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darling-i-read-it · 4 years ago

Text

Jealousy

Will Graham x reader, slight Hannibal Lecter x reader

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: talks of murder, corpses, crime scenes

Author’s Note: besties you need to stop giving me freedom to chose the endings because i am SO biased. I hope you all enjoy regardless and didn’t mind that I bunched these two requests together because they’re so similar!

Requested: by anon, Hey i don’t know if you’re still taking Hannibal requests but if you are can you do something where both Will and Hannibal have a crush on the reader? The reader would be the only one who doesn’t know about the two men having a crush on her and one day the reader hangs out alone with one of them (could be Will or Hannibal) and the other gets jealous? It could end in the reader choosing one of them. (your choice)

Requested: by anon, AHHH i’m so nervous to write a request even tho this a anon😅 I never done a request but if you could do something where both Hannibal and Will take an interest in the reader? It could just be a thing where both of them try to impress the reader who remains oblivious to their affections. And during the entire thing they get jealous of each other and try to one up each other in gifts. If you want you could end it with them being polyamorous or the reader choosing one of them, i don’t really care my main focus id just the jealousy lol😅

Summary: the requests!

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director/creator

(not my gif)

You nodded gently, putting your fingernail between your teeth. You circled the corpse, giving it a careful eye as Beverly spoke over your thoughts.

“We believe it was murder, obviously,” she said.

“It’s just been a bitch trying to figure out how she was murdered,” Zeller commented. He was sitting on one of the stools, his hands resting on his thighs.

“Keep working on it,” Jack said, hand resting on the cold metal table.

“I think we should try and talk to the mom again. I feel like she knows more than she’s letting on,” you muttered. Will and Hannibal watched you as you moved to the head of the body, looking directly down at it.

“I want to go to the crime scene again,” Will said. You looked up and met his eyes, nodding a bit. You knew the toll that it took on him so you preferred him to offer up his abilities, rather than ask him.

“Are you sure you’re up for that?” Hannibal asked. Yours and Will’s eyes floated to Hannibal who was standing at the corner of the room. This wasn’t his crime, he wasn’t sure what Will would find.

“I’m sure,” Will said sturtly and then turned around, walking out of the room. Hannibal watched as your gaze followed Will until he was out of sight and then you turned back to the corpse.

“I’ll drive you to the mothers house,” Hannibal suggested. You nodded and took your hands off the metal, walking over to him.

“Thank you.”

The two of you left quickly after that, leaving Bev, Zeller, Price and Jack in the room alone. Beverly pretended to check something on her clipboard before looking up at everyone.

“You all felt that tension too, right?” Overlapped responses came.

“Yeah.”

“Yes.”

“When did that happen?”

Beverly shrugged and learned against the wall. She tried to follow you and Hannibal as you left the morgue but you were already long gone.

“Who do you think she’s gonna pick?” Bev asked.

“I say let the best man win!” Price commented.

“We have a case here lady and gentlemen,” Jack said, pretending he too wasn’t invested. Everyone else shared one more look and then turned around, getting back to their duties.

=====

Hannibal sat promptly in his chair, legs crossed and looking at Will who sat across from him. Will had an open stance as he looked around the room he had been in a couple of times before.

“How was your week? Let’s start there,” Hannibal said gently, prompting Will to start talking. Will was usually filled to the brim with sarcastic comments but he never wanted to delve any deeper than that. Unless he was talking about other people's murders.

“Um, it was fine,” he said, trying to figure out what to say. “Y/N came over last night and made dinner. It was nice to have someone over.” Hannibal was able to mask his feelings very well but Will caught a little bit of disdain.

“That’s nice. Do you see her often?”

“Sometimes. She’s nice and likes to see the dogs.” Hannibal saw you yesterday as well, when the two of you went to interview the mother again. Hannibal offered a nice face to the woman and it ended up getting you somewhere with her.

“She is very kind,” Hannibal commented.

“Do you see her often Dr. Lecter?” Will asked.

“On occasion. She comes over for dinner. She used to be a patient but she’s been doing well.”

“Glad to hear you have some success stories.”

That was the day that Will and Hannibal realized they were competing and they hadn’t known it. They weren’t even sure that you knew it but they understood that the other had feelings for you.

Sure, ultimately it was up to you in the end but it was then they decided they would have to get to you first. Will was a little unhinged and confused. Hannibal was a little insane and unsettling.

Just depended on who was going to be able to play the right cards.

=====

You sat beside Hanniabl at his dinner table. You had a few of the case papers out in front of you, next to your plate of food. Hannibal was flipping through them as well. He was trying to help you out while also getting you to enjoy a nice meal.

You ate the last bite of the food and showed Hannibal one of the pictures.

“Do you think this looks like she’s been dead for a couple of months? I know water can wash away evidence and stuff but it definitely doesn’t look like she’s been dead for months,” you said. Hannibal took the picture from you and looked it over.

“I can’t say I disagree with you.” You took the picture back.

“This is really good by the way. Thank you for letting me intrude on your dinner,” you said laughing a bit. He shook his head.

“Of course. I’m glad you enjoy it, I know it can be an acquired taste.”

“I really enjoy everything you make. How do you say it? It’s growing my pallet,” you said smiling. He nodded pleasantly. It was always nice to make sure people were listening. You looked like you were about to say something else when your phone dinged. At first you ignored it but then it dinged again. “I’m sorry,” you muttered and then picked up the phone. You read a couple of messages and laughter bubbled from your mouth. Hannibal immediately felt a stab of jealousy but it didn’t show on his face. “Sorry, Will just sent me something about the case. I actually have to go see him later tonight, I should probably get out of your hair.”

Hannibal shook his head.

“You’re always welcome here, I hope you know that.” You smiled and nodded but still put the papers together in a neat stack.

“Don’t say that, I’ll abuse my privileges.” You stood up and put the stack of papers in your arms. “Thank you again Hannibal. I’ll call you?” He nodded, standing up as well and taking your plate.

“Of course. Have a nice night and say hello to Will for me.” You nodded and waved as you turned to leave.

Hannibal turned to the kitchen and put the dishes in the sink. He started to wash them and after a moment he found he had been washing his hands dry.

====

“You really didn’t have to drive me. I can drive myself,” Will said from the passenger seat of your car. You waved him off, shaking your head.

“Please Will, I can drive you around all I want. Plus, I wanted to see Hannibal anyway. Don’t worry I won’t intrude on your session. I brought a book.” You held your book up in front of him and he nodded slightly.

Why did you wanna see Hannibal? He decided not to ask.

You got out of the car and followed Will inside to Hannibal’s office. Hannibal opened the door, as though he had been listening and waiting for your arrival. His smile grew at the sight of you.

“I was hoping to run into you. I boxed some leftovers from last night because you enjoyed them so much,” Hannibal explained.

“You went over to Hannibals’ last night?” Will asked. He didn’t mean for his voice to sound so accusatory but it did. You shrugged.

“I went for dinner and he helped me with some case notes.” You remained completely oblivious to the tension in the room. He handed you a box that he grabbed from his desk and you nodded happily. “Thank you so much! I will cherish this,” you joked. You turned to Will. “Have a nice session boys, I’ll be in the car.”

They both nodded and waved goodbye to you as you left the room. The tension did not leave with you.

====

The morgue did not smell any better the next time you were in it. You were alone with just Bev this time as you compared notes on the cause of death. She and the guys were still in the process of figuring it out but it had been a busy couple of days.

“Yeah that’s kind of what Price was saying. I don’t know, I’ll look into it more and get back to you,” she said as you showed her some notes. You nodded and put your notepad back in your bag.

“Alright, keep me posted.” You stood up from your chair and stretched a bit. You and Beverly were pretty good friends outside of work as well so she had been dying to ask you about Hannibal and Will.

“So...how’s it going with Hannibal and Will?” she asked, crossing her arms and leaning against the wall. You gave her a confused look.

“Huh?” She scoffed.

“You’re kidding right?” You gave her a look and she laughed dryly. “You seriously don’t know? Those guys are head over heels for you. Come on, you had to have noticed how jealous they get when you talk to them. It literally fills the room with tension,” she explained. You shook your head slowly. It took you a moment but the realization hit you. You had to sit back down.

“Oh my God, I’ve been so head first in this case I didn’t even notice,” you said, laughing a bit.

“Well! Who’s gonna take the cake? Come on, we’re running bets here in the morgue.” You raised an eyebrow.

“Who did you bet on?” She gave you a look. “Come on!”

“Will,” she fessed up. You stood up.

“Go get your money Katz.” A prideful look went over her face and she nodded.

“Alright then. You better go get your man.”

======

You knocked on Will’s door that night. You teetered back and forth on the porch, wondering if Beverly had been wrong. She could have read the signs wrong. Heck, you read the signs wrong at first. You were about to walk off the porch when Will opened the door, rubbing his eyes.

“Hi,” he said, blinking quickly.

“Oh my gosh did I wake you? I’m sorry, I am running on case time,” you said, suddenly feeling very apologetic. He shook his head.

“No, don’t worry about it. Do you need something?” You doubted yourself again but figured that if you were going to do it you had to do it now.

“I just...Beverly said something and I...do you wanna go to dinner? Like together? Like as a couple?” You were trying to get the words out so they didn’t sound awkward. Will rubbed his eyes some more and then his hand dropped. He smirked a bit.

“Yeah. I would really like that.”

“Okay! Okay. Good, good. I’ll talk to you about it tomorrow once you get some rest,” you said. He nodded happily.

“I look forward to it.”

“Me too.”

You turned around and he shut the door and a wall away from each other. You were both smiling wildly. Will almost called Hannibal and bragged but he went to sleep. He would find out eventually.

#will graham x reader #will graham imagines #hannibal lecter imagines #hannibal imagines

164 notes · View notes

jilyss · 4 years ago

Note

Sure, yeah, I can accompany you to that black tie event for your work tonight. Wait. Why are we on a red carpet? Are you famous?

thanks for the prompt!! i tried to keep it under 2k but that clearly did not happen lol

read on ao3

James Potter to Lily Evans at 3:14 p.m.: hey can u call when u get a sec

Lily Evans to James Potter at 3:18 p.m.: sry i was with a pt, what’s up

James Potter to Lily Evans at 3:19 p.m.: i have a favor to ask

It was 3 p.m. on a Friday and Lily Evans was just barely sitting down to eat lunch. She’d sat down in the empty breakroom, kicked up her legs onto a nearby chair, and just barely bit into her sandwich when she had seen James’ text. She replied a few minutes later, too hungry to type anything coherent.

When he called a minute later, her mouth was full of food. She swallowed quickly and pressed the accept button. “Hello?”

“Hey Evans,” he said, and Lily smiled at the sound of his voice. It had been a few months since she’d talked to him. She wished they lived closer, but she had just finished her residency in Manchester and he played football for Arsenal in London, and they were both so busy they didn’t have the chance to get together often. But they were the kind of friends who were able to pick up exactly where they’d left off every time they caught up, and Lily had missed him.

“I saw your game against Southampton last week.” Lily popped a crisp in her mouth. “Nice goal.”

She could practically hear his smirk through the phone. “Watched me, did you?”

“Remember that guy I told you about? The one I was talking to?” James hummed in agreement. “We went out for a drink and the game was on. I try to catch most of your games, but my schedule is a little - .”

“- Crazy, I know,” James laughed. “Are you still with him?”

Lily shifted the phone to her other ear. “No, we kind of just stopped talking.” She didn’t want to tell him that the real reason she had stopped talking to him was that before he found out that Lily knew him, he’d spent several minutes badmouthing James. Once he was finished, Lily gave him a quick rundown of the various ways he was an asshole, and then promptly left. She wasn’t a big fan of him anyway, and that had kind of sealed the deal.

“Well, good - I mean, so sorry about the bloke, Evans - but I have a problem.”

Lily waited for him to continue, and he didn’t make her wait long. “There’s this event for work. Sirius is out of town, and I would ask my mum, but she went to the last one and just isn’t up for another late night yet, so if you aren’t busy, and I mean, only if you want to -”

Lily interrupted, laughing. “What do you need, James?”

“There’s this black-tie event I have to go to. It’s not a big deal, and we wouldn’t have to do anything. Would you want to go with me?”

Her eyebrows raised and she was a little surprised. “When is it?”

“Two weeks. It’s a Saturday.”

Lily pulled her phone from her ear and tapped on her calendar icon. She had that Saturday, Sunday, and Monday off. She considered her options, but there was really only one. Of course, she wanted to see him because it had been months, and she was never one to say no. She would just need to go shopping sometime before then. “Ok, sure.”

“Really? Brilliant, thanks, Evans.”

They chatted for a few more minutes until Lily’s lunch break was over, and she had to rush off to her next appointment. She sent a quick text to Marlene asking for her help with dress shopping, packed up her lunch and left the breakroom.

James Potter to Lily Evans: hey, mum got wind of you coming down to london and would luv to see u

Lily Evans to James Potter: EUPHEMIA

Lily Evans to James Potter: of course!!!

Lily Evans to James Potter: i could come down a few hours early

James Potter to Lily Evans: actually do u wanna stay the night? we prob won’t be done until late and it’s a long trip back

Lily didn’t hesitate.

Lily Evans to James Potter: yeah! I love ur mum and it’s been way too long

James Potter to Lily Evans: sweet, ill see you in a few days x

Lily closed the door to her apartment, locking the door behind her. She made her way down the stairs and out to her car, carefully hanging her dress on a hook in the back seat. She’d originally planned on just taking the train down, but it would be faster to drive, and she didn’t want to worry about keeping her dress wrinkle-free on the train.

When she arrived at the Potter’s house (though it was more like a mansion) a few hours later, a wave of nostalgia hit her. Lily and James had become friends at uni, and their friend group often went to the nearby Potter’s house for a home-cooked dinner. Lily had especially become close with Euphemia, James’ mother, and used to go over even when James wasn’t there.

She pulled into the large driveway and parked the car before grabbing her bag from the backseat. Before she could even get to the door, Euphemia swung the door open and pulled her into a tight hug. “Lily, dear, it’s been too long!”

Lily dropped her bag and hugged her back, excited to be back. “I’ve missed you, Euphemia!” Over Euphemia’s shoulder, she saw James running down the stairs towards them. Lily swallowed hard as she saw him. He was somehow even taller than the last time she had seen him, and football had definitely been good to him. Normally, he lived in a flat closer to his training facility but had returned to his mum’s house for the night.

As James approached, Euphemia let go of her and James immediately grabbed her into a hug. “Alright, Evans?”

Lily grinned into his shoulder, feeling his arms wrapping all the way around her. She squeezed him extra tight once before pulling away, then put one arm over Euphemia’s shoulders. “I’m doing good!” She glanced over her shoulder at her car. “I’m not sure when we have to leave, but I left my dress in the car, should I…”

“I’ll grab it.” James stuck out his hand and Lily handed him the keys. He was out the door in a second, and Euphemia steered Lily into the kitchen.

“Congratulations on finishing your residency, Lily! Or really I should say congratulations, Dr. Evans.” Euphemia winked at her. Lily blushed and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. She still wasn’t used to the title, and even though she knew she had fully earned it, it still felt a little unreal.

“Thank you, I’m just glad to be done.” Lily took a seat at the counter, leaning her arms on the counter. Euphemia plopped a pastry in front of Lily, who took a bite without hesitating. She was an excellent cook who was always making something, and on the drive down, Lily had secretly hoped that today would be no different. “This is the best thing I’ve ever tasted. It’s blackberry filling, right?”

Euphemia nodded. “Now that you’ve finished your residency, are you planning to stay in Manchester?”

James walked in and tossed Lily her keys. Lily shrugged, casting her eyes quickly towards James. “I’m not sure. I love Manchester, but I’ve missed London more than I thought.” She took another bite of the pastry, chewing quickly. “I have a job now up there, but I’m not too attached yet.”

“Remus is planning on moving back here,” James cut in. “He just finished his masters, and has a job lined up here already.”

“I wish I got to see him before I left.” Lily glanced down at the counter. “I know I haven’t been able to visit a ton, but hopefully I can now.”

Euphemia patted her hand, eyes twinkling. “We know you were busy with your program, but you could make it up to us by moving back here.”

“Mum! Don’t guilt-trip her.”

Lily laughed and finished off her pastry. “I’d do anything to be closer to your baking, Euphemia.”

“I’ll make your favorite custard tarts every day, Lily.”

“Done.”

James snuck a blackberry pastry behind his mother’s back, holding a finger over lips to Lily. She grinned at him before turning back to Euphemia. “You know, the only reason I agreed to go with James is because I wanted to see you.”

Euphemia clutched her hands over her heart. “I always knew you were my favorite, Lily.”

Lily sent a wide smirk at James, whose mouth was so full of pastry he couldn’t retort back. Euphemia glanced at a clock. “James, what time did you say you were going to be leaving?”

James checked his phone. “The car is coming at six. We’ve got about an hour.”

Lily raised her eyebrows and moved to the sink to wash her sticky fingers. “I need to do my hair.”

“You know who else needs to do their hair?”

“Mum, for the last time, my hair is fine.” James dodged his mother’s attempt to smooth out the tangles on his head.

Euphemia turned to Lily, hands on her hips. “Don’t you think he needs a haircut?”

Lily pursed her lips at them, staring at James. “Actually, I think he looks good with that mess. Hides the rest of his face.”

James tried to flip her off just as his mother turned around, saying “Nevermind Lily, you aren’t my favorite”, and was rewarded with a swat from an oven mitt.

She grinned at him and headed back to pick up her bag by the front door. “Can I use your bathroom?”

Euphemia pushed James towards Lily, smiling and muttering something about James’ hair. He grabbed her bag from her and walked up the stairs. “Mum put you in the guest room next to mine. There’s a bathroom in there you can use.”

Once they’d arrived, Lily expected him to disappear into his room until she was ready. Instead, he sat on the carpet next to the bathroom, looking up at her. They started talking, Lily curling her hair as they talked. It was nice catching up with him, and Lily had a hard time concentrating on getting her hair right when she could watch James through the mirror.

It was a quarter to six when she glanced at her watch and realized he was still wearing jeans and a sweatshirt. “This is a black-tie event, right?”

“Shit, yeah, I’ll be right back.” He jumped up and closed the door behind him.

