And I’ll be honest, I got that quote from Tumblr.’

‘D- Don’t stop.’ All attention is returned to the movements below that have not stopped in the meanwhile, teeth biting down on the lower lip succeeding in nullifying the groan that wants to become audible.

‘Break time is almost over.’ Time for contact is running out, the chatty professor pacing back towards the lecturer with a steaming cup of cheap coffee. Every second ticks away faster, but the steps in the race towards craved oblivion are too little. On the other hand, it would be a just punishment for the public brashness.

‘Could we- Can we g-get lunch? Together?’

‘Is that what you want? What you think about?’ The absurdity evokes an amused low chuckle, truly finding joy in seeing the tough yet submissive poet struggle. ‘We just met, Joon.’

‘Y- Yet you let m- me do this, Miss.’ Digits free from tribal ink wrap around the wrist, willing it to remain out of sight beneath the table without stopping.

What are we doing? We’re basically strangers. But... he held my hand and now we’re doing this. We both want this. This is ridiculous and yet, with the way he calls me that, the power is intoxicating.

And held onto a tad longer, mischief triumphing long enough to find pleasure in the whine at being left hanging high and dry after the squeeze that could have invoked embarrassing euphoria. ‘Not for long, bad boy.’

‘Alright, so! Where were we? Ah, right, why rhyme pleases.’ The professor has returned from the momentous coffee break fully, yellow cup empty and the little caffeine forming enough fuel to make it through the last three quarters filled with poetic analysis.

Forty-five minutes of swatting away secretive undecorated hands trying to find release, as shameful as it is, by themselves.

To, perhaps, play the part of the devil to the end.

And maybe, just maybe admit to something.

To desire bordering on young love.

To a tribal jungle and nautical map on muscled buff arms.

To him who is clearly struggling.

To Namjoon.

#hyunglinenetwork #thekimlinenet #ksmutclub #BTS #BTS smut #BTS x Reader #Namjoon #RM #Kim Namjoon #Joon #Confessions of a Coffee-Eater

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crazy-bi-btch · 5 years

Text

Heathers : The Musical ( Riverdale Fic ) Part l

Summary: (Part l) Vanessa is trying to get over a boy that seems she can’t escape. Auditioning for Veronica Sawyer was probably a bittersweet move.

Pairing: Sweet Pea x Lodge! OC

Warning: angst, musical scenes, smut (future parts), cursing, drug use ( future parts)

A/N: SOOO I’ve had this plot in my head for so long ever since the musical episode. I hope y’all like it show some love to my other works also :) YES I PUT IN MUSICAL SCENES DON’T KILL ME OK BYEEE

I ran into school my leather jacket clinging to my wet body from the rain. I sighed as I pushed through the moody students of Riverdale high. I hate my life.

“ Get away serpent slut!” A River Vixen screeched as I bumped into her. She looked at me in disgust. I flipped her off, I would cuss her out but I was already late, missing 1st period again.

“ Watch it!” A football player yelled as I accidentally stepped on him.

“ Fuck off.” I mumbled and made my way to the end of the hallway.

As I got closer towards the end of the hall I was faced with the school news and clubs bulletin board. My friends were lined up, they seemed to be signing something. Betty pries at Jugs arm almost pleading for him to sign it. Once I got closer they started chatting on the side.

“ Hey guys.” I commented just for courtesy but mostly just wanting to find out what this sign up was for.

“ Hey- woah, you’re really wet!” Veronica cried as she made her way towards me my wet hair instantly her hands. “ I’m fine.” I sighed, she shook her head in disapproval. It took her a minute to realize why I was staring at the bulletin board.

“ You’re gonna audition?” She asked a hint of excitement in her tone. Then my eyes landed on the bold red letters

Heathers : The Musical

Holy shit

The pen that was once hanging on the yarn was instantly in my hand, and writing my name next to the 2pm audition slot. Right blow me was none other than of course for, my luck, Sweet pea.

“ Who would’ve known Vanessa, a theater kid?’” Jug and Veronica laughed, I rolled my eyes at them.

“ Give me a break guys, I need to do something fun, you know after-” Jug coughed as he realized where my response was going. You were going through a rough time. You were told by your sister Ronnie to “loosen up” and that there were more fish in the sea or whatever. So that’s what you were trying to do. Hopefully this musical will distract me.

“ Yeah, you’ll do great!” Betty cheered with a big smile. I smiled back at her, and sighed.” Well I hope I don’t embarrass myself instead of getting the part.”

