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invisibleanonymousmonsters · 4 years ago

Text

Only Friend

Character: Jason Todd x Fem!Reader [Robin!Jason Todd]

Summary: Gotham mourned for Robin. But who mourned for Jason Todd? Y/F/N Y/L/N wasn’t just another one of Jason Todd’s friends. She was his only friend.

Word Count: 7,000 [One Shot]

Warnings: Violence, Death, Loss, Grief

Y/N didn’t know what time it was. She hadn’t opened the blinds in her room for days. And she didn’t plan on doing so anytime soon. In fact, she didn’t plan on getting out of bed anytime soon.

She heard a knock on her bedroom door. From the sound alone, she knew it was her mother.

“Y/N, dear. Can I come in?”

She wanted to say, ‘No.’ She wanted to say, ‘Go away.’ But Y/N didn’t even have the energy to do that. So she just laid still with the covers over her shoulders and said nothing.

Her mom slowly opened the door.

Y/N’s family had been tiptoeing around her since it happened. They didn’t know how to handle the situation. Most parents don’t expect for their daughter’s best friend to die. No child should have to face grief like this.

But Y/N had no choice.

Because Jason Todd was dead.

“Hi, honey,” Y/N’s mother cooed as she walked into the room. Then she placed a plate of food on her nightstand. “I brought you something to eat.”

Y/N didn’t even so much as look at her mother, just continued to stare off into nothing.

“Is it alright if I open of your blinds and windows. I think you could use some fresh air.”

Y/N gave what appeared to be a half shrug, barely visible underneath the thick covers.

But her mother seemed relieved, it was starting to smell musty in the room.

Her mother sat on the edge of the bed and stroked Y/N’s face. “The funeral’s tomorrow.”

Y/N’s eyes finally looked up at her mother – desperate and scared. “Do I have to go?”

“I think you’d regret it if you didn’t, honey. You deserve your chance to say goodbye. Your father and I will be there with you.”

Then Y/N closed her eyes and burst into tears. “I had a dream about him last night. And I woke up and remembered–” she had to pause to catch her breath. “I-I-I remembered he’s g-gone.”

“Oh, honey,” her mom whispered as she pulled Y/N into her arms. “I know you miss him. I know. He was your best friend.”

Y/N pulled away and looked up at her mom. “He was my only friend,” she corrected.

———

Jason Todd was sitting at a lunch table by himself and reading when someone slammed their tray down across from him. His eyes flickered up in a glare, already expecting someone to try and pick a fight with him or something.

But instead he found a girl standing above him, smirking down at him.

No, not just any girl, the prettiest girl in their grade. No one else at this stupid school seemed to think so. But that just further proved Jason’s theory that everyone here were idiots.

“Hi,” she said confidently.

“H-Hi?” Jason stuttered back.

“I’m sitting with you,” she announced as she sat down. “I’m Y/N.”

Jason finally smirked and remained confused. “I know who you are…”

“You’ve never talked to me, so how was I supposed to know?” Y/N said back. “And you’re Jason Todd.”

“Yes?” He responded.

Y/N laughed at his confusion.

Jason Todd wasn’t popular. There was a disconnect between him and his peers. The kids at Gotham Academy were trust-fund babies and spoiled brats. They were such snobs that there were even cliques separating the kids who came from old money from those who came from new money. It all seemed ridiculous after literally starving in the slums of the city.

Jason Todd wasn’t a rebel. He didn’t lash out or let his inability to connect to the other students make him feel down. Ask any teacher who had him and they would say he was a straight-A student and he never once caused trouble in their class. He was always polite and respectful, responsible and well-behaved.

Jason Todd wasn’t bullied. Maybe it was a vibe he gave off, but somehow the other kids knew not to mess with him. Jason came to school with a black eye once, and he always wondered if it freaked them all out enough to never try to mess with him – not that they would ever stand a chance against him.

In regards to the middle school hierarchy, Jason was nobody.

Because Jason Todd wasn’t really a kid. He just had the misfortune of also not being an adult yet.

He was just a poor punk from the Narrows, who just happened to try and steal the tires off the car of Gotham’s notorious vigilante. He didn’t belong at this snobby prep school.

But going to school was one of Bruce’s demands after making Jason his new Robin.

Jason just didn’t know how to make a convincing argument for why he didn’t need social interactions with kids his own age.

“Is this some kind of dare?” Jason asked Y/N.

She froze her eating and scoffed at him. “You’ve watched too many bad teen movies. What kind of asshole would I be to do something like that?”

But Jason still looked around the cafeteria, expecting to find a table full of people watching this interaction and trying to hide their giggles.

Y/N finally slammed down her food, sat back, and crossed her arms. “People at this school suck.”

“Uhh…OK?”

“I saw you reading Pride & Prejudice the other week. And you were wearing a Led Zeppelin t-shirt yesterday. You helped pick up Jill’s stuff when her backpack ripped open, while everyone else just laughed.” She paused. But Jason waited. “What I’m saying is that I’ve decided that you don’t suck.”

“Oh,” Jason blurted out.

“Do you honestly think anyone at this school even knows who Jane Austen is? And some dude in my English class tried to tell me Nickelback was his favorite band.”

Jason laughed at that. “How did you even respond to that?”

“I asked him if he was fucking with me and then the teacher yelled at me for swearing. And I told her, ‘How am I supposed to react to a Nickelback fan without using profanities?’”

Jason laughed again.

That was how Jason and Y/N became best friends. That was all it took.

Jason would soon find out that Y/N didn’t belong here just as much as him. She didn’t come from money – just your normal, middle-class suburban family. She’d won a full-ride scholarship to Gotham Academy, which was impressive since they only handed out one per grade.

Meanwhile, Bruce Wayne made one 30-second call and Jason was accepted – no questions asked.

Y/N was rather mature for her age, but it wasn’t the product of being Batman’s sidekick and fighting the criminals of Gotham City.

—

Any second Jason had to be a normal kid was spent hanging out with Y/N. Jason was at Y/N’s house all the time, loving Y/N’s parents and envious of the stable home Y/N got to grow up in.

It took awhile for Jason to feel comfortable inviting Y/N to the manor, despite Alfred saying he was welcome to have friends over whenever he wished. Jason eventually got over his embarrassment. While Y/N seemed in awe of Wayne Manor, the evidence of Jason’s wealth didn’t make her treat him any different. They mostly hung out in Jason’s room anyways. Or in the kitchen when Alfred made them snacks.

While they were at school, they always ate lunch together and walked to classes shoulder-to-shoulder any chance they got. They only needed each other.

They ignored everyone else. And in return, everyone else left them alone.

For the most part.

—

Jason should’ve known something was wrong when he heard the commotion on his way to third period.

When he heard kids start chanting “Fight!” his gut somehow knew Y/N was involved.

Jason shoved his way through the thick circle that was surrounding the drama.

He reached the opening just in time to see Y/N tackle a boy named Parker to the ground. The crowd gasped, not actually expecting them to actually go through with violence. Then Y/N lifted her fist and landed a punch to Parker’s face.

But Jason quickly stepped forward and pulled Y/N off.

“He’s not worth it, Y/N.”

Recognizing the voice of her best friend, Y/N allowed him to pull her away.

“Gonna let your boyfriend pull you away?” Parker yelled out.

Y/N whipped back toward him, but Jason wrapped his arms around her and held her back. “Y/N, leave it!”

“I’m not the one with the a black eye and bloodied nose, asshole!” Y/N screamed, only half fighting Jason’s hold. “Next time, I’ll kick you so hard in your tiny dick that you won’t be able to have kids.”

Jason managed to drag her through the halls with a vice-like grip on her hand.

Y/N scoffed at his efforts, “Where are you even taking me?”

“We’re ditching class.”

She shrugged. “Sounds good to me.”

Jason knew exactly what exit didn’t have an alarmed rigged to it or any video surveillance. He also grabbed a cellphone in his back pocket and started to type frantically.

“You have a cellphone! What? Since when? My parents said I can’t get one until high school,” Y/N groaned enviously.

Little did she know, Jason had set up an AI system that would call the school with Bruce’s voice and leave a recording about how Jason needed to be dismissed from school. It was perfect for Bat emergencies.

He had added Y/N’s parents voices to the algorithm a few months ago, having a hunch it would come in handy.

As soon as they were a safe distance away from the school, Y/N let go of Jason’s hand and walked slightly ahead of him.

With their freedom secured, Jason could focus on Y/N now.

“What did he do?” He asked her gently.

Y/N was smart and calculated. If she’d picked a fight with someone, Jason knew it had to have been caused by something serious.

“Doesn’t matter,” she mumbled.

Jason rushed forward and stopped her walking. “Hey, come on. It’s me you’re talking to…”

Y/N nodded, knowing he was right. They told each other everything, or so she thought.

Her eyes went to the ground, too embarrassed to meet his gaze. “We were in health class. Today was the unfortunate lesson for learning male and female anatomy. Mrs. Martin started talking about…” Y/N hesitated. “She started talking about boobs. Said something about when girls start seeing a change.”

“And?” Jason urged softly.

“Parker chimed in and said, ‘Or if you’re Y/L/N… never.’”

Embarrassed by her confession, Y/N started walking again – quicker, this time.

Jason jogged to catch up to her. “Fuck him. Only a loser asshole would say something like that.”

“Well…he’s probably right.”

Jason shrugged. “Who cares?”

This time Y/N stopped walking. “You don’t get it,” she snapped. “Every girl in our grade is growing up. And I still have the chest of a boy. My mom won’t even let me buy a bra because she says I don’t need it yet.”

Jason was speechless.

To be honest, he had never really noticed. Y/N wore baggy band t-shirts or flannels all the time. He wasn’t exactly studying her silhouette when they hung out. But he never imagined that Y/N would be bothered by something like that.

“Sometimes I’d just like to…I don’t fucking know…feel like a girl.” She paused. “A pretty girl,” she emphasized.

Jason stared into her eyes. “You are a pretty girl.”

Y/N sighed and rolled her eyes. “J, you don’t have to say that.”

“I’m serious. You’re the prettiest girl in our grade, Y/N.”

That caught her off guard. He’d never said anything like that to her before.

Sure, Jason said nice things to her. But it was usually him complimenting her taste in music or thanking her for showing him a new book he loved. But he’d never called her pretty before.

Jason, worried that he’d exposed himself, pulled her to him so he could give her a noogie. And the moment was broken.

“Jason! I think I’ve proved today that I will hit a bitch!”

He just laughed and playfully shoved her away. “Come on. I’ll buy you one of those embarrassing frappuccinos from Starbucks.”

“Excuse you! They’re not embarrassing. They’re delicious.”

Jason could tell Y/N didn’t want to talk about the fight anymore. So he thought distracting her was the next best thing.

And, by some miracle, they returned to school the next day without any punishment.

But Jason wasn’t done yet.

Parker didn’t realize he was messing with Robin’s best friend.

Jason was patient. He waited for the precise moment when Parker would be alone.

A week after the fight, Parker turned the corner of an empty hallway and jumped when he nearly ran into Jason.

“What do you want, Todd?”

Jason took a step toward him and lowered his voice, “If you ever say anything like that to Y/N again – or to any girl, for that matter – I won’t hesitate to beat the shit out of you.”

Parker side eyed him. “Yeah, right.”

Without hesitating, Jason reached forward, grabbed Parkers palm, and snapped the index finger of his dominant hand.

Parker let out a screech of pain and fell to his knees.

Jason kneeled down to whisper in his ear, “No witnesses. No cameras. And I’m actually in gym class right now, running the mile. No one will believe you.”

Parker looked up at Jason like he was a madman.

Jason smiled and patted him on the head. “Remember what I said.”

After that, Parker never even so much as looked in Y/N’s direction.

—

Jason and Y/N looked out for each other, protected each other

And Jason may have kept his other life of Robin from her, but Y/N seemed to already sense that there was something Jason was hiding. It wasn’t just something, it was dark.

When Y/N started noticing bruises and cuts on Jason’s body, she grew concerned. But she wanted to observe and think of all the possibilities before she ever brought it up.

Then one day at her house, she made a joke and slapped Jason playfully on the back.

He hissed uncontrollably and his entire body froze.

“Jason?” Y/N asked with concern.

“I’m fine. You just surprised me and knocked the wind out of me,” Jason said hurriedly.

But Y/N wasn’t stupid. She quickly grabbed the hem of his t-shirt and ripped it up so she could see his back.

“JASON! What the fuck!” She gasped in horror as she saw the bruises scattered across his skin. She had never seen anything like it.

“Shh!” Jason tried to calm her to stop her parents from coming in and then having her immediately showing them too.

“What happened?” Y/N whispered, her eyes glazed over with tears.

“Nothing. I’m fine, Y/N. I promise.”

“You’re not fine. And this isn’t the first time,” Y/N countered. “You think you do a good job of hiding them, but I see the other bruises and cuts, Jason. And don’t think I don’t notice how often you skip school because your ‘sick.’”

Jason stayed quiet. He didn’t want to lie to her. But he couldn’t tell her. It could put her in danger. And if Bruce ever found out, he’d put a stop to the whole thing. Jason would never be Robin ever again.

“He does it,” Y/N whispered.

Jason blinked. “Who?”

“Bruce,” she clarified. “He beats you, doesn’t he?”

Jason’s eyes widened in horror. He knew Y/N was weary of his adoptive father. She noticed how absent he was from Jason’s life, then took note of how cold he was when he was present. But her theory made perfect sense. And if the roles were reversed, Jason probably would’ve come to the same conclusion.

“Y/N, Bruce has never hurt me.”

She frowned. “You don’t have to protect him. And you don’t have to take his shit. I knew something was off about him ever since I met him. But I didn’t think it was this.”

“Y/N…” Jason began.

“Does Alfred know?” She couldn’t imagined him every letting something like this happen if he did. Y/N had grown to love Alfred almost as much as Jason.

“There’s nothing for him to know, Y/N.” Jason laughed. “I was trying to walk across the railing above the great hall and fell and landed on my back. I didn’t tell you because I was embarrassed, OK?”

He knew from Y/N’s face that she wasn’t convinced. But she also knew not to push someone who was in the position she thought Jason was.

But to his horror, tears started falling.

“I just…I want you know that I’d do anything for you. You can live here! My parents love you and they’d take you in! Or-or-or we can run away together – just you and me.”

Jason hated seeing her cry. She rarely ever did it. And to know he was the cause made him feel sick.

Not knowing what else to do, Jason pulled her into a hug.

“I’m OK, Y/N. Promise. You don’t have to worry about me. Please don’t cry.”

“We just have to steal some of the stupid jewelry he has laying around and we’d be set for life,” she mumbled into his shoulder.

Jason laughed and pulled away. “Bruce took me in. Gave me a better life. He’s protected me. I know you don’t believe me, but the bruises aren’t because of him.”

Y/N wiped the tears away sloppily and nodded, but they both knew that Y/N didn’t believe him.

Y/N didn’t look at Bruce the same since that day. Not that she spent a lot of time around him.

But Bruce shared a look with Jason when he received the first very harsh glare from the pre-teen girl. It ended with a very uncomfortable conversation between Bruce and Jason where the boy explained what theory Y/N had come to.

Though Bruce said very little in response, he was wracked with guilt. To learn that someone thought he had the potential to behold the evil he tried so hard to eradicate in the world? It made Bruce sick to his stomach.

———

Now Y/N stood with her head hung low, in a crowd dressed in black.

These people didn’t know Jason Todd. Maybe they played the part of mourning funeral goer well. But Y/N saw their performances still.

The only people Y/N recognized were Bruce Wayne, Alfred, and Jason’s older brother, Dick Grayson. She’d never met him before, only seen pictures of him around the manor. Jason always seemed disappointed when Y/N brought Dick up or tried to ask about him. Y/N got the impression that he wasn’t all that great of a brother to Jason. Especially when it was obvious Jason looked up to him and was desperate for some sort of fraternal relationship.

Y/N looked up at her mother when the priest was finished with whatever he was saying. His words were impersonal, sullied by religion, and did nothing to comfort Y/N. He didn’t even say one thing about what made Jason so great.

“Can we go now?” She whispered to her mother.

She patted Y/N’s back. “There’s a gathering inside the house now. We should say our condolences to Mr. Wayne and Alfred.”

Y/N frowned at that. The last person she wished to talk to was Bruce Wayne.

She had been watching the man through the entire service. He was stoic and collected. There didn’t seem to be any sadness to be found in his eyes.

The longer Y/N watched him, the angrier she became.

“Please, let’s just go,” Y/N begged her mother.

People were making there way into the manor now and weren’t paying any attention to a girl, despite the fact that she was the best and only friend of the boy they were pretending to mourn.

Her mother gave her a sympathetic look. “Honey, don’t you want to say hi to Alfred. I’m sure it would make him happy to see you.”

Y/N knew her mother was right. She could do that for Alfred. Plus, he gave the best hugs, and Y/N could sure use one of them right now.

They waited in a sort of informal line. Y/N wanted to hit everyone in front of them as she was forced to listen to their empty and rehearsed sympathies. Bruce didn’t say much in return, simply thanking each of them.

But when Y/N and her parents were finally up, Bruce Wayne’s expression shifted.

It was the first time Y/N saw any sort of emotion from the man. He looked heartbroken at the sight of Y/N, who’s hand was tightly gripping her mothers.

Bruce, standing at 6’2, knelt down to be at Y/N’s eye level.

“Hello, Y/N.” He greeted quietly so no one lingering around them could hear.

Y/N only glared at him.

If she were being honest, she was surprised he even remembered her name.

But Bruce continued. “Thank you for coming today. I’m sure the past few days haven’t been easy for you.”

Then he cleared his throat. And Y/N’s brow furrowed at the sound. Was he trying to hold back tears? No, that couldn’t be possible.

“I wanted to thank you for being such a good friend to Jason. He talked about you all the time. I’m glad he had someone like you in his life.”

Y/N felt nauseous at how genuine Bruce Wayne’s words sounded. His eyes were even more sincere.

What happened to the cold and distance man she’d had little to no interaction with?

‘He has an audience now,’ Y/N told herself. ‘He knows everyone’s watching. He’s performing just like the rest of them.’

“What did you do to him?” Y/N finally whispered to him.

Where she got the courage to speak to an adult in such a way, she had no idea – especially one as powerful as Bruce Wayne.

Bruce tensed at her question. Was that hurt in his eyes?

“Y/N!” Her mother hissed down at her.

“It was you. I know it was,” Y/N muttered as her lips trembled and tears started falling. She thought she’d run out of tears, but this was her final outburst.

“Y/N, enough!” Her mother hissed again and then made eye contact with Bruce and Alfred. “I’m so sorry. She’s not…she’s not handling any of this well.”

“You did this to him!” Y/N yelled. “He always had bruises…and-and-and cuts! You used to hurt him!”

“Y/N!” Her father finally chimed in, completely stunned by his daughter’s accusations.

“I hate you!” Y/N screamed in Bruce’s face as tears flowed down her face.

With that, she ripped her hand from her mom’s grasp and made a run for it. She heard her parents yell her name, but she ignored it and kept running.

Bruce stood up, looking unfazed from Y/N’s hateful and accusatory outburst.

“We are so, so sorry,” Y/N’s mom insisted. “She’s never done anything like that before.”

Bruce held up a hand, stopping them from continuing. “It’s alright. Really.” Then he sighed. “I’ll have Alfred go find her in a bit. Perhaps she just needs to let out some steam.”

Y/N didn’t even realize where she was running until she ended up at Jason’s bedroom.

Her entire body shook with sobs as she opened up the door.

It looked exactly the same, like nothing had even happened.

Y/N walked to the other side and slide against the giant windows, curling into a ball on the floor with her arms hugging her knees to her chest.

She cried and she cried and she cried.

There was no way for her to know how long she’d been there. But her head snapped up when there was a knock on the doorframe.

Dick Grayson leaned against the doorway with his arms crossed and a sad smile on his lips.

“Hi,” he greeted softly.

Y/N sniffed and rubbed the snot from her nose with the back of her fist, “Hi.”

“I’m Dick,” he introduced as he closed the door behind him and sat on the foot of Jason’s bed, making sure to give Y/N her space.

“I know,” Y/N answered back through a stuffy nose.

“Alfred tells me you and Jason were good friends.”

“We were each other’s only friend,” Y/N corrected him.

Dick nodded slowly.

“I hate him,” Y/N mumbled.

Dick winced. “Jason?”

“Bruce.”

“Believe it or not, I know how that feels,” he sighed.

“Did he hit you, too?” Y/N asked with wide eyes.

Dick opened his mouth, but was so shocked by the question that no words escaped.

“Why didn’t you help him?” She followed up with. “Where were you?”

Dick knew she wasn’t asking what he felt like she was: Why didn’t you stop the Joker? Why was Robin all alone? Why didn’t Batman call you for help?

But that didn’t stop her interrogation from hurting him.

“I haven’t always been there for him,” Dick finally admitted. “Actually…I’ve never really been there for him.”

Y/N looked at him with bewilderment. “Umm…” she sniffed. “I should find my parents.”

When she stood up, something caught her attention on Jason’s desk.

Y/N’s hand shook as she picked up Pride & Prejudice. He was the only middle school boy she’s ever seen reading a Jane Austen book. It was one of the reasons she wanted to befriend him in the first place.

“Keep it,” Dick surprised her by saying.

She quickly turned around and gave him a questioning look.

“You should keep it,” he told her. Then he looked at the overflowing book case she was standing near. “Take whatever ones want. He’d want you to have them.”

Y/N’s eyes flickered through the bookcase. Her heart was telling her, ‘No, they’re his books. He’ll need them when he gets back.’ But Jason Todd wasn’t coming back.

So she reached up and grabbed Jane Eyre and then Frankenstein.

“That’s it?” Dick asked. Because he would’ve let her take Jason’s entire collection.

Y/N nodded shyly.

Dick escorted her through the house and back to the gathering.

When she saw Alfred, Y/N rushed forward.

Dick’s heart ached as he saw the butler immediately kneel down and pull Y/N into a hug. He wondered what the man whispered to her. Whatever it was, it seemed to comfort her in a way that apparently nothing else was.

Then Y/N’s parents returned to her side. Dick expected them to scold her for her earlier outburst, but they just seemed concerned and started making their leave.

Y/N looked behind her and searched through the crowd to find Dick again. When she did, she gave him a sad wave.

Dick returned it with a sorrowful smile.

———

8 Years Later...

Jason had been keeping tabs on her since he returned to Gotham. He kept his distance, remained out of sight. He would jump from rooftop to rooftop as she walked home from a night class. Or he would wait for the window of her apartment bedroom to go off if it was a slow night of patrolling.

He told himself it was out of curiosity. But he knew deep down he was making sure she stayed safe.

Jason was happy to see that Y/N didn’t retain her lonesome ways in her life after his death. He frequently spotted her having dinner or drinks with friends.

But Jason didn’t know how to feel when it was clear that Y/N had no romantic partner. Was he relieved? Was he irritated that someone didn’t love and care for her the way she deserved? Would he have been jealous if there was someone in his life?

Jason wanted to find her as soon as he was brought from the dead. Even when he felt like he’d gone insane, when his thoughts didn’t make sense and he was confused…her face still echoed through his mind.

But vengeance became his priority.

And with it, Jason slowly convinced himself that it was best to stay far away from the only person he still cared about.

But that didn’t mean her didn’t want answers still.

After his war with Bruce – or really, his attempted murder Batman and the Joker – Jason allowed himself to actually look back on his old life, the parts that didn’t involve being a child vigilante.

Still not on speaking terms with Bruce. Jason decided to get his info from another source.

Cue a month or so after his brush with Bruce, Jason blindsided Dick the next time he was in Gotham and slammed him against the closest brick wall.

Jason used to look up to Dick as a kid, despite his older brother rarely even giving him the time of day.

But now, Dick was quite literally looking up at Jason.

While Jason died a 13-year-old Robin, he was now a 6’3 man who had the set of a heavyweight boxer. Dick might be more flexible and acrobatic, but Jason had brute strength.

“What? B tell all of you not to talk to me?” Jason challenged when Dick didn’t fight his hold or speak to him.

“What do you want?” Dick asked evenly.

“Why did you keep tabs on her?” Jason growled, his voice distorted through his helmet.

“Keep tabs on who?”

“Y/F/N Y/L/N.”

Dick finally had enough of being bullied and shoved Jason’s grip off him. “Why don’t you look her up yourself? I’m sure you have no issue with hacking every personal database of hers.”

“That’s not why I’m asking,” Jason growled.

In fact, Jason had already done everything Dick had suggested. Which made him see that she had made a third-party domestic violence report to the police a week or so after Jason had died. And she had kept following up with it until the police finally came clean and told her there was no evidence to support her claim and she was wasting her time.

It seemed Y/N was the only person that fought for Jason after he was gone. She had just picked the wrong fight.

“Why did you keep tabs on her?” Jason clarified.

“I just wanted to make sure she was OK.”

That caught him off guard a bit, seeing as Dick never gave a shit about Jason when he was alive. So why would he look after his best friend?

“What? Out of the goodness of your heart?” Jason ridiculed.

“She didn’t handle your death well, Jason. She even picked a fight with Bruce at your funeral.”

Jason smirked behind the safety of his helmet at the image.

Dick sighed and finally put down his defenses. “I failed you, Jason. All of us failed you.” He shook his head as he got lost in a memory. “Y/N even asked me why I hadn’t tried harder to protect you.”

Dick’s eyes saddened. “I figured if I couldn’t be there for you, the least I could do was make sure the most important person in your life was OK.”

It wasn’t the answer Jason was suspecting, but it was all he came for.

“Will you go see her?” Dick asked as he saw that Jason was about to take his leave.

“We were kids. Things have changed,” Jason grunted.

“I don’t think any of that would matter to her,” Dick defended. “I think she’d like to see you and know you’re OK.”

“Mind your business,” was the last thing Jason snapped at him before jumping off the rooftop and disappearing.

————

Jason did what he said: he left Y/N alone.

He watched over her when he could. But most importantly, he didn’t drop a ghost from the past back into her life.

But he also tried to find that ghost in himself.

Somedays he thought that Jason Todd was lost forever.

But other days, like today, he still seemed to live on.

Jason browsed through the books on the shelves. He missed so many of them when he was dead and then when he reinvented himself.

Now he saw books as a time to fill in the empty space.

He was lost reading the back of covers when he heard it. No, when he heard her.

Next thing Jason knew, he was walking toward it.

“I’m sorry, dear. We’re all sold out of that title. You should’ve reserved it weeks ago,” one of the clerks told her with sympathy.

Jason peered between the shelves and caught a glimpse of y/h/c.

“I know. I just totally spaced. I think I’ll just browse for something else. Thank you for your help.”

Her voice sounded mostly the same, maybe a bit more mature. But he still would recognize it anywhere.

Jason knew he shouldn’t move any closer.

But he couldn’t help himself.

He was just one aisle away from her now, only a bookshelf separating them.

He slowly edged around the corner and smiled as he saw the massive pile of books that Y/N was trying to juggle in her arms. When she tried adding one more, they broke free from her grasp and stumbled loudly to the ground.

Jason didn’t know what he was thinking as he jumped forward and bent down to help her pick them up.

He saw her blush, but keep her head dipped from the embarrassment.

“Thank you,” she quickly laughed as she tried to pile the books back together as fast as possible.

Y/N opened her mouth to say more, but the words got caught in her mouth when she finally met Jason’s eyes.

He wondered how different he looked to her. Could she even recognize him? Or was he fooling himself when he became convinced he was an entirely different person after being brought back from the dead?

But his questions were answered when Y/N looked in shock, only unfreezing when her eyes began to tear up.

“It’s not possible,” she said so quietly that it was barely a whisper.

“Everyone good? I heard a loud noise.” The clear interrupted loudly.

Y/N jumped in response.

Jason stood and faced the clerk, “We’re fine.”

But when he turned back around, Y/N had booked it.

“Fuck,” Jason hissed before carefully handing the books to the clerk and quickly following after Y/N.

She made it further than he would expect. He actually had to look around the streets outside the store for a moment before he could spot her.

As soon as he did, he ran. But he called her name before he reached her to make sure he didn’t terrify her more.

Y/N froze when she heard him and whipped around. “Who are you?” She asked roughly.

There was a moment, when she first met Jason’s blue eyes, where she allowed herself to believe that perhaps a miracle had occurred.

But now she only saw this as some sort of heinous prank.

“It’s me, Y/N.” Jason almost sounded like he was begging her.

She then fully took him in. Yes, he had the same face. But now he was a full-grown man – and an extremely handsome one at that.

“I shouldn’t have spooked you like that. I’m sorry.”

“You’ve been dead for 8 years,” she muttered.

“I know. It’s a…” Jesus. Jason didn’t even know how to go about this. “It’s a long and complicated story.”

“Were you ever really dead?” Then Y/N’s eyes flashed with a realization. “Did you stage your death? To get away from him?”

Bruce. She meant to get away from Bruce.

Jason looked around. This was no place to have this conversation. He couldn’t believe they were having it at all.

“Fuck. OK.” He quickly shuffled through his pockets until he found an old paper receipt and a pen. He quickly wrote something down.

“I know this is…a lot.” He ran a hand through his hair, a gesture that reminded Y/N of the Jason she used to know. “If you want nothing to do with me, I understand. You’ll never have to see me again.”

He took in a deep breath and handed her the receipt.

Y/N slowly took it and looked down to see a phone number written down.

“You deserve time and space to…” he couldn’t find the right word, “process all of this.”

Y/N watched him as if she was expecting him to vanish like some sort of hallucination.

“After you do,” Jason continued. “If you’re willing to hear me out, I’ll be there,” he told her sincerely as he gestured to the number Y/N now held in her hand.

He waited for Y/N to say something, or maybe even try to make a run for her life.

But after what felt like forever, Y/N gave a short nod.

Jason gave her a shy grin as he slowly started walking backwards. He hesitated saying one last thing for her. But his mind finally told him, ‘Fuck it.’

“I’ve missed you, Y/N.”

————

Jason told himself not to get his hopes up. Y/N had every right to be horrified by him and wish to never see him again. From what Dick described, Y/N hadn’t handled Jason’s death well at all. What child could?

But when Jason got a text from Y/N’s number a week later, asking him to come to her place, he couldn’t help but beam.

Except reality then quickly settled in. And it reminded Jason that this conversation would involve talking about his past for the first time.

‘Suck it up. She deserves to know,’ he heard his past self screaming in his mind.

An hour later, Jason was knocking on Y/N’s apartment door.

“Hi,” she greeted stiffly.

“Hi.”