Lily put the finishing touches on her makeup - which was relatively simple because any makeup skills she used to have basically had disappeared in the past few years. James had brought up her dress bag, and she unzipped the bag and pulled it out. Luckily, it was still wrinkle-free, and in a few seconds, she had wiggled into it, zipped it up, and slipped on her shoes.

Somehow, James had made it downstairs before her and was talking quietly with his mum in the kitchen. Lily walked in, heels clicking quietly, and they turned to look at her.

She heard Euphemia’s quiet gasp and James’s soft ‘woah’. Blushing again, she did a little turn. She was wearing a silver floor-length dress paired with black heels. It was relatively simple, with small straps and a waist that hugged her hips and then dropped straight to the floor. Marlene’s eyes had practically bugged out her head when Lily had tried it on, and judging by the way James was looking at her right now, it was a good choice.

James hugged his mum and made his way to her, holding out his arm. “You don’t clean up too bad, Evans.”

Lily took his arm gratefully. “Oh, this old thing?”

Behind them, Euphemia was insisting on a picture, and Lily put her head on James’ shoulder, smiling for the picture. But Euphemia took a second to get her phone ready, and James tilted his head to whisper in her ear. “You look amazing, Evans.”

Euphemia, finally ready, held up her camera and Lily didn’t get a chance to respond. She hoped he didn’t notice the goosebumps that had popped up on her arm when he had said that. She snapped the picture, and then, arm in arm, they made their way out the door.

Lily had been expecting an uber, but instead, it was a small limo with a chauffeur. She gave James an odd look, who just opened her door for her and helped her in. Lily waved goodbye at Euphemia, and the driver took off.

“So what is this event for, James? I don’t think you ever told me.”

James tugged at his tie. “Uh, just an awards ceremony.”

“An awards ceremony?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Are you getting an award?” The driver slowed to a stop, and Lily could see a long line of cars in front of them.

“Uh, no.”

“Are you just being humble?”

James tugged at his tie again. “No, I’m definitely not getting an award.”

Lily frowned as the driver inched forward again. She could hear some yelling in the distance, and she glanced out front again. “You’re one of the best on the team. Didn’t you say this was some team event?”

“Uh, no, I never said it was a team event.”

Lily glanced out front again and saw a team of photographers running towards the noise. Her heart rate started to pick up. “James.”

He looked at her, half smiling and half nervous. “Hm?”

The car inched forward again and now Lily could see a red carpet going up a flight of stairs. She looked outside the window and realized exactly where they were in London. As she connected the dots in her head, her eyebrows raised.

She rounded on James. “What’s this event called?”

He had a bit of a smug look on his face as he answered. “The Brit awards.”

“The Brits? As in, famous award show with lots of famous people, the Brits?” Lily hissed. She smacked him on the shoulder with her purse. “Are you’re just telling me this now?”

He winced slightly. “Yes?”

Lily groaned and sat back in her seat. They were only a few cars away from the red carpet, and she could see the crowds of people all around. “You aren’t a musician.”

“No, but they usually invite a few athletes. David and Victoria Beckham are usually here.” He shrugged. “They invited me this year.”

Lily smacked his shoulder again. “I cannot believe you didn’t tell me this. You said it was no big deal.”

“Well, I’m not getting an award or anything, so it’s really not a big deal -” Lily shot him a look and he stopped talking.

He ran a hand through his hair, tousling his brown locks. “Look, Evans, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I kind of thought you would just figure it out?”

Lily tried to stop herself from smiling, but it was just so James that she had to laugh. He had an ego the size of England, but at the same time, was somehow humble enough to think that getting invited to a giant award show was no big deal. But she didn’t have time to process this new information before their car was at the center of the red carpet, and a man in a suit came to open their door.

“You alright?”

Lily took a deep breath and nodded. James slid out first, then held out a hand for Lily as she climbed out of the car. She stood carefully, adjusting her skirt and then, with shaking hands, reached up to fix James’ tie. He grabbed one of her hands and squeezed it. “We can go back if you want. I really should have told you, sorry Evans.”

“I’m a doctor, James. I have no clue how to handle this.”

He squeezed her hand once more. “They’re going to love you. Just follow me, yeah?”

Lily returned his squeeze and turned to look at the flashing lights of the cameras and swarms of people. This was way different from what she had been expecting, but she definitely wasn’t going to leave now. She took another deep breath and turned back to him with a smile. “Do you think Lewis Capaldi is here?”

He grinned, ran a hand through his hair one more time, and led her up the red carpet.

An assistant led them through the carpet, although James was so charming and charismatic that they didn’t need the help. They smiled for pictures, a few serious ones with James’ hand on her hip, and a few with his arm more casually over her shoulder and her head leaning on his arm. James had a few interviews, which mostly focused on what he was excited to see inside. A few reporters asked who she was, and James introduced her each time as “my friend from uni, Lily Evans.”

They even asked her a few questions, curious about this mysterious girl James Potter had with him. Lily blushed each time, but his steady presence next to her helped her remain calm and collected, but by the time they were inside, she felt even more out of her comfort zone.

Their assistant led them to their table and then waved goodbye. Their table was so far empty, and since James wasn’t up for any awards, they were towards the back, which let them spy on the stream of celebrities, musicians, and assistants.

Lily was still shaky, and that only increased they watched Stormzy, surrounded by assistants and friends, take a seat at the very front. Normally, Lily wasn’t afraid of new situations, and usually, she thrived in them, but she just hadn’t been prepared for this. James noticed that she was still a little nervous, and as she took a sip of her drink, he put a hand on her bouncing leg. “You alright?”

His hand, warm against the fabric of her dress, only made her more nervous. She smiled at him and internally resolved to enjoy the experience. How often would she get to be in a place like this?

An older couple joined their table a few minutes later. The husband was the manager of James’ team, and James introduced Lily. A few minutes later, they were joined by more people, and Lily and James got pulled into two different conversations, but James’ hand never left her thigh.

A four-course meal was served as the performances started, and everyone clapped after Mabel performed “Don’t Call Me Up”. There was a crowd by the stage for the cameras, but Lily noticed that not many people seated at the tables were standing up for the performances. James and Lily were seated on the side of their table, and after glancing around, she realized they wouldn’t block anyone’s view.

When Lizzo took the stage, Lily jumped to her feet, grabbing James’ wrist. “Stand up!”

He didn’t hear her at first, and she bent at the waist to speak into his ear. “Stand up!” He popped up next to her, putting one arm around her shoulders again, while she wrapped her arm around his waist. They danced like no one was watching, swaying back and forth together, although they certainly got a few odd looks. Lily was laughing at his singing (he knew every word of all of Lizzo’s songs), finding that she had a hard time focusing on the music when he was so tall and warm next to her. They sat down again a few minutes later, but James’s hand stayed in his pockets.

The award show eventually ended, and Lily and James stood outside, waiting for their chauffeur. But there was a long line, and after a few minutes, Lily looked up at James. “Want to get a little ways away and call an uber?”

He immediately nodded and followed her, one hand in his hair. They made their way out of the building, James occasionally getting stopped by someone he knew or when he got recognized. By the time they were out into the night air, it was nearly one am.

“I’ll call the uber,” James said. He shrugged out of his suit jacket and swung onto Lily’s bare shoulders, and she smiled gratefully. A few taps later, he tucked it into his pocket and pointed down the street. “I said we’d meet them down there. There’s too much traffic back there for them to get through.”

They were quiet for a few minutes as they walked side by side. There were still quite a few people out, but for the most part, they were left alone.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you what we were going to.” James kicked out at a loose rock on the sidewalk. “I guess I didn’t think about it.”

Lily pulled his suit jacket a little tighter around her and shrugged. “I had a lot of fun. A little nerve-wracking at first, but I’m definitely not mad you invited me. I just didn’t know you were so famous.”

He frowned. “I’m not famous.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Huh. Then how, exactly, did you get an invitation to the Brit Awards?”

He shot her a smirk. “My thick thighs.”

“James Potter, your mum was right, you need a haircut to humble you.”

A car pulled up next to them and James checked the license plate quickly before opening her door again. “So you agree, I have thick thighs.”

Lily waited for him to climb in before she continued. “You have thick thighs but I’m not sure why that would help you get an invite.”

He shrugged nonchalantly, turning to face her in the backseat. “Raw sex appeal.”

Lily’s eyebrows raised even higher. “Raw sex appeal.”

“Mmhm. Raw sex appeal.” James put his hand over the back of her headrest, causing his shirt to pull tight against his torso. Lily had to pull her eyes from the outline of his muscles, and when she met James’ eyes again, it was clear he had noticed.

“Well, that can’t be it. You don’t have a single drop of that.”

“That’s not what my mum tells me.”

“Your mum tells you that you have ‘pure sex appeal’?”

“Evans - “ James tried, but Lily had won their little battle of words, and there was nothing he could do. “Alright fine, it was not my sex appeal.”

“Glad we finally agree on that.”

Euphemia was in bed when they got home, and Lily and James crept upstairs to change. Lily changed into shorts and a sweatshirt, tossed her hair into a bun, and decided taking off her makeup was a later problem. James beat her downstairs again and was standing in front of the open refrigerator.

Lily snagged another blackberry pastry, groaning as the sweet taste filled her mouth. James turned around with half of a sandwich in his hand. He walked into the pantry and grabbed some glasses and red wine before moving to sit next to her at the counter. Lily shifted to face him as he pointed to his legs.

“I wore shorts just so you could see my thick thighs. And raw sex appeal.” Lily glanced down to see a pair of very muscular thighs hidden behind grey shorts. She swallowed hard and bit into her pastry.

“If you say so.”

There was quiet padding behind them, and Euphemia walked in, wrapped in a bathrobe and hair in curlers. “Oh! I’m so sorry, did we wake you?”

She shook her head, squinting in the kitchen light. “I wanted to ask you how it went.”

Lily didn’t hesitate to throw James under the bus. “Your son told me this award ceremony was no big deal.”

“No!” Euphemia gasped. “You didn’t tell her it was the Brits?”

James shrunk slightly under his mother’s glare. “I may have forgotten to mention it.”

“And he told me he has raw sex appeal.”

“Is that so?” Euphemia turned to James, hands on her hips, but the laughter in her eyes made it clear that she was enjoying embarrassing him. James just shot his mother a winning smile, and Euphemia turned to Lily. “Did he treat you right?”

“Oh yes, a perfect gentleman.” But just as she said this, James' hand crept back onto her bare thigh, his thumb rubbing light circles under the table. Lily’s stomach flip-flopped.

Euphemia winked at them and pointed to the kitchen. “Help yourself to anything in the kitchen, dearie. James, stay out of the ice cream, I’m saving it for tomorrow.”

James kissed her on the cheek as she left, then grabbed the wine and glasses. “You want to go outside?”

Lily grinned and moved to grab some blankets from the living room. James was bent over the firepit on the back patio, and in a few seconds, had managed to start a warm fire. She handed him a blanket, scooting her chair close to his and wrapping herself up. He handed her a glass of wine then settled back into his chair.

“Coming out here was always my favorite thing to do at your house,” Lily said. “It just… it just felt like one big family.”

James fanned his fingers out over the flame. “How long has it been since we were all together? Like three years?”

“Four,” Lily said quietly. “We haven’t all been together since graduation.”

“We’ve come a long way since then.”

“Yeah.” Lily shifted in her seat. Then she asked a question that had been weighing on her mind since he had called her. “Why did you call me?”

She expected him to give her a joking response, but to her surprise, he took a minute to think. “I missed you. It’s been a while.”

“No girlfriend? No pretty famous person who is sliding into your dms?” Her voice was teasing, but it was a genuine question. James had it all - fame, money, talent, looks - why did he ask her to go with him on the red carpet?

He laughed lightly and shook his head. “C’mon Evans, you know that’s not me.”

He was right - Lily couldn’t see him ever actually caring about his fame. It just wasn't him. Sure, he had an ego, but he’d matured so much since freshman year of uni, and Lily had been more than impressed with him on the red carpet. “You handled it so well today. Everyone loves you. ”

“Everyone loves you, Evans. You had less than thirty seconds notice that you were going on a red carpet and you adjusted in what - ten seconds?”

Lily stayed quiet, taking a sip from her glass. “We’ve grown up a lot since uni, haven’t we?” He didn’t reply, just staring into the fire. Lily continued. “I don’t know if I could have done it tonight if it wasn’t you with me. You just made it easy.”

He shrugged. “I used to go to a lot of events with my mum and dad.”

Lily wanted to reach out and shake him and tell him that no, it was just James that was so charismatic and caring and charming. He didn’t seem to know the effect he had on people - had on her - that made them open up and happy -

And then all of a sudden, Lily realized just exactly what her feelings were. The reason she had a hard time taking her eyes off him or kept having to fight the urge to just hold his hand, and why she suddenly did not want to go back home.

Her eyes flicked at him, tracing the lines of his face and watching the light dance on his hair. James seemed to sense that she was watching him and glanced up at her. She just smiled softly and pulled her blanket tighter, heart pounding.

James downed the last of his drink and stood up, brushing off his pants. “I think I’m going to head to bed.”

Lily was a little surprised at his sudden decision, but felt a yawn coming on and stood up with him. James extinguished the fire, Lily grabbed the wine bottle, and they headed inside. They were mostly quiet, but just before Lily entered her room, she pulled him into a tight hug. “Thanks for tonight. I’m glad you invited me.”

James wrapped his arms around her and Lily could feel her heart rate increase again. He didn’t pull away, but she was worried that he could hear her pounding heart and didn’t linger. She waved goodbye to him, then went into her room.

The blanket was still hanging on her shoulders, and she buried her nose in it, leaning against the door. She closed her eyes, breathing in deeply. Tonight had not been anything like she had expected, and she was incredibly grateful she had said yes. But there was a problem. She hadn’t anticipated her newfound feelings for James and had no idea how or when they had started. All she knew was that she was going to kick herself for months if she didn’t tell him how she felt.

But the problem with that was she had no idea if even liked her. But thinking back on the night, Lily hoped the hints he seemed to be dropping really were hints and not just things close friends do. Like the way he had held her hand on the red carpet, the way he kept putting his hand on her thigh, or the way he had looked at her when she’d first come downstairs.

Lily tilted her head back to rest on the door, gave herself a mental pep talk, threw open the door to her room, and marched across to James’ bedroom. She knocked quietly on the door, and he opened it a few seconds later.

“What’s up?” he whispered. Lily took a tiny step forward and he stepped back to let her inside. She stood only a few inches away from him, the blanket still wrapped around her.

“Why did you call me?” her voice was so quiet that she barely even heard it. “You never answered my question.”

“Evans…”

Lily’s mouth twitched upwards. She took a small step forward. “I think you can call me Lily now, James.”

He opened his mouth and then clamped it shut. He seemed to be fighting himself internally, and Lily couldn’t handle it more. She closed the gap between them, standing on her tiptoes and pressing a rough kiss to his mouth. He didn’t respond, and Lily pulled away, feeling her stomach drop. She looked up at him, trying to gauge if she had just made a terrible mistake.

She was just about to step back, ready to apologize, but his dark eyes flashed and his hands reached out to grip her face and pulled her back. The blanket slid to the ground as Lily wrapped her arms around his neck, bringing him down to her, and the warmth of the blanket was lost. One of his hands moved to grip her hip, the other on the small of her back, pulling her against his chest. His warmth replaced the chill as Lily moved one hand to play with his hair. He groaned against her lips as she tugged on it, tilting his head back so that she could press needy kisses along his jawline.

He stepped to the side, pulling her with him towards the bed. The back of her knees hit the edge of the bed, and she immediately sat, grabbing onto the collar of his sweatshirt and pulling him down with her. The rough movement made their noses knock together, and Lily just laughed as James pulled away a little ruefully to rub it. Lily took advantage of the space between them to pull his shirt over his head, and as soon as it was tossed to the side, James dropped back to her, warm fingers trailing up her sides.

“You think your mum heard us?” Lily was lying under the covers with her head resting on James’ arm, one hand tracing the lines of his stomach.

“Way to ruin the mood, Evans. I love talking about my mum right after sex.” Lily laughed as he buried his face in a pillow. She reached out to play with a strand of his hair. James pulled his face out of the pillow to look at her. “You weren’t exactly quiet, were you?”

Lily blushed violently as he shifted to kiss her neck again. James had excellent stamina, what could she say? He seemed to know exactly what spots got to her, and it quite possibly had been the best bloody shag of her life.

Not that she would tell him that - she didn’t want his ego getting any bigger. Instead, she shifted onto her elbow, letting the sheet slide down to her waist. She smirked as his eyes slipped downwards and he swallowed hard, letting his hands wander freely. Pulling her hair out of her face, she bent down to pull him in a needy kiss, and that was all the prompting he needed to roll on top of her again.

After getting back so late and an active night, they slept in late. Lily woke up first, with James sprawled out on the bed next to her. She watched him for a minute in the soft morning light, then got dressed enough to quietly pad across the hall and back into her room. She showered quickly, scrubbing off last night’s makeup, then dressed in shorts and an oversized shirt.

The kitchen was empty, but Euphemia had left a note on the counter about waffles in the fridge, and Lily didn’t hesitate to pull a few out. She had just put a few in the microwave when James shuffled in, wrapping his arms around her from the back and burying his head in her neck. He inhaled deeply, and his warm exhale gave Lily goosebumps. “You smell good,” he murmured, shifting some of her wet hair off her neck, giving him unrestricted access. Lily’s head tilted back to rest on his shoulder as his lips trailed up and down, humming softly.

Lily would have taken him right there and then if Euphemia hadn’t walked in that exact second. She tried to put some distance between her and James, a little embarrassed that she’d caught them like that, but James kept his arms tight around her, laughing.

“Morning mum,” he said brightly. “What are you up to?”

“Just out for a bit of gardening.” She waved her dirty hands and raised an eyebrow quizically at them. “Jamie dear, do you have something to tell me?”

James rested his chin on Lily’s shoulder and whispered something in her ear. She nodded, tipping her head to the side to see him, a smile breaking out on her face. He smiled too, his thumb rubbing slow circles on her stomach. He looked over at his mother, who was now washing her hands, and said “Mum, I want you to meet Lily Evans, my girlfriend.”

