#and then the date morphs into one of the phone calls i'd take at the writers centre | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

dutifullyscreechingdragon · 6 months ago

Text

Blitzø x human! Assassin! Reader

Blooming feelings

Summary: After the first few murder fiascos, you and Blitzø start catching feelings for each other. His attempts on your life morph into dates and you can't take each other as seriously as you should on the battle ground.

A/n: heyyy, I'm sorry for the slightly belated posting. The last few days have been a bit haywire for me... Anyways, I hope you enjoy the part two. Here you have the links to all the parts currently available:

Part 1: First encounter

Part 2: Blooming feelings -> you're here:)

The smoke bomb went off, you could hear the shattering of glass and the revving of the motorbike. Y/n was gone.

"And she's gone..." Blitzø stated and was about to leave through the portal, when Moxxie pulled his sleeve:

"Sir, there's a card on the floor"

Blitzo picked it up, it was a note. In a neat handwriting the following was written:

Despite being sent to kill me

(and failing miserably),

you're chill

Call me:)

314 159 2653

Blitzø texted you this very evening. He wanted to do this instantly, but had to withhold himself - gotta preserve the reputation

You were getting ready to bed, today was a long day, right after the pleasant encounter with Blitzø, you had to rush off to deal with a murderer and then get your bike into repair. Oh and you also had to buy yourself new cargo pants, your current ones were getting a wee bit to bloodstained for your liking.

Today was a busy day. So only now, about to go to sleep, did you have time to actualy process what happened in the morning. That being you giving the attractive imp(?) your phone number... And, since he still didn't call or text you, you were staring to have second thoughts... Have you read too much into the whole thing? Was it strictly professional for him?

That's when your phone went off

Unknown: whadup, gurl

Cut the guy some slack, he was low-key nervous and was trying to come off as suave

Y/n: Blitzø?

Unknown: ya, who else wuld be txting u

Y/n: should I take offence?

Unknown: idk, do u find that offensive

Y/n: kinda?

Unknown: soz, I'll show u a picture of a horse I drew and you'll forgive me

Unknown: deal?

to be fair, Blitzø didn't know what he was writing. He had no intention of offending you and panicked, texting you the first thing that came into his mind. Thankfully, you found it amusing and texted him back:

Y/m: deal:)

He sent you a picture of a horse. You though it was really good, so that's what you texted him back. He was ecstatic and instantly sent you a few more.

Needless to say, that soon enough your gallery was filled with various drawings of horses.

In the span of the next week, you and Blitzø texted quite a lot.

He offered you a job at the IMP pretty early on:

Blitzø: ya know, when u end up in hell, a gal like you culd work for me

Y/n: why are you so sure I'd wanna work for you?

Blitzø: why wouldnt u?

Y/n: idk u trying to kill me is kind of a turn off...

Blitzø: ahhh come oooon it's not that big of a deal

Blitzø: ill take u horse riding or smth

Y/n: can't say no to that hahaha

After that reply, Blitzø got so hyped up, he literally ran out of his office and shouted:

"Fuck yeah she loves me back, ya hear that Mox," Blitz looked very much proud as he showed his employee the text chain

"Uhhh Sir, I wouldn't make such quick assumptions-"

"Shhh don't ruin the moment" Blitzo retorted pressing his finger into Moxxie's lips to silence him.

Sometimes you'd get a notification in the middle of a job and it'd be Blitzø sending you a selfie of him ( and sometimes some of his friends as well) in the middle of a fight with a caption like:

"another normal day at work (nearly got killed)"

"brunch went wrong"

Or plainly

"how u doing? "

And sometimes you'd reply with a selfie of yourself, creeping up to some guy you're about to murder. Which would cause Blitzø to text you:

Blitzø: update?

And you sending him a picture of you, potentially covered in blood, standing over a dead body.

At this point, he wasn't shying away from nicknames. He'd call you babe, sweetcheeks and sunshine.

You'd usually settle fro something along the lines of hot stuff, pretty boy, love

However, Blitzø does a lot of stupid stuff, which is when idiot, dumbass, etc. come in use

"How ya doing, hot stuff", you'd say, winking at Blitzø, causing him to try and lean on a non-existent doorframe and ultimately topple to the ground, sending you (and Millie, who witnessed it) a fit of giggles.

You and Blitzø's murderous rendezvous start to become more.. date-like. There is a lot of flirting and very little shooting done.

Sometimes you wonder, whether you guys should just drop the pretences

Moxxie and Loona are steadily growing sick of all of this. Millie finds it quite endearing, actualy.

You were presently engaged in a hand to hand combat with Blitzø. You performed a serie of punches, trying hard not to hit any super vital points. This sent your oponent tumbling on the ground.

"Youuu do punch Hella hard, babe," Blitzø drawled out "that's Hella hot "

You chuckled at this and threw him an ice pack with the words:

"Take that, wouldn't want to cause permanent damage to that pretty face of yours"

Blitzø would never admit it, but that made him blush very much, which would've been very much visible if it wasn't for his red skin (the blush was still fairly visible, just less intense).

or another time:

With one swift movement Blitzø tackled you to the ground. He smirked:

"Ya know, I could get used to this view, babe" he started nonchalantly "maybe different setting, like a bedroom" he smirked at your startled reaction "though if you prefer this place, babe, then I guess why not? I'm not picky " he continued his flirting.

You look up at him deviously, buckling your hips forward and in one movement flipping you both, positioning you on top:

"I think this is way better" you smirk at him triumphantly

"Whatever you say babe. Whatever gets us to fuck"

You didn't expect him to be THAT straightforward (honestly, that one is on you, having known him for quite some time you should've seen that coming), deep red blush cowered your cheeks. You were rescued by Loona's groan and frustrated shouting:

"Get a room! Stop defiling the fucking pavement"

The closer you grew together the more comfortable would Blitzø feel with invading your private space. He would sometimes launch "surprise attacks" on you (the reason was that "he missed you very much"):

It was the middle of the night, when you groggily opened your eyes to see Blitzø mere centimetres away from your face:

"Whatcha dreaming about?" He asked. You were about to shriek, but caught yourself in time. Meanwhile, Blitzø continued "Wake up, Im here to kill ya" his voice was far too giddy.

You were very tired. Exhausted.

"Mmmm, go to sleep, Blitzie," you pushed him lightly off you and onto the bed, wrapping your arm around him, "kill me tomorrow"

In retrospect, this wasn't very professional, but Blitzø didn't seem to mind...and judging from the soft purring in the morning, he even enjoyed it.

At this point, you're very accustomed to each other's habits. You also have a set date and time for the Blitzø's murder attempts:

You were anxiously pacing the street. It was a nice Tuesday morning. 9.15 am precisely and it has been 15 minutes since Blitzø was supposed to attack. He always showed up on time. To your murderous rendezvous.

You were about to pick up your phone and dial him, demanding an explanation (you were worried sick: What if the imp died on one of his jobs?), when he showed up, out of breath (clearly had been running) and with two coffee's in tow.

"Hey babes, d'ya miss me?" He said in his suave voice.

"You're late to your weekly murder attempt on my life" You said in a flat voice.

"Ahhh soz, there was a fucking line ot the coffee shop" he replied nonchalantly

"and the fact that you argued with the employee for ten straight minutes because they couldn't get Y/n's order right and then misspelled her name didn't do much to help" Moxxie muttered under his breath, but of course everyone heard him.

"Come on, Mox, don't embarrass Boss in front of the girl" Millie said and winked at you.

"Anyway," Blitzø said stretching out the first syllable, "I got your coffee. Just how you like" he looked at you with pride, as if he had to fight a glorious battle for it (he sort of did)

"Awwww thanks, love, that's so sweet" you smile and give him a soft peck on the cheek. You take a sip of your coffee, its delicious, just how you like it.

Once you're done drinking your coffee and are fairly caught up with the drama that you didn't manage to cover in your texts and calls, Blitzø commands:

"Now, M&M get into your positions. We're way behind schedule!"

a/n: I hope you enjoyed this chapter and have a great day (or night) <3

57 notes · View notes

disneyanddisneyships · 2 years ago

Note

Hear me out-

It's before Alaponi are dating, but Al's just figured out hes inlove with Aponi, and as usual, aponi fell first so shes also inlove with him

Like he's just doing his fun little "stalking Aponi" time AS PER USUAL. Aponi just went out from a small club after work and earning money ig.

And then this random demon dude starts hitting on her and no matter how much she tries to sass him he wouldnt go away

And then when 'Poni gets frustrated about it, this deer boi comes in the picture

And hes like, "I'm sorry, but I'd prefer you step aside from my girlfriend." and the 'girlfriend' part is in non-static.

Note, they're NOT dating (yet)

She plays along, demon runs away. They have an akward walk on the way to the hotel

.... I gotta write it

Alastor x OC au

Aponi groaned as she stretched.

Turning off her phone and grabbing her bag she walked out of her dressing room.

God was it a hard night. Aponi had worked her thighs so hard that they would definitely be burning in the morning.

Aponi walked tall. Hell was a lot like a more intense New York mixed with LA. you had to show confidence, act like it would be difficult to take you down.

Of course the 7 inch heels Aponi was wearing helped in her struggle with that.

Aponi rolled her eyes as she walked.

Demons from all over looked, gawked, and whistled at her.

But one demon started following her.

She held her breath as she took out mace from her bag, discreetly.

"Hey pretty lady," the demon spoke with a smirk as he stepped in front of her.

"Hey ugly man," Aponi countered.

"Oh don't be so mean, baby! Not a lot of guys down here like that!" The demon replied.

"And not a lot of girls like you either. Yet you still try," Aponi stated before trying to push passed him, only to be stopped by his hand grabbing her arm. "Let go of me," Aponi warned as she held the mace in her hand tightly.

The demon pinned her against the wall. "Oh just bee a good girl and stop talking," he muttered.

Aponi kicked him in the nuts before making a move to run away, only for the demon to trip her. The demon moved to be on top of her.

Her eyes widened at the flashbacks she was having from her life.

"Youre a fighter," he muttered. "I like that," he smirked.

As fast as lightning, their surroundings glitched in a shade of red and black.

Alastor showed up.

"Back off! Can't you see were having some private time?!" The demon shouted only to be startled off of Aponi when alastor's full demon form made itself known.

"I'm sorry. I'd prefer you step away from my girlfriend," Alastor stated, his words glitching.... well... all but one.

Aponi was taken aback, but she didn't have any time to think about it.

She stood up and went to hide behind alastor.

"Hey, sorry man. I's just havin some fun," the demon stated as he backed off, trying his best to keep the little amount of self respect he had left.

As the demon walked away, Alastor's form morphed back into the one Aponi was used to.

"Shall I walk you home, my dear?" Alastor asked.

Aponi gave a small smile before nodding, and hooking her arm through his.

The two walked back to the hotel in silence.

Every demon that looked at Aponi ran away as alastor gave them a scary glare.

"I'd like to thank you... for saving me," Aponi spoke, drawing Alastor's full attention.

"Oh darling, of course!" Alastor exclaimed.

"Um.... Alastor?" Aponi asked.

"Yes, my dear?"

"You called me your girlfriend...." Aponi muttered.

"Ah yes! Merely a way to get that nasty bootlicker off of you!" Alastor spoke, attempting to hide the small blush creeping on his face.

"Oh!.... right....." Aponi replied, her smile fading a small amount.

"I still don't understand why you work for that lowlife," Alastor spoke.

"Who, Valentino? Eh he's harmless. Sure I have some bruises but they heal over fairly quickly," Aponi stated.

"'Bruises'?" Alastor asked, his voice glitching out.

"Well... yeah.... don't know if you've noticed, but he's not a very good guy. Angel has it worse though.... but we're under contract. I can't do anything about it," aponi explained.

".... I could," Alastor whispered.

"What was that?" Aponi asked.

"Oh! Uh.... I wish you could," Alastor stated.

The two walked up the steps of the hotel.

"Well uh.... I should get to sleep...." Aponi muttered.

"Yes! Right! You should-"

Alastor's yes widened at the kiss Aponi planted on his cheek before scurrying into the hotel and up to her room.

Alastor stood there on the steps, feeling like he could take over heaven.

48 notes · View notes

seiwas · 7 months ago

Text

this is going to get long and kinda all over the place but i so loved this monty 🥺

your writing is truly one of my favourite things, just!!! how you set-up a scene, the descriptions you have for everything. how the relationships you build with your characters always have a feel to them, a kind of warmth that morphs and shifts depending on the situation 🥺 i adore it so much, and you for taking the time and care to craft something so beautiful for us to read!!

that opening scene hooked me in with how vivid it was!! which is something i’ve noticed w a lot of your writing too—you paint the picture so well and you set it up so that readers have a full image and feel of how things look 🥺 it makes it so much easier to immerse into the world/scene!!

The evening laid bare in strokes of colour. The air is tepid. People part around your inert figure as you stand to the side and watch, shifting awkwardly between each foot. You were ten minutes early. And it seemed so was your date.

^^ such pretty lines!! i looove the bit of reader shifting awkwardly too 🥺 it's such a small detail but adds on to the experience of the fic!!

can i also just say that hearing about reader's past experiences made me SO SAD 😢 terrible that they went through that, "it loved back" <- gosh that made me ache 😢

Osamu is leaning against the outer wall now, scrolling on his phone. A warm musk fills your senses as the distance shortens. Smooth notes of oakmoss and vanilla. He must notice your approach in his periphery, because he straightens up and steps forward, turning to face you with an apprehensive smile. The attraction between you becomes tangible before either of you speak a word.

the way you describe osamu has me going insane too monty oh my god just imagining him leaning against the wall like that, and the notes of oakmoss and vanilla ????!? HELLLOW??!? they're all such specific things that paint such a clear picture of him and i LOOOVE it

i also love how reader and osamu fit together, almost like they were meant for each other 🥺 their interactions are soso cute and the chemistry just builds and builds and builds 🥺 how both of them are equally as nervous but relax all the same

osamu is also SO CHARMING in ways i can't even properly explain omfg

His smile grows and deepens the crinkles by his eyes as his gaze sweeps over you. Dawn casts the street in a peachy tint and it dapples across his cheeks in a faux blush. "Sure hope so," he says. "Call me Osamu. Ya look beautiful, by the way". "Thank you," you reply, lingering on the delicate silver chain around his wrist, and how the folded fabric of his sleeve strains around his forearm. "So do you".

(that line on a peachy tint dappling across his cheeks into a faux blush IS SOOOO PRETTY) lIKE?!?!? the crinkles by his eyes ?!? and his dialogue !!??! hoW CAN HE SAY THAT oh my god i'd melt on the spot. THE SILVER CHAIN??!??!?!? UMMMMM. FABRIC STRAINING AROUND HIS FOREARMS?!? this is my weakness monty. Just sit there looking pretty and I’ll feed ya something good”.

the way they feel increasingly more comfortable around eachother is so sweet too, because it falls into an easy flow that i think just shows how special their connection is 🥺

the 'beautiful' back-and-forth teasing they have with one another

oSAMU'S HAND HOVERING OVER READER'S LOWER BACK

A shoe brushes your ankle and retreats to settle alongside it, just a couple of inches. <- THIS. THIIIIIS. had me pulling at my hair oh my god it's such a small detail but sosososo scrumptious so important so TELLING of the tension

the way they bond over food and mirror eachothers movements omg

“Excuse the interruption. I have your drinks,” interjects a new timid voice. <- even this lil interruption by the server I ADORE bc it shows how engrossed they were in the conversation, how stuck in their own world they were 🥺

HOW THEY SHARE FOOD WITH EACH OTHER. FEEDING EACH OTHER.

THEN HE NUDGES THEIR CALF AGAIN?!?!?? GHSFGSDHF this bit had me biting my fist oh my god

When was the last time anyone looked at you like that, you wonder <- like hello absolutely 100% osamu would look at you like that oh my god it makes me insane

THE BUILDUP OF TENSION. HOW HIS LOOK OF SHYNESS MORPHS INTO SOMETHING ELSE OOOHH im coming out to get him

their back-and-forth AGAIN of the 'is it that good' PLEASE DBFGS it feels like im intruding watching them like this i swear

there is sooooo much tension in that scene of them exchanging bites. the exchanged looks. the moment of biting it off the chopsticks. My god. IT'S ALMOST SENSUAL.