She led him to her bedroom. “My roommates aren’t home right now. But who knows how long that’ll last.”

Jason didn’t stop himself from looking around. Maybe it was a habit, all of his training of taking in every new environment with acute detail. But really Jason just wanted to take in Y/N and her new life.

That’s when he spotted the three books.

Jason immediately reached for one of them.

“Oh,” Y/N said sadly as she saw what he grabbed. “Umm…Dick told me I could take those. He…umm…said you’d want me to have them.”

“You kept them all this time?” He muttered, still looking at Pride & Prejudice.

“Of course.” Then a thought suddenly occurred to her. “You can have them back. I mean, they’re yours after all.”

Jason smirked at her fumbling. “No, keep ‘em.”

Then the tension from this strange reunion returned to the room.

Y/N gave him a heartbroken look and sat on the edge of her bed. “Jason,” she whispered, “what the hell happened to you?”

Jason slowly joined her on the bed.

His breathing shook as he tried to prepare.

But Y/N deserved to know the truth – the whole truth.

So he told her everything. He told her he was Robin. He told her how he died. He told her how he came back to life. He told her where he’d been.

The only thing he left out was how she was all he could think about when he watched the bomb tick down to 0 and he knew he was about to die.

But the hardest part was explaining why returning to her wasn’t the first thing he did.

“It wasn’t Bruce. It…you…you were Robin that whole time?” Y/N couldn’t even seem to process it.

Jason just gave a curt nod.

“I reported him,” Y/N gasped. “I was convinced he had something to do with your death.”

Jason winced at that. “Well, if you asked him, I’m sure he’d take responsibility for it still.”

Y/N’s eyes glazed over as she tried to take another look at the past now that she knew the real truth that had been hidden. So many things made sense: all the injuries, Bruce’s behavior, Dick being a distant brother – all of it.

“Y/N,” Jason whispered. Her eyes whipped to his. “I’m so sorry for leaving you like that.”

Y/N finally allowed herself to cry. “Missing you is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.”

Jason didn’t care about keeping his distance any longer. He pulled Y/N into his arms, just like he used to when they were kids.

Eventually, her crying slowed and Jason knew he needed to finally say the hardest thing about this all.

“But I can’t stay, Y/N.”

Y/N wasn’t expecting that. “What?”

“I’m not…I’m not that kid anymore. I’ve done things – terrible things – that won’t ever let me return to the person you knew.”

“I don’t care,” Y/N said surprisingly harsh.

“What?”

“I said I don’t care,” even though she knew he heard her. “You think I’m the same person after 8 years, Jason? You think that little girl didn’t face the consequences of losing the best friend she’s ever had?”

Jason didn’t know what to say to that.

Y/N wiped away her tears and her entire body shifted. “From everything you’ve told me, you don’t seem to have many friends – if any. So, sounds like you could use one.”

How could Jason have overlooked Y/N’s stubbornness when he anticipated how this would all end?

“I lost you once. I’m not losing you again. Especially not with all I know now,” she added.

Jason didn’t even bother fighting her on it. Y/N had always been his greatest weakness. At least he knew that hadn’t changed.

“OK.” He agreed. “So what now?”

Y/N smiled at his surrender. “Now…we have a whole lot of catching up to do.”

--------------------

Wow. I did not realize how long this was going to take me.

Please, please, please let me know what you think. Reactions and feedback and reblogs are the only thing that keep me writing on here.

#batfam #batman family #jason todd #jason todd fic #jason todd x reader #jason todd reader insert #batfam reader insert #bruce wayne #dick grayson #alfred pennyworth #batman universe #batman fandom #dc universe #red hood #red hood x reader #red hood reader insert

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isletakebarzal · 4 years ago

Text

I Hope I Never Lose You | 1 | Mat Barzal

a/n: my first mat barzal fic. my first fic since......... sh*wn m*nd*s. Here is the first installment of a new elementary school au. pLz leave feedback it has been so long since i've written and I am so ✨insecure✨

summary: you teach kindergarten and Mat Barzal is a P.E. Coach at Cornelia Street Elementary School. i don't know just give me validation plz

warnings: literally didn't even read it over. just copy-paste-post. mutual pining idiots to lovers?? some jealousy and angst???

WC: 5.6K

***

I. “then on a Wednesday in a cafe[teria], I watched it begin again”

You take a deep breath as you inspect your appearance in the teacher’s lounge bathroom at Cornelia Street Elementary. Your kindergarteners will be arriving at your classroom in nearly twenty minutes, so you wanted to get one final look in before starting the school day.

“Who’s the guy?” your friend and co-teacher, Molly, startles you as her figure appears behind you in the mirror.

“What do you mean?” You shake your head, sticking your hands under the sink for the automatic faucet to turn on.

Molly laughs, walking up next to you and leaning up against the counter, “You’re dressing up for someone! You never wore high heels until recently, and you check yourself in the mirror like 6 times a day. Who is it?”

You roll your eyes, pulling paper towels out of the dispenser and wiping your hands dry. “Sniff too much elmer’s glue again, Molly?”

You leave the restroom and lounge with Molly trailing closely behind. Turning into your classroom, you stop in the doorway when you find someone standing in the middle of your classroom, causing Molly to bump into your back.

“There you are!” Mat exclaims when he notices you and Molly enter the room. “I’ve been waiting here for, like, 10 minutes. Why do girls take so long in the bathroom together?”

You let out a nervous laugh. Molly stands at your side, glancing from Mat to you and back to Mat. You can tell she’s connecting the dots as the left corner of her smirk.

“Where else would we gossip about you?” Molly teases, snapping your attention away from Mat. You elbow her in her side, whispering her name scoldingly.

Mat rolls his eyes playfully, “Aww, Molls. Writing our initials in a heart on the bathroom wall again?”

You freeze at his comeback. Is he flirting with Molly? You try your best to remain calm. He’s Mat Barzal, he flirts with everyone.

“What are you doing in here anyway, Barzy?” Molly asks as she further enters the room, setting her briefcase on the desk and leaning up against it. She eyes you, as you haven’t taken one step further into the room. “Don’t you have a PE class to teach?”

Mat stiffens at the question, looking from Molly to you. He fumbles to start his response, “I, uh--” he looks to his immediate left and right, searching for an answer. “I needed a pen.”

Molly barks out a laugh, “a pen?” She turns to you, raising her eyebrows with a pointed look. “Did you hear that, Y/n? He needs a pen.”

You don’t respond to Molly, your body moving on autopilot towards your desk. “Here, I have a pen you can borrow!” You grab the first pen you get your hands on from the container on your desk and hold it out to him, trying your best to keep your hand steady.

Mat’s cheeks grow a rosy tint that matches your own. With a smile he takes the pen, finally looking it over. “Are you sure you won’t miss this one?” The smirk returns to his lips.

You furrow your brows, looking down to the pen he’s holding. It’s a purple glitter pen--your favorite pen. You shrug your shoulders, playing it off as no big deal, “Yeah, no worries. Keep it as long as you need.”

You spare a glance at Molly across the room, and you can tell she’s trying her very hardest not to laugh. The daggers you shoot at her with your eyes fail to get her to control her face.

“Thanks, Y/n, I appreciate it,” he says sweetly, giving you his million-dollar smile that makes all the lunch ladies swoon. “I’ll see you at Lunch Duty?”

You nod enthusiastically, “Totally. See you then.”

Mat stalls for a few seconds, shifting back and forth on his two feet before lifting the pen in another silent thank you. You try not to blush as you give a small wave goodbye, and he leaves the room.

Molly finally blows, erupting into laughter. You turn your attention towards her, a confused expression on your face. “What?”

“I guess that answers my question!” Molly exclaims, wiping an escape tear of laughter from her cheek.

You shake your head, placing your hands on your hips, “What question?”

“Which guy you’re dressing up for,” Molly explains as if it’s clear as day. “Seems to me like you’ve both got it bad.”

You blush again--probably for the 50th time in the last 10 minutes. “That’s it,” you huff. “No more glue for you.”

When 12:30 rolls around, Molly takes your class of kindergarteners to the Music Room while you head to the cafeteria for Lunch Duty. There’s nothing glamorous about watching elementary schoolers struggle to open their zebra cakes and milk cartons, but, for some reason, it’s your favorite time of day.

“Miss Y/n!” A voice cheerily calls out to you as you enter the cafeteria, and your gaze instantly lands on the source. That voice could pull you out of a coma. You could pick out that voice in a filled stadium of a Nickelback concert.

Mat waves at you from across the room, pulling out the chair next to him as if to tell you to come sit. You smile and wave back, making your way to him with your lunchbag in hand. It’s your Wednesday ritual to have lunch together, since it’s the only day of the week you are scheduled for Lunch Duty at the same time.

You sit gracefully in the chair next to Mat and set your bag on the table. Mat instantly reaches for it, spinning it one way then another as he searches for the zipper. You grab the lunch bag from his hands and pull it back to your side of the table.

“Excuse you!” You exclaim, playfully.

“Come on, Y/n, I’ve been waiting a week for this!” Mat whines, no better than one of your kindergarteners.

You peek into your bag making sure you have his treat, “Okay, okay.” You reach into the bag and close your fist around the circular fruit that you made sure to pack in your lunch--just like you do every Wednesday.

Mat shoves his hand in the big pocket of his backpack, then looks at you with an eager smile. “Ready? 1...2…” You both bring your hands out of your bags on 3, holding out the respective items for each other.

In the palm of your hand is a Cutie brand clementine, sticker already peeled off. You never really understood why Mat loves these so much, or why he never just buys them for himself, but you’ve been swapping lunch treats since the beginning of the school year.

You were sitting at the lunch table that was angled perpendicular to the student tables in the cafeteria. It was your first Lunch Duty of the year, so you made sure to get in the cafeteria before any of the students came in.

Now that you and Molly were co-teaching this year, you wouldn’t be on Lunch Duty together like you were last year. You didn’t think you should be nervous, being that it’s just Lunch Duty and you already had a year of teaching under your belt, but still, not having the comfort of your best friend around you made you a little more on edge.

No one told you who was going to be on duty with you, so when the new gym P.E. coach, Mat Barzal, strolled into the cafeteria, you stiffened in your seat. You noticed him a bit last year, but it was your first year with your own class of students, and you wanted to focus on being a good teacher rather than good-looking coaches. Mat was new to the school, too, but he seemed to be quick to make friends, talking to anyone around him. Like, anyone.

Like, even a first grader with a hockey AND a superhero obsession that wanted to know which NHL team each superhero would play for. You had eavesdropped on his answers while you were standing near them in the hallway.

(You remember this, because you had to hold yourself back from interjecting when he told the student that Superman would play for the Islanders. He would obviously be a Ranger.)

When he walked into the cafeteria that day, he strolled over to you and sat right down in the chair next to yours, jumping into conversation. You were munching on carrots when you realized that he had yet to pull out any food for lunch.

“Are you hungry?” you blurted out, interrupting whatever thought he was rambling on about while you were...you wouldn’t say staring...more like analyzing.

He deadpanned, “Yeah, but I’ve got some snacks back in the gym. I’m just going to eat them later.”

You shook your head, finding his answer unacceptable. “Here,” you said, looking into your lunch bag for anything to give him. “Do you like clementines?”

A smile spread on Mat’s face, “My mom used to buy them for me and my sister when we were kids. I haven’t had one in forever.”

You handed the fruit to him before he could protest. He accepted it graciously. “I’m Mat, by the way.”

“Y/n,” you told him.

The next week, you made sure to pack a clementine in your bag just in case he didn’t have a lunch again. You tried to hide the disappointment when you walked towards the table and saw that he didn’t actually forget this time.

That is, until you noticed the silver wrapper of a Fruit Roll-Up on the table in front of the empty chair.

“I wasn’t sure what flavor you liked, or if you even like these, but, like, everyone likes these,” Mat explained and you couldn’t hide your blush.

After sitting down next to him, you reached into your bag and pulled out the clementine, sliding it across the tabletop to him. Week after week, this unspoken trade agreement continued, neither one of you having forgotten yet.

You take the Fruit Roll-Up from his hand as he swipes the clementine and starts peeling.

“Oh, it’s the tongue-tattoo one!” You cheer, unrolling the fruit leather from the plastic film. Mat nods enthusiastically, but doesn’t speak, his mouth already full with slices of clementine.

You tear the fruit roll up in half and hold the half with the skull “tattoo” to him.

“No, Y/n, this is our trade. It’s yours,” he pushes your hand back, but you roll your eyes.

“I don’t need the whole roll, and the skull would suit you better,” you persuade him. “Just take it.”

With a smile, Mat takes the half and holds it to the light to find the skull printed in food dye. You hold up your half to tilt the crown “tattoo” to the right angle.

“Okay, ready?” You ask, and Mat nods. “One...two…”

On three, you press the sugary roll to your tongues and hold for a few seconds, making sure it’s long enough for the dye to transfer. You and Mat have done this enough times to know that the sweet spot is around 7 seconds.

Now facing each other in your chairs, you each stick out your tongues to show the other your tattoos. Mat lets out a loud laugh, and can’t help but mirror his reaction. You love this with Mat--getting to goof around with someone and finally laughing again.

Your last relationship ended nearly a year ago, and it left you devastated. You had dated Ryan all through college, and you thought he was going to propose after graduation. Little did you know, he had been applying to medical schools in London, rather than where you were in Seattle. He was never planning forever with you like you were with him.

Needless to say, it’s made you hesitant to start dating again. You don’t trust your instincts with reading people and you definitely don’t trust men.

“Here,” Mat hands his half back to you.

You squish your nose up at him, “Ew, your spit is all over it!”

Mat rolls his eyes playfully and holds the rollup even closer to your face, making you laugh. You try to bat his hand away, but he catches your hand with his free one instead.

“Oh please, it’s just a little slobber. Same as kissing!” He jokes, but the way he’s holding your hand and so easily talking about kissing makes you tense up. You feel like you’re 16 again, developing your very first school-girl crush with the way he’s stirring up dormant butterflies.

You look away, hoping to conceal your now very rosy cheeks, and Mat, thankfully, pretends not to notice. “Fine, mine now,” he shoves the whole rollup in his mouth, and your laughter breaks up the tension in your chest. You fall into easy conversation filled with laughter and banter, and it’s like the room full of rambunctious elementary schoolers doesn’t even exist.

II. “don’t you worry your pretty little mind, people throw [kickballs] at things that shine”

“Life just makes love look hard, Y/n,” Molly tells you. You came into school this morning looking down bad, and Molly was quick to figure out the root of the issue.

You saw Ryan last night. With a girl. Wearing a ring on her finger. You knew exactly what ring it was too, as his grandmother had showed it to you at Christmas one year and explained that it would be Ryan’s to give to the one he wanted to spend forever with. At the time you could’ve bet your life that his “one” was you.

You mope in your desk chair, “I know. It took him less than a year to meet someone new, fall in love, and commit. Love isn’t hard, but maybe I’m just hard to love.”

Molly gives you a sad look and opens her mouth to respond, but she is cut off by your classroom door opening. Your already glum face contorts into a sour expression when you see who has entered your classroom.

Alexa.

You spare a glance at Molly, who is already glaring at the 4th grade teacher. You try to hold back the chuckle that is bubbling in your throat. Alexa started working at Cornelia Street Elementary at the same time as you and Molly, but unlike you and your co-teacher, you were not fast friends.

Maybe it was her snarky attitude, or the way she told you and Molly to your faces that “kindergarten teachers are glorified babysitters” on the first day you met her. Either way, you and Molly were not fans.

“Hello, ladies!” Alexa screeches in a high-pitched voice.

Molly deadpans, “Whatever you want, the answer is no.”

Alexa’s nose scrunches in distaste, “I don’t want anything, Molls. I’m here to see if you both have signed up for the teacher-student kickball game next Friday.”

Molly winces at the use of her nickname, “Yes, Alexa. If you had just looked at the sign-up Google Sheet, you would’ve seen that both mine and Y/n’s names were already on the list.”

Alexa shrugs, brushing off Molly’s aggressive tone, “Well, good. I hear that Coach Barzal and Coach Beau will be team captains this year.”

Your body has a visceral reaction to hearing ‘Coach Barzal’, like your ears are rejecting the sound of her witch voice speaking his name. Molly flips her gaze in your direction, giving a smirk.

“Yes, Mat told Y/n the other day that he is going to be a team captain,” Molly lies between her teeth. He never told you that, but if there’s one thing Molly knows, it’s how to get under Alexa’s skin.

And she does. Alexa’s face pinches before clearing her throat, “It’s a shame none of us can have him, isn’t it?”

You and Molly mirror each other with confused expressions. “What do you mean?” you question.

“I mean, section 34.12B in the School Handbook,” Alexa replies as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

Molly rolls her eyes, “And what is section 34.12B in the School Handbook?”

Alexa’s lips curl smugly, “Section 34 is the Teacher Code of Conduct, silly. And rule 12B clearly states that teachers working in the same school are not allowed to intermingle romantically or, well, otherwise. Any infraction will result in one of the teachers being immediately transferred to another school in the county.”

Your stomach drops, and Molly looks at you with a sorrowful expression.

“Didn’t either of you read the handbook when you started?” Alexa asks condescendingly. In truth, neither you nor Molly read that brick of a handbook. If you remember correctly, you think you ended up using it as a doorstop in your old classroom last year. No clue what happened to it after that.

“Of course we read it,” Molly, again, lies. “We’re just not psycho enough to have it memorized.”

Alexa glares at Molly. “I didn’t memorize it. I just recently refreshed my memory after talking to Coach Barzal the other day. He had asked me to get drinks with him, so I wanted to see what the policy was on dating colleagues.”

You whip your head to Molly, a confused expression on your face. Molly takes your reaction in stride and stands from her seat at her desk.

“This has been so fun, Alexa,” Molly walks towards the 4th grade teacher at the classroom door, who takes the hint and starts backing up. “But we have to prepare for a day of babysitting, so if you don’t mind…”

Molly backs Alexa out of the doorway and shuts the door in her face. She leans back on the door to find you sitting with a sad puppy look on your face.

“I’m sure she was bullshitting like she always does,” Molly tells you.

You sigh and slump into your chair. An airy chuckle escapes Molly’s lips and you flick your eyes to her face, wondering what could possibly be funny.

“What? Why are you laughing?”

Molly shakes her head, muffling more laughs.

“Come on, spit it out.”

“It’s nothing,” Molly starts, a smile growing on her lips. “I just fucking knew it.”

You furrow your brows, “Knew what?”

“Knew you had a thing for Coach Barzal.”

You really don’t want to play kickball, if you’re being honest. You always hated gym class growing up, because you weren’t necessarily skilled in hand-eye coordination. The only reason you signed up for this student-teacher kickball game for the upper grades was for Molly. And...someone else.

Mat and his co-coach, Tito, are standing in the middle of the gym giving instructions to the 4th and 5th grade classes. The rules are simple: kick, run, and no cheap shots. You’re not sure if 4th graders were capable of taking cheap shots, but you realize that this rule might not be directed at them. If you’ve learned anything over the last year or so of teaching, it’s that adults are just really big Big Kids.

Once they finish explaining to the students and teachers how the game will work, Mat announces that it’s time to pick teams. The students are counted off by twos for their teams to make sure no kid feels like they’re being picked last--especially by the teacher--but the teachers are to be specifically chosen by the captains.

Tito, the captain of the A team, scans the crowd of teachers for his first pick. “Mr. Kessler,” Tito picks the 3rd grade teacher first. It’s a great first pick, since David Kessler apparently played sports in college.

Mat looks at the group like he’s searching for someone, and his eyes land on you. The right corner of his lips pulls up into a smirk. Your palms start sweating--either due to the nerves of feeling like you’re back in grade school again, or from the way he is looking at you.

“Mr. Peterson,” Mat’s gaze leaves yours as he picks the 5th grade parapro. Again, you don’t think it’s a bad idea to start setting up the team with the best players before moving on to, well, you.

The two coaches go back and forth until all of the seemingly more athletic teachers are assigned teams. When it’s time for Tito to pick again, his eyes land directly on you. You look to your left, then to your right, then behind you, just to make sure he wasn’t looking through you to someone else. But no one else looked like they were paying enough attention to be the one he was focusing on.

A smirk draws up Tito’s lips as he looks at Mat. Mat rolls his eyes and pushes his shoulder, making Tito teeter a bit. “Just pick, man,” Mat urges, and Tito looks back at you.

“Molly,” Tito chooses, and you release a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

Molly lets out an airy laugh and nudges you with her elbow, “Damn, they’re splitting us up.”

You roll your eyes, but on the inside your stomach flutters at the thought of being chosen by Mat. He glances your way every so often that you think it might be coming, but you try to keep your cool.

“Umm,” Mat starts, like he’s about to think out loud. “I’ll pick…” Mat’s eyes scan the group and he stops on you for a brief moment, but passes you over. “Alexa.”

Your heart drops into your ass.

You look to Molly, hoping that her usual cool and collected demeanor will level you, but she’s speaking lowly to Tito with furrowed brows.

“Y/n, you’re on my team,” Tito calls out next. You make your way towards the rest of the A team, and, despite the voice in your head screaming ‘don’t look at him, don’t look at him’...you look at Mat, gauging his reaction.

He looks completely unbothered. A smile is even gracing his face. It’s not like you thought he was necessarily interested in you, but, fuck, you at least thought he liked you better than Alexa. And now you’re wondering if there was any truth to her comments in your classroom last week.

Once the teams are sorted out, the captains flip a coin to decide who will kick first. Tito calls heads while the coin is in the air, and sure enough the coin lands on heads. Tito calls a huddle while Mat gets his team organized into positions.

“Alright team, listen up,” he starts, clapping his hands once. “We need a strong offensive start.”

The students jump around excitedly as Tito lines them up along the gym wall behind the designated “home plate”. He orders the team with one teacher kicking after every few students.

Molly is in the front of the line with Thomas, an eager 4th grader ready to play. He walks to the plate, backs up a few steps, and waits for Mat to pitch the ball. Mat winds up before releasing the ball in a (relatively) straight line to Thomas.

Thomas runs up to the ball, going for the kick, and….he misses. Tito jogs up to him, squatting to his level. “It’s okay, bud, let’s try again. You can do it, just keep your eye on the ball.”

The little boy nods and steps back up to the plate. Tito nods at Mat who winds up and rolls the ball once more. A little more cautiously this time, Thomas runs for the ball. He swings back his left foot and propels it forward, making contact with the ball and sending it soaring towards Mat.

Mat lets the ball drop in front of him, fumbling around to pick it up while Thomas runs to first base. Once he’s about halfway there, Mat tosses the ball to one of the fifth graders who is guarding the base. Thomas, unsurprisingly, is safe.

A few more students and teachers take turns kicking the ball, and before you know it, there are two students and Molly on base with two outs on the board. You were hoping that you would be able to linger in the back of the line long enough to avoid taking a turn, but Tito calls you up to the plate.

“Okay, Miss Y/n, bring ‘em home!” Tito encourages, and you roll your eyes at him.

“Doubtful,” you respond. Walking up to the plate, you make eye contact with Mat, waiting for him to roll you the ball. He takes a deep breath and raises his eyebrows to you.

“Ready?” He calls out.

You shake your head, “No, but do I have a choice?”

Mat laughs. ‘You got this!” he tells you, and winds up to roll the ball. Maybe he does it on purpose, but when he rolls the ball, it veers off to the left.

“Come on, Barzy, give her something she can work with!” Tito chirps, as Mat jogs to grab the ball from one of the students that picked it up.

Instead of returning to his makeshift pitcher’s mound, Mat strides towards you, catching you off guard.

“What are you doing, Mat?”

“You looked nervous,” he says. “Thought you could use a better pep talk than Beauvis over there.”

“It’s...elementary school kickball,” you say with a laugh.

Mat rolls his eyes, “This is a very serious game, Y/n. There’s a lot at stake.”

The smirk that forms on his lips sends a ripple down your spine. “Like what? A pizza party?” you joke.

Mat pushes your shoulder playfully, and a shout erupts from the sidelines. You both look to where Tito is standing with his arms raised in question. “Quit messing with my teammate, Barzal!” Tito yells.

Mat waves him off. “Keep your eye on the ball, and I’ll roll it slowly. Kick with the inside of your foot to get more distance, and, for the love of God, take off those dumb sandals.”

You look down at the strappy sandals on your feet. “What? They’re cute and comfortable!“

Mat rests a hand on your shoulder, squeezing it comfortingly. “Cute until you break an ankle. Just trust me and do it, Miss Y/n!”

You roll your eyes and kick your shoes off to the side while Mat backs up to the middle of the gym. You step up to the plate again and Mat winds up his pitch. The ball rolls in a straight line towards you, and you take his advice by kicking the ball from the inside of your foot. It’s a hard kick, too, so the ball soars over towards second base.

“RUN!” Tito yells from the sidelines, urging everyone on base to get moving. The student that was on 3rd base waddles home, scoring a run for your team, while the fielders scramble to get the ball.

There are some mishaps in passing the ball between the 4th and 5th graders in the field, so Molly is able to run home as well as you round first base. You look to Mat to find that he’s yelling at you to run to second, despite being on your opposing team, which coincides with the screams from Tito behind you. Now you're really thankful you took off those sandals.

You take off from first base towards second base, when out of the corner of your eye, you see Alexa grab the ball straight out of a 4th grader’s hands. She winds her arm back and throws the ball right at you, probably as hard as she can by the sting of contact on your left arm.

“Out!” Alexa yells as you slow your pace to a stop. “That’s three!”

The teams start shuffling as they switch from field to kicking and vice versa. You stay in your place, figuring you’ll just linger in the “outfield” anyway, while Molly comes up to you.

“That bitch is a dirty player,” Molly spits, turning to glance at Alexa. “Did you see how she just ripped the ball from a kid? Geez.”

“It’s just the game,” you brush it off, not wanting to seem fazed by how she so obviously was out to get you. You don’t realize Mat walks up to you and Molly until you feel a hand rest on the small of your back.

“Are you okay?” Mat asks, moving his hand to gently brush the red spot on your arm where the ball hit you.

You try not to blush at the contact as you nod and wave him off, “Yeah, yeah, I’m good.”

“Tough play, but it was a great kick,” Mat tries to be encouraging. “Who knew Lex could hustle like that.”

You wince at the nickname and look at Molly, who is sporting a scowl.

“Lex could’ve knocked a kid unconscious if she had missed,” Molly retorts, and Mat clears his throat awkwardly and removes his arm.

He shrugs his shoulders, “Yeah, I guess she could’ve.” There’s a brief pause and you hear Tito in the background positioning his students on the field. “So, Y/n--”

“Mat--I mean, Coach Barzal!” Alexa’s voice rings through the gym, interrupting Mat. “Come over here!”

“I think you should get back to your team, Mat,” you tell him. “Wouldn’t want to keep your star player waiting.”

He frowns at you, but nods, “Yeah, guess so.”

You didn’t mean to sound jealous--you really have no right to be. You weren’t even sure why you were so affected by the idea of Mat and Alexa. It’s not like there is a Mat and Y/n.

Well, maybe you do know why. You watch as Mat jogs over to his team, giving each kid a high five and circling them up for a pep talk. You can hear their laughs and cheers at his words of encouragement, and you smile involuntarily. He is so good with the kids and he really cares about them--you can tell that he puts his heart into what he does.

“Ready, team?” Tito’s voice breaks you out of your thoughts. The rest of your team cheers in response and Tito starts the next inning.

The rest of the game flies by with excitement. You all only make it a few more innings before it’s time for the kickball game to end and everyone to finish out their Friday school day. Tito was overjoyed, to put it lightly, when his A Team won the game, and you could tell he was already taunting Mat with it. Mat, though extremely competitive throughout the game, was a good sport about it in front of his B Team.

Since your and Molly’s class would still be in their Music Class for another 10 minutes or so, you two stayed back in the gym while the 4th and 5th grade teachers got their students together.

“Well, ladies, it was a good game,” Tito says to you and Molly, giving you both high fives. “Sorry you got blitzed, Y/n.”

You let out a laugh, “Thanks Beau, but it wasn’t that bad, was it?”

Tito rubs his hand on the back of his neck, “I don’t know. Alexa went for blood with that hit.”

Molly scoffs, “Alexa is going to taste blood next time she pulls something like that.” You bump Molly with your hip, giving her a pointed look, but Tito just laughs at her comment and falls into conversation with Molly.

You eye the way Molly reacts to making Tito laugh, a wave of something resembling pride or satisfaction washing over her. You haven’t seen her look...giddy like this until watching her talk to Tito. Interesting, you think.

After a few minutes, you decide it’s time to pick up your kids from the Music Room, and you tell Molly she can just catch up with you in the classroom in a bit. You make sure to give her a suggestive smirk, glancing back and forth from her to Tito without him picking up on it. She rolls her eyes and waves her hand at you, gesturing to you to exit.

As you’re walking out of the gym, though, Mat calls out to you, jogging towards you before you can leave.

“Y/n! Wait up a second!”

You turn towards him as he slows down in front of you. “What’s up?”

“Um, where are you headed off to?” He asks, almost like he is stalling.

You furrow your brows, but respond, “Gotta pick up our class from Music.”

Mat nods, “Oh, yeah, for sure. Shouldn’t Molls be with you?”

You glance back at your friend, where she is laughing and twirling a strand of her hair while talking to the young coach. “Nah, I can handle it this time. She’s...preoccupied.”

Mat follows your gaze and lets out a snort, “Tito is so hopeless. He’s been gone for her for so long now.”

“Oh yeah?” You question, thinking maybe this could be a chance to set Molly up with a nice guy. If there’s one thing you’ve learned about Molly, it’s that she usually has terrible taste in men. “How do you know? Has he said something?”

Mat shakes his head, “No, but he doesn’t have to. I mean, guys are so much easier to read than girls. Like, if a guy is interested in a girl? You’ll definitely be able to tell.”

You have to keep your shoulders from slumping. You think back to all the times you’ve interacted with Mat, and you can’t recall one instance of Mat acting the way Tito is with Molly right now.

“Yeah,” you sigh, looking back at the pair. “I guess you’re right.”

OKKKKKKK SOOOOOOOOOOO TELL ME WHAT U THINK HELLO PLZ FEED ME BACK FEEDBACK LOOP FEED ME WHAT DO WE THINK?????????????????????????????????????

#mat barzal #mat barzal fic #nhl fanfiction #mat barzal fanfiction #mat barzal x reader #mathew barzal

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rebelwrites · 4 years ago

Text

To Bail My Wife Out

Jax Teller x Reader

Lockdown at the club drove you crazy, everyone knew that. You had very little patience at the best of times and you may have busted Ima’s nose for chatting shit about your husband.