Euphemia gasped and spun on her heel to look at them. “Well, it’s about time!” She reached out and pulled Lily from James’ arms. “Oh! My hands are all wet.” She released Lily from the hug and jumped up and down. “I always hoped you two would get together!”

James grabbed Lily from behind again, pulling her close. Lily shot her an odd look. “You did?”

Euphemia winked at both of them and James groaned. “She loves you too bloody much.”

Lily patted his hands, which had slipped just under the hem of her shirt, consolingly. The microwave finally beeped and she pulled away to grab the plates. Euphemia disappeared back into the garden a few minutes later, and Lily joined James back at the counter. They dove into the food, both starving.

James slid his hand on her thigh, and she put her hand over his, not wanting to be apart just yet. When they’d finished, he turned to her, one elbow leaning on the counter. “So, Evans, want to stay the night again?”

She pretended to think about it. “I’m sure Euphemia would enjoy my company.”

James pushed his plate away and stood up. Lily turned around to face him, and he stepped forward until Lily’s back hit the counter. He kissed the corners of her mouth, then moving back down to her neck. “No other reason?”

Lily was having a hard time concentrating. “I can’t miss out on the blackberry pastries.”

“Any other reasons?”James sucked slightly at the sweet spot he had discovered last night and Lily’s fingers dug into his shoulder. His free hand fingered the waistband of her shorts, and Lily couldn’t take it anymore. She kissed him, one hand fisting in the hair that she just couldn’t seem to get enough off. Still on the barstool, Lily wrapped her legs around him and he lifted her, kissing her all the while.

“I can think of one more reason,” she managed to get out as he carried her up the stairs.

James threw open the door to his bedroom, tugging his shirt over his head. “Oh?”

Lily mirrored him, tossing her sweatshirt to the side. “Raw sex appeal.”

James’ eyebrows raised. “Oh yeah? Tell me more?”

Lily didn’t answer, instead just pulling him to the bed and laughing at the devilish look in his eyes.

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mypoisonedvine · 5 years ago

Text

Love, Theoretically | Sebastian Stan x reader (Chapter 2)

read Chapter 1 here

series summary: having lost your husband, sister, and best friend all to the same extramarital affair, you ran away to a secluded villa in the Hungarian countryside to write and get a little time away from the life you’d left behind. you were only looking for peace and perhaps some inspiration for your novel, but instead you found an unlikely connection with the immigrant repairman– even though the two of you don’t speak the same language.

word count: 2.3k (exactly the same as last chapter, i’m proud of myself lol)

warnings: just fluff and ~pining~ for now

thanks again to @evnscvll for making this moodboard-- and this series is for her 3k celebration challenge so def check out her writing!

You should’ve known that you wouldn’t be able to force yourself to write, but after a quick shower to wash off the day’s journey, you decided there was nothing better to do but sit at the desk and hope for inspiration.

Your husband had never been very supportive of your writing, which is why you had struggled to complete your latest novel. He, like your publisher and many of your readers, wanted a sequel to your last book, in spite of the fact that you were adamant it was impossible. It was a complete story, even if the ending was ambiguous. There was no room for growth in the characters or the world of the story; just because readers wanted more didn’t mean that they would actually enjoy a forced product.

The publisher and your husband, however, shared a very strong opinion: the fans won’t care if it’s forced, and neither should you as long as it sells. But, they weren’t writers. You were. And you knew there were different stories you needed to tell… if only you could find the words for them.

You were a few pages in when you heard the stairs creaking outside your closed door. There was a quick knock at the door; you answered with an offer to come in.

“I was just wondering if you wanted some coffee,” Mrs. Alberti explained as she crossed the room, standing beside you at the desk. You nodded with a quick thank you as she set the cup and saucer down onto the wood. “Oh heavens, he’s working on the house again,” she suddenly groaned, motioning out the window.

You leaned over and nearly spit out your coffee when you saw Sebastian outside. He was only wearing some much-too-tight jeans, driving a hammer down onto wood as the sun cast orange light over his body. He was glistening with sweat, which was probably pretty uncomfortable for him but he looked damn good anyways.

“Is he always… like that?” you shuddered.

“Maybe I didn’t just hire him because he was cheap,” she shrugged, handing you a cloth. “Go soak this in cold water and bring it to him, he looks overheated.”

You should’ve questioned why she was giving you chores, but you just took the rag and did as she asked. He didn’t notice you walking out to him at first, but stopped when he did see you, waving quickly and setting down his hammer.

“For the heat,” you explained as you handed it to him.

“Ah, mulțumesc,” he nodded, accepting the rag with a smile.

As he wiped the sweat from his face, you found your gaze trailing over his arms, down his chest and abdomen. Jesus, how could this guy eat Mrs. Alberti’s cooking every day and still have washboard abs? When you looked back up to his face, he was looking right at you with a grin-- oh shit, had he caught you ogling? But then again, maybe he wanted you to ogle. Why else would he be doing housework so… shirtlessly?

“Wh-what are you working on?” you asked him to break the silence. He gave you a puzzled look. “Er, the wood,” you motioned to the work he was doing, “why?”

His face softened with understanding. “Construiesc un cadru nou pentru fereastră,” he explained, motioning vaguely to the house, “în partea de est a casei.”

“Right…” you nodded, realizing that you had no idea what he’d said. Clearly you hadn’t thought this through.

“Aici, permiteți-mi să vă arăt,” he said, grabbing a board and walking past you, motioning for you to follow him as he slung the rag over his shoulder. You figured you looked like a lost puppy trailing behind him like this.

He stopped when you reached the wall of the house, and grabbed part of the window frame; it creaked and moved as he wiggled it, clearly on the verge of falling off. Then, he held up the new board he had been hammering and you realized that it was going to replace the rotting portions of the frame.

“A intelege?” he smiled.

“Da!” you answered, and he laughed.

“Cred că asta contează ca român,” he shrugged.

“It’s good you’re fixing the window. I’m sure Mrs. Alberti appreciates everything you do.”

“Bătrâna îmi plătește rahat, dar sfârșesc trăind aici gratis.”

“Well, I should let you get back to it,” you decided as you stepped back with an uncomfortable smile.

“Nu te voi mai ține, sunt sigur că ești ocupat,” he said, and though you had no real way to interpret it, his tone didn’t seem to indicate that he was trying to stop you from going.

With a little wave and a heavy sense of god why am I such a dork?, you left him and returned indoors.

First nights in new places were always sort of surreal, but this was definitely less weird than the sleeper car of the train. You’d felt like a proper stowaway then, but you had a stronger feeling of belonging here… even if you didn’t quite feel like you had any place to call home at the moment.

As you laid in bed and looked at the room turned on its side, you found yourself missing your room. Your real room. It had been designed and decorated somewhat meticulously, but most of all you missed the things about it that you hadn’t put that kind of thought into: the random earrings on your bedside table, discarded casually before you went to sleep; the layers of blazers and skirts draped over the chair in the corner; the still-slightly-visible coffee stain on the corner of the rug, even though you’d spent hours trying to get it out.

Meanwhile, this room was so obviously not a space that people lived in, but just a space people passed through. Though nowhere near as sterile as a traditional hotel room, it had the same emptiness even with its personality-- specifically, a reflection of someone else’s personality rather than your own.

All that said, sleeping was pretty easy once you got yourself comfortable in the fluffy mattress, even if you were aware all through the night that you were not at home. So aware, even, that you weren’t surprised at all when you woke up in the new space for the first time. What you were surprised by was the sounds of heavy rain against your window, immediately dashing your plans for a morning jog. As much as it seemed apropos to type by the window instead and soak in the moody weather, you decided to head downstairs for a cup of coffee first. Already having forgotten where you had left off, you grabbed the pages you'd already written to reread with your breakfast as you slipped on some comfortable clothes and made your way down the creaky steps

Passing through the living area, it was impossible not to notice Sebastian sitting in one of the chairs, staring intently at a half-played chessboard. Stopping for a moment to try to determine what he was doing, he moved a piece and you realized he must be playing with himself.

Against himself, you interrupted your own thought, he's playing against himself… important distinction.

“You play chess?” you asked, pointing to the board.

“Şah,” he replied.

You pointed to the chair across from him. “Can I join you?”

“Luaţi loc,” he offered as he gestured to it as well, nodding in approval. You smiled and sat down as he reorganized the pieces back to the starting position.

“Negru?” he asked, pointing to the black pieces-- “Sau alb?”-- he pointed to the white.

“Um, black,” you decided, pointing to them since they were already on your side anyways.

“Tu primul,” he prompted you, and you moved your pawn. He moved his, and after that, it was long stretches of silence between moves. It didn’t feel awkward anymore, though; even between two people who share a language, chess is usually a silent affair.

“Check,” you announced as your bishop came into range of his king. He looked up from the board and gave you a puzzled look. “The bishop, see?” you demonstrated, tracing a line through the air over the diagonal squares which led from your piece to his.

“Ahh,” he nodded, stroking his chin as he considered his next move. It called additional attention to the shadow of stubble which dusted over his jaw.

He maneuvred a rook in the path of your bishop, and you settled back into your chair and you pondered your options.

The next hour went by oddly quickly. Not in a rushed way, just in a way that made you wonder how it had already been an hour.

“Şah,” he informed you as his knight threatened your king. You weren’t sure if it was supposed to mean ‘check’ or ‘checkmate,’ but since you were able to capture his knight with a pawn, it was definitely just a check.

Instead of mourning his knight, he grinned and moved a rook forward, capturing the aforementioned pawn and trapping your king for good. You gasped a little as you realized you’d fallen right into his trap.

“Şah-Mat,” he declared triumphantly. That definitely meant ‘checkmate’; you could tell by the smug look on his face as he crossed his arms and leaned back into his chair.

“You got me, man, that was sneaky,” you smiled. Offering your hand for a shake, you looked up at him: “Good game.”

He grabbed your hand and shook it, squeezing just tight enough that you wondered if you were the only one noticing a certain energy to the air. “Bun joc,” he replied with a nod and a smile.

He let go of your hand after lingering just a little too long, his fingers brushing over yours for an electric moment.

Now the silence was awkward again, as the two of you sat in the high-backed chairs, staring across the table at each other.

“So, you really don’t speak any English at all, huh?” you considered aloud. He looked back at you vacantly. “English? Even one word?” you lifted one finger as a symbol.

“Halloo,” he replied-- apparently a broken attempt at ‘hello.’ You laughed a little.

“Yes, that counts! Did you learn any English in school?”

“Televiziune,” he replied.

“Ah yes,” you nodded, “I know what that is. Television; I’m a big fan myself.”

“Puteți vorbi un singur cuvânt de limba română?” he asked you, raising one finger as well. Turnabout is fair play, after all.

“You mean other than ‘da’? Or ‘salut’?” you asked with a laugh.

“Pentru a fi corect, acestea sunt cuvinte,” he shrugged.

“Teach me,” you requested. “Just one word.”

You looked around the room, settling on a lamp. “What is this? In Romanian-- română?”

“Lampă,” he replied.

“Okay, well, that one isn’t very exciting,” you frowned. “Um, what about this?” you bent down from your chair, picking up one corner of the rug.

“Covor,” he answered, leaning down with you to run his hand over the soft shag.

“Covor,” you repeated, surely butchering it.

“Da,” he smiled. Okay, maybe you didn’t butcher it so bad, or maybe he was just being nice.

“Can you teach me more?” you asked, hoping it wasn’t too demanding.

“Uhhh,” he stalled, looking around the room. Finally, he pointed to the fireplace. “Vatră.”

“Vatră, fireplace,” you tried to memorize it as he said it.

You pointed to the window. “What’s the window called?”

“Fereastră.”

You pointed to the stairway. “Scară,” he informed you, smiling a little. You hoped this wasn’t boring for him, because you were actually having a bit of fun.

You pointed to his feet. He furrowed his brow a little and lifted one, grabbing his shoe. You nodded; “Pantof,” he explained.

You grabbed your blouse and shook it a little, appreciating the puffs of cool air that rolled down your chest; “Bluză.”

You pointed to him; “Sebastian.”

You already knew that, but it was interesting to hear the way he said it versus Mrs. Alberti’s pronunciation. “Yes, that’s an English name too,” you told him, “but pronounced differently…”

You wondered if your name had another pronunciation or translation, so you pointed to yourself; “Frumoasă,” he said, a little slower, a little more thoughtfully.

“Is that the Romanian equivalent to my name-- or does it mean ‘woman’?” you asked. He just smiled vacantly.

“This,” you pointed to the book, “what is this called?”

“Carte,” he answered. “Engleză?”

“Book,” you replied.

“...book…” he said slowly, contemplatively.

Suddenly inspired, you grabbed the loose pages of manuscript that you’d laid on the small table beside you. “Book,” you repeated, flipping through the pages. He seemed confused. “My book,” you clarified, pointing back and forth from yourself the papers. “I’m writing this-- that’s why I’m here.”

“Ah!” his face lit up with recognition. “Ar trebui să scrii o carte!”

“Yeah,” you nodded. “I’m a writer; or, I’m trying to be. My last book did… better than my first, at least.”

“Ce fel de carte este?” he asked. You looked at him with confusion to indicate you weren’t sure what he was asking. “Uhh, book… este--” he made a sad face, rubbing under his eyes like a cartoon character’s weeping-- “sau--” he fake-laughed.

You laughed, actually, at his charades. “It’s a thriller, it’s crime--” you thought for a moment, then made the motion of stabbing someone with a knife.

His eyes got wider. “Este… erotic?”

You choked a little, realizing that your hand movement was… more ambiguous than you originally intended. “No!” you blurted out suddenly. “No, it’s… crime, mystery--”

You looked around and saw a magnifying glass resting on the side table by your chair; grabbing it, you held it to your face and gave your best quizzical look.

“Oh! Crimă!” he grinned. “Detectiv?”

“Yes, yes, there’s a detective,” you sighed satisfactorily, “and absolutely no handjobs.”

shamelessly tagging the people who liked chapter 1! @mariahthelioness29 @navybrat817 @navegandoaciegas @mandalorianspace @2smittinkittin @maizyistrash @honeygingergemini

#sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x y/n #sebastian stan fluff #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan fic

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hi-there-buddies · 4 years ago

Note

Hey! I saw you were doing fic prompts and I was wondering if you could do some more for Marichat with:

He realized he was in love with her in between saving her and she saving him.

She realized she was in love with him between consoling him and him consoling her.

Puuur-tty paw-lese? 😽

Oooo this is cool! it ended up pretty long too, lol. (also Idk if I should've put a read more or not but oh well) Here we go:

Cat noir hopped rooftops casually across the city.

“So, why are we patrolling in the middle of a perfectly nice day?” A voice inquired, clearly irritated. Adrien took the time to stop on a roof and collect his bearings, as he took a few deep breaths.

“Because, plagg I rarely ever get time to myself, and I like being Cat Noir,” Adrien told Plagg who groaned in annoyance.

“Whaddya mean? You just hung out with a bunch of your friends yesterday,” Plagg questioned.

At this, Adrien sighed, rubbing the back of his head and sitting down.

“Don't get me wrong, Plagg, I like my friends, and I like my life, too, it just gets a bit overwhelming sometimes, y’know?” Adrien stated as he looked downwards with half-lidded eyes.

“All the time, I'm either working, practicing, at school, or with my friends. And I’m not saying I don't like doing all that,” Adrien continued putting his hands up as he explained, “I just...need some time to myself to process everything. And since I don't get that in my life as Adrien, being Cat Noir is kinda therapeutic for me,” He explained further to the kwami.

“If being Cat Noir is therapeutic for you, maybe you should start seeing a therapist,” Plagg remarked humorously, earning a chuckle from his friend.

“Ya, you’re probably right,” Adrien admitted, standing up and stretching.

Before you could jump to the next rooftop, though, a sharp cry from behind him caused him to spin around in panic, jumping just in time to dodge a car to the face.

“What the heck?!” Adrien yelled as he fell through the air.

“Akuma!” He heard a voice inside his head scream, landing on the now half-demolished rooftop he had just jumped from. Adrien quickly spun around to see what looked to be a young girl in circus-like attire, holding a pocket mirror in her hand.

“So, you're one of the ones I need to take the miraculous from,” She announced, jumping from her previous position to be at the same height as Cat Noir, “That should be easy enough,”

Backing up slightly, Adrien tried to quickly analyze the situation. He needed to get away as quickly as possible to call Ladybug without the threat of having another car hurled at him, and he also needed to figure out how to cancel out Hawkmoth’s control.

“Great,” he whispered to himself, “The one time I wanna relax,” Adrien sighed, exasperated, before quickly running away from the situation and taking out his staff/phone.

“C’mon, c’mon, pickup m’lady,” he muttered, staring at the ‘ringing’ symbol as his phone chimed repeatedly.

Meanwhile, Across Town:

“You know Marinette, I'm sure Adrien would've said yes if you asked him to come with us,” Alya noted as she walked beside her boyfriend, Nino, and her best friend.

“I'm sure he would’ve, Alya,” Marinette sighed somewhat sadly, “but you know how weird I get when I talk to him, especially when it comes to asking him to hang out,” She remarked, downtrodden.

“You miss all the shots you don't take, Mari,” Alya pointed out, nudging Marinette gently with her shoulder, “besides, the worst he can say is ‘no’”

“Nah, the worst would probably be ‘ew’” Nino butt in, earning an elbow to the gut and a nasty look from Alya as Marinette blanched, “I-I mean, go for it!” He wheezed out with a thumbs up.

“Thanks, you guys,” Marinette responded as she tried to exhale her doubt.

“No problem girl,” Alya grinned with a hand on Marinette's shoulder.

“Oh, babe look, ice cream!” Nino exclaimed as he pointed to the frozen treat stand. Alya whipped her head around excitedly.

“Ooo, ice cream! Cmon let's go!” Alya announced as she grabbed Marinette’s hand and started dragging her over, but was surprised when Marinette gently pulled herself away.

“I'm good right now Alya, you and Nino go get some, I'll wait here,” she told the couple, who looked at each other in concern.

“You sure girl?” Alya questioned, undoubtedly sounding worried.

“Ya, I'm sure, I'm just not really in the mood right now,” Marinette reassured them as she waved her hands with a fake smile.

