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thatgirlwholikestowritestories · 2 years

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The Summer I Fucked Up (Ch 31)

A Conrad predominant retelling of The Summer I Turned Pretty TV show and book series.

Did you read the books and want to understand what was going on in that little noggin of his? Read my fic to find out that this man has zero thoughts

Chapter list

CONRAD

Everything just went back to normal after that. Conrad wouldn’t let it be any other way. They didn’t need to act like something happened because nothing happened. It was the blood loss. It was all in his head. They’d both just had a temporary moment of insanity. Nothing happened. Except when he went to sleep it off, he dreamt they were still together.

Everyone else arrived the next day, Steven, Taylor, Jere, and their friends from college.

Conrad pulled Steven into a quick hug, just thankful to see someone who didn’t cause him too many conflicting emotions.

“Where’s your better half?” Conrad asked.

“Ah, Shayla’s grandma had a fall so she couldn’t make it for Belly’s bachelorette, but she’ll still be here for the wedding in a couple days.”

They walked into the kitchen, Conrad leaning against the counter.

“Me, Jere, and his mates are gonna head out for a surf. You in?” Steven was already pulling a beer from the fridge and taking a sip. The man never wasted any time.

“Yeah, we could probably—”

“Absolutely not,” Belly had walked into the kitchen as he’d started saying it, reaching for a glass of water. “Conrad, you got your ass kicked out there yesterday. You’re not going anywhere near the water until your bandage comes off.”

Conrad was saved from having to reply as Steven took notice of the bandage on his leg. “Oh, gee man, that does look pretty gnarly. Belly’s probably right.”

Conrad sneered at Belly, and she poked her tongue out. Taylor started calling for her from upstairs, and Belly started heading towards the stairs, but wanted the last word. With a mocking shake of her head and a smile, she said, “What are they even teaching you in med school?”

Conrad threw a scrunched-up piece of paper at her back, and she laughed as she disappeared.

“Guess I’m staying here.” He said to Steven who shrugged and took another sip of his beer.

“Sorry, dude. She can be a real hard ass.”

“You’re telling me.”

“I heard that!” Her voice echoed from wherever she was, out of their sight, but apparently not out of earshot.

Conrad and Steven shared a knowing look.

He’d offered to cook dinner for them that night. He felt awkward with the house being filled with Belly’s and Jere’s friends, after two months of it just being the two of them for the most part— an outsider in his own home. The reality of their wedding was really starting to sink in now. It wasn’t just happening soon. It was happening in two days.

They all sat around the table drinking red wine and beer, eating the steak and vegetables he’d grilled. Belly and Jere sat at the head of the table; his arm slung around her chair. Conrad sat at the other, near Belly’s friend Anika from college. She had this easy-goingness about her that Taylor had never possessed, but Conrad could see why Belly had become friends with her.

Anika had brought up the fact that they’d seen the seafood restaurant as they’d driven into town, and Conrad explained that he was friends with the old owner, Ernie. He told her about how they’d told Belly he was a mafioso, and she laughed. In his periphery, he saw Belly look away from them.

He’d been so aware of her. He tried to look at her as little as possible, but not so little that someone could tell he was trying not to look at her. He didn’t know how, but Conrad always knew when she was looking at him too. It was the difference between being in the sun and the shade, not realising the heat but regretting the loss of it.

One of Jere’s friends stood up, “To Belly and J-Fish, a really”—he belched—“amazing couple. Really freaking amazing.”

Everyone lifted their drinks, and Conrad followed suit with a tight-lipped smile.

It was a terrible time to look at the amazing couple, as Jeremiah pulled Belly to her, kissing her on the lips. A swift kick to the stomach would have been more enjoyable. The mask he’d put on to cover his anguish throughout this whole ordeal slipped, just slightly. He looked away, feeling that tell-tale sun lighting him up as he did.

Then Steven said, “One more toast, guys.” Awkwardly, he stood up. “I’ve known Jere my whole life. Belly too, unfortunately.”

Belly threw a napkin at him.

“You guys are good together,” Steven said, looking at her. Then he looked at Jeremiah. “Treat her right, man. She’s a pain in the ass, but she’s the only sister I’ve got.”

Belly got up and hugged him. “You jerk,” she said, wiping her eyes.

She sat back down next to Jere, and he said, “I guess I should say something too. First, thanks for coming, you guys. Josh, Redbird. Taylor and Anika. It means a lot to have you here with us.”

Belly stared at Jeremiah pointedly, but he just added, “You say something too, Belly.”

“Thanks for coming. And, Conrad, thanks for this amazing meal. Really freaking amazing.”

Everyone laughed, and Conrad felt his ears go hot. He lifted his beer in recognition.

The girls stayed home, while the boys left to go to the bar. Conrad volunteered to be the DD, since everyone else was already pretty sloppy before they even left the house.

The bar was packed. Jere’s friends flocked to the girls like moths to flames but had little to no success.

Conrad went up to the bar to get the first round, and Steven followed. They were waiting to get the bartender’s attention when he clapped his hand on Conrad’s shoulder and said, “So how are you doing with this whole thing?”

“What? The wedding?”

“Yeah.”

Steven wasn’t exactly dumb. It shouldn’t have surprised him that he might notice the way Conrad acted, the way he felt.

Conrad turned away from him. “It is what it is.”

“Do you think it’s a mistake?”

He was saved from answering him because the bartender finally looked their way. “Five double shots of tequila and a Newcastle.”

Steven said, “You’re not going to take a shot with us?”

“I’ve got to take care of you numskulls, remember?”

They met with the other guys at the table. They were all quick to down their shots, and Redbird got up and started beating his chest and yelling like Tarzan. The guys busted up laughing and started egging him on to go talk to a couple of girls on the dance floor. Steven got roped into trying to wingman him since it was some girl he used to work with at the country club.

Redbird was rejected, but Steven stayed out there catching up with her since it turned out they were doing the same degree too.

“I’ll get us another round,” Conrad said. Since he was the best man, he figured it was his duty to get them all properly wasted.

He came back with more shots, and since Steven still hadn’t returned to the table, Jere drank his too.

Conrad was nursing his beer when Jere’s friend, Josh, said to Jere, “Dude, you’re finally gonna get to close with Belly.”

Conrad’s head snapped up. Jeremiah had his arm slung around Josh while he sang, “It’s a nice day for a white wedding.”

Jere and Belly had been together for two years—Hell, they were getting married in two days—and they hadn’t had sex yet? He’d just assumed. Jere had slept with his first girlfriend within a month of dating, a fact Conrad only knew because he had accidentally caught them in Jere’s car in the driveway. He was still horrified to think about it. A scene of a certain Christmas flashed in Conrad’s memory. Passionate kisses, wandering hands… He’d just assumed.

Then Josh said, “Yo, you’re, like, a virgin now too. You haven’t gotten any since Lacie in Cabo.”

Conrad’s stomach dropped out from beneath him. Cabo? Jeremiah had gone to Cabo this past spring break. When he and Belly were a couple.

Jeremiah started to sing, off-key, “Like a virgin, touched for the very first time.” Then he stood up. “I gotta piss.”

Conrad’s eyes tracked him like prey as Jeremiah stumbled off to the bathroom, and Josh said, “Fisher’s a lucky bastard. Lacie is smokin’.”

Tom elbowed him and said, loudly, “Shit, remember how they locked us out of the hotel room?” To Conrad, he said, “This is hilarious, man. Hilarious. They locked us out, and they were so into it, they didn’t even hear us knocking. We had to sleep in the friggin’ hallway that night.”

Laughing, Josh said, “That girl was hella loud, too. Oh, Jere-uhhh-mi-uhhh . . .”

Conrad saw red. Anger like he’d never known welled up in him. His brother had cheated on Belly. The one girl Conrad loved. The one girl that Conrad had given up, had let get away, so she could be happy with his brother. His brother who he’d trusted to take care of her. Now, here was him and his friends talking so casually two days before their wedding about some girl he’d slept with. He would kill him.

Conrad jumped up from the table, shouldering and pushing his way through the crowd until he got to the bathroom.

He banged on the door, grateful to be hitting something.

“Somebody’s in here,” Jeremiah slurred from inside. Then he retched into the toilet.

Conrad waited, jaw clenched. Then he walked out of the bar and to the parking lot.

He drove them home. His jaw felt like it had been welded shut. He couldn’t speak. They were all acting like nuisances in the back. Jere had to be carried out of the bar and to the car, he was so drunk.

When Conrad pulled into the driveway, he parked and just left. Jeremiah could figure out how to get inside himself. Conrad needed to be far, far away from him.

He found himself taking a seat on one of the lifeguard stands, watching the ocean lap at the shore. Conrad tried to match his breathing to it to wade through the rage he felt eating him up.

He thought he might be able to manage it, until he heard her voice and it all returned. “Come down. Don’t fall asleep up there.”

“Come up.” It felt like the first time he’d spoken in days. “Just for a minute.”

She didn’t do it immediately, but then she had climbed up and sat next to them. Her leg grazed his and he felt his body tingle. He moved his leg away slightly. Now was not the time for his emotions, for his feelings. Not with what he had to tell her.

“Did you guys have fun?” She asked.

He didn’t reply. How could he say this to her? How could he break her heart like this?

She looked out at the water. “I love it here at night.”

He just had to do it. Say it. Get it out there. “I have to tell you something.”

“What?”

He still couldn’t look at her, didn’t want to see if her face would crumple like it had that night in the motel. “Jere cheated on you when he was in Cabo.” She didn’t say anything, so he continued, “Tonight at the club, one of his dumbass friends said something.”

He turned to her then. Her eyes were wide, and her mouth slightly dropped. No sign of tears, but he assumed that she was just shocked. “I’m sorry you had to hear it from me. I just thought you had a right to know.”

She blinked. Again. Nodding slowly, “I already knew about it.”

Conrad jerked his head back. “You knew?”

“Yeah.”

“And you’re still marrying him?”

Her face turned red. “He made a mistake,” she said softly. “He hates himself for what he did. I forgave him. Everything’s fine now. Everything’s really great.”

Conrad’s mouth curled in disgust. “Are you kidding me? He spent the night in a hotel room with some girl and you’re defending him?”

“Who are you to judge us? It’s none of your business.”

“None of my business? That shithead is my brother, and you’re . . .” He didn’t finish his sentence. What could he even say, his girl? The love of his life? This wasn’t about them. Instead he said, “I never thought you’d be the kind of girl who would put up with that from a guy.”

“I put up with a lot worse from you.”

She may as well have slapped him. Conrad’s eyes flashed. His voice came out low, angry, “I never once cheated on you. I never even looked at another girl when we were together.”

Belly slid away from him and started to climb down. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

“I thought I knew you,” he said.

It was like she’d morphed into someone completely unrecognisable in these minutes he’d been talking to her. A couple minutes ago it had been Belly sitting up here with him, now it was some stranger trying to escape him.

“I guess you thought wrong,” She replied, jumping down the rest of the way.

She was already walking away when Conrad jumped down to follow her. He ran up and grabbed her arm to stop her. Belly turned her head away from him, and Conrad could see tears threatening to spill over the threshold. God, it was breaking his heart. Somehow this conversation had gone way worse than he’d planned.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t have said anything. You’re right. It’s not my business.”

She spun away from him, in the complete opposite direction of the house, just trying to get away from him. She was always getting away from him. Always leaving or disappearing, and he was always letting her. Maybe she and Jere weren’t as happy as he’d thought. Maybe all those moments he’d imagined her wanting to kiss him back were real. It was his only chance to find out. If, for no other reason than the sake of his sanity, he had to say it.

He called out, “I still love you.”

She froze mid-step as if someone had pressed pause on a movie. And then slowly, she turned around to look at him. “Don’t say that.”

The colour had drained out of her face. The ghosts of the past were coming to haunt her, to possess her.

Conrad swallowed. He’d said it now. He had to keep going.

He took a step closer. “I don’t know if I’ll ever get you out of my system, not completely. I have . . . this feeling. That you’ll always be there. Here.” Conrad clawed at his heart and then dropped his hand.

“It’s only because I’m marrying Jeremiah.” Her voice was small. Her eyes were blinking fast and moving wildly, trying to make sense of what he was saying, trying to rationalise something that went against how he had acted all this time. “That’s why you’re saying all this all of a sudden.”

“It’s not all of a sudden,” he said, his eyes locked on hers. He needed her to hear him, her to understand. “It’s always.”

Her head shook the slightest amount. “It doesn’t matter. It’s too late.” Belly turned away from him.

“Wait,” he said. He grabbed her arm again.

“Let go of me,” Her voice was ice, like nothing he’d ever heard from her before.

He flinched, and his hand dropped. “Just tell me one thing. Why get married now?” he said. “Why not just live together?”

Belly opened her mouth to reply, but no words came out.

She started to walk away, but Conrad followed. He wrapped his arms around her, over her shoulders.

“Let go.” Belly struggled, but he held on.

“Wait. Wait.”

“If you don’t let go of me, I’m going to scream.”

“Hear me out, just for a minute. Please. I’m begging you.” He sounded strangled and hoarse.

She let out a breath through her nose, but she didn’t scream, she didn’t keep struggling, so Conrad took that as permission to continue.

Quietly, he said, “Two years ago, I fucked up. But not in the way you think. That night—do you remember that night? The night we were driving back from school and it was raining so hard, we had to stop at that motel. Do you remember?”

She didn’t say anything, but her body shivered slightly in his arms.

“That night, I didn’t sleep at all. I stayed up, thinking about what to do. What was the right thing to do? Because I knew I loved you. But I knew I shouldn’t. I didn’t have the right to love anybody then. After my mom died, I was so pissed off. I had this anger in me all the time. I felt like I was going to erupt any minute.”

He drew his breath in. “I didn’t have it in me to love you the way you deserved. But I knew who did. Jere. He loved you. If I kept you with me, I was going to hurt you somehow. I knew it. I couldn’t have it. So I let you go.”

Her breathing had become more apparent. In. Out. In. Out. He wasn’t sure how long her silence would last.

“But this summer… God, this summer. Being near you again, talking the way we used to talk. You looking at me the way you used to. I see you again, and everything I planned goes to shit. It’s impossible… I love Jere more than anybody. He’s my brother, my family. I hate myself for doing this. But when I see you two together, I hate him too.” His voice broke. “Don’t marry him. Don’t be with him. Be with me.”

His shoulders shook. He was crying. It was all he desperately wanted. Them together. Screw Jeremiah after what he’d done to Belly. Even if she had forgiven him, Conrad couldn’t. He could do it right now, not like two years ago.

The spell finally broke. Her patience had come to an end. Belly broke away from him roughly. “Conrad—”

He grabbed her. “Just tell me. Do you still feel anything for me?”

Belly pushed him away. “No! Don’t you get it? You will never be what Jere is to me. He’s my best friend. He loves me no matter what. He doesn’t take it away whenever he feels like it. Nobody has ever treated me the way he does. Nobody. Least of all you.”

His heart fractured. This is how she remembered him. Someone who takes and breaks and leaves at his own desire. Someone who couldn’t be relied on consistently. Belly had always been his port in the storm, but to her, Conrad was the storm.

“You and I,” She started. She stopped and took a deep breath, trying to get it right. “You and I were never anything.”

Belly had reached into his chest and ripped out his heart and crushed it in her hands. His face went slack. Her gaze dropped to the ground.

When she started walking again, Conrad didn’t chase her, and she didn’t look back.

He stayed there, right where she left him.

#conrad #conrad fisher #belly x conrad #conrad fic #conrad fisher fic #The Summer I Turned Pretty #the summer i fucked up #TSITP #tsitp fanfic #tsitp conrad

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jeonqukie · 4 years

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PLAYING CUPID / 01.

SYNOPSIS / Consistently overshadowed by your older sister, you expect your days in high school to be filled with plastic smiles and apathetic peers with hidden intentions. Everything changes when four of the most popular guys in school join you and your best friend for lunch on the first day of school.

FEATURING / Kim Namjoon; appearances by Jung Hoseok, Park Jimin, Kim Taehyung, and Jeon Jungkook.

GENRES & TAGS / high school au, freshman reader, senior namjoon, student council president namjoon, best friend jungkook, lots of fluff, and some angst.

WARNINGS / Graphic and mature language, slight age difference/gap (to clarify, oc is 14-15 yrs old and namjoon is 17 - first part is rated pg); list will be updated as fic is updated accordingly.

WORD COUNT / ~10.3k

NOTES / I am a day late in posting this and I want to let you guys know that this is... not edited at all and I will be looking through this every now and then to correct any errors. But I hope you enjoy the first part of this series! I wasn’t expecting this to be relatively long, but it was all to set up the characters dynamics and the history behind the reader and Namjoon’s relationship. Any feedback is appreciated. To repeat, I’m so sorry this was super late. Please expect part 2 to be up in ~2 weeks. (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡

All rights reserved © jeonqukie (formerly known as aiscka). All (or portions) of my work may not be reproduced, redistributed, reclaimed, translated, modified, or used in any way whatsoever without my permission.

“You’re Sena’s little sister, right?”

You’d be a damn millionaire if you made a dollar for every person on campus tried to break the ice with you. It was a severe understatement to say that your older sister was known around town. She was vice president of the student council, president of the debate club, and the best player on the varsity volleyball team. All of the teachers and faculty adored her, every girl wanted to be her, and every guy wanted to be with her.

For the longest time, you assumed your sister was a celebrity on campus.

You were so wrong.

It was because you never met him. You’ve heard his name so many times whenever your sister had sleepovers with her friends or when she was on the phone with a friend, whispering so softly into the receiver, afraid that someone would find out about that she had a crush on him. You were perplexed because you thought your sister was a very forward person; she had so much confidence talking to so many guys who desperately wanted her attention yet somehow her palms would sweat over him.

“Hey, you know who Kim Namjoon is?” You would sit at the cafeteria for the first time with your best friend, Jungkook, who had devoured half of his ham and cheese croissant sandwich. He looks at you and he would raise one brow.

“Oh no, don’t tell me you’re one of those girls who’s obsessed with hyung.” But Jungkook sees the genuine confusion form on your face. You catch a glimpse of your older sister who sat on the other side of the cafeteria, thumbing a reply on her phone while her friend nudges at her when she sees the notorious posse that every girl swoons over.

It was a scene right out of a movie.

At that time, you had the faintest idea who they were, but you were quick to find out why they were so well known around campus. Jung Hoseok was the senior of the group; he was a dancer and was featured in numerous music videos by well-known artists and he had an extensive list of choreographers willing to work with him. Kim Taehyung and Park Jimin were inseparable; they were juniors who ran the school newspaper and the school yearbook – Taehyung being in charge of the photography while Jimin being in charge of the organizing the yearbook staff. Meanwhile, there was Kim Namjoon; student council president, valedictorian of his class, member of the honor society and numerous organizations on campus.

“Wait, you know who Namjoon is?” You were curious whether Jungkook knew of him, not exactly knowing the guy.

“Yeah. I mean, he’s been my next-door neighbor for god knows how long. His folks and mine go out for golfing twice a month.” You just nod to his answer when you are shoving a chocolate moon pie into your mouth.

But your mouth instantly goes dry when the four guys appear right across from you and Jungkook are seated.

“Gukie!” Hoseok exclaimed at the sight of Jungkook still devouring his croissant. “Look at you! Finally, you’re with the hyungs in high school.” The tease made Jungkook’s ears go pink and you feel your own face get hot; not because of second hand embarrassment, but because you can see everyone’s eyes on you – the two freshmen who had no right to be sharing a table with, what you can only assume, the four most popular guys on campus.

There were many times where people would only want to get to know you because of your sister; girls wanted to get close to you because you were had a cool older sister and boys wanted to be with you because they were so eager to come over to your place and obsess over Sena.

Jungkook, on the other hand, had no interest in her. As a matter of fact, you met Jungkook when you were in middle school and took a swimming class and later found out that you two were in the same class and bonded over your competitive nature in swim class.

“Who’s this? You got a girlfriend on your first day already?” You and Jungkook exchange a look of disgust with each other and create a sensible amount of space for each other to establish that you both see each other as friends.

“Oh my god, wait – you’re Sena’s little sister, right?” Hoseok corrected Jimin who had made the assumption you and Jungkook were an item. Jungkook can see the way you scrunch your nose from his periphery, and he decides to answer for you instead.

“This is YN. She’s… literally been my best friend since middle school.” Jungkook introduces you to the four people right across from you. “YN, this is Hoseok – well, I call him Hobi-hyung. This is Jimin-hyung and Tae-hyung. I’m pretty sure you know Namjoon-hyung because –”

“ – school council president.” You interrupt because you didn’t want Jungkook to reveal that you had been inquiring about him earlier. “I remember because you made that welcome speech this morning at the assembly.”

Namjoon is rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment and you resume eating your packed lunch, despite losing all appetite because you are surrounded by so many people did not know. They weren’t terrible people, but you weren’t mentally prepared for such strong personalities and dynamics to be introduced all at once. You felt like an intruder – a fly on the wall – because everyone carried on with their normal conversations; Jungkook and Hoseok were talking about plans for the weekend and then Jimin and Taehyung were already drafting out ideas for the yearbook. Meanwhile, you sat in silence as you ate your tuna salad sandwich, reading a new book you were gifted over the summer by your parents.

“Let me know when you’re done.” A voice catches your attention, and you stop all chewing. “The book, I mean.” Namjoon clarifies and he sees that you are already halfway done with it. “I read it a year ago and I’d like to hear what you think of it.” He offers you a heartwarming smile and you nod once, returning the same grin.

“I started it a week ago. I really like it so far.” The conversation is light and drowned out by the loud voices beside you.

You never really pinned him as a reader.

“So, how’s your first day so far?” He inquires and you honestly thought that the conversation was… over. Normally, that’s how all the conversations go when people find out your Sena’s little sister. They feign their interest in you and instantaneously ask about her.

“It’s… nothing special.” You admit, smoothing your fingers on the pages of the book. “Most of the classes I have before lunch, Guk’s with me. Now –”

“Now, her large, wrinkled brain is going to abandon me and get into those advanced program and honors classes.” You are rolling your eyes at your best friend who whines that you decided not to take the same classes as him.

“We literally have homeroom, social studies, and PE together and then we see each other for breaks and lunch. I think you’ll live.” The group laughs which earns quite a bit of stares from outsiders, but they seem to be completely unfazed by it. Everyone turns back to their own conversations and, usually, your social presence isn’t necessarily sought out by people.

It wasn’t until you hear another inquiry fall out of Namjoon’s mouth.

“What do you have right after lunch?”

“Biology.”

“Honors biology, by the way. Can’t you spare just one regular class for me? Or does your GPA really matter that much to you?” Jungkook complains and you are left ignoring his comments.

If there was one thing that your older sister taught you (something you actually agree with) is that colleges love a good GPA and joining as many clubs as possible. You even remembered how she’d phrase it for you; college admissions officers will cream their pants when you score that 4.0 GPA and do something out of the box from the rest of your peers.

“Or just get smarter, Guk.” Hoseok poked fun at Jungkook, earning a shrug from Jungkook. Namjoon, on the other hand, is smiling from ear to ear at the dynamic between the elder and the youngest of the group.

“Let me see your schedule.” Namjoon urges as he spots your clear binder which has your printed schedule on the cover. You push over your binder to Namjoon who is scanning your binder; he reads through your name, your birth date, the list of teachers you had for the semester and the classes assigned to you.

You feel indifferent about the sudden attention on you, especially from Namjoon; a mere stranger who everyone obsessed over was so piqued by you. You observe the way the corner of his slips curve into an impressive smirk as he glances over at Hoseok.

“Guess who we have for calculus at the end of the day?” He slides over your binder where the rest of the group examine the rest of your schedule, only for Hoseok to find a coinciding class with you.

“How the fuck are you in a senior’s class? Are you some math whiz or something?” Taehyung’s eyes widen at the sight of an advanced calculus class on your schedule. It was one of the things you were proud of you; you were good at math – it happened to be Sena’s worst subject and your parents often joke what she lacked; you had gained immensely.

“Yeah, YN’s cracked, hyung. I don’t understand. I remember in middle school they had to make arrangements for her to get into a pre-caclulus class or some shit like that.” Jungkook finishes his fruit cup and gathers all of the trash on site to toss over to the closest garbage bin.

Namjoon is sliding your binder right back at you, brows raised at you with the same grin he had on. He stares at you for what seemed like a long time – to you, it seemed like a long time and he is glancing back down at where your fingers brush against each other and he pulls away, not wanting to make you feel uncomfortable.

“I – um, saw that you were taking orchestra too.”

You nod and chew on your cheek, self-conscious all of a sudden about your appearance because you are very much aware that Namjoon is examining every aspect of your face.

“Yeah. I mean, I already know how to play the piano, so I might as well learn how to play another instrument, right?”

“No – yeah, you’re right.” He stammers and he folds his hands together only to be interrupted by Jimin tossing over a bag of pretzels at Namjoon.

“Bell’s about to ring. Pretzels was all they had left. We need to head to physics soon.” Taehyung and Jimin are swinging their bags over their shoulders. Hoseok is too busy on his phone, showing Jungkook a video of his new choreography.

Suddenly, you are receiving a plethora of notifications in the depths of your jean pocket. Your fingers unlock your phone only to reveal a series of text messages from your sister.

Sena [12:29]: Did you just spend your entire lunch with Kim Namjoon?

Sena [12:32]: Earth to YN?

Sena [12:39]: GUK IS FRIENDS WITH ALL 4 OF THEM.

Sena [12:41]: You have officially made a fucking impression to this school. I’m so proud of you. You’re sitting with us at lunch tomorrow.

“Guess I’ll see you later, YN.” The bell doesn’t descend you back to reality. Instead, it was his voice that brings you to pack up your things into your bag. “You might want to sit at the back for Mr. Lu’s biology class; he’s a spitter.” Namjoon swings his backpack over his shoulder. “He reuses the same lesson plan every year. If you need any help with them, you know who to look for.”

As you’re swinging your own bag, Namjoon leaves you with a wink as he is exiting the doors of the cafeteria into the school hallways.

Now, you understand why the entire world was obsessed with Kim Namjoon.

“Alright, let’s get started,” Mrs. Kang, your calculus, is a middle-aged woman who didn’t look like she had aged past thirty. You found it incredibly hard to believe the woman was nearly in her mid-forties who had three kids of her own. She looked like a stern woman but had a good heart from what you remembered; she only wanted what was best for the class even though it meant tormenting them with a shit ton of homework. “I don’t need to go over the syllabus with you bunch. As you can see, this is a much smaller class than a regular class because not a lot of people pass this class.”

Silence fills the room from when you had first arrived. You were one of the last few people to find your seat because your class was all the way on the other side of campus. It seemed like everyone in your class were juniors or seniors. There were so many of them who knew each other from previous classes; they were all huddled in their own designated spots in the class, so you sat at the front of the class because all the seats at the back had been taken and it may help that you’re at the front because it’ll force you to pay attention.

“There’s a lot of material to cover and there’s only so much I can do. Since we’ve implemented the new block schedule, we’ll only be seeing each other for an hour and a half every Wednesdays and Fridays. First thirty minutes will be on new material, next thirty minutes will be spent on practice problems, and then the last thirty minutes will be working with your partner on getting your homework started. I’ve figured getting a head start on the homework for the last thirty minutes will be helpful just in case you or your partner are lost, you have me to ask for assistance.”

Someone’s hand raises up in the air out of your periphery.

Mrs. Kang points to them. “Yes, Namjoon?”

“How do we determine who are partners will be?”

“Please tell me we get to pick our partners.” Mrs. Kang is already turning her back to the class as she searches for a box that had been hidden behind her computer monitor only for her shake the contents of the box.

