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nabibeans · 5 months ago

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Burning Questions 🔥

Summary: During an interview the members get asked their sexuality. Now most of the members don’t mind sharing, except Hongjoong who is also a closeted trans man.

TW: slight internalized transphobia, mentions of needles, talk of breast & periods, panic attack , trans! Joongie struggles a bit but he gets a happy ending.

Inspired by this interview:

~🌈~

Hongjoong was enjoying this interview; it was very fun and gave a little insight on who they were as a group, though it also showed a little of their personal lives as well. Switching between English and Korean wasn’t as hard as it used to be when they first got started. In fact he actually liked speaking English sometimes, especially for doctors appointments regarding his testosterone.

“Next question; captain, you should read this one.”

San handed Hongjoong the board, the captain of the group only nodded. Tearing off the sticker that covered the question he began to read it aloud in English first,

“What are the Ateez members sexual orientation?”

Looking at the interviewer with a confused look they held up a sign in Korean; ‘are you lgbt?’ Hongjoong’s blood ran cold. Though the other members had started to answer, Wooyoung was first stating he was gay. Then Jongho said he was questioning at the moment, no really sure where he stood. The same for Yunho. So on and so on until it got to Hongjoong.

“You okay? Captain? Hongjoong!?”

Hongjoong’s chest felt tight, disgust and nerves twisted in his stomach as he swallows hard. They don’t know, they don’t know, they don’t know you’re a disgusting freak. You’re a woman. You’re not a real man. I am a real man. I am. His brain was fighting against him, shoving the board into Jongho’s hands the smallest member stood up. He’d began having a panic attack, his mind racing. Such a question had triggered him that badly? He wasn’t ashamed of himself! He was proud of the fact he passed as a man.

“I need a moment please, can I have some water?”

His legs were shaking, a staff member running over and leading him off the set of the interview while the other members stayed behind. They knew he was gay, they’d been the first people he told. This wasn’t about being gay, this was about not being a man, no he is a man!

“Fuck I’m sorry.”

He sobbed as soon as the cameras were cut off, the sleeves of the gray sweater he wore now stained with tears and a bit of mucus from his runny nose.

“Go take a break kiddo. We can entertain the others for a few, do you need your inhaler?”

Hongjoong nodded, holding out a shaking hand for his inhaler his manager always kept for him just in case. His asthma didn’t act up often, but when it did it could get serious fast. Once he received the inhaler he went to an empty room and staff from WIRED led him too,

“Want that water still? An apple juice might be better. A little sugar, I’ll bring you a light snack too.”

The staff walked away leaving the boy alone, trying to stop the crying. A few moments later there was a knock on the door, then a familiar face peeked in.

“Hey, are you okay?”

Seonghwa. Not now, he did NOT need his boyfriend to see him this way. Seonghwa didn’t even know he was trans, they’d only been dating for a few months. Hadn’t even kissed yet. Wiping his eyes Hongjoong nodded, reaching his arms out for a hug.

“I’m okay baby, can I have a hug?”

Seonghwa stepped into the room as Hongjoong stood up, quickly embracing the younger and holding him in his arms. The couple stayed like that for a few moments before a staff brought the apple juice and some crackers for Hongjoong to help him calm down. Once the staff left Seonghwa motioned for Hongjoong to sit again, which he did.

“This is more than you being gay isn’t it? We all know you’re gay, you wouldn’t have reacted this way if it were something else.”

Hongjoong sighed, pushing the crackers away in favor of sitting on the box of apple juice. Nodding his head he took a few more sips before continuing,

“There’s something you need to know, before we get too serious; I mean..we’re serious now but…like, sex serious. You need to know something before we ever have sex or you ever put you hand down my pants because this is a big deal and I completely understand if you don’t want to be my boyfriend anymore but,”

Seonghwa rubbed his shoulder, “slow down, breathe baby. I am not leaving you.”

Hongjoong nodded, laying his head on his boyfriend’s shoulder for a few moments before he continued.

“ so I’m not really a..I wasn’t born a man. I was born a woman, and I went through puberty as a woman. I had a period, I grew breast; small but I have them.”

He patted his chest, which looked flat due to his binder.

“I have a vagina not a penis, I have to inject myself with a needle every week so I can sound like a man, and so my periods stop. I have an extremely low chance of getting pregnant but I take birth control anyway. Seonghwa, I wasn’t born a man. I’m transgender, and if that bothers you in anyway I completely understand.”

Seonghwa only stared into his eyes, withdrawing his hand and getting up quickly. His face was unreadable, but Hongjoong’s mind was already assuming things. ‘He hates you, he thinks you’re disgusting, he thinks you’re a woman’ tears began to flow down Hongjoong’s face again, soft sobs shaking his shoulders. That’s why he hadn’t told anyone other than the CEO; the CEO was the reason he had this chest binder, the reason he was on testosterone to begin with. Seonghwa’s face softened, then he smiled so wide.

“Oh baby, if you think something like that is going to get rid of me you are sadly mistaken. Your body doesn’t matter to me, your personality and heart do. And I love you the way you are.”

Hongjoong blushed, nodding behind his sleeve as he wiped his eyes again.

“Can I kiss you?” , “yeah.”

The couple moved closer, Hongjoong’s arms around Seonghwa’s shoulders while the taller man hugged his waist. Hongjoong’s eyes softened, his hands slipping to Seonghwa’s cheeks as he pulled him in. Their lips met in a soft kiss, deep yet gentle. Pulling back after a few moments Hongjoong smiled, “wow.”

“Wow is right, I love you no matter what okay? Nothing will change that.”

Hongjoong nodded, looking at the clock he realized they needed to head back immediately. He could tell the rest of the members another day, unless…

Getting back on track with filming they refilmed the sexuality question, this time Hongjoong sat up comfortably. When it came to his turn he looked back at Seonghwa who gave a thumbs up, taking a deep breath he smiled.

“Well, I’m gay. But; I’m also transgender. I was born a woman but started transitioning when I was about maybe 19? It was during our trainee period, you guys might have noticed I was suddenly absent for a bit and it was because I was having counseling and physicals to make sure I could safely take testosterone. Even my voice has gotten a bit deeper now.”

The other members were surprised, but all jumped onto their leader hugging him tight.

“We’re so proud of you captain!”

San smiled brightly, the other members agreeing they were proud and that he was still their captain no matter what! Hongjoong only let himself be hugged while looking to Seonghwa who rubbed his head gently. Hongjoong had worked so hard to be excepted as a man by society, now he could be. With the help of his members he’d make a proper man out of himself , doing it his way of course.

#ateez #hongjoong #kpop #ateez fanfic #seonghwa #non canon #ateez matz

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theemporium · 1 year ago

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Ohmg okay so poly throuple figuring shit out we’ve been here we’ve talked about that we’ve established things what if… hear me out… two partners (you and boy numero uno) aren’t just dating and being like hmmm we’re both crushing on this guy what if we 🤪 but you’re full on married and halfway into fucking for a baby when you’re having the freak out like if you’re just dating if something goes wrong you break up okay but marriage is a bit more serious and divorces aren’t just a willy nilly thing and for you it’s a little easier because you can just tell yourself it’s a look and fantasize but don’t touch thing while your man is just having a gay panic like yeah he’s into one of his best friends and why only now he’s married he’s happy he never questioned his sexuality and now he’s just going through it there’s just so much more at stake and even if you gather up the strength to talk about it there’s still the imbalance of a married couple inviting a person into their hearts and bed especially if the trying for a baby worked how do you explain that to your potential lover

my first thought was piarles but it’s just… damn

the potential angst and drama this all has😭like yous love each other and yous both feel so guilty for harbouring these feelings for another man, but neither of you know how to explain that

meanwhile the other driver is feeling like an absolute dick for crushing on a very happily married couple and even thinking about getting between then two of you

#cece answers

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rogueshadeaux · 2 years ago

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Chapter One - Regrets and Threats

“I know,” Dad sighed. “Guess I’m just getting ready for you two growing up. It’s…it’s a crazy world out there, right now. With the anti-Conduit legislation, the terrorist attacks — you two doing the ACT.” He added as a joke. But it didn’t lighten the look on his face. “I’m worried.”

5k words | 16 min read time | TRIGGER WARNINGS: terroristic threats, implied homelessness

I rushed, absolutely rushed, to get the dishes clean.

He wasn’t supposed to be back for another three days, I wasn’t prepared to even have to worry about this yet. My head was throbbing, giving an extra hard pulse every time I chucked a cleaned plastic cup in the dish rack.

Man, I hated being hung over.

“You almost done out there?” I hollered over the scream of the vacuum in the living room.

“Y-yeah, almost!” Brent yelled back, followed by the crinkle of the vacuum sucking up more crumbs. There was a curse, then he added, “Shit, Jean, Dad’s truck!”

Abandoning my glass plate, I moved around the corner, looking past a panicked Brent and out of the bay window of the living room. Yep, he was right; Dad was back, slamming the door to his truck right that moment, and I hadn’t even started on the back porch.

“Okay, uh,” I faltered. “Act natural? Put on baseball or something, I’ll go back to doing dishes.” The more it looked like we were caught off guard, the better. Dad just needed to not look out back.

“It isn’t even baseball season!”

“You know what I mean!”

I practically ran to turn the tap back on, picking the glass plate back up and trying my best to act normal. He just had to keep away from the backyard. That’s it. He’d get back, say hellos, probably go to shower, and that’s when Brent and I could get rid of the alcohol bottles. Easy peasy.

I hope.

I was able to get through the plate and two pans before hearing the deadbolt to the front door turn and it’s hinges creak in the stress of opening, Dad’s voice ringing out “Honey, I’m hoooooooome!” In a terrible sing-song voice.

“Hey Dad!” I heard Brent greet over a Seahawks—Rams game.

“Dad!” I shouted from the kitchen, turning off the tap. Regardless of what we were trying to hide, I missed him and had to go give him a hug.

Dad was still stuck in his suit, the top two buttons of his shirt open and his tie jokingly wrapped around his head like a ninja headband. He looked so out of place when he was dressed up, so far away from the leather jacket and worn jeans he’d always wear otherwise. I hated seeing him all…fancy.

My friends loved it though, dubbing him their favorite DILF.

Blegh.

I dashed over to him, Dad easily intercepting me in a crushing bear hug so forceful he popped my spine. “Ah, missed ya, Jeanie.” He grumbled, pulling away. “Oh, gross, you’re wet.”

“Well I was doing dishes,” I laughed, “You didn’t give us much time to clean up.”

Just play it cool. Admit a little fault and he won’t dig deeper.

Brent finally decided to stand, allowing Dad to clap him on the back but not going much farther than that. Teenage boys; any compassion was unmanly and gay. Just to rub it in though, Dad ruffled his brown hair out of its stupid flipped ‘do. “Missed you too, Brent.” He said pointedly.

Brent just brushed him off with a playful shove.

“Why are you back so soon?” I asked as he separated himself from us, pulling his duffel bag back off the ground and gripping his briefcase. “You were supposed to be gone, what, another 3 days?”

“Yeah, did something happen?” Brent added on, moving out of the way for Dad to squeeze through.

Dad moved only a few steps, stopping to chuck his duffle bag on the couch. “Eh, something came up.” He brushed the issue off with a wave of his hand, not facing us. “Why? Upset I crashed the party?”

“Funny, Dad,” Brent scoffed, his eyes flitting to mine and betraying the panic. I shook my head at him; there’s no way Dad knew. He had to stop freaking out.

“You know what I love about the future?” Dad suddenly turned to face us, smiling. Not waiting for a response, he continued. “There’s so many good security measures the world has to offer now!” His face shifted to one of knowing. Disappointment. “Like hidden front yard cameras.”

He knew.

I was wise enough to keep quiet; anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. And Dad specifically laid down the law before leaving; no funny business, no illegal business, and no more than 3 friends over at a time.

We broke all 3 of those rules last night.

But if Dad only had front yard cameras, then he only saw us break one rule. Not that big an offense. “Sorry, Dad—“ I began before he immediately cut me off.

“Look, there weren’t a lot of people,” he sighed. “I only saw 5. Tommy, Theresa. Mei. Dunno the other’s names, don’t care. But I want to know: did anything else happen last night?”

This felt like a trick question.

Brent took the reins this time, managing a playful albeit nervous chuckle before joking, “Depends on if you have backyard cameras.”

Dad didn’t miss my flinch. Brent, you dumbass.

I loved Brent. Had to. Hard not to. But God he could be stupid sometimes. Out of the two of us, he couldn’t lie worth a damn. Which made it all the more plausible that his heated cheeks weren’t because of the reaming Dad was preparing, but via an admission of guilt. One Dad cocked an eyebrow to, moving around us to walk to the blinds of the sliding back door.

“Why did you mention the backyard?” I groaned under my breath.

“Wh—did you not clean it?” Brent muttered back.

I only had enough time to shoot him a glare before Dad’s voice, sharp now, asked behind us

“Is that…whiskey?”

Thanks to Brent, we were now on week two of our month-long grounding. And that included Dad’s newfound punishment; office cleanup.

This has to be a child labor law violation. I was sure of it. Sure, Dad owned the Conduit Outreach and Legal Endorsement center, but shit, I didn’t wanna be stuck mucking paper copies and sweeping. At least I wasn’t Brent, stuck window scraping outside in the Oregon winter. I know the COLE worked on a volunteer basis, but it should’ve been on my volunteering basis, not Dad’s.

Still, this was better than him snitching on Theresa, Dominick, Cat, Tommy and Mei, as well as being stuck attending AA meetings to ‘see what alcohol can do to you’, so I guess I’ll take it.

I was in the middle of mopping a suspiciously sticky spot in front of the break room fridge when Dad poked his head through the breezeway, saying “Jean, when you finish that, come meet me in my office, okay?”

“Sure, Dad,” I breathed, punctuating the words with vigorous scrubbing. Dad didn’t stick around though, going to go tell Brent the same, I’m guessing.

I was in his office far sooner than Brent, Dad doing nothing more than acknowledging my presence with a nod before going back to his computer. He always seemed stuck at a computer, typing emails or reading emails or waiting for emails. At least being his own boss meant he didn’t have to wear a suit like he did to his out of town seminars; it never looked quite right on him.

Still, it was really funny watching my dad work on official documents while wearing a beanie.

Brent eventually walked in on a shivering huff, nose tip pink from the cold. He shook off his flurry covered coat, hanging it on the back of the other chair before joining me across from Dad.

Dad clicked a few more keys, closing out whatever he was working on with an authoritative mouse click before turning to contemplate us. No talking. He just stared. Looking between Brent and I in a way that made me think he was gearing up to interrogate us again. I was moments away from throwing Brent under the bus for whatever crime Dad had found out we committed when he finally said, “I’m ungrounding you two.”

Brent and I glanced at each other. This has to be a trap. “W-why?” I asked, looking back to Dad.

He leaned back in his leather office chair, propping a foot up on the open space by his thigh. “Brent, Regina. Your birthday is next month. You’re both going to be eighteen. Adults, legally, as much as I hate it.” Dad scoffed a bit at that, as if he was annoyed at our audacity to age. “I’m not gonna…be there, much longer, to tell you what do to. You’ll have to make your own choices, choose your own paths and whatever.” He put his foot down, leaning forward against the desk. “It’ll be your job to take care of yourselves. And I’ve got to admit, at least you both kept it at home and were safe. Mei talked to me earlier—“ he added more pointedly to Brent than I. Despite her being my friend first, even Dad could see they were definitely closer. “She told me how you took everyone’s keys, Brent. Hid them so no one would drive. That’s way more responsible than what I did at your age.”

“I thought I saw her car when I was shoveling the sidewalk,” Brent muttered.

“I want to be able to trust your choices,” Dad continued. “Because come next month, I won’t have any part in them. And after what Mei told me, while I’m definitely not a fan of you two sneaking whiskey from my good collection,” he stressed pointedly, “You did good, making sure your bad choice was at least a safe bad choice.”

Dad stopped there, letting the silence hang. I wasn’t sure if he meant for us to chime in with thanks, or say I love you or something.

So instead I said, “You act like you’re dying, Dad. We’re still gonna stay around after we turn 18.”

“Yeah,” Brent agreed, “Even if we do go to college or move out, we’re still gonna visit. Call,”

His eyes wandered to the picture frame on his desk, and I couldn’t help but follow his gaze. I both absolutely loved and entirely hated that picture: Dad with his arm slinked around Mom, tired and disheveled on a hospital bed. He had baby Brent in his arms, and Mom was holding me with one arm, the other moved so their hands could interlock on her shoulder.

It was the only picture we had of all four of us.

Dad did his best, raising us alone. It was hard, and definitely caused the premature graying in his hair he had going on, but he did it. We never felt unloved, or ignored or like we were struggling. Hell, it took us begging him to take a chance to get him to start this traveling thing COLE offered, he was so worried about leaving us alone. I guess the reality of his twins becoming actual adults was hitting him. It barely felt real to us sometimes too.

“It’s fine, Dad.” I finally said. “We’re fine.”

“I wish your mom could see you two,” he sighed. “She’d be so proud.”

We didn’t respond.

Dad coughed, moving to stand. “That’s also not the only reason I’m ungrounding you two.”

Knew it was a trap.

He seemed chipper, and yet exasperated. I had no idea the two could coexist. “I’m going to be working from home for the next month or so, so I get to keep a close eye on you two as well.”

“Wh-, really?” Brent asked, mirroring my sudden excitement. Dad was gonna stay home? Not even come here to work?

But this place was home to Dad, too. He loved what he did here. “Wait, why?” I asked, looking up to meet his eyes. He wouldn’t do this without reason, a good reason.

Dad stayed quiet for a minute, rubbing the scruff on his chin. “There’s…well, you need to know,” he muttered, more to himself than us. Sighing, he seemed to disembark from his train of though to rejoin us, starting with, “Remember how I came home early last week? How my trip was cut short two days in?”

“Yeah,” Brent said. “I just thought it was to yell at us.”

Dad barked out a laugh. “Yeah, partially.” But the humor was short lived, a shadow falling on his face despite the fluorescent lighting. “Well, the seminar was threatened by the Anti-Bioterrorist Movement — you know, Lifeline. Like, bomb threatened. Had to call in a disarming squad and all.”

“Oh, shit,” Brent whispered.

“Brent Si’ahl, language.” Dad chastised.

“Sorry,”

“Anyways,” Dad inhaled deeply. “They weren’t exactly nice. And they had a lot of bad things to say about COLE. About…me. So I’m going to stay home for a while for safety. At least until we see if this bill passes.”

The Conduit Registration bill. The Big Bad that Dad was fighting against. Congress wanted every Conduit to register their name, DNA, and keep all their information consistently updated on a public database. Dad argued it was no better than the anti-Semitic segregation implemented by the Nazi’s before WW2.