“Hm, alright, well we’ll be back soon, ok?” Alya told her, grabbing Nino’s hand and rushing to the ice cream stand.

With that, Marinette let out a sigh, as she slowly walked to the fountain in the middle of the park, and sat on the ledge.

“Are you alright, Marinette?” A voice questioned the dejected girl quietly.

“I'm fine, Tikki,” She whispered back, her smile slowly turning into a slight frown.

“You know, Marinette, apparently people use this fountain to make wishes!” Tikki told her friend, who looked down at her purse to see the kwami popping out.

“Really?” Mari questioned, confusedly.

“Yep, you just have to toss a coin in. Try it, I bet it’ll lift your spirits,” The kwami pushed, finding a coin from the purse and handing it to Marinette.

Marinette stood up slowly and turned around to face the water.

“W-what should I wish for?” She asked, looking at the coin, then down to Tikki.

“I can't help you with that, Marinette. Just make sure it's from deep within your heart,” Tikki responded softly, causing Marinette to close her eyes in contemplation.

A few seconds of silence passed as Marinette held the coin up to her face.

“I wish for Adrien and me to be together,”

Marinette tossed the coin gently into the flowing water, a genuine smile filled with hope appearing.

The moment was abruptly interrupted, though, as Marinette heard a large crash and a loud yelp, as she whipped her head around to see something large barreling towards her from the sky. Before she could even understand what was going on, though, she was swept off her feet and swung through the air, gripping on for dear life to whatever had just saved her from being a streak on the ground.

A few seconds passed before her feet hit the ground again, where she immediately fell to her knees and began panting in shock.

“You ok, Marinette?” She heard from above her, looking up to see Cat Noir looking upon her with concern.

“C-Cat Noir?” Marinette stuttered, eyes wide as tears began to fall gently down her cheeks.

Suddenly, a hand moved to her face and wiped away the stray tears.

“Don’t worry, you’re safe now,” He whispered to her, as Marinette put both of her hands on the one that was cupping her cheek softly. Marinette closed her eyes and breathed deeply, trying to get a hold of herself. She had never been that scared before. Usually, she was able to turn into Ladybug before she got involved with Akuma attacks, but this time she could barely even comprehend what was going on before Cat Noir had swooped in and saved her.

“Aw, young love,” A voice echoed in both their ears, as both Cat Noir and Marinette turned to see the girl who had been akumatized appear in front of them through what looked to be a portal.

“How disgusting,” She remarked maliciously, putting her pocket mirror in the air. Suddenly a barrier seemed to encase the three people.

“What the-?” Cat Noir blurted, looking around to see that they had been completely trapped.

“It's like, one big mirror,” Marinette noticed, as she walked to the barrier and tried to touch it, but instead of her hand stopped, it moved through the wall like air, and came out right next to her like some sort of portal.

“What an astute observation,” The akumatized girl announced sarcastically.

“Listen! Marinette has nothing to do with this! You want my miraculous? You fight me!” Cat Noir yelled putting himself between the Akuma and Marinette.

“And why should I?” she questioned the hero venomously, earning wide eyes from Cat Noir in return.

“In case you haven't noticed, Cat Noir,” She announced, throwing her hands up in a false sense of superiority, “I think I'm the one with the upper hand right about now,” She laughed in spite.

Backing up slowly, Adrien tried to find the best way out of the situation before being grabbed from behind.

“Cat Noir,” Marinette whispered, “I think I know what object’s been akumatized,” She told him quietly.

“Do tell,” Cat Noir said with a soothing grin.

“Well she’s using mirrors a lot, right?” Marinette continued after Cat Noir nodded, “And she's been holding that pocket mirror pretty close, too, so what if it's that?” Marinette finished, with a raised eyebrow, waiting to see what Cat Noir thought.

“Wow, I can't believe I didn't think of that, Thanks, Marinette!” He told her with a near blinding smile, causing Marinette to blush ever so slightly.

“Y-ya, no problem,” she muttered, as she watched Cat Noir walk up to the Akuma.

“Oh?” The Akuma said aloud, “What now? Did your little girlfriend figure something out?” she asked vindictively, a clear look of anger seemingly plastered on her face.

“Oh, nothing really, just that I have to destroy that little pocket mirror and all of this will be over with,” Cat Noir noted proudly, ignoring the ‘girlfriend’ comment.

The Akuma sneered distastefully, “Just you try,” she said, straightening her posture as she prepared for a fight.

“Gladly,” Cat Noir replied quickly, as he ran towards the Akuma and jumped in the air. Looking up, the girl stumbled backward as Cat Noir landed right in front of her and began grabbing for the mirror.

Marinette stood back in awe and annoyance.

“I should be helping him!” Marinette thought angrily, looking around for anything that could help. Her eyes slowly drifted to Cat Noir’s staff, which he had dropped when he was consoling her. Running over, Marinette quickly picked it up and looked back to the fight, seeing the Akuma on the defensive as she dodged all of Cat Noir’s grabs.

“Wait a second,” Marinette began, eyes squinting, “If she’s able to use mirrors in a fight like she did to throw whatever that was at me, then why is she just dodging?” She questioned to herself.

Suddenly, Marinette was snapped out of her thoughts by a very loud shout.

“Cataclysm!” Cat Noir yelled, holding his hand to the side. At that, it dawned on Marinette, as she looked over to see the Akuma smirking.

“Cat Noir, don't!” She shouted, running towards the fight as quickly as she could, but it was too late, as Adrien had already begun his attack.

Cat Noir went for one final grab at the pocket mirror, which the Akuma was holding in front of her face.

“I win,” She whispered, as a mirror appeared right between Cat Noir’s hand and the Akuma’s mirror. Suddenly, Cat Noir’s arm disappeared inside the mirror, before another one appeared to the side of Adrien’s head, as his eyes widened in shock and fear.

Before he could hit himself with cataclysm, though, something was shoved between Adrien’s head and his hand, which fell to the ground and turned black. Cat Noir was able to discern it as his staff before it inevitably turned to dust.

“What the?!” The Akuma yelled angrily, as both she and Cat Noir turned their heads to see Marinette panting.

“Why you little-!” The Akuma began to run towards Marinette, who had fallen to her knees, before being stopped by Cat Noir as he pulled the mirror out of her hand.

“Wait, don't-” She begged, as Adrien broke the pocket mirror in two, a black butterflying flying away from inside.

Almost immediately, the young girl’s attire turned to dust, floating away into the wind to reveal a teenage girl, looking around in confusion. the mirror-like barrier followed, disintegrated around them.

“W-where am I?” She asked, looking up to see Cat Noir.

“Cat Noir?! What're you doing here?” She asked in shock, before her eyes widened in horror, “d-don't tell me,” She whimpered, putting her face in her hands as she cried.

Before Adrien could compose himself enough to comfort her, though, someone made it to her before him.

“It's alright, everything will be ok now,” Marinette told the young girl, who looked up in surprise.

“I'm s-so sorry,” She continued to cry, as Marinette pulled her into a hug. Adrien looked on in astonishment at the sort of motherly instinct that his friend had. She had almost just been killed by this girl, yet she was able to go right to her and start consoling her like she was a friend or daughter.

“You’re alright, I got you. Mind telling us what happened?” She questioned the girl, who wiped away some tears.

“T-these girls were making fun of the w-way I looked,” She told them reluctantly, “And w-when I opened my locker, someone had written ‘ugly’ on the m-mirror,” She cried, looking down.

Marinette frowned sympathetically, “I'm so sorry they did that to you,” She told her, “Nobody deserves that,” Marinette finished as she looked the young girl in her eyes.

“What's your name?” Marinette finally asked softly.

The young girl sniffled, “Ella,” She whispered.

“Alright Ella, now I know it's hard, but I want you to tell your family what's been going on ok? For both your sake and the people of Paris’” Marinette told Ella, who nodded as she continued to cry. Getting up shakily, she began to walk away, waving to both Cat Noir and Marinette.

“Thank you both!” She yelled, as her walking turned to running, and she was quickly out of sight.

“Marinette?” Cat Noir said, causing Marinette’s eyes to widen as she turned to him.

Adrien put one of his hands on his neck, “Thanks,” He told her, as he looked into her bright, blue eyes, “for saving me back there,” he said to her, causing her to blush.

“W-well, after what you did earlier, I guess we can call it even, huh?” Marinette replied to him with a pure smile. Cat Noir quickly turned away out of embarrassment he didn't notice he had felt.

“Y’know,” He began, walking closer to Marinette, whose heart began to beat faster.

“You’d make a great hero Marinette,” Cat Noir informed her, earning a genuine grin from the teenage girl.

“Not as great as you,” She chuckled, as she closed her eyes and beamed from ear to ear. Adrien suddenly blushed, as his stomach began to feel weird.

A sound of beeping took both of them out of the moment, as Adrien looked down to his ring.

“Ah, I gotta go, see ya Marinette,” He told her as he got ready to run away, “And thanks again,” He added as he waved.

Marinette waved back excitedly. Finally, when he had left she fell to her knees and put her hand on her chest.

“What the heck is going on?” She questioned as she felt like she was going to burst into flames.

As Adrien climbed the staircase on the side of a building and got back to hoping rooftops, his hand moved to his face.

“What on earth?” he whispered.

“I think it's pretty obvious, Marinette,” Tikki giggled from within her purse.

“Cant you tell, loverboy?” Plagg remarked.

“You’re in looove,” They both proclaimed.

#miraculous #miraculous ladybug #miraculous tales of ladybug and chat noir #chat noir #cat noir #adrien agreste #alya #nino #marinette dupen chang #mtolacn #marichat #this was fun to write :D

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high-functioning-lokipath · 4 years ago

Text

SH - Sherlock & Greg Friendship - Prompt: How Greg and Sherlock First Met - Words: 1,637

A/N: Alrighty! So this written from Greg's POV. It's my personal headcannon of what Sherlock and Greg's first meeting might have been like. Please don't hate me if I got something wrong or if it's different than your ideas. Just my little thought. At the end of the story there is a little explanation of some of the references I made. See if you catch them 😜

I WILL ADD THIS: THERE IS DISCUSSION OF SUICIDAL THOUGHTS AND INTENT. HOWEVER, NO HARM COMES UPON ANYONE. PLEASE DO NOT READ IF YOU FEEL YOU WILL BE TRIGGERED.

"Goodnight, Inspector," Donavon said, as we walked out to our respective cars.

"Good night, Sally," I replied. "Have any plans tonight?"

"Oh, nothing much," She replied with a smile. Anderson walked out and headed to his car too though I noticed he winked and waved at Sally as he passed by. "See you tomorrow," She told me. I nodded and got in my car. As I started my engine I saw Philip run back to her and hand her what seemed to be a key. I shook my head and pulled away. I didn't want to pry into the personal lives of anyone on my team but I made a mental note to keep an eye on those two.

"Oh, I'm exhausted," I groaned to myself as I drove home. I'd just received my promotion to Detective Inspector and the first case we'd gotten has proven to be more difficult than we expected. Deciding that my already distant wife wouldn't care if I was home another 15 minutes later, I pulled over for a smoke. The Waterloo Bridge was just up ahead so I got out for a little walk. As I walked up into the bridge I took out my cigarette and was just about to light it when someone spoke up.

"Those things will kill you."

"Who said that?" I called out, immediately pocketing my lighter and lowering my cigarette. Instinctively, my hand hovered near my holster.

"Nobody of import to you, Detective Inspector. I was just making an observation." I was speechless for a moment, surprised that whoever was talking knew who I was. Or at least what I was. My blood ran cold, though, when I finally spotted the illusive speaker.

"What are you doing over there?" I asked, attempting to keep my voice steady. I couldn't yet see his features but I could tell he was young, tall, skinny and had a head full of curly hair. The first thing I noticed, though, was that he was standing on the wrong side of the walkway railing.

"My plan was to jump," He stated plainly. I was quiet for a moment, surprised that he'd so easily admit such a thing. "Surprised I said it?" He asked, looking at me finally. I nodded and he smiled sadly. "No reason to lie to you. You're a smart man. You wouldn't have reached DI otherwise."

"How do you know that anyways?" I asked, walking up next to him, however remaining on the correct side of the railing.

"It was quite obvious. Your haircut implies your employment is of the upper blue-collar class which narrows the field considerably. Considering your age you couldn't be higher than Detective Inspector but no lower than Detective Sergeant. If you were still at Constable you would have quit. Also it was obvious from the fact you went for your gun when I spoke up. You're considerably tired, even for this late hour, meaning you probably were one of the last out. Though tired your gait shows a measure of excitement, pride, if you will. It couldn't be caused by anything at home. You stopped for a smoke on your way home and didn't light up in your car meaning your wife dislikes the habit. One of the reasons she's going to be leaving you, by the way. You certainly aren't expecting children any time soon so that would leave your job. You're excited about something that happened recently at your job. You're obviously exhausted from the case you've been trying to crack so that leaves one option. Promotion. I'd say at the beginning of this past week."

"Wow," I gasped. "You're quite good at that!"

"You're not angry?" He asked slowly, staring at me in surprise.

"Not at all."

"I just told you your wife was leaving you."

"I knew that," I chuckled. "She's been hinting at the matter for weeks. I've been trying to fix things but, with my new promotion, she seems more determined than ever."

"I see," He said, looking off down the river again. "Most people get quite upset with me."

"Well, perhaps depending on the situation it might not be welcome but I don't see what's so bad about it. You know," I said with a grin. "With your ability you'd make a fine DI yourself."

"Tried. Couldn't pass the psych eval," He whispered. "What you call an ability, they call a disability." I stayed quiet, waiting to see if he'd go on. "Doctors diagnosed me with Asperger's and ADHD.”

“Well that certainly shouldn't stop you! Have you considered becoming a private investigator?” He wrinkled his nose at the suggestion.

“I’m not a fan of that title.”

“Private detective?” I tried. He shook his head again. “I’ll think of something,” I said determandly.

“Why would you care?”

“You seem like a nice kid, I-”

“I’m not a kid, I'm 25,” He interrupted, causing me to chuckle lightly.

"Alright," I said, holding up my hands. "Young man. You seem like a nice young man. I want to help you out."

"Why?" He asked again, sounding awfully much like a 2 year old. "I grew up in the countryside with my parents and my older brother. I never had any friends in school. I’ve always been like this. It didn’t get any better when I went to uni. Everyone just made fun of me. Once I graduated, I moved in with my brother in the city. I worked with him for a few years but,” He paused. "Let's just say that didn't go well. I tried to live on my own but I couldn't pay rent because I wasn't able to hold down a job. No one could put up with me. My brother would send me money here and there but he stopped after a while when he found out I had gotten involved in other things."

"Drugs?" The young man nodded slowly. His eyes were closed and he seemed to be somewhere else in his mind. "You know I could have you arrested for that," I commented.

"You wouldn't," He replied. He turned his head and looked straight at me, his eyes more intense than anyone else's I'd ever met. "Besides," He continued, looking away again. "I've stopped."

"For now," I said. "You'll stop until you don't have anything to do and then your mind will get too loud, too busy, too noisy and you'll try to quiet it again."

"How-"

"My cousin," I stated simply. "And also myself in a way. These 'help' me with my stress." I held up my package of cigarettes.

"May I see them?" He asked, holding out his hand. I nodded and handed them over. He looked them over carefully and then threw them into the river.

"Oi! Why'd you do that?" With a smirk and quickly hopped back over the railing onto the walkway.

"Try this," He said, rolling up his sleeve and showing me a patch on his arm. "When I have an especially bad day I'll go up to 3 patches. But one would probably be enough for you."

"Alright, I'll give it a try." He smiled abit haughtily. "But," I added, causing his expression to falter. "Only if you promise to give the private, personal, whatever you want to call it, detective work a try."

"After consulting with you, Inspector, I suppose I could attempt to give this idiotic world another try."

"That's it!" I exclaimed. "Consulting Detective! That's what you can call yourself!" He furrowed his brow in thought before smiling slightly.

"I think that just might work. But who would I consult for?"

"Well, you could set up a website so people can send in cases. Perhaps post something about how you do your deductions. It might take awhile for you to get enough customers so perhaps I can arrange for you to take a look at some old cold cases. What do you think of that?"

"I-" He paused, looking away in embarrassment. "Thank you, Inspector."

"You're welcome. And call me Greg, hm? Or Lestrade if Greg is too hard to remember," I joked.

"Alright," He paused. "Graham," He added with a smirk. I laughed loudly and clapped his shoulder.

"Well, I have the feeling this is going to be the start of something very special for you. Who knows where this will take you or who you'll meet!" He nodded, corners of his mouth turning up in a small smile. "Why don't you stop by my office tomorrow afternoon? I can get you some cold cases and who knows, maybe you'll even crack the case I'm working on now!"

"Thank you," He replied, suddenly sounding very nervous.

"Look, I know people are going to judge you for who you are and what you do. I wish I could change that. But keep your chin up. One day you'll look back and be surprised where it got you. Be confident in yourself. That'll help a lot."

"Like this?" He asked, standing straighter and giving off a well practiced authoritative glare.

"Something like that," I replied. "Here. Try this." I reached for his coat collar and turned it up. "Perfect. Now you look like a real professional." He nodded sharply, keeping up his vaguely disinterested air.

"I've done this before," He admitted. I smiled and nodded.

"Me too. I think you'll be just fine." I smiled at him, happy I was able to save a life tonight instead of investigate a death. "Do you need a ride home?" I offered.

"That would be helpful," He admitted.

"Alright, then, Mr.," I paused, chuckling lightly. "You know, I never got your name."

"Sherlock Holmes," He replied. I smiled and shook his hand.

"Nice to meet you, Sherlock." I paused for a moment, thinking. "Sherlock Holmes, Consulting Detective. Has a nice ring to it, don't you think?"

I UNDERSTOOD THAT REFERENCE: A GUIDE

The key - Anderson is giving Sally a key to his apartment since they are having an affair. Not exactly a direct reference. Just a thought lol

Those things will kill you - I thought making that the first thing Sherlock said to Greg would have explained all the more so why Greg was so happy to see him again when he came back.

