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mypoisonedvine · 1 year ago

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𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐥𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐲 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 (part one) | neil lewis x reader

title comes from the song you already know by bombay bicycle club

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | you've been best friends with neil basically your entire life, and secretly in love with him almost as long. will you ever find the courage to tell him the truth?

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 10k

𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | smut, angst, pining/unrequited love - 18+ only

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | alcohol consumption, 'kid' as a petname, reader being kind of a femcel, jonathan being kind of mvp??

Neil had asked you to make sure the Thriller section was alphabetized; sometimes you thought he was just giving you tasks to look busy, but then again, you could probably use it since the employees of Gumshoe Video never looked very busy. You spent most of the day on the couches, watching whatever old bizarre gem Neil put on— sometimes you thought he only had employees other than himself so that he could pay people to sit here and watch this stuff with him.

But, the point is, you were sorting tapes. Because everyone needs their VHS thriller movies to be in perfect alphabetical order.

There actually was a customer in the store, for once, so it was better not to be on the couch anyhow. You hadn’t really noticed him when he came in, but as he wandered around the shelves, he seemed to drift towards you.

You tried to ignore him when he stopped right beside you— and kneeling to look at the lowest shelf, he towered over you— but when you stood up he got your attention.

"Need any help, sweetheart?" he asked, leaning in a little too close. "I'm kind of a movie buff."

He had a frat guy kind of look about him— polo, boat shoes, quaffed blonde hair. He could be good-looking, you thought, if he didn’t dress like a discount Abercrombie model… and if he didn’t hit on random women at the video store. "I actually work here," you corrected, barely looking up from your task. This is why we need uniforms instead of just dressing up to promote specials…

"Oh, really?" he smirked. "What made you wanna work in a place like this?"

"My best friend owns the place," you explained, "and I'm, you know… kind of a movie buff."

"Right," he said, not seeming convinced. "You like Kubrick?"

You rolled your eyes so hard you almost choked: Wow, what a deep cut. But you kept a straight-ish face when you looked at him. "Yeah, he's pretty good. Don't care for how he treats his actors, but he was certainly a visionary."

"What are your top five favorite Kubrick movies?"

You knew this guy was a tool, but you were still a bit shocked that he actually had the gall to quiz you. "Excuse me?" you scoffed incredulously.

"Can you even name five?" he asked, looking horribly proud of himself, and you straightened up as you glared at him.

"You're heterosexual, right?" you asked him, getting a confused nod. "Can you name five women you've made come?"

Neil watched the guy storm out, Lucien cringed a bit from behind the register— and Jonathan, not seeming as if he had been paying attention at all, kept laying across the couch and tossing a ball up in the air to catch and throw again.

“Okay, that’s gotta be the third this week,” Lucien groaned. “What are you saying to these guys?”

“Nothing worse than what they’re saying to me,” you assured with a frustrated, sarcastic smile.

“Listen, don’t get me wrong,” Neil began, “that guy totally deserved it— but maybe, you know… work on your demeanor with customers?”

“Wow,” you scoffed as you crossed your arms, “do you think I should smile more, too?”

“Wha— no!” Neil denied.

“Yes,” Lucien said at the same time, though he changed his answer with an awkward cough and mumble when you both shot him a look. “No, no— you’re good— you smile too much, even…”

“I don’t mean it like that,” Neil promised. “But I think half the guys that come here are just coming here to see you! Nobody even rents movies anymore.” He groaned a little, dropping his shoulders defeatedly. “Can’t you… tell them you’ll go out with them if they rent something?”

“What?!” you squeaked. “No!”

“Sales would double,” Lucien nodded.

“No,” you said again. “I’m not letting you pimp me out to sell tapes, Neil.”

“I just mean— maybe you don’t really go out with them,” he suggested. “Just… allude to the fact that you’re only interested in guys who…”

He trailed off as he searched around the shelves for a bit, smiling when he snagged a copy of The Maltese Falcon.

“— in guys who like The Maltese Falcon,” he grinned, “you know— for example. Then they rent it to impress you and we make a few bucks.”

“I am only interested in guys who like The Maltese Falcon,” you frowned, snatching the tape away and shoving it back on the shelf. “But that’s not the point.”

“Maybe you have to be more straightforward, you know,” Jonathan butted in as he sat up, “guys are dumb.”

“Yeah!” Neil agreed a little too easily.

“Just say something about how a massive VHS collection turns you on,” Lucien suggested, and you glared at him.

“Jesus!” you protested, but Neil tried to soothe you a bit.

"C'mon, kid, can't you just… flirt a little? Get our sales up?"

He'd started calling you kid since you two watched Casablanca together— which was especially stupid as you were both twelve at the time. At first you complained because he shouldn't be calling you kid with you both being kids; then you complained because neither of you were kids; and then you gave up. You still punched Lucien for trying to call you that once… you only barely let Neil get away with it anyways.

But you let Neil get away with a lot. It was a side effect of being secretly, but massively, in love with him.

It had been an issue since middle school— that was when the two of you became such good friends. Technically, you’d known each other since first grade (where you had shared your crayons, a true test of friendship at the time), and you’d sort of had a crush on him as early as elementary school (mainly because he was the only boy you could stand at the time), but it all kicked into high gear in seventh grade. That was when you became inseparable, when you got in trouble together, when you stayed up all night watching movies, when you went through all of life’s ups and downs together: you even went to prom together, platonically of course.

As for your feelings, you’d managed to hide them this long and still be his best friend, even when it sometimes felt like letting him stomp all over your heart without even trying. Honestly, the only thing harder than being in love with Neil was trying not to be in love with Neil: you adored his sense of humor, his generosity, his sensitivity— and he’d been there for you through the things you couldn’t have imagined surviving alone. That kinda stuff bonds you to somebody… and when that somebody has the most gorgeous eyes you’ve ever seen, it’s hard not to fall in love.

“Maybe I would flirt if I knew how,” you offered. “But I’m not exactly, you know, flirty.”

“How hard could it be?” Jonathan interjected. “Just, you know—”

You stared in quiet disbelief as Jonathan attempted to push his chest together with his arms. It wasn’t quite working, of course, and the rest of you watched on as he fumbled around trying to force some cleavage. “You look like an idiot,” you finally informed him after letting him do it for a minute.

“But is he wrong?” Lucien wondered.

“So, what, you guys really think that if I just went up to customers and—” you pushed your breasts together with your arms, accentuating them significantly in your tank top.

“That would work,” all three men asserted in unison before you could even finish.

“I fucking hate you guys,” you grumbled under your breath as you walked to the back, deciding to take your break in Neil’s office until these guys got their act together.

You never stayed gone for long, though— as idiotic as they could be, your friends were certainly charming. They won you back with a promise to let you pick what tape to put on, and the four of you ended up laying on the couches watching Roman Holiday.

When the movie was almost over, you rested your head on Neil’s shoulder; you guys did stuff like that, it was normal for you, but it always made your heart skip anyways.

This time, you were all hanging out at Jonathan’s primary workplace: the club. In fact, it was a much larger crowd than just you and the guys— plenty of your local friends and loyal supporters of Gumshoe Video, all sitting around a big table while someone’s mediocre cover band took the stage.

"So, uh, me and Denise broke up," Neil said suddenly, going back in for another swig of beer right after.

The others offered their mild shock and half-hearted condolences, but you knew it was going to happen— he'd told you before he did it. You tried to tell him that paying off a waiter to spill water on her was a weird way to prove what he already knew, but you couldn't disagree with his conclusion. She was definitely difficult, and shockingly judgemental for someone who managed to date a video store owner for this long.

“No, it’s fine, it’s fine,” he promised, “I don’t think anybody’s too surprised, right?”

There was an awkward hesitation among the group as they wondered if they should lie, or just fess up now that he was obviously accurate. You broke the silence to suggest someone go get another round of drinks for the table, and even though that was pretty much a one-man job, nearly everyone agreed and quickly shuffled off— leaving just you, Neil, and Lucien.

“I guess tonight’s your chance to meet somebody new, don’t you think?” Lucien suggested. “Get over Denise, you know.”

“I think I’m already over Denise,” Neil decided.

“And if I told you that girl back there,” Lucien returned, pointing with the hand still holding his drink, “has been looking over here at you for the past ten minutes?”

You glanced where Lucien was pointing as well, seeing a girl in a denim mini skirt and massive hoop earrings settle her eyes on Neil before looking away quickly with a lip-gloss lacquered smile.

“I think I need some help getting over Denise,” Neil agreed suddenly, patting Lucien on the back before he left the table.

You wanted to pout, but you were used to this— he was good-looking, he got a lot of attention from women in places like this… it usually didn’t work out for him, though. Certainly not never, probably more often than most guys, but… definitely not every time.

You tried not to look over too much, you didn’t want to get caught spying or, even worse, looking a little jealous— but you noticed that every time you looked over at them, Neil was talking. That was his problem, see: he never fucking shuts up. Guys, girls, anybody who will listen— if you admit to not knowing about his favorite fifty-year-old spaghetti western or the most recent pre-Code horror comedy he watched, he’ll gladly blab to you about it for ages. The first time you glanced at them, you saw her giving him doe eyes, laughing at something he said— and the last time, those eyes had glazed over and her laugh seemed more nervous and confused; you smirked to yourself. He’s still Neil…

“So, um,” you struck up a conversation with Lucien, “what about you? Anybody here catching your eye?”

“That’s actually the perfect descriptor of my type,” he replied. “Anybody.”

You snorted. “Then you should go, you know, talk to anybody?”

He shrugged and frowned a bit, and it was a simple movement but you understood completely.

The band started to play a new song, something upbeat and energetic, and you smiled. “Wanna dance with me?”

“Oh, I don’t think I’m drunk enough for that—” Lucien began to protest, but a minute later you were dragging him up by the stage. Neither of you were actually any good at dancing, mainly you were just kind of jumping and flailing around together, but it was fun and that was the point.

Eventually, more of your friends wandered in to join you; when the song ended, everyone clapped and cheered, the band bowing in gratitude. You only stole one more look over at Neil and his conversation partner, watching her interrupt his rant with a hand on his shoulder: your throat felt a little dry. You just hoped what she was saying was more like hey, my friends are leaving, I’ve gotta go and not hey, wanna come over to my place so you can keep explaining German expressionism to me?

Your heart dropped when he reached for her— what if he kissed her now? What if he wrapped her up under his arm and they walked out together? What if you had to spend the whole night thinking about him having sex with her?

“Hey, we should ask them if they know any Strokes songs!” Lucien suggested, tugging on your arm to get your attention, but your mind was elsewhere.

“Uh huh, yeah,” you mumbled blankly, and he frowned at you.

“What’s going on?” he asked, trying to look for what you were seeing; but Neil wasn’t reaching for her, he was lifting his hand to wave goodbye as she left. You beamed, even though you did feel a little bad when you saw Neil’s shoulders sink— it’s not that you wanted him to be alone forever, you were just relieved that you might have a few more moments to breathe before he got with somebody again.

“Nothing, sorry,” you answered Lucien, giving him your attention again. “What’d you say?”

“We should ask the band if they—”

And immediately, Lucien lost your focus as you couldn’t stop yourself from looking at Neil again— he was already looking at you, seeing you all on the dancefloor. You waved for him to join you, and he smiled as he made his way towards the stage. A new song began, even louder than the last, and you could blame that for not hearing Lucien’s question for the second time in a row.

Although he danced with you all for a few moments, Neil draped his arms over your and Lucien’s shoulders, nearly yelling to be heard over the music.

“You guys are coming over tonight for a movie, right?” he presumed. “Jonathan’s working ‘til late so he’s out, but—”

“Sorry, I’ve gotta be up early,” Lucien explained, “my brother and his wife are visiting, remember? We’re getting brunch and—”

“Whatever, party pooper,” Neil frowned, before suddenly smiling at you. “Guess it’s just me and you, huh, kid?”

You tried not to sigh too noticeably through your smile. “Yeah, me and you…” you agreed.

As you groggily blinked your eyes open, you found Neil staring at you, his face uncomfortably close to yours, with a big smile. “Mornin’, kid,” he said, raising his eyebrows.

You yelped and nearly jumped out of your skin while he laughed. “Jesus Christ, Neil!” you shouted, kicking off the blanket on you— and then you began to process where you were and why. “God,” you groaned as you held your head in your hands, while Neil kept laughing at you, “did I fall asleep on the couch again?”

It was sort of a rhetorical question— obviously you had, it would be much stranger if you woke up on the video store couch without having fallen asleep there. “Yeah,” he said, standing up and sighing a bit, “but you didn’t miss that much of the movie.”

“What happened at the end?” you asked, stretching your legs and snatching the blanket off the floor to fold up; Neil must have put it on you after you dozed off.

“No, we can finish it later,” he decided, walking up to the register, and you groaned.

“Seriously? Not even falling asleep gets me out of finishing The Man Who Laughs?”

He smiled a little as he started prepping the store for open. “Nope,” he said proudly, popping his lips on the p sound.

“It’s not that I didn’t like it,” you assured, getting up and trying to ignore the soreness in your back from sleeping on a ratty old sofa all night— you remembered helping Neil carry this thing from where he found it on the side of the road. Considering you knew where it came from, it was a wonder you ever sat on it, let alone slept on it… but this happened relatively often. Sometimes it almost felt like you slept easier here or at Neil’s apartment than your own.

You stood up and stretched your arms, sparing a glance over at him.

“Can I run home and change?” you asked, and he frowned.

“We open in ten minutes,” he noticed, “you won’t be back in time.”

“Yes, and who will serve the clamoring crowds that await our open outside?” you rolled your eyes, gesturing out the storefront to the abandoned sidewalk. “You can handle it on your own.”

“Just go to my place,” he shrugged, “it’s closer. And I think you left some jeans there anyway.”

Right— you’d borrowed a pair of his sweats to get comfy for a movie night, and forgot to take the jeans back when you left. You yourself had one of Neil’s short-sleeve button-ups at your place, when you’d both changed there for a costume party, but you let him believe it was just lost… it was too late to tell him now that you had it, ‘cause then he might ask why you kept it so long and then he might, somehow, deduce that you had been cuddling it at night from time to time…

“Right, okay,” you nodded, “but I still need a shirt.”

“Just borrow one of mine,” he said, like it was no big deal at all and didn’t make your heart skip.

For a second you wondered if you should protest— if he was still dating Denise, you probably would’ve said something. But you decided not to say anything, in case he changed his mind; you nearly bolted out of the store and down the two blocks to his apartment.

Your jeans were on the dresser, draped haphazardly in their same just-peeled-off shape you must have left them in last week. You grumbled to yourself a little about how he could’ve folded them for you so they wouldn’t be wrinkled… but then again, all his jeans were wrinkled, so he clearly didn’t know any better.

And now the fun part: picking a shirt. You smiled to yourself as you opened the drawer, perusing through t-shirts with old movie posters and semi-witty slogans… cute, sure, but those were pretty similar to what you already wore.

But the button-downs? Those were quintessential Neil, and you'd be wasting an opportunity if you didn't put one of those on.

You felt a little giddy as you opened the next drawer down and found them all folded. The first one you saw had light blue and white stripes, so you snatched it up and slipped it on.

The fit was definitely off, but you let yourself indulge in a fantasy for a moment: waking up here, in Neil's bed… in Neil's arms. You'd slip on his shirt while you went to find some breakfast, and he'd hum something about how pretty you look in his clothes, and you'd end up tangled in the sheets again not too much later.

Sighing to yourself, you buttoned the last button, leaving the two at the top undone so you didn't look too formal, and headed back to the store for opening.

Neil stared at you for a second when you walked in— at the shirt, specifically. You waited for him to say something, but he didn't. "What, should I not wear this one?" you asked, looking down at it as well, and he shook his head.

"No, no, it's fine— sorry," he mumbled, "just start sorting out last night's returns, please."

You definitely got a much stronger reaction from Jonathan, as soon as he walked in the door.

(Why was he here when he wasn't even working today? Who knows— he was just always here somehow.)

“Hey! You look even more like a lesbian than usual,” Jonathan greeted with a peppy fake-smile as he approached you, and you smirked a bit.

“Don’t blame me, it’s his shirt,” you nodded towards Neil.

“See, I told you you dress like a— wait,” Jonathan stopped mid-insult, looking back at you, then at Neil again, then at you; he pointed his fingers at each of you, crossing them back and forth. “Did… you two…?”

You narrowed your eyes, waiting for him to explain what he meant.

“Did you guys hook up?!” Jonathan accused, wide-eyed.

You felt your face getting warm, and you stammered out your denial; Neil started waving his hands in disagreement as well, but Jonathan was already on a roll.

“Oh my god!” he yelped. “The one time I miss movie night here and it gets freaky! Should’ve known better than to leave you two lovebirds alone—”

“Jonathan, we didn’t—” you choked.

“It’s not— it wasn’t—” Neil butted in. “She just borrowed my shirt! ‘Cause she— because—”

“I mean, we’ve kinda all been waiting for this to happen— but I never really thought it would,” Jonathan steamrolled along. “Well, yeah, I guess I thought it would, I just—”

“Wait wait wait, what?” Neil shook his head, stepping up closer to the two of you. “What does that mean?”

Finally, he seemed to get Jonathan’s attention, who began to nervously backtrack as both of you stared at him. “W-well, I just mean—” he started.

“And who’s ‘we all’?” Neil noticed. “This isn’t just you, thinking this?”

“I… I mean,” Jonathan scoffed, “you know— just, just some people… we thought that maybe… that since you two are so close, that you might—”

“Wow,” Neil chuckled, crossing his arms in disappointment. “You know, that’s so reductive. For a bunch of progressive, free-thinking hipsters—” he waved his hands as he said it in a mocking way— “you’re really just, like… like… you know, not! ‘Cause apparently men and women can’t really be friends?”

“No, come on, not like that,” Jonathan denied, “of course we can—”

“I mean, you’re her friend, you’re both single,” Neil noticed, gesturing between the two of you, “why don’t you two, just, you know… hook up!”

You cringed a little as Jonathan tugged at his collar nervously. “Well, I—”

“Come on, why not?” Neil went on, smiling at the suggestion even though he was clearly unamused. “I mean, she’s nice, she’s pretty, she’s got a vagina— why don’t you hit on her?”

“Hey, come on, Neil,” Jonathan sighed, “I’m well aware she’s got a vagina—”

“So what’s the problem?” Neil insisted. “Clearly you can’t just be friends with someone with a vagina—”

“I would really prefer if we didn’t talk about my vagina anymore,” you mumbled nervously.

“— how come you never hit on her, Jonny?” Neil pressed, backing him into a corner metaphorically— but also somewhat literally, he was leaning in and Jonathan was pressing his back more and more against the shelves.

“You really want me to answer that?” Jonathan replied, almost threatening. That made you furrow your brow a bit. It seemed like a rhetorical question, Neil trying to prove a point, but you didn’t expect Jonathan to have a literal answer.

“Yeah, sure,” Neil decided, “enlighten us.”

Neil glanced at you, like you were just as gung-ho about this interrogation, but you were feeling a little sick. You understood the spirit of Neil’s argument— and technically, you agreed with him— but it still stung to see him so incensed at the suggestion of you two together. You were trying not to take it personally, it wasn’t like he was disgusted by you or anything… he even said just now that you were pretty, and he’d told you that before, but… it still bothered you a little, for reasons you couldn’t quite describe and that you were sure were illogical.

“I never hit on her,” Jonathan answered, lowering his voice, “because I… I figured it would piss you off.”

That seemed to surprise you both, maybe for different reasons; you bit your lip to suppress a smile. Did Jonathan really think Neil was that protective over you? “Why would it piss me off?” Neil wondered, but he sounded a little defensive— defensive in a caught-red-handed sort of way.

“I… I don’t know,” Jonathan shrugged. “That’s just the vibe I got, okay? That she’s sorta… off-limits.”

Neil hesitated. “Well… she’s not,” he decided. “You’re grown-ups. Whatever you wanna do is none of my business— as long as you’re not being, you know, creepy or an asshole.”

“Of course,” Jonathan agreed, most of the tension settling as Neil backed up a step.

“Okay, well, ask her out then,” Neil instructed firmly.

“I didn’t say I wanted to!” Jonathan sputtered.

“Neil, Jesus!” you complained simultaneously, and he seemed to relent, shrugging as he walked back to the register.

“Sorry, sorry,” he dismissed, “just letting you know it’s… fine with me!”

You rolled your eyes a bit and looked back at Jonathan. “Sorry,” you offered him quietly, “he’s… I don’t know. He gets weird about that.”

“Oh really?” Jonathan scoffed sarcastically. “Didn’t notice.”

“The real reason you shouldn’t be hitting on me is because we’re coworkers, by the way,” you reminded him.

“Hey, I only work here part-time,” Jonathan noticed, “so I think that means it’s cool as long as we only go out part-time.”

You snorted, but he seemed to get nervous.

“You know I’m kidding, right?” he added quickly, and you nodded with a laugh.