Lifeline, though, said it was no different from a sex offender registry.

That’s where Dad would go all the time. Speaking out, attending rallies, offering his team’s legal support. Things had ramped up recently after the bill passed the House. It was now up to the Senate to vote on it, and that was coming up on the docket in two months as well. Not to mention last month, Florida won their Supreme Court case for specialty IDs for Conduits.

Things were tense, to say the least.

“You have to stay home ‘cause the COLE could be next,” I finally worked out.

Dad nodded, not meeting my eyes. “Any of them could. We’re all going wireless like we did back when that Pandemic hit. The shelters will still be up but everything else is gonna be digital.”

He opened his mouth to say more, but was cut short by sudden knocking on his office door. It swung open before he could welcome them, and in walked Margarita, the sweet receptionist, red from her jog to the room and the bite of the snow. “Damion, sir, there’s protestors outside.”

Dad cursed this time, earning a sarcastic “Damion Rowland, language.” From Brent before Dad’s glare cut him down a few sizes.

“Okay, Jean, grab my computer bag. Brent, grab those files for me,” Dad commanded, pointing. “I’m gonna swing the truck around back and we’re going to leave before things get worse.”

Dad grabbed his keys off the desk and rounded the corner, breezing past us and to Margarita at the door. “Stay in here until I come get you.” He threw over his shoulder, closing the office door behind him.

I immediately turned to face Brent. “A bomb, dude, holy shit.”

“I know,” he pinched the bridge of his nose. “It’s getting worse. A lot worse.”

“I know,” I repeated. There wasn’t much else I could say. And I bet the guys that placed the bomb were only gonna get a slap on the wrist. “C’mon, grab your coat.”

We both got dressed for the cold, grabbing all Dad asked us to and standing around, waiting. Almost absentmindedly, I grabbed the photo of the day we were born, looking down at it. I always ended up with this thing in my hand.

Telling people Brent and I were brother and sister was always fun. Telling them we were twins was even funnier; no one ever believed us. And for good reason — we looked nothing alike. Brent looked a lot like Mom, the natural chestnut brown hair and seafoam green eyes. The blush pink and fair skin. I was more Dad, the black hair and brown eyes and tan skin and, yeah, sort of big nose. It looked good on us though. The one thing — the only thing — we shared were the splash of freckles across our nose, like Mom. Otherwise we definitely looked adopted.

At least, Brent did. Had him convinced about it one time when we were kids, it was hilarious.

I tucked the picture away in the side pocket of Dad’s computer bag; if anything happened to this COLE chapter, I didn’t want to lose this. Didn’t want Dad to. I was pretty sure it was the original.

The hum of Dad’s truck grew outside — and with it, shouting. Super loud chanting and hollering and stuff. Brent and I looked at each other and dashed to the slated blinds without a word exchanged, peaking through.

There were what had to be two dozen protestors outside, all angrily shouting as Dad shoved his way through them. Some had signs with the Conduit Emblem, the two eagles made by Delsin Rowe, crossed out violently with red paint made to look like blood. Others had a picture of the kid that was killed by a steam Conduit up in Detroit a bit ago. But all of them yelled, chanting, “Bio-Terrorists need to not exist!” Or some stupid variation. There was one burly guy in a ski mask that hollered “Traitor!” at Dad so loudly he flinched.

“I’m going to fuck them up if I get the chance,” Brent growled under his breath.

“You and me both,” I muttered, chewing my cheek.

The back door just next to Dad’s office door slammed shut, him busting into the office a few moments later. We didn’t even bother moving away from the window to hide that we were snooping. Dad noticed, becoming crestfallen at the realization that we saw everything. “Margarita is calling the cops, we should wait till they’re here to go,”

I nodded absentmindedly, throwing one last look outside the window.

That was a mistake though, ‘cause I made eye contact with the ski mask asshole.

He shouted “They’re hiding in there!” And pointed to the window Brent and I were standing. Like vultures, the protestors swarmed the window, Dad gripping me by the hem of my jacket and yanking me back

“Away from the windows, now!” He demanded. Brent followed.

And just in time too, because with a shattering crash, a brick soared through just where I was and landed with an almost comedic smack on the center of Dad’s big oak desk.

Glass peppered everywhere, glittering Brent’s black pants with shining shards and almost threatening to cut him, since he was closest. Their chanting and yelling and screaming grew louder, a few protestors beginning to swipe away at the shutters to move them away. “I’ve got kids in here, assholes!” Dad shouted, stepping around me to bend over and brush away at Brent’s pants. “C’mon, let’s get you guys out of here.”

“Probably some dirty bioterrorists!” A voice responded on the other side.

Dad didn’t bother answering, wrapping an arm around my shoulders and clapping a hand to Brent’s back, steering us both out of the office as quick as he could. He didn’t stop commandeering us until we were far from the office, down breezeways and halls until he came up to a doorframe, bopping his volunteer card against a scanner next to two large, heavy looking steel doors.

“We should have some clothes in your size at the closet, Brent.” Dad said as the light bordering the scanner turned green. “I want you to change out of those so you don’t get hurt.”

“Sure,” Brent breathed as Dad gripped one of the doors, swinging it open.

The shelters.

We weren't allowed in here; it was a volunteer area for adults only, and you had to pass background checks to even be considered. Circumstances allowed us to come in, I guess — especially with the chapter leader. I’d never even seen the area before now. In my head, I imagined separate rooms, maybe carpeting.

Not this.

The area was a glorified gymnasium; exposed rafters and shining glossed wooden floors. There were bunk beds lined up from wall to wall, each occupied. Lockers ran along the west side of the room, its opposite a cafeteria walkway like the one we had at school. It looked uncomfortable and awkward and void of any sense of privacy.

You’d think the Portland chapter would be able to afford better for the shelter.

But there was wonder, beauty and camaraderie. I watched a woman Conduit wave her hands around, and from her fingertips came string; she quickly wove a long sheet, handing it to a Mom who used her own powers to produce a nail from her mouth, hammering the makeshift curtain into the wooden frame of the bunk bed for privacy. The cotton Conduit then crouched down to be eye level with the son, waving her hands around once, twice, three times, seemingly making a doll that looked just like him from thin air.

A few aisles down, in a small seating area just in front of a TV, one Conduit moved to place his hand on another’s bicep, the ink from his blackout tattoo on his hand seeming to melt onto the woman’s arm, it shifted and bubbled and churned until it settled, a skull and roses tattoo healed perfectly on her bicep as if it had been there all along.

“Think we can get one?” Brent leaned over, whispering to me.

Instead, Dad answered, shooting “Absolutely not.” from over his shoulder.

He continued to lead us to another hallway, stopping just in front of it as he said, “Brent, come with me. Jean, you think you can stay here?”

“Yeah, sure,” I looked around, pretending I was absolutely not anxious. “I’ll be fine.”

Dad nodded, motioning for Brent to follow.

Truth was, though, this was my first direct exposure to any Conduits. Ever. And while I wasn’t scared, it was weirdly nerve wracking. In the same way that a first roller coaster ride or a driving test was.

Like I had no clue what to expect, but was excited just to be there.

Right in the hallway junction was a water cooler, little mini red solo cups stacked beside it. Filling a small cup, I moved next to the hall, planting myself on the floor and looking around a bit more. First glance, it looks like a school gym; let your eyes wander longer, and it starts to look like a prison yard. Every window was reinforced with steel, each exit manned by volunteers. But not to keep everyone in, no. To keep people out, like the protestors I could still hear chanting outside.

“Hey kid,” a voice said to my left, my head shooting that way; it was the cotton Conduit. Her voice was husky, like a smoker, but man if her clothes weren’t top knotch. Looked better than anything I’d be able to buy. “You’re new. When did you get here?”

“Oh I’m—“ I stuttered, “—I’m here with my Dad. Damion Rowland?”

The Conduit gasped. “Oh, you must be Regina! He talks about you and your brother all the time.”

I smiled. She seemed like such a warm person. “Please, call me Jean.”

“Jean,” she repeated, smiling herself. “It’s good to meet you. I hear you’re turning eighteen next week?”

“Next month,” I corrected. “On the 17th.”

“Oh, next month, next month.” She spaced off for a moment, contemplating something for only a breath before looking back down to me. “May I give you a present now?”

“Oh, no, you don’t have to—“

“Nonsense!” She cut me off. “Least I could do after all your Dad does for us. Jean, can’t help but notice you don’t have a hat! What’s your favorite color?”

“Hmm. I love purples and blues?"

She nodded, brushing her hair out of her face. Wiggling her fingers, she pursed her lips, deep in some thought I couldn’t even begin to understand before her fingertips began to dance, swirling and turning around each other.

From one tip, came a beautiful, pale cyan blue; the other, a soft lavender. It took me a moment to notice she wasn’t doing an extravagant summoning dance with her fingers, but was knitting, pulling the strings together again and again until they made the base of a knit hat.

I couldn’t help but stare, leaning forward as I watched her make diamonds and squares, the strings occasionally changing from lavender and cyan to dark purple and ice blue and back again. There was a reoccurring effort to plug in the Conduit Emblem, a star-shaped two-headed bird, the purple and blue replacing its usual colors as she found a way to fit it into the pattern.

Something that should have taken weeks of work was almost completed in 30 seconds flat. With a final wave, she created a pompom at the top of my new winter hat, blue and purple and dark and light all laced together.

“Voilà!” She exclaimed. “Happy birthday!”

I loved it. The design was immaculate, something I’d happily pay for, and as she passed it off to me, I nearly gasped at how soft it was. “Left it loose at the top, so it sits how you kids seem to like to wear them.”

Slouched. I loved it even more now.

“T-thank you,” I finally worked out. “I love it. It’s…perfect.”

She smiled. “I’m glad you do. Now!” She clasped her hands. “Where’s your brother? He needs a gift too.”

“He’s with Dad, getting changed. There was…” I drew off. There was no reason to give her the whole rundown, especially when she was more vulnerable. The reason, warranted or not. “Protestors.” I finished lamely.

But she gasped, a hand going to her chest as she asked, “Oh, is he alright?”

“Yeah, fine, I think. Just got some glass on him, that's all.” I shrugged. “Needed to change.”

Something must have given away how shaken I was, though. I mean, that was the first time I’d ever been on that side of a protest. Usually I’d just be the person to roll their eyes and brisk past them. But these protesters, they aimed to hurt us. Dad. This lady who made me a hat, the mom and her son now tucked away behind a curtain, the dude giving out free tats. Nearly got Brent, if they had been any quicker. Was this what Dad experienced every day at work? What he willingly faced?

“It’s alright,” the lady whispered, crouching low beside me. “Don’t worry about those — those hateful people. Just try not to become like them, okay? Besides, your father told us he’ll be staying home for a while. He’s strong. He’ll keep you two safe.”

All I could do was nod.

Footsteps echoed from the hallway behind me, Dad and Brent rounding the corner and almost mowing over the two of us. “Oh, Annabelle, hi!” Dad greeted. “I see you’ve met Regina.”

The lady beside me straightened, smiling widely up at Dad. “Yes, I did. She’s such a beautiful young lady, looks just like you.”

I blushed, but also didn’t stop from popping up in place, beaming like a little kid as I said “Look Dad, she made me a hat!” I sounded like an idiot, but man was it cool.

Dad took time to introduce the cotton Conduit, Annabelle, to Brent, her going through the same spree of asking his favorite colors and going to town making him his own hat. A beanie, more than a slouch cap. Guess she got the idea from Dad. It wasn’t long until he had a red, white and blue beanie, the Conduit Emblem on a tag at the hem.

Brent stepped over to me as Annabelle and Dad chatted, trading his hat for mine so we could check out the other’s gift. His was just as soft as mine — I’d argue even softer, considering how much more tightly knit it was. The Conduit Emblem was bound to catch us shit at school, but neither of us really cared. I had the pride of what Dad did here to drown it out and honestly, Brent had the stature to shut anyone up that pushed too far.

I pulled on my cool new hat, cozy and warm and somehow fitting my head just right, looking at Brent and asking if it looked alright. Instinctively I swiveled, letting him check the back of my head too.

But my eyes, they immediately locked onto someone else’s.

There was a man, hooded and grimey, sitting crossed-legged on his lower bunk. He was entirely rigid, stiff as a board as he glared my way, mumbling. Almost trance-like. His eyes didn’t move from mine at all, not when I glanced back at Dad, not when I sipped from my water in an effort to occupy myself. Not when I muttered, “Brent, do you see this?”

“What? I said your hat looks fine—“

“No — not the hat, dumbass,” I snapped, glancing back at my brother. Jerking my head, I motioned towards the weird guy. “Him. Look at him.”

Brent followed my gaze, jumping in place slightly when the man finally broke eye contact with me and looked straight at him, lips still moving in their mutterings. He seemed to stare into Brent’s soul, unmoving as Brent, as cool as he could, leaned against a steel support beam, glaring back. At least he wasn’t intimidated. Better than I could say. His stare was too unnerving, like he was undressing not my body, but my soul right there in the middle of this shelter, picking me apart.

“Hey,” Dad called over, “Margie said we’re safe to go, you two ready?”

“Yeah,” I answered, looking at Brent. He still refused to break the stare down. Tugging on his sleeve gently, I whispered, “C’mon man. Let’s go home.”

Finally, finally, after what felt like forever, Brent looked down at me. “Yeah, okay.” He nodded, forfeiting the win on this weird staring contest. We both turned to Dad—

Who was now looking at the muttering man, too.

Dad wasn’t nervous like me, or immediately hostile like Brent. He cocked his head to the side as their eyes met, and when I glanced back to the man, I realized he was no longer mumbling. He was still absolutely stiff in place, like a corpse in rigor mortis.

Their contact was short lived though, Dad shaking his head as if to rid himself of his curiosity, motioning for us to start heading towards the door we came through.

“What a freak,” Brent muttered, whining when I immediately hit his arm.

“You can’t say that here!”

He scoffed, “I’m not saying being a Conduit is weird, but why the hell is he staring down a teenage girl? Gotta be sketch,”

“Maybe he just thinks my hat is cooler.”

“Shut up.”

#inFAMOUS Erosion #delsin rowe #infamous #infamous delsin #infamous second son #infamous 2 #abigail walker #sucker punch productions #eugene sims #cole macgrath #zeke dunbar #infamous first light #infamous erosion #fanfic

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idontplaytrack · 6 months ago

Note

Hey lovely little gay person in my phone I’m here to make a request

Alright the holy trio that is Janis Damian and reader please

Janis and reader separately going to Damian about their gay panic for each other and Damian tells Janis to shut up and kiss her(reader) already

Janis talking to Damian over a rehearsal/jam session

Reader talking to him in theater or something

I don’t know lol

✧ Playing Cupid

Janis ‘Imi’ike x fem! reader

Warnings: coarse language, fluff

In which Damian literally has to bring his two best friends together because they are too scared to say the words to each other

“Okay, Janis? Why are you bouncing your leg so much?”

Janis chuckles wryly, tossing her phone aside. Damian brings is focus completely to his friend.

“Nothing.”

“Bitch, you are lying. So spill, just tell me what’s bothering you.” Damian looks at her with raised brows.

“Um.” Janis sighs, fingers randomly picking at the strings of her bass guitar to avoid the eye contact. She could feel him staring. “I…need help with how to tell y/n I like her. I’m scared she’ll say no if I ask her out even though we’ve been kind of flirting.”

“Oh dear Lord.” Damian laughs, “I think you have nothing to worry about.”

“And how do you know that?”

“Because she’s your best friend?” Damian rolled his eyes playfully.

“Not helping.” Janis puffs out her cheeks, frustrated.

“Alright, then. You tell me— how do you want me to help?”

“I don’t know!” Janis exclaimed.

“Ughhh.” Damian grumbled, “Any ideas on how you’d want to confess to someone you like? Just hypothetically.”

Janis rolled her eyes, “What?”

“Well, how else am I supposed to help if I have no idea what you have in mind?”

“Well—” Janis says hesitantly, fiddling with her fingers, “I always imagined that I’d do it with a song. Of course in my mind, the person has always been y/n.”

“Of course it has.” Damian guffaws.

“Excuse me?” Janis glares at him.

Damian shot her a look, “You aren’t very subtle.”

Janis exhales harshly, getting up and pacing around the garage. “Oh, come on! You literally just told me that y’all have been flirting. And not just kinda.” Damian continues.

“I mean, if you say so.”

“If I say so?” Damian snorted, “Cady literally said to your face: ‘the tension between you and y/n is insane, Janis. Are you sure you guys aren’t more than friends?’ And then, y/n blushed. So please, unless you’ve suddenly gone blind, you’re just plain oblivious.”

“It’s fucking scary, dude.” Janis exhales harshly, “What if she’s just doing it for fun, the flirting? What if she doesn’t feel the same way and she gets freaked out by me and decides to stop talking to me, stops even just being my friend?”

“SHE BLUSHED.” Damian stares at her in disbelief, “y/n blushed— that’s all the confirmation you need.”

“Whatever, I can’t think about it anymore right now.” Janis says in response, grabbing her guitar and starting to play it.

The next day, Damian was in acting class with you. The second he saw how you were rushing up to him, he knew exactly what you were going to ask him. “Oh, you two really are made for each other.” He mumbles. “What?” You squinted at him, puzzled.

“Nothing, nothing. What is it?”

“Never mind.” You shrugged, taking your seat on the floor. He sits down beside you as usual.

“If you say so.” He teased. You sigh, grabbing a script that they were passing around.

————

After acting class, you went to get frozen yogurt with Damian. Well, he dragged you there with him. “Okay, I can’t take this. You’re obviously bothered by something.” Damian started knowingly, “Talk.”

“I think I have feelings for Janis.” You muttered, stirring the toppings of your froyo while staring intently at the cup of dessert.

Though annoyed by his friends’ cluelessness, he still listens. “Okay, so…what are you gonna do about that?”

“I don’t even know what to do with myself whenever she looks at me.” You shove a spoonful of the yogurt into your mouth. “I feel like a crazy person, heart beating out of my chest, words don’t come out of my mouth right. So I just shut up now.”

“Oh God.” Damian looks at you, “You are a lost cause.”

“Tell me about it.” You glared at him playfully.

“You’re going to the spring fling right?”

“Of course. With you and Janis.”

“Okay.” Damian shrugs. As he raised his spoon to have another mouthful of the treat, his phone buzzes in his pocket. He glances at you, looking out the window, leaning against the back of the chair fully before he fished his phone out.

He rolled his eyes and bit back a grin. As frustrating as it seemed to him, that feeling was dying down. He was starting to like the fact that he could play cupid. Of course, you and Janis being so clueless helped because he could take full control of it and just give you two the biggest shocks of your lives. And then of course, seeing his best friends finally get together would be so satisfying to him.