And to make things worse the guys were on a run and wouldn’t get back for another week.

“Baby go for a drive, clear your head before we have a body to hide” Gemma said kissing your head.

“But Jax is calling in like 20 and if I’m not here, well you know what he is like mom” you said rolling your eyes.

“You leave Jax to me baby” she smirked passing you your keys as you sparked your a smoke “go I don’t have the energy to dispose of a body today”

“Promise you will cover for me” You smirked inhaling the smoke.

“Yes now go you are starting to annoy me” she winked walking off blowing your a kiss.

“Don’t lie you love my crazy ass” you shouted.

“Just don’t get yourself killed” she said before closing the door behind you.

Strolling to your car unlocking it before tossing your smoke on the floor and climbing into your car. A smile formed on your face as you ran your hands over the steering wheel, disabling the immobiliser you started your beast hearing the engine erupted into life. Plugging your phone in you put your driving playlist on before backing out of your parking spot.

The prospect opened the gate and instantly putting your foot down speeding out of the lot.

The plan was just to drive until you didn’t want to kill Ima, the roads were clear so you sat in first gear until you red lined. That was your plan red line until the thrill of the speed drowned your thoughts out. And the whole time you had a grin on your face.

That was until you saw the flash of blue in your rear view mirror.

“Fuck” you mumbled glancing in the mirror again, it wasn’t Unser so you knew you were fucked. A smirk played on your face as you dropped a gear and left Hale for dust. You knew it was a bad idea but you didn’t care, this was a game to you.

After about 15 minutes you pulled up at the side of the road, turning your music off as Hale caught up with you, tapping on your window, one thing he didn’t look happy.

“Should have know it would be you Mrs Teller” he sighed.

Smirking as you revved the engine.

“Sorry can’t hear you over the exhaust” you shouted.

“Out of the car” he glared as you revved the engine again.

“I wasn’t doing anything” you said innocently as you undid your seatbelt.

“So that wasn’t you that when you saw I was on you, you sped up leaving me for dust” he said raising his eyebrow.

“Nope definitely not me officer” you shrugged killing the engine, grabbing your phone and smokes before climbing out the car. “How fast was I going anyway?”

“135” he sighed.

“Fuck no way” you smirked lighting a smoke “new personal best that”

“Fuck the formalities” Hale spat as he slapped the cuffs on “you are coming with me, and you are not getting out until your husband pays your bail”

That’s when you knew you had fucked up, there was no way you were telling Jax, not when he was out of town. Rolling your eyes at Hale as your smoke hung between your lips.

Resting your hands through the bars of the cell you watched the door.

“Come on lemme out you pricks” you shouted “Unser I know you are there so come on I did nothing wrong, I’m bored and hungry”

The doors opened and Unser walked over to you with Gemma behind him.

“I don’t call doing 135 nothing baby” Gemma laughed passing you a smoke.

“So am I being released or what?” You mumbled as you lit the smoke.

“Yeah about that” Gemma nodded “seems you pissed Hale off”

“And I always piss Hale off” you shrugged

“Which means he has set you bail at 3 and a half grand” Gemma said.

“And you are gonna pay it right?” You said leaning against the wall as she stayed quiet “you are paying it aren’t you mom?”

“Only if you tell Jax” she smirked knowing the answer.

“Nope Jax doesn’t find out about this” you said “you know as soon as he does bye bye car, speaking of my baby best be okay”

“You car is fine and is back at T M” Gemma nodded “but unless you tell Jax I’m not bailing you out, I told you to behave”

“No you told me not to get killed and I dunno I look pretty much alive to me” you huffed.

“Don’t start” she laughed sliding 3 packets of cigarettes through the bars with a lighter “see you in a week baby”

“Bitch” you shouted, rattling the bars making her laugh.

“Hey I just want peace and quiet” she winked, blowing you a kiss before disappearing.

“Well looks like you are stuck with me Wayne” you smirked, making him gulp.

“God help me” he said walking away from the cell “Gem you sure you aren’t bailing her out?”

And then it was all quiet. You knew what she was doing, and you knew you wouldn’t get out until Jax got home. Looking around the cell sighing, this was home for the next week.

Pulling his bike into his spot, a smile formed on his face as he saw your car parked in it’s usual manor. Abandoned and in the way.

He wanted nothing more than to pull you into his arms and just sleep, he found it a bit odd that you weren’t out front like you normally was. Brushing it off, you probably wasn’t feeling too great still.

Walking into the clubhouse with his brother behind him Gemma pulled him into a hug.

“Mom where’s my wifey?” Jax asked as he sparked up.

“Urm she got held up” Gemma nodded trying to figure out how to tell her son that you were in a cell and she didn’t bail you out.

“The bitch is in cell where she belongs after breaking my nose” Ima shouted, making Jax raise his eyebrow at his mom.

“What she do this time?” Jax laughed as he knew you were a rebel.

“Urm speeding, like 135 and passed Hale off a week ago” Gemma said

“Wait she got arrested a week ago and you didn’t bail her out” Jax hissed “the fuck mom”

“I told her I’d pay the 3 and a half g bail if she told you she got arrested but she didn’t want to tell you so” Gemma shrugged.

Jax slammed his beer on the counter pushing his way through the crowd.

“Where you going brother?” Tig asked.

“To bail my rebel wife out” He said rolling his eyes climbing on his bike.

“I like your pants around your feet” you sung at the top of your voice whilst running you lighter along the metal bars “And I like the dirt that's on your knees”

“Please Teller you are giving me a headache” Unser moaned as he laid on the bed in the open cell.

“Let me out and I will” you smirked, sparking a smoke and carried on singing “And I like the way you say please. While you're looking up at me”

You were too preoccupied annoying Wayne to see that Jax had walked in behind a female officer.

“Darlin’ I keep telling you, that lead foot of yours and that mouth would get you in trouble” Jax chuckled as he saw just how relaxed you were in the cell “yet you don’t listen”

Instantly you stopped singing when you heard the gravel of his voice, swinging your legs around you pushed yourself to your feet.

“Hey my gorgeous husband” you said innocently.

“Yeah sweet talking isn’t gonna work this time darlin’” he laughed leaning his arms through the bars.

“Not even if I suck your dick?” You pouted, giving him the puppy dog eyes and fluttering your lashes.

“I can’t leave you for any amount of time before you cause trouble can I?” He smirked.

“Nope” you grinned popping the p “now you gonna bail your wifey out of here or am I gonna have to keep singing?”

Instantly Unser was on his feet.

“Jax please take her she’s killing me here every day it’s a different nickelback song” Unser sighed “she’s given me a constant headache”

“Try being married to her” Jax winked making you pout.

“That’s it not gonna suck your dick now” you huffed.

“Come on Princess we both know that’s a lie” Jax smirked as Unser unlocked the cell.

Jumping into Jax’s arms, you wrapped your legs around his waist and pointed at the door.

“TO FREEDOM” you shouted.

“Please remind me why I married you?” Jax smirked as he walked out of the cells with you clinging to him like a koala bear.

“Duh because you love me” you giggled.

You wouldn’t let him put you down as he paid your bail, making him smile at how clingy you were being.

“Can I get a print out of my mugshot?” You asked “it’s going on the wall right next to Jax’s”

Ten minutes had passed and the bail had been paid, and your mug shot was safely in Jax’s kutte and you were heading out to his bike still hanging on like a baby koala.

Gently he placed you down on his bike, his hand cupping the side of your face.

“I missed you” you whispered leaning your head into his hand.

“I missed you too baby” he whispered pressing his lips against yours.

The kiss was slow and passionate, neither of you parting until your lungs were burning.

“What’s this about you breaking Ima’s nose aye” he whispered resting his forehead against yours.

“That’s a story for another day” you giggled “right now I just want my husband to take me home, and join me in the shower because I kinda stink”

“Yeah you do stink” Jax laughed lowly.

“You aren’t meant to agree asshole” you huffed.

“Come on my stinky rebel let’s go home”

#Jax teller #Jax teller x reader #jax teller imagine #sons of anarchy

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dirtyoatmeall · 4 years ago

Text

Bokuto’s Cool Sister (Tsukishima Kei x Reader)

A/N: Here is an actual fic! I have a list of shit to write I’m slowly working through, next will either be more head canons or a one shot. I’m re-watching AOT rn to get caught up with the new season so sorry about being absent! Luv u guys a lot

Pairing: Tsukishima x Bokuto sibling reader (No pronouns or gendered language used toward reader, not referred to as sister just used for title purposes), Bokuto x Akaashi, Kenma x Kuroo

Word Count: 2k! (longest ever!)

