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alinastracker · 3 years ago

Note

for the prompt thing: 62 or 69 <3

you got it bb <3

prompt: I wanted to tell you that I liked you before prom but chickened out and now we’re about to graduate college and I can’t hold it in any longer

i can’t fight this feeling any longer (and yet i’m still afraid to let it flow)

"Mal, I love you."

Alina frowns, shakes her head, and tries again.

"Mal, you've been my best friend for so long, and I love our friendship, but you see, I'm also head over heels in love with you."

She blows out a frustrated breath, her newly chopped bangs briefly floating off of her forehead. Telling her best friend of nearly six years she’s in love with him should not be the number one thing on her mind right now. It’s graduation day, for Saints sake. A day she hadn’t been sure she would ever see. But all she can think about is Mal.

She had met him on one of the worst days of her life. Alina had been transferred to a new foster home in the middle of her junior year of high school. There were few things worse in adolescent life than moving to a new school in the middle of the year — especially in high school, in a small town where everyone seemed to know each other.

Alina had walked the halls that day clutching onto the straps of her backpack, late to nearly every class because her sense of direction was shit, and had even gone as far as to eat lunch in the bathroom like a stereotypical teen movie, the thought of walking into the cafeteria with all those eyes on her nearly ruining her appetite entirely. She had been stared at enough as it was.

Her last class of the day was art, and she was praying for it to be the reprieve she so desperately needed. If only she could fucking find it. The warning bell rang, heightening her already raised anxiety. Alina took a corner too fast and slammed right into a wall. No, not a wall — a boy.

“I’m so sorry!” she blurted, scrambling to her knees to help pick up the papers she made him drop.

“All good,” the boy reassured her.

Once the two of them had the papers off the floor, Alina looked up and nearly dropped them again. She was looking into the warm brown eyes of possibly the hottest guy she had ever laid eyes on. He had a strong, defined jaw, grown out hair that wasn’t too shaggy, but still long enough to run her fingers through. And Saints, his lips. She was already imagining what those lips would feel like, subconsciously licking her own.

One side of the boy’s mouth quirked up, just a hint of a smirk, like he was used to having this effect on people. Shit, had he noticed her staring? Say something, Alina.

“Um, sorry,” she managed finally, handing him the pile of collected papers.

He chuckled. “You said that already.”

She tried a laugh of her own, but it came out all wrong, choppy and nervous. “Right.”

The boy stood to his full height, and for fucks sake, he had to be tall, too? She rose from her knees and he still towered over her. It was extremely attractive.

“So you’re the new girl,” he said, not a question but a statement. “I’ve heard murmurings about you today.”

“Murmurings?”

“Nothing bad. It’s just a small town. When someone new shows up, people notice.” He smiled, stuck out his hand. It took everything in her not to think about how long his fingers were. “I’m Mal.”

She took his hand, her own so tiny in comparison. “Alina.”

“Nice to meet you, Alina. Where are you headed?”

“220B? History of Traditional Art.”

Mal nodded. “Well, I can’t say that’s a room I’m super familiar with. I’m a shit artist. These hands are much better for other activities.” Her eyes must have widened, revealing just how filthy her mind was, because he quickly added, “Sports! I meant sports!”

A look passed between them, and then they were both laughing. It felt so good to laugh after the day she’d had.

“Anyway,” Mal continued, “I can help you find your way. I might not visit the art hall often, but I know my way around.”

Alina shot him another pointed look, and Mal groaned. “My way around the school! Saints, I’m really shooting myself in the foot as far as first impressions go, aren’t I?”

She grinned, but only said, “You’ll be late for class.” The final bell was going to ring any second.

Mal waved her off. “That’s all right. What poor representation of Stag Spirit would I be if I let the new girl walk around like a lost puppy? And besides,” he shot her a grin to match her own, “we can’t have you running around, terrorizing other kids and their poor papers now, can we?”

Alina let out something between a scoff and a laugh. “I said I was sorry!”

He turned, walking backwards toward the stairs. “Did you? Must have missed it.”

She shot daggers in his direction, but she smiled the whole way to the art room. The next day, she dared to actually step into the cafeteria for lunch. People were still staring, but after yesterday, she expected it. Part of her was hoping she would find Mal in the crowded space, but she doubted it would matter even if she did. After some social media stalking last night, Alina had discovered what she should have known from the start — Mal was popular. He would already have a flock around him, friends he had known since childhood, who were just like him — attractive, athletic, alien to a kid like Alina who preferred quiet cafes and sketchpads to football fields and pompoms. He had been nice to her yesterday, sure, but that didn’t mean—

“Alina!”

Her head popped up, scanning the sea of tables until she saw him, standing and waving her over. Sure enough, Mal was at a table filled with pretty, sociable looking people. But there was a space open next to him, and she realized with a little jump of her heart that he had saved that space for her.

It was the start of the fastest and fiercest friendship she would ever have. Mal was popular and sporty, yes, but he was also kind, funny, smart — and most surprising, had grown up in the foster care system, too. Alina made friends with his friends, a few of her own from her art class, but none of them matched what she grew with Mal. Suddenly she was a football field kind of girl, dressing from head to toe in school colors for each match, cheering for her best friend so loud she gave the cheer squad a run for their money. Over the next year and half, they were entirely attached at the hip.

And while it had truly started as a friendship, by the time senior prom came around, Alina had to face the fact: she was head over heels for the boy. Hell, she had noticed how attractive he was from that first fateful meeting. Mix that with how genuinely good she knew he was — how caring, how attentive, how it felt to have his head rest on her shoulder as he fell asleep during a movie; who could blame her for falling for him?

“You have to tell him!” her friend from art class, Yelena, had insisted.

“I know, I know.” She sighed. “I’ll do it at prom.”

They were going as a group — her, Mal, Mikhael, Dubrov, Yelena, and a few others from their meshed circle of friends, brought together by the two of them. But Mal had still matched his tie to her dress, a stunning royal blue. Mal had still bought her a corsage — a delicate thing of mostly blue irises, her favorite flower. He was not her date, yet in every way except in name, it felt like he was, and Alina basked in the feeling.

But as song after song played, Alina found herself backing out each time she tried to approach him. Yelena was shooting pointed looks at her all night, murmuring as she passed her, “You’re running out of time.”

Then a punky pop song came on, one of her and Mal’s favorites. She called him over. “Dance with me!” she exclaimed, and laughed as he all but pulled her onto the dance floor. Neither of them were good dancers, but they were enthusiastic, at least with each other. As the song neared its end, Alina sucked in a breath.

“Mal, I have to tell you something.”

He raised a brow, waiting for her to speak. The song ended, and their principal took to the stage. “All right folks, it’s time to announce your prom king and queen!”

Everyone was cheering and turning to the stage, but Mal was still looking at her, still waiting for her answer.

Alina opened her mouth, closed it, then finally said, “Thank you for the corsage. I really love it.”

Mal gave her a quizzical look, lips tugging down — and was that disappointment in his eyes? Before she could fully read him, his face smoothed, his usual charmed smile returning. “Of course, Lina.”

“And your prom king is,” the principal was saying, “Malyen Oretsev!”

The crowd roared. Mal’s smile turned sheepish, and he took to the stage to accept his crown. Ruby was named prom queen, to no one’s surprise. Alina watched them dance together in the middle of the room to a romantic song that would now forever be ruined for her. A little later that night, Mal came up to her, said, “You can get a ride home with Yelena, right?” He motioned behind him, flushing a little even as he grinned, to where Ruby was waiting. “I’m gonna head out.”

Alina swallowed the stupid lump in her throat and nodded. Mal pressed a kiss to the top of her head, and then he was gone. She would spend the night at Yelena’s, crying on her shoulder that she had missed her chance — if she’d ever had one to begin with. Because of course Mal would choose Ruby. Beautiful, blond Ruby, much more his equal than Alina could ever be.

Graduation came, and it was happy. But in all of the pictures and celebrations was Ruby — no longer just captain of the cheer squad Ruby, but Mal’s girlfriend Ruby. She watched them partake in a summer romance that she was guiltily happy to see fizzle out once college came and split them apart. Luckily, her and Mal were off to Os Alta University together, home of the Firebirds. They forged a new friend group there: the twins, Tolya and Tamar, Nadia, David, Genya, Zoya, Nikolai. Mal didn’t really date freshman year, sticking to little flings that Alina told herself didn’t matter. In sophomore year, the tension between him and Zoya finally snapped, and the two of them had a brief . . . something together.

Of course, Alina had her own dabbles in romance — Alexei being the sweetest, Aleksander nearly making her swear off men all together. Her next two flings were with women, both because she had finally fully accepted her bisexuality and because she truly had lost trust in the male species. She even made out with Nikolai a couple times, but they had both just been using each other. They’d spent one night in a club so obnoxiously all over one another that Zoya had stormed out. Her thing with Mal had been off and on at that point, and the next morning, she texted him that they were off for good.

Two weeks later, Nikolai and Zoya were dating. Mal was single.

And still, she hadn’t made a move.

Alina stares in the mirror now, watching the tassel on her graduation cap sway back and forth. In an hour, she’ll be moving it from the right to the left and leave Os Alta University in the rear window. It hadn’t been easy getting here — nothing is easy for a foster care kid, especially one who wants to be an artist. But she’s done it. She’s graduating with top honors. Saints, she even has a job lined up. Everything she worried about growing up — making a future for herself, being swallowed by the system, figuring out who she is without the guidance of her birth parents — she has faced all of it head on. At every step, she’s run after what she’s wanted and grabbed it by the hands until it was hers.

Everything except Mal.

And try as she might, she can’t imagine a future without him in it.

He’s not seeing anyone — for now. Last night he texted her, laughing about how Ruby of all people had hit him up. She’s going to be in the city this weekend, apparently, and asked if he wanted to get a drink. It felt like prom all over again.

“Alina, come on!” Genya calls. “We’re going to be late!”

“Coming!” she calls back.

Alina follows Genya and Zoya down to the car, sits numbly in the backseat as they drive to the giant building holding their graduation ceremony.

“Look alive, Starkov,” Zoya says as they get out of the car, linking their arms. “Today is for happy things. New beginnings.”

Genya takes her other arm. “No pouting about boys unless you’re going to do something about it.”

She smiles, and for a little while, it’s not forced. There’s a rush of excitement as they walk inside and find their seats. Genya isn’t too far off from her, but Zoya’s a few rows ahead. In the rows between them, still too far to talk to but not too far to make out the back of his head, is Mal. He’s talking to the guy next to him, even though she’s pretty sure he doesn’t know him. But that’s Mal, blooming wherever he’s planted.

Alina knows she shouldn’t, but the ceremony hasn’t started yet, so she stands and calls out, “Mal!”

Somehow, he hears her over all the ruckus around them. The smile he gives her has her heart beating double time. “I’ll find you after!” he shouts back, though of course, she already knew that. Mal always finds her.

As the ceremony starts and a handful of different people come up to make speeches, she finds herself slipping into her thoughts from earlier. In her head, she sees Mal and Ruby, meeting for that drink. They pick up right where they left off. Ruby moves to the city, moves in with Mal. Alina’s there through all of it, supporting Mal like she always has, always will. On the sidelines she stays, watching him as he gets married and has ridiculously beautiful babies. None of it is real, not yet, but the thought is so painful she has tears in her eyes.

Well, at least she can blame the tears on emotional graduation bullshit as she watches her friends walk the stage, cheering for each of them even though they’re not supposed to. Tamar and Tolya, the latter looking pretty emotional himself. David, who walks quickly even though he’s probably the most awarded student of the whole graduating class. Nikolai, who dramatically presses a kiss to the hand of the Os Alta University President after she hands him his diploma. Zoya, who walks the stage as if she owns it.

Then Mal’s name is called, and she cheers so loud she’s pretty sure he hears it, if the grin on his face is any indication. Genya crosses, graceful as always. When her own name is called, she’s not expecting much. She has no family here save from the one she forged for herself. But as she walks, she can hear a very distinct cheer from a very distinct voice, and butterflies swarm drunkenly in her stomach.

In the minutes that pass between her walking the stage and the last name being called — poor Nadia —Alina knows what she’s going to do. No backing out this time.

“Congratulations, Class of 2021!”

Everyone cheers, and graduation caps go flying through the air. Alina tosses hers with everyone else, and then she takes off, pushing through her classmates as they jump and shout, running until she finds the right row, forces herself through the bodies in her way, until she’s in front of him. Until she’s found Mal.

“Alina,” he says in surprise. “What are you—”

“Don’t get a drink with Ruby.”

Mal frowns. “What?”

“I said don’t get a drink with Ruby!” she says, louder this time.

“I heard you. I’m just confused.” He shakes his head, runs a hand through his hair. “Why shouldn’t I have a drink with Ruby, and why did you run to tell me this right now?”

Because I’ve been in love with you from the first moment I saw you.

Because I wanted to tell you at prom, but I chickened out.

Because I’ve watched you kiss other girls for almost six years now, and I can’t stand to just watch any longer.

Alina doesn’t say any of that. Instead, she presses onto her tip toes, takes his face between her hands, and kisses him.

Mal stiffens, but doesn’t give her time to worry before he relaxes again, pulling her body against his, lifting her so she doesn’t have to stretch so far anymore. All around them are the happy cheers of a group of people at the end of one road stepping onto another. Families in the stands hoot and holler for their children, wipe tears and think, they made it.

But for Alina, it’s like being in a room where nothing exists except her and Mal, her best friend, her constant, the most important person in her life. She’s kissing him, she’s finally kissing him, and he’s kissing her back as if he’s been waiting for six years to do this, too. Like maybe he’s wanted her all along.

“Alina,” he breathes when their lips part, their foreheads pressed together instead. “Thank the bloody Saints.”

She giggles, actually fucking giggles, like a lovestruck school girl. “I’ve wanted this since prom. Before, even.”

Mal smiles, shakes his head the tiniest bit. “Me too.”

They laugh, so close that they’re breathing each other in. Two idiots, that’s what they are. But there’s no room to groan about what could’ve been sooner, no room to drown in regrets. They are young, and there is only room for joy in knowing they have the rest of their lives to make up for lost time. Starting now. Their lips meet again. Mal is steady and warm against her. He feels like home. It’s everything she’s ever imagined. It’s better.

Alina can see her future so clearly now, because she knows no matter what comes next, she’ll have Mal beside her to navigate through it.

He is all she’s ever wanted — her forever person, who won’t leave when she’s being unreasonable, who’s love is not conditional. He is all she’ll ever need.

#malina fanfic #alina starkov #malyen oretsev #fanfic #grishaverse fanfic #writing #mine #this didn't quite turn out how i expected but then again when does anything i write lmao #just some nice sweet malina feat idiots not realizing they love each other and lots of fun pining!#I HOPE U ENJOY ANA MY LOVE #it's 2am why do i keep writing at this hour sksksk #also don't entirely know how i feel about this but it issss what it isssss #maybe one day my writing style will be everything i want it to be

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cherienymphe · 5 years ago

Text

Best Friends Forever (Fratboy!Peter Parker x Reader)

This is my entry for @darkficsyouneveraskedfor What’s Old is New Again Challenge! This fic is inspired by #18, “A gentleman is simply a patient wolf. – Lana Turner. Hope you all enjoy!

warnings: NON-CON, manipulation, roofie

DNI IF THIS OFFENDS YOU

summary: Peter Parker is your best friend. Peter Parker is your only friend. Peter wants to keep it that way.

Peter Parker was your best friend. In fact, Peter Parker was your only friend. The two of you had been inseparable for as long as you could remember. You grew up together attached at the hip, and therefore, you did everything together.

He was there, watching in awe when you pulled your first loose tooth. You did the same when he pulled his first one weeks later. You helped each other learn how to ride bikes, double dutch, and even attempt to skateboard once. The two of you had broken so many bones together that you had lost count.

You weathered middle school together and the absolute insanity that was high school. You two had been best friends all your life, and it had never been anything more than that, so you both were equally confused when catty high school girls and bored high school guys would constantly accuse the two of you of dating. It was a thought that had never crossed your minds, and it was something you often laughed about.

There were absolutely no secrets between you two, and despite that, you still found yourself completely frozen in shock as you watched Peter slip in through your bedroom window one night during sophomore year. He was covered in bruises, and the oddly familiar red and blue fit he wore had some tears. You had stumbled off of your bed, running to grab him as he struggled to stand.

Realization hit you as he leaned against your wall, chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath, and your eyes almost popped out of your head.

“Y-you’re Spider-Man?”

It had come out louder than you had intended, and he was frantic as he covered your mouth, begging you to keep quiet. Neither one of you slept much that night as you demanded answers from him. You remembered feeling upset and betrayed that he had been hiding something so important from you, but even worse, you felt worried.

Your best friend had been put in danger so many times while you had been none the wiser. From then on, you demanded that he pass through your house to change out of his suit before going home. Not only for it to be safe for him to get home, but to put your own heart at ease too. It gave you a sense of comfort to see for yourself that he ended the night in one piece.

It was a tough secret to keep, incredibly trying to keep your thoughts to yourself as you watched his crime fighting be reported day in and day out. It was difficult to keep your worry at bay when he was late sneaking into your bedroom or to keep yourself from crying out when he was especially hurt. You were the only one who knew the truth, and the gravity of it served to further isolate the two of you.

Peter was literally your only friend and had been for as long as you could remember. What did it matter that you had never had any girlfriends, even now during college? Sure, you had always envied that special bond some girls seemed to have with each other. Of course, it bothered you a little that you had never experienced what it was like to have a best friend who could relate to you in every single way, but Peter was plenty. Yeah, there were some things that as a guy, he would never fully be able to empathize with, but his sympathy and well intentions were enough.

Besides, having a guy best friend came with its perks. Peter understood guys way better than you could ever hope to, and he was always more than eager to give you advice. Thanks to him, you could probably call yourself an expert on them, but in the end, it never did any good. You had never had a boyfriend, never even anything remotely close. Sure, it bothered you, a lot, but in the end you were grateful.

Peter saved you from regret more times than you could count. Every guy you had ever vocalized interest in turned out to be absolute garbage. At least, that was what Peter told you, and you trusted him. He was never wrong about these things. Tristan, an upperclassman that you’d had a crush on during your freshman year, had apparently been a racist creep. James from your junior year was a party animal with anger issues. Your first year of college, you’d fallen head over heels for a literature major named Logan, but Peter had to be the bearer of bad news when he informed you that the guy had a girlfriend back home and about three more on campus.

After that, you had just given up completely. You saw no point to any of it when every guy you had ever liked turned out to be awful. In the end, Peter was truly the only one you could trust. You were beyond thankful for him, and the day you could bring a guy around with Peter’s approval was the day you would know you found a good one. Unfortunately, you were starting to think that day would never come. You dreaded the day Peter would finally get a girlfriend, because then you would truly be a lonely wreck.

You found it odd that Peter had been single all this time too. This wasn’t high school anymore. In college, girls liked guys who were smart and who read and knew how to have conversations outside of sports. Add the fact that Peter had grown to be quite attractive and had even joined a fraternity, he was a catch. So it was safe to say you didn’t get it, and told him so one night.

“I’ve just never met the right girl,” he said with a shrug, distracted.

“Oh, come on,” you scoffed in disbelief. “So many great girls have shown interest in you. What about MJ? She was tall and funny and her hair-! God, her hair.”

He snorted, a faint smirk on his lips.

“I just wasn’t into her.”

“Why not?” you wondered.

MJ was practically perfect, and you had never known Peter to be nitpicky. He just shrugged, eyes focused on his laptop as he typed away.

“Peter,” you whined. “This is just sad. One of us has to start dating soon or we’ll just end up staring at each other in our old age.”

“I’ve dated,” he said, offended as his eyes cut up to you.

You rolled your eyes, flicking your pencil at him.

“I mean dating dating, not whatever it is you and your “frat bros” do every weekend. That house has seen more girls than a gynecologist clinic,” you complained.

“You know I’m not like that,” he said, shutting his laptop and setting it aside.

While he was somewhat right, he’d still had his own fair share of fun with some of the girls who went to their parties.

“You may not be as bad as the rest of them, but you can’t fool me, Peter. Remember, there are no secrets between us,” you replied, leaning back into the couch. “When are you going to get a girlfriend?”

He didn’t answer, and you continued.

“I know you want one. You’ve mentioned it several times, and I know dozens of girls that would be thrilled to be given the chance.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair, giving you his full attention now.

“I just…haven’t found the right girl,” he lamely repeated.

You opted to leave it alone, skeptically eyeing him before reaching out to turn on the tv. You could feel Peter’s eyes on you, but he fortunately spoke before you had a chance to ask him what was up.

“To be honest…there was a time when I thought…you’d be my girlfriend,” he quietly confessed, almost like he was afraid of your reaction.

You looked at him, shock and disbelief coursing through you. A humorless chuckle left your lips.

“You’re kidding…”

He shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest. His eyes were completely serious.

“No, I’m not. It was senior year of high school and… I don’t know,” he shrugged. “I know we were teased about it for years and the idea was crazy to us, but one day…I realized that you were the person I was closest to in the world…and I wanted to be closer.”

Your eyes were wide, lips parted in awe as you listened to this confession. You had never known, and you wondered how you could have missed it. What kind of friend were you?

“It was the only secret I ever kept from you…”

You turned to fully look at him.

“Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

He shrugged, dark eyes studying you.

“I knew you didn’t feel the same way, so I just forced myself to let it go. And I did,” he answered.

He was right. You had never felt the same way, and you started to wonder what would have happened if he had confessed his feelings to you. How awkward that could have been… It could have ruined everything.

“Peter…I can’t believe you did that. That must have…sucked,” you whispered.

He chuckled.

“I’m not going to lie. It kind of did, but I didn’t want to ruin our friendship. You’re special to me, and nothing would have been worth making our friendship weird or just destroying it altogether. It turned out to be nothing more than a crush, anyway. Just…teenage hormones.”

You felt your heart clench, wondering if you would have done the same. It must have been torture for him to swallow his feelings just to keep things comfortable between you two, no matter how fleeting the whole thing was for him.

“Really, it’s no big deal, Y/N. I’m long over it, now,” he waved you off.

You chuckled, moving past the brief shock you’d just experienced.

“I’m glad for that. If you told me you still had feelings for me, I probably would’ve accused you of sabotage all these years.”

“Sabotage,” he scoffed. “Listen, every single guy you’ve been into was downright awful. You literally have the worst taste in men-.”

“I do not!”

“You do, Y/N. Honestly, if it wasn’t for me, who knows what you would have gotten yourself into.”

You rolled your eyes.

“Just for that, you’re paying for the takeout, tonight.”

“Botany? That’s crazy! I want to go into agriculture,” you said with a laugh.

The guy before you, Harry, chuckled with you. The two of you were tucked into a quiet corner of the kitchen. The rest of the house was vibrating with a deep bass, the sound of noisy college students filling your ears. Parties weren’t your thing, but frat parties especially were definitely not your thing. Somehow, Peter had finally talked you into attending one of his house’s infamous parties, and you hadn’t even been in the building for five minutes before you grabbed a drink with as little alcohol as possible and hid in the kitchen.