“I’m headed to Janis’ after this. You wanna come with me?”

“Janis’? Hell no.”

“Oh, why not?” He jokes.

“I told you why. I’m a fucking mess around her. Been staring at her like a creep too, so no way I’m subjecting myself to more awkwardness. She’s so—”

“Alright, fine. Go home and daydream more about a future with Janis, I suppose.”

You couldn’t help but smile at that. He smirks, and ended up laughing. “I really gotta make this happen, don’t I?”

“What devious plan are you cooking up right now?” You chuckled over your words.

“Wait and see, babe. Wait and you shall see.” Damian tells you, “Rest assured, you won’t be disappointed.”

After both of you finished your desserts, you and Damian went your separate ways for the night. “See you at school tomorrow.” He gives you a hug from the side.

“Good night, Damian.” You hug him back then turn to leave, looking over your shoulder to give him one last wave.

On his way to Janis’, Damian gets them both burgers and fries for their dinner. He lets himself in, knowing that Janis would’ve left the door unlocked. Like always. “Hey.” Damian greeted.

“Hi, dude.” Janis’ face lit up briefly, “Ooh, what’d you get?”

“Burgers and fries.” He answered.

“From the usual place?” Janis peeked into the bags, “Yum.”

“Okay, so…I have an idea for you to make use of to confess.” Damian began, “The spring fling’s coming up. y/n said she’s definitely going, with us. Meaning she doesn’t have a date, and you, should sign up to perform during the dance,”

“Just me?” Janis scoffs.

“I’m not gonna be the one singing her a love song. You are, bitch.” Damian gasps.

“Well— yeah. Wait— a love song?”

“Does she have one she likes?” Damian asked, “Or what’s one you like and feel confident singing?”

“Actually…” Janis got to retrieve a composition book from her desk. “I wrote a little something.”

“Well damn!” Damian’s eyes widened in surprise, taking the book from her. He flips it open to the dog-eared page. “Fuck, it’s good. Janis, this is amazing.”

“No…”

“Janis, it is beautiful.” Damian insists, “We’ll finish this up. You have to sing this for her.”

“You really think so?”

“I’m not gonna play about something like this.” Damian nods, “You two belong together. I mean it. I’m going to whatever it takes to make it happen.”

“Thanks, Damian.”

“Okay, let’s get to work!” Damian declared excitedly, grabbing a pencil from the container near him.

The both of them stayed focus for nearly a whole hour before they stopped working. Janis had to go to the bathroom, and Damian, he gets a text— from you.

“Hey, what are you gonna wear to the dance?”

“I don’t know yet, now that I’m gonna be singing on stage in front of literally the whole school, I probably need to do better than just make changes to last year’s purple suit.” Janis grabs her composition book and pencil again, deep in thought. “You?”

“No idea, girl. We’re cutting it a bit close, don’t you think?” Damian sighs, “I’m might just wear the same suit from last year. Who can tell, anyway?”

————

“So, Janis will be wearing purple suit, I’ll get one in a different shade that I like.” Damian explains, “Which means you gotta go for purple too if we wanna match.”

“Oh, yay.” You nodded eagerly, “It’ll be easier for me to think of something now that it’s narrowed down a little.”

“Great. So, how we doing today?”

“Don’t even ask. You already know.” You bit back a laugh.

“Hey!” Janis’ voice made you whip your head around so fast to look at her. “Hey.” You smiled, swallowing harshly. Damian couldn’t help but laugh, earning a squint from Janis.

“Let’s get to homeroom.” Damian ignores that, though. Damian sits behind you, and he keeps seeing Janis steal glances at you. He couldn’t resist sneaking a few pictures that he’d eventually send to you both. Of course, neither of you knew that yet until later on.

The school day went by pretty uneventfully, you’d successfully avoided any snarky shit Regina spews at students around you. As uneventful as it could. Janis was making you feel so damn flustered every time. And she wasn’t even doing anything. Well, nothing out of the ordinary.

The three of you found yourselves in Janis’ garage after class. Once she stepped inside, she immediately panicked and rushed to pick up her composition she’d left scattered on the floor with some pens and highlighters, putting it in her desk’s drawer. You found that a little weird, it wasn’t as if either of you haven’t seen the contents of the book before. But hey, you weren’t going to ask because Janis was a little weird. Though, a very cute weirdo in your eyes.

“Let’s just watch a movie and play some games. What else do we do anyway? Get high?”

Janis laughs heartily, “That is true, though. What else do we do really? Eat, watch movies, play some games, jam out, sometimes— we get a little high.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way, bitches.” Damian sighs with a laugh, “Sit down. Whose turn is it to pick a movie?”

“Her.” You and Janis said in sync, pointing at each other.

“Jesus.” Damian took in a deep breath, “Ladies, only one of you is right.”

“You can pick.” Again, in sync.

“Rock, paper, scissors. Whoever wins, picks.” He decided. Janis wins, so she picks. She picks one of your favourite movies. Damian immediately notices, secretly squealing at this little gesture.

Since it was Friday night, you stayed over. Damian said goodbye and good night then, he leaves. “y/n, I’ll see you tomorrow for acting class. Then we will see you at the mall, Janis.”

“See ya, g’night.” You gave him a little smile.

“See you tomorrow, dude. Night.” With that, Janis shuts the door.

Now alone, Janis didn’t really know what she wanted to do. Even though she was the one who asked you to stay over. “So…” Janis clears her throat nervously, “What do you wanna do?”

You took the risk and sat closer to her. You haven’t been able to bring yourself to do that in the last few weeks at least without feeling like your heart might jump out of your chest. She doesn’t resist, letting you lean onto her. “I dunno.” You answered, leaning your head on her shoulder, “I’m sleepy.”

“Maybe we should just get to sleep.” She says softly and you feel her eyes on you so you don’t look up like you usually do.

“I can sleep. You can do whatever you want if you aren’t tired.” You chuckled lightly knowing that she was a night owl.

She smiles but you don’t see it, somehow, she’s guided you to lay your head on her lap without you even realising it until you had your head in her lap. “Go to sleep. I’m gonna stay up for awhile and just work on a piece I’ve been trying to complete.”

“Okay.” You said back, barely audible. “Sorry, I gotta go grab that book from my desk.” She gives you a sheepish smile. You moved and let her get up, “Get back here though.”

‘Oh, shit. Why? Why’d I say that?’ You mentally slapped yourself for your bluntness.

She laughs, turning her head away from you for a second, “I’m just gonna be a sec, y/n.” Janis grabs a pen along with the book and came back to the couch. You’d began to doze off while she started working on whatever that was. “Good night, Janis.” You say, snuggling against the couch cushion.

“Good night.” She says, looking at you. Then, she leans over and presses a kiss to your forehead. Your eyes nearly shot open at that, but you kept them close to avoid the increasing nerves. And obviously, avoid getting caught freaking the fuck out. Were you happy? Oh, fuck yes. You just…cannot believe it.

————

Soon, the day of the spring fling came around. The three of you showed up to school, together in matching purple outfits— Janis and Damian were wearing suits, while you, wore a dress. They slipped away to go prep for their performance, leaving you alone in the front of the crowd. You stood there, watching them get ready with a cup of fruit punch in hand and your phone in the other. You naturally snapped a few photos of them along the way, and the whole place. It was something you usually did. So it wasn’t just that you wanted to keep photos of Janis.

“Good evening, North Shore.” Mr. Duvall took the mic after some time, “Welcome to the spring fling. Seniors, this will be your last one. Make good choices, make great memories. To kick things off, we have a performance by Janis ‘Imi’ike, singing a song that she wrote herself— ‘Feels Like Home’. Accompanied by Damian Hubbard on the piano. They will also be your emcees for the evening.”

Students around you started speculating who the song was about, but a few of them knew it was for you. Cady and Gretchen specifically, who were actually standing right near you. The dead giveaway, was Janis looking at you as she sang, any chance she could.

You couldn’t fight the tears for long, eventually just giving in and weeping while you watched them perform. Having Janis sing pretty much directly to you. “Oh, my God.” You sniffled, swiping your tears away.

“This is so sweet.” Cady remarked. You nodded, tears falling from your eyes without an end or regards for other students who may have been looking at you.

A few minutes later, the song ends. She thanks the crowd and introduced the next act before getting off stage. You weaved through the crowd to locate her and immediately tackled her with a hug, still in tears. Janis breaks away, holding your face in her hands, crashing her lips onto yours. A shocked as you were, relieved and pure joy washed over you when she did it. You instinctively kissed her back, smiling into the kiss.

“Oh, finally. It’s exhausting trying to play cupid.” Damian commented when you and Janis broke away eventually. She laughs and so did you. “I guess we owe you a thank you.” Janis hugs him from the side. “Oh, yeah. Big time— but this is more than enough. Seeing you two finally realise your feelings for each other and get together. I was this close to yelling at you to just kiss her already.”

“I did.”

“I know. You just did.” Damian laughs.

“Not right now.” Janis confirms.

Damian gasps dramatically, “What? When?”

“We uh— last weekend. Got a little drunk and um, did more than that actually.” Janis revealed. Damian was damn near getting a coronary on the spot. “No wonder y’all left me on delivered for like two hours. Damn! Looks like I was wrong, y’all aren’t that clueless after all. Love that we are so past the TMI stage that you can just tell me that so casually. Nearly blacked out, but you go girl.”

You stood behind Janis and hid your face in her shoulder. She laughs, wrapping an arm around you. “Look at that, so cute.” Damian gushed, looking at Cady and Gretchen.

Gretchen squealed, walking closer, “That was such an amazing performance, Janis. We loved it.”

“Aw, thanks, Gretch.”

“You two look adorable together.” Cady says, “I’m glad you two finally are together now.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, we knew. It was infuriating watching you two flirt all the time and not realise the flirting.” Cady told you.

“Sorry to put you through that, but here we are now.” Janis couldn’t stop grinning, “Let’s go get some drinks, shall we?”

🏷️ Tag list:

@ashecampos @auliisflower @cheesysoup-arlo @frogs00 @reneeswif3 @ludoesartnstuffs @pda128

💭A/N:

It’s 2 in the morning. I need to sleep lmao🤡 my sleep schedule is so wrecked.

#auli’i cravalho #janis ‘imi’ike #mean girls 2024 #mgmm fics #janis ‘imi’ike x fem reader #x reader #character x reader #female reader #wlw #queer #queer fic #fanfiction #lgbtqia #lesbian #crush #friends to lovers

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lady-ashfade · 3 years ago

Text

You think I’m cool?

Max mayfield x fem!reader.

Requested:hi! was wondering if you could do a max mayfield × female reader where maybe reader is one year above her and max has her for a class and thinks she's so cool and has a crush on her but doesn't really understand her feelings and they end up getting paired for a project or something and it's just overall cuteness? <333

Note: I picture this as the 80s but it doesn’t really have a time stamp except for Kate bush. Also didn’t mean for this to be this long so forgive me.

Warnings: Gay panic, swearing, reader has hair so I’m Just ignore if not. Also kinda hint at a player reader.

Send more requests please.

Length: long.

No matter how hard, Max tried to focus on the teachers lesson she couldn’t. All she could do is watch her. Everything she did had her in a trance.

To the way she would get frustrated at her hair that would fall in front of her face during a test. Or her clothes style, it scream badass and don’t get max started on the leather jacket she would wear.

But what she admired the most about her was her attitude. She didn’t care what people thought and chose to be funny and happy all the time. She also didn’t take bullshit, so more then half the school thought she was scary.

Y/n L/n the school’s crazy chick.

But to max she wasn’t crazy. Max looked up to her at first because she was nice to the freshman. Y/n was only a sophomore but it still counts. Then that admiration turned to something else and she wasn’t sure what it was. Or how to deal with it.

And that’s what scared her, because she’s never felt this way towards a girl. Hell to almost anyone. You made her brain go blank and no matter how hard she tried. You were still on her mind.

You sat in class working on some type of sheet your teacher gave you. But instead of doing it you started to doodle on the side of the page. But some of your vision got blocked as another another piece of hair feel in front of you’re eyes.

You blow some air up at it, hoping to move it from your eyes but it wouldn’t work so you tucked in behind your ear. Just then your doodling was cut off again when your teacher started to speak.

“Okay, class. We are going to do something different, you will be doing a project. I will pair you up into sets of two people” You groaned at the thought of being stuck with the wrong person.

Most of the people in this class were popular kids, or nerds and you didn’t mind the nerds but they could be to much sometimes. You hoped to get paired with someone that wasn’t going to annoy you.

You listen to the teacher go on about the project. It seemed like you have create a sell’s pitch of any object or thing you want. You smirked at how you could totally troll the student and the teacher by picking something not ‘appropriate’ for school.

“Max and y/n” Your head shot up when you heard your name being called. You looked around to see who max was and you saw a a red head girl looking right at you.

You remember her now. She was the pretty girl that hangs out with the d&d group, she was actually pretty cool. You never talk to her but she didn’t seem like a stuck up bitch so she’s cool in your book. And her being pretty was a plus in your books.

You gave her a nod to say hello and turned back to the teacher. But you missed everything she did after that. She was freaking out.

Her face was on fire and her head was running in a panic, her leg started to bounce. “Holy shit I’m doing a project with y/n L/n” But it slowly hit her and go her less exited.

“Holy shit I’m doing a project with Y/n L/n.”

The rest of class went by fast after that. Everyone was getting their stuff together but max was the first one out the door. She was trying to get away so she wouldn’t have to talk to you. You made her such a baby and she hated it.

Max hoped her friends where around the corner so she could get away faster. But it wasn’t so easy to get away from you as she thought.

“Yo, max.” Your voice called out to her and ran past the people in the hall, almost knocking them over. She stop and turned around and put on a smile.

“You’re like a ninja, I looked away for one minute and you’re gone.” You started to catch your breath and fixed your hair.

“Sorry, I was caught in my own mind” She gave you a fake reason to why she left so fast. Which of course was a lie.

“Don’t worry I get it. So what do you think about the protect?” you ask her. You saw her tremble for a minute before speaking.

“It’s a cool idea” That’s all she said and it became quite between you. You just thought she was just a scared of you or something. So you just smile at her.

“What do do you say If I pick you up after school in the front and we can go to my house?” She blushes at the thought of everything you just said.

“Sure” she was starting to sweat. “Well, Max I’ll see you later” You have her a pat on the back and walked off to find your friends.

“Holy shit did I just see you talking to Y/n” Her group of friends ran up to her and she couldn’t show any emotions she was feeling.

“Yeah we have a project tonight” She said so calm and started to walk off as they followed.

They started to ask her a whole bunch of questions, you seemed to have fans. But max shut them up quick because she wanted to forget about you until tonight.

You pulled your motorcycle around the front and looked for max. But you didn’t see her so you parked and waited for her to come out.

You turned you head at the sound of the school doors and saw max walking out but her friends rushing behind her. She looks annoyed but they kept following after her.

You called for her and they all looked at you, and soon max rushed over and so did they. “Hello new people” They quick where all in front of you and max rolled her eyes.

“Hello” They all screamed there greetings and just stared at you. “Don’t mind them” She got on the back of your motorcycle and glares at them.

“No it’s fine I get stared at all the time. We can all talk another day but we have something to get to” You handed her a helmet and she put it in and so did you.

“Later virgins” you started it up the Engine and she grabbed onto your waist tightly as you took off. You usually drive fast but since you have someone else you made sure to be carful.

Max was freaking out at being so close to you and holding your waist. She loosened her grip as soon as she realized what she was doing. Hoping you didn’t notice.

She wanted to be able to talk to you without getting flustered or some shit. You’re so cool and she can’t embarrass herself anymore then she already has. So she decided she will try and calm down as soon as you get to your house.

You on the other hand we’re going through the same thing but a little less nervous. Of course you’ve noticed her around school more then you should. Don’t get me wrong you’ve had a lot of girls on your bike before this but she was different.

So enough you guys got home since your house wasn’t that far from school. You pulled up to your house and Max stared at it in awe, this wasn’t what she imagine.

It looks like a family house all perfect, it also looked expensive. It was also bigger then mikes. “Holy shit” You turned off your bike at the right time to here her mutter those words.

You laughed and took off your helmet. “Didn’t expect the crazy chick to live here?” You got off the of the bike and your satchel was already on your body.

“What? No, nothing like that” You laughed at her being defensive “I’m fucking with you, max” You patted her head and helped her off the bike.

“No one should be home, all of the little shits have after school things and mom and dad are at work” You walked up the path to the front door.

“I didn’t know you had siblings” She muttered behind you as you unlocked the door. You pulled it open and waited for her to get inside.

“That’s the way I want it” you closes the door behind her as she walked through. You looked at her and saw her looking around and seeing how nice it was.

“Mom loves to buy the expensive things” You walked passed her into the big kitchen. The floor plan was big and open. The kitchen could fit twenty people in it and then there was a big dining table closer to the door.

Then the living room was a step down and had a good tv and good couches. It even had a stone accent wall, everything looked so expensive.

“Want something to eat or drink?” You popped your head out of the refrigerator and gave her a questionable look.

“What do you have?” She went over to you and stopped looking at everything. She looked in the refrigerator and saw a soda she liked and grabbed it.

“Grab any snack you want because I’m not coming back down” You stated as you grabbed a bag of chips and waited for her.

She looked around only grabbed another bag of chips and followed you. “My room is very custard” You pulled down the stairs to your room and she looked at you.

“You live in the attic?” You nodded and walked up the stairs to your room. You looked around to see if it was messy but it was a clean as it could be.

You set your things down and went to see if she needed any help. But she was already almost up and you stepped back. “Welcome to my evil lair” You open your arms to show off the room.

She looked around and every where she turned she had something to look at. The walls filled with posters and she blush when she saw it was mostly girls but also metal bands. You had a lot of jewelry or little things that filled up most of tables.

“Sweet” Was all she said as she kept looking around. You sat down on your bed which was on the floor. “You can look at my records if you want to listen to music” You watched as she went through them.

“Shut up” She pulled out a Kate Bush album and you blushed a bit. “What about it?” She started to laugh and pulled it out to put it on.

“Didn’t expect someone cool like you to like Kate Bush” She put it on the rocked player and lined up the needle.

“Well you like it” You snapped back her in a sarcastic way. She rolled her eyes and came over to you and sit on the other side of the bed.

It was silent as you both began to think and eat your snacks. You kept think about her calling you cool, so you wanted to know more so you broke the silence.

“You think I’m cool?” You watched as her eyes went a little wide and her cheek turn a different color. You smirked as soon as you saw her blush.

“When did I say that?”