"You know, I was thinking— we don't have many events at the store these days,” Neil mumbled around a bite of pretzel, watching you play your turn at Skee Ball. Normally he would put coins in the machine beside yours and try to beat your score, but the other machine was out of order and you decided to take a relay race approach. “What if we did, like, I don’t know… maybe a double feature for a couple bucks?”

“Neil, we show movies every night,” you sighed, “and we invite everybody, and ninety-nine percent of the time it’s just some combination of me, you, Jonathan, and Lucien.”

“Yeah, but this time we could do movies that more people like— a little easier to watch,” he suggested, “something that would get new people in the store.”

“New people don’t wanna sit on a musty old couch with strangers,” you reminded him, and he nodded as he chewed and swallowed his next bite.

“You’re right,” he agreed, holding the pretzel out towards you. “Wanna bite?”

You were trying to get through your skee balls pretty quick, so you just leaned your head over and chomped down on the end of one of the twists while he held it for you. You hummed in appreciation— it was pretty good, fresher than the last one you guys got here.

Visits to the arcade used to be your thing, back in high school (aside from watching movies, but that was a given). Then you slowed down with the trips, feeling a little old and out of place surrounded by kids— but the problem was, this place wasn’t filled with kids anymore. It hadn’t changed much at all since you were both in high school, and that was exactly the issue: it was old, run-down, a bit grimey… kids weren’t coming to arcades anymore anyways, they were all on the Internet apparently. So, while you and Neil sort of appreciated having the place to yourself, it also broke your heart knowing your old haunt couldn’t hold itself together forever… you two visited not just to recapture some old childhood joys, but to try to do your part to keep the business afloat.

You pretended to like being here— because you really did want to support the place, and Neil wanted to keep coming back— but it actually made you pretty fucking sad. Surrounded by all the neon, the noisy pinball machines, the Dig Dug machine that had a fifty-fifty chance of stealing your quarters, the photobooth (you still had some strips from that thing pinned to your wall, some so old that they’d faded from the sunlight that came in your window each day); it all felt sort of eerie now. You would’ve never known all those years ago how little this place would change, even though you never expected it to— you would’ve never known how little anything would change. Neil was still by your side, but still so far away… if you could talk to that fourteen-year-old girl now, you would warn her that no amount of time spent running around this place and playing Street Fighter was going to make Neil love her, or you.

But here you were anyways. “Woo!” you cheered when your final score came through: 50,765. “Beat that!”

Neil set the pretzel down on the bar-height table (on a pile of napkins, don’t worry, neither of you trusted those tables that much) and brushed the salt off his hands with a scoff. “Oh please, I can beat that with my eyes closed,” he assured as you crossed your arms.

As he put his quarters in and stepped up to the game, you smiled wide. “Alright, if you say so.”

You came up behind him and covered his eyes with your hands, making him jump and then laugh. “What are you doing?”

“Just keeping you honest,” you giggled, holding on tight even when he tried to move his head around so that he could see.

He did his best, usually struggling to even find where the balls were coming down more than rolling them decently— but after the first three went in the gutter without even scoring, you knew he didn’t stand a chance. He did score a few times, but when the buzzer went off and he lifted your hands from his eyes, he laughed at the pitiful 1,150 on the board.

“Ohh, that’s too bad,” you winced, “guess you’re just full of it.”

Still holding your hands away from his face, he spun around and twirled under your arms like you were dancing for a moment; it ended with him face-to-face with you, swinging your hands back and forth a bit to force you to twist with him slightly. “Wanna play Street Fighter next?” he suggested quickly. “I know I can beat you at that.”

The giddy joy of the moment dropped and shattered; if you thought about it too much, you probably could’ve cried right then. As pathetic, yet oddly aesthetically pleasing, as it would be to cry in an arcade, you swallowed down the emotion and smiled back at him. “Yeah, okay,” you agreed.

You’d been a little antsy all day— Neil seemed to notice, asking a couple times if you were okay, but you just nodded and shrugged it off. He had a sense for when you were lying; but that’s the thing, you weren’t lying, really. You just weren’t sure what to say. You weren’t sure if you should say anything. And yet, you felt a little guilty not telling him everything that was going on with you— not just guilty, but plain weird. Because you usually did tell him everything— except, you know, the thing— but you didn’t know if you should talk about this. Not that you couldn’t— but should you?

So you were sort of gnawing on your lip most of the day, keeping yourself busy with tallying late fees behind the desk, trying to keep conversation light and meaningless: thankfully, in that regard, Jonathan and Lucien made it pretty easy.

“Okay: fuck, marry, kill,” Jonathan began, “Dracula, the Mummy, and the Creature from the Black Lagoon.”

“Dude, I can’t answer that,” Lucien refused.

“Okay, then Neil, what would you do?” Jonathan changed his target.

“Um, well,” Neil pondered, “I think I’d have to kill Dracula— spare the world from that evil, you know— and I guess I’d marry the Mummy—”

“Freud would like to have a word,” Lucien butted in.

“And I’d fuck the Creature from the Black Lagoon,” he concluded, “out of morbid curiosity.”

You snorted, but didn’t look up from your clipboard. “You come up with one that Lucien will do,” Jonathan challenged Neil.

“Alright, uhh, let’s see…” Neil stalled as he thought, looking up at the ceiling and stroking his chin dramatically. “Fuck, marry, kill: Sarah Connor, Ripley, and Trinity from Matrix.”

“Okay, see, that’s a real challenge,” Lucien affirmed. “If I marry Trinity, do I have to live in the post-apocalyptic wasteland or can she live here?”

“You’d have to live in the Matrix,” Jonathan announced, like it was obvious.

“Hm,” Lucien pondered, “do I know it’s a false reality? Does she know?”

“She knows, you don’t,” Neil decided.

“Is she gonna tell me? What if she has another guy on the side in the real world?”

“Okay, you’re overthinking this,” Jonathan groaned.

“And is this the Sarah Connor that’s already had John? ‘Cause if not, I can’t kill her, or the human revolution stands no chance— but if she has him, I can’t marry her, ‘cause I’m not ready to be a stepfather—”

“You’re useless,” Jonathan informed him flatly.

“Well, it’s easy then,” you offered, still tallying fees on the printed table. “You fuck Connor, marry Ripley and kill Trinity.”

“Yeah, I guess that works,” Lucien shrugged.

“If you’re so good at this game, you should play,” Jonathan decided. You looked up from your work for once, finding Lucien looking excited at the idea and Neil looking a little nervous but intrigued.

“I’ve got one for you,” Lucien decided, looking concerningly smug. “Fuck, marry, kill: the three of us.”

Jonathan let out a giddy ‘ooh’ and Neil raised his eyebrows. “Oh— I don’t know— that’s too weird,” you shook your head, “it’s different, you’re real—”

“Wait, wait,” Neil interrupted, “now I wanna know.”

You froze for a second, wondering if you should double down on not participating, or if you should tell him the first thing that popped in your head: am I allowed to do all three to you?

Instead, you set the clipboard down and crossed your legs, and the men seemed to straighten up as they prepared for your answer. “Alright,” you said, looking at them for a lingering moment before sighing. “I think I’d fuck Jonathan, and then kill myself.”

“Yes,” Jonathan hissed, shaking his fist triumphantly.

“Dude, really?” Lucien snapped at him. “That didn’t sound like a compliment to me.”

“Don’t care, I stopped listening after ‘fuck Jonathan’,” he replied. “Alright, Neil, you’re gonna have to make good on that ‘she’s not off-limits’ promise you made to me—”

But Neil wasn’t listening to Jonathan, he was still looking at you. “Wait— you wouldn’t marry me?” Neil interrupted, putting a hand on the desk and leaning in a bit closer— he looked half-amused and half-offended, and your heart skipped a beat.

“Um…” you started to wonder how to defend yourself from that. What did he expect you to say? Yes, I’d marry you, I’ve actually been planning our wedding since junior year.

“Hold on,” Lucien stopped you, “if she fucks you and marries you, that means I’m getting killed!”

“Yeah, so?” Jonathan smirked.

“What, you don’t think I’m marriage material?” Neil laughed… but he didn’t seem like he was really joking, per se. He didn’t seem serious either, of course, but you decided to take his question seriously since he’d dared to ask it twice.

“Well,” you mumbled, “no. I don’t.”

Then he seemed a bit more serious, adjusting his posture a bit. “Why not?”

“I mean… you’re my best friend,” you reminded him, “but… you’re not reliable.”

He nodded, pursing his lips together.

“You’re not ready for marriage,” you continued. “I mean, I think you’re just as sure of that as I am.”

“Well, yeah, but—”

“And honestly? You’re a great friend and all, but… if you were my husband, I don’t think I could really… you know, trust you…”

The silence seemed a little heavy— all the men were sort of frozen for a second, you wondered if you should wave your arm around to make sure time hadn’t stopped. But they did move, Neil first in fact, as he stopped leaning on the counter and nodded a little.

“I’m just surprised that you didn’t fuck Dracula,” Jonathan said to Neil in an attempt to cut the tension, “considering your massive man-crush on Bela Lugosi.”

“Hey, that reminds me, tonight’s movie is Bela Lugosi Meets a Brooklyn Gorilla,” Neil announced, apparently shaking off whatever odd energy he’d picked up just before, “you in?”

“Yeah, sure,” Jonathan nodded, “should I bring drinks?”

“Uhh, yeah, why not?” Neil agreed.

“Is a six-pack enough?”

"Uh, maybe…” Neil considered, turning over his shoulder to look at you. “Kid, how many beers are you gonna want?”

You swallowed nervously. “Um, I… well, I’m not coming. I’ve got a date, actually.”

Of course it was just assumed that you would be there; you felt a little guilty admitting you wouldn’t, to the point that you almost considered just skipping said date and staying to avoid the awkwardness.

“Hey, great!” Jonathan said proudly, throwing his arms out wide.

“A date, huh?” Neil noticed, looking happily surprised. “Sorry, I— I didn’t know— you didn’t say anything—”

“No, it’s cool,” you shook your head, “it’s kind of a last minute thing… you know how they’re showing Rope at the Palace tonight? I met this, um, this guy the other day and we got to talking, and I asked him if he’d wanna come with me.”

“Rope, wow, that’s a great first date movie,” Neil nodded approvingly, “that sounds perfect.”

“Yeah— he hasn’t seen it, actually,” you admitted, smiling nervously, “so I guess how much he likes it will kinda be a good judge of if he’s worth going out again, right?”

Jonathan nodded approvingly, but Neil seemed skeptical. "Well, the showing isn't until nine— you can at least hang out until the movie starts, right?"

"I've gotta get home and get changed!" you explained

"You can't wear that to a date?" Lucien wondered.

"No!" you scoffed, looking down at your ripped jeans and Dracula t-shirt. "Besides, I have this whole plan of what I'm gonna wear— remember when we did Bonnie and Clyde for Halloween?"

Neil was Bonnie and you were Clyde, in fact; he looked shockingly good in that blood-red lipstick, you tried to convince him to wear it again but he insisted it was a one-night-only situation.

"I figure if I wear my Clyde suit, I'll look kinda like James Stewart!"

"You're doing drag on a first date?" Lucien pressed, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh, lighten up, I'm just dressing up for the movie— I'll still, you know, try to look pretty," you assured. "What, I don't look good in a suit? 'Cause I got a lot of compliments on Halloween—"

"No, hey, go for it," Jonathan decided, "it's festive!"

"I think it's cool," Neil agreed. "Have fun, alright? And if he creeps you out or something, call the store number and I'll come get you."

"I'm not really worried about—"

"You know? Just call the store when you get home," Neil decided, "so I'll know you didn't get murdered."

"Dude, chill," you groaned. "We're going to the movies, not, I don't know… hiking off-trail in the middle of the night."

You never agreed to call, but you did him one better: you ended up coming back to the video store afterwards, a bit over two hours later. Of course, the guys were still on the couch— apparently the movie was over but they were watching anime (undoubtedly something Jonathan had brought as a palate cleanser after the movie).

They all looked over at you when you came in the front door and the little bell rang; they seemed excited to see you, and presumably to interrogate you about the date. You sighed, knowing you couldn't have expected anything else, but you'd come here hoping they'd let you watch something with them so you could stop thinking about the date.

“How’d it go, hot stuff?” Jonathan purred, and you rolled your eyes as Lucien wolf-whistled.

“Oh yeah, it was awesome, best first date ever— I’m at his place having sex with him right now,” you frowned as you tossed your purse down onto the couch, and Lucien chuckled while Neil looked a little defeated.

“Not that great, huh?” Neil noticed.

“Was he a creep?” Jonathan assumed.

“Did he think the movie was bad?” Lucien pressed.

“No, no, he was great,” you sighed, “he loved the movie. We talked about it for a bit afterwards and he seemed to really understand it.”

“Okay! That’s good, right?” Jonathan said optimistically.

“Yeah— so good that I asked him when we could do this again,” you recalled, “and he said that he didn’t wanna lead me on and he wasn’t interested in seeing me.”

“What?!” Jonathan yelped, while Neil winced a little.

“He said I was really cool and funny and easy to talk to,” you explained, “but that he didn’t feel any chemistry.”

“Chemistry?” Lucien repeated, confused.

“He means he’s not attracted to me,” you clarified.

“What?” Jonathan scoffed again. “Why not?”

“I don’t know!” you whined, but you did know. “I think I’m just, like, friend material. I’m just ‘one of the guys’, you know? Not somebody you actually wanna be with.”

“But isn’t that what every guy wants? To date somebody who’s just ‘one of the guys’?” Lucien noticed, and then paused when everyone gave him an inquisitive look. “That sounded way less gay in my head. You get what I mean, right?”

“As much as I would love to never let you live that down,” Jonathan smirked, “you’re not wrong— like, a chick who can hang. That’s the best.”

“Well, here I am! Hanging!” you snapped. “Where’s my harem of suitors just desperate to date one of the guys?!”

“I mean, you are wearing a suit…” Neil noticed, getting a little defensive when you groaned and dropped your head back. “No, no, you look cool! I mean, you look really great. I’m not sure what he wasn’t seeing.”

"Maybe he's got a girlfriend!" Jonathan suggested. "And he was gonna cheat but he chickened out."

"Maybe he's intimidated by strong women," Lucien added, sounding more like he was quoting a Cosmo than actually thinking that.

"Respectfully, guys aren't that complicated," you assured. "If he wanted me, he would. He doesn't. It's not that deep."

Neil looked away when you said that.

"Well, come take a seat on the losers couch," Jonathan offered, but Neil sitting next to him frowned.

"You think I'm a loser?" Neil protested.

"No, I was talking about that couch," Jonathan said as he pointed to the other one which Lucien was on.

"I'm not even offended," Lucien decided, patting the spot next to him. "I'd rather be a loser with you than a winner with anybody else."

You smiled and plopped down next to him, pulling your legs up on the old sofa and finding the best angle to see the TV from. "Okay, catch me up," you requested, bracing for the barrage of borderline nonsensical exposition about whatever obscure anime Jonathan was forcing on the group this time.

Since the store closed at eight on Tuesdays, you and Neil decided to go out for a late dinner after locking up— the nearest place you usually walked to was a little hole-in-the-wall dishing out Thai fusion, and even though there were open tables inside, you took your paper boxes outside to eat together on a bench.

You each sat up on it with your legs crossed, facing each other, while he poked at his fried rice with his fork and you stirred your noodles with the chopsticks.

“The Palace is still doing their Hitchcock screenings on Sundays,” you recalled, “I think the next one is Rear Window. We could make Lucien man the store and go see it together?”

“Yeah, let’s do it,” he smiled. “But we gotta sneak in the candy, that place is getting so overpriced…”

“Well, that’s a given,” you laughed. “When I went on my date there I had Sour Patch Kids in my bag, but I was kinda craving Reese’s by the time the movie started..."

"That guy sounded like an ass, by the way," Neil announced with a frown.

"Oh, no, it's fine," you dismissed. "He was really nice, even when he blew me off, and I… I guess I wasn’t really expecting it to go anywhere, anyways.”

“Really?” Neil scoffed. “Then why’d you ask him out?”

Just in case. “I… I guess I’m trying to put myself out there more?”

“Huh? You’re trying to put out more?” Neil joked.

You rolled your eyes and unfolded your legs to kick him playfully. “You know what I mean,” you groaned.

“Yeah, yeah,” he admitted, “and I support it. It’s sort of insane that you’re still single.”

“Wow, thanks for the pep talk,” you rolled your eyes before shoving a thick swirl of spicy-sweet noodles in your mouth.

“No! I mean, like, I can’t believe you’re single,” he clarified, and you smiled somewhat awkwardly while chewing your mouthful. “You’re smart and fun and cool and pretty—”

Thanks to the food in your mouth, you didn’t have to worry about coming up with a way to respond to that, so you just shrugged.

“Seriously!” he insisted. “I mean, guys hit on you at the store— I wish somebody who actually deserved your attention would walk in that place.”

The guy I want is already there every day. Swallowing, you finally got a chance to talk to him again. “Thanks,” you sighed, “it’s fine, though. I mean, I’ve been single this long— I think I’ll survive.”

“Keep waiting for the right one, okay?” he encouraged, and your heart swelled.

“I will,” you promised, sounding more wistful than you meant to.

After a brief lull in the conversation, he cleared his throat and continued. “Hey, um, while we’re on the topic of Sunday, about the whole fuck-marry-kill thing—”

“I’m sorry,” you offered right away, “I shouldn’t have answered that. I wasn’t being serious, obviously.”

“No, I wanted to apologize,” he returned, “I shouldn’t have pressed you on your answer. It was funny. And it wasn’t like you could say you were gonna kill one of us.”

You snorted. “Yeah, that one was probably the worst of the three.”

“But I shouldn’t have asked you about what you would’ve done to me,” he shook his head, “I was making it weird. So, sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you assured. “Did you really expect me to say I would marry you?”

“No,” he admitted, “I thought you’d say you’d fuck me, marry Lucien and kill Jonathan.”

“What?” you scoffed, though you were still smiling. “Why?”

“Well, Lucien would definitely make the best husband of the three of us,” he explained, “and Jonathan was the only one who wouldn’t have gotten butthurt about you saying you’d kill him. He probably would’ve just asked you to give him a nice send-off, y’know…”

You nodded in agreement, wondering if he was going to address the obviously missing third piece of all this… he sure was staring down into his empty fried rice container with intense focus…

“And, you know, as for me,” he began sort of thinly, “I, um… I guess I just figured, you know, you’re the most comfortable with me.”

“Yeah,” you agreed, “obviously, but maybe that would make it worse? Like, at least with Jonathan, I know that if we ever did hook up or something, it probably wouldn’t mess up our friendship. ‘Cause we’re friendly and all, but it’s not so serious. But with you…”

“Uh huh, well, that’s why it’s good it’s just a game,” Neil finished for you, chucking his trash in the nearest can. “Don’t have to worry about any of that stuff. Least of all you and I being married. Talk about a disaster.”

You choked on your throat. “Yeah. No kidding…”

“Well, anyways,” he sighed, standing up from the bench and stretching for a moment, “wanna come over and see if the game’s still on?”

“Oh, um, I’m just gonna go back to my place,” you decided, throwing away the last couple bites of your food on account of your suddenly-lost appetite. “Kinda thinking I should get my sleep schedule in order.”

“That’s good,” he nodded, “I respect that. Have a good night, then, kid.”

“Yeah, you too,” you breathed, waving as he turned and walked off into the night, tucking his hands into his jean pockets.

You looked down at your lap, taking a deep breath and shutting your eyes for a second. Did he have to be so sweet just to cut you down like that? Could he have even known how it would hurt you to say that?

It’s not even like he was wrong, but you were dying to ask him why he was so sure that you and him together would be so bad. What was wrong with you that he still couldn’t see you that way?

Not interested in this repetitive thought cycle anymore, and being very familiar with where it leads, you got up and started to walk down the street. You didn’t turn to go to your apartment, though; you kept going until you heard live music— scratchy, whiny guitars and throbbing bass drums— seeping out of the club. You just needed to be somewhere familiar that wasn’t the video store or home; and, this place conveniently also had liquor.

You slipped inside— hit by a wave of sound as you entered— and took a seat at the bar, half-listening to the band that was playing, pretending to be focused at all on what was going on in the outside world rather than just spiraling into your own thoughts inside your head.

“Hey,” Jonathan nodded at you from the other side of the bar, and you nodded back. He instantly started looking for Neil— of course he would— and you deflated a bit. “You here alone?” he noticed.

“Yeah,” you shrugged.

“Wow,” he smirked, “it’s like when Peter Pan’s shadow escaped.”

You should’ve probably been offended by that, but it wasn’t worth denying— and you were more interested in getting liquored up than justifying that you did, in fact, have a life outside of Neil.

And, actually, Peter Pan was a pretty good way to describe Neil, too. Fear of commitment, leader of freaks and outcasts, daydreamer… all he needed was some green tights. “What are you drinking tonight?” Jonathan finally asked.

“What pairs well with feeling completely unattractive and unlovable?” you sighed.

“Well, that would be my drink of choice: whiskey,” he smiled, setting a bottle down in front of you. “I’ll do a shot with you.”

He poured you both a shot, and you timed it to shoot it back together; he, obviously, took it better than you, and you cringed from the acidic flavor. "Jesus, people really drink this on purpose?" you grumbled.