“ Well I do know someone that could help you out if you really want to ace this.” Both V and B looked at each other. Jug and me were so lost, but then they were leading me towards the one and only Cheryl blossom. The mythic bitch.

She was already in character, Heather Chandler of course.

“ Well Cheryl, I see your all set and ready for this musical.” Veronica teased as we startled her. She narrowed her eyes at us.

“ Cousin. Ronnie. Newbie Serpents.” I scoffed at my nickname. Cheryl was a cold bitch when she wanted but also she could be the sweetest person on planet earth. She could kill for someone that she loved. As also kill someone that hurts her in any way or shape possible. That’s just a Blossom thing I guess. “ What brings you to ruin my peaceful moment.”

“ Cheryl you were admiring yourself in a small locker mirror in a school full of dickwads. Opposite of peaceful.” I explained sarcastically, she glared at me, she fixed her bow before stepping closer to me. I gulped.

“ Don’t try me Ronnie 2.0”

“ Cheryl!” Ronnie and Betty growled in annoyance. I got up to her level and stared back into her hazel cold eyes.

“ Cheryl I’m not here to fight. I’m here for help. The musical.” She smiled her white pearly whites practically blinding me from the contrast from her cherry red lipstick. “ Please.” I spoke softly.

“ Well you’ve come to the right person, I mean I am Heather, I made myself Heather Chandler because who else,” She spoke delighted, “ I made Kevin agree, and your auditioning for?”

I sighed, blinking a couple times, I felt Betty’s eyes on me also my sisters Ronnie . My cheeks flushed slightly. “ The role...of Veronica…” I mumbled, she rolled her eyes.

“ Clearly I should’ve seen it coming, See me after 2nd period in the music room we can practice their, now if you excuse me I’m going to look for my Titi.” Cheryl flashed one more bright smile before she spun around and pranced to look for her girlfriend. I groaned, mentally face palming myself for having Cheryl as my mentor. How did I agree to this?

“ Hey you’ll do great. Cheryl is good remember Carrie! You’re in good hands!” Ronnie held me in a hug trying to comfort me. Betty joined in on the hug also. Yeah I remember Carrie, who doesn’t a girl ended up dead on stage!

“ Just remember to not get on her ugly side you know how she gets.” The 3 of us laughed and slowly made our way to our second period class.

I sat on the bench in the music room watching as Cheryl paced.

“ Beautiful? Out of all the songs; the opener?!” She hysterically cries, I knew she was being dramatic but it was putting me on edge. I had exactly 3 hours to practice. Yes I am skipping my classes I would much rather focus on this than anything else. ( stay in school kids and don’t ditch!!)

She took a deep breath and exhaled and handed me a sheet of lyrics.

“ Show me what you got.” I stood up straight and began singing, some of the words off key. I was freaking scared. My voice shook , and my knees weak.

Cheryl closed her eyes and put her hands up. “ Stop.” She held my shoulders and looked into my insecure ones.

“ Vanessa, you know what screw it- Your Veronica. Feel it! Embrace it! Get in the Veronica mindset.” She cheered, I look a deep breath and remembered back to my favorite movie. “ Now Veronica let’s give you some inspiration shall we?” She taunted with a playful grin. I shot a confused look at her, when she started to pull me out into the empty hallway.

“ Now what do you see Veronica?” She asked her arms crossed, I stared at the empty hallways, the clock on the ends of the hallways ticking away, the blue lockers.

“ A high school hallway, which is empty and it stinks.” I complained. She smirked.

“ Exactly, but empty? Try again.” Just on cue the bell rang to signal class was over. “ Now let's try this again.” She strutted towards the crowd signaling for me to start.

“We were so tiny, happy and shiny

Playing tag and getting chased” I sang rubbing my elbow as tried following Cheryl.

“Freak! Slut! Loser! Short bus!” The kids in the crowd yelled at me, making me flinch.

“ Singing and clapping, laughing and napping

Baking cookies, eating paste

Then we got bigger, that was the trigger

Like the Huns invading Rome.” I sang back at the angry kids, Cheryl closely watching as she leaned against the lockers.

“ Welcome to my school, this ain't no high school

This is the Thunder-dome

Hold your breath and count the days, we're graduating soon

College will be paradise, if I'm not dead by June!