“Like five minutes ago”

“No I didn’t”

“You literally said ‘Someone cool like you’ so that means you think I’m cool” You were a being so cocky right now it was almost annoying. But max couldn’t be mad at you because she did say that.

“Fine, I think you’re really cool.” She gave in. She really hoped she didn’t seem weird, I mean you guys never talked before.

When she didn’t hear your voice she started to freak out thinking she said something really stupid so she looked at you. You had your eyes forward and it look like you were in deep thought.

“Well, I always knew I was cool but “Really cool” Is another type of cool” you gave her a evil look and she groaned and you just laughed at her almost pouting face.

“Well I don’t think so now” she crosses her arms and looked away from you. As your laughter died down you gave her one last glance and then you moved closer to her.

You hit her shoulders with yours as the music in the background blared loudly. “I think you’re really cool too max” You would be lying if that seeing her close as she looks you didn’t make your heart skip a beat.

You both realize that both of you were just staring at each other was weird so you pulled away. As the night went on you both couldn’t control your laughter an become closer.

It’s been three weeks since you and max started to hang out. Feeling start to grew between you two harder then you each thought. You both couldn’t stop thinking about each other.

Your friends caught you smiling sometimes as you dreamed and wondered what girl had you this time. Her friends did the same but with how she carried her self, using a new perfume and new clothes.

Today was no different but it was also the day you both dreaded the most. Your project was due today and you guys had been picked to present to the class. Being nervous has nothing to do with the project.

It was about the two of you. After this you both had no excuse to hang out with each other. Would one of you even reach out to the other? Or was it all just to pass the time.

You pulled up your chair to hers and sat on it turned around. “You ready sunshine?” You said giving her a very big smile. “As ready as I can be” she gave you a smile back.

You both went on in front of you class and it was very interesting. You had acted like it was a theater play and being so dramatic, max just stood there but when you looked at her she did the same thing. You both actually had fun.

But soon the happiness died and was replaced with the thought of never talking to each other again. You both didn’t want to seem like you were pushy or despite.

So as soon as classes end you both went your separate ways with only the other on your mind. You of course couldn’t let her go. Yes having someone that special scared you.

You tried you whole life not let someone in from being scared to lose them. But max was someone you had to have in you’re life even if it was just as a friend.

So you decided to find her after school and pull her aside. But what you didn’t know was she had the same plan as you and actual had one step up from you.

So as soon as the bell rang you two ran off to find one another. It took you both a second to find each other and she saw you first. You had your back turned and looked down the hallway.

“Y/n!” You heard from behind you. Turning around you saw just the person you’ve been looking for. You released a sigh of relief as you saw her come towards you.

“I’ve been looking all over for you. I thought you had d&d today- Wait what are you doing” she took ahold of your hand and pulled you into the empty class room beside you two.

“I’m doing to talk and you’re going to listen” You stated at her in confusion about what the hell is going on and why she was being so serious. You nodded because the look on her face kinda scared you.

“This is going to sound crazy but I have feelings for you and not just the friend kind. I have romantic feelings and I know it’s probably weird to you. But I don’t want to lose you but I can’t risk never speaking to you again and you not knowing how I feel”

You stared at her in pure shook. You looked like a deer in headlights you didn’t think she would confess to you. Or for her even to have feelings, gay feelings. For you.

You couldn’t speak for the first time in your life because you never felt this way about anyone. Her face looked for any sign of how you felt. She started to feel broken hearted that you didn’t feel the same and now probably hate her.

“If you hate me and never want to talk to me after this I understand. You make me feel so special and like I belong but if this is to weird for you I will-”she shut up fast as she felt you on her lips.

You just kissed her. Y/n L/n just kissed her and didn’t run away. She felt all the doubts fade away as you placed your lips onto hers.

You pulled her closer by a hand around her waist and she put a hand up to your cheek. It was a very soft and sweet moment, not rough or anything. Just pure puppy love.

“I hope you still think I’m cool” She laughed at your words at the wrong time but that’s what she liked about you.

#stranger things x reader #stranger things season four #max mayfield #max mayfield x reader #max mayfield x female reader #lgbtq #Dustin Henderson #mike wheeler #lucas sinclair

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rozcdust · 2 years ago

Text

Angel of small death

Pairing: Senju Akashi x f!reader

Genre: SMAU, Crack

Word count: 700ish

Warnings: Canon divergent, profanity, ooc, gay agenda, mentions of corpses, PLATONIC Bonten x reader

Synopsis: Y/n is a Bonten executive, cold and efficient, until she meets the youngest Akashi sibling.

masterlist

It struck you as only a little odd that for whatever reason, the seating arrangement in the private booths of Rindou’s club changed.

Usually, on nights like these, you were sat between Ran and Rindou while they fucked around with their boyfriends, in case the either couple decides to bother you for a bit, but now, you were seated at the end, Inui on one side and an empty spot on the other.

Sanzu briefly mentioned someone else will be joining you, aggressively typing on his phone, and you found yourself just a tad curious, usually these nights out always had the same cast, Inui as the only addition.

The man and you rarely ever spoke, both being of a more silent variety, and you assumed there was some sort of mutual agreement to let each other be.

Unbeknownst to you, Inui just thought you were a bitch.

“Jesus Christ, Haruchiyo, where’s the goddamn fire?” A new voice huffed, catching your attention as you turned to glance at the newcomer.

Under the layers of foundation Kokonoi forcefully put on your face, you could feel your cheeks heating up, just a little.

She was wearing a dress with a screen in the middle, perfectly off her trim waist and toned stomach, in a pretty, baby pink colour, the fabric flowing and fluttering gracefully around her legs.

You made eye contact for a second, and her eyes widened, looking away from you as visible blush spread across her cheeks.

The resemblance to Sanzu was borderline jarring.

“Fucking finally! Y/n, I though you’d enjoy some female company, I think you’re the only one who hasn’t met her yet, that is my little sister.”

“Senju, pleased to meet you!” Shooting you a nervous, shy smile, she sat down next to you, as it was the only available seat, taking your outstretched hand into hers.

Your eyes bore into hers, your interest shown only with the slightest upturn of the corner of your lip.

“Y/n, hello.”

Her hands were warm against your own cold ones, and for a second you mourned the loss of heat, but the small, cramped booth ensured that her hip pressed into yours, legs touching.

They guys carried on with their conversation as usual, but you caught the smug look Kokonoi gave you.

She was undeniably beautiful, and you couldn’t help stealing glances at her as she started talking with Kakucho and Ran, her wide smile showing off perfect teeth, the flutter of her eyelashes kissing the apples as she laughed at some stupid joke Ran made.

Pulling on the collar of your suit, you downed your drink, pouring another one, already feeling as if this will be a long night.

You lit up a cigarette to soothe the oncoming, undeniable flustering panic you felt coming on.

There was a reason you surrounded yourself with mostly men, and that reason was that girls made you a stuttering, stumbling mess.

She looked at you in surprise, her nose wrinkling slightly as she glanced down at your fingers and at the cigarette.

“I’m sorry, do you not smoke? Does the smoke bother you?” You sounded way colder than intended, but you hoped she could read out your concern from the tilt of your head.

She softly smiled, shaking her head.

“It’s okay, and I don’t, no! Would be kinda hypocritical of me,” She laughed, the melodious sound filling your eardrums and sending your heart racing, “I’m a personal trainer.”

Ah.

Well that explained a lot.

“It’s hypocritical of me too then.” Shrugging, you took a long drag, hoping the buzz of the alchol and the lack of oxygen will calm down the frantic beat of your heart, “I’m a doctor.”

“That’s cool! What kind?”

“A forensic pathologist.”

“God damn! I could never, corpses freak me out.”

You nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips at her cute, pouty expression.

“They’re okay, mostly. Great if you enjoy some quiet. Sometimes they let out little groans and gasps though, but that’s mostly just gasses escaping.”

“That is fucking horrifying.”

You smirked, glancing around the table as you leaned in closer to her face, as if to tell a secret.

The hair at the back of her neck stood up as she felt your warm breath brush against her ear.

“Once, Mikey went down there to find me while I had a new cadaver in. Screamed so hard and loud that Sanzu sprinted to the lab, katana ready and all.”

She laughed, glancing between her brother and Manjiro.

“Yeah, sounds like some sort of shit they’d do.”

“It does, doesn’t it?”

. . . next

🔖Taglist (open):

@rinsie @r-xochitl @7rkx @sunahyejin @yamaguccitadashi @minoozi @trashmemebitch @frogtits1 @sup-zfam @xashiui @bontens-whore @lumi-does-some-stuff @hana-patata @erza-uzumaki @sh4nn @sisnot @soushswag @kneeapartman @anahryal @reiners-milkbiddies @satsuri3su @aretheea @bluerskiees @winterv-black @harueyato @crueldinasty @astropheia @requiem-of-a-fool @inurmom00

#tokyorev #tokyo revengers #senju x you #senju x y/n #senju x reader #senju kawagari #senju akashi #bonten x reader #rindou haitani #ran haitani #sanzu haruchiyo #kakucho hitto #kokonoi hajime #mikey sano

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phoenixyfriend · 4 years ago

Text

Anakin Assists the Jedi Council While On Medical Leave

AU brainstormed primarily by @atagotiak, @gelpenss, and myself.

Basically, a fix-it based in Anakin getting a peek into the daily life on the Council early, and accidentally Figuring Some Shit Out along the way, mostly because Palps Fucks Up.

So, Anakin gets injured in a way that limits him to Coruscant for a few weeks. He can still walk and talk, but he can't fight. The specific injury doesn't matter, just this:

Anakin runs errands on behalf of the council and sits in on meetings to take minutes as a "you're on medical leave but we need all hands on deck, congrats you get to be the secretary until we can send you on stabbing missions again" thing.

Also, there just aren't a whole lot of people with Anakin's clearance level. They had to send out Stass Allie to handle the mission that was originally next on Anakin's roster, and Anakin's the most convenient person to substitute into her position.

He's not super happy about this but he can more or less understand the point of it. Given that he gets antsy about needing to fight almost immediately, he can acknowledge the worth of having something useful to do, if only as the person who's writing down who says what and making sure everyone has the right file on hand.

(Besides, Obi-Wan jokes in a way that Anakin thinks might be encouraging, this is good practice if Anakin ever wants to be on the High Council himself!)

(This is a very helpful conversation.)

BASICALLY, Anakin is resigned to this but agrees because "Usually we have Master Allie handle this but we need her running that mission that was originally set for the 501st, so you get to fill in for her until you can switch back. Think of it as training for eventual mastery or admin or--listen, we're just really stretched thin."

Here's the key thing, though: Anakin isn't supposed to leave the Temple, for medical reasons, so Palpatine doesn't know Anakin is sitting in on Council meetings. They haven't met up since Anakin's last surgery, and because [muffled hand-wave reason] he didn't find out another way, like Anakin comming him or the Council giving him the heads-up about the change in attendance.

It's fine. He's just taking notes and doing preparatory research, he has the clearance, the Chancellor likes him anyway. Hell, they'd have had someone's Padawan doing this, before the war increased the necessary clearance levels. They'll toss in a quick message in the brief they send to Palps that he never reads anyway, and that's really all they need to do. Skywalker's getting some rounded experience and this way the medics won't be freaking out about him stressing his heart after getting electrocuted by trying to spar too early.

Palpatine doesn't talk directly to the Council, he just sends a recording the first time Anakin is there. It's a bit weird, but nothing goes wrong. Anakin's off-screen from whatever device they use to send a response, since he's not technically a member, just assisting for a bit on the part of Master Allie's duties that he's actually allowed to touch (and not the bits that are getting added to Mace, Plo, and Shaak's stuff).

The first four or so meetings are like that. Anakin starts having a bit of sympathy for the Council as he sees how many things they want to do that are hampered by the need for Senatorial approval, things that he would also want to do and didn't think required this much red tape.

About a week in, still mostly recordings with Anakin just sitting on the side playing paralegal, the wheel of fortune turns a few pegs.

Palpatine hands over a an order on the range of injury that a soldier should be treated for, "to ensure that republic resources aren't being wasted on clones that, while expensive, would actually be cheaper to replace than repair."

Oh, he dresses it up in prettier language than that. Anakin doesn't process it as such first.

The Chancellor manages to couch his phrasing in "prioritizing resources for taxpaying republic citizens and employees of the GAR," which... well.

The natborn commissioned officers pay taxes. The Jedi are employees. The clones are neither, because they're slaves.

Probably he frames it as the employees thing, very much the kinda language that sounds halfway ok unless you’re fluent in political bullshit.

And Anakin is really confused at first about why the council is upset by the order because, okay, he would PREFER to be able to use medical supplies on refugees when possible, but he understands prioritizing the soldiers?

He just looks up, totally lost, when someone groans and goes, "That's the third time this year, is he trying to get us all killed?"

And it vibes as such a genuine, aggrieved, sad reaction that Anakin is completely blindsided because it's not the sarcastic, petty resentment he kind of expected? It's just... desperate depression.

And someone gently has to explain that this is the third time they've had resources restricted to only GAR employees and that it's a polite way of saying "prioritize natborn officers, stop wasting resources on clones, we can replace them easier."

Or maybe he doesn't ask, because he's just there to take notes, not argue, and he can see the masters drawing up a response that amounts to "We would like to remind you that our soldiers do not fall into that classification, and to limit their access to our medical supplies is liable to cause a loss of life that we find unreasonably high. Please see the annotations attached to adjust wording so that the clones may receive the same level of care."

Anakin's internally just like "Yeah, that's phrased nice and addresses the main problem, Palpatine will obviously agree and change it!"

And then he comes in the next day and the response comes in and it's just dripping condescension about considering the clones actual people.

"This is why we can't use the bacta tanks on clones anymore, just the patches. We could use them at first, we had a few of the CCs get through fatal injuries with them, but they cut that off and said we could only use the tanks on Jedi and non-clone officers a few months ago. The Banking Clans keep tightening their belts on the army, and the Chancellor insists we put citizens first, and the clones aren't citizens. We've been arguing back as much as we can, but he keeps going on about the economy and we can't... we just can't, Skywalker. We're trying to save as many of our men as we can, but..."

Something like "Allocation of resources reiterated, the Kaminoans have assured the senate that the Jedi are far from exhausting the resources ordered."

And Anakin's like. He can't blame the council for lying about Palpatine's past or future actions. He just saw Palpatine's actions. Those actions were to order people under his control to throw away lives he saw as replaceable commodities.

These are his friends' lives.

His soldiers are being thrown away by a man in a tower that he trusted.

And then that man has the gall to suggest it's the council's fault.

Palpatine is good at what he does, especially in public, he dresses it up in flowery language and everything, but Anakin's just like "Those are my FRIENDS and also this is??? How slavers talked about their property on Tatooine???? FRIENDPATINE, WHAT THE FUCK."

Anakin can be passive aggressive sometimes as well as outright aggressive. So if he brings up the guidelines and why they make him upset in general terms, and Palpatine says something about how he’s sad the council doesn’t care about the clones...

Anakin, internally, having just watched the council scramble to save as many clones as possible within the guidelines that Palps handed down: Uh-huh.

(Anakin is just the gay horror teeth gif from queer eye.)

Just. “Yeah, funny you say that, Palpatine! Because as I remember, you told the council not to waste more resources than necessary while Mace Windu was arguing to expand the treatment range!”

Palps doesn't even have time to salvage the situation or attack Anakin because Anakin just bulldoze rants for fifteen minutes and then storms out.

Anakin... maybe does a little treason and gets a copy of the orders so he can ask Padme "Hey, can you explain the politics of this?" and doesn't tell her who wrote it so she isn't biased (he tells her that this is why he's not sharing the author's/speaker's name), and just lets Padme pick apart all the 'this is a nice way of saying they don't view the clones as people' details.

Alternately, someone on the Council sees Anakin dithering and manages to get him to admit that he's not great at political language and wants to ask someone to help him understand the full implications. The person--Mace? let's go with Mace--is aware that Anakin is on good terms with Senator Amidala, if not necessarily aware of the depth of said relationship. Mace points out that he's probably going to be seeing her soon just because he usually does and, as a Senator, she can get easy access to these sessions since they're not about specific missions, just allocation of resources, etc. It's not an optimal solution, but she's got a bit more free time than anyone else Anakin knows with the clearance levels, like Order members that are actively involved in the war effort.

Anakin dithers and panics and Mace, trying to be helpful, tells him that plenty of Jedi have made friends among the Senate over the years, didn't you know Qui-Gon Jinn was a personal friend of Former Chancellor Valorum?

At any rate, Anakin goes to Padme and asks her to explain it to him, because she knows how to phrase things so he gets it.

Anakin has to have her pause and he goes outside and destroys some things halfway through.

(Anakin maybe thinks back to the times Padmé or Obi-Wan were really obviously frustrated and when he asked, they said stuff like “I can’t stand Palpatine rn, sorry Anakin I know he’s important to you and you don’t want to talk about politics, let’s just talk about something else.”)

(Obi-Wan: I don’t trust Palpatine Anakin: you just don’t like politicians in general Obi-Wan: yes that is also true)

(Obi-Wan does like Bail and Padme but he does also talk a bit about how politicians generally aren’t to be trusted.)

#Anakin Skywalker #Sheev Palpatine #Jedi High Council #Mace Windu #fix it fic #star wars #star wars prequels #Phoenix Posts #Padme Naberrie

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nothoughtsonlynat · 3 years ago

Text

Cold Vodka, Warm Hands (N.R.)

Words: 1.6k

The icy wind whipped across my face as I peered through the scope. The frigid metal of the Barrett M82A1 felt comforting in my hands. The cold never bothered me, of course. Due to my pyrokinesis, I had complete control over my own body temperature.

There wasn’t a sound for miles and, somehow, it was both peaceful and unnerving. The snow crunched with any and all movement, so we were staying unbearably still. I slowly scanned the abandoned factory for our target; a Russian arms dealer who was planning on stealing some alien tech and selling it for profit. We were about 1,500 yards from the factory. There’s not much cover out here, so our choice of positions was very limited. The shot would be a difficult one, with the distance and the crosswinds, but this is my specialty. Well, it used to be, before I discovered my ability to manipulate heat and fire. I’m one of SHIELD’s best sharpshooters.

As I checked once more for the target, a chattering noise distracted me from my task. I pulled my face away from my rifle to look at my partner, who was laying next to me, prepared to range the target and gauge the wind. Her lips were turning a shade of purple, and her teeth were chattering from the cold.

“Are you okay, Agent Romanoff?”

“Mhm.”

“Sure. Aren’t you Russian?” She leveled me with a hard glare and I slightly raised my hands in the air and went back to my task.

I noticed some movement through the scope. “Target, 11 o’clock.”