It was miraculous really that you bumped into an attractive guy who was equally uncomfortable with these things. He was funny and charming, and he wanted to study plants. You tried not to get ahead of yourself, but someone else might say it was fate that you two ran into each other. Hell, you ran into each other at Peter’s frat house, so the chances that they knew each other were high. Maybe Peter would have good things to tell you about him.

As if he was summoned by your thoughts, your eyes connected with familiar brown ones as he poked his head into the kitchen.

“Peter!”

You waved him over, and his eyes flitted between you and Harry as he approached you.

“Hey, Parker. I didn’t know you knew Y/N,” Harry chuckled, taking a sip of his drink.

“Yeah, Peter and I go way back. He’s my best friend,” you said, pulling Peter over.

Your best friend was being unusually quiet, and you frowned. You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye, noticing the way his eyes had hardened. Was he okay?

“Y/N was just telling me that she wants to go into agriculture. We’ll probably be taking a lot of classes together in about two years,” Harry threw out.

Peter chuckled at that, but it sounded off, and he turned to look at you.

“I figured you’d be hiding in the kitchen, so I came to find you,” Peter said, wrapping an arm around your waist.

A shudder passed through you at the unfamiliar gesture, but you brushed it off.

“Oh, you know how I am. I’m glad I ran into Harry though! He’s been keeping me company, so you can just go back to the party if you want. Your friends are probably looking for you,” you replied.

Peter had become quite popular since you two started college, and you knew that the demand for his attention was rather high. You often felt bad about dragging him down with you. You weren’t really the social type.

“Yeah, Parker, I can look out for Y/N for you,” Harry offered, a friendly smile on his lips.

You returned it and noticed the way Peter’s jaw ticked, and confusion filled you.

“Actually, I came to find Y/N so that we can go,” Peter bit out.

Your frown deepened, but you didn’t question it as Peter gripped your hand.

“Oh, okay. I guess we’re leaving. See you around, Harry!”

He waved back as Peter pulled you out of the kitchen. His grip was tight on your hand as he weaved through swaying bodies and drunk students. Again, you wondered if he was upset about something. It was Peter, so you hardly ever saw him upset. You breathed in the fresh air when the two of you made it outside, and you took the time to eye him.

“Peter…you alright?”

He took a deep breath, chest heaving before he looked at you with a smile. He looked more like himself and you returned it.

“Yeah, I’m just…not feeling too good,” he answered.

“Oh,” you sadly said. “Are you getting sick?”

He shrugged, hand in his pockets.

“I don’t know. I probably had too much to drink. Mind if I crash at your place?”

You chuckled, shaking your head.

“You’re always welcome to sleep over, you know that.”

It was quiet for a while between you two as you walked back to your apartment. His hand was soft on yours, and the way his arm kept brushing against yours brought comfort to you. You were so used to his presence, borderline dependent on it, and just knowing he was beside you was reassuring.

“I love you, Peter, but please don’t invite me to anymore parties,” you suddenly whispered, a hint of mock fear in your voice.

He barked a laugh, and you joined him.

“All of them aren’t that bad, I promise,” he chuckled. “Did you really hate it that much?”

You hummed, releasing a sigh.

“Maybe I didn’t hate it all that much,” you admitted after some time.

He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye as a wistful smile fell over your lips, eyes gazing at the sky.

“So…how do you know Harry?”

His hand tightened around your own just the slightest.

“He’s in another frat,” he answered with a scoff. “He’s a spoiled rich kid who thinks he can get anything he wants by throwing money at it.”

You rolled your eyes with a shake of your head.

“Somehow, I’m not shocked by that, but… You know what? I don’t care.”

He stopped walking, pulling you to a halt with him, and he stared at you with a frown.

“What? What do you mean?”

You shrugged.

“I like him. We have a lot in common and he’s hilarious and so cute. Maybe… Maybe I’m expecting too much, you know?”

Peter looked even more confused, jaw clenching as his frown deepened.

“What are you saying?”

“I mean… Yes, I’m a huge romantic and I want a boyfriend, a serious boyfriend, like I have for years, but… You have always been a girlfriend kind of guy. It’s no secret that you’re open to a serious relationship, and you claim the only reason that hasn’t happened yet is because you haven’t found the right girl, but… Peter, that’s never stopped you from having fun,” you elaborated.

He didn’t respond, and you sighed.

“I’m just saying that maybe I should do the same. Maybe I should stop trying to make a boyfriend out of every guy I’m into and just have fun. Like you!”

He forced a chuckle past his lips.

“That’s…that’s not like you…”

“I know, but… I’m tired of being alone,” you shrugged. “We’re in college, now, and the chances of me finding a boyfriend are pretty low. Let you tell it, a good portion of the guys here are trash, but that only matters if you’re looking for something serious, and I don’t think I want that anymore.”

Peter was uncharacteristically quiet…again, and you tilted your head at him.

“That’s…a big change for you,” he murmured.

“Yeah,” you sighed. “…but I’m really into Harry. You’ll help me, right?”

Your pleading gaze met his dark one, slightly frowning at the way he was looking at you. He pursed his lips.

“Please, Peter? I really like him, and you know him so well.”

He looked away with a small sigh. He briefly closed his eyes before eventually nodding, and you smiled. He looked at you with a grin on his lips, taking your hand again as he continued the trek down the sidewalk.

“Yeah. Leave it to me, Y/N, and I’ll help you get laid in no time,” he relented.

You squealed, reaching up to shake his shoulders as you pushed him along.

“You’re an angel!”

He chuckled.

“What are best friends for?”

“Okay, I’ll admit, that was much better than I was expecting,” Harry relented.

“See! I told you, I am an excellent judge when it comes to these things,” you replied as the two of you walked out of the theatre.

It was the sixth date the two of you had been on in 4 weeks. True to his word, Peter had helped you out, and that next morning after the party, you’d woken up to a text from Harry Osborn himself. A huge grin had spread out over your face, and you didn’t hesitate to reply.

The two of you had been talking nonstop since then about practically any and everything. It turns out that you hadn’t been premature in thinking the two of you had so much in common. It was true! It was almost suspicious how much of the same things you liked, including horror films.

“Listen, the storyline didn’t seem all that original, and when I had watched the trailer, I felt like I’d seen the entire thing in less than 2 minutes,” he defended.

“Okay, okay, that I can understand, but ever since I’d missed out on seeing both Insidious and The Conjuring in theatres because I thought they were going to suck, I vowed to myself ‘never again’.”

“Yikes! Both of those films were great. I just know you still kick yourself over that one,” he laughed.

“It literally haunts me,” you groaned. “I know experiencing both of those in the theatre must have been amazing.”

Harry seemed to find your regret amusing, and he stopped to look at you with a smile on his face.

“Hey, so uh, my frat is throwing a party this weekend. I mean, we do just about every weekend, but I was thinking maybe you could come…as my…date this weekend?”

Your eyes widened a bit, and you felt your face heat up. He seemed nervous to ask you, like he didn’t know how you’d feel about it, and it was wild to you. You really liked Harry, and you thought you had made that more than obvious over the past month. Sure, Peter was right when he said he was a bit of a snob, but it wasn’t overbearingly so to the point that it became a turn off. Crazily enough, you could see Harry being more than just ‘fun’.

“I’d love that,” you honestly replied.

The corner of his mouth pulled upwards into a smirk, and he stepped closer to you on the deserted sidewalk.

“Yeah…?”

You nodded, looking up at him as he got closer. Neither one of you said anything as he reached up to gently grip your jaw, leaning in until his lips pressed against yours. You sharply inhaled, closing your eyes as you savored this. His lips were soft, and the way he moved them against yours told you that he was experienced.

That didn’t bother you. Truth be told, you had always wanted to be with someone who knew what they were doing, because honestly, you had no idea. You felt flutters deep in your stomach, and you shuffled closer to him when a cool breeze blew by. He pulled away just a little, opening his eyes to look at you as you did the same.

“Come on. Let me walk you back to your place,” he offered.

You happily gripped his hand as he did just that.

You felt giddy, absolutely on cloud nine as you leaned your head on his shoulder. Maybe you were getting a bit ahead of yourself, but a nice and rich frat guy was asking you to be his date to his house’s party. In context, this whole thing was showing a lot of promise. Guys like him normally liked to keep their options open, and him actually claiming you as his date was making somewhat of a statement.

You waved him goodbye as you made your way inside the complex, lips still tingling from the second kiss he’d given you just outside. You were still smiling when you rounded the corner that led to your hall, pausing as your eyes fell on a familiar figure outside of your door.

“Peter, hey!”

He pulled himself to his feet with a small groan, stretching as you fished your keys out of your purse.

“Where have you been? I’ve been waiting here for over an hour,” he said, glancing at his watch.

You gave him a sheepish look as you let him go in first.

“Sorry. I went to go see a movie with Harry,” you answered.

“Oh,” he said in a small voice. “You’re still seeing that guy?”

“That guy,” you scoffed with a small chuckle. “Isn’t he your friend?”

“Yeah, sort of, I guess…”

“You staying over tonight?” you asked, glancing over your shoulder.

“I really wasn’t planning to, but since I’ve been waiting this long, I don’t want to go back to the house in the dark.”

You hummed, opening your drawer of takeout menus to figure out what you should order.

“So…how are things going with Harry?”

You couldn’t stop the smile that fell over your lips.

“Great actually,” you said, sounding surprised. “He asked me to be his date to the party his frat is throwing this weekend.”

Peter’s eyes were wide as you glanced up at him, dark eyebrows raised as he looked at you.

“Really…”

“Yeah! I don’t know… I wasn’t exactly planning for this to be anything serious, you know? I wanted to experience some light fun for once in my life, but now… I think I can see us actually being something,” you whispered.

Peter didn’t reply right away, only humming in response.

“Are you going to the party?”

He blinked, heaving a sigh before shaking his head.

“Nah. I’m not really a fan of the kind of parties they throw,” he said with a shrug.

“What do you mean?”

He waved you off.

“They can just get pretty wild. They regularly get noise complaints and don’t really monitor how much alcohol people are drinking until it’s too late and there’s throw up everywhere,” he explained with a frown.

“Oh…”

You were a bit disappointed that Peter wasn’t going to be there, but you had to remind yourself to stop being so dependent upon him. The two of you couldn’t stay attached at the hip forever, and at some point, you had to start making a social life for yourself…by yourself.

Friday night came much quicker than expected, and you were all dressed and ready to go. The house wasn’t far from your place, and since it was still daylight, you didn’t mind walking. You’d worn comfortable shoes, so it didn’t bother you.

Even though you would probably be considered an early arriver, the place was already lively when you stepped through the door. Everywhere you turned, you were met with someone’s back or chest, and you struggled to maneuver yourself through the bodies. You didn’t recognize anyone, and almost wished that Peter had come with you, growing nervous until you spotted a familiar head of dark hair.

You approached Harry with a smile, reaching out to grab his arm. His eyes were wide when he turned to face you, and you frowned when he maneuvered his arm out of your grip. Your frown only deepened when he stepped away from you, glancing away, and that was when you noticed the girl at his side.

She hadn’t been paying attention, gaze elsewhere, but she smiled when she finally turned to look at you. She was blonde and beautiful and had perfect teeth, dazzling you as she grinned. Her perfectly manicured hands wrapped around Harry’s arm as she leaned into him.

“Hey! Are you a friend of Harry’s?”

She seemed sweet, and confusion filled you at their familiar body language.

“Babe, this is Y/N. She’s super close with my friend Peter,” Harry answered, barely sparing you a glance.

Your heart dropped to your stomach as you eyed them.

“Oh! I’ve yet to meet Peter, but I’ve heard you mention him sometimes. I’m Scarlet, Harry’s girlfriend,” she introduced herself.

If it all possible, you probably would have thrown up, but you hadn’t eaten anything all day, too nervous about tonight.

“Oh, wow! I don’t think Peter ever mentioned Harry having a girlfriend,” you responded, hoping it sounded casual.

You could feel the man in question’s eyes on you, but you didn’t spare him a glance.

“Well, I’ve never actually met Peter, and Harry and I only recently go back together…what was it? Two months ago?”

“Two months ago…wow…”

You didn’t know what to say, and you finally understood the full meaning of ‘speechless’ in that moment.

“Yeah, Harry didn’t have any plans this weekend as far as I knew, so I decided to come down and surprise him. You should have seen his face when I showed up on the doorstep an hour ago,” she laughed.

You joined her, feeling like you were going to be sick.

“I’ll let you two catch up. It was nice to meet you!”

“You too,” Scarlet said, waving goodbye as you turned and pushed yourself through the crowd.

There were tears in your eyes, and your body was shaking. Were you on the verge of a panic attack? You stumbled over your own feet as you attempted to make your way to the door. So focused on the baby pink polish on your toes, you didn’t notice the figure before you until your head was colliding with their chest.

You stumbled back, almost falling had it not been for a familiar pair of hands. You looked up in shock, and everything crashed into you as your eyes met Peter’s. His gaze was inquiring, worry coloring his features as he studied you.

“Y/N? What’s wrong?”

You shook your head, letting it fall against his chest as he wrapped his arms around you.

“What happened?”

“H-Harry has a girlfriend,” you whispered.

You felt him tense against you.

“…what?”

“I mean… I thought… You said he was just some spoiled rick kid. You never mentioned a girlfriend,” you said, looking up at him.

“I didn’t know. Honest. They broke up forever ago,” he replied, pulling you against him.

“Yeah, well apparently, they got back together two months ago. The whole time we’d been talking and going out together he…,” you trailed off, shaking your head. “He treated me like I was practically a stranger.”

Peter’s jaw ticked, and he moved to go past you, but you stopped him. His dark eyes were focused on Harry no doubt, but you pressed your hands into his chest.

“Peter, let it go. Please! Just…stay with me? I don’t think I want to go home…”

The last thing you wanted was to lay in your bed and remind yourself of what a disaster tonight was turning out to be. Peter heaved a sigh, hands tightening on you before reluctantly nodding. He pulled you along towards the door.

“Come on. We can just go to the party at my house,” he offered.

You nodded, leaning against him as he walked you out. You wiped at your cheek, unsure of when a few tears had spilled over. You had fooled yourself into dreaming of more with Harry and look where it got you. Even if you had still only wanted something casual, there was no way you would have knowingly got involved with a guy who had a girlfriend. That wasn’t who you were.

“I thought…I thought you weren’t coming,” you whispered.

“I wasn’t, but… I didn’t want to leave you at a party where the only person you knew was Harry. I’m glad I did come,” he murmured. “What an ass…”

“Don’t worry about it, Peter. Really. Maybe this is just a sign that I should stop trying to force something with every guy I like. It never turns out well,” you sighed.

Peter’s frat house was just as lively when you guys moseyed inside. A few of his brothers recognized you, and you waved at them. Peter’s arm tightened around your waist, but you didn’t mind it. You knew what other guys at the party would think, but you didn’t care. You were done with guys, and all you wanted was to hang out with Peter, the only guy you had ever been able to trust. So if they mistook you as Peter’s girl, and left you alone because of it, that was fine with you.

The two of you were attached at the hip throughout the night. Peter had gotten both of you drinks, and hours later, you were still nursing that same drink. This was never your crowd, and the more you made your way around the room with Peter, the more obvious it became. He didn’t seem to mind your company though, arm still at home on your waist. You noticed a few disappointed glances being thrown your way, and you chuckled with a frown.

“Peter, I think I’m ruining your chances of getting laid,” you finally said.

He glanced around to see what you meant before he chuckled too.

“It’s fine. You’re my best friend. I’m not just going to ditch you,” he responded.

You smiled but still felt a bit guilty that you had affected his night again. You pulled away from him, letting him know that you were going to be in the kitchen. He understood and promised to join you. To be honest, you wanted him to have fun. You didn’t exactly take pleasure in knowing that he sacrificed his usual routine at parties just for you.

You leaned against the counter, pressing your fingers to your temples as you rubbed circles into your skin. You didn’t know how the night had gone so wrong. How had you been so clueless? No, no! You were not going to do that. It wasn’t your job to watch and hunt for signs of an untruthful man. You weren’t supposed to be suspicious of a guy you were seeing. This whole situation was completely on Harry.

You finished your drink, tossing the red cup into the trash with a sigh. It was amazing that in the span of 3 hours, your life had done a complete 180. You had gone from having the time of your life to being alone and miserable and feeling absolutely foolish.

You heard footsteps make their way into the kitchen. You glanced up, face contorting in a frown as your gaze connected with that of the last person you wanted to see.

“What are you doing here?” you scoffed.

He was holding two drinks, eyes apologetic as he approached you.

“I’m sorry-.”

“I don’t want to hear it, Harry. There’s nothing that you could say that can fix this.”

“Y/N, I’m sorry! I’m so sorry. Scarlet and I… We’ve been having problems for a long time, now, and we both thought getting back together would make them magically go away, but they didn’t. The night we met, Scarlet and I had gotten into a huge fight, and I was under the impression that we were over…for good.”

You eyed him.

“Then she wanted to work things out, but I had already met you, and I really liked you…”

You looked away with a sigh.

“We were never exclusive, I guess, but it doesn’t matter because you have a girlfriend. You had a girlfriend the whole time we were hanging out, and I’m certain that you and she have an agreement that you guys are exclusive,” you harshly replied.

He glanced down, and you chuckled, but it lacked humor.

“You were cheating on her…with me… Never mind the obvious of how she would feel if she found out, but how do you think that makes me feel? Do you think I like being that kind of girl?”

He shook his head.

“No, no, you’re not the type-.”

“Exactly.”

He at least had the decency to look ashamed.

“I know I messed up, okay? I just wanted to apologize and bring you this… You said it’s your favorite, the only drink you actually really like, and I thought maybe it could soften the blow of you chewing me out,” he confessed.

You eyed the cup, glaring at him before taking it. You took a sip before sighing.

“Well, thanks for the drink,” you saluted him with it. “…but I don’t see us moving past this Harry. It was fun, but I don’t even want to be friends with someone like you. I’m sorry, and I mean it when I say I hope you and Scarlet work things out.”

You brushed past him, taking another sip of the fruity mixture as you went in search of Peter. It was easy to find him, following the sound of his familiar laughter. He didn’t mention anything as he wrapped his arm around you, and you figured that he didn’t know Harry was here yet.

“Hey, I was coming, I swear I was-.”

“Peter, it’s fine! You know I don’t care about you keeping me company or not. I’m a big girl.”

He returned your smile, pulling you closer as his hand tightened on your waist.

You didn’t plan to stay much longer, and about an hour later you decided that you would head out…after you used the bathroom. You found it much more difficult to weave through the sweaty bodies this time, and you blinked as your vision spun for half a second. You stopped to steady yourself, pressing your hand to your head in confusion.

You eventually made it to the bathroom, and you took some time to look at yourself in the mirror. You looked alright, for the most part, but you felt so…off. Your fingers were tingling just the slightest, and the bass in the houses sounded incredibly far away. By the time you were done in the bathroom, you were stumbling out.

You had to hold onto the wall for support, and confusion filled you. You’d only been drunk a handful of times, but this time felt different. Even worse, you had only had two drinks. You dreaded making your way down the stairs, and you had to pause and lean your back on the wall halfway down. You heard someone call your name, and they too sounded so far away. You jerked when a pair of hands landed on your arms.

“Y/N? Y/N, are you okay?”

You stared at Harry for the longest time, wondering what he was still doing here when it clicked. You frowned at him.

“Did you put something in my drink?”

Your words were slurred, but he understood you nonetheless, and his eyes widened.

“What? No!”

“You did, didn’t you? I…I only had two drinks, and this didn’t start until after-.”

“Y/N, I wouldn’t do that! Come on, let me-.”

“No!” you jerked away from him. “Is this your way of getting in my pants, anyway?”

He frantically shook his head, concern and worry and disbelief all rolled into one in his gaze.

“Y/N, you have to believe me! I wouldn’t do this!”

You scoffed, pushing against him, but it was weak.

“Believe you? How could I trust anything you say?”

He blinked, something clicking in his eyes as he looked down the stairs and back to you.

“Y/N, I didn’t get the drink for you. Did Parker not tell you he saw me? He gave me the-.”

“Hey, what’s going on?”

You both turned to look just as Peter came up the stairs. You stumbled towards him, fighting off Harry’s hands as Peter wrapped his arms around you.

“He put something in my drink,” you whispered, on the verge of passing out.

“What?” Peter demanded, tightening his hold on you.

“Y/N, listen-!”

“You’ve done enough, don’t you think? Get out of here, Harry, because if I tell my frat brothers you’re drugging girls they aren’t just going to let you walk out of here,” he threatened.

Harry stumbled over his words as Peter helped you back up the stairs.

“Leave,” you heard him snap at the other brunette.

Your fingers dug into his arm as he helped you walk down the hall, arms tightening around you.

“P-Peter…”

“Hey, hey… It’s okay. You can crash in my room, tonight, yeah?”

You’d only been in his room a handful of times, the both of you usually hanging out at his place. It was always clean and always smelled good, and you had thought to yourself before that it was no wonder girls kept coming back. He sat you down on his bed, and you struggled to sit upright.

You heard him fumbling around in his drawers and looked up just in time to see him coming over with a huge t-shirt. You didn’t mind when he helped you out of your clothes, welcoming it during your inebriated state. His fingers grazed your skin as he slid the shirt over you, resting his hands on your shoulders.

“Y/N, can you hear me?”

“Y-yeah,” you stuttered, blinking at him.

He took his thumb to widen your eyes, getting a good look at your pupils. You felt like you were having an out of body experience, and you were grateful for Peter. You didn’t like feeling like this, and you shuddered to think about what would have happened to you had Peter not been here.

“Thank you,” you whispered.

He ran his eyes over you before resting them on your fogged-out ones.

“You don’t need to thank me,” he said with a small smile. “What are best friends for?”

You struggled to return the smile, and he brushed his hand along the side of your face. Your eyes fell closed at the gentle feel of his ministrations. You were somewhat in shock that Harry would do such a thing. A rapist was a big leap from cheater and liar, and you wondered what drove him to do it. He had a girlfriend, but maybe he was truly that greedy and disgusting?

You forced your eyes open when you felt Peter’s hand on the side of your neck. You blinked, eyebrows furrowing as you watched him lean in.

“Peter-.”

You were cut off when he pressed his lips against your own. Your eyes widened, and you reached up to press your hands into his chest, but you had no strength. His hand slid to grip the hair at the back of your head, tightening his grip as he leaned into you.

You mumbled incoherently into his mouth as he laid you down, his lithe frame immediately settling against yours. His other hand was on your naked thigh, his t-shirt riding up to brush against your underwear. You turned your head, gasping for breath.

“Peter…stop,” you panted. “W-what are you doing?”

He didn’t answer you, opting instead to pull away and reach behind his head to pull his shirt off. You blinked as you were met with the sight of his bare chest. He leaned down again, pressing his lips against yours. He simply swallowed all of your protests, and you turned your head away again.