“The last time I gave the students the opportunity to choose who their partner was, I’ve written a disciplinary notice for academic dishonesty twice a week.” Mrs. Kang prefaced, and the room goes silent. As she continues ruffling through folded papers inside the wooden box, you are already aware of how the partner system is going to work.

Everything was going to be randomly assigned.

“We have 26 of you total which means there will be 13 pairs.” Mrs. Kang announces, and she walks around the class starting from the left where the person is picking a folded paper out of the box. Each person who had unfolded their paper sat patiently until Mrs. Kang had completed distributing the paired assignments around the room. She is fetching a pen and paper as she sits on her desk.

“Alright, our first pair is –” Mrs. Kang looks up to see two people raise their hands; it had been Hoseok and a girl with the prettiest bangs named Mimi. Mrs. Kang continued jotting down the pairs until you scanned the number on your own paper; a large 12 inscribed on your already tattered paper.

You hear Mrs. Kang’s voice as she calls out for the twelfth pair and you raise your hand. You don’t see anyone in your periphery raise their hands, so you turn your body around to search for your partner.

Your body turns cold and still, but you can feel your cheeks get warm at the sight of Namjoon seated down at the back with Hoseok with his hands raised, revealing that he had pulled the same number as you. The thumping in your heart is loud and it beats hard as each moment passes.

Both your hands lower and you are trying to turn your attention back to the front of the class where your teacher stood, but you can feel his eyes on you. You remembered scolding yourself, unaware of why you were so nervous and so shocked to be his partner – he saw you nothing more than another classmate; someone to help him with his assignments.

“Perfect! Since we have our pairs, everyone will be sitting next to their partner from now on; I don’t care where it’ll be. I just need you to sit with them, so we’re not scrambling at the last thirty minutes of class to find them.” Mrs. Kang says sternly, clearly not wanting to waste time in this class. “Shall we begin?”

“How do you already have so much shit to do?” Jungkook laid comfortably on your bed, shoving down salt and vinegar potato chips that your parents had bought from the store last weekend. “Do you like never take a break from reading or what?”

“It’s just a really interesting book.” You say as you flip through the next page and bite into an apple.

You two laid on your bed, basking in the afternoon sun. Normally, you two didn’t have this much down time. Last summer, you two volunteered to be camp counselors to lessen the boredom you two would endure. It was either that or spending every goddamn weekend on the golf course with Jungkook’s parents and yours.

“I was thinking of trying out for the track & field team.” Jungkook informs you and you resume reading. “Namjoon-hyung tells me that the team runs right after school and it sounds fun. Events are early though, and we all know I’m not an early riser.”

The mention of Namjoon urged you to reminisce back to your last period that day. Mrs. Kang mentioned that she wasn’t going to let the class immediately sit right next to their homework partner – thank god. You just wouldn’t know what to talk about with him; you don’t really know what to talk about with people because they always somehow led the conversation back to your older sister.

But, at the end of class, he did manage to keep up with you as you hastily packed all your items into the bag before you darted outside of the classroom. You planned on walking home with Jungkook and you two would meet at the front of the school. Namjoon, somehow, caught up to you in time.

He had grabbed your arm and greeted with you with his million-dollar smile. “Hey,” He breathes, and you stop to offer him a meeker and shier smile.

“Hi, what’s up?”

“You’re meeting with Guk?”

You give him a single nod before he hands you two pieces of paper. You’re curious as to what they are, and you see the words parent’s consent form along with the health forms to give to a doctor – for a physical.

“He’ll know what they’re for.” He reassured you and you hold onto the forms. “Thanks for that. I have to go; I have a meeting in five minutes with the student council.”

“I’ll be sure to give it to him. Was there anything else you wanted to tell him?”

He shakes his head, and he starts reversing his steps, clutching onto the straps of his bags. “I – um, I’m really looking forward for calculus – you know, the whole partner thing. I must be really lucky to be partnered with a cracked, math whiz like you.”

Now, you’re blushing because you weren’t really sure if you were supposed to be flattered or offended.

And he read you so well because he is suddenly panicking but he hid it. He stops his reverses, and he takes one step closer to you.

“I’ll see you and Guk at lunch tomorrow, if that’s alright?” He hums; his voice sounded so soft and clear to you – no one can hear a single thing he had said to you, but you heard him bright as day. Suddenly, you feel a grin creep up to your mouth and you nod once. You had regained some of your confidence back and Namjoon can see it. “Cool, well, I’ll see you ‘round, YN.”

“Earth to YN.” Jungkook snaps at you and you pay attention to your friend who is lying next to you. “Did you hear a single thing I said?”

“Sorry ‘bout that. I dozed for a couple minutes.” You admit and he scrunches his brows, dismissing your moment of silence.

“I was asking how it was like to be in a class of seniors.”

“There’s no difference, honestly.” You begin your thought. “It sucks just because I don’t really know anyone, and everyone knows everyone.”

“Yeah, but you have Namjoon-hyung and Hobi-hyung.” Jungkook reassures you. “They’re basically your friends now because we’ll be hanging around them a lot.”

You weren’t sure if you were looking forward to or nervous to be spending a lot more time with the older guys. They made a good first impression on you though; they’ve probably only mentioned your sister’s name once. Granted, it was only thirty minutes spent together, but it was so much better than most of the conversations you’ve had with everybody else.

“That’s true. I have Namjoon as my homework partner, so I’ll… definitely need to get along with him.” You chuckle under your breath as you read through each line without comprehending a single thing. Your mind had been so clouded with the idea of Namjoon and you weren’t sure why.

Jungkook decided not to stay for dinner that evening even though mom made two pans of lasagna to feed a village. However, he did help you and your mother prepare it. Your mom was pretty insistent on it, so you promise that you’d be giving him some leftovers for lunch the next day. Your dad arrived home next; it was a typical evening – he beelined to your mom, planted a kiss on her cheek and patted your back before he hastily moved to the office to continue working. Sena arrived home from school at a later hour than usual before she was already setting the plates on the dining table.

“Alright, Guk, final offer.” Your mother says as she is pulling out two piping pans of lasagna out of the oven.

“No, thanks, Mrs. LN.” He respectfully declines before he is swinging his backpack over his shoulder. “Mom’s expecting me home right about now for dinner. I’ll definitely ask YN to pack me up some leftovers though.”

“Alright.” She waves him a goodbye before you are showing him to the door. “Walk home safely.” She bids him a goodbye softly as she pulls the foils off the pan.

“Pack me an extra serving, please.” Jungkook pleads and you roll your eyes before he already made his way out of the door.

“Honey, dinner’s ready!”

“You did not tell me Jungkook was friends with Namjoon.” Sena settles herself on the dining table and you sit right across from her, waiting for your mom to begin serving everyone a slice of lasagna.

“Quite frankly, I didn’t know Jungkook even knew Namjoon either. I’d say I’m just as surprised as you are, but I really don’t know what the fascination is with Namjoon.” You lied through your teeth as your mom serves herself first (she called dibs on the corner piece) and you decide on getting the smallest piece since you weren’t so hungry that evening.

“Are you talking about Mr. and Mrs. Kim’s son? Is this the same Namjoon we’re talking about right now?” Your mom’s curiosity is evident in her tone, taking small bites out of a side salad she had prepared.

“Yes, and Sena is hopelessly in love with him.” You shove the lettuce into your mouth as you wait for your lasagna serving to cool down momentarily.

“How can you not be in love with him?” She breathes out hastily. Your dad has his brows raised in disbelief; his daughter talking endlessly about her crush.

“He is a nice boy; responsible, kind, gentle, polite, seems to get things done, really cute too.” Your mom lists his never-ending advantages, and you stray away from their eyes because you hate the admit that you find him incredibly cute.

“Can we please talk about something other than this boy?” Your father is already exhausted from listening to you talk about Namjoon and you don’t blame him, really. “How was the first day for you, dear?” He refers to you and you are still chewing on your dinner.

“I have three classes with Guk. I like all of my classes so far; I can already tell calculus is going to be… a lot of work. We have a test every week and we mandatory study sessions after school for the exam to qualify for college credits. Thankfully, I have a partner to work with just in case I don’t understand anything. There’s also –”

“Who’s your partner? Maybe I know them.”

Your silence is defeating, and you look at your dad who is waiting for his answer and you dart your eyes back at Sena who is piecing the puzzle in her head, so she drops her mouth open, gasping at your lack of a response.

“No fucking way!”

“Language, please, Sena.” Your mom scolds.

“I mean, you’ve been in the same classes as him before! I’m sure you’ve been in a group project with him or something. You guys are in the same clubs. I don’t understand why you haven’t asked him out.” You weren’t so sure what motivated you to blurt it all out because your sister was definitely a good catch, but the obsession with him was getting way out of hand.

“That’s ridiculous, YN. I would never ask out a guy. I don’t even know he likes me that way.” Sena is taking small bites out of her dinner and you sigh to yourself, chewing on the inside of your cheek. “If there was only a way for me to find out. It’s not like I have a sister who’s partners with him in a class – oh, she’s also best friends with his next-door neighbor! How convenient.”

She eyes at you where you decide to focus on your meal, but her eyes are pleading and desperate.

“I… am completely eliminating myself from this predicament, Sena. If you want to ask him out for yourself, you should do it. Besides, who wouldn’t like you? You’re amazing.” Your voice is sincere and genuine, and you hope she pushes all of her fears and insecurities to the side to do something about her feelings.

“It would just be so much easier if I knew if he thought I was cute or something.”

“Everyone thinks you’re cute.”

“That’s not the point, YN. Listen, how ‘bout this? You don’t even have to drop my name in there; just ask what his ideal girl is like or something… or let Guk do the work! I’m sure he already knows the answer. Just help a girl out, please, YN.” You sigh defeated because your sister was really good at convincing.

It wasn’t really hard to figure out what type of girl Namjoon was interested in or… if he was interested in girls. All of this was easier said than done and you were going to rely on Jungkook a lot on this.

“I’m not going to prioritize this.” You surrender and she is giddy in her seat.

“YN, you are the best sister anyone could ask for.”

Several weeks have passed since you had last had your conversation with your older sister. You made an emphasis that you weren’t going to prioritize delving into Namjoon’s personal life. You were purely on a calculus homework and best friend’s next door neighbor relationship with him. But you finally get an idea of what Namjoon likes in a girl when he had to leave early for calculus to get pep rally ready for the first football game that Friday.

Unknown [14:34]: It’s Namjoon. Got your number from Guk.

For some reason, you feel your heart leap out of your chest at the text message. You’re still seated in calculus class working on the first few problems of your homework without him. You look up to see that Mrs. Kang is too busy assisting other students confused with the problem. Honestly, you were confused too and were unsure with your methods, but your mind had been too focused on your cellphone the entire time.

Namjoon [14:35]: Should’ve gave you the heads up about this. Sorry about leaving you alone to work. ):

You [14:36]: It’s no big deal. Seems like everyone’s confused, tbh.

Namjoon [14:36]: Fuck, mb. It’s the first game of the night, so I’m kind of required to be here. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.

Namjoon [14:37]: I have some down time after setting up. Maybe we can work on it then?

You [14:37]: Just tell me the time and place, I’ll be there. (:

Namjoon says that he had somebody covering his duties for the student council before the game began. You see him rushing inside a computer lab that remained open for students to use. You had reserved a table at a secluded corner because you wanted to be away from prying eyes. He spots you trying to reread your notes and erase the umpteenth method you had tried for a word problem you were stuck on.

He admires the way your brows knit together; lips pursed as you began redoing your method on a separate piece of paper. He keeps standing, not taking his place on the chair right next to you – too afraid that you would interrupt your flow. You feel a presence right next to you and he nearly gives you a fright and you realize just how tall he is.

“You scared me.” You inform and he chuckles softly at how endearing it was. He takes the seat right next to you where he is already pulling out notebook and pencils from his bag.

“I left my book at my locker. Do you mind if I share your book with you?” You look at your open textbook and nod at once pushing the textbook closer for both of you to see. “Thanks.” He scoots much closer than you had intended and when he strips his hoodie off of him, you can smell his cologne and how good it smelled on him.

You ignore your thoughts and scurry back to the problem you’re on.

“What problem did you end on?” He inquires and you point to the exact word problem you had been staring at for the past thirty minutes in class.

“It’s been bugging me. I didn’t want to ask Mrs. Kang because I wanted to figure it out myself.” You were so stubborn, he thought to himself. You had only completed a total of eight problems when there was so much more to do for the weekend. For some reason, you decided to stay stuck on that problem for god knows how long and Namjoon found it adorable – one of the few attributes he liked about you.

He reads the word problem and begins trying to solve the problem on his own. After several tries, he had figure out what you had done wrong and he so desperately wanted to point it out to you. Just when he was about to open his mouth, you turn to him and shake your head, covering your ears with your hands.

“No. I refuse to let you tell me what you did wrong. I can figure this out myself.” You whisper harshly. Namjoon can’t help but respond with silenced laughter because this is exactly how your homework sessions have been going; just the both of you refusing to let the other correct each other until the other figured it out themselves.

“Can I give you one clue?”

“Nope.” You popped your ‘p’ to accentuate just how persistent you were. You stuck out your lower lip as you examined the word problem again and he looked at the glossiness of your mouth and the softness of your cheeks; how he desperately wanted to lay his own petals right on yours as his fingers crawl to your face.

“So, I have a question.” He starts.

“And I can try to give you an answer depending on what it is.”

“Are… you and Guk by any chance – y’know?” His question is vague, but you definitely know what he is asking you because lots of people were never really used to the idea of a boy and a girl ever being best friends; for some reason, people assume they always end up dating and never talking to each other again.

“God, no. I love him, but I don’t love him like… I’d date him.” Your cheeks were fully flamed, and you weren’t so sure why you were so embarrassed to discuss this with Namjoon. All the times you had to clarify people on your relationship with Jungkook, you were almost disgusted and quick to reassure people that you two were nothing more than friends.

“Well, is there anyone you were willing to date?” Namjoon is pushing the boundaries here and he knows it very well. But he feels like he has gotten to know you well enough in the past few weeks to ask such a question.

“Not that… I know of really.” You try to remain composed when you respond to his question, but you feel his eyes burn into your soul, so you’re doing everything you can to avoid his stare. But Namjoon continues to stare right into you. He really can’t take his eyes off of you. “Honestly, I don’t think I’ve ever really experienced what it’s like to be attracted to –” Just when you had mustered the confidence to look at him, he is quite literally staring so deeply into your eyes that it is taking your breath away.

He is making you eat your words right now; you can’t take your eyes off of him.

“You don’t know what it’s like to…?”

“I don’t what it’s like to be attracted to someone.” You sigh softly; your breath fanning him. “On the contrary, I don’t think anyone’s ever really been attracted to me.” A chuckle comes erupting from your mouth, shaking your head. “Fortunately, that’s not really my goal in high school.”

“You don’t know that.” He quips.

“I don’t know what?”

“If someone’s been attracted to you before.” You shake your head in disbelief, chewing on the inside of your cheek knowing fully well that he was doing this because he wanted to seem like a dick for not disagreeing with your self-deprecation.

“Well, what about you?” You pose the question to him. “From what I understand, most girls and guys I pass by swoon every time you pass by.” He is chuckling to himself this time and he is very much aware of his desirability among his classmates. “You have plenty of choices; I’m sure you have the opportunity to date someone you must really like at this very moment.”

“That’s what I’m hoping on. I’m just not quite sure how she feels about me.” You feel like you were unraveling his darkest secrets and you were happy he considered you close enough to reveal who it is or give an inkling to who it is.

“Do I know her by any chance?” You’re hoping that you can narrow down who he is interested in. Because you barely knew anybody, you knew this would be a piece of cake.

“Yes.” He replies simply and he is staring at you. “You know her very well, YN.” He sighs, hoping you would finally understand what he is alluding to.

“Is she in my grade?” You were really hoping that the answer would be no or else you’d be breaking some terrible news to Sena that evening after the football game.

Namjoon nods slowly and he can see how you are not picking up his hints. He sees the slight disappointment in your face for whatever reason. Suddenly, he is perplexed because, in his eyes, he has made it pretty clear who he was interested in from the get-go. Many people should make the assumption, too, considering there was only one person he had his eyes on – only one person he was giving his attention to.

“Is it… that girl in Guk’s class who –”

As you are trying to list out the girls in your class who has interacted with Namjoon, he is in complete disbelief that you have not figured it out at all. How much more clueless could you get? He is sighing now because is frustrated. He admires your persistence when it came to solving difficult word problems in calculus but it’s frustrating when you are unaware of his feelings for you.

Just when is about to confess his feelings for you, you are greeted with another presence calling for both your names.

“So, this is where you two have been.” Jungkook ambles hastily towards your table and you grin from ear to ear when he is taking out his algebra textbook. “YN, one last chance, please. I didn’t pass my last quiz which brought me one letter grade down and my dad’s going to make me quit track & field if I don’t –”

“I told you I’d help you over the weekend, dumbass. I’m busy getting shit done with Namjoon.” You breathe softly before he is hugging you on your side and you grunt at how much stronger he has gotten. “But you’re buying me coffee for a week.”

“Sick.” Jungkook simply replies before he begins unpacking some of his homework. “You excited for the football game, Namjoon-hyung?” Jungkook queries and Namjoon is baffled because the moment is gone. One interruption from his next-door neighbor and the moment’s lost.

“Fuck yeah.” Namjoon replies and he sees that you’ve suddenly lost interest in the subject. You were subconsciously listening on their conversation while you are back to resolving the complicated word problem right in front of you. “Will you two be going to the game?”

“I’ll go, but YN won’t go because she hates crowds and, honestly, she doesn’t know how the game.” You exhale in response to Jungkook’s statements. Namjoon observes that you decide to move onto another problem, wanting to tackle the word problem at a different time. “Everyone you know will practically be there. Why not give it a shot?”

“We usually have half of the bleachers reserved for the student council since we’re in charge of tickets and concessions, so it won’t be that big of a crowd.” Namjoon attempts to entice you with modifications to appease your concerns. “Plus, we’d all get to hang out with each other; no homework, no calculus talk – just… us.”

Jungkook is stunned to see you agree.

The night was a lot more enjoyable than you thought it would be. Namjoon waived off the entrance fee for the game the moment he mentioned that you and Jungkook were volunteers. Taehyung was already on the field taking photographs of the football players and cheerleaders while Jimin took photographs of the students on the bleachers. You even passed by your own sister who was busy with her own group at the entrance entertaining friends, families, and alumni into the bleachers. Meanwhile, Namjoon was overseeing every single aspect of the event; he was mainly at the concessions, not wanting to create so much traffic around it.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” You offer your assistance before he notices that you have your hair all tied up. “I’ve washed my hands if that helps.” Namjoon can’t hide his smile and he offer you a pair of food safe gloves.

“I’m usually one to decline help, but we really need it. Let’s see – Yuqi really needs to go use the bathroom, so you can be in charge of the drinks and chips right now.” You take your station at the drinks and chips stations. It was going faster than you had expected; people ordered too fast or too slow – there was no in between. There were people who were very certain with their order which you appreciated. Then, there were the people who were very fickle with their order and you can’t help but stand awkwardly to wait for them to decide.

“I can’t believe you roped me into helping.” Jungkook grumbles under his breath. “Hey, I didn’t rope you into anything.” You take the five-dollar bill from the student and offer them back their change.

“Yeah, but you made me seem like a real asshole sitting there not helping.” You can’t help but laugh at Jungkook’s pout because you knew just how much he wanted to just spend his time on the bleachers, watching the game with his hyungs. But he was stuck here helping out the student council while most of them were on their bathroom breaks.

“Once someone’s back from their bathroom break, you can go back to your game.” You soothe him and the chaos outside the booth is starting to die down. Less and less people were coming because they’ve all satisfied their craving and the game was building up – it was pretty close, so you understand why Jungkook was in there sulking with you. When you turn to look at Namjoon, hoping to convince him to let Jungkook off the hook, you don’t see him there.

You look out the window to hear your sister’s pretentious giggle. She laughed so differently around him – acted so differently around him. He stood right next to her with the rest of the council members, giving them a big pep talk. She looked at him like he was an angel who fell from heaven. Their conversation ends and the rest of the council members disband except Sena and Namjoon. They are having a personal conversation and you can’t read mouths, but you can’t tear your eyes away from their beaming faces.

“Hey, can I ask you something?” You clear your throat, speaking so softly so only Jungkook can hear you.

“I’m all ears.”

“Does – does Namjoon have a type?” You say out of curiosity. Jungkook raises a brow at you, curious as to what motivated you to ask the question.

“Uh, I don’t know. I’ve never really heard hyung talk about any girls… or his type, to be honest.” He hums and he is staring at you stare at your sister and Namjoon. “Why’d you ask?”

“It’s… for Sena.” It was the truth, but your own curiosity was definitely a motivating factor. “She’s been obsessed with Namjoon since… as long as I can remember.” You breathe out, hoping no one else can eavesdrop on your conversation. “She’s been talking a lot about him more since she found out I knew him, y’know?”

“Huh,” Jungkook leans on the table and folds his arms. “Why doesn’t she just tell him?”

“Apparently, she needs some sort of confirmation that he thinks of her that way too, so she doesn’t make a fool of herself.”

“Why don’t you just ask him then?” Your silence is clearly something Jungkook wasn’t expecting because you never actually considered it once. “He’s a pretty easy-going guy; just ask him and he’ll be honest.”

“We’re not on that level of friendship yet, I guess.”

“Well, I consider you guys close enough to ask that kind of question.”

“Then, he’d just assume I’m being friends with him because my sister was using me.”

“Well, are you?”

“No.”

Your own answer stuns you almost. Just a couple weeks ago, you knew nothing of Namjoon and, suddenly, you are on a level of friendship where you think you can confide him in anything. Perhaps, now, you really understood why everyone obsessed over him; why everyone wanted to be friends with him, why everyone wanted to date him, why everyone just wanted to be noticed by him.

“Then, feel free to ask him yourself.”

You hadn’t really worked up the courage to talk to Namjoon about his dating life. You repeated to yourself that it wasn’t really a priority to delve into what goes on behind the scenes with Namjoon. You were in a consistent state of going to school, doing your homework, reading books, and retraining your body to try out for the swim team next semester.

But the time came when you got sick for an entire week and missed so much material, especially calculus material.

But you were eternally saved by Namjoon himself.

Namjoon had requested to drop off the homework sheets and printed copies of his notes over to you. Everything was so detailed, and you were impressed with how organized everything seemed to be. You didn’t know what motivated you to reach for your phone on your bed and dial in his number. Maybe you felt like it deserved a personal thanks rather than a typed one.

“YN?” His voice on the other line sounded so surprised and there was so much noise on the other end. “Give me a second.” He excuses before you hear him move to another location, somewhere much quieter.

“How many times do I have to thank you for being an absolute saint?” Your voice sounded so stuffed. The flu was getting to you really bad, but you were recovering well. But he chuckles into the receiver and you are flipping through each page he had printed before you fall onto your bed, sighing blissfully. “I’m serious, Joon. I’ll say it a million times if I have to.”

“You’ve pulled my weight when I was off doing council work so much. I’m sure if I got sick, you’d do the exact same thing. It’s what partners do.” Namjoon is smiling from ear to ear; he was glowing, and no one was there to really witness it. “I – um, did you see my note attached at the back?”

You are now flipping through the pages frantically until you see a handwritten sticky note that read: “We have a quiz on the Monday you come back. I’m free this weekend if you wanted to study with me.” And there was even a little smiley face attached to it and you are experiencing a whirlwind of emotions.

“You have got to be fucking with me.” You can feel the panic starting to bubble in the pits of your belly, but you were trying not to let it show. “You’ve already done so much for me. I can’t rob you of your weekend. It’s just – It’s just too much.”

“I’m happy to do it, Ace. I promise.” The guy deserved everything in the world because he was too generous for the world and you weren’t so sure what you did to deserve such kindness.

“Ace?”

He chuckles embarrassingly into the receiver, chewing on his cheeks. “I – uh, it’s a nickname. I hope you don’t mind.” Suddenly, butterflies erupt from your stomach and there is a glow on your cheeks that you are very much aware of and you are curling into your bed with a shit eating grin on your face.

“I – I like it.” You sigh and Namjoon leans on the wall as he observes the rest of his friends and council members enjoy slices of pizza, taking a well-deserved break from preparing for the pep rally event coming up next week.

“So, is that a yes to a study session this Saturday?”

“Yes.” Your voice is small and hesitant because it feels like you’re doing something wrong when you were just having a quiz session with your calculus partner.

“Great. My place or yours?”

Namjoon insisted on coming over to your place because you were still recovering. Coincidentally, your parents had the weekend trip away with your dad’s work colleague for a wine tasting event. You debated whether you wanted to tell Sena that Namjoon was going to be arriving in an hour, but you soon realize that she was out with her friend’s house for a movie night session.

You had the place all to yourself and you were relieved and frantic all at once.

You busied yourself the entire day to make yourself look decent; brushed hair, brushed teeth, clean face, and fresh clothes. You throw used tissues into trash bins, changed your sheets, and kicked all of your dirty laundry into your hamper that had fallen on the carpeted floors. As you are jogging downstairs, you discover you have no food in the fridge, so you’d probably have to order a pizza or something to share with Namjoon.

Immediately, you question why you are so desperate to make the place and yourself so presentable when this was a mere tutoring session with your calculus partner?

The doorbell ringing prompts you to peek through the peep hole and you see him; he is wearing a regular white t-shirt, jeans, and sneakers. He has his hoodie thrown over his shoulder as he begins texting a message on his phone, waiting for you to open the door for him.

When you unlock the front door and open the door for him, you smile timidly at him.

“Hi,” You greet him nervously.

“Hey, Ace.” He waves before he examines how you look. Despite your red nose and tired eyes, he missed seeing your face for a week; he really did. You stood awkwardly fiddling with your fingers and he can sense just how anxious you are, so he decides to tread lightly. “May I come in?”

His tone is so polite which effectively allows you to open the door wider for him to enter. You are nodding and you close the door shut behind him, ensuring that you have locked them. “I – um, I can’t really offer you anything to eat since my parents are out of town, but we can order pizza, if you want. It’s what my sister and I usually do.”

“I’m more than okay with pizza.” He permits and you nod and begin walking to the living room. “Will we be working here?”

“We can work anywhere.” You announce. The conversation is so light, and you hate how quick yet reluctant you are to your responses. “I – I can get you a glass of water, if you’d like. I’ll just get my things from upstairs and bring them down to the living room.” You inform him and he nods as he is making himself comfortable on the couch.

You are scurrying off upstairs to go get your materials and catching your breath because you think you were holding your breath the entire time. You’re stalling because you’re making a check list of every single thing you need for downstairs to avoid seeing him or talking with him. Just when you are about to exit, you see him at the bottom of the stairs. He is examining each family portrait on the wall.

Your face is hot because you can only imagine how terrible you looked like a child, so you jog downstairs with your study materials to gain his attention. “I never really realized how much Sena looks like your dad.” Namjoon comments and you stop in your tracks, only to examine the portrait he is looking at. “Exact same nose and smile.”

You purse your lips into a thin line because you are reminded once again that he is probably only interested in getting to know Sena – there was always that possibility. You were so familiar with this feeling of discussing your sister with other people because – yes, she is absolutely beautiful and intelligent and there was no denying it.

“But you are like your mother.” He comments as he takes a closer look at your mom who seems to be so much more youthful. “The way she’s smiling here looks so much like the way you smile.” He describes and you allow him to explain more by staying silent. “When you smile, your nose kind of crinkles and the corners of your eyes creases and your dimples are a lot more –”

Your throat seizes because you’re flattered and aware that he has perfectly examined your appearance and all the features in what he sees. He grows silent and he is chuckling nervously, scratching the back of his hand to distract himself.