Warnings: Mentions of underage drinking (everyone at least 20), mentions of secs

~~~

You groaned as you neared the door to your apartment, seeing that the door was not cracked open a little for you to nudge open like you had asked your brother to do as you pulled into the complex. You remember him vaguely mentioning friends coming over, and you can hear music faintly coming from the apartment, but he always checks his phone, especially when you're coming from the store.

You try to balance the milk on your knee to open the door, and just as you think you have it, the door doesn’t budge. You close your eyes and take a deep breath. Your brother never locks the doors, why would he now? His car is in the parking lot and you can hear noise inside, so he’s home. Instead of putting groceries on the ground and fishing your keys out of your purse like a normal person, you make the decision to kick the door, not very hard, but hard enough to be heard in the apartment.

“Kou! Why is the door locked? Will you come open it for me, I have groceries!” You can hear your brother tumbling towards the door, apologies flying out of his mouth a mile a minute. The door swings open, revealing your brother, grimace on his face. “Sorry! I totally forgot you were at the store, I think ‘Kaashi might’ve locked it.” You sighed, not being able to stay mad at your brother’s friend.

You walk in, jerking your head in the general direction of the parking lot, “I have some more in my car, can you go grab it?” He nods, grabbing his key ring and jogging out. Both of you had the spare key to each other’s cars, which turned out to be more convenient then you originally thought.

You move toward the kitchen, yelling out a greeting to your brother’s boyfriend. “Akaashi! Next time you come over to fuck my brother let me know before so I can have my keys out, or just leave the door unlocked and go in his room!” You had a joking, yet scolding tone of voice, imagining his flustered state at your words. What you did not expect, was a hyena-like laugh to come from the direction of the living room. You were almost positive your brother said Akaashi was here.

You place the groceries on the counter and make your way to the living room, freezing in the doorway. Akaashi was there, but so were 3 other people. Akaashi was red, shaking his head that was resting in his palms. There was someone playing on a gaming console on the couch who had their legs thrown over the lap of the laughing one, and one on the other couch, tall and blonde, who looked weirdly familiar, who had a faint smirk on their face. You grimace, you didn’t realize your brother had actual friends over, he usually just meant Akaashi or the occasionally Hinata. “Oops sorry ‘Kaashi, didn't know Kou was having other people over.”

He lifted his head, face still slightly flushed and smiled. “It’s fine (Y/N)-san, do you need help with the groceries?” You shook your head, pointing behind you in the direction of the kitchen, where you could hear your brother rummaging around. “Nah, I made Koutaro get the rest. If you guys are staying for dinner let me know and I’ll make something instead of making him go to the food truck for me. By the way, who are the rest of you? I literally thought Kou was lying about having friends.”

The blonde one snorted, you narrowed your eyes slightly, he looked so familiar, you just couldn’t quite place it. The one playing the console seemed familiar too, you think you might’ve seen him on Twitter. The only one you didn’t recognize was the first to speak. “I’m Kuroo Tetsuro, we all played volleyball together in high school, I’m surprised he hasn’t talked about us before.”

You nod in understanding, “Oh so that’s where. I’m sure he has, I just probably wasn’t paying attention to what he was saying. I mean you guys seem kinda familiar, more the other two than you, were you like benched a lot?” The quiet one next to him looks up to see his reaction and snorts at the disbelief on Kuroo’s face. “Yeah, Kuro wasn’t very good.” The half blonde says, giggling softly as Kuroo gasps and yells at him. “Kenma!” He turns to you, “I was the captain and a very good player actually.” You laugh as Kenma behind him makes a face that says ‘That’s what you think.’ Before Kuroo could whine some more, Akaashi speaks.

“Kenma-san is a YouTuber, which is probably where you’ve seen him. He and Kuroo-san played for Nekoma, I’m surprised you didn’t remember them from that, you remembered Lev-san.” Kenma actually laughs at that, and Kuroo is pouting as Akaashi continues, a cheeky smile on his face that told you he purposefully sprinkled that last little tidbit in.

“Tsukishima-san, aren’t you a museum-studies major?” The blonde on the loveseat across from the other three nods, and you snap your fingers, finally realizing where you know him from. “Oh, that makes sense! I think we’ve had a class or two together. I’m an archaeology major.” Tsukishima’s eyebrows raise in surprise, but before he could speak, your brother finally comes in from the kitchen.

“(Y/NNNNN), I put everything away, we were going to go to Onigiri Miya tonight, wanna come?” You nod and swat at his had when he ruffles your hair before plopping down to his boyfriend. You go to leave your brother and his friends, taking one last glance at Tsukishima, who seemed to have the same idea, he averted his eyes the moment yours met, and you smirked to yourself on the way to the kitchen to re-put away the groceries. You loved your brother, but he definitely did not know where to put things, your thought validified as you pull the eggs from the pantry, switching it with the instant ramen packets in the fridge. Good thing he was a great volleyball player. ` Later that night, you join the boys for dinner at Onigiri Miya. You take two separate cars, you driving your brother and Akaashi and Kuroo driving Kenma and Tsukishima. Kuroo made a joke about racing there, which you took as a personal challenge, much to the dismay of Akaashi. You would’ve won too, but you had to pull over to kick Koutaro in the backseat for playing Nickelback. He buys your food as an apology, and Kuroo’s food because he won (you venomed him later for your share of food, which he promptly venomed back to you with angry faces in the description.). The 6 of you sat in a corner booth, you were sandwiched between Akaashi and Tsukkishima with Kuroo between your brother and Kenma on the other side.

The table was loud with jokes, laughing, and yelling as everyone ate their meals. You snuck drinks of ‘Akaashi’s’ margarita when the waitress wasn’t looking (You were 20 and Akaashi submits to peer pressure from you easily). “(Y/N), are you not 21 yet?” Kuroo asked as he watched you nudge the drink toward Akaashi as the waitress talked to the other table. You turned to Kuroo, cheeks just barely flushed. “Hm? Oh no I’m not, I’m two years younger than you guys, I turn 21 in a few months.”

Kuroo hummed in understanding and got a suspiciously mischievous look on his face. “Oh, you’re the same age as Tsukkishima, and you guys have similar majors, how interesting” Your eyebrows furrow and you snort. “So do over a thousand other people Kuroo, its not a super niche subject.” You turn to Tsukkishima and continue, “Hm I didn’t realize we were in the same year, I thought you were older, must be your grumpy grandpa like disposition.” Akaashi explained what disposition meant to your brother and Kuroo snickered before he was shut down by Kenma, who has been doing an excellent job of roasting Kuroo at every chance he gets. “You laugh like everyone doesn’t call you old man behind your back.”

You laughed for the umpth time that night, Tsukishima watching you, he could really see the sibling resemblance when you laughed. You throw your head back and laugh loudly, from your gut much like your brother. Tsukishima looks away from you, catching Kuroos eye in the process, the blonde rolls his eyes at the smirk on Kuroos face. Out of the 5 of them, he was the only one not in a relationship and Kuroo has been trying to set him up since Bokuto and Akaashi finally got together at Akaashi’s graduation.

Tsukishima looks at you again, watching you take a sip of the margarita, and subsequently watches it almost come out of your nose as you laugh at something Akaashi said to Bokuto, clutching the former's shoulder, hand over your nose. There was no doubt that you were pretty, and you did have similar interests. His thoughts were interrupted by you turning to him, knee-knocking against his thigh. “Have you taken Anth 267?” He nods “I took it last quarter.” He replies and watches you sigh in relief. “Oh thank god, I’m having trouble meeting her insane essay expectations. I usually have ‘Kaashi read through mine but would it be ok if I sent them to you? Or at least bounced topics off you?” When he agrees you smile, unlocking your phone and sliding it towards him, a new contact open. “Oh great, here, why don’t you put your number in?” As he fills it out, his eyes involuntarily flit to the text message appearing at the top of your screen. From: That Sunny Bitch

Ew you think Tsukki’s hot? He’s a good volleyball player but he was a meanie in high school 😝

He held back the urge to smirk. That must be Hinata based on the name. He quickly finished the contact and gave your phone back before giving his to you, and you quickly typed in your contact info, as well as snapping a quick contact photo. It was super close to your face with your tongue out, a good tell of your personality. You give his phone back and the two of you talk more about school and classes before everyone gets ready to leave.

Your brother stands up first, and you take advantage of his large frame and chug the rest of the margarita down, smiling big at Akaashi who chastises you about drinking it so fast. You all wave to Osamu as you leave, and before Tsukishima can get to Kuroo’s car, he turns to the group, smirking. “I've got to run Kenma by our apartment to grab his charger, we’ll meet you guys.” You nod, handing your keys to Akaashi and turn to Tsukishima. “You can sit in the back with me Tsukishima!” Though you might be promoted to passenger if Bokuto makes bad music choices again.” You glare at your brother as you finish the sentence, and he whines about how his taste ‘isn’t that bad!’

The car ride back to your apartment is short, and you spend it chatting with Tsukki, as you’re now allowed to call him, and you spend the rest of the night with the boys, playing games and watching movies until early morning. Kuroo and Kenma leave first, and Kenma made your night when he looked you in the eye and said goodbye. Tsukki left about an hour later, his roommate picked him up. Akaashi ended up staying over, and you were glad your bedroom was on the other side of the apartment from your brother’s. You fell into bed content with the day, happy you were able to meet your brother’s friends.

You awoke mid-day, and you browsed your notifications before dropping your phone on your bed when you read one text message, heat spreading over your cheeks. You definitely do not remember changing his contact name.

From: Hot classmate Tsukki

Hey, how about we go over your essay over some coffee tonight?

#my writing #haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyu #haikyuu x you #haikyuu tsukishima #tsukishima kei #tsukishima x y/n #tsukishima x reader #tsukishima kei x reader #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu x reader #tsukishima x you #tsukishima kei x you

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catxsnow · 4 years ago

Text

EASIER THIS WAY J.T.

Request: Hi! Girl.....I LOVE U AND YOUR WRITING! Can I make a request?! Jason Todd x BatSis! Where they complety fall in love with each other but try to hide it at all cost. Like Nickelback song: trying not to love you. Thank u 🥰

Warning: all the fluff, some of the angst, 100% soft Jason

A/N: I’m hoping that this was the vibe you were going for?? If not I’m so sorry! How are you all? I feel like I’ve been inactive lately and I’m sorry for that.

Also I don’t do batsis x batboy so this is just they’re roomates and friends. Though reader did get training from Bruce.

Send me some chats, some asks, whatever you’d like I’d love to get to know you guys more!!!!

Word Count: 4.5k

Relationships were messy.

With every relationship that you had ever witnessed, there was always someone that got hurt. The kind of heartbreak that never left you and the pain that would last a lifetime because you thought that this one person was meant to be there with you forever. No, relationships seemed like they were not worth the risk.

You stayed clear of them. Your whole life you managed to avoid having a relationship - it was never a priority and it was always something you thought to be a waste of time. You had casual relationships - hookups - but never committed enough to see yourself as a couple. It was just easier that way.

Then came Jason fucking Todd.

Jason was a man of many mysteries, and each one you solved brought you closer and closer to breaking your one rule. You were allured by him, constantly. He was the only person you had met that wasn't afraid of getting things done, even if it wasn't always morally right. He knew where to draw the line between saving and suffering.

You couldn't help yourself from these feelings with Jason. Your desire to constantly be with him, to fight along side him, even during your free time you spent it with him. If someone ever saw you and Jason apart, it would have come as a surprise. The two of you were inseparable since the day you met.

As your feelings grew, the more you realized that this wasn't friendship that you wanted with him, it was love - you fell in love with him. However, your life's beliefs of not wanting a relationship held you back. Dating Jason would only make things messy, you weren't ready to face something like that.

So, you hid them. Not a single person knew about your feelings for Jason Todd and you were going to make sure it stayed that way. With no one knowing, there was no way that anyone could pressure you to act on how you felt about him. No one to tell you that you and him would be perfect together.

As much as you told yourself that it was better this way, you still didn't want to believe your words. It was a constant struggle to keep your feelings from him. The everlasting longing to be with him in a way that was more than friendly clouded your mind. He was constantly lurking in your mind, dreams, and nightmares.

Nightmares of the ones you cared most about dying. Nightmares of turning against every moral you worked so hard to achieve. Nightmares of becoming the evil you tried to defeat. Nightmares of losing Jason.

That was the kind of nightmare that clouded your sleep that night. Losing him for the second time in the hands of the Joker, this time with no Lazurus pit to bring him back. He was gone, and never to return.

"NO!" You yelled, waking up from the horrible nightmare. Sweat covered your body and matted in your hair. Your breathing was heavy, uneven, and unable to return to normal. When you tried to push the hairs out of your face, your hands shook with an uncontrollable tremor. This nightmare had shaken you to the bone.

"(Y/N)," Jason stood in the door way of your room. The light from the hall shadowed his face, but you could tell from the lean body and hoarse voice that this was indeed him. He had heard you scream, aware that your nightmares were sometimes too much for you to handle by yourself.

Jason said nothing as he watched the tears slip down your face. He closed the door to your room and sat on the edge of your bed. He knew what it was like to struggle with nightmares night after night. They carried an effect with them that seemed to last days, lingering in the back of your mind like a leech.

You were frozen in your spot. Knees up to your chest and unable to tear your arms away from your body long enough to wipe away the salty tears. The warmth of his hand on your skin brought you out of your mind and back into the real world. You eyes snapped over to his, concern written within them.

"You wanna talk about it?" He asked, already knowing that the answer was going to be no. You shook your head, not wanting to tell him that it was him that you saw dying once more. "Do you want a drink?" Another no.

This wasn't the first time that he came barging into your room after hearing you scream. It happened at least once every month. Each time it was the same thing: he would come check on you, ask what you needed, sat on the edge of your bed until your shaking and crying was gone, then leave.

The habit was something that you always appreciated from him, but something that you never spoke directly about. Jason knew you didn't want to talk about your nightmares when the sun was bright in the sky, he never asked or expected you to. He did know, that no matter what he was always going to be there for you.

Jason realized his feelings for you a long time ago. He knew that he loved you and yet he forced himself not to say anything about it. Things were easier this way, he couldn't risk losing you as a friend because of his greed to make you a lover. So, he said nothing. He kept his feelings to himself and didn't let anyone know about them.

Just like you did.

"Jay," you spoke. You were so quiet that Jason thought that he was just imagining your voice. As he looked over to you, you were already glancing expectantly up at him. "Stay with me?"

"Of course," Jason assured. He wasn't sure why you were asking him this, he always stayed for you. Jason didn't care if he lost hours of sleep for you, he just wanted to make sure that you were okay. By the end of the day, knowing that you weren't causing your own self-destruction was what mattered most to him.

"No," you shook your head. Stiffly, you unpeeled your limbs from your chest and scooted over on your bed. The left side of your bed was open for him to join you. "Please... I just, I need to know you’re here if I have another nightmare. I need to know that I didn't lose you again."

"You're not going to lose me," Jason promised. He was surprised that you wished for him to stay with you. Never had you even gave him the assumption that you wanted him to stay in your bed. This, this wasn't part of the routine that you had together. It didn't make Jason feel any less giddy at your offer.

Jason rolled under your covers to join you in your bed. He felt unsure and weary as he laid beside you. The bare skin of your arms just barely brushed against his; even with the heat between your sheets it still sent a chill up his spine. For once when he was with you, he felt vulnerable.

The great Jason Todd felt as if he could melt to your touch in this moment. He felt as if he would do anything you asked of him, just to please you. Jason wanted to tell you that he loved you, and yet, he stayed quiet.

The silence in the room seemed to scream at you. You wanted to smack yourself for inviting him into your bed. This did nothing to help you hide your feelings for him, but you couldn't help it. The fear in your veins from your nightmare made you weak to him. The words you told him were true, you needed him there to keep you sane.

You stared up at the ceiling. The racing of your heart kept you from falling asleep again. Whether it was residual fear from the nightmare or the idea that the love of your life was sleeping next to you for the first time. Either way, darkness refused to take of your mind.

"(Y/N)," Jason spoke. You could hear the shuffle of his pillow as he turned to look at you. He seemed to hesitate with his next words, unable to find what he truly wanted to say. Instead, he settled on, "You know that I'm always going to be there to help you, right? Even if you're to scared to ask."

"I know, Jay."

Ever since the night that Jason stayed over, it seemed impossible to keep your feelings at bay.

As you woke up the next morning, you found yourself cuddled into his bare chest with his arm around you. The calming peace that you had in his arms was something you hadn't felt since you joined Batman and Co. You never wanted to let that feeling go, but you knew if you succumbed to that, you would have done the same with your love for him.

So, before he could wake, you sneaked out of your own room. The night was never spoken about again. You wanted to bring it up to him every time you saw him. If only he knew that he was the reason that you had the best sleep of your life. You wished he knew how safe you felt with him, and that your heart couldn't stop racing at his touch.

When Jason woke up to your empty bed, he felt nothing but disappointment. He was excited to wake up next to you, hopefully cuddled into your side with a loose smile on your face. He wanted to enjoy your beauty and kindness the second that he woke up. Jason wanted to wake up next to the person he loved.

But he didn't. Which meant that you didn't have the same feelings for him as he did for you. Jason stayed silent about his love for you. Not a soul could find out about it - he wasn't sure what would happen to your friendship if you knew he looked at you as more than just a friend.

As weeks passed, the two of you seemed to grow apart. You didn't seem him as much during the day, missions were never together, even going on patrol at night you both went you separate ways. You missed him, a lot. But, knowing that you were hurting now meant that you would have less heartbreak in the future - easier, less messy, and piratical.

With everyone else being busy that night, you and Jason decided to train together. It had been far too long since you had a good session and you had to admit that he was the only person that would push you to your limits. Jason knew your weaknesses and where you needed to work the most. He was the best person to train with, even if you didn't want to.

After strength training - which you fell far behind Jason in - you needed to spar. Usually, you would love to spar against anyone in the family. Now, having to go against Jason seemed like pulling teeth. It was the last thing you wanted to do. It wasn't the fact that you had to fight him, it was how close you got.

Sweat covered skin brushing against each other. Ragged, heavy breathing with groans of exertion. It was as if he was just teasing you with his sounds and movements. As if he knew how you felt and wanted to put you through pain.

You bounced around, light on your feet. Jason's fists were up, ready to strike just when the moment was right. Sweat glistened off his skin and the light shining off of him distracted you in more ways than one. You had just barely missed his punch with a duck, followed by taking advantage of your low height to take his ankles out.

Jason managed to catch himself before falling. He was quick to retaliate, throwing his fists nonstop towards you. He might have had the strength, but you had the speed. You dodged every punch he threw until he back you up into the wall. No place to go and stuck between him and the wall. Foolishly, you had let him trap you - maybe your subconscious wanted him to do it.

"Thought you knew better than that," Jason teased. He no longer had his hands in fists and they were relaxed at his side only for a second before planting themselves on the wall on either side of you. Bruce had taught you better than this - you knew not to get cornered - yet here you were.

"I do," your voice cracked. He was standing too close to you, arms on either side of your shoulders to keep you in. You felt as his mercy here, frozen to your spot wondering what he could do to you - and not in the bad way.

Jason only raised an eyebrow at you. You jammed your elbow into the inner crook of his. His arm crumpled just enough for you to get out of his hold. Without giving him a chance to realize what happened, your kicked your foot right into his bare chest. He slammed against the wall that you were just trapped in with the wind knocked out of him.

"Thought Bruce taught you not to let your guard down," you mocked him. Jason rolled his eyes at you and went forth with his attack. Quick as lightning, Jason tackled you to the ground so your arms were pinned above your head and your legs between his thighs. You could feel his muscles tensing against yours.

"Turn of tables huh," Jason smirked. You were utterly defenseless against him. If it were any other person, your instinct of fear would have taken over, but this was Jason. The things he did to you without even being aware of it nearly drove you crazy. Right now, you didn't feel fear, you only felt lust.

He's gotta get off me, now.

Jason felt frozen in his spot. This power he had over you in that moment, he wanted to uphold it forever. He wanted you beneath him at all times. This crave of your attention was pushing him to places that he never thought he would be found in. Everything about you drove him to different limits.

He loved you, and he knew that he couldn't.

You felt his grip on your wrists tighten before loosening altogether. You wondered what the hell was going through his mind right now. His face was cold, just as it always was when he was trying to hide something from you. The second his grip loosened you were flipping him over and taking his position.

His hands were locked to the ground level to his head and you sat right at the base of his stomach. Jason was by far strong enough to get out of your grip but it didn't seem like he wanted to. He remained still, watching your every move like his life depended on it.

Jason's chest rose and fell, it seemed to get even more ragged since you had taken your position. You wanted nothing more than to lean down and press your lips against his. You wanted to take advantage of this moment and appreciate every inch of him. But you couldn't, you knew you couldn't.

"Wanna call it a tie?" You finally broke the deadly silence. If you didn't end your spar now, you weren't sure how you were going to end up. The ability to contain yourself was already diminishing.

He looked disappointed for a partial second, but covered it up just as fast. Jason didn't want this spar to end. He wanted the constant tango between the two of you - it seemed to be the only time that he ever got to be this close to you. The desire to have you in his arms was keeping him up at night.

Part of him prayed you'd have another nightmare just so he had an excuse to sleep next to you again. God did he want that - the simplest of touch from you drove him insane. He needed more, he needed you. And yet, he stayed silent, keeping you in the dark about how he truly felt.

"Sure."

"I can't do this anymore."

You had just gotten out of the shower after a long night of patrol. The towel was tightly wrapped around your body and the small patch of the mirror free of steam shone back at you. Hair was matted to your neck and you couldn't distinguish the tears from the water droplets anymore.

After all this time, you had finally broke. It was easier to keep your feelings hidden at first. No one got the chance to tease you, no one had the opportunity to turn the best friendship you ever had into a hatred. You got to be friends with Jason still and keep up the moments you wished you could have been together with.

It had taken you so long to realize that being with him, without being with him, was tearing you down more than it was keeping you going. Being so close to Jason and not getting to be with him, that was killing you more than being part of the batteam was. You couldn't take this pain any longer.

Frustration of all these years wasted with trying to hide your feelings from him washed over. All for what? To try and avoid a heartbreak that may or may not happen? A risk that you were never willing to take. No, hiding your love from him was something you could no longer do anymore.

All the nights you stayed up having to tell yourself that this was easier were pointless. Truth was, it wasn't easier. Keeping your love from him hidden was the hardest thing you had ever done. The only possible challenge that could be harder? Telling him the truth.

"Fuck!" you yelled. Rashly, your fist jammed into the mirror that you were staring at. Broken shards fell into the sink along with droplets of blood. You didn't mean to act upon your frustration, but it has taken over your body. Your hand clenched into a fist, blood flowing out of the fresh cuts.

A knock at the door made you jump. "(Y/N)?" It was Jason waiting just outside your bathroom door. Of course it was him. He was always ready to jump to you whenever he heard the slightest of unsettling noises. That was just one of the hundreds of reasons that you loved him.

Reluctantly, you opened the door. You stood there with nothing but a towel and a bloody hand. Jason's eyes immediately darted to your wound, followed by the broken mirror.

"What'd you do?" Jason asked. He had already known what you did - what he wanted to know was why. You never lashed out like this before - and you seemed fine all day. You only shrugged in response - this wasn't the right time to tell him the truth. "Come on, let's get you wrapped up."

You sat down on the edge of your bed as Jason rifled through your bathroom to find some bandages. He worked silently, not speaking a word as he cleaned the blood away. Jason was gentle with you. He acted as if any rash movement would have caused you to run from him.

By the time that you had a bandage wrapped around your knuckles, your breathing seemed to be back to normal. However, Jason kept your hand rested in his, deep in thought. He wanted to know what overcame you to do this. He just wanted to know that you were going to be okay.

"You gonna tell me what's wrong? Or am I going to have to get Dick to get you to talk?" Jason partially joked.

You looked beautiful right out of the shower. Then again, he always thought you looked beautiful. He wanted nothing more than to pull your towel away - he wanted to see you. He wanted to admire every part of your body and kiss every inch of skin. He wanted to tell you just how perfect you are to him.

"I think it's time to get some sleep," you answered. It wasn't what he wanted to hear. Your responses were never what he wanted to hear. The three little words that he so desperately wanted you to say to him were never at the tip of your tongue - at least that was what he thought. Truth was, you were always so close to saying it.

"Guess I'll see you tomorrow then," Jason held back his disappointment. He released your hand from his hold and stood up. You watched as he paused above you. Jason leaned down to kiss the top of your head before going to your door. "It's not good to bottle things up - I would know."

"It's easier that way."

Jason rarely woke you up from nightmares. He was far better at containing his fear in the middle of the night than you were. It was always something you envied him for. He always seemed so much stronger than you, so much more capable of taking care of himself.

So, when you heard him scream in the late hours of the night, you knew that whatever dream he was trapped in must have been far worse than his usual nightmares. You rushed out of bed to go check on him. For once, you were thankful that your rooms were so close together.

Jason was sitting upright in his bed. Sweat dripped down his chest and his breathing was so ragged that his whole body shook. When light cracked into his room, he nearly jumped. However, when he met your eyes, it was was like you were his saving grace. Jason had never been so relieved to see you there.

Nightmares, of course, clouded him. This one had been particularly gruesome. Joker had kidnapped the both of you. He made Jason watch as he beat you to death with the same crowbar that had been used on him all those years ago.

Seeing you alive and in person was just what he needed to calm down.

"You okay, Jay?" You asked in a timid voice. He wasn't like this often, you didn't want to spook him more than he already was. Jason ran a hand through his sweaty hair and then nodded. Now that you were here, he felt better.

You sat down on the edge of the bed and placed your hand over top of his. He flinched at your sudden touch but relaxed as you dragged the pad of your thumb across his skin. Jason suddenly snatched your hand in his. He pulled you into his bed without even giving you time to process what he was doing.

You laid on your side with his arms wrapped tightly around you. His chest pressed into you back and your legs intertwined. By the way that he was gripping you, you knew that he never wanted to let you go, not after his nightmare. It didn't matter, you could lay in his arms forever.

Jason grabbed your hand that had been bandaged for most of the week. Your knuckles were still bruised but the cuts were scarring over. He surprised you by pulling your arm back and kissing the back of your hand. His lips on your skin sent a pleasurable chill up your body. You couldn't help but imagine what they would feel like elsewhere.

"Stay with me?" Jason asked. He sounded just as vulnerable as you had a few weeks ago. You wanted nothing more than to stay with him, to soak up his warmth throughout the night and wake up to him in the morning. But you also knew, if you stayed with him once more, you weren't sure if you were ever going to be able to leave again.

He seemed to notice you hesitance. Instead of backing down, Jason had called his cowardice enough. You were both grown adults, there was no reason to hide from feelings that were obviously there. He couldn't hold back any longer, he couldn't live with himself without knowing your feelings for him.

"Stay with me every night?" Jason changed his question. He felt you freeze up in his arms. Your arms were tense and the small shapes you were drawing on his arm stopped. You flipped over to face him. His eyes locked with yours and he never wanted to look away. "Sleep here with me."

"Jay..." you trailed off. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying I'm tired of this," Jason sighed. He searched your eyes for any split second of hesitation. He didn't want to stop this, he needed to tell you the truth. "I'm tired of not acting on my feelings. I'm tired of going day in, day out as if I don't love you. I'm tired of having to pretend that you're just a friend, because fuck, I need you as more than that."

You had no idea that he had felt this way about you. The yearning that you had for him was just as bad as he had for you. Jason needed you just as much as you needed him. There was no point in hiding it any more. You couldn't hide it any more. No matter how many times you told yourself it was easier to keep quiet, you knew that it no longer was.

"Fuck, Jason," your voice cracked. "I love you, I love you so fucking much."

Jason's hand gently gripped the side of your face. He pulled your in to his chest, firmly pressing his lips against yours. This kiss meant everything to you. All the stress that you had with him, all the longing, the nights of self-destruction because you never believed that love would ever find you, it all washed away.

The way that Jason kissed you was as if it was the only thing keeping him alive right now. The oxygen that depleted in his longs meant nothing to him, he just needed to keep this kiss going. He couldn't part ways with you, not even for a second.

Jason slid his hands down to your hips and pulled you onto his lap without breaking the kiss. He needed your body as close as he could get. Your touch felt as if it was burning him alive but he just wanted more of the flame. He needed this warmth to encase his whole body, he needed you with him forever.

"Never leave me," Jason whispered, finally pulling away. You needed the air, but you needed him even more. Your one hand rested on his chest and the other against his face.

"You've got me, forever."

#jason todd #jason todd imagine #jason todd oneshot #jason todd x reader #dc imagine #dc one shot #dc #batfam #batfam imagine #fluff #angst #red hood #red hood imagine #red hood oneshot #catxsnow

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heartbreakgrill · 4 years ago

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Did You Get the Sensation Today? (Flirting in Walmart, Pt. 3); Calum Hood

a/n: yeah❤️

description: you’re the opening act for 5sos and your boyfriend is the bass player. just cute and fluffy.

“Y/N! How’s the metronome in your ear?”

You fumbled with your earpiece, only looking up from where your eyes were boring into the floor because of the voice resounding around the room. Your eyes lifted to glance in the general area of the sound technician and your ears began to focus on the beeping in your left ear.

“Good!” You mumbled into your microphone. “Little more, like 1 notch.”

He turned it up and you nodded. “Thanks!”

You went back to twisting the wire around the ear piece, struggling to get it to stay out of the curve of your lobe. You jumped when you felt warm hands move yours away and adjust the wire.

“Hey, love, s’just me,” Cal spoke through a soft smile, “did I scare ya?”

“Yeah, I didn’t even know you’d gotten here yet,” you grinned, looking to him. You tossed your arms around his neck and pulled him down to your level.

He kissed you gently, fingers moving to cradle your jaw and waist carefully. You tugged yourself away and removed your hands, not wanting to make any of the crew uncomfortable with your affection. Cal reached to squeeze your hand before walking away, most likely to the dressing room.

You wrapped up with the sound guy, sang through a portion of your songs, and were sent away to retrieve the boys for their turn. You giddily pranced down the hallway, reaching their door quickly.

You knocked before shoving your hands into the back pockets of your jeans. You waited three seconds before Michael opened the door. Moose ran out and circled around your feet.

You cooed at him as you moved into the room. Nickelback was, of course, playing, and Ashton was drumming his heart on his drum pads. He stopped to wave at you before wiping away a beat of sweat on his forehead and jumping back in.

Luke was sat in front of a mirror, examining his eyes, which Sierra had been helping him learn to put makeup on. She sat next to him, giggling at something he said. Crystal wasn’t here, most likely catching up on sleep, and Calum was on the couch. His leg was tucked under the other, Converse-clad foot tapping against carpeted floor. You hadn’t even noticed his outfit earlier, but now you were pleased with the black skinny jeans and green Empathy hoodie.

You moved to him, grinning wider now, and plopped beside him. He looked up from his phone and smiled at you. “Hey, lovie.”

He reached out a hand, cupping your cheek. Calum kissed you as your hand balanced against his forearm.

“Hey,” you separated, bit your lip as a blush painted your expression. “How was press?”

“Good. The same old, but today we actually played a fun game with reading Tweets from fans,” he began.

You moved so you were facing him, hugging your knees to your chest. Nonchalantly, he pulled your legs over his lap; “Someone asked if we were dating. And then in another interview, the lady asked if I was still single.”

You tilted your head as it leaned against your palm. “Did you tell them?”

“Slightly,” he scrunched up his face. “I said that I was seeing someone. But I didn’t wanna violate your privacy without your permission.”

You shrugged, and tugged one of his hands into your lap, “I think you should. Honestly, let’s post an Instagram photo right now.”

“Yeah?” He said, excitedly.

“Mhm,” you flicked your brows up with assurance.

He picked his phone up again, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. Calum flushed your side against his, pressing his cheek to yours. You didn’t even have to smile because one was already grinning on your lips. Calum took one like that, then kissed your cheek. In the third, his fingers pushed up your tshirt and tickled the skin. You laughed loudly, shoving your face into his neck. He texted the photos to you, then opened Instagram.

“sending love from my girl and i”

You opened the tag notification and automatically liked it. The caption made your heart swoon. You grabbed his face by the chin and kissed him again.

“Go to sound check, you absolute sweetheart.”

The boys all left you and Sierra to a silent room, Luke having turned off Nickelback for the time being. She sunk into the couch next to you with a sigh.

“How ya doing?” She asked, raising her eyebrows curiously.

You breathed deeply and responded, “Falling. Fast.”

She laughed, “I noticed. You okay with it?”

“Ya know, I think I am,” you looked her straight in the eye and nodded. “Wanna come help me get ready?”

“Yes!”

You abandoned the boys’ room for your own, slightly smaller dressing room. It was right next door, fit with a small couch, a vanity, and a an unopened rack of your clothing. You took a seat at the vanity, Sierra plopping into the couch again. “Helping” you get ready meant choosing music, curling the pieces of hair you couldn’t reach, and picking out shoes that matched your belt.