WHEN THEY START TO TOUCH HANDS OH GOOOD that's so cute, threading fingers together over the table; squeezing till the palms kiSS sdfbsj osamu is so cautious abt it at first too (WHICH I LOVE)

there is so much tension in that dessert scene...... cannot believe osamu is watching reader Like That oh my god give me him ill just kiss him already. LIKE. THIS LINE MONTY: It’s delicious, you're sure. You can hardly remember anything beyond the face he makes as he tries it. <- got me feeling SO FLUSTERED LOL

love how neither of them wanted the night to end!! how touchy theyve become by the end of it, how reader leans into him

THEN OSAMU STAYS STUFF LIKE THIS: Ya can say no,” he murmurs, thumb stroking back and forth at your waist. “Just didn’t want the night to end yet”. <- my notes say: I SHALL MARRY HIM. fsabdfhgasdfjhbsk

THE FIRST KISS JSDHFBJS GOSH AND HE CHASES AFTER IT?!??! R U KIDDING ME

"Just sit there looking pretty and I’ll feed ya something good”. <- how can he just SAY THAT

"Is it—can I kiss ya again?" <- GOOD GOD HE ASKS i am weak. HE CAN DO ANYTHING ATP AND I'D SAY YES.............

and that kiss oh my god it was so hot. the detail of him coiling his arms around readers waist but still being careful not to get rice on their clothes I LOOOOVED that little detail. shows how cautious he is still, how respectful (ill sob rn) 'drinking the whine right from your mouth' <- IDK IF YOU MEANT THAT MONTY BUT I THOUGHT IT WAS GENIUS

THEN THEN THEN when he pulls away oh my god 'greedy thing' HOWWW HOWWW HOWW CAN HE JUST SAY THAT. it's sooo cute how reader wants more but osamu, the ever so sensible is like. i know, but your ride is here. i know. i know. i know. i know (baby). GOOOOOOOOOOOOOSH MONTY IM GOING INSANE THINKING ABOUT HIM

Attraction hung over the table, an incorporeal anticipant thing that swells as the evening unfolds. Darkness enveloped the bamboo grove and activated the small aureate floor lights placed between the culms. You fall into natural conversation over your starter dishes. You share laughter. Tender and succulent; you share food, too, leaning forward to pluck a sample from his plate, offering your own. Not a single grimace.

i swear monty ^ your writing makes my jaw drop every time like. HOW. it's so beautiful. the descriptions flow so well and are just so. well-written. i am so. wow. sandwiching 'tender and succulent' between laughter and shared food OHHH i love that.

other little details i just love:

The napkin is in pieces. <- i loved this little bit you inserted into a paragraph. i can't fully explain why? i think it just adds on to the image of everything, how reader had pulled at it earlier on, kinda nervous but now that osamu's made his move it kinda all just dissipates? the napkin is in pieces the napkin is in pieces. i don't know what it means!!! but it just feels like it belongs in that scene 🥺

the food descriptions omg in my notes i literally wrote: the food descriptions are making me hungry LMAO

Osamu meets your eyes. Outside, droplets stutter out a drowsy staccato against the windows, cohesive with the beat of your heart. The moment feels pheromonic, like when you know something is just right the second you find it. / That's what it is. Osamu likes to take care of people. <- i love love looooved this. the descriptions are so pretty and feel in tandem with one another. i looove how you incorporate all these external sensory experiences into internal ones, i think it's genius!!! and i love the read on osamu here too!! how you give us a little sneak into the kind of person he is 🥺 and i ADOOOORE him 🥺

'unheeding of the wellspring he opened in your chest' <- SO PRETTY AGAIN

i loooove how you incorporated tsumu here too and how osamu talked about him 🥺 those brothers are just. so inseparable to me. a part of tsumu will always be because of osamu and a part of osamu will always be because of tsumu and i just LOVE that. that little story of tsumu telling him he should be a chef instead (which. HE DID BECOME 🥺 AND THE SIGNIFICANCE OF THAT 🥺 gosh i could go on)

And the thought that you could be another person for Osamu to take care of—it satiates the ache. <- MAKES MY HEART ACHE I LOVE THIS SO MUCH WAAAH

thank you for writing this monty!! i thoroughly enjoyed (as i always do whenever i read your stuff) 🥺 i have been deep in the osamu trenches lately and this kept me alive 🥺

PUT MY LIPS TO SOMETHING ┊ MIYA OSAMU

synopsis: after a string of terrible dates taking a break sounded ideal. then Miya Osamu happens, and you find yourself back at square one. foolish, hoping, and hungry.

tags: GN reader, post timeskip, (blind) first date, reader is a foodie (and has a big appetite), implied bad past experiences (ppl mean about said apetite), insecurities (not about weight), strangers to lovers, sharing food + feeding each other, flirting, romantic + sexual tension, first kisses, *slaps roof of kitchen* you can fit so much Love into this thing!!!!!!!

wc: 5K

You exhale, palm laid over your rapidly beating heart. You’re not sure what your expectations were after agreeing to let Saeko set you up on this blind date but Miya Osamu exceeded. A beautiful stranger. Tall, broad shouldered with dark hair and hooded eyes. The dress shirt he’s wearing is close to a second skin, drawn tight around his back and clinging just slightly to his soft middle, shirtsleeves rolled to the crook of his arms.

On a whole you trusted her judgment. Apparently he owned the small restaurant she and her colleagues frequent for their lunch hour. She promised that he was handsome, which was plain to see, and effused repeatedly that the two of you would work well together. Nevertheless you can’t help feeling cautious.

Dating has been… tricky at best. A game to some, a way to keep score. The search for validation. A means to an end. A fleeting cure to boredom. You don’t think you’re particularly bad at meeting new people, but it can’t be ignored that you don’t have much to show for it thus far.

You’re aware enough to discern the root cause. You loved food—that’s the long and short of it. You savoured meals to the very last crumb, seeking out the various flavours on your tongue to really get to the heart of the dish. Because that’s what food did: it loved back.

Dates often treated you like a different creature entirely upon witnessing your appetite. Poorly veiled embarrassment, or concern, or disdain as you sat across from one another and ate. Different in a lesser way, in a distasteful way, as though they were sampling fine wine for the flavour and you were just drinking for the sake of getting drunk, when it was quite the reverse.

Anyone would think you behaved like an animal. Your table manners were fine. You treated the staff with respect. You made conversation and asked questions, even when they made no effort themselves, and tried to make the best of the evening.

With every failed attempt at making a connection you were beginning to grow lonely. The presence of your loved ones and their families, their partners and their children, never truly filled that cavernous ache in your chest. Poured in like morning sun with hopes to warm you from the inside out, perhaps, only all that ever did was make the hole more obvious to you.

Taking a break from the scene sounded ideal. Then Miya Osamu happened to see a photo of you over Saeko’s shoulder, expressed his interest, and you found yourself back at square one. Foolish, hoping, and hungry.

There’s phantom heat around your fingers. The gentle squeeze of Saeko’s hands as she sent you off. “This one will be different,” she told you. With her words echoing in your thoughts, you pat down either side of your hips, ironing out the creases, and start toward him.

"Hi," you smile back, oddly at ease to see that he is equally nervous. "Miya, right? I think I'm here to meet you".

The tension slips from his posture and from yours in turn. His smile grows and deepens the crinkles by his eyes as his gaze sweeps over you. Dawn casts the street in a peachy tint and it dapples across his cheeks in a faux blush. "Sure hope so," he says. "Call me Osamu. Ya look beautiful, by the way".

Something rouses in your chest. You're warm now. His accent is unfairly charming, like the rest of him. "Thank you," you reply, lingering on the delicate silver chain around his wrist, and how the folded fabric of his sleeve strains around his forearm. "So do you".

"Beautiful?" Osamu echoes, brow arched with the teasing lilt in his voice.

You hum, drawn to the natural heat emitting from his body. "S'what I said, isn't it?"

"So you did," he murmurs, the low timbre settling over you like silk. When your eyes meet he rocks back on his heels, clearing his throat and gesturing to the restaurant he picked for tonight. "I made a reservation for us. Wanna head in?"

"I'd love to".

As if entering another world, the noise lowers into a pleasant din. You step through the tall latticed doors into what appears to be a bistro-style restaurant. All autumn pigments and harmony. Family owned, from what you recall after searching it up last night. The main dining area has a romantic ambience to it, balmy toned lanterns centred on each table and an open kitchen where the chef is lovingly making a yakisoba dish.

"Tanaka mentioned yer a bit of a foodie," you blink from your appreciative stupor and glance at Osamu. "Apparently they serve really good European food here so," he rubs at the back of his neck, a little pink and unsure, his shoulder jerking in a loose shrug. "Thought'cha might like it".

Your heartbeat floods your ears. "I really like it," you say, hushed, flustered at his thoughtfulness. Before he's able to respond a host has approached, young and dressed in a well pressed black vest, not a thread out of place. He bends into a perfect bow.

“It is a pleasure to welcome you this evening. Will it be a table for two?”

Osamu sidles closer. There's presence at your lower back, his hand lingering, and you decide to lean into it. “There should be a reservation for two under the name Miya,” he nods. The host brightens.

“Of course! Right this way".

The host takes off toward the rear dining area, hidden from view. Osamu encourages you forward and as you walk together he leans to whisper in your ear, "We haven't seen the best part yet".

You immediately understand what he's referring to as you're led through a pair of golden drapes and into a conservatory space that looks out on a lustrous bamboo grove and a small koi pond. Your table is right by the stretch of windows, offering a lovely view. It steals the breath straight from your lungs, “Osamu…”

Once seated the host returns to offer you a pair of damp towels on a tray. Osamu orders a drink while he wipes his hands, and then you do the same. You sink into the cushioned back of your chair. A shoe brushes your ankle and retreats to settle alongside it, just a couple of inches. The centrepiece gently breathes to life, illuminating the table.

Anticipation trickles back in as Osamu voices his gratitude and you realise you’ll need to order in front of him. His focus turns to you as the host departs, discerning your expression. “D’ya wanna order a starter first?” he asks, sliding a menu to you.

The menu is thick and glossy. You make a commiserate sound, thumb plucking at the corner of the card. “Everything sounds really good. I’ve never had carottes ra—âpées,” you murmur, skimming excitedly over the dishes and listing off the things that catch your eye.

A low chuckle interrupts your train of thought. Rather than underlying irritation, you’re met with amusement and curiosity. “Really do like yer food, huh?”

Heat floods your body, and you resist the urge to grimace. “Sorry, I can get carried away. Is there anything you want to try?”

“Thinking of getting grilled octopus and canola to start and the sea bream for main,” he recites, studying you in the low light. Muffled are the far off sounds of meat popping on the hot stove-top and you can smell a sweet, coconut-like aroma. “Don’t need to be embarrassed y’know. I’m a food lover too”.

You perk up noticeably in your seat and Osamu’s expression near melts into sheepishness. “You run a restaurant, right? Saeko mentioned”.

“Ah, yeah. Onigiri Miya. Nothin’ as grand as this,” he gestures to the surroundings offhandedly. Your eyes linger on the flex of his throat as he swallows, pride bleeding into his voice. “Won a Food Made Good award though, just last month”.

“No kidding. Congrats Osamu, that’s amazing,” you grin, instinctively leaning into his magnetism and resting your hands on the table surface. Osamu seems to mirror your movement without meaning to. “Have you always wanted to run a restaurant?”

“Never really thought about it. Up to the end of my second year I assumed I’d fall into somethin’,” he admits. “I sorta hit the ground running after graduating. My brother too—”

“Excuse the interruption. I have your drinks,” interjects a new timid voice. The server shuffles forward to set the glasses between you on the table and then fumbles for her notepad, clicking the cap down. “Are you both ready to order?”

Osamu recovers and recites his choice for starter and main, and you do so afterwards without second thought. It’s nice, being at ease. Sitting opposite Osamu feels natural. The glass is cold against your palm, ice cubes clinking softly as you bring it up your lips and drink. You nudged the conversation forward before it could wilt. “You were saying, about your brother?”

“Atsumu. He’s my twin brother,” Osamu begins with a small smile, poorly hidden behind the rim of his glass. He sets it down, watching the amber liquid ripple. “Played volleyball since we were kids, but he always loved it a little more than I did. So while I racked up every business permit and licence I could get and he dove first into division one”.

“You both sound pretty brave, in your own right”.

“Thanks,” Osamu grinned and you got the impression that you very much said the right thing. “Brave is a new one. We’re used to bein’ called reckless idiots”.

“Tomayto tomahto,” you tease, lifting an arm and crossing your fingers together. After another sip, “Gotta be a little bit of both, right?”

“You’re right about that,” he conceded. Mouth thinning as if to rein in his smile, he reached up to needlessly fix his hair. “How about yerself, what do you do?”

Every other first date pales in comparison.

Osamu watches you with a hooded gaze warmed by his second pint of beer. There’s a certain satisfaction to him, contentment. The tip of his tongue peeks out to catch an errant drop. He nudges his ankle to your calf again when the server returns to clear away your starter plates, and you don't move away.

“Can I ask why you’re single, and what you’re looking for?”

“Finally, the hard hittin’ questions”.

You laugh, “We’ve got to get over the boring first date spiel at some point tonight”.

Osamu rumbles his assent, rests his chin in his palm, casting an idle glance to the garden as he thinks. “Think my answer’s kinda standard. At first I never had the time ‘cause of the restaurant, didn’t think it’d be fair,” he begins, and his mouth twists into a little self-effacing smirk. “When I thought I was ready I tried some’a those dating apps but nothin’ ever clicked for me”.

“I get it. Gauging chemistry is harder online,” you affirm softly, readjusting your seat as the server steps up to set down your main dishes, inclining her head in greeting but with enough grace not to interrupt. Osamu voices his gratitude, sliding his plate closer. The grilled tai is a beautiful fleshy pink colour, garnished with sprouts and hosta leaves.

“Ma says I’m a romantic,” he continues sheepishly, plucking up his chopsticks. “I’d prefer to meet someone naturally, face to face. To really feel it when ya click with each other”.

“Yeah?” there’s an ache blooming in your cheeks as you glanced down at your food. The plate is still hot to touch. You pinch your chopsticks and inhale the rich scent of saffron, garlic and onion, and beneath it all sharp notes from an open flame. “I think we’re doing pretty good on that front”.

“Better than I hoped,” he murmurs, supple and full of promise. The hair on your arms prickles. When was the last time anyone looked at you like that, you wonder. “Soon as Tanaka caught on that I saw your picture on her phone she was determined to appeal ya to me. Thought it might be too good to be true”.

You hum around your first mouthful, feeling much the same way. Saeko had worked hard to strong arm you into meeting him. The food falls apart gently on your tongue and suddenly your agreeable noise becomes a pleased crescendo, taken by the rich smoky flavours.

After swallowing you grow self-conscious; the weight of Osamu’s focused attention is heavy. Rather than embarrassment, the flush tinting his cheeks seems to be something else entirely. He has a chunk of grilled tai between his chopsticks, halted halfway to his lips. “Is it that good?” he teases, strained.

There’s no true malice or ill intent behind it. It’s lighthearted—you could even delude yourself into thinking he sounded fond. You kick your lips, inhibitions worn a fraction after a glass of liquor. “I’d say that’s obvious,” you smiled. “It tastes amazing. Thank you, for picking this place”.

“S’been my pleasure believe me,” he says, finally taking a bite of his own. Like him, you observe how his expression flickers as the flavour fills his senses. A flare in soft surprise, rippling as he chews and discerns the texture. His eyelids flutter closed, lashes fanning out over the high point of his cheeks, and open in the next breath to catch you staring.

“Is it that good?” you echo coyly. Osamu smirks, a glimmer in his eye. He picks up a small piece of the tai sandwiched with a hosta leaf and cups his hand beneath it while offering you a try.

“See for yaself,” he says. Energy simmers under your skin, all buzzing heat and jitters. You quickly sip your drink, rinsing your palate before shuffling closer to the table's edge and lean forward, lips eagerly parting to take the morsel into your mouth. A hitched breath. Osamu holds your gaze while you parse the hints of dashi broth and ginger.

“God. You weren’t wrong. The texture is perfect…” you stop yourself from rambling further and swipe your bottom lip as you recline in your chair, chopsticks poised like pincers. Pulse quickening behind your ribs you copy his actions, taking a sample of your dish for him to try. “Try mine too?” you offer, abashed.