“Sorry that was… super random.” Namjoon clears his throat, and you are shaking your head before you point towards the living room.

“I – I’m ready now.”

Now, you’re desperately hoping Sena doesn’t come home too early from her friend’s house.

Hours have passed since Namjoon have gotten you caught up with all of the materials and have assisted you through last week’s homework sheets. Namjoon was impressed with how you can keep up despite your recovering condition. One minute, you were sneezing and wiping your nose clean and, the next minute, you have your lips pursed and brows furrowed as you are writing equations down on a separate piece of paper.

“I got a question for you.” Namjoon begins and you are still too busy piecing everything together for a specific word problem you wanted to master.

“Shoot.”

“Are you always this focused?” You are typing things into a calculator before you are erasing things on your paper and you turn to look at him, showing him the calculator.

“Is this the right answer?” You ignore his question for a moment.

He nods and you grin at him before you proceed onto the next word problem.

“If I’m a week’s worth of lessons behind, yes, I’m focused all the time.” Namjoon is shaking his head and he is in awe at how you are so quick at writing all the information; he notices how neat your handwriting is too. Namjoon checks his watch and realizes just how late it has been and he clears his throat as he looks out the window to see the sun has gone completely down.

“Will your sister be coming home tonight?” Namjoon notices that you stop writing – you stop solving the word problem that you are tackling because you, suddenly, realize that he is asking about your sister.

“She’s probably still at a friend’s house or something.” He senses the atmosphere has changed and you shift your mind back to the practice problem right in front of you. “Why do you ask?”

“No reason – well, I honestly thought she should be taking care of her recovering sister.” You snicker at his statement.

“She’s a great sister, but she’s not that great.” You quip, biting your tongue at how ridiculous he sounded. “I think we can all agree that she’s smart, charismatic, and ambitious. I will admit she’s a really considerate sister too, but she thinks caring for her ill sister is a parents’ job – not hers.”

“Okay, okay, I get it she’s amazing but not… amazing.” He raises his hands to surrender and his words coming out of his mouth urged you to inquire about his relationship with her.

“If you think she’s amazing, why don’t you date her?” The words came spilling out of your mouth uncontrollably. Maybe it was the meds, you thought. You see the grin disappear from Namjoon’s face into utter confusion and he tilts his head for further clarification. “What I mean is that… you’ve known her and worked with her for so long and she’s a great girl – I’m obviously really biased considering she’s my sister, but you two would make a… great couple.”

You didn’t believe that you were talking about this to Namjoon. You didn’t think you would have the guts to discuss this with him, but the opportunity came up and you took it. But you are faced with such an unfamiliar emotion. True discomfort arises at the pit of your stomach as Namjoon’s brows furrow together and he is shaking his head with the same boyish grin he always flaunted to the world.

“Ace, she’s great, but I… honestly see her as a friend.” He isn’t so sure how many times he’s reiterated those words before. Because little did you know, so many people have asked the exact same thing. Peers and colleagues in their class were very much aware of Sena’s not so little crush on Namjoon for quite some time.

“Well, I mean, isn’t that how all relationships really start? Becoming friends and then possibly developing feelings for each other? Most people always see each other as friends until one of them is aware of the others’ feelings, right?” Your tone was so quizzical. You were treating this conversation like it required rationale and logical reasoning to tackle the issue at hand.

But this wasn’t a problem the mind can solve.

“That’s the usual circumstance, yes.” He admits and he sees that you resume back to the worksheet. “But I’ve known Sena’s had a thing for me and, quite frankly, I’ve been interested in someone else for a while, remember?”

“Someone far more interesting than Sena?” You are in disbelief. You are trying to eliminate other people in school who is on the same social standing as your older sister. “That’s… not possible.” You breathe.

“You’re wrong.” You stop writing because you are retracing your steps on the word problem you are solving. He finds it so endearing how you can’t seem to understand that he is utterly into you, but you are so lost in numbers.

“No, don’t tell me, Joon. I’ve told you this hundreds of times –” You lift your head to look at him to accentuate your reminder; you didn’t want to know what you wrong, you wanted to solve the problem yourself unless you demanded the assistance yourself.

Normally, Namjoon would comply with your request. It was so rare for him to point out your mistake, but he figured this was the perfect time to do so.

“You’re so stubborn.” He breathes before he dives in.

You don’t complete your sentence. Because when you turn your head to look at him with pleading eyes, you are met with his pillowy petals on yours. Your cheeks heat instantaneously, and you can feel your heart leap from your chest.

His kisses were soft and slow. You don’t realize that he has already cupped your cheeks. You’ve never kissed anyone ever before but, for some reason, it was like you knew how to move your mouth against his. He was gentle but there was a certain control he possessed. You pull away momentarily to breathe and, suddenly, you feel the heat of his tongue swipe on your lower lip. A shuddered whimper leaves your mouth before you are regrettably pulling away from addiction.

“N – no, that’s not possible.” You’re still in denial from the events that occurred. “Sena – she’d be so… betrayed if she –” Your brain is glitching and it didn’t help that you can taste the mint of his lips on yours.

“Listen, Ace, for one moment stop thinking about Sena and answer me honestly.” Namjoon positions his body to look straight onto you. “Do you feel the same way I do or not?”

“I don’t – I don’t know.” You shrug before avoiding his eyes. “I – I shouldn’t like you.” You sigh defeated and you are covering your face. You were ashamed not because you like him, but because you didn’t understand what you were really feeling, and you didn’t understand what you wanted to do. “Why – why do you like me?”

“You’re hardworking and incredibly intelligent.”

“I know plenty of other girls who are… exactly the same.”

“Your tastes in book are impeccable. You’re selfless to a degree that I can’t quite comprehend. You keep to yourself, but when you speak your mind, it leaves a lasting impression. Listen, YN, I can keep going, but you can’t… keep doubting my feelings for you.” Namjoon justifies and it was a tough pill to swallow.

You were too stunned to say anything. Too many emotions flooding your brain and it took too long for it to process, so you remained expressionless. Namjoon found it incredibly difficult for him to read your face.

“Ace, it’s really hard to tell how you’re feeling right now.” He points out and you understand just how awkward you sat there; head spinning with so many things to say but very little coming out of your mouth.

“I – I don’t know what you want me to say.” You admit. “I’m not sure what you’re expecting out of me with a confession like this. If I don’t feel the same way, what would’ve happened? If I do feel the same way, what – what was I supposed to do?”

“Well, for starters, do you actually feel the same way as I do?”

“I – I do.” You croak to respond to his inquiry. “I – I don’t think I’ve ever admitted that to myself either, but… I think I like you.”

A wave of relief washed over Namjoon, but there’s a bit of relief for you too. It’s out in the open now, and you know that there’s nothing really you can do about it. There’s a very content grin plastered right across his handsome face, but it slowly transforms into a frown as he realizes that, despite your feelings for each other, nothing will change between the both of you.

“Namjoon, we can’t be anything more than friends.” You realize the unfortunate circumstances the both of you were in. “It’s not fair to my sister. I don’t think it’s very fair to make me choose between you and my sister. I – I don’t think it’s very fair that… you’re in this position.”

Your heart swelled just moments ago, and you can feel it crumble into pieces as the words come spilling out of your lips.

“I understand.” He agrees softly and you perk up at his acquiescence. “I’m not going to force you to be in that position, Ace.” The reassurance softens your tense form, and his fingers cradle your chin, lifting up to be at eye level with you.

“But when you’re ready to reconsider... us, I’ll be waiting.”

↪ Please stay tuned for the next part!

#namjoon fic #namjoon imagine #namjoon fluff #namjoon angst #namjoon x reader

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agentwhiskeypussyindulgence · 3 years

Text

Whiskey Kisses (Agent Whiskey x plus sized Reader)

Authors Note: Hello!!!! If this looks familiar it’s because it is! This was written in the middle of my covid sickness back in January and I have not touched it since lmao. I figure it might be better to edit it a bit, and post it all as one rather than two separate entities since the second part was only separate bc I hadn’t written it yet at the time I posted the first one. I’m hoping that I’ve gone through and removed any glaring descriptors that will exclude folks but the one thing that remains is that this is a plus sized reader (gotta leave a little bit of me in there lmao!) This was/still is my first attempt at smut so I'm hoping I've read enough to get somewhat of a grasp on it ✌ Plot is the same, wildly incredibly self indulgent, Whiskey is as charming as ever and hopefully the new post will get some fresh eyes on it! Hope everyone enjoys~~

Word count: ~7000

Warnings: NSFW 18+ fem plus sized reader (a bit of body insecurity that is Very Brief), Daddy Kink, Loss of Virginity (including insecurity about being a virgin), Praise Kink, no y/n used, excessive use of pet names bc Whiskey is a menace,If I’ve missed anything please don’t hesitate to let me know!

The place smelt like smoke. That was first scent that hit you as you moved through the crowdto the bar, claiming a seat on the side nearest to the exit. This was your first time out and about in your new city and you weren’t exactly sure what you were here for. At the least you would get a good night of entertainment from people watching from your position at the bar. Maybe you would make a friend. That’s how it worked for people your age right?

It had been so long since you had to put yourself out into social situations that weren’t engineered to create bonds--this wasn’t school and it wasn’t work, the two places where you felt confident about your social skills. You feared you might be a little behind on friend making procedures. This was only your second week in town. You’ve moved from home because you knew you couldn’t stand one more day in your hometown. Moving back after college had been a great way to save up money, but you were tired of living with your parents and tired of the same small town views. It hurt leaving your folks and it hurt to leave your friends even more. But you knew that sooner rather than later they would be moving out into the world. That’s what was expected and you were terrified but immensely excited to be the first one in your group to make the leap.

Now you’ve found yourself here alone in a bar nursing some sugary drink that had been listed in chalk on the special board outside the bar. You didn’t mind being alone. In the past you’d learned to enjoy your own company —going thrifting on your own or heading to see a movie when everyone else was busy. That being said, you found being alone in a bar a much more harrowing experience. You didn’t usually spend much time alone in places where the drunken masses gathered. Parties, clubs, and bars weren’t usually your scene and let alone without your group of friends there as backup.

You were out to be social yet still hoped that your phone would serve as a good enough reason for no one to come up and ask for a dance. Sure, there were some attractive people in the bar tonight, but you were only on your first drink and didn’t have enough in your system to get yourself out on the dancefloor with someone you didn’t know. Not yet at least.

Your attention was pulled from your phone by a movement in your periphery, a silhouette passing behind you. It was a…cowboy?

That wasn’t who you were expecting to see. This wasn’t a country bar by any means and he stood out amongst the other patrons in their casual clothes. He kept a respectful distance leaving a seat between the one he chose and yours as if to not block you in. You stared, taking in his outfit, he seemed like the real deal. Cowboy boots with spurs, well-fitting denim jeans, and a Stetson seated on top of dark hair. Only thing out of place was his shirt. You weren’t a hundred percent sure what kind of shirts cowboys wore, but you weren’t betting on a nicely pressed dress shirt.

He looked young upon first glance, then you noticed the smile lines around the corner of his eyes and mouth. That and the way he carried himself, his essence, revealed that he probably had some years on you though that didn’t lessen the attraction any. He turned suddenly and you couldn’t look away; embarrassed as you were to be caught staring. Not when those gorgeous brown eyes met with yours. He raised a hand to the brim of his hat and honest to god tipped it in your direction with a smile and a quiet “Evenin” on his lips.

You cleared your throat and cradled your glass in your hands, fingers working to twist and turn it. “Evening…didn’t expect to see a cowboy in here tonight.” You take a small sip. “Doesn’t really seem like your scene” you finish, looking around at the crowd, all dressed differently but certainly no cowboys among them.

The stranger lets out a laugh and a smile lights up his face as the bartender works his way to your side of the bar. “Maybe not darlin but this cowboy is home anywhere he can find a beautiful lady and a whiskey, neat.” He says this last part to the bartender who you find standing in front of the two of you. He gives a nod at the cowboy and glances over at you and you notice your drink is almost empty. “Put this sweet thing’s next drink on my tab” he says with a wink in your direction and you can’t help but feel heat flood your face. This is the first time you’ve ever been bought a drink by a stranger at a bar.

You realize the bartender is waiting patiently on you and you panic. You had wanted to switch drinks after finishing this one off, tired of the sugar, worried over the hangover it might bring. “Oh! Uhm, whiskey neat also. Thank you.”

The stranger sitting close to you raises his eyebrows at your order, his eyes glancing between your own and the remnants of your sugary cocktail. You smile and give him a shrug “Buyers choice I suppose.”

He lets out a chuckle and holds his hand out across the empty seat between you. “Jack Daniels. Nice to meet you.” You give him your hand and your name and you watch as his eyes trail over you.

He smiles, as if he’s seen something he likes once his eyes have finished their exploration. You can’t blame him as you had just done the same thing. But you couldn’t help but be a little puzzled. You hadn’t really dressed with the goal of attracting attention to yourself tonight. You chose your favorite pair of light-wash jeans (you were told they hugged your curves nicely) and a band t-shirt with a light flannel on top. It was comfortable and you looked nice, but you hadn’t dressed to impress.

The drinks arrive and Jack raises his glass in the air and tips it in your direction. You hurriedly grip yours and do the same, smiling at the clink of meeting glasses.

The whiskey stings your lips, chapped from your habit of nervously biting at the soft skin in new situations. You don’t often drink whiskey and you attempt to school your face into something neutral, trying not to cough, as the smoky alcohol burns its way down your throat. A burn that you find yourself enjoying mere moments after it passes. You over at Jack who doesn’t avert his eyes when you catch him staring at you, an amused expression on his face. If he noticed your brief grimace that came with your first sip of the whiskey, he was a true gentleman and kept it to himself.

“Is Jack Daniels really your name?” Taking him in with an incredulous look. Who the hell is named after a whiskey brand? Or who uses it as a fake name and then orders it at the bar? Sighing with a smile, he nods. “It was a name before a brand, sugar. Plus, now all my friends can call me Whiskey. You can too if you’d prefer.” He finishes with a wink.

Setting his glass down he doesn’t give you time to react beyond your surprised stare. “So. What’s a beauty like you doing all alone, stuck here talking to an old man like me?” You let out a laugh and look at him incredulously. Confirmation that he was older but you wouldn’t have thought to call him an old man. He’s really laying on the charm thick though. You can’t say you’re mad at it.

“I’m new to town.” You reply. “Figured after a week of unpacking and organizing I deserved a night out on.” He gives a grin. “I don’t know about the other fellas in this joint, but I for one love an independent woman.” Grinning you take another sip from your glass, the burn still there but less aggressive. “Well we all have to learn to be independent one way or another right?”

Humming in agreement he meets your eyes with a smile and doesn’t look away. Cheeks continuing to burn away, you give a smile back. This much undivided attention on you is new territory. But you’d be lying if you said you weren’t reveling in it.

“So what do you do when you’re not out wooing the ladies at the bar? You a real cowboy?” You ask, giving him another once over. As a general piece of knowledge from living in a town with some farming areas you knew that genuine Stetsons and real leather boots didn’t come without a hefty price tag. And he certainly didn’t look cheap.

“I’m an agent for a secret independent intelligence agency.” He says this with no hesitation or humor in his voice. Simply a flat reply. You raise your brow at him and snort into your glass. “And now that you’ve told me you’ll have to kill me right?” Jack takes your joke in stride “I don’t think I would ever deny the world a beauty like yours by killing ya darlin”

He swirls his whiskey in his glass as you blush. “Really though I work on the board for Statesmen Distillery. We’re based in Kentucky.” You smile with a nod, taking another sip from your glass “Well that certainly explains- well just about everything about you. How’d you find yourself here then? Need a vacation?”

This line of questioning leads you and Jack chatting back and forth about nothing and everything. He asks about your family, the move, how you found yourself moving from your hometown all by your lonesome. He tells you about his job, the boring meetings, how he really enjoys spending time on his ranch, watching the sunset. (He pulls out his phone at one point, showing you a picture of a calf that you can’t help but coo at, directing baby noises at the phone in his hand. He seems endeared by this.)

You had always had a hard time talking to people you didn’t know, keeping to your same group of friends because of this reason. With Jack though you didn’t feel any lulls in the conversations, no awkward silences. You couldn’t remember the last time it had been so easy to have a conversation with someone.

As the two of you finish off your second round of whiskeys, a slow country song begins to play from the speakers. Most of the crowd looks confused at the shift in vibes from the DJ booth. The DJ in question points towards the corner where you and Jack have been sitting and winks; odd to pander to the one cowboy in the crowd. You’re not going to complain though, and it seems, neither is Jack. “Tennessee Whiskey. Just like my namesake.”

He hums in appreciation before he stands, holding a hand out to you. “Would you like to dance darlin?” You’ve never been much for slow dancing, but you knew you’d be kicking yourself with regret if you said no. You place your hand in his as he leads you out onto the dancefloor. The music swirls around the two of you and you feel your nerves spike, hoping your hands aren’t sweaty, that you don’t step on his feet and praying to whatever god is out there that you can keep the rhythm. But as he gently tugs you closer into his embrace you feel any apprehension disappearing you’re your mind.

You find yourself looking up at him, dark and beautiful brown eyes meeting yours. You take a risk and lean your head against his shoulder as you sway, taking in a deep inhale of his scent. It’s beautiful, not too strong. You can smell the whiskey on his breath and you wonder what cologne he uses. It’s something oaky and fresh and the combination is enough to intoxicate you even further.

“Sugar…” the pet name comes out as a whisper from above.“I’d be doing myself a disservice if I didn’t ask if I could kiss ya right now.” You pull back looking up into those eyes that you could get lost in. He’s leaned in close to you now, his breath dancing across your lips. You part them to respond and you knew you would be doing yourself a disservice if you didn’t say yes.

Wordlessly you nod and can’t help the sigh that escapes you as he tilts his head and his lips meet yours.

It’s not your first kiss, but you can count all the previous ones on a singular hand. He’s gentle, his hawkish nose that you’ve found yourself enamored with brushes softly against your cheek as your lips dance together. You hum in contentment, bringing your arms up and around his neck, fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.

He swipes his tongue across your bottom lip and it may sound juvenile but you hadn’t had much experience with tongue kissing. You part your lips anyways, following intuition, allowing his tongue access. The sensation is foreign but not unwelcome and you can’t help moaning, and his hold on your waist tightens as you’re pulled even closer against him. You spend a few moments in the middle of the dance floor in his embrace, tongues dancing together and thoroughly getting lost in him.

He pulls back for a moment and you’re thankful he made the decision because you hadn’t even noticed the fact that you still needed air. You cringe at the whimper you let out as your lips detach, you hate at how pathetic you sound, hate that you instinctually go to chase them. It doesn’t seem like Jack cares though, he’s gazing down at you, bringing up a hand to rest on the side of your face, a thumb coming to sweep across your bottom lip before swooping down for a second kiss. This one is much more brief. “How would you like to ride home on a real cowboy?” he murmurs against your lips.

You freeze up at his question knowing exactly what he’s asking. Your eyes going wide as you try to stammer out excuses that won’t reveal your true hesitation. This particular insecurity doesn’t come up a lot but you’re never sure how to breach the topic of your virginity whenever scenarios like this pop up.

Jack pulls back, a concerned look growing on his face at your muttering. “I’m sorry if I overstepped, doll. It wasn’t my intention to make you uncomfortable. We don’t have to do anything other than sit around here all night. I’d enjoy any time spent with you.” His eyes met yours and they were so kind and soft and you felt your heart melt a little at his crooked smile. You had just met him but you made up your mind to tell him the truth so he wouldn’t walk away from the night feeling terrible.

You always make up something else and run before you can embarrass yourself further. Your younger years are supposed to be your “prime” and you know in your mind that it’s completely normal for you to still be a virgin. That being said you have always felt like it was some kind of barrier blocking you from ever truly being comfortable with romantic entanglements.

You sigh as another song picks up. You’re both still holding onto each other and swaying to the beat and you open your mouth to give this man some peace. “Jack I… listen you’re incredibly attractive and I love a cowboy, I really do. And you didn’t make me uncomfortable! I just-” you chew on your lip again, thinking if there was a better way to say this before deciding on just getting it over with so you can stop wasting his time.

“I’ve never…been with anyone like that before and I as much as I wanna save a horse and ride a cowboy, I know a lot of people don’t want the virgin burden on them so I completely understand if you want to find someone else for the night so you’re not wasting your time.” It comes out rushed and in one breath, you’re avoiding his eyes not wanting to see the disappointment that might radiate from them. When you finally looked up, he was still staring at you with those gentle eyes, it was too much for you and you cast your eyes back down.

In an instant you found his hand gently holding your chin, lifting your gaze to meet him once more. “Hey. Look at me. You ain’t got anything to be embarrassed about darlin’. And you’re certainly not a waste of my time. Far from it. Ain’t nothing wrong with being inexperienced.” His eyes crinkle with a smile directed at you and you grin back feeling relief wash over you. This is honestly the best one of these conversations.

“Now listen,” he continues “if you just wanna dance and drink the night away, I’m thrilled to get to know you more.” You nod waiting for the ‘but’ you knew was coming. “But if this is something you want to try and I’m the fella you wanna try it with, well then-” He leans down, voice dropping and breath dancing along your ear “-daddy will take care of you.”

He studies you then, gauging your reaction at his phrasing. He knew it was a bold move but hoped that it would pay off. And lucky for both of you it does. Your eyes widen and you let out a short gasp as you bite at your bottom lip. The term he used sent a spark of arousal directly through you and in that moment you know that Jack is exactly who you need to come home with you tonight.

You give Jack a nod and he caresses your face with his large calloused hand. “I need to hear you say it, sugar.” And fuck it if that doesn’t get you feeling all warm inside. “Y-yeah” it comes out shaky not purely from nerves but also through the adrenaline you can feel coursing through your body. “Take me home Jack.” He practically beams at you, pressing a quick kiss to your lips and tugging you back over to the bar so he can pay the tab. You didn’t walk in here expecting to leave with someone tonight but you’re the furthest thing from disappointed as the two of you rush out the doors.

You both make your way through the bar's exit and you find yourself standing in front of a vintage Ford Bronco, Whiskey holding the passenger door open for you. You smile and slide into the seat. “Such a gentleman. But you know, this isn’t the car I was expecting a fancy distillery man to own. But it does feel quite fitting.” You muse as he takes his own seat and starts the engine, the radio on low crackling to life. “It’s my pride and joy” he hums, gently patting the dash. “Anything could happen to me as long as my baby here is safe.”

You laugh at the man’s love for his car until the chuckle is cut off by Jack’s hand coming to rest on your leg. His touch is gentle, and he drags his palm up from your knee to your upper thigh and back down again. He glances at you from his periphery “This alright darlin?” You nod as he resumes his movements, tracing inscrutable patterns with his fingers whenever his hand pauses in its path.

You feel the telltale heat of arousal begin to pool in your stomach. You’re not unused to that. The new and exhilarating part of the scenario tonight is that you have someone else to take care of it. Someone other than your hands and your well-used vibrator. You’re thankful that the drive back from the bar to your apartment is short. If it was any longer than the ten minutes it took you might actually explode.

Jack pulls up and you direct him to park in the spot next to your own car. One that looks far worse than you usually find it when compared to the well taken care of Bronco next to it. Jack, continuing to be the gentleman he’s been all night, opens your door for you once more, grabbing your hand as you sling your purse over your shoulder and make your way towards the front door. The elevator ride up to the 5th floor is rife with palpable tension and you almost melt at the gentle circles Jack makes with his thumb on the back of your hand as it sits entwined with his.

The moment the two of you cross the threshold of your doorway you expect everything to begin at once, all passion and clashing lips. You find yourself surprised when you’re not immediately pressed against the door and ravaged like in the movies, and you see Jack take in your living room.

Luckily everything had gotten sorted in your first week and the only thing to indicate a new occupant were the stack of boxes in the corner that you needed to take to the recycling bin behind the building.

His eyes trail along your bookshelf, scanning the titles bookended by little trinkets and tiny figurines you had gathered from gifts and mall vending machines. He admires the paintings on your wall, all excellent purchases from the local Goodwill you thought.

You shift from foot to foot not entirely knowing how to start things off. This is your first time and Jack is the one showing you the ropes so you hover next to your couch as he finishes his scan of the room, turning to you with a soft smile. “You’ve made this place feel homey already, sugar. I love it.” You beam back at him happy to explain your interior design choices but in a moment he’s taking two large strides in your direction. “Now, mind if we pick up where we left off in the bar?” He brushes his knuckles gently across your cheek as he waits for your response and in an instant you’re already reaching up to wrap your arms around his neck once more.

It’s cliché and you know it but when his lips connect with yours once more you feel fireworks. An explosion of arousal deep in the pit of your stomach as you grant his tongue entrance. The kiss isn’t rough but it is passionate. You had always had the inkling that you would find a tongue in your mouth invasive and gross and you are thrilled to learn that isn’t true. Or maybe it’s just because of the man you’re with. Jack seems like the type of guy who can make anything feel good and you can’t wait to see what he has to offer you.

Detaching his lips from yours you find yourself unintentionally pouting. He laughs at his before leaning down to latch his lips onto your neck and the pout disappears as a moan rips through your body as he begins to suck and bite up your neck. Jack is savoring every moment he spends kissing you, you can feel the restraint lurking behind every kiss. You can feel your legs turn into jelly and you’re grateful for the hands around your waist and the couch back behind you for all the support you certainly need right now.

As Jack soothes a bite with his tongue he moves his hands from your waist and places them under your ass instead. He tugs you forward, your balance unstable without the couch behind you. You feel his muscles get to work and suddenly you’re off the ground letting out a startled gasp. “Don’t worry, sugar. Daddy’s got ya.” Instinct kicks in and you’re wrapping your legs around his middle, groaning at the contact between your clothed core and his waist. You hadn’t realized how desperate you were for some friction until now and it hits you like a freight train. Dropping your head against Jack’s shoulder you hear his laugh from above you. “Hmm, someone’s impatient ain’t she?”

Lightheadedness consumes you, astonishment at his strength combined with his teasing giving you an incredible heady feeling. “Jack please…” you rub circles into the nape of his neck and you feel his breath huff into your hair as he groans in response to your begging.

Wasting no time he carries you to your bedroom and gently sets you down on the bed. He stands above you as you stare up with wide eyes. He kneels in front of you at the edge of your bed and reaches a hand up to begin to slip the flannel from your shoulders. The gentle touch of his hands sends a shiver up your spine, even through the layer of clothing.

Soon your shirt is off and he’s tracing lazy patterns on the swell of your breasts. He gently palms your boobs through the lacy fabric of your bra and drags a thumb across the raised material where your nipples are hardening underneath. You’re not sure how much longer you can handle the touches, gentle and tantalizing and just enough to leave you wanting more. You move your arms up and back to unclasp your bra, throwing off the side of the bed to be dealt with in the morning.

Jack’s eyes are trained on your breasts now, even more so than before. There’s a hunger there, a desire that you’re not used to seeing directed at you. He leans forward and cups one breast with his hand and secures his mouth over your peaked nipple. You groan in pleasure and press your chest further into him, despite there being not much more space to fill.

He drags his tongue across your nipple before sucking, repeating the process every few seconds. You’re pleasantly shocked at the little nibbles that are peppered across your chest once he’s had his fill of licking. You move your hand down to gently grip at the back of his head, pressing him closer. “Daddy please, keep doing that it’s so good!” He eases his mouth off, a pleased smile on his face. “Anything you want sweetness.” And promptly moves to the opposite breast, continuing his work.

Soon you’re left panting and hungry for his same talented touch in a much more sensitive place. You tell him as much through panting breaths and he wastes no time to start shimmying your pants and underwear off with your help. He stands for a moment, beginning to remove his own clothes, a pile of his country wear being left in the corner of your room. You admire his broad shoulders, the hair on his chest, slim waist with just a hint of a belly that you’d love to kiss. You follow his happy trail down eyeing the prominent bulge in his jeans begging to be freed.