"Yeah, give it a few minutes," he assured, "it's gonna numb all those stupid emotions."

"I don't have a few minutes," you sighed, "do you have anything more fast-acting?"

"Yeah— a second shot," he joked, but you nodded in agreement. "Okay, shit, you're not messing around tonight."

"Nope," you agreed, watching him pour just one shot this time. "You're not doing it with me?"

"I need to pace myself, I'm here 'til two," he explained.

He slid it to you and you contemplated it for a moment, before forcing yourself to get it down as quickly as possible to avoid the burn. You still grimaced, but recovered quickly.

"Is it working yet?" he wondered.

"I guess," you answered half-heartedly.

“Well, you could always gush to the bartender about all your problems?” he offered, but you just shrugged it off. “Come on, you wouldn’t be the first tonight. And since I know you, I might actually be able to help.”

“I don’t think you can help with this one,” you assured. “This problem has been going on longer than you’ve been around.”

“Oh?” he pressed. “Let me guess… boy troubles?”

“Isn’t it always?” you scoffed, irritated that he saw through you that quickly— apparently your reputation of being horrible with men preceded you.

“But this is just one boy,” he presumed. “One boy who… conspicuously isn’t here tonight…”

“Is it that obvious?” you wondered with a whine, dropping your head in your hand.

“Well, if you weren’t having any issues with him, you’d be with him,” Jonathan guessed— and it wasn’t bad logic.

“But, like, does everyone know?” you wondered. “Does everyone but him know that I’m in love with him? Oh god, Jonathan, you don’t think he knows, do you?”

“Wait— love?” he repeated, and you swallowed thickly as you realized the whiskey had already gotten you to say too much. “You… you’re…”

“Okay, so I guess not everyone knows,” you mumbled.

“No, yeah, I think you managed to keep that under wraps,” he assured with a nod, eyes getting wider. “Sheesh. No, I had no clue. Now it’s even weirder that you guys aren’t together.”

“Well, he doesn’t love me,” you explained flatly.

“Did he tell you that?”

“No, god no— I mean, he tells me he loves me,” you corrected, “but he doesn’t mean— we just say that, you know, like at the end of phone calls or when one of us is sad. It’s not, like… we never meant it that way.”

“Right, okay,” Jonathan nodded as he wiped a glass— the way bartenders do when they’re listening to people— but he didn’t seem to understand entirely. “So, you’re not his type?”

“I don’t think I know what his type is,” you scoffed. “I haven’t really noticed a pattern, have you?”

“You’d have to have a few more data points to really draw any connection between them,” Jonathan laughed.

“Yeah, fair,” you smiled, “he’s only had… I don’t know, maybe four girlfriends since I’ve known him? One in high school, for a month— then Eva, they weren’t even really serious, just dating for a while. And then, uh—”

“Tanisha,” he remembered.

“Right! I liked her,” you hummed.

“What happened to her again?” he wondered.

“Got back with her ex,” you recalled.

“Wow, that blows,” Jonathan sighed.

“She told me before she told him,” you admitted. “She wanted me to tell him for her, actually, but I… I couldn’t do that to him. But I came over right after, you know, and we ate ice cream from the tub and watched movies ‘til we fell asleep.”

Jonathan made a sort of face, one you couldn’t quite interpret, and you tilted your head as he seemed to mumble to himself.

“What?” you wondered.

“Nothing, it’s just… he’s kind of an idiot,” Jonathan decided. “I don’t think he gets how lucky he is.”

You wrinkled your brows together, laughing a bit. “What do you mean?”

“Look, I’m not saying he’s, like, legally obligated to fall in love with you just because you guys get along so well,” he clarified, “even if that’s what Neil accused me of thinking— I really do think it’s fine for men and women to just be friends.”

“So, what are you saying?”

“I’m just saying… like, how do you have someone who cares about you that much, and you end up dating fucking Denise for almost a year?!”

“Well, nobody knows how he ended up with Denise,” you coughed. “That was a fucking disaster.”

“I mean, not to be crass, but, uh,” he stumbled a little over his words, “I’m surprised that you coming over after that breakup didn’t turn into a rebound, at least.”

“After eating that much ice cream?” you laughed. “That would’ve been awful.”

“But really, though,” he insisted. “I have a hard time believing the thought didn’t even cross his mind…”

“I can’t really be sure that it didn’t,” you admitted, “I’m just saying, nothing happened.”

“I guess he’s just known you too long to go for it with you,” Jonathan shrugged.

“It’s not just that— you know Neil, he’s kind of an adrenaline junkie,” you rolled your eyes, “or at least he thinks he is. He wants adventure, I guess— and he always talks about us doing spontaneous stuff but it never happens— and I’m just too familiar. Too comfortable.”

“Yeah, he does kinda have something against stability,” Jonathan agreed, “do you think it’s a divorced parents thing?”

“I don’t know, I stopped analyzing that a long time ago,” you groaned, “and I told myself I would stop trying to be what I thought he wanted, but I think I keep doing it.”

“Well, I know you know him better than anybody,” Jonathan countered, “but I know guys, and that guy… there’s no way he thinks of you as just a friend.”

“Why do you think that?”

“Because he was fucking lying when he said it wouldn’t piss him off if we hooked up,” he insisted.

“You really won’t let that go, will you?” you grinned.

“Did you see his face? He couldn’t get the image out of his head!” Jonathan assured confidently. “And then that whole ‘fuck marry kill’ thing— he started getting nervous, I think.”

“Nervous about what?”

“That something could really happen with us!”

“You really think he would care?” you frowned.

“I swear to— to Ash Williams,” he decided, “that if I walked into that fucking video store, and told him that you and I did whiskey shots and you came back to my place and we did the horizontal tango, he would beat me to death with the register.”

“You swear on Ash Williams?” you repeated with a smirk, knowing that meant more than swearing on any deity would mean.

“Him and his chainsaw hand,” Jonathan assured, putting a hand over his heart to add to the bit, and you giggled.

“Well, I don’t think Neil can pick up the register,” you decided.

“In that case, you let me know the next time you wanna get back at him for something,” he offered with a wink, and you smiled at him sympathetically.

“I know you’re trying to be nice,” you sighed, “but you don’t have to do that.”

“Hey, come on,” he frowned, “I know you’ve got this I’m insecure I’m a weirdo nobody notices me thing, but you can’t actually think it would be some kind of charity work for me to sleep with you—”

“No, I don’t mean that,” you sighed, “I know I could get laid if I wanted to—”

“But you don’t wanna get laid,” he finished for you, “you wanna be loved.”

You sighed again, even harder. “Yeah,” you nodded.

“I know,” he agreed. “And you know I love you, but—”

“But not like that,” you took your turn finishing his sentence.

His only reply was raising the bottle of whiskey with a sideways smile, a silent offer to pour another shot— for both of you this time.

“Yes, please,” you hummed, watching him fill the miniature glasses with a sigh.

part 2

#neil lewis x reader #neil lewis smut #watching the detectives #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy smut #you know... eventually #but you have to get to part two for that lol

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yannisdesk · 2 months ago

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On Arcane & Antivillains

One thing I really enjoy about Arcane is how it handles antivillains.

For one, most of the characters (main ones) would actually fall into the category of antivillain at one point, or in the case of our two protagonists, become one. Arcane is arguably ripe with them.

An antivillain is essentially the opposite of an antihero. Simplified, antiheros do good things out of selfish or questionable motives, antivillains do things that are objectively bad or evil, but for noble reasons or for a greater cause. Another term for them is "sympathetic villain" however that term is too vague (there are villains out there who are sympathetic, but are none the less traditionally evil and therefore do not qualify as antivillains), and "antivillain" is a much better term mirror to "antihero." A common thread I've noticed among antivillain characters is some level of a Machiavellian approach to achieving their goals - the ends justify the means type of philosophy is something you'll always find characters that fit this category. At the very least, they dabble with it. In their eyes their actions are always justified because they're fighting for a good cause.

To put things into perspective, I'll use two examples. Harley Quinn shifts around, but she is frequently an antihero, take her depiction in both Suicide Squad movies. She does take down bad guys, however she's not doing so out of a sense of altruism, but to get a reduced prison sentence. Very cut-and-dry example of antiheroism.

On the flip side you have Magneto. Now from what I've seen (I've dabbled in the comics, but haven't dived in all the way) in the comics he gets very dark with the antihuman action. But in the Xmen movies, he definitely does some down right villainous stuff, but his intention remains the same - he wants mutants to live in a world free of bigotry and he's willing to do anything necessary to achieve that, including committing atrocities.

Now if this sounds very confusing to you and you swear you've heard these terms interchangeably or that you can think of several characters that are labeled as type A when they should be type B or vice versa, that's pretty normal. These aren't archetypical heroes and villains we're talking about, so it can be hard to categorize them, and honestly most characters in general will go back and forth or shift at one point or another, so all you need to know is that those definitions are the ones we're working with in this post.

Here are the characters from Arcane that I think suit this label, and others that I think will.

Disclaimer: this is not me hating on the characters. I love all of these characters for this layer to their character. This is not a "oh, look, this character is bad actually," post. If anything, consider it a celebration of their gray morality and how well its explored in the show.

Silco

Duh. Silco is objectively pretty evil. Setting up a drug empire that destroys your own people, getting in-cahoots with corrupt cops, killing kids, and aiding in destroying a young girl's mental health is multiple levels of foul. However, for him, all of this was part of an elaborate plan to liberate Zaun, which is being aggressively oppressed by Piltover. They were necessary sacrifices made to the cause, and worth it because it will bring forth better days for him and his people. Now obviously, a lot of his actions definitely have to do with his own ego, however the only time Zaun isn't prioritized is when it comes to Jinx, who is like a daughter to him, and even that realization comes to smack in the face late in his arc.

Sevika

I'd argue she's even more noble than most since she truly is rooted in the cause for Zaun. Not only is she willing to do some pretty bad things for the "greater-good", she's even willing to betray people who she views as unfit or incompetent. And what's even more telling is that she doesn't do this for power (which is arguably a part of Silco's prerogative). Sure, she's his #2, but he doesn't exactly show any favoritism. And Sevika seemingly isn't even trying to become the new leader of Zaun after Silco's death from the season 2 clips, but will support Jinx, despite the fact that she probably could dethrone her. She's no true blue hero, but she's not a megalomaniac either.

The Entire Council of Piltover (Minus Mel & Jayce)

As obnoxious as they are, none of them are mustache-twirling villains. As we see with characters like Sheriff Grayson (not a council member, but they share the same sentiment), they legitimately think they're protecting the city with their neglectful leadership and oppression of Zaunites. Yes, this includes Heimerdinger, who seemingly only started caring about Zaun once he was booted out of the council, so that places him firmly in antihero territory in my opinion.

Why did I exclude Mel and Jayce? Their plots are actually upward in terms of morality, especially Jayce who by the end is closer to being a traditional hero by prioritizing peace and progress over the status quo or war, and actively makes the first move of trying to right Piltover's wrongs. Mel's arc has also moved this direction as well, as she went from arguing that Jayce and Viktor should build Hextech weapons in case of war with the Zaunites, to fully embracing peace. You could argue that Mel wanting the weapons means she was at some point an antivillain, and I might agree, but as it stands, she's firmly in the clear.

So, why are the rest of the council still considered antivillains? Honestly, we just don't know much about their motivations to say. They ultimately did a good deed in voting for peace, but you know, one good deed doesn't wash-out the bad and vice versa. They're not even on thin ice for me, they're still fighting for the surface.

Marcus

Questioning your actions does not mean you can't be an antivillain, and Marcus is a good example of that. He's is kind of like Caitlyn if she were way less compassionate and very incompetent. Marcus does not think his actions are evil, according to show runners he only places Vi in Stillwater to protect her from Silco; he gets involved with Silco because he wants justice for the building explosion and it goes out of hand. That said, he also threw a child into a dangerous prison with no charges and with the intention of keeping her there for life, and worked with a kingpin who was actively antagonizing his own people while reaping benefits from an abusive system. So yeah, Marcus falls more into being an antivillain than full-blown villain, he's still firmly an antagonist though.

Ambessa

I know it's very popular in the fandom to call Ambessa a traditional bad-guy type of villain, but she is actually very nuanced. For one - she does not see her actions as evil, nor are her motivations behind doing them rooted in it. Ambessa, as she states in Mel's flashback, was raised in the Noxian way. Her grandfather literally made her search the dead bodies of the people they massacred when she was a youth, and she was indoctrinated to believe that this was in the best interest of her family and the Noxian people. By showing strength and ruthlessness, she's telling the rest of the world: "Stay away from House Medarda and Noxus." Hence, why Kino's death wrecks her, because she values herself over how effective she is at warding people off from messing with her family. Her main reason for getting involved with the war between Piltover and Zaun will 100% be because Mel's life was nearly lost due to Jinx's bomb, and this is coming straight off of her son's death mind you. So, while Ambessa may definitely be one of the most ruthless people on this list, she is not at Palpatine levels of evil yet, not by a long shot.

Jinx

You guys saw this coming, right? This barely needs an explanation. Jinx grew up in the Lanes, was a victim of Piltover's oppression multiple times throughout her youth, was willing to fight for their freedom as seen in episode 2, and in the end, that desire, along with her being adopted by Silco, manifested in her doing multiple acts of violence, including terrorism against Piltover, which frequently hurt people who weren't guilty of anything. (No, blowing up the building in episode 3 doesn't count as one of her evil deeds because it was an accident.) We understand completely why Jinx does what she does, even though it hurts to see her slip farther and farther into this mindset.

Way more subtle (for now) but I'd argue she's there come episodes 8 and 9. Hell, you could argue that her arc is about her sense of morality breaking down due to realizing how impossible the situation between Zaun and Piltover is, and embracing an "ends justifies the means" type mindset that Vander tried to sway her against back in episode 2. Wanting to stop a kingpin from using this new dangerous drug to destroy your city and sister? A noble cause, indeed. Not really caring that (or being passive over the fact that) children die in process because of their approximation to said bad guy? Yikes. [EDIT: Since we're on this topic: here's a link to where I explored this aspect of her character. I did this a while ago, but I thought it best to include it here too for added context). Now, I know what some of you are going to say - how is this any different from, say, Steve Rogers telling Wanda Maximoff that sometimes there's collateral damage when doing hero work? The difference is that Steve didn't argue that those people had it coming because they're associated with the bad guys/or in their way, which Vi does. That's some dangerous conviction right there, and we'll probably see that elaborated on in season 2 given that she's becoming an Enforcer which is a position that lends itself to abuse of power (and if it goes anyway like things do with her game counterpart, she will engage in police brutality and not see an issue with it, but given that Arcane's Vi is way more well, nuanced, than her game counterpart I don't think it will go on for long). While we're on the topic of Vi, according to her prison records, she had a notorious reputation while doing time to the point that I find it funny Silco didn't put 2-and-2 together that the girl with short pink hair beating the shit out of and attempting to murder all of his goons that went to Stillwater was possibly the same girl that wiped the floor with those same goons the night Vander died.

Potential Antivillains of Season 2:

These are characters that I predict will become antivillains at some point during season 2 based off of where their season 1 arc left and clues from season 2 teasers and clips. This is not me saying for sure this will happen, only a prediction. But if it does come true, I will gladly collect $5 per accurate plot point.

Viktor

Two words: glorious evolution.

We all love Viktor. We all love good-guy Viktor, and we will also more than likely love not-so-good-guy Viktor due to how complex that arc will be. If it will go anything like his game-lore (which I suspect it will) his noble intentions will never leave him, just simply evolve to include some less-than-heroic actions and justifications. He still wants to improve the undercity, and well, humanity overall, with hextech, motivated by the injustices he's been put through his own life and his illness, but he will go about it in some very unorthodox ways, and his arc in Arcane is about him confronting if he wants to "evolve" his morality for the sake of his ultimate goal, which is progress. Viktor would definitely agree with the sentiment expressed by Gloria Steinem (character depiction, not a real quote) in Mrs. America - "Revolutions are messy, people get left behind."

Caitlyn

I'm pretty sure she actually will become apart of the antivillain roster in season 2, but noting is for certain. Caitlyn is perhaps the saddest version of this there is, because we see where she starts out. She doesn't want to be like everyone else in her circle, she tries to break free and be better. She wants to do good by both Piltover and Zaun. She has hope, gentleness, and doesn't place herself above even those who occupy the lowest levels of Zaun. She puts herself, her status, and her life on the line to discover the truth, and comes out her time with Vi steadfast in wanting to help heal Zaun. She can be a little naive and ignorant, but she never does so with malicious or ill intent. She is the kindest person in Arcane.

But, given that her mother was killed in a terrorist attack set off by the new Head Zaunite in Charge, things will change. As we see, Caitlyn becomes a sheriff on the Enforcer squad, and now her goal is no longer to sow peace between Zaun and Piltover, it's to avenge her mother by assassinating Jinx. Of course, this will be due in part that Caitlyn thinks snuffing Jinx out will solve the problem, which will be ironic and hypocritical because she told Ekko that getting revenge on Silco won't solve anything in Zaun, but now that she's in the same predicament, the tables have turned and now diplomacy is off the table. She still has that hero-complex, as she lives by the lessons of Sheriff Grayson, but now it's with a twist. The idealistic Caitlyn who believed in giving peace a chance through reform is gone, and she now believes that there's little to no cost too great for her to achieve this, even if that (possibly - again season 2 hasn't come out yet, so we shall see) means hurting innocent Zaunites. And what's scary is that Caitlyn has the intelligence, dedication, talent, and efficiency to pull it off. Truthfully, I believe we won't just be getting Sheriff Caitlyn in season 2, but also Dictator Caitlyn.

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queen-of-deans-booty · 9 months ago

Text

Worth The Wait: Part One

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~900

Warnings: fluff

Request by anon: Hey so every one know that Jensen like Batman, so i have this ideas where the reader is Jensen wife and popular actress who is casted to play Cat woman with Robert Pattinson or other one and the reader never tell Jensen because she want to be a surprise or something like that and she bring him to the premiere where was the Batmobile and him was just fanboy? Fluffy between Jensen and reader

Summary: You've been working on a movie you know Jensen will love to see, so you've managed to keep it from him until the world premiere. Now it's your chance to unveil the surprise.

Square Filled: hereditary for @spnonewordbingo (deleted bingo)

Author’s Note: we're all gonna pretend that the movie Batman v Superman had Catwoman in it. okay? okay.

This all started when your great-grandmother got scouted to be in short films in the early 1900s. Actresses weren't a big thing back then but someone took one look at her and knew she was meant to be on the big screen, whatever that meant back then. She was known all throughout the state as a big-time actress even though all the things she was in were silent films. She had a great facial profile that really embodied everything she was thinking and feeling. She started young but that’s what people did back then. They started their professions at a young age.

When your grandmother was born in 1934, your great-grandmother was already moving on to bigger and better things. She starred in the movie It Happened One Night, The Thin Man, and MGM’s musical/romance adaptation of Cat and the Fiddle. Those were just to name a few. Your grandmother saw what she was doing and wanted to follow in her footsteps, doing everything she could do be in television, the big screen, and in theater.

She got her big break when she got cast in Treasure Island and Fantasia with Disney. She got acting gig after acting gig until she had your mother in 1954. She took a few years off to be with her family but got right back into it. Your mother had a knack for theater and did her time on Broadway more than she did in film. She starred in musicals like Applause, Fiddler on the Roof, Annie, Sweeny Todd, and Grease.

She had you in 1989, and you started singing and acting at a very young age. You got into commercials and TV shows from the get-go. Probably because you come from a line of Tony, Oscar, and Emmy winners. You tried not to let your line of succession lead you to getting good parts, but you’ve managed to get a small role in Jurrasic Park as a child, and into much bigger roles in Charlie’s Angels, Mr. & Mrs. Smith, Saw I, Avatar, The Hunger Games, and many more.

You worked your ass off to be where you are today, and you’re actually working on putting your own album out because you’re striving to be the first EGOT winner in your family. You’ve gotten one Tony Award, too-many-to-count Oscars, and two Emmy awards.

To think you were the shy theater kid who only sang in front of people if you were starring in a play at school. After graduation, you got into a good acting school even though you didn’t really need it, but you still welcomed the challenge they put you through, even starring in most of the plays there. Now you’re a thirty-five-year-old woman with awards like no other, a husband who is just incredible, and an amazing career that is nowhere close to being done.

Your husband is also an actor, a big one for Supernatural. He’s been nothing short of amazing and you’re so proud of him and his work. It sucked at the beginning of his career since you two barely saw each other but the longer you did this, the more you settled into your own groove. You got to take the time off to be with each other a lot more.

You get to go to conventions with him and he gets to go to movie premieres with you. There is nothing you’d trade for this little life of yours. Speaking of movie premiers, you just got done filming your movie Batman vs Superman where you played Catwoman, but you refused to tell your husband anything about it. He is a big Batman fan, and if you were to surprise him with a Batman premier, he’d go feral. Jensen respected you enough to not go snooping when he knew you wanted this to be a surprise, and his friends respected you enough to not tell him about it.