Tonight’s outfit was red fishnets, a black corduroy skirt, and a shirt which you still hadn’t figured out. You were half dressed, even in your platform combat boots, tearing through the rack in search of a shirt. Nothing was fitting your taste, and you were slightly frustrated. Sierra had long since left to find water, which you had drank the last of in your dressing room.

You pulled on your other tshirt and walked to the boys’ dressing room. They had just gotten back, though Ashton and Michael were apparently still doing something onstage. Luke was picking through his rack and Calum was at his own things, shirtless, still in his black skinny jeans.

“Hey, again,” Luke laughed at your appearance. “You ready?”

“Always!” You grinned. “I love doing smaller crowds.”

“Same,” Luke replied before going back to his things.

Calum sent you a wave while continuing to go through his rack. “You look cute tonight. I love the fishnets.”

“Thanks,” you sighed, “they’re new.”

“What’s wrong?” He turned to you, leaning against the crate with his arm.

You stuck your hands on your hips, “I didn’t buy a shirt to go with it.”

Calum hummed in response. He looked you up and down, tapped his chin, and turned back to his things. He flicked through hangers before pulling out your favorite shirt of his.

“Wanna borrow this?” He held it out to you.

Your eyes widened, along with your lips. You hesitantly reached for the hanger, “Really?”

He shrugged. “Yeah. It matches pretty well. And you look good in my things, so. It might be big, but if you tie it in a knot at the front, it’ll work.”

You took it from him before launching forward to give him a big kiss. “Thanks so much. Love you.”

You were out the door before he could respond or you could process what you just said. Luke grinned at his hands, tossing his head over to look at Cal.

“You good?”

Calum was bright red, from the tips of his tattoos to the curve of his ears, his skin was warm and his stomach tingley.

“I-“ he held up his hands in question. “I just...I would’ve said it back. But she...” he whistled. Calum shook his head and returned to finding a shirt.

You didn’t see Calum again until after your set. You could tell the vast majority of the fans recognized the shirt- it was a small show- and you enjoyed getting to tease their minds with the idea. In general, you felt so confident in his shirt, smelling of his cigarettes and cologne and your own coconut perfume.

You knew he was watching, swung your hips more during the curves of your songs. At the end, you thanked everyone and strutted off. You b-lined for Calum once your mic was given to a stage hand.

He covered you in his hands, kisses, the silk of his button up all you saw as his lips molded into your own.

“I love you, too. Oh, and please wear my shirt more often.”

TAG LIST: @dinosaursandsocks @everydayimfangirling @truly-charmed @wallows-spring @oopsiedoopsie23 @cuddlyklaus @mantlereid , @boxofteenageideas , @ashhdaniellee95 @stephaniemelville-blog @zhangyixingxing1

#5sos fanfic #5sos fluff #calum hood #calum hood imagine #calum hood x reader #calum hood x y/n #calum hood x you #calum hood fluff #calum hood blurb #calum hood fic

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amazingphanisnotonfire-imagines · 4 years ago

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Sweet Pea//no matter what gets in my way

Request: May I please request a Sweet Pea x female reader that’s based off of the song ‘Come for You’ by Nickelback?

hey! before i start chatting at you all, just wanted to let you know about any trigger warnings, so: there’s mentions of therapy, childhood trauma (not in detail, its mainly sweet pea talking about growing up on the southside), emotions and a car accident (near the end) i hope you enjoy!!! have a great day/night!! also the plot of this is completely different to the meaning of the song/music video. just thought i’d let you know!

“This is quite possibly the stupidest thing I have ever been told to do. And I used to take orders from Jones on a daily basis.” Sweet Pea huffs, flopping onto your bed. A pout takes over his appearance as he stares up at the stars decorating the ceiling and you send him a sympathetic smile, despite the fact that he isn’t paying attention to you.

“I don’t think its that bad.” You drop your bag on the floor and lie next to him, nudging him with your elbow. He looks at you, the frown on his face somehow worsening, but when you smile at him, it flickers for just a second, the corners of his lips curling up a little.

“Really?”

“Well, yeah. You’ve been through a lot. There’s a lot of trauma tucked up in that big head of yours, and if your therapist thinks that you should maybe write down how you’re feeling, then maybe its worth a shot.” You shrug, not tearing your gaze away from the ceiling and he stares at you for a few seconds. His eyebrows furrow as he thinks about what you said. Maybe you were right?

Thats stupid, you’re always right.

“Why do you always have to be the logical one?” He huffs and you smile, turning on your side to face him. Stray hairs fall in front of your face and he tucks them behind your ear almost as soon as they fall.

“Because when I’m friends with you, someone has to be.”

“Yeah, fair.” The two of you laugh before a peaceful silence falls over the room. The sounds of traffic coming from the street below drifts through your open window and it makes Sweet Pea sit up quickly.

“I thought I said, don’t leave your window open when we’re out.”

“I forgot.” You roll your eyes, now joining him in staring out the window. A soft breeze causes the curtains to move gently and the sunlight streams in, casting your room in a golden glow.

“You won’t forget when we’re robbed.”

“We’re not gonna get robbed.” You huff and start to unpack your bag.

“Sure we’re not. This is New York City we’re talking about.” He watches you move around your small room, and he smiles to himself. It seems like the light follows you around, casting you in a constant shimmer.

“We’ve lived for two years and we haven’t been robbe-”

“Finish that sentence...I dare you.” He cuts you off, sending you a glare to which you just roll your eyes at. Sweet Pea is as threatening as a puppy to you and he knows it. But it doesn’t stop him from pulling his ridiculously adorable faces when he tries to be scary.

“Aww, you’re so cute.” You pat his head and his scowl falls into a pout. “See, adorable.” You pinch his cheek making him bat your hand away.

“You’re the worst.”

“I know.” You smile sweetly at him.

“I’m going to my room.” He huffs, clearly annoyed at how unaffected by him you are and his reaction only makes your smile widen.

“Are you going to write about your crush in your diary? Don’t worry I won’t peek.” You tease and he grumbles to himself while walking out. He’s just about to slam your door closed when you call after him again making him stop.

“Yeah?”

“I am really proud of you, you know?” You tell him honestly and his expression softens, a light blush dusting his cheeks as he looks down at the scuffed floor.

“For what?” He asks once he finally recovers from the unexpected compliment. To be honest, he doesn’t know what he expected. You always make sure to say something nice to him at least once a day, and he always tries to return the favour.

He’s just not as good as expressing his feelings as you. Thats probably another things he needs to discuss at his next session. But now he feels a little less stupid for writing in a diary if it means he gets better at talking to you.

“For how far you’ve come. When we were in High School you never would have thought about any of this stuff. But you are and I think thats great. So, as your best friend and number one supporter, I am so incredibly proud of you. So much so, that I got you a present.” You quickly run towards your dresser, digging through the top drawer before pulling out a wrapped present with a little bow on it.

He smiles as he takes it from you, looking at you one last time before quickly unwrapping it. “Whats this?”

“A notebook.” You reply teasingly and he rolls his eyes at you.

You’d bought it a few weeks ago because it had reminded you of Sweet Pea. You’d been waiting to use it, but when Sweet Pea had told you about what his therapist said, you realized that he would have much more important things to write in it than whatever you would eventually come up with.

“I mean, whats on it?”

“Ohh. Its a Sweet Pea. Seriously? Its your name and you don’t even know what they look like. You’ve gone through twenty years of your life and not even googled it once?”

“First of all, you know Sweet Pea isn’t actually my name. It’s-”

“Yes, yes. I know what you’re name is. I have been your friend for the past twenty years.” You interrupt, waving your arm at him and he grabs it, pushing it away from him. The two of you play fight for a few minutes before you eventually give in and he finally lets you out of the headlock he had you in.

You huff, smoothing your hair out and he chuckles, ruffling it back up when you’ve finished.

“I hate you.” You hit his arm and he feigns hurt. “We’ve been friends-

“Not long enough.” He interrupts, a bright grin on his face.

“Too long.” You grumble.

“Shut up.”

“Get out.”

“Gladly.” He smiles sarcastically and you flip him off.

“I am really proud of you though...seriously.” You say, and he stops in the doorway. He clutches the notebook to his chest and he glances at it, a soft smile on his face before turning around to face you, the usual smirk appearing.

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t go on about it.”

You just shake your head at him making him chuckles before actually leaving, still slamming the door behind him. Once he’s sat down, he reluctantly places the notebook on his bed, the pale pink flowers stand out against the light blue background and he takes a deep breath, grabbing a pen from his nightstand before opening the cover.

The pen hovers over the blank page. What the hell is he supposed to write about? His trauma? His feelings? And is so, what trauma? Which feelings? This was a stupid idea. But the he remembers how proud you were of him, and he looks at the cover of the book one last time, deciding that maybe this is something he needs to do. No matter how scary it feels. Plus, he’s done far worse things...a pen and a piece of paper can’t hurt him.

Dear Diary,

God, how old do I sound? Anyway, dear stupid diary? Well, now I sound even more ridiculous. My actual therapist and my unofficial therapist (y/n, remember her because she’s going to be mentioned a lot) recommended that i write how I feel down.

I don’t have to show anyone if I don’t want to and I don’t evem even have to read it myself. But apparently its supposed to help, so I suppose I’ll give it a go. Dr Smith told me that a good place to start is to write down why I think I’m in therapy. And to that I told her that there wasn’t a big enough notebook in the world. I suppose I’ll just have to write in tiny letters to cram everything in here because I want to keep this notebook for as long as possible. So time to be honest?

When you grew grow up on the southside, you learn to grow up a lot quicker than you should. You see a lot of shit that even adults shouldn’t be witnessing, let alone kids. Its like you’re always waiting for the clouds to lift from the darkness of the life you lead, but they never do. And by the time you get to like, 11, you’re more like a soldier than a kid. I’ve known how to fight for as long as I remember and I remember back then, before me and Y/n moved to New York, I felt like I was constantly a little wounded. I needed time to heal, but in Riverdale, on the southside, there is no time.

Oh, by the way Y/n is my best friend. We’ve been neighbors since we were born and we’ve been practically inseparable. Whatever memories I have of my life, good and bad, she’s always in them. And when we were younger we made a pact that when we gradated, we would leave Riverdale as soon as possible and go somewhere completely different. So we worked (some jobs more legal than others), and we saved up as much money as possible to get an apartment. That was two years ago and we still live in the same shitty apartment, but now its just more out of comfort than anything else. We like it here and we have some great memories here, so even though we probably could get a nicer place, we probably won’t.

Anyway. I try not to dwell on the past. I don’t succeed though. I suppose during school I had to just keep up appearance. I was in a gang, still am technically and I love the serpents. But its not the best environment to be around. Y/n is always talking about self love and stuff like that and to be honest, I always thought it was kind of just a girl thing. But then I went on twitter and learnt what toxic masculinity is, and with the help of Y/n, Toni and Fangs, I realized that its okay to feel the way I do. Its completely normal and I should get help for it. Which is now why I’m doing this.

So yeah, thats it. I mean thats not it, it. But you know what i mean. Well I suppose you don’t, you’re an inanimate object but whatever. Now how do I end this.

Bye? Bye

To his surprise, he actually feels a little bit better. Maybe this won’t be too bad. And maybe in a little bit, he’ll feel confident enough to show people. Who knows? Maybe writing is something he could actually be good at.

----

“You’re an ass.” You shout from your bed. What had started off as a good day has ended in the worst possible way.

You honestly don’t know how you got here. One minute you and Sweet Pea are talking about what to make for dinner, and the next thing, you’re screaming and shouting at each other while simultaneously pissing the neighbours off.

“I know!” He spits back and you narrow your eyes at him.

“Get out.” There’s no playfulness in your voice, not like usual. Its just filled with spite and it makes him feel a little sick. There’s only one other time that you’ve talked to him like that, and it was when he called your boyfriend at the time an self-centered dick. He wasn’t wrong, but that wasn’t the point.

You stopped talking to him for a week after that, but when he turned up at your trailer with flowers and Pop’s takeout, you forgave him instantly. Hugging him tightly and spending the rest of the night watching movies.

But now, neither of you know how you’ve ended up here so he doesn’t know how to make it up to you. So he does the next best thing.

“Gladly.” He scowls, slamming the door behind him. He hears a soft thud and knows instantly that you’ve thrown a cushion at him. “Real immature Y/n.”

“Get fucked.” You shout back and he huffs loudly before slamming his own door shut.

The bed shakes as he throws himself down on it and he burrows his face into the grey pillow. His hand reaches underneath it and his fingers brush against something cold. His eyebrows furrow in confusion as he pulls it out and all the anger that he was feeling disappears.

The blue catches his eye first, and then the green of the stem and then finally the pale, delicate petals. He hadn’t even thought of the notebook since he finished writing in it the first time. He sighs, his fingers tracing over the pattern, and he squeezes his eyes closed. His head drops back onto the pillow, not even bothering to move the diary from underneath his face and he moves his hand over to the cluttered night stand to find a pen.

Dear Diary

Hey, so I know I’m supposed to be talking about my feelings and my trauma and shit and i know I kind of forgot about you, but life got in the way and I don’t have time to write down all my stupid emotions in a arguably very pretty book.

Anyway. I fucked up. I upset Y/n and I don’t know how to make it better because I honestly don’t know how we started arguing in the first place. We’ve only ever had one huge argument like this, and after a week it ended. But this time it feels different. This time my chest is aching and my head is hurting. I have this weird feeling in my stomach and I really don’t know what to do. I figured if you’re supposed to be helping me...then help me.

I think she thinks I don’t care. That I’ve just dropped our friendship, and everything that comes along with it on the ground and then stomped on it over and over again.

So, who knows what I’m going to do. I think saying sorry might be the best place to start.

Hey, look at that. You did help...thanks I suppose.

Bye.

Sweet Pea doesn’t even bother closing the book, he just drops the pen in the middle of it and jumps up, kicking his leg out of the unmade duvet and stumbling out the door.

He hesitates outside of your room, wondering the best way to go around it. Should he just walk in like he usually does? Or should he knock?

“Y/n?”

“...what?” You sniffle and he looks at the floor, unsure of what to say next.

“Can I er-Can I come in?”

“That depends.”

“On?” He wonders.

“If you’re still gonna be an ass.” He can tell by just the tone of your voice that you’re a little less pissed than you were ten minutes, but only by a little bit. Like 5%, and he lets out a small chuckle before opening the door.

You’re sat on you bed, your legs tucked into your chest and when the door opens you send him a glare before dramatically looking in the opposite direction. He rolls his eyes but sits opposite you anyway.

“I’m sorry okay.”

Silence.

“Please Y/n.”

Still silence.

“Okay, fine. I’m sorry I was being an ass. I don’t even know what we were arguing about and it kinda just snowballed into one big fight. But if it makes you feel any better, the ten minutes I spent in my room I missed you. Like that JLS song, every seconds like an hour or something like that. Anyway the point is, I’m sorry and I missed you so much that I even wrote in my stupid diary. So there’s that. Now please can you forgive me because I hate fighting with you, you’re like the only person I don’t like fighting with...and I’ll buy us takeout to make up for it.”

“1. Its ‘every minute’s like an hour, every hour’s like a da-’

“I don’t need a full rendition.”

“And 2. You’re diary is not stupid and even though I also don’t like fighting with you either, I’m glad you wrote in it again...so yes, you’re forgiven. And I’m sorry too. I was also arguing with you.” You mumble reluctantly, trying to hide a smile and he smirks, poking at your cheeks teasingly. “Leave me alone.” You grumble, swatting his hand away.

“So, are we friends again?” He asks, his heart suddenly starts pounding, but you punching him in the arm distracts him from whatever medical problem he is currently experiencing.

“Yeah...dingus.”

“Aww, I love you too.” For some reason, both of you feel a blush spreading up your necks after he speaks and the two of you look away for a few seconds.

“So.” You break the slightly awkward tension. In the twenty years of friendship, you have literally never experienced any kind of awkwardness, but that was weird, for some reason those four specific words had some sort of effect on you both, and now you’re not entirely sure what to do. “What are we having for dinner?”

“Oh, I er. I dunno.” He shrugs. “Whatever you want...my treat.”

“Yeah, it better be.” You try to joke but it doesn’t really work. Instead the room feels weird. There seems to be some sort of tension lingering, but its not anger...so who knows what it is? All you know is that you need to both leave.

So you stand. Unfortunately he does the same and the two of you end up bumping into each other. His hands reach out to steady you, grabbing your shoulders and the two of you laugh, although its more forced than anything.

“I’m gonna go check the menu on the fridge”

“I need to pee.” He says at the same time.

“Oh.” You say, slightly surprised and he mentally curses himself. But he really doesn’t know why. He’s told you a lot worse about his bodily functions, and every time you also mutter a small ‘gross’, followed by a laugh. But this just feels icky. “Okay.”

He gestures for you to leave first, and you do gladly. That whole encounter was weird and you vow never to argue with him again if it makes you feel like that. All strange and awkward and unsure what to do with yourself while trying to calm your heartbeat down.

---

Dear...should I give you a name or is that weird? What could I call you? Who the hell knows? I’ll come back to that later. I’m feeling better. I think writing is this is actually working. Its only been two months, but I’m actually becoming a lot better at talking about my feelings and shit. Its like I was blindfolded (kinky) to being able to feel, but now I’m seeing. Talking is great! I’m still a little wary about talking about myself to just anyone, lets be real, anyone can be a snitch, or from another gang.

But I think I’m better at communicating my thoughts and emotions with the people I love like the most. I feel like before I was very close minded, not in like the usual way...because if you know me personally I’m very vocal about human rights and stuff...thats not the point. But I was very closed minded about my own emotions and how to deal with them. But now, thanks to Dr Smith and Y/n, I’m actually starting to believe in myself. Maybe this is how Y/n see’s me. Huh...she must think I’m great.

I know what it means to let someone in and I think I kind of like it. But that’s also where I have one small issue.

I know that I’m supposed to talk about my trauma and shit, but I’ve been doing this for like two months so I think I’m good now. Well, not good. But I need to talk about something else thats much more important than whatever is happening in my brain.

Its Y/n.

Now usually, if I had any issues involving her, I would talk to Toni and Fangs, but they just involved birthday presents and who is that dickwad talking her on a date? But I can’t talk to anyone about this problem, because I know exactly what Toni and Fangs will say. They’ll say its because we’re in love...we’re not.

Its just, ever since our fight. Things have been weird around here. We can barely be in the same room as one another for more than five minutes without one or both of us saying something incredibly stupid. And usually, I’m fine with losing friends, its just part of life. But I don’t want to lose her. I’ve been losing sleep over this. Every time I think about her not being here, my palms get sweaty and there’s like a heavy weight on my chest. It sucks.

Y/n has organized a movie night for us tonight. I think she can feel the tension too and I think its driving her just as mad. She always seems so unsure around me now, and despite how hard she tries, she is terrible at trying to hide it.

I don’t really know what to do and I know you can’t reply unless you’re something from Harry Potter, but I just thought if I wrote it down, I might get some ideas.

Spoilers...I didn’t.

“Sweet Pea!” You’re yelling makes him jump and slam the book closed, despite you being nowhere near him.

“Coming!” He replies, quickly scribbling the end of his stream of thoughts before closing the book again and throwing in under his bed.

Gotta go...byeeeee

“Hey.” You’re already sat on the sofa by the time he leaves his room. The film is set up, waiting for one of you to press play and two pizza’s are sat on the coffee table.

He smiles as he sits down on the other end of the couch, remembering all the other movie nights you guys have had. He enjoyed the ones back home when it was all four of you. But some of his favourites have been with just you. The film is usually forgotten about half way through, and you just spend the rest of the night talking and laughing and playing stupid games, before falling asleep on top of each other at like 5am.

But as he looks over at you, staring straight at the tv, his chest aches. Usually you would end up sitting as close to each other as possible, but now, you’re both sat as far away as you can be.

He can’t remember the last time you laughed at something he said, or you told him a stupid story from work. It feels like you’re just two strangers living as roommates instead of two best friends.

“Do you want me to press play?” You wonder and he nods. The opening titles play, casting the room in a soft glow and Sweet Pea watches you silently while shadows flicker across your face. “What?” You say suddenly, locking eyes with him.

“I-er. Nothing.” He stumbles and you send him a look.

“Okay.” You reply. You don’t believe him, but you give him the benefit of the doubt anyway, and start watching the film again.

You really don’t know what you were expecting to get from this night but you have a feeling you’re not going to get it. Things have been awkward for over a month now. And its the worst. You feel a little lost without him to be honest. You used to spend all your time together, but now you can’t remember the last time you spent more than five minutes together without one of you making up some excuse to leave.

You miss him, and you miss how you used to be and you have no idea how to get back to the point...if you can.

Its the first time in twenty years that you’ve actually seen a film all the way through. And its torture. The closing credits play, and you stretch before standing.

“Do you want anything?” You look down and him but he just shrugs before unlocking his phone.

“Hey, if you ever get lost in the middle of the woods with a creepy ghost lady trying to track you down and tear you limb from limb. I’d search forever for you and then I’d bring you home...possessed or not.” You stop on your way to the kitchen, a small smile appearing on your face as you see a flicker of how you used to be.

”Awww...you’re so sweet.” You smile sweetly at him and he feels a blush creep up his cheeks, although, he’s not really sure why.

“I know.” He says smugly making you roll your eyes.

Its silent. So very silent.

What do people say to each other?

How do you have a conversation?

“Well, goodnight.” You both say at the same time. You quickly shut your bedroom door behind you and Sweet Pea goes to his room. You slide down the door, your head falling into your hands while you squeeze your eyes shut.

He does the same in his own room and both of you wonder the same thing

what the hell happened?

----

List of diary names:

- Doris

- Petunia

- Harry

- Louis

- Liam

- Niall

- Z

Wait, hold on a minute somebody’s calling me. Who calls anymore? And why am I telling you this, you’re a diary? Whatever...oh shit, I’m gonna mis

“Hello?” He answers lazily, barely pulling his attention from the tv playing some cheesy sitcom. His notebook lies closed on his lap, and his fingers trace over the pattern as he waits for a reply.

“Hello. Is this a, er...Sweet Pea?” A woman asks, there’s a hint of confusion in her tone and he rolls his eyes.

“Yep.”

“Hi. This is Dr Floyd from the New York City Hospital. You’re listed as Y/n Y/l/n’s emergency contact.” He sits up quickly, almost dropping the phone and his eyes widen. The TV, his diary, the rest of the world is completely forgotten.

“Is she okay?” He swears he can heart his heartbeat in his ears while he waits for a reply.

The Dr takes far too long to respond. The few seconds seem to drag on for days while he waits to hear if you’re okay. Its already felt like you’re not around anymore, but what if you are really not going to be hear anymore.

He doesn’t even want to think about that, his chest tightening and he has to hold back a sob.

“She has been brought in after a car collision. She was crossing the street when a car hit her. I just want-”

“I’m on my way.” He’s already replied and hung up before she can finish her sentence, grabbing his keys and jacket before running out the front door.

He doesn’t think he’s ever ran so fast or so far and by the time he makes it to the hospital, he’s sure he looks like he should be in one of the wards. But it doesn’t matter when he finds you. Your eyes are closed and you look so peaceful in your bed.

The room is a bright white, with faded green furniture that hasn’t been updated since the 70′s are dotted across the room. A blanket covering your body, a green chair with an awful pattern by your bedside, green curtains that are more sun damage than fabric.

“Shit? Are you dead.” He mumbles, more to himself than to you as he cautiously walks through the door.

“Nah, just lying down. Whats up?” You ask, opening an eye to look at him.

“Whats up? Seriously I have just ran to the hospital because I got a call saying you’d been hit by a car. And you ask me whats up?” He huffs, sitting in the chair.

“Yeah...so whats up?”

“Nothing much.” He shrugs before realizing where he is again. “Actually a lot is up. You’re body in the air is whats up from what I heard.”

“You are so dramatic. You always have been. Its just a mild concussion and a few cuts and bruises. I’m fine.”

“Are you sure.” He looks you up and down, his eyes scanning every part of you, looking out for something the doctors might of missed. When he’s sure you’re okay, he lets his gaze rest on your scratched and bruised face and he lets out a deep sigh.

Despite the bruises blooming on your cheeks, you still look as pretty as usual and his eyes widen as that thought dawns on him.

“What? Are you okay?” You ask, now worried as you try and sit up, but he’s quickly pushing you back down.

“I er. I’m fine.” He stutters. “I think I just realized something.” He admits, a deep blush spreading across his cheeks while he looks at the scratchy blanket covering you...shit.

“Pea?” You ask, your voice quiet. He’s never heard you so unsure of something before. Almost like you’re scared to know the answer to your question. “Are we okay now?”

“What do you mean?” He forces the words out. He knows exactly what you mean. But now he thinks he’s figured out what’s been wrong the whole time. You may have been scared to hear the answer to your question, but he is absolutely terrified to answer it himself.

Its been so obvious but he’s been so oblivious. Toni and Fangs were right. Or at least half right. He’s in love with you. And that makes his heart race, but for good or bad reasons, he doesn’t know.

“Its just. When I saw that car I thought I was going to die. And I remembered us and how we aren’t as close as we were and I realized, that if I was going to die, my biggest regret would be not making things with us right again. I don’t know whats happened over these past few months that have made us not know how to act like human beings around each other. But I know I want it to stop. I miss you Pea. And I don’t ever want to feel that alone ever again...in my bedroom or by the side of the road.” You admit, your eyes trained on the blanket while your fingers play with the frayed edges.

He slumps in the chair, letting out a long breath while your words settle in.

“Did you really think you were going to die?” He asks after a few seconds and you look at him surprised.

“Yeah. One minute I’m crossing an empty road and then all I heard was a high pitched screech and then this car was coming towards me.” You say shakily and he grabs your hand, giving it a tight squeeze. “The thing is though. For a spilt second I made eye contact withe the driver and she looked almost as scared as I did.” You laugh humorously and he sends you a sympathetic smile. “When I was lying on the pavement. I was looking up at everyone panicking around me, and all I thought about was you and how you weren’t there. And how if I died, I never would have got to say goo-” You’re cut off by your own sobs and he quickly wraps his arms around you. His chin resting on your head while he cries his own silent tears.

“Its okay.” He whispers. “You’re okay now. We’re okay.”

“I’m glad.” You give him a teary smile once he lets go, and you notice him wiping his own tears away. You grab his hand again and squeeze it reassuringly. The gesture makes his cheeks heat up a little and he has to look away for a little bit until they go back to normal. “Hey.” You start, wanting to distract the two of you. “How many cars do you think you could take on?”

“Me?” He raises an eyebrow. “A solid ten. If not more. And I’d fight any that tried to get to you too.”

“You’re so sweet.” You giggle.

“I know.” He smirks.

“I keep meaning to ask, how’s your diary going? Have you doodled your crushes name in hearts yet?” You tease making him roll his eyes.

“Shut up.” He mumbles.

“Hmm...nah.”

“Its going good. I’m kinda worried though.”

“About?” You wonder.

“What if I’m too good at expressing my emotions.” He asks seriously and you have to stifle a laugh.

“How can you be too good at that?”

“I could just constantly tell people what I’m feeling. Or, I could use really big, fancy words to emote...see, I did it then. And then I just come off as pretentious.” He rambles and it takes everything in your power to keep a straight face.

“Yeah, I don’t think you have to worry about that.”

“Oh yeah? Try this.” He clears his throat. “Y/n. I’d crawl across this world for you.” He tries to say it seriously, but the two of you end up laughing loudly, and he thinks to himself that maybe this won’t be so bad. Maybe he can keep being your friend, even if he is in love with you. Plus, he’d rather keep being your friend and just admire you afar, than lose you forever. “I’m in love with you.” He blurts out and his eyes widen.

“What?” You look at him, your expression mirroring his and he quickly starts backtracking.

“I mean. I love you as a friend. I’m not in love with you. That would be ridiculous. Sorry.”

“Is that why everything has been so weird between us?” You ask and he nods slowly.

“I think so. But I’ve only just actually realized like ten minutes ago.”

“Thats okay.” You laugh. “I only realized when I was lying on the ground wishing to see your face.”

“You mean...you love me too?”

“I think so.” You nod. “Although, it could just be the concussion.” You shrug and he punches your arm lightly.

“I’ll take take.” He smiles. “So, when you’re feeling better, do you want to have a movie and pizza night, but like, as a date?”

“I’d love to.” You beam, and press a soft kiss to his cheek.

“Hey Y/n?”

“Yeah?”

“I have so much to write in Harry!”

“Who the hell is Harry?”

“...my diary.”

“...okay?”

#sweet pea #sweet pea imagine #sweet pea x reader #sweet pea x you #sweet pea x y/n #riverdale #riverdale imagine

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ikeservant · 5 years ago

Note

Hello!!! Hope you are well! Uwu can I get some hc for Kenshin, Ieyasu, Hideyoshi, and Masamune with an Mc who is a photographer? (Lol idk how the battery and stuff will survive but oh well😂😂) thank you have a great day!

Intro: Mc is a photographer who just got done doing a photoshoot with her friends for practice, bringing both her regular good camera and her cute polaroid with some extra packets of its lil photo cards. She sees Sasuke at the shrine, wormhole, and BOOM! Sengoku time! Sasuke meets up with her and gives her a makeshift charger with some oranges, salt, and sanded copper (idk how science works but each of these things could probably be mixed with other stuff to make currents to conduct and charge stuff. It just WORKS.)

Kenshin: “What weaponry is this?” “A camera. It shoots stuff, but not in the way you think.” Mc explained how the camera worked, showing him the pictures she’s taken in the past. Is impressed with how it can capture a moment forever in a world where life is fleeting. When he expressed this, mc got an idea. “Just sit still and smile.” Seeing mc excited to take a picture made him feel warm and fuzzy so of course a nice smile would be in order. After a click of the polaroid camera, a small square came out. It took a little bit for him to notice that the image of him smiling was developing. “Now I can carry this with me wherever I go and see your smile even when you’re off in war.” He IMMEDIATELY snatched the polaroid camera and demanded/asked mc to smile so he could do the same and always have that image of her smiling captured in time, giving him reassurance that the memory of her smiling was consistent in the ever-changing world of war. If mc didn’t keep a close watch over him, he’d probably use the rest of her stack of film on taking pics of her so he could admire all the moments of her.

Ieyasu: When Ieyasu first introduced mc to Wasabi, mc was determined to capture a beautiful image of the cute deer in the courtyard setting. Ieyasu was nervous at first when mc brought it, afraid she was going to do something weird/harmful to his baby deer, but mc realized how odd a camera must look to someone in the 1500s (duh), and showed/explained how photography works and uses her good camera to shoot a pic of Wasabi sniffing flowers in front of the beautiful sunset. He was in shock that beautiful image was captured in an instant. “Does that image just stay in the camera?” “It can unless I go somewhere to develop the pictures, but I can’t do that here. I DO have this though! Say cheese!” Mc whipped around with her polaroid, clicking it as Ieyasu looked both surprised and flustered. As the film came out and began developing, showing his candid stunned face, mc had to run and hide it before Ieyasu could snatch it out of her hand out of embarrassment. He’s super camera shy so the only other pic she was able to get was him feeding Wasabi. “This isn’t fair.” “What? You want to take a picture of me with Wasabi?””…” Reading his mind that he wanted a pic of his love too, she let him take/keep a few pics of her and Wasabi and also some of just her, including a goofy photo that makes him smile and go “Look at this photograph. Every time I see it makes me laugh.”(Nickelback reference). Keeps them in a hidden drawer but when going to battle/going away for a while he secretly brings a photo of mc and tucks it in his clothes so it feels like she’s actually with him and gives him hope and light.

Hideyoshi: When he finally realized mc was NOT going to kill Nobunaga, he decided to go to her to apologize. When he entered however, he saw mc fiddling with a mysterious box with a weird circle on it, making him worried it was a sniper weapon for assassination. “HOLD IT RIGHT THERE, MISSY!” Mc about dropped her precious camera and became furious at HIM, causing him to go into shock. She sat him down and told him about cameras and how they work. He was still confused, but he thought it was very neat how it could capture and preserve a scene in time. He then remembered why he came there to apologize. As forgiveness, mc bestowed on him the beauty that was a polaroid picture of Nobunaga (Hidemama was #blessed). Likes seeing the sights that mc takes pictures of but is embarrassed when she takes pics of him. He decides to try his hand at photography, which at first he looked like a clueless dad with his thumb on the lens taking blurry photos. But, like his tea ceremony skills, he became quite steadyhanded and skilled, making mc lowkey jealous but also intrigued and excited what he finds photo-worthy and his vision. Would love a polaroid photo of mc and would put it on a stand next to his bed so when he’s not with her he can still be blessed by an image of her face.

Masamune: Mc was going through her camera memory when Masamune barged into her room, sword at her neck asking if she was from the future. Instead of being scared, mc was MAD that she almost deleted an important photo of her friends and lectured him on why this camera is important and why he shouldn’t be horsing around while she’s using it. He put his swords away and decided by the camera alone that she is definitely from the future. He would be intrigued by all the photos from the future and what certain objects, clothing, animals, and buildings he didn’t recognize, making him think the future was cool, especially the pics of food he doesn’t recognize that he wants to recreate RIGHT NOW. He wouldn’t understand the purpose of photography at first because he has more of a live in the moment philosophy versus trying to capture the moment/reminisce the past. However, he learns to appreciate the moments captured on camera as time goes on. Always carries a wholesome sweet pic of mc or a hawt pic of mc when away from her on dangerous trips or battle and has to fight the urge to show the pics off to everyone he sees to HYPE UP HIS LASS cuz looking at the pics helps him visualize how much mc means to him and he finally understood the beauty of photography. Loves the pics Mc takes every two weeks of Shogetsu so she can create a slideshow of how big the tiger cub has been growing like life in fast motion. Would hang polaroid pics up on the wall for the futuristic art aesthetic and its like a wall of his own lil family that he’s finally been blessed with. With his literary gift in poetry and mc’s visual gift of photography, they’re the ultimate art duo that’s both wild and has drunken their philosophical juice.

#ikemen sengoku #ikesen #ikesen headcanon #ikesen hc

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angryinternetduck · 5 years ago

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fireworks