Sherlock's diagnosis - In one of the episodes (can't remember which, too lazy to look it up lol) John says Sherlock has Asperger's. One of my best friends has Asperger's and I've had other friends with ADHD. As a non-professional, I would say Sherlock definitely acts in harmony with those two disorders.

The patches - Greg was showing Sherlock his own patches in the first episode. Thought that was cute.

Graham - I personally think Sherlock has always known Greg's name and it's just an inside joke lol

So, if you noticed anything else, let me know! Please leave a comment (or two lol) if you liked it!!!!

Sherlock BBC Taglist

@lucywrites02

@delightfulheartdream

@bartv21

@another-crazy-fangirl

@ladylulu143

#sherlock #sherlock bbc #sherlock imagine #sherlock fanfic #sherlock & greg #greg lestrade #di lestrade #papa lestrade

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sushiburritonoms · 4 years ago

Note

DinLuke #38 if you're still doing these prompts! :D Been really enjoying reading these, haha

Look my darling @lulollymint, I tried so so so hard to write a normal cop story, but I kept getting stuck. So I hope you don't mind that this goes incredibly off prompt and probably isn't what you were expecting. I don't even know what genre or motif I was working with, its just mashing things together for the lols. I hope its ok!

Also warning, there was a lot of F-bombs in this one, to fit the AU Din I was going for. Sorry?

AU Fic List

38.cop/person getting a speeding ticket au

The moment Din saw the familiar white GT-86 fly by him, not even trying to slow down this time, he groaned and flipped on his lights with more force than necessary. “Damnit, not again.”

Was there even a point to this? Everytime he handed this driver a ticket, it mysteriously disappeared in the system, thanks to his all powerful Mother. Christ, Din hated this guy. He was tempted to just turn around and find another place to patrol. But no. One day the driver could kill someone at those speeds and anyways it was the principal of the thing, even if this rich asshole would never face consequences of his actions. It was an unjust world but Din was forced to live in it, for Grogu’s sake.

Usually when they did this song and dance, the GT obediently pulled over to the side of the road as soon as it caught sight of him. This time it took several minutes, until Din was close to calling for backup. At least they were on a rural road and there wasn’t any other traffic heading out of town at this time of day. After several tense minutes the GT finally swung to the side of the road in a sharp, sudden movement. It wasn’t the most graceful stop he’d seen from the man, but Din was too pissed to care.

“Fuck.” Din growled as he slammed his driver side door shut. Maybe he should drag him to jail this time, let him stew in a cell for a few hours before his mommy came and got him this time.

“Again, Skywalker?!”” he hissed as he made it to the GT’s front window. It was already rolled down and waiting for him. “Third time this...month…”

The words died in his mouth the moment he caught sight of the bane of his existence. Skywalker looked up at him, one eye almost completely black and swollen shut, his face covered in scratches that were still slowly oozing blood. He had his left hand on his wheel but his right hand was just gone--his arm ending at the wrist. How was he even changing gears in that car?!

“Hey Officer Djarin,” Skywalker rasped. “This really isn’t a good time, can we--” he gave a wet cough, “--do this, l-later?”

“Jesus Christ!” Din put his hand through the open window and popped the door. “What the hell happened to you!” He pulled it open and immediately reached over to shut the engine off. Skywalker tried to bat his hand away from the ignition but Din easily dodged him.

“‘No don’t,” Skywalker groaned. “Please don’t--I have--have to keep going--”

“The only place you’re going is a hospital,” Din said grimly as he caught sight of Skywalker’s bloody blue checkered shirt. Had the pretty boy been in a bar fight? At...2pm on a thursday? Din sighed as he reached for his radio. “Darjin. I have a 105, requesting a rig to South Socorro, next to Mumble’s Turnaround.”

“No hospital!” Skywalker gasped, shouting over dispatch’s reply. “No, please, you don’t understand, this is the only way. I have to leave town--”

Fuck. It had finally happened. The pretty boy must have done a hit and run. Din craned his neck to look at the front of the car. “Who did you hit, Luke?”

“Nobody,” Luke rasped. “Please, you have to let me go. You will let me go.” The young idiot tried to raise his only hand and wave it at Din’s face and the moron was lucky that Din wasn’t as trigger happy as the rest of his hillbilly squad. Din grabbed his hand and frowned.

“Christ you’re on some sort of drug aren’t you? What did you take? Spice?” Jesus, where was his ambulance? He used his free hand to hit his radio. “Dispatch, confirm?” He waited to hear from Omera, but instead of an answer his radio made a high pitched electronic wail that was piercing. “The hell?”

“No no no noooo,” Luke gasped. He was staring at Din’s radio with a sheet white face. “Please not now!” He tried to pull his hand away from Din’s grasp.

“Luke! Calm down before you hyperventilate.” That’s it, Din was putting him in his squad car, where he could lock him in if he started to violently hallucinate. He reached over to unbuckle Luke’s seatbelt only to realize the moron wasn’t wearing one. So instead he just raged silently as he dragged the other man out.

Luke’s legs buckled the moment he stepped out of the car. “You have to leave,” the boy mumbled. “Before...too late.”

“Whatever, your highness,” Din sighed, using Fett’s most innocent name for Skywalker. He started to drag the other man to his car, noticing at the same time that it was a lot darker outside than it had been two minutes ago. He looked up and saw clouds suddenly blocking the summer sun. That was odd. It had been a clear cloudless summer day earlier. “Fucking climate change.”

It was while he was trying to maneuver Skywalker into his back seat that he finally noticed the strange tattoos the man had on his left and right forearms. They were thick green lines that swirled in weird sharp geometric shapes and angles, almost looking like words in an alien language or something. The right arm tattoo ended with Luke’s wrist. The left spilled into his hands and even down his fingers. They looked expensive and very new, with ink that was so bright it almost looked like it was glowing. Din didn’t remember Skywalker having any tattoos the last time he’d pulled him over. But then again, he was also sure the last time they’d met Luke also had a real fucking hand.

“Nice ink,” he said finally, unable to bring himself to ask the other man if he’d always had a really amazing prosthetic hand and multiple massive tattoos. He was losing his touch--what was he thinking, letting Cara talk him into transferring into this hellhole state? As he chastised himself, his right thumb moved to caress the closest line on the other man’s arm without thinking. But the moment he touched it, a painful sensation almost like electricity shot through his hand and down his spine. “Fuck!” What the hell was that?!

Luke also jerked. “Don’t touch me!” His voice sounded low and full of pain. He looked down at his arms with his one good eye in horror. “Oh God! It’s too late.”

“What hell are you on?” Din said, just as he felt a sudden icy wind blast past them both. It was strong, dragging leaves and other debris over their car and pelting Din’s unprotected back with small pebbles. “Ow! Damn it!” The sun had disappeared, and the world around them had taken a sinister grey color. He instinctively pushed Luke back, into the protective shelter of his car.

Then he heard a terrible, low laugh, so close it felt like there was someone inches next to his near. He flinched and turned...and saw no one. The back hair on Din’s neck stood straight up and he found himself reaching for his gun. All his instincts were screaming and when he looked back at Skywalker he yelped because now Luke really was glowing bright green.

“Din.” The sudden use of his first name jerked his attention from the glowing green marks on Luke’s arms to his face. His unbruised blue eye was clear and full of determination. “Move.”

Din found himself scrambling to let Luke drag himself out of his car before he could even blink. It was like he was possessed. He watched as Luke took several unsteady steps until he was in front of Din and facing the empty road. He stood in a wide ready stance, with both glowing arms held out at his sides. His left hand was open, palm forward and his right stump was a bright ball of green fire.

The unnatural wind blew again, making Din flinch against dust kicked up in their faces.

“Drive away,” Luke commanded, as he continued to face the road. “Leave.”

Din’s body started to move towards his front seat, but he stopped it just as his hand touched the door. “No!” He rasped. Instead he made his hand pull his gun and he found himself pointing it at the empty road in front of them instead of at Skywalker like he should have done.

Luke sighed. “You’re too honorable for your own good.” Gone was the cheerful yet annoying voice Din had become used to hearing. Skywalker sounded like a stranger, an unnatural being. “Stay behind me and whatever you do, don’t turn your back to him.”

“What--”

Between one breath and the next, the devil himself arrived. Without a flash of light or possessed gale force winds, it suddenly just appeared. It had a red and black demonic face, a head covered in horns and had glowing yellow eyes. It was dressed in all black robes and had a glowing black sword in it’s right hand.

“Maul,” said Luke. His right stump twitched and suddenly his hand was back and it was holding a glowing green sword. Except it wasn’t his hand, not really. It looked like it was made of light instead of flesh.

“Chosen One,” said the devil.

“Oh fuck off,” said Din. Chosen one? This guy?!

Maul smiled, all sharp teeth. “I’ll kill the human and eat his soul.”

“As happy as that would make my mother, I can’t let you do that,” Luke replied.

“Then I’ll use his corpse to kill her too,” Maul hissed. “Then your sister and her unborn babe.”

“HEY!” Din shouted. “Nobody is using my corpse for anything.” Also he was pretty sure Governor Padme Naberrie would be fully capable of killing the devil herself.

The devil laughed and before Din could let loose one of his bullets into him, he disappeared. Then he reappeared inches from Luke’s face, his black sword swinging for his neck. Din shouted but Luke was already moving like he was a character from the Matrix. He brought his green hand and sword up and there was an explosion of energy.

Then the fight was on. Somehow tiny Luke pushed Maul away from him, but the devil stopped in mid air and swung towards him like he was launched from an unseen hand. Luke parried and ducked, more agile than his appearance would suggest. He slid underneath the demon and leapt to his feet. Maul landed on the ground and launched another attack, swinging the black sword up over his head. It hit Luke’s glowing hand sword with a crackle of energy. They swung, parried, swung and parried again, moving in a blur too fast to Din to see them clearly. He kept his gun out, pointed vaguely in Maul’s direction but he knew he was more than useless here.

Luke was beginning to tire. Din could see it in the way he was swinging his hand and the way his legs were shaking. When Luke had launched Maul several feet away from them, Din turned to see if he could reach his rifle in the back of his car without the two noticing. But as he did that he heard Maul hiss in triumph and suddenly he felt an intense burning in his back, like a hot poker being buried into the middle of his spine. He couldn’t even let out a cry as he dropped his gun.

“NO!” Luke screamed.

“Didn’t the boy tell you,” he heard Maul hiss in his ear. “Never turn your back on a Sith!” Din gasped, unable to form words as the world dimmed and he fell to his knees. He felt like he was being slowly dragged backwards, out of his own damn body.

Just as he started to see black spots in his vision, he heard an inhuman roar. The pulling sensation stopped and he felt himself slam face first into the ground. There was the sound of growling and he heard Maul shriek. Bright lights flashed over his head.

Then he felt himself being lifted up into someone’s arms. There was air rushing past his face. He struggled to open his eyes and the first thing he saw was his squad car rapidly disappearing as they left the ground in a rush. He also saw shimmery white scales, like the kind you would see on a snake, and impossibly, a white leathery wing flapped in and out of his vision. He heard the wings pushing through the air and another loud roar.

“The fuck!” He gasped. The arms around him tightened. Din’s head was pressed against Luke’s shoulder, his arms wrapped around him and holding him against the back of some sort of living, breathing FLYING thing.

“Hold on!” Luke said grimly and they flew through the air.

“ARE WE ON A FUCKING DRAGON?!” Din shouted.

“Technically it’s my GT!” Luke yelled back.

“WHY THE FUCK IS YOUR CAR A DRAGON?!”

“That’s what you’re gonna fixate on?” Luke said incredulously. “Fine, yes! It’s magic, now shut up and let me concentrate!!”

“Your arms are still glowing!” Din said, his brain completely broken. He could feel energy pulsing through Luke’s bare arms, their heat licking at his skin. It felt good, because he was freezing, so cold he felt like he could barely move. “What--what is that? What are you?!”

He felt Luke sigh and suddenly there were lips firmly pressed against his, swallowing the torrent of panicked words that were trying to spill out of him. He also felt the freezing cold that had its grip in him ease, replaced by warmth. It felt like Luke was pouring fire and light into him and when he pulled away a moment later, Din saw that Luke’s face was pale and full of worry.

“Better?” He asked, words barely audible over the flapping of dragon wings.

Din nodded wordlessly.

“Right, ok. Everything is under control,” Luke said, more to himself than Din. “We’re alive and you have most of your soul left, so everything is going to be fine, just fine. Ok? Right, calm down.”

“I am calm now,” Din said. Well mostly.

“I wasn’t talking to you,” Luke replied. He tightened his grip on Din and sighed. “Not gonna lie Officer Din Djarin, we’re pretty screwed right now. But I’m gonna get us somewhere safe, I promise.”

“How do you even know my first name,” Din exclaimed.

“My mom’s the Governor, you don’t think I wouldn’t have her lookup Navarro City’s best and brightest police officer?”

Din frowned. “You just did that to erase your speeding tickets.”

“Maybe,” Luke chuckled. “You gonna arrest me now?”

“Yes,” Din moaned. “So very yes.”

He heard Luke laugh and tug him closer to his GT/Dragon as they glided together through the bright summer sky.

---

Obviously the dragon was inspired by Lulolly's X-Wing dragons! I know nothing about cars, I just picked a GT-86 because I like the way they look and they're not that crazy expensive. I think Luke might drive one.

Previous Responses

30: tourist/knowledgeable local au (Din/Luke)

19. parents meeting when they take their kids to class au (Din/Luke)

15: meeting in the E.R/A&E au (Din/Luke/Boba)

40: Soul destroying exes meeting again after not speaking for years au (Din/Luke)

25: Library/Avid Reader AU Part I (Din/Luke, Obi-Wan/Qui-Gon)

Library AU part II (same)

#I don't know what's going on in this AU but I like it #I can't write normal things ok?#I don't watch cop shows so I don't know anything about them #I make it a policy to also avoid them in real life #there was a lot of googling that occurred about police culture before my brain gave up #I think the last police adjacent show I watched was Sherlock #I was also thinking of Stranger Things when I wrote this #sbficlets #din/Luke

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jadegrey711 · 4 years ago

Text

Moral of the Story

Eric Northman x Fem!Reader

A/N: Hello everyone! I’ve got a few more old requests to finish and two of them are Eric Northman prompts! I haven’t been feeling really well due to the fact that life has handed me some shit especially regarding school. So, I haven’t been feeling like writing anything, especially smut so i think when i open my requests again I’ll only be taking angsty or fluffy prompts. Also I know the prompt was supposed to be based off of “From the dining table” by Harry Styles. But i felt the song “Moral of the story” fit so much better. I did however put something based off the song at the end.

*NOT MY GIFS*

If you like my stories you can check out my sideblog @jadegreywriting to see all of them and my masterlist without filtering through my main blog.

Prompt: Hey I was listening to ‘from the dining table’ by Harry styles the other day and I was thinking could you maybe do eric Northman x reader where they’re going through a break up but they still love each other a lot ? So quite angsty but still romantic if that makes sense lol! It’s such a beautiful and melancholic song I’d really recommend it! If not dw, maybe just on the lyric ‘woke up the girl who looked just like you, I almost said your name’ or something like that?💜💜💜

Word Count: 1223

Inspiration Soundtrack:

Moral of the Story- Ashe

I own all rights to this story and do not give permission for my stories to be published, translated or reposted anywhere else. The only places I have published my stories is here on Tumblr and on my AO3 account (LadyAuthor711)

This story is for 18+ ONLY. It contains sexual themes that are not suited for younger audiences so if you’re under 18 my blog and this story is not for you. Please make sure to read at your own discretion and remember that you are solely responsible for your content intake.

It’s been four months since you walked out of Eric’s life for what he knew would be forever. He majorly fucked up this time, showed you the beast he truly was and this was the straw that broke the camel’s back. He could still hear you screaming in his head and he could still hear himself screaming back at you.

Eric cringed as he thought about what brought on this fight. You knew what he was; who he was. He was Eric fucking Northman, Viking vampire god. You knew he’d done terrible things, horrible atrocities he’d told you so himself but for some reason you still stayed with him; until now.

He’d been so gentle with you, even when he wasn’t. But there was still something inside of him that desperately wanted to unleash the beast within him. And he did, on a most willing Ivanka; a stripper who worked at Fangtasia. Ivanka was more than glad to take the brunt of his beastly desire. Little did Eric know that as he was pounding his frustrations into Ivanka, you had just come into the club and Pam had eagerly told you that he was “hashing things out” with an employee.

You had waited for Eric in his office for four hours before he had finally come out of the basement and Pam told him that you had been waiting for him. Before Eric could block your sight though, you saw a well fucked Ivanka covered in bite marks come out of the basement.

Eric would’ve drowned his eyes in bleach if it meant that he could get the image of your face falling at the moment you’d realized what he’d done. You pushed past Eric and he let you for the moment, you rushed through the crowd and Eric just watched you for the moment as you left through the front door before pursuing after you.

Before you even got in your car he was there, waiting for you a pleading look on his face.

“Y/N. Please let me explain.”

“What is there to explain Eric? I know exactly what I saw and despite what you think about us frail and stupid humans I know why you did it.” You spat at his stoic face. “You are a monster, and you’re incapable of letting yourself be happy so you let that beast inside you rule and tear everything happy in your life to shreds.”

Eric felt that same beast Y/N was talking about unfurl and hiss as she accused him. “You have no idea what’s in my nature. I’m a thousand years old, I’m not the type of person to play human boyfriend.”

“That’s the problem Eric!” You screamed at him and he watched and listened as your veins pulsed with anger and your cheeks reddened but not in the way he enjoyed so much. “You are a monster! And in those thousand years of life that’s all you’ll ever be! Us humans may be fragile things with the lifespan of a fruit fly compared to you, but we can grow and change. But you; you’ve been the same bloodthirsty brute for a thousand years! And you’ll never change.”

Eric felt himself internally flinch as he took in your blooming hatred for him, the curl of a snarl on your lip as you finished berating him. There was a part of him that wanted to grab you by the throat and push you against the car and force himself on you until you forgave him and another part of him had been cut at the knees by you and yearned to fall at your feet, begging for forgiveness.

“I’m almost glad that you did this sooner than later. I don’t want to waste what’s left of my insignificant life on a monster like you that’ll never grow despite having all that time to do so.”