Osamu struggles to temper his grin. Words aren’t necessary. He props himself onto his elbows and stretches forward, pink mouth wrapping around the end of your chopsticks. Closer now you notice the soft cupid’s bow on his top lip. He draws back with a soft groan as he chews—the sound ripples down your spine.

“Never tasted anything like that. Almost has a tangy bite to it,” he praised.

“Right? It’s amazing how they managed to marry earthy and briny together. I think it’s a Spanish dish, maybe,” you wonder aloud, eyes sweeping over the table. “How have I never been here before?”

“It’s my first time too, a friend recommended it. Heard they’ve only been open a year and some,” he tells you. Eventually the conversation slows as eating takes precedence. The server flits in and out to take your empty glasses, bringing refills. Sitting there, now with an empty plate and your third drink half full, a different spirit entirely sifts inside you.

Osamu admires you over the rim of his beer. “I never got to ask earlier,” he mused. “Are ya looking for a serious relationship or…?”

You scarcely hear him, preoccupied with staring at his other loosely curled hand beside the centrepiece. If he notices he doesn’t mention it. “I am. I’ve been trying. Any more than this I might actually fit the definition of a serial dater,” you admit, in an attempt to reciprocate some of his prior vulnerability. “But all I want is to settle down. Find someone”.

About to take another sip, Osamu's fingers slip slightly on the condensation around his pint. “Yer serious?” he baulks. His accent is thicker, rough. You wince at his tone. “Sorry, sorry. I just have a hard time believin’ nobody snatched you up yet”.

Feeling a little like a damn has broken in your chest, you nod. “Maybe I tried too hard. Somehow showing genuine interest only ever puts them off more,” a brittle bout of laughter breaks the delicate quiet, and you begin tearing at a napkin to distract yourself. “And most of them didn’t really… like my appetite. I embarrassed them sometimes, I think”.

Agitation on your behalf flickers in his expression; brows drawn taut, jaw clenched, it flies over his face and smooths out just as quickly. “That’s bullshit,” he said, sounding far calmer than he had looked. Warmth encompasses your hands and your fingers pause their repetitive motions. Osamu runs his thumb over your knuckles. “‘Scuse my manners. But ya not embarrassing in the slightest. There’s nothin’ more satisfying than watching someone eat well”.

A slow smile pulls at your lips. The napkin is in pieces. You sense his caution in crossing any boundaries, pressure alleviating as though to pull away, so you overturn your wrist and thread your fingers together. “I think so too,” you reply. “Not much better than good food and good company”.

“Guess we’ve covered all the bases,” he murmurs, squeezing until your palms kiss. “Feel like sharing some desserts with me?”

The hunger in your heart rears its head. Mentally you send a good word to Saeko, knowing you owe her more than a drink or two for this. “Can’t say no to that,” you return, voice a little thick. Whatever will prolong the night.

Dessert ends up being a beautiful burnt honey cake. It comes with a creamer of liqueur laced chocolate sauce that strays as you pour it. Osamu watches you clean a wayward thread of melted chocolate from wrist to heel with your tongue, grey eyes overcast with something heady. You feel a pulse of magnetised desire where there’d been none before as wet fingers popped free of your mouth.

It’s delicious, you're sure. You can hardly remember anything beyond the face he makes as he tries it.

The end of the date looms with dreadful finality. Osamu pays the bill in full despite your countless protests. You walk through the front dining area, busier than it had been, and in passing you bow your head toward the chef working behind the bar and the host at the entrance.

“Thank you very much,” he acknowledges politely. “Please come again”.

It’s jarring to step back out from the restaurant’s welcome embrace into the street. “Guess this is it,” you inhale deeply and move to Osamu’s side to sap him of his warmth, wrapping yourself around his arm. He pulls you closer and you yield like putty, partly the need to shield from the crisp, late night air and partly the desire to prolong your time together.

“Did you walk here?” he asks, rubbing your hip. Your hand is splayed over his chest, heat seeping through the fabric, heart tapping against your palm.

“I got dropped off,” you reply. “I’ll have a car pick me up”. Osamu dithers for a moment, visibly searching for the right words. He rubs at his neck—a nervous habit you’ve noticed.

Whatever you were expecting it wasn’t, “Are ya still hungry?”

Your mouth opens and closes. True, there’s no real physical ache of hunger but you would hardly describe yourself as full, or sated. “…I could eat,” you confess. Osamu grins at that, dark hair haloed by the streetlight. “Why?”

“My restaurant isn’t far from here. If yer comfortable with it, the cab can pick you up from there and I’ll make a treat for the ride home,” he says. He must take your brief silence to mean discomfort, because he continues on. “Ya can say no,” he murmurs, thumb stroking back and forth at your waist. “Just didn’t want the night to end yet”.

The offer strikes a chord within you, and you feel like you could burst. You want. Guided by fleeting impulse you press a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth. He startles and then moves as if to chase it. Your breath catches as you come together in a soft, chaste press of lips.

“I’d like that,” you rasp, patting at his chest and unwilling to part. There’s relaxed, padded muscle underneath. “What’s the address?”

After receiving the address you input it into your phone, scheduling the taxi to pick you up in around thirty minutes—at Osamu’s suggestion. As promised the restaurant is no more than a five minute walk, tucked away alongside a few other establishments. You notice the Onigiri Miya sign fixed above the door displaying his logo, but the shutters are down.

“Gotta head in through the side,” he explains quietly. You nod, clasping both hands around his forearm and letting him lead. The clink of his keys fills the silence, followed by a series of clicks. The door opens and he flicks the switch on. You squint at the intrusive light that floods the space, blinking to adjust, and make a low inquisitive noise as you meander through.

The interior errs on traditional, and it works well. Hanging along the accent wall is a banner of the shop name written in calligraphy, and other various artworks are littered throughout showcasing appreciation for the local agriculture.

Osamu disappears into the back amidst your exploring. You duck beneath the curtain draped across the doorway to find him. The kitchen is small, an obvious compromise to make room for more dining space. Food preparation is dedicated to the heart of the kitchen on an island-like setup, while dishwashing and such are pushed to the perimeter. Osamu embodies it comfortably and confidently.

Hands wrung against your stomach, you lean to get a closer look at what he’s doing. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

Osamu stops, still poised to reach for the water bowl next to his workstation. There are multiple others set out, each seemingly with a different ingredient. His mouth pulls into a boyish grin. “Don’t worry about that,” he says, inclining his head to the stool opposite. “Just sit there looking pretty and I’ll feed ya something good”.

You bite the inside of your cheek and wonder if it’s possible for butterflies to hatch in your chest. A fuzzy giddiness that spreads to the tips of your fingers, and you want to kiss him again. “Promise?”

“Promise”.

Lowering onto the stool, you watch raptly as he wets his fingers and takes a pinch of salt to rub into his hands. Skin glistens under the pale florescence. Osamu's visage wanes, and you're struck by how at home he looks.

“So,” you speak, if only to fill the silence—and to hear his voice again. “What made you fall in love with food?”

Osamu scoops the cooked rice from a nearby bowl into his palm and starts to shape it. He doesn’t pause in his motions, even with the contemplative tilt of his head. “Lots’a reasons, really,” he says. “Earliest one I can remember is when I made breakfast for my gran for the first time. Ma helped out, ‘cause I was only five or six, but I was real proud of myself”.

“That’s cute,” you murmur, a nascent fondness stirring inside your body at the imagined young Osamu that flashes through your mind. “Did it turn out any good?”

Deft fingers knead a shallow dip into the centre of the rice ball. “Course it didn’t, I used way too much salt. But she still ate it, and it made her feel better”.

“Because she loves you”.

Osamu meets your eyes. Outside, droplets stutter out a drowsy staccato against the windows, cohesive with the beat of your heart. The moment feels pheromonic, like when you know something is just right the second you find it. “Yeah,” he murmurs. His mouth curls up and he tucks some of the nearby ingredients into the rice. “See, yer getting it”.

That's what it is. Osamu likes to take care of people. Your focus falls to deft fingers, gently folding the rice over, as though tucking it in. He gives it a triangular shape, adorned with a slice of nori, and sets it into a small cardboard tray. Without preamble, he reaches to start another.

"Y'know, first time I ever confessed to someone it was with onigiri," Osamu tells you, unheeding of the wellspring he opened in your chest. "Made 'em that same morning, had a speech and everything. Never told anyone I was gonna do it".

You hum and scoot closer, folding your arms atop the island. It's cold ot the touch. Osamu appears to blossom further under your avid attention. He repeats the steps, pressing new filling carefully into the heart of the rice and admits, "Got rejected, though".

Your face falls. "I'm sorry, Osamu".

"It's fine. In the end I gave one of 'em to 'Tsumu, and I ate the other," he shrugs, looking rather happy for someone talking about their botched first confession. "Know what he told me?"

"What?"

"Looks me dead in the eyes and goes 'What the hell, 'Samu. Are ya holdin' out on me? These taste better than usual'," Osamu pitches his voice as he recites the memory, presumably mocking his brother. You laugh, and he ducks his chin to hide his grin. "I remember missin' three serves that day. He told me since I suck so bad at volleyball I should be a chef instead. Idiot doesn't even remember he said it, but..."

While he had meant his words to be light you heard the significance beneath it. You rise from your seat. Osamu tucks the third and final onigiri into the tray and lets his focus stray toward you. Featherlight strokes up his forearm, you rest your cheek against his shoulder. You peer through your lashes and look at Osamu's face, at a tentative beginning.

"And now you're here," you say, reaching to cup his warm cheek. He leans into it, lids fluttering as your thumb traces an arc beneath his eye. His ears are warm against the tips of your fingers. "You did it".

"Yeah," Osamu releases a shaky breath. "Is it—can I kiss ya again?"

Your answer comes with the tilt of your head. Osamu kisses you, solemnly sweet. You can faintly taste the beer he drank. He's warm, firm under your hands. You feel him smile against your mouth and smile back, nipping at his plush lower lip. The intensity grows as a strong arm coils around your waist, his wet, rice soiled hand held away from your clothes. Your fingers slip into his hair as his tongue dips into the seam, slides over your own and along the grooves in your teeth, drinking the whine right from your mouth.

"Osamu," you sigh, pushing harder, needing to be closer, and yet he is pulling further away. "Noo, come back".

"Greedy thing" he rasps. His voice is infused with warm laughter. You hum as he kisses you again, similar to the first. It's quick and chaste, and with too much finality for your taste. "I know. But I'm pretty sure that's yer ride waiting outside".

You sniff haughtily, following his line of sight to the car headlights filtering in through the windows. "Wait. Let me walk ya out," he mumbles, turning away to find a towel to wipe his hands on. Meanwhile you gingerly pick up the takeout tray of onigiri and cradle it to your front, as though something precious.

"Ready?"

The night is colder than you remember, and you'd only been out of it for a short time. Sparse raindrops pitter patter on the pavements, leaving dark little dots on the concrete. Osamu walks ahead to check with the driver and then waves you over, opening the door himself.

"What a charmer," you tease, turning into him once more and pressing a kiss to his cheek. "Thank you, Osamu. I had a really great night".

"Good enough to see me again?"

The crinkles by his eyes are knowing, aware that he needn't ask at all. And the thought that you could be another person for Osamu to take care of—it satiates the ache.

"Maybe I can cook for you next time," you say as you climb into the backseat. Osamu bends, peering into the car.

"Promise?"

Loneliness is just another form of hunger. You realise that now.

"I promise".

#pls read this #hq!!#osamu #oh monty i will forever be in awe of anything you create 🥺

1K notes · View notes

hibewriter · 5 months ago

Text

Take Me (In the Midnight Hour)

Masterlist Read it on AO3 WIP

Chapter 1 2

The Rings of Power / The Lord of the Rings | Haladriel / Saurondriel | 10.1K | E

One

To preface this story is to do it an injustice.

After all, how does one preface something they don't know the ending to? I'm still here — waking, living, breathing like before. Yet, unlike before, there's something new. Something within me has shifted and morphed into an unrecognizable mass of darkness. Darkness that strives to serve — to follow, to hold — the devil with whom I share a bed. Something within me wants to swaddle him in my arms and let him take every piece of me to Hell, where he has made his home. He said he wished to guide the beleaguered masses back to civility. To guide or to rule. To rule or enslave. His union of those wronged by the very hand he fed upon.

Before, when I was young, I relished a day spent at the lakeside of my family's home in Mithlond. When the colonial-style house stretched far into the sky – its pillars visible from grassy shores where I would eventually take a rest. There was no perversion in me then, no broken heart or sordid promises. Not when my brother would carry me inside after a long day of play. But the emptiness had been there when I held Celeborn's hand. The emptiness had been there at every dinner between our two families, and each date at our city's finest restaurants. Superficial and hollow.

Hollowness drove me to his arms. Running from my mind drove me to his bed. But staying, in both, might have been the most frightening thing of all.

It took four months of living in Tirharad for my brother to call me. Four months of wondering if my choice was wrong, or if perhaps I had acted too rashly on the day I had stormed out of the safety of Mithlond. Four months of wondering if I was truly alone, sitting in a cramped studio apartment waiting for the phone to ring or perhaps a letter to appear with an apology from an all too distant mother. I wondered, then, when the phone rang if I was hallucinating. Or if perhaps there had been something in the pie I ate, a nightmare or a dream born out of innocuous food prepared the day before in a kitchen perhaps a touch too small.

"Galadriel," his voice came distorted through the line, taking on the slight hum of the phone line that somehow never went away despite years of advancement in technology. Nonetheless, he sounded breathless, as if he'd run to catch me even though he'd called.

"Finrod." His name was heavy on my tongue. A weight of attrition, a forced distance between me and him. The degradation of his name to merely a stranger I had just met, instead of a brother who I'd known and loved. It's easier to stare at the pan on my stove, the one that has been there since I cooked instant ramen noodles three days ago. Empty with a shallow layer of salt and preservatives coating the walls.

"Let's be reasonable," he says. "We all said things we don't mean, and Cel said he'd be willing to keep the engagement on if you said sorry."

"I don't want to say sorry," I say, still staring at that stupid pot. I should clean it. Or get a new one. One that wasn't a stupid hand-me-down from college. He sighs, clearly about to say more when I proceed anyway. "It's been four months. The first thing you have to say is get back with Celeborn?"

It's laughable if not painful. I always knew that my family placed more emphasis on the "Noldor Family" as a reputation than on happiness. A sense of duty to marry into a respectable station of equal or higher value than our own and pump out beautiful babies that would have blonde hair until all of Lindon knew us. Or feared us. It was all the same when you had power and influence.

"I – you're right," he says, though his tone tells me he is far from done speaking. "How are you?"

(I buy a new kitchen set from Williams Sonoma, a cream granite one with that non-stick coating that screams studio kitchen, and not a girl who mostly just reheats pre-packaged food. It's aspirational, I rationalize — the pans are weighty in my palms as I try to wrestle them onto the sleek countertop to check out.

The man at the counter glances at me, and I can tell he's trying not to stare as he rings me up. Since moving here I've not seen a single person who looks like me. Dark-haired girls who are shorter and plumper flood the streets. They wear cottage-core outfits straight from Pinterest, though if I had to guess I'd bet my life that they mostly worked comfy jobs in offices that spent too much money on cafeterias and not on salaries.

I blink, dazed as I step out of the store. I've been staring at one such girl, and I have to cough and apologize when she raises an eyebrow in my direction as if begging me to say something. I don't know when I got so judgmental.)

"What can I get you?"

"What do you have?"

After my call with Finrod, it's easy to find a bar within walking distance of my studio. It's loud, one of those open concepts where the entire room is centered around a square bar, two bartenders on either side filling the mouths of any and everyone with ten dollars. They don't care about the girl walking in, as long as her card is running. The nametag on the bartender's shirt is faded – smudged and chipped in several places, but still. Its owner's name was clear as day. Elendil. I didn't particularly care at the time, but he bore witness to my misery, and every witness deserves a name. Not to mention his pour was heavy, the gin bottle noticeably emptier when he returns it to the well.

So I spend my night rejecting advances from men who think they have a shot and drowning my sorrows in gin and tonic until the room begins to blur at the edges.

There is a man who tries to follow me out, trailing behind me enough that even in my addled state I could recognize the predatory way he stalked behind me when I left the door. Instead of right, I turn left, my pace brisk as I head down the street toward the city's center. Away from my home and the safety of a bolt lock.