a little under 2.5k on fireworks and wine. Harry Styles x reader. warnings: none I can think of? lol this was supposed to be in a fic writing challenge, but... I didn't take the prompt (fireworks) soon enough. So. Uh. Whoopsidaisies oh AND it's a reader insert ('cause of the challenge lol) so uh hope I didn't botch that. I've never done one of these before... enjoy :)

You met Harry Styles at a New Year’s Eve party.

Your boyfriend at the time had had some sort of connection, and you’d gotten into the party, but you were borderline regretting the whole idea because now you were bored. You were drinking some sort of punch, lurking behind your boyfriend as he somehow kept engrossed in one of the most boring conversations you’d ever eavesdropped on.

It was after you tapped your boyfriend on the shoulder to tell him you were getting more punch, after he waved you off and dove back into the conversation, and when you’d made it to the punch table that he’d approached you.

He’d startled you, coming up behind you and saying, “Good punch, hm?” just a little softer than normal, and you gasped. “Sorry,” he said, smiling a bit, and you couldn’t help but smile back, because who could refuse those gorgeous dimples?

“‘s okay,” you replied, and he said, “Enjoying the party?”

“Yup,” you lied, leaning against the punch table.

“You’re terribly unconvincing, uh…” He looked at you expectantly, and you shifted your cup to your left hand to hold out your other for a handshake. You told him your name, and he shook your hand as he said, “Harry.”

“Nice to meet you, Harry,” you said, and he nodded. “Ditto. What’s wrong with the party, then?” You smiled, shaking your head, and told him, “It’s not that bad. I’m just a little tired, but, uh… you can’t exactly leave a New Year’s party before midnight, huh?”

“You’re right,” Harry said, “that would be scandalous.”

“Absolutely,” you agreed. There was a beat of silence, and then he asked, “So, er - how’s the punch? Reckon I should get some?” You smiled a bit. “I reckon you should.” He raised a brow. “Are you mocking me?” he said, pouring some punch into a cup.

“Handsome and quick,” you said, and he grinned. “Funny, too,” he said, “and proper humble. ‘m quite the catch.” You nodded, looking over at where your boyfriend was, and replied, “Me too.” Harry grinned. “See we share the humble trait, hm?”

You bit back a laugh despite yourself and, not quite unreluctantly, went on, “Only, uh… I’m already caught. That’s my boyfriend, over there, and I should probably get back…” Harry followed your line of sight, and then nodded. “Right,” he said. “Erm - nice meeting you.”

“Yeah,” you said back, giving him a smile. “Ditto.”

*****

The ball dropped, and you kissed your boyfriend.

The fireworks started, and you held his hand.

Everybody was cheering, and you were scanning the crowd.

The fireworks died down, and you found who you were looking for.

Your boyfriend kissed your cheek, but you were smiling at Harry.

*****

You and your boyfriend didn’t work out, but it wasn’t a messy breakup; you stayed friends. So when some manager asked for your number from him because he was looking for an in in your industry, he gave it over, because he was your friend.

In fact, you stayed such good friends that, when Harry Styles texted you and admitted he wasn’t looking for an in in your industry but rather a date, you told your ex and thanked him for handing over the number.

*****

The date went well.

But not well enough.

He didn’t kiss you at the end of the night.

And you didn’t kiss him at the end of the second night.

And neither of you kissed the other at the end of the third night.

So lovers? No.

But friends? Absolutely!

*****

“You,” you declared, already holding a glass of wine, “look like shit.”

“And you,” Harry replied, “started without me.”

“Sue me,” you muttered. “You were twenty minutes late.”

Harry raised an eyebrow, lifting a half empty bottle of wine. “Started this twenty minutes ago, did you?” You pursed your lips, grabbing it from him and filling up your already over half way filled glass. “‘s your fault for being late. You’ve got to wash your glass, by the way.”

Harry scoffed, grabbing it from the coffee table. “I left this here last week.”

“Exactly,” you said. “Shoulda washed it.”

“Wasn’t in the room, love. Out of mind, out of sight.”

You giggled. “You started without me too.”

“Sod off,” Harry mumbled, not bothering to rinse his glass before filling it.

“Had a date?”

“‘f you can even call it that,” Harry said.

“Ooh, that bad, huh?”

“Worse. Her name was Gertrude. She took me to Spasso’s.”

“Yikes,” you breathed.

“And,” Harry went on, gesturing for you to follow him as he walked into the kitchen, “she was going on and on about rom coms, yeah? Like classics and shit. And then - and then” - he turned around, catching your eye for drama - “she goes I think my favorite is To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before.”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re too haughty. It’s really not that bad.”

Harry huffed, ducking his head into the refrigerator. “Oh, please. ‘s a tragedy. And it wouldn’t have been that bad, but after she said classics, that rubbish is just -” He paused, and reappeared, and said, “Darling, I’m not seeing any wine.”

“Must be blind, then,” you said, nudging him aside. But then you looked, and your fridge was basically empty, and there were no bottles of wine patiently waiting for you. “It was - I had two…” You faded off, turning to look at him sheepishly. “Uh… Yeah, so I may have just finished the last bottle?” Harry groaned, rolling his head back dramatically.

“Christ, woman, I come here once a week for an escape, and you can’t even manage to have a bottle of wine for me?” he asked in a whine. “The only time I drink sophisticatedly, the only time I can really talk, the only -”

“Shush,” you said, putting a finger over his lips. “Shush shush shush. I’ve got whiskey.”

Harry’s brows jumped. “Ooh.”

You nodded at the cupboard. “Grab glasses.”

Harry grinned, leaning in. “Love it when you tell me what to do.”

You rolled your eyes, pushing him off you, and muttered, “You’re hammered already and here I am giving you more alcohol. Ridiculous.” Harry scoffed. “Am not!” You raised an eyebrow, pouring him a glass. “Whatever you say, Styles,” you said.

“Right then, Miss Sober, tell me about your week, hm?” Harry asked, and you sighed, collapsing on the couch. Harry sat next to you, sliding an arm around your shoulders. You sighed, again, and swirled your whiskey around in its glass. “Well… I had another date with Kyle…”

Harry snickered. “Kyle the cardigan guy?”

You rolled your eyes. “He wore it once.”

“It was olive, love,” Harry said. “Olive.”

“It was a poor fashion choice, Styles, shut your mouth,” you said back. “Happens to all of us. Want to reminisce your outfit at my birthday party?” Harry groaned, tipping back the last of his whiskey. “I was pissed, darling,” he insisted. “The lights were off. Can Mr. Cardigan say the same?”

“He’s a nice guy, Styles.”

“He likes Nickelback.”

You scoffed. “You like Nickelback!”

“Not anymore!”

“You’re impossible,” you sighed, reaching to refill your glass.

“Impossibly wonderful, darling.”

“Conceited ass,” you said under your breath. “Ask me about my week, and then nitpick every little thing I say.” Harry rolled his eyes. “So dramatic, you are. Tell me something good and I’ll react appropriately!”

“Ooh,” you giggled, “big words from the drunk.”

“Takes one to know one, love.”

“Love,” you echoed dreamily. “Ever been in love, Styles?”

“F*ck’s sake, now you’re really pissed,” Harry laughed.

“Took you this long to figure that out, huh?”

“Pardon if ‘m a bit slow, ‘m a bit tipsy from the lack of wine ‘round here.”

You scoffed. “Lack of wine, he says, as if it’s my fault.”

“Oh, but it is, love - you started without me.”

“There it is again!” you said. “Love. You’re too good at this dodging questions thing.”

Harry smirked at you over his glass. “What dodging questions thing?”

“Oh, shush. Have you? Have you ever been in love?”

A beat of silence, and you were almost convinced he’d answer seriously, and then he smiled at you and said, “My mummy.” You rolled your eyes. “No, Styles,” you said exasperatedly, “I mean romantic love. Butterflies in your tummy romantic love. Every second thought about them love. Warm and fuzzy feelings love.” You giggled. “Kissy love.”

He paused for a second, and you looked up. “Take your time,” you giggled, and then Harry flushed, shaking his head. “Just thinking ‘bout your vocab, hm? Tummy, kissy - didn’t know I was drinking with a four year old.”

“I hate you,” you sighed contentedly.

“Hate you too, love.”

“Can’t call me love if you won’t answer the question.”

“Oh, my darling dear, my honey pot, my precious rose petal, my -”

You groaned. “I’ll put on To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before, Styles, swear to God.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Harry seethed.

“You’re full of yourself.”

“Said that already, love.”

“Different wording,” you giggled. “I can be creative.”

“Creative, my ass,” Harry murmured.

You whined, slapping him on the chest. “You’re rude.”

“Got any other adjectives?” Harry asked. “Prove your creativity, hm?”

“Rude, jackass, bastard,” you said, and then took a sip of your whiskey as you mumbled nonsense. Harry grinned. “Nice try, love,” he said, and you pouted. “I’m drunk,” you insisted, draining your glass.

“Clearly.”

There was a beat of comfortable silence, and you leaned forward to pour more whiskey into your glass. “Whoopsidaisies,” you murmured as your hand slipped and some sloshed onto the table. You leaned back, and took a sip, and then realized Harry was staring at you.

“What?”

“Did - did you just say whoopsidaisies?”

You giggled. “Maybe.”

“You did not just say whoopsidaisies.”

You cleared your throat, lowering your voice a bit. “I don't - I don’t think so,” you replied in a British accent. “No one says whoopsidaisies do they? Unless they're…” Harry grinned, catching on. “There is no unless,” he said, taking up a slightly higher pitched American accent. “No one has said whoopsidaisies for fifty years and even then it was only little girls with blonde ringlets.”

You laughed, shaking your head and leaning into him. “What if I want to be a little girl with blonde ringlets, huh?” Harry tsked, twirling a piece of your hair around his fingers. “You’re going off script.”

“Can you imagine Hugh Grant with blond ringlets?” you giggled.

“They’d go well with his blue eyes.”

You sighed. “Anything goes well with Hugh Grant’s blue eyes.”

“What about my blue eyes?”

“They go wonderfully with your blond hair and freckles.”

“Why, thank you. I always thought the blue stripe in my hair was a bit much.”

“No, no, it matches your eyes.” You paused, looking up at him, and said, “Should do it.”

“Should do what?”

“Dye your hair.”

Harry raised an eyebrow. “Blue?”

You grinned. “Pink.”

“Can you imagine,” Harry murmured.

A beat of silence, and then you sat up and exclaimed, “Dick!”

Harry’s brows jumped. “‘ve got one, yes,” he said, and you shook your head, pressing a finger against his chest in an accusatory way. “No,” you said, “that’s another adjective. To describe you.” You grinned. “You are a dick.”

“Very clever,” Harry told you.

Another second of silence. A car honked outside, and then a dog barked, and then Harry looked at his watch. “Erm - darling, I know we said we weren’t going to say anything about your birthday, but -”

“Oh, no,” you muttered, downing your glass.

“I might have a little surprise for you?”

“H, I thought we agreed -”

Harry grinned, leaning forward and taking your hands. “I know, I know we agreed, but I couldn’t help it, because this lad I know from secondary school -” He cut himself off, shaking his head. “Not important. The point is, the opportunity was too good to pass. Don’t be mad.”

You huff. “Just get on with it.”

“Wicked,” Harry said, and he stood up, pulling you towards the balcony.

“Where are we -”

“Shush,” Harry interrupted. You’d arrived on your balcony, and Harry was positively buzzing with excitement. “What am I looking at, again?” you asked, and Harry shushed you again, checking his watch. “Any minute, now…”

He settled next to you, and you felt his hands on your shoulders, and then -

Fireworks exploded across the sky. Sparks of color filled the city skyline, popping and fizzing out before another set went off. They seemed to last for ages, each burst more dazzling than the last, until the last one sputtered out with a cheerful pop, leaving you in breathless awe.

Vaguely, you realized the pleasant weight of Harry’s hands on your shoulders had disappeared, and you turned around to see him lowering his fingers from his ears. He was grinning, though, looking absolutely ecstatic.

“You hate fireworks,” you breathed.

Harry laughed, shaking his head and pulling you into a hug. “Happy birthday, love.”

“Oh, H,” you mumbled into his shoulder. “Thank you.”

You pulled away first, keeping him close, and for the first time in your four years’ worth of friendship, you had the urge to kiss him. And, from the way his gaze kept slipping to your lips, you guessed you weren’t the only one feeling that urge.

“Harry?” you whispered, feeling yourself lean in.

“Hm.”

“Can I -?”

“Please,” he murmured, and he closed the distance, and you were kissing Harry Styles.

He was warm, and soft, and tasted slightly of vanilla, but mostly of whiskey, and just a hint of mint. He was smiling, just a bit, against your lips, and you couldn’t help but revel and smile back at how perfectly you fit together. Your lips fit like puzzle pieces, your hands feeling perfectly natural on his chest, his hand warm on your cheek.

He pulled away much too soon, and despite the desperate need for air, you felt yourself tipping forward to just get a little more, just a few more seconds, just a few moments more of that happy bliss he’d given you.

“He’s a moron,” Harry said, and you blinked, almost in a haze, before realizing that fireworks were going off again, and you giggled, leaning against his chest. “It was supposed to be one burst,” he told you, and you grinned, looking up at him. “They’re beautiful.”

“I know,” he murmured, and he kissed you.

*****

Two years later, neither Kyle the Cardigan guy nor Gertrude the Spasso’s girl was invited to the wedding.

You didn’t think they’d mind.

The wedding was on the first day of summer, on the summer solstice.

It was a beautiful day, and a beautiful wedding.

Harry still didn’t like fireworks.

He got them anyway, and as they exploded, he kissed his bride.

*****

hope you liked it!!! if you did, a reblog and some feedback would be v much appreciated 💜 thanks for reading!!!!

masterlist | ask

#fireworks #harry styles #fanfic #hs fanfic #harry styles drabble #harry styles blurb #idk man #styles #reader insert #harry styles x reader #second person #irdk my dude #stg i don't hate tatbilb #to all the boys i've loved before #notting hill #whoopsidaisies #hugh grant #fics

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toohardtoforgetcth · 5 years ago

Text

Too Hard To Forget

Chapter Five

Warnings: swearing and mature themes, sexual references probably

7,958 words

A/N: Hello it’s me again back on my bullshit, here’s chapter five don’t hate me <3 ps please I beg send me your notes comments criticisms ANYTHING I wanna know what y’all think about my babies

» » » » » »

“Special delivery for Parker Daniels,” a deep, familiar voice echoed from behind her. Parker whirled around, a smile already on her face before she even made eye contact with the man holding two bouquets of flowers.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, coming around to the other side of the reception desk where Calum was standing.

“Well, obviously I’m here to give you these,” he rolled his eyes fondly at her, extending one of the bouquets out for her to take. “But it’s also Gram and my Granddad’s anniversary, and I always bring her flowers.”

“You’re really sweet,” she said, taking them from his hand.

Calum wrapped his free arm around Parker’s waist, tugging her close. “Shush, love. Got a reputation to uphold,” he winked, planting a kiss to her lips. He let her go, walking backwards down the hall towards Grace’s room. “Saturday night. Don’t make plans.”

“What’s happening Saturday?” she asked.

“Boys’ night,” he called out. “You can crash. Bring Jenna,” he added before turning and leaving Parker to stare after the delicious sight that was Calum’s ass in tight black jeans.

Calum entered Grace’s bedroom, hiding behind the huge bouquet. “Good morning, pretty lady,” he grinned, peeking his head above the flowers.

“Oh, Calum!” she exclaimed, clapping her hands together. “Thank you! They’re beautiful, dear. Even better than the last time,” she smiled, taking them from his hands. “Hard to believe it’s been almost 17 years since he’s been gone,” she sighed wistfully.

Calum said nothing, just wrapped Gram up in a tight hug, squeezing her and kissing the top of her head.

Parker poked her head around the doorframe, knocking lightly. “Am I interrupting?” she asked.

Calum let go of Gram, turning around. “Come on in, angel,” he replied, reaching his hand out for her.

Parker entered the room, setting a glass vase filled with water on the table beside Grace’s bed. “Thought you might need this,” she said.

“Oh, how thoughtful. Thank you, dear,” Grace said, squeezing Parker’s hand.

She turned to leave, but Calum caught her elbow, spinning her back towards him and kissing her lightly on the cheek. “I’ll see you later, yeah?”

Parker nodded, blushing. Grace was absolutely beaming at the two of them. “See you later, Grace,” she smiled before meeting Calum’s eyes once more and leaving.

Calum watched her leave before turning back to Gram. She wore a smile of pure joy, one that reached her eyes. “I’m so glad you two worked things out,” she said. “She makes you happy.”

Calum flashed her a lopsided grin. “You make me happy.”

Gram chuckled. “I’ve never made you this happy, baby. You’re glowing.”

Calum couldn’t argue with her. He loved Gram more than anything else in the world, but since he’d been with Parker, he was feeling lighter than air. It was a strange feeling. For the first time in Calum’s life, he felt like he was ready to let someone in. He couldn’t explain why it was different with Parker, but it didn’t matter. He wanted her to know him.

» » » » » »

“So tell me again why we’re crashing boys’ night,” Jenna questioned as she sat at Parker’s vanity, adding hairspray to her just-curled hair.

Parker was rummaging through her closet, looking for a top to wear. “I have no idea,” she said honestly. “Calum’s request,” she shrugged.

She tugged a sheer long sleeve off its hanger, slipping it over her head when she noticed her phone light up with a FaceTime call notification. She sat down on her bed, accepting the call from Calum.

Her phone screen was filled with a close-up of Michael’s face, yelling to be heard over the rest of the boys screaming along to Nickelback in the background.

“When are you guys coming over?” he yelled into the phone, a silver cross dangling from his right ear. Parker shook her head, chuckling to herself. “There’s too much testosterone over here. Please tell me you’re coming soon!” Michael begged, before Calum snatched the phone out of his hand.

“Give us like, ten minutes,” Parker told him, checking the time. “You’re not even dressed yet!” Parker laughed, only just noticing that Calum wasn’t even wearing a shirt.

“Just get your ass over here, doll. The boys are getting rowdy,’ he said before ending the call.

Fifteen minutes later, Jenna and Parker were in an Uber on the way to Calum’s apartment. Jenna pulled a flask out of her boot and handed it to Parker. Parker smirked, taking a shot of whatever was in it.

She scrunched her nose in disgust, handing it back to her friend. “Tequila? You’re gross,” she laughed.

When they reached Calum’s apartment door, Parker turned to Jenna. “I apologize for whatever we may find in there,” she gestured to the door. “They get weird when they’re together.”

Jenna giggled as Parker turned the handle and opened the door. Just as Calum had said, the boys were definitely getting rowdy. Luke was standing on the couch, Ashton was on his knees, and Calum and Michael were facing each other, all four of them singing unbelievably loudly and playing air instruments along with the music blasting out of Calum’s speakers.

“Boys,” Jenna said, rolling her eyes, and Parker laughed.

“Are we interrupting?” Parker announced loudly, and the four of them turned to look at her.

Michael came bounding over, squeezing her in a tight hug. “Hey, Michael,” she laughed. “This is Jenna,” she gestured to the brunette standing next to her. “Jenna, these are the boys. Michael, Ashton, Luke and Calum.”

After the introductions, Luke made Parker and Jenna a drink, and they toasted to new friends. Parker noticed how Luke’s eyes lingered on Jenna and how his fingers brushed hers when he handed her her drink.

“You’re still not dressed,” Parker pointed out, gesturing to Calum’s still-naked chest.

“I thought you liked me better this way,” he said cheekily.

“Yeah, when we’re alone and I can enjoy it,” she returned smoothly. “Go,” she urged, pushing him in the direction of his bedroom.

“Help me pick something,” he said, grabbing her wrist and tugging her along with him.

Fifteen minutes later, they emerged from Calum’s bedroom. Calum was finally dressed, but both their cheeks were flushed and their hair a little messier than it was when they left.

“Y’all were having sex, weren’t you?” Jenna accused with narrowed eyes, gesturing between the two of them.

Parker shot her a dirty look, but then her face broke into a wicked grin.

• • • • • •

At the bar, after several rounds of shots and plenty of dancing, Parker was having a blast. Jenna was getting on with the boys, and she seemed to approve of Calum, which was all Parker cared about. Lately, Calum seemed less grumpy than usual and it made Parker happy. He smiled and laughed a lot, and it lit up his face, a welcome change from the scowl she used to see etched into his features. Once he had opened up to her, he was a different person. He was still sarcastic and had that same sly, cocky, suggestive sense of humour, but he was also sweet and gentle and he made Parker’s heart flutter. His friends were a blast, too, and without much effort at all she found herself falling for him, fast.

“You need another drink, love?” he asked her, noting her empty cup and downing the last of his own drink.

“I’ll get it,” she shook her head, smiling. She kissed him on the cheek and made her way to the bar on the other side of the dance floor.

Parker ordered a beer for Calum and another cocktail for herself, leaning against the bartop as she waited. Her gaze found her friends on the floor, the boys dancing in a circle around Jenna and having the time of their lives. She smiled fondly as she watched them, smirking when she saw Luke trying to get closer to her. She vaguely noticed Ashton wasn’t among them and wondered where he was. Her silent question was answered when she heard a familiar voice next to her.

“He’s crazy about you, you know,” Ashton stated, raising the hand that was holding his drink and pointing in Calum’s direction. Parker looked up at him, black hair falling in tousled waves around his face. “He’s never been much of a relationship guy. He doesn’t let people in, and he doesn’t trust easily. But I can see that it’s different with you. I don’t know you, but I have to ask—are you serious about him? ‘Cause if you’re not, tell him now. I love that man like a brother, and I can’t watch him get hurt if you’re not sure.”

His expression wasn’t unkind, but he had lines of worry etched in his face, and Parker was a little bit offended by his assumption that she was using him. She had spent too much time and lost too much sleep over trying to convince Calum that she was a good person, and frankly it had been exhausting—she wasn’t going to do it with Ashton, too, Calum’s best friend or not.

“Look,” she began, hand on her hip and mild annoyance on her face. “You’re right—you don’t know me. I can appreciate that you’re looking out for your friend, but I’m not going to hurt him. I care about him. And I don’t particularly like having to prove myself to anyone but him.”

“Hey, easy,” Ashton replied, raising his hands in surrender. “I’m just saying, if you hurt him,” he warned, “believe me when I say you won’t get a second chance.”

The bartender slid Parker’s drinks across the bar to her, and she handed him the money. She turned back to Ashton. It frustrated her that he didn’t think she really cared about Calum, but she didn’t want to give him any reason not to like her. For Calum’s sake, Ashton’s approval was important to her. “I respect you, and what you’re trying to do, but I like him, okay? More than you know,” she trailed off, her eyes finding Calum again. “I want us to be friends,” she added, turning back to Ashton. “So you cool?”

Ashton eyed her for a moment, but he seemed willing to give her a chance. “To new friends, then,” he raised his cup and clinked it with hers, smiling. She smiled back, satisfied that she’d won him over. For now, anyway.

Ashton and Parker rejoined their friends on the floor, Calum shooting Parker a puzzled look. She just shook her head, indicating that it was nothing to worry about. She handed him his beer and he kissed her on the lips, a sloppy kiss that showed his mild level of intoxication, and it made Parker laugh.

“Hey!” she exclaimed suddenly, hitting him lightly on the shoulder. “I forgot to tell you!”

“Tell me what?”

“Well, I shouldn’t tell you. Legally, I’m not allowed...” she teased.

“Angel,” he warned. “Tell me what?”

“Grace had a follow-up today with one of her specialists, and I overheard them talking that she should be cleared to go home this week,” she said excitedly.

Calum’s face lit up, smile splitting his face from ear to ear. “Fuck, that’s the best news!” he exclaimed, grabbing her cheeks and kissing her repeatedly on the lips, Parker giggling at his enthusiasm. “You’re incredible, you know that?” he grinned.

“I didn’t do anything,” she pointed out.

“You take care of her like she’s family. You have no idea what that means to me,” he said sincerely. “Okay, boys, celebratory drinks on me! Gram’s coming home!”

» » » » » »

Calum was out with the boys at their favourite pub for beers on Friday night. He had finished work at six, stopping in at Grace’s house and making sure she was settling back into her routine. It had been a couple of weeks since she moved back into the house, and she seemed to be doing really well being back at home. She was happier, more relaxed, and she insisted that Calum stop visiting her every day, because she was perfectly capable of managing on her own and she would call if she needed him. He’d grinned at her, telling her that wild dogs couldn’t keep him away, and promised he’d be back to visit soon.

They were sitting at a high table, sharing their second pitcher. “I just don’t understand why you won’t give me her number,” Luke whined. He’d been bugging Calum for Jenna’s number since the group of them had gone out a few weeks ago, and Calum rolled his eyes at his best friend.

“For one,” Calum started, taking a sip from his glass, “she’s not interested in a relationship, and you don’t need to get mixed up in that. Two, I’m not letting you fuck around with my girl’s best friend. It’ll get weird.”

Luke groaned. “Fine. I’ll just be single for the rest of my life, it’s totally fine,” he muttered dramatically.

“How are things going with you two, anyway?” Ashton asked, turning to Calum.

“Obviously amazing. Look how annoyingly happy he is,” Michael pointed out, making them all laugh.

Calum smiled into his glass, thinking of the grey-eyed girl that occupied his every thought.

“You’re thinking about her now, aren’t you?” Michael giggled, breaking Calum out of his thoughts.

He looked up, downing the rest of his beer and breathing in deeply. “I think I love her, boys.”

» » » » » »

Parker was at work on Saturday afternoon when she felt her phone vibrate in her pocket, and she smiled when she saw Calum’s name above the text notification. On the advice of Ashton and the boys, she let Calum take the lead on where things were going. It had been over a month since they first slept together, but they hadn’t talked about what they were, and she didn’t want to push him, even though neither of them had been seeing anyone else. Parker was more than happy just being with him, so she didn’t mind taking it slow.

I’m lonely. Come over.

I’m at work :(

Come after.

I’m off at 5. You gonna survive until then?

I don’t know.

Parker was struck with a sudden idea. She closed herself in the single bathroom in the staff area. She removed her top and her bra long enough to take a photo of herself to send to Calum. Sending nudes was something she’d never done before, but she did it without thinking and it was kind of exhilarating. She hit send, biting her lip while she waited for his response.

Fuck, that’s not fair. Now I definitely won’t be able to wait that long.

She smiled, pocketing her phone. Suddenly, she didn’t want to wait until five either. Maybe she could pretend she wasn’t feeling well and get off early.

• • • • • •

At 3:15, she parked her car in the visitor lot at Calum’s apartment building, buzzing herself in with the code he gave her and impatiently waiting for the elevator to take her up to Calum’s floor. She knocked on the door, smirking at Calum’s surprised expression at her early arrival.

He tugged her inside and pinned her against the door. “You’re early,” he mumbled as he kissed her. “Not very nice of you to send me that picture and make me wait,” he murmured against her lips.

“I’m here now, aren’t I?” she replied, dropping her bag on the floor and kicking off her shoes as she tugged Calum’s t-shirt over his head, walking him backwards towards his bedroom. He slipped his hands under her thighs, lifting her easily as she hooked her ankles around his waist. He carried her to the bedroom, kicking the door shut behind him before setting her down.

“Clothes off,” he growled. “Now.”

• • • • • •

Parker lay on Calum’s tattooed chest, drawing patterns on it with her finger. “You’ve never told me what these mean,” she said quietly, her fingertip tracing over the roman numerals on his left collarbone.

Calum’s breath hitched. He wasn’t used to sharing personal details about his life, especially the meaning behind that tattoo in particular.

“You don’t have to tell me,” she responded. “If you don’t want to.”

He appreciated her understanding, but he reminded himself that if he wanted Parker to get to know him, if he wanted to be honest and open with her, he was going to have to start somewhere, and here was as good a place as any. He wanted her to know, he just didn’t like talking about it. Calum tried to relax, placing a kiss to the top of Parker’s head. “Things are about to get heavy, doll. You sure you’re ready for it?”

Calum took a deep breath. He’d only told this story once in his life, and not in a very long time. “When I was seventeen, I went through some shit,” he began, trying to condense the details as much as possible to get it over with. “I started hanging out with some rough people and I got into some pretty messed up shit for a while. I just felt out of place, like I wasn’t going anywhere with my life and everything was against me. The boys were gonna be going off to college and I wasn’t—I just felt like an outsider watching my life go by without me. I was miserable. I put up a hell of a fight with Gram—I was a nightmare, honestly. I don’t think she knew what to do with me, but the boys brought me out of it. I found out later in the year that my mum killed herself when I was a baby. Right in front of me. That’s why Gram raised me.” He sighed, rubbing a hand down his jaw. “It was the worst year of my life. Got a tattoo of that year to remind me that I never wanted to feel like that again.”

Parker bit her lip, her chest aching at the thought of what Calum had been through. It occurred to her that she really didn’t know anything about him. She didn’t know how to respond, so she pressed a kiss to the palm of his hand, snuggling closer. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “I didn’t know. I wouldn’t have asked.”

“It’s okay,” he replied. “I’m glad you know now.” He slipped out from under her, rolling onto his side and propping himself up on his elbow so he could meet her eyes.

“Thanks for telling me,” she smiled, pressing a kiss to the tip of his nose. “And for trusting me.”

Calum couldn’t stop the next words from falling out of his mouth. He knew it might be too fast, but he didn’t care. He tucked a strand of Parker’s hair behind her ear and let his fingers trail down the curve of her jaw. “I’m in love with you,” he said quietly.

Parker looked up at him with wide eyes, part of her unsure if she had heard him right. His face was serious, his dark eyes never leaving her face as his fingers stroked along the skin of her cheek and jaw. When he saw her expression, he laughed softly. “Never thought I’d say that to any girl, honestly. But I do,” he said. “I love you.”

Parker’s mind was reeling. She hadn’t known for sure until that moment that she felt the same way. She had fallen for him so quickly, and his confession made her sure of what she already knew—she loved him, too.

Parker leaned forward, moving close to him. She rested her hand on his face, cupping his cheek and pressing her lips to his. She closed her eyes, feeling him relax under her and relishing in the softness of his lips. She pulled away only slightly, their lips still brushing gently. “I love you, too,” she murmured.

Calum smiled, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her into his chest. They lay like that for a while, Calum just holding her close, neither of them saying anything.

Finally, Parker broke the silence. “So,” she started, “does this mean I’m your girl?”

Calum laughed softly, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “You’ve always been my girl.”

» » » » » »

Parker slept over at Calum’s often over the next month, the drawers in his dresser and his bathroom slowly becoming home to some of her things. It made him smile every time he opened a drawer and his clothes smelled like her perfume, or he found pieces of her clothing while he was folding his laundry. He was head over heels for her.

They were making out on the couch one Thursday night, a movie playing long forgotten in the background. Parker was in nothing but a pair of shorts, her shirt and bra having been discarded, when she heard the familiar click of the automatic lock on Calum’s door. There were only three other people besides herself who had the code for his apartment, and they had a habit of never knocking. Parker scrambled to find her shirt before whoever was about to walk in saw her half-naked, but she had tossed it halfway across the room and she saw the three familiar faces of Calum’s best friends long before she could reach it. She did her best to cover herself, but her face turned bright red.

“Ah, fuck! Sorry, P. Didn’t know you were here,” Mikey stammered, covering his eyes. He turned around, attempting to get the other two to cover theirs while she dressed.

“It’s fine,” she laughed lightly. “We should know better, I guess, since you guys apparently don’t know the meaning of knocking.” It wasn’t the first time they’d walked in on her less than fully clothed.

“You forgot, didn’t you?” Michael turned to Calum.

“Forgot what?”

“Seriously dude? It’s wing night. Last Thursday of the month. We’ve been doing this for years,” Luke rolled his eyes, setting a huge bag full of takeout containers on the island in the kitchen.

“Shit, is it Thursday? Yeah, I forgot,” Calum admitted, running a hand through his hair.

Parker swiped her car keys off the counter and grabbed her bag. “It’s okay, I’ll go. See you on Saturday?” she asked, pressing a kiss to Calum’s cheek.

“You can stay, P. There’s lots of food,” Mikey offered, gesturing to the bag.

“Thanks, Mikey, but I should get going anyway. I’ve gotta work tomorrow. Later, guys!”

The boys waved and Calum stood, following Parker to the door. “Text me when you’re home,” he murmured, pulling her in for a hug and kissing her temple.

“You know I’ll forget.”

“I know,” he smiled, ducking his head and pressing his lips to hers softly. “I love you.”

“I never get tired of hearing that,” she smiled, closing the door behind her. Calum made his way back into the living room.

“What’s on Saturday?” Michael asked, licking barbeque sauce off his fingers.

Calum collapsed onto the couch and reached for a chicken wing. “I’m supposed to have dinner with Parker’s parents.”

All at once, the three boys looked at Calum with raised eyebrows. He waved them off with a scoff. “It’s not that big of a deal. It’s just dinner.”

“I’d say it’s a pretty big deal, dude. If you’re meeting her parents, things are serious with P and you wanna make a good impression,” Luke pointed out.

“Can we not talk about this?” Calum snapped, a little more harshly than he intended.

Calum wasn’t the type of guy you bring home to meet your parents, and he knew it. He wanted to impress them, even if Parker wasn’t exceptionally close with her family. But he had a feeling in his gut that this dinner wasn’t going to go well. Calum knew how to be polite and charming, but he didn’t exactly have a shining resumé full of impressive accomplishments. He barely graduated high school. He knew Parker was too good for him, and he would be lying if he said he wasn’t worried that her parents would think the same thing, too.

“What’s wrong with you?” Luke cocked his head, giving him a puzzled look. “Are you really that nervous to meet them?”

Calum sighed. “I don’t know, mate. I’m not really nervous, I just—she’s this incredible person, she’s got a huge heart and she saves lives, for fuck’s sake. I barely finished high school, I work at a record store, and I’m not exactly a nice guy. I don’t see them being too thrilled when they meet me.” He took a long swig of his beer, then set it down on the coffee table and leaned his head back against the couch.

“Why do you care what they think of you?” Ashton questioned, turning to him. “Parker doesn’t care, so why should they? She loves you, man,” he added. “That’s all that matters.”

Calum took a deep breath. “I hope you’re right.”

» » » » » »

Parker was loading groceries into her car when she heard her phone ring. She answered it, propping it between her ear and her shoulder.

“Hey, mom,” she answered, seeing her mother’s caller ID before she answered. “What’s up?”

“Hi, honey. I just wanted to call and make sure we were still on for Saturday. Dad and I are excited to meet Calum.”

“I’m excited for you to meet him, too,” she breathed. And she was. Things were going so well with him, and it had been a long time since Parker had been with someone long enough to introduce him to her parents.

“We’ll meet you there at seven?” her mother confirmed.

“Can’t wait,” Parker said before hanging up.

» » » » » »

Calum had to work Saturday morning, rolling out of bed reluctantly at 7:45 after an unexpectedly late night fooling around with his guitar. He had lost track of time and it was past two when he finally went to bed. Duke sighed heavily at Calum’s sudden movement, turning around in a circle and finding a new comfortable position among his pillows.

“I wish my life was as easy as yours, big man,” Calum mumbled, scratching his dog behind the ears.

He showered and dressed in his usual work attire of black boots, jeans and a band tee, grabbing a coffee on the way into the store. The morning was typical for a Saturday, busier than during the week but nothing crazy. Tom usually came in after lunch, leaving Calum to open the store by himself and shutting himself in his office for the afternoon to do paperwork, only emerging to allow Calum to take his lunch break. Calum was ringing through a customer when Tom stormed out of his office, looking angrier than usual. He wasn’t generally a happy guy so it wasn’t uncommon for him to be in a bad mood, but Calum wondered what had happened that had him suddenly so pissed off.

“Calum, how many times do I have to ask you to put these boxes in the attic?” he demanded angrily, kicking a cardboard box of overstock out of his path.

“I’m with a customer, Tom,” he gritted out, seconds away from losing his cool.

Calum handed his customer the bag with his purchase, nodding, and the guy couldn’t leave the store quick enough, sensing the tension among the two men.

Tom barely waited until the guy was out the door before he started in on Calum again. “You work for me, kid, remember? All I have to do is say the word and you’re out on your ass,” he spat.

Something in Calum’s brain snapped and he felt the words tumbling out of his mouth before he could stop them. He’d had enough of Tom treating him like shit when he was the only reliable employee Tom had.