As you lay on the bed spread before him, you’re overcome with the urge to curl up into a ball to cover yourself. You wouldn’t say that you’re unhappy with your body. You love your curves and your tummy. No you’re not insecure…not entirely.

Jack is a handsome man and you’re lying here wondering if this is what he wants to see. You curse yourself for letting your insecurities try and ruin your night with this handsome man who clearly wants what you want. You fold inwards on yourself only slightly, bringing your legs closed and positioning yourself more on your side than on your back.

Jack finally back at you from where he’s been stripping and glances over at you with a furrowed brow, noticing the change in position. “Sweetness what’s wrong? We don’t have to do this if you’re having second thoughts.” You shake your head so quickly that you almost make yourself lightheaded. “It’s not that. I just-” you pause trying to think of the right way to explain yourself without sounding incredibly pathetic.

But it seems like Jack can read your mind. Before you can even continue to draft your thoughts, his brow straightens and an incredibly soft look crosses his features. He stands from his spot and kneels in front of you on the bed. “Doll, you are one of the most gorgeous creatures I’ve ever had the pleasure of laying my eyes on. I just wanna make you feel good. Will you let Daddy take care of you?”

You can feel the heat bloom in your body and you nod as you release a shaky breath that you hadn’t realized you were holding. Jack smirks at your reaction, pleased that you’re less in your head.

He stands and holds you by your hip, urging you to rotate onto your back. Once you’ve done so, he grabs your ankles pulling them apart and down so your legs are dangling off the bed. He kneels on the ground in front of you once more and you see that his eyes are dark with lust. You feel dizzy, knowing that you’re the one having this effect on him. He lifts one leg over his shoulder, and then the other; finishing by sliding his hands under your ass and tugging you closer.

Any potential embarrassment is immediately banished from your mind as you feel his breath against your wetness. He wastes no time, flattening his tongue and licking a broad strip up from your slit to your clit. Your eyes widen at the sensation and you let out a loud gasp as he does it a second time. His tongue licks at your folds before his lips settle on your clit.

Immediately, as if they had a mind of their own, your hips try to buck into his mouth. Desperate for more pleasure, more of that tongue on you. You feel Jack grin against you and he wraps his arms around your waist to keep them still. “Woah now sugar, calm down.” He’s only removed his mouth a few inches, the hot breath teasing you with its closeness makes you want to writhe on the bed. Jack must feel the tension in your hips because he chuckles. “Don’t worry, Daddy’s gonna give you what you need.”

His mouth is on you again, alternating between swirling patterns on your clit and filling you with his tongue. The noises coming from his mouth as he works you closer to pleasure are filthy and you’re about to comment when he pulls back for a moment. You let out a ragged breath and sit up a bit, wondering why he stopped. He takes a thick finger and drags it up through the combined wetness of you and his spit. It teases near your opening and you groan as your want for more sparks once again.

He chuckles at your expression. It’s not a mocking one, you can tell with the way he’s looking at you, the softness in his eyes like he’s the lucky one for sharing this with you. He’s not away from you long. That same finger is entering you now and nothing has ever felt this good. You didn’t realize how different it would feel with fingers that weren’t your own. Yours always felt too methodical, his felt magical.

“You’re sweeter than honey. Did ya know that?” you’re glad you managed to open your eyes as you look down at him popping that same finger into his mouth, sucking it clean. You know you must look ridiculous, your eyes blown wide with lust and jaw hanging slack and open in shock.

You feel yourself clench tightly as Jack moves to slide a second finger in. His free hand reaches up to hold your hip, his thumb moving in calming circles along the skin there. “You gotta relax sugar.” He moves his head back to your clit, speaking directly into you. “I want ya to feel good. Just relax.”

You do your best to follow his instructions, taking a breath and focusing on his hand on your hip and his mouth on your most sensitive area. Feeling your muscles relax, Jack grins into you. “That’s a good girl.” And the praise makes you shudder. He moves a second finger through your folds gathering the pooling slick and slides them into your entrance. You can feel his fingers thrusting inside you, taking breaks to scissor outwards stretching you out in the most delicious way. The fingers curl, finding a spot you’ve never managed to find in your years of exploring your own body.

You throw your head back against the covers as you let out a wanton moan, eyes clenched shut in pleasure as he continues to stroke that sweet spot. You’re so lost that you don’t take notice of a third finger slipping in as he picks up the pace. You’re panting now, breath coming out rapid and hot as your chest heaves with the labor of trying to keep some semblance of calm as the man between your legs wrecks you. Between his fingers thrusting into you and his lips sucking at your clit you can feel your orgasm rushing up on you like a speeding train. You reach a hand down, hoping Jack doesn’t mind as you grab onto his hair letting out a breathless “Jack I’m gonna-” you can feel him nod slightly, groaning at the pressure of your fingers gripping onto his hair and the vibrations finally do you in.

You feel yourself clenching again, this time due to the amount of pleasure running through your body and your legs close gently around Jack who works you through your orgasam, only letting his fingers slide from you once you go limp against the sheets. He gives you another broad lick for good measure and you whimper from the overstimulation, not being able to form words yet.

He rises from his kneeling position and crawls onto the bed, one knee between yours, the other bracketing your leg. You stare up at him with glossy eyes, tracing over his slick mustache and chin. Reaching up, you circle your arms around his neck and bring him down for a kiss, slow and passionate and you moan into his mouth as you taste yourself, sweet and tangy, on his tongue. “You ready for more sugar? We can stop here if you need you.”

You know it’s the bare minimum, really, but you can’t help but be moved by the constant check-ins from Jack. It means a lot to you that he’s looking out for you every step of the way.

Not much for words for fear of getting to emotional, you reach over to your bedside table and pull the drawer open, fishing out a bottle of lube and a condom. You hand both to Jack and correctly reads this as an answer to his question. Looking down, he raises a brow in amusement. “A pink condom huh? That’s new.” Biting down on your tongue to hold back a laugh, you shrug under him. “They were free at the last pride I went to. Gotta stick with the thematic rainbow colors right?” He laughs with you ripping the foil open and rolling the condom onto his cock and you’re glad the two of you can laugh in the moment.

“Now sweetness, I’m gonna need you to relax again, alright? Daddy prepared you with his fingers but as you can see sugar, his cock is much bigger.”

Your eyes trail down his body and he was right. His cock was much bigger than his fingers and much bigger than the dildo you had made yourself comfortable with. But Jack has been patient and gentle all night and you’d be lying to yourself if the thought of him inside of you didn’t set a fire coursing through you.

His words sent heat right through you down to your core, you might have been overeager but his tone had you spreading your legs for him with a wink, a bold feeling suddenly overcoming you since your first orgasm. “I’ll relax daddy. I’ll be good.” His smile is blinding as he grabs one of your pillows and helps you settle it under you, lifting your legs to bracket his own hips.

He notches his cock at your entrance and your breath catches in your throat. He was right, it’s much different than his fingers. More filling, more intense, but just as pleasurable. The pain and pleasure intertwine and set your nerves alight. He inches in slowly, giving your body time to adjust to his size, the entire time he’s praising you, pressing kisses to your face, neck, and chest. “That’s a good girl. Taking me so well. That’s it sugar, keep breathing. You look gorgeous under me like this.”

His praise pulls you into his orbit further. Sooner than you expected you feel his hips make contact with your ass and you realize with a moan that he’s fully in you now. He remains still and bent over you, kissing you deeply, your fingers tangled in his hair. The stillness is agonizing, you need him to move and move now.

“Daddy!” you whimper, and you’d be embarrassed at the tone of your voice if you hadn’t felt him twitch inside of you. “Please move! Please, I'm ready for you to move.” He groans into your neck and obliges. He moves back, pulling out at a torturously slow pace and you feel his cock drag along your walls letting out a breathy moan. He pushes back in slowly too, continuing with this pace until you’re pulling at his hair again, whimpering and begging him to go faster.

“Alright darlin, you let me know if we need to stop now.” You eyes are trained on him as you nod, internally mesmerized at how much care he’s been taking tonight. You can’t say one way or another but you think it’d be hard to find someone to come into a bar hookup with this much gentleness.

“You’d be wonderful to tease darlin. You know that? I could listen to those noises all night, keeping you on edge. You think you’re begging now?” You clench at his words knowing that you were at his mercy, that at this point you’d let him do whatever he wanted as long as he kept cooing praise in your ear. “But tonight is about you, no teasin. Your wish is my command sugar.” He picks up pace and you can’t believe what you had been missing.

Your legs lock around his back bringing him in closer and you find yourself holding on, arms linked around his neck as he takes you on a ride.

What started off as a careful pace on Jack’s end, wound up pushing you to your limits. You didn’t think it would feel this good your first time. Maybe that’s what had kept you away for so long. But any fears had no place here as Jack rocked into you picking up speed with each thrust.

With one hand on your hip holding you steady, Jack leans down to start sucking a mark on your neck, pulling back to admire his handiwork in the form of a red mark that he knows will last a few days. In response your hands in his hair tighten their grip as you both let out simultaneous moans.

“Such a good girl for me.” Jack’s grunting into your neck at this point, his breath coming out hot and heavy, fanning across your skin. “Making me feel so good.” His thrusts are getting erratic now, losing rhythm. His hand dances across your skin, skimming across your chest before finding its way between your legs, thumb working small and quick circles on your bundle of nerves.

“You got another one in ya don’tcha sugar? I wanna see your face when daddy makes you cum.” You’re past words at this point only able to nod your head and moan in response.

With a few more powerful thrusts in tandem with the pressure on your clit you’re coming around Jack’s cock, head thrown back against the pillows with eyes rolling back in pleasure chanting his name.

Jack groans at the tightness around him and the expression on your face. He fucks you through your orgasm, removing his hand from your clit as he grips tightly onto your hips.

When Jack finishes, its with a shaky breath and a drawn out moan right next to your ear. And though you were on the verge of overstimulation so close to your last orgasm, the sound sent another pang of arousal through your body. You were definitely gonna store that away for later.

The two of you remain entangled for a bit. He’s softening inside of you as he gently peppers kisses to your forehead, nose and cheeks. You’re thoroughly exhausted, reveling in the attention and when he dips down you find yourself nuzzling into the juncture where his neck meets his shoulder. You worry for a moment that it’s too intimate for a bar hookup but immediately chase that thought off with a deep inhale, taking in the smell of sweat and sex and remnants of his cologne. It’s intoxicating.

Eventually he must tire of holding his body up so as to not crush you and he slides out of you slowly. You have to admit that you miss the fullness and only pout slightly as he stands from the bed, making his way into the bathroom.

When he returns the condom is gone and he has a damp washcloth in his hand. He kneels on the bed and begins gently wiping away the sweat on your brow, trailing the warm rag down your chest and between your legs. You can’t help but hum in contentment, not having expected this level of care after a one night stand. He balls up the rag and tosses it with expert aim back into the bathroom and you couldn’t care less where it lands. All you want is him back in your bed and pressed against you.

Words aren’t needed. Jack seems to read your mind and smiles down at you before crawling into bed behind you. You inch your body closer to his until you find his arms wrapping around your middle, tugging you close and eliminating the gap.

“Thanks for that Jack….that was-” you pause trying to find your words. “-that was fucking phenomenal.” You feel a huff of laughter against the back of your neck before feeling him shift positions allowing him to press another kiss to your temple. “I aim to please darlin.”

You close your eyes briefly before a pang of anxiety worms its way into your mind. “Will you still be here in the morning?” The question is quiet, whispered. Half of you wanting an answer and the other half hoping he didn’t hear as to not reveal yourself to be as vulnerable as you feel.

“Course I will sugar. I reckon–if you’re amiable–that there’s a few more things I can show ya.”

You’re giddy at the thought and can’t help but giggle. “I’d love that.”

You’re not sure where this thing between you two will go, but even if you only have him for one night, you know that it’s an experience you’re never going to forget.

#agent whiskey #agent whiskey fanfic #agent whiskey x reader #jack daniels x reader #jack daniels fanfic #how do tags work #can anyone tell i dont know what i'm doing and i Have Not Learned #dfhsdfh #one day i will apologize for this incredibly self indulgent personal fantasy fic #today is not the day #i haven't like actually re-read my own work but i am Going Through It right now and it actually made me feel better #:')#my writing

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tarantulas4davey · 3 years

Note

Football Albert and Band Race my beloved.

I'M SORRY THIS TOOK ME SO LONG i'm finally going through my inbox and there's some God Tier Shit in here but !!!! i need this one to answer another one SO-

i’m gonna apologize in advance for not knowing absolutely fucking anything about football in advance i’m so sorry

THEM

ugh ok lemme just-

i’ve said it before and i’ll probably say it again, albert is the quarterback cause Of Course He Is

he’s also just,,,,,, so enthusiastic. and so competitive. he puts his heart and soul into every sport he plays and football is DEFINITELY included in that

race is,,,,,, well he’s more of a theater kid than a band kid, but that doesn’t change the fact he’s the little shit with a megaphone at every game

he leads cheers, shouts encouragement, is the LOUDEST voice in the crowd even without the megaphone. all of that is multiplied 10 fold when him and al get together junior year

he usually sits with the group that’s NOT on the field (cause i think kath would be a cheerleader and nobody can stop me from making that true. oh and spot and probably hotshot are also on varsity football with al)

but when the standing senior qb gets injured on a missed audible and holy shit albert gets to play with the score tied

race can SEE the panic on albert’s face from the stands as the coach calls timeout and has the offense huddle up

so,,,,,, he sweet talks his way past the gate (and by that i mean the teacher assigned to it was miss medda and she saw him sprinting down the steps and let him leap the fence without yelling at him)

and gets coach denton (our local comfort 11/12 english teacher and head football coach) to let him talk to albert before he goes on the field

albert is, of course, a nervous wreck cause fuck what if i mess up that pitch or get sacked or just suck

which is completely irrational, cause he’s memorized every sequence they play and can do it all with flawless accuracy and even without that he could play ANY position on this team but is qb cause he can throw the ball the length of the entire field with no warm up if he wants to

and race can read him like a book so he just

“al, both of us know you’re the best goddamn quarterback that’s ever played for this team and you just haven’t got to show it yet. you’re gonna go out there and lead that team, cause you know you can and you’re really fucking good at it. you can do this, don’t overthink it.”

and with that, he drags albert into a searing kiss before shoving back towards the field with a call of “give ‘em hell, babe!”

and the relieved smile that turns into a confident smirk makes race’s heart flip flop in his chest as al runs away from him

then he’s back up in the stands, lined up next to his friends with all their chests pressed against the safety fence as their offense gets ready

and he can see al stop the lead offensive lineman and say something before getting in position

what he doesn’t know is that al was stopping him to tell him to let the other teams’ defense through

cause race told him to give ‘em hell, so he’s gonna do it the best way he knows (✨with violence✨)

so they hike the ball, and the same guy who shattered their qb’s tibia in his final season before college comes barreling DIRECTLY at albert

and race is more than kind of freaking out from where he’s half hiding in jack’s shoulder

but albert catches the ball from the hike, glances out of his periphery, and does a perfectly timed duck to send said defensive player sprawling onto the ground on the other side of him with the wind knocked out of his lungs while albert launches the football to one of his running backs

and race just absolutely CACKLES cause he knows exactly what expression albert’s pointing at the winded player from behind his helmet and it’s nothing if not TERRIFYING

and then albert keeps playing as good as race knew he would, so they win the game by a landslide

and naturally the group and the team all head for jacobi’s, the dinner near their high school that runs a “players eat free” night every time the school team wins

the energy is electric, buzzing on adrenaline and excitement, and al is sat back with his arm draped over the back of race’s chair laughing at whatever story jack is entertaining them with and he just looks around and basks in the warmth

hhhhhhh THEYRE SO GOOD PLS-

they’re very in love and i cant get over it someone help

also this switches randomly between being race-centric and albert-centric so if that annoyed you i’m really sorry my brain just can’t Stay Focused

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scilessweetheart · 3 years

Note

For the soulmate au alphabet thing?

C and Stalia!!

C: You see in black and white until you meet your soulmate

Stiles had very strong opinions about anything and everything. He despised the taste of barbecue sauce. He thought that “I’m Gonna Be (500 Miles)” by The Proclaimers was the worst song ever recorded. But most importantly, he hated the color grey.

Probably because that’s all he ever saw.

When he was younger, he was fascinated by the idea of soulmates. He had begged his parents over and over again to tell him their Soulmate Story. How his dad had walked into a seminar his junior year of college and taken a seat next to this pretty girl. When he turned to ask her if she had done last week’s reading, they locked eyes and their whole world erupted into vibrant colors. At this point, his mom would interrupt and laugh, saying how she couldn’t believe she was soulmates with someone so ridiculous, but she couldn’t deny how much she loved his light blue eyes. Then, his mom died, and he stopped asking about it. He knew it hurt his dad too much.

Stiles always wondered if his eyes were that color too.

He knows realistically that he shouldn’t have found his soulmate. His parents met in college. Some people meet while working, or at weddings, or at other events in their adult years. A couple down the street didn’t meet until their 60s. But… he was pretty much alone in this feeling right now. Scott had Kira and they were so disgustingly in love. Stiles was happy for Scott - honestly, he was - but Scott forgot that Stiles couldn’t see colors, and would often point things out like “oh, that green car over there.” Stiles doesn’t know what green is.

He wished that it was Lydia Martin. He was fascinated by this smart little girl in the 3rd grade and followed her like a lost puppy for years. But no matter how many times they made eye contact, his world stayed black and white. Now, they were friends. And they were so compatible. They were both smart, had a similar dry sense of humor, and worked together so well. Other than Scott, she was his best friend. So he didn’t understand why the universe couldn’t put them together.

But none of that mattered right now. There were darachs and alpha packs and wild coyotes (who may or may not be teenage girls). His love life has been forced to the periphery for the time being.

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

Scott’s roar echoed through the preserve shaking the very roots of the trees. Stiles whipped his head around, instantly being able to tell where the sound came from. “That’s what I’m talking about!”

He and Lydia tore through the trees, trying to reach his location as quickly as possible. This meant that Scott had either found Malia or…. Something much worse. He wondered where Allison and Isaac were.

Luckily, his questions were soon answered. He skidded to a stop when he saw his best friend crouched in front of a girl. She was huddled around herself, with Scott’s jean jacket draped over her shoulders. Her hair was messy, sticking out from her head at all angles, and she was smudged with dirt. Wow. Scott really did it.

“Malia?” He asked hesitantly, stepping forward.

The girl turned around and her eyes met his and time stopped.

He looked up as the trees spread to be a vibrant green. Lydia’s hair was red. The dirt beneath his feet was brown. The sky was a beautiful blue. So that’s blue.

In school, he had been told what was what color. He knew them all in theory. But seeing them? Right now? It was… incredible. He started to tear up as he took it all in because God, it was so much better than he ever even imagined.

Then it hit him. Malia. Malia was his soulmate.

“I want to go home.” She announced, standing up.

“Malia, wait-” He tried to call out to her, but she turned her back on him.

“The sheriff will be here any minute and he’ll be able to take you home.” Scott told her, leading her back to the main road.

Stiles stood there in shock. His mind was running a million miles a minute. Why didn’t she want to talk to him? Why wasn’t she also fazed by the colors? And most importantly, what now?

“Stiles? Is everything okay?” Lydia asked, coming up next to him.

He swallowed back all of his questions and put on a fake smile. “Well, we were right. We saved her. So everything is great.”

He didn’t turn to look at her, as he was sure he would crack. Instead, he jogged to catch up to the other two weres. They stood at the road waiting for their ride, Scott fiddling with his sleeve impatiently. Lydia walked up to Malia, so Stiles seized the opportunity to talk with Scott.

“Scott!” Stiles hissed, gesturing for him to come over.

“What?” Scott whispered back.

“Dude…”

Sensing his hesitation, Scott immediately went on high alert. “What’s going on? What’s wrong?”

“She’s my soulmate.” Stiles blurted out.

Scott’s jaw dropped, but before he could respond, his dad’s car was pulling up in front of them. Without waiting for Scott, Malia climbed into the backseat. Seeing that she only had Scott’s jacket on, his dad offered her one of the old oversized t-shirts decorated with the sheriff’s station logo. It was short sleeved, which Malia didn’t look too happy about, but she accepted it nonetheless. As soon as she was done changing, Stiles and his dad joined her in the car. Scott opted to take the others home and give them some space.

The drive was short, as Mr. Tate lived close, but it was awkward. His dad could obviously sense the tension, but Malia was pointedly ignoring him, and Stiles didn’t know what to do.

When they got there, the Sheriff headed up to the door first, leaving Stiles and Malia alone in the car. He figured this was as good a time as any to get to know her. He turned around in his seat, for once being able to fully look at her. She had long brown (brown!) hair and similarly colored eyes. She was… beautiful.

“Hi. I’m Stiles.” He offered her a small smile, before approaching the elephant in the room. “Um… So what happened earlier…”

“You mean with the colors.” She answered shortly.

“Yeah. That.” He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly.

She shrugged and slumped back in her seat. “So, I’m your soulmate. Big deal.”

“But… it is a big deal.”

“Not to me. I just want to change back.”

His eyebrows scrunched together in confusion. “Change… back?”

“Yes. Ugh, it’s so cold.” She muttered, wrapping her arms tighter around herself.

Stiles immediately jumped at the chance to help her. “Here! Take my sweatshirt.”

“Thanks.” She shivered, and zipped up the front of the jacket. She chewed nervously on her thumb nail as she continued to talk. “I just… I don’t know how to adjust. It’s been years, Stiles. I don’t know how to be human.”

“I’ll show you.”

He reached his hand out to her. She took it, and for the first time, she smiled at him.

#teen wolf #stiles stilinski #malia tate #scott mccall #lydia martin #stalia #fic #kay writes

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prose-for-hire · 4 years

Text

The hotter twin

Pairing: Xander Harris x reader

Request: "I didn't kiss you! I swear it wasn't me!" (maybe when he gets split in two)

Requested by: @sunflower-stan

A/N: Reader is usually kind of mean to Xander, until he (or someone with his face) kisses them. They never said anything until everything boils over at a Scooby Halloween party.

You and Cordy were best friends. You had both unfortunately stumbled upon the Scooby gang in high school and became roped into the whole saving the world thing. You had survived graduation and continued to help the others while you balanced college and your social life.

Today was Halloween. You had dressed up, hoping that you could let yourself relax. You were going to a party at Buffy’s house but you knew pretty much any party that happened there ended in some kind of disaster. You were fond of the rest of the Scoobies, although you didn’t often admit or show it.

You looked at yourself in the mirror, making sure your costume was okay. A secret part of you, one you didn’t want to admit to yourself knew you had picked your costume with him in mind. You hoped he would think it was cool. No, you didn’t. Who cares what he thinks? Don’t kid yourself, you definitely do.

You remembered that kiss you had shared as you stared at yourself in the mirror. You closed your eyes, wishing you could feel his lips on yours again.

You had been sat in the Magic box, Giles had given you a job after you had persisted in asking him every week after you graduated. He wasn’t particularly fond of you, your bluntness and sometimes confrontational manner meant he had suspected you weren’t going to give pleasant customer service.

But, you could be nice to people. You just tried to put up a front especially when you felt vulnerable. That’s why you and Cordy had been such close friends, you understood each other. You missed her, but you had stayed on for college in Sunnydale while she went away to LA.

So, there you were two weeks ago. Sat behind the register on a particularly slow day. Nobody else was in, you had been looking after the store alone. Which showed how far you had come in Giles’ eyes. You were his favourite employee.

“What you need a spell to create a girlfriend? Know a man that did that - well, I say man...” You tailed off, thinking about it. It had given you the creeps. You shrugged, “All you need is a robot and some brains” You offered with a pause for effect, “Oh crap, I forgot, you don’t have any” You said, your usual back and forth with Xander that you had expected. But he didn’t retort. Didn’t make an equal joke at your expense.

He just moved and lifted the counter so that he could duck under it and join you behind the register. Smiling at you slightly while he observed you closely. He moved with purpose, had a new confidence that you couldn’t deny you were attracted to.

“What do you want, Xander?” You had said, more softly this time. You looked away from his eye contact, feeling vulnerable under his gaze. He was looking at you in a way that made your heart flutter. Your stomach flip.

“You” He whispered, before moving his hand to cup your face. He pulled you towards him, closing the gap as his lip met yours. It was slow, passionate. A revelation. You wrapped an arm around him, trying to become closer to him. Your lips fit together perfectly, your heart was hammering against your chest so violently as if it wanted to break free and merge with his.

He smiled after you both pulled away. He looked proud, satisfied. You had kissed him back. You were speechless, for the first time. He had just turned and left without saying another word.

When you arrived at the party, it was already in full swing. If there was one thing you had learnt from Cordy, it was to always turn up fashionably late. That way, you weren’t hanging around waiting for the fun to start. The house was decorated really nicely, you knew Willow and Tara probably had something to do with it. The music was really good and everyone seemed to be in a good mood.

The costumes were really good and you winked at the person that had a sheet over their head with two holes cut out, knowing that it was Dawn. She had been told she could have a sleepover as long as she stayed upstairs during the party. But she had wanted to be grown up and had sneaked downstairs. You had some approving looks on your own costume and you smiled at some of the more attractive people in the crowd. Perhaps you could find a way to take your mind off Xander. Or maybe even make him a little jealous.

As the night went on, you had been enjoying yourself, becoming more social that you usually would. People might even mistake you for friendly which you didn’t usually allow to happen. You were just trying to enjoy yourself. Take your mind off your feelings for Xander, but somehow you managed to check what he was doing out of the periphery of your eye no matter where he was in the room.

What you didn’t realise was that Xander had been watching you and commenting on the way you had been flirting your way around the party to anyone that would listen. Willow, Tara and Buffy had all made their excuses and found a way to escape his running commentary which is when you had taken your chance to finally walk up to him. You had to say something.

“Xander we need to talk” You hissed. He looked at you, confused. You barely spoke to him without an insult flying his way and he was confused that you had cut out the usual biting comment and wanted to talk to him alone. You just rolled your eyes and getsured for him to follow you into a quiet corner.

“W-what’s goin’ on, Y/n?” Xander had become more and more nervous around you. It had started before the kiss and it was because he really did have a crush on you. What you didn’t realise, was around the time of the kiss that you hadn’t stopped thinking about, there had been a spell that had created a second, more successful Xander. This Xander had kissed you and you hadn’t found out the truth. But it made you more frustrated as Xander acted like he didn’t want to know you (which, in fairness, didn’t help that your attitude could be so biting).

“So, we kissed-” You started, but quickly got cut off.

“W-wha-?! Kissed? I wouldn’t kiss you, I mean, eurgh!” he mock-shuddered for good measure, “I’d get some sort of disease or-” He continued incredulously. He usually said things like this, but it hurt more today.

“Cut the crap, Harris. I’m talking your tongue, my mouth. Any recollections?” You continued bluntly. It hurt, this constant harshness now. You just wanted his affection. You wanted to be able to trust him with yours.

“I didn’t kiss you! I swear it wasn’t me!” he insisted, waving his hands out in front of him as if to erase the scene before him.

“Oh yeah? Who was it then? Your evil twin?!” You asked sternly. You scowled, getting more upset. At the same time, Xander remembered. There really had been a second him. A second him that did everything that regular him wished he could. Oh crap, he must have kissed you and he didn’t even get to remember it.

“Actually-” He started to explain.

“You big liar, Xander Harris! You know your panties? They’re on fire!”

“I don’t have-”

“Big, massive old lady panties. On fire” You scolded, crossing your arms in a way you must have picked up from Buffy. You were upset. Angry. He had brought up all of these feelings and you were annoyed he was denying everything.