“Oblique wind from the left, 8 miles per hour,” she called out.

I adjusted the scope accordingly and took the shot. Clean kill. No witnesses. Objective complete. I quickly unloaded the rifle and slung it over my shoulder as Agent Romanoff packed up. To say I was relieved the mission was over would be an understatement; this woman is practically a walking gay panic, and the mission had done nothing to help with my not-so-small crush on her. I risked a glance at her as we walked side by side. She looked freezing. Her right hand was in her pocket, but her left was exposed since one of her holsters blocked the left pocket.

“Is there any particular reason you’re staring at me, Agent y/l/n?” Shit.

“Oh, I- uh, I- um, can I hold your hand?” Her head snapped around to look at me as I realized what I said. “I just mean that, um, you look really cold and I can, you know, warm up your hand, at the very least. With my p-powers.” She didn’t say anything as she blankly stared at me, and I was worried that I had crossed a line until she abruptly stuck out her hand. I stared at the appendage for a second before realizing what she meant. I grabbed her hand in mine and focused on my powers, being careful to not let my hand get too hot.

We walked hand-in-hand the whole way to the safehouse. I could hear her sniffle every once in a while, but I didn’t say anything out of fear of getting punched. As we entered the safehouse, I realized it was more of a shack than anything. The walls were plywood and the whole thing was only one room. The kitchen area had a couple of cabinets and a small gas stove, and there was only one fairly small bed, as well as a small fireplace.

“Huh. This is…”

“Horrible. This is really horrible,” she finished for me. I couldn’t help but notice how nasally her voice sounded.

I slid the bags off her shoulders and set them down next to mine. She sent me a questioning look as I walked her to the edge of the bed and sat her down. I said nothing as I grabbed the blanket and wrapped it around her shoulders. “Sit here. Don’t move. Please.”

I walked around the room, lighting the oil lanterns. I grabbed some firewood from the pile and stacked it in the fireplace, using my powers to light a fire. I went into the ‘kitchen’ and rummaged through the cupboards. I heated a can of soup in my hands and poured it into a bowl. I found some teabags and heated some water the same way, since it was faster.

I brought the tea and soup over to Natasha, placing them on the stand next to the bed. She made no move to grab either item, too busy looking at me with a bewildered expression.

“What? You need to warm up. You’re already getting sick.”

“Why are you taking care of me?” She asked as I helped her move up against the headboard and under the covers.

I handed her the soup and said, “Well, you’re my partner— on the mission, I mean. It’s my job to protect you...on the mission.”

She hummed and I left to hang up our clothes to dry. I grabbed the second bowl of soup and sat in the bed next to her, as far away as physically possible.

“I don’t bite, you know. You can sit closer. You’re gonna fall off the bed,” she said amusedly.

“Right, sorry. Just didn’t wanna make you uncomfortable or anything.”

“I’m perfectly comfortable, minus the fact that it’s still freezing in here.”

After we finished our soup, we went to bed since there was nothing else for us to do. I was woken up in the middle of the night by Natasha’s fit of sneezing and coughing. I sat up and patted her back as she coughed. That sounded painful. I got out of bed and brought her a roll of toilet paper since there were no tissues. I made her another cup of tea before getting back in bed. I could see her shivering as she sipped the hot beverage, and I had an internal debate with myself. Before I could chicken out, I slid closer to her and wrapped my arms around her, focusing on my powers.

“What are you doing?” She asked through her chattering teeth.

“Warming you up,” I replied simply.

“You’re gonna get sick.”

“I’m not gonna get sick, you baby. Just let me hold you.” She stopped protesting after that and continued drinking her tea. Once she was done, she set it on the stand. She snuggled further into my arms and we moved to lay down. I felt her breathing even out as her muscles relaxed. I fought off the exhaustion; if I fell asleep, my body would return to its normal temperature. I tried not to freak out at the feeling of having in her arms, knowing that after this mission, we’d go back to being just teammates.

Morning rolled around and I watched the sky lighten through the only window in the safe house. I hadn’t left the bed all night, aside from the two times I added wood to the fire. As the sun peaked over the horizon, Natasha stirred in my arms.

“Morning,” she rasped out. Oh my god, her morning voice is gonna be the death of me.

“Uh, morning,” I replied, clearing my throat. She sat up and looked over my face, suddenly making me very self-conscious.

“Did you sleep at all last night?”

“Uh, no, not really. I stayed awake to keep my body warm for you.”

“You didn’t have to do that, y/n.”

“No, it’s— I didn’t mind. Do you feel any better?”

“Well, I don’t feel like I’m dying anymore. It’s still cold as hell, though. You know what I really need?”

“What?”

“Some nice, cold vodka,” she said with a small, genuine smile.

“Oh! I have some of that!”

“You brought vodka on a mission?” She raised an eyebrow as her lips curved into a smirk.

“Yes— no, well, kind of. I bought it on the way here. Nothing like Russian vodka, right?”

I walked over to my duffel bag and pulled out the bottle of vodka. I grabbed two mugs from the kitchen, as well as a package of crackers. I slid back into the bed and she raised an eyebrow at the crackers.

“What? I’m not letting you drink vodka on an empty stomach. I don’t wanna get puked on,” I said with a joking grimace, although I really didn’t want to get puked on.

She laughed as she poured some vodka into the mugs. I opened the crackers and set the package on the bed, and she handed me one of the mugs.

“It’s five o’clock somewhere, right?” I said, then we clinked the mugs together and I grimaced at the burn.

“Ugh, why does it have to be so cold? Can we just stay in bed?” That is definitely the closest Natasha Romanoff has ever gotten to whining, and it was adorable.

“Well, our extraction isn’t until this afternoon, so yeah, for a while.” She pushed herself back into my body, and I wrapped my arms around her after recovering from the brief shock.

Three hours later, we were packing up and getting ready to hike to the extraction point. I put out all of the lanterns before leaving the safe house. Natasha stuck out her hand and I wrapped it in mine without hesitation. It wasn’t all that cold out anymore, but I didn’t say anything about it. We made it to the extraction point in about thirty minutes, her hand never dropping mine. The SHIELD jet came into view and landed in the clearing in front of us. I couldn’t stop the twinge of sadness at the fact that we were leaving. It was selfish, but I loved taking care of Natasha these past two days.

As the gate of the jet dropped, Natasha spoke in a sultry voice, “Thank you, Y/N, for keeping me warm.” She kissed my crimson cheek before sauntering onto the jet. I snapped out of my daze and followed her, trying and failing to keep my composure.

#natasha romanoff #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #black widow #black widow x reader #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff fic #fluff

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magniloquent-raven · 3 years ago

Text

(pt1 here)

billy grew up afraid of finding his soulmate.

when he was eight his father caught him trying to wash nail polish off with soap and a hand towel.

he’d heard girls at school saying it was what you did when your soulmate was a boy. you were supposed to paint yourself up all pretty and find the person who matched. and it was easy enough to sneak into the vanity and steal a bottle of his mother’s nail polish. but once the paint dried he realized it would be impossible to hide from his father, and he panicked.

his mother showed him the bottle of nail polish remover after neil left. dabbed some on a cotton ball to rub at the thick layer of paint. she was silent, kneeling on the floor in front of him cradling his sprained wrist while he sat on the edge of the tub and cried.

they both had questions, but neither of them got answers.

it took billy months to work up the courage to try again.

he wasn’t sure why he was bothering, at first. he knew he couldn’t look for his soulmate the traditional way. and he was constantly terrified that his father would find the supplies he’d started hoarding. it seemed like more risk than reward, and yet. he couldn’t stop himself.

every time he was allowed to wander off in a store alone he’d slip something into his pocket. a tube of lip gloss. a compact full of shiny powders. he wasn’t even sure what some of it was, he just liked the colours. liked the pictures they hung alongside the displays. he wanted to look like that. beautiful.

and in his heart of hearts, he wanted the boy who was out there waiting for him to know he existed. whether they’d be able to find each other or not.

he’s more careful with this than he was with the nail polish. his father works saturday nights, and his mother always visits their neighbour while he’s at work. despite having the house to himself he locks his bedroom door.

the first thing he tries is the watermelon lip gloss. it’s sticky, and the wand doesn’t fit in his hand comfortably, but once he’s smeared it on he feels...good. he likes the way it catches the light. likes the way it smells. he looks at himself in the mirror and likes seeing something different.

the high doesn’t last long, it inevitably gives way to paranoia, anxiety that has him glancing at the locked door every thirty seconds, heart pounding, wondering if just maybe his father will get home from work early, and he jumps at every sound, hearing boots thudding on the porch and car doors slamming and anything that could be neil coming through the door.

cleaning himself up is hard. panic makes his hands shake, his eyes well up. he drops everything on the floor when he tries to tuck the bag away. and he has to spend twenty minutes with his back to his bedroom door getting his breathing under control when he’s finished.

but he does it again the following saturday. and the one after that.

for five months he does this. locks himself away with his stolen treasures and lets himself live a little. it gets easier as time goes on. and his mind wanders sometimes. to a future where he gets to share this with someone. the boy out there who’s supposed to love him one day.

it’s a small bubble of a dream. one he doesn’t spend too much time dwelling on. not when there’s neil’s voice in his head, telling him that no one could love a fucking freak, ‘cause fags don’t get real soulmates anyways.

he wants and he wishes, but the more he thinks about it the more he doubts. he’s never gotten a mark from his soulmate, and even if he did some day, what if his father’s right, and his “soulmate” doesn’t want him or makes him miserable or...worse.

so he does his makeup for himself.

until, like all good things in his life, his father ruins it.

he never found out what set neil off initially, something going wrong at work maybe, or the martial strife of the week getting to him. whatever it was that started it, neil eventually decided billy should bear the brunt of the fallout.

so he went through his things. said billy’d been acting cagey lately, and he was going to find out why.

and then found the makeup bag stuffed into an old sweater in his closet.

it was ugly. the things neil said that day would play on repeat in billy’s head for years afterwards. the scars his belt left on billy’s back were nothing in comparison.

the next saturday came and went. billy spent the evening curled up under a blanket not bothering to wipe away the tears dripping down his face.

by morning he’s resolved to forget the whole thing. to put it behind him. because it was stupid, and risky and childish and maybe his father was right. he’s almost convinced himself. and then he notices ink on his arm, as he reaches up to rub his eyes. messy scrawl, i bet you looked pretty crookedly written up his forearm.

he didn’t think he was able to cry any more, but he manages it.

for the first time his soulmate isn’t just a concept, or a what-if, he’s...a person. he’s a real person out there somewhere. someone who doesn’t even know billy and still wanted to reach out, to offer comfort. it’s more than he’s gotten from anyone else. even his mother. who he knows loves him, and she does her best to protect him, but when she found out about his makeup stash she just looked sad, and she’s said nothing to him about it.

but his soulmate…

can never, ever meet neil.

the thought hits him right in the chest.

whoever he is, he cares, he’s good. and neil breaks good things.

billy falls asleep that night tracing the empty space where his soulmate’s message used to be, wrapped up in worries and dreams, and terrified for someone he’s never met.

the doodles that come and go over the years are terrifying and exhilarating and billy manages to hide every single one from his father. they only ever show up during the day, and they don’t linger. something billy is both grateful for and resentful of.

sometimes he’ll watch other boys’ hands in class. check them for drawings. he thinks he’s being careful, but a girl in his chem class, becca, catches him. she says it’s only because she knew what to look for. they share a cigarette under the bleachers and she tells him about a girl who likes green eyeshadow and writes homework reminders on her wrists using stars instead of bullet points.

it takes billy six months and a couple shots of tequila to tell her about watermelon lip gloss and bet you’re pretty and they both cry when he starts to wonder if his soulmate will be disappointed that he isn’t a girl.

on a rainy april afternoon she asks him to go to a gay bar with her. he tells his father he’s going on a date. she tells her’s that she had to reschedule a tutoring session and it’ll run pretty late.

they wait til it’s dark and get ready in a dingy gas station bathroom. when she’s smearing on her eyeliner she catches sight of his face in the cloudy mirror. he wasn’t going to ask her for anything. he wouldn’t have brought it up. the twinge in his heart and a hollow feeling of longing aren’t anything new, he can deal.

he feels and empty kind of rage every time old, well-meaning relatives give max girly lip gloss kits and eyeshadow pallets and shit normal preteen girls who care about finding their soulmates actually appreciate. she always rolls her eyes and throws them away. susan will fish them out of the trash sometimes, and leave them under the bathroom sink, like if max just sees them there she’ll suddenly give a shit and start using them. like them being there does anything but taunt billy with what he can’t have.

neil watches him like a fucking hawk every time that shit comes into the house. and max doesn’t fucking care. doesn’t notice.

but becca offers.

and.

he’s not about to say no.

he should’ve said no.

it feels good at first, like it used to, it feels like freedom and he likes what he sees when he looks in the mirror, and he kisses a boy for the first time and it isn’t fireworks but it’s something, and he thinks maybe it’s going to be a good night, but then…

neil is waiting on the curb outside becca’s house. they were heading there first, because her parents wouldn’t notice, she said it would be fine, she has makeup remover he can use, he can clean up and head home and everything was supposed to be okay, except. it wasn’t.

it’s the last time he sees becca. neil tells her parents what was actually going on, and she isn’t allowed to visit him in the hospital.

and then six months of rehab, one rushed wedding and a big ugly sold sign later, neil carts them off to hawkins, indi-fucking-ana. as a “family.”

billy was certain this town would be nothing but a prison. it’d be somewhere he’d never find a place to be himself, neil would make sure of that. there wasn’t a single thing to like about this place and its bullshit small town sensibilities. for all the open space it might as well have been stone walls and steel bars.

except.

except...here was a boy with soft eyes and nimble fingers, who gets a little wrinkle between his brows when he concentrates, and is always moving, fidgeting, fiddling with zippers and touching his elbows and looking at him makes billy itch. to touch, to soothe, to take, and…

things get complicated when aimless blue waves scrawl up billy’s arm. when steve follows him out into the parking lot. calls him pretty to his face. and suddenly billy’s eight years old and realizing this shit is real. terrified of what that could mean. spinning fragile dreams like spider’s silk, hard to shake but easy to destroy.

even entertaining the idea of putting on makeup while he’s still in hawkins is stupid and dangerous, but goddamn if he hasn’t risked more for less.

he’s sure he’ll regret it. like he’s regretted every other desperate bid for freedom. but when faced with steve harrington’s smile, he can’t find it in himself to say no.

(edit: pt3 here)

#harringrove ficlet #harringrove #billy hargrove #stranger things #soulmate au #a raven's writing desk #another part is coming #cuuuz #this was getting way too long kdfljgk #i had to split it up cuz the other stuff i wanted to write is. definitely just gonna be a whole nother post to itself lol

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calpalirwin · 3 years ago

Text

Phantom Pain

Summary: Trauma bonding turns into a full blown crush with Bucky

Word Count: 2.9k

And away, and away we go!

You heard the startled gasps behind you as you lowered your body before pulling yourself up on the pull up bar again. “Yes?” you questioned, repeating another rep.

“I-I-I-” a teenage boy's voice stuttered. “Mr. Stark!” he yelled in slight panic.

You sighed, letting go of the bar and landing on your feet. “Yes?” you repeated, turning to face the lanky teenager with his mop of brown hair, and his companion, a girl a few years older, stifling giggles into her hands, both of their cheeks flushed. “Oh,” you said in realization. “You must be Peter. Uh, Tony’s in the lab, I think.”

Peter nodded mutely, before quickly dashing out of the training room, leaving you face to face with the young woman. “Gay,” you said simply. “And I think Vision’s with Tony.”

Her blush deepened, as she too, hightailed it out of the room with a muttered “Tony has a brother?”

You chuckled quietly to yourself. Of course your brother wouldn’t have told his newest members about you. Something about it not being vital information, and liking the shock value of it.

“And this is the training room,” a voice you did recognize said as Steve came into your line of sight, a man matching his stature trailing behind him silently. “Oh, hey, Stark.”

“Capsicle,” you greeted with a salute.

“Stark?” the other man asked in confusion. “I thought-”

“Fortunately there’s two of us,” you corrected. “Or unfortunately, depending on your opinion of Starks in general. Y/N,” you introduced yourself, offering out your hand.

“Bucky,” the man said, shaking your hand.

“Nightmares, again?” Steve asked you, his eyes glancing about the room.

“Sometimes you frighten me with how observant you are, Rogers,” you said grimly.

“Nightmares?” Bucky questioned, intrigue painting the features of his perfectly sculpted face.

“An unfortunate lingering side effect of my time in the Army, yeah,” you explained. “Something I’m sure you can relate to,” you added with a pointed glance at Bucky’s left arm which was completely metal, your mind already curious to how it worked, and how to make it better. “Working out helps. Something about physical exertion canceling out mental exertion.”

“Well, I might have to join you some time. See if your theory holds up.”

You held out your arms, gesturing about the giant training room. “Feel free. Everything here is open 24/7 to accommodate the mad geniuses and PTSD freaks.”

“And which one are you?” Bucky asked. And you knew it was a stupid question given what little information you had already provided him with. But you could also recognize a flirting edge when you heard one.