The streets are surprisingly empty, dark, and wet from an apparent storm that I was lucky or unlucky enough to miss. It's nearly three blocks before I spot people. Two. It's instinctive to cross toward them. I immediately embrace the smaller of the two, a woman, in my embrace.

"Help me," I whisper in her ear.

Tonight I'm lucky, making new friends as we wait for the stranger to disappear from the block. Her name is Bronwyn. Her boyfriend drives me home.

(The plan comes to me that night, cuddled into my bed under two fluffy blankets as I scrolled The Tirharad Independent looking for places to visit in the city. The statue was bronze, a boy standing atop an anvil, raising a hammer to the sky: Sauron and the Sun.

I liked it.)

"Walk away," I said as I sipped my gin and tonic. It's been six months since I moved to Tirharad. Today I was supposed to go with Bronwyn and Arondir on a double date – their version of friendship came with the idea that singleness was a problem to be fixed. But for some reason I found myself plopping down for a single drink that had turned into four. An apology was already typed on my phone the closer it got to my planned meet-up time. Not that I had an issue with them trying. Planned dates with vouched-for men or women were certainly more advisable than what happens here.

"I was just wondering what a girl like —"

"I'm engaged." It's easy to show the ring I'd found at an antique store, lifting my left hand in the general direction of the stranger. The opal center reflected against the low lights of the bar, brass catching rays of the sun. It looked hand-made, something forged from love and dedication I'd certainly never felt before. But does he get the message? Of course not.

"Do I know him?" The look in his eye is lecherous, leering as he pays attention not to my ring but to the thin straps on my top. He leans into my space. If I'd been in a correct mood, if I'd even wanted the attention of a man, he would've been attractive. He wasn't dressed like the other men here, the black turtle neck tucked seamlessly into his slacks as if he were trying to hide a violent nature beneath a veneer of soft and muted clothing. Or maybe I'm just projecting in hindsight.

"He's a blacksmith," I say, head lowered to my drink as I contemplate getting kicked out for assault. He hasn't done anything yet. Nothing to warrant a kick to the shins or a smack in the face. Something that could be a disservice.

"I know so many blacksmiths in the area. What's his name?"

"Sauron," I deadpan. He laughs, brisque and loudly.

I decided then that I didn't like him.

There was a dark glint in his eye — as if his humor had been found in a secret past I knew nothing about. It's been nearly the same reaction all month, one that typically goes away with a steady gaze and a bored expression. This guy, however, likes to push.

"I know Sauron, kid," the man says. This. This wasn't planned for. In the past two months that I've been running this gambit, no one had known Sauron. Or professed to. Most assumed that he was a made-up man with no connection to reality. "There's no way someone who looks like you would want anything to do with him."

"You think you know me based off of looks?" I start, knowing now that he'll never get the hint. "You, whatever your name is, have no idea what I want. Or who I want for that matter. And you never will, because the only thing you need to know is that whatever I want — it isn't you. Now. Like I said. Walk. Away."

I should've known then that it wouldn't be the last I'd seen of him. The shift in his face from amusement to dead serious within a fraction of a second. His smile is now a straight line, the glint in his brown eyes gone, replaced only with black. But my trepidation was placated when he nodded, reaching into his pocket and producing a card. Simple bold black lettering as he slid it toward me on the bar counter.

Melkor Ainor Master Welder

"Tell Sauron that his old friend is looking for him." His words feel like a threat. But he's gone before I even look up from the card.

(Never trust a man who insists he knows you better than yourself.)

I focus my attention on the bartender and raise my glass, dangerously close to empty. A fifth to drown away the past and present. A sixth to quiet the thoughts.

Bronwyn sent 11:57AM

Hey, we're going to switch to later tonight, is that alright?

Read 11:57 AM

You sent 12:02 PM

How much later tonight?

Read 12:03 PM

Bronwyn sent 12:03 PM

We were thinking 9. We wanted to hit up that new sports bar down on Greenier.

Read 12:03 PM

You sent 12:07 PM

Maybe. I've been feeling sick today. Read 12:08 PM

Bronwyn sent 12:08 PM

Sick like last week?

Read 12:08 PM

(Sick like always.

I don't respond.)

It takes eight months in Tirharad for my mother to talk to me.

At this point, I had a weekly call with Finrod. We talked like coworkers most of the time. How was your weekend? Turning into each other in broken records as if we cared what stalls were at the farmer's market, or whether or not his kids knew who he was talking to when he stepped out of the room. It was one of those such calls before I heard the shuffle on the other side of the line. The "just let me talk to her" was muffled by what I assumed was Fin's hand over the receiver. Before there was a drop and a brief silence. And then —

"Galadriel," her voice came in. My mother always carried the tone of a woman who had just finished running. A breathlessness followed each syllable as if they were in a race to exit her mouth first. "When are you going to stop this foolishness and come home?"

Eight months of foolishness. As if my mother were simply waiting for me to return from a tantrum I'd thrown. I felt the bile rise in my throat. Anger manifested in my throat as a solid weight, a pain that refused to dissipate. Rise or sink would've been preferable but instead, it sat stuck, needing to be broken apart instead of relocating. It was different than with Finrod. Then I simply had to shift the conversation away from what he wanted to talk about – he was a perpetual puppy, distracted if you shook a toy in front of his face.

"Galadriel?"

Eärwen Noldor was not so easily distracted.

The next thing I know, my screen is black. The call ended without saying a word.

(She calls me several times after, from her number this time. Each call is met with a prevailing silence, voicemails in the trash while I contemplate throwing my phone off the balcony.)

When you reflect upon your choices – in something like this, which at its core is a memoir of my consciousness and my failures – you learn what pushes you. Is it rage? Surface level — yes. The initial rage that flows from a mother's latent misunderstanding of who her daughter is. That "tantrum" that follows. Powder can only sit in a keg for so long. So what do you do? What did I do? I drowned my gunpowder in liquid fire and waited for the flame to swallow me whole.

I met the devil on a Wednesday afternoon. He is the flame that leads to a spark – though I hadn't known that then.

He finds me at a bar I wasn't a regular at. Some sports bar as Arondir wanted to watch a team play. I'd never so much as seen the man smile, but of course, he watched the screen with that same rapt attention he gave everything.

I still wore the ring, my signal to Bronwyn and Arondir that I didn't want their wingman services. It didn't matter. Their services never worked. Men tended to think we were a poly couple, which I would say was confusing but – my arms wrapped around Bronwyn's waist, Arondir draped over her shoulders and I won't lie and say I didn't know how the brown sugar lipgloss tasted coming off Bronwyn's lips. The gin and tonics were strong at this bar, but the drinks are always strong when we're together. We should probably talk about it. Not tonight.

Tonight he had caught my eye, not unlike my initial appraisal of Melkor. The tense air around him seemed to not affect the others in his group. They were surrounding him as if this club were the ocean and he was the only raft in sight. He stood casually, back to one of the only spaces along the wall of the bar that wasn't filled with other people. There was a small huddle around him, at least two girls clinging to each sleeve of his jean jacket as he told whatever story he was regaling the group with.

I don't know why I kept staring at him. If Bronwyn or Arondir had noticed they didn't say anything, letting me sip on the clear liquid in my glass as I stared across at him. Something so familiar yet unrecognizable about him as I did. Then his eyes – green, not like the forest but like a snake, treacherous and alluring all at once – met mine.

I wish I could say it was immediate magnetism – that the second our eyes connected he made me swoon with the idea of a future together based only on his gaze boring into mine or that there was an electric pull that brought me to him setting me alight. But that wouldn't be the truth.

His gaze felt like a weighted blanket. All the rushing thoughts in my head suddenly evaporated, silenced by a sea of green.

It doesn't take much to shake Bronwyn and Arondir from my side. I slip through the crowded bar mostly unnoticed, just another face pushing against clusters of shoulders just trying to get to the bathroom. I'm foolish enough to think that a splash of water and a quick pick me up will return my mind to something other than the stranger on the other side of the room.

The water is tepid against my skin. The paper towels are coarse. In the back of my mind, Eärwen scolds me for wasting expensive skincare items on subpar materials. She would've hated how I'd switched from her beloved Tatcha creams to the generic brands sold at the bodega across the street from my home. She would've hated this bar and my friends. Probably would've hated the clothes on my back or the way I wore my hair. It's enough to make me smile.

He's there when I exit the room. He leaned casually against the opposite wall, studying me as if at a museum and he was finally close enough to see the details in the art. We stare at each other. Or more, I stare and he moves into my space. I smell him now, all steel and smoke, as he backs me toward the bathroom. I don't think to speak, just letting him head me back inside.

He seems to have made up his mind about me, shepherding me into the stall furthest from the door. It's spacious, one of those specifically built for handicapped patrons. Looking back I probably should've scolded him, perhaps argued about the locale and the fake ring on my finger. Demand he let me go and head back into the crowd to find my friends. But I don't.

Instead, I bite my lip when he turns toward the door to the stall. He's tall – taller than I would've guessed from across the room. My brain immediately turned to a litany of tallbigtall, all warning bells muted in favor of attraction.

"I'm Halbrand," he says. It shocks me how he provides the barest of introduction before he locks the stall door behind us. For a moment I had thought he wouldn't speak at all, content to just let two strangers use each other for stolen minutes in a bathroom stall. It was cliche. But if didn't feel that way at the time.

"Galadriel."

His lips were on mine within a second of my name leaving my lips. His kiss was hard, all of him pressed into me as he bent to consume me. Lips, and hands, everywhere on me – his arms coiling around my waist. He was crushing me into him, refusing me the option to move away and catch my breath. Whatever he'd seen in me he saw fit to push and mold me into whatever he wanted me to be.

There's something so devastating about releasing your mind into the hands of another.

Even worse is finding that you like it.

By the time my brain caught up to what was happening my body was already responding. My hands were needy, insistent as they grabbed at his hair. My lips were an uncoordinated mess, desperately trying to catch up to his initial dive. But somehow it worked. His hands had moved from my waist, so far south he was lifting me by my ass, pulling me into him. I want to say he didn't have to pull. I would've followed him anyway.

Instinctively I wrap my legs around his hips. It's a drug, the feeling of his hardness, blocked by lack of foresight and the sensible "don't-try-to-fuck-me" jeans I'd worn. He was hard, heavy weight against the burgeoning heat in my core as his lips left mine to explore the exposed skin of my neck. It was disorienting, having gone months feeling numb to the feeling of skin against skin, only for a stranger to pull the dormant lust in me to the surface.

It felt like fire.

The noise I made when he pulled the slightest inch away from me would be embarrassing if anyone but him had heard it. But he was pulling at the waistband of my pants, urgent hands doing their best to pull them just low enough before he turned me to face the stall wall.

"You gonna be quiet for me?" He asks, lips against my ear as he manages to get my jeans to pool around my knees. I heard the zipper of his jeans, what I hoped was the ripping of a condom. But to be honest – I couldn't care less. "Or are you gonna let everyone hear what I'm gonna do to you?"

Looking back, I can't tell if I asked him to wait. If I asked him to slow down, or maybe finger me a bit before I was filled. All consuming, wholly, filled. Each push of his hips craved a new place inside me for himself. A goodbadgood burn as his girth pushed me past the limits I previously thought I had. By the time he was fully inside, hips pressed to mine, I was a whimpering mess.

"Didn't even need prep, did you, baby?" His breath was gruff against the hollow of my ear. Deeper, more desperate as he pulled back – which I think was worse than being filled, the emptiness he left behind an ache that only the returning push of his cock inside me could cure. All I could do was moan, my knuckles curling against the hard plastic of the stall wall as I scrambled for purchase.

I don't pretend to be above a cry, the pinpricks of water falling from my eyes as he began a harsh pace inside. "Mmm, i' hurts."

His fingers gripped my hips tightly, a dark laugh coming from his throat. His chest was to my back, his body encompassing mine and it was too much. It's too fast, it's too hard. He knocks the breath from me but still, I blush. I'm overwhelmed but my cunt craves him – walls clenching, gushing around him as he slips, cruel, a single finger to rub at my clit.

It's hard to care about the sounds we're making. The clear slapping as skin meets skin, the soft moans from my mouth, or the groans from his throat –

He asked if I'd be quiet but I'd never been louder.

"Fuck," his voice was low and ragged in my ear. The hand not on my clit winding up my shirt to grasp my breast – kneading, pinching, pulling at the soft skin in a way that sent electricity through my body. My orgasm was winding up inside me, coiling tighter and tighter as he drove me into the fucking wall. We were pressed so close together I was surprised the thick plastic hadn't given way to his harsh thrusts. He added a second finger to my clit, rolling the bud between the two as the pads began to press on where our bodies joined together. The coil snaps, my orgasm hitting me like a light-rail train. I feel the gush come from me, my entire body seizing around his length and forcing gasps of air out of my throat. Panicky, shaky breaths as I fall apart in a sports bar bathroom while the veritable stranger behind me continues to fuck into me like a beast. I could only hang on the best I could, my legs feeling like jelly. His hand left my breast, gripping my waist to hold me up as he chased his release.

By the time he came, I was slumped, boneless against the wall as he slammed inside, grinding harshly into my backside. Each push drove the warmth of his spend deeper and deeper inside me, my brain a haze as I tried to remember whether or not I had taken my birth control, or if I had asked if he had worn a condom, or if I was just misremembering the sound.

He's still inside, both of us panting. His hand comes to my throat, and he turns my head to look at him. "Come back to my place."

It's not a question, more of a demand. Still, I find myself nodding, eyes glossy as he smirks down at me. It's sinister, it's cruel. It makes me clench around his softening cock, earning me a hiss and swat to my ass before he pulls away from me. He cleans me up. He takes me home.

When I was young my father used to tell me that running only prolonged the pain. Eventually, you'd have to come home and face the music, and it'd be worse because you put the time and distance between the initial wound and taking care of it. A festering wound can never heal and other euphemisms that meant the same thing. At the time I took it to mean that he didn't want me to hide my report card from him or that I should apologize when I was wrong.

The problem was — I got excellent grades, and I was rarely, if ever, wrong. At least, until I started dating Celebron.

I was no stranger to waking up alone.

I'd done it for the majority of my engagement, then every day since I moved to Tirharad. (Excluding the one night with Arondir and Bronwyn — a drunken engagement that will never happen again.)

I was not used to waking up pleasantly sore, the feeling of being thoroughly used and pushed past the normal maintenance orgasms a vibrator could provide. I was not used to waking up in sheets softer than silk, feeling like I had slept on a cloud while the smell of bacon wafted through the apartment. It was nice. It couldn't happen again.

It only took me a few moments to find my clothes, sans panties - which seem to have disappeared into the ether. I guess he'll have a memento.

There was no use tip-toeing out of the room. My brief introduction to the space the night before made it clear - while it was spacious, it was open concept and the kitchen was between the front door and both rooms in the apartment. It's a shame. I would've preferred avoiding the "that was fun but I don't want to see you again" conversation.

"You're awake."

He's leaning against the doorframe as I finish pulling my pants up. Unabashedly staring, when I turn to face him, though I can't fully blame him. He already saw it all and worse the night before.

"Yeah," I cough, avoiding his eyes. There was something so...intense about him in the daylight. His face said a neutral impassiveness, but his eyes held a sharp glint I hadn't seen before. I'm not sure what it was, but I didn't want to find out. "I have a, uh, meeting. With my mom."

I never said I was a great liar.

He seems to notice it, eyebrow raised in skepticism as he straightens his posture. "Okay."

I thank every deity I can that he decides not to push it further. He steps out of the way and lets me out of the room.

(Speak of the devil and she will come.)

I had answered the phone without checking it. A rookie mistake as I began walking the blocks back toward my apartment.

"Hello?" I answered, staring into the distance as I thought about the interaction with Halbrand. He hadn't done anything outright sinister. Unless you counted holding my hips down as he —

"Galadriel, finally." Fuck.

"Mother," I sigh. "Your persistence knows no bounds."

"And your stubbornness seems equally as vast, darling. I'll make this quick."

I pause on the sidewalk, turning to look at a small cafe. It was decorated for Halloween, with cut-out paper lanterns and pumpkins scattered in between faux webbing and paper mache bats. It was cute, it looked cozy. When I left Mithlond it was January, snow had hardly melted, and yet, I had found comfort in Tirharad's little propensities. My mother was the type to skip the Halloween decorations, opting instead to spring straight into Christmas and her House of Noldor gala decorations.