Eric watched as you reached for the handle of your car door and before he could stop it, he felt his own hatred bubble out of his throat and past his lips. “You’re right. I am glad I did this, that you found me out. Because I don’t like I could spend another insufferable minute pretending to be something I’m not! I am a monster Y/N, I’m a bloody thirsty fucking beast you could tear your throat out if I so wished and I’m done trying to stop myself from doing exactly what I desire. And all I desire now is to be free from shackles from you and fight, fuck and kill my way through the rest of eternity.”

Your hatred was evident on your face, but Eric saw that trace of sadness, of betrayal as you climbed into the car. “Goodbye Eric.”

***********

Two months after that Eric still had that part of his humanity turned off and drowned whatever feelings he had for you in blood and sex. The most willing blonde twins that Eric couldn’t care enough about to know their names were eager enough to help him do just that. But the same thing happened with them as it had with every other woman, he tried fucking his feelings of anger and sadness into.

The women beneath him would fade away and your face would replace them. Your familiar and beautiful face contorted into pleasure as he made love to you, your fingers running through his blonde hair pulling at him and bringing him closer to you. The body of the strangers would fade away and be replaced with yours underneath him, your warm skin sliding against his cool skin; letting him believe that he was truly alive like you were.

“Eric.” He heard you breathe under him and he knew you were close. He had gotten so good at reading your body, knowing it wants and needs and you did the same for him. Your nails clawed his back as he brought you to the edge, only to fall over the edge himself. You kissed his chest and neck as you both came down from your highs.

“I love you.” You whispered into his ear.

“Eric.” The girl Eric was fucking tonight waved her hand in front of his face, breaking the daydream and snapping Eric back into his harsh and sad reality. “Eric are you alright?”

“Get out.” Eric said softly the first time but when she didn’t immediately leave his presence his voice held more of a threat as he told her to leave the second time; sending the girl scurrying for her clothes with haste before abruptly leaving.

Eric fell back onto his bed, closing his eyes as he picked up the daydream where he left off, letting his hands slide into his basketball shorts and feeling how hard he was for you.

“I love you.” You whispered to him again and again and again as Eric pumped himself faster until he brought himself to release and the daydream changed into a nightmare.

“Why did you hurt me, Eric? Is this what you wanted? Were those women what you truly desired?”

“No. No, none of them were you. I want you; I’ve only ever wanted you, Y/N.” Eric said into the void, trying to explain his feelings to the ghost of you, but when he opened his eyes you were gone and he knew that you’d never be back.

Taglist: @mysteryoflourve

#eric northman x reader #eric northman x you #eric northman #eric northman oneshot #eric northman imagines #true blood imagines #true blood oneshots #true blood #eric northman angst #angsty #break ups #jade tries writing #jadegrey writes #my writing

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redhawtriot · 5 years ago

Note

IM DYING for some domestic things, can I please have small request about it? What if Bakugo, Kirishima, Shigaraki and Dabi (seperated, obviously) coming home and bringing one cutie plusiu for their unborn child? Sorry for wxtra fluff I just need more cute things in our lifes 😭 YOU R AWESOME HAPPY ONE MONTH LUV YA

Tip Jar ☕- Not expected but always appreciated💞

I had to do this one right away! Sorry if some of these are very narrow-minded views on expecting children! I know surrogacy and adoption are also options! Let me know in the comments if those are things you guys would like to see as well!

But I got too excited when I saw this! lol The mucus filled disaster where my heart is supposed to be jumped for joy when I read this prompt!

HnM💕

💖Dabi:

When you first met Dabi, one of your very first presumptions about the man was that he should never have offspring.

That’s not to say that you were not immediately drawn to his physical looks and demeanor, rather you just couldn’t picture such a stoic man ever having the visceral capacity in his cold heart to care much about anyone besides himself.

It wouldn’t be until much later than your initial meeting where these feelings would be fully swayed– passed when you got to know him better and saw his standoffish mask fade away, revealing a loyal, surprisingly warm man– passed becoming romantically involved with him and finding him putting aside his own slight needs at times to fulfill yours– passed even your first pregnancy together.

It was the day of your child’s birth that you knew just how much of a kind-hearted creature your partner could be.

You already knew that he wouldn’t be able to attend the birth. He was a known “terrorist” after all. The sight of him in a hospital would only end in havoc.

Those people— always quick to label anyone who won’t conform under their oppression with such othering terms.

You gave a quick glance to your sleeping daughter, immediately feeling a heaviness in your heart. The picture just wasn’t complete without Dabi.

Yes, it hurt to be alone but you reminded yourself that you would soon return from the hospital to reunite your little untypical family.

But for the moment, you could only sleep and let your body heal from child birth.

A familiar sound suddenly chipped away at your peaceful unconscious, “You are so beautiful. Just like your mom, huh?”

Was that Dabi?

You tried to pry your heavy eye lids open and call out to him but only a slight tired groan came out.

“Go back to sleep, Y/N,” you felt a warm hand rub your cheek, “You did a good job. Rest up,” you tried to fight against your sleepiness but the soothing nature of his touch eventually dragged you back to sleep.

“You are perfect. I… I didn’t know I could feel so much for one person. God, I am going to spend every moment of my life protecting you until the day I die, baby girl.”

“Dabi!!” You gasped. You finally snapped your body up, and ignored the searing pain in your lower abdomen and you crazily searched the room for the father of your child.

Your heart sagged at his absence.

However on the visitors chair next to your daughters plastic crib was a large array of pink stuff animals and hearts.

You dragged yourself off of the bed and scuttled to the display of rosy penguins and pigs and bears and saw a card with a lone pink balloon on the front.

Curiously, you slowly opened the card,

I hope this doesn’t gross you out, me being all soft and everything, but as soon as I saw her I wanted to give her absolutely everything. My baby girl is the most precious thing I have ever seen.

I’m so proud of you. You did a good job, babe. Heal up and come home soon, kay?

I can’t wait to hold my girls again.

🐊Kirishima:

He was beyond happy to become the father to your children. Words wouldn’t even be able to begin to describe the pure and overwhelming feelings of joy that he felt as he bounced out of the doors of the drug store near your house.

He glanced down to a torn piece of a magazine the two of you had lying around the house, checking the small list he made one more time before he left the stores premises:

Vitamin B6

A plush crocodile

flowers

Left Twix

pregnancy test

Yep! All accounted for! He had practically no trouble at all finding most things on the list, but the plush crocodile was a bit harder than he expected.

He had asked an associate about the plush toy in hopes of finding it, but they only had alligators.

“But this is a stuffed alligator. See?” As Kirishima pointed to the stuffed animals face, the associate only became confused, so Kiri explained further, “The nose shape is all wrong. It has to be a crocodile? Are you sure this all you have?”

It was indeed all they had. Kirishima let out a small sigh, but honestly not even the drug store’s reptile discrimination could bring his day down!

“My wife is pregnant!” He exclaimed with an extremely proud smile to a couple he passsed as he made his way into his car. One of the strangers immediately cheered him on with a loud “whoop whoop!” before his boyfriend smacked him on the shoulder for the wild display.

Meanwhile, you couldn’t believe how long it was taking your husband to return home from the store. You bounced your leg uncomfortably as you waited on your living room couch.

He was only supposed to be picking up one thing! The longer you sat and waited for him to return, the more your nerves stacked upon each other.

You’re heart flipped in your chest as your front door suddenly opened. You quickly stood from the couch, “You got it?”

He hurried up to you, “Yep! Here, go take the test!” He pressed a kiss on your cheek and frantically handed you an already opened pregnancy test like a baton in a race.

You raised an eyebrow to him, before pausing as you caught a glance at the flowers in his other hand. You shook your head in disbelief, “Eiji look, I told you not to get too excited,” you pointed an accusing finger as you walked away toward to bathroom, “The test we took was old. It might have been a fake positive,” you hollered from the bathroom after shutting the door.

He followed you to the bathroom, but remained fidgety on the other side, “Well I know for a fact that it wasn’t a fake positive,” he replied with a slightly smug tone as he tried to mask his own nervousness.

“Oh yeah?” You laughed at his smugness, “Well… would that be such a bad thing?” You tried to sound lighthearted as you stared at the stick in front of you and waited for the second line to appear.

The two of you hadn’t really been planning for a child. You hadn’t ever really even talked about having children much, so when you missed your period last week and became sick this morning, this response from Kirishima was very unexpected.

He was way happier than you would have thought he would be. Just when you thought your beam of light couldn’t get any happier….

God, you didn’t want to let him down.

Suddenly Kirishima heard you scream on the other side of the door.

The man immediately burst through the door accidentally busting a portion of the frame, “Oh man, S-sorry. But WHAT IS IT!?”

“Happy face!” A smile split your face as you threw yourself at him for a hug.

“T-that means pregnant!?” He frantically stuttered, frozen in place.

“That means pregnant!” You hopped up and down.

He wasted no time at all as you scooped you up into his arms. The both of you laughed in unbelievable glee as he carried you to the living room and sat you down on the couch. He swiftly handed you the flowers, “Here you go, baby mama.” You laughed at his phrasing as he reach somewhere behind him to grab his drug store plastic bag.

“And these,” he smiled up at you, “for your stomach.”

Chocolate and…. B6?? What even is that? You threw him a confused glance, so he immediately explained.

“I was talking to a lady by the pharmacy about your morning sickness,” no wonder he took so long, you laughed at his diligence as he continued, “She said B6 can help. So the vitamins will do good for your stomach, and the chocolate will taste good for your stomach.”

Your face almost hurt from how hard your were smiling, “God, you really went all out! You really are hard headed you know that?”

“Only the best for my girls,” he argued as he pulled the stuffed alligator from behind his back.

“Oh my goodness!!” You explained with a laugh, the two of you always got each other crocodile things. The first thing you ever said to him in high school was a mocking joke about his choice in footwear—crocs. You laughed, “You think its a little girl, huh? Well, I think it’s a hard headed little boy just like his dad.”

“I guess we’ll see,” he said as he pecked you on the lips.

“I guess we will.” You smiled back at him.

🐻Shigaraki:

The two of you weren’t exactly on the greatest of terms. What was meant to be a drunken fling ended up turning into, in your opinion, a long, drawn out train-wreck of a relationship– if you could even call it that.

You swear that that man has the mentality of a child, and it seemed like every time he would take a step toward the grand goal of maturity, something would come by and knock him two steps back again.

So it was obviously not a shock to you that the overgrown baby was no where near prepared to raise a baby of his own. You almost expected him to storm off sooner than he did when you told him you were pregnant.

But he just stared at you.

“What? Would you stop staring at me like I’m some alien now?” you had thrown your hands on your hips as if to undermine any overwhelming feelings he had, “You did this to me!!” you had foolishly screamed at him, causing him paused in shock before storming away as you feared he would.

How could you say that to him? Then again, you knew you had your faults as well. After all you were the one who hid the pregnancy until you had begun to show.

It was just too much for you to bare– the thought of being left alone to raise a snotty little thing, the thought of him staying and you being forced into a failing relationship, the thought of what kind of fucked up hero society you would raise the thing in. All of these thoughts festering in your mind over the past few months boiled into a harden crust and weighed down upon your mind.

“Shit…” you sighed under your breath, finally releasing the flood of emotions that you had been holding back for all of these months in a wave of tears.

“Y/N,” Shigaraki’s voice suddenly snapped you out of your despairing trance, “Here,” he harshly shoved a soft object into your face much like a student would an unseemly note to his classmate.

You looked down at the object and was completely surprised by what you saw, “A bear…?” you gawked at the plush object. He hadn’t ever bought you any gifts before.

“I wasn’t planning on staying with you,” he said very simply, his words sending a sharp pain through your heart.

Your still teary eyes blinked a few times as you tried to hold back your inevitable crying, “O-okay? I-“ he suddenly cut you off,

“I’m not as stupid as you might think. I can see that you are unhappy with me, so I was gonna just drop this… us,” he trailed off as if he were carefully preparing his next set of words, so you sat in silence and waited for them,

He finally spoke, “but knowing that we are expecting a child makes me really happy. Because it’s with you. I will… try to make you happier.”

You immediately wrapped your arms around him and held him closer to you than you ever had before, as if you were finally becoming one with him. You honestly didn’t know if the two of you would work out, but hearing those words come from him would make all of the difference in the possibility.

💥Bakugou:

“GOD DAMMIT! THE BRAT’S ON FIRE AGAIN, Y/N!!” You heard your husband screech from the other side of the house.

“WHAT?! ALREADY!?” You gave a groan in annoyance as you walked down the hall. You could already see light from the flames your son was probably swallowed up in in your living room. You shook your head in exasperation.

As soon as Bakugou spotted you coming, he threw you and expectant look, causing you to throw you hands on your hips as you chastised him, “Well, don’t just stand there looking at me! Grab the extinguisher!”

He immediately became defensive, “What do you think I am trying to do, you idiot! I can’t find it!” He roared back over your sons terrified screams.

“What do you mean you can’t find it?! We have one in every room now!” You screamed back as you picked up your son and hugged him close. The boy dropped something from his hand as you did so.

It was a blessing that you had just come back from work and had your fireproof hero costume on. You already had a full store of clothes that your young toddler had burned through. You patted him on his flaming back in a feeble attempt to soothe him. He continued wailing still.

Your poor baby! You knew he had your fire proof cells, but he was still terrified.

��Babe! Where’s that damn extinguisher!?” You called out.

“You must have moved it earlier this morning when he scorched your shirt!” He accused angrily.

“Oh crap. Well, grab the one from the kitchen, or playroom! And that was more than a scorch and you know it! My favorite blouse looked like a teenage bonfire,” You tried to defend yourself.

“Put me out mommy! Put me out!” Your son sobbed, clinging tightly to your chest as the flames raged around him, “we need ‘wata’!” Your heart broke a little at his hiccups and gasps,

“We can’t use water, baby,” your fire breathing quirk along side Bakugou’s oily nitroglycerin sweat resulted in a pretty terrifying combination for a small child who had a habit of setting himself on fire. The oily fire would only surge if you used water to extinguish it. That’s why you had special extinguishers made just for these occasions, “if DADDY FINDS AN EXTINGUISHER you’ll be okay! Remember? It doesn’t hurt.”

Bakugou suddenly burst back into the room, “I FOUND IT!” He screeched like a battle cry as you held your son an arms length away. Much like you often practiced, Bakugou flipped the nozzle of the red container and released the foamy continents as they sprayed all over your son.

You quickly calmed him down and cleaned him off as Bakugou ran to grab him some more clothes. The two of you worked like a well oiled machine as you swiftly dressed him and consoled him out of his sobs.

Your son eventually cried himself into a nap, meaning you’d have at least 2 hours to prepare for the next inevitable incident. You sighed as you slumped down onto the couch next to an already sprawled Bakugou, “What are we gonna do with this boy,” you shook your head.

“Train him how to use his damn quirk,” he huffed.

You sat up defensively, “We do!”

“Yeah, a few minutes a day,” he spat back.

“He’s a toddler, Katsuki, Jesus!” your face upturned.

“Tell him that! He’s the one spontaneously combusting!” he loudly argued, “Besides, he’ll be four in like a month.”

It was a rare occurrence that he obtained his quirk so early. The two of you hadn’t expected it for years.

But doctors theorized that quirks would soon come earlier in age as their power grew— your son might just be among the first of a new era. Different things like diet, stress, activity could all also trigger the quirks to come sooner.

“Well the doctors said his outbursts could be stress related!” Your face shriveled. You weren’t so ignorant to think that yours and Katsuki’s interactions weren’t stressful for a small child. It’s not that you guys weren’t happy together. That couldn’t be further from the truth. Loud and passionate was just the dynamic that the two of you shared, but your son was gentle and nervous somehow. Much like your brother. You shook your head as guilt ate away at your heart, “God, only three years in and we are messing him up already.”

“He’s not fucking messed up!” Your husband argued “He’s perfect!” He announced proudly. This sent a wave of happiness into your heart.

You never really expected Bakugou to be the doting father type, but he had pleasantly surprised you the past few years at how passionate he was about raising your son. Of course there were times where you would question his harsher parenting methods, but all in all, he was a very good, supportive, present father.

You looked up at him proudly, “Yeah,” you agreed with a soft smile.

“Plus, I fixed our plush toy issue,” your husband huffed, “that probably why he was easier to calm the hell down than usual.”

“Our… what?” You raised an eyebrow.

“You really didn’t notice? Are you fucking serious?” He sounded almost hurt, “You said he get’s even more worked up when he’s upset about melting or destroying his toys during his tantrums. So I fixed that problem,” he pointed to the scorched carpet in front of you and that’s when you noticed a small, unscathed plush doll.

Your heart melted. It was a little cute Ground Zero doll! “Oh! Wow! How long has he had that?!” You excitedly exclaimed as you bent down to pick up the fluffy Bakugou.

“I just had the agency brand them yesterday. It’s a fireproof prototype,” he gruffly explained nonchalantly. You immediately leaned over to him to give your thoughtfulness sweetheart of a man a kiss but he harshly threw his face away from you so you only caught his cheek.

All these years, and he still hated affection, “Whatever,” you huffed, “I have a new man anyway,” you teased, causing him to angrily whip his head back towards you, only to see you placing a kiss on the small plushie.

“YOU ARE SO FUCKING WEIRD, YOU KNOW THAT!?!”

Suddenly you heard an explosion coming from your sons room, followed by familiar terrified wails, “MOMMYYY! PUT. ME. OUUUUUUT!”

Both you and Bakugou sighed before you angrily punched him on the arm for his loud mouth.

#bnha imagines #bakugou imagine #bnha imagine #kirishima x reader #mha imagines #mha imagine #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #kirishima imagine #bakugou x reader #shigaraki imagine #dabi imagine #dabi x reader #pregancy #plush doll

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wlw-in-space · 5 years ago

Text

Rosa Diaz x R ✧·ﾟ: *✧·ﾟ:*

prompt:

Hi! I wanted to request a rosa × reader fic where R got invited to her high school reunion & doesnt want to go alone, so Rosa ends up going as her fake girlfriend, but of course they both have feelings for each other

i’ve really been enjoying doing rosa stuff so thank you guys for the requests! i have some more and i’ll be doing a part two for the last one i did :)) thank you for reading <3

(also, julia, if you’re reading this, which i hope you aren't >:(, i totally did nOt base this off our friend group and change our friend’s names so dONT text the group chat about this!! mkay i love you)

warnings: a few bad words sprinkled inside (as per usual lol)

word count: 1,864

“What were you whining about this morning?” Rosa asked as she drove the two of you back to the precinct after you guys had gone out to follow a lead.