Jenson has been bouncing in his seat since he entered the limo, and you’ve been watching with a wide smile on your face. When the limo gets to the red carpet, Jensen gasps at seeing everything Batman.

“Surprise! I’m Catwoman!”

“You got to be in a room with Batman?”

You two leave the Limo and smile at the cameras flashing in your face. Jensen doesn’t care if he looks like a little kid, he is going to be excited over anything Batman (even though you’re a tad more of a Marvel girl than DC). You’re trying to get in on one of their projects so fingers crossed! There is a section before the red carpet where people can take pictures with a real-life prop of the Batmobile.

Jensen loses his shit and rushes over with a giant smile on his face. You don’t care if a million people are watching or if it’s just you two, but you’ll always love the way he gets excited over things. He gets his picture taken with the Batmobile alone and then with you, and you pull him off to the side with a smile on your face.

“Is this a good surprise? Was it worth the wait?”

“So worth the wait. This is amazing.” Jensen leans in to kiss you but stops with a gasp. “Is that Michael Keaton?”

Jensen’s favorite Batman is Michael Keaton.

“Yeah, he showed up on set a few times. He’s a nice guy!”

“I’m nervous. Should I go up to him?”

“Yeah. He won’t bite,” you chuckle.

You escort Jensen over to Michael who is more than happy to talk to your husband. He hasn’t been this happy and excited in a while, and you’re glad to be part of it.

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

#jensen ackles #jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles fic #jensen ackles fanfiction #jensen ackles fanfic #jensen ackles fluff #jensen ackles fiction #jensen ackles fan fiction #jensen ackles fan fic #supernatural #supernatural fic #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fanfic #supernatural fluff #spn #spn fic #spn fanfiction #spn fanfic #spn fluff

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denwritesandcries · 1 year ago

Text

Like a Movie Scene – V.P

Pairing: van palmer x fem!reader

Summary: Van Palmer should come with a warning sign. She invades your life with her crooked smiles and stupid jokes and draws you into her orbit without even asking for permission, as if it were something destined to happen. Which, you assume, it probably is.

Word count: 7,1k.

Content: No crash!AU, cursing, mentions of homophobia (it’s the 90’s), friends to lovers, slow burn, fluff, a little angst, shitty families, LOTS of movie references, the yjs being normal teenagers.

Note: Van is a flirty little shit but also a complete loser and we love her for that.

English is not my first language.

Van Palmer should come with a warning sign or at least a 'no returns' marked on the tag of her football jerseys.

You don't think it would have done any good, though. Van draws you into her orbit from the first moment you met, like a bright and warm sun; allowing you to exist steadily in her life even though, technically, she has invaded yours.

You suppose then, that you wouldn't have it any other way.

It's likely you guys would never have really spoken to each other if it weren't for a mix-up between your practice schedules and a stupid argument between your coaches.

You see, the track team – which you were part of – always had practice right after the football team, because Wiskayok High School barely had the structure to keep both a girls and boys football team running properly, let alone a decent space for the few other sports the small-town school offered. Your practices took place on the same days of the week and one after the other, always at the same time. It was the implicit rule: from 4:30 pm the field is yours.

Coach Martínez didn't seem to care, however, because there he was arguing with your coach. Since apparently football practice had run late and the girls just needed to train for an hour and a half.

Your coach wasn't having any of it – your time was already too short without these changes –, and now both men were in the middle of the field screaming in each other's faces while poor coach Scott tried to calm them down.

“Dude.” you recognize Natalie Scatorccio’s tired and rasp voice beside you: “They could just cancel and let us go.”

You and apparently most people there, if the expressions of annoyance and crossed arms were any indication, couldn't agree more.

"Right?" You said. “Look at them, you think they’re gonna fight?”

Nat let out an amused snort, “They’re going to eat Coach Ben alive, that’s what they’re gonna do.”

You would have said something else if it weren't for a third voice coming from right behind you:

“They're gonna kiss, look how close their faces are.” It was Van Palmer, the goalie, with red hair swinging in a ponytail and a smirk on her lips. She shook her head in mock disappointment and crossed her arms, pointing with her chin at the scene, “In front of us, kids? What a lack of professionalism.”

You choke on a laugh and her gaze snaps to you, her smile widening with something like satisfaction in her eyes. The attention made you nervous. You weren't used to interacting with Yellowjackets members other than Nat, who was easy to talk to and was your lab partner as well as sharing cigarettes at parties, meaning that talking to Van Palmer was a completely new territory.

You joke back insecurely: “At least you have real coaches. Ours is the art teacher.”

That made her let out an incredulous laugh and you'd be lying if you said you didn't feel pleased about it. Like almost the entire school, you also had a crush on the Yellowjackets.

Your laughter died down just as Coach Scott ran across the field to the two mixed teams with the most genuine expression of exhaustion you've ever seen. “We decided to share the space," he says. And that's all. Your first interaction with Van: a conversation that lasted less than three minutes mocking your teachers. You would never expect it to evolve into anything beyond that.

It's strange trying to do your usual routine of running through the poorly painted banners around the pitch – which looked like it had never seen better days – with a game taking place just a few meters away from you and your teammates. The fear of getting hit in the face by a ball was embarrassing.

Yet, as you wait for the relay, your gaze tracks the girls in action. You don't know the names of most of them, but recognize Taissa and Shauna fighting over the ball at one end of the field, the confrontation seems a little too intense, which makes you a bit nervous and your eyes go straight to the nearest goal, coincidentally, is the one Van is defending.

You notice how beautiful she looks with her expression completely concentrated and hands resting on the knees, waiting to act. Shauna overtakes Taissa and kicks hard the ball towards the goal; Van grabs it as soon as she crosses the white line on the lawn.

A giggle escapes you as Shauna turns around in frustration and the ball bounces back into the field and Van and Tai share a wry smile. The goalie turns her attention away from the game for a moment to look around and you swear she's looking for something – or someone.

Your teacher calls signaling your turn and you leave your thoughts while you line up with some other teammates.

You can do your relay routine for exactly fifteen minutes before something goes wrong.

You run on autopilot, so used to it that it's practically a second nature, letting your gaze return to scanning the field with interest when one of the players tries to score again and Van throws herself against the ground to catch the ball with a stronger and clearly exaggerated movement compared to last time. You thought this would be a one-time thing, seeing as the way Jackie and Nat rolled their eyes at her from where they were off to the side blocking other girls, but it kept happening the entire time you spent running until it was time for your break.

You choke on the water you drink when you realize that Van is the one staring at you this time, hands resting on her thighs, face sweaty and red, as if she doesn't have a game to focus on.

Shit, you think. How are you going to keep your head in training now? You wonder what you would have done to get a Yellowjacket's attention so suddenly as you return to your line.

You resume your run at a pretty good pace despite the sudden nervousness, feeling a little more confident when you hear a loud “Come on guys, no one has beaten L/N’s time yet!” coming from your teacher.

And then you're approaching the curve flush with the football field, the curve that gives you the perfect view of the goal.

Van is there, of course, just throwing the ball downfield again. Van, who rests her hands on her hips and catches her breath when Coach Scott blows the whistle and tells that her team won the game. Van, who turns around just in time and sees you approaching. Van, who removes a strand of red hair from her face that has escaped the ponytail and gives you a malicious toothy smile. Van, who winks at you. Van, who makes you fall. Literally.

It's all so out of nowhere, so suddenly that your heart misses a beat and you miss a step, tripping over your own feet as if your legs forgot how to work properly, falling in the middle of the curve and getting in the way of your colleagues further back in the lanes next to your side

Shit. Holyshit. Fuck. You just fell in front of the entire football team.

One of your friends bends down next to you to help and asks what happened, you blame the laces of your sneakers that untied when you fell because any reason is less embarrassing than what actually happened.

Your knee is bleeding and one of your arms is scraped, so the coach decides to have pity and leave you on the bench until it's time to leave. You make your way there with your ears burning and your head down.

If Van had any kind of interest in you, it definitely disappeared after that.

You remain alone on the bench, avoiding looking anywhere for a long time until Misty Quigley appears at your side with things to bandage your wound and you happily let her fill the silence with whatever she wants to say for the next few minutes.

Your night is spent tossing and turning in bed over the shame you've experienced and the next day as you walk through the hallways, the possibility of the goalie talking to you again doesn't even cross your mind as the first classes go by like a blur.

And then you're at your lunch table waiting for Nat to show up to talk like she usually does when she doesn't disappear around school, but after a few minutes a head of red hair takes over your vision instead of the usual dyed blonde.

“What’s up?” Van is sitting next to you, with the same crooked smile and her cheek propped up in a fist.

“Uh, nothing much really.” You have no idea what is going on; she is sitting with you, smiling at you and talking to you. Why is she doing this? You can feel a few other people's eyes on you through the interaction.

She introduces herself, even though you already know who she is, holding out a hand for you to shake – they’re rough, you notice, with calluses adorning the fingers –, probably just so you can introduce yourself too. “I’m Van,” she says. And that’s it.

She’s been Van since the beginning. Not Vanessa Palmer or the Yellowjackets goalkeeper, just Van. She says it so matter-of-factly that it would simply sound wrong to call her anything else.

You engage in a conversation about anything and everything after you introduce yourself – just your nickname too. You assume Nat already told her your name at some point yesterday – speaking as if you already knew each other, and somehow it doesn't feel weird.

Your eyes end up focusing on a black-haired girl crying at a table on the other side of the cafeteria with another girl a little smaller than her. You don't know either of them, but you know that they are both on the main team too.

“Hey,” you point with your chin: “What’s up with her?”

Van finds the source of your attention and raises her eyebrows, “Oh, you mean Mari?”

You answer with a simple nod of your head and that's enough for Van to invade your personal space with a devilish expression and a mischievous smile.

“She had a bad break up.” Van says and you tilt your head at her.

“But was it that bad?” You arch an eyebrow, “People don’t cry in such full places over nothing.”

Van moves a little closer to you and lowers her voice conspiratorially, as if she’s telling you a very important secret: “She were dumped," and then a dramatic pause, “For the guy’s half-sister.”

"What?" Your jaw drops completely and Van nods her head.

“Lottie told me, she knows about these things.” Ahe rests her face in her hand again, “She said she caught them kissing at her last party, Mari must have known.”

“‘The fuck?” The shocked look you give her only seems to amuse her.

“Oh, she's crying right now but boy, she was mad as hell in our math class today.” Van blows an exaggerated raspberry, “I bet she'll end up coming up with an absurd plan to get revenge and burn down his house just like in She Devil if the story spread.”

It will definitely spread, you thought.

An unexpected giggle escaped your chest – you might have felt a little bad for talking shit about a girl you didn't even know later, but not now – and your gaze found Van's face again.

“Yeah.” You start, “Except she was replaced by the guy’s own sister– half-sister, whatever, instead of a famous writer.”

Her face lights up completely as she speaks, bright green eyes like those of an excited puppy.

“You like that movie?” She asks.

“I love that movie,” you correct, “It’s iconic and Meryl Streep looks good.”

"She does.”

This seems to completely cement Van's interest in you, because she continues to sit with you at lunch for the rest of the week. When Nat finally shows up, she arches an eyebrow, but doesn't question it.

You and Van get closer in a surprisingly short period of time, but the way she seems to settle into your life is gradual and your silly little crush on the goalie seems to get stronger without even realizing it. Waiting for your lunches in the cafeteria, conversations in the hallways, glances exchanged during physics class – since you sat too far away to really talk – and the exchange of silly words about movies you like.

You have the habit of going out for a run every weekend in the morning – it's not easy to keep the best time in the routines, after all – and one day you decide to change your route by pure coincidence to a longer one that ends up near one of the trailer parks in the city; the fact that Nat mentioned one day that she’s neighbors with a certain teammate has nothing to do with it.

It surprises you that Van is awake at 8 am on a Saturday, but you find her – by pure coincidence, nothing more than that – outside a sad trailer watering an even sadder small garden. When she sees you, your hair is a mess and breathing is a little out of step, and you give her an awkward wave as you catch your breath. It's the first time you've seen each other outside of school.

“You’re stalking me now, weirdo?” Her crooked smile tells you that there's no real bite behind it.

"No," You place your hands on your hips, kicking some loose pebbles on the floor with your sneakers. Yes, you liar, “I always run around here, how come we’ve never seen each other before?”

Fuck it, you think. If Van can just show up for you because she wants to, then you can do the same.

She seems happy to abandon her garden chores when you ask her to go for a walk and she agrees to make you company once there’s no running involved; a walk, because no one deserves to be running around like Rocky Balboa at this time of the morning.

You walk together side by side through the neighborhood with your shoulders brushing against each other as if you've done this many times before, Van whistling a random tune carelessly.

Talking to her when the initial nervousness passes is one of the easiest things you've ever done and you find yourself enjoying and listening to everything Van tells you. This potential friendship – maybe more. Maybe, just maybe – it's the most fun thing that's happened in your year so far.

Your walks together also become a habit after that. You just come back the next day and Van is there with a smile on her face, so you keep coming back and she keeps smiling.

You also start walking home after school. Neither of you have a car, so why not?

You crave her company and she craves yours, you stay for Van's training and she stays for yours – no one else on the teams has the energy to complain about exaggerated movements or stumbles on tracks – and then when you're ready, you head off to your ways together and it makes your heart warm every time.

Everything about Van just makes you want to know her even more; the way she gestures with her arms and declares with the utmost disgust how she keeps distance from any musical that isn’t animated – “But you only watched Cats!” “And that was enough!” –, they way she tells you about how she and Taissa are watching Sabrina the Teenage Witch every Friday, or how she makes fun of any weird thing Misty said during practice that week.

You listen and absorb everything with an stupid drunk smile on your face, letting her entwine your arms and chatter to her heart's content.

Keep talking, you want to say. I love your voice, seeing you happy makes me happy. Keep talking, keep talking, keep talking.

You invite her to your house for the first time under the pretext of studying, after she throws herself on the chair next to you with a tearful expression during physics class.

“I’m gonna fail,” she whines, banging her head dramatically against the open notebook on the table, “The teacher hates me.”

You start teasingly: “Maybe he would hate you a little less if you actually paid attention in his class.”

"I do!" Van protests. “It’s personal, he must think I’m strange or somethin’ and lower my grades for it.” She crosses her arms with a pout and a roll of eyes.

“Of course." You agree with an exaggerated nod, “And you, yourself, are strange and unusual.”

“Yes!” She exclaims, ignoring the looks she attracts, “But that’s not the point, don’t quote Beetlejuice to me now, woman, this is serious.”

“Oh, wow, okay then.” You shrug.

Van looks at you before resting her head on the table again. She seems so hopeless that you give in.

“Hey, c’mon,” you say, letting your hand rest on her hair and stroke it gently: “You can come to my house today. I’ll help you study for the next test.”

Van's shoulders tense suddenly and her head snaps up so fast it makes you jump back.

"Really?" Her eyes are wide, face as red as her hair: “I wouldn’t want to bother you.”

That's strange. Van is usually the one who makes you nervous, not the other way around.

“You won’t bother me at all,” you reply without giving it much thought, “There won’t be anyone at home anyway.”

And then there's silence, Van's face turns impossibly redder and after a second of confusion, you understand.

You just invited Van to your house. Alone. There is an innuendo there. Several possibilities that neither of you will mention, but that you both know are there.

Your face starts to heat up, so you clear your throat and stutter a confused “Are you coming then?”, because you can't let her realize what you just thought about.

Van responds with a squeaky “Okay, sure." and hurries back to her usual seat when class finally begins.

When you adjust yourself in the chair and think about finally releasing the breath you didn't realize you were holding, your gaze finds Lottie Matthews staring at you three seats away with her eyebrows raised. Shit.

Lottie says nothing, just wrinkles her nose contemplatively and faces forward, but she knows. She always knows. You feel your hands sweat and shake with nervousness at the prospect of becoming the new school gossip like Mari last month. The queer who fell too hard for a Yellowjacket only to get it wrong and ruin everything.

You shake your head. No, Lottie wouldn't do that. You weren't exactly friends, but she’s not mean, there was no reason for her to mess with you, your thoughts were just talking too loud. Plus, it's not like she actually saw anything. You didn't do anything forbidden. Friends go to each other's houses all the time. Your crush is not obvious.

That's stupid, you think, it doesn't matter. But you don't really believe it. Yes, it matters, at least in this little town at the end of the world.

You just hope you don't end up crying in the cafeteria too.

There is no training that day, so as soon as classes are over, you leave school together and make your way home. For the first time, the silence is awkward and makes you feel bad for making the invitation the wrong way. Maybe Van just doesn't swing that way and you made her uncomfortable somehow. It's a possibility; you're not exactly in the closet to the rest of the school.

Still, the way her hand brushes against yours gives you hope that this isn't the case.

When Van enters your house, the first thing she does is look around.

“Wow,” she begins. “Its really…”

“Small?” You complete, feeling somewhat conscious. Your house wasn't a trailer, but it wasn't anything compared to the houses of Van's cool friends. Definitely nothing like Lottie or Jackie.

“Empty.” She corrects.

Huh. It's true, your house was praticly always empty, not only because your parents spent as much time as they could out of it, pretending they didn't have a kid to still take care of, but also because of the lack of furniture and personality. It didn't seem like a cozy place to a family live. As a whole, it could be really lonely most of the time. Van seems to have noticed this with a single glance.

You choose to ignore the comment, suddenly thinking that this might end up becoming too intimate. In a vulnerable way.

When Van enters your bedroom for the first time, she gives the place the same curious look as the rest of the house, but her jaw quickly drops.

“You got a TV in your room?” She sounds completely shocked.

“Yeah.” You snort in amusement, “My uncle runs an appliance store, he fixed one that no one picked up last summer, so now it’s mine.”

Van still looks very impressed as her eyes roam the rest of the room. Your bedroom was, perhaps, the only place in the house where someone actually seemed to live. Posters and photos adorned the colorful walls and it seemed like every little thing in the room was directly a part of you, from an old stuffed animal on one of the shelves to the small pile of messy clothes on the chair next to the study table because you weren't planning on receiving no one to remember to put it away.

The tension from before seems to be dissipating and you can see from the expression on her face the exact moment Van notices your small VHS collection up ahead.

“Okay. That's it. We're only hanging out here from now.”

And that awkward moment passes completely.

In a matter of minutes you both are comfortable in your bed with books and notebooks spread around, after convincing Van to start studying with the promise that she could choose whatever movie she wanted for you to watch when you were finished.

Van seems to dedicate herself twice as much, eager to fulfill the agreement and the hours pass quickly as she understands the concepts you explain about the subject and then all you have to do is say that it's time for a break for her to jump out of bed with a smile from ear to ear and choose a movie.

She puffs out her chest holding the tape in her hands and proudly declares that you're watching Jurassic Park and you don't even think to question it when you return the smile and takes on the task of making popcorn.

Van ends up leaning against you throughout the movie, reciting all the lines from memory along with the characters close to your ear – she knows all of them – and your heart remains racing with blood rushing in your ears until she leaves.

The two of you keep hanging out at your house again and again, just like she said it would be. Sometimes you study or watch something together, but most of the time Van simply keeps you company while you do your chores around the house, following you around like a puppy while you cook or do the laundry. Your home has never been so fulled or welcoming.

You go home after classes and practice – occasionally with Nat in tow – and stay together until it's late and dark, every now and then you say that she could just sleep over as a joke, but she never accepts it. You gulps the pang of sadness and rejection each time it happens.

And you guys talk a lot. You've never been so delighted to hear someone blab about anything.

Van spends days talking about how excited she is for summer while helping you chop the things for dinner. She and Natalie always get jobs together and she’s dying to buy a car – “You’re the runner here, lady, not me.” –, an old dark green pickup truck. She shows you the leaflet with a smile so proud that you don't have the courage to admit that you thought the thing was horrible; she tells you about how she wears the clothes of her older brother who apparently left town as soon as he finished school while helping you fold the freshly washed clothes, some of her own included.

It's so domestic that you wonder why this didn't happen sooner, depriving either of you of a routine together like this for so long seemed mean.

One night you’re sleeping soundly when you are startled awake by a loud knock on your window and you turn to find a face pressed against the glass. You almost have a heart attack.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Van!”

She's standing there with a pout and big eyes, pointing at the lock and you consider leaving her outside for the fright she got you. One look at the alarm clock on the table next to the bed tells you that it's already past 2:00 am.

“What are you doing here?” You ask, your voice rasp and tired from sleep, letting her come in, but only because you don't want her to get a cold outside.

Van sneaks into the room, suddenly shy, playing with the hem of the oversized t-shirt she's wearing and avoiding your eyes. She gives you an awkward smile.

“I was just wondering if we could have that sleepover today?”

She looks upset. Something happend. Something that upset her enough that she decided to run to your home in the middle of the night.

“Van,” your expression softened, worry flooding your voice, “Are you okay?”

“Yep.” She clicked her tongue, still not looking at you in the eye.

Okay, you won't get anything out of it then. Van likes to talk, but not when it comes to problems like this. Problems at home.