“I feel like the answer’s obvious. But, in the event that it’s not, I’m both. Pleasure to meet you, Bucky. And welcome to Avengers headquarters.”

~~~

A couple nights later, you were in the lab tinkering about, when you saw Bucky walk by in gym shorts and a tank top, his hair pulled back in a small bun. “Can’t sleep, huh?” you called out.

His body tensed as he whirled around, relaxing when he saw it was you. “Yeah. Thought I’d try out your theory.”

“It’s a good theory,” you assured, before refocusing on what you’d been working on.

“You have a lot of faith in a theory I’ve yet to test for myself,” Bucky said, stepping into the lab with you.

“I don’t do faith. I do facts,” you replied bluntly.

“Mmm, then how do you know it’s a good theory?”

“A good theory isn't whether it’s proven to be correct or not. A good theory is about being able to be repeated and replicated. Tested multiple times over and over. My theory just also happens to be correct.”

“Wow, you are a Stark.”

“I’m not an idiot, is what you mean. But rest assured I don’t have the same level of arrogance my brother inherited from our father. Or at least, I like to believe I don’t. But, results don’t lie. The physical exertion that comes from working out is enough to distract the brain from the mental exertion that comes from unwanted memories. Is it perfect? No, because it’s not a cure. But it does well enough anyway. And you can take my word for it. Or Rhodey’s, or Sam’s, or Steve’s. And that’s just the military crew. Or, you can test it for yourself. As I said, it’s a good theory. Very testable.”

Bucky’s tongue clicked in his cheek. “Mmm, and if it’s such a good theory, why are you here in the lab instead of in the training room?”

“A distraction, is a distraction, is a distraction. And I have work to do.”

“And what is it that you’re working on?” he asked, stepping closer to peer over your shoulder.

“Prosthetic limbs for amputees. Ones that aren’t hunks of metal. No offense.”

“None taken. I didn’t exactly get a say in the matter.”

“Right… Sorry…”

“No, don’t apologize. Something more… realistic looking would be nice. But the metal’s worked so far. Enhances already enhanced abilities.”

A shudder went down your spine. “Right. Super soldier strength mixed in with whatever tech is loaded up in that thing. I’ve taken a lot of hits in my day that I’d hate to experience again, but I’d do it if it meant a guarantee of never being on the receiving end of being hit by that. Like… the damage you were able to inflict on Tony, even in his suit…” you let out a low whistle. “Damn… no thanks.”

“Sorry? I think?”

You laughed, waving a hand dismissively. “Please. It’s not that he didn’t deserve it. The amount of times I wish I could clock him myself… My only regret was having not been there to actually see it.”

“Why do I get the feeling you and Tony don’t actually get along?”

“Oh, we do. It’s just… typical sibling shit, I suppose. We had different ways of coping with our parents dying. He went the standard billionaire spoiled brat route. I went to the Army. He took over the company. I stayed in the Army. He realized the damage the company was actually doing and became Iron Man. I was part of that damage.”

“Shit…”

Again, you waved a hand dismissively. “Don’t get me wrong. He’s my older brother. I love him. He’s rectified a lot of his past by helping turn Stark Industries into the Avengers. He's, dare I say, gained a conscience. But he’s also far from perfect. Still too arrogant for his own good. But I like him a lot better these days than I used to. I mean, I’m here.”

“So… you work for him? Doing what exactly?”

“Yes, and no. I live and work here, yes. But I don’t necessarily work for my brother. I help him and Bruce out a lot. Perks of not being an Avenger myself means I’m here to keep working when they’re gone. But, for the most part I keep to myself doing my own project.”

“Right, the prosthetic limbs. Personal reasons?”

“Yeah, you could say that. Seen my fair share of wounded vets. And seen my fair share of their struggle with shitty prosthetics. And even if they are complete shit, they’re also expensive. But I’m in a position where I can make non-shitty ones and, pun not intended, not have them cost people an arm and a leg. So, that’s what I do. Each prototype gets me closer and closer to making them as realistic as possible. Restoring range of motion you won’t get with cheap plastic wrapped around steel. It’s like… a complete limb transplant. Or that’s the ultimate goal anyway. Make prosthetics so real it’s like you never lost a limb in the first place.”

“That’s… noble of you.”

You shrugged. “Let’s just say I have a soft spot for broken things.”

Bucky smiled at that.

~~~

For the next handful of months, it wasn’t uncommon for Bucky to find you awake in the lab, or for you to find him awake in the training room.

Some nights, the two of you would work out your frustrations of the memories that haunted you both, and you’d tease him about how it wasn’t fair you always drenched through your shirt while he barely broke a sweat, smiling at the way he’d laugh.

Other nights, the two of you would swap war stories while he watched you work in the lab, and when you gathered up the courage to ask to run tests on how the tech in his arm worked to further your own research, he willingly obliged.

“So… were you just an enlisted soldier, or an officer?” he asked one night while you tinkered away.

“An officer. Made First Lieutenant.”

“That’s just below Steve. Which…”

“Is still lower than Sergeant, yes,” you laughed. “Technically anyway. But as an officer, I would still outrank you.”

“What happened?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean… no offense, but First Lieutenant isn’t exactly brag worthy. I imagine you meant to go further. What happened? Was it the damage you mentioned with Tony?”

You nodded. “Yeah. The same accident that started his whole Iron Man gimmick was the same accident that ended my career.”

Bucky nodded, and you knew he wanted to ask more, but didn’t want to pry or overstep. And you were grateful for that. It was one thing to own up that your PTSD stemmed from an incident that ended your military career. It was also one thing to own up to how your experience in the military drove you towards creating prosthetic limbs. But to admit that there was a deep personal connection between the two? That wasn’t something you liked to fess up to. “I’m sorry,” Bucky finally said, feeling the need to say something about your half confession. To acknowledge it without asking more.

You smiled wryly at him. “It’s f-” Your face twisted, and your fingers white-knuckled the table as pain flashed through your leg.

Bucky’s eyes went wide. “You okay?” he asked, moving around the table towards you, his hands hovering nearby in case you fell.

“Knife!” you gasped out, gritting your teeth and humming loudly to keep from screaming out in the pain you knew wasn’t real. “Get me a knife!”

Bucky stood there, frozen, staring at you in horror.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” you barked at him. “I know you have a knife on you! Give it to me! That’s an order, Sergeant!”

That snapped Bucky into action. “Yeah, yeah,” he said, rummaging in his pockets. “Here!”

The sharp steel glinted in the lights as you took it from him and promptly shoved it deep into your right shin.

“What the fuck?!” Bucky yelped, jumping back. “WHAT THE FUCK?!” he repeated when no blood came pouring out of the wound as you yanked the knife back out.

“Aaaahhhh,” you sighed in relief, the pain ebbing away. You relaxed the tension in your body, breathing slowly. “Fuck… hate when that happens.”

“What… the… actual… fuck?” Bucky asked for a third time in a low whisper.

“Relax, it’s fake,” you said, flashing the knife. “See? No blood.”

“I- I-” he stammered.

“It’s called phantom limb pain. Happens in amputees all the time.” You took a seat, pushing up your pant leg to your knee, detaching the prosthetic and tossing it uselessly onto the work table. “Piece of shit,” you muttered, before pulling a tape-recorder out of your pocket. “Prototype 27. Failure, as of,” you spared a glance down at the date on your watch, speaking that into the tape recorder as well. “What?” you asked Bucky who was staring at you with his mouth hanging open.

“That explains… so much. But… why didn’t you just tell me?”

You shrugged. “It’s not something I tell people. Lost my leg in an explosion caused by weapons my family made? Yeah, not exactly a conversation starter.”

“I get that, but… c’mon. It’s me.” He gestured at his left arm.

“Yes, you who- and please don’t take offense to this- doesn’t remember the trauma of losing his arm, and has never experienced the pain that is phantom limb pain.”

“I don’t remember the trauma thanks to years of more trauma that is being brain-washed, and having my mind controlled,” he replied in a clipped tone.

“Yes, the entire world is aware of your trauma, Barnes. Must be nice to have people be aware of what you’ve gone through.”

“People would be aware of what you’ve gone through too, if you’d tell us instead of hiding in jeans and sweatpants!”

“Why would I tell people?! For sympathy?! Or to hear them tell me that I deserved it?! Because news flash, both of those outcomes fucking suck!”

His face crumpled. “Why would anyone think you deserved this?”

You scoffed at his naivety. “It’s poetic justice, Bucky. My own family took my leg. They took Tony’s heart, too, but hey! Look what he made as a result! Isn’t it fuckin’ marvelous?! Tony Stark loses his heart, but gains a soul. Y/N Stark. Loses his leg, and nobody cares.” The words were bitter on your tongue.

“You don’t strike me as the pity party type.”

“I’m not. That’s why I don’t tell people. And yes, maybe there’s a selfish part of me that does what I do strictly for me. Maybe I never would have thought to do all this if I wasn’t an amputee myself. But I’m here, and I’m doing it. And I’m not going to use my story to gain attention and credit that I don’t even want in the first place. Tony thrives in the spotlight. Me? Never been my thing.”

“Well, for what it’s worth, I think your project’s pretty great. And I don’t see your personal attachment to it as a hindrance. If anything, I bet it pushes you further. To keep trying, even when what you have is already worlds better than what’s available already. But I also get wanting to keep parts of you to yourself. The sympathy vote isn’t the best feeling.”

“Thank you,” you mumbled. “And I’m sorry for what I said about how it must be nice to have people aware of your trauma. Well… I’m sorry for how I said it. There’s quite a laundry list of things that will turn me into an asshole, and phantom limb pain ranks pretty high on that list. But I didn’t mean it as an attack, and if it came across that way, I do apologize.”

“Don’t worry about it. To an extent you’re right. The whole world knowing what happened to me… it dulls the shock value of a lot of things. Justifies a lot of my actions. So, for the most part, it’s incredibly beneficial. But sometimes I wish I could just… I dunno. Be Bucky without people making their assumptions about what that means.”

“Well, for what it’s worth, I try to make it a habit of drawing my own conclusions about people rather than listening to the assumptions others have made about them. So, at least with me, you can be Bucky, and that can be however you want it to look.”

“Thanks. I’d uh… I’d like that.” He smiled softly at you, and you smiled back, watching as a blush crept over his face. “Um… Are you going to need help back to your room? Cuz I can help, if you need me to.” The blush grew darker as he shifted his eyes about the room.

“Uh…” you stammered, a blush coming to your own face. Normally when you tossed aside a rejected prosthetic, you either stayed in the lab until you made a new one, reattached the useless one and begrudgingly dealt with it until you felt up to making a new one, or, in super rare cases when you were sure you were alone, wheeled yourself about the headquarters in a chair. But, here was Bucky, offering to help hobble you off to your room. And the thought of him helping support your weight, or God forbid carry you was enough to make your heart sped up. “Even without the weight of a leg, I’m still not exactly light, or small,” you told him. You weren’t as tall as Bucky, that was true, and you certainly didn’t have super soldier serum running through your veins. But you were still very much the standard rugged American soldier type with broad shoulders and well-defined muscles of your own.

Bucky just scoffed at the notion before picking you up in his arms.

“Jesus, fuck!” you exclaimed, throwing an arm around his neck to help support your weight as he headed for the door of the lab. “I swear if you drop me…”

Bucky chuckled, his chest rumbling into your side. “Relax. I’m not gonna drop you. Now, tell me where I’m going.”

You rattled off the quickest route to your room, both hating the vulnerability of being carried in his arms, and loving the security of it.

“See?” he beamed proudly, as he set you on your bed. “Told ya I wouldn’t drop you.”

“Thanks…”

“Anytime.”

“Bucky, wait,” you called out when he turned to leave. “Um… Would you mind maybe staying?”

“Here? With you? In your room?”

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, yeah, the 1940s gentleman thing is real charming.”

“No, it’s not that. It’s um… You know I’m gay, right?”

“Well… That makes the, uh… oh, I can’t believe I’m gonna say this, but that makes having a crush on you a lot easier. Or a lot worse, depending on how things go.”

He blinked at you in confusion, not sure if he was hearing you correctly.

“I like you, Bucky. So are you gonna stay?”

He grinned, happily walking back over to you. “I like you too. And yeah, I’ll stay.”

Tag List

@cxddlyash @stanofalotofthings @philthepegacorn @youngblood199456 @binxiboo @creator-appreciator @felixtok @iknowyouthinkimbulletproof @jessalyn-jpeg @lilyoflower @mychemicalimagines @rougese7en @milea @partiesandblurrypolaroids @summerdaughter

#phantom pain #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x reader #male reader #reader!stark #marvel #avengers #calpal irwin

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queer-and-dear-books · 3 years ago

Photo

Title: Thanks A Lot, Universe

Author: Chad Lucas

Genre: Middle Grade Fiction | Friendship | Drama | LGBTQ+

Content Warnings: Bullying | Racism | Suicide Attempt

Overall Rating: 10/10

Personal Opinion: If I was an English teacher in middle school, I would make all of my students read this book. It is such an important story to tell and the moral of it being about kids being true, brave, and weird is incredible. I couldn’t put the book down and even if you’re not in middle school, which you probably aren’t, I’m sure you’ll love this book too. The found family aspect is unbelievably heartwarming and it is the perfect book if you just want to enjoy yourself for a few hours.

Do I Own This Book? No but I really want to.

Spoilers Below For My Likes & Dislikes:

Likes:

- If I was an English teacher in middle school, I would make all of my students read this book. It is such an important story to tell and the moral of it being about kids being true, brave, and weird is incredible. Brian suffers from mental illness, as far as I can tell: severe anxiety and PTSD. He learns that he’s so much more than his mental illness and that he is capable of normalcy. Ezra seems to have it all but he’s racked with fear of being treated differently because he’s gay but he just needs to find his people and Ty and Kevan are definitely his people. The way they found each other and became the support that the other boy had been missing is so important to me. I think Brian and Ezra both helped the other be brave and that is just so wholesome.

- Ezra’s crush on Brian is just so pure. His visions of a future together with Brian were so cute. When he imagined playing his guitar for him and brushing his hair out of his face, my heart skipped. I love the way he apologized for not doing enough for Brian when he was being bullied, I love how he cared so much he needed to find Brian when he ran away, I love that he bought them a pizza, I love that he just loves making Brian laugh. It’s just… so good.

- Also Brian didn’t freak out at all when Ezra confessed that he liked him? I mean, he did freeze up initially, but out of shock and confusion. He was not disgusted and he didn’t act any differently than he had. He even held hands with Ezra and let him hug him. He wants to keep Ezra as a friend and he doesn’t know his sexuality yet but that’s okay as long as they can be friends. And then Brian told his dad and his dad didn’t react, he just asked if Brian felt the same and told him that he would love his son no matter what he ended up as and that is just so sweet. My heart is squeezing just remembering this.

- Gabe and Brittany are the ultimate power couple. And the sweetest people in the world. I can’t. Gabe really searched all over town for a runaway kid and didn’t hesitate to bring the two of them to his home. He looked out for Brian kind of like an older brother would. He was respectful of Brian’s boundaries and made him feel normal for having panic attacks. Brittany, on the other hand, was the first person Ezra came out to (that wasn’t his sister, Nat) and she was so chill about it. She was able to make Ezra feel normal for his sexuality and when he came out to his friends, she invited him over to cook and just play music together and it is just the perfect response to someone who’s sort of going through a lot of emotions.

- Mrs. Clelland is so sweet too. She took her own student to her own home and made him feel safe and wanted! I love her and she clearly raised her son, Gabe, very well.

- Ty is so cool too. The entire moment when Ezra and Kevan slept over after the party and Ty encouraged Ezra to come out was such a good scene. I mean it! The conversation that followed was so wild and funny too. A whole debate on the sexualities and races of food which went into wild tangents about gross food combos. It’s so good because it shows that they’re just 13 year old boys. Normal middle schoolers that shouldn’t have to deal with the shit that Brian’s been dealing with. They make Ezra feel so normal and I love how Kevan was like “Ez, I’m going to set you up with a dude” and used the code word “mango” to refer to dateable men for Ezra. It’s so funny and he’s such a good ally for being so supportive. I also love that he’s a 13 year old that loves to cook, plus he’s Asian (Indian specifically) so bonus points for that.

- The random phrases are so good too. TEAM = Together, Everyone Achieves More. And the Ezra-patented LOSS = Lack of Sizzle Sauce. The way it caught on with the rest of the basketball team is adorable too and I love that Brian, though quiet and shy, got in on those inside jokes because Ezra just naturally makes people feel so much more welcome around him. I love that about him.

- Richie is such an adorable 9 year old too! He did everything to protect his older brother and he did so well distracting adults so Brian could accomplish a bunch of things. Brian knows his brother gets anxious and he looks out for him and he protects him from strangers and I love him! Bless all these well-raised children!

- I haven’t talked enough about Ezra being such a great friend. He made a chill zone at Ty’s end-of-the-year party so that Brian can decompress if things got to be too much and Ty and Kevan were in on it too. But also, Ezra put on three bangers in a row so that he could dance with Brian, get him out of his shell a bit. And it is just so sweet, I love these kids. Whether or not Brian ever reciprocates Ezra’s feelings, I hope that they can be the best of friends for a long time.

Dislikes:

- Screw Victor! He really called Kevan “Captain Curry” for eating Indian food? And he also teased and mocked Brian relentlessly for literally no reason other than him being timid. That’s so dumb. Yet he’s smart enough to know not to out a kid. He’s not going to make fun of Ezra for being gay but he’s got no issue with jabbing at someone’s race? The frick? I’m guessing he and Colby learned that behavior from their brothers and also enabled it for each other but it’s fucked up that Colby gives Victor a pass for his casual racism and ableism just because Victor had helped him with his schoolwork. It’s so dumb because of Colby’s issue with the Juice is that they made him feel bad for not being as smart, then it’s a dumb reason because Ezra offered to help! Not to mention, if Colby knows what it’s like to feel isolated for a thing he can’t control (a mental thing no less) then why the fuck do it to Brian too? He and Victor are just massive hypocrites clinging onto their whiteness to feel superior to others. Colby also covering his body more after Ezra came out is the antithesis to Brian holding his hand after he came out. I cannot believe Ezra used to have a crush on that asshole.

- But kudos to Brian for not only bashing Victor’s racist skull into a locker but for also telling him off like an ice cold badass in front of the student body. “I’m sorry I hit you. I wasn’t really myself that day. I shouldn’t let you bother me that much. But it won’t happen again. I’m not worried about you anymore.” What a baller thing to say to your bully.

- Brian’s parents are a mess. His mom tried to commit suicide on his birthday and his dad ran away from home in the middle of the night. Bruh. On his BIRTHDAY! The kid definitely has PTSD and panic attacks because of that. But that being said, they’ve done a lot more as parents than other fictional parents have. Parenting is hard and they’re trying their best and Brian called his dad out in the car after the party and just dragged him to hell and back and honestly, that’s probably enough for me. A kid that actually points out all the ways the parents had fucked up and then the parents actually apologizing. I can’t even imagine that with my own mom and dad so this is amazing.

#Booklr #Booksbooksbooks #Book Blog #Book Review #Book Recs #Thanks A Lot Universe #Chad Lucas #LGBTQ #Queer Books #Queer Lit #Queer Representation

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uswntxfootball · 4 years ago

Text

i get a little bit stressed out (when i think about you) (jill roord x arsenal!reader)

how were you supposed to ask her out when just thinking about her made you nervous?

word count: 3342 ish

rated: F for flirtation sugar daddy

title- nervous by shawn mendes

——

your eyes followed her even when you didn’t mean for them to.

there was just something about the way she carried herself… you really just couldn’t get enough of it and-

“hello? y/n?”

you really really really had it bad. it really didn’t help that she was talking adamantly about something to viv, the other dutch forward having a relatively hard time keeping up with the taller girl.

its only when daan claps in your face that you turn and look at her.

“sorry what?”

daan face palms before saying:

“you know if you stare any harder you’re going to strain your eyes.”

you blush a little.

“i’m not staring….i’m-”

daan’s pointed look shuts you up.

you blush harder and look down at your cleats, adamantly avoiding the midfielder’s gaze.

her tone softens a little when she sees you.

“you really should just ask her out y/n. its been like two years.”

you scoff a little.