“Oh,” You chuckled. “I got an email about my high school reunion this weekend and I wanted to go but I’m not going to.”

“Uh, why not? If you wanna go just go,” Rosa said bluntly.

You sighed, “Well yeah but I don’t really want to go if I’m gonna have to go alone, that’s stupid.”

“Don’t you miss your friends or whatever? You can just hang out with them.”

“Well yeah, but they all have dates or at least someone to go with, it’ll just be weird, and I don’t wanna hear all the pity comments about me coming alone,” You shrugged and texted Jake your location when your phone wouldn’t stop buzzing from him spamming you.

“I’ll go with you,” Rosa offered. You chuckled and your cheeks flushed, “What?”

“If you’re not going to go just because you don't have a date, I’ll be your date,” She replied nonchalantly.

“What do you mean, like -”

“I’ll pretend to be your girlfriend for the night,” Rosa interrupted you, already knowing what you were going to ask.

“Well, I don't want to make anything weird you know? Cuz of work and stuff... are you sure?” Of all the people who could've offered to go with you, it just had to be Rosa, the one person who you wanted to be your real date.

“Yes I’m sure, it’ll only be weird if you make it weird, besides, I wouldn’t mind having people think I’m dating someone as beautiful as you for a night,” Rosa said as she pulled into the precinct. “Text me the details.”

✧·ﾟ: *✧·ﾟ:* fun transition ✧·ﾟ: *✧·ﾟ:*

A knock on your apartment door told you that Rosa was outside to pick you up, which was obviously no big deal, you shouldn't have even been nervous, you guys planned this. You quickly grabbed your purse and your keys and unlocked the door, smiling at Rosa, who looked really really good.

“Hi,” You smiled and waved awkwardly.

Rosa chuckled a little, “You look great, Y/N.”

“So do you. That dress was like, made for you or something,” You said, and chewed the inside of your bottom lip nervously.

“Thank you, ready to go?” Rosa asked, fiddling with her car keys in her hand.

“Yep,” You smiled and closed the door behind you, locking it. “Let’s go.”

✧·ﾟ: *✧·ﾟ:*

“Okay, just turn in here,” You said, pointing to the entrance of your high school, your heart starting to race.

“Alright, and I can just park wherever?” She asked, looking for a space.

“Yeah yeah,” You nodded and looked out the window, already seeing some familiar people.

Rosa parked and glanced over to you, “You seem nervous.” “A little.”

Rosa chuckled, “You look more overwhelmed than when you were testifying a few weeks ago -” “Oh no, we can’t- let’s just go,” You shook your head frantically and Rosa followed your gaze, seeing a couple sitting outside at one of the picnic tables.

“Who’re they?”

“No one, just, well, I dated both of them uhm, I didn't know she was bi actually... this is very unsettling, we should just go,” You laughed nervously and put your seatbelt back on.

Rosa rolled her eyes and clicked the red button which released your seat belt, “Not happening, we’re already here, it’ll be totally fine, I promise.” Rosa said reassuringly, opening her car door and walking around to your side, waiting for you to get out.

“Is there anything I should know about your friends before we go in?” Rosa asked as she locked the car.

“Oh, we’re like, all gay, well, most of us are in that friend group, besides a few. The rest of my other friends are straight,” You nodded, as if that would obviously tell Rosa everything she needed to know.

“Okay,” She chuckled, taking your hand and intertwining your fingers before leading you out of the parking lot before she let you show her to the gym.

“Do you see them anywhere?”

“Y/N!” Someone screamed over the music, catching both your and Rosa’s attention.

Your face lit up instantly once you saw your best friend, she ran over to you and practically tackled you in a hug that just consisted of the two of you jumping up and down and squealing, “Jackie you look fantastic!” You grinned. “I missed you so much.”

“Dude you keep getting hotter, that’s just not fair. And who’s this?” She smiled with her eyebrows raised, looking at Rosa.

“Rosa Diaz,” Rosa spoke up and gave a charming smile. “Y/N’s girlfriend.”

You blushed hearing her say it out loud for the first time and looked over to Rosa with a smile, “Yep!”

“Damn, you’ve got game Y/N!” Jackie nudged you, ‘she's so hot’ she mouthed with a grin, making you and Rosa laugh.

“Is anyone else here?” You asked, feeling more relaxed than you did when you'd first arrived.

“Yeah, we were basically waiting on you, oh- and Andrea is here, we saw her earlier, she’s already asked for you like three times,” Jackie winced, giving you a pitiful look.

“Nooooo,” You groaned.

“Who’s Andrea?” Rosa asked curiously.

“One of Y/N/N’s ex’s,” Jackie explained. “Andrea is a lot to handle.”

Jackie started to walk towards your group of friends and you and Rosa followed in suit.

“How many ex’s of yours are here?” Rosa snickered, figuring the teasing might help you relax.

“Hopefully not anyone else,” You huffed in response.

“Just have fun, Y/N, that’s why you’re here. Forget about your exes, okay? You’re here with me,” She said in a way that made your cheeks flush before giving you reassuring smile and kissing your cheek, which made your heart flutter so hard you thought it might explode.

You nod in response and smile before going over to greet all of your friends and introduce them to Rosa.

An hour or two into the reunion everything was still going smoothly. Your friends were currently trying to embarrass you, telling Rosa about the awful dating decisions you made in high school.

“No, she was the one who stole $200 dollars from Señora Paiz’s purse during class while she was in the bathroom,” Your friend Nicole said, her face scrunched.

“Oh! and remember Kelly?” Dean said, laughing loudly. “That was a disaster.”

“Okay, nope!” You laughed, trying to stop him from saying anything else.

“How did you and Rosa start dating anyway?” Melanie asked.

“Oh um-”

“We were working on a case together that went sideways and I realized that if something would’ve happened to Y/N I wouldn’t have forgiven myself, so I asked her out,” Rosa stepped in, before you could try stumbling through a story.

You kinda tuned everyone out after that for a minute or two. As the night continued you’d been noticing Rosa’s lingering touches here and there, and how the way she looked at you fondly wasn’t something you’d ever seen from her before. You couldn’t help but wish it was real.

You were taken back to reality when Rosa placed a gentle hand on your leg, “You zoned out for a bit.” She chuckled. “Your friends are going to go dance, do you want to go?”

“Oh,” You smiled sheepishly and nodded before taking Rosa’s hand and pulling her towards the dance floor, which made her smile.

Your happiness bubble was quickly bursted when you turned around though, seeing your ex Andrea standing a few feet away from you, smiling at you, “Christ! You scared me.”

“Y/N, so good to see you here!” She grinned at you, making you nod.

“Yep, I’m glad I’m here, Andrea.”

Hearing the name, Rosa instinctively put an arm around your waist, which took you by surprise, but you quickly relaxed feeling her protective arm around you.

“Who are you?” She asked dryly, looking Rosa up and down which was infuriating to watch.

“Detective Rosa Diaz,” She said, not liking how Andrea was talking to her.

“Oh fun! Did you end up doing the cop thing too like you said you wanted or are you just boning one?” Andrea asked you, with the fakest fucking smile on her face.

“I’m Y/N’s wife,” Rosa said sternly, which almost made you choke on air. You did not expect that, but Rosa was smart, it got Andrea off her dick, and the woman’s smile fell almost immediately after the word ‘wife’ left her lips. “We were actually just about to go dance, so if you’d excuse us,” She said with an intimidating glare and a hand on your back, leading you away and towards the direction of your friends.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N, she was getting on my nerves,” Rosa apologized once the two of you were out of earshot, hoping she didn’t make you uncomfortable or overstep.

“Rosa that was genius!” You smiled gratefully. “Thank you, and don’t be sorry. You’re a lifesaver, plus, she was being really rude to you.”

Rosa sighed in relief that you weren’t upset and nodded, looking over at the dj when the music slowed down to a slower song, “You up for a dance?”

You smiled at her and took her hand in yours, leading her onto the dance floor and putting your arms around her neck as her hands settled at your waist.

The two of you fell into a comfortable silence as you danced close together before you spoke up quietly, “Thank you for coming with me. I’m having a lot of fun.”

“I’m really happy I’m here,” Rosa said in response, sighing contently.

You absentmindedly played with her soft curls and looked up into her gorgeous eyes, seeing that she was already gazing down at you with a soft expression gracing her features, causing your cheeks to heat up.

You’d never been this close to her before. It would be so easy to just kiss her. She was right there, her face inches from yours.

The silence between the two of you was almost deafening. You thought your heart was stopping as she slowly leaned closer and captured your lips in hers.

Your fingers tangled in her hair as your mouths moved in tandem for the first time. It felt like a lifetime had passed before you got to breathe, realizing how lightheaded you were.

“Y/N I really really like you,” Rosa admitted, one of her thumbs comfortably rubbing circles on your waist.

“I really really like you too,” You said biting your lip and trying to contain how happy you felt.

“I have a no dating co-workers policy, but I would more than gladly break that for you, if you’re okay with being my girlfriend,” She said with a hopeful smile.

“I’d love to be your girlfriend,” You smiled and kissed her once more, although this one was much shorter, the two of you would have plenty of time for that later.

“You taste like the bubblegum you were chewing in the car,” Rosa said in your ear with a chuckle.

So yeah, you were pretty glad you went to your high school reunion.

#rosa diaz #Rosa Diaz x reader #Brooklyn nine nine #b99 #Brooklyn nine nine fic #Brooklyn nine nine imagines #Rosa Diaz imagine #wlw #wlw imagine #Stephanie beatriz #Jake peralta #gina linetti

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iwach4n · 5 years ago

Note

you deserve every follower!! congrats on getting 500!!!! can i get stargazing (i forgot what number lol) with bokuto or kuroo pls! than u in advance

I made this as fluffy as i humanly could and i do not regret a word of it.

・・・・☆・・・・☆ ・・・・

prompt: stargazing

pairing: kuroo x reader

word count: 1442

read time: 5 minutes

synopsis: maybe getting dragged out of bed by your boyfriend at 1am isn't always quite so bad

warnings: none. pure unadulterated fluff.

・・・・☆・・・・☆ ・・・・

500 Follower Event Details // Masterlist

"Babe... baby... come on, wake up!"

You blearily opened your eyes, and were immediately met with the face of your boyfriend, who was standing over you and shaking your shoulders lightly. Subconsciously, your expression morphed into one of disgusted disdain as he dared wake you from your slumber.

"What do you want?" you groaned, rubbing your eyes and sitting up a little, "why are you dressed?"

Your shared room was still dark, with no natural light coming through the gap in the curtains. In fact, the only reason you could see him was because the light in the corridor was on.

"I've got a surprise for you!" Kuroo responded, sounding much too cheery for... actually, what time even was it? You reached for your phone from the bedside table, wincing as you found the answer.

"Tetsu, it's almost one in the morning. Can it not wait until it is a normal time to be awake?"

"Nope, that literally defeats the entire purpose," was his explanation, beginning to rummage in the cupboard for god knows what. A long sigh left your mouth as you lay back down.

"Come back to bed," you whined, reaching out an arm to him half-heartedly. Kuroo, however, was having none of it.

In one swift motion, he picked you up and slung you over his shoulder. Then, he started bouncing and moving about, effectively shaking you awake as you squealed and yelled at him to put you down. He only laughed manically as he continued, starting to spin around which made you grab onto his arm for dear life.

"Oh my god, okay! I'll come! Just put me down!" you screamed, a laugh escaping you as he slowed down. Deciding you were sufficiently awake, Kuroo gave you a quick kiss on the cheek before setting you back on the floor.

"Put on something comfortable and warm. I'll meet you in the car when you're ready."

Before you could ask him where the hell you'd be driving to in the middle of the night, he ducked out the room, leaving you disoriented yet still grinning like an idiot. You'd been with Tetsurou for two years, and you had to admit that life was never boring with him. And something about the ease with which he picked you up and carried you around made you feel like a giggling high schooler all over again. Besides, his surprises had yet to disappoint you - so why the hell not go along with this?

You threw on one of his old t shirts, a hoodie, and a pair of joggers, before making your way downstairs. After a quick brush through your hair so it didn't look like a birds nest - not everyone could pull off the bedhead look as well as your boyfriend - you put on a coat and shoes, then stepped outside.

True to his word, Kuroo was waiting for you in the car - his dad's old pickup truck that he'd inherited when he got his license. Sleep was beginning to set in again as you settled down into your seat, and the vibrations you felt as the engine ignited certainly weren't helping.

"You can sleep on the way if you want, but it'll only take about half an hour," Kuroo told you, an absolutely smitten look on his face as you mumbled something about taking what you could get and snuggled your face into your coat, eyes fluttering shut.

He had always thought you looked adorable when you slept. Back in high school, while the two of you were still hopelessly crushing on each other, he had once found you dozed off by a tree, completely unaware that lunch was over. Kuroo had snapped a picture before waking you up - not his proudest moment, but he didn't doubt he'd do it again if he didn't wake up to a similar sight every day. He always hated pulling you from sleep, but today (or, more accurately, tonight) it would be worth it.

A soft kiss was placed on your forehead before your boyfriend started driving, and after approximately thirty minutes of making his way through mostly deserted streets and sneaking lovestruck glances at you at red lights, he brought the car to a stop.

"Come on, babe, we're here."

His hushed words roused you from your sleep yet again, and you tried to get a grip of your surroundings. It seemed you had left Tokyo and were on the top of some hill - skyscrapers glittered in the distance, and the suburbs were visibly closer, yet still out of reach. But Kuroo hadn't brought you here to look at the city from a distance.

"Get out here, it's so worth it," he called from the back of the truck, which he had climbed into once he saw you were awake. Following his lead, you stepped outside, and promptly stopped the moment you turned your back on Tokyo.

The night sky, which normally hosted maybe twenty visible stars at once, was absolutely filled with the sparkling dots, forming countless patterns and shapes. No clouds were anywhere in sight, and the mostly empty hills and fields provided no light pollution whatsoever, meaning you could clearly see every shining speck. The sight took your breath away.

"Well don't just stand there," Tetsurou said from the cargo bed, a proud grin visible on his face despite the dark, "I've got blankets and hot chocolate over here and I'm not letting them go to waste."

He didn't need to tell you twice, you scrambled to his side in an instant. The rest of the blanket that was draped over his shoulders found its way over yours too, encouraging you further to snuggle up against his side. Your hand found its way to his, the giddy smile on your face widening with every second you spent looking at the sky.

"You're so cute."

Kuroo's words broke you out of your trance. You turned to look at him with the expression of a toddler in a sweet shop.

"This is so perfect, Tetsu," you laughed, and he felt his heart swelling more with each new reaction.

"So are you," his voice was barely a whisper, but in the silence of the night and the empty road behind you, you heard him loud and clear.

"You're such a sap," you chuckled, leaning up to give him a quick kiss, "I love you."

"I mean it. You're probably the most perfect thing I've ever seen."

This was the most serious you'd seen Kuroo in a long time, and it stunned you into simply looking into his eyes with a love filled expression mirroring his own. Your noses were barely touching, and with the close proximity and blankets and the pure love coursing through your veins, you couldn't even tell there was a chill breeze blowing around you.

Then, deciding he couldn't just sit there and stare into your eyes for the rest of time, Kuroo leaned down to kiss you again. This one was much longer and more passionate than the previous kisses that night. Both of you poured all the words you weren't saying into it, hoping the other would decode the message.

You didn't even notice you'd been leaning backwards, pulling your boyfriend down with you, until your back hit one of the cushions laid out on the car, startling you. The small yelp you let out caused him to pull away, and the image you had as you looked up was perfect. Kuroo Tetsurou gazing down at you, and behind him a sky filled with stars.

"I'm going to marry you one day," he said, collapsing down beside you. The statement made you blush, but you still shifted closer and rested your head on his chest.

"Maybe we can come here on our wedding night," you mused, gaze returning to the stars yet again.

"We'll run away from the ball at midnight like Cinderella," Kuroo added, making you snort.

"I would love to see you dressed up like a Disney princess."

"Hey, maybe I'll wear a dress to our wedding," he joked, making you laugh harder, "I could make it work."

Both of your laughter faded back into a comfortable silence, and you pressed yourself closer to him. Subconsciously, his fingers went straight to your hair, fiddling with it and making tiny braids.

"I actually started reading up on some constellations for this, actually. I'm trying to find some," Kuroo blurted out, breaking the silence.

"Oh my god, you are such a nerd."

"You love me."

Shifting so that you were leaning on your elbow, looking down at him, you returned his content smile.

"More than you could ever imagine."

#haikyuu #haikyuu!!#haikyū!!#haikyuuwritersnet #500 follower event #kuroo tetsurō #kuroo tetsurou #hq kuroo #haikyuu kuroo #kuroo x reader #hq #hq x reader #hq kuroo x reader #fluff #kuroo fluff #stargazing

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hopeswriting · 4 years ago

Text

FANDOM: Katekyo Hitman Reborn!

EVENT: Flufftober 2020

PROMPT: Soulmates

AUTHOR: @hopeswriting

RATING: G

PAIRING: Chrome/Tsuna

SUMMARY:

Soulmates AU where when you touch your soulmate, sparkles the color of your soul appear. [Modern!AU]

TAG WARNING: Self-Worth Issues, Implied/Referenced Bullying, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse

WORDS: 1229

The car’s tires screech on the concrete, the continuous honk sounding like a death sentence to Nagi’s ears. She curls over the cat, and presses him against her.

“Watch out!”

A body slams against hers, holds on to her tightly as they roll on the pavement.

Nagi’s heart beats in her ears, the loudest sound she ever heard in her life. She comes back to her senses to the cat’s soft fur curled in her fingers, his struggling body.

He squeezes between their two bodies to escape once she loosens her arms, and she cranes her neck to try to determine his state before he runs too far.