But I know, I know, life can be beautiful, “ I was shoved by a group of hippies and their I was looking right at Sweet pea making his way my way as he talked with Fangs. I gulped, and glanced at Cheryl who motioned me to keep going. So I sang louder,

“ I pray, I pray for a better way

If we changed back then, we could change again

We can be beautiful… “ Suddenly everyone was staring but I kept going

“ Things will get better soon as my letter

Comes from Harvard, Duke, or Brown

Wake from this coma, take my diploma

Then I can blow this town

Dream of ivy-covered walls and smoky French cafés

Fight the urge to strike a match and set this dump ablaze!” Ronnie my sister came from the crowd and sang with me swaying softly.

“ Dear diary:” I started and then some miserable kids joined in

Why....

Why do they hate me?

Why don’t I fight back?

Why do I act like such a creep?

Why…

Why won’t he date me?

Why did I hit him?

Why do I cry myself to sleep?

Why…

Somebody hug me!

Somebody fix me!

Somebody save me!” We all chanted, a huge smile on my face as I saw the reactions from my peers.

“ I love Heather, Heather, and Heather.” Betty and Ronnie and Cheryl leaned on the lockers singing softly.

“ And ya know, ya know, ya know?

This could be beautiful “ Cheryl sang as she touched my face as if examining it

“ Mascara, maybe some lip gloss

And we're on our way

Get this girl some blush;

And Heather, I need your brush

Let's make her beautiful” Cheryl pulled me into the girls restroom with the girls.

“ Here you go I had taken the liberty to ask Titi for her audition custom to be donated to you since she did plan to be Veronica but you have shown potential.” She complimented handing me some clothing.

“ Now hurry!” I scurried to put the white plaid short shirt, the black long sleeve crop top and shiny black heels.

“Let's make her beautiful...

Let's make her beautiful...

Make her beautiful…” Betty and Ronnie sang softly as they fixed my hair out of a ponytail and into my natural soft curls.

“Okay!” I sang as we made our way out and towards the auditorium.

Just as they walked out Sweet Pea and Fangs where trying to see what was going on with the whole crowd when they were also being shoved around

“Out of my way, geek!” Sweet pea sang as some nerd got in his way.

“You're gonna die at 3pm! “ Fangs sang angrily at some random dude

“Don't you dare touch me! Get away, pervert!” A River Vixen spat at Fangs as he tried flirting with her.

“What did I ever do to her?” Fangs scoffed at Sweet pea in annoyance

We walked into the auditorium where Kevin had just finished a group of people for ensemble, along with some people of the gang sat on the chair waiting for their turn to audition.

“Who's that with Heather?” Toni sang making everyone turn around.

“ Heather, Heather, Heather...And someone!

Heather, Heather, Heather...

Veronica? Veronica? Veronica!” Reggie and Archie sang as they practically dropped their music sheets.

I ran straight up the stairs to face them as the lights from above beamed around me hugging me perfectly as I sang. Narrowing my eyes as I saw Kevin smile up at me.

“And you know, you know, you know

Life can be beautiful

You hope, you dream, you pray

And you get your way!” I pointed dramatically at the sky as I held my chest. And once again my eyes found Sweet pea’s. He sat at the last row of the auditorium. A smug look on his face as his fingers held his chin as he watched me sing

“Ask me how it feels

Lookin' like hell on wheels...

My God, it's beautiful!

I might be beautiful...

And when you're beautiful...

It's a beautiful frickin' day!” I belted out the last note, tears on the brim of my eyes in exhaustion and lack of oxygen. Next thing I heard beside the music ending, was clapping and yelling. I heaved softly and smiled at Kevin who could not stop smiling.

“ So..how did I do?” I asked shyly, Kevin shook his head in awe.

“ Your just who we were looking for Vanessa. WE FOUND OUR VERONICA!” He cheered, making me squeal in delight. I made my to my Heathers (Betty, Ronnie and Cheryl).

“ See, I told you!” Ronnie hugged me tightly as she spoke. Cheryl nodded along.

“ I underestimated you V you are talented, but you’ll grow on me.” She teased,” But I will enjoy degrading you up on stage.” She glared and sat towards the other side where Toni sat. I chuckled softly ignoring her comment, I was too excited to let her bring me down.

Betty held my hand in hers “ I’m so glad your in! Not to ruin your moment but you had an admirer.” She glanced towards the back of us where Sweet pea and Fangs sat. He caught my not so slick stare and waved teasingly his rings shining slightly as he moved them. The disgustingly handsome smirk on his face. Fangs whispering and laughing to him about us. I groaned and sat down in the chair.

“ Hey don’t let him get to you! Remember?” Ronnie reminded me. I nodded rubbing my temples in frustration.