The thing is that you and Van have a lot in common, like your dubious sense of humor and your love for movies, but are opposites in many others; the main one: where your house is always empty, hers is always full. Full of people who take away the smile that you always try hard to keep on her face.

“Okay." You sigh, taking her hand and making your way to the messed bed, “Let’s get some sleep then.”

“Oh.” She looks even more embarrassed, her sweaty hand in yours, “I can take the couch or the floor. I didn’t mean to wake you, I’m sorry.”

You let out an outraged huff. “You run to my house, climb in through my window, ask me to have a sleepover and now you want to sleep on the floor?”

She drags her feet on the floor, “...Yeah?”

You choose to ignore her answer, practically dragging her over to the bed and making her lie down. When she does, Van moves to the other side of the mattress, clearly trying her best not to disturb you, but in a fit of courage and exhaustion, you wrap an arm around her and press her against your chest. She lets out a squeak of surprise at the action.

“Go to sleep, Van.” You mumble against the back of her neck, burying your face in her thick hair.

Her body is still tense against yours, but Van allows one hand to rest on the arm you keep around her waist.

You lose count of how long you spend lying awake in silence cohabiting in each other's space, but when you wake up in the morning, Van is still asleep, her hand never leaving your arm.

You guys don't talk about it and you never find out what really happened to make her feel so bad that day, but Van shows up more often to stay the night. She never tells you when she's coming and you get scared every time when you hear the knocking on the window – you swear she does it on purpose, that little smartass.

You realize that you really love her, not just as a silly high school crush, in the middle of a hot May. When Van makes you stand in the line at the cinema ticket office for two and a half hours and miss the day of school to get tickets to watch Jurassic Park - The Lost World. Because if you saw the first one together then you should see the second one too, obviously.

You're sure you wouldn't put yourself through this for anyone else – but don't let Natalie know that.

The whole situation feels a lot like a date and you try to ignore the anxiety that washes over you as you rummage through your closet for an outfit that you think is good enough for the night. The way Van's jaw drops when she looks at you when she meets you at the front door makes the effort completely worth it.

She spends the entire movie almost bouncing in her seat with excitement and swearing at the parts that don't make sense. Because apparently the movie is also really bad, even though she's so happy watching it, and you manage to be bold enough to hide your face on her shoulder during the “scary” parts and leave your head resting there until the end.

You're not proud at all to say you spent seven bucks on a squeezy dinosaur for her on the way back, but it's your senior year, damn it, let the girl have fun with her silly toy before college.

You go back home – ‘home’ you think now, not ‘your house’. Your home. Your home with Van. – with her ranting about special effects and scenes you don't remember because you spent more time looking at her than the screen and you end up on the balcony before you know it.

“That was so good.” Van is just inches away from you, looking at you with bright eyes full of happiness; your hands are sweaty, so you put them in your pockets so she doesn't notice.

“Yeah, it really was.” You return with a playful smile, “Even though you convinced me to spend hours under the sun for it.”

“Hey!” She protests, moving impossibly closer, “What would the experience be worth without a little effort, huh?”

“Sure.” You giggle.

She's so pretty, you think. Hair down and a black jacket draped over her shoulders, looking at you as if she actually saw you. Knows you. I want to kiss her.

“You had fun today?” Van asks, unable to avoid the small tone of doubt that escapes her voice.

I want you to kiss me, you think.

“Yes,” you answer instead, “Yes, I did.”

One night Van simply comes in through your window and you don't even react anymore, leaning into her body under the covers.

“You gotta stop coming in through my window,” you grumble.

“Then stop leaving it open,” she huffs, “Someone might break in, you know that?”

You can feel her smile against your neck and you're about to fall asleep again when you hear her voice whispering:

“You’re gonna go to my games, now that we actually have a chance to go to the nationals, right?”

“Of course,” you mumble with a comforting pat of her hand on your stomach, “I’ll be the first one in the stands cheering you on. You’ll be embarrassed of me.”

Van buries her face in your shoulder, “Good.”

You get sick the exact same week that her last game until the nationals happens, lamenting the stupid flu that left you feverish and stuck at home for days.

You can't go to school and Van can't come to see you because Coach Martinez has increased the training routine as the team advances in the championship. You assume it must be really tiring because Van doesn't show up at night either. It's embarrassing the way you can't sleep properly without her.

The worst of all: you lose Van's game.

You resign yourself to spending the afternoon on the couch brooding in remorse until you hear a knock on the door.

Coming across Van's sad face with her clearly trying not to cry was not what you expected when you opened the door, knowing for sure that you would only be greeted later – probably after a victory party – with excited screams and bright little dog eyes asking for help to pack her bags.

"We lost." She says, eyes glued on the carpet.

“Oh." You say stupidly, “Oh, dear.”

Your voice seems to turn a switch inside her, because Van lifts her head to you with her lips trembling and the next moment you two are on the couch with her practically sprawled on your lap and crying. Crying hard. You've never seen her like this before.

You hear something about Jackie hitting the post at the last moment as she sobs, but what seems to make her really upset are the balls she couldn't save during the game. Like it would’ve make difference.

Comforting was never really your strong suit, you can't say you're really upset that the Yellowjackets lost, the idea of having Van so far away from you even for a few days didn't please you at all. A bad feeling in your chest told you that something could go wrong.

“Well,” you run your fingers up and down her back, “You know one good thing about this? We can go to Homecoming now.”

Her breathing hitches, but if Van notices how you say 'we' instead of 'you' she doesn't say anything.

She's on your lap, nose close to yours, eyes swollen with tears but with the same look from that night at the movies, the one that makes your hands sweat and leaves your heart weak.

Unlike the movies, however, she kisses you. Like, she actually moves forward and kisses you.

Her lips are wet and soft against yours and you tilt your head to pursue them only for her to pull away with a panicked expression.

"I'm sorry!" Van exclaims, scooting toward the door as if her skin had burned: “I’m sorry! I– I shouldn’t– I’ll see you at school.”

And then she leaves. You don't even have time to react, she runs out the door and gets into that horrible pickup truck – which she had parked in the driveway for the first time less than two weeks ago, wanting to take you for a ride to celebrate the purchase – and you're left standing in the doorway like an idiot after the car disappears from your vision, as if you were waiting for her to come back – you were.

You don't see her at school for the rest of the week. She doesn't show up in class or practice and she certainly doesn't show up at your house, Van is avoiding you and it's so obvious that you feel like crying the entire time you're there, trying to catch a glimpse of her through the halls.

Fuck. You knew this would happen, that you would screw up and make the person you care about the most hate you.

You huff in frustration, letting your head fall against the table feeling someone's gaze on you, someone who isn't Van.

Lottie Matthews isn't skipping physics class, she has no reason to be, so you shouldn't have freaked out as much as you did when you looked up and saw her towering over you next to your desk.

“Shit–” You gasp, jumping back in your seat and almost hitting her chin.

Lottie tilts her head, completely unfazed, with a look of false innocence and curiosity on her face. The look of someone in search of an information.

The vision of Mari crying at the beginning of the year comes back to your mind and a shiver with a line of sweat runs down your spine. Oh no.

“Did you guys break up?” She asks and it's the last thing you expected.

“What?”

Lottie sits next to you, smoothing her skirt over her legs, completely at ease.

“Look, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” she starts with an anxious air, “But please do 'cause I really want to know.”

"Know what?" God, your head is already hurting from this conversation.

Lottie seems to realize that your confusion is genuine, because she stops and frowns at you.

“Didn’t you and Van break up? I thought you were together.”

What the fuck?

"...No? We’re not?”

“Are you asking me?” Lottie arches an eyebrow, also confused.

"No." You clear your throat and roll your tense shoulders, “We’re not.”

“Oh,” she doesn’t seem to know what to say after that, strangely disappointed – just like you.

The period passes with the two of you in an awkward, resigned silence and as you're leaving, Lottie follows you down the halls, attracting glances as you pass by, which was the last thing you wanted at the moment.

“What now?” You sigh.

“I think you should talk to her and sort things out.” Lottie says, “She seems so sad lately, without her usual sparkle.”

You could understand where Lottie was coming from, seeing Van upset was truly heartbreaking, but you couldn't help the bitter pang in your chest. She ran away after the kiss, not you. The kiss she gave you.

“She’s hiding from me." You admit begrudgingly, “Where else could I talk to her, anyway?”

“In the Homecoming, of course!” Lottie nods at you sagely, as if couldn't be more obvious.

“Of course.” You agree, because, the hell, why not?

The Homecoming is on the weekend, the same weekend the team was supposed to be away for the nationals, which must be why the girls are there, to try and lift their spirits.

You recognize Jackie talking excited to Taissa about something near the tables at the back of the gym, next to a grumpy Shauna with a glass of punch in a hand and the other placed on her waist – in a definitely more then friendly way –, but no sign of of Van in sight.

You end up outside with Natalie, smoking against a wall, as always happen at every party you're at together. She's telling you about how she saw Jeff and Randy with a bottle of liquor before coming in and that they would probably baptize the punch, you both talked about ratting them out to one of the teachers in charge after sneaking a few cups and you probably would’ve done that if Lottie hadn't joined you – coming from who knows where – to ask for a cigarette too.

Nat joked about how it probably wasn't like the expensive brands she seemed to prefer at her parties, but she handed one over without a hitch and the three of you sat there, looking up at the dark and starry sky for a moment.

“You haven’t seen her yet?” Lottie breaks the silence, casually breathing in the smoke.

Nat looks at you sideways and all you do is shrug, not wanting to admit the defeat.

“You should try it near the stands.” She declares.

“What are you, a psychic or something?” You scoff, but go anyway because like Van said, Lottie knows about these things.

She is there. Of course she is. Sitting in the stands staring out at the empty field, wearing a light blue suit with a white shirt and a matching shiny tie that you have no idea where she could have gotten, because there's no way her mom would have let her buy it.

Van notices you approaching by the sound of your footsteps on the ground, her head turning to watch you and for a moment you're afraid she'll run away again.

She doesn't, so you approach, trying your best not to run towards her.

“I gotta quit smoking soon,” you say, stepping on the cigarette your hand was holding and making an overly dramatic effort to sit next to her with heavy breaths, “Or I’ll end up being kicked of track ‘till year is finished.”

Van snorts, “Right, Ponyboy Curtis.”

For a moment it's like anything hasn’t changed between you both, you bet that if you tried with conviction you could almost pretend that nothing had happened. Almost.

“You ran away from me." You say.

“I did.” Van lowers her head, quietly. Embarrassed. You’re not sure of what exacly.

"Why?" You ask, because that's the question that's been running through your mind for days.

“I–” Van looks away from you, “I thought you wouldn't want that.”

“And I thought you knew how much I wanted it." You say and Van lifts her head to stare at you with wide, hopefully eyes, “What do you want, Van?”

Her jaw drops and she looks like she was expecting everything but that, her hands twitch on her thighs, as if she wants to reach you.

“You look so beautiful right now." She sighs softly before steadying her voice, “You look so beautiful that I want to kiss you again.”

"Do it."

And she does, hard and desperate, crushing her nose against yours, as if she's hungry and can't get enough; you wrap your arms around her, hands touching her with the same need.

The lack of air is too much, so Van pulls away from you to immediately start distributing quick kisses down your neck, as if it could all disappear in a second, becoming confident when you tilt your head to grant her more access and only stopping after the hiss that you let go because she bites.

“So…” she laughs nervously, “What now?”

"Now?" You’re out of breath, “Well, can we go back inside and help Nat steal liquour to screw with Jeff and Randy or…”

"Or?" Van arches an eyebrow in amusement.

“We can go home and I can show you how much I missed you.” You shrug, casually tightening your hands on her waist.

“Hm,” she pretends to think about it, “I guess I like the first option better.”

Van laughs at the sound of your offended squeal and avoids the slap you try to give her shoulder.

“Careful, baby,” she intertwines your hand with hers, “I’m gonna start to think that you love me.”

“Oh, you better know that.”

You pull her by her stupid shiny tie and kiss her when she laughs again and let Van guide you to that hideous truck staggering laughing through the crowd of students.

Yeah, you think. I wouldn't have it any other way.

#yellowjackets x reader #van palmer x reader #van yellowjackets #yellowjackets #vanessa palmer x reader #yellowjackets x you #denwrites

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familyvideostevie · 1 year ago

Text

october thirty-first

day thirty-one: steve harrington last halloween didn’t end that well for you and steve. but this year? much better. | a no good at waiting one-shot, fluff, smut, mdni, 18+ | 2.4k detailed content warnings: fem!reader, smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex, creampie, thigh riding, riding, dirty talk, some aftercare-ish

“We're doing it this year, Steve.”

Your boyfriend looks unamused from behind his aviators. The sun set hours ago but he won't take them off because it “compromises his costume.”

“Jesus,” he mutters. “For real? You actually want to?” You both know Steve isn't great at saying no to you, even when it comes to going on the haunted hay ride at this year's Sara's Farm Halloween Festival. Steve only had to work the first few hours and make sure no one sustained bodily injury during the pumpkin carving contest, so now you're walking around, taking in all the fun.

You're pressed close to him — it's cold, no surprise for Indiana — and wish you had another layer on. Steve convinced you to dress in vaguely Top Gun themed clothes to honor the movie he's been obsessed with since you saw it in theaters. He's in a patched aviator jacket, jeans that hug his ass sinfully, and the stupid glasses. You've tried to look like Tom Cruise's savvy analyst girlfriend by putting on a leather jacket and red lipstick.

“We're grown ups,” you say, bumping his shoulder with yours as you approach the line for the hay ride. “We can handle it.” Robin and Eddie are working the route again and this year you're pretty sure some of the high school kids are, too. They all begged you to get Steve on it and what's love if not taking a chance every now and then to pull a fast one on your partner?

“Speak for yourself,” he mutters but allows you to tug him on to the wagon. He places his hand on your thigh automatically and does his best to look unamused but flinches when the whole thing surges forward and into the dark rows of apple trees. “I can't believe I'm doing this.”

Neither of you handle it well, truth be told. There are only a few other people on the bales in the wagon bed and you and Steve for sure scream the loudest. Your friends catch on to your presence quickly and clearly make it worse for you both, jumping out of the trees and reaching as if you pull you both to the ground. But it's fun. It's fun in the way most things that give you an adrenaline rush are — you scream and laugh in the same breath, pressing closer and closer to Steve until you're practically in his lap as the wagon rounds the final corner.

That's when you feel him hard through his pants.

“Really?” you ask. “Keep your hands to yourself, Harrington.” He scowls and tightens his grip on your hips so you don't fall when the wagon jostles side to side.

“I can't help it, honey.” You wriggle a little more and his fingertips press harder into your skin. “Stay still.”

You do not stay still. It's just too much fun to mess with him like this — something you do often in your new house. Teasing him from room to room and reveling in the thrill that he wants you. Steve always wants you.

The feeling is mutual.

When the ride finally ends you mean to tell Steve that Eddie and Robin are going to meet you so you can all hang out, but you don't get the chance. Your feet barely touch the ground after stepping off the wagon when he grabs your hand and drags you through the crowds.

“Steve,” you say incredulously. “Steve, what are you doing?” You try to keep up with his long strides so he'll hear you.

He doesn't stop until you slip around the apple bobbing and against the wall of the farm store. He crowds you against the wall, suddenly in your space, face close enough that you can count his eyelashes. His pupils are blown and his cheeks are even more flushed than they were on the hay ride.

“If you think I'm going to stand around about to cream my pants, you're insane.”

You swallow and feel his words between your legs. “Oh,” you breathe. “Okay.”

He tugs on your hand again and you're off, snaking behind the store and further into the grounds. It only takes a few more moments before you realize that he's leading you to his old loft. You laugh into the night air and Steve looks back with a boyish grin, the intensity of his gaze somewhat faded back into the comfort and ease of your relationship.

Though he doesn't live here anymore you know that Hopper hasn't gotten around to renting it out yet and Steve still has a key. “Don't trip,” he teases as he tugs you up the spiral stairs. He takes a few seconds to dig out his keys and get the right one in the lock. You want to touch him so badly you entertain jumping him on the landing but he gets the door open quickly and you stumble inside.

“Thank Christ that worked,” he mutters. The loft is empty of the things that make it Steve but the furniture is still there, including a made bed, which feels like a miracle.

“I'd fuck you in the barn,” you say. Steve wiggles his eyebrows and once again crowds you back against the door.

“Oh, yeah?” he mutters. He shoves a thigh between yours and gently tugs your head to the side so he can trail his lips up your neck. You feel his cock, somehow harder than before, and wiggle for friction. “You still know how to surprise me, bee girl.”

“Steve,” you gasp. “Don't tease.” He could quip about your actions on the hay ride, could drag it out and make you a whimpering mess here against the door by barely touching you, but he doesn't. Steve always wants you just as bad as you want him. He presses his lips to yours in a bruising kiss, cradling the back of your head as he presses you into the door.

It is not lost on you, even through your lustful haze, that this time last year you were doing the same thing. A night that changed everything, that almost broke everything had it not worked out in the end. It makes you more desperate, makes you slide your hands under his shirt to feel his skin, makes you grind harder on his thigh and swallow his moans. You almost gave this up. You almost ruined it.

Steve licks into your mouth and your tongues meet, desperate and messy and then he palms your breast, thumb swiping at your nipple and you keen.

“Bed,” you manage to say. “Bed, Steve.”

He sucks a spot on your neck for a moment more before releasing you. His hair is a mess, lips spit-slick and swollen and the way he looks at you makes your knees weak. “Come on,” he says softly. He sheds his costume as he goes, jacket and shirt and sunglasses tossed on the floor. You follow his example as he closes the curtains and shucks off his jeans.

“Are these sheets clean?” you ask, tossing your bra aside. Steve looks his fill and you let him.

“Hope so.” His eyes meet yours and for a second you're sure he's remembering last year, too. How tender it was, how he fucked you sweet and slow, how you left him.

Things get a little desperate after that.

You shed the remainder of your clothes and he sits against the headboard. You admire him like that, cock hard and already leaking, chest rising and falling as he pants though you've barely done more than kiss. You can feel how wet you are, feel the tightness in your belly just by looking at him.

“Baby,” he groans. “C'mere, please.” You crawl up the bed to him and straddle his thigh. He presses his fingers into your skin, eyes wide as you start to grind on him. You move your hips back and forth until you find a rhythm that catches your clit in a way that makes you gasp.

“Oh, god,” Steve moans. “Look at you, huh? Getting my thigh all messy, fuck.” You lean forward so he can press his face to your chest and tongue at your nipples.

Steve keeps up his filthy babble. “Barely touched you and you're so wet,” he says. “Feels good? Getting all worked up?” He pants your name over and over. “Look so pretty like this, baby, riding my thigh.”

“Wanna ride you,” you manage to say. He bounces his leg a bit and you whine. You reach down and fist his cock clumsily.

Instead of replying Steve shifts you over and lines himself up with your entrance. “You gonna be okay?” Your eyes lock. He means with the stretch, with the position. With fucking him bare. You and Steve have been doing that for a while now and you know he loves it, how he can feel every inch of you and fill you up without worry. You like it, too.

“Steve.”

“Okay, okay,” he laughs. You sink down on him and both grown in unison. The stretch comes without any pain, feels like you and Steve were made for each other, as it always does. “Holy shit,” he says, panting into your neck. “Never gonna get over this. How tight you are, how you have a perfect cunt—”

You cut him off by starting to move, a slow circle of your hips that has him choking on his words, his babble dissolving into your name and nothing else. You can feel his mushroom tip brushing the spot inside you that will have this over all too quickly, the vein along the underside of his cock that drags as you start to lift your hips. Steve does his best to help, hands firm on your thighs and meeting your movements with little thrusts of his own as he trails his lips along your chest, your clavicle, your neck.

“So beautiful,” he mutters. “So fucking good, you feel so fucking good —”

The hook in your belly pulls tighter and tighter but it's not where you need it to be. Your thighs are burning and you feel hot all over and you can hear how wet you are, hear the smack of your skin as you ride him. But it's not enough.

“I need — Steve —”

You reach down to give your clit some attention but Steve beats you to it, thumb roughly circling as you both start to move more frantically.

“I'm close,” he hisses. “I'm close, where do you want —”

“Inside,” you gasp. “Inside, please, Steve —”

He makes a noise that has your orgasm teetering on the edge, punched out and desperate. “Fuck, baby,” he says. You cling to him desperately as he shifts you, changes the position so you're on your back, legs around his hips. He fucks you hard, skin smacking, the filthy sound of your slick drowned out only be Steve's litany of your name as the hook pulls tighter and tighter.

“Let me fill you up,” he says. “Look so pretty with me dripping out of you, making a mess —”

You careen over the edge, fisting the sheets with one hand and dragging your nails down Steve's back with the other. Your eyes shut as you writhe, the waves of your climax rolling over you. You spasm around him, clenching over and over and his hips stutter and you feel him come inside you, the hot warmth coating your walls.

Your breath comes back to you as Steve flops down, still inside you, weight heavy on top of your spent body in the way he knows you like. His hand lazily trails up and down your side.