You stared for a moment, he was floundering. His mouth opening and closing. You didn’t need this. You didn’t need him messing with your head. You didn’t need to wait around for someone that probably kissed your for a dare. So, you stormed off.

“Hey, wait!”

“No, you know what? I should have known! That stupid ‘twin’ was hotter than you anyway!” You shouted, whipping around.

“Y/n, please!” he pleaded, which was new and it took you off guard, “I mean it, ask anyone!”

“I don’t care anymore, I just want to get drunk and find a real man that I can kiss without any of these stupid childish games you have to play!” You shouted, your voice louder than the music now.

“Then, let’s just start over!” He pointed at you before holding a hand out as if to offer to shake, “I’m Xander and I like you and I want you. I know it’s hard to believe ‘cause of my strong manliness, but it hurts when you cut me off. I get it, I’m average. I have no strength, I’m no vampire and I don’t have any magical powers-”

“You’re not selling yourself here” You said, but he could see the smile spreading on your face.

“-But, I do care about you. I’m jealous of me, the other me, because he got to kiss you. He got to do that and now I can’t ‘cause you hate me again”

“I- I don’t hate you Xander” You admitted as he put his hand back down.

“Yeah? I’m definitely feelin’ the love with the scary shouting in the middle of a Halloween party with everyone we know watching” He said sheepishly as you looked around to see that everyone had stopped what they were doing to watch your exchange. When you stared back they quickly looked away and pretended not to listen in.

You stepped towards him, sliding your hand up his chest and pressing your lips to his. You slid your hand up his neck and weaved your fingers between his short hair and his hands caressed your back. He hesitated at first, but relaxed into the kiss. It was everything he had hoped. Dreamed of. He kissed you with fervour, never wanting the moment to end.

You eventually both pulled back, breathless. Both feeling your cheeks redden. You didn’t know what to say, you just smiled, avoiding the audience who wasn’t being subtly anymore. All eyes were now on you both.

“I’ve been wanting to tell you, that costume looks good on you” He offered after he got his breath back.

“You know what would look better?” You smiled suggestively and leaned in again, meeting his lips. He had flushed further, but enjoyed you being more honest with him. Showing him that you actually did like him. Maybe you could try it out, this honesty seemed to be worth it after all.

Every kiss was as good as you had remembered it. Maybe even better. His lips were like magic. You spent the rest of the party laughing and dancing and making sure you could lock your lips with his at every opportunity.

#a very Buffy Halloween #Xander Harris #Xander Harris x reader #Xander Harris x you #Xander Harris imagine #Xander x reader #Xander imagine #btvs #btvs x reader #btvs imagine #Buffy The Vampire Slayer #buffy the vampire slayer imagines #Halloween fic #Halloween #Halloween request #gender neutral #gender not mentioned

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shyneanon · 4 years

Text

And the fic I started about a week ago with a MF one-shot continues! It’s now called The Boss’s Daughter and it’s up on AO3.

I’ll continue to post it here but you can go to AO3 to subscribe or kudos or comment or whatever you’d like. It also just might be easier for people to read the whole thing there, since these chapters are long and the whole work will be in one place. Anyway, enjoy!

---

Your father was an unforgiving man.

As kind as he was to you and your mother, when he went to work, he became a different person. He did not tolerate failure, he did not tolerate deceit, and he did not tolerate disrespect. It was no wonder that he had become one of the richest and most powerful mob bosses in the city. People feared him.

And thus, they feared you.

He called you Princess for a reason. You were very much his princess. And there was no mobster in the city who didn’t know the consequences of making a wrong move around you. If he saw a man as a threat against his daughter-- whether physically, emotionally, or otherwise-- that man was as good as dead. And your father’s definition of a threat was a bit loose. He was a very jealous man. Every gangster knew that.

Well, Sans hadn’t, until Papyrus had gone on a tirade about it at him.

Truth be told, it hadn’t really scared Sans much at all. It was difficult to scare him-- though whether that was because he was tough or stupid, he wasn’t sure. Though it did make him view your encounter through a new lens. When he’d spoken with you, he’d had no idea you were such… forbidden fruit.

Unfortunately for Papyrus, whose… suggestion… was reasonable, telling Sans that you were a literal danger to him had only made you more desirable to him. It was that thrill that causes even the best of people to date partners who are bad for them: The feeling of playing with fire, of doing something despite knowing it was bad for you. You were so pretty, and you had been so much fun, but if he’d known all of this before, the spark of electricity he’d felt at being close to you would’ve felt like a thousand-volt shock. To think that he had held someone virtually unattainable-- had gone so far as to kiss your neck and the corner of your lips-- and come out of it alive?

Hell, now he just wanted to do it again.

Since he had nothing better to do with his time (well, he did, he just liked not doing what he was supposed to be doing), he’d eventually asked some of his men how much anyone even knew about you, if you were so heavily protected. Surprisingly, quite a bit, because your father liked to talk about you a lot. According to him, you were very intelligent. That didn’t surprise Sans at all, it had been pretty obvious. Well, sort of. It had been this look behind your eyes. Like you were always observing things, assessing them. No doubt you were unused to being hit on and yet you had remained cool and collected.

Heh. Maybe you’d make for a good mob boss yourself.

Your father even claimed that you helped with the business sometimes. The record-keeping and number-crunching, anyway. He didn’t like telling you exactly what your beloved daddy was doing during business hours.

It was funny how many small details had stuck with Sans’ men (and probably many others). You were just such an enigma that any information your father threw out was like a piece of a very large puzzle. You liked dancing, although you’d never actually been out dancing before. Papa was too worried about boys hitting on you. You did go out sometimes, with some friend of yours, but only during the day, and only to high-end spaces where the chances of a guy trying to put moves on you were low. An odd detail: You liked little chocolates, particularly the ones with cherry filling. Sans could vividly picture you gently biting into one, the filling as red as those soft lips. Dangerous lips that spelled death for anyone who dared to come near them.

You were just so off-limits that all you did was rile Sans up when he thought about you.

His mind raced with What ifs. What if he had just taken the opportunity to kiss you right there? What if you had agreed to his offer to show you how he could get around without being seen? What if he had been able to bring you somewhere private… and take away that innocence your father had worked so painstakingly hard to preserve?

Heheh. You would’ve been calling out “Daddy,” but you wouldn’t have meant--

“I heard that guy Acerbi is after her.”

“Acerbi? Don Acerbi?”

“No, you idiot, his son.”

Sans was snapped out of his incredibly racy daydream. “Huh? Who?”

Vinnie answered his question. “Adolfo Acerbi, Boss. The Acerbi family’s territory is right around--”

“I don’t care about that, whaddaya mean he’s after her?”

Don answered that. “Y’know, he wants to marry her. She’s an only child, so if he married ‘er, once her dad croaked he’d end up being the heir to their whole business.”

“Fuck, you serious?”

“Yeah. And for now it’d unite the families ‘n such. All that mafia stuff.”

Sans felt a surge of jealousy, even though he knew it was unwarranted. You didn’t belong to him-- well, you didn’t belong to anyone, you were your own person, even if your father wanted you to be his. Still, Sans wasn’t your boyfriend, he had no real right to feel jealous over you. Especially not the level of jealousy he was feeling right now.

But the objective truth couldn’t change the way he felt.

“Hey, Boss,” said Vinnie. “Didn’tcha say you were gonna talk with someone today?”

He was startled out of his thoughts again and checked his watch. “Oh, shit.” He got up. At least he wouldn’t be late. “Thanks, Vinnie.”

“Oh, uh, no problem, Boss.”

“Was he nice?” asked Mindy.

“Of course,” you told her. “He was in front of my dad.”

The two of you were sitting in a small but very expensive cafe and deli, immaculately clean and filled with people in nice dress. It was always nice to be with her, for a multitude of reasons. Firstly, she was your friend. You simply enjoyed her company.

Secondly, the cat monster was your window to the outside world.

While she was wealthy-- most monsters were after having left the Underground-- Mindy didn’t know where your father actually got his money. She was a civilian. Unlike you, she’d gone to college, and she’d been on dates with lots of boys. Ironically, despite being a monster, she knew a certain kind of freedom you’d never known. Mindy actually got around quite a bit, though you didn’t mind that. It was part of what made her interesting. She was wild, so she had a lot of fun stories.

At the moment, though, you were the one telling her a story, about the “nice young man” you’d met at the party. Adolfo Acerbi. Italian, obviously. Your parents had taken quite a liking to him, and you could understand why: He seemed well-educated, he was polite, and he had only said the sweetest of things to you.

You hated him already.

It was all fake. You could tell. He did a good job of hiding it from your parents but it was fairly obvious to you what was going on. You had no brothers. If he could just weasel his way into your father’s favor and wed you, then he could sit atop an empire made of two families’ blood, greed and arrogance. And you would be stuck right there with him. It was a no from you, but unlike Mindy, you didn’t really have any say in the matter. Mafia princesses were called princesses for a reason.

But you couldn’t tell Mindy all of that. She didn’t know where your family got their money. So all you said was, “He just wants my dad’s money.”

“Aw, honey, maybe you’re just being paranoid.” Mindy smiled at you. “Love exists, you know.”

You snorted. “I know that. It’s just… he’s sweet, but… too sweet? Too romantic.”

“Mmm, like he rehearsed it or something?”

“Yeah.”

“Ugh, those boys are the worst.” She shrugged. “Oh well. You don’t have to date him if you don’t want to.”

If only.

You considered telling her about the encounter with Sans and Papyrus-- she’d be bound to find it entertaining-- but you had the feeling that if you did she would just keep teasing you about Sans. Besides, she didn’t need to know anything about mobsters who didn’t really have anything to do with you. Your father didn’t do business with the skeleton brothers, as far as you knew, and chances were you would never speak with them again. Sans wasn’t worth mentioning.

But fate is a cruel mistress, and no sooner had you dismissed any thoughts of Sans than a large shape emerged in your periphery. Near the doorway. The shape was unmistakable.

Sans had been fun. Too fun. As much as you wanted someone in the underbelly of society to make you smile, you didn’t need it. If you had fun, you would forget just how bad your world was, and you would quit wanting to leave. You didn’t need to speak to him any more.

“What are you doing?” asked Mindy.

You realized you had ducked down and held up your menu in hopes of hiding your face. You wanted to relax, but you really didn’t need to talk to him anymore. “Nothing,” you said, though you knew she wouldn’t believe you.

“Oh my God, is it him?” She started to look around unabashedly.

“N-- no, it’s not Acerbi.”

“Not Acerbi-- Wait, is there somebody else? Is that why you don’t like Acerbi?” Her lips curled into a mischievous smile. “Oooooh, there’s a boy you haven’t told me about.”

“No, it’s not like that!” you said. But you couldn’t explain, it had everything to do with your world, and she couldn’t know about your world.

“Oh my, are you blushing?”

“What? No.” Your face didn’t even feel warm.

“Don’t lie to me, I can see it. Your face is so red.”

Well, now your face was warm. Mindy beamed. Thanks a lot, Mindy.

“Hey there, dollface. Fancy seein’ you here.”

… Fuck.

You lowered the menu. You didn’t have to look for him; Sans’ shape on your left blocked out everything else nearby. You tried to ignore the burning on your face and smiled politely. “Hello, Mr. Sans.”

“Hey, sweetheart, I toldja last night, ya can call me Sans.”

You saw Mindy’s eyes widen. Last night, no she’s getting the wrong impression, no no Mindy it’s not like that I didn’t have sex with him I didn’t I don’t even know how we would do that I just met him at a party--

You forced your mind to stop racing. “Right. Sans. Is there anything you need?”

“Just to talk to you, doll.” He winked. His smile was so genuine, so goofy despite the sharp teeth. You felt the corners of your mouth turning up and bit the insides of your cheeks to keep yourself from smiling any more. You’re just making this worse, jackass….

His voice lowered:

“What’s with the red face? Happy to see me?”

You tried to ignore your face getting hotter. “M… My friend here was embarrassing me about something.” Good, a distraction. You gestured to Mindy. “Um, Sans, this is my good friend Mindy. Mindy, this is Sans, my… um…”

Sans raised a brow. “Aww. Tellin’ me we ain’t friends?”

Oh my God, did he learn anything from last night?

“... friend,” you finished. “My friend, Sans.”

Mindy wasn’t buying it even though it was the truth. “Oh, of course. Your friend.” She wiggled her eyebrows. Still, she gave Sans a friendly smile. “Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too, sweetheart.” His grin widened. “You look like the cat’s pajamas.” A wink. “Absolutely purrfect.”

Before you could stop yourself, you snorted, which only made Sans look more enthusiastic. You tried to hide your face again.

Mindy raised her eyebrows at him. “Oh my, aren’t you a charmer?”

He tipped the brim of his hat. “Sure, to the women I want.” His eyelights looked over at you and he winked.

You glared at him, openly this time. You are such a moron. You could literally die. For doing this. You couldn’t defend him forever.

His smile became slightly nervous. Finally, he was getting the message. Why did he have to be so thick? And funny?

“So,” said Mindy, “why are you here? You’re not stalking my friend, are you? Stalking isn’t romantic, you know.”

He chuckled. “Nah. I can’t actually talk fer too long, I’m here tah meet a, uh… business associate.”

Mindy smiled incredulously. “Business associate? What are you, part of the mob?”

You forced yourself to snicker at that, as if the idea was ridiculous. Sans blinked, looking mildly surprised-- he’d probably expected Mindy to know. Thankfully, he recovered quickly. “I wish. It’d be more exciting.” He turned back to you. “I also wanted to give you an offer.”

He nodded in the direction of the doorway and you squinted at him. You weren’t going to leave with him. Was he that stupid?

“I jus’ wanna talk over there.”

You raised an eyebrow, and felt your thumb fiddling with your menu. You didn’t need to speak with him… but you were curious. So you got up and followed him, still inside, by the door.

He dug around in his pocket. “Last night was nice.”

“Which part?” you asked coldly.

“All of it, babe, yer fun to talk to.” He pulled out his wallet and started going through it. “I was thinkin’ I’d like to talk to ya again, if ya ever want.”

He found what he was looking for and held up what was clearly a fake business card for whatever civilian job he claimed to have. He held it out to you.

“If ya ever need anythin’... like, y’know, company… jus’ give me or Paps a call, huh?” He shrugged. “Well, maybe not Paps. But me.” He flashed those shark-like teeth at you.

You just stared. What on Earth was his problem? He could easily go flirt with someone whose father wouldn’t have him shot for it.

“C’mon, babe, you were fun. I don’t meet a lotta fun people.” He held it out further. “Please?”

His pleading smile was seemed so genuine.

Whatever. You smiled politely, taking the card. “Thanks. I’ll keep your offer in mind.”

Judging from the look on his face, he could tell you didn’t mean it. He seemed… disappointed.

You felt disappointed too. Good.

He tipped the brim of his hat again. “Anyway, I’ll let you two ladies keep talking. It was nice seein’ you again.”

“Nice seeing you,” you said.

When you made your way back to the table and sat down, Mindy folded her arms. “So. Mister Sans, huh?”

“It’s not like that,” you said.

“‘Sure, to the women I want,’” she said, doing her best impression of Sans’ deep, smooth voice. She then raised her eyebrows at you as if daring you to offer an explanation.

“We met at the same party where I met Adolfo,” you said. “He flirted with me, and I turned him down.” You left out the part where you let him hold you and… kiss you. The spot at the corner of your lip that he’d kissed suddenly felt tingly. It had probably been the most rebellious thing you’d ever done, despite how much you hated the lifestyle you’d been born into.

“You what?” Mindy said, almost slamming her hands down on the table in outrage. “Why?”

“Because I don’t like him. He’s probably the dumbest person I’ve ever met.”

“Ouch,” she said. “Harsh.” She sighed in mock disappointment. “What a shame. His name is so short. Easy to moan.”

You felt a mixture of embarrassment and amusement. “Why don’t you just go sleep with him if you find him so appealing?”

“Nuh-uh. I smell a budding romance.” She made a sweeping gesture with her hand. “An intelligent girl, wooed by an unlikely man. I don’t want to get in the way of that.”

“That will never happen in a million--”

“Ooh, ooh, before I forget to tell you! Next weekend this… club I know…” She gave you a wink. You knew what that meant-- a speakeasy. “... is having a swing night. You told me you’ve never gone dancing before. We should go!”

You felt your heart sink, the previous conversation instantly forgotten. You shook your head. “My parents wouldn’t let me.” Too many boys.

“Then sneak out. Easy fix.”

“N… No.”

She sighed in exasperation. “Just ask, OK? Please?”

You nodded. “... OK.”

“Thank you.” She looked at the card in your hand. “What’s that?”

“Oh, just some stupid card he gave me with his number.” You turned it over in your hand.

“Mmmm, his number. You gonna keep it?”

“I already said I don’t like him, why would I keep his number?”

You grabbed your purse. Trying not to make eye contact with Mindy, you tilted the bag towards you so that she wouldn’t see the small pistol inside, and tucked the card into a pocket inside the purse. You tried to seem nonchalant about it, but when you looked at Mindy again she was wearing a massive, smug grin on her face.

“I’m going to throw it away when I get home,” you told her.

“Riiiight.” She took a sip of her water. “Of course.”

“I am,” you insisted. You just didn’t want to toss it anywhere. But you told yourself you were going to throw it away.

You didn’t.

#fanfiction #self-insert #reader-insert #sans x reader #sans/reader #mafiafell #mf sans #mafiafell sans #fanfic

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catsnkooks · 4 years

Text

Mandalorian Elegy (ch. 2)

Commander Cody x Obi-Wan Kenobi

summary: Obi-Wan heads to the Mandalorian countryside to aid the Fett family farm to escape the oppressive atmosphere of the city. He expects a few months of hard, simple labor, but his plans complicate when he finds himself falling for the simple hardworking farmer instead.

rating: G

word count: 1.9k

warnings: cody takes his shirt off so fair warning lmao

a/n: i’m really excited for this next one!!! i love making obi yearn.........

here it is on ao3!!

previous chapter, next chapter

Only a few days in the Mandalorian countryside and Obi-Wan was already falling in love. It was so very peaceful compared to the bustling life in Coruscant. Every morning he woke to a hearty breakfast waiting for him with good conversation from all of his hosts, and then it was time to do the daily chores.

He'd taken to collecting the eggs every morning—a simple task he knew he couldn’t mess up. Even Boga was on her best behavior around the coop. But what amused Cody greatly was how much the chickens seemed to like him.

This morning, they all followed behind him in single file, while he forced himself to contain his laughter so he didn’t spill their eggs currently resting in his shirt.

“I don’t know why they like me so much!” he exclaimed to Cody, who stood at the edge of the porch, his shoulders shaking with silent laughter.

“It’s because you spoil them,” Cody said, following him into the kitchen so he could deposit the eggs into the fridge.

Obi-Wan scoffed. “I don’t treat them any differently than you do.”

Cody just eyed him as he took out an old piece of bread from the cabinet, following him back outside. He shook his head at him while Obi-Wan knelt down beside the chickens, holding up the piece of bread.

“You all have to share this, alright?” Obi-Wan said, pointing a finger at all of the chickens present. Then he set the piece of bread down and stepped back while they all attacked it. He shook his head and sighed, climbing into the truck with Cody and Boga. “How uncivilized.”

Today, Cody was going to show him Bly’s greenhouse and garden. It was closer to the town so he would get better business, but not too far away where it was a long commute. This time, he allowed Boga to stick her head out of the window and flap her tongue in the wind as they drove.

They pulled up to a gravel driveway with a greenhouse and large wood awning next to it that had “Farmer’s Market” written on a homemade sign. Behind the buildings, Obi-Wan could see a field filled with many different kinds of crops. Rex and Bly stood outside of the greenhouse and waved as they approached.

Obi-Wan hadn’t seen Bly as much as the other brothers. They were too often busy at opposite ends of the farm to truly have time to meet properly. His hair was cut shorter than Cody’s and Rex’s but if it wasn’t for the yellow tattoos on his cheeks, Obi-Wan wouldn’t have been able to tell them apart.

“Hello, it’s finally nice to meet another plant person,” Bly said, shaking his hand and grinning.

Obi-Wan returned it with a smile of his own. He mentioned to Cody that he had studied plant science a little while in college, and Cody must have passed that onto his gardener brother. “Indeed. It does get dull talking animals all the time.” He saw Rex roll his eyes in his periphery.

“Come on in and I’ll give you a tour.”

Bly explained that while he did sell some flowers in the main greenhouse, he really specialized in produce sales, which explained the large garden behind them. The flowers he did have were beautiful classics; begonias, geraniums, marigolds, vinca, and petunias. There was a small section of just blue flowers along one wall and Rex made as if to touch them.

“Hey! Don’t touch those!” Bly yelled at him. “Those are Aayla’s!”

Obi-Wan turned to Cody. “Who’s Aayla?”

“That’s his girlfriend,” Rex said in singsong, grinning at Bly whose ears flushed darker.

“She’s not my girlfriend!”

Cody shared a look with Obi-Wan and he hid his grin behind his hand. “They’re very pretty.”

“Her favorite color is blue but that’s a really hard color to get in flowers,” Bly explained, shooing Rex away from them. “Lobelia is really the only flower that’s truly blue but I found some blue Columbine that I think she’ll like.”

Rex made a lovesick expression behind his brother’s back, making Cody snort, and Bly turned around to glare at them. Obi-Wan stifled a chuckle.

“Tell me more about your produce operation here.”

With one last glare at his brothers, Bly led Obi-Wan out of the greenhouse and down to the gardens.

It was really quite impressive, considering Bly did most of the work himself. He made a considerable amount of money selling produce during the harvest seasons, bringing the derelict garden and greenhouse that just sat on the side of the road into a successful business. Obi-Wan could hear the pride in his voice and he couldn’t help but smile when he boasted about his accomplishments.

They left Bly later in the morning, Rex hitching a ride in the back of the truck with Boga. He helped Cody make a light lunch and then they were to clean out the barn. Cody and Rex volunteered to shovel to save Obi-Wan from the smell, so he was relegated to spreading the shavings and hay once they were done. And to prevent Boga from eating the poop.

While he was waiting for them to finish clearing another stall, Obi-Wan found himself being watched as he stood at the edge of a large pen. A beautiful brown horse watched him from the opposite side of the pen, flicking her ears in the wind. Obi-Wan held out a hand, encouraging it to come closer.

“It’s alright, come here,” he murmured. He held out a handful of hay and it cautiously walked toward him. “There you go. Do you want a snack?”

It took a bite out of the hay and chewed it, keeping its eyes on him. He slowly reached out and touched the back of his hand to her cheek, running it down to her nose, letting it sniff his hand.

“You’re very pretty,” he told it. It was. A beautiful deep brown, a dark mane and tail, with a white spot in the center of its forehead. “What’s your name?”

Just then, Boga shifted beside Obi-Wan and reached between the bars of the fence to sniff at the horse, startling it, and making it run to the other side of the pen. Boga looked up at him, her ears drooping.

“I'm sorry, girl, the horse must not like dogs,” he told her. He grabbed another handful of hay and climbed over the fence, intent on making friends. He cautiously walked toward it, holding the hay out in front of him. “It’s alright; we didn’t mean to spook you.”

The horse pawed at the ground but didn’t make a move toward him. He heard someone yell at him behind him, spooking the horse even more and making it toss its head and prance around in a circle.

“Obi-Wan, get out of there!” He heard Cody yell from the edge of the pen.

Obi-Wan turned around to see him frantically waving him back. “Why?”

“That’s the wild horse!”

Oh. Obi-Wan turned back around for just a moment to see the horse paw at the ground once more and start running at him, before he was running in the opposite direction. He climbed over the fence just in time, falling into a breathless heap on the ground. The horse kicked and pranced at the edge of the fence before retreating farther away in the pen.

“What the hell were you thinking?”

Obi-Wan gave Cody an impish smile, stroking Boga who was excited by all the movement. “I just wanted to make friends.”

Cody groaned and put his face in his hands while Rex laughed.

---

The next day, Cody was determined to lead the wild horse around the pen. Obi-Wan sat on the top fence rung with Boga safely watching on the other side while Cody approached the horse, a treat in one hand with the lead hidden behind his back.

She took the offered treat, letting Cody stroke her nose and grab onto the halter. He let her sniff the lead, and then clipped it onto the halter, letting it hang for a moment to let her get used to the weight. Then he wrapped it around one hand and lightly tugged on it, testing her. She didn’t move, which was good, he’d told Obi-Wan. At least she wasn’t immediately running away.

Obi-Wan watched as Cody tugged more on the lead and began walking. She took a few steps, and then slowly began following him. Obi-Wan contained his amazed laughter, not wanting to spook her, as he watched them slowly make their way around the pen. Just before they got to the halfway mark, she stopped and didn’t want to move no matter how hard Cody tugged at the lead.

And then Obi-Wan watched with wide eyes as she suddenly whipped her head back, pulling Cody face-first into the mud. Obi-Wan barked out a laugh, holding his sides as he watched her pull a yelling Cody a few feet through the mud before he let go of the lead. Cody got up, dusting the worst of the mud off him, and glared at Obi-Wan. The horse hadn’t moved and he unclipped the lead off her, petting her nose.

“Successful?” Obi-Wan teased.

Cody glared at him again as he climbed over the fence. “Yes, for your information. Very successful.”

Obi-Wan eyed his muddy state as they leaned against the fence, watching the horse prance around the pen. “Well, I’ve been successful over here. I’ve thought of her name: Dandelion, for the white spot on her head.”

“I’d call her Pain-in-the-Ass at this point,” Cody huffed.

Obi-Wan barked out another laugh as they walked back toward the house. Jango met them on the porch and told Cody to go out back and wash off so he wouldn’t track mud through the house. Obi-Wan smirked as Cody grumbled off, following Jango into the house.

He was in the middle of preparing their lunch. Obi-Wan helped him, pulling the needed ingredients out of the fridge and cabinets, pulling them safely away from grabbing fourteen-year-old hands, which huffed and sulked at the table.

“Oh, Obi-Wan, could you go ask Cody if he wants mayo on his sandwich?” Jango asked. “He’s real picky about that sometimes.”

“Of course, no problem.” Obi-Wan stepped out of the kitchen and onto the back porch, telling Boga to stay. He turned to yell at Cody but couldn’t find his voice when he saw him.

Cody was shirtless, which was understandable, but that wasn’t the worst of it. Rivulets of water ran down the defined muscles of his chest and stomach as he dumped a bucket of water over his head. Obi-Wan watched with wide eyes as he set down the bucket and wiped water away from his face, slicking back his hair and sending droplets of water everywhere. His tawny brown skin practically glowed in the sunlight reflecting off the water. His eyelashes were dewy when he looked at Obi-Wan.

“What’s up?” he asked, as if he wasn’t currently making Obi-Wan’s heart beat wildly in his chest.

“Uh, your father wanted to—uh—know if you wanted mayonnaise on your sandwich,” Obi-Wan stuttered, praying he couldn’t see the raging blush he knew was taking over his cheeks.

Cody snorted and bent to grab his shirt, pulling it over his head. Oh, dear, Obi-Wan thought. The wet material of his shirt clung to his skin, outlining his broad chest and strong biceps.

“I’ve never wanted mayo anywhere near me,” Cody said, seeming indifferent to Obi-Wan’s internal plight as he came up to the porch. “He should know that by now.”

Obi-Wan managed a weak laugh and followed him into the kitchen.

That was a scene he was never going to forget.