“ Your stronger than him.”

“ Sweet Pea?” Kevin read out loud making me physically cringe. He walked up stage his flannel wrapped around his torso, his ripped jeans hanging low as his tight leather jacket fit him like a glove.

Sweet Pea in this audition confused me. He never seems to be a musical kid or an actor at all. He told me the theater kids were geeks and lame, so him being up on the stage seemed almost like a big fat lie to my face. Another reason why he never to our relationship serious.

“ Sweet Pea what song will you sing for us today?”

“ I was thinking about Dream on by Aerosmith. Of course with the help of my friend Fangs if that’s okay?” He stated twisting his rings, and fangs shortly ran up next to him, both of them exchanging some cliche handshake.

“ Okay show us what you got guys.” Kevin hesitantly stated. My head pounded in angry watching him be up their on the stage. If he nails this song, I will be stuck with him for the remainder of this musical.

God please end this.

to be continued.........

#sweet pea smut #sweet pea x reader #riverdale #riverdale smut #betty cooper #jughead jones #veronica lodge #archie andrews #reggie mantle #southside serpents #toni topaz #Cheryl bombshell #choni #kevin keller #fangs #riverdale southside #heathers #heathers the musical

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iamvegorott · 5 years

Note

Prompt: Aziraphale is hurt when he opens a box in his mail containing a demonic relic.

Wanna help me and give me some support?|Donate To My PayPal|

Do Not Mess With Him

“Package for a...Aziraphale?” The delivery man said as he stood at the bookshop porch.

“Angel! Ya got mail!” Crowley called as he stepped back into the shop.

“Oh, that’s cute.” The worker chuckled to himself.

“Sorry about that, I had my hands covered in ink.” Aziraphale came to the door, sleeves still rolled up and a black smudge on his cheek.

“I need you to sign here and you’re all free to go.”

“If I would have known that, I would have kept the ink on my fingers.” Aziraphale laughed and took the offered pen.

“Do you mind if I ask how you got covered in ink?” The delivery man asked.

“I was working with some newspaper and well, it got everywhere,” Aziraphale answered as Crowley poked his head back out, brows scrunching at the delivery man before looking at Aziraphale.

“Would wearing gloves help with that?” The worker offered.

“It’d help with the ink, but I can’t hold a pen with gloves on, it feels strange.” Aziraphale shrugged. Crowley chewed the inside of his cheek with annoyance before licking his thumb and using it to clean Aziraphale’s cheek. “Crowley, dear.” Aziraphale scolded and swatted Crowley’s hand away. “We have company.”

“I’ll leave you two to get back to work.” The delivery man gave the package to Crowley. “Seeing y’all makes me want to get back home to my Maud even sooner.” Aziraphale just giggled and waved goodbye to the man while Crowley just grumbled to himself and closed the bookshop door.

“There was no need to be like that Crowley,” Aziraphale said, following Crowley to his end table.

“I just didn’t like the way he looked at you.” Crowley placed the box down.

“Was someone jealous?” Aziraphale sang.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Crowley moved to Aziraphale and wrapped his arms around his waist. “I know that you’re mine.” He chuckled, giving Aziraphale a quick kiss.

“Are you sure? Because I’ve read that seeing your partner being jealous is a…” Aziraphale lowered his voice and leaned in close. “Turn on.” He whispered, getting a large grin to form on Crowley’s lips.

“Then I was burning with jealousy, oh, my heart yearned to tear that man’s head off for the crime of looking at my angel,” Crowley spoke with his usual flair.

“Go get some wine, and I’ll clean up down here and I’ll show you that you don’t need to feel jealousy.” Aziraphale poked at Crowley’s nose, chuckling when Crowley caught his wrist and pressed a kiss to his palm.

“Anything for you, my angel.” Crowley winked before stepping away. Aziraphale watched with love-filled eyes as Crowley left before laughing at himself and going over to the package.

“I don’t recall ordering anything, perhaps it’s a new book.” Aziraphale mused as he opened the box. He hummed as he worked on taking out the brown paper that protected water it was in the package and as he took out the last piece, his hand brushed against whatever was in there.

A deep scream came out of Aziraphale’s mouth as a strong pain burned into his flesh. He yanked his hand away and held it to himself, tears rolling down his cheeks as he tried to will the agony to just stop.