“it has not been two years what are you-“

daan cuts you off with a matter-of-fact tone:

“she joined the team in 2019 buddy.”

“yeah but that doesn’t mea-“

“and exactly how many words have you exchanged with her?”

you think before saying with an air of false confidence:

“like a lo-“

“not counting on the field.”

you sigh and hang your head in defeat before whispering:

“like two.”

the dutch midfielder hums and asks again:

“mhmm now what was that?”

you roll your eyes and say it a little louder, still with that air of defeat:

“like two words.”

daan patted your shoulder encouragingly before the whistle blew, indicating the end of break, and training picked up once again.

jill was talking about you during the break, actually.

to viv across the field from you.

the dutch forward had slowly realized that you were different around her, that you didn’t speak as much, and actually that you avoided her at all costs.

this she found out because there were instances, such as during team dinners, where if there was an open seat next to her, you didn’t take it, opting to stand or sit on the floor as far away from her as possible.

or that whenever she sat down next to you you shot up out of your seat almost instantly.

or that when you saw her coming down the hall you immediately turned and walked the way you came from.

or- you get the point.

she couldn’t tell if you hated her, because frankly that’s what it looked like.

so that’s what she was speaking to viv about.

and to lisa about.

and really anyone who would really listen.

of course, everyone knew your predicament, as you weren’t exactly subtle in your staring and stuttering.

they all assured jill that you didn’t hate her, that maybe you were just shy, something jill had a hard time believing since she watched you hold confident eye contact and conversations with literally everyone else but her.

if you were someone else maybe she would care less.

but you weren’t.

see, this is only how you acted off the field.

but on the field, you were a completely different person.

you had a confident, almost authoritative tone when you spoke, one that made everyone stop and listen, and was something that ultimately landed you the role of captain for every team you’ve ever played for, with arsenal being no exception.

you spoke to her that way too, and it was really the only time you made eye contact with her and spoke to her.

granted it was more like you giving orders and directions, but same difference really.

it was also something jill found really really hot.

so safe to say she cared about what you thought of her.

jill eventually decided that if you weren’t going to talk to her first, she’d do it instead.

and so began her quest, getting y/n y/ln to talk to her and hopefully become her friend.

you noticed the change in jill immediately.

it seemed as though the dutch forward was tailing you every chance she got.

every corner you took she seemed to appear right in front of you, every time you glanced at her it seemed as if her eyes were already on you.

it got so bad that you tried even harder to avoid her.

for instance,

one day before training you were out on the pitch shooting from midfield and muttering game analysis under your breath when you heard a familiar, heavy dutch accent making its way through the halls.

you panicked and-

daan found you ten minutes later inside a trashcan.

needless to say you had a pretty hard time trying to explain the smell and stains on your jersey to joe later that day.

in your defense because the field was so empty, that was the only plausible option in your mind.

as time went on, it really didn’t get any better.

there was another day during training where you turned to catch a glimpse of jill only to see her eyes already on you, and you turned back so abruptly that you knocked down the entire weight rack in front of you.

jill giggled, and the rest of your teammates were rolling their eyes and collectively face palming at your stupidity.

it all came to a climax when you were on the bus to your first match of the year, and jill plopped down in the seat right by you.

your eyes widened and cheeks flushed immediately, and you trained your eyes on the seat in front of you, not daring to turn and look at the girl beside you.

“hey how are you?”

you gulped and slowly looked up at her, and you cursed internally.

she was just so unfairly attractive.

the slightly shy smile and arched eyebrow was a combination you swear only she could pull off and-

“i’m doing okay, how are you?” you managed to force out.

at least you didn’t stutter.

jill gave you a lopsided smile that made your heart skip a beat, and went on talking.

she knew you weren’t much of a talker around her, and subsequently filled up all the gaps with her rambling, something that you both appreciated and hated, as it really didn’t help the queasy feeling in your stomach.

when the bus pulled to a halt you felt like you were going to puke, and shot up out of your seat wanting to run off before you freak out, only to remember that you were in the inside seat.

jill moved slightly without hesitation, something you were more than thankful for.

she whispers a little dejectedly when you get off:

“are you sure she doesn’t hate me?”

lisa gives her a sympathetic look and smile.

“she doesn’t jill.”

“but she just-“

“trust us, she doesn’t.”

jill nods a little apprehensively, and gets up and grabs her stuff, making her way off the bus along with everyone else.

during the game, jill was so distracted that she almost ran in the wrong direction.

“jill! press! now go!”

you were yelling at her from midfield, glancing all over the place as you watched every player’s movement and stance.

jill almost stumbled upon hearing your voice.

you note that she’s acting weirdly, and bring it up during a quick break while the ref is assessing a potential foul.

you catch her arm when she walks by you, an action that catches her entirely by surprise.

“hey you alright? your head is all over the place.”

jill swallows a little bit before smiling weakly and replying:

“yeah yeah i’ll be okay.”

“alright well get your head in it, you’re really talented and we really need you right now.”

you give her arm a reassuring squeeze and move to take the free kick which had just been given.

jill still stood there a little dumbfounded, its only when you snap loudly and point in the direction of the box that she remembers there’s a game going on and moves into position.

all in all, arsenal wins with an emphatic victory of 5-1.

after your duties as captain were fulfilled and you gave your post game talk, you quickly fell back into your off field self.

now why was the previous bus interaction the climax?

simply put, it had been the last straw for a lot of your teammates, who were now fed up with your idiotic gay panic, and decided to do something about it.

you should’ve known something was weird when you get a text from viv reading:

“URGENT- team meeting in 15 min at me & lisa’s apartment”

you furrowed your brows in confusion.

you were the team captain and the one who called team meetings, so what was up?

also it was saturday night, couldn’t it wait?

you texted kim, the vice captain, and pretty much the only responsible adult on the team, to double check.

she replied with:

“yes- joe told us about it.”

you furrow your eyebrows again because you took your job of captain seriously and you honestly didn’t remember joe mentioning an impromptu meeting on saturday night at viv’s house.

but you made your way there just in case anyways.

when you make your way inside you glance suspiciously around the apartment and only get more confused when you see less than half the team there.

the only people there besides viv and lisa were daan and beth, caitlin and lia, leah and jordan, and katie.

by this point you should’ve known.

you open your mouth to speak but you’re cut off when daan shoves you down into a chair.

“sit.”

you shoot back up and fight her back a little bit before asking:

“guys guys guys what is going on?”

leah calmly looked at you and said:

“sit down and we’ll tell you.”

and so you begrudgingly take a seat.

lisa starts.

“alright so collectively as a group, we decided that watching you deal with jill is making us all lose brain cells.”

the group in front of you nods adamantly in agreement.

“and so we’re here to help you. to teach you how to flirt.”

you cross your arms and snort a little.

“and how are you going to do that exactly?”

“well-“

beth piped in here.

“we’re going to employ katie and have her flirt with you and teach you for the next week or so.”

you shake your head.

“katie? no i would rather go on my own thank you very-“

katie cuts in here with an offended look.

“what do you mean no?! i’m obviously the best here and-“

the room quickly broke into a loud cacophony of sound, as they began debating about katie’s comment.

its only when lisa yells for silence that everyone quiets again.

“wait how many people are in on this?” you ask suddenly.

“the whole team with the exception of jill,” leah replies offhandedly.

your eyes nearly bugged out of your head when you heard this.

“is it really that bad?”

lia snorts.

“can birds fly?”

you let out a sigh.

“fine.”

you turn to katie and very adamantly say:

“but don’t you dare make it weird.”

katie holds her hands up in surrender.

and so it began, your “training” as they called it.

katie, surprisingly was pretty good at what she did.

she did unfortunately call herself your flirtation sugar daddy, but that really made you uncomfortable so you avoided those terms at all costs.

so day after day, katie stuck by you and flirted with you 24/7, with occasional performance evaluations from lisa and caitlin, all who approved thus far.

on the downside, jill, who had been kept out of the loop from everything, saw this as you being interested in katie.

she wanted to tell you that katie had a girlfriend, but didn’t really know how to start that conversation without making it weird.

she couldn’t just go up to you and say, “hey i’ve been watching you flirt with katie for the last few days and just so you know she’s taken.”

so she just stood by and watched.

she did ask viv about it one day though.

“does y/n know katie has a girlfriend?”

to which viv replied:

“yup.”

“so why is she flirting with her?”

“its just for fun.”

“it doesn’t look like its for fun to me.”

viv turns and looks at her dutch teammate.

“are you jealous?”

jill almost sputters out her answer.

“wh-what no of course not! why would i be jealous?!”

viv turns to hide her smile.

“sure jill. whatever you say.”

two weeks went by, and katie was delighted by your performance.

next saturday, the ten of you met up at viv and lisa’s apartment again.

“alright so you might be asking why we’ve gathered you here today!” lisa proclaimed with a very poor attempt at victorian english.

“we’re gathered here today to-“

“oh just get on with it,” viv butts in.

lisa turns to her with a glare.

“all right all right,” viv relents.

“we’re going to assess y/n’s flirtation capabilities.”

you quirk an eyebrow.

“how are you going to do that exactly?”

“ooh we didn’t actually think that far. we’re going to ask you questions?”

“what like ask me to finish the line? like ooh girl are you from tennesse cuz you’re the only ten i see?”

lia cringes a little at that line.

“what ever you do, don’t say that.”

“mhm yeah wasn’t going t-.”

leah cuts in.

“alright the point is. just be yourself y/n. you exude confidence on the field so just bring it out when you talk to her. that’s all”

the others all nod in agreement.

“that’s it really. you can do it y/n, we all believe in you.”

“thanks guys i really appreciate it.”

“wait but i can still be your flirtation sugar da-ow! you didn’t have to all hit me!”

the next day at training you were shoved and funneled in jill’s direction by almost half the team.

a particularly hard shove from daan had you slamming directly into jill.

the dutch forward turned and grabbed your waist in lightning fast speed to steady you.

your arms immediately fell to rest on hers, and you took a shallow breath in when you saw her concerned look.

“are you alright?”

“yeah i am thanks to you…”

well here goes nothing.

“…though i have to say if this is what it takes to get you to hold me i’ll gladly fall for you again.”

jill’s face was worth the burning on your cheeks.

“w-what?”

you had to admit, jill’s stutter only made her cuter.

you just gave her a wink and reluctantly pulled her arms off you.

“come on jill, we have a training session to get to.”

you gave her a final wave before you made your way out of the locker room.

jill still stood there, shocked and a little confused.

viv rolled her eyes.

“come on jill.”

and when jill didn’t move, viv just grabbed her arm and dragged her out of the room.

later during training almost the exact same thing happens.

except this time it was more jill’s fault than yours.

she wasn’t watching where she was going and ran right into you.

your hands found their way immediately on her waist.

“is this how we’re going to meet and talk from now on?”

jill blushed and mumbled a “sorry.”

you grinned.

“don’t be, i’m kind of enjoying it, though…”

you stopped to fake pondering something.

“…i don’t know what we should do now that we’ve both fallen for each other.”

you finished your sentence with another wink, essentially rendering jill speechless.

and so, this became a trend.

you would flirt with jill, and the dutch girl would essentially just freeze up and stare at you in shock.

you thought it was cute.

jill thought it was mortifying.

she complained to viv later on.

“i can’t even flirt back what is happening to me?”

viv just gave her a reassuring pat on the back.

“that’s what we call gay panic my friend.”

jill groaned and buried her face further into her hands.

“what’s a pretty lady like you doing all by yourself?”

you ask, plopping down in the empty bus seat beside her.

jill blushes and looks down at the seat in front of her.

she could barely see your playful grin out of the corner of her eye and it was enough to kick the butterflies in her stomach to a higher gear.

you had a little deja vu during the bus ride, except that in the previous predicament the roles were switched.

jill somehow managed to hold it together for the remainder of the bus ride.

it was on the pitch when jill really couldn’t take it anymore.

you didn’t even do anything, except fulfill your captain duties.

you were standing on the sideline, watching a scrimmage between lia’s team and kim’s team.

joe had asked you to sit out and assess every player’s strengths and basically coach them.

and coach them you did.

“caitlin! daan’s open on your left! and malin! cover daan better so she’s not wide open!”

you looked down to scribble notes in your note pad, and when you looked up you saw jill staring at you on the field.

“jill! focus!”

her gaze snapped back onto the game.

before the second round, you gave a bunch of pointers to both teams.

“okay so you guys are doing pretty well, just make sure to keep up your back line, don’t make it sloppy.”

and to the other:

“alright so pass accuracy is something you need to work on, because half of your passes are being intercepted at the moment which probably isn’t something you want.”

after a few minutes the teams took their places back onto the pitch and you began scribbling down a few more notes.

a pair of cleats makes their way before you, and you look up.

“what’s wr-“

jill leans down and kisses you.

you drop your notepad in surprise.

she pulls back quickly and searches your face for any sign of disgust or repulsion, and finding none, she leans in again.

this time, you met her halfway.

it was electric and a little needy, really everything you wanted a first kiss to be.

you briefly heard the cheers and clapping of your teammates, too caught up in the moment to care about anything else.

jill’s hands fell to your waist and yours rested on her cheeks.

you pulled back after what seemed like an eternity, but in reality was only a couple of seconds.

“so i guess i don’t have to fall for you to hold me like that again,” you whisper.

jill giggles.

“definitely not.”

you’re silent for a few seconds, but jill beats you and breaks it first.

“you know, i thought you liked katie.”

your eyes widen in surprise, and your face quickly contorts into disgust.

“oh god no way.”

“oh that’s good.”

you ask her a little teasingly:

“why, were you jealous?”

jill scoffs a little.

“shut up.”

you arch your brow a little in challenge.

“make me then.”

jill’s eyes flash back onto your face dangerously but before she can do anything you give her a little shove back.

“now go back to your scrimmage, we’ve had them wait long enough.”

she rolls her eyes and turns back towards the pitch, and towards a hoard of your giddy teammates.

“flirtation sugar daddy for the wi-ow!”

your perfectly struck ball hits katie square in the chest and your glare cuts eliminates any objections.

still you hear her mutter:

“still if anyone needs any help with flirting i’ll be free to-“

“katie!”

“sorry sorry i’ll stop.”

#jill roord #jill roord x reader #jill roord imagine #arsenal wfc x reader #arsenal wfc imagine #nedwnt x reader #nedwnt imagine #uswnt imagine #uswnt x reader #woso imagines #woso imagine

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psychdelia · 4 years ago

Text

max showed up on his doorstep with blotchy red cheeks and puffy wet eyes, board discarded on his lawn as she pounded on the door with her free hand, holding a shoebox in the other.

“okay, okay!” steve called out as he rushed downstairs. “i’m coming! jeez.” he huffed as he opened the door, ready to bark out a what, shithead? because who else would show up to his place and pound on his door for a minute straight?

except his mouth snaps shut when he sees her shivering in the winter cold and cheeks still damp. it’s been about 4 months since billy died and he hadn’t seen max in this state for a couple months now. he thought things were getting better.

maybe not.

“max.” he frowned. “what’s wrong? what happened? are you okay? are you hurt?” he asked, the panic in his tone increasing with each question.

she just shoved the box into his hands, giving him a determined look. so similar to billy’s. too similar.

“i found this in his room.” he can hear the suppressed tremble in her voice as she fights the urge to cry again. “i never gave it you because i thought maybe,” she frowns, looking down. “maybe he-“ she lets out a shaky breath. “but he never came back so it’s yours now.”

then a switch is flipped and she’s suddenly glaring up at him, yet another expression too similar to billy’s.

“you can’t tell anyone.” she clenches her shaking fists. “if you tell anyone what you find in there i swear to god steve i’ll hurt you.” her upper lip is twitching into a snarl and steve is genuinely scared of this little fiery teenager.

“jesus, max,” he sighs. “first of all, you two are way too goddamn similar for not being blood related.” he ruffles her hair with a free hand. “second of all, you can’t just tell me what’s in here?”

“no.” she shakes her head as she bats his hand away. “just,” she plays with the hem of her jacket nervously. “just keep an open mind.” she frowns. “we’re not from here. things are... different back home.” her shoulders sag a little and he can tell she misses home. misses life before hawkins. “promise you won’t tell anyone?” she looks back up at him.

he frowns as he stares at the box in his hand before nodding. “promise.”

“good.” she nods. she rubs harshly at her face with her sleeve before turning away to walk to the lawn.