“Fuck,” he says. You laugh. The post-sex sensations set in, the gentle throb of your cunt where he's still inside you, the wetness of your inner thighs and the soreness of your muscles.

He shifts and you feel how full you are. “Made a mess,” you mutter. He presses a kiss to your temple.

“You made a mess,” he counters. “I mean, the thigh stuff?”

“Steve!” You feel shy all of a sudden.

“It was hot.” He squeezes your hip. “Let's get you cleaned up, yeah?”

He pulls out of you and the soreness stings for just a second. You feel him dripping out of you and feel hot all over again. Steve gets off the bed and heads for the bathroom. You watch him walk there, his cock shiny with you as it softens, the muscles of his legs and his back on display in the dim loft. The scars from various farming chores that you've traced hundreds of times, the skin you know every inch of. You love him. He's yours.

Steve returns from the bathroom and you try not to be self conscious about how you sit exposed on the bed. He's carrying a damp cloth.

“Spread 'em,” he says when he reaches the edge of the bed.

“Sexy,” you say, but do as he says. He snorts but gently cleans you, running the cloth along the insides of your thighs and your tender center. It's impossible not to feel a rush of affection for him as he does, this intimate act that is somewhere between sexual and not. You watch him and feel unbelievably precious in his care. He catches your eye and sees the softness, pressing his lips to your naval, your knee, but saying nothing. Sometimes you just don't need words.

“Let me pee,” you tell him when he finishes. When you return he's sprawled on the bed, boxers on. You pull on your t-shirt and nothing else and crawl up next to him, settling into his side. He drags his fingers along your back. You put your palm over his chest to feel his heartbeat.

“Better Halloween than last year,” he says lightly. The memory of that night isn't as heavy in your post-sex bliss, though it's still around. You've talked about it many times since then and it's in the past but being here reminds you a bit of the fear you felt, the frightening weight of the love you have for Steve. How it shifted your entire world.

Though you know Steve isn't serious, you sit up a little to look him in the eyes.

“I'm never leaving you,” you tell him. He looks a little surprised but recovers quickly, reaching up to cup your face and pull you down.

“I know,” he says. He kisses you gently, reverently.

“I love you,” you say against his lips. He laughs.

“I know that, too,” he says. “I love you back, bee girl.”

thank you for reading <3 reblog, send feedback, general masterlist here! promptober masterlist, find all fics under #fvspromptober23

#fvspromptober23 #no good at waiting #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n

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ultrone · 10 months ago

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𓂃 ⊹ javi's older sibling hcs 🪽

general :p

you're javi's older sibling by four years; you being a senior and him being a freshmen. as the firstborn, your dad obviously taught you everything he knew about soccer from a young age, and you grew up to become one of the best soccer players at wiskayok high school. this worked well for javi, who isn't into soccer but prefers calmer sports like badminton.

the large age gap between your brother and you caused the two of you to distance yourselves from each other a little bit as you grew up. you had your group of friends and teammates, and he had his own. however, you've always tried to maintain your relationship with him and often hang out at home, or go out together when neither of you have anything to do.

for instance, something that kind of turned into a tradition between you both was watching a movie nearly every night after dinner—unless there was homework. this all started because usually, after dinner, you'd naturally head to the living room to read a magazine or chat on the phone with a friend. but one day, you were both bored, decided to watch a movie together, and it stuck. as simple as it was, every night became movie night for you—if there was one thing javi and you had in common, it was having a similar taste in movies. your parents would get a bit grumpy sometimes since it was past javi's bedtime, but who cared? your dad would go to bed at like 9:30 pm anyway lmaooo

and if your dad was generous with some cash, you'd bring javi along to the movies on weekends. travis, your cousin, worked there, but he had always been a jerk, so he hardly hooked you up with discounts, despite having an unlimited 40% off on everything 🙄

"if you bring me one of those mags uncle bill hides under his bed, maybe i'll think about it," travis said with a sly smile.

"dude, there's a kid in the room," you exclaimed, covering javi's ears in playful shock. “but why don’t you ask your dad to let you borrow his, anyway? oh wait, he left you 😬”

you’d also go to the local arcade frequently. most of the time, you'd find him there instead of going there with him. that boy had a serious obsession with pinballs and street fighter 😭

you’re very protective of him. once, some older kids tried to bother him, not for any reason, just because he's reserved and introverted—easy prey for bullies. of course, you scared them off the next day. you're not usually full of yourself, but being the co-captain of the yellowjackets has its advantages. plus, people know he's travis' cousin, so they steer clear knowing he has anger issues. if only they knew he doesn't give a single fuck about you or javi… 😭😭

you have a secret handshake that you created when you were kids; you always do it before you leave for school, or after a long day of not seeing each other.

in the wilderness. . .

when your dad passed away, it really shook both of you. because of soccer, you had always been a bit closer to your dad than javi, as you spent more time with him. javi had always been closer to your mom. nonetheless, he had a terrible time as well. in the first few days, neither of you said a word to each other as you needed time to process everything. although you always kept an eye on him from a distance, no matter how tough it got.

the only thing you wanted to do was curl into a ball and let the earth swallow you whole, but you couldn't because, as much as you wanted someone to lean on, you had to be there for your younger brother, especially considering how sensitive he was. as a little keepsake for him, you took your dad’s ring, the one he always wore, and a leather string from one of his fancy shoes you found in his suitcase, and made a necklace for javi—which he loves and has worn ever since. the moment you handed it to him was when you two patched things up after what happened and grew closer than ever.

he's very artistic and imaginative, usually expressing himself through drawing using sheets of paper shauna would let him borrow. however, he then took an interest in carving. at first, he was terrible at it, but due to the circumstances and being bored out of his mind, he started spending entire afternoons practising. eventually, he got good and started coming up to you to show you some of the miniature animals he carved. he made a bunch for you, which you keep next to your makeshift bed <33

he actually carved a special one for each of you and told y’all that they were luck amulets to keep you safe 🥹🥹 he was shy about it, though, so he secretly placed them on each person's spot with a small note while everyone was outside. for instance, he carved a deer for lottie, a wolf for nat, a bear for shauna, etc etc…

he even carved a tiny net and soccer ball and put them on top of your dad's grave :(

when both of you are bored, you often play "guess who?" by drawing people with a stick, tracing them on the dirt or snow behind the cabin.

y’all stopped for a while, though, because there was a time when mari was assigned to take the pee bucket to the cliff for two weeks, and you thought it’d be hilarious to draw a saddened mari doing the dreaded chore 😭😭 coach ben caught y’all laughing at it, and as a punishment, y’all had to do the pee bucket duty for a WHOLE month 😔☠️ (which actually leads you to think that mari’s the nasty ass bitch who shat in the bucket 😒 you have no proof but you have no doubts either, plus she has a motive: REVENGE)

when the two of you were little, you invented a secret language that you used to communicate with each other when you didn’t want anyone else to understand you, which comes in handy when y’all are in the cabin with everybody. you use it when you want to share a joke or gossip lmaooo—y’all try to be careful though, because you never know when misty’s ass will learn to decrypt it and catch your asses 🙄

when doomcoming came around, he made you both crowns to wear with sticks and flowers he found around the woods, and your initials carved in the middle of your respective crowns.

you’re the person in charge of trimming his hair when it grows too much. you realized it was time to test out your barbering skills when you spotted him from behind and briefly mistook him for one of the jv yellowjackets 😭☠️

“can i get a low taper fade this time?” he joked. “bitch, you’re lucky if you get a decent haircut,” you said. “i’m not responsible for any injuries or infections you might get from this rusty ass blade.”

the first time you cut his hair, he didn’t talk to you for three days because van said he looked like sharon osbourne LMFAOOO it wasn’t even that bad like c’mon 😭😭

ᰔ javi & travis’ middle sibling hcs coming soon…

#𓏲 📂 ⋮ my works .ᐟ #yellowjackets x reader #javi martinez x reader #javi martinez x you #javi martinez x y/n #javi martinez headcanons #javi martinez blurb #yellowjackets headcanons #yellowjackets x y/n #yellowjackets x you #yellowjackets blurb

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baby-alien11 · 8 months ago

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Blurb: Abigail Premiere (Y/N Ulrich Universe)

taglist (open): @volturi-girl-imagines @dessxoxsworld @camiesully @ethanlandryluver @nowitsmissing @aliciacat20 @gabbylovesreading @nikfigueiredo @itsaaliyah2

A/N: this was inspired by the video of some of the Scream cast going to see Abigail and support Melissa, hope you like it

Ever since Melissa unjustified firing from the Scream franchise for speaking against the genocide in Gaza, your support and love for your half fictional sister increased even more, along side her new projects, specially Abigail since she talked with you about the movie a lot (without spoilers), and when the trailer dropped your excitement for the movie was bigger

When the premiere day of Abigail arrived, some people of the cast including your dad, Matthew, Mason, Tony, Dylan, Liana, Jack and you, and since you love to coordinate your outfits with the ocassion, you chose to wear a long sleeved dress, along with black high heels, your Baby Vamp ring, a black clutch, your hair straightened, a glittery smokey eye make up and red lip gloss

Arriving at the event, none of you wanted to take the attention from the main cast, all of you went direct to the teather, and grab something to eat and drink during the movie

"I can't wait to see the movie", you smiled grabbing your popcorn and drinks, "And I really hope it makes more money than any Spyglass movie"

"Specially Scream 7", Jack mentioned

"Specially that, and I can't believe they offered me to be head of the VFX make up, like, the audacity"

"They were fools thinking you were going to accept it"

"Besides it ended good with the last one, except for the part where you die"

"So you don't care that Ethan would go around killing everyone?", Jack joked knowing your answer

"Absolutely no, Ethan defender for life, it's a Ghostface loyalty, the Ghostface princess needs her Ghostface prince"

"Kids, come on!", Matthew exclaimed from the entrance of the cinema, "We don't want to sit apart from each other"

"We're coming!", you exclaimed back, "I'm bitting my tongue just because I don't want him to block me again on insta"

"It would be like the third time"

"Yeah, and I don't want that"

Entering the cinema both of you spotted the Scream family group sitting with them in the two seats they guarded, and also Skeet with your purse who took it while you were getting the snacks; when the cast went on stage to say a few words about the movie, you filmed the entire thing and cheered the most when Melissa spoke

And at the end, it become one of your favorite scary movies and also gave it five stars in letterboxd

"I'm so fucking proud of you", you said to Melissa after the movie while hugging her, "And I love the movie, like every other project you've been"

"Having your support means a lot to me", Melissa responded, "And I can't believe you watched the entire Club de Cuervos and in spanish with english subtitles"

"I mean, you are in there, and it helped me with my spanish"

"Tell me a phrase you learned"

"Me vale madres", you said with a bit broken spanish

"Okay, let's go to meet Alisha"

"Yes, Matilda's crossover", you exclaimed since you played that character in one of your school plays and she played it in the musical adaptation

#y/n ulrich universe #jack champion #baby alien creations #jack champion x reader #jack champion scream #jack champion imagine #jack champion fluff #jack champion fanfic #jack champion x y/n #jack champion blurb #abigail movie #melissa barrera

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shelbgrey · 2 years ago

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Stuck in the middle: what it's like being close to Derek and Addison during their devorce.

Summary: headcanons on what life is like when two of most important people are at war and holidays become questionable.

Paring: Platonic!reader X Derek shepherd, Patonic!Reader X Addison Montgomery, Mark Sloan x reader

Request: @luvlesavyy Where the reader is a woman of about 21 years old, and enters the residency program along with the others, however, she is almost like a sister to Derek (they were raised together and even because of the age difference, they love each other too much) addisson is like a mother to her and she gets really bad with everything that happens between them. Maybe you could write headcanons of what her holidays would be like with them, the whole family together, and Mark would have a crush on her.

A/n: hope you like it, thanks for the request

Greys MasterList

~you've known Derek since you were kids. Even though he's got a few years on you the two of you have been glued to the hip ever since you met.

~you of course met Addison through Derek and she seemed to take a immediate liking to you. You didn't really have a good home life so Addison didn't hesitate to take you under her wing.

~with the three of you being so close and them helping you through medical school you were certainly crushed when you heard Addie cheated on Derek.

~the night that it happened Derek had came to your apartment. He was emotional mess and not only was he distraught he was angry... And so were you, you would never in a million years think Addison would cheat.

~what hurt more was the fact that she cheated on him with Mark, another close friend.

~you always liked Mark. Yes he's was older but he always treated you like a queen dispite you being strictly friends. Derek always made sure of that.

~“I just need to get out of this damn city”

~“what if you came to Seattle with me? I'm starting the residency program there”

~so that's exactly what you did. He got his trailer out in the woods and you got an apartment about ten minutes away.

~like mentioned before you two are glued to the hip, but there was no way you were gonna live in that cramped trailer with him, no matter how much you loved him.

Your relationship with Derek:

To the unknown people might think you'd two would be a couple... That's far from the truth.

Derek is your Soulmate. He's more than best friend but less than a lover. You've always had each other's backs and he loves you to death.

Derek has always protected you, him and Addie both but Derek seemed to always take it to another level.

You met him through Amilea. It may sound stereotypical but you were getting picked on at a public park near the neighborhood you grew up in. Amilea saw it and got Derek, she was to young to handle it her self so she got Derek. He chased the little punks off and the rest is history.

As Kids you practically lived at the Shepherd's home. Mrs. Shepherd loved you like her own and never made you feel like you did belong.

You had decent relationships with his sisters I guess. Nacy and Kathleen made it clear they didn't care for you too much but Liz and Amilea cared for like crazy, but not as much as Derek did.

Derek is one that inspired you to become a doctor. You would always be fascinated by all his medical books and when he graduated medical school is when you decided to go yourself.

Him and Addison got you threw it all and never gave up on you.

It's the little things that made your bond strong, rather it be listing to your rants about your favorite topics, taking you to concerts even he doesn't like the music, dressing up on Halloween with you, or even taking you to watch every Harry Potter movie when they'd be in theaters.

He got you threw your first heartbreak and he's never confirmed or denied the facted he slashed your Ex's tires after finding out he cheated.

If you want a movie night, done he'll get the popcorn, you want to bast Elvis Presley he'll find all the speakers and dance with you. You had a nightmare, he'll sleep on the floor next your bed in till your not scared anymore.

You may not share the same blood but your his sister no matter what.

Your relationship with Addison:

Addison loves you like a daughter or little sister, there's no doubt about that.

She use to stay that day she met you she automatically new you'd be close.

She thought you most things girls learn from their mother, but since yours past away Addie made sure to take care of you.

She'd do your hair, help you pick out close, taught you how to use make up and was there when you got your first Period.

You wanted to be just like her and she was your biggest inspiration growing up.

She helped you get threw your insecurities and always made sure that you knew how beautiful you are.

She hates it when you talk down on yourself and she wishes you saw what she was and that was pure beauty.

If you say anything decorating about yourself she'll give you a little love tap on the head or shoulder.

You were her maid of honor at hers and Derek's wedding.

Addison was the only one who knew about Mark's feelings for you and she kept it a secret for him. She also told him to stay away from you.

When she slept with Mark she felt that she not only betrayed Derek but she also Betrayed you.

She couldn't bring herself to tell you. She didn't want to lose you.

What it's like being around them now:

You didn't know Addison was coming to Seattle. Everything seemed to be great Derek found a girl that really made him happy and you met this guy Alex.

When you saw her you immediately hugged her. Dispite what she did you really did miss her.

“I missed you Addie, but what are you doing here?”

“I'm here to get Derek back, what I did was unforgettable but I gotta try”

Uh oh...

When they do get back together you could immediately tell it wad a mistake.

It's like when a small child can tell mom and dad don't love each other anymore. You can just tell.

Both of them unintentionally stick you in the middle and use you to get back at each other.

“well tell him I can't do that and that he's an idiot”

“tell her that's not what the patient needs”

It drives you crazy but most of all it hurts.

You could tell Derek's hurting so you don't say anything. You love them both and definitely don't want to choose sides.

What holidays are like with them:

The first Christmas they had back together would have been depressing without you. Derek didn't feel like celebrating anything and Addison would ignore it.

But on the bright side you got a small Christmas tree to put in Derek's trailer and tried to cheer him up. With or without Addison you were gonna give Derek a good Christmas. He deserved it.

With Addison you'd look through magazines and pick out gifts for Mrs. Shepherd and Derek's sister.

Addison will make sure to get you expensive gifts. Some of which she over thought about. As bad as it sounds she unknowingly wanted to out do Derek.

Derek knows you like the back of his hand so he'd get you anything that you loved rather it be something from your favorite show or even one of a kind collectable.

The presents didn't matter you just wanted to have a peaceful Christmas with the both of them... Like how they used to be.

On Christmas eve you decorated the trailer and they came home to a Christmas tree and your puppy eyes begging for a Christmas.

It turned out to be an amazing night. Christmas movies and laughter. Like how it used to be..

If it's Halloween you and Derek will have a horror movie marathon. You two will be laughing at the gore and Addison will be covering her face in fear or disgust.

Thanksgiving is about like Christmas. You'd put something amazing together and you'll have one night of peace.

Mark having a crush on you:

This was just trouble from the start.

If we're being honest Mark loved you since they day you met, but the problem was he was too afraid to admit and derek would have never let it happen.

Mark loves everything about you. He loves how goofy and kind you are. He feel in love with how your eyes sparkl when you talk about something you love and he especially loves your bubbly personality.

Derek could tell. He saw the way he looked at you and it angered him and scared him. He didn't want Mark hurting you.

He thought he loved Addison but in reality he just wanted to prove to himself he could be happy without you. That wasn't true and not only did he hurt his best friend, he hurt you too.

When He came to Seattle he not only wanted to get Derek back, he wanted to get you back to.

Derek didn't trust him and he wanted to make sure Mark stayed far away from you.

At times it was annoying but you understood where Derek was coming from.

The day mark came to visit Seattle-Grace he got a punch in the face by Derek and you had to patch him up.

As you were giving him stitches his steal-blue eyes never left you. He could feel his heart pounding because of how close he was to you.

“I really did miss you N/n”

You didn't know what to feel. You loved his charm and you will admit you missed him. You missed his laugh, smile, even missed the smell of his colone.

You didn't want to get hurt so you pushed him away, but Mark wasn't gonna give up too easily.

He didn't tell Derek how he felt about you because he knew Derek wouldn't stand by it.

Addison on the other hand told him if he hurt you she'd cut his balls off. She just wants you to be happy but if your hurt all hell will break loose.

“”

You kept your relationship a secret for awhile. You told Callie because of how close you were but Derek was in the dark about it.

You hated lying to him but you knew he would never except it. But really he'd just be happy that your happy, that's all he ever wanted for you.

But mark told him to at the wrong time. Derek lost a patient and Mark was determined to tell him.

They got in a fight and you and Meredith had to pull them apart. You felt like you were being towrn apart. You didn't know which side to take.

The night if happened you want to check on Derek after patching Mark up.

“I love him”

“I just don't want you to get hurt”

You and Meredith got them to work things out and everything seemed to fall into place.

Extra headcanons:

You and Meredith become the best of friends through the two men.

Even though your bit, if not the same age as Meredith you two take care of each other.

Double dates all the time.

Mark is an amazing boyfriend and treats you like the queen you are.

Derek is still over protective but he's getting used to toning it down a bit. It's marks turn to take care of you.

You Became a Peds surgeon and the people who practically raised you couldn't be more proud.

When you become an attending you might or might not have a favorite intern.

Your basically to Levi Schmitt what Derek was to you. You take Levi under your wing and you two become close.

You and Mark end up having twins and Derek is their God-father.

Even though things started off Rocky they couldn't have ended better.

That's all for now,buddies

#Derek shepherd x reader #Derek shepherd imagines #Derek shepherd headcanons #Derek shepherd #Addison Montgomery #Addison Montgomery imagines #Addison Montgomery X reader #Mark Sloan x reader #Mark Sloan imagines #Mark Sloan #Greys anatomy #Greys anatomy x reader #greys anatomy headcanons #Headcanons #Greys anatomy imagines #grey sloan memorial hospital

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shallowseeker · 4 months ago

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Okay, so, while I was thinking about love and love

and the big black hole that can't be filled with food or drink or even with sex (the black hole = being unworthy of LOVE).

I started thinking about the Cupid in My Bloody Valentine and specifically how Dean relates to love, and love.

It's a normal psychological thing, especially when we're very young people, that when we start to fantasize about "love," for it to look like familiar things in our lives, or even movies that we've seen.

Like most people, Dean's fantasy "Love" comes as a montage of all familiar things in his life: for the djinn, it's the specter of Carmen, a cookie-cutter recipe of a dream-woman he saw in a magazine. The male siren is a reflection of ALL of his familiar, more stable relationships: Dean himself, Bobby's quips, John's love language in the form of Led Zeppelin, Sam's non-threatening safety and stability.

It's normal for a young person to imagine an immature love as a constellation of all these things, especially for Dean at this moment, coming off the heels of intense, long-lasting sexual assault where he may not want intimacy per se (s3-4, in See Alistair and his time in Hell; also I can’t help but think of s7’s self-pep-talk with regards to Dean's bluster versus his actual behavior: "Come on, Dean. This is what you do.")