“Angel!” Crowley ran into the room and caught Aziraphale before he fell to the floor, his body going weak. “Aziraphale, Aziraphale, what happened, what’s wrong?” Crowley managed to see the hand Aziraphale was trying to hide and he saw a bright red, pulsing wound on it. A wound he knew all too well. “Where do you keep your holy water?”

“I don’t-”

“Not now, angel! Where is it?”

“B-Behind Adam’s books.” Aziraphale stuttered out. Crowley gently laid Aziraphale on the ground before rushing over to the collection of books the young antichrist had written. He pushed the books aside and saw that the wall behind them had a little knob on it. Crowley swung open the small door on the wall and saw that there was a water bottle in the cubby. Crowley miracled gloves onto his hands and pulled out the bottle.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, I’ll stop hurting soon,” Crowley said, going back over to a still crying Aziraphale. “Just a few drops and…” Crowley removed the bottle’s cap and poured a little of the holy water onto the wound, the water sizzling as it healed Aziraphale.

“Crowley, what happened?” Aziraphale looked over at the package. “What is in that box?” Crowley glared at the package before getting up and going to it, reaching in and pulling out a necklace with a metallic pendant with a symbol that told him immediately who it belonged to. “What is that?”

“A demonic relic,” Crowley stated, voice going flat.

“I didn’t buy one, did you? Crowley? Crowley, dear, you’re worrying me.” Aziraphale got off of the ground when he saw that Crowley was starting to shake.

“I know who did this,” Crowley growled.

“Crow-” Aziraphale stopped himself when Crowley was gone, the bottle of holy water going with him.

x~x~x

The gates of Hell were walked through by a demon filled with rage, a green squirt bottle in one hand, a necklace in the other and gloves covering both. Lesser demons stepped out of the way as Crowley passed, his anger making the air burn more than what it already did.

“Hatsur!” Crowley screamed when he found the room the Duke of hell was in.

“Crowley, what are you doing here, you were not summ-” The demon that was trying to speak stopped and screamed when Crowley sprayed the bottle towards them, burning their shoulder with holy water. Several other demons took the injured one away.

“You.” Crowley put the hand with the necklace on the stunned Hatsur’s neck and pushed him up against a wall. “Does that feel familiar? You know that pendant, don’t you?”

“Crowley, release me, now.” Hatsur tried to sound intimidating, but the fear in his eyes as he stared at the bottle made it hard to believe. He knew it was in there this time. Crowley shoved the head of the spray bottle into Hatsur’s mouth, ignoring as the other demon screamed at the pain.

“Listen to me and listen good, Hatsur. I don’t give a flying fuck about what you do to me. You can insult me, burn me, discorporate me as many times as you please but don’t you ever, ever hurt my angel again, understand?” Crowley’s voice was filled with hatred, enough to make the other demons in the room shrink down in fear. “Understand!?” Crowley screamed loud enough for it to echo. Hatsur could only nod. “Good, I’m glad we could come to an agreement.” Crowly yanked the bottle out of his mouth. “You got a little.” Crowley pointed at his neck before sauntering off, grinning when he heard Hatsur yelling about having a pendant in his neck.

x~x~x

Aziraphale sat on the couch, picking at his fingers and heart fluttering with worry. Where did Crowley go? Was he getting himself into trouble? How did he know what to do?

“I’m back, angel,” Crowley said, the soot on his clothing and the smell clinging to the air told Aziraphale where he went.

“Please tell me you didn’t get yourself in trouble.” Aziraphale took the squirt bottle away and placed it back in the cubby.

“There’s a chance I may be, but I made my message clear.” Crowley slipped off his gloves.

“Message? What message? What just happened?” Aziraphale demanded, stepping up to Crowley.

“Someone wanted to hurt you to get to me.” Crowley placed one hand on Aziraphale’s waist and the other on his cheek. “And I made sure he knew that you do not mess with my angel.”

“Did you kill anyone?” Aziraphale asked, his pupils growing wide as Crowley pressed their foreheads together.

“No, but I wish I could have,” Crowley admitted. “I’m guessing that me being protective is also a turn on?” He asked with a smirk when he saw the look on Aziraphale’s face.

“Maybe.”

“Nice.” Crowley pressed their lips together and instead of saying something like Aziraphale wanted to, he ended up letting out a squeak when Crowley suddenly lifted him up and carried him to the couch.

“Not in the bookstore.” Aziraphale scolded. “Someone might walk in.”

“Anything for you, my angel.” Crowley snapped his fingers and sent them to the upstairs bedroom.