“you need a ride?” he calls as she grabs her board. chuckles when she rolls her eyes, tosses back an i can get myself around, steve. then a quick thanks, though. see you around. then she’s taking off.

steve practically sprints up to his room after that. sets this mystery converse box down in front of him on the bed as he sits, unsure of what to expect. maybe porn mags? weed stash? who knows.

so, naturally, he dumps it all out on the bed. stares at the pile of magazines, books, seashells, pictures, papers. the first thing he grabs are the magazines, expecting to see a half naked chick on the cover. he freezes when he finds a half naked man instead, clad in leather.

drummer. drummer. drummer. all of these are the same magazines, different issues with different men. he wonders if they’re targeted towards women, but then he’s opening them up and finding men... with other men. figures maybe hargrove had been holding onto them for someone else because there’s no way in hell these are his. no, no, no. that boy was straight as hell. loved to show off a different girl hanging off his arm every week, made shows of flirting with both girls and women.

but then he’s grabbing a polaroid dated 1983 and it’s billy with shorter hair and fuller cheeks kissing another boy with a big smile and lovesick dopey look on his face.

holy shit. this can’t be real. billy hargrove wasn’t gay. he couldn’t be. he was the womanizer, ladykiller, heartbreaker of hawkins. he loved women and they loved him 10 times more. none of this makes sense.

he grabs the journal next, the leather on the cover worn and threadbare. the first entry is dated from 1983 and the last just a couple weeks before starcourt. right before he got possessed.

steve sets the journal aside, opts to look at the other pictures and items billy had stashed away before he reads about the last three years of the guy’s life. there are a couple pictures of a blonde woman with striking resemblance to billy, the same saint christopher pendant and thick silver ring billy wore present around her neck and finger. some of them feature billy when he was a baby, toddler, kid. he finds jewelry that seems feminine, womanly. figures they must’ve been his mom’s.

there are also some california souvenirs. he finds seashells and movie, concert tickets that read “san diego” on the top. there are also some books steve remembers he was supposed to have read or heard about in school, but also some more he never heard of.

at the very bottom of the box he finds expired makeup and empty hair product. there’s black and dark blue eyeliner and mascara, baby pink lip gloss. nail polish in black, dark red and a deep purple. in some polaroids, the slight sheen of the gloss and his dark, thick lashes are barely visible, but he still catches it.

steve can’t help but chuckle when he finds some candy wrappers and leftover weed grinds at the bottom of the box alongside the butts of joints and empty cigarette packs. marlboro reds. there’s scrunchies, too. shimmery and purple, probably stolen from max.

once’s he’s finished digging through hargrove’s secret belongings, he leans back and sticks his nose in the journal. it takes him the rest of the day and all night to read it from cover to cover.

the beginning is mostly about missing his mom and hating his father, documenting his abuse. there are a few pages about his crushes and boyfriends, allowing him to figure out that the boy he was kissing in the polaroid is named santiago, but billy calls him santi. once he reaches the end of san diego and beginning of hawkins, billy’s tone and messy scrawl is full of hurt, anger, and melancholy.

and then steve’s name pops up. KING STEVE in all caps, taking up nearly half the page. there are hearts around his name, alongside a big drawing of a dick. below, billy writes about feeling like a foolish schoolboy with some stupid crush on some guy with a huge dick he saw in the showers. steve’s already blushing and it only deepens when he gets to the part about billy wanting to feel said dick in his hand, his mouth, inside of him.

he has to take a break after that. doesn’t realize things only get spicier until he gets back to reading and finds out billy’s jerked off and fingered himself open to the thought of none other than king steve. his eyes immediately flick to the half empty jar of vaseline, finger-shaped holes indenting the jelly.

he spends the rest of the night reading about billy’s remorse and guilt towards him and lucas after that night, how billy still wants to hop on his dick and kiss him stupid, his and max’s relationship and how it’s gotten better even though they still blame each other for the move.

it’s both of their faults, steve realizes. billy missed his curfew for a boy and max had no choice but to lead neil to him.

along the way to the end, a couple pictures of steve fall out of the journal. pictures that steve has no idea how billy acquired. some are from school yearbooks, others just random polaroids that might’ve been taken by tommy or carol or jonathan. when he finally reaches the end, he reads about billy’s pool job and plans fo move back to california for college as soon as he graduates.

i know it’s stupid but i’m gonna miss him. his stupid hair and big brown eyes and pretty face and pink lips. i didn’t know anything about the guy but i wish i could drag him out of this shithole and take him home with me. i still haven’t apologized to him. maybe kidnapping him and showing him the ocean would count. but i can’t fall for a straight boy, no matter how big his cock is. i don’t get to fall for someone i hurt. it’s not fair. none of this is fair.

that’s the very last entry. it’s 1am and steve is wide awake. too awake. before he thinks too hard about what he’s doing, he’s shoving everything back into the box and flooring it to robin’s house. he knocks on her window incessantly until she opens it with a glare and he’s pushing his way inside before she can greet him with a snarl.

“billy hargrove was gay and in love with me and-and and jerked off to me and,,, pretended his fingers were mine and his dad was hurting him and his mom left and he was alone, robin.” he’s rambling, eyes wide as he paces the room with the box in his hands.

“he was s-so hurt and alone and no one paid any attention and now he’s dead because of a monster in some town he got dragged to as punishment for being gay and,” his voice cracks. “he’s gone.” he whispers brokenly as he shoves the box into her hands.

robin is very confused and surprised but all she knows is that her best friend is in distress, so she sets the box down and grabs his hands.

“steve. look at me.” she only continues when he does. “sit down and talk to me. let’s go through everything together, okay? just calm down and breathe.”

by 3am robin’s looked through the box and the majority of the journal - steve dog-eared the important pages and she’s a fast reader - and she’s just as shocked as steve, apparently, if her bewildered expression and silence is anything to go by.

“robin? rob, say something.” he urges. “please. i need you to talk to me.”

“holy shit.” she finally raps. “steve, i’m gonna ask you a question and i don’t want you to freak out, okay?”

he nods.

“do you think you could’ve... reciprocated billy’s feelings?”

he opens his mouth to answer but halts, eyes wide and crazy as he stares at her.

“i-“ he gulps. “maybe?” he croaks out. “i-i think so? maybe yeah. yeah.” he nods.

“so you’re bisexual.”

and that’s throwing him on a whole other whirlwind. steve’s had too much thrown at him for the night and he doesn’t have it in him to deal with a sexuality crisis on top of everything.

but billy’s pretty. so fucking beautiful and steve can’t admit it just yet but he wishes he were still here. he wishes he could travel back in time and reach out to billy and save him from the horrors of hawkins but also kiss and fuck and love him properly but now it’s too late and steve and billy have one thing in common.

they’re both alone. lonely. so much love to give but no one to receive or give back.

“bisexual?” he chokes out.

“you like both. boys and girls. like david bowie. and david bowie’s awesome. you’re kinda awesome too, i guess. for a dingus.” she playfully punches his arm and it makes him feel better for all of 2 seconds until it’s hitting him again that the person who wanted to love him is dead. died right in front of him.

“do you have hot chocolate?” she nods. “with marshmallows?” she nods again. “can i have some?”

he feels like he’s about to faint. completely black out. wonders if he looks pale to robin. he needs something warm and comforting and hot coco will do the trick.

———————————

billy comes back in february. hopper and joyce gathered everyone up in joyce’s living room early february. sat everyone down to announce that hop had gotten... a call. a call from some doctor named owens who hop has a history with, the same doctor who helped will.

owens was nursing billy back to health in some secret lab in indianapolis, hence the funeral with no body. apparently billy was in comatose, then a medically induced coma when his brain woke up but he wasn’t strong enough to just yet. then, when he did wake up, he had to relearn how to eat, write, walk in physical therapy, alongside the heavy emotional therapy.

owens hid billy from the world until he was ready to be exposed to it again. then he called hopper one afternoon and told him to come pick the boy up.

max was angry. screamed and yelled until she was reduced to tears in joyce’s arms. the other kids were shocked and confused. didn’t know if they should be happy or scared. will and el were the only positive ones. nancy and jonathan were mostly shocked and indifferent, numb to these crazy surprises the shithole town throws at them. steve and robin just stared at each other knowingly, a million thoughts racing their minds.

a week later they were all in joyce’s living room again, nervously anticipating hopper and billy’s arrival. everyone looked up when the doorknob began to jerk and the lock turned, their eyes trained on the door as it opened to reveal hopper standing beside billy.

billy. clad in a big hoodie, gray sweats and converse. the same ones that were once in the box steve has hidden under his bed. his hair is long now, flowing freely and curling wildly at the ends, looking so soft with the lack of product. he looked tired, fading blue bags under his eyes. he hadn’t lost his tan, steve noted, and looked a little softer around the stomach and legs. for someone who went through all the shit he did, billy looked good. healthy.

max got to him the second he stepped inside, throwing her arms around his neck and pulling him close. he immediately clung to max, holding her tight and whispering a shaky, wet hey, shitbird, only audible to her, resulting in her wet laugh. the siblings stayed like that for a few moments before pulling away to let billy see and greet everyone.

joyce had demanded they all not coddle billy because it would be suffocating and he probably couldn’t deal with that. except now she was serving and feeding him a million things, coddling him just like any other mother would. billy was hesitant and tense at first, but slowly relaxed, especially when he was given cookies.

sweet tooth, steve distantly remembered. billy has a sweet tooth, if the candy wrappers and lollipop sticks in the box were anything to go by.

everyone takes turns greeting and talking to billy. steve’s last in line to have his quick one-on-one with the guy and by the time they’re face to face, everyone’s sitting together, talking and laughing and eating.

“hey,” steve greets with a small smile. he can feel robin’s eyes on him and not-so-slyly flips her the bird, his eyes trained on billy and only billy. “it’s good to have you back.”

“you know you don’t have to say that, harrington, especially if you don’t mean it.” billy tries to joke but his eyes and smile are sad. “i only died for, like, two minutes. not a big deal.”

“shut up, man.” steve rolls his eyes and chuckles. “i do mean it.” he chews on his bottom lip nervously, doing a quick scan of the room to make sure there are no eyes on them before he looks back to billy.

then he’s reaching out and grabbing billy’s hand. running his thumbs over the scars along his palm and knuckles. he looks up to find billy confused and blushing. he smiles before pulling billy into a tight hug.

“you look good. so good.” steve whispers in his ear, getting a whiff of generic coconut shampoo. he has one arm wrapped tight around billy’s waist, holding him close with their bodies flush. he slides his free hand down and rests it on billy’s ass, barely squeezing. he chuckles when billy jumps a little.

“harrington.” billy chokes out, voice wrecked. “what’s your hand doing on my ass?” steve can feel billy’s lips moving on his neck and it makes him shudder.

“just doing what i should’ve done a while ago.” he sighs, content, just holding billy’s warm, very much alive body close to his.

“if you wanted to get in my pants, pretty boy, all you had to do was ask.” billy flirts with a smirk steve can feel on his neck. then he pauses. “you’re not fucking with me?” he asks, tone serious.

“nuh uh.” steve shakes his head. “actually, uh,” he pulls away just enough to meet billy’s eyes. “max gave me your shoebox.” he watches as billy’s eyes widen and go fiery. “hey, no, don’t get mad at her. it’s not her fault. she didn’t know you were comms back.” steve reasons. “plus, now i know big bad heartbreaker billy hargrove has a crush on little ole me.”

“who says i still do?” billy raises his eyebrows, as if his hands aren’t tightly holding onto steve’s shoulders and he’s not blushing and making heart eyes at the guy.

steve’s not too bright, but he knows when people have a crush on him. he’s always been bright in the language of love. and sex, for that matter, as billy will eventually find out when he inevitably get lovingly and romantically railed and fucked into steve’s mattress later that week.

“just have a feeling.” he shrugs, giving billy’s ass one last squeeze before he rests his hands on his hips with a grin.

#harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #my writing

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poisoned-peppermint · 3 years ago

Text

I made dsmp incorrect quotes you wanna see em of course you do here

Bad: *seductively takes off glasses*

Bad: Wow...

Skeppy: *blushes* Haha... what?

Bad: You're really flipping blurry.

~~~~~~~

Skeppy: Is something burning?

Bad, leaning seductively on the counter: Just my desire for you.

Skeppy: Bad, the toaster is literally on fire.

~~~~~~~

Skeppy: Hey, I’m getting in the shower. Wanna help me out?

Bad: ...Have you never taken a shower before?

~~~~~~~

Skeppy: So don't panic but one of us is possessed by an owl....

George: ....

Dream: .....

Sapnap: ......

Bad: ..Who?

Skeppy: That's the thing we don't-

*Everyone stares at Bad

~~~~~~~

*Everyone is giving advice to Sapnap*

Skeppy: It's okay to ask for help.

Dream: You're not a burden.

Bad: Murder is okay.

George: Your feelings matter.

~~~~~~~

Dream: Poison is a magic transmutation potion that turns people into corpses.

Sapnap: This knife is actually a magic wand.

George: Meet me in the Denny’s parking lot for a wizard duel.

Bad: *cocks gun* Magic missile.

Skeppy: What the fuck is wrong with you people.

~~~~~~~

Dream: Did you bring Sapnap?

George, gesturing to Skeppy: No, but I brought the next best thing.

Dream: Skeppy? The next best thing would be Bad.

Skeppy: I would be offended, but Bad is freakishly strong.

~~~~~~~

Sapnap: You're a lying piece of shit!

George: Oh yeah? You're the idiot that thinks you can get away with everything you do, WELCOME TO THE REAL WORLD!

Skeppy: I'm leaving and I'm taking Bad with me!

Dream, gathering cards: Aaaaand that's enough Monopoly for today.

~~~~~~~

Sapnap: So anyways have y'all seen Bad?

Dream: I think they went in Skeppy's room 'studying'.

George: Doubt that. I heard groans there.

*Meanwhile in Skeppy's room*

Bad & Skeppy, fighting:

~~~~~~~

Bad: Isn’t it weird that we can’t ride any other animal except horses. Like if horses weren’t a thing, humans would be fucked cause we couldn’t ride any other animals. Like riding animals wouldn’t really be a thing. We should probably be more grateful to horses.

George: Elephants.

Bad: Blocked.

Dream: Camels.

Bad: Extra blocked.

Sapnap: Donkeys.

Bad: Ultra blocked.

Skeppy: That dick.

Bad: ...Followed.

~~~~~~~

Bad, opening a Capri Sun: Guess I'll drink my sorrows away

~~~~~~~

Quackity: I’m this close to falling in love with Sapnap.

Karl: Your fingertips are touching.

Quackity: Exactly.

~~~~~~~

Karl: So how’s the food Quackity made?

Sapnap: It's great! Compliments to them.

Karl: *goes to the kitchen*

Karl: You're adorable.

Quackity: *blushes*

~~~~~~~

Bad: Hey guys I just found a new song I really like-

Quackity: Is it about death?

Bad: No.

Sapnap: Is it about drugs?

Karl: Is it about sex?

Bad: NO- it's about happiness and peace and-

Quackity, Sapnap, and Karl:

~~~~~~~

Karl: Made you all playlists!

Karl: Sapnap, yours has only heavy metal, and is dark like your soul.

Karl: Quackity, yours has sad songs and blues to pair with your crippling depression.

Karl: And Bad has the ABBA Gold album.

~~~~~~~

Karl: I give up. I am so tired.

Bad: Get the emergency supply!

Quackity: *carries Sapnap and places them in front of Karl*

Sapnap: *smiles*

Karl: AND I AM BACK BABY, LET’S GOOO

~~~~~~~

Karl: What’s the announcement, Quackity?

Quackity: It’s a lecture. Bad’s gonna tell us everything they know about sex.

Sapnap: It should be an enjoyable 60 seconds.

~~~~~~~

Bad: Sapnap, you'll be working with Quackity and Karl.

Sapnap: Alright! My fantasy threesome!

Everyone else: *blank stares*

Sapnap: ...Of people on a team.

~~~~~~~

Quackity: We might have gotten into a bar room brawl back in the city.

Karl: Well, that was entirely predictable.

Quackity: One of them punched a gang member.

Karl: Sapnap?

Quackity: Bad, actually.

Karl: Oh, that was going to be my second guess.

~~~~~~~

Bad: Alright, which one of us is gonna check outside?

Karl: Not it!

Sapnap: Not it!

Bad: ...Neither one of you are as dumb as you lead on to be.

~~~~~~~

Karl and Sapnap: *making loud, shouty gorilla sounds at each other*

Quackity:

Bad, exasperatedly: We have a guest.

~~~~~~~

Sapnap: I am darkness. I am a power. I am your worst nightmare. I could kill a man in more ways than you can imagine. I am the night. I am fury, I am a weapon, I am-

Karl: A doll.

Quackity: A cinnamon roll.

Bad: A sweetheart.

Sapnap:

Sapnap: ...stop it.

~~~~~~~

Quackity, pointing to the wall: What color is this?

Sapnap: Gray.

Bad: Grey.

Quackity, turning to Karl: Now tell them what color you think it is.

Karl: Dark white.

~~~~~~~

Karl: We need to distract these guys.

Bad: Leave it to me.

Bad: Centaurs have six limbs and are therefore insects. Discuss.

Sapnap & Quackity: *immediately begin arguing*

~~~~~~~

Skeppy: Bad is too tall for me to kiss them on the lips. What should I do?

Ant: Punch them in the stomach. Then, when they double over in pain, kiss them.

Quackity: Tackle them!

Puffy: Dump them.

Velvet: Kick them in the shin!

Bad: No to all of those! Just ask me to lean down!!

~~~~~~~

Velvet: Christmas lights?

Bad: Check.

Ant: THermos of hot cocoa?

Bad: Check.

Quackity: Santa suits?

Bad: Check.

Puffy: Shovel?

Bad: Check.

Skeppy: Alibi and bail money?

Bad: Check- wait, WHAT?!

~~~~~~~

*Everyone is standing around the broken coffee maker*

Bad: So. Who broke it? I'm not mad, I just wanna know.

Everyone:

Skeppy: ...I did. I broke it.

Bad: No. No you didn't. Velvet?

Velvet: Don't look at me. Look at Ant.

Ant: What?! I didn't break it.

Velvet: Huh, that's weird. How'd you even know it was broken?

Ant: Because it's sitting right in front of us and it's broken.

Velvet: Suspicious.

Ant: No, it's not!

Quackity: If it matters, probably not, but Puffy was the last one to use it.

Puffy: Liar! I don't even drink that crap!

Quackity: Oh really? Then what were you doing by the coffee cart earlier?

Puffy: I use the wooden stirrers to push back my cuticles. Everyone knows that, Quackity!

Skeppy: Okay let's not fight. I broke it. Let me pay for it, Bad.

Bad: No! Who broke it!?

Everyone:

Quackity: Bad... Gumi's been awfully quiet.

Gumi: rEALLY?!

*Everyone starts arguing*

Bad, being interviewed: I broke it. I burned my hand so I punched it.

Bad: I predict 10 minutes from now they'll be at each other's throats with warpaint on their faces and a pig head on a stick.

Bad:

Bad: Good. It was getting a little chummy around here

~~~~~~~

Velvet: How much you wanna bet Bad got a Lap dance from Skeppy?

Ant: If that happend, Quackity can drink free tonight.

Quackity: As much as I love the thought of having free drinks I don't like the idea of Bad receiving a Lap dance from someone other than me.

Velvet: Hey Skeppy, did you give Bad a lap dance?

Skeppy: So what if I did?

Velvet, to Ant: I guess Quackity is drinking free tonight.

Skeppy: Be right back, I'm gonna go cry-

Bad, entering the room: What the muffin??

~~~~~~~

Bad: Skeppy kissed me!

Ant: Oh my God! Oh my God! Oh my God!

Bad: It was unbelievable!

Ant: Oh my God! Oh my God! Oh my God!

Velvet: Okay, we wanna hear everything. Ant, get the wine and unplug the phone. Bad, does this end well or do we need tissues?

Bad: Oh, it ended very well.

Ant: Do not start without me! Do not start without me!

Velvet: Okay, alright, let’s hear about the kiss. Was it a soft brush against your lips or was it like a, you know, “I gotta have you now” kind of thing?

Bad: Well, at first it was really intense, you know? And then, oh God, and then we just sort of sunk into it.

Velvet: Ohh... So, okay, were they holding you? Or were their hands on your back?

Bad: First they started out on my waist and then they slid up and then they were in my hair.

Ant and Velvet: Ohhh.

*meanwhile*

Skeppy eating pizza in their house: And, uh, and then I kissed them.

Quackity: Tongue?

Skeppy: Yeah.

Puffy: Cool.

~~~~~~~

Bad: If you can’t beat them, dress better than them

~~~~~~~

Bad: Okay okay stop asking me if I'm straight, gay, bi, whatever. I identify as a FREAKING THREAT.

~~~~~~

I will be making a part 2 shortly this is just getting to long

#dsmp #incorrect quotes #skephalo #dream smp incorrect quotes #karlnapity #dsmp techno

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