"I want you to come home," she said. As if it was simple. As a matter of fact. "I want you to apologize to Celebron for causing a scene, and I want you to keep the spring wedding you always wanted."

"I'm not doing any of those things." I step into the cafe. There's a soft classical tune playing I'd never heard of and everyone inside seemed too preoccupied with their own lives to pay attention to me. The line isn't too long, and the wafting of an apple cinnamon concoction is too great for me to pass up.

"Why do you insist on ruining yourself for –"

"I'd advise you to reconsider that statement." I hum, scanning the selection of pastry options. It was one of those displays with a clear face, and you could practically see the steam from the fresh selection as they sat, waiting for someone like me to pick them.

"Galadriel I am your mother and I can say what I know to impart on you as wisdom and –"

"Actually, you can respect my boundary and not insist I'm 'ruining myself' considering you're the one who's harassing me. Or I can simply block all of you. Can I get the apple pie cinnamon roll, please? And the iced espresso with cream, yes."

"Are – are you in public?"

"Did you think I would sit around my apartment moping?" I ask as if I hadn't done exactly that for the past eight (or was it nine?) months. Time moved quickly if you blacked out most of it. But it was days like today that showed in my mind's eye with the most clarity. Down to paying with cash. Seventy-eight cents change – dropped directly into the tip jar.

"Well yes, honey. You were dumped just three months before the wedding for that scene you caused." I can see the bait from a mile away. Her inflammatory language was only there to urge me into a rage. She wants me to scream, to force myself to embarrass myself in this area now that she knows I am surrounded. Normally she would succeed. Normally I'd yell, insist that wasn't the truth. That we both knew the truth.

"Well," I say, moving to the end of the counter to wait for my order. "If catching Celeborn with his pants around his ankles while fucking the waitress from our engagement dinner, berating him for it then leaving to pack all my shit out of his house is 'getting dumped' then I guess I was dumped. I'd do it again now, down to the slap to the face, and calling him a shrimp-dicked cretin."

"Galadriel," She hissed. A warning, discomfort flowing through her veins. Even when she was trying to bait me, she still couldn't let go of her notions of propriety.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, mother. I didn't realize my description of getting cheated on would upset you so much. I'm so glad that you care so much about my happiness to realize that what Celeborn did was terrible and I shouldn't take someone like that back into my heart."

"Honey, sure he has his...flaws. But he is stable! He's the son of Senator Doriath! Does our family mean nothing to you?"

"I didn't realize my marriage was just to be a political bargaining chip for you." I did. But I never expected her to brazenly say so. Then again, I never expected to be in this situation at all.

The barista stops in front of me, handing the pastry and drink. I'm out the door in an instant, slipping into the daylight once again. This time my pace is drenched in speed, not taking the time to savor the sights or stop at a cushy-looking storefront.

"Well honey, what else would it be?" I would think the answer was obvious to her. But like everything about the past three years of my life, I was wrong.

"I don't know mother, I must've been under the impression that people married each other for love."

"Oh honey, no one marries for love anymore."

"You would have me marry a cheater and a liar on the off chance he was honest about leveraging our family to prosperity. Chain myself body and soul to a crook?"

There's silence now. A chasm between us that she knows can not be crossed. She sighs. As if finally seeing the logic. As if the logic was what she needed. She couldn't accept that his actions were bad enough on their own.

"You'll do what you wish then." The line goes dead.

#haladriel #saurondriel

1 note · View note

woodys-surf-shack · 1 year ago

Text

Surf Log 011

Date: Tue 1st August 2023

Location: Highcliffe

Waves: 3-4 ft

Journal: This marked my first time back in the water since my injury, which was about 3+ weeks ago now. I went into the session expecting to be rusty and aiming to just get a read on where I was physically. To my surprise, I felt almost no physical discomfort! I didn't get any of the aching pain in my elbows, which I believe is a sign that longer breaks between surfing and more stretching is beneficial. And most importantly I had no severe discomfort in my ribs. Sure, there was some minor sensitivity, but nothing that indicated anything serious to me. So I think I'm safe to ease back into things now!

The session started off pretty poor. The waves were great but they were defeating me for at least 30 mins. I struggled to get out to the back and find a spot, and when I did, I screwed up catching the waves. What made it worse is the grom surfing next to me seemed to be catching every wave he went for, prompting me to get negative and think "what's even the point?" But soon I broke out of that mindset and the latter half of the session was great. I decided to give it my all when paddling out, and I soon found that I was getting out back much quicker and catching waves frequently.

I also gave my first attempts at duck diving! This was super scary at first; a similar feeling to when you're going for your first wave. When a choppy, angry wave is rearing up in front of you, it's hard not to be intimidated. But I wiggled towards the front of my board, popped my right knee up, and plunged the nose down with my arms. After a few attemps, I got over the fear of this action and soon found it sooo fun! I was duck diving every wave I could, and I felt the benefits almost every time. It's definitely preferable to just charging into a wave face first.

I'd say of the many waves I went for, only about 3 saw me nail some decent rides - however the point of this session was to have fun and get my bearings, NOT to nail perfect waves and look cool. I caught one beautifully and rode it for what felt like ages. I felt super proud. Another started well but I lost my balance, but that somehow morphed into me doing what felt like a stylish right-hander, and I got to run my fingers through the wave as I lost my balance. Falling in style! Haha.

I called it a day after about an hour and a half as i didn't want to overdo it. No pictures from this session.

Learnings: I should start to take less and less items to the beach with me. All I really need is a water bottle and towel, mayve a snack, and my flip-flops. My phone can be left behind as all it serves to do is take photos and distract me. I can even leave my wax behind if I apply it before leaving the house instead of on the beach.

Also, I should try popping up in a more relaxed fashion. A lot of dudes I see just pop their left leg up and sort of crouch for a second, then as they start to move, slowly slide the rest of their body up into a standing position.

0 notes

chaeryybomb · 3 years ago

Text

BRUTAL

pairings: female reader x best friend!jungwon

summary: they told you that these were the golden years, but to you "golden" was a rusting metal spray painted yellow. the story of a seventeen year old trying to survive high school when all you do is try your best. but your best friend jungwon makes it worth the while.

genre: high school au, friends to lovers, fluff, tiny bits of angst if you squint, attempt at humour

featuring: jang wonyoung, kim sunoo & nishimura riki

word count: 4.5k

warnings: reader having a existential crisis most of the time, strong language, mentions of insecurity

the sour series masterlist

You slumped forward the moment the bell rang, letting your head hit the table. You could care less if a bruise would form on your forehead, you had much bigger things to worry about. Your teacher left the class wordlessly as the class was busy doing their own thing. And by that, everyone was buried nose deep in studying. You lifted your head to see the different books of the same topic scattered on your desk, a yellow highlighter balancing on the edge of your table.

Reaching over to grab the highlighter, you turned your head over to the side to look at your desk mate. Wonyoung sat there looking straight out from a k-drama, with her hair flowing down her back perfectly and her slender nimble fingers moving as she continuously wrote in her notebook. She was smart too, fluent in English and Korean, great at maths and science. And on top of that she was kind and friendly, everyone loved her. You did too, you had the honour of calling her your best friend. But sometimes you felt insecure around her, everything she did looked flawless and there you were just trying your best.

"Ack!" You yelped as you sat up straight, holding your forehead. Wonyoung rolled her eyes at you with a small smile on her lips, she had flicked your forehead to get you out of your thoughts.

Without taking her eyes off the textbook, she tapped your own workbook with her pen. Silently telling you to stop procrastinating. You pouted at her and looked at the clock, 10 minutes before lunch. Maybe a walk to the girl's bathroom would do you some good.

"I'm gonna go to the bathroom," you whispered to Wonyoung. She nodded and smiled at you before you walked out.

As you strolled towards the girl's bathroom, you passed by the bulletin board outside your class. A bright blue poster stood out with the words "ENJOY YOUR YOUTH" in white. Scoffing at the message, you continued on your way.

"I'm seventeen now, where's my fucking teenage dream?" You muttered to yourself. You were tired of waiting for your life to end up like a coming of age movie. Everyone told you that these were the golden years and you should enjoy your youth, but you swear to god if you hear another one of those cheesy sayings, you might just cry on the spot.

Reaching over to open the stall door, you halt in your actions when you heard familiar voices talking.

"I'm so worried for finals, my parents are gonna kill me if I fail English again," a girl complained. You hear the sound of tap water running. "How are you so calm during this time, Mirae?'

"What's the use of studying hard anyways," the second girl, Mirae, said. "We all know the top spots are gonna be taken by Jang Wonyoung and Yang Jungwon, I just study enough to pass."

The other girl snorted at her reply. "Imagine if those two got together, the power couple of the year," she suddenly said.

"Poor Y/N then, she's gonna be over shadowed by them."

"As if she already isn't. I almost forgot they were a trio until you mentioned Y/N," the girl laughed.

"What can I say? They're out of her league," Mirae joined in with her laughter.

The two voices faded away as you heard the door closed. Finally pushing the door open, you looked at your reflection. Your eyebrows knitted in annoyance and your face was morphed in a scowl. You washed your hands aggressively and poked the inside of your cheek. What bugged you was that they were right. You were the black sheep between Wonyoung and Jungwon. Both of them were smart and amazing, and you're just…you.

You love your best friends, you truly do. But you were constantly compared to them and you hated it. Everyone wanted them, you watched as guys tripped over to confess to Wonyoung and girls squealing when Jungwon smiled at them. The two of them always reassured you that you weren't beneath them but you were sick of their sympathy. You're so caught up in the news of who likes you and who hates them. You just wished people liked you more.

Storming out of the bathroom, someone accidentally ran into you and caused you to fell onto your butt. The student immediately stood up and scurried off, not bothering to even a mutter an apology. All I did was try my best and this is the thanks I get, you thought bitterly.

They said that these were the golden years, but you wished you could just disappear. God, it's brutal out here.

"Y/N, wait up!" Jungwon called after you.

You stopped in your tracks as you watched Jungwon waved goodbye to some students before jogging towards you.

"You heading to cram school today?" He asked you as the both of you fell into the same walking rhythm.

You shook your head, clasping your hands behind. "I moved it to Thursday instead, Wonyoung said I had to many things on Tuesday," you told him. Originally, you would be heading to the library to study before heading over to the cram school. But Wonyoung took one look at your schedule and decided that you did not had enough breaks, so she managed to convince you to take the Thursday slot instead. Thursdays are one of the days where you would not go to the library.

Jungwon seemed to be disappointed to find out that you had switched slots. Maybe he should changed slots too, but does he have any empty spots open for Thursday though? He'd have to check later. Instead, he coughed and stuffed his hands into his pockets.

"Do you wanna come over later? The new Demon Slayer movie is out," he offered, hoping that you'd accept.

Unfortunately, you once again shook your head. "Sorry Jungwon, I'd want to cram even more later. Finals are really creeping in and I can't afford to waste any time," you told him with a sad smile. As much as you would like to ditch the books and watch Demon Slayer, the glaring C on your last history paper was telling you otherwise.

You stopped walking when you had reached your doorstep. "Thanks for walking me home, Jungwon. See you tomorrow!" and with that you disappeared behind the door.

Jungwon waved goodbye as he watched the door closed. The smile on his face dropped and his shoulder sagged. Jungwon you idiot, of course she would want to study, he scolded himself. With disappointment on his face, he trudged home with a heavy heart.

"Change of plans, guys," he announced as he swung the front door open, unfazed by the fact that Riki and Sunoo were lounging on his coach. He accepted the fact that Sunoo had somehow gotten the keys to his house (suspecting that his mother probably gave it to him due to favouritism or maybe Riki had sneakily made a copy).

Riki's head poked out from the couch. "She rejected you, didn't she," the younger boy said with a smirk.

Jungwon's face ears turned red as he glared at the boy. "No she did not!" He immediately told him. "She rejected the offer to watch the movie, that's different!"

"That's basically rejection, hyung," Riki laughed.

The other boy just glared at him. "Shut up!" he sputtered out before hiking up the stairs.

Sunoo gave Riki a look, to which the Japanese boy just shrugged his shoulders innocently.

Jungwon walked out from the shower, a towel around his neck with one hand running through his damp hair. Sunoo and Riki had left earlier, finally giving him some peace and quiet. His phone screen was flashing from his study table, initiating that someone was spamming him (quite aggressively) with text message. With a raised eyebrow, he picked up his phone

[7:09 pm] wonyoung: JUNGWON

[7:10 pm] wonyoung: WHY DID Y/N JUST MESSAGED ME ABOUT HOMEWORK

[7:10 pm] wonyoung: ISNT SHE WITH YOU

[7:11 pm] wonyoung: I THOUGHT YOU SAID U WERE GONNA WATCH A MOVIE

[7:11 pm] wonyoung: DEMON HUNTER OR SMTG

[7:12 pm] wonyoung: WHY IS SHE ASKING ME FOR HW

[7:12 pm] wonyoung: DID U CHICKEN OUT???

[7:13 pm] wonyoung: omg u chickened out didnt u

[7:14 pm] jungwon: jfc wonyoung

[7:15 pm] jungwon: and no i did not chicken out okay

[7:15 pm] jungwon: she declined

[7:16 pm] jungwon: she said she had to study ;-;

[7:17 pm] wonyoung: omg u suck

[7:17 pm] wonyoung: i told u the movie idea was dumb

[7:18 pm] wonyoung: but do u ever listen to me

[7:18 pm] wonyoung: no

[7:19 pm] wonyoung: and now u suffer the consequences

[7:20 pm] jungwon: yea yea i get it im dumb

[7:20 pm] jungwon: now what's ur solution the great jang wonyoung

[7:21 pm] wonyoung: i am so glad u asked :)

[7:21 pm] jungwon: oh no

[7:21 pm] wonyoung: stfu im giving u a better idea

[7:22 pm] wonyoung: a n y w a y s

[7:22 pm] wonyoung: my ynradar is going off and she's s a d

[7:23 pm] jungwon: how would u know

[7:23 pm] jungwon: she seemed fine today

[7:23 pm] wonyoung: stfu jungwon its best friend things u wont understand

[7:24 pm] jungwon: i-

[7:25 pm] wonyoung: and as her future bf u SHOULD start to train ur ynradar

[7:25 pm] wonyoung: anw its exam season stoopid

[7:26 pm] wonyoung: and its when those kids start to talk abt how the both of us are gonna get top scores

[7:26 pm] wonyoung: and they talk down on y/n while doing so

[7:26 pm] wonyoung: assholes

[7:27 pm] wonyoung: so i propose to u

[7:27 pm] wonyoung: a ✨ study date ✨

[7:28 pm] jungwon: i

[7:29 pm] jungwon: that's

[7:29 pm] jungwon: actually not a bad idea

[7:30 pm] wonyoung: obv i came up with it

[7:31 pm] jungwon: can u not

[7:31 pm] wonyoung: anw a study date

[7:32 pm] wonyoung: she's struggling in maths

[7:33 pm] wonyoung: specifically taxes because she said and i quote

[7:34 pm] wonyoung: "why do we have to do taxes when we pay people to do it for us"

[7:34 pm] wonyoung: so pls help her and try to cheer her up

[7:35 pm] wonyoung: and confess coward

[7:36 pm] jungwon: i make no promises for the last one

[7:36 pm] wonyoung: aFTER EVERYTHING I JUST SAID

[7:37 pm] jungwon: what if she rejects me wonyoung

[7:38 pm] wonyoung: WE'VE HAD THIS CONVERSATION A LOT OF TIMES JUNGWON

[7:38 pm] wonyoung: SHE LIKES U BUT SHES TOO DUMB TO REALISE

[7:39 pm] jungwon: sigh

[7:40 pm] jungwon: fine i'll try thanks wonyoung

[7:41 pm] wonyoung: np i expect y'all to be a couple by next monday <3

[7:41 pm] jungwon: i-

Sighing for the nth time of the night, Jungwon sat on his bed. He allowed the towel to slipped off his shoulders as his thumb hovered over your chat icon. Truth be told, he always thought his crush on you was unrequited love. You never showed any signs of returning of feelings so he thought he would just ignore the feeling until it was gone.

But oh boy was he wrong, because he didn't knew that he would be spending his high school years by your side. And now you occupy his mind 24/7. Wonyoung could literally tell that he was in love with you, but somehow you never caught on. He allowed Sunoo and Riki to convince him to do the whole "movie date idea", but that failed. So Wonyoung's suggestion was his only option left.