#anon #good omen #ineffable husbands #crowley/aziraphale #crowley was very hot in this XD

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dopescotlandwarrior · 5 years

Text

West Bound

Claire Beauchamp is leaving Boston and moving her surgical practice and horses to Arizona. Jamie Fraser is a world-class champion who leads Claire back to a passion she gave up when the wrong man said I love you. Trouble finds Claire in the cut-throat, competitive sport of the equestrian but she has Jamie, Angus, and Rupert behind her.

AO3

Ch-2 Ch-3 Ch-4 Ch-5 Ch-6 Ch-7 Ch-8

Chapter One

Driving across the country alone can be daunting, especially if you are a young woman alone, pulling two horses. When Claire decided to escape Boston and move out west she planned meticulously, analyzed her vehicle and trailer options, and found the most suitable barn once she arrived. She sold her brownstone fully furnished. The only possessions going with her were her clothes, tack, and horses. She also purchased a new cowboy hat and a new pair of sexy sunglasses. She looked at her tight jeans and western shirt, put her hat and glasses on, and decided by the time she reached Arizona they would feel like a second skin. She still had trouble walking in anything less than a three-inch heel but that would come with practice.

Yesterday she turned the keys of her surgical practice over to the new owners without a second thought. Same with closing on her home last week for a cool 1.8 million cash. There was no sentimental pull or sadness. She felt utterly detached from her home of twenty-five years. Whatever made her feel so cold inside she hoped would be cured in Arizona. The last item on her list was to load the horses and get on the road. It was four o’clock in the morning.

Claire carried her grooming and wrapping bucket into the first stall and was greeted with a horse hug from Fred. She paused and hugged him coo’ing about their adventure. Fifteen minutes later she got the same hug from Ginger and got busy brushing, braiding, and wrapping tail and legs. “Don’t you two look fancy!” She led Fred to the trailer and walked him up the ramp and snapped him in. He was overjoyed at the heap of hay in the feeder and started eating. Next came Ginger up the ramp, a little more nervous but Claire was gentle and reassuring. With everything stowed Claire pulled out of the stables for the last time.

She loved this truck, a full-sized Ram with a matching trailer. The luxury interior package included ergonomic seats, blue tooth in the steering wheel, navigation, rear video, interior trailer video, and a bunch of stuff she had not found yet. All on voice command. “Change to interior video.” Claire watched Fred and Ginger munch on their breakfast. “You guys look happy. Here we go.”

She would drive for twelve hours stopping for 30 minutes to let the horses out at mid-day. She had reservations for each night at a B&B that also rented stalls and came recommended by her equestrian association for safety. Fred and Ginger were very special horses that were trained for therapy. Chosen for their docile and loving nature they were among the first group of horses trained at the equestrian therapeutics Institute. “And I’m taking them to Arizona,” she said with a giggle.

Claire had romanticized the first sunrise of her new life seeing the light coming up on a sleeping city as she barreled down the freeway. Reality is sometimes disappointing as commuters swarmed her on all four sides making her head whip between her mirrors and the video trying to negotiate each lane change. She saw her exit coming up fast and had two death-defying lanes to cross and no friendly commuters to allow her to move over. She was covered in sweat but made the exit and took a deep calming breath. “Holy shit.”

The drive became much easier once she was out of commuter traffic. She set the cruise control, popped in a CD and opened her window. “interior video,” all she saw was horse teeth as Ginger was tasting the little camera above her head. “What a goofball.”

Claire gripped the steering wheel when she pulled into the B&B. She was so tired she almost fell out of the truck when the door opened. She hurried to register and get the horses out of the trailer. It was a beautiful property with ample outdoor lighting. The owners offered her use of the arena and Claire was grateful. Once both were inside she closed the gate and clapped her hands sending them both speeding, bucking, and snorting around the large arena. Claire laughed at the high tails and swinging heads, pure horse happiness after a long stressful day. Ginger loped up to her and spread frothy goobers down her face. “Ew, Jesus Ginger!”

Once Fred and Ginger were safe in their stalls with food and water Claire got to her room, grabbed a robe and towel and headed for a hot shower. The soap smelled heavenly, the water was soft and Claire started to relax. Then the lights went out and the water turned ice cold. She shrieked trying to find the faucets in the dark to turn the water off. Groping for the towel, then her robe, then the door handle. She saw little emergency lights along the hall. Thank God she thought as she shivered down the hall looking for her room. She bumped into the manager in the hall and he used a flashlight to help her find her room. He pointed to a battery-operated light on the desk and she had enough light to find the bed. Fatigue pulled her to a blissfully dreamless sleep. At three o’clock in the morning, the power came back on and her room lit up with multiple lamps. She turned them off quickly and jumped back in bed squeezing her eyes shut and waiting. “Damn it! I really need a few more hours,” she whined.