#the clone wars fanfiction #obi-wan kenobi #commander cody #obi-wan kenobi x commander cody #codywan #obi-wan x cody #cody x obi-wan #my writing

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dreampeople · 3 years

Text

We’ll Come Back To This Later - a drabble

synopsis: ravi and mina reminisce during a quick trip to the convenience store.

words: 1.8k

read under the cut:

It was afternoon—aggressively afternoon, to Mina’s discomfort. An amber overcast hung in the room, the brightness of the oncoming dusk worsening her screen-induced headache, coating the walls in a dark, ugly brown color. The house had been unlively all weekend. Mina somehow managed to make being curled up on the couch on her phone under a blanket the core of her day, drifting in and out of naps as an intermission, and now the anxiousness she’d been able to suppress from the morning came creeping back up her stomach and into her throat, making her queasy. She prayed for a thump, a crash, a holler—for any cause to direct her restlessness towards. She was answered with a trail of footsteps coming from the end of the hallway, footsteps she immediately recognized as Ravi’s. His steps had weight, a clunk to them, and she could hear keys jingling somewhere on him, a melody she’d lately become quite familiar with. It meant he had somewhere to be. He had no time anymore for his steps to be soft, muffled by socks and dragging pajama pants, to be eager and willing to waste the day along with her like they used to. After all, being a college student was a great responsibility. He had much greater goals to pursue than correctly predicting the outcome of some contrived competition show or seeing how many shortbread cookies they could eat before one of them got sick. He’d just been way too busy for any of that anymore, for her, she thought.

Unbeknownst to her, Ravi had picked up on a shift in her own nature too. He’d noticed that he was now able to spend an evening alone in his room without her coming in to assert her presence, completely unprovoked. Whenever he saw her she looked pensive and uneasy. Instead of letting anything and everything she’d thought or felt throughout the day fall out of her mouth whenever Ravi seemed to her, ready to listen, she now barely said anything.

When she’d first moved in with him and his mom, her Aunt Reese, they were both tiny, stout and sticky little kids, both wary and hesitant to give way to being in each other’s space. The awkward period of adjustment was made easy because of Ravi. All it took was one kind gesture from him and she was stuck to him like wet taffy, and despite the expected begrudging of a nine-year-old boy whose main focus was to be cool, he still let her. Soon enough he did it without any grief, and for a while they were close, having composed a rhythm between one another that worked perfectly for them. But for the past few months she felt like the world had been spinning backwards, except now she felt even more unfamiliar around him than she did before.

Though she’d gotten the action she wanted, as Ravi approached she remained frozen underneath her blanket, scrolling through social media posts she’d already seen hours ago. She heard his clunking and jingling stop somewhere across from her near the kitchen.

“Hey,” she heard him call to her. She feigned sleepiness, clumsily sitting up and dramatically squinting her eyes against the invading sunset, then at him.

“I’m going to the store, did you wanna come?”

“Huh?” she made her voice a little hoarse, pretending to not have heard him. Ravi fought against rolling his eyes.

“I said I’m going to the store. Do you wanna come?” he enunciated, fishing out the keys in his pocket. Mina’s eyes filled out as she quickly shook off her “sleep”, gently swinging her feet from the couch to the floor.

“Yeah, sure,” she hid the long awaited relief in her face by staring at the floor. Ravi nodded and headed out the door, expecting Mina to follow. She hurried from the couch, sliding on a pair of makeshift slippers from the pool of shoes left by the door, the heels of what used to be sneakers welded down partly for easy access, and partly as a result of Mina’s laziness. Out the door she was faced immediately with the burning, setting sun, Ravi’s form eclipsing. She heard more unplaced jingling as another form blackened by the sun’s shadow flew into her field of vision, nearly hitting her in the face if she hadn’t caught it.

“Lock the door,” Ravi said.

“You almost fucking hit me,” Mina did as she was told. She skittered down the porch steps to catch up with him as he started down the road without her.

“You’re not driving?”

“I just meant the corner store,”

“Oh.”

The neighborhood looked like a savanna. Houses, street signs, and trees were all plastered black against an orange sky. Mina felt a hundred lengths shorter than Ravi while walking next to him, him providing the perfect protection and coolness underneath his shade. When Mina thought of being younger, this is what was usually in her head. The outside, the pavement slowly scrolling underneath her feet, and Ravi somewhere in her periphery. Jun was usually there too. An excited buzzing in her belly. No aim, no plan, no destination, but somehow their day always ended up being full. She tried not to think about how different it felt standing next to him now, how much faster he seemed to walk, how much greater an indent his steps seemed to make. Maybe it was all in her head, she thought. She felt like a fly that had latched onto his arm unnoticed.

It was quiet between them for a long time aside from the crunching of loose asphalt and the occasional passing car. The constant birring of someone cutting their grass baselined their silence. The sort of desperate panic that she often felt when trying to keep a conversation with someone, when trying to keep someone interested, when trying not to upset someone, rose up in her, a feeling she never recalled ever having felt around Ravi. Instead of saying anything her jaw clenched tighter.

Ravi inhaled through his nose and turned, looking her up and down.

“How did your shoes end up like that?” he asked, the corners of his mouth edging toward his ears.

“What?” Her head swung from one side of her body to the other and she kicked a heel up, a shoe nearly flying off. She smacked her lips.

“It’s more comfortable,”

He looked her up and down again, at the dingy t-shirt that was swallowing her upper half and the childish pajama bottoms she’d been wearing since the night before, and strands of hair that were crossed every which way into some kind of up-do, grinning wider.

“You look unloved, Mina,” he dramaticized, trying to make it clear he was joking.

“Wow, can you leave me alone, maybe?” Mina smiled, Ravi’s laughter easing her a little. Normally him laughing at her was one of the things that agitated her the easiest.

“Why are you fully dressed for the corner store anyway?” Genuinely, she wanted to know. It was the first time she’d been honest with him in a while. He got quiet, watching his shadow float with him. She could feel him slowing down to match her pace.

“I was gonna go see Jun later,”

“All that for Jun?” she thought but didn’t say.

“It’s just Jun,” she grinned up at him, softening her delivery. Ravi responded with another laugh, this time in the way that irritated her, like there was something he knew that she didn’t. They were a block away from the store now, and the light around them began to fade. The silence between them returned for the next block.

“Aye,”

Mina’s brows jumped closer together, startled by his breaking. Her face was all balled up, and she looked both really focused and really confused, staring at her feet again.

“Have you been alright?” He finished without looking at her.

“Me?” Mina responded, louder than she meant to. The strange kick in her voice caught Ravi’s attention, and he looked down at her, chuckling a little.

“Yeah, you,”

“Yeah, man,” she sounded like a puppy whose paw had been stepped on. Ravi knew how hot it got her when he laughed at her, and normally he would anyways just to see her get that mad, but this time he refrained.

“Why?”

“I dunno,” he stuck his hands deeper into his jacket pockets. “You just seem a little different lately,”

Mina thought of being younger again. She remembered that weird period of adjustment again, facing unknowns and being unknown. Though she was known at home, being out in the world was an entirely different giant. She remembered the distance between herself and others—between herself and everything. She remembered her heart’s relentless throbbing in her throat, how the eyes of everyone around her clung like velcro, being able to feel the wind’s slightest shift in direction against her goosebumps and how uneasy it would make her. She remembered one day in particular, her mouth and throat sticky and clogged with the words she’d held throughout the entirety of it, waiting to walk home with Ravi, to finally end it. She remembered watching buses and cars and other kids pass, and Ravi still not being there. She remembered seeing the sun set far sooner than she usually would, the wind, the tears welling up in her eyes, and Ravi’s cloudy figure finally appearing behind them, his concern, her relief, and her shame.

By the time they reached the store the street lights were on, along with the colorful fluorescence of neon signs shining behind every window, illuminating the walls of ads, party promotions, help wanted signs, and missing person posters that hid the white shining from inside of the store. Air conditioning collided with the summer heat they brought in with them. Mina trailed off into the candy aisle, grabbing a pack of sour straws, the kind covered in sugar specs and that always got stuck in her teeth, and a sports drink from the front of the aisle for her headache. She watched as Ravi grabbed a bag of jalapeno chips, a cookies-and-cream chocolate bar, and a tall can of lemon tea, just like he always did, then a box of saltines and a bottle of gingerale. She felt herself wanting to get queasy but fought it.

“Can I get a separate bag for these two?” he motioned at the crackers and ginger ale to the store clerk. He paid for the both of them.

“How much do I owe you?” Mina asked on their way out. Ravi shook his head.

Mina expected they’d be heading straight home, but Ravi had claimed a piece of pavement on the side of the building. His tea cracked open with a quick, soft pop. Naturally, Mina settled beside him. They ended up talking through the dusk. The dark was cool and soothing on Mina’s eyes, the chill of night rushing in and blowing against them as they walked home. She welcomed its tinge on her face and skin. By the time they made it back, she realized her headache was gone.

#writeblr #my writing #black writers on tumblr #oc writing #my ocs #lgbtq writing #fiction #drabble #short story #mina #ravi

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omgkalyppso · 4 years

Text

Honeyed Words

How many fics have this title? Probably a million. I wrote something featuring @esaari‘s tes breton oc Philip, and my imperial oc Oretia. Enjoy!

The grass was cold and wet from vestiges of the midnight frost puddling under the weight of the midday sun. Summer at Winterhold. The worst possible time to be a tome, or scroll, or a visitor. Inside the College, papers were kept magically dry and well kept, but as soon as you stepped one foot into the city, everything wilted with the humidity, including the people.

The citizenry was more amenable to the mages and their initiates since the reconstruction, after the civil war, but that did not forestall all of their prejudices, Philip had noticed. They phrased their suspicions of foreigners, of which he was no longer considered, as warnings of unstable mountaintops, roads that were thin with ice and awaiting unwary travelers, and beasts that roamed beyond their hibernal caves, but he heard the truth behind every bitter courtesy. ‘You are as unwelcome by the land as by our hospitality,’ they cried.

It was why they still lacked a dedicated blacksmith, a tanner, a wheelwright, fishermen — and Nine help that poor dentist who’d tried to move in four months past.

There were new bodies to fill the houses that had been built — carpenters and farmhands, tailors and midwives, but it was no wonder they still had to rely so heavily on the summer caravans.

The largest of the year was present now, the one that circled from Windhelm to Whiterun and Dawnstar, leaving Winterhold with both the last selection from Windhelm and the benefit of what the caravan had collected on its journey, just before they finished their circle and headed back home. The gamut of their venture was nearly complete, and so Philip felt triply insulted by the price being demanded of him to carry scroll and missive — which included a painstaking transcription of an extremely valuable book — to the new astrologer in Windhelm.

“Thirty gold is more than fair,” he insisted. “Twenty would cover a gold a day for the service, and fourteen was the cost last year.”

“Thirty might be fair,” replied the nord man, who was clearly dealing with other problems — but none of them were Philip’s, “but eighty is the cost.”

“Set by you, unreasonably.”

“Are you calling me unreasonable, my lord?” The title had been wrong, but Philip’s choice of words had been fumbling. He needed this, it was important.

“I misspoke. Surely, you are a man who knows his worth and his services, and so, you must know, that it is not up to the College to champion the losses of your caravan. You are headed to Windhelm anyway. I will offer forty, far more than you’d require.”

The nord nodded to someone standing outside of Philip’s periphery, and his shoulders tensed. The temptation to invoke others to grant weight to his title and his person was present, for he was on good terms with his Thane and his Jarl, and Skyrim’s champion of the war; but so too was he Archmage now, and whatever his personal insecurities, knew that he demanded his own respect. He shrugged his elbow towards the person who approached from his side, striking them, if lightly.

“I am not some common miscreant. Do not look to demean me. There are other couriers.”

“Then find one,” replied the nord.

Philip looked to the imperial woman at his side as she spoke and frowned in surprise. She was hobbling a little, unsteady on her feet, and not the manner of muscle he’d expected the nord to be summoning.

“And I wasn’t hired to help with customer service, Herknir. This doesn’t look like a case of banditry.” Her accent was thick and southern, and Philip flinched to look at her more directly as despite her words she still laid a hand upon him — but it was gentle, so much so that he couldn’t even feel it through his robes, on his upper arm, a signal to wait and not a reprimand. Philip took a step away from her anyway, disinterested in her reassurance.

“Take the illustrious Archmage for a walk, Oretia. I can smell the enchantments on him, and I won’t risk the safety of our men to the whims of secret, magical documents without collateral.” Philip blanched, he hadn’t expected Herknir to be thinking of anything beyond what he could get with the money. Herknir pointed a finger at him, to further cement his point, “If it were a message from one of your initiates back to their parents or their sweetheart in Windhelm, then that is one service; but you should know that your time is worth more, and you should be prepared to pay more in the future. Cool your head. Try Tilly’s honey-pops, and come back to me when you’re willing to talk business.”

“Sorry about him,” Oretia sounded exasperated, and Philip had to wonder if she had felt suitably chastised by Herknir over the course of her time with the man, as he did now, sent for a walkabout like a petulant child — though one who had been flirting with the crackle of magic on the edge of his fingers. “And me, I had assumed you were a nobleman. I should not have placed my hand upon you.”

“It is nothing,” Philip assured her, dismissing the perceived insult with a smile — tickled by the idea that she would more readily lay her hands on a Thane. They wove their way through a crowd, where the locals parted naturally by his presence. There was nowhere for Oretia to hide her stumbling.

“But perhaps I owe you an apology? Did I set you so off-balance?”

“Oh!” she laughed. “No, I— My legs are sore. I’d spent the last four days climbing up and down your mountains.”

Philip snorted, infected by his companion’s good humor. “Whatever for?”

She sighed, smiling, wistful. “To see my sister. It had been a few years and she’s settled up there. I thought that, seeing her would make it easier to accept, but now I’m less sure than ever about leaving; but you don’t need to hear about that. What was Herknir so upset about? Do you really have secret, magical documents?”

The way she exaggerated the word was light, teasing, and free of ill-will Herknir had managed to fit into the word.

“I—” Philip scoffed, “I suppose I do. The documents themselves aren’t magical, but few things that leave the College can be described otherwise.”

“Secretive?” Oretia prompted.

“For certain,” Philip assured her.

She seemed to take a measure of him then, a once over with suspicious eyes. Philip wondered what she saw.

“I could leave you now,” she suggested, tilting her head. “I rather doubt you need my company.”

Philip thought of the trader and patrons, and wondered whether for the moment she might need his. He wondered if she was asking for the freedom of privacy or to socialize with a friend from the caravan, but outside the College and inside Winterhold, his friends felt ever fewer, and Oretia had been friendly enough as to prove distracting from his other worries.

“There are a great many things I don’t need, but enjoy regardless. Of course, you’re free to go, and I’ll make my way back to Herknir in due time, but if you’d like to point me towards those honey-pops…?”

Philip felt any lingering stress melt off his shoulders when Oretia brightened.

“They’re very sweet, but delicious,” she insisted, directing them now with purpose. “There are some with raspberries caked in which are wonderful in tea, but they’re just as fine as a little delight.”

Philip bought ten for a gold piece, a strange assortment of things to pocket, even wrapped in wax paper as they were, but Oretia was right, they were good, as the two of them found a bench shielded by the cold of the sea, but still hidden by the warmth of the sun, as they each enjoyed one of the candies for a few silent seconds.

There was something about the way others seemed to have more time for trysts, and he wondered whether another person might take this time to proposition their companion. The pair of them with lips flush and spit slick from their choice in dessert, people might even think they had done something elicit when they returned to the main road. The air was thick and the blossoms were sweet, and Philip wondered whether he’d simply been surrounded by familiar faces for too long, that the blush upon a stranger’s cheeks would send his mind so far from his original intentions. He pat himself down, confirming the location of his missives, before plucking the honey-pop from his lips and assuring Oretia, “Thought I’d dropped something.”

He sighed, resting his hands on his knees. “Tell me about your sister? Might I know her?”

“No,” Oretia answered quickly. “Wylla Cosmotius — err, Wylla Ienith now, I suppose. She might have spent some time here, but wouldn’t have made a name for herself. Found the Shrine of Azura by accident, and then spent a few years “adventuring,” or whatever you might call it, with the priestess, to whom she’s now married.”

“Cosmotius?” Philip echoed. “‘Of the stars?’”

“Mm,” Oretia hummed in agreement. “A name I imagine Wylla was glad to be rid of. Pretentious ancestors. Not that the title of Archmage is any less assuming.”

“I?” Philip hesitated. “I didn’t choose that. And it’s practical, the position is what the title says, I oversee other mages, and am one myself.”

“I didn’t say it was wrong, I said—”

“You implied it was pretentious.”

“And you became defensive,” Oretia observed, amused. “Is my good opinion so important?”

“As important as any other,” Philip said, dismissive, shrugging. “There are a lot of things said about The Archmage, meaning both myself and my predecessors. I do my best to improve those rounds of gossip.”

“I apologize, I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“I know.”

Oretia bumped a knee against him. She went on, “My sister went through a lot, as a mercenary and … well as an imperial in Skyrim during the civil war. When I was a child I would think of how one day marriage might separate us, but I hadn’t expected to be lost to her when she needed me before that. To be treated as a guest, and not as family, when I would see her again. I worry that she could die on that mountain, and if I were to be in Windhelm, I should never know.”

“And so you’re thinking of staying?” Philip remembered. “Do you ply a craft? There are still incentives to settle in Winterhold.”

“The city is known for surviving winters without me. I don’t know how useful I could be, or how interested people would be in buying leathers, or how abundant the game is year round for the purpose of gathering supplies. I feel I don’t know much of anything lately.”

“If it’s any consolation I find that to be more true with each passing year.”

“Even for the Archmage?”

“Especially for the Archmage,” Philip groaned. “There’s much to learn and more to discover. That’s why I need to see my post sent to Windhelm.”

“I could take it,” Oretia suggested.

“As a reason not to stay?” Philip inquired, furrowing his brow.

She rolled her eyes. “I wouldn’t just stay all at once. I have employment and friends and possessions. But I might come back. Settle. It wouldn’t hurt to be owed a favor by the Archmage.”

He hesitated, surprised and unsure. Philip wondered whether he could get her in trouble with Herknir, and whether she was even trustworthy to begin with.

“I couldn’t make a pact like that,” he said quickly, in regret.

“I’ll take the fourteen gold?” Oretia offered. “And no favor.”

“Thirty then,” Philip suggested. “And maybe dinner, if you return?”

#tes #skyrim #oc tag: oretia #long post #my writing #i made this #the fanfiction i mean #bless esaari's approval and excellent oc's #i'll probably write more of these two sometime #<3333333 #esaari's oc: philip

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gothic-safari-clown · 4 years

Text

The Mind’s Power Over the Body

Part 8: Acceptance

Story summary: They only ever had each other. It had been that way since high school, ever since Elianna transferred to dreary Arlen and took Jonathan under her wing. They go separate ways for college, and when they're reunited at Arkham Asylum professionally, Elianna comes to find that they've both changed during their time separated. Can she look past the promise of danger and stay by Jonathan's side as they slide further and further into the darkness while she grapples to come to terms with the truth about herself? Can she accept what needs to be done in order to hold onto the only person who holds any meaning in her life? This is a very self-indulgent AU that draws from several different canons of the DCU and ignoring others, starting in the Batman Begins Nolanverse. This will follow the plot of the movie, although the timeline has been very slightly tweaked.

Part One / Part Two / Part Three / Part Four / Part Five / Part Six / Part Seven

Word count: 1986

Minutes after Jonathan left, Elianna was still staring at the wall, unable to think about anything other than the sudden and jarring conversation. She couldn't help but feel astounded that she had even agreed to what he was suggesting. Why would I do that? If she hadn't accepted his proposal, would he have gone along with the plan on his own? And what would have become of had she refused?

Her clock glared at her from its place mounted on the wall, reminding her that she didn't even have the distraction of a session to rush to. Damn it. Paperwork, paperwork, paperwork...

Finally forcing herself into action, El gathered all of her files and situated herself on the floor with them, playing music on her smartphone to help her focus. She ended up with papers stacked around her as she reorganized all of her files in an attempt to occupy her mind with something—anything—else. Honestly, there hadn't been anything wrong with the previous system in the first place, and now she was just surrounded by mess as she reshuffled the notes in each folio to justify her decision.

Two hours later, her office was spotless, and she had gone through at least three new filing systems. With nothing left to do for an hour, she found herself still sitting on the floor against her desk, desperately trying to unwind her conflicting feelings over the new situation.

She knew that she should care about the moral implications of her decision, but the more she thought, the more she realized that she just...didn't. Not for lack of trying. For God's sake, Scarecrow had gotten Jonathan to kill his granny when they were teenagers, and she hadn't even questioned it. The old woman did have it coming, just like she had thought earlier that morning, but did that way of thinking make her a bad person? She had never been one for philosophy.

And now, when the opportunity presented itself to exact horrible, torturous revenge on Victor Zsasz, she had taken it without even fully thinking through the consequences. She hadn't even been able to through her confusion. If it comes down to it, which seems likely, can I take a life the way that Jonathan did? Do I even want to?

Yes. She did. Each thing that she came to realize about herself sent El spiraling into a new set of questions. When had she become this person? Had she always been like this, keeping busy to avoid confronting that reality?

She couldn't tell how much time passed as she took inventory of herself until finally, another look at the clock told Elianna that her first session began in ten minutes; today, she had been scheduled a series of low profile patients to be seen in her office. Sighing, she finally lifted herself off the floor. She would have time to re-evaluate her life later. For now, she needed to get to work.

.xXx.

"In my opinion, Mr. Zsasz is as much a danger to himself as to others, and prison is probably not the best environment for his rehabilitation," Jonathan spoke into the mounted microphone on the stand with steady resilience. It was getting difficult for him to ignore Scarecrow, who had become practically giddy from the anticipation of getting to "play" with the newest batch of the toxin. He was almost exploding, insisting that Elianna would finally give in to her dark side.

Both Jonathan and Scarecrow had known that it was there for a long time. Jonathan had had his suspicions when he had told her about Scarecrow for the first time, and she had accepted it, and they had been confirmed after Granny's "accident," when she had helped them cover it up and had stuck around to boot.

At a glance, someone less close to the situation would say it was denial (which she was good at, apparently), but she had no qualms talking about it when the topic came up; she simply didn't care about most things that she should. She had somehow managed to convince everyone else—including herself—that she did, and that was the part that mattered.

The trial ended quickly after Jonathan's testimony. Falcone had already paid off the judge to rule in favor of whatever Jonathan said, and the rest was just formality. As such, he had already filled out all of the appropriate paperwork for the admission and transferred the deranged man to his care.

Finally, it was over, and Jonathan was on his way to the parking lot to make it back to the asylum when he was stopped by the most irritatingly incorruptible person on the planet.

"Doctor Crane," Rachel Dawes's voice rang through the courthouse lobby. Unable to ignore her, Jonathan paused to look at her, barely breaking his gait, suddenly needing to focus extra hard on keeping Scarecrow under control; he hated her as much as Jonathan did, possibly more.

"Miss Dawes," he acknowledged, having nothing else to say. That was passable as polite, wasn't it?

"You think a man who butchered people for the mob and attacked an innocent woman doesn't belong in jail?" Right to the point with this one, always so straightforward. Ambitious. If she would only take advantage of the ample opportunities that the city provided, she might even be able to make something of herself. Unfortunately for her, she didn't have the drive.

We don't need her sniffing around, Jonny. Let me take care of this now.

Not a chance, keep quiet.

"I would hardly have testified to that otherwise, would I?" Politeness be damned, the insufferable woman could chalk it up to a bad day if she wanted, just as long as she didn't notice the distaste rolling off of him in waves.

"This is the third of Falcone's thugs you've had declared insane and moved to your asylum, and the fourth time you've done so for Zsasz individually." Dear Lord, was she implying that he was corrupt? In Gotham? Never. Impossible.

"It isn't my fault if our security officers have yet to discover his means of escape. As for the rest, the work offered by organized crime must have an attraction to the insane." There, a safely noncommittal answer, and one that held basis in fact too. He turned to leave, having just about reached his limit with the conversation.

"Or the corrupt," Dawes's heels clicked on the floor as she took a few steps after him before he stopped in his tracks again. So she wasn't implying anything, just outright accusing him. Jonathan ignored Scarecrow's outraged (and far from empty) threats and caught sight of Dawes's boss in his periphery. A little childish perhaps, resorting to involving her higher-ups, but at this point, he was willing to shoot himself in the foot to avoid continuing this tiresome discussion. Interrogation, more like.

"Mister Finch," the suited man looked at the sound of his name. "I think you should check with Miss Dawes here just what implications your office has authorized her to make." That captured his attention; Finch's brows raised as he aimed a pointed look in the direction of the woman in question. "If any." That should do it.

I'm gonna get our hands on that one. Pick her brain and spit in it.

There's something we can agree on.

.xXx.

As desperate as Elianna had been for any kind of distraction earlier, each of her sessions had been more boring than the last. She was still of the opinion that people with simple anxiety disorders didn't belong in an asylum; she had half a mind to sign them all out and send them back into the world. But until she learned more, she had to operate under the assumption that they had each been admitted for a worthwhile reason; but the second she was shown any sign of real-world competence, she would sign all of them out to keep them from taking up any more space. God, what's wrong with me today?

Before she could ponder on her behavior any further, a knock on her door signaled Jonathan's return, and she let him in quickly.

"So it's...you did it then?" She asked, still unsure of how to address the situation.

"He'll be transferred back in by tomorrow."

It was done. At this point, all she could do was trust in the combined efforts of Jonathan and Scarecrow to keep her safe with some...foolproof evil plan. No matter how much she tried, she hadn't been able to bring herself to feel guilty for wanting revenge; she couldn't help feeling justification in her decision, and it was clearly justified in Jonathan's as well, and really who else mattered in this scenario? Zsasz? Certainly not.

"Okay. Well, are you alright? You seem tense." Jonathan rolled his eyes to the ceiling and shook his head.

"Everything is fine, just this...tedious woman from the DA's office tried to give me some trouble, but it's taken care of. I, ah," he checked the time on the clock, "I just need to go finish some paperwork, and then we can go back home and talk about this some more."

"Sounds good. I'm almost done here myself; when I'm finished, do you want some help?" She offered, and he seemed almost grateful for it.

"If you don't mind, I wouldn't say no."

"M'kay, then I'll see you later. Oh, wait, actually," Jonathan looked at her expectantly, unsure of what exactly she was bringing to his attention. "How often would you say security looks at the footage from our offices?" Good god that made him worry. What now?

"...Can I ask why you want to know?" She looked embarrassed, and any ideas he had had of her doing something that might incriminate them went out the window. Dear God, what now?

"I...may have been sitting on the floor for a long time today." She said sheepishly, and Jonathan pinched his eyes closed briefly before casting his gaze up, fully exasperated by the fact that she had found that important enough to bring it up right then. "And I'm a little embarrassed about it." Scarecrow, on the other hand, found it hilarious whenever El caused him even the slightest bit of undue stress.

"It's fine; they really only review the footage from sessions. I doubt anyone will even know." Elianna seemed relieved and nodded, a tiny smile at the corners of her mouth. "You still sit on the floor when you're worked up?"

"It helps me think," came the defensive response, and Jonathan gave her a look that said that he would tease her about it later, and finally turned to go.

Jonathan left her office for the second time that day. Only this time, she had finally realized that her conflicted feelings from before were due entirely to outside influence. For as long as she could remember, she had found it impossible to feel truly concerned about the things that mainstream society seemed to want her to be. Why should she try to force herself into a box that she didn't fit in? She could at least try to keep her mind open to revenge.

Elianna's hesitant resignation to her anticipation for revenge began to chase away any confused reservations that she had had before and gradually replaced them with a hazy excitement bubbling under the surface.