And the funny thing is that real love sometimes pulverizes all our former expectations and fantastical illusions. Dean won't be falling for someone exactly like himself in terms of personality, or someone who mimes all the lyrics of Led Zeppelin, or someone who looks like a white picket fence ideal from a magazine, or someone "safe" where Dean gets to control the relationship terms so that it can never let him down.

But we do see Dean cling to the Led Zeppelin story as a symbol of "Love,” especially with regard to Mary and John, because it's something he believes in. Throughout his life, Dean'll use Led Zeppelin to say things he can't easily shape with words.

///

So, what's my point?

My Bloody Valentine is an episode specifically about Dean craving love.

And love is not something you can go out and get.

Love is a nebulous thing, not as simple as food or drink or sex. And it's a horrendous emptiness to not only lack love, but to feel you're unworthy of it. (Of course, the black hole is ALSO grief.)

That's the deep, dark nothing, isn't it? It is afraid of being seen and rejected.

And THAT'S why the Cupid enters the scene to cast doubt. The Cupid storyline exists to make Dean doubt that REAL love even exists. This makes the emptiness seem even more hopeless, because if LOVE isn't even real, how can the longing inside of him ever be filled?

The Cupid says Mary and John were the "perfect" couple, which was a lie, even based on what we've seen. (Personally, I think it's a metaphor for the "limerance" phase of all relationships.) No couple is perfect, and John and Mary certainly weren't. No love is perfect, and it's riddled with mistakes.

As Dean grows wiser, he chafes against these concepts of perfection and emptiness. It's as he tells Jack in Optimism 14x06 in DIRECT contrast to Harper's "It'll be perfect":

DEAN - Eh, Actually love can get crazier than that. And it might get crazier with Harper still out there. But, uh, you did good, kid....okay, alright. It's not about being right. Kay? You're gonna make mistakes, hell, I make them all the time. But it's how you handle yourself once you've made those mistakes and you've learned from them.

That's a cheat code for Dean's older, wiser feelings about mature, lasting love, and it's a direct mate to both Harper's "no-baggage, never-let-me-down perfectionism"... and AU Michael's nihilism, which will occur just 4 episodes after this in 14x10:

MICHAEL!DEAN: (Castiel) "gripped you tight and raised you from Perdition." Or whatever. But since then, what has he done? Only made mistakes, one after the other.

Love isn’t about always-and-never statements. Those are the warning signs of figments. Love isn’t about being right, or never making mistakes, or never having baggage, or never letting another person down. It’s about resilience. About picking yourself up and trying again.

Paraphrasing Metatron and Gabriel, about humans:

“They don’t give up, but you do!”

Indeed, Chuck appeals to Amara to “give up” with the concept of starting fresh, of “no baggage.”

Chuck destroys his works in a fit of lethal perfectionism.

#love is real #families are real #etc etc #ruminations on emptiness #lasting love is a direct parallel to how metatron and gabriel describe humanity

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azucarmorena97 · 8 months ago

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Money Ties (Jungkook Love Story || Pt.9)

Pt.8 || Pt.10

Your parents have worked hard to get to the top and have made sure to teach you everything you need to know to be successful in this business: from tough but lucrative financial decisions, down to the right ball gown for any given banquet. A promising and extravagant future awaits you- that is, if you agree to one teensy detail...

Son of Mr.Jeon Sr. and heir to June Company, Jeon Jungkook is an immature playboy with nothing to offer a woman but good looks and a crap ton of money, and he stands to inherit much MUCH more, so long as you both enter into the arranged marriage contract that was drawn up before the pair of you were even born.

You're more than willing to try, but you're not sure you'll be able to stand each other long enough to inherit a single penny...

Series Warnings: There will be smut in the near future and I will label those chapters as such. As I say before most of my pieces- I do not endorse any themes, ideas, or behaviors in this series. This is all purely fiction/fantasy! Feel free to inbox me suggestions/ideas/what you'd like to see in this series and I'll see what I can do! Enjoy <3

Recap: For years, you've heard people say that your first time isn't as special as the movies make it seem. They say it's something to just get done and move on from so you can start having good sex- and maybe that's true for some people, but this? You like this.

- Lisa: Kookie, where are you? I miss you <3

Your heart begins to pound in your chest. You look over at the bathroom door, still closed, though you've heard a flush.

Without another thought, you dart out of the bed, quickly yanking on your clothes, making sure to leave absolutely no trace of yourself behind in that room.

You finally hear the bathroom door open though when you do, the hotel room door is already clicking shut behind you.

You sit in front of your computer, brows furrowed in concentration as your eyes dart from one tab to the next, typing furiously. Since you've been back home, you've been working non-stop, getting everything ready for your transition from your parents' business to Jeon Company. Beside the tedious tasks to be completed before going back to Seoul, you've made it a point not to think too much about your return.

"Don't you think you should at least respond to his messages?" B/f/n says one night on facetime. "I've been responding to mine and his mother's messages, he knows I'm fine, there's nothing to talk about." "Y/n, he walks around here like a lost puppy. He tries to hide it but it's so obvious." "Tell Lisa where her dog is then." "Y/n, maybe it was a misunderstanding." "Honestly, I don't really care anymore. I've made my peace with the idea that he might end up being my husband but he will never...never be mine," The sting is present but you ignore it. "There's no way you've made any sort of peace with...any of this. What you guys did was kind of a big deal." "It...was what it was. It was gonna happen anyway, and now I'm glad we didn't wait until the wedding night so we wouldn't kid ourselves into thinking it's some sacred act." "But it was." "I've uh, gotta go," You say, having received a notification of an incoming call on your apple watch. B/f/n sighs, "Alright...talk later." "Yeah." Without another word, you hang up the call.

It's not that you mean to be mean. You can feel yourself being short with your parents, with B/f/n, but you can't bring yourself to continue answering their questions. How are you? Why haven'y you called? Did something happen between you and Jungkook? What happened? It's humiliating enough to know he fucked you without any real plans to ever get rid of his ex-girlfriend- you don't need to be telling the whole world about it. The only reason you even told B/f/n about it was because she was the one who drove you to the airport. She could immediately tell something was off and you couldn't hold it in for any longer and began crying and carrying on. You've never been one for dramatics and tears...but this one stung. No, worse... This one might have finally broken your spirit.

"I could oversee the Australia branch on this one if you want. I'm much more familiar with the market over there -" You're trying to focus on the presentation being given by a member of the marketing department, though your mind keeps teetering back and forth between the information and your personal life. Suddenly, you see a txt message notification pop up at the corner of your laptop screen. Jungkook. Your heart skips a beat, though you quickly dismiss it and turn your attention back to the front of the room, but it doesn't stop- another message, another message, another- soon you have 5 messages from him. You bite your lip, feeling anxious to know what he's saying but not wanting to give in. "Uhm, you'll have to excuse me for just a moment," You say, shooting out of your chair and abruptly walking out of the room, leaving everyone staring at you from the other side of the big glass wall as you walk down the hall.

You take your phone out and unlock it, quickly opening up to his messages.

𝗝𝘂𝗻𝗴𝗸𝗼𝗼𝗸: 𝗬/𝗻 𝗜 𝗿𝗹𝗹𝘆 𝗻𝗲𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗼 𝘁𝗮𝗹𝗸 𝘁𝗼 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗝𝘂𝗻𝗴𝗸𝗼𝗼𝗸: 𝗜𝗱𝗸 𝘆 𝘂𝗿 𝗮𝗻𝗴𝗿𝘆 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗺𝗲 𝗯𝘂𝘁 𝗰𝗻 𝗽𝗹𝗲𝗮𝘀𝗲 𝘁𝗮𝗹𝗸? 𝗝𝘂𝗻𝗴𝗸𝗼𝗼𝗸: 𝗦𝗼𝗺𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗳 𝗵𝗮𝗽𝗽𝗲𝗻, 𝗜 𝗿𝗹𝗹𝘆 𝗻𝗲𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗼 𝘁𝗮𝗹𝗸 𝘁𝗶 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗝𝘂𝗻𝗴𝗸𝗼𝗼𝗸: 𝗜𝘁 𝗰𝗮𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗶𝘁 𝘂𝗻𝘁𝗶𝗹 𝘆𝗼 𝗰𝗼𝗺 𝗯𝗮𝗰𝗸 𝗝𝘂𝗻𝗴𝗸𝗼𝗼𝗸: 𝗣𝗹𝘇 𝗬/𝗻

"What the fuck..." You mumble, furrowing your brows. Is he having a stroke or something? You slap your hand to your forehead and press the call button on his contact. You swore you wouldn't talk to him at all while you were back at home, yet here you are, calling him. It rings only twice and then you can hear rustling on the other side, along with loud music.

"J-Jungkook?" You say into the phone, suddenly unsure if he meant to answer it, as it takes him quite a few seconds to say anything. "Y/n? Y/n- can you hear me?" He says loudly into the phone, his tone surprised and desperate. "Yes...I can hear you."

"Y/n, why haven't you been answering me?" "Because...I needed some space." "Space? After what we did?" It isn't until now that you notice his speech is a bit slurred. "Yeah, I needed space...hey, are you drunk?" "Are you still gonna marry me?" "Answer the question, Y/n." "You first," You narrow your eyes at the wall as though he were standing right in front of you. "Alright, fine. I may have had a few beverages. But it's your fault." "Please, tell me how this is my fault?" "Because you left me. You used me and then left me." You let out a bitter laugh, "Right, I used you." "So are you gonna marry me or what?" He repeats.

"I'm hanging up." "The phone or the relationship?" "You're not even making sense, Jungkook," You know perfectly well what he means, but you don't want to have this conversation with him, knowing how absolutely inebriated he sounds. "You don't make sense," He sounds much like a child. "Good bye." You don't let him get in another word before you hang up the phone.

You don't immediately return to the meeting, deciding you need a moment to gather yourself. As angry as you are, hearing his voice was oddly comforting. You hate that.

It's the last day of your time back home and you've packed up a lot of your things that you'll be sending to Seoul. The departure is bitter... there is no more sweet left in you to give you hope for your arrival at your new home. You don't know how you're gonna do it... your mom tried to talk you into having a bridal shower but you managed to wiggle out of it, though not without compromise. "What time is the fitting on Wednesday?" You ask your mom. "1PM. I arranged for everyone to meet fifteen minutes early though," She says excitedly. By everyone, she means herself, Mrs.Jeon, and all of your bridesmaids...including Lisa. For two to three hours, you'd be forced to play nice with the person at the center of your current rage- well, one of the people at the center. You'd be marrying the other one after. Though you suppose two to three hours is better than an entire night for a bridal shower.

"Make sure you sleep on the plane, the Jeon's invited us to dinner when you get back." "Great." "Don't start, Y/n. After Friday afternoon, they'll be family. You need to start playing smart." "I'm not playing a game to begin with," You say wearily. "Now, I don't know what happened between you and Jungkook-" You prepare to argue with her and tell her to mind her business, but she cuts you off, "-BUT- you need to put it aside and make amends. You cannot start this marriage on a bad foot." "Alright..." You concede. Pointless in protesting when you're gonna go through with it anyway.

The plane ride is long, though you spend about two thirds of it sleeping and the last bit, writing a portion of a project proposal you'd be sending your dad on behalf of the marketing team. If you just keep your head down and your mind busy, maybe you'll be able to float through the next few days without a hitch.

When you land, it's only B/f/n and Namjoon who are there to receive you. Typical. Though you'd been quite dry with B/f/n since during your time away, she is like a breath of fresh air and a sight for sore eyes and you can't help the big smile that spreads across your face when you see her. Of course, never one to hold a grudge, she embraces you tightly. "Wow, three weeks away and you'd swear Y/n was coming back from war," Namjoon jokes. B/f/n doesn't let go of you, just lazily hits him on his arm and continues hugging you. "Listen to me; you are going to be strong this week, okay? Don't think about anyone but yourself. I'll be right next to you the entire step of the way." Her words bring tears to your eyes and all you can do is struggle to nod, as she is holding you quite tightly.

When you get back to the hotel room, you drop everything and leap into bed, your heart content to just lay there... "Don't get too comfortable. Dinner's in...an hour and a half," She reminds you. You groan, face down into the mattress. You lazily roll over and stare up at the ceiling, "Maybe, if I'm lucky, I'll be reincarnated as a bed bug." "You are such a weirdo." "I'm serious...and all I'll have to do is live in people's mattresses and feast and poop...if I'm lucky, some weary traveler will transport me somewhere great, and that's how i'll live my life." "Just my luck, I'll end up being the traveler," She grumbles, causing you to laugh. "That's right, you'll never be rid of me."

You practically drag your feet behind your parents and B/f/n. No part of you wants even to exist in the same vicinity as Jungkook right now, let alone eat dinner with him and his family. "You better fix your face," Your mom says over he shoulder, and though you're not able to fully see it, you know she's saying it through gritted teeth. "Ah, welcome back!" You hear Mr.Jeon's voice come from the direction just ahead, though your parents are completely blocking your view. You immediately 'fix your face', as your mom so lovingly put it, and stepped out from behind your dad to give the most fake smile of your life- though once the entire table is in view, you realize it's only his parents. No Jungkook in sight...and for some reason, your heart falls just a little bit, though you're sure your face doesn't give you away. "H-Hello, how are you both?" You give a small bow. "Oh, we're good. How was your trip? Did you get a lot done?" Mrs.Jeon asks, her smile warm and inviting. "Yes, I did. Thanks for asking." You glance at the empty chair and it seems as though she notices because then she says, "You'll have to excuse Jungkook tonight. He's at the office preparing for a presentation for Wednesday." "Oh, yes of course," You reach for your glass of water and look at B/f/n, who gives you a small smile. At least it'll be a calm dinner...

Dinner was a breeze, the conversation flowing between your parents effortlessly; you mostly sat with your eyes on your plate, your spoon pushing around the little rice you had left. You couldn't help but let your mind wander to Jungkook...

"Earth. To. Y/n," B/f/n calls in a robotic voice, waving her hand in front of your face. "Mm?" "You okay?" She asks, putting her hair up in front of the bathroom mirror. "Oh, yeah. Sorry...I guess I spaced out." "Mhm...was it in Jungkook land again?" "What? Of course not," You try to lie but you know she ain't buying it. "Don't you think it's high time you guys talk? It's been weeks." "If I don't see that boy until the wedding day, I'll be perfectly fine." "Don't let the universe hear you," She warns, rubbing her face cream between her fingers. "Fuck the universe," You say arrogantly before turning around and leaving the bathroom.

The next morning, your alarm goes off at around 6:30, eliciting a groan from you. You grab the pillow next to you and smash it against your face, not wanting to face the day. "It's tiiiiiiiiiiime," B/f/n sings at the highest possible pitch, mimicking Mariah Carrey's 'All I Want For Christmas'. "Shut up," You whine. She's usually not a morning person but as soon as your mom told her she was in charge of getting your hair and makeup done for the fitting, she insisted that you set an early alarm. Apparently, getting ready at 11AM for your 1PM fitting wasn't enough time because, as she so lovingly put it, she's "not a miracle worker".

"I don't even get why you guys are making such a big deal out of this. It's just a fitting- why do we need hair and makeup?" "You are probably the most annoying bride I've ever worked on," She rolls her eyes, patting the beauty blender lightly on your skin. "I'm the only bride you've ever worked on." "And you're already souring my experience. This is the first time you're trying on your dress- it needs to be a memorable and impactful experience." "Fine..." You cross your arms over your chest and roll your eyes, deciding it's better to give in than to keep fighting it. All you want to do is stay in bed and sulk.

The only good to come out of the fitting today is the fact that you'll be seeing all your college friends; Han Soo-Hee, Shin Se-Kyung, Jisoo, and Jung Chae-yeon. You'd not seen them in a couple years and it'll be nice to catch up. Of course, the only downside-

"Lisa!" Mrs.Jeon says cheerfully, walking ahead of you, B/f/n, and your mom into the bridal shop. Your heart starts pounding and you can feel your blood boiling instantly. "Breathe," B/f/n whispers to you. "Mrs.Jeon!" Her voice is sickeningly sweet and you can tell by the hug she gives her that she's intent on laying it on thick. "I'm so happy you accepted to be a bridesmaid on such short notice," Mrs.Jeon turns to the side and extends her hand to motion to you, "This is Y/n." "Y/n, it's so nice to formally meet you," Lisa says with a low bow. "Same to you." You're such a liar. "I'm so excited to see you in your dress- I'm sure you'll make a beautiful bride." Her comment takes you by surprise and it takes you a moment to respond. "Th-thank you," You blush. "Of course- I'm sorry, how rude of me. What's your name?" B/f/n gives a polite smile, though you knew her enough to know that it was totally fake, "I'm B/f/n. Maid of honor." "Oh that's so sweet- You're so lucky. I won't ever be able to be a maid of honor unless my best friend finally gets married. You may have met her. Rose?"

Your mind flashes back to Rose's burning rage that day when she pulled up on Jin while you were out to dinner with Jungkook. "That sounds vaguely familiar."

"Yeah, well anyway- probably never gonna happen. Her boyfriend's a raging asshole. Anyway, are we expecting anyone else?" Lisa asks.

This whole thing feels strange. She seems way different from the impression she gave that day in the bathroom at Kook's party. You expected to be met with a sour attitude and cattiness, but she seems quite...bubbly.

"Yeah, our four other bridesmaids should be here shortly," B/f/n says, checking her watch.

Not a second goes by and the bell on the bridal shop door chimes, announcing the arrival of the rest of your court. "WHERE'S THE BRIDE!?" Se-Kyung exclaims, throwing her hands up in celebration.

"MY GIRLS!" You cheer, both you and B/f/n running to hug your guests. Instantly, you feel yourself relax. It doesn't matter how this fitting goes, you finally have your people around you.

After a few minutes, you were all lead by a sales associate to a back room with various mirrors and a pretty pink couch, the walls lined with dresses upon dresses. On the furthest wall, facing the couch, is a platform with three mirror, meant for you to be able to look at yourself from all angles...the thought makes you want to gag.

You're going into this fitting basically blind, not having been shown a single stitch of your dress until this moment. The sales lady leaves you in a room with it, hung high up to keep the long train from sagging on the floor. You stare at the grand gown for some time- so long that the sales lady comes back and knocks on the door, "You okay in there?" "Just-just a moment," You say, scrambling to get your clothes off and slip into the dress, holding it up at the bodice so as not to expose your boobs before they've laced you in.

You don't dare look in the dressing room mirror- seeing yourself might just make it too real and right now, you're trying desperately to convince yourself that this is all one big dream that you're gonna wake up from. Once the dress is secured, you pick the heavy skirt up and walk out to your court, each lady waiting for you with a glass of champagne in hand. A series of claps and cheers erupt and you feel your face burn. You stand with your back to the mirror, facing everyone. Your moms eyes are welling with tears, Mrs.Jeon has her hands covering her mouth, B/f/n and all of your bridesmaid's are fawning over you. "You look absolutely gorgeous," Mrs.Jeon says. "Doesn't she? God, Jungkook won't be able to keep his eyes off you," Se-Kyung smiles ear to ear. "Or his hands!" B/f/n adds, causing you to blush even harder. Even your mom and Mrs.Jeon can't hold back a laugh at her most inappropriate comment.

"So, what do you think?" Chae-Yeon asks. "About what?" You ask. "About the dress, you goof." "Oh- it's fine," You say, looking down and smoothing out the bottom. "Just fine? Did you even look in the mirror?" B/f/n asks. You respond with a long period of silence, pursing your lips. "Turn your ass around and look in that mirror," Jisoo reprimands you. "I did!" "Liar!" "Ugh, fine." You cross your arms tightly over your chest, shut your eyes tight and turn around. You brace yourself for a few seconds before finally, slowly opening your eyes.

You'd heard about this before- this moment. The moment where you see yourself for the first time in the dress. In everyone's stories, it's the second or the third dress, maybe even the tenth- but the moment will always come where you see yourself in that dress and simultaneously, see your future unfolding in your reflection. Suddenly, your eyes begin to well too. You can no longer pretend; this is real. Mom was right, you think, the hair and makeup did make a difference.

"It's the dress," Your mom says softly, pride in her voice. Everyone erupts in cheers again, though you hardly pay it any mind- your mind is completely and totally fixed on this feeling in your chest...

You want to see Jungkook.

B/f/n helps put the dress safely in the trunk for you, leaving you standing there with Lisa, as the other girls had headed off to the restaurant to get your table and your mom and Mrs.Jeon went back to the hotel to start dealing with the preparations of the ballroom. Lisa had been quite warm and welcoming to everyone the entire fitting, and you began to question whether or not you'd imagined her conversation with Rose.

Could it have been that you misunderstood everything? You misread the situation? Did you fuck everything up by jumping to conclusions?

"Uhm- Hey Lisa, we're gonna be going out to dinner once we pull out of here...would you like to join us?" You ask, the words feeling strange as they come out of your mouth.