“Peter!”

“I’m doing what I’ve wanted to do for years, now,” he whispered against your cheek.

Your eyes widened, and confusion filled you.

“…what?”

You tried to scoot back on the bed, but he only followed, his frame still caging yours in as you both moved. His eyes were hard as he looked at you, and you felt tears collect as you fought not to cry.

“Harry gets everything, you know. It’s all just so easy for him, but I’d never let him have you,” he murmured, pressing kisses to your neck. “Not after I worked so hard to save you…for myself…”

You pushed against him again, but he didn’t budge.

“No, no. Peter, what…what are you…?”

Nothing was making sense, and your head hurt and your body felt heavy and the room was spinning. Nothing he was saying was making sense.

“Peter, you’re my best friend… This doesn’t make any sense…”

Your head lolled, much too heavy to lift as you heard him fumble with his pants. Panic gripped you, but you could hardly move. You groaned when he pressed himself against you, and you could feel him hard and throbbing between your thighs.

“Peter,” you mumbled.

“I’m going to be the only person who gets to be inside of you. The only one to know what it feels like to have you wrapped around them. God, I’ve always wanted to know what you feel like,” he whispered, kissing you again.

His fingers made their way to your core, rubbing you through your underwear. You reached up to grip his arm, but you were sure that your hold was featherlight. You let like your body weighed a ton, and the smallest of movements took so much out of you.

You whimpered as you felt your underwear grow damp, and Peter wasted no time in pushing them to the side before pushing a finger inside of you. Another soon followed, and you were panting beneath him as he worked his hand in between your legs.

“Please…stop,” you begged. “I’ll scream…”

“Can you?” he wondered, lips brushing against yours.

Tears spilled over at his question. He was right. Could you even scream? You could barely speak.

“Even if you could scream, Y/N… There’s a party going on. Who’s going to hear you? Hmm?”

He was dragging your filthy underwear down your legs, now.

“Peter, please. I’m your best friend… Please, don’t do this to me,” you pleaded.

Peter’s eyes met yours.

“It’s just been us our entire lives. All we ever needed was each other. I want to keep it that way,” he said.

You yelped, pressing your nails into his back as he slid inside of you to the hilt. Your legs were limp around him, a scream caught in your throat. He leaned down to kiss your wet cheeks, shushing you as you struggled to adjust beneath him.

He took his time as he pulled out of you before sliding back in, groaning at the way you clenched around him. You pressed your nails harder into his back, and he hissed before reaching back to grip your wrist, pinning it to the bed. He did the same with the other and kept a steady pace.

You panted beneath him, eyes fluttering closed. Whatever was coursing through your system made it impossible to focus on anything other than the way his hard length felt dragging against your walls. His eyebrows were furrowed in concentration as he thrust into you, never taking his eyes off of you as he watched your face.

His grip tightened on your wrists, and you gasped at the pain.

“Peter…”

“It’s okay. Just enjoy it, Y/N…”

You gasped again as he picked up his pace, forehead dewy with sweat. He buried his face in your neck again, chest pressed against yours as he pinned you to the bed, unrelenting in his thrusts.

“You’re mine,” he murmured. “You’re finally mine…”

Something that was a cross between a choked moan and a sob escaped you.

“I want everyone to know it-.”

“No, Peter-!”

“I’m going to fuck you until the sun comes up, so everyone in this house will know you belong to me. You’re my girl, Y/N. You always have been,” he moaned. “…and when you limp out of this house with my marks on you, everyone will know it.”

He came in you with a low moan, and you sobbed into his chest as he rolled over, curling you against him. He ran his fingers down your back, lips brushing your forehead.

“I’ll make you come before the night is over,” he whispered. “I’ll be the only one to ever touch you like this.”

You shook your head, and he rolled you back onto your back, still inside of you. His dark eyes bore into your own, fingers trailing over your trembling body.

“You know exactly what I’m capable of, Y/N… You know the things I can do. I’d hate to have to hurt someone for touching what’s mine.”

tags: @sherrybaby14 @kellyn1604 @xoxabs88xox @mcudarklibrary @darkficreposter @villanellevi @sebabestianstan101 @harringtonsblackgf

@opheliadawnwalker3 @jtargaryen18 @notyourtypicalrose @readermia

#dark!peter parker #dark!peter #peter parker #dark fic #marvel fanfiction #dark!peter x reader

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princessphilly · 4 years ago

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Hockey Fic Exchange: Second Chance in Chicago

This is for the @hockeynetwork winter gift exchange. I was matched with my friend, @texanstarslove and it was relatively easy to give her what she wanted.

Title: Second Chance in Chicago

Player: Jonathan Toews

Genre: Angst, smut

Word count: 6410 words

March 2007

“Wouldja look at that? There’s the future NHL star, looking like the dork he is.”

Lizzie stuck out her tongue as Rachel announced the presence of the asshole himself, Jonathan Toews. They were all sophomores at UND but he had gotten drafted third overall by the Chicago Blackhawks last year. Hockey ruled UND so the team already had a high profile. But this year’s team looked like it would do some damage in the tournament so all eyes were really on them.

Tonight, Lizzie and her friends had decided to go to a frat party at the Beta house. It was a cold early March Thursday night but she had been in the mood to party. Unfortunately, the party had been invaded by the hockey team.

Jonathan grinned, his deep brown eyes sparkling like he had already pregamed. “Hey ladies,” he greeted before grabbing Lizzie and giving her a hug.

“Ew!”

Lizzie pushed Jonathan away. He definitely had pregamed, he smelled like good old Vladimir vodka. He was going to have a fucking hangover tomorrow.

Jonathan pouted. “I thought we were friends, Lizzie,” he exclaimed as he wrapped his arms around Lizzie again

“When did you think that?”

Rachel and Bethany snickered. It was a bit of a running joke, this animosity between Lizzie and Tazer. No one quite knew how it really started except it had been a freshman year hook up that ended bad. At least, that was the rumor. Ever since, Lizzie couldn’t stand Jonathan and Jonathan did every thing possible to needle her.

Lizzie flipped her hair over her shoulder before elbowing Jonathan in the ribs. Giving him an angelic smile, she ordered, “Don’t touch me.”

Being the drunken asshole he was at the moment, Jonathan leaned down and murmured in her ear, “You didn’t say that last weekend.”

“Ugh!”

Lizzie pushed Jonathan away before stomping towards the keg. Jonathan shrugged as TJ and some of the other hockey players came in. She was able to avoid him for the rest of the night and even flirted with a couple of junior guys she hadn’t met. Of course, as soon as she went to get a breather from the hot party, Jonathan was already outside.

Shivering, Lizzie huddled close to the door, planning to ignore Toews. There had been a snowstorm the other day and there was a good ten inches of snow on the ground.

“Supposed to snow again tomorrow.”

Lizzie let out a loud sigh. Of course, he couldn’t respect her silent plea to be left alone. “This is North Dakota. It’s always snowing.”

Turning to her left, Lizzie looked at Jonathan. For once, he didn’t have his cocky, self-assured, ‘I’m the one in complete charge’ look on his face. He looked slightly pensive and a bit unsure. “Here, have my hoodie.”

“I don’t-,” Lizzie started to say but she relented as Jonathan put his hoodie over her head, pulling it down. She was cold as fuck, shivering in just a short-sleeved shirt and her jeans. “Thank you,” she murmured.

“You’re welcome.”

They stood there for several moments, breath turning into puffs of icicles before Jonathan finally broke the ice. “Ridley, really?”

“Oh, you know him?” Lizzie tensed, UND wasn’t as big as other schools but she could at least have found someone that Jonathan didn’t already know. But then, hockey ruled here and he knew more people than her so yeah, just her fucking luck.

“He’s cool.” Jonathan shrugged, suddenly feeling nervous as fuck. It really wasn’t his area to talk, he didn’t really want to be a cock-block, but fuck it. “He’s not an asshole or anything. But we both know that’s not who you really want.”

“Oh really? Who told you what I really want?”

He hadn’t really planned to do it now; Jonathan had planned to go for it next month. But he already had told coach and his teammates that he was going pro after this season, so he might as well do it. “We have unfinished business, Elizabeth.”

Lizzie froze at Jonathan’s use of her full name. He was the only one here at UND who ever used her full name. It brought back memories, those first weeks of spring semester of freshman year. Memories of doing things that would have had Momma reaching for her rosary and Papa yanking her out of UND to go into a convent. She bit out, “No, we don’t.”

“So, that’s why you called me last Saturday, asking me to come over after the game?”

Lizzie rolled her eyes. “I was drunk,” she very primly replied, staring at her nails. She thought to herself, ‘I need a manicure.’

“Then last weekend, you came over and you definitely weren’t drunk.”

Lizzie shrugged, pretending she didn’t hear what Jonathan said. She didn’t want to admit the truth; Jonathan made her nervous. She was 19 and every time she was with him, she felt like this could be something that could be forever. But Lizzie had plans; she was planning to go east for law school, get out of North Dakota forever. This wasn’t the time to even think of settling down with anyone, especially not with Jonathan since he was going pro. Even though, her traitorous pussy reminded her, Jonathan made her cum better than anyone else and wasn’t scared to choke, bite, or spank her unlike other guys.

Jonathan growled, of course Lizzie would be acting obtuse. He wasn’t looking to settle down or anything serious, he was just about to turn 19 and about to go to Chicago in five and a half months to start his pro career. Jonathan did really like Lizzie a lot and wouldn’t be against putting a label on what was going on. Then, Lizzie got cold feet last year and had been stringing him along for over a year. It would be nice if Lizzie actually admitted that they had something going instead of being nasty to his face but fucking with him late at night.

“Okay, since you don’t want to face reality, I’m just going to say it. It’s not fair that you like to treat me like shit in public but you want me to fuck you when no one is looking.”

Lizzie opened her mouth before closing it. From the tone of voice that Jonathan had used, it sounded harsh. Like she was using him like a whore. But Jonathan wasn’t done.

“Don’t worry about my hoodie, I’ll get it before I leave.”

Jonathan turned around and went back inside of the party. Lizzie stayed outside for several more minutes, pensive. Then she harrumphed and rejoined the party, resolute that she was going to ignore Jonathan once she gave him his hoodie back.

Twelve years later

Lizzie brushed her ginger hair over her shoulder. It was weird to be ginger for the first time since she was fifteen. The past years, she had been a very faithful blonde but it was time to do something very different.

“Not bad for a rancher’s daughter.”

Lizzie twirled in her full-length mirror, admiring the way the navy-blue dress fit her body, accessorized with her diamond hoop earrings, tennis bracelet, class ring, and the brand-new patent leather heels she had managed to score on clearance at Neiman Marcus. Very much the uniform of an intellectual property litigator who had just made partner, not the yee-haw who had went to UND. But right now, as she thought about tonight, Lizzie felt like the yee-haw she tried to suppress.

Tonight, there was a fundraising cocktail hour for her firm, Bradley, Lewis, and Cooper. This would be the first one that Lizzie attended since she transferred to the Chicago office from Atlanta. She was good at gladhanding and charming people, attending Penn Law had sucked the yee-haw from Lizzie’s accent. Now, she was Elizabeth Romanelli, ready to make connections while raising funds for the Children’s Miracle Network.

Only fly in the ointment was that this fundraiser was being held at the United Center. Not only that, it was rumored that the firm was able to get a couple of players for the Blackhawks to appear. Bradley, Lewis, and Cooper did some work for the Blackhawks, mainly with local TV contracts and sponsorships. Lizzie took in a deep fortifying breath. “It has been years,’ she told herself. “There’s no need to be nervous seeing Jon again.”

She turned around and grabbed her coat. It was mid fall but the temperature dropped enough at night that Lizzie wanted to wear her coat just in case. Before she left, she looked at her left ring finger. Taking a deep breath, she slid her old wedding ring off her finger. It was a new start, time to act like it.

The fundraiser went pretty well, in Lizzie’s eyes. It was her first firm social event in Chicago so most of it was spent shaking hands, exchanging business cards, and talking some shop. There were a couple of Blackhawks players there, none of that Lizzie recognized. She admitted several times while in conversation, that she was more of a college hockey than pro hockey fan.

Then, the one person she was hoping wouldn’t show up, showed up. Lizzie worked hard not to check Jonathan out but he had the kind of presence that commanded attention. His hair was cut short and the once lanky frame had filled out completely. Lizzie smirked when she saw one of her fellow attendees lick her lips but she couldn’t blame her. Jonathan looked delicious in a black suit with a pristine white shirt, no tie. He looked like casual, dominant elegance in a hockey player package as he made his rounds the room.

“You’re lucky that your department doesn’t work with the Blackhawks on anything,” said the woman who licked her lips. Lizzie looked down and looked at her name tag, it said ‘Elise’.

“Oh why?”

Lizzie took a sip of her pinot grigio, waiting for a reply. Elise didn’t disappoint as she whispered, “He’s single and my law school loans say he would be perfect for them.”

She couldn’t resist laughing at that statement; Lizzie totally understood where Elise was coming from. But as soon as her laughter faded, there was Jonathan Toews, right in front of them. Elise looked up at him, obviously starstruck. Lizzie put her best courtroom face as she stuck out her hand. “Hello, I’m Elizabeth Romanelli. You are?”

Jonathan blinked when Lizzie introduced herself as Elizabeth Romanelli. She was Lizzie MacArthur in the flesh, all these years later. Grasping her hand, Jonathan said, “Jonathan Toews, but you know who I am.”

Jonathan kept his best PR smile on his face as he processed his thoughts. This was Lizzie, the only one who got away. She was a redhead now, not a blonde, but those green eyes were still the same. Deep green eyes that always brimmed with an intelligence that had made Jon feel like he was an idiot when they first met at UND.

“Oh, how do you two know each other?”

Lizzie managed to keep her expression completely neutral while Jon reddened a bit. He dropped her hand as he said, “We went to college together.”

“Where was that,” Elise innocently asked and Lizzie wasn’t sure if she was truly curious or if she was being a bit catty.

“I went to University of North Dakota with Mr. Toews for undergrad,” Lizzie said. “Then I did Penn Law.”

Elise replied, “Oh. I remember reading that once.”

Lizzie refused to roll her eyes as Jon made small talk about the hockey season with Elise. Spotting a waiter, Elise raised her hand for another glass of wine. Tonight, was looking like it was about to be long. Before she could make her escape, Elise exclaimed, “Oh, there’s Mr. Schmidt, I need to talk to him! It was so nice to meet you and talk to you, Mr. Toews, Ms. Romanelli.”

Lizzie sighed as she scampered away, leaving her alone with Jonathan.

“Long time, no see,” Jonathan said, taking a sip of his water. Tomorrow was a game night and while he enjoyed drinking, he had no interest in doing anything that would keep him out of peak performance. But looking at Lizzie, he wished he had something stronger. The years had done her good; she looked curvier, stronger, hotter. He felt his pants tighten and Jonathan thought of his smelly hockey gear to deflate his hard on.

Lizzie stroked the curve of her new wine glass before replying, “I know. Wasn’t necessarily planned.”

“Romanelli?”

“I was married,” Lizzie’s smile tightened.

Jonathan quickly replied, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to ask anything that would make you feel- “

“It’s okay, let’s not go there, okay. Before you ask, I’m a widow.” Lizzie looked down at her wine. It had been long enough that she knew she wouldn’t break down but it was awkward to talk about it with her first college hookup/almost boyfriend. After all these years, Jonathan still had an affect on her. She felt a bit lightheaded but her once dormant libido had flared up as soon as they shook hands. It was as if her body had decided that someone worthy was nearby and it was time.

“I’m sorry,” Jonathan repeated, his voice low as he ran his fingers through his short hair. It was a bit overwhelming seeing Lizzie again but he was already damn sure that he needed to see her again. As they exchanged pleasantries, Jon moved on to another group at the fundraiser. But every now and then, he made sure to catch her in the crowd.

At the end of the night, he was finally able to get Lizzie alone, again. “Now that you’re in Chicago, why don’t we go out? As old friends?”

Lizzie laughed as she waited for her coat. “We weren’t old friends and you know it.”

“But who said that we can’t be at least friends now?”

Jonathan gave Lizzie a big smile while she scoffed, “I can tell by the way you’ve been looking at me all night that you aren’t interested in being just friends.”

“How was I looking at you?”

Jonathan leaned into Lizzie as he noticed that Seabs was nearby. While he loved Seabs as a brother, he didn’t want him to have any idea of what he was planning, yet.

Lizzie batted her lashes at Jonathan before replying, “Like you never seen a woman before. I have to keep the conversation business casual but we both know what I’d really like to say.”

“Then, you should let me have your phone number.”

“Smooth, Toews,” Lizzie commented. “Very smooth.”

“I try.”

Jonathan couldn’t help himself; as Lizzie received her coat from the coat check, he helped her put it on.

“Wow, I don’t know if you’re actually a gentleman now or if you’re trying to get points,” Lizzie quipped.

Jonathan gave her an aw-shucks grin and a shrug. Despite her better judgment, Lizzie figured that it couldn’t hurt. She didn’t really know anyone yet in Chicago and it would be nice to talk to someone who she at least knew from college. But she didn’t want to openly give it to Jonathan so she took the moment to turn and grab paper and a pen from a table. Writing her number and snap down, she slid it into Jonathan’s pocket.

“There, now you can never say I never gave you anything.”

Lizzie turned and sauntered away. Jonathan fished through his pockets and grabbed the paper, grinning and laughing to himself.

Lizzie had to give Jonathan credit. He knew how to attempt to get a woman’s attention. The flowers were a nice touch; not too ostentatious and he was smart enough not to attach his name to them. But Lizzie knew exactly who they were from because there were exactly nineteen pink and nineteen white roses in Monday’s bouquet. Yesterday’s bouquet was a set of nineteen purple flowers that after she looked them up, Lizzie found out that they were purple columbine. Today’s bouquet involved nineteen white camelias and nineteen red chrysanthemums.

“This guy must really like you.”

Lizzie turned around to see Peter, her paralegal. He was pointing at the flowers, a pensive look on his face.

“Really? He just wants my attention.” Lizzie dismissively waved towards the flowers but inwardly, she was loving it.

Peter raised an eyebrow. “Okay, whatever you say. Anyway, I have five messages from the managing partners.”

“I already know what they want and I already reviewed the files and sent them to Kristin, Jacques, and Malik. They are working on the briefs for the arbitration and they should all be done by the end of the work day. I will prep my own opening argument myself for the hearing when we are done talking. You can quote everything I just said in your email,” Lizzie stated with a smile on her face. This was her first arbitration hearing at the Chicago office with her new associates working under her. But she knew it would go well.

“But the flowers. I’d look them up, Ms. Romanelli. He’s sending you a message with each bouquet. Especially that first one with those kind of pink roses, maiden blush roses? Oh, he’s definitely telling you something.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

Lizzie brushed Peter off, her mind already back on work. However, she messaged Jon later, I like jasmine, lily of the valley, the most.

The next day, there was a bouquet with yellow jasmine, lily of the valley, and red pink flowers, the number adding to 19 and a note, looking forward to seeing you tonight.

Lizzie was still a mystery and Jonathan was desperate to figure her out. This was their sixth date and every time he felt like he was getting closer to her, Lizzie pulled back. Jon understood but at the same time, he was getting annoyed. He was also horny as fuck and trying very hard not to let his cock dictate his actions.

Tonight, Lizzie wore a little black dress with strappy heels to dinner and all Jonathan could think of was having Lizzie wear those heels while he fucked her hard and fast. It took all his willpower to keep the conversation light during dinner as his traitorous brain filled with all kinds of dirty images. Now, they were having post dinner drinks at a place Kaner had suggested. It was very intimate, the kind of place for seduction. Unfortunately, Jonathan thought, there would probably be no seduction tonight as he stood on the wall with Lizzie.

“I intentionally wore these for you.”

Lizzie fluttered her eyelashes at Jon’s dumbfounded expression. She wasn’t dumb; she knew exactly the kind of affect she had on men. Lizzie had to give Jonathan credit; he was doing a good job of not being a stupid hornball.

“I love them,” Jonathan drawled before taking a sip of his whiskey on the rocks. He told himself to be patient, as they continued to talk but after another half-hour talking about football, Jon finally broached the subject. “Are you seeing anyone?”

“Are you,” Lizzie countered. She went out on a couple of dates with a couple of different guys when the Blackhawks were out of town because, in her mind, she was still a free agent. Doing that actually made Lizzie feel more comfortable with going out with Jonathan. Not that the other dates were bad but Lizzie had to admit to herself that there was still something more with Jonathan.

“No,” Jonathan admitted. His DMs were full on all social media so he could go out with anyone he wanted if he truly felt like it. But right now, he really was just interested in Lizzie.

“That’s nice.”

Lizzie twirled the straw in her cocktail. Jonathan thought about what to say but ended up blurting out, “I still think about some of the things we did.”

“Woooooooow.”

Blushing, Lizzie bit her lip. Some of those memories had come back since she had seen Jonathan again. Some of those things that had seemed extra sinful at eighteen and nineteen were mainstream these days. Plus, Greg had tried but he didn’t have that same aura that teenage Jonathan had. Adult Jonathan had that dominant aura in spades and it was tempting.

Lizzie added, “And?”

Jonathan moved closer to Lizzie, his big body bracketing hers, his monotone voice even deeper, “You remember when I tied you up the first time?”

“That was…. interesting,“ Lizzie replied. She felt flushed, that memory now in her brain. They had been fumbling around and Jonathan had tied her up before making her beg and scream his name. But the knot had got stuck and after he cut her out, Lizzie had chafed skin on both of her wrists. “It was an interesting experiment.”

Jonathan licked his lips. He noticed that Lizzie was flushed, her body leaning towards his. It was almost heady, the tension, he could taste it. So, he decided to press into the attack.

“We’ve both grown up now. I mean, I know what I love to do in the bedroom and I’m not a teen boy fumbling around.”

Lizzie resisted the urge to roll her eyes at Jonathan’s pronouncement. Steeling her face so that she looked impassive, inwardly she was freaking out a bit. Jonathan had been pretty good fuck in college, better than the rest of her boyfriends before she married Greg. But this Jonathan, three times Stanley Cup winner and hockey superstar Jonathan, he seemed lethal.

And he knew it as he gave Lizzie a little smirk and a wink.

“Don’t worry Lizzie, no one is going to judge you now if you like a little pain. I definitely won’t. You know I liked giving it to you when we were experimenting.”

Exasperated, Lizzie exclaimed, “You’re still so arrogant! I seriously doubt you’d have a chance to fuck me again.”

Jonathan moved closer and Lizzie backed up, backing into the wall. Jonathan got close enough that Lizzie could smell his expensive cologne but far enough that she could easily move away if she wanted to.

“I don’t know why you’re still lying to yourself all these years later,” Jonathan murmured, his dark brown eyes looking black. “But I’m patient, I can still wait. You still want me and I’ve always wanted you.”