#the mind's power over the body #jonathan crane #scarecrow #batman begins #nolanverse #elianna montgomery #jonathan crane x ofc #fanfiction #multi chapter fic #cillian murphy #cillian murphy scarecrow #tmpotb chapter 8

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susoftjockau · 5 years

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Second Time of Consideration - SU Soft Jock Fic

Summary: After tutoring Steven Universe, Connie Maheswaran is brought to a familiar question.

Sequel to First Time of Consideration.

Created by @borkthemork.

—–

Suspicions were always a breakthrough to revelation; either by profound curiosity or persnickety cajolery, Connie always found a way to get the answer she craved when it came down to problems in her life. If there was a situational problem—such as with an algebraic equation (with its word sentences and its fetish for formula implementation) that needed more logical thinking than basic run-down memory—then she would zone out for a few minutes to test the pathways she had. Of course, she didn’t fully zone out, but her moments were full of focus, honed in on answering the small question like a dog to a bone.

When it came to Steven, it was a chase for answers that she never expected to be fully requited for. He wasn’t an enigma, per se, but he was definitely someone that she wanted to know more about. It all came down to a few questions, but the most important being: how far will they go as ‘friends’ now that she trusts him?

It’s a silly thought if she pondered about it too much, yet it made sense to her. There was a new feeling of relief ever since that night—nestled in the arms of a legitimate friend, warm to the touch from shared heat—and she couldn’t help but ponder over it again and again and again. Jeez, it made her feel like an infatuated YA protagonist from just thinking about it; it wasn’t like she was leaning towards him for romance like the schlock she’d find at the bottom of a dollar store bin, she just had to wipe her mind of that idea and just think about the main picture.

He’s now her friend. That was the start, but will it work out?

What was supposed to be expected from her?

—–

It was a beautiful evening, and Connie had a lot of thoughts to peruse over.

For one, she had to organize the upcoming tutoring sessions. Discussing with Steven’s dad over the phone had allowed her to get a better idea of what needed to be done; just the standard change in schedule, the shift in what should be focused on, and the typical thought process of what she was going to use to help him remember a formula or symbol. It wasn’t overwhelming. It’s enough for her to fiddle with her hair, frustration simmering low in her stomach, but it’s a tolerant feeling compared to other intense scenes from her life.

The second one is where the true introspection came about. Steven had asked her to come over to the café to talk about something—why he never asked about it through text was something she wanted to ask but it was too late now, she walked all the way here with her laptop bag and going back is just going to be a waste of time. Might as well get her favorite order for a day such as this.

An expresso.

Five creams. One sugar.

Enough to bring her through the day like always. Like any other day, actually. This is just the first time she’ll ever do this where her pupil invited her without the intention of tutoring. Huh.

First time for everything? She had no clue how to describe the feeling—she wanted it to go away.

“Oh, hey!” She looked up to see the boy in question. His smile gleamed, the sunlight hitting him in soft hues that made her nestle more at his expression. She had been used to seeing his chipper self like this for a few months now. It was relaxing to look at. “Sorry if I’m late.”

“It’s fine, you did mark the time as one p.m. after all, so you’re on the dot.”

“Oh,” he blushed before pulling back a chair. “Yeah, you’re just early.”

Connie couldn’t help her giggle.

He was in his typical clothes—the letterman, the cartoon shirt, the crisp yellow and blue—but the casual air around him was potent. There doesn’t seem to be a worry on his mind for today, an elation seeping through from how he tapped his fingers on the table and gosh, his smile just kept beaming at her like he was seeing the aurora borealis. What was he thinking about?

“Sooo, I want to talk to you about something.” He started.

“Don’t you want some food though?” She took a sip from her espresso. It wasn’t piping, thank the lord. “They have a special on pastries today, one of your favorites too.“

Steven went starry-eyed. “Mega-classic éclairs?”

“Three fifty-nine.”

“Aw, man.” He groaned, nestling his face onto the table. “I should’ve gotten my wallet.”

“Why didn’t you bring your wallet?” She asked. “It’s a long trip from Beach City to Ocean Town, did you have snacks in your car and you ran out?”

He gave her a nervous laugh. “You can say that; snacks sound great right now, though.” Suspicious, as always, but she couldn’t help but feel sympathy over it.

“Let me buy one for you.”

He stiffened. “No, I wouldn’t want you to go that far for me.”

“I’m just gonna buy an éclair.” And a hash brown to curb his hunger. And an additional salad. With a cup of warm cocoa. Now that she’s looking at him closer, he seemed to be shaking—hypoglycemia, perhaps?

“Really, I wouldn’t.”

“Steven,” her voice was stern, eyes piercing into him with intensity—the other staring back with pooling uncertainty. “I didn’t walk three miles to have you deny that you’re starving in a café. I have money, and I know you’re hungry, so let me treat you for one day.”

He just rubbed his neck. Looking back at the displays of food, Connie noticed him shift in his seat, until he gave her a quick nod and a small thank you under his breath. There it was, the go-to. She stood up, motioning him forward to come along; she needed to know what he wanted.

When they returned, their tables were decorated with food platters. One of them continued to sip on her coffee, and the other gorged on his egg salad and banana bread without a moment’s notice (his éclair and hot cocoa on stand-by in a napkin). She wondered if it was enough for him, from how his form twitched every so often, the sight of him plowing through like a lawnmower. “You need to be careful about this stuff, Steven.”

He looked up, his question muffled by the contents in his mouth.

“Uhm, Steven.”

He swallowed. “Sorry. Like what?”

“Your diet. There were no snacks in the drive here, were there? Did you eat lunch? Breakfast?” Worry was one of those vital things to feel about something like this. She doesn’t know how frequent his episodes were, but she knew the tell-tale signs of someone who’s health was weaker than the cafeteria awning.

“I had a protein shake for breakfast.”

“And what else?”

His stare became unfocused. “An orange.”

She brushed a hand through her hair, hoping the tension growing in her body would dissipate. He had to be joking; she knew the college diet was horrible—especially with the growing money problem—but she couldn’t stand the idea of him, in particular, doing that to himself.

Connie inhaled, focus boring at the weight in her bag. “I’m going to buy more food for take-out. We’ll split it—fifty-fifty.”

“But you already gave me so much,” he wiped a bit of egg salad from his lips, a frown now adorning them. “What about you get all of it?”

“Fifty-fifty.” She grimaced. This was getting a bit too much. She didn’t want to argue with him. “Okay, wait, what about sixty and forty?”

“That could work.” Steven fumbled with his fork. The prongs poked at the remains of his food, the éclair still uneaten. “But are you sure? I won’t be that hungry when I get back.”

“Just see it as a thank you from me.”

“A thank you?”

“For being my...friend.” Her throat was heavy, cotton-like, but she kept going. “You did so much for me, I have to show off my gratitude somehow.”

Connie hated sentimentality. There was something about it that brought submission or nakedness to these conversations that she didn’t enjoy by a long shot, but the way Steven beamed at her—even through his continued tremors and their small tension—made her relax more than she ever would’ve predicted. It was comforting. It didn’t accuse her of weakness; he understood, even if only a little.

“You deserve the best after all.” He told her, plopping the last of his banana bread into his mouth. “You’re amazing.”

Okay, this is getting too sentimental.

“All right!” She coughed, trying to ignore the heat from her cheeks. “So, what did you want to talk about?”

“Hm?”

“The thing you wanted to talk to me about. The reason why we’re both here.”

”Oh!” He took a swig from his cocoa. “Almost forgot about that. I wanted to know if you’re okay with going to a party with me and the girls.”

She tapped at her coffee. Why does this feel so familiar? Connie bit her lip. “What type of party?”

“Just a normal party. Natalie told me it’s near that huge park area with the big tree in the middle.” Oh no. “There’s gonna be a DJ, lots of music, food, games.” Oh God, no. “And the best part, a buttload of people to dance with!” How can he call it normal even after all that?! Is he out of his mind?

Connie swallowed, the lump in her throat remaining even after her best effort. “And...you want me to go?”

“Yeah!” Steven’s smile hurt her more and more—he really wanted her to go. “I mean, you don’t have to go if you don’t want to, but since we’re friends, I wanted to see if you’re comfortable with it now.”

Connie Maheswaran. What are you supposed to do? You can’t just say no.

“Connie?” She looked at him again. His features contorted in a frown, her heart sinking at the sight. “Is everything okay?”

”I’m fine. I’m just thinking.” Thinking lead to worries, and worries lead to anxieties. But she knew that she had to keep her cool, she didn’t want to be a mess over one of her first-established friends, she might as well be waving red flags that she can’t be his friend at all with the way she’s acting. “I’ll gladly go, it—it sounds like fun!”

His eyes lit up. “Really?”

“Yeah.” She pushed down the protests in her head. If she was going to make the effort of being his friend, she would have to push some boundaries. “I want to go with you guys, just tell me the date and when you’re picking me up, then I’ll prepare.”

Even with the fear toiling in her gut, Steven’s flushed elation—his little squeal calmed by the munch of his éclair—made it sound worth it. It shouldn’t be that bad, right? It wouldn’t be like the previous times? Her doubts, turbulent and murky, kept themselves present even as discussion changed, leaving her to feel a sense of foreboding when the two of them departed moments later at the door: one holding a big takeout bag in their hand with sunshine radiating from his gait, the other trying to curb the idea of stress eating as she embarked on her miles-long walk back to her dorm.

#steven universe #su #steven universe au #su au #connverse #fic #year one #The Party

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jujywrites · 3 years

Text

Always Falling Down, part I

This was part of a rarepair gift exchange. mricj and I got matched because sometimes u CAN manifest what u want for urself~~~

This is Rosawatts for sure, but also very poly, very id-ficcy and very long (just under 7k....). with a small part 2 pending because WE BUILT THIS SHIP WE SAIL IT HOWEVER WE WANT oh and a playlist (click plz~)

PS: the plotbunny emerged from "i thought you (loved me)" by livj707. One of my top 10 TTM fics and the rest of them are in there too!

AO3

FF.net

or keep reading

(Part II here)

~~~~~

~We hold on to the good times and the right now and the long nights~

Can you hear when I say "I have never felt this way"? (I can't see you and me and her without each other)

Roxie

You were 8 or 9 when you realized that you responded to people’s emotions in an unusual way. Your mom’s anger made you feel like there was a small fire in your belly, no matter the amount or what the anger was directed at. Her joy when hummingbirds visited the garden you both made to attract them made you feel invincible. When she felt sad, everything looked gray.

So what, you thought. She was your mother; of course you’d be attuned to her mood. The same with the rest of your family. But there was a slight wrinkle in that logic— you sensed the emotions of your friends at school, and that affected you similarly, if with less intensity.

Soon after realizing that, though, came the realization that even friends of friends, even complete strangers, had emotional signals that you picked up without trying. You brought this up with one of your dad’s sisters (one of your favorite family members, were you ever pressed to admit it), because you couldn’t quite stomach having your mom worry about you. You were pretty sure what happened to you wasn’t normal.

Your aunt introduced you to the term empath, said her wife had the same ability that you did. She taught you ways to handle the side effects (as she put it), how to channel and control it, to some extent. Even with this, though, things got more complicated as you grew older. People’s emotions got louder.

The maelstrom this caused in you was nigh unbearable and (luckily?) manifested itself as stereotypical moody teenage behavior, when you weren’t wrestling with the attendant physical ailments. That led you to what’s turned out to be a lifelong interest in astronomy and stargazing. Or more accurately, it increased your at-the-time budding interest exponentially. Others’ emotions couldn’t sink their hooks into you, not when your mind was buried in a book or when you were alone outside on a clear warm night. Stargazing served as meditation, too, and slowly you gained a better grasp on this whole empath thing.

That was how you met Neil. He lived in another school district; somehow both of you claimed a little park in town as a prime stargazing spot. He said his gramps took him gazing every summer, and Neil found he wanted to do it more often than that. You didn’t know much about him besides that and some shows and video games he was into, but that was hardly a deterrent to your talking a blue streak in the rare times when both of you were done watching the sky. You talked about your hobbies, how school went, how your little brother was doing, what music you were obsessing over. You told him everything except your biggest secret, and even though he didn’t always acknowledge it all, you could feel he took it all in. He was the first person who had ever done that.

Then he moved away with hardly a goodbye, and that was that. You remember feeling hurt and sad for longer than a day, maybe a week or two, but time has worn away the memories of how you felt. College, of course, was the next big chapter in your life, when your present-day reputation for being bubbly and carefree developed. That had always been with you; college life simply made you turn it up to eleven, a coping mechanism of sorts in navigating the world as an empath.

Strange how the peace you found back then has led you right back to that feelings maelstrom, into the difficulty of parsing what belongs to you and what doesn’t.

You didn’t see Neil until you got to SigCorp, at which point all the moments he was in your periphery during training slapped you across the face, along with hazy childhood memories.

“You’re Roxie, right?”

And all the years without him collapsed together. Maybe you didn’t see much of each other, but your friendship still easily restarted, helped along by your shared sphere of work.

You’d say he’s your best friend, if you were asked.

Meeting Eva was a different kind of slap.

You could count the number of crushes you had on one hand, your relationships on six fingers. You hadn’t felt love yet.

You fell fast and hard for Eva. Then you got back up, and cut that off quicker than breathing, because no way would someone as cool, collected and straight-laced as her would ever be interested in you. (Plus, you had no idea if she was queer and that’s not something to ask someone you just met.)

And then there was Neil.

The two of them had capital-h History, obvious from the moment you saw them together. If anyone knew how much time you spend thinking about your friends’ relationship, the effort you put into trying to push them together, how much time recently you’ve invested in worry (especially over Eva, but Neil too) you’d get therapist recommendations at the very least—

It’s not just wishful thinking. Your empathy gives you a sixth sense as to which people are meant for each other, and/or are dealing with feelings towards each other (which also gave you a leg up in office gossip). And Neil and Eva fit so well; that’s why they were paired together, why you convinced Rob they should be a team, despite how much you liked working with her. Not that he needed convincing. That’s how obvious their compatibility was. And yes, this was despite their bickering (and Neil’s pranks on his partner).

What drew you to Rob, as a colleague and as a person, and helped you decide to permanently partner with him, is how quiet his emotions are. He’s hardly unfeeling, despite what others (like Neil) might say. No, it’s just that his emotions are blissfully subtle. Sometimes when you feel them flare up it’s like a gift.

His emotions toward you aren’t subtle, not these days. And sometimes you feel terrible for relying on him as much as you do. But that’s another thing.

Eva

The cases that go wrong from the beginning are always easier on you than the ones that go wrong when you’re so close to closing them out. Talking to loved ones afterwards is the common denominator, the same intensity of pain no matter what went wrong when. But you’ve grown used to that pain, used to letting it glance off your skin because this is your job, and perfection is impossible.

You thought you had, anyway. The case you failed barely twenty minutes ago, the one from which you’re walking to the car with Neil now, found a chink in your armor. A stupid rookie-level mistake that both of you believed you’d fixed came back to bite you; you almost didn’t log out of the machine before your client flatlined. You owned up to it, the client’s brother took a swing at Neil and tried at you, and the only reason you’re both out of there alive is the brother’s wife calming him down.

There’s still paperwork to finish. You did the bare minimum before getting the hell away from that place. And Neil has one whopper of a black eye that he’s too bullheaded to do anything about, because he had a spare pair of glasses and that makes everything just fine.

In the car, the practically-visible wall between you and Neil is even more unbearable given the post-case mood, and it makes you feel sick. This is far from the first case you’ve failed, with or without him. Hell, it’s not even the first case involving bodily harm directed at either of you. It still feels like the last straw. But you’re not going to quit, you tell yourself. Someone has to keep fighting.

Neil may have stopped trying, but there’s nothing stopping you from fighting enough for you both.

Robert

For the most part, you’re an analytical person. You’re able to compartmentalize your thoughts from your emotions, and often able to see past others' emotions to what might be eliciting them. And that’s why your work at Sigmund fits you so well, why you chose memory traversal over being a tech, as much as machines in general and Sigmund’s in specific interest you.

Your personality and Roxie’s make you an excellent team. Even though her default mode is happy-go-lucky, you’ve been partners long enough to know that she’s the kind of person who can feel everything, all at once, and weather it. That talent must have always been there, under the surface; it’s probably what drew you to her in the first place.

Being able to compartmentalize, however, only gets you so far. You’re hardly immune to base emotions, yours or others’. You get frustrated when you know something is wrong, someone’s having a problem, and that your clear-headed distance from the situation isn’t helping fix it.

Watts and Rosalene, one of your best teams, one of the best you’ve ever seen since you joined Sigmund, have been backsliding for some time. Their ratio of completed cases to failed ones is still good (and they’ve had some brilliant successes), but their previous case was a failure and the mood leading up to their next one is not promising, to say the least. They’ve had innumerable rough patches, no question, but even you can tell there’s a good bit of the personal getting muddled with the professional in this patch. You’re in the unenviable position of having to monitor them, getting closer to explaining to the higher-ups why they are still viable.

Viable. What a cold word. Makes you clammy to think of it in reference to your colleagues. Your almost-friends. It’s... bothersome, to see them fracturing, or whatever less-ominous thing might be happening.

On top of that, there’s something off about Roxie. A dimming of her natural light. The only other time that’s happened is when her brother got sick; he’d been in dire straits before he recovered, and the recovery had been hard.

You know this because Roxie told you. You seem to be good at listening. If only you weren’t abysmal at asking. Not that Watts— Neil— would divulge anything, and Rosalene— Eva— seems even less likely to.

You’d ask Roxie but with her, you’re terrified of not knowing what to say.

Neil

You could’ve decked that guy. Definitely could have. For once it isn’t braggadocio— the things he said about you and Eva made you see red. He telegraphed really badly too, so you could sidestep him (he was like two feet taller than you and you aren’t a total idiot), but taking a swing at Eva?! Good thing the guy’s wife stepped in or things would’ve gotten even more fucked. Because of you and for you.

Of course, with the adrenaline gone, your mutual antisocial...ness, toward each other (what? You can’t word when you’re tired) rushes in to fill the vacuum. It’s frigid out too, which is great. And your face kind of—

“Ah, fuck me,” you mutter as your piece-of-crap company car decides to break down in the middle of an empty road.

Eva sighs epically. Her breath clouds. “Shit.”

Ha, she legit swore.

Your momentary amusement is bulldozed by the inconvenient need to talk. The second you’re alone alone with her, in lulls before or after cases, in downtime at the office, the words bubble up in your throat, more insistent every time. And every time you try to open your mouth, they disappear. It’s been like this for weeks, ever since The Incident.

She found the not-from-Sigmund company letter. She found the (other) pills. Unlocked door or not, you haven’t forgiven her for the breach of privacy. She hasn’t forgiven you for keeping (those kinds of) secrets from her. And here you are now.

You don’t know how much more you can take.

Eva speaks before you can get your voice working. “I’m calling Roxie.”

“How?” Flipping open your phone, you glare at it. “No reception out here.”

“We passed a payphone on the way here. Shouldn’t be more than a 5 minute walk.”

You just gape at her while she bundles up in her scarf and hood. “It’s minus fifty!”

Her eyes meet yours for half a second. “Don’t exaggerate, Neil. Not tonight.”

And, predictably useless, you watch her get out of the car and start walking, snowflakes shining around her in the dimming headlights.

Roxie

One of the things about being an empath is, it’s easier to tell when someone’s romantically interested in you. (Too bad there’s no one-night-stand-interest sensor.) That feeling has a certain color to it, distinguishing it from friendship or dislike. And it’s the reason why you haven’t dated much. Every time you’ve felt it, it’s been like a flipped switch, a lightning bolt, leaving you unprepared and uncomfortable every time. Sometimes it’s been because you don’t return their feelings, sometimes because you need a few days to adjust to the idea. Even with one of the ones you liked back (a post-college roommate, because you may be an empath but that doesn’t exempt you from so-called clichés), it petered out eventually when you didn’t fit together anymore.

With Rob, it’s different. So subtle you don’t realize right away. And so soft it’s easy to lean into and pretend you don’t quite know how he feels, keep your already intimate friendship separate from that other kind of intimacy.

You like him. Want to like him as more than a friend, the way he likes you. If you could only let go of your ridiculous double crush.

There’s only so much room a heart should have, anyway.

Eva

The incongruity of using payphones hits whenever you have to use one, which thankfully is extremely rare. You’ve learned the hard way to keep a small stash of quarters within easy reach on cases, whether they’re located in the boonies or not. Even with gloves on, your hands are so cold that there’s a lot of fumbling involved in getting them into the machine, more fumbling while you pull up Roxie’s contact info on your phone. Not that you need to; you’ve got it memorized. She’s picked you up more than once.

It hits you square between the eyes this time, so you can’t ignore it: Roxie’s been like emotional glue, from back when you were a greenhorn changing partners every couple of weeks to now. She was the constant for you back then, and then became your tech specialist for a hefty amount of cases until you got paired with Neil. She’s patched things up several times when you wanted to strangle him, by talking you down, or being a mediator, or just listening to you rant. And since tonight is turning into one giant negative thought spiral, you get stuck on how much emotional support you’ve taken from her without giving anything back, alike or different. After this, well, you have to come up with something. A restaurant gift card? Ice cream from that new place down the road from yours? Why is food the only thing you can think of? True, food has meaning, but you sh—

“Hello?”

“Roxie. It’s me. Eva.”

“Hey! What’s up?”

“Hope I didn’t wake you,” you say on automatic. Nope, she’s probably—

“Nah, binging a few Shadow Junction episodes before hitting the hay,” she replies with a giggle.

Over this line, the brief silence is crackly. “I need a favor. Our car died on us…”

“Oh my god wait, you just finished a case!” There’s some scuffling and a small thump; when she speaks again her voice is closer. She must have taken you off speaker. “Where are you? I’ll pick you up ASAP.”

You give her a handful of landmarks, the compass direction. With the dark, the gathering snow, your barely-held-back exhaustion, you're starting to think you might be back in the simulation.

Your hands hurt. At least they still have feeling.

“There’s a storm coming, isn't there? Are you okay?”

“Tired. Cold. But, yeah, okay.”

“Hey, Eva?” Hearing your name wakes you up a little; the weight in Roxie’s tone wakes you up more. “I’ll call a tow for you on the way, but do me a favor and don’t hang up.”

“Sure,” you whisper.

She chatters about the latest plot developments on Shadow Junction for a few minutes; you feel like you're absorbing some of the energy in her voice. Then she says, “I’m getting on the highway now,” and then she says, slightly more subdued, “Do you want to tell me about your case?”

Nope. “It went badly, that’s all.”

More crackly silence. Then: “I know I’m repeating myself, Eva, but… are you okay?”

I’m fine.

I’ll be fine when I’m back home.

I’m used to this. It’s fine.

You say, “I think I’m losing Neil.”

The metal of the phone booth bites into your hand even through the glove. “I… found some things I shouldn’t have.” Roxie can keep secrets, contrary to her reputation. This one shouldn’t be her burden, and so you don’t share what you found. “He’s been conflicted about what we do for a while. I think he might be trying to leave Sigmund. And that’s his prerogative, but I just—”

You trained together, joined Sigmund together, starting planning to join Sigmund together. It’s been an enormous part of both your lives, and now you’ve been a team almost as long as your dream to be a part of this company existed. If Neil walks away, what will you have left?

Roxie. Robert. The McMillans. Eddie, Lisa, Logan. You won’t be alone, and you still have your purpose to guide you. But...

You were so certain you’d see that purpose through with Neil at your side, you don’t see how it would possibly be the same. How you could be the same. Sure puts a dent in your faith that you’re your own person.

You can’t simply ask him to stay. Some small irrational part of your brain thinks bringing up the subject at all will make it come to pass. And those pills. If he does leave, if Sigmund is part of his will too, what if—

You wipe at your wet cheeks and nose. “He’s my partner. I need to fix this, and I don’t— I don’t fucking know how.”

Your voice doesn’t sound nearly as broken as you feel.

Robert

It’s another night of Roxie on your couch, eating takeout from your favorite place and watching a movie together. Neither of you have defined your relationship. You’re fine with that, and you think she is too. And yet...

“Roxanne, I—” You love her, have for a long time now. But you’ve seen how she looks at Eva, and at Neil, and you know she doesn’t have room for you right now, don’t know if she ever will.

You had a chance. You realized your feelings for her well before she fell in love with them (or at least before she began to show signs). The obstacles were too many: she’s half your age, you work together but are sort-of kind-of boss and subordinate. All true. All excuses, too, because you weren’t brave (stupid) enough to take that chance.

But she’s come to you for comfort, and you aren’t an asshole; you won’t deny her that because she has a different measure of your relationship. You love her. You would care for her even without that.

Then she kisses you, and she says, “I’m sorry,” and curls up against you.

Roxie

You’re making a mistake, and you don’t care.

You needed that kiss. It soothed these pangs, this hollowness that’s grown over the past few weeks from whatever is going on between Eva and Neil. And the way Rob’s emotions have started to swirl feels dangerous. Addictive. You want more of that, the power to make his emotions dance with one touch.

It’s getting harder to ignore the voice calling you an awful person.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble into his chest. “I know, in every rule book ever made, that I’m leading you on. But I’m not trying to! I’m so sorry. I…” You swallow, sudden clarity hurting your throat. “I think I want to be with you. But, Neil and Eva…”

Saying their names brings fog back over you, reddened by wine. “I can’t explain it,” you whisper, arms around his shoulders. “I can’t... decide.”

You can’t give Rob what he deserves, what you finally know you want to give him, if you can’t make your mind up.

“We’ll figure it out.”

Despite the uncertainty you can practically taste, it feels like a promise. He holds you tighter, and you let yourself sink into him.

Neil

You’re tired, exhausted, and that makes your brain go all overdramatic, but even with that you’re pretty sure this is the shittiest night of your life. You can’t talk to Eva, and she won’t talk to you, and now you’re stuck in the middle of nowhere trying not to freeze to death, watching her freeze to death while she waits for Roxie to rescue both of you from freezing to death. The least you could do is stand by Eva and suffer with her. Then again, maybe she’d rather turn into an Evasicle in peace right now.

You resent how much this case haunts you. You resent even more your inability to walk away from Sigmund and from Eva. They wouldn’t care, but she (probably) would. Does. You wish that didn’t matter so much to you. It shouldn’t anymore, after what she did. The one time you don’t lock your office door. Like a goddamn house of cards. If she’d told you right after instead of sitting on it for a few days, making you wonder what the hell was wrong with her…

You’re such a hypocrite, with all the secrets you’ve kept and keep.

Everything feels gray. Heavy. Tunnel vision, maybe, from the cold and your lack of sleep. Stepping out into the wind chill would probably help you stay awake at this point, except you’re not so far gone as to actually follow through on that.

Eva’s left the phone booth and is standing in the snow, hood blown off from the wind, and she’s too bullheaded to pull it back up. You stare at her hair streaming out, your eyes grow blurry from snowflakes, and your thoughts drift back to distant nights spent with a talkative girl who shared your love of stars.

Roxie

You’re up late at home, watching the Shadow Junction episodes in your queue, when Eva calls you, voice tinny over a payphone. You can’t sense emotions tangibly without being in person, but her and Neil’s voices have a similar effect on you regardless, by now.

You talk with her until you’re on the road.

Something’s wrong besides their dead car, and Eva reveals the tip of the iceberg. You’re relieved. Your instinct hasn’t yet devolved into paranoia.

“He’s my partner. I need to fix this, and I don’t— I don’t fucking know how.”

The turnoff to where they are is coming up. “I can’t imagine how that must feel,” you say into your head mic. A white (gray?) lie. Her pain is making it hard for you to breathe. “But I’m getting you back to the office, and we’ll go from there. One step at a time. Okay?”

“Yeah. Okay.”

You call the tow place as soon as you end her call. After that, things blur together until your car meets theirs.

The snow hasn’t stuck; it’s the light, fluffy kind that would be nice in another time and place. You can see Eva and Neil hunkered down in their seats.

You can’t get out of your car fast enough.

Eva’s first to get out once you reach them. She hugs you, and, yeah, you could probably die happy now. You’re such a mess.

“Thank god for you, Rox. Seriously.”

You’re such a mess. Neil’s relief nearly makes your knees crumple with its warmth, but there are... layers to it. Those layers and the ever-present knot of worry in your stomach keep you alert. Besides, it’s not (won’t ever be) the time or place to let them know everything you’re feeling. So you smile past your shivers and wave off his comment. “No problem. Of course I’ll bail you guys out of this weather!” Then you force your offer of a ride back out of lungs tightened with the fear that they’ll know what lies behind it. “Brought you some cider. Blankets too. To thaw you out for the paperwork, y’know.”

They accept. Of course they do; they don’t have a choice. If either of them suspect anything they aren’t showing it and dear god you are so overthinking this. “Tow truck should be here any minute, if you don’t mind waiting a bit longer.”

“You have heat in your car. That’s all I care about,” says Neil, and Eva says, “A few minutes more doesn’t matter.”

Then she puts her hand on his elbow as they walk the short way to your car, and all your stupid mushy probably-touch-starved brain can think is, there’s hope.

They settle in the back instead of splitting up over the passenger seat, and dumb hope unfurls further in your chest. You waste no time in unfolding blankets and handing them each a thermos. Eva acknowledges with a grateful smile, and you pretend not to notice how Neil flinches when you drape the blanket over him. You ignore the flashing burn when your hands meet their bodies, ignore how fast your heart is beating.

You have a plan, even though it’s a selfish one.

Eva

Roxie still believes her bright shiny mask is impenetrable, but you know her better than she thinks you do; something is worrying her. A lot. And here she is, practically saving both of your lives, and trying to hide it so you don’t feel any worse—

You’re faced with the sudden urge to kiss her.

She’s been a shoulder to lean on, a friend, a good friend. Why did this feeling burst through now? Did the weight of what you and Neil failed to do, the weight of what you know and what he’s not telling you, crack and cause this shift?

(What would she think if you tried?)

You push the urge away, but feel it beaming through when you take your first sip of cider.

Maybe in another life.

Robert

Roxie’s on the verge of breaking, and you can’t do one thing to help.

She stands by you, thermos in hand, while she waits for Eva and Neil to tie up some legalities and gather what they need. At this hour, the offices are silent to the point of suffocation. Having these three around is reminiscent of oxygen. Even so:

"I was really scared, you know?" she says, smiling, eyes painfully bright. "All I knew was I had to get them. So I did. They’ve been dealing with something tough and I couldn't ask them even though I wanted to and they were nearly hypothermic, Rob!" The noise that comes out of her is a shrill mockery of laughter. "So after they're done here, we're going back to my place. All of us. I don't want them to sleep alone. I'll hogtie Neil if I have to, I swear to god.”

There’s nothing you can say, so you just nod. And then you realize: there is something you can do.

You want Roxie to yourself, of course; most one-sided relationships are likely that selfish. You want her to be happy even more than that. So you excuse yourself to the bathroom, and then double back to the offices and poke through Eva’s ajar door, knocking on the jamb.

They’re both in there, which makes it easier for you. Neil’s already got a file folder stuffed with papers in his arms (which he nearly drops upon seeing you). You also notice the overnight bag next to him, and that Eva’s looking over hers.

(Of course. The weekend’s coming up. You should get your bag too.) That’ll make it easier for Roxie.

You’re also worried about them, so this isn’t only for Roxie’s sake. Eva looks like a shell of herself, and Neil’s posture seems to indicate he’s in pain.

“What’s up, Bob?” Neil plops the file folder into his bag. “We taking too long or something?”

You shake your head. “Take the time you need. I heard from Roxie tonight’s case didn't end well, so I thought I should check in.”

“We’re as all right as we can be,” Eva says, zipping up her bag. “And anyway, we’re done here.”

She stops when you don’t move from the doorway.

“She’s really worried about you two. I don’t know any details, but… go easy on her. She means well even when she’s overbearing.”

You turn and head back to the lobby, feeling overheated.

Neil

Roxie seems like a supernova in the frozen night (and if you weren’t half-frozen you'd be slapping yourself for your dumb metaphorical thoughts), and that light is enough, combined with Eva’s presence, to propel you into Roxie’s car.

You flinch because, somehow, her brief touch feels like it unlocks all your secrets. Ridiculous, because Eva got there first and you really hardly know Roxie.

The paperwork is second nature. You and Eva go to your respective offices; you squint as if that’ll make your handwriting look any less blurry (okay, guess your glasses need cleaning); at the last second you grab your overnight bag, and instead of heading back to the lobby you gravitate to Eva’s office and stand there like a dumbass while she finishes up.

You thump your bag on the floor. “Hey.”

“Hey,” she says without turning around.

You busy yourself with organizing your papers. But every so often you glance at her, and when you see she’s going through her overnight bag the urge to ask if she wants to stay at your place, or if you can stay at hers, is overpowering. Don’t ask, don’t— “Do you—”

There’s a knock, and of all people Rob’s standing there, as if tonight isn’t freaky enough. Still. Saved by the Bobert bell.

What he says, along with the sheer incongruity of his presence, knocks you out of your numbness for a few minutes. “Jeez,” you say once he leaves as fast as he came by, “he’s really got it bad for her, doesn’t he?”

A barely-heard whisper in your mind hisses, You should know.

She’s wearing an indecipherable expression. “I suppose so.”

It all makes slightly more sense when you get back to the lobby. Before you or Eva can open your mouths, Roxie’s talking.

“It’s been a really bad night for you two. I’ve been there, you don’t have to tell me anything, and... I won’t ask. But I’ve got a spare room and a couch at my place and you should take advantage of that for the night. I’ve already convinced Rob, and I won’t bother any of you, a-a-and I really think it’s for the best so, so please…”

As exposed as you’re feeling, you can see the appeal of staying at her place. It’s closer than yours, and yeah, okay, your brain cannot handle the logistics of dropping off and heading home. Besides, it’s pretty uncomfortable how upset she seems (even if it’s just about her sinking ship, har), and if this makes her feel better, well. You don’t know what’s going on, feel like you haven’t for hours, but you’re with people you know and who know you, even though they don’t know everything. There’s something to be said for having friends in the same line of work.

This rift between you and Eva hurts far more than you can admit to yourself, never mind anyone else. And even though Roxanne and Rob have no idea what’s happened, happening, between you two, them being with you feels like a bulwark holding back any further damage.

Maybe they might even help fix what’s broken.

Roxie could, maybesomehowsomeway. She seems like that kind of person, the kind who wants to fix people’s issues and is good at it, though who the hell knows where you got that impression. She’s standing closer, an arm’s length— a fact you only realize when she reaches up and takes off your glasses.

Roxie

You didn’t notice how close you’d gotten to Neil and Eva while you were talking, or that you’d been moving at all, until a shadow near Neil’s eyebrow catches your attention. At that instant, your accidental proximity doesn’t matter. Your heart stops for a split second. “Neil, your eye!”

“What about my—”

You remove his glasses. Eva gasps, like it’s A Bad Thing you just did (and okay, you can’t remember ever seeing his eyes before), and you can even sense Rob standing protectively close behind you. “Holy schnikes, Neil!” His right eye is nearly swollen shut, the bruise radiating nearly to his temple on that side and nearly across his nose on the other. “What happened?”

A tidal wave of guilt from Eva makes the room wobble, but Rob catches you.

“Sorry, more tired than I thought,” you say to their combined are you okays. Your nervous smile lands on Rob, who doesn’t look convinced. Still, he helps you upright silently.

Neil squints at you with his good eye. “What do you mean ‘what happened?’”

How can he not know? “It’s totally black??” You look from Neil to Eva and back, panic surfacing slowly. “It’s barely open??? Doesn’t it hurt?????”

Eva sighs, pulls a hand mirror from her bag, and holds it in front of him.

A pause.

“Huh,” he finally says. “Guess that explains why it’s a little harder to see.”

“Our client’s brother punched him.” Eva rubs at the bridge of her nose.

“He did not—”

“He said he was fine, but I thought he was just shrugging it off. I didn’t know he didn’t know! Don’t you remember your glasses broke?”

“He was huge! I dodged him easy! I…” Neil digs through his pockets indignantly for a few moments, then stops. “I don’t have my spare pair. Which… means that those…”

“Are your spare pair,” you finish gently, handing them back to him. “Neil, I think you might have a concussion.”

“Well, shit,” he says, at the same time Eva says, “That’s what I’m worried about.”

“That settles it.” You step back a couple paces, reluctantly. “You’re definitely coming back with me. I have ice and I have some bruise cream that’s pure magic, I swear.”

Neil huffs. “I already said I would.”

“You only thought it because I didn’t hear you.” You eke out a grin. “I’m not a mind-reader, you know!”

“Okay, well, this is my official yes let’s crash at your pad agreement.”

“Heard and acknowledged!”

Putting her bag over her shoulder, Eva says, “Then let’s go,” and leads the way to the elevators.

She and Neil take the backseat again, leaving Rob to sit in the passenger seat. Now that you’ve executed your plan, you seem to have lost whatever energy you had left.

The silence that falls, though, feels comforting instead of stifling.