He typed out the message, ready to send it out. If only he could just press the button. Come on Yang Jungwon, you can do this. Just press the damn button Jungwon. Suddenly his phone pinged loudly, scaring the lights out of the poor boy as he yelped and his phone landed with a thud on the ground. He peered over his bed, as if his phone was a ticking bomb.

Oh, it was a message from you.

[8:01 pm] y/n: hey do u know where wonyoung is

[8:01 pm] y/n: she isn't answering my texts

Oh no. He realised that your chat was open, the two ticks indicated that he had (unintentionally) read the message. He couldn't just leave you on read. That's just evil. Scrambling to get his phone, he immediately typed a reply to cover for the other girl.

[8:02 pm] jungwon: sorry i don't :/

[8:02 pm] jungwon: what do u need her for

[8:03 pm] y/n: mf was supposed to teach me a maths question but she left me on rEAD

This was his chance! It was the perfect opportunity for him to score a date with you. Okay, breathe in breath out Jungwon. Don't mess it up and just ask her, he mentally prepared himself.

[8:04 pm] jungwon: oh i could help you if you want

[8:04 pm] jungwon: yk with finals coming up and everything, i can help you study

[8:05 pm] jungwon: if you want of course

[8:05 pm] y/n: omg srsly??

[8:06 pm] jungwon: pls help me study my braincells are literally dying

[8:07 pm] jungwon: jdsjkda okay how about this saturday at your place?

[8:08 pm] y/n: yeah sure

[8:08 pm] jungwon: cool its a date then!

You blinked at Jungwon's message. A date? Wait, did Yang Jungwon just indirectly asked you out? Nah, nah. You were overthinking it. Yes, definitely overthinking. Don't kid yourself, why would Jungwon ask you out on a date? Jungwon is just a friend, you tried to convince yourself.

Keyword: tried.

If he really was just a friend, then why did it felt like butterflies were in your stomach when he said "it was a date"? Then why did you frowned when those girls said that Wonyoung and Jungwon would make a good couple?

Oh god, do you have feelings for your best friend?

Saturday came faster than you would have liked it to. Ever since that last chat with Jungwon, it gave you the sudden realisation that you did in fact had feelings for your best friend. You tried so hard to avoid him in school because you don't want the butterflies back in your stomach. It was basically confirming the fact that you like him. Well, avoiding him also confirmed the fact but you choose to be in denial about it.

You didn't tell Wonyoung about your study date but lately she's been sending you outfit ideas on Pinterest. Specifically, date outftis. And whenever you tried to ask her a question about school, she brushed you off with a random excuse. So it left you no choice but to save those questions for Jungwon.

Speaking of Jungwon, he had texted you 10 minutes ago that he was on the way. You were standing in the middle of your room with your hands on your hips. Both of your parents were out for the day, which left you alone at home. You had taken out the low table to be used later and it was currently in front of you. Colourful workbooks were neatly stacked on top of it.

You did a 360 turn around your room. Was it messy? You cleaned it this morning when you woke up. Did you had any clothes out? No, doesn't look like it. For some reason, you were a nervous wreck. You blamed Jungwon. He just had to call this a date, didn't he.

Should you change? Maybe you should finally look through all those pins Wonyoung sent. Wait, no, why would you have to change into something nice. Jungwon was here to help you study, just that.

Yeah, a study date, your mind emphasised on the word.

The sound of the doorbell pulled you out from your thoughts. You immediately went to open the door. Yang Jungwon stood there on the other side, with his signature smile. Had he always resembled a sheep? He just looked so fluffy.

"Hey!" You greeted him with a smile, internally wincing at your way-too-enthusiastic voice.

But Jungwon didn't seem to mind it. "Hey!" he greeted back.

You moved to the side to let him in. "Thank you for having me," he said as he bowed then proceeded to remove his shoes.

"Uh, do you want anything? Water?" You asked him.

He shook his head.

"Ah, cool. Let's head to my room," you started to walk back to your room.

"Where are your parents?" He asked.

"Out," you simply replied.

That was when it dawned upon you, that your parents were not home. Leaving you and Jungwon, alone. Together. In your room. Alone. With the boy you potentially have a crush on.

"Y/N?" Jungwon tapped on your shoulder. You had stopped walking when you were suddenly washed over by your thoughts. Snapping out of it, you sent him a small smile before opening the room to your door.

The both of you shuffled into your bedroom, you sat down in front of the low table while Jungwon settled down next to you. He moved to take out his books then turned to you. "How about we do some studying and if you have any questions, you can ask me okay?" He said.

You nodded and flipped your own workbook open, immediately starting to work on the first question. Jungwon copied your action and a comfortable silence engulfed the both of you. As the time passed, you found yourself stuck on a certain maths question.

You slightly turned your head to the side to look at Jungwon. He was concentrated at doing his work, you felt a sense of deja vu while looking at him. He resembled Wonyoung when she was studying. At the thought of Wonyoung, you suddenly thought of what those girls said at the bathroom.

They would make a good couple, wouldn't they, you thought. The power couple of the year.

The butterflies in your stomach faded away into an uncomfortable feeling. Just the idea of them getting together already made you sick. You bit the inside of your cheek, you really did had feelings for him. And now it scared you because what if he doesn't feel the same. You made a mental note to consult with Wonyoung later, at least you hope that you'll allow yourself to tell her.

Jungwon must've noticed you staring and gently tapped your head with his pencil. A contrast to when Wonyoung painfully flicked your forehead.

"What's wrong? Are you stuck on a question?" He asked.

You leaned back a bit at the sudden action. You were so deep in your insecurities that you had totally forgotten about the literal problem sitting in front of you. Yet you couldn't even bother to ask him so you just shook your head. "I'm gonna get something to drink," you said instead.

Jungwon watched as you stood up, then decided to follow you as well. "I'll come along."

The boy joined you in the kitchen, perched on one of the island stools as you grabbed a can of soda from the fridge. He studied your movement as you worked around the kitchen. Your features were neutral, you weren't smiling nor frowning. But he could tell that your shoulders were tensed. Wonyoung was right, you did seem down. And he cursed himself for not noticing earlier.

"You okay?" His question made you stopped in a mid-pour stance, the can of soda was tilted but not enough for the contents to be poured out.

You brushed his question off and poured the drink into the cup. "Yeah," you hummed.

Unconvinced by your answer, he pried more. "You know you shouldn't care about what they say, right?"

You furrowed your eyebrows at him, pretending like you didn't understand where he was coming from.

"You're not below us, you know that right?"

You couldn't help but scoffed at his words. Jungwon's lips tugged downwards "I'm being serious here, Y/N," his tone was stern. "You shouldn't listen to what they say. You're more than just-"

The sound of the can being slammed down shuts him up. Your fingers tightened around the can as you looked at him. You didn't had the energy to hear him preach the same old "Don't Listen To Them" speech. You don't need his pity.

"I don't want to hear it, Yang Jungwon," you said through gritted teeth. Not sparing him another glance, you threw the empty can into the trash as you grabbed your glass.

As you walked past Jungwon, he suddenly reached out and held onto your forearm. "Y/N," he said softly. "Please tell me what's wrong."

You sighed and slowly turn around to face him, placing the glass back on the counter. You took in a deep breath before you opened your mouth. "I feel like I'm not enough," you finally said. "Everything I do just doesn't seem enough. All I'm doing is my best but it's just crushing my ego because everyone is telling me that you're better than me."

"I feel like no one wants me and I hate the way I'm perceived. It's always poor Y/N this and poor Y/N that's because everyone just sees me as your shadow and I fucking hate it. I only have two real friends," you gestured wildly. "And lately I'm a nervous wreck cause I keep comparing myself to the two of you. I'm not cool and I'm not smart, and I can't even parallel park!" You threw your hands up in frustration, the feelings you kept inside were pouring out like a waterfall.

Jungwon just stood there as he listened tentatively to every word. He didn't knew that you felt this way, bottling up all your emotions like that.

"And I'm so tired of people telling me to enjoy my youth and that these are the golden years. I might just fucking cry if I hear those words again," you finished ranting. It felt good, it felt like a weight on your heart has been lifted. Then you remembered that you just dumped all of it on Jungwon.

You opened your mouth to apologise to him but he surprised you by pulling him into his arms. At first you were standing stiffly at the sudden contact, but it took a millisecond for you to melt in his embrace. His arms were gently around your back and you returned the hug by wrapping your arms around his torso. The two of you stay in that position for awhile, relishing in each other's embrace. You definitely needed this hug.

Tightening your hold on Jungwon, you realised how important he was to you. He was your best friend and he was always there for you. It was stupid of you to compare yourself to him, when all he did was tried his best for you. The taller boy chuckled when he felt you rubbed your face into his shoulder, he involuntarily released a contented sigh. You felt one of his hands stroked your hair, it felt comforting. That action itself was enough for the butterflies to slowly settled back in you.

After a while, both of you finally (unwillingly) released each other. He pushed a strand of hair behind your ears and said, "You're wrong by the way." Which made you tilt your head in genuine confusion.

"You are cool and you are smart. You're like the coolest person I know. And no one thinks of you as our shadow, you don't hear it but I've always hear the juniors praising you for helping them and how enthusiastic you are," the way he delivered his words was filled with pure awe for you.

"And who cares if you can't parallel park. You didn't hear it from but Jay hyung failed his drivers test three times just because he couldn't parallel park," and that got a laugh out from you. Jungwon smiled proudly that he managed to make you laugh. "And you're wrong when you said no one wants you. I want you."

You blinked once, twice and thrice. He wanted you? "You're just saying that cause you're my best friend," you replied.

"No," he firmly said. "I like you, Y/N."

(Jungwon doesn't know where he got this sudden surge of confidence, but the mood was the perfect time for him to confess. It was a one time chance and he had to take it.)

You chuckled. "I like you too, Jungwon. We are friends aren't we?"

"No, Y/N. I like you. More than friends."

"Oh." Oh.

"Yeah," he scratched the back of neck awkwardly. Oh no, did you not feel the same way?

While you on the other hand, were malfunctioning on the inside. Your best friend just confessed to you and you were frozen on the spot. Why couldn't he had done it over text instead. If he had done it over text, then you could've left the message unread and you could've spammed Wonyoung for help. But the thing is that it wasn't over text and you couldn't just tell him to wait here while you panicked to Wonyoung in your bathroom.

Yang Jungwon likes you. And you like him too, right? Because if you didn't, your cheeks won't be heating up right now and your heart would have not be beating rapidly like it was going to break your rib cage any second. If you didn't like him, there would have never been butterflies in your stomach. Yeah. You like Yang Jungwon, you like him a lot.

"Me too," you whispered, it was soft but it was enough for him to pick it up. Jungwon eyes snapped to you, doe eyed filled with hope. "I like you, too," you said, this time louder. And you made sure you looked him in the eye when you confessed.

You watched as Jungwon's mouth morphed into a big grin. He let out a sigh of relief and dropped to his knees, surprising you. "Jungwon!" you squeaked, bending down to help him.

"I'm fine! I'm fine," he assured you as he stood up with your help. The grin on his face was still there. "It's just that … you like me," he breathed out. "You like me back, wow. I-I can't believe it."

Your face was definitely burning with embarrassment. You punched him lightly on the shoulder, turning away to hide your face. "Believe it, you dork. I like you, okay!" Somehow his grin was able to grew wider at your words, Gently, he took your hand in his.

"How about we stop this study date, and I'll take you out on real date?"

a/n: thank you so much for reading this <3

#enhypen #yang jungwon #jungwon #enhypen imagines #yang jungwon imagines #jungwon imagines #enhypen x reader #yang jungwon x reader #jungwon x reader #kim sunoo #nishimura riki #enhypen scenarios #yang jungwon scenarios #jungwon scenarios #jungwon fluff #enhypen fluff #yang jungwon fluff #chaeryybomb; the sour series

639 notes · View notes

haileygarciasunshine · 4 years ago

Text

Too late

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Written: May 4th, 2021

Posted: May 4th, 2021

Warning: Fluff, Angst

Word Count: 1,944

Author's Note: For the sake of this piece, Sam has an apartment. Little Mermaid AU ish and Wandavision Crossover.

TV and Movie inspired Masterlist

"Dating is hard." Bucky groaned dropping himself beside you on the couch.

Giggling you nodded in agreement. "Welcome to the twenty-first century."

Bucky groaned again as he closed his eyes allowing his head to meet the back of the couch.

Turning to face him, you became mesmerized by his features. Following his jawline with your eyes, you trailed along to his lips. As you gazed at them, you couldn't stop the thoughts of wondering what they'd feel like against yours. Would they be soft? Would they be gentle or rough?

"Hey." He spoke softly as he gently nudged you. "Did you hear what I said?" Sitting up, his gaze was filled with concern.

"Huh?" You creased your eyebrows together, as you watched his lips mouth his words. "Oh, uh, n-no. Sorry."

"S'alright." Bucky grinned, his eyes gazing around your face. "I asked if you found out any information about your mom?"

"Oh." You whispered. Clearing your throat, you adjusted your position away from Bucky. "Yeah, yeah, I did."

Lifting his gaze, his ocean eyes held intently onto Y/E/C ones. Silently he was pleading for you to tell him what you found.

"Well." You sighed, crossing your legs underneath you. "She was the scarlet witch back in the day..." Your voice trailed off as you shrugged your shoulders. Promptly, your gaze dropped to your lap as you studied your chipped nail polish.

"Y/N." He spoke, his voice becoming soft once again. Bucky's thumb and forefinger found your chin before maneuvering your face closer to his. Bucky's breath danced along your lips at your close proximity.

"That's...That's-"

Sam'ss apartment door suddenly burst open as Steve and Sam filed inside. Neither one spared a glance your way as they rushed into the kitchen.

The sudden noise, caused both of you to jump away from one another. Clearing your throat, you quickly rose to your feet. Smoothing down your bunched-up shirt, you quickly joined Sam in the kitchen while passing Steve on his way out.

Letting out a sigh of relief, you leaned against one of the counters crossing your arms along your chest.

Sam cleared his throat, as he looked at you in question from across the kitchen island. "So, when are you two going to stop dancing around your feelings for one another?" He raised an eyebrow in the process.

Groaning, you leaned your head back allowing you to stare at the ceiling. Opening and closing your mouth several times, you frowned before moving to lean against the island, facing Sam.

"Don't try and deny it," Sam spoke shrugging. "Everyone can see it."

"Sam." You warned letting out a defeated huff. "He doesn't see me that way."

Sam shook his head. Before he could open his mouth, both Steve and Bucky barged into the kitchen bickering about something only they knew about. Grinning to yourself, a silent chuckle fell past your lips. Returning your gaze to Sam, he sent you a knowing look.

"I, rather, Bucky, has an important announcement," Steve spoke proudly, as he clasped his hands upon Buckys shoulders. "Go on, tell 'em what you just told me, Buck."

Both men shared a chuckle before he turned to face, you and Sam. A pit began forming in your stomach as you felt your heart fall into your stomach. Attempting to shake the feeling, you turned to Bucky giving him your full attention.

"I...I have a date." He spoke grinning from ear to ear.

Instantly, the feel of the room had changed from elated to disappointment. Furrowing your eyebrows together in confusion, you felt the smile that your lips had previously been holding falter to a frown. While tears began welling in your eyes.

Your mouth had become dry, while you felt a rasp forming in your throat. "W-What?"

The three men turned their attention towards you. Steve and Bucky shared the same confused yet concerned etched expression, while Sam wore one of sorrow.

"I...I have to go." You muttered, rushing out of the kitchen.

As you gathered your belongings, you felt the droplets of your tears that had fallen from your cheeks. Muffled sobs began falling as you felt yourself beginning to sniffle in the process.

Your mind was quickly clouded, preventing you from thinking straight. Gathering what you could, you quickly put your shoes on before bolting.

Attempting to gather your composure, you made your way back to the compound. You had felt surprised that you were able to hold it together the entire ride back.

Busting into your room, you made your way to the shower in hopes it would comfort you. Changing into a pair of comfier clothes, you laid on your bed, staring out of your bedroom window at the night lights of the city. Your mind was quickly clouded with thoughts of how many other people were experiencing heartbreak as well.

The sound of someone knocking on your door caused you to jump.

"Who is it?" You questioned, hoping deep down it would be Bucky wanting to check up on you.