Lizzie bit her lip and Jonathan resisted the urge to groan. He had thought that he had forgotten her but just meeting her again two months ago had brought back those old feelings. Now, he was getting tired of playing cat and mouse but from what he had learned from TJ and Ridley, Jonathan was trying to be careful and tactical with his advances. He at least managed to get her to go out with him. His cock could wait.

Of course, after telling himself that, images from a decade ago filled his head. Ignoring them, Jonathan instead taunted, “Nothing to say? I never thought lawyers could be rendered speechless.”

Instead of replying, Lizzie reached out and touched Jonathan’s sweater. It was super soft and felt like it was made from the finest cashmere. She finally replied, voice low and soft, “Why am I so attracted to you? This shouldn’t really be happening.”

“Fate.”

It was a very simple reply as Jonathan grabbed her hand and brought it up to his lips. He kissed her hand, just a brief touch of closed lips to skin. But it felt like electricity coursed through both of them. Jonathan recovered first before giving Lizzie a devilish smile. “Night, night Elizabeth.”

***

“He’s way too smooth.”

Lizzie took in a deep breath as she watched the first snowfall of the year through her office window. Rachel’s laughter at her complaint registered super loud over her ear pod.

Rachel commented, “Of course he is, he’s had over a decade of practice. I can’t believe he’s still interested; I think Jon has dated models and he could date anyone. You’re lucky as hell, Lizzie.”

Lizzie pouted as she moved away from the window. “I don’t know if I want to be lucky.”

“Well, I remember all of the sneaking around you’d did when we were in college. You had no problems fucking him in private.”

“RACHEL!! Oh, my Gawd, you knew that?!?”

Lizzie put her hand on her forehead, mortified. She thought she had been cautious.

Rachel chuckled before continuing, “No one else figured it out. But it was obvious that sparks were flying. And then Jon goes pro and you end up dating around until you met Greg. But you never were as happy as you were freshman spring.”

Lizzie sighed, feeling a headache beginning to start. “Greg, you know I loved Greg.”

“I know honey, if you hadn’t, I would have seriously considered stopping the wedding,” Rachel consoled. “And he did help you escape the ranch and your parents’ plans.”

“I’ve been a widow for 3 years and this is the first time I’ve been attracted to a man,” Lizzie blurted out. Her cheeks reddened as she realized her admission.

There was an extended pause before Rachel finally replied. “Then you should go for it. Greg wouldn’t want you to give up on sex because he’s gone.”

Lizzie flipped through the messages on her work phone as she pondered Rachel’s words.

“I gotta go, Alyssa is about done with school and the baby should be up any minute. Stop thinking and just fuck him. Just remember to put color corrector and concealer over any marks Jonny leaves on you.”

Lizzie exclaimed, “Rachel,” but she had already hung up. Checking her personal phone for messages, Lizzie grinned when she saw she had a snap from Jon. Opening the snap, she saw a photo of Jon signing jerseys and picks with a note of can’t wait to give you one.

Lizzie responded; too bad I’ll be too busy to get one for the next couple of weeks

Lizzie put her phone down, ready to focus on her work before getting a new message from Jon. I told u I can be patient.

Lizzie looked down at her list of pros and cons. All the pros were reasons why she should fuck Jonathan: get rid of all the unresolved tension from college, he’s an already proven great fuck, probably the best guy to be her first fuck since Greg passed away. The cons were that he was Jonathan Toews, he was famous, and he did have the ability to be an asshole. Her skeptical side told Lizzie that she probably couldn’t keep it casual but the other side was like, was that a bad thing?

Shaking her head, Lizzie pulled on a pair of jeans before putting on a sweater. The Blackhawks were back in town and last night, she went to the game courtesy of Jonathan. Lizzie had taken Elise with her and they enjoyed the Blackhawks winning against the Flames. It was actually fun as Lizzie explained some of the finer points of hockey, such as power plays, penalty kills, offsides, and the fact that all refs in all sports were absolutely awful. Tonight, she actually told Jon she would come over after they saw a movie.

Lizzie was curious about where Jonathan lived. She knew it was in an area called Lincoln Park; she lived in the outskirts of the North Side. Her student loans from law school demanded payment so Lizzie moved in the nicest area she could afford, in a gentrifying neighborhood. “Get a taste of how the rich live tonight,” Lizzie said to herself. However, she did put on a matching pair of underwear just in case she decided to do more.

Jonathan looked at Lizzie as the car pulled up to his place. He had been on his best behavior tonight; no sly comments, etc. after last time. But Lizzie had been cuddly during the movie and now, she… he couldn’t read her actions.

Jon entered his code and led Lizzie inside. “Very nice,” Lizzie commented as they walked through the first floor of his place.

“Oh wow, you have my favorite flowers,” Lizzie exclaimed as they walked into his kitchen. There was a vase with Spanish Jasmine flowers.

Jonathan shrugged even though he was inwardly pleased. He had ordered them this afternoon, a rush order when Lizzie said she would come over. Now she was here and he felt at a loss. His cock said to seduce her, his brain said to wait for her cues and see if she was actually interested. Jonathan grabbed two cups and got himself and Lizzie a glass of water before guiding her back into the living room.

“More movies,” Lizzie teased as she made herself comfortable on his leather couch.

Jonathan shook his head no, suddenly nervous as he cut on the TV. He didn’t want to fuck it up.

Lizzie smirked as she watched indecision on Jonathan’s face. Tonight, had been their first date since that conversation and it was obvious that Jonathan was still very interested but didn’t want to do anything that seemed pushy. Lizzie thought at first it was because they were out in public but she realized that if she wanted to actually go there again, she would have to bring it up.

“What are you thinking about, Jon,” Lizzie asked, intentionally shortening his name.

Jonathan put his arms on the back of the couch and mentally said fuck it. “Do you want to good answer or the dirty answer?”

“Dirty answer?”

Lizzie grinned as Jonathan gulped then groaned.

“I keep looking at your ass in those jeans and I want to grab it so bad,” Jonathan admitted. Lizzie looked at his big hands and she decided that tonight was the night.

“You can grab it, if you want?”

“Huh, what?”

Jonathan looked so dumbfounded that Lizzie giggled. “I said you can grab it. That’s another way of saying, you can touch me.”

“Are you sure,” Jonathan asked, locking eyes with Lizzie.

Lizzie rolled her eyes before grabbing his hand. “I came here with the full intent of getting fucked. But if you aren’t interested, that’s okay and we can hang out before I go home.”

“Oh, do you really want me to fuck you?”

Jonathan raised an eyebrow as Lizzie flung her hair behind her shoulder. “I want you to kiss me, eat my pussy, maybe I’ll suck your cock, and then fuck me, if you want to get precise.”

“Goddamn,” Jonathan breathed. “Fuck, then why don’t you sit in my lap?”

Lizzie climbed into his lap before locking eyes with Jonathan again. His deep brown eyes looked nearly black and he had stubble all around his jaw. She traced his jaw with her fingers before running her fingers through his hair. His voice a deeper monotone, Jonathan murmured, “I’m not going to bite, unless you want me to do that.”

Instead of replying, Lizzie brushed her lips over Jonathan’s, once, then twice. Then she leaned down and nipped his lip. “I like biting,” she whispered against his lips before kissing him again. Jonathan’s arms came around her waist, keeping Lizzie in place as he began to take over the lazy kiss. Need stretched through their kisses, tongues interacting as over a decade apart melted away. Then Jonathan pulled away. Lizzie reached to pull her sweater off but Jonathan stopped her.

“Let’s go to the bedroom, I don’t want to fuck you for the first time in forever on a couch, at least not this time.”

Lizzie laughed as Jonathan picked her up and nearly ran to his bedroom. She didn’t even get a chance to look around and admire before he was on her. Jonathan’s hands were all over her body as he desperately kissed her. Before Lizzie realized it, her sweater and bra were off and so was Jonathan’s hoodie and t-shirt. She could feel his rock-hard abs against her body as Jonathan rolled so that Lizzie was on top.

“Your tits are still fucking amazing.”

“Thanks,” Lizzie beamed as Jonathan gently kneaded them in his hands.

He murmured, “They are still so sensitive,” as her nipples hardened quickly in his fingers, watching Lizzie’s changes in expression. “So, you’ll tell me right away if I do something you don’t like?”

“Like what,” Lizzie asked.

Jonathan lightly grabbed her throat, something they had never done before but something he had learned that he liked to do. “Like that.”

“Mmmm, this is good,” Lizzie replied. Choking was one of the kinks she had explored with Greg and that she missed.

“Fuck, you got dirtier,” Jonathan stated before rolling Lizzie under him again.

“Why don’t you stop talking and undress me some more,” Lizzie ordered.

Jonathan laughed before idly replying, “Normally, I wouldn’t let you tell me what to do but we haven’t even negotiated that yet. And we aren’t, not tonight.”

Lizzie’s giggled as she shimmied out of her jeans. But those giggles were replaced with moans when Jonathan’s fingers brushed her upper and inner thighs before stroking her pussy through her panties. “So wet for me.”

He had planned to go slow but Jonathan was pretty sure that wasn’t happening, at least not for this first round. He needed to be deep inside of Lizzie, back where he belonged. Jonathan stood up and took off his own jeans and boxers, revealing his very hard cock. Lizzie reached up and ran a hand over his cock before pumping it with both hands.

“I’m not going to last that long,” Jonathan warned as Lizzie began to jerk him off. “I want to cum deep inside of your pussy, Elizabeth.”

“Oh my God,” Lizzie breathed. There was something in the way that Jonathan said her full name, it made her pussy drip even more.

Jonathan reached into his night stand and grabbed a condom. “Be a good girl and put this on me.”

Lizzie took the condom from Jonathan’s hands and opened it. Then she guided it over his cock with a wicked grin on her face. Leaning back on her elbows, Lizzie smirked at Jonathan before sucking her lip into her mouth. “Fuck me, Jonathan.”

Jonathan growled as Lizzie spread her legs, showing him just how wet and ready she was for him. Pulling a leg up and over his shoulder, Jonathan entered Lizzie slowly, making sure she felt every inch. Lizzie moaned, her hands grabbing anywhere they could on Jon as he fucked her, slow soft strokes turning harder with each thrust.

“Fuck you feel so good,” Lizzie groaned as Jonathan gave her a harder thrust, hips grinding with each stroke.

Jonathan managed to reply, “Your pussy still feels like it was made for me.”

He was already close and Jonathan couldn’t hold off even though he could tell that Lizzie wouldn’t cum with him this time. Jonathan’s lips found Lizzie’s as he kissed her while he came. Lizzie let Jonathan ride his high out, she could feel that she was getting closer but she wasn’t there.

Jonathan slumped against Lizzie for a couple moments before withdrawing from her pussy. He took off the condom, telling Lizzie, “Stay there.”

Dumping the condom into the trash, Jonathan pulled Lizzie to the edge of the bed. Spreading her legs, Jonathan knelt in between, fingers spreading her folds. Then his tongue licked her clit and Lizzie arched off the bed. “Don’t worry, I’m going to take care of you,” Jonathan cooed as he played with her clit. Then he dove in, licking her juices from her pussy before tongue-fucking Lizzie’s entrance. His fingers continued to roll her clit with light pressure, enough to keep Lizzie on the edge but not enough to get her to cum. Then Jon sucked her clit into her mouth and bit it very lightly, enough of a shock to get Lizzie to cum with a scream, fingers grabbing sheets to hold on for dear life. Jonathan muttered something in French as Lizzie rode out her high. Then she fell asleep with a light snore.

Lizzie laid on the bed, her hair fanned out around her head, body too depleted to move yet. But she peeled herself up as Jonathan was sitting up next to her, a MacBook in his lap.

“Wow, what time is it?”

“It’s a little after midnight,” Jonathan replied. He had changed into a pair of sweats and Lizzie licked her lips. He looked really good in gray sweats.

She shrugged. “At least it’s Saturday.”

“I cleaned you up after you passed out.”

Jonathan gave Lizzie a wicked grin as she blushed. “It’s been a while,” she replied.

Lizzie got up and Jonathan pointed to his left, indicating that was the way to get to the bathroom. Lizzie stepped inside of the master bathroom, still too tired to check it out. After taking care of business and washing her hands, Lizzie walked back into Jonathan’s bedroom. Jonathan handed her a t-shirt and said, “You’re too tired to attempt to drive home. You can stay here; I’ll keep my hands to myself.”

“I like cumming so you don’t have to keep them to yourself.”

Lizzie gave Jon a saucy smile while he groaned.

Let yourself be happy. Find that guy again, the one who was before me. I just want you to be happy, don’t shrivel up and die because I’m gone.

Lizzie looked at the note, last note from Greg before he passed from non-Hodgkin’s Lymphoma. Her wedding ring was on next to it, the simple gold band twinkling in the late winter sun.

Today was her seventh month since her move to Chicago, fifth since she met Jonathan for the first time in years. Tonight, she was going to the game, Elise going with her but this time, they were going to sit with the WAGs. Lizzie had met Jonathan’s closest friends and teammates and it was obvious that there was something happening between them. But Lizzie felt the need to look at this one more time.

“I’m going to be happy, Greg,” Lizzie whispered before putting her old wedding ring and the note in a box, setting it next to a vase of nineteen red tulips that Jon had given her. Then she pulled her hair into a ponytail, sent all work calls on her work phone to voicemail. Picking up her personal phone, Lizzie smiled as she looked at the text from Jonathan.

She wasn’t going to run this time. She was going to embrace a future with Jonathan.

#hockeynetwork #Jonathan Toews #smut #angst #drabbles #blurbs #blackhawks #nhl imagines #nhl imagine

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shwazzberryswriting · 4 years ago

Text

Numbers

Pairing: Kun x Original Female Character

Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Romance, Night Out, Partying

Summary: Ruby develops a crush on her tutor, Kun

Part 1 of my "The NCT Frat House Series" where I intend to write one story for each guy in this AU

Word count: 5.8k

Warnings: Mature Content, Explicit Sexual Content

Author’s Note:

This fic (and basically the entire AU) is inspired by a banter between a friend and me! Thank you to my friend! This fic is dedicated to you and your encouragement for me to write a Kun fic! 💚

About the Series:

-They will be in a connected universe but not all the stories will be connected

-There will be no chronological order so you can read from any point

-You can read the fics solo, without having read any of the other fics

-I have no order at all on who I will write about first or in what order, they'll arrive when they do

-------

Ruby was stressed out. Transferring from the state college to a private university during her junior year seemed like such a good idea when she had gone over her 5 Year Plan during her senior year of high school. She needed to save as much money as possible, and the best years for a private university was after getting the general studies courses out of the way.

Little did she know that the curriculum would change at the private university her sophomore year and her state college credits in her general studies classes in Math were only credited at 3/4 instead of a full credit. This meant she started her junior year half a credit behind most of her colleagues. $500 for a 6 week Trigonometry class seemed feasible until she realized that she sucked at Trig. She finally relented by signing up for 2 hour sessions with a tutor the university provided after her first day in that class.

It didn’t take long before Ruby received an email notifying her that the only available tutoring sessions from 7:00 PM to 9:00 PM on Wednesdays and Fridays was with one tutor, a senior by the name of Kun Q. whose tutor profile listed Math as one of his strong points. She felt fortunate that there was a tutor available with her crappy schedule, and clicked on the link in the email to confirm that the first meeting with her tutor would be on Friday at 7:00 PM in the library.

When Friday arrived, she rushed out of the local sushi bar, Misfit, where she worked as a hostess, hoping that 15 minutes was enough time for her to meet with her tutor. It took her 5 minutes to change out of her blue blouse with a giant name tag pinned on the front, so she decided to jog back to campus. She felt good that she arrived at the library with a couple minutes to spare.

Kun’s school profile picture had been provided in the email from the university, so she looked for the black haired guy with a bowl cut and round gold framed glasses. He’d looked like a total nerd with a middle parting in his hair and wearing a crisp white button up shirt. Ruby’s school profile picture was probably no better, but still, Kun’s nerdy photo had made her smile when she saw how serious he looked in his profile photo.

“Hi, Kun?” she said when she saw the only other person at the back of the library. He was seated at one of the desks, already settled in with his laptop open and his bag hanging at the back of his seat. Perhaps his profile photo had been during his freshman year, because he’d glowed up since then. He wasn’t wearing glasses, and his hair was longer and now colored light brown, a nice quiff had replaced his middle part bowl cut. Kun was a very handsome man with snow white skin, thick black eyebrows and peach colored lips.

“Ruby?” he asked once he looked away from his laptop. “Trigonometry tutoring for 2 hours?”

“Yes,” she replied as he pulled out the chair beside him and offered the seat to her.

Though she'd never had a tutor before, she knew that Kun was a good tutor. He was patient and picked up when she struggled, even if her pride stopped her from telling him that she wasn’t following what he was saying. After taking up almost all of the 2 hour session, he’d helped Ruby finish her homework. She almost cried tears of relief. Instead she thanked him, and bid him a good night after confirming that she’d see him again the following Wednesday.

Ruby bit down on her bottom lip as she gave Kun one final glance when she put her backpack on. She wanted to ask him for his number but found the task to be daunting. Just looking at him made her nervous, she didn’t want to sound like an idiot and failed to think of the right words to say something to him. Chickening out when Kun cleared his throat, getting up himself, Ruby turned around and rushed out of the library. Glancing at her phone, she groaned as she realized she had only 20 minutes to spare before her shift at a nearby 24 hour cafe, Regular, was to start.

***

At the end of the fall semester, Ruby wanted to stay home and veg out to her favorite Youtubers’ latest videos. Her friend, roommate, and fellow Literature major, Janell, had a different idea, however. After she finished a 4 hour shift at Regular, Ruby was wearing her red flannel shorts and her favorite oversized Karim Benzema Lyon jersey after a hot shower. Janell walked into her room and asked Ruby to help curl her hair. Janell was sitting on the floor with Ruby curling her friend’s long lavender colored hair when she asked Ruby to join her in going to a party.

It was being thrown by Johnny Suh, captain of the basketball team, and his fraternity house, NCT. It was to celebrate the end of the fall semester, and Janell had developed a giant crush on Johnny when the ladies had an Ethics in Online Media class with him. Ruby found Johnny to be friendly, but his habit of being the class clown got annoying quick. Aside from his banging body, she wasn't sure what Janell saw in him, but she would support her friend’s need to get laid.

“Fine,” Ruby said once she finished curling Janell’s hair. “I’ll go to the damn party. You’re doing your own makeup, though. I have to curl my hair now.”

“If you’re not feeling the party, just text me,” Janell said. “Wen, Alexandria, and Jaime said that they’ll be at the party, too, so we’ll network with them.”

Wen and Jaime were also roommates with Ruby. Alexandria used to be roommates with them, but moved out when her mom bought her a condo for her birthday. Ruby felt a little less pressure about having to take care of Janell if their friends were going to be at the party. With other friends there, there were more people looking out for each other.

“Have fun at the party,” Janell reminded Ruby, as if she read Ruby’s thoughts, playfully flicking Ruby’s brown hair with a finger to get her attention. “You don’t always have to worry that your friends need you to watch over them. It’s the end of the semester! Are you excited that Christmas is approaching?”

“I’m not going home to see my parents,” Ruby said as she began to do her eye makeup. “My mom said she already bought the tickets to Sydney.”

“My mom is going to Barbados with Chad,” Janell said, imitating like she was going to throw up. “Our parents really just dumped us once we began going to college.”

“Well, at least you and I can spend Christmas together,” Ruby said. “I don’t have to worry about coming home drunk on Christmas Eve, and waking my parents up.”

Janell threw one of Ruby’s plush toys at her as they laughed. Ruby would never let Janell live down the epic story of her first return to her parents’ home during her freshman year in college. Deciding to sneak out to hookup with her high school ex on Christmas Eve, Janell had gotten wasted and arrived home at 2 in the morning. Her attempts at making it back to her room in silence failed as she accidentally walked into her younger sister’s room and frightened the then 16 year old, waking the entire family up to an early Christmas.

By the time Ruby and Janell arrived at the party, the house was already full of party goers. The 3 story house shook from the bass beats coming out of the speakers along with the loud chatter of dozens of college kids partying. Janell made a beeline to the kitchen, where Johnny was easily visible considering he was a head taller than most people. Not wanting to join in on chanting, “Chug, chug, chug,” as the NCT Frat bros took turns chugging from the keg, Ruby turned left and made her way to the front living room. There were groups of people everywhere. Some guys were playing a game of darts close to the front, while a larger crowd was gathered at the black leather couch and a large wooden coffee table at the center of the room.

An excited pair of guys were challenging each other to uncap as many beer bottles as possible with their bare hands in less than 2 minutes. They threw the uncapped brown glass beer bottles onto the coffee table as their friends loudly cheered them on, each guy standing at one end of the coffee table. A large group of impressed party girls sat on the couch, cheering and recording the game.

“Haechan! Haechan!” one of the younger looking boys shouted as he punched the sandy haired boy on the arm when he’d uncapped his 7th bottle. “You got this, bro!”

“Stop helping him!” the brown haired opponent said as Haechan’s friend handed him a new bottle of beer. “We have to grab the bottles ourselves!”

“All this complaining and you’re losing, Doyoung!” one of the other guys pointed out.

Doyoung made a strangled noise and began trying to uncap his 3rd bottle. The game was over and Haechan won though Doyoung insisted on a rematch since Haechan cheated by receiving assistance. Haechan and his friends began handing the beer out, ignoring Doyoung’s complaints. Once she was handed a bottle of beer, Ruby walked away from the enthusiastic chatter seeing that Doyoung looked ready to choke Haechan.

Sipping her beer, Ruby strolled past the crowds of people drinking and chatting. She’d never been built for parties. The scene was too chaotic and noisy, she didn’t know how people found it relaxing to get shitfaced and use it as an excuse to become rowdy idiots. Slipping out the back door to the backyard, she saw that the NCT frat house had a giant pool. The NCT fraternity had deep pockets by the looks of it. She sat down on one of the poolside chairs and stretched her legs while she pulled her phone out.

“Ruby? Hey,” she heard a familiar voice say a few minutes later. She’d been busy catching up on some Instagram stories. She looked up and Kun was sitting on the poolside chair to her right. She felt a warm sensation hit her chest, having thought that she would never see him again after their last tutor session just a couple days before. He gave her his warm smile, and then stretched his legs out before him matching the way she sat in her chair. “I didn’t think I’d see you here.”

“Same,” she replied, picking up her bottle, which she’d set down between her knees for easy access and to keep secure. “A rowdy frat house party is the last place I’d expect to see an astrophysics major to celebrate the end of the semester.”

“What makes you say that?” he said with a laugh before taking a drink from a red Solo cup.

“Come on,” she said, scoffing with a smile. “You’re not a rowdy jock on a mission to prove your masculinity by playing stupid drinking games in front of a bunch of random people. It’s nice to see you here, though. My friend ditched me to flirt with her crush, and this is so not my scene.”

“Well, why don't I celebrate with you tonight? Congratulations on surviving another semester,” he said, holding his cup out to her. She gave a small chuckle as she tapped her bottle against his cup.