"Oh, that's so nice of you to ask- unfortunately I really have to go take care of some stuff at home. Rain check?" "Yes, of course. No worries...And hey, listen. Thanks again for agreeing to be part of my court." "Of course, it's not a problem at all," She opens her arms to you, a warm expression on her face as she goes in for a hug. You gladly return the gesture, though once she's pulled you in, she brings her lips really close to your ear, "Anything for Jungkoook."

Venom drips off of her every word, the air thick between you; and suddenly, it all makes sense. The uncharacteristically sweet smiles, the polite bows, the compliments...she's an actress, and this fitting was her stage. In fact, the entire Jeon family is a plot device for her performance. She doesn't want Jungkook...she wants to be adored.

This is why Jungkook doesn't believe me.

Before you're able to respond in any way, Lisa is letting you go, walking in the opposite direction toward her car.

The rest of the day is a bit of a blur; so much to take in and so little to time. Dinner, drinks at the hotel bar, and now, more drinks at a pub a few blocks away. You decide to put Lisa out of your mind and just enjoy the company of your friends: drinks upon drinks are passed around, laughter and merriment fill the air- before you know it, your insides feel warm and fuzzy and your mind more free and uninhibited. "I'm gonna call him," You say, standing from your chair, a self-righteous expression on your face as you pound your chest once. "That's the best idea you've had all night," B/f/n says. "Call him!" Se-Kyung shouts. "Call him, call him, call him!" They all pound on the table, cheeks cherry red and hair disheveled- you were the sloppiest bunch anyone ever did see.

You take your phone out of your purse and punch in his number- having grown accustomed over the past few weeks at seeing it pop up on your screen, you'd memorized the number by heart. You can faintly hear it ringing but the music in the bar is so loud that you decide to stumble your way out to the parking lot. It continues to ring a few more times before he finally picks up.

"Hello?" Jungkook's voice is groggy, like he'd been sleeping. "Where were you at dinner?" You ask, cutting to the chase. "Y/n it's...it's 1AM. Where are you?" "Fuck you," You slur. "Fuck you too," He returns the same cold tone, though he doesn't hang up. "Fuck you more!" You hang up on him, mouth hanging open in disbelief at how rude he's being. Clearly, you're drunk. You can't hold what drunk people say against them. "Asshat," You grumble, returning to your friends.

About fifteen minutes go by and everyone is absolutely zombified, with B/f/n having tapped out five minutes prior, her head resting on the table. "I'm never drinking again..." Jisoo groans. "It'll be at least...twelve hours before I can stomach another drink," Se-Kyung adds. "Y/n," A familiar voice says behind you. You turn around and realize it's Namjoon. "'Joon?" You ask incredulously, "How'd you know we were here?" He chuckles, "It's my job to know. Remember?" He walks around to B/f/n and sweeps her hair out of her face. She's sound asleep. "I'm here to take you all home." "I could've gotten a car, you didn't have to do that-" "Jungkook sent me." You blink in surprise. Jungkook? "You're kinda hot," Chae-Yeon says, staring dreamily at him. "Thanks but I'm seeing someone," He says politely, gently scooping B/f/n up into his arms. "Everyone ready?"

Thursday goes by quickly, with everyone scrambling to get everything ready for the wedding. Your mothers decided to hold the wedding at the other hotel location about thirty minutes away for a nice change of scenery. Decorations are being brought in, tables and chairs set up, tapestries are brought in and hung up all over the hall ceiling. It's all coming together quickly- a circus of workers directed by yours and Jungkook's mothers. You avoid thinking about the previous night's shenanigans, cringing at yourself for having sunk so low as to drunk dial him.

But you also can't stop thinking about the absolute lack of consideration- sending Namjoon instead of just getting you all himself? What a prick...not that you wanted to see him, but it's about common decency. Don't get someone else to do your job. Even if it is technically what Namjoon gets paid to do...

"Stop talking so much, I'm getting a headache," B/f/n says sarcastically, gently nudging you. You're snapped out of your thoughts, cheeks blushing slightly, "Sorry. Just out of it today." "I can see..." You both watch as flowers are placed inside of the tall vases at the center of each table. "Am I making a mistake?" You ask, not looking over at her. She doesn't respond for a few seconds and you begin to wonder if she even heard you. "Do you love him?" She asks. Your cheeks get hotter and hotter, embarrassed by her question. "Love? I- I barely know him..." You nervously twiddle your thumbs. It's true, you barely know him...but you can't help the way your heart flutters at the word: love. You'd never been in love before...but if you're being completely honest with yourself, you can't deny that this feeling within you is nothing like the crushes you've had in your youth. This is a heavy, sticky feeling- a painful yet exhilarating condition of the heart. Love...how could you dare to speak it out loud? "Only you can answer that," B/f/n says, referring to the initial question, "And once you do, the next question is...now that you've gotten to know him, could you see yourself going back to the way life was without him?" "B/f/n! Can you please help me with this? I can't decide if I want them to out the couple's table on the left or right side!" Mrs.Jeon calls out. "Bridesmaid duty calls," She says to you before jogging over to the far end of the ballroom to give her input.

Her question stays with you, like a heavy boulder on your shoulders. The truth is, you know you can't go back. Not now...not after all of this... You guess you have your answer.

You toss and turn all night, your dreams plagued with nightmare scenarios of how it might go during the ceremony. One moment, Jungkook is saying 'I do', and then you somehow morph into Lisa before he can kiss you. In another moment, he's completely walking away and running out of the church, holding Lisa by the hand. It feels like the night only lasts as much as the blink of an eye before B/f/n is shaking you awake, her hair disheveled and eyes barely open, "Girl are you okay?" "Wh-what?" "You were like...whimpering in your sleep- and your alarm has been going off for like five minutes." You suddenly become aware of your very loud alarm. "Sorry," You say groggily, reaching over and turning off your alarm, "Just had a rough night." "I can imagine...you're probably feeling really nervous." "Yeah..." You sit up and slouch forward, your eyes locking onto the TV that's already turned on and fixed on the news channel. You mindlessly watch as clips play, one after another- and then you see an image of the Jeons' hotel. It then switches to a reporter who says, "June Company will soon be merging with L/N Co., which will open jobs throughout the country, as well as in Australia, the United States, and Japan."

"Looks like your merger is making headlines," B/f/n says, jaw practically on the floor. Your face is completely frozen and your heart is pounding. You feel as though you may have an enormous panic attack. You obviously know that the Jeons are kind of a big deal, but you didn't realize just how important this was all going to be. "Y/n?" She sees your expression and quickly turns off the television. "Let's just get you ready, yeah? Come on." She helps you out of bed and leads you to the bathroom. You're practically catatonic for the next hour while you brush your teeth and take a quick shower.

You get your hair and makeup done at the other location, having been put up in a room that connects to the ballroom. Mirrors were brought in to aid in the court's preparation. Every few minutes, you look over at the dress that's hung up on the opposite wall from the collapsable vanity where you're sitting. You don't dare take it out of the garment bag for fear of messing it up. Your mind is still so full of thoughts, all shouting at you for individual attention. It's almost like you're on auto-pilot, the makeup artists asks you to tilt your head or suck in your cheeks, or puff out your lips and you do- though it doesn't register that you've been cooperating so well until those odd moments you look in the mirror and realize your face is almost done.

In fact, you're so out of it that you don't notice Lisa come in. Now, your bridesmaids lovingly picked out coordinated velour tracksuits; yours is black, theirs are pink. They even got one for Lisa, but apparently she didn't need it because her dress is already on and her makeup is already done. Of course, she looks beautiful; her dress fits her absolutely perfectly, the silk fabric laying beautifully on her hips, and the color compliments her skin tone so that she looks like a pretty little porcelain doll...but fuck her. "Hey, Y/n would you mind just coming out to do a run through of the walk?" Your mom asks, popping her head into the suite. You nod, standing up and dusting the setting powder off of yourself, all bridesmaids in tow, though at the last second before entering the ballroom, Lisa says, "I'll meet everyone in a few minutes, I just have to run to the restroom really quickly," to which no one responds of even gives a flying fuck about. Because again, fuck her.

You'd practiced the entrance yesterday with everyone except Jungkook who, of course, was in meetings all day as he had been all week. You're surprised he's even found time to marry you today. Right now, he and his groomsmen are all in another part of the hotel getting ready; you're only practicing with the bridesmaids. You all run through it about three times and then head back to the suite to wrap up getting ready. One by one, all your bridesmaids slip on their dresses and jewelry and head to the next room over to start recording their video diaries for when you put the wedding video together. You're the only one who has yet to put on your dress. You needed the moment to be private; a second to gather your thoughts. You close the door to the suite and then slowly walk over to the garment bag. "This is it..."

You take off your tracksuit and lay it neatly on a nearby chair, leaving yourself in only your pretty, white, lacey bra and delicate silk, white panties with a small bow at the front. B/f/n had insisted you wear them so you could feel beautiful through and through- you initially thought it was an unnecessary detail, though as she is about most things, B/f/n was absolutely right- you do feel beautiful. You gingerly pull down the zipper of the garment bag, revealing the big white gown. Just as beautiful as you remember it from the fitting. You take it off of the hanger and walk over to one of the mirrors leaned against the wall. You step into the gown and pull it up- of course, you'll need help lacing it in but you just want an intimate moment to look at yourself. You press it against your chest and look up at your reflection-

and then the blood drains from your face.

You feel your hands get stiff and ice cold, and you feel that familiar tightness in your chest.

The panic attack that could not come to fruition this morning has now returned with a vengeance, and you are doubled over, sturggling for oxygen.

Cuts. Cuts everywhere. All over the skirt of the dress. Deep, angry slashes. How did I not see them before? How did I miss them? Were they there when I got to the hotel after the fitting? No, it couldn't be- B/f/n put it in the trunk and then hung it up at our hotel room... when did this happen?

Tears stream down your face as you slump forward in the chair. It's drafty in this suite but you can't bring yourself to put the tracksuit back on, or even to move at all beyond the violent jerking of your shoulders with every sob. "Y/n, Y/n, are you okay!?" B/f/n runs over to you, having just finished her recording, "What happened!?" You can't even speak, you just point to the mound of fabric on the floor that once was your dress...that once was the dress. She picks it up off the ground and holds it up, her mouth immediately falling open in disbelief. She's just as confused as you are. "What- how even- This dress was in perfect condition when I brought it here. I checked," She says angrily, trying to rack her brain just like you had only moments ago. Your crying intensifies, a strong feeling of defeat washing over you.

"Oh, Y/n," Her face softens and she hugs you tightly. "I don't know what the hell I'm gonna do. That was the dress. That was the last shred of hope I had for this God-forsaken marriage. Now what? I have no dress, I haven't seen Jungkook once since I've been back. I have nothing left in me to give..." She lets you cry into her chest for a moment before pulling away, "Okay, we have a little less than an hour before the ceremony. Let me see what we can do." She runs out of the room and then you're alone again. Completely and utterly alone...

About fifteen minutes go by and not a single person has entered the suite. You assume they're all trying to figure out what happened and how to help. Your cries have quieted down a bit but still have not ceased. You feel broken and you're tired of fighting it.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

You're snapped out of your thoughts, head lifting up and looking toward the door, "Come in," You say, your wavering voice just loud enough to be heard from the other side. The door opens slowly, and you expect to see B/f/n or maybe your mom, but instead, Jungkook walks in, his expression soft and solemn as he closes the door behind him.

"Hey, Y/n."

A/N: Hope you all liked it! Plz comment and DM for suggestions on what you'd like to see happen next in the story; you might inspire me <3

Also, I am so honored that ppl would want me to tag them in the next part. To know anyone likes this series enough to keep up with it is so heartwarming. So, with that being said:

@ttanniett <3

#bts #jungkook #jin #namjoon #suga #bts imagine #jimin #bangtan sonyeondan #angst #jungkook x reader #seoekjin #yoongi #kim taehyung

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jujitto · 1 year ago

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새해 ★ 𝖭𝖤𝖶 𝖸𝖤𝖠𝖱𝖲

. ﹙☆﹚. 𝗌𝗒𝗇𝗈𝗉𝗌𝗂𝗌 . new years is a time to reflect, celebrate, think of what you’ll be doing in the next year. or for y/n maybe not. well, never say never, right?

. ﹙☆﹚. 𝗉𝖺𝗂𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 . 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗄 𝗌𝖾𝗈𝗇𝗀𝗁𝗐𝖺 𝗑 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋

. ﹙☆﹚. 𝗀𝖾𝗇𝗋𝖾 . 𝖺𝗇𝗀𝗌𝗍 & 𝖿𝗅𝗎𝖿𝖿

. ﹙☆﹚. 𝗐𝖼 . 𝟤.𝟢𝗄

. ﹙☆﹚. 𝗐𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌 . 𝗇𝗈𝗇𝖾!

. ﹙☆﹚. 𝗇𝗍𝗐𝗋𝗄 𝗍𝖺𝗀𝗌 . @kflixnet @kbookshelf @pirateeznet

11:30….30 minutes to midnight. You were still in the same position you've been in since you've woken up: staring at the wall. Your New Years Eve was nothing to celebrate, it was just another reminder that your family was in America and that you were alone.

And it wouldn’t be help since your boyfriend was busy. You were supposed to spend the evening together, but he called last minute saying he had something come up. He didn’t give details, and you were too hurt to ask.

11:32…28 minutes left of the year. It didn’t seem so bad, it was better than sitting there and doing nothing. You could go out with your neighbors. They had been good to you, and you liked their company, but the thought of being a third wheel for their New Years celebration didn't appeal to you. So that wasn't an option. Maybe a movie would take your mind off things. You could rent something or put on one of those countdowns to watch. You knew it wouldn’t be as entertaining as actually spending the night out, but it would help the time go by faster.

You stood up from your spot on the bed and headed to the living room to get the remote. 11:37...21 minutes until the new year. The only things on were news or those countdowns you dreaded watching. But if you didn’t want to stay in the bedroom the entire time, you'd have to put up with it. You settled on the local news channel. At least you wouldn’t be bombarded with cheesy songs or the same hosts from years past. And they were talking about the upcoming year.

"What will you do to start your New Year off right?" One of the anchors asked. You thought for a moment, you didn’t know how you were going to start this year off. Maybe alone like you were now. "I don't know. What about you, Mike?"

"Well, I plan to spend time with my loved ones and maybe go on a date or two. Maybe a romantic picnic."

"Ooooh, a romantic picnic? You never mentioned wanting to do that before. Is there a special lady that has your heart?"

"That's a secret, and don't think I forgot about you, Linda. What are you going to do for the New Year?"

"Probably spend time with my kids, and make sure I visit my family more." The anchors went on to talk about other resolutions, and you didn't bother to pay attention to them. It's not like they'd give you any ideas

11:44, 15 minutes left in the year. You were still staring blankly at the television, the anchors had changed topics to the weather, and you could have cared less. You looked at the clock and wondered if you should even bother to stay up until midnight.

There wasn't anything special about the new year. All the hype and fanfare was a waste of time, and a lot of money. People were willing to spend thousands of dollars on New Year's decorations, and parties. If it weren’t for all that, then people would have just stayed home and watched the ball drop.

Your thoughts have begin to turn. From gazing lately at the TV to wondering what your New Year’s resolution was. It was a silly tradition. Making a goal that was either going to be broken in a matter of weeks or not even done. You were sure you weren’t the only one that had thought that, and you weren’t the first person to not keep a New Years resolution. You could name a couple that you've tried to stick to in the past, but failed.

One was to stop spending so much money on sweets, but that ended as soon as you passed a bakery. Another was to eat healthier. That lasted until you saw a pizza advertisement, and then you had to order one. And the one that always stuck out the most was trying to spend more time with family. But how could you when they were so far away, and you had school and work to worry about.

You shook your head and pushed those thoughts away. Why should you even bother to try this year, when the past ones were a fail. It would be a waste of time and effort. And a lot of other people would end up doing the same thing.

You had decided to just get ready for bed, it's not like you'd miss much if you went to sleep. It's not like your boyfriend would care.

11:47, 12 minutes left of the year, and you were headed towards the bathroom. You were surprised when you didn't see any signs of a party or noise coming from the apartment across from yours. You were expecting some kind of celebration. But there was no loud music or the sound of talking. It was oddly quiet, and it was unsettling. Maybe you were hearing things, and that there was some sort of get together going on. Or they were all asleep.

You walked back to your bathroom and started to wash your face. You tried not to think of the fact that the only people that would probably be awake with you would be the people in the buildings next to yours. And that wasn't much to look forward to.

You finished cleaning your face and turned off the water. As you reached for the towel you felt the ground rumble beneath your feet. At first, you thought it was an earthquake, but then you heard the fireworks go off. You were quick to the window and peered outside.

You could see the sky was filled with red and gold fireworks. Each one bigger than the last, and each one louder than the next. You could even see them from the park a few blocks away. You watched as the show went on, and how the fireworks got brighter and larger. You wondered where they had gotten them from, and how long the show would go on.

You didn’t know there were going to be fireworks in the city. Then again, you didn't bother to find out. You didn’t realize how long the show would last until you felt something in your eyes. You blinked rapidly, trying to get rid of the tears. And once you finally stopped, you could feel the wet trails running down your cheeks.

You reached up to your face, and wiped them away. You weren't aware that you were crying.

11:50, 10 minutes until the new year.

The show was still going strong. The colors in the sky were changing, and there were more types of fireworks. You couldn’t help but smile. The fireworks were beautiful, and the show was amazing. And the way the lights reflected in the dark sky and water was mesmerizing. It was a sight you've never seen before.

But then the lights suddenly dimmed, and the sound of the fireworks slowly stopped.

11:53, 7 minutes left of the old year.

You weren’t sure if the show was over, or if it was just taking a break. But it had taken the excitement away. The fireworks had brought a smile to your face, but now the only thing you could hear was the silence. You wanted to hear the booms again, and watch as the sky was lit up. You wanted to feel that excitement again. The only excitement you felt these last few hours.

You turned away from the window and walked back to the couch watched the last seven minutes of the New Year’s Eve countdown. It was nothing compared to the fireworks, but it was something to do. You didn't want to be reminded of how alone you were, or that the new year was starting with no one there. You just wanted the last few minutes of the year to be over, and that you could go to sleep and wake up to the new year. As you looked over to the clock, you wondered if it would be worth the wait. Or if you should just call it a night and get some sleep. But what would that accomplish? Would you really feel better about waiting or would you wake up disappointed. And why was the thought of waiting bothering you?

You couldn't understand why you were questioning yourself, and why you were letting the thoughts of the New Year bother you. It was just another day, just a longer night. So why did it have to bother you so much.

Maybe it was because this year was different. This year had the promise of change. Of new beginnings and opportunities. A chance to be better, and to accomplish new goals. But you didn’t believe it. You didn’t believe you'd be able to stick to the goal, or that you could change for the better. That the year would be better than the last.

And it was the thought of failure that was getting to you. Because no matter how hard you tried, it wouldn’t be enough. You wouldn't be able to succeed. The only thing that was certain was that the new year would end the same as the last, and the one before. With you alone.

11:56, 4 minutes left.

The thoughts were eating away at you. Why couldn’t you just be happy? Why did it matter what year it was? There were a few things to celebrate. You had a job and were in school. Your grades were good and you were doing well in both. You had friends and a boyfriend, but you didn’t have the same goals they did. And you didn’t have their happiness.

11:57, 3 minutes left.

Maybe the only thing you needed to do was to stop caring. To not let the thoughts consume you. The new year wasn’t a bad thing. It was just another day, and that nothing was going to change. Your life would stay the same, and there was nothing to worry about. It wasn’t worth the hassle.

11:58, 2 minutes left.

There were things that were worth celebrating. Like your birthday, Christmas, and graduation. But New Years didn't seem like one. Even if the fireworks had made it special.

But maybe you were wrong. Maybe you shouldn’t have given up hope. It's not like you've given up, you've just been down and didn’t see a reason to try anymore. Maybe it was time to stop looking down. To look at the positives in your life. The friends and family you have, the love and support, and the encouragement. You should have been thankful for those things. And maybe it was time to focus on the positives.

11:59, 1 minute left.

You sat there in silence, watching as the numbers slowly changed. And for the first time in a while, you were feeling better. Like the weight had been lifted off your shoulders. And that a new beginning was what you needed.

The ball was counting down the last few seconds. You stood up from your spot and waited. That was until somebody knocked. 12:00.

You turned to the door, surprised by the sudden knock. Who could be visiting you at this hour? You opened the door and were greeted by a familiar pair of brown eyes and a warm smile. “Seonghwa?”

He smiled, and before he could say anything, the fireworks went off. You could hear them booming outside, and you could see the lights from the window. You turned to look, and Seonghwa wrapped his arms around you. His chin was resting on top of your head, and he was holding you close.

You could feel his chest rising and falling against your back, and how warm he was. You could smell his cologne, and hear his soft breaths. You couldn’t understand what was going on, and why he was here. But it didn't matter, because you were happy he was.

You didn’t realize that you were crying again, until he had gently turned your face towards him. He placed a gentle kiss on your lips and held you tighter. It was a soft, and comforting. Something that helped to make the situation better.

When the kiss broke, he was the first to speak. "Happy New Year, Y/n." You smiled, and returned the wish. "Happy New Year, Seonghwa."

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