"It's Wanda." She spoke. "Can I come in?"

"FRIDAY, can you please unlock my door?"

Wanda rushed in making sure to lock the door behind her. Throwing her arms around you, she pulled you in for a bone-crushing hug. Before you knew it, the floodgates had opened. Tears streamed down your face as sobs shook through your body, as your arms laced around her holding her in your iron grip. Without a word, Wanda held you tighter as her hand ran up and down your back. The only sound in your room was the sobs that fell past your lips.

After some time had passed, Wanda pulled away enough to create a slight space between you. Your cheeks carried a pink tint upon them. Your eyes falling down to her shirt that had produced a slightly darker spot upon it than anywhere else on it.

"S-Sorry." You hiccuped feeling tears welling up in your eyes again.

Wanda giggled, shaking her head slightly. "Don't worry about it."

"I don't mean to intrude-" Vision's voice startled both you and Wanda. Turning to face the android, you raised an eyebrow in question.

"Vis." Wanda whined. "We talked about this."

"Oh, yes." Vision spoke glancing back in the direction he had gone through the wall. "I...Y/N, sounded like she was in trouble."

Glancing at Wanda, her expression had morphed into one of being mortified. The sound of hearty laughter bubbled up inside you. It wasn't long before tears cascaded down your cheeks for an entirely different reason. Holding an arm across your stomach, you placed your free hand upon Wanda's forearm attempting to keep yourself sturdy. It didn't take much longer before both Wanda and Vision were sharing your hysterical laughter.

Wiping the remainder of your tears, you got up from your place on the bed approaching Vision. Throwing your arms around his shoulders, you pulled him in for a warmth-filled hug.

Vision tensed as he was under the impression he had miss read the situation.

Pulling away from him, you gave him a toothy smile. "Thank you."

Returning to your previous position beside Wanda, you pulled her in for a hug giving her a smile.

It was a few days before you'd see Bucky again. You had gone out of your way with the help of Steve, Sam, Wanda, Vision, and FRIDAY to make sure you wouldn't run into him accidentally.

Taking a deep breath, you stood across from the living room attempting to steady your nerves. With a sudden boost of courage, you made your way inside, making a b-line for Bucky.

Clearing your throat, you bounced on the balls of your feet slightly. Bucky quickly glanced up from his book before doing a double-take. The color draining from his face as if he had seen a ghost.

"I-Is this seat taken?" You questioned offering him a sweet smile.

"Yeah." He spoke while shutting his book.

Your smile faltering at his confession as you felt heat dance along your cheeks.

"By you."

Letting out a breath you hadn't known you were holding, you nodded before sliding beside him on the loveseat.

A suffocating silence fell between you. Bucky had made a conscious decision to make sure his leg and shoulder wouldn't accidentally bump yours, not wanting to cross any lines.

"So-"

"I-"

Sharing a toothy smile, you began giggling that turned into fits of laughter. Any remaining tension that lingered was disintegrated. Letting his guard down, his leg was pressed firmly against yours. While his arm rested on the back of the couch directly behind your head.

"You first," Bucky spoke, motioning towards you.

Nodding your head, you cleared your throat. "I...I... Um..." Closing your eyes, you felt your heart drop once again. "I have feelings for you...And I know I lost my chance, but I don't want to risk losing your friendship too.." Your voice trailed off, while you dropped your eyes to your fingernail bed, pushing back your cuticles. "I'd...I'd like to hear about your date."

Glancing at Bucky from your peripherals, you were able to see his jaw had fallen slack. The more seconds that passed by, the more you felt hours had passed. Time had slowed down.

"I...I should go." Before he could respond, you raced out of the living room locking yourself in your bedroom.

As the shock of your confession fell away, he reached for his phone. The realization of how long overdue the call was crossed his mind.

Rushing out of the compound, Bucky dashed to the agreed-upon meeting place.

"There you are." A light voice greeted him. "I was beginning to think you weren't going to show."

Greeting him with a hug, Bucky stiffened at the contact. Pulling away from her, he shoved his hands into his pockets.

"The name's Agnes." She grinned, holding her hand out expectantly towards Bucky.

"Bucky." He spoke, nodding at her.

"Shall we-"

"Listen, Agnes." He let out a sigh. "This...This isn't going to work out."

Letting out a frustrated sigh, she rolled her eyes. "I was hoping I wouldn't have to do this, this century, but here we are." Moving her arms, time froze around her.

"What-"

Before Bucky knew it, Agnes let out a snarl before lunging at Bucky. Dodging her first attack, Bucky gazed at her with widened eyes.

"Fine. We can do this, the hard way." She chuckled. Moving her hands a purple hue enveloped around Bucky.

Binding his wrists and ankles, Bucky was hovering slightly above the ground. "Why are you doing this?"

"Don't worry, it's not you I want." She spoke circling around him.

Without allowing Bucky to further question her, she pulled her shell necklace out from underneath her blouse. Standing directly in front of Bucky, she held her necklace in front of him. Gazing into his eyes, she saw them change to purple orbs before returning to his previous artic color.

Waving her hand, the purple mist was gone. Time resuming.

"There you are Agnes sweetheart. I was looking everywhere for you." Bucky greeted, placing his hands on her hips gently tugging her into him. Placing his lips upon her cheek, he gave her a chaste kiss.

Agnes, grinned devilishly, as a plan began forming in her mind.

Wondering down the street, you made your way to your favorite coffee shop.

"Y/N!" Bucky's voice called before you.

Your shoulders dropping in defeat as you let out a groan.

"I want you to meet someone."

Turning to face Bucky, you were surprised to see a brunette clinging to his side.

"Y/N, this is Agnes." He motioned to her with his free hand. "My girlfriend."

—

Part Two>

Send me Feedback Here

Join my Taglist Here

Send me a Request Here

Request a Part Two (Be sure to mention the title) Here

Taglist:

@pandaxnienke @beth-winchester21 @wonderful-writer @lieswithoutfairytales @donttellanyoneireadfanfiction @quxxnxfhxll @you-sunshine @purpleprincess14 @shotarosleftpinky @ilovemollyweasley @fan-girl-in-denial @little-miss-naill @bucky-j-barnes @empath-bunny @theuselesspowerpuff @wonderwoman292 @chaotic-neutral-logic-sass @evaroseparkson @missryerye @deepcollectionmagazine @kyliesalvatore @luciferedits @justsomerandompersonintheworld @prettysbliss @its-yasbxtch @sushi-sushi101 @incansas @realgaytrash @livanjelica @droopingdatura @undisputedmorgs @gbaabyyyy @famoustelevisionartbiscuit @doll-skin-n-teeth @fredweazleyswh0re @gracielou0518 @gloryekaterina @malfoy-wife15 @comfortzonequeen @juliannatryon @lazyloki @catsandra-chan @lia-m01 @teti-menchon0604 @redsakura101 @lovelokiqueen @pietro-avengers @yliumy @justinekomwriterkru @kaitieskidmore1@misslady246

159 notes · View notes

whereisvanderwood · 7 years ago

Note

Hey! I just found you and I thought your Yoosung HC was very cute ;w; You said you were taking requests, right? Could you then maybe do one... with Vanderwood? :D I'm just really curious how that would turn out, but hey, I'd understand if you don't want to/can't ^^

OFC I WILL

Vanderwood and MC’s first date.

*:･ﾟ✧

He’s an agent. As far as he’s concerned, there’s no place for love in his lifestyle.

But you know what? After seeing his comrade in arms, Seven, watching you for a number of hours on the CCTV screen in his bunker, he couldn’t help but start rooting for you.

You became, somewhat, a fascination to him. You became his window to the outside world while he stood in the box of the “secret service” life. It was pretty bleak from where he stood, but the window caught his eye.

He’s like Rapunzel in “Tangled”– doesn’t know much except the life of solitude he’s always lived.

So of course he grew to like you. You had something that he didn’t, and he craved it.

He wanted to say something to you, even if it was as simple as “You’re crazy for staying in an apartment with a bomb in it, you know?”

So Seven texted it for him.

Through one of Seven’s many other phones, the two of you began conversing on a daily basis, all thanks to Seven’s introductions. All Vanderwood did was watch Seven most of the time anyway, so he had heaps of time to kill.

It was much less anxiety-provoking than what he’d anticipated. He hadn’t really spoken with anyone that wasn’t an agent for quite some time in the first place.

He did, in fact, confirm that his name was not Mary Vanderwood the 3rd, and that he was not a crimson-haired maid from the states.

He also couldn’t help but let a few things slide, like the fact that he was a secret agent, and he wanted his alias to be “Stark,” as well as hinting that he “is good at something,” although he won’t reveal it.

It’s totally knitting.

“Miss~ Why don’t you take her out? You’ve been talking for a long time now.”

“Don’t be stupid! I can’t go out with her. We’re agents. We can’t get close to people like this.”

He thought about the idea for a long long time. He couldn’t sleep that night.

Of course he wanted to take you out! You’d brought up the idea yourself a couple of times in conversation, too.

So he googled “what to do with people you’re taking out for the first time.”

All the results were “Top First Date Ideas.”

He blushed like a baboon’s buttocks.

“Stupid google…”

Going out for a coffee seemed innocent enough. I mean, pff, it’s not like you guys were a couple or anything like that. God forbid the man to even imagine such an ideal!

In the end, he settled on it. It would be the first time you guys actually meet in person anyway. It’s good to start small, he thought.

He even went through the effort to actually call you and ask you personally if you would like to have a coffee with him.

Seven did lots of research on locations that would be practically void of cameras and agency eyes alike, ensuring the two of you would be safe, and also granted the privacy you two deserved.

To start off, you both agreed on a set coffee shop you would meet at, considering that neither of you were allowed to know where each other lived. lol

He could see you before he entered the coffee shop– you sat there, fixing yourself up every second as you looked in your phone’s camera. He wished he made a bit more of an effort than his trademark leopard-print coat. He didn’t exactly “blend in with the crowd” either.

Bad fashion choices.

And bad haircut choices too.

Man, you looked so much better in person than a monochromatic monitor. He was a bit taken aback.

He had to calm himself before opening the door, practically announcing his presence with the tiny bell in the corner.

Your heard jerked up so fast you could’ve sworn you pulled a muscle. The widest smile was on both of your faces. Neither of you had any idea what the heck you were doing.

“Hey... uh, nice to meet you.” :)

You grabbed your drinks, and from there Vanderwood took the lead. You had to walk because you could both be easily followed if he took a car. He apologized, knowing you would probably be tired after being cooped up in an apartment for several days.

You didn’t mind– the air was clear and you had good company. It was the exact type of filler you needed to restore your spirits.

He’d tried planning what to speak about beforehand, but he still was e x t r e m e l y nervous and couldn’t say the things he wanted to say. He’s an agent– the man hasn’t spoken to beautiful girls before!

He relied on his other google search of “250 conversation starters.”

“Sooo… what do you like to do?”

talking to hot guys, vanderwood. what else.

Vanderwood definitely uses google, I’ve decided. Since the last thing he wants to do is ask 707 for advice.

It was like a game of ice-breakers for most of it. You were both much more confident over the phone. But any spectator could see that you were both well on your way to “becoming a thing.”

He took you to a place that was definitely far from any eyes. You felt a little skeptical at first when he was taking you down some shady, abandoned subway stairs.

Turns out it was the coolest thing ever. Everything was incredibly old from earlier decades, warmly-lit lanterns still flickered faintly, creating shadows of the flora that has sprouted through the cracked walls.

“Uhh, I’m sorry it’s not a really nice place or anything. 707 suggested to come here since no-one would follow us.”

There were some old rusted spray-paint cans on the ground used for graffiti. To your luck, multiple still had some juice in it. So you both had fun painting up the walls with the weirdest, totally-not-professional doodles.

He taught you how to make a mini paint bomb using the can and his cigarette lighter. Paint splattered everywhere, and you both looked like you’d pranced through rainbows. He said it was one of his first tricks he learned in the agency.

You were both completely relaxed by the end of your “date”. Even Vanderwood felt good enough to humor himself with the thought that it was a date at all.

You would both definitely come back and finish your joined masterpiece on the wall one day.

*:･ﾟ✧ I just got a job at a coffee shop yesterday. I’m morphing into Jaehee.

#vanderwood #mm #mystic messenger #mysme #vanderwood x mc #mm headcanons #mystic mesesnger headcanons

112 notes · View notes

sapphicscholar · 7 years ago

Note

I know you've kind of done this already in Tabula Rasa, but could you maybe write a fic where some of the Superfriends end up in a parallel Earth where all of the Superfriends (or at least most, I'd love to see another version of evil Alex for sure. Maybe a version of her who became evil even without working for a xenophobic DEO? IDK) are evil? (This prompt may or may not be inspired by my annoyance at the plot of the crossover...)

I just posted it to AO3!

A/N:Ugh yes, we can all be annoyed at the crossover… Since I already did an actual evil alternate universe in Tabula Rasa, I went full on campy evil for this one (think Lucy Diamond in DEBS) that’s largely inspired by my earlier musings here. Anyhow, I hope you enjoy and sorry it took me a while to get to it! I’m finally going through some old prompt requests now that I’ve got a bit of time in these quiet few days at work.

Chapter Text

“Not again,” Alex hissed as the monitors flickered to black before flashing back up now covered in full color, high resolution photos of her from high school: black choker around her neck, black vest on, striped tie looped around the waist of her low-rise jeans, and some heavy black eyeliner to top off the whole punk rock aesthetic.

“You’ve got company headed up in 5,” James informed her, ignoring the litany of increasingly obscene threats crackling through his earpiece.

“Then get your little boyfriend on the phone and tell him to knock it the fuck off,” Alex growled, waiting for the inevitable refutation of their relationship, the insistence that they “don’t do labels.”

Even as he protested, James dialed Winn.

“Hello?” Winn answered, the poorly disguised snicker proof enough that he was behind the hack.

“C’mon man, we let Lucy have her heist last night without issue. Let Alex back into the system.”

“You’re getting off too easily,” Winn huffed.

“And I can guarantee you won’t get off at all tonight if you don’t call this off,” James threatened.

“You’re the worst.”

“Nah, I don’t think so.”

“You know how much shit I’m gonna get from Vasquez if I give in this quickly?”

“What if we promise not to ruin their date night with Lucy this week?”

Winn paused, deliberating for a few minutes. “That I can work with.”

“Thanks, man.”

“See you tonight?”

“My place or yours?”

“James!” Alex growled, her voice startling him.

“Mine,” he quickly answered Winn, hanging up to refocus his attention on Alex. “You should be back in any second now.”

“Not dating my ass.” Alex continued trying to circumvent the active hack until suddenly it disappeared, the screens flashing back to the museum security feed she’d been trying to overwrite when Winn and Vasquez decided to play their little prank. “I’m back.”

“Good. You’ve got about two minutes.”

“Only need one.”

“That’s my girl,” Maggie chimed in, her voice barely audible over the sound of her motorcycle roaring to life.

“Always.”

“Now who’s being gross?” James teased, following Maggie’s location through her motorcycle’s GPS tracker.

“Still you,” came Alex and Maggie’s voices in unison.

“And we’re…clear!” Alex cheered, slinging the long cardboard tube over her back, wiping the keyboard even though she was wearing gloves, and bolting for the back exit where the security cameras were still under repair.

“Three, two, one,” James counted down, watching as Alex and Maggie’s blinking red GPS lights got closer and closer together.

“Hey babe,” Alex rasped, throwing on the spare helmet and straddling the back of Maggie’s bike. “Take me home. You know how I get after a good heist.”

“You still have to come here first!” James yelled, hoping he wouldn’t have to go over in the middle of the night to interrupt them…again.

“I’m thinking diamonds,” Lucy mused, her teeth nipping at Vasquez’s earlobes and her hips grinding down into their lap.

“Mm, yeah?” Vasquez asked, not trying particularly hard to pay much attention to their girlfriend’s words. At this stage, they were always just ideas, liable to change with a moment’s notice—often to thwart Alex’s latest ploy. They were just grateful that the rivalry had turned (mainly) friendly over the years. Back before Alex started dating Maggie, the two had been at each other’s throats, more often focused on ruining the other’s heists than on actually accomplishing anything themselves. But now that Alex had a “mission statement,” which Lucy loved to scoff at, even though she liked to boast about how she operated within her own code of honor, they’d come to an uneasy truce that involved more playful attempts at sabotage that rarely turned violent these days.