“Same to you,” she replied before they finished their drinks together. “Thank you for helping me with my Trig. I don’t know how well I did in my final, but I’ll be happy if I pass with a C.”

There was a boom from the kitchen as a loud group of people began screaming and shouting with clear excitement. Ruby threw her hand up to cover her left ear and flinched slightly, the vibrations of drunken jocks shouting was hurting her eardrums. She rolled her eyes as the crowd continued with their rowdy celebrations. Kun gave a chuckle as he stood up and offered his hand to help her get up.

“Want to get a burger?” he said. “A couple of my friends work at the diner down the street.”

She felt herself blush, grabbing his hand as she stood up. His long fingers held her hand securely, and he led her out of the house through the side gate next to the garage. His warm hand never let her go as they walked a couple blocks to Nectar, the local diner that was open 24 hours. It was a popular hangout, though it was slow when they arrived, with only a couple of stressed out looking students hunched over their tables with their laptops open, most likely overworked grad students. Kun sat at the front counter, taking a seat on one of the sparkly red bench chairs after offering to help Ruby sit on the one to his left.

“Service! Service! We’re starving!” Kun shouted, leaning over to grab a round silver bell ringer and set it down in front of Ruby. He pressed on it and it chimed loudly, and he laughed as she continually pressed on the bell ringer while he resumed to demand service. The chiming noises brought back memories to Ruby of when she was 4, and she’d loved the bell ringer on her bike more than the bike.

“Kun-ge!” the waiter shouted when he rushed out from the swinging doors that led to the kitchen. The waiter was tall with black hair and a youthful, boyish face. “I thought you were going to be at the party all night.”

“We got hungry,” Kun replied, pointing to Ruby. “Ruby, this is your waiter, Winwin. Let him know what you want to eat.”

She ordered a side of fries while Kun ordered a cheeseburger. Winwin gave her a Coke before the food arrived without her even having asked him for one, and the wink he gave Kun was obvious as she and Kun stared at him. He glanced at Ruby when Kun gave a small chuckle since Ruby had given an audible, “Oh,” realizing that Winwin was being a diligent wingman. Winwin’s ears turned red, and he ran back into the kitchen.

“My bad,” she said, groaning a little. She hadn’t meant to make him uncomfortable.

“Don’t worry about it,” Kun said with a reassuring grin. “Winwin’ll get over it.”

The dimples on his cheeks made his smile even more appealing. In that moment, she realized she hadn’t been attracted to another person in this way in a long time. Just a couple minutes later, a new waiter walked out from the kitchen. Ruby felt bad, knowing that Winwin was still too embarrassed to return.

“Hey, man! I got your fries and cheeseburger!” the new waiter said in a loud, booming voice. This guy was taller and had light brown hair and a pair of big brown eyes. “Special order! Kun-ge, I prepared this burger specially for you. Please enjoy it.”

“Thank you, Lucas,” Kun said as the waiter set a plate down in front of him. Ruby’s basket of fries was set down in front of her as Kun introduced her to another friend of his. Lucas was much more outgoing than Winwin, hyping up Kun as he walked out from behind the counter to throw his arm around Kun’s shoulders.

“Kun is a great friend,” Lucas said with a serious tone as he rested his free hand over his chest, as if he was making a pledge, staring at Ruby. “He’s always there for us, and the greatest older brother anyone could ask for. I hope you two enjoy your meal.”

“I’m sorry about my embarrassing friends,” Kun said once Lucas returned to the kitchen. His face looked a little flushed and he was struggling to meet her eyes.

“It’s cute,” Ruby assured him. “You’ve got really supportive friends.”

When Ruby was halfway through her fries, she and Kun were in the middle of a discussion about the latest movies they’d been watching when Lucas returned with a plate of hot pot stickers and 2 pairs of chopsticks. They thanked him for the food, and though Ruby wasn’t particularly hungry, she ate the potstickers with Kun since Lucas had been so nice. Kun insisted on paying, so Ruby left to go use the bathroom.

After checking in with her friends through texts, Ruby touched up her lipstick and checked to make sure she didn’t have anything in her teeth. Upon returning to Kun, Winwin and Lucas had removed their smocks and were hanging out with him. They’d just finished their shift, so they were joining Kun and Ruby on their walk back to the NCT party. Winwin had gotten over his embarrassment, and joined Lucas in teasing Kun.

“Did you need me to carry you, old man?” Winwin asked Kun when Kun gave a yawn.

“ I just ate,” Kun replied, side eyeing Winwin. “The night is still young.”

“30 minutes from now, Kun’s going to get into his shorts and go to bed,” Lucas challenged. “Last week he was supposed to stay up and play Overwatch with me, Yangyang, and Haechan and he fell asleep before Haechan logged on.”

Ruby didn’t understand anything Lucas said having never been a gamer, but smiled as Lucas and Winwin laughed together, slapping each other’s arms. Their positive energy was hard to deny, they could probably make any grump smile. Kun threw his arm over Ruby’s shoulder as they crossed the street together, and she appreciated his dimple as she looked at him smile at his friends, telling them to watch their steps as they passed by a small puddle.

“I think I might head home soon,” Ruby said as they came close to the party, which was still just as active it had been when they left it.

“No way, man!” Lucas exclaimed, throwing his arm over Kun’s shoulder. “We gotta go back and take some shots! Everyone’s been waiting for their Prez!”

Kun’s hold on Ruby tightened slightly, and he gave a laugh.

“You can leave whenever you want,” Kun assured her. “But did you want to stay for a couple drinks?”

“Yeah, man!” Lucas said as he let go of Kun before rushing inside with Winwin.

“So your friends are part of the NCT Fraternity?” Ruby asked.

“Not all frat guys are jerks,” Kun said with a shrug. The crowd inside began cheering with collective enthusiasm as Migos’ “Walk It Talk It” began blasting.

“I suppose,” Ruby said with a shrug. “Lucas and Winwin are very nice. You’re not thinking of joining this frat house, are you?”

“...give it up for our Prez!!!” Ruby heard Johnny saying loudly as she and Kun entered the house. A hot wave of drunken energy hit her face as a stage light shone onto them. Kun laughed nervously as Johnny threw his arm over Kun’s shoulder, laughing excitedly as he shook Kun’s shoulders. “You gotta take shots, man! You’ve been hiding for too long! Come on, dude!”

“Let’s get it!” the DJ shouted into the mic in his hand as he turned the music up louder.

“Taeil! Taeil! Taeil!” Lucas was with a few drunk friends at the foot of the stairs as they were all cheering up at the DJ with his laptop on a small table at the top of the stairs on the second floor. He had a friend up there with him who was keeping the stage light directed on Kun.

Half the party goers were singing along to the song when Kun let go of Ruby. He reluctantly joined in on dancing with Johnny and a couple of their friends, but gave a laugh after a few moments, and reached over to touch Ruby’s hand. He gave a frown and shook his head gently, implying that he found the whole thing embarrassing. She didn’t quite buy it, but she was beginning to understand why the chaotic energy of parties were so popular. The adrenaline was intense and the energy was fun, and there didn’t need to be anything complex beyond that.

“Shots, bro! Shots!” Johnny commanded as he gestured for Kun to follow him. “Come on, Ruby! You too! It’s good to see you here!”

“Your party’s wild!” Ruby shouted at the top of her lungs as they made their way to the kitchen.

“Well,” Johnny shouted back, shrugging his shoulders, “we’re just giving the people what they want!”

The crowd cheered as Johnny grabbed Kun’s shoulders and forced him to sit at the kitchen table. Ruby let go of Kun’s hand, and took a step back as she was handed a shot glass filled with vodka. Three shot glasses and a can of beer were set in front of Kun, and Johnny threw his hands up to quiet the audience of what felt like 20 people crammed into the kitchen.

“Thank you everybody for coming here to celebrate the end of the semester before we all begin heading back home for the holidays,” Johnny said. “I don’t want to get too sentimental because we’re pretty drunk right now, right? So without further ado, to Kun! NCT Fraternity’s President! Take your damn shots and shotgun that beer, Prez!”

“Thanks for coming,” Ruby heard Janell say behind her, and she turned over to see Janell with a shot glass in her hand.

“Cheers, ladies!” Johnny said as he held his shot glass up. They tapped their glasses together before they downed their drinks, and Ruby coughed into the back of her hand, her throat burning, as she heard Johnny shout, “Smooth!”

She laughed as she held onto Janell’s shoulder, the two of them grimacing at the aftertaste. She released it as Johnny wrapped an arm around Janell’s waist. Janell gave Ruby a playful eyeroll, her cheeks turning bright pink. Ruby raised her eyebrows with a playful smile, and Janell could only laugh and shift her body in toward Johnny.

Turning her attention to Kun, Ruby cheered with the crowd as she saw Kun draining the last of the beer as he had his head tilted back. He threw his fist up into the air with the beer can in his hand while the crowd cheered.

“Kun for life! Kun for life!” Ruby could hear Lucas’s loud voice ringing throughout the kitchen as he led the crowd into a chant for Kun.

“All right! Let’s keep it up!” Kun said to the crowd as he looked at Ruby, holding his hand out to her. He nodded his head toward the back door, and they silently returned to where they first met that night as the party continued.

“NCT Frat Prez,” Ruby said with a big smile and a chuckle as she took both of Kun’s hands into hers, walking backwards slowly as she led him closer to the pool. “I was talking so much trash about your frat house and you said nothing.”

“I wanted to show you what frat bros are really like,” he said, giving her a nervous smile before shifting his eyes down to the ground.

“I’m sorry,” she said, touching his chin with her hand, making him look back at her. “I’ve had a lot of fun tonight. I shouldn’t be so judgmental.”

“We deserve some of it,” Kun admitted before smiling.

Ruby felt her heart beat faster as she touched his cheek with her hand, stroking her thumb against the dimple on his cheek, and she tilted her head up, pressing her chest against his, before she kissed him. He wrapped his arm around her, placing his hand on her back, pulling her closer to him. His lips were soft, but his kisses were firm as he tried to capture her lips between his. She brushed her tongue against his bottom lip before breaking their kiss.

They stood with their bodies pressed together, his arms wrapped around her body and his hands on her back, keeping her close. She had both her hands resting on his cheeks as she looked up at him, feeling out of breath, thinking that she could spend an eternity staring into his eyes. He licked his lips before giving a very soft smile.

“If you want to go home, I’ll wait with you for an Uber,” he said.

“You want to go hang out at my place?” she asked. “All of my roommates are partying here right now. We’ll get some time alone.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Oh,” was the only thing that came out of him as she raised her eyebrows at him in return. She laughed, and threw her face into his chest as she felt her face grow hot. After their shared laughing fit, Ruby and Kun left for her home. Once they reached her house, she rushed them up the stairs to her room, her hand holding on tightly to Kun’s with their fingers intertwined.

There were no words exchanged once they entered her room, and she slammed the door shut behind her. She kissed him in the dark as she led him to her bed. They sat down on the bed as they removed each other’s clothes, kissing in the dark as each clothing item was removed. She fumbled around with the drawer on her nightstand to find a condom when they were naked. He kissed her shoulder, sending a shiver down her back, and she turned around to lie down on her back.

“Is it OK if I turn the lamp on?” she asked softly. She cleared her throat, realizing that the house was empty, and asked the question a little louder.

“Yeah,” he said quickly, and sat up.

Ruby turned over and switched her small bedside lamp on. She brushed her hair behind her ears as sat up slightly to look at Kun. The muscles on his body were so well defined, making her blush as he positioned himself on top of her, his lips finding her neck. She gave a soft gasp as he sucked on her neck before grazing his teeth against her skin for a few moments. Her hands caressed the well defined muscles of his shoulder blades before one hand went down to rest on his hip while the other moved between their bodies and touched his abs, her fingers gliding back and forth against the pubes of his happy trail.

He grunted into her lips before pushing his tongue aggressively into her mouth. She moaned against his lips as she felt a hand grab her ass cheek before he began massaging it. Once her legs were wrapped around his waist, Kun entered Ruby, and she broke their kiss as she moaned loudly. The heat that built up with every thrust made the pressure of Kun’s cock inside of her heavy, and she held onto his back as he sped up his pace, her fingers digging into his skin.

They kissed again, and she gave a sweet moan into his lips as she felt him tense up as he gave a few haphazard pushes into her when he came. He broke their kiss as he pulled out of her. They breathed heavily as she laid back down on her bed and she shut her eyes, feeling Kun get off the bed to take off the condom.

***

She hadn’t even realized that she had fallen asleep until she woke up to the sunlight cascading into her room. Ruby groaned as she felt an arm wrapped around her waist. She jumped a little in surprise as she felt something warm and hard against her back. Turning over, she breathed a sigh of relief to see Kun asleep. It hadn’t been a dream, and she smiled, her cheeks feeling hot as she realized she’d caught him with morning wood.

“Please stop moving,” he said with a gravelly groan, his eyebrows furrowing slightly, though he kept his eyes closed.

“Good morning,” she said as she turned her body in toward his, so the front of her body was pressed against his. He groaned as she shifted to align their hips up against each other, his erection rubbing up against her stomach.

“Holy shit, you’re a tease,” he said lazily, finally opening his eyes.

“Do you like it?” she asked playfully. She planted wet kisses onto his neck and rubbed his nipples with the pads of her thumbs.

In response, she felt Kun grab her arms, and in one swift move he pushed her onto her back, his hands pushing her arms over her head. He planted a kiss onto her neck before he bit down on the hickey he’d given her the night before. She gave a small yelp in surprise, and gave a sigh as she felt him licking her skin. They kissed for a while as their hands explored each other’s bodies, but stopped for a few moments as they heard Janell and Johnny talking outside of her room.

“There’s just something about you NCT frat bros,” Ruby said against Kun’s lips, his lips a millimeter away from hers, “we just can’t resist.”

He gave a soft chuckle before kissing her, getting her caught up in their body language once more. In the daylight and free of alcohol, Ruby was more confident, so she challenged Kun to fuck her until she came since she never did get her orgasm. Taking on the challenge with enthusiasm, he sat up, and pulled her onto his lap before guiding her to wrap her legs around his waist. He planted kisses along her chest, making his way down to her cleavage as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

She shut her eyes and ran her hands through his hair as he entered her. The new position made Kun push in deeper, his cock hitting a spot inside of her that sent a tsunami of heat rushing into her stomach, making her whole body feel sensitive to his touches. His kisses moved up her chest to her neck, and she opened her eyes as she rested one hand onto his shoulder so she could kiss him.

His tongue pushed into her mouth, and she pushed back with hers. She closed her mouth and moaned into his lips as she felt his hands push her hips back and forth as he grinded his hips up against hers. The friction of his cock hitting her sweet spot made her body feel unbearably warm, and she whimpered against his mouth as she felt two of his fingers push up against her clit.

“Down more,” she panted desperately as her arm wrapped tighter around his neck. She moaned in approval as she felt his fingers slide down lower while applying more pressure onto her clit. She kissed him, licking his lips a couple times when she broke from the kiss.

“Tease,” he groaned as she planted kisses onto his cheek and neck.

She felt her orgasm come, and managed a weak, “Kun,” as she slowly thrust her hips against his, riding out her orgasm with her head resting against his. He lifted her head up with his hand on her cheek, and kissed her as he began a faster rhythm. His orgasm came as he held onto her hips with his last deep push, breaking their kiss as he gave a moan. Spent, they sat with Ruby’s head resting on Kun’s shoulder.

“I have to clean up,” he said gently before they pulled apart and she fell back onto her bed, lying down onto her back while she turned her head over to see Kun toss the used condom into her trash can. She rubbed her thighs together as her body began to lose the feeling of intense heat.

When he returned to her, she moved over to rest her head on his chest, pressing the front of her body up against his side. He laughed as she groaned and kicked the comforter off the bed. The room was hot enough already. She shut her eyes as she felt his fingers brush her hair out of her face before running his hand up and down her back, making all the muscles in her body relax.

“How long have you liked me?” she asked, opening her eyes, shifting her head up to meet his gaze.

“When you made me cookies after you got an A from the Week 2 test,” he replied. “You?”

“Well,” she said, sitting up and looking down at him, “I wanted to ask you for your number the first day we met, but I chickened out.”

“I don’t have your number,” he said, sitting up. She laughed, realizing that he was right. They hadn’t exchanged contact information.

“If you’ve liked me for almost a month, how come you didn’t ask me for my number?” she asked him. “I was too shy to ask you for your number.”

“I was helping you with your homework,” he replied. “I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, because as far as I knew, you were just looking for a tutor.”

“Oh,” she said softly, making him laugh. “Well, what luck that I decided to go to your Frat party, then.”

He nodded wordlessly before leaning over to kiss her. They got up together, and Ruby offered to lend Kun a towel and spare toothbrush before they walked out of her bedroom to walk down the hallway to the shared bathroom in the house.

“Close your door!” Ruby shouted when she saw Janell in her room rolling around on her bed with a shirtless Johnny since Janell’s bedroom was directly across from the bathroom.

“Kun and Ruby, sittin’ in a tree,” Janell and Johnny sang together, having rehearsed the altered version of a classic nursery rhyme at some point, “F-U-C-K-I-N-”

Ruby reached over and slammed Janell’s bedroom door shut, her face completely hot as she could still hear the muffled sounds of Janell and Johnny singing their custom made nursery rhyme. She felt her anger wash away as she saw Kun cringing at what had just happened. This was what they got for hooking up and having friends. Taking his hand, she led him into the bathroom. There were plenty of opportunities to get frisky in the shower, but they were both too physically tired and hungry to want to mess around. Ruby did appreciate that Kun helped wash her back, though.

“Can I take you out for dinner?” Kun asked after the shower when he was putting his shoes on at the foot of her bed. She nodded, sitting down on his lap.

“Can I get your number first?” she asked, feeling proud that she made him smile, his dimples always a beautiful sight. It only took 6 weeks for her to find the courage to ask.

-------

Thank you for reading!

66 notes · View notes

sprnklersplashes · 3 years ago

Text

songwriter!janis fic (unrequited crush, no-very-happy-ending)

also on ao3

It all started because she loved Taylor Swift when she was in middle school. Who is she kidding, she still loves Taylor Swift, but that’s where all this began. A middle school girl’s obsession with Taylor Swift. A confused, sad girl with a broken heart and smudged black eyeliner, finding refuge in lyrics about loneliness and anger and revenge. They became anthems for her, mantras to mutter when the warzone of middle school became too much for her.

“Someday, I’ll be living in a big old city, and all you’re ever gonna be is mean.”

“Cause I knew you were trouble when you walked in.”

“I can still see you, this ain’t the best view.”

It amazes her. It’s honestly as if Taylor Swift has managed to look into her life and given her a bundle of songs for whatever she needs. For when Regina has thrown her one too many snide looks, for when she’s standing at the door of North Shore High on her first day, for when she eats lunch alone, for when her mom is the best mom she could have asked for, for when she and Damian are lying on the grass in her backyard, staring up at the sky, laughing at absolutely nothing. The songs become the soundtrack to her life, the chords and those raw, honest lyrics an emotional outlet she so desperately craves. Taylor, and her songs, become a confidant, almost a close friend who always knows what to say.

With all that in mind, perhaps it was only a matter of time before she asks for a guitar for Christmas. She’s fourteen, braces and a slight lisp, and jumps up and down like a mad woman when she sees it under the tree.

She practices for three days straight, until her fingers bleed, but Should’ve Said No is the first song she learns off by heart. She yells the lyrics with maybe a little too much passion, but her parents applaud her nonetheless.

Like she said, that’s how it all started.

Because that same Christmas, she realises that screaming her feelings while playing guitar actually feels pretty cathartic. And that if it worked for Taylor Swift, it could work for her. So she writes stuff down, plays around with chords and strumming until the beat on the guitar matches the one in her head. She grabs a page and a pencil and writes and re-writes her innermost thoughts and feelings on the page until they sound the way she wants them to. She plays around with rhyme schemes and structure and everything she’s been taught about in English class, and a thrill runs through her as she does so. It’s the same breathless high she feels when she paints or draws, the rush that comes from creating something.

Her parents sit on the other side of her bedroom door, no doubt exchanging worried glances as she repeats the same verse, same chorus, with only a word changed. She watches them when they think she can’t see, peering through the crack in her door. The conclusion they seem to come to is ‘well, as coping mechanisms go, it’s pretty good, and she’s happy, so who are we to stop it?’.

It takes her four days to finish her first song. And it sucks. But she keeps it, writes down the lyrics and chords in one of the few empty notebooks she has, and there’s no going back from it now. She writes, and she writes, and she writes, near enough every day. She likes to think she gets better with each one. She learns more chords, buys a cheap ukulele the summer after freshman year, tries her hand at piano during a particularly difficult few weeks. She doesn’t plan on doing anything with them. They’re just her little pieces to hold on to. Her therapy sessions outside the carpeted office.

No-one knows about it. She has a reputation to keep up, after all. The loner-by-choice, too-cool-for-school, aloof art freak. Everyone has their roles to play in the ecosystem that is high school and, much as she hates the entire system, that is hers to play. And she plays it well, if she may say so. The fact that hardly anyone knows her past that facade suits her just fine. After all, if people think she doesn’t care, she can’t get hurt. No-one needs to know that Janis Sarkisian actually has feelings.

Even less need to know that she writes songs about said feelings.

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By the time she reaches her junior year, she’s onto her third notebook. She keeps them tucked away in her sock drawer, expertly hidden so only she can find them. Damian teases her about it, calling her “the protagonist of a Disney Channel Original Movie”. She just rolls her eyes and reminds him that “if either of us is gonna be Disney’s first openly gay character, it’ll be you”. He can’t argue with that.

It should be noted that when Janis said that no-one knows about her songwriting, Damian was the obvious exception. He found out just weeks after she started. There’s no keeping secrets from him.

Between all her notebooks, she’s written around forty songs.

Then she meets Cady Heron one day. The human embodiment of a labrador puppy, complete with wide, lost eyes. She likes her instantly, decides to take her under her wing because Lord knows the girl needs it. Cady’s smile is infectious, her laugh like a summer breeze. She has dimples and caramel-coloured hair and really likes maths.

She meets Cady on a Monday.

By that Saturday, song number 41-titled “Dimples and Curls” is more or less complete.

She plays it for Damian, hands only slightly shaking as she changes chords, the strumming short and upbeat, the melody strangely happy for such a bittersweet song.

He applauds her, but the subject of the song hangs in the air even after she’s played the last chord and the music fades. Unsaid, but not unknown. Just like her songwriting, Janis couldn’t keep a crush from Damian if she tried.

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“Hey, check it out.”

Cady drops onto the seat across from Janis, the whole table shaking as she does so. Like a small meteor just hit Earth. Janis looks up from her lunch, pretending like she had been doing her own thing and not watching the door until Cady came in. Pretending like her stomach doesn’t do little flips at the sight of her crossing the cafeteria. She pulls the flyer towards her and hums in amusement.