~~~

The first step through your front door pulls a deep sigh out of you. Rob, Eva, and Neil’s various flavors of tension decrease slightly.

“I’m just gonna… stop for a minute.” So saying, Neil plops onto the floor in front of your stupid-huge couch.

“Sit wherever you like,” you say as you go to the kitchen for an ice pack.

You’re glad you turned the room into something slightly more presentable, even when you weren’t expecting three people to come by— cleaned up junky desserts from the coffee table, put pillows back, et cetera. You wrap a hand towel around the ice pack and bring it back to Neil, telling him to use light pressure. “I’ll go get the supplies.”

As soon as you flick on your bathroom light and see yourself in the mirror, your throat tightens with the need to cry. A few gasping sobs come out of you but, “Okay okay okay,” you whimper, clutching the sink rim, they’re here, you got them, you’ve made them safe now. “Get it together. Snap the hell out of it. You’ve got a job to do.”

You gather everything you think you need and then go back over it: disposable gloves, the arnica bruise cream, antiseptic wipes, washcloth, cup of warm water, 8-hour painkiller/swelling reducer. Then you splash off and dry your face, finagle all of it into your arms, and get back out there.

Neil’s made it onto your couch, probably because Eva’s sitting there now. She’s on his left. There’s space for you between them.

You’re friends. Colleagues. You’ve all been through highs and lows working at Sigmund, in parallel with each other. They can’t read your mind.

You unload your supplies onto the coffee table and take the seat.

Eva lets out a breath.

“Sorry for grabbing your glasses,” you say to Neil as you put on the gloves.

“Eh. Extenuating circumstances.” He shrugs. Takes them off. “‘Kay, do your worst.”

“I’ll be as careful as I can. First, these.” You hold up the wipe pack. “Your skin’s not broken so it shouldn’t sting, but I’ll make sure any excess is gone anyway. Oh—” You grab the pain pills. “Take these first, actually. I can get you water.”

“I have my own… water,” he mumbles, digging through his bag and retrieving a bottle. “Thanks.”

Once he’s taken the pills, you run the wipe all around the bruise, holding your breath while you dab at his closed eye. “Don’t move.” You wet the washcloth then and apply that, making sure no residue stays to get into his eye. That would suck.

“Okay, move if you need to. Magic cream’s the last thing!” You hold it up with a flourish. “Never had to use it on something this, uh,” you fumble for the word, “extensive, but I promise it’ll help.”

“Who died and made you Florence Nightingale?” he said with a chuckle.

You pause in the middle of daubing cream on your finger. “Who?”

“It’s an old reference. Really old. Like, my gramps knew the history, that’s how old.”

“Early 20th century nurse, I believe,” Rob says in a musing tone. “Founded the profession.”

“You’re almost as old as him, so you don’t count.”

“She opened the first nursing school, too,” says Eva.

“And you’re a nerd so you also don’t count.”

“She sounds pretty cool,” you say quietly; you’re close to Neil’s face again, applying the cream from the outside of the bruise in. “Glad someone’s remembering her, still.”

You don’t even notice the silence fall, you’re concentrating so hard.

Neil holds his breath this time when you put the tiniest amount of cream on and around his eyelids, using the barest pressure to rub it in and still wincing in his place.

You’re very close to him. Your hand tingles. Whatever’s charging the atmosphere is impossible to analyze.

“Um. All done.” You pull your hand away, look away, throw the glove into the little trash can under the table.

“Rox?”

You look back at him and try to breathe evenly.

“Just… thanks. For all this. And…” He leans forward to catch Eva’s gaze. “...sorry I got my head bashed in and forgot about it.”

“We should get that checked out tomorrow.” Her voice is worn, but her eyes are soft.

Your worry changes form in that instant, from low-key constancy in your veins to the choking kind of worry that comes from realizing you love them, are in love with them, your best friends who are in love with each other and either don’t know or can’t admit it. They certainly don’t have the room to accept your feelings.

You’ve known this for long enough; it’s hardly a revelation. But something about tonight has crystallized your feelings, made them impossible to bury. Now you know the origin of the physical ache that’s been dogging you for weeks, to the point of becoming a second skin, and you desperately wish you could do anything to ease Neil and Eva’s pain as much for yourself as for them. You just squeeze Neil’s hand, pretend Eva taking yours doesn’t stop your heart, and stare at Robert who graciously doesn’t stare back.

You nod, because you don’t trust your voice. But then you speak anyway. “We’re a team. Mismatched as we may be. We gotta stick together, you know?”

Looking at them both, you see Eva smile, and even Neil has a tiny flash of one when he says, “The four musketeers, or something?”

“Close enough.” Robert, soft, as he eases onto the couch next to Eva.

“No, exactly. One for all, and…” You swallow, looking at Neil, wishing so hard for Eva’s sake. “And all for one.”

Your hands left Eva’s and Neil’s to settle on the couch minutes ago, but now, almost synchronized, their hands cover yours again.

Every ounce of tension rushes out of you, in spite of the fact that your brain is in red alert mode, your heart’s beating fast enough it hurts, and heat’s flashing through you from head to toe.

Maybe one day you’ll tell Neil and Eva everything you feel. Maybe one day you’ll share your biggest secret with all three of them. But for now, all that matters is that you’re all together, safe for tonight, warm and dry. All that matters is the others’ emotions are blending into a shared, soft calm, that you’re almost, just about, being held by them. All that matters is that you all have each other.

For once in a long while, your mind is quiet.

#JujYwrites #SiqSquare #To the Moon #Finding Paradise #Rosawatts #Winlin #so. much. PINING

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bassgains · 4 years

Text

Musical Pounds

(This is my first attempt at a wg fiction so don’t judge it too harshly)

Andrew graduated in the top 10 of his class. He had been interested in many different things throughout high school, such as music, science, law, etc. He wanted to go to college far enough away that his family wouldn’t intrude on his daily life, but not far enough away that he couldn’t see them periodically. He’d finally decided to go school where his best friend Wayne had decided to go. Andrew and Wayne has decided to live together in the dorms on campus. They were both excited to journey into the unknown that was college life.

Andrew was your typical college freshman, trying to find his own way, just like everyone else. He was trying to figure out his identity and how he fit in with the campus social life. Andrews always appreciated chemistry in high school, so he had decided to major in Forensics and minor in Biology. He loved how everything in the body worked together to make it work. He and Wayne had also decided to join the marching band at his school. Andrew was in the Drumline and Wayne player Trombone.

Andrew and Wayne weren’t realy built athletically built either. Andrew wasn’t necessarily big, he was just a little “skinny fat”. He weighed 175lbs going into college and had a small paunch but nothing too remarkable. Wayne, on the other hand, was built largely, like a linebacker. He carried a hefty belly and was overall big and thick. Wayne weighed a hefty 250lbs going into college. Neither of them were overall worried about their weight, but that was all soon to change.

“I really don’t want to go to rehearsal”, Wayne groaned. “Me either”, Andrew said. They had both been at wits end with people in the band. Plus they were supposed to be fitted for show shirts and uniforms that day as well. Andrew has been fitted for a large jacket and medium pants, since he had to wear his harness under his jacket, and Wayne had been given an 2XL jacket and pants. “How much do you wanna bet that the freshman 15 will catch up with me now that I’ve got growing room?” Andrew joked. “Haha, yeah probably”, Wayne shot back, “How are your bio lab studies going?” “Pretty good actually, we’re talking about the human body’s metabolism and how certain enzymes work with the body to deposit fat”, Andrew said. “Really? Maybe you can undeposit this? Haha” Wayne said shaking his gut vigorously. “Haha I don’t think that’s how it works”, Andrew joked. “I didn’t think so, haha. Come on, we’d best get on the field before they yell at us”, Wayne said starting to run to his set. “Probably”, Andrew said, picking up his harness that was vaguely tight, but just loose enough that he could adjust it while wearing it. He finally adjusted everything and placed his drum on the harness and ran onto the field.

Andrew woke up the next morning before Wayne had. It was a Saturday and it was their first football game of the season to march in. Excited, yet nervous, Andrew got up and made sure he had everything ready for the day. He had completely forgotten about the vile he took from the lab last night. He looked at it and remembered what had happened last night. He’d opened the vile and smelled the liquid. It was an odd smell. It wasn’t unpleasant, but it wasn’t necessarily nice. He just kept looking at it and thought “I wonder what the effects on a living human are?” Andrew knew that it was better to test on something else before on an actual human, let alone yourself individually. He also had the syringe from last night that he’d had refilled. As he was looking at both of them, he heard Wayne get up. Andrew quickly shoved the syringe and vile back on the table behind the fast food wrapper. “You’re up early, haha” Wayne said. “Yeah, I’m just ready to perform today”, Andrew said. “I can tell lol”. “I’m just ready for something that’s not me staring under a microscope, haha.” Wayne got up and stretched, laughing and groaning.

Later, they both were putting on their uniforms, getting ready to leave the dorm. Andrew’s uniform had fit a little loose, as he had to wear his harness under his jacket. Wayne’s uniform was snug and fitting just right. Wayne was walking around cleaning up and Andrew had forgotten the vile and syringe on the table. Wayne picked the bag up and noticed the syringe. “What’s this?”, He asked. Andrew’s heart stopped, “Give me that!” He said. “I just want to know what it is, man”, he said holding it close to him. “It’s nothing!” Andrew said grabbing for it again. They both were going back and forth trying to grab it from each other. Almost in slow motion, they both grabbed the vile and then fell backwards with the vile flying in the air. Neither of them had realized they pulled the top of it off and that liquid was going everywhere. With both of them on the ground, they were both watching the bottle, liquid and syringe fall to the ground. Some of the liquid went on the floor, while some of it had went into both of their mouths. Neither of them had realized it but they were more focused on the syringe that had fallen and stuck itself into Andrew’s arm. “Shit!” He said, watching the liquid drain into his body. “Dude are you okay?” Wayne said. “I’m fine”, Andrew said, “let’s just go and not talk about this.”

Both of them were almost late to the start of the game. They were playing music in the stands when some of the drummers around Andrew had just been looking at him. “Are you okay?”, most of them kept asking. “I’m fine, just tired is all”, Andrew said, knowing that he wasn’t. He just kept denying to everyone and himself that something was wrong. Even Wayne came up to Andrew and was like, “what was in that vile?” “I can’t tell you because I don’t know”, Andrew said. When they went down to the track to go perform, Andrew was sweating so much in his uniform. Once his harness was on under his jacket it finally filled out the whole thing. He placed his drum in the harness and was prepared to walk out on the field when he noticed something. He felt his body start vibrating almost. “Wha-“ Andrew barely got out before he felt every part of his body expand. In front of the whole band and audience, he got fatter. He felt his belly swell and press against his harness. His jacket strained against the harness, and he felt his pants get tighter around his waist and thighs. “You okay?” Someone asked Andrew. “Uh-ye-Yeah!” Andrew lied. He searched frantically for Wayne, but was ushered out into the field to perform. While they were performing, Andrew noticed that he was having to put much more effort into everything: marching, playing, breathing, etc.

Once they finished performing, Andrew was swearing profusely. He went back to the stands and asked the band director if he could go home because he felt sick. To his surprise, Wayne was right behind him and asked the same thing. He excused them both and they went to put their equipment away. When Andrew pulled off his jacket, he looked down at his harness and horror dawned on him. He frantically struggled to pull the harness off and finally had to ask for Wayne’s help. Embarrassed he finally forcefully pulled the harness off and he fell back in the ground. “Woah”, Wayne gasped. “What?” Andrew asked, noticing that Wayne was staring at him. Andrew looked down and gasped. At the beginning of the game his tshirt was pretty loose on him. Now, all he saw a massive ball of fat bulging out from his shirt. “Oh my god.” He said, looking at Wayne, but he noticed something different about Wayne. Wayne’s shirt was slightly looser on him and his belly was less prominent. “What’s going on?” Wayne said frantically. “I really don’t know, I swear!” Andrew pleaded. After a few moments of awkward silence, Wayne got up and left, leaving Andrew in the uniform room alone.

He looked in the mirror. He couldn’t believe that he’d was so stupid to take the vile and syringe back to his room. If he had actually thought about it a little more he wouldn’t be in this situation. “What would he do? What would everyone say? How could he reverse it?” All of these were running through his mind as he ran his fingers across his newfound midsection. He couldn’t fathom it. How could he? It was something out of science fiction. He could feel his new weight pulling him forward and pressing against his clothing. Something happened that he couldn’t explain, but was he enjoying this? No, why would he? It did feel kinda nice. No, nobody wants to be fat. “I’ve got to find a way to fix this”, Andrew said. Just as he said that he heard the buzzer go off and realized the game was over. Andrew threw everything in his cases and bags and ran out of the stadium. He didn’t realize that it was much harder to run with the added weight. He felt his belly bounce with every stride and he could almost see it jiggling in his peripheries. He got back to his dorm and slammed the door, breathing heavily.

Andrew sunk to the ground. He had to find a way to reverse the effects. Wayne walked up to him. Andrew didn’t notice but he was shirtless. His belly was smaller than it was this morning. “I’m sorry about this”, Andrew said. Wayne just looked at him, not knowing whether to be angry or thankful. “I’ve always wanted to lose weight, but I never expected you to gain what I lose”, Wayne said. “Ugh”. Andrew didn’t know what to do. He tried standing up, which required way more work than it usually did. He walked into the bathroom and stepped on the scale. 200lbs. Andrew’s mouth was agape. He’d never weighed this much. “I already checked,” Wayne said, “240lbs”. “So you lose 10lbs, I gain 25?!?” Andrew shot back. “I don’t know how this works. You’re the one who stole the stuff. Plus you got more of it from the syringe” “I didn’t ask for this!” Andrew said angrily. “Then fix it!” Wayne yelled. Andrew walked into the bathroom and started the shower. He just kept looking down the whole time, baffled by how big his belly was compared to this morning. He felt that odd sensation again. He was definitely aroused by this. He was embarrassed, but honestly didn’t care. After a long shower, he got out and tried to put his towel around him. It barely stretched out enough to cover himself and he walked out of the bathroom back to his room. He walked over to his dresser and pulled out clothes that he thought would fit. He turned around to see Wayne staring him down. He walked up to him and slapped his belly with a lot of force. Both of them watched it bounce and send ripples across Andrews body. Andrew could feel his face go deep red, as he watched Wayne’s face go equally as red. Andrew turned around when Wayne did and quickly threw on his clothes which were extremely tight on him. He could barely button his shorts and his shirt really accentuated his new curvy fat rolls. “Can I borrow a shirt?” Andrew said aloud. “Yeah, here”, Wayne said throwing him a shirt. Andrew changed and noticed that it was only one size bigger than what he was already wearing. “Oh well” he thought to himself.

Andrew went out to a restaurant by himself to ponder everything that had happened that day. He had to fix it, but how could he go up to a professor and say that he took a chemical that was not meant to be used without facing horrible consequences? His situation was bad enough so he might as well come clean. While he was sitting in the restaurant, he noticed someone looking at him. After a few moments of staring back, Andrew realized who it was. It was the guy who was in the lab the night he took the chemical. Andrew could feel that his face was red. Suddenly he felt the vibrating sensation again “Hngh!” He then heard a creaking noice from underneath him. A few seconds later, Andrew came crashing down on the floor. Everyone in the restaurant just looked at him in awe. He got up and looked at the man, who was writing on a note pad. Freaked out by everything, Andrew ran out of the restaurant and was freaking out. He then got a call from Wayne. “It happened again! I’m getting thinner.” “Must be nice, I just broke a chair with my fatass” Andrew grumbled. “Wow. I weigh 230 now” Wayne piped up. “So I probably weigh 225 now. There used to be a 75lb difference between us! Now there’s 5lbs...”, Andrew trailed off. 50lbs in a day, let alone a few hours. He hung up abruptly and started walking to his car. He had to get back to campus and figure out how to reverse everything.

He got to his car and realized the man from the restaurant was outside staring at him. He got in his car quickly and took off. He was almost back in his parking spot when he felt it again. “Oh n- Hnghh!” Too late. He hasn’t been sitting down for the last two surges of weight so this was a new sensation to him. His belly lurched forward and poked out from under his shirt and pressed against the steering wheel. He had to be 250lbs. Still freaked out and partially aroused, He scrambled to get out of the car and almost fell once he stood up. He wasn’t used to his new heft swinging from his midsection. He was straining to push out his belly against his shorts. He felt his shorts tear up the back and heard a loud SNAP! And watched as the button on his shorts skidded across the parking lot. He looked down at his belly that was still bouncing from the sheer force of the button snap. He had done it. He’d put on 100lbs in a day. 275lbs. “Oh my god...”, he thought. It was an odd feeling but he could feel his manhood pressing against his shorts, but his thighs and fat pad were almost covering it completely. He Andrew looked up. He saw the man from the restaurant staring at him from a nearby sidewalk. “You know there’s is a limit to how big you’ll get”, the man said to him. How? How did he know what was happening to me? “What do you mean? Help me!” Andrew pleaded. “All I’ll say is 200lbs”, the man said and began to talk away. “What does that mean?! Come back!” Andrew said.

He walked into the dorm, embarrassed as hell. He showed his ID and went straight to his room. Andrew walked in and saw Wayne standing there in baggy clothing. “210lbs”, is all that Wayne said. Andrew walked to the scale and stepped on. 275lbs. Andrew sighed, still aroused. He turned around and laid on his bed, then horror hit him. “200lbs”. He was only halfway done, with 100lbs to go. “I don’t know how to fix it but someone knows what’s happening to us”, Andrew said. “The thing is, I don’t want to fix it”, Wayne said. “You don’t, but I do!” Andrew said. “Do you really though? I saw how you looked at me when I was bigger”, Wayne said. Embarrassed, Andrew said, “Maybe? I don’t know. I kinda like it, but I’m just not used to it.” “We’ll get used to it big guy, you’re the fat friend now”, Wayne said. As soon as he said that, Andrew could feel the sensation start again, this time it was much more violent. He watched as his belly swelled and bounced upwards as he laid on the bed making his shirt so tight that it ripped into tiny pieces. He lost sight of his feet completely as his belly rose into the air. He felt his ass expand and push him upwards. His love handles pushed out and away from his middle. He could see his cheeks rounding out from his peripheral vision. His shorts and underwear was like a second skin now and there were already some tears in them. As he laid there letting it happen, he felt the wooden frame of the bed creak. He then went crashing to the floor. He attempted to get up but needed Wayne’s help. Wayne was a lanky 160lbs with clothes 3 sizes too big in. Andrew was sitting there a 375lb man in a shirt that was barely hanging on and skintight shorts that were almost in pieces. And there it was: the next 100lbs.

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