The safety locks snapped down on the trailer doors, horses were brushed and re-wrapped and the Dodge roared to life. Claire was tired but anxious to put another two states behind her. She had one hour of unimpeded travel before the swarms of commuters came from all directions. Traffic slowed to a crawl for ten miles and finally opened up for normal speeds. She set the cruise, turned up the music, opened her window and felt the first pang of…what? Loneliness, sadness, loss, yearning? She couldn’t decide so she turned the music up louder, checked the video, and pushed the petal. Why not? She never had a speeding ticket in her twenty-five years. She was due. She set the cruise at 75 and sang to the music. She felt absolutely wicked speeding down the highway and hadn’t noticed the speed limit postings were 75 MPH.

Another B&B, another early rise to load the horses and another long highway stretched before her. She saw the signs to Phoenix on the fourth day and let out a whoop! Followed by Fred kicking the trailer sides in protest. She turned the interior video on and blew kisses to her favorite couple. “We are almost home you guys!”

Mid-afternoon she followed the exit to Mesa and headed East. Traffic was light and she looked at the buildings along the highway. She wondered if she would travel this highway a lot in the future. She flew through Mesa and finally saw her exit to Ironwood Drive. Her navigation turned her North for seven miles. She was so ready to put the horses up in their new home and then find a hotel for the night. This was the only night she didn’t prebook because she could easily find lodging for herself. She decided to find something with a huge bathtub and a full room service menu. She couldn’t wait.

She drove into the foothills and gasped at the sight in the rearview mirror. The valley floor spread out beneath her and she wondered what that must look like at night. There was desert all around her, exotic and beautiful. Tall Saguaro cactus loomed above her showing two and three arms raised in greeting she thought. Her heart was pounding as she turned into Fraser Equestrian. The place took her breath away and she stopped to just look at the multiple paddocks and pastures, deep green against the desert brown. New foals were sticking close to their mothers, and horses in the adjoining pen straining to see and smell. She pulled up the long drive and pulled next to the main barn. It was white with forest green trim and she counted twenty stall doors along one side with horses peering out half doors to look at her. It was glorious and a fitting home for Fred and Ginger.

“Good afternoon!” Claire turned to see two men walking toward her. They offered their hand to her and she shook them smiling.

“I am Claire Beauchamp, I have rented two stalls for my guys here.” They looked at the two rumps in the trailer and smiled.

“I’m Rupert and this is Angus. C’mon lets see where Jaime has put ya.” Claire followed. She spoke to Jaime Fraser on the phone from Boston and thought him friendly but a bit aloof. The bur from these two men sounded like him, so they were probably from the same area of Scotland. They walked the length of the barn without finding Jaime. The large board near the office had her name on two stalls where she was escorted.

“No, this is not what we agreed to! I rented two stalls that had doors to the outside, not interior stalls, and they have to be together.” Claire was overtired and getting upset. She wanted to be friendly but she just didn’t have it in her. Rupert suggested putting the horses up for the night and Jaime would figure it out tomorrow. Claire was too tired to argue and went to fetch Fred and Ginger from the trailer. Rupert watched her walk away with interest. He whistled low, appreciating the tight jeans, long legs, and champion ass.

“Can I help ye lass?” Claire gratefully accepted Rupert’s offer to lead Ginger to her stall.

“We can feed them tonight, what do they get?” Claire eased Fred down the ramp.

“They both get two flakes and a scoop of grain” she called. Rupert walked in a zigzag and noticed Ginger’s nose stayed three inches from his right shoulder. “Yer a good lassie, aye?”

When Claire walked Fred into his stall there was already grain and hay waiting for him. She leaned against him and dropped her head on his back. He moved into her and waited like he would with a child or challenged adult.

“I love you, Fred.”

Claire pulled out of the equestrian center and asked Siri for the closest hotel. The fourth motel Siri directed her to was as run down and frightening as the first three. Her fatigue was mounting and she did not know what to do. It was late and she just couldn’t drive anymore. She headed back to the center and curled up in the corner of Fred’s stall with a blanket. The wood chips smelled new and she was out in seconds. She dreamed of dancing with him in his shiny shoes and impeccable suit. He expertly twirled her around the dance floor. She felt graceful and adored, with her skirt flowed up her legs as he spun her.