“The winter talent show,” she reads before chomping off a carrot stick. “Oh, is it that time of year already?”

“Seems like only yesterday we was welcoming the young’uns into this brave new world during the harvest season,” Damian sighs, putting on a delightfully over the top Southern Belle accent, no doubt influenced by their reading of Streetcar Named Desire in English class. Janis cackles, and nearly chokes on her lunch as she does.

“And now the cold winds of winter are descending upon us,” she replies, her accent equally heavy. She bats her eyes for good measure, because she can and because it makes Cady laugh. “Oh but I pray the children will survive this season, it is often rough for them.”

“I am never showing you two anything winter related ever again,” Cady says.

Janis just shrugs and runs her hand through her hair before her eyes go back to the flyer. Clearly, whatever sophomore they got to design it this year did their best; found the prettiest looking snowflakes on Google Images to put on the cartoon stage, decided to write in some swirling, slanted font rather than the start-studded block lettering they usually went for. It’s still the same as it is every year, meaning just as mockable, but she’ll give them points for tying.

“Well, anyone here going for it?” she asks. She looks from Damian to Cady and back again, a teasing smirk on her lips. “Last year and all that.”

“Not sure I can,” Damian sighs. “I mean, I’m booked up with Spelling Bee rehearsals and spring cabaret auditions happening next semester.” He drums his fingers against his throat. “Gotta give the little vocal chords some rest, you know?”

Janis’ response is to sing the lowest note she possibly can before turning to Cady and giving her a pointed look, the corner of her mouth quirked up.

“Who? Me?” Cady’s cheeks turned crimson and she shakes her head so much that the caramel curls bounced around her shoulders. “No way. Damian can take the stage, I’m fine with my calculators and textbooks.”

“You could always solve equations in front of everyone,” Janis says. “I could call out college-level questions from the audience and you solve them in under 30 seconds.”

“I think I’ll pass,” she giggles. She leans forward slightly, eyes glittering, and Janis does her best not to squirm. The effect Cady Heron’s eyes have on her should be studied by scientists. “What about you, Janis?”

“I don’t know.” She thinks back to when she helped on stage crew last year, as well as helping out (or taking over) with the set design. It had been fun, the kind of challenge she needed to keep her mind off the slowly-going-off-the-rails plan. And she was told it looked good on her college applications, because all people can think about apparently is college, college, college. “Maybe. They might need another genius stage manager.”

“And you’ll step in if they can’t find one?” She digs Damian in the ribs for that comment.

“But not performing?” Cady asks, and Janis freezes. Performing had never even crossed her mind before. She’s used to backstage, hell, she likes backstage. It’s not that she has stage fright or anything, and if she had, her stunt at Ms Norbury’s little healing session would have squished it. She had just never thought about it.

But Cady had, apparently.

“I-No, I-I don’t think so,” she stammers out. “Um, I might do backstage again, but not actually doing something, you know, talent related.” She bites her tongue and clamps her lips shut before anything else can come out.

“Okay then,” Cady replies slowly. She gets up from the table, her little empty water bottle in her hands. “I’m going to go for a refill, save my seat.”

“No problem,” Janis says, but Cady’s already jogging away.

She doesn’t know if it’s good or bad that Cady’s known her too long to think of her as cool, and so this kind of awkward babbling isn’t really surprising to her. Instead of thinking about it, she just sets her head on the table and lets Damian rub her back.

“You were nowhere near as bad as you think you were,” he assures her.

“Title of your sex tape,” comes her murmured reply. Damian chuckles and runs his fingers through her hair, like she’s his pet cat. It helps.

“So you’re definitely not going for the talent show then?” he asks.

Her first instinct is to say no, because of course she isn’t, because she never has before and she sees no point in breaking a three-year streak, but the answer catches in her throat. At the same time, something begins forming in her brain, pieces of a melody she’s already known, words filling in blank spots in her brain, and her fingers twitch involuntarily, playing the chords on an invisible guitar. Without a word, she grabs a notepad and pen from her bag and scribbles the words down before she forgets them, quickly becoming breathless just by sitting there. She forgets, for a moment, everything else, the talent show, Cady, even Damian next to her, and just revels in the task and the quick buzz she gets just from writing. Just like that she has one eye on the clock, itching to get home and put her notes into the rest of the song.

But with those notes came an idea, an idea so completely out of left field she almost laughs at it.

“Janis?” Damian asks, just slightly unnerved by her. If anyone else were at this table, even Cady (especially Cady), she would have had to excuse herself and run to the bathroom, or just hope the words stayed in her head long enough for her to get a quiet moment. “Did the Goddess of Music just possess you again?”

“Maybe,” is her response. He doesn’t know it, but she answered both the questions he asked in the past minute.

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She sits on her bed that night, her homework half-done and strewn across the desk, abandoned in favour of the guitar sitting in her lap and notebook open on her bed. She’s been working on his song for the better part of a week, inspiration and motivation seemingly striking and then fading whenever she gets a free moment. Abandoning it has crossed her mind-she’s no stranger to abandoning things that aren’t working-but for some reason she hasn’t quite been able to shake this particular song off.

Maybe it is Euterpe, the Goddess of Music, descending upon her because this song has to be finished, it has to be, Olympus willing it so.

Or maybe it’s because this song is one of the most personal things she’s ever written, a love letter she’ll never send, and the idea of it sitting unfinished drives her crazy.

She plays another chord and sings the line again, changing the ending slightly, and makes the adjustment in her notes.

She’s crazy. This is already crazy, her secret double life as a wannabe T-Swift, but now she’s gone beyond that. Thinking of actually playing it. On a stage. In front of people. She doesn’t care what people think of her, she stopped caring about that a long, long time ago, but holy shit what will people think of her after she does this? Life isn’t like the movies, she knows that much. It won’t be some pretty, softly-lit moment where the crowd sits with teary eyes, Cady runs onstage and kisses her and she’s offered a deal by some big shot producer, and they all live happily ever after the end. What could happen is people think she’s even more of a weirdo than they do now.

Or she gets tomatoes thrown at her head and she’s booed off the stage. That’s a possibility.

She calls Damian, because that’s the only way she sees out of her little thought cul-de-sac. She puts the phone on speaker and props it up against a pillow, keeping her hands free for her guitar and her pen. He picks up on the third ring, just as she’s strumming out a G chord.

“Oh, is someone prepping for her Grammy?” he asks. “You’re still taking me as your date, right?”

“Only if my dog can’t go,” she replies. She taps her nails against the wood, the rhythm too fast and frantic to just be a habit. Yes, she can tell Damian anything, and being nervous in front of him is laughable, but sometimes her body forgets that. “So, I was thinking about the talent show.”

“Oh? You’re going for stage crew again? Cool.”

“No-not exactly.” She knows he can’t see the smile creeping across her face, but she’d wager he can hear it through the phone. A small swarm of butterflies flutters in her chest, leaving her just slightly out of breath. “I… I. think I’m going to try performing in it.”

A burst of laughter comes through the phone, slightly tinged with static, and Janis wishes he were here so she could slap him. Even if it’s not malicious in intent at all, and she’s laughing right along with him. Slapping is kind of a love language for them.

“Okay, okay cool. What’re you going to do?”

“I’ll give you a hint,” she says, and then she plays the opening chords to her latest experiment. She doesn’t add in the lyrics, not yet. Still, she sits back and basks in his applause when she finishes, cackling into her hand. He might be one person, but he’s got enough enthusiasm to match a packed auditorium. “What do you think?”

“I’m into it,” he tells her. “So… that’s the one you’re doing?”

“Think so.” She tosses the pick between her fingers. Like he could feel her smile, she can feel his raised eyebrow through the phone, the elephant in the room poking her with its trunk. “Yes, I know.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You thought it,” she tells him, and he doesn’t deny it. She looks back over the lyrics she’s written and re-written. Despite some adjustments, it’s still in essence the same. Still about a girl with pretty hair who smells like vanilla and cinnamon, who has a boyfriend and is unknowingly breaking the heart of a girl with black eyeliner and paint stained fingers. Because her boyfriend is pretty and clean and smells like soap and can do math, and how is the poor art girl even meant to compare to that?

“Yes,” she says after a while. “It is about Cady.”

“Aw, my poor lovestruck songstress,” he sighs. He shifts then, and the air shifts with him. “You sure that’s the one you want to sing? I mean you have dozens of other non-Cady related songs. I’m sure Mr Duvall would love to hear Angry Teenage Lesbian Anthem.”

“First off, I gave that one a title, it’s called Shattered,” she reminds him. “And-” She freezes, the rest of her sentence catching in her throat. He’s right. She could perform one of her other songs, that are already finished and therefore removing the pressure to have this one finished, polished and stage-ready. And of course, it would mean she wouldn’t be standing in front of her entire grade and telling them all how badly she’s in love with her best friend. Showing her deepest secret to the people who have already driven her out of school once. It’s a far safer, potentially less traumatic option for her.

But…

“No,” she says. “I know it sounds crazy but I feel like… I feel like I need to do this.” She swallows thickly and picks softly at the guitar strings. “It’s like… like this way at least I’m telling her, you know? Even if she doesn’t know it.”

Of course, Damian gets it.

“That’s beautiful, babe,” he tells her. “So you’re actually doing this?”

“I’m actually doing this,” she replies firmly. “And tomorrow, I need you to make sure I don’t chicken out before I sign up.”

“Got it. I’ll just order you to do it as Senior Co-Chair of the Student Activities Committee.”

“That’s an abuse of power.”

“Then consider yourself abused baby.” He laughs and she laughs with him, and then she hears something on Damian’s end. “I have to go. A certain little sister of mine has a princess costume that needs attending to. See you later.”

“See you later,” she replies before he clicks off the call. She looks down at her paper, then at her guitar, and thinks about what she just committed to. “I’ve got some work to do.”

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The song goes through four rewrites in the weeks leading up to the talent show. The whole first verse is changed, the chorus scrapped and replaced with a new one, then that one is scrapped and she goes back to the old one. She sits hunched on her floor with a pencil in her mouth, wondering if what she’s written is too personal or not personal enough. If it’s too obvious that Cady, smart cookie that she is, will work it out and that’ll lead them down a new, scary path. She cuts some lyrics that give the game away, opting to replace one about love for numbers with love for learning, because that opens up the pool to half their grade. She writes about Cady’s blue eyes rather than specifically those double dimples that make her melt. Maybe she’s compromising her artistic vision, but it might be worth it if it’ll keep her crush a secret. She keeps the old lyrics tucked in the back of her notebook, just to have them.

Meanwhile, she’s also dealing with the fact that people know she has signed up for the talent show. That Miss Too Cool For School Loner Art Freak Janis is actually performing at a school event. And she doesn’t even get extra credit for it. They’re surprised, and curious, and none more so than Cady. The other girl appears at her side almost instantly after first period, skinny little arms wrapped around her bicep and blue eyes alight.

Oh, the things those eyes do to her.

“Janis!” she squeaks. “I saw-on the sign up sheet-your name! Oh my God, is this a joke? Did Damian put you up to it?”

“No, no, I signed up of my own accord,” Janis tells her. That only makes Cady bounce more, ponytail bobbing up and down.

“Oh wow, that’s amazing!” she says. She stops then, her mouth freezing in its place and her cheeks turning pink. Slowly, she comes down to Earth, like a balloon that had the air let out of it. Janis can almost hear the wheeze. “I mean um, it’s pretty cool, I guess.”

“It’s pretty grool,” Janis replies, and just like that Cady bounces back up again.

“Oh my gosh, what are you going to do?” she asks. “Or do you want it to be a surprise?”

“You think I have some secret knife-throwing talent?” she grins. She hesitates for a moment, looking down at Cady’s excited face, because even if this isn’t telling her… it’s telling her. “I’m… I’m going to sing.” She pulls on the strap of her backpack and avoids Cady’s eyes. “Something I wrote.”

“Okay,” Cady says. “Who are you and what have you done with my best friend?”

“Hey!” she laughs. “I can write stuff. I can be deep.”

“Oh, I have no doubt about it,” Cady says, bumping her arm against Janis’. “But for real, Janis, I can’t wait to see it. I know you’ll be amazing.”

Warmth spreads across her pale cheeks, a pink blush no doubt colouring her face, and she somehow manages to choke out a “thanks” as her brain turns to static. Her only thought is ‘Cady thinks I’m going to be good’, and it’s written in glitter pen across her brain.

“This is going to be great,” she goes on. “Oh, wait until I tell Aaron. He’s got a break in his schedule that week so he’s coming up to see the talent show! Isn’t that great?”

And just like that, Janis’ good mood falls. Her face stays the same, because she’s trained to do it, but everything behind it crumbles.

“Yeah, that’s great,” she replies. Cady squeezes her hand, oblivious, and drags her along the hallway, chatting away about some lion documentary she had watched last night.

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She finishes the song that night. She arrives home with a heavy chest, so full of complicated, messy feelings, and her conversation with Cady still so fresh in her mind, her ears still ringing from the emotional whiplash. Her parents barely get a ‘hello’ as she enters and bolts up to her room, her hands shaking, the thoughts swirling around her brain desperate to be let out.

And let them out she does. She writes so quickly they look more like smudges than words, her fingers flying over rapidly changing chords, her voice broken and panting as she sings. The words almost write themselves, like the song has taken on a life of its own and she’s just along for the ride. She barely remembers to pause, to breathe, so wrapped up in the storm she’s created with just her guitar and pen.

It’s only when she finishes and falls back on her bed that she notices the tears in her eyes. She blinks them away and pulls herself up, her notebook in her hand. It’s done. The perfect blend of her own honest feelings and just enough smokescreen to keep people from knowing who it’s really about.

There’s no backing out now, she thinks. Her stomach drops, like she’s on the top of a roller coaster about to go down. A laugh bubbles up in her throat and leaves her breathless, her head spinning while she’s still laying there.

If holy shit were am adjective, she'd use it to describe how she feels. Because holy shit.

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Being backstage when she’s not on crew is a strange experience. She stands with her guitar slung around her body, in the middle of a current of students moving around her, half with the clunky microphones and walkie-talkies she’s used so many times before. She asks five of them if she can do anything to help-because they’re her people and she needs to do something to occupy her time-until she finally takes the hint and leaves them to it. Stagehands are the most efficient parts of any production, as she told Damian once. They’re a well-oiled machine at this point.

“Yo!” For a second, Janis thinks she imagined the whisper, just one in a jumble of backstage noises, until Damian appears at her side. A tiny ‘shit’ escapes her mouth, her body jerking. Barely anyone bats an eye at her, except him. “Sorry, didn’t mean to spook you.”

“Don’t worry. I think at this point a small breeze could knock into me and I’d crumble.”

“The great Janis Sarkisian gets nervous?” he asks, eyebrow raised.

“Only when she’s doing something incredibly personal and scary in front of her entire grade,” she whispers back. She swallows past the lump in her throat. “Aside from that I’m a beacon of confidence and unshakable will.”

“Hey.” He taps his knuckles against hers. “Remember how scared you were at Norbury’s assembly?”

“You mean after I had my picture all over the school with the d-slur written underneath it?” she mutters. “Yeah, I was shitting myself.”

“And yet, look what you did there,” he reminds her. “You were amazing. And you’re going to be amazing here too. Once you get on that stage, all those butterflies are going to make you fly, kid.”

She smiles, her heart warm, and pressed her face into the crook of Damian’s neck.

She doesn’t know how she got so lucky to have him, but she knows better than to tempt fate.

“Janis Sarkisian?” She lifts her head to find a freshman girl with a headset around her neck looking at her. “You’re up next.”

“Okay.” It’s only now she becomes aware that the last minute of Fairytale Of New York is playing, the notes will soon fade out, and that’s her cue. She turns to Damian and lets him straighten her black cardigan and fiddle with the collar of her shirt. “Wish me luck.”

“You don’t need it.” He drops a whisper of a kiss to her nose. “But good luck.”

She holds her half-heart necklace as he goes, the twin to the one around his neck. It’s as close as she can get to having him with her. Her chest tightens as she makes her way to the stage and she tries to breathe through it, because the next thign she knows, Mr Duvall is announcing her name, and she’s being greeted by a blinding spotlight that thankfully obscures most of her peers’ faces.

“Uh, hi,” she says into the microphone placed out for her. It’s just people , she reminds herself. Somewhere in that crowd, second row, seat 14, is Damian, and she breathes easier. And next to him is Cady, the girl this song is about, and for some reason that straightens her spine and irons out the shaking in her voice. She takes the pick out of its holder and tosses her hair back. “This is a song I wrote about being in love with someone who doesn’t love you back.” She blinks and hopes no-one sees the tears in her eyes. “So sing along if you get into it, because we all know it’s a shitty ass feeling.”

She plays the first chord, and then any and all doubts she had about this flee her. As cliche as it sounds, the song takes over her, and she blows through the nerves in the first verse. The experience becomes cathartic instead, like releasing a pressure valve on her soul. Even with the little diversions she threw in, she hasn’t felt this open and god damn free since last year, paraded on her peers’ shoulders with both middle fingers up. Except now she’s not flipping anyone off, or proving a point, she’s just finally telling someone how she feels, and holy shit, it’s amazing. Whatever the aftermath of this is, she won’t care, it’s worth it just for this feeling.

As she sings the last word, and that final note rings in the auditorium, her hands are shaking, her cheeks wet with tears and her hair sticky with sweat. She touches beneath her eye and her fingers come away stained black. She hasn’t cried in front of people since middle school. She doesn’t care.

The cheers of her classmates ring in her ears, Damian’s whooping the loudest of all, and as she takes her bow, she hopes she’ll remember this moment for a long time.

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“Oh my God!” she’s barely into the auditorium when Cady launches herself at her, arms wrapped around her neck and legs circling her waist. Janis nearly topples over, digging her back leg into the ground just in time, and hugs Cady with the same ferocity. “You were amazing!” she yells into her shoulder, the sound muffled by Janis’ hair.

“Really?”

“Absolutely.” She sets Cady down, but the other girl keeps a tight grip on both her arms. Janis wonders if it’s to keep herself from flying away, given the amount of bouncing up and down she’s doing. “I can’t believe you wrote that! It was so good! You need to record it, Jan. Do you have any other songs?”

“Just a few,” she says. “And I don’t know if I’m in the business of making an album any time soon.” She swings her guitar case a little. “This might have been a one-time thing.”

“Well, even if it was, it was awesome,” she says.

“Thank you, Caddy,” Janis replies. “That means a lot.”

Her mouth runs dry as Cady smiles, all baby pink lipgloss and sparkling eyes and full cheeks. If this were a movie, she thinks, this would be the part where they kiss. No need for talking, or an explanation. Because Cady would have just known. The music would turn soft and twinkly, and the lighting would match it and it would look like they’re in a dream and they’d just kiss, and it will fix all of Janis’ problems. Maybe a single tear will run down her cheek. And then they’ll run off into their new lives as the end credits roll.

How sweet that would be.

But her life isn’t a movie. If she wants anything, she has to go for it herself.

And that includes-

“Caddy.” Her name is delicate on her lips, handled with care. Cady looks at her, giving a simple ‘mm-hm’ in response, and Janis’ heart beats out of control. “That song I just sang, it-”

“Hey, guys.”

Also if this was a movie, Cady’s sweet, lovely, nice boyfriend would not be barging in right now. He’d either be a douchebag who she doesn’t feel bad about hurting, or he’d be nonexistent.

Unfortunately, this is not a movie, and Aaron Samuels exists and is the human equivalent of a squishmallow.

“Hey Aaron.” He slings his arm around Cady’s shoulders, and she leans into his touch almost instinctively. “Janis, you were great up there. I didn’t know you wrote songs.”

“It’s a bit of a new hobby,” she says, her voice hoarse. She clears her throat, and finds a bottle of water being handed to-thrown at-her.

“Hydrate those chords,” is Damian’s greeting.

“This is what I get for being friends with a theatre kid,” she sighs before she takes a drink. She hadn’t realised how dry her throat was until now.

“Okay, so we’re all going for pancakes,” Aaron says. “I take it you two are coming?”

“How can I say no to pancakes?” Janis asks. “Uh, you guys go ahead, I have to get my stuff from the green room.”

“Okay, we’ll wait for you,” Cady says. “Aaron brought his car so he can drive us.”

“Grool.” Cady and Aaron turn around together, Aaron spinning his eyes around his finger and Cady lacing her fingers through his, talking about something she can’t hear. It’s like watching them through a sheet of glass.

Not a movie. Not unless it’s one of those really, really sad movies. Sad homophobic movies.

“You okay?” Damian asks. She snorts at the question. Nothing has changed, so of course she’s okay. But then, nothing has changed, so she’s not really okay.

“I did it,” she sighs. “It’s out there. I told her, unofficially. Whether or not she works it out…” She runs her hand through her tangled hair. “That’s something else entirely.” Damian hums in agreement, a sympathetic look on his face that soon morphs into a grin.

“Hey,” he says. “I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks Mom.” They snort, Janis caught between a laugh and a sob, and squeezes Damian’s hand. She’s not optimistic about any romance in her future, at least where Cady is concerned. She and Aaron are still rock-solid and she’s happy for them, whenever she isn’t angsting about it. It’s a weird combination to have.

And at least she’s done this now. Despite a future for her and Cady not being in the cards for now, she’s glad she did it. The secret isn’t out, not entirely. Just written on the walls in invisible ink.

“Come on,” she tells Damian. “I actually do have to get my bag, and you can use this as an opportunity to double check the ghost light is on.”

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Cady and Aaron keep their promise and wait for them, waving off their apologies as they jog across the parking lot. Cady lets Damian take the front seat with Aaron and slides into the back with Janis instead. Janis frowns, confused as to why she isn’t taking her normal seat up front, and Cady rolls her eyes.

“There was a draw on the way here, and we lost,” she explains. “And now Damian has control of the aux chord,” She gestures with her head to the passenger seat, and Janis turns just in time to see him open his Spotify and scroll through his playlists. As the opening notes to Waving Through A Window fill the car, it’s met with three loud groans. Damian only turns it up louder, and adds in his own backing vocals.

“So, that song you sang,” Cady asks, leaning back in the seat. “Was it about anyone in particular?”

Janis looks down, her hands pressed together in her lap. If this is the moment the universe decided to give her, it’s a really terrible moment. Not only is Cady’s whole boyfriend sitting an arm’s length away from her, but she left her nerve back in the auditorium. Clearly, her and fate aren’t on each other’s wavelength.

“You wouldn’t know her,” she says. “She doesn't even go here.”

“Oh,” Cady replies. Her face falls, but she’s not too put out by it. Why would she be? She nudges Janis’ shoulder, a proud smile on her face, and squeezes Janis’ hand. “Well, if she has someone like you into her and she hasn’t taken the chance yet, then she doesn’t know what she’s missing.”

Janis only thanks her, and quickly changes the subject.

Someday she might tell her for real, but for now she'll stick to the songs.