“Can you two not do that in the van?” Winn whined. “This is my space—my sacred space.”

“You said that about your lab too,” Vasquez pointed out.

“Yeah, Schott, you only get one. Pick wisely.”

“Just don’t—keep your clothes on, alright?”

“No promises.”

“Why do I tolerate you two?”

“Because otherwise you’d be sitting in a lab full of perfect inventions without the daring to go use them yourself?” Vasquez offered.

“You’d have this van all rigged for surveillance with no one to watch for?” Lucy chimed in.

“You’d know how to make targeted explosions and decoys and holograms but never see them put to their best uses?”

“You’d—”

“Okay! Okay, I get it. You two are the muscle.”

“And the looks.”

“And the courage.”

“Do you want me to leave?”

“No,” Vasquez said, shaking their head. “C’mon, who would actually know enough about computers to hack me if you left?”

“I guess,” Winn sighed melodramatically. “So you said diamonds…want me to start looking up possible targets?”

“I know just the one.”

“That so?”

Lucy nodded. “Oh yeah. She has more money than anyone in National City—just enough for some forcible sharing, I think.”

“Love the way you think,” Vasquez said, placing a kiss on Lucy’s cheek.

“Wait. You’re gonna try to rob Cat and Astra?” Winn asked, his mouth gaping.

“What? No, I don’t have a death wish,” Lucy laughed. “Besides, they’re already fighting the good fight.”

“Ah yes, that Lucy Lane patented code of honor.”

Holding two fingers up, Vasquez repeated in a military-esque monotone: “Criminals with honor do not harm or steal from other criminals with honor.”

“Damn straight.”

“And so how do you justify messing with Alex?” Winn asked.

“That sense of honor is still new. And these days I don’t harm her—just inconvenience her.”

“Fine,” Winn gave in. “But who’s richer than Cat and Astra?”

“Lena Luthor.”

—

The next morning, Alex carefully brushed away a speck of almost imperceptible dust from the broad shoulders of James’ suit jacket, watching in the mirror as he straightened his jacket and tightened the knot of his tie just a hair. Maggie handed him his phone and gun once Alex got his cufflinks fastened.

With a charming (and perfectly disarming) smile and wink, James slung the tube over his shoulder. “Wish me luck.”

“You don’t need luck when you look like that,” Maggie teased, swatting at James as he walked toward the front door, putting an extra swing in his step and letting out a deep laugh at the teasing wolf whistles and catcalls Alex and Maggie sent his way.

“We’ll be in the area if you need us, alright?” Alex added, her expression morphing into a more serious one.

“I know you’ve got my back, Alex.”

“Always.”

Within half an hour, James’ town car pulled up in front of the buyer’s restored nineteenth-century brownstone where he’d agreed to meet them—the hominess of it all somehow helping their genteel clientele to assuage their guilt over purchasing stolen artwork.

“Mr. Kent?” a middle-aged woman answered the door.

“At your service,” James replied with a small dip of his head and an easy smile that had her cheeks flushing a faint pink. “Can I ask your name?”

“Oh, I’m not the one you want to see.”

“On the contrary. You’re the very first one I’ve seen, which must make you someone worth knowing.” James smiled as any sense of wariness dissipated, the woman clearly charmed by him.

“I’m Katarina. I work for Morgan Edge.”

“Well it is my deepest pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“Yes, I, uh, yes,” she stammered, mumbling her way through a few pleasantries before finally guiding him out of the entrance room. “Come right this way.” He followed her through a long hallway until they reached the home office in the back.

“Mr. Edge, it’s so nice to meet in person,” James greeted the man.

“I see you brought my newest acquisition.”

Right to business apparently, James thought. “I did. I assume you’ll want to see it first.”

As he pulled the tube over his shoulders, Katarina returned, a small mug clutched in her hands. “I brought your espresso.”

“Thank you,” James said, his deep voice rumbling over the disgruntled huff of Morgan’s complaints about her always interrupting his meetings. He paused for a moment to sip at it. “Always better to enjoy while it’s hot,” he added by way of explanation. “And it is excellent, Katarina.”

“Well, if you ever find yourself in need of a fix…”

“You’ll be the first person I call.” Sensing Morgan’s growing frustration, he turned back to the tube, slipping on a pair of gloves to pull out the painting.

Morgan leaned in closely, magnifying glass in hand as he inspected a few areas—always the same ones, James thought to himself, almost disappointed by the predictability of it all. After several long minutes, Morgan nodded. “It will be the perfect piece for my study.”

“And now it’s my turn to inspect.” James carefully rolled the painting up once more and stuck it back in the tube.

“Of course.” Morgan handed over a briefcase full to the rim with stacks of bills before turning back to his desk. With the painting strapped to his back for safekeeping, James checked the totals, then ran the special detecting pen Alex had invented to find fake money by scanning the chemical makeup of the ink and paper over the edges of the bills.

When Morgan turned again, already demanding to know what the holdup was, he found a gun pointed between his eyes. “And what do you think you’re doing?” he growled. “In my own home? I’ll have the police here before you can even think of pulling that trigger.”

“Oh, I don’t think you will. At least not when you’re buying stolen art and trying to pay me with counterfeit bills.”

“They’re perfectly real,” Morgan scoffed, pulling out one of top stacks.

“No, no.” Shaking his head, James pulled out the stacks beneath it. “The rest of it.”

Looking slightly inconvenienced but not at all abashed about having been caught, Morgan unlocked his safe and pulled out another briefcase, which James inspected thoroughly. Finally convinced that they were real, James added the top layer of real bills from the other briefcase to the new one—“for the trouble you put me through”—and handed off the painting, slowly backing out of the room, gun still pointed at the man until he was out of sight.

—

“Deal’s done,” came James’ voice through the intercom once he was safe in the town car again. “You need backup?”

“Nah, this part is the easiest,” Maggie answered, grinning over at Alex, who was leaning heavily against the wall of the warehouse, barely stifling her tired yawns. “Looks like I wore you out last night, babe.”

“More like Lucy did,” Alex huffed. “I’m so sick of having to deal with the added stress of her shit.”

“Oh please, you two keep each other sharp.”

Before their bickering could escalate—or turn into the heated makeup sex they favored—they heard the door creak open, and Alex smiled as Maggie greeted the first man through the door in perfect Spanish. They never used names, but she still felt close to him, a level of loyalty she afforded to very few of her other clients.

“I believe we have something that belongs to you,” she said, switching back to English when the rest of the group joined them.

“Already?”

“We’re nothing if not efficient,” Alex chimed in.

“Why?” one of the women in the group asked. She was new, Maggie noted, and rightfully suspicious of a gift that seemed to come with no strings attached.

“I don’t take kindly to my country profiting off of stolen artwork. I’m simply…expediting the process of repatriation.”

The woman scoffed. “And your country is okay with this?”

“Was yours when we stole the art in the first place?”

“And there are no strings attached?”

“Ah, well, I do like a nice bottle of wine—I’m partial to reds, and my partner here likes a dry wine.”

“Anything for you,” the man from before added, tipping his head to Maggie before taking the tube from her. “As always, thank you.”

“Anytime.”

—

“Have I mentioned lately how much I love having shapeshifters for friends?” Kara asked, throwing an arm around J’onn’s shoulders and reaching a hand out to M’gann. “Because I really, really do.”

“Whatever we can do to help Lena’s shelter—just say the word,” J’onn said.

“As long as you never say a word, then we’ll be just fine.”

“I still don’t see why the girl won’t let her good deeds be known,” M’gann mused, letting go of Kara’s hand to settle back in behind the bar.

“It’s harder to blackmail rich bad guys when you’re not invited around anymore because the Luthor last name has lost all meaning.”

“You’re the one that collects half the dirt with your powers, though.”

“But I wouldn’t know where to go digging if it weren’t for Lena’s first steps. Plus, you know how she enjoys siphoning off Luthor Corp funds. It’d be less fun if she had to spend her own money.”

“You know we’re mindreaders, right?” J’onn asked, arching an eyebrow at Kara.

“You can’t read mine,” Kara countered.

“No,” M’gann admitted, “but we know that your little girlfriend donates half of her personal income to charities every year.”

Kara groaned. “Don’t tell her you know, okay? She doesn’t want people knowing about it—once people know, it ruins it for her.”

“Whatever you say…”

“It’s not like you want people to know you’ve been volunteering to keep her refugee center running either.”

“No one would willingly enter a center run in part by a White Martian, especially one who shapeshifts to steal and infiltrate the local police units.”

“And you think that they’d send their kids off to play with a Luthor?”

“Point taken.”

“Anyway, are you two coming over for dinner tonight?”

“Not tonight, sorry,” J’onn apologized. “We’re a little short-staffed at the bar, and you know how Friday nights can get.”

“But next time, we promise,” M’gann added, reaching over to give Kara a hug before she left.

—

“We should really get going,” Astra sighed, even as she lifted her arms to allow her shirt to be removed. “Wouldn’t want to be late.” Her breath hitched at the feeling of teeth nipping at her neck and nimble fingers deftly undoing the button and zipper of her black pants.

“She’s not my niece,” Cat shrugged. “Besides, I’ve always preferred to be fashionably late.”

“And yet if I’m just a minute late for dinner…”

“I. Do. Not. Wait.” Cat declared, punctuating her words with harder bites, wishing she could leave some kind of mark on that flawless skin.

“I always make it worth your while, though,” Astra drawled, easily flipping them so that Cat was on her back, her breathing ragged and her chest flushed a faint pink.

“Last night you didn’t.”

“Last night I had the chance to sabotage the newest oil pipeline, darling. I don’t complain when your work comes first.” Astra’s fingers trailed up Cat’s thighs, gently pushing up the hem of her dress.

“I know, I know. It’s just a shame—you know my fingers, talented as they might be, just don’t compare to your tongue.”

“Well, why don’t we get dressed for dinner with Kara, and when we get back, I’ll make it up to you threefold.”

“I suppose I could be amenable to those terms if you let us take the car to dinner tonight.”

“But flying is so environmentally friendly.”

“It’s windy.”

“I’ll shield you.”

“We drive a hybrid.”

“Fine,” Astra finally relented.

—

Looking around the table, Kara couldn’t help but smile at the sight of her friends and family all gathered together, laughing as Maggie regaled them with tales of Alex’s latest misadventures with Lucy, Vasquez, and Winn. As much as Alex complained about the lot of them, she knew better than to believe that she truly hated them. After all, it had been Lucy and Alex who’d willingly put aside their differences to bring down Non when Astra’s life was in jeopardy, then again when Max Lord came for Kara herself. Plus, she doubted that Alex would voluntarily spend hours sifting through childhood photos of someone she truly despised, even if she was looking only for the most embarrassing ones.

“What matters,” Alex finally cut in when it seemed like Maggie was just one step away from pulling out the photos for a show and tell, “is that we made it out just fine.”

“Which is why we’re letting Lucy have her little date night tonight without any interruptions from us.”

The laughter that filled the room was soon cut off as both Kara and Astra sprung to their feet.

“We have company,” Astra hissed. Within moments, everyone in the room had at least one weapon drawn, all of which were pointed at the intruder that Astra whisked in through the balcony window and unceremoniously threw to the floor.

“Lucy?” Alex gasped, seeing the telltale full body black leather suit she wore when she went out on her little cat burglary missions.

“The hell, Danvers? I thought you were gonna let me have my date night.”

“Since when is your date night crashing my family dinner?”

“Since when is Luthor family?”

“Since she started dating me,” Kara just about growled, crossing her arms and stepping protectively in front of Lena. “And if you’re here to hurt her, you’re gonna have to fight your way through each and every one of us first.”

“And you know better than to touch my sister,” Alex added, her tone sharp as she let her gaze flick pointedly to the gun in her hand.

“Since when do you protect the rich?” Lucy asked, turning her attention to Maggie, figuring she was the best bet for an ally—she had the whole Robin Hood schtick down to an art.

“When the rich are giving more money away than I could even if I managed a heist every day.” Lena began to object, but Maggie waved off her protests. “Alex hacked into your accounts the first time she found you and her sister in bed together. Be lucky that’s all we found.”

“If you’re so charitable, why have you been ordering millions of dollars’ worth of diamonds?” Lucy demanded.

“Most of them will be sent back to the communities they were stolen from,” Lena huffed. “I might be a villain—”

“Hardly,” Maggie scoffed. “Blackmailing the worst of your one-percenter pals with your girlfriend, stealing from your family’s evil company—they hardly make you a villain.”

Lena just rolled her eyes. “Fine. But, since the surprise is sort of ruined now…” Turning to face Kara, Lena dropped down to one knee. “Kara Danvers, the months I’ve spent with you have been some of the best ones of my life. There’s no one I’d rather extort and blackmail with than you. Would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

“Yes!” Kara gasped, dropping down to her knees as well and pulling Lena into a passionate kiss that may well have gone on much too long to be appropriate in front of family, friends, and intruders were it not for the loud whooshing sound and the way the whole floor seemed to shake.

“The hell did you bring with you, Lane?” Alex growled.

“It wasn’t—” But Lucy didn’t have time to finish her thoughts before a large silvery portal opened up, and doppelgangers of Kara, Alex, Maggie, and Winn thumped to the floor, looking more than a little taken aback at the sight of so many people and weapons surrounding them.

“Who are you?” Kara finally demanded, glaring at the intruders, letting her eyes burn red.

“Um, I think we’re you…from another Earth—Earth-38 to be specific,” the new Kara volunteered. “We were over on Earth-1 helping out some friends, but we had to leave in a hurry, and I think maybe we set up the breech incorrectly…”

“No shit,” Alex growled, looking closely at her Earth-38 counterpart and refusing to lower her weapon.

At that moment, Lucy’s earpiece crackled to life with Vasquez and Winn’s worried questions. “I’m up in the apartment…whole story there. But, uh, we’ve got company, and I think you’re gonna want to see this.”

—

Earth-38 Winn scoffed at his doppelganger, having found himself increasingly disgusted as he heard him joking about heists and devious inventions. “How could you? After everything that happened with our dad?”

“After everything that happened, how could you not?” his evil counterpart shot back. “You watched him lose everything—his career, his money, his inventions, his wife, his love for life, his desire to live. How can you justify sitting back and doing nothing to avenge him?”

“Somehow I don’t think a murderer losing his love of life while he rots in prison really rises to the level of vengeance-worthy crimes against humanity.”

“Prison?”

“For murder.”

“What do you mean? He didn’t do anything. He let his boss take credit for his inventions, rolled over each and every time until he had nothing worth fighting for, nothing worth living for.”

Winn stood there blinking. “I…that—that’s not what happened on my Earth.”

—

Across the room, Maggie and Alex sat together, watching as their Kara and Winn worked with the other Earth’s more tech-oriented folks to try to make sure that any new breeches wouldn’t send them to yet another Earth that might be even less friendly toward them.

“You didn’t seem surprised that your doppelganger isn’t the paragon of virtue,” Maggie noted.

“I’m not.”

“Why’s that?”

Alex shrugged. “I’m not Kara. I’ve killed before, and I likely will again. I do the things that need to be done. I’ve never been a saint.”

“But you’re no villain.”

“But to have lost things like that…this Alex had both of her parents taken away and was left with another girl who had lost her whole world, who didn’t get a loving, supportive family to raise her. Instead she was left with me—some bitter teenage rebel who wanted nothing more than to see this world pay for its crimes.” Alex shook her head; it was impressive that they’d ended up as decent as they had. Sure, her counterpart had stolen and lied, but she’d never descended to murder or kidnapping or anything of that nature. She suspected Kara had something to do with it; even if this version of Supergirl was willing to claim power in a way hers never had, was willing to kill when it came down to it in a fight, she still fought for justice, still fought for good.

Regarding Maggie, Alex added, “You’re not exactly stunned yourself.”

“If I didn’t have an aunt to take me in, of course I’d have turned to petty theft. Plus, Robin Hood was my favorite Disney movie…”

Alex laughed. “I guess even here you’ve got a pretty deep-rooted sense of justice.”

“Yeah. And here you’ve got an undercut,” Maggie added, veering them toward lighter topics. “It’s pretty hot.”

“I really hope you’re not suggesting some threesome.”

With a loud bark of a laugh, Maggie shook her head. “Not in the slightest. Just, you know, if you ever wanted to change up your look…”

22 notes · View notes