“Hey!”

Claire’s head snapped up and she saw Fred startle at the loud noise. She tried to focus at the man coming into Fred’s stall.

“C’mon lass, this is no place to sleep, for a human anyway. Are ye doctor Beauchamp?”

Claire shook her head and blinked hard. Too many nights with little sleep made her groggy and weak. She stood up holding her blanket in front of her. She looked like a scared little girl and her first step pitched her forward landing in strong warm arms. She looked up at the face attached to those arms. “Wow,” came as a whisper followed by her hand clamped tight against her mouth.

“I, I’m sorry, yes I’m Dr. Beauchamp and this is Fred who is my horse and I couldn’t find a suitable hotel and Fred said I could bunk with him tonight.” Her last sentence was an effort to speak and she looked back at the corner she slept in and started moving toward it. Those annoying arms stopped her and she looked at him sharply.

“Alright lass, ye sleepin on my couch tonight.” He pulled her along and closed the stall taking her blanket. He stopped to make a note on the board and Claire sunk into a corner and closed her eyes. She was asleep before he turned around.

“Wait just a second lass, ye canna sleep there either.” He pulled Claire to her feet among strong protests and guided her out of the barn and into his golf cart.

“I’ll have ye wrapped and snug in two minutes Dr. Beauchamp.” He drove toward the house and felt her head come down on his shoulder. She was unconscious and Jaime chuckled.

“You musta left Boston with the devil chasin ye lass.” The house was set away from the center on a beautiful lawn of green grass with lights along the tiered walkway. He lifted Claire against his chest and carried her into the house. He pulled the blanket up to her chin and she snuggled down into it. “Thank you, mister, um, mister.” Jaime smiled at her. Noticing her long black hair tangled into her fingers he pulled her hand away and gently pulled the hair out.

“Well then, you’re a beautiful girl doctor Beauchamp, alone in the Arizona desert. What has someone done to make ye run so far?” Jaime estimated her sleep deprivation would keep her down at least until he woke up with the dawn. He climbed the wide circular staircase pulling off his shirt as he walked into his bathroom. He stripped the rest of the way and turned the knobs that shot warm water out of three heads. He stood still and let the hot water release his muscles and back. He thought about that beautiful face asleep on his couch. A doctor from Boston. He was very intrigued. He slipped into sweats and a t-shirt and stood at the railing of his upstairs loft looking down at her. He eventually dropped his body into his king-sized bed and barely threw the quilt up before he passed out.

Claire’s eyes popped open at five o’clock in the morning. Her surroundings confused her at first and then she remembered the owner catching her asleep in Fred’s stall. “I am an idiot,” she said quietly. She folded the extra blanket and pulled out a note pad from her purse to say thank you. Then she crept quietly to the door to slip out but the open door tripped the alarm bells which were loud enough to wake the dead, and Fraser, who flew down the stairs and punched in the code for quiet.

“Jesus H Roosevelt Christ! I am so sorry Mr. Fraser, I didn’t think, I didn’t want, …” Claire hoped she would evaporate in her misery but she was still there. She just looked down and shook her head.

Jaime took the opportunity to notice her long legs, long arms, and long hair, then looked up to her eyes as she lifted her head. He was stuck and staring at the most gorgeous eyes he had ever seen. They were the color of good whiskey and rimmed with dark brown making them look beautiful and exotic. He recovered quickly and tried to make Claire feel better.

“Tis fine lass had to get up now anyway. Would you like some coffee before you leave?” Take the coffee, please, he thought. I like lookin at ye and yer too rattled to drive.

“Another time perhaps, I’m sorry about the alarm and thank you for the rescue last night. Goodbye, Mr. Fraser.”

Jaime chuckled, at the slamming door. He watched her run for the barn and admired the backside of her not seen before. Her application to rent two stalls described her horses as therapeutic and gave impressive training credentials. It would be a pleasant change to have a nice lady doctor with docile horses for a change. He was sick of the cut-throat competition equestrians inspired, including his girlfriend. He picked up his cell phone. “Laoghaire my darlin where ye been? Ye have a show this weekend and ye horse needs some work. Call me.” He dropped the phone thinking about his blonde lass with cherry cheeks and a body to stop a mack truck. Put her in a tight riding jacket and the judges soon forget why they were there. It’s a good thing, she hasn’t been able to ride out of a paper bag lately.

#outlander fanfic outlander fanfiction Jamie and Claire

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