#mean girls broadway #mean girls fanfic #cadnis #janis sarkisian #cady heron #cadnis ff #cady x janis #space safari #mean girls musical

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clairenatural · 4 years ago

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look at you, strawberry blond

destiel, 1.8k. pining, fluff, growing up together, etc! minor character/parental death, vague mention of John’s A+ Parenting. based on the mitski song (this is a repost because the first one got deleted)

I love everybody because I love you

Castiel first learns what love is when he’s eight years old and Gabriel, sixteen, is grumbling about driving an hour out of his way to find his girlfriend the rare chocolates she likes for Valentine’s day.

“Why?” he asks his older brother, and Gabriel sighs, melodramatic as always.

“That’s love, little bro. Remembering the little things and then putting in the time to make it happen.”

Cas thinks about when he told Dean his parents don’t let him eat candy. He thinks about how Dean has given him half his Kit Kat bar every day for the last year.

He thinks about the time he scraped his knee falling off the jungle gym and Dean spent the rest of recess picking dandelions to make him feel better. Yellow is his favorite color.

“Oh.”

“You’ll understand when you’re older, Cassie. Love is about sacrifice, and commitment--” he goes on, but by the time Michael cuts him off, yelling from his office that you’ve only been dating for two months, Gabriel, stop preaching to Castiel, Cas has already sprinted up the stairs to his bedroom.

A broken piggy bank, $1.50 in pocket change, and several pleas to Gabriel later, and Castiel tucks a king-sized Kit Kat into Dean’s valentine box.

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When you stood up, walked away, barefoot

It’s eight years later, one summer in high school, when Castiel realizes that there’s a difference between loving and being in love, and that he is, in fact, in love with his best friend.

He realizes this as he watches Dean walk away, sandals discarded and unnecessary in the soft grass, back to the picnic tables to get them both more fruit punch. It’s the annual junior class picnic, the official welcome to being upperclassmen, and the August sun casts a warm glow over Dean’s freckles, and Castiel knows.

Two seconds later, he watches Dean nearly get hit by an errant frisbee and completely forget his punch mission in lieu of playfully tackling its thrower, Benny Lafitte. He watches Lisa Braden, giggly and glowing and perfect as always, yelp as she’s almost caught in the crossfire, and Dean winks at her as he releases Benny.

He swallows thickly and turns his attention back to the patch of grass they’d been laying in, flattened where Dean had been just a few moments before. He wishes he hadn’t come to this particular realization.

And the grass where you lay left a bed in your shape I looked over it and I ached

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I love everybody because I love you I don't need the city, and I don't need proof

Castiel goes to college in Chicago and pretends like the two-hour drive between them doesn’t mean anything. And it doesn’t, until Dean’s father gets a job back in Kansas halfway through his freshman year. Dean goes with him even though he’s an adult because the alternative is letting Sam deal with John alone, so Castiel spends most of that summer in Lawrence, dodging both his friends in the big city and his family back in Pontiac. He tells them all that he’s studying Kansas’ role in the Civil War, assisting in research back at the University, but he and Dean spend two months going on road trips with Sam.

His sophomore year John dies and Castiel flies back for the weekend, explaining his sudden departure as a family emergency and getting an extension on two papers. Dean holds his hand at the funeral but won’t look him in the eyes for two hours after, even as he refuses to leave Castiel’s side.

The boys move in with Bobby but that summer Dean shows up in Chicago, explanations lined up about not worrying about Sam anymore and wanting to see what about the city made Cas keep coming back. Castiel gets an internship and pretends like that was the plan all along. He quietly cancels his plane tickets to South Dakota.

All I need, darling, is a life in your shape I picture it, soft, and I ache

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Reach out the car window, trying to hold the wind You tell me you love her; I give you a grin

Dean stays in Chicago. He moves into Castiel’s empty room when his original roommate moves out, he finds work at an auto shop, and he starts taking mechanic classes at a community college. Castiel isn’t sure why—he doesn’t want to ask. Afraid to look the gift horse in the mouth and risk having his happiness bitten off.

Then Dean starts talking about a girl. Then Castiel meets the girl, Cassie Robinson, and it all makes sense.

He pretends it doesn’t sting every time Dean brings her up, that the way his face lights up doesn’t burn, that he doesn’t feel physically ill the first time he meets her.

By the time Dean tells him he’s in love, gushing about Cassie in a way eerily reminiscent of Gabriel twelve years earlier, it’s turned into a dull ache that Castiel has mostly contained in the back of his chest. They’re on their way to Cassie’s apartment, the first stop on their way to a cabin spring break of their junior year, and the ache is suddenly threatening to break through his ribcage.

But the sun is warm on his cheek, and the radio is playing a soft summer soundtrack, so Castiel allows Dean’s happiness to wash over him long enough to forget who—or, more importantly, who isn’t—causing it. He grins at his best friend before turning his gaze back out the passenger window of the Impala.

Oh all I ever wanted was a life in your shape So I follow the white lines, follow the white lines, Keep my eyes on the road as I ache

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Look at you, strawberry blond

Dean and Cassie break up, and Dean drinks for a month, but Castiel getting into Stanford for grad school distracts him just long enough to go back to normal (a normal that does not involve thinking about how Dean nearly kissed him when they were both drunk the night he got his acceptance).

This new normal involves staring graduation in the face, and California beyond that, and moving out of his Chicago apartment somewhere in this middle, which also involves coming to terms with moving away from Dean.

Until Sam gets his own acceptance to Stanford a few months later. Then Dean starts sending him links to two-bedroom apartments, and using “we” when talking about the move, and looks just as confused as Castiel when he asks about it.

“Well, yeah. I mean, with you gone, and now Sam—You thought you were going by yourself?”

And even though Castiel vaguely thinks this is a bad idea, and living with his best friend who he’s been in love with for his entire memory had been hard enough for the two years they’d been doing it, he can’t say no. Because every time he gets up the nerve to say something Dean calls him over and shoves his laptop into Castiel’s face, talking about hiking trails and flower fields and front lawns and dogs, and that quells any doubt he had.

They move to Palo Alto, into a townhouse with a lawn and a communal garden. Dean adopts a golden retriever.

Fields rolling on, I love it when you call my name

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Can you hear the bumblebees swarm? Watching your arm

Two months into Castiel’s first year of graduate school they have a picnic, taking advantage of the lingering warmth of the California fall. Sam is off in the field playing with Zeppelin, obviously having used the ‘come meet my brother’s dog’ excuse to invite the pretty blonde woman (Jess?) chasing the golden with him. Dean is rambling about Star Trek and Castiel is paying half attention, the majority of his focus on the reading in front of him because professors don’t consider picnics an extension-worthy excuse.

He’s just started to get invested when he hears a yelp and looks up to see Dean Winchester, his best friend, most trusted confidant and the possible love of his life, swatting a bumblebee. Cas gasps, reading forgotten, and lunges across the picnic blanket to grab Dean’s wrist. “Dean.” He chastises, and Dean gives him a look.

“It’s a bee, Cas.”

“It’s a bumblebee, which are essential—”

“To our ecosystem, yeah, but it’s pretty essential to me that it doesn’t sting me.”

“It won’t sting you if you don’t swat at it.”

“You didn’t see the look on it, man. It meant business.”

“Bees are attracted to sugar. You probably just smell good.”

Dean grins. “You calling me sweet, Cas?”

And, well, no. He isn’t. He’s talking about the empty pie tin next to Dean. But the words make him realize just how close they are, how far he’d moved into Dean’s space in his efforts to stop his hand, how the force of the movement had pushed Dean almost back onto his elbows.

He opens his mouth to respond the way he usually does to Dean’s cavalier flirting, but the words don’t leave his mouth—which is, somehow, he swears, closer to Dean’s than it was a second ago. Just as Castiel is preparing to push back, clear his throat, and add this moment onto a growing list of almost-but-not-quite moments stretching back years, Dean sucks in a breath and closes the gap.

Castiel reacts before his brain can fully comprehend what’s going on, bypassing any shock entirely and kissing Dean back immediately. He lets go of his wrist, instead bringing his hand to the side of Dean’s face, stroking his cheekbone with his thumb. Dean pushes himself back up and wraps an arm around Castiel’s waist, pulling him essentially into his lap, and then they’re kissing, and Dean smells like summer and tastes like apple pie, and Castiel suddenly understands more than ever why bees are always buzzing around him.

It feels like a lifetime until it’s over, until they’re just staring at each other and out of breath, both scared to say anything and break the magic they’d accidentally created. The silence is only broken by a shout from across the grass, followed shortly by a tennis ball that nearly misses them, followed by 65 pounds of golden retriever that does not miss them and nearly topples Castiel in his pursuit of the ball. And then Sam comes running after the dog, still shouting—apologies, this time—and then there’s Jess, laughing hysterically, and then Castiel has to scramble out of the way because Zeppelin has made a U-turn, interpreting the whole commotion as a game of keep-away.

Dean meets his eye above the chaos and grins, and the sunlight hits his dirty blonde hair, and it’s so breathtaking Castiel almost forgets to smile back.

I love it when you look my way.

#destiel fluff #deancas fluff #destiel fic #deancas fic #destiel #fic #spn #i told myself i wasn't gonna repost this but this verse lives rent free in my head so like. here u go sorry #also i like it and want it on my blog!!!#my words #(tumblr actually put this in the tags challenge)#over 1k words

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just-because-i-can · 4 years ago

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We all know that high school friendships come and go. Maybe not at the time while you’re still in high school, but anyone outside of high school can probably attest to that. Your BFF or BFFL in high school may not always keep that title. Don’t get me wrong, it happens, but not as often as some may think. If you and your high school bff are still bffs, that’s awesome congratulations. If they’re not, then you may be able to relate to this. In fear that people may not be happy with this and somehow discover who this is about (not that I think they are even on here anymore), I’m going to change names (obviously) and genders to spice things up.

I went to the same school for seven years (middle school and high school) where I kept a majority of the same friends throughout the years while also meeting new ones. Anyway, there was a girl I met in 6th grade who was my friend until senior year of high school. We weren’t best friends until 8th grade I believe but we would still say hi to one another in the hallways before that. She was great. I can’t remember if we got into a lot of arguments or not but whatever who cares.

Anyway, she and I were apart of a friend group with two boys. I feel like I should give them fake names now because it might get confusing down the line when I’m trying to refer to someone. So, we’ll name the girl Emily and the two other friends Jackson and Noah. So freshman year of high school, the four of us were apart of a larger friend group comprised of like...mini friend groups. I don’t know how else to explain that, but I hope you get it. So, around sophomore year we (Emily, Jackson, and Noah) started hanging out more with just us four. We were really close (though I think I was personally the closest with Emily), had a group message and would talk in it about anything and everything. We all confided in each other, blah blah blah. You know, normal best friend kind of stuff. So cool, we’re all always hanging out, texting, on snapchat, you know all that jazz.

Emily and I also had days where we would just hang out with the two of us, going to the mall, having sleepovers, you know just hanging out. I felt as though I could confide in her with anything I needed to. I went through a really bad rough patch junior year and beginning of senior year and she was always there for me (not that the others weren’t) and I appreciated her more than anything. She made me very happy and I could be my weird, crazy, self with her. She was my best friend.

Then the end of senior year comes along.

I was unfortunately moving after graduation which I hated (that’s a whole other story I won’t get into right now) but didn’t really have a choice. Even though I’d be going to college anyway, I wouldn’t be able to see all my friends over holiday breaks and what not. My last night with all my friends, Emily and I cried when it was time to part ways. I wasn’t sure what I was going to do without my best friends now that I was leaving. I saw them everyday for years and years so it would feel foreign without being able to just go over to their house or hangout. Now, I’ve had experience in the past with moving and having to make new friends but I was way younger back then. I didn’t keep in touch with any of those friends when I was younger because, hello, we were like eight or nine. We didn’t have phones, so it was kind of hard. There was email of course, but it wasn’t the same.

This time around when I moved I was so sure that our bond could never be broken and that we’d always keep in touch. Some of that was true, yes, but it was more complicated than that.

The next time I saw them was a year later when I went to visit them. Even though we still talked in our group message and on social media, it was still slightly awkward for me because I hadn’t seen them in so long. It was foreign to not be with them at first, but then it almost felt foreign actually being with them. Anyway, I stayed there for a couple weeks at Jackson’s house (which was very nice of him I still am very appreciative of that) and we all hung out and what not. When I left things were still kinda the same but I think maybe we didn’t talk as much in our group message anymore but it was still daily. Just not…every second you know, which is understandable we all had lives and we were all busy that wasn’t an issue for me.

The year ends, fast forward to summer of the following year, so about another year after I’ve seen them. My dad passed away during this time which was obviously very upsetting for me and when I told them in the group message they were all there for me. But two months later, all communication stopped in the group message. We still had our snapchat group message but only me, Jackson, and Noah really would talk in it. Now, I’m not an idiot, I knew way before this that they probably had another group message for times where they were hanging out together after I moved but I didn’t expect to be completely cut off from them like that. For months after I was extremely sad about it, and I felt so anxious. I’ve known that I have anxiety for years but around this time it got worse. I cried so often and with my dad passing and other horrible things that happened before that in the year, my life felt like it was falling apart.

I couldn’t stop thinking about if it was something I said or did that made them just stop talking in there. I thought I wasn’t good enough, I thought I annoyed them, I thought they were just sick of me. To this day I don’t really have an answer of why but at least I still have some type of communication with them. But then in one of our social media group messages, I noticed something that kind of hurt my feelings. Any time I would send something, Emily would just open it and not answer but if Jackson or Noah sent something, she would answer them almost immediately. At first I was like oh maybe it was just a coincidence but then it kept happening, and it actually still happens to this day. Happened about an hour ago actually. It’s like I no longer exist to her anymore. She doesn’t acknowledge my existence whatsoever.

Okay this is going to sound dumb because social media itself is dumb and ruining our minds (yet I still use it every day), but there were other little things I noticed her doing. Even on other apps she would open my messages or just leave me on read but if anyone else sent anything she would react to them or respond. There were very very few times when she would answer me and it would only be if she could relate. Like one time I said I was becoming re-obsessed with Harry Styles (yes I was one of those extremely obsessed directioners back in the day) and she responded and said “same”. But that was it. Nothing else. Still continued not acknowledging me but acknowledged Jackson and Noah. Then the summer rolls around again.

I was very surprised to get a text from her considering we haven’t talked on our own in probably over a year. I was honestly extremely nervous to see what she was even going to say but when I opened it, it wasn’t really anything. She asked me if I had pictures of us from a concert from our sophomore year. I said I did and then I think I told her to give me a minute so I could track them down and send them. It wasn’t until the next message she sent I believe that she asked me how I was. I was so blinded in the moment because I was just happy she was talking to me again. I had missed her so much and she probably didn’t even know but it made me smile because she was talking to me. The conversation didn’t last long after I sent the pictures and she hasn’t spoken to me since. She only texted me because she wanted the pictures and nothing else. I’m not a huge texter anymore so it’s not that in which I was bothered by, it was the fact that I felt like I was just being used.

A while ago now, I saw the caption of something she posted talking about how (this is not verbatim) it was crazy how you could be really close with someone one day and the next they’re like a complete stranger. Well, I definitely related to that because it was exactly how I felt with her. I know high school best friends don’t always last, but it does and most likely will with the three of them. It just sucks because I’ve never felt more left out and kind of embarrassed. I’m embarrassed because to this day, I still feel like I just wasn’t good enough. There are more little things I could say but I think the situation is clear enough without any more examples. Even if they still hurt my feelings whether it was a lot or little.

But I don’t want to make anyone feel guilty or be pitied, that’s not at all what me venting about this is about. I just thought that maybe if I was able to write this down I’d stop being consumed by the thoughts of it all the time. I want to move on, I really do. I’d like to focus on the friends now that actually talk to me but it’s so hard because that was one of the longest friendships I’ve had with someone where we were that close for that long.

#idk #idk what this is #rant #personal rant #venting #story #storytime #true story #bored #sad #whatever #because i can

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teentitanimals · 4 years ago

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AU Where All the Batkids are in School but are Still Superheroes

I see a lot of No Powers Highschool AUs out there, but superheroing is half the fun to me. And yeah, technically, I’m pretty sure most of the Batfam have been to school, but I mean, at the same time? You’d have to squish their ages down, but I think it’d be wild! And also, it’s all the Batkids (and some Superkids because why not, they go to the same school in this AU, okay?), including Helena, Terry, Matt, etc. And yes, they all keep their backstories (as in, Terry and Matt are still McGinnis’s too, and all that.) Also, I suck at knowing the education level system and ages, so, just a warning there.

Not in School (duh): Bruce, Alfred, Selina, Jim, Lucius, Clark, Lois, other adults

In (Fourth Year) College: Kate (23-24)

In (Second Year) College: Dick, Barbara (19-20)

In (First Year) College: Tam (18-19)

In Senior Year: Jason, Luke, Kara (17-18)

In Junior Year: Cass, Harper, Terry (16-17)

In Sophomore Year: Tim, Steph, Carrie, Duke, Conner (15-16)

In Freshman Year: Damian, Helena, Colin (14-15)

In 8th Grade: Matt, Jon, Cullen (13-14)

In 4th Grade: Timothy Fox (9-10)

In Kindergarten: Tiffany (5-6)

Who Stays Where?

For reference, I’d say they all go to a school somewhere between Gotham and Metropolis, rather than Gotham Academy or Metropolis High. Let’s call it... Mediocre High. A mediocre school for completely normal, mediocre kids.

Stays in Metropolis w/ Clark and Lois, but are at Wayne Manor 90% of the time anyway: Kara, Conner, Jon

Has their own apartments/safehouses but are at Wayne Manor 90% of the time time anyway: Kate, Dick, Jason, Tim, Steph, Harper

Stays at Wayne Manor: Terry, Cass, Carrie, Duke, Damian, Helena, Colin, Matt, Cullen (unless Cullen stays with his sister... or if any of them run away, because they do that often too)

Stays with their parents, or at their own apartments, and are at Wayne Manor a little less than 90% of the time anyway: Barbara, Tam, Luke, Timothy, Tiffany

What’s the Sitch with Relationships?

Biologically Bruce’s, and known to the public as biologically Bruce’s: Damian, Helena

Biologically Bruce’s, but not known to the public as biologically Bruce’s: Terry, Matt (these two often visit their mother!)

Legally adopted by Bruce: Dick, Jason, Tim, Cass, Duke

Not legally adopted by Bruce but, come on, they’re his kids anyway: Harper, Cullen, Carrie, Colin

Family Friends that are like siblings/cousins (or siblings-in-law ;3): Kara, Conner, Jon, Barbara, Steph, Tam, Luke, Timothy, Tiffany

Wine Aunt/Older Sister: Kate

Shenanigans

It was a hilarious bit started by Steph and encouraged by Dick, Jason, and Carrie that they should all stuff themselves into the smallest limo or helicopter possible and crawl out like clowns. It was funny, to be fair, but the bloodshed spilled because of it banned them from doing it again. The kids got split into two separate cars after that, but eventually went back to one big limo, except for those who’d prefer to keep their sanity and drive there on their own (assuming they have a licence).

This batch of kids, excluding Kara, Conner and Jon, are often referred to as the “Wayne kids”, or the “Gotham kids”. Sometimes Kara, Conner and Jon get called Gotham Kids as well, despite being from Metropolis and proud. They’re vocality from protesting against being called Gotham Kids earned them the nickname “Not-Gotham Kids”.

Damian, Helena, Colin, Matt, Jon and Cullen are one of Those groups. Often together, closely knit, all characters on their own, but together, they lose all braincells. Teachers love all of them individually (with the exception of Damian), but are absolutely terrified of them as a group.

The second group most like that would be the girls- Tam, Kara, Steph, Cass, Harper, Carrie and sometimes Barbara, Kate and Helena. Alone, they’re pretty good kids, but together their chaotic-ness knows no bounds.

Who are we kidding? All of these kids are like that. Put any two together, and you’re either going to see someone get stabbed, a glitter bomb explode, an impromptu dance session, or debate the pronunciation of “bologna” for an hour.

Due to Damian often claiming he’s the rightful heir as the blood son, Helena, Matt and Terry will often pipe up to remind him that he isn’t the only blood son (or daughter, in Helena’s case). This often causes problems, not because Damian attacks them (verbally or physically), but because Terry and Matt aren’t, in the public’s eye, biologically Bruce’s, so the kids often have to scramble to make up some excuse to outsiders, often settling with it being an inside joke.

In this AU, Terry and Matt go by “Futurebat and Futurebird” because Why Not? As for Conner and Jon both being Superboy... how about, we just keep it that way? Because, really, Why Not? The public dubs them both the “Superboys”, and there’s no need to change it for now. Sometimes Conner gets called the Superclone, but mostly they just differentiate by some variation of “Superboy One/Uno and Superboy Two/Dos”. Sometimes “Superteen and SuperPre-Teen” when Jon was a bit younger. Also, think of all the shenanigans that can arise from that. Amazing.

Damian, at first, had as much hate towards Helena (and eventually Terry and Matt when they learned of them as well) as he did towards Tim. But, Helena always found his anger a bit funny (so long as it wasn’t life-threatening, which it often was). She never wanted to “be the heir” to Batman or Catwoman. She just happened to be their kid, and she wanted her own hero persona anyway, aka The Huntress.

To explain the situation with Helena, Terry and Matt, I’d say Helena (who’s a few months younger than Damian) was raised by Bruce and Selina, but the two’s relationship was on-and-off, and there were long periods where Selina would solo-parent Helena and Bruce (or Alfred and/or Dick, really) would solo-parent Helena. Eventually, the two got their shit together and are currently in a loving relationship, but not married yet. Terry and Matt were, of course, kept hidden from Bruce, being raised by Warren and Mary in a loving family. Eventually, after the death of Warren, and Terry trying to strike out as a solo hero, and the discovery that his DNA matched Bruce’s rather than Warren’s, their story was revealed that Terry was planned to be “future Batman” by Amanda Waller (needless to say Damian did Not Like That). Terry confronted Bruce and told him about it, and eventually Matt would learn the truth as well.

The only people Damian actively calls by their first names are Jon, Colin and Helena. Helena is only because Damian didn’t want to admit she was a Wayne at first (even though her legal last name in this AU is Kyle-Wayne).

They have a lot of animals, some are permanent, some come and go, some are just strays they feed, but nothing will compare to the amount of cats they have. The majority are strays that stay outside of the manor, yes, but they have too many. Sometimes they’ll be walking down a street opposite side of Gotham, and see one of their cats. This isn’t even because Selina now lives with them, and she brought her cats with her. No, it’s because Dick, Barbara, Jason and Steph, among others, loved the idea of Catwoman being a crazy cat lady, so they kept getting her more cats, which, in turn, gave everyone a new cat. And Damian was not helping in the least bit. Selina at least tried to stop them from bringing more cats home, but Damian would smuggle them back in anyway. Bruce honestly wishes someone had a cat allergy so they would have an excuse not to have that many cats.

Helena is a dog person. She likes cats, but... Dogs.

The Batkids all fight over the right of getting to babysit Tiffany.