“If you would get off your ass and give me a hand instead of leaving me out here to do everything myself, maybe I’d have time to put your fucking order away,” he replied sharply. He should have regretted what he said, because he knew there’d be hell to pay for talking back to his boss like that, but Calum couldn’t bring himself to care. Tom was a piece of shit and Calum was fed up with it.

Tom’s face turned beet red, his brows furrowing into an angry glare. “Didn’t your mother ever teach you to respect your elders?”

Calum whipped around and without missing a beat, landed a fierce right hook to his boss’s jaw. He fell back into the wall, steadying himself on the doorjamb. He looked utterly shocked.

“Fuck you,” Calum seethed, spitting at Tom’s feet.

Tom straightened, adjusting his tie and adopting a suddenly calm demeanor. “That’s it, Hood. You’re done. Get out of my store.”

“Gladly,” Calum replied smoothly. “Let’s see how long you stay in business with no one but your lazy ass to run this place,” he shot back, fishing his key out of his pocket and slamming it on the counter in front of the man. He stormed into the back, yanking his leather jacket off its hook and lighting a cigarette before he was even out the door.

• • • • • •

Calum drove around aimlessly for the better part of an hour with no destination in mind, listening to Coldplay and lighting one cigarette after another in an attempt to clear his head and calm him down. Once he realized it wasn’t helping, he decided the only thing that would make him feel better was going to see Gram. He didn’t want to stress Parker out with his problems until after he’d talked it out with Gram.

He let himself in the house, the smell of banana bread filling his nose. Calum entered the kitchen where Gram was doing dishes, spotting the fresh-baked loaf cooling on the stove.

He sighed heavily as soon as she came into his view, feeling most of his anger melt away almost instantly. “Hey, Gram,” he greeted, kissing her on the cheek and taking a seat at the kitchen table.

“Hi dear,” she replied, smiling. “I woke up this morning and I just had a feeling you’d be coming to see me today.” She dried her hands on a dishtowel and cut two slices of bread, setting them on a plate and joining Calum at the table. “You look down, baby. What’s wrong?”

Calum sighed. “I got fired.”

“Oh, honey,” Gram said sympathetically. “What happened?”

“I let Tom have it,” he said, reaching for a slice of banana bread and taking a bite. “He pissed me off and I tried to stay calm, but then he started talking shit about mum and I just lost it,” Calum shook his head. “I hit him,” he said guiltily, dropping his head.

“Listen to me, Calum,” Gram said, lifting his chin to look at her. “This is for the best. That rat of a man has been nothing but horrible to you since he took over the store, and he doesn’t deserve you. And he definitely deserved that punch,” she added with a wink, earning a small smile from Calum. She placed her hand on top of his, squeezing it. “You’ll find something better. And who knows,” she added, “maybe this an opportunity to work on your music.”

Calum smiled. He knew he could always count on Gram to lift his spirits, even when he was having the worst day. She packed up the rest of the banana bread in a Tupperware container, saving two slices for herself, and sent Calum home.

When he got back to his apartment, he had completely forgotten about dinner with Parker’s parents that night until his phone went off with a reminder. He groaned. Being social and making a good impression was the last thing he wanted to do tonight, and despite Gram’s effort to cheer him up, he felt anger bubble up inside him at the whole situation. How was he supposed to impress Parker’s parents when he didn’t even have a job? He was already stressed enough about meeting them, and he wondered how this day could possibly get worse.

• • • • • •

Parker spent Saturday morning cleaning her apartment and catching up on some reading while Calum was at work, killing time until the dinner with her parents. She hadn’t heard from Calum since early that morning when he had sent her a good morning text, but he was at work until four so she wasn’t expecting to hear from him until lunchtime. She decided she would bring him a coffee, being that it was nearing his break.

She stopped in at Enzo’s, ordered his coffee, and crossed the street, the door chiming when she entered Rudy’s.

No one was out front when she came in which struck her as odd. Calum was almost always either standing at the register and sorting through albums on the counter or in among the aisles putting things away and organizing.

“Cal?” she called out, wondering if maybe he was in the back.

A few moments later, Tom emerged. He wore a blank expression, not offering a smile or any kind of greeting to Parker. He was holding an ice pack to his jaw, and Parker noticed a large red mark under the pack.

“Uh, hi,” Parker said awkwardly. “Is Calum here?”

Tom scoffed, a sneer curling his lips. “Calum doesn’t work here anymore,” he said flatly.

“Oh,” Parker frowned, confused. “Okay, thanks,” she said, turning on her heel to leave.

Fifteen minutes later she arrived at Calum’s apartment, knocking on the door gently before opening it and stepping inside. Duke was at the door, wagging his tail and running circles around her feet until she bent down to pet him. She rubbed the little dog’s head, setting the coffee, now getting cold, on the kitchen counter. Parker looked up to find Calum laying on the couch, a beer in his hand.

“Hey,” she said softly, noting immediately that he wasn’t in a good mood. “I stopped by Rudy’s to bring you a coffee for your break, but Tom—he said you didn’t work there anymore,” she explained, brows furrowed in confusion as she made her way over to the couch, sitting cross-legged at the other end and facing him.

“Yeah,” he scoffed, lifting the beer to his lips and taking a long drink. “I don’t,” he stated bluntly.

“What do you mean?”

“I got fired,” he shrugged.

Parker’s shoulders sagged, brows knitting together in concern. “Are—are you okay?”

Calum laughed dryly, his dark eyes meeting hers for the first time since she entered his apartment. They held no warmth—it reminded Parker of the way he looked at her when they first met, and it felt wrong. “I’m unemployed with no education except a high school diploma. I’m fucking fantastic.”

Parker flinched at his words. She hadn’t seen this side of him since before they started dating, and she had forgotten how harsh he could be when he was angry. Parker didn’t like it.

“What can I do?” she asked quietly.

Calum looked away. “Nothing, Parker. There’s nothing you can do.” He stood, finishing his beer and walking to the fridge to get another one.

She stood up and followed him, afraid to ask him any more questions, but she had to know. “Should I cancel tonight? With my parents?”

Calum leaned back against the kitchen counter, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. “I don’t fancy meeting your parents for the first time and getting to tell them I got fired today,” he responded. “I’ve had a shit day and I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

Parker hesitated for a moment, but ultimately decided that if she couldn’t love Calum through his bad days, she didn’t deserve him at all. She couldn’t be afraid of him when he got like this. So she moved to stand in front of him, taking his beer and setting it down beside him on the counter. He watched her intently, unmoving, while she wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her head on his chest. “It’s gonna be okay,” she murmured. “You hated that job anyway. We’ll figure this out, I promise.”

Calum sighed deeply, finally wrapping his arms around her and holding her tight, resting his chin on top of her head. He felt his anger dissolve a little more when he held her. God, he loved her.

After a few moments of silence, Calum spoke. “I’m sorry, love. I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

Parker pulled away to meet his eyes. “I know,” she assured him, pressing a kiss to his lips. “It’s okay.”

“We’ll still go tonight. I don’t want you to have to cancel.”

“Are you sure?” Parker questioned.

Calum nodded. “I’ll be fine.”

• • • • • •

At 6:40, Calum parked the Charger in front of Parker’s apartment, pocketing his keys as he walked up the steps. After suggesting a quick tumble to help Calum de-stress a little, Parker had gone home to shower and get ready for their dinner. She opened the door, and Calum smiled. She was in a short, forest-green cocktail dress with minimal makeup and a wool coat to cover at least part of her bare legs.

“You look beautiful.”

“So do you,” she teased, kissing him on the cheek. He had worn a simple black button-up and black trousers, trading his signature leather jacket for a long, dark grey trench coat. “You ready to go?” she asked.

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” he shrugged. The drive to the restaurant was relatively quiet, the low hum from Calum’s stereo playing throughout the car to break the silence. Calum’s mind was still reeling over this morning’s events, and he was nervous for tonight. Parker didn’t talk about her parents a lot, and while they got along, he got the vibe that they didn’t always see eye-to-eye. Not that he gave a shit what anyone thought of him, but Calum wanted them to like him, for Parker’s sake. He had an uneasy feeling. He hoped it was just nerves, but deep in his chest, he knew better.

Parker seemed to notice the uncomfortable expression on Calum’s face when they pulled into the parking lot.

“Hey,” she turned to him, cupping his cheeks in her hands and turning him to face her. “Relax. They’re going to love you. And even if they don’t, I don’t care. I love you. That’s the only important thing.” She pressed her lips to his softly before getting out of the car. He knew her heart was in the right place, but her words didn’t make him feel any better. The last thing he wanted was to be the thing to come between Parker and her parents.

She grasped his hand, lacing her fingers with his as they entered the restaurant. Parker spotted her parents at a booth against the far wall. She told the hostess that their company was already seated, and Calum followed behind her as she weaved through the restaurant. When they approached the table, Calum let go of Parker’s hand as her father stood to his feet.

“Richard,” he stated, extending his hand.

Calum swallowed. “Nice to meet you, sir, I’m Calum,” he replied, firmly shaking his hand. He leaned to his left, making eye contact with Parker’s mother, still sitting in the booth. “Nice to meet you, too, Mrs. Daniels,” he said politely, flashing her a smile.

She waved her hands in protest. “Please, just Shari,” she laughed lightly.

Calum let Parker into the booth, sliding in after her. He felt her hand rest on his thigh, giving it a reassuring squeeze. He placed his hand on top of hers, squeezing it back.

To Calum’s pleasant surprise, dinner started off well. Calum put his most charming face on for Shari, and apparently even women in their mid-fifties couldn’t resist his smile.

“Parker hasn’t told us much about you, Calum—she wanted to give us lots to talk about, I think,” she laughed. “Do you have family here in town?”

Calum’s face fell. He hated this question. Parker could feel him tense up, clearly not wanting to get into the topic of his own parents. Parker cut him off, and he sent her a grateful smile.

“That’s how we met, actually,” she started. “Calum’s grandmother is one of my patients.”

Calum was thankful to Parker for taking over this topic of conversation, and he was happy to let her talk.

He knew the next question was coming, and it was one he was dreading to answer.

“What do you do, Calum?” Richard asked him, taking a sip from his beer glass.

“I, uh—” Calum paused, unsure if he should lie about being fired or make something up and deal with the consequences later. He chose the former, hoping that they didn’t visit the store by some chance and find out he was lying. “I work at Rudy’s,” he answered, as confidently as he could manage. “It’s an old music store downtown. Been there since I was in high school.”

“Oh, a musician?” Shari raised her eyebrows.

Calum chuckled nervously. “No, not quite,” he corrected.

“You must be a manager then, if you’ve been there that long?” Richard questioned, his blue eyes boring into Calum’s. This was exactly what Calum was afraid of. “Uh, no, not a manager,” he answered awkwardly.

“So you’re working there while you’re in college?” he asked, brows furrowing in mild confusion.

“Dad,” Parker warned.

“No, I never went to college,” Calum answered honestly. “School has never been my thing.”

Richard bristled. “Well, you can’t expect to—”

“Okay, moving on,” Parker said loudly, interrupting her dad and attempting to change the subject. The subject of conversation for the rest of dinner was decided by Parker, and she kept her father’s pressing questions at bay by talking far too much, which Calum appreciated. There were no other outbursts, but the rest of the dinner was undoubtedly tense. It was obvious that while Shari didn’t seem to feel as strongly as her husband, Richard did not approve of Calum’s choice of career.

It was true, school was never Calum’s strong suit. Even if he had decided to go to college, the only thing he ever had any interest in was music. Unfortunately, the closest school with a decent music program was hours away and he could never leave Gram, so the only thing that made sense to him was just not going. Gram fought him on it, but he was as stubborn as she was, and in the end he had stayed.

But Richard had a point. How could he expect to support himself and a family if he ever had one on a couple bucks over minimum wage? Sure, he had inherited a good chunk of money from his grandfather, but he couldn’t rely on that forever. Parker had her life together. She was smart and successful and she supported herself. Calum had had the same job since he was fourteen years old, and now he didn’t have one at all.

The conversation they had at dinner ran through his mind over and over, and it affected him far more than he wanted it to. Calum was conflicted—before today, he had convinced himself that he didn’t care what anyone but Parker thought of him, but the more he thought about his life, his future, his goals—he realized he didn’t really have any. He loved Parker, and she loved him, but Calum suddenly wasn’t sure that love was enough. He had nothing else to offer her. He was quiet the entire drive home back to Parker’s place, his thoughts running a mile a minute. He wasn’t even aware of his feet moving as he followed Parker up the stairs to her front door.

“Cal?” Parker had been trying to get his attention as he stared blankly ahead. His eyes snapped into focus and he turned to look at her.

“Sorry,” he shook his head, dazed. “What?”

“I said, are you coming inside?” she repeated. Her brows furrowed at the pained expression on his face. “Are you okay?”

“I—no, I’m not,” he admitted, dropping his gaze to the ground.

Parker looked confused. “No, you’re not coming in, or no, you’re not okay?”

He lifted his eyes to look at her again. “No, I’m not coming in.” Calum ignored her frown, and he ignored the tightness in his chest and the pain stinging the backs of his eyes, and he ignored every fiber in his body screaming at him not to say what he was about to say.

Calum had finally let someone in, let himself feel, let himself love. His heart felt whole with Parker, and he knew that what he was about to do would shatter it, probably for good this time. But regardless of how he felt in his heart, his head was telling him he needed to do this, for her. She was worth more than what he could give her. “I can’t do this,” he said, his eyes pleading with her to understand. “We—we can’t do this anymore.”

Parker’s face fell as she tilted her head to the side and took a step back. “What do you mean?”

He gave her a pleading look. “You know what I mean, love. Don’t make this harder than it already is.”

Parker’s eyes turned glassy, fighting back tears that had formed almost instantly at his words. “Why?” she demanded. “Because of my dad? I told you before, I don’t care what they think—”

“I do!” he cut her off, shouting angrily. His dark eyes bore into her steel grey ones. “He was right. I have nothing to offer you. I don’t even have my own life together, I’m not going to ruin yours.”

“You’re not ruining anything!” she yelled back, furious at him for giving up on them so easily. “You got fired, so what? We can figure this out together, I’ll help you,” she pleaded.

Calum shook his head. “No, Parker. I can’t ask you to give up your life while I search for mine. This is my mess. You deserve someone who can provide for you, and that’s not me.”

“So that’s it? You’re just gonna quit?” she asked, the tears she had been holding back rolling down her cheeks. “Please don’t do this,” she begged.

“I can’t, Parker,” he shook his head. “I’m no good for you. I’m not going to drag you down with me.” Calum took a step towards her and raised his hand, wanting nothing more than to brush the tears from under her eyes, but he thought better of it, lowering his hand back down to his side. If he let himself get close to her, he might change his mind, and he couldn’t do that. He was doing this for her. Even though it killed him to lose her, he was trying desperately not to be selfish.

He turned and descended the few steps of her front porch. He stopped at the driver’s door, looking one last time at the tear-soaked face of the girl he loved. “I’m sorry, baby,” he whispered. When she closed her eyes, lip trembling and body shaking, he got in his car and drove away before he changed his mind. I’m doing this for her, he kept repeating to himself, over and over. He had to convince himself that this was what was best for her.

taglist: @treatallwithkindness @oopsiedoopsie23 @tunnnelvision @wildflower-mmr

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doubleshotofsomething · 5 years ago

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Needy

[ This is my submission for @sourpatchkidsandacokecan ‘s Little Darlin’ Mystery AU challenge. It is a three part soulmate au inspired by the song ‘Needy’ by Ariana Grande, the prologue and epilogue do not count as part 1/3.]

There is nothing wrong with wanting more. You deserve the love you give to others. You deserve it more than anyone.

Summary: The end is the beginning. The beginning is the end. You can still love someone and not want them in your life.

Pairings: Bucky x Reader, Thor x Reader

Warnings: angst...aNGST?? fluff ( i think its there, im not sure, but yes). Loki is alive here folks...and... everyone is learning to not be idiots?

Prompts: soulmate au. song prompt

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series masterlist

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Epilogue

Born a King.

There are so many things Thor doesn't remember missing about home. The sound of his footsteps as he walked on the bridge, the glimmer of gold when light reflected on it, or the creatures that Earth could never have.

He still had Asgard, at every smile and every nod as he would walk past his people. At every meal and every feast with his people, every conversation with Valkyrie, and every disagreement with Loki. He still had home in them.

Born a King.

He doesn't remember missing the bruises of battles fought, or the stiff muscles of every war won. The anticipation before a fight, or the unpredictability of space. The adrenaline that came with every spark of lightening, the power that came with the energy coursing through his blood. He doesn't remember missing any of that about home.

He doesn't remember why he keeps getting coffee grains of that brand, or how Loki survived in space. He can't remember what colour the ceiling was in the throne room or why he keeps leaving Stormbreaker in the closet. He doesn't remember that being part of home.

Born a King.

He doesn't remember what it felt like when you walked in through the door, or how the look in your eyes made him feel every time you found him on the couch – that too small for two couch – waiting for you. He doesn't remember the way you would try and squirm your way out of his grip in the morning, trying to escape before he made you late again.

He doesn't remember hating the little jokes you would make, or the stupid way you stumbled over your words when he got you flustered. He doesn't remember getting annoyed at the sight of the missing toothbrush next to his, or the milk that he keeps getting and ends up getting spoiled because no one drinks it, or the coffee that's slowly filling up the cupboard. He doesn't remember hating the thought of you.

When the hell did you become home to him?

Born a fucking King.

Then why is the thought of you, sharing your jokes with someone else, making him feel so powerless?

Why is the possibility of another man in your bed, your sheets, poisoning his judgement?

He was born a king, powerful and strong. So, why... why did leaving you make him feel so weak?

Thor was made for a throne, a Kingdom. Not a woman, not a Midgardian woman.

But he doesn't remember yearning for something he cannot have when he was with you. He doesn't remember missing the land he was raised on when he was with you.

He doesn't remember missing home. Especially not when it was curled up on his lap, face buried in his neck as you fell asleep. Not when you smiled at him like that and kissed him like that and held onto him like... like... like you weren't made for anyone else but him.

It has been over a year, but you still failed to leave his mind.

It has been over a year and he still can't unlove you.

"I don't have anything left to give."

How much had your mate taken from you, for you to think that you had to give him something to stay?

How much had everyone taken before you became complacent enough to still give?

Even when you had nothing, you still tried to give him something to stay.

You must think the worst of him, right now. You offered yourself to him, ready to defy fate and nature, for him, and he still chose to leave you.

Thor turned to look at Bucky. His arms were crossed over his chest as he faced Tony, nodding every so often as the man went on about mission strategy. To his right sat Wanda, his wife.

Thor could understand, if he tried to, why someone would not be with their soulmate. He could understand, if he listened, why he chose her. He could come to see reason, he didn't choose you either when the time came, but...

This was you.

Thor may not have chosen to stay, but he still couldn't move on. Not when every fibre of his being still knew what Saturday morning felt like with you.

Blue locks on blue, a colour that just won't seem to choose you.

"Thor..." Bucky raises an eyebrow at him, in question. "You good, buddy?"

He frowns at that. Because no, I'm not good and how could you still be okay? and how did you manage to forget the sound of her footsteps?

Thor shakes his head, eyebrows furrowing as he studies him. For the first time since they had met, he studies the man with another woman on his arm – in his heart.

"You must be so hard to please." He finally says, leaning back against his chair as he scans Bucky one last time.

Thor didn't mean to find you; he was looking for Jane when your car hit him. He didn't mean to keep coming back, he just needed to make sure you were alright. He didn't want to love someone else, but he willingly fell for your fool's gold the second he saw you laugh.

You made him come back for more, until he decided he just wanted to have it all. You made him want things he didn't know he wanted and taught him things that he would have gone his entire existence without knowing. You taught him what love, selfless and unconditional, looked like – felt like... And he couldn't even think about wanting it from someone else.

How could your soulmate want it from someone else?

Bucky frowns at first, confused, then his face visibly hardens. "We're bonded, not matched—"

"Doesn't matter—" Thor stands, hand tightening around stormbreaker. "—I don't care. We're both wrong... But I learn from my failures."

---

You were over it. Really.

A year later and you could walk into your apartment, look at everything and not cry yourself to sleep.

You could separate your own colours, and do your own dishes, and slice up your own peppers. You could roll over and not have to bump into another being in your bed, you could get out of bed and not be late for work.

You couldn't sleep in the dark anymore, but that's not something a bedside lamp can't fix.

The window was jammed again, and the caretaker had reverted to being difficult. Your neighbour woke up one morning and realised Nickelback was his spirit music – whatever that means – so he made sure you heard it too. The couch was still too big for just you and there was that empty space next to the milk, that you can't seem to fill...

But you don't cry whenever it rains and Bucky has stopped trying to reach you, so all in all... Progress.

Good.

Great.

"Jesus Christ—" You nearly jumped into your ceiling, pressing a hand on your chest and shutting your eyes.

Your groceries are scattered on the floor, and your heart is racing. You take a moment to catch your breath, before opening your eyes back up.

He's waiting for you. He has been waiting all day, sitting on the coffee table and staring down at the passage that lead to your door. You're home and he remembers how it felt.

He's waiting for you to calm down, to take a breath. He remembers how you never liked unannounced guests, but he couldn't risk you driving away the second you saw him in the parking lot.

You're looking at him now, finally looking at him after all this time. And he hates how your eyes narrow at him.

He can hear your heartbeat, and he's worried you might pass out if it doesn't slow down. He can feel your anger, from where he's sitting, and he can see it in your eyes – in your stance, in the way you're not wearing that pendant he had made for you.

He left you and that warrants your anger.

He didn't stay when you needed him to, and that justifies your fury.

But his key still fits in the lock, and his fingerprint still deactivates the security alarm. So, surely you don't hate him that much, right?

He wants to say something, tries to say something, but he draws blank. What else does a man say to the woman he let go?

Sorry I didn't stay?

Sorry I didn't fight harder?

Sorry I was too weak to choose you?

"What do you want?"

You speak first though. Your tone harsh to his ears, but it's enough for him to remember why he should have listened to you.

"You."

He's serious. As serious as he was on the day he left, when he told you he couldn't stay – knowing what you were.

So, you don't believe him.

Why should you?

You put your heart on your sleeves, and let him in. Then, as soon as the going got tough, as soon as things got uncomfortable, he leaves.

You don't believe him. Not when you've spent the past year wondering which part of you keeps giving them a reason to leave.

You do not believe him. Because you're done being that idiot. Because you're not that desperate. Because you deserve better.

"I don't believe you." You tell him, glaring at him, at clear sky blues.

He doesn't argue, like you expect him to. He doesn't force it down your throat, like you expect him to. He doesn't demand, or yell, or break anything.

He just nods, slow and understanding.

You don't believe him, and you don't forgive him. And that's okay with him?

He can read the confusion so clearly on your face, it's almost as if he never left. Except he did, and now he has to learn.

"What do you need me to do?" He asks, leaning his elbows against his knees as he looks up at you. "What do you need me to do, to earn your forgiveness?"

What?

You blink at him. Because no. Because not today. Because you were just learning to live without him, and he pulls this stunt?

"I want you." He states, blue eyes unwavering as they stare back at you. "I want you. I want us. I have spent this past year trying to forget, trying to live—to exist— without you... I failed. I failed when I didn't stay, and I failed when I chose to listen to anyone but you.

"I see you everywhere. I feel you everywhere. In my thoughts, in my dreams, in my heart. And every time I think I can get through a task without thinking about you, I hear your voice. I hear your ridiculous laugh and I spend the rest of the day trying to find it, trying to find you—"

"That's not fair—"

"—it's not fair," he agrees, almost instantly, eyes glistening to match yours. "It's not fair. Because fate made you for someone else. But it feels like you were put in this world for me to find. It's not fair because I wasn't made for someone else... but I can't even function without you.

"It's not fair, for me to be here, and ask you to want me back. So I won't. I won't ask you to have me or to believe anything I say. You gave me your trust once and I broke it, and I know that. I failed you, and I'm willing to spend the rest of my life apologising for that— to make up for that... Tell me what you need me to do, is all I ask."

If you were mad before, then you were angry now. Furious, even.

Words. Words. Words.

That's all the whole lot of them have ever been good at. Promising things they can't give, telling you things they shouldn't, preaching and never practising.

Steve had words for you, promises of keeping Bucky away from dangerous missions. Suddenly, you're allowed on the compound because he got too injured to be treated at the Tower.

Wanda had words for you too, telling you all about how she would make sure he never tried to contact you again unless it's an emergency. You've seen him ten times in one week, and none of those were emergencies.

Bucky had the most words for you, though. Preaching about the happiness you deserve and the loneliness you don't, yapping about finding someone but ruining it the second you do. He tells you to move on, to be happy with someone else, but you can barely sleep at night with all his hovering. He smothers and lurks, talking about fixing things.

You tell him to go on less missions, he listens and nods but never agrees. Why would he listen when you’re not his wife?

He talks about forgiveness and promising to be a better mate and friend to you. You listen and nod, but you don’t forgive. Why should you when he’s not your husband?

And now, Thor. The last person you expected to see back in your life, is giving you words. Telling you things. Baseless words and empty promises.

Have you ever seen anything so hollow?

Tears blur your vision, and you don't need to look at your hands to know they're shaking. You're pissed, and hurt and tired of all this bullshit, and you've had just about enough.

"Haven't you people taken enough from me?" Your voice isn't as stable as you had wanted it to be, but it's still yours. "You lot show up, whenever you like, just to take. You don't care about what you leave behind or the shit I have to deal with, all you want to do is take. And take. And take. Even when there's nothing, you still take – what more do you want?"

Your words sit heavy on his chest, and his heart aches for you. He doesn't want to take, but he also didn't stay when you were the only offer on the table.

You struggle to speak past the lump in your throat. "I was ready, to choose you. I told you that I wanted you and you left—" you quickly wipe the tears just as they slide down your cheeks, "—you left, Thor. You can't do this, you can't just walk in here and talk that bullshit like I didn't—like I didn't crash and burn because of you."

"Do you want me to leave?" He hopes you say no. He hopes you ask him to stay and hold you, because he won't be able to walk passed you and leave.

He's hoping you don't break down in front of him, because then he can't leave. And he can't stay for the wrong reasons, he can't stay without your clear-headed say so.

The sound that comes out of you when he asks that, has his stomach cramping for even suggesting that. Because you're staring at him in utter disbelief for saying that, for putting it in the air, for making you even think about it.

"How dare you—"

"Y/N—"

"I never wanted you to leave—" he's getting up from the table and crossing the room to you, before you even finish, "—you did that all on your own."

He doesn't touch you, though. He lost that right a year ago, and he understands. He has a great deal to learn and a lot to amend... so, he'll only stare until you can stomach his touch.

He'll only stare, until he can learn from his mistakes.

He'll only stare, until he's earned the privilege to hold you...

Until he's earned your love, once again.

You deserve better, you know that now, and so does he.

So, he'll be better.

---

THANK YOU SO MUCH for reading this. Thank you so much for all your support and feedback. And thank you so very much for just being here.

Thank you to @sourpatchkidsandacokecan for letting me participate. Your challenge is amazing and so unique(it’s closes on the 20th incase anyone wants to join). Thank you

To anyone that related to this fic, I want you to know that I am so very sorry that someone made you feel that way. Please know that you are not needy or too much. You deserve the love that you give. You deserve selfless and unconditional love. You deserve better.

---

Tagging: @sourpatchkidsandacokecan , @decadentsoulbiscuitgoth

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love-fireflysong · 5 years ago

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Day 18: Photo

Fandom: Until Dawn Character(s): Chris Hartley, Josh Washington, Ashley Brown Words: 1962 Rating: Teen (language bitches!) Author’s Notes: *Nickelback’s ‘Photograph’ plays in the background* Still alive over here! And it’s not angst this time! Amazing, I know. Big reason this one is so late is because after spending 3 days thinking about what to do for this, I still had nothing. And then I inspiration came to me in the shower so here we are: the follow-up to Deals and Arguments that probably no one wanted! Because lets be honest, if Ash is the one who writes ‘Ashley Hartley’ in her books, then Chris absolutely scribbled a heart with their initials by accident once. And that’s all it takes for Josh...

For almost as long as Chris had known him, Josh had always been obsessed with the idea. He wants to say that it started when they were in fifth grade, when their teacher, Ms. Franks, announced to the class that since she was pregnant, that she was going to be taking a leave of absence just before the end of the school year. Someone, he couldn’t recall who, had asked if they had a name for the baby picked out, but he could recall the response as though it had happened only yesterday.

“It’s still a little too early for names, but if they’re gonna be a girl, we’re thinking of naming her after a mutual best friend of ours.”

Ever since then, Josh had been all over the idea. Every dare, every piece of blackmail, every ‘dying’ wish was the same: “Name your kid Josh.” When he was younger, Chris would laugh and shove Josh away with a roll of his eyes. It was funny back when he was like ten or eleven, or hell, even when he was thirteen! He was gonna be a super cool app developer, he wasn’t gonna have time for marriage, much less kids. All of his time was gonna be spent developing super awesome games and apps that were gonna save the world! Or something.

While his mind didn’t exactly change the moment he met Ashley the summer after he turned thirteen, he is ashamed to admit it was pretty dang close. Josh introduced Ash to him in their favorite fast food diner, and declared the three of them to be best friends, til death do us part, yada yada yada. At the end of July, the three of them were inseparable, and by the beginning of school that September, he was gone. Donezo baby! Head-over-fucking-heels for the little braces wearing, red-head that read Sherlock Holmes and Shakespeare for fun.

And unsurprisingly, Josh never let up on his demand. Nope, he did not! In fact, he got even worse about it.

He needed to borrow a pencil for math? Name your kid after me.

Can he spot him a couple of bucks for ice cream? Only if you name your kid Josh.

When did the Battle of the Alamo take place? 1846. But I’ll tell you the right answer if you swear to name your first-born after me.

While extremely exhausting to try and avoid, Chris was able to do so easily. He just started asking the kid who sat behind him in class for pencils, borrowed money from Ash instead, and he’d rather fail history then name his kid after Josh. Thankfully, after his first bombed history exam, Ash made all three of them do their homework together constantly, so the last one became a moot point. Barely.

Eventually, Josh tapered off on the demand, but not until after the start of the next school year. Most people probably would have stopped a few weeks in, but most people weren’t Josh Washington. When he wanted something, the guy stuck to his guns and didn’t give it up for nothing. Not that he stopped entirely of course, Josh still brings it up during dares and shit but it becomes immensely more manageable. He notices that he doesn’t ask it of Ash during these game, but when he considers the completely mortified look she gets on her face when ever he gets asked, Chris figures that its probably for the best.

(The fact that he not only stops that day Chris walked back into Ash’s bedroom and she’s as red as her hair while shoving something into her desk drawer, but that’s also when the mortification starts, he doesn’t clue into until years later.)

So when Josh walks up to him during their first period together with the absolute shittiest of shit-eating grins on his face, Chris is on red high alert.

“Oh no. What did you do?”

The laugh Josh gives is low and dark, and if Chris’s hackles weren’t raised earlier, they sure as fucking-hell are now. “Oh no, Cochise. It’s not what I’ve done, it’s what you’ve done.” With that, Josh proceeds to just slam a binder onto Chris’s desk, and he looks to see that he recognizes it easily.

“Okay...? I don’t see what my math notes have to do with anything.”

Another laugh, this one somehow darker and eviler then the first. Oh boy, those alarms going off in his head aren’t getting any quieter. “Oh, it has absolutely everything to do with you.” Before Chris can even respond, Josh is already flipping through the pages, past older pieces of loose-leaf that ripped from the binder coils that he hadn’t bothered to repair and and the newer notes with their edges still intact, and stops at the most recent. At first Chris doesn’t see anything, it’s all his notes about logarithms that he had taken the previous day, blue ink scratchy and messy all across the page, and then he does. And he absolutely blanches at the sight and hurriedly slams the binder shut, putting his face in his arms as he covers his head, actually whimpering as he refuses to look at Josh.

He doesn’t have to look to see the triumphant grin on Josh’s face, he can already imagine it pretty clearly.

“Oh fuck me.”

The worst part is that he didn’t even know it was there in the first place, he never would have lent his notes out otherwise. Josh had been missing more and more school recently, claiming that he was having killer headaches and they were making him sick, so Chris had done what friends do for each other and lent him his notes. What he didn’t realize was that at some point when he had been taking notes down, he had drawn a little heart in the margins with the initials CH+AB inside. Something he never would have done if Josh had been there with him, but he hadn’t been, so Chris had zoned out thinking about meeting up with Ash after school to bring Josh his homework.

He was so dead.

“What do you want?” Though muffled through his arms, he cringed at how small and weak his voice came out.

God, he could hear the stupid grin in Josh’s voice when he answered. “You know exactly what I want, Cochise. What I’ve always wanted.”

Chris didn’t remove his head from his arms on the desk, but he did turn it enough to narrow his eyes at Josh. “Are you fucking serious dude? Really? You’re still on about that shit?”

“I will never stop. You know this to be true.”

“I am not naming my stupid kid after you! I mean, maybe I won’t ever have kids. I’m certainly not gonna if I have to name them Josh!”

Josh rolled his eyes, but the wide grin never left his face. “You don’t have to name all of them after me. Just one.” Somehow, Chris watched the grin get even wider as a thought came to him. “Maybe two, if they’re twins. Can you imagine? The twins, Joshua and Joshlynn, it’ll be great!”

“Okay, now I’m definitely never having kids.”

Josh gave a short bark of laughter. "Please, like that’s ever gonna happen. You wanna know why, Cochise? Cause if Ash is gonna want kids, then you’re gonna want kids.”

He couldn’t help it. He really, truly couldn’t help it. The image of little kids with bright red hair and glasses flashed through his mind unbidden, and he groaned loudly and put his face back into his arms to hide how red his face had gotten.

“Anything else, dude. Make me do anything else. I will strip and run through the entire school naked if you want, just don’t make me promise you this stupid shit.” God, if only he hadn’t drawn that stupid heart on his stupid notes, then none of this would be happening right now! He sat up in his seat at the revelation. “Wait. I can just rewrite the page and burn this one.”

“Oh, Chris Chris Chris.” They way Josh shakes his head in disappointment sends around a million different alarm bells ringing. “Do you really think that little of me? I took like a million pictures my dude. This shit is saved forever. I can send this to Ash whenever the fuck I want. I can post this on whatever social media I feel like and it will live on the internet forever, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

Oh. Right. Shit. “I can’t believe that you can literally blackmail me with anything right now, and this is the hill you’re dying on.”

“So are we in agreement then?”

“I cannot believe I’m saying this, but yes. Fine. I will name my stupid kid after your stupid ass.”

“Oh please. Your kid may be stupid, but there is no way that any kid of Ashley’s is gonna be.”

“...I hate you so much right now.”

--------------------------------------------------

Chris hadn’t meant to respond the way he did when he found the old notebook he had bought for Ash years ago. He really hadn’t. He had just been excited to find out that she had kept the stupid thing after all these years, he hadn’t even been joking when he told her that he had spent ages in the store looking for it. (”It has to be perfect, Mom! I can’t just buy her any stupid old journal, she loves these things! I mean, what if she hates it?”) So he had opened it and started flipping through the pages, laughing with her at all the stupid misspellings and bad grammar that her thirteen year-old self had written.

And then he reached the last page.

Things had really been out of his hands at that point. Something about seeing her writing her name down as ‘Ashley Hartley’ had just ignited something in him. The images of her walking down an aisle, of them with matching rings on their fingers, of kids running underfoot, was too much for him to handle. So Chris had kissed her. Kissed her like he was never gonna be able to do it again. Them falling onto her bed had been an accident, though a happy one, as they both didn’t hesitate to deepen the kiss.

Finally, he had pulled away and her giggle when she moved to fix his glasses had taken his breath away. It had quickly returned when his eyesight improved enough to really take in the image of Ash flushed pink with her red hair spread out under her on the bed, and he was suddenly reminded that she was going to be living with him soon! That this was a sight he was going to be waking up to every morning at the end of the month, and he had never wanted anything so bad in his life.

“So,” his voice is rougher than usual when he speaks and he can feel her shiver under him at it. He makes a note for future reference. “Ashley Hartley, huh?”

He watches her bite her lip, and it takes everything in him to not kiss her again. Two years in, and he’s still amazed that he’s allowed to kiss her whenever he wants, that she encourages it even! “Be honest with me,” she starts off and Chris has never been told to do something so easy in his life, “what do you think of the name Joshlynn?”

He stares at her for just a moment, just letting her words sink in, and then falls forward to smother himself in her hair, his shoulders shaking he’s laughing so hard. Of course. Of fucking course he did.

“So he got you too, I see.”

#pride month prompt challenge #my writing #until dawn #chris hartley #josh washington #ashley brown #chrashley #im laughing that this is only like 20 words shorter then d&a #how the hell did i manage to make these almost the same length?#and theres so many damn italics in this god #this is gonna take forever to format on ao3 #what was i thinking?#does this have anything to do with photos?#not really #but considering that rainbow had almost nothing to do with rainbows #thats okay #probably should have used this for dare instead #oops

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noladyme · 4 years ago

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Skip To My Lou, My Darling - Chapter 4, Hunted Hunter I

The road so far…

Lulu’s relationship with Dean Winchester ended before it began; when the hunter informed her, that he thought angels had put them in each other’s path. He wanted free will, and didn’t believe their emotions were real. Now Lulu is on the path of living a new life; one without supernatural beings, angels – and the man she feels deeper for than anyone she’s ever met before or after.

Our story continues in season 7

Tag list (Let me know if you want to be added) @edonaspanca @wonderlandfandomkingdom

“Honey, grab me that roll of duct tape…”, Pete said. He was closing another cardboard box of books for me. I handed him the roll, and went back to the task of folding up clothes to put on top of the box of volumes I was packing myself. Pete came up behind me, and snaked his arms around my waist. “See?”, he said, while kissing my neck. “When you pack boxes half books/half clothes, they’re a lot less heavy”. “You’re right”, I muttered.

I turned around and kissed his cheek. He smelled nice; musky – but it lacked something. A certain note of smoke and charcoal. Gunpowder, I thought to myself. I tore myself from the thought, and grabbed another towel for the box. “Isn’t this Raul’s?”, Pete said; and held up a flannel shirt. “No… it’s mine”, I said. “Sort of”. Pete lifted a brow at me. “An ex?”, he jeered. “And you still have his shirt? What does he have, that I don’t?”, he grinned. I chuckled. “Taste in music”, I jeered; and went over to turn off the stereo, which had been playing Nickelback non-stop, since Pete arrived to help me finish my packing.

“The truck is waiting, muffin”, he said. “We need to finish this”. I lingered in front of a drawer in my dresser. “Yeah… Could you take down a few boxes?”, I said. “Sure”, he said; and walked over to take my hand. “Hey… this is the right move. Buddies going out of business like that… It’s the next step for us”. I nodded sadly. Pete grabbed the lightest box, and left the studio apartment I’d spent the last few years in.

We were moving to Kansas City; the home of my alma mater – where I’d been offered a position as a 3’rd grade teacher. Pete was going to focus on his music while I worked. He’d nabbed a gig as a bartender; and would also be going on a tour of Missouri about a week after we arrived, with his band. Sweet as he was, he was also a bit clingy since I’d agreed to go with him to Kansas. I was honestly looking forward to a full month to myself; without him hovering over me.

When I was sure he was gone, I opened the bottom drawer in the dresser; and lifted the fake bottom I’d put in it. Grabbing my utility jacket; I took the angel sword from the drawer, and slid into the inside pocket I’d sown into it – specifically for this reason. I also took my flask of holy water; and threw it in my purse. “Honey-sweetie-bunch?”, Pete said from behind me; making me jump. “What’s that? Secret drawer of toys?”, he winked. “Something like that”, I smiled; trying to hide the surprise in my voice. “Just a gift from a friend”. “The ex?”, he asked, narrowing his eyes. “Nope”, I said; and stood up. “Last box”, I said, and gestured towards the cardboard box on the floor. Pete grunted. “My back is killing me…”. I rolled my eyes, and picked up the box myself, as he held the door for me.

As he closed it behind us, he ran his hand over the carved sigil on the wood. “No surprise you didn’t get much of a deposit back”, he muttered. “Come on”. I looked at the sigil, sighed; and followed my boyfriend down the stairs.

---

A little over week later I was stood in my new kitchen, kissing Pete goodbye. “I’m gonna miss you so much”, he breathed into my hair. “Me too”, I said. He slid his hand down my arm; brushing the almost invisible scars there. “Just remember, I’m coming back. Ok?”, he said. “You’ll be fine. Think happy thoughts. And no more weird occult books”. “Uh huh”, I muttered. Pete still thought my scars were from a suicide attempt. “I love you”, he smiled. “You too”, I said. He leaned in and pecked my lips. “Bye”.

I closed the door after him, and took a deep breath. Thank god, I thought. “Hello, Lulu”, a voice behind me said. I grabbed the kitchen knife on the counter, and turned around quickly. My eyes widened. “Castiel?”, I croaked. I put down the knife, and rushed over to embrace the angel. Unsurprisingly, he didn’t reciprocate the hug. “What are you doing here?”, I asked.

The angel strolled through the combined kitchen and living room, seemingly taking in the sights. He looked a little worse for wear; red marks around his eyes. “This is your home now”, he said, more as a statement than a question. “Yeah… me and…”. “Pete”, Castiel said. “I saw him leave. I decided against making myself known”. I narrowed my eyes. “I appreciate that… but you still didn’t tell me why you’re here”, I said. My breath hitched. “Are they…?”. “Sam and Dean are alive, and somewhat well”, he muttered. “Things have happened to me since we last met. I have gained powers beyond your comprehension. As a gesture of compassion, I’ve decided to let you know that I will no longer be watching over you”.

I stepped backwards from Cass; feeling a sudden chill all over my body. “You’ve been… watching”, I muttered. “Why?”. “As a favor to Dean. But I have more important things to tend to, than his emotions”. I made a scoffing laugh. “You’ve been reporting to him? About me…”. “Only on your wellbeing. I haven’t given him details on your life. Only that you live and thrive”, Castiel said. “And I won’t be doing that anymore. You are on your own. I have a final gift, as a thank you for your former loyalty”. He put his hand to my chestbone, and a surge of pain went through my entire body. I yelped in pain. “Now angels will not be able to find you. I will have mercy on you in the upcoming battle”. “What? Cass, I…”. He was gone.

I sat down on a chair; my hands shaking. Dialing up the only number I could think of, with bated breath, I waited for the call to go through. “Agent Fisher speaking…”. “Bobby?”, I croaked. “Who’s this?”, the old man grunted. “It’s Lulu…”. There was a pause. “It’s been a while… Why no calls?”, he asked. “I’ve been... trying to move on”. “I figured that… just thought you’d let your Uncle Bobby know how you were doing. Are you still into leisurely reading about the occult?”. “Yes…”, I admitted.

I’d been receiving calls from Bobby about once a month since I left South Dakota with Castiel. He’d had me look up creatures and ghosts I knew he could easily find info on himself. I figured he wanted to keep me studying up to keep me warm for potential hunting in the future. In spite of the thrill I’d felt helping the Winchesters and him solve the case of both the bloody countess and the myling; the thought of actually hunting myself, was much too farfetched. And it reminded me of someone I didn’t want to think about. I’d stopped calling Bobby back a good six months earlier.

“What’s wrong, kid?”, Bobby asked quietly. “I just had a visit from our winged friend”. “You saw Cass?”, he asked. “What did he do to you?”. “I don’t know. It was painful. He said angels wouldn’t be able to find me… What’s going on, Bobby?”. “Same as always”, he grunted. “End of the world… that sort of thing?”, I said. “Something like that… He’s put some markings on your bones. Old enochian... It’ll hide you from angels”. I heard him take a deep breath. “Sweetheart, it’s good to hear your voice. Are you ok?”. “Yeah. I guess… In spite of the angel bad-touching me. He was saying some weird things. About watching over me”, I muttered. “Apparently, he quits. So, if you could tell Dean, that would be great”. “Lulu, it’s not like that…”, Bobby began. “You don’t have to defend him. I’m sure he just thought he was doing the right thing… again”, I said. “I just wish he’d make up his mind. Be in my life, or not”. “From what I hear, you’d prefer the not”, Bobby grunted. “What do you mean?”, I croaked. He didn’t answer. “Bobby!”. “I’ve been keeping tabs on you… Wanted to make sure you were ok”. “Dammit, Bobby. What is it with you hunters?”, I growled. “Can’t help it, kid. You grew on me”. I smiled to myself, as Bobby continued “You would have made a great hunter. Or at least researcher. You were my favorite assistant, you know”. “So you stalked me?”, I chuckled. “I have a friend with a computer”, Bobby grunted. “Kansas City?”. “Yeah… for now, I guess”, I said. “And the boyfriend?”, Bobby said. “Is he aware that it’s for now?”. I sighed. “Just… please let him know. Tell him I’m fine, and to…”. I didn’t know how to finish the sentence. “I will”, Bobby said. “Bye”, I croaked. “Goodbye, kid”, he said. I hung up.

---

Some months later, I was at work; ignoring phone calls from Pete. He’d been calling non stop since I moved out of our shared apartment, and into a hotel room. His texts were constant, and I was reeling from lack of sleep, due to my neighbors in the hotel keeping me up with loud fights.

As I said goodbye to the kids for the weekend, my phone once again rang. I closed the door to my classroom, and finally relented – picking up the call. “Pete. I told you…”. “Lulu…”. There was that voice that had always made my heart flutter – and I had missed so bad I could feel it in my bones, whether I wanted to admit it to myself or not. “Dean… hi”, I said. “It’s been a while”. “Yeah…”, he sounded choked. “What’s wrong?”, I asked. “It’s, uhm… It’s Bobby. We lost him, Lulu”. I gasped raggedly. “Bobby’s dead?”, I croaked. “Yeah. He’s gone”. “I’m so sorry, Dean”, I breathed. “Me too… He had some stuff he wanted you to have”, Dean said quietly. “We’re in Kansas. I was wondering if I could drop them by”. The thought of seeing my former paramour again made my breath hitch. “Uhm… yeah. I’m in…”, I began. “I know”, he muttered. “Tonight? It’ll just be me. I hope that’s ok”. “Yeah, sure. I’ll be there”, I said quietly. “See you”, he said, and hung up.

I had to sit down for a moment. Bobby was gone. And I was about to see Dean for the first time in almost three years. My heart was racing; and when my phone rang again, I picked it up immediately.

“Dean?”, I rasped. “Who’s Dean, honey?”, Pete’s voice asked. I sighed. “No one, Pete. I asked you not to call me again”. “Lulukins, I miss you so bad it hurts”, he said “I can’t do this right now. I just heard about a death in the family, and I…”. “Do you want me to drop by? I could bring a movie…”, Pete almost pleaded. “No, that’s not necessary. Just… please leave me alone”. I hung up.

I drove back to my hotel – heart frayed, and at the same time jumping out of my chest. Knowing what had happened the last time I saw a Winchester just having lost someone they loved, I picked up a bottle of bourbon, and for Dean’s – and my own sake – I got a pie and canned whipped cream as well. I spent a good while in front of the mirror, pretending that I wasn’t trying to make myself look nice.

When the door knocked, I sprang over to it – then paused, as to not make myself seem too eager. I opened the door, and there he stood.

“Hi…”, I croaked. “Hey”, he whispered. We stood in silence for a moment, before I stepped aside. “Come in”. Dean stepped into my room, and looked around. “This is… nice”, he said. “It’s a dump. But it’s cheap”.

He looked at me with sad eyes. I stepped over to him, and put my arms around his neck; hugging him tightly. “I’m so sorry”, I whispered, as tears began flooding my eyes. “Bobby…”. He slid his arms around me. He smelled different than I remembered. More crisp. “Yeah… It sucks”. He pulled back. “A drink?”, I asked. “Sure…”.

He went to sit down by the small table in the room, and I handed him a glass of whiskey I’d already prepared. “How are you? Both of you?”, I asked, not wanting him to think I was specifically concerned for him. “We’re good… considering”, he muttered. “You? Anything weird going on here?”. I frowned, and sat down across from him, lifting my glass, and taking a sip. “I’m ok. Just sad to hear about Bobby. What happened?”. Dean looked down. “He was shot… in the head”. My breath grew ragged. “And he’s not coming back… like you did”. He looked at me; his eyes strangely distant – like he was looking at a complete stranger. “No. He’s gone for good”.

I lifted my glass. “To Bobby”, I muttered. Dean lifted his own glass, and clinked mine. “To Bob”, he said, and drank. I held my breath for a moment, and let it go once he put down his glass again.

I went over to the fridge, and got out the pie; cutting two slices. He looked at me intently. “Cream?”, I asked. “No thanks”, he said quietly. I frowned to myself, and looked over my shoulder at him; as I got two forks from the small kitchenette drawer, and placed a plate in front of Dean. “Sorry about the mismatched silverware. Like I said, this place is a dump”. He half smiled, and shrugged.

I sat down with my own pie, and cut a piece. “Eat up”, I said, and put the piece into my mouth; savoring the sweet taste. “Not hungry?”, I asked. He shook his head. “Not really…”. “It’s pie, Dean”, I said. He looked at me, and grabbed the fork; finally taking a piece himself – suddenly almost devouring it with insatiable hunger.

“So, you really haven’t seen anything strange around? No weirdness at all?”, he asked; his mouth full. I stood up, and went over to grab the bottle of whiskey from the counter. “No… why are you asking?”. He shrugged. “I just thought… After Bobby, someone might come for you”. The way he said it was as if he didn’t really care. “Are you asking about Cass?”, I said. “Oh, no… He’s dead too”. My jaw dropped. “Cass is dead?”. “Yup. Sort of… drowned”.

I poured him another glass. “You seem… indifferent”, I muttered. He looked at me coldly. “He was… my friend”. “Yes”, I nodded. “You’re not upset about him being gone?”. Dean suddenly smiled. The sight gave me shivers. “He was put to good use”.

I stepped backwards, heading for my jacket. “You going somewhere?”, Dean grunted; his green eyes hard. I smiled softly at him. “No, just needed something in my pocket”, I said, and slid my hand around the handle of the sword there. “You said you had something for me”, I muttered, and held the blade to my chest; keeping my back to him. I could see him shift in his chair, as his movements where mirrored in the water tap. He rose, and walked towards me; making a chill run down my spine. “I lied”, he said. “I just needed a good look at you before I eat you, and take your form”.

I spun around, and slashed at him; making him jump backwards. Leaning back on my right foot, I sprang forward again; the blade going through his gut. He simply looked at me – grinning. “What are you?”, I snarled. “Beyond your comprehension, human”, he hissed.

I pulled back the knife, and sprang for the door; the creature looking like Dean blocking my path with inhuman speed. “No, you don’t”, he chuckled. “Feisty, aren’t you?” “You don’t know the half of it”, I sneered, and slashed at him again “That doesn’t hurt me”, he smiled, and jumped at me.

I hacked at his hand, parting it from his arm; as he looked on in wonder. “Now I’ll have to grow a new one, you bitch!”, he growled.

Suddenly the door blew open, and two people I was very happy to see sprang inside. “Lou! Get back!”, the real Dean growled. He threw a glass jar of some kind of liquid at the creature; and as it splintered, and the monster was covered by the stuff, it began screaming in pain – smoke coming from it’s skin. “Let’s go!”, Sam yelled. I grabbed my jacket, and ran down the hall – Dean grabbing my hand as we went. As we passed the reception counter, Dean threw a wad of bills at the guy behind it. “She’s checking out!”, he snarled, and with a hand on my back, he led me out of the door to the street.

Sam and Dean flanked me, and we walked down the street. “Just walk; don’t run”, Sam muttered. “Pretend everything is fine”. “What’s going on?”, I asked. “Later”, Dean said. “Keep moving”. I tried my best to look inconspicuous, and walked between the two men as if we were just taking an evening stroll. “I left my purse… my wallet”, I whispered. “You won’t need it”, Dean grunted. “This way”.

He pushed me towards an alleyway, where a station wagon was parked. Something was wrong – Dean wouldn’t be caught dead in this suburban-mom nightmare. My breath hitched. “Who are you?”, I said; and pulled out the sword again. “What are you talking about?”, Sam asked. From another pocket, I produced my flask. “Drink!”, I snarled.

He let out a breath, and grabbed the flask; drinking from it before handing it to Dean, who did the same. “We could still be shifters”, the elder brother muttered, and handed me back the flask. “Silver coated…”, I said; and held up the flask. “Good girl”, Dean said; the corner of his lip lifting.

“Hey!”, a loud voice yelled. I looked in its direction, and saw another Sam. “Get in the car”, Dean said; and opened the door to the back seat for me, slamming it shut after I got in. The brothers jumped in the front seat, and Dean put the key in the ignition, turning it. Only clicking sounds came from the engine. “Come on, you piece of crap!”, he growled, and turned the key again. The other Sam ran towards us, and slammed his palms on the hood of the car. Dean turned the key, cursing below his breath; and the engine started. He slammed down the pedal; and drove straight at the copy of his brother, making him roll over the hood, and onto the ground.

Dean raced down the alley, and turned onto the busy street.

We drove in silence for a while; leaving the city behind us. My heart was racing, and I almost thought it was my own body shaking, when I felt my phone vibrating in my back pocket. It was Pete. “I can’t talk!”, I said. “Honey, where are you? There’re police at your hotel!”, he almost yelled. “I’m… The family thing”, I said. “I should be with you”, he said. “You really shouldn’t. And stop calling”. I hung up.

Dean looked at me in the back mirror. “Boyfriend?”, he asked. “Ex”, I muttered. He held my gaze for a moment, before returning to the road. “Can you turn on the radio? I need a distraction from the guy who’s hand I just chopped off”. Sam turned on the radio. “Pop Radio. All night for your listening pleasure”, a cheery voice said. A soft guitar began playing. “Lying in your arms, so close together. Didn’t know just what I had. Now I toss and turn, ‘cuz I’m without you. How I’m missing you so bad…”, the song began.

Dean turned off the radio again. “We need CD’s for this piece of junk”, he grumbled.

After about 30 minutes of driving, we pulled up at a dreary looking motel. The brothers led me into a generic looking rented room. Once inside, Sam locked and bolted the door. I stood for a moment, just looking at the two men in front of me. This time it was really Dean – I was sure of it. He was a little older – a few crows’ feet at the corner of his eyes, which in no way to away from his handsomeness. In a strange way, they added to it. His green eyes sparkled, and his lips drew upwards into a soft smile. I sprang into his arms; and he held me tightly, as I buried my face in the crook of his neck. Musk, gunpowder and whiskey. He was warm, and his arms enveloped me in that familiar and comforting way; that yet had me feel like I was touching him for the first time, and sent delightful heat straight to my core – and to my heart. Yeah. This was Dean. As I pulled back, I had to fight the urge to brush my lips against his.

I turned to Sam, and he pulled me close, kissing the top of my head. “Hi, Lulu”, he said quietly. “Sorry about the abrupt kidnapping”. “It’s ok. Figured it was life or death”, I smiled. The brothers both let out a soft chuckle.

I went to sit down, my legs shaking slightly. “You live dangerously, Lou”, Dean said. “Two years, and you just let me walk in to your place?”. I shrugged. “I took precautions”, I said. He frowned. “I poured holy water into his drink, and had him eat with a silver fork”, I said. “That’ll work against demons and shifters, not leviathans”, he muttered. “What?”, I grimaced. “No one told me about any leviathans. And I don’t know what those are”. “Gods original monsters”, Sam said. “Bad guys”. I scoffed. “That became quite apparent, when he mentioned eating me”.

I sighed. “So, he was lying, right? About Bobby being dead? Cass?”. Sadness marked both the brother’s faces. I drew in a short breath. “No…”, I whimpered. “Gunshot… with Bobby”, Dean muttered, not meeting my eyes. “Castiel?”, I whispered. “We’re not sure…”, Sam said. “He… brought them here. The leviathans”.

I closed my eyes, and shook my head. “He came to see me a while back. Talked about watching over me”. I sent Dean a look. He seemed uncomfortable. “Bobby told us”, Sam said. “He also mentioned you were in Kansas”. “He’d been keeping track of me, after I stopped returning his calls”, I replied. Dean frowned. “You kept in touch?”. “Did some research for him”, I said. “Greenbrier Ghost in West Virginia ring a bell?”. He narrowed his eyes at me. “You tracked down the husbands grave”, Sam smiled. I nodded.

Dean sat down across the table from me. He raised a worried brow. “Bobby had you hunting?”, he grunted. “Not exactly”, I said. “I was just looking up stuff for him”. Sam chuckled. “But he was heading in that direction with you, wasn’t he…?”. “I think so…”, I muttered “He wanted me studying, I know that much”. Dean shook his head in frustration. “What?”, I asked. “He should have left you alone”, he muttered. I narrowed my eyes at him. “What… Like stay out of my life, and not have angels following me around?”, I smirked.

Dean looked away, and cleared his throat. “We move on tomorrow”. “Move on where?”, I asked. “I have to go to work on Monday”. Sam frowned. “You should probably call in sick”, he said quietly. “Or dead”, Dean added.

I looked between the two men, my heart in my throat. “What’s going on?”, I croaked. “What’s a… leviathan?”. “Nasty sons of bitches, with one goal”, Dean said. “To eat”. I grimaced in confusion. “Us… humans”, Sam said. “Wow…”, I muttered. “That sounds… terrifying”. I swallowed hard. “And they were coming for me, why?”. Dean stood up, and went over to the minifridge to grab a beer. Sam looked at his brother, then moved his eyes to me; giving me a slight shrug in explanation. “Oh…”, I said. “They’re after you, and the…”. “People we care about, yeah”, Sam said.

I laughed and shook my head. “Just when I thought I got out”, I said. “You did get out, didn’t you?”, Dean asked, taking a swig of his beer. His eyes were hard. I nodded. “I stopped returning Bobby’s calls about a year ago. Suddenly, sadness took over me. “I wish I’d…”. Tears welled up in my eyes. “I loved that cranky old bastard”. Sam put a hand on my shoulder, and squeezed it. “We know”.

I wiped my eyes in my sleeve, and let out a deep breath. “The… other Dean said he left something for me”, I said. “It’s why I said yes to him visiting me”. The Winchesters looked at each other for a moment, before Sam stepped over to his bag, and grabbed a leather bound journal – much like the one their father had left them. “Sam, no”, Dean grunted. “He wanted her to have it”, Sam said. “Must have a had a reason for it”. Dean furrowed his brows in exasperation. “Yeah, he wanted her to hunt. And she’s not doing that”. “Not your call”, Sam said.

He handed me the book. It was a collection of notes on supernatural creatures; scribbled in a familiar hand. The curses written in the margins made me smile slightly. This was Bobby’s journal. “He left this for me”, I whispered. “Sort of”, Sam said. “His death came as a surprise, so he didn’t exactly have a will. But there’s this”. He opened the first page of the book, and pulled out a note from a small pocket in the leather. “If found, deliver to Lulu Moore”, it read. “I can’t be the only one with that name in the country”, I muttered. “You’re probably the only one he knew”, Sam said.

I turned over the note. A message was written there. “If you’re reading this, I’m probably dead. There’s no other reason for this thing to be in anyone else’s hands. Lulu. Take care of this book. It contains most of the research you did for me, with my own additions. There are also writings from before we met, that I think might come in handy, if you ever come across those two knuckleheads we both know. Stay safe, kid. But don’t stop reading. - Garth, if this is you; stop reading my private notes. Give the book to the woman I meant it for. Bobby.”

I let out a deep breath, and closed the book; holding it tightly to my chest. “If you read this note, you knew I was helping him”, I said. Sam looked down. “I knew. Dean didn’t”. “You knew?”, Dean growled. “You know how I feel about her hunting!”. “Yes, that’s why I didn’t tell you”, Sam retorted. Dean shook his head, and laughed sarcastically. “Anything else you didn’t tell me?”, he snarled. Sam looked at me. “Pete…”, he muttered. “Bobby kept me up to speed”. Dean frowned. “Who’s Pete?”. I met his eyes. “Oh… the boyfriend”. “Ex”, I whispered. “It didn’t work out”.

Sam looked out the corner of his eye at his brother. Dean took another swig of his beer, before putting it on the counter. “Get some sleep. We leave early”, he grunted. “I’m going to pack the car. I’m telling you, because I tell people things”. He grabbed a duffle from the floor, and left the room – slamming the door behind him.

“That went well”, I muttered. “He’s just… in pain”, Sam said. “Take my bed”, he said, and gestured for one of the two beds in the room. I shook my head. “Couch is fine”, I said, took off my jacket; and went over to lay down.

I pretended to be asleep when Dean reentered the room. “She out?”, he muttered. “Think so”, Sam whispered. “Good”, Dean said. “We need to get her somewhere safe, and move on. She can’t be around us”. “Around you, you mean”, Sam answered. “Not having this conversation again…”, Dean replied, and I heard the mattress of his bed creaking as he laid down. “Dean…”, Sam whispered. “Goodnight, Sammy”, Dean said.

---

When I woke, Dean was packing up his bag, and Sam was gone. I sat up on the couch, and stretched. “Sleep ok?”, he asked. “Yeah… coffee?”, I rasped. He zipped up the bag. “There’s a vending machine by the reception”, he said. I stood up, and grabbed my coat. “I’ll get it”, he muttered without looking at me. “I can get my own coffee”, I said. “You shouldn’t go out alone”, he grunted. I sighed. “I’m going”, I said, and reached for the doorknob. “Lou, come here”, he said. I turned around. “What, Dean?”, I said. “Just… please?”, he asked more warmly.

I stepped over to him, and he held out a small handgun. “This is a .45. It’s like mine, just… better for you. Smaller”. He pulled out a magazine. “Push it in. Pull back the barrel once”. He showed me the mechanism of the gun. “Safety off, safety on. Pull the hammer…”. “Point and shoot”, I said. He put the gun in my hand. “Exactly”. He looked into my eyes, and for a moment it seemed like he wanted to say something important; before he looked down again. “Grab me a cup, would you?”. “Yeah…”, I whispered, and stuck the gun into my pocket.

Outside, Sam was closing the trunk of the car. “Coffee run”, I said. “You want anything?”. “I’m good”, he smiled. “You armed?”. “The reception is just over there”, I chuckled, and gesture towards the place I was going. “But yeah. .45”. Sam nodded. “You good, Lulu?”, he asked. I shrugged. “As I’ll ever be, I guess”.

My phone rang; Pete’s name blaring up on the screen. I rolled my eyes. “I gotta take this”, I muttered, and picked up the call. “Pete…”. “Lulu, where are you?”, he said. “I’m… with family”, I said, and began walking towards the front desk. “Those two men you left with… They’re bad news”, Pete exclaimed. “I’m fine. Don’t worry about me”. “The cops are looking for them”. “How do you know…? And how do you know I’m with them?”, I asked. Pete paused for a moment. “Some people saw you… Honey, I want you home. Safe”. “Pete, stop calling me honey, and… just stop calling me”. I hung up.

Once back at the car, I handed Dean his coffee – receiving a grunt as a thank you. “Who was on the phone?”, Sam asked. “Pete”, I muttered. “The police are looking for you… and me, I think”. Dean looked across the parking lot, as if scanning it for unwelcome company. “Let’s go”, he grunted. “Where are we going?”, I asked, sipping at my paper cup. “You’re going somewhere safe”, Dean said. “We have a job”. “And where is safe?”, I asked. “Yeah, where?”, Sam smirked. “She’s not going with us to Lincoln”, Dean said grimly. I sighed and rolled my eyes. “Then take me back to my hotel”.

The brothers looked at each other. “It burnt down”, Sam said. “Shortly after we left the city”. He handed me a newspaper, showing me an article with a headline suggesting arson. I wondered why Pete hadn’t mentioned the fire. “All my stuff was in there…”, I sighed. Dean’s eyes widened. “Your books? Records?”, he gasped. I shook my head. “No, that’s all at my… at Pete’s apartment”. Dean let out a relieved sigh. “But my wallet with my driver’s license, my credit cards… everything”. Sam’s brows raised. “Good. That’s good, Lulu”, he said. “That means they can’t track you using them”. “The leviathans?”, I asked. He nodded. “I’m really in it again, aren’t I”, I sighed. “That you are, sweetheart”, Dean grunted, and opened the door to the back seat for me. “Let’s get you out of it”.

---

We drove north for a few hours in silence, taking small roads. Suddenly, Dean’s phone rang. He picked it up, holding it to his ear, while manning the steering wheel with his free hand. “Hello?... Frank. Thanks for getting back to me… Yeah, look we need… No, look… She’s not… Frank!”. He let out a frustrated growl, and slammed the phone on the dashboard. “No luck with Frank?”, Sam muttered. “He won’t take her”, Dean grunted, and looked at me in the mirror. “I guess I’m going to Lincoln”, I smirked.

Sam cleared his throat. “Seward, actually”, he said. “Sammy…”, Dean growled. “Just, give it a rest, Dean”, Sam sighed. He handed me a paper clipping. “Five similar deaths in the same house; over the span of 50 years”. “What are you thinking?”, I asked, as I looked over the article covering a strange story, involving a toaster in a bathtub, and a man electrocuted to death. “Sounds… ghosty”. “Ghosty?”, Dean grimaced. “Nice word, Daphne”. I sent him a menacing look in the mirror. “If anything, I’m Velma. I don’t just get by on my good looks, Fred…”. Dean muttered something below his breath.

Sam cleared his throat. “Yeah. Probably ghost”, he said. “The other deaths included a man who choked on a piece of carrot in his garage while working on his car, and another who fell of a ladder set up in the living room”. “That sounds… weird”. “Ghosts usually are weird”, Dean grunted. I shook my head. “No, I mean, who brings a toaster into a bathroom?”, I said. “A killer?”, Dean said exasperatedly. I sighed. “Was the guy married?”, I asked. “Yeah…”, Sam said. “To a woman… with hair”, I smiled. “Wouldn’t there be a hairdryer in the bathroom?”. He seemed to ponder my words. “She might be bald”, he muttered, “And the carrot in the garage? Who brings vegetables to fix up a car?”, I asked. “Sam would…”, Dean smirked. “Well, Sam’s special”, I grinned.

“So!”, Sam said, trying to divert the conversation. “Speaking of married. I heard Raul and Chad…”. Dean had told him about our conversation at Bobby’s house. At least part of it. “Yeah… Right before I saw you last”, I said. Deans eyes were fixed on the road in front of him. “And they’re happy?”, Sam asked. I nodded and smiled. “I think so. They moved to San Fran. About to adopt”. “That’s great!”, Sam smiled. “When this job is done, we can put you on a bus there”, Dean muttered.

I suddenly felt rage streaming through my body. “Pull over”, I said. Dean frowned. “Pull over, or I’ll jump out of the car while you’re still driving!”.

Dean stopped the car beside an abandoned gas station. I got out of the car, and walked down the road in the direction we’d been coming. I heard a car door slam behind me. “Lou!”, Dean called after me. “Get back in the car!”. “Screw you!”, I called back. “I’m going home”. He must have run after me, because suddenly his hand were on my shoulders, and he forced me to turn around. “What home? Your hotel is burnt down, and the police are looking for you; after you skipped town with two fugitives. Top it off; we got leviathans tracking you”. “And you”, I snarled. “You’re safer with us… for now”. I laughed sarcastically. “Oh, now you want me around…”. “What’s that supposed to mean?”, he frowned. His green eyes were on fire.

I pushed him away from me. “Three years, Dean!”, I growled. “You called it off; didn’t want me around, because I’d be safer… and because of free will… Well, guess what! I’m using my free will, to get away from you. Congrats. You got what you wanted”. I stomped away from him.

“Yeah. Call up Pete. I’m sure he can pick you up. Bring you home… See how long he can keep you alive!”, Dean called after me. I turned around, enraged. “Jealousy, Dean? Really?”, I snarled. “You trying to tell me you didn’t jump into the first warm bed you could find, after Cass brought me back to Denver?”. His eyes flickered. “I didn’t… Not right away”. He met my eyes again; looking hurt. “Not like you”. “What do you mean?”, I croaked.

He ran a hand down his face; clearly regretting his words. “Sam… went away. I thought he was dead”. He let out a deep breath. “I was alone. Bobby told me to go find you, but you were already… So, I went somewhere else. I couldn’t face being alone”. My heart dropped into my stomach. “It was… serious, I take it”, I muttered. He nodded. “Lisa… and her kid. She was… is, a really great person”. I took a deep breath. “That’s good. I’m happy for you”, I lied.

I wanted to run away; and to scream and cry. But all I could do was stand there, and pretend that he hadn’t just ripped my heart out; and thrown it on the ground, before stomping on it. “It’s over, Lou. Has been for a long time”, Dean said. “Doesn’t matter. It’s none of my business”, I whispered. He tilted his head, and parted his soft lips. “Isn’t it?”, he asked. “No. You chose to not make anything of… this”, I gestured between us.

He sighed. “I came back for you, Lou”. “You never let me know”, I said. “You could have showed yourself, instead of being a creepy stalker, and sending your winged boyfriend to watch over me”. “I spent a year grieving my brother, and missing you!”, he croaked. I looked him square in the face, and pushed hard at his chest. “In the arms of someone else”, I cried out.

“You moved on as well”, he said quietly. “Pete…”. “Was a sad break! For god’s sake, the man listens to Nickelback!”, I whimpered. “Why do you think I stayed in touch with Bobby? Other than the fact that I loved the old son of a bitch… It was my only link to you”. A tear escaped my eye. Dean stepped towards me, reaching for me; but I shrugged him off. “I can’t take back the last three years. But I never meant to hurt you”, he said. I scoffed. “Angels put us together, right?”, I rasped. “That’s why you’re saying this”. “I’m… not so sure anymore”.

I wiped my eyes, and took a deep breath: “What do you mean?”, I asked. “Fate… She’s a bitch, but meeting her taught me something about free will”, Dean muttered. “Fate?”, I asked. “It’s a long story…”, he grunted. “Point is; fate, or angels, or whatever; might have put us in each other’s paths – but we still have choice. Free will”. “To do what?”, I asked. “To act on what’s between us, or not”. He took a tentative step forward. “We can choose not to be together… Or we can choose the opposite”.

“You chose to stay away”, I whispered. He nodded sadly. “Yeah… Because I’m an idiot”. “You really are”, I agreed. Dean put a hesitant hand on my arm. “Please, just come with us”, he pleaded. “For whatever it’s worth, I want you safe. And me and Sam are pretty much the only people I know who I trust to keep you that way, right now”.

I looked into his eyes. His whole being radiated warmth and compassion for me in that moment – and something else. Something I knew what was, but was still too heartbroken and confused to accept. “Ok”, I whispered. “I’ll come with you”. Dean gave me a relieved smile, and opened his arms slightly, as if to embrace me.

I walked past him, and got back into the backseat of the car. Dean got in front of the wheel, and gave me a hard and confused look in the mirror.

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#dean winchester #dean winchester x oc #dean x oc #dean winchester fic #supernatural #supernatural fic #sam winchester

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