Cass is often called the Good Kid by teachers and staff. That is not true, the true Good Kid is Duke. This is because he’s the only one that can maintain his braincells even in a group... 90% of the time, anyway.

Half of these kids will vanish during school hours to go stop some crime even though Bruce has repeatedly told them not to do that. The other kids who are not superhero vigilantes or manage to respect said rule (which is not often) scramble to make excuses for them. No excuse has ever been something normal, but it works because “When have Wayne kids ever been normal?”

School events like dances and football games are awful. Some of the kids are aware going will be awful, and desperately try to get out of it, but someway, somehow, they always wind up there. It would have been chaotic enough just having the Gotham Kids go, but when they bring their friends too (Teen Titans, Young Justice, Outlaws, whomever), there’s no hope. Their classmates at school both fear and look forward to these events, depending on how they go down. On one hand, it’s the Waynes! You’re basically watching “Keeping up with the Waynes” in real life! On the other hand, oh god, don’t get caught in the crossfire, whatever you do, run for dear life if you must.

Amazingly, Dick is the only one who got permanently banned from these events. And he didn’t even do anything. Well... anything as bad as his siblings, anyway.

They have all gotten suspended at least once, whether they are a Good Kid or not. Jason is actually one of the Good Kids so long as his siblings aren’t around to annoy him, but he got caught with a gun once, and barely escaped getting expelled... well, actually, he didn’t barely escape it, he was a Good Kid after all. But it was still on the table. That was, miraculously, the only time he got suspended.

Damian, surprisingly, does not have the highest suspension rate, but he does have the highest “called into the office” rate. You can guess all the reasons- sneaking pets into school, sneaking wild animals into school, having knifes and/or other weapons on him, belittling other students (he’s not intentionally trying to bully them, but, he can’t help but point out what they’re doing wrong), arguing and insulting teachers, ditching class (for vigilantism of course), etc.

The highest suspension rate goes to Dick, before he went to college. Mostly it was just due to how often he would skip classes and not turn in homework, but occasionally he would get into fights (to defend another kid, usually). The schools hadn’t yet gotten tolerable to the chaos that is the Waynes yet.

I suppose I should list the Good Kids. They are as follows: Cass, Duke, Jason, Luke, Helena, Cullen, Jon and Tiffany (she is Small and Innocent).

The Bad Kids: DAMIAN, Conner, Steph (she likes causing trouble for fun), Carrie (same as Steph, but more class clown-y) and Terry (mostly when he was younger).

The Bad Kids Sometimes: Harper, Timothy Fox, Kara

The Neutral Kids: Tam, Tim (depends on whether he’s crashed from lack of sleep or caffeine overdose), Dick, Matt, Barbara

The “Troubled” Kids (don’t label them that schools, rude): Colin, Cullen too technically but he’s more “Good��, Kate, literally all of them depending on the time of day (or night, specifically)

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atreegrowsinnorthnywrites · 4 years ago

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A little v-day love story

I was on my second helping of Dad’s infamous enchiladas when my older brother, Sam, clapped his hands together and declared, “We’re going out!”

My fork clattered to the half-eaten plate and I gave him a stern shake of my head.

“Come onnn, Em,” Sam whined, precariously tipping back his chair so it hovered on two legs. “You can’t sit around and mope forever. Silas and Sean will come too.”

I looked to my two other older brothers with a challenging raise of my eyebrow as Dad leaned forward and cuffed Sam over the head.

“Hell no I’m not,” Sean said without hesitation. All four legs of Sam’s chair returned to the ground with a disappointed thud. “I love you and I’m here for you, Em, but no.”

I chuckled at my eldest brother’s immediate reaction. With a family of his own, and an hour and a half drive back to Tucson, I was not surprised in the least. Silas’s lips were pursed and he actually appeared to be considering.

“Just say no,” I muttered as Sam egged him on.

“I have to text Paige,” Silas said slowly, “but if she doesn’t mind.”

“YES!” Sam pumped his fist triumphantly. “Dad?”

I looked to our patriarch, mid-lift of his beer to his lips, who snorted. “I’ll pass, but so thoughtful of you.” I stifled laughter at Sam’s disappointed face.

“Alright, Em. Go get ready.”

“I’m not done eating?”

My plate disappeared with a quick swipe of Sam’s hand and he waved me away with the other. “You are now.”

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An hour later we were pulling out of the long driveway that led to Dad’s ranch. I was wedged in the back seat of Silas’s truck between his work boots and tools, Chattahoochee blaring through the speakers, Sam and Silas arguing about the best bar in Bisbee on a Friday night, and it hit me this was the first time I had ever gone out with my brothers.

If I thought about it more, it wasn’t that surprising. After the divorce-court mandated summers in Arizona with my dad and brothers had ended my senior year, I never came back for an extended period again. My mom, my friends, and college were all back in Michigan. Once I met Thomas my sophomore year at Michigan State, I had spent my holiday weekends with his family in Chicago instead of visiting my own.

“You need more air, Em?” Silas asked from the front seat, smiling at me in the rear view.

“I’m good,” I murmured back, a wave of guilt flooding me.

Guilt that reminded me the five years of my life I had spent on Thomas had been a waste, and when the engagement and subsequent wedding had been called off, it had been my dad and three older brothers who had welcomed me home. It was my dad and brothers who had no judgement or questions.

“You better not sulk all night,” Sam warned, whipping around and eyeing me warily.

“I won’t.” I crossed my arms and scowled.

“Good.”

It had been three months since I had broken down in sobs at a dinner with Thomas and proclaimed I couldn’t marry him. Though I would die before admitting aloud any of my brothers were right, it was indeed time to get out of the house.

After Silas parked the truck in downtown Bisbee, we made our way down the string-light filled main street toward a packed bar with live music. Wafts of cigarette smoke, and definitely weed, greeted us outside the door. Silas and Sam shuffled me inside, pushing passed bodies to inch our way towards the bar. The crowd was far more eclectic than I would have guessed for my western brothers, with a band that sounded more like folk rock than country.

“What’ll it be?” Sam shouted over the music.

“A margarita,” I yelled back. “Spicy, if they can.”

He gave me a thumbs up and approached the bar while Silas waved to a group of guys from across the bar that had recognized him. During my summers on dad’s ranch, the only friends I ever really made were friends of my brothers, but I had not seen any of these guys since high school. The band played the final notes of their song and the crowd cheered enthusiastically as they announced a short intermission. Then I heard a high-pitched whistle.

“Ho-ly shit.”

I turned at the curse and came face-to-face with a brown haired, short-bearded, six-foot-or-so man wearing a white t-shirt, dark jeans, and vans. I squinted, and then he said my name.

“Emmeline Collins.”

There was only one person I had ever heard drag the “i” in my name that way.

“Lane?”

My stomach was in my throat. I remembered, very clearly, the last time I had ever spoken to Lane Diaz. He was smiling despite my memory, his right hand wrapped around a bottle of Corona and his left in the pocket of his jeans.

“Didn’t recognize me?” He asked with a laugh, and I debated admitting the truth. He looked great. Better, actually. But his southern accent had faded, and his cowboy look from all the years romping around the ranch with Sam was gone.

“Diaz!” Sam cried as he approached with two bottles in one hand and my cocktail in the other. He distributed the drinks for Silas and me, and then gave Lane a hug. “What’s up, man?”

“Just getting reacquainted with Em.” I frowned. Were we though? “Y’all didn’t mention your little sister was back in town.”

Sam looked down at me and then back to Lane. “Oh, right! You two haven’t…since…oh...right.” Sam took a long pull of his beer, and I stared him down the entire drink.

“Weekend visit to see the family?” Lane asked politely.

“Uhm,” I sipped my margarita for courage. A bite of jalapeño, just the way I liked it. “No. I’m uh, here for the summer.”

“Just like when we were kids,” Lane observed. I took another drink.

“Oh, hey!” Silas announced loudly, moving towards the crowd, “I see uhm...yeah I’ll be over here.”

Silas hurried out of sight, but when Sam went to follow, I dug the heel of my sandal down into his foot.

“What’s it been? Six years?” I asked Lane, taking a third sip and willing the alcohol to hit quickly.

“Seven in August, actually.”

Oh, he remembered.

“I’m going to let you two catch up,” Sam declared bluntly, extracting his foot from under my heel through gritted teeth and patting my shoulder as he walked by. The band was returning to the stage. Lane nodded to a pair of empty seats that had just vacated next to a window, on the far side of the bar from the band. I was trapped and agreed with a jerky, awkward nod.

“You look as surprised to see me as I am to see you,” He noted as we sat down.

“My brothers didn’t mention you were still around,” I replied. I was not entirely surprised he was, considering the rate of people who never leave a small town, but Lane had always seemed different. It was what had attracted me to him all those years ago.

“I moved back last summer,” He shared as the band started up again.

“Where were you before?” I asked over the growing sound.

“Army.”

Now, that, I did not expect. We had talked about going to college together on the west coast before everything happened.

“And you?” He asked, “What are you doing here?”

The question was edged with a coolness I deserved. His face was serious, his warm, brown eyes watching me intently. I did not want to rehash my screwed up, disappointing life with my ex-boyfriend, of all people.

“Another drink, hon?” A waitress asked from behind and I realized I had drained the cocktail in my hand.

“Yes,” I agreed quickly, “Margarita with jalapeño.”

Lane chuckled as the waitress walked away.

“What?” I asked him defensively.

“Why am I not surprised Em Collins’ drink of choice is tequila and spice?”

Ouch.

“The same reason I’m not surprised yours is Corona. What are you on vacation in Rocky Point?” I scoffed.

“You know I asked for a Pina Colada, but they gave me this instead.”

I laughed, and his stoic expression split into the friendly grin I had seen when he first caught sight of me in the bar.

“How long were you in the Army?” I asked, curiosity getting the best of me. He had a knowing look on his face, aware that I had dodged his question, but polite enough not to call me out. Yet.

“Four years.”

The waitress returned with my drink, and I made sure to put it on Sam’s tab.

“Good for you,” I replied, “Thanks for your uh…service.”

Lane cringed and took a sip of beer while I briefly contemplated throwing back my entire drink so I could at least claim my awkwardness was from blacking out.

“So, where’s your fiancé?” He asked.

I froze mid sip of my drink and looked up at him. We had not been friends on social media since my freshman year of college when a few months into dating Thomas I did an inventory of old photos and took down all of those with Lane and removed him as a friend. A little dramatic, thinking back on it.

“How did you…”

“Sam and I are still friends, Em.”

Duh. My stupid brother had probably told him ages ago. The alcohol was starting to go to my head, making me light and loose-lipped. I didn’t even know why I was skirting around this. I had nothing to prove to Lane Diaz.

“I broke off the engagement a couple months ago. We’re not together.”

It was the most abrupt way I had said it yet. It felt painfully final. Despite my boldness, I could not look at Lane’s face and so I followed it with a shrug and stared out the window.

“Damn. I’m sorry.” Lane said gently.

“It was for the best,” I said quickly, glancing at him and seeing furrowed eyebrows, “Trust me.”

“Doesn’t make it any less hard,” He noted. No, no it did not.

“It sucks, but what do you do,” I replied pitifully, taking yet another drink.

“Is that why you’re back?” He pressed. Lane was never scared to push me. I remember that about our two summers together. He always asked the questions I did not want to answer. Challenged the things I thought and believed.

“Part of it,” I admitted, “Honestly, uhm...I’m having a bit of a quarter-life crisis.”

“I see.”

“I knew my dad would be more understanding...”

A look of recognition crossed Lane’s face and he winced for me. I had almost forgotten our daily phone calls nearly every night of my junior year.

“How’d your mom take it?” He raised an eyebrow, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“You’re a jackass,” I said with a flourish of my straw, flicking droplets of my drink in his direction. “Because you know exactly how well she took it.”

He coughed on his drink of beer and we both broke into laughter.

“Still a little high strung then?”

“A little?”

“Worse?” Lane gaped.

“After I told her we broke up, she called me back and said I needed to beg for Thomas’s forgiveness. Tell him I was having mental health issues or I would fracture my future.”

“Jesus.”

I finished the rest of my second margarita at the memory of my mother’s shrill voice on the phone. We had spoken once since, and that conversation had been even worse.

“How’s your ma?” I asked, desperate to change the topic.

“She’s good. She was sick last year, but she’s feeling better.” He paused at the look of my face, and I bit my lip to keep from asking more. I had my assumptions with the smoking habit his mom, Eileen, had back then. “She would love to see you.”

He placed emphasized on the word love, and I looked away, uncomfortable at the very thought of going back to Lane’s childhood home where we used to hang out alone when his mom was working nights. Lane seemed to regret the statement and drained the rest of his beer. Regardless of my discomfort, I was not heartless.

“I’d love to see her too,” I added, and Lane relaxed. When his tense shoulders fell, I noticed how much more muscular he was than when we were kids. His brown skin wasn’t as tan anymore though, so he must work indoors. My eyes subtly trailed down to his hand, where I noted no ring on any fingers.

“Another round?” The waitress asked and Lane opened his mouth to answer, but instead gestured to me to decide.

“Sure,” I agreed, and she winked at me, obviously assuming we were on an early date.

“You don’t have to,” Lane said. “I understand if you rather go find your brothers.”

Maybe it was the tequila, or maybe it was pure curiosity, but I shook my head. “No, this is…nice.”

He gave me his iconic frown smile I remembered well. “Well, alright then.”

The waitress returned with our drinks and when he offered up his credit card, I placed my hand over his and smiled sweetly at her, “Put them both on Sam Collins’ tab. That’s S-A-M.”

When the waitress walked away to do just that, I realized my hand was still on top of Lane’s, my body angled close enough to his I could smell his minty aftershave. He smiled softly and I dropped his hand, quickly reaching for my third drink. The most sour margarita they had made me yet. My mouth puckered and I shivered as it went down.

“There’s the girl I remember.” I tilted my head with curiosity at his comment and Lane laughed, taking a drink instead of elaborating.

“I’m nothing like that girl anymore,” I declared defiantly.

“Good,” Lane said, his smiling fading as he set down his beer. His eyes softened, and his voice dropped. “Because that girl broke my heart.”

#writing community #romcom #romance writing #soft romance #love story #writing prompts #writing prompt #writing ideas #fiction writing #writeblr #short story #prompts

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spaceskam · 4 years ago

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prompt from anon: I know you requested kylex, but I am a slut for your Malex college AUs sooo can I request prompt 1 for Malex??? I feel like Kyle could absolutely be involved 😁 01. I’m getting progressively more annoyed at the people you bring back to our apartment and it’s not until a friend jokingly asks if I’m jealous that I realize I’ve developed feelings for you college au prompts

ao3

The door of the apartment swing open and Alex stumbled in with a parasite clung to his lips and ripping his shirt off.

Michael had to stop mid-bite through his dinner cereal as he watched his roommate and his roommate's face-eater stumbled to his room, the door slamming behind them. Alex's laugh rang out loud enough that he could hear it and it quickly made him lose his appetite.

With a sigh, he pushed himself to his feet and put his bowl in the sink. Michael grabbed Alex's shirt off the floor and folded it, placing it on the table out of the pathetic-ness of his heart. A moan that was distinctly from Alex's body could be heard on the other side of his bedroom door and Michael took that as his cue to sit outside until the succubus left.

In high school, he and Alex had been the best of friends. They were both chronic outcasts and got detention more than a few times together freshman year which was really how they met. Well, that, and they both stood against the Loner Wall during lunch. Turns out, loners could be loners together.

By the time junior year rolled around, they were inseparable. Where one of them was, the other was sure to be close by. It was just how they were. Alex eventually built the courage to come out and Michael had no problem with it which really only made them closer. Once they knew they were going to the same college, the only logical decision was to get an apartment together.

In theory, it was great. In execution...

"I am a horrible, horrible person," Michael groaned, pulling his knees up to his chest as he held the phone to his ear.

"What did you do?" Isobel asked dryly. Michael rested his chin on his knees and let his eyes drift to the concrete floor of the balcony. It was stained with paint from when Alex had drunkenly done an art project completely naked at 3 in the morning to celebrate the end of their first semester of college.

"I didn't do anything," he told her, "I just... Can someone become homophobic over time?"

"What?"

"When Alex came out, I was fine. Happy for him, even," Michael grumbled, picking at a string on his basketball shorts, "Now every time he brings a guy over, I want to throw up."

"Michael..."

"I know, I'm a piece of shit."

The first year of college had been great. He and Alex were closer than ever, they spent every goddamn moment together. Then sophomore year rolled around and Alex started getting more comfortable with his sexuality. Which was fine.

But then nights like these happened.

Before, in high school, when Alex told him about boys, he didn't really care. He remembered being happy for him and excited for him. Now, though, he just wanted to throw up every goddamn time Alex and a new boy stumbled through the door and headed to his bedroom. He didn't know why he hated it so much, but he did. He really, really did.

"Alex went through a lot to get here. You need to be a good friend and support his hoe season," Isobel lectured. Michael sucked in a long breath, tilting his head back in irritation.

"I'm trying," Michael said, "It's just annoying. And you know we don't even study together anymore?"

"You don't have any of the same classes anymore," Isobel pointed out. Michael rolled his eyes.

"So? I feel like... I don't know what I feel like, I'm just tired of him fucking guys and running me out of my apartment," Michael grumbled.

"Oh, come on, Michael, he is not running you out of your apartment."

"You think I wanna listen to him plow some guy for an hour?"

"An hour? Jeez, that–"

"That is not what you were meant to respond to."

Isobel let out a laugh that slowly died out when Michael didn't say anything.

"Honestly, Michael, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you were just mad the person he's fucking isn't you."

"What the fuck, Isobel? No. No, that is not what's happening. Why the fuck would you say that? No, I'm not fucking pining for him, he's my friend. End of," Michael told her. She laughed in response.

"Awfully defensive for a guy who definitely is not jealous," she hummed. Michael felt like his face was on fire and his stomach tied in knots.

"Shut up."

Isobel was damn near cackling. "Listen, baby brother, call me back after you've had your epiphany because that closet of yours is made of glass, okay?"

"I am n–"

"I love you, talk to Alex about how you feel and maybe things will click," she said, making a loud kissy noise before she hung up to avoid any more protesting.

Michael found himself letting his blood light on fire for what felt like an eternity, waiting for Alex to get done with his meal. The more he thought about Isobel's words, the more it pissed him off. There was no way he wanted Alex like that. He had never even kind of looked at Alex like that.

Well, there was that dream that one time... Okay, that happened more than once. But that was normal when you spent every day with someone, right? Besides, he never thought about it while he was awake. That summer they went swimming and Michael got so burnt that Alex, while at all states of undress, kept touching him just to leave handprints on his red skin, typically his bare thighs, absolutely did not count.

"Call me?" Alex's pitstop said, stealing Michael out of the train of thought that was only getting worse. Was there a reason he always remembered so much whenever they got drunk and Alex impulsively got naked?

"Um," Alex said, "Sure, maybe. Bye."

Michael slowly slid the door of the balcony more than the crack it already was, pushing himself inside so he could have a talk with Alex.

"Oh, hey, didn't know you were home," Alex said when he came in, flashing that warm smile of his. He was in nothing but his briefs which was normal enough. They'd always been comfortable around each other like that. Now, though, Michael wanted to crawl out of his skin.

"Yeah, how could you? You were a little busy fucking some strange guy," Michael said casually, a little bit more venom than was really warranted. Alex's eyebrows tugged together in confusion.

"I mean, he's not that strange. He's in my stats class," Alex said, eyeing him slightly, "What crawled up your ass?"

"Nothing, sorry," Michael said, looking away as he clenched and unclenched his fists. He focused on what Isobel said about talking to him about it being bothersome. "But, uh, can we talk?"

"What's up?" Alex asked, still staring all skeptically. Michael looked back at him.

"I don't like when you bring guys over all the time. I feel like I'm being kicked out of my own house just so you can get laid by some guy with no standards,” Michael told him. He watched hurt settle into Alex’s pretty features and he wanted to take whatever he said that caused it back, but he wasn’t quite sure he wanted to. He did want Alex to stop being so ridiculous with the people he brought over.

“No standards, huh?” Alex asked.

“Is that all you got from what I said?” Michael scoffed, shaking his head, “Look, I’m just tired of seeing you with guys, Alex.”

“You’ve made out with girls in front of me,” Alex shot back, “Like, if I remember correctly, that was half of high school. Why can’t I have fun?”

“You can, I’m not saying you can, I just don’t want to see or hear it,” Michael said. Alex stared at him for a few seconds too long all the way up until tears started brimming his eyes and he looked away.

“Yeah, okay, I’ll stop,” Alex said, quickly walking towards his room.

Before Michael could even think about what he was doing, he reached out and grabbed Alex’s arm to keep him from going to hide.

“Why are you upset? I’m just asking for you to be considerate that you don’t live alone,” Michael told him. Alex turned to face him, anger etched onto his eyebrows.

“You know what I’m hearing? I’m hearing you say that you’re fine with me being gay as long as you don’t have to see it, the same fucking bullshit homophobes say. I thought you were my friend.”

“I am your friend, doesn’t mean I wanna hear you sleeping with someone else!”

Alex scoffed, “Someone else? What do you mean, someone else? What, you’re cool with hearing me having sex as long as it’s with myself? That’s fucking weird, Guerin.”

“No!” he groaned, pulling his hands to himself and pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes. Again, he was forced to think about the other part of Isobel’s statement. He could hear her voice, hear her mocking him about his stupid fucking Freudian slip. “I-I’m confused.”

Alex stayed for a long moment, giving Michael ample time to explain himself. Except he didn’t fucking know how. He didn't know anything.

"Confused about what?" Alex asked softly. Michael sucked in a deep breath as he thought about it. What was he jealous of?

"Isobel said I sounded jealous," Michael admitted. Again, silence.

Silence.

"Jealous of what?" he asked. Michael breathed, keeping it as controlled as humanly possible. "Jealous of what, Guerin?"

“I don’t know! She just told me a few minutes ago!” Michael said, his words coming out a sheer whine. He managed to pull his hands away from his eyes just to see Alex staring at him like he was fragile. He wasn’t. Was he? “I don’t know. I just know I hate seeing you with guys and I didn’t used to hate it. I used to be happy for you. Now... I feel sick.”

Alex gulped so hard Michael could see it. Then he looked at Michael, really looked at him, fixing him with a simple look.

“Okay. I think we should both sleep on this new information and then talk about it tomorrow. You need to at least get somewhere on your own that I can work with. I can’t... I can’t, like, force you to know what you’re feeling. You need to find a way to articulate it, okay?” Alex told him. Michael nodded.

Alex took a step forward, giving him a hug goodnight before slipping back into his bedroom. Michael went to his own room, feeling more drained than ever as he crawled into bed.

He laid there for hours, tossing and turning and thinking. By the time morning came, he was exhausted even more, but he knew one thing.

He was absolutely in love with Alex Manes.

#malex #malex fic #michael guerin #alex manes #roswell new mexico #my fic #prompts #college au prompts

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