The boy who saved her moves and whimpers, and she immediately feels ashamed of her misplaced priorities.

Nagi pulls away of his loose embrace, sits on her knees.

“Are you okay? Do I need to call an ambulance?”

His arms are badly grazed, blood here and there, but hopefully it looks worse than it is.

He sits up, and she recognizes him as a Namimori Middle student going by his uniform.

Big brown eyes like doe look at her worryingly. “Are you? That was really close.” He blinks, glances around them. “What about the cat? Did he…”

“He left already. I think he was fine.”

The boy smiles. “Thanks to you.”

He wipes his bleeding cheek on his shoulder, staining his white shirt. Nagi reaches for her handkerchief, hoping it didn’t get dirty.

A honk startles her.

“You lovebirds, get out of the way if you’re fine already. Some people have to go to work.”

The crowd boos the driver—and oh no, they attracted a crowd—, and she gets back to her feet.

The boy does the same before she can offer him her help, his eyes ducked and his cheeks red, much like herself.

They get back to the sidewalk, Nagi picking up her school bag.

She fidgets with its strap. “You don’t… have your bag with you?”

“Oh, um, well, no?” He scratches the back of his head, looking everywhere but at her. “It kind of got taken away from me on my way to school, and then I kind of…” he shrugs, his voice getting quieter the more he talks “decided… to ditch school today altogether.”

“Oh.”

“Are you kids okay?” a man asks, stepping up from the crowd. “I can go with you to the hospital until your parents gets here if you want.”

Nagi tenses, and doesn’t find her voice to tell him it won’t be necessary.

The boy does, flailing his hands and stumbling on his words to assure him they’re fine and can take care of themselves.

He manages to disperse the crowd too, to her relief.

Her relief doesn’t last long though, upon the awkward atmosphere that embraces them once they’re alone.

“Here.” She hands him her handkerchief, his right shoulder and collar already bloodied beyond repair. “Also…” Nagi bows, formal and genuine. “Thank you for saving my life and protecting me from the impact.”

“Oh no, please, you don’t have to! I mean, I’m glad you’re okay of course, but, um—actually, I should be the one thanking you, you know? For saving the cat. Knowing me, I would have miscalculated and just try to scoop up air.” He laughs derisively. “Anyway.”

Nagi straightens at the same time he bows. They bump their heads, and sparkles fly.

Literal sparkles fly from his forehead, amber colored like the sunsets she likes to watch from her window.

Nagi crouches, hides her face in her lap, her eyes squeezed shut. She tries to ignore the indigo undertones of the darkness.

She’s about to feel the greatest heartbreak of her life, before even knowing love, but it’s okay. It will be easier to deal with it that way.

It feels like forever passed when the boy—her soulmate—speaks up.

“Right. I guess you already heard of me, uh?” He laughs, something bitter and brief. He sounds sad too, but more than that, resigned. “It’s okay, I get it. And I’m sorry it’s me, and you won’t—well, you know.”

Nagi frowns. What is he talking about? It’s the first time she meets him, and if she ever heard of him before she can’t recall him.

He clears his throat. “Right, um… I’ll just go now. Don’t forget to treat your wounds, alright?”

Nagi abruptly stands, urgency in her heart she doesn’t understand, but she guesses was to be expected.

What is he talking about? This isn’t about him at all.

Didn’t he heard about her? And even if he didn’t, can’t he see how… how Nagi she is?

“Wait, please. Please.” He stops, not turning fully back to her, his eyes cast down. “I’m sorry I reacted that way, I should have known it would be confusing. It wasn’t about you at all. It’s me.”

“What?”

Nagi nods. “It’s me. I’m just… me. I’m sorry I’m the one for you.”

“What?” he says again, looking utterly dumbfounded. “What about you? You—you saved the cat! You just ran to him without a second thought, I saw you. And you were ready to protect it with your body, that’s very brave and kind! And, um, well—” his hands freeze mid-air, and he blushes, slowly but surely “—you’re—you’re… really pretty.”

Nagi casts her eyes down, blushing to the tip of his ears, terribly self-conscious all of a sudden.

She just got saved from a car accident, how pretty can she really look like right now? Is he lying to her? Trying to be nice?

No, she doesn’t think he is. She would have seen it in his eyes otherwise.

It only makes her blush deeper.

“You saved me too.” Nagi breathes deeply, meets his eye the way he found the courage to meet hers. “You risked your life for a complete stranger. That’s at least as brave and kind as me.” He scratches his cheek, laughing a little, his first genuine laugh since they met. “Why… would anyone say anything bad about you?”

“Ah, that. Well, you know.” He puts his hands in his pockets, and shrugs. “I’m just… No-Good.”

Nagi hears the burden in his voice, the hurt and resignation and yearning. A strong sense of kinship grows inside her, and how pathetic is that of her?

“I’m the Weird Quiet Girl. Or the Quiet Scary Girl some days.”

“Oh. That’s… really lame of us.”

“Yeah, I was telling myself the same thing.”

He huffs a laugh, and she smiles, a little thing at the corner of her lips. They make eye contact, and bursts out laughing.

It sounds a bit hysterical at the end of it, and neither of their smile disappear once they get their composure back.

“You should go take care of your wounds,” Nagi blurts out, when she thinks for a second his cheek will bleed again.

“My house isn’t that far from here. My mum can look over us both, if you want.”

“Thank you. I wouldn’t mind, if that’s okay with you.”

He grins. “Yeah, of course!” He clears his throat, offers her an unsure hand. “I’m Tsuna. Sawada Tsunayoshi, but you can call me Tsuna.”

Nagi holds his hand, warm in hers. “I’m Nagi. Nice to meet you.”

Sparkles fly, orange and indigo mixing together, falling over their linked hands.

They smile at each other, soft and warm.

First I wanted to go with glowing, but I realized it could pretty easily look scary instead of pretty lol. So I went with sparkles, but even then I’m fully aware it could easily become... inconvenient on a daily basis loool.

Good thing this is just a one-shot aqsdfgukilo.

Thank you for reading! Any and all review are appreciated ^^.

#katekyo hitman reborn #khr #khr fanfic #flufftober 2020 #sawada tsunayoshi #chrome dokuro #soulmates #chrome x tsuna #i said modern au #but flames are actually still a thing #also bonding through being at the bottom of the social ladder am i right #but it's okay they'll do better from then on

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cagestark · 5 years ago

Note

Could you do a divorced!starker prompt? They meet each other some years after their divorce... I really don’t have a plot for it? lol I just wanna see them falling in love again after an angsty split up, pwease 🥺

Hope this works!

Warnings: sex, addiction mentions, overdosing. Tony and Peter are both 38.

Read here on AO3.

“Thirty-eight years old,” Peter mutters under his breath, glaring at his reflection in the mirror. “And I still don’t know how to tie a tie.”

Ned appears over his shoulder, a familiar warm presence. It’s been nearly fifteen years since Peter moved away to California, only seeing Ned for the odd weekend during the holidays or their weekly Skype sessions, but some things never change. Their friendship is one of them: something forged in fire and made invincible, but for all its strength, its still so soft. “Here,” he says. “Maria taught me years ago.”

“I wish she could have made it tonight,” Peter says. Ned’s wife of ten years is a lovely woman with the darkest skin he’s ever seen. When Peter visits New York, he often stays with them in their apartment, sleeping on the couch only to wake up to her in her mint colored bath robe telling him that breakfast is ready and coffee is waiting.

Then again, maybe it’s a good thing she isn’t there. As selfish as it is, tonight he is glad to have all of Ned’s attention on himself.

Maybe it will help him stay out of trouble.

“I wish she could have made it, too,” Ned admits, taking Peter’s tie and maneuvering it expertly into a Windsor knot. “But she’s showing some couple a house upstate, and she wants to be there early. I told her I’d send her a selfie. You’ll have to get my good angle.”

“She thinks all your angles are good.”

“Well, she’s farsighted.”

“Barely. She doesn’t even wear glasses—”

The bantering comes easy to them. It always has. It distracts him from the thoughts of what’s coming tonight, of his reflection in the mirror, of what his former classmates will think when they see him. The eyes are the same, with some extra lines around them. His hair isn’t as thick as it was in high school, but it’s certainly not thinning. His physique is mostly unchanged, though he isn’t running anymore eight minute miles. It’s hard, getting older. And what does he have to show for it? Yes, he’s successful in his field. He doesn’t have to worry about money (much). But there is an emptiness in his house in Palo Alto, one that echoes. It echoes inside him.

“You’re thinking about him, aren’t you,” Ned asks in the cab.

“Who?” Peter asks. Like he doesn’t know. He gives up the gimmick almost immediately, shoulders sagging. His gut feels full of snakes, twisting and squeezing the breath out of him. If he weren’t sitting down, he’s afraid his knees might knock together. He hasn’t been more scared of anything in his life—not moving across the country, not changing careers, nothing.

Nothing except seeing his ex-husband, Tony, for the first time in fifteen years.

“He’s going to be there,” Ned says calmly. “He already mentioned it to the tabloids. I called the school ahead and they said that they’ve got increased security just because of him. He’s definitely going.”

“Of course he’s going,” Peter mutters. “He’s Tony fucking Stark. He’s a billionaire. Why wouldn’t he go back to his twenty-year high school reunion.”

Ned is unphased in the face of Peter’s sarcasm. He reaches out to take his friend’s hand, both their palms sweaty. They haven’t held hands in years, not since they were just kids in high school, but Peter squeezes and squeezes and doesn’t ever want to let go.

“I’m scared,” Peter admits.

“Are you going to make a move?” Because of course Ned knows. Peter has never explicitly stated that his biggest regret—the thing he thinks about during every lull in his day, the thing he lies awake at night lamenting, what he wishes he could take back every time he tosses a penny into a fountain—is divorcing Tony.

They were high school sweethearts. When Tony moved from Malibu to New York in their sophomore year, there was animosity between them, both competing for the top spots in their class, both on the decathlon team, both filling out forms for the same scholarships their senior year. It only made sense that their animosity morphed to a tension of a whole different sort. Tony was beautiful, was clever and smart, so kind-hearted…so flawed.

But freshly eighteen, already committed to going to the same college together, Peter could only see through rose-tinted glasses. They married with only Peter’s aunt there at the courthouse to give her blessing (and her blessing came in the form of many warnings—you’re so young, Peter, I hope you know what you’re doing). Then their time spent in university was tumultuous at best.

Tony drank too much. There were a few incidences with cocaine that made the older boy aggressive and even more pig-headed. Mostly, it was the arguing. Tony’s instincts to lean towards stoicism and sarcasm in the face of emotion and turmoil made Peter feel more alone than ever in his own on-campus apartment. What had they been thinking? Neither of them was mature enough for marriage. Tony especially, Peter would think, noting his empty seat during the morning lectures, knowing that his husband was back at their apartment sleeping off his latest binge.

So, he went with his aunt to begin the annulment process. The judge was sympathetic and granted it. Peter Parker-Stark became Peter Parker again. He moved apartments, stopped answering Tony’s texts, sat on the other side of the room during the classes they shared together. It wasn’t easy. If anything, Tony’s behavior grew more reckless, which was hard for the younger man to ignore. There was one night when Peter got a call from the emergency room that Tony had overdosed, and Peter was still his emergency contact. He sat by his ex-husband’s side until the sun came up and he began to stir. Peter had left before Tony could wake, stopping by the front desk to tell the nurse to remove his contact information. He wouldn’t watch Tony kill himself—couldn’t.

After that, Tony got the hint. He stopped texting. He stopped making sad eyes at Peter from across the room. He stopped trying to corner him in the hallway after their lectures ended. While it was what Peter had wanted, it still made his heart ache, heavy. There was no winning. There was no clean break. Everything hurt.

Sitting two rows behind him at their graduation was the last time Peter saw him. In person. After that, all of his Tony-sightings were via the news: newspapers sold by vendors on the street, magazines beside the checkout at the store, interviews on television. Tony had always been brilliant, always had dreams of starting his own company. Peter had just never thought he’d be able to shake his addictions and do it.

For a long time, it seemed like he was able to manage both. Every other article seems to portray Tony as a partying playboy, different men and women on his arms every night, arrested once for possession of marijuana. But Tony never crashed and burned the way Peter had been so afraid of. Even after Peter had move away from New York (away from Tony, away from the huge tower in Manhattan that had his former last name emblazoned on the side), he’d kept track of Tony in the news. Seven years ago, he committed to rehab, and when he got out, he’d done more than turn over a new leaf. He’d abandoned that tree altogether.

Peter couldn’t help it. Alone in his condo one night, eating leftover take-out alone, he’d realized: leaving Tony had been the biggest mistake of his life. Every interview charmed him all over again, every smile cut as sweetly as it cured him. The passion in his ex-husband was visible, and he was doing it, living his dream, changing the world. So many nights he thought of trying Tony’s old number to see who might pick up. In a box in his closet were letters, apologies, pleadings, still in their envelopes, unlicked and unsent.

“I can’t make a move,” Peter says, feeling tortured. “I know what that looks like. Trying to get back together with him now that he’s on Forbes Wealthiest.”

“Does that have something to do with it?” asks Ned.

Peter is ashamed to feels tears burn at his eyes. “I remember when we sat on the floor of our apartment because we had no furniture. I remember eating ramen and rice for three meals a day until we both found jobs. I loved him, then. It’s not about the money.”

Ned squeezes his fingers. When the cab turns into their school lot, filled to the brim with cars, they slide together a little in the backseat, and Ned is a warm, solid presence beside him. Suddenly, Peter wants a hug, more than he’s wanted anything. Instead, he just squeezes back.

There is heightened security. There are paparazzi, real life people with cameras standing around. And Tony is already there, his car a sleek, sexy thing, obscene outside their simple high school. The cab drops them off and Peter pays with shaking hands. It’s something out of Alice in Wonderland, being back here after so many years. Things have changed—the school’s roof is a different color. The parking lot has been paved, finally. But it’s still the same place. They’re the ones who have changed.

“Ready?” Ned asks.

“No,” he says. They go in anyway, shifting through the crowd which is only there for Tony. They have to show their ID’s to get in, and Peter is already seeing familiar faces: shapes different, hair different, but features so similar. Voices the same. The old decathlon team is there and they freak out to see Peter, even Flash, who was only ever shit to him.

Peter shakes his hand anyway. It’s been twenty fucking years. Plenty of time for Flash to have changed.

The auditorium is decorated scantly, but classy. It’s preferable to the way Peter remembers their school dances being: all strobe lights and music so loud it was impossible to hear each other. His eyes scan the room, but there were so many people in their graduating class (and Tony is, admittedly, short) that Peter can’t spot him right away.

“Drinks?” Ned asks.

Peter nods. Across the room are a series of white-clothed tables with finger foods and drinks. They fill their plates with grapes and cheeses and shrimp cocktail and all manner of other things, laughing at the pile of food they’ve accumulated. Sporadically placed around the platters are framed pictures—outtakes from their yearbook, most likely—and they laugh so hard that tears fill Peter’s eyes at the picture of Flash taken at the prom afterparty wearing nothing but his vest and pants. The afterparty was held at the school also and an alcohol-free zone. That hadn’t stopped plenty of teens from drinking on the way there.

Their class president accosts them before they can sit down, giving them nametags and markers to write with. For the sake of irony, Peter considers writing his name down as PENIS, but really. He was grateful if no one would remember.

“Peter,” Ned says, lowly, pressing his nametag into place on the breast of his shirt. “I see Tony.”

“Where,” Peter breaths, marker shaking in his hand. He keeps his head ducked, staring at the table. He can’t look up. He just can’t.

“He’s—oh. Oh, Peter. He’s coming over here. Okay. T-minus ten seconds, I’d say. What should I do? Should I tackle him? Should we run? Peter, I—oh.”

Peter can feel him. Tony has always had a presence about him, a tangible aura that follows him around the room. For the first time in fifteen years, it washes over Peter like ocean tide slipping over his head. He feels it from his crown to his heels, goosebumps raising along his arms, hairs standing on end. It’s a Tony-sense.

A tanned hand enters his vision. There are more scars on the knuckles than there used to be, but he knows those hands. He knew them intimately. Those hands used to take him apart after a long day in classes, used to edge him for ages during finals when he was already wound up tighter than a spring.

“Hey, Leeds. Looking good. I think some friends of mine are being shown a house by your wife tomorrow.” The voice is the same, maybe a little deeper, rough and fast. It makes Peter shiver. He watches Ned shake hands with Tony but can’t cock his head up to take the man in.

“Oh, you’re friends with the Romanovs? The house is killer. Maria showed me some pictures.”

“Natasha talks about it all the time. Don’t tell your wife this, but they’re already pretty sold.”

“Jokes on you,” Ned says, whipping out his phone. “I’m going to tell her anyway.”

They laugh. Peter can’t avoid it anymore, can’t stare at his own hands like an idiot. He turns, tilting his head up.

He knows how Tony looks. Last week, the guy did a segment on Good Morning, America for fuck’s sake. He isn’t so different, has hardly changed, to be honest. He looks so good that it hits Peter all over again, he let this man go. He feels that stinging in the back of his eyes that warns him he is on the verge of tears, presses his lips together even as he sees Tony smile—he has more laugh lines, ones that Peter didn’t give him.

Peter holds out his hand, trembling, hoping to God that he doesn’t burst into tears. Tony stares at it for a long time before taking it—and pulling Peter up and out of his chair.

“Can I hug you?” Tony asks warmly. “Are we there yet? Can we get there, quickly? Because, not to be soft, I’m really craving a hug right now.”

Peter laughs wetly. He nods. They hug. Tony is barely an inch taller, definitely broader through the shoulders though. His suit feels silky against Peter’s skin, and he smells so fucking good. Cologne. Something expensive and familiar. The same cologne he got Peter for Christmas their first year together. He digs his fingers into Tony’s back, pressed flush together from chest to shin. It’s hard not to fall back into their old dynamic. In this man’s arms, he feels small and soft and cherished.

“It’s okay,” Tony says softly. “It’s okay. Okay?”

Peter nods. He doesn’t know what’s okay, because nothing feels okay, except for this moment. This singular moment, when Peter clicks back into place with the neighboring puzzle piece that he left behind so many years ago.

Tony lets the hug go on far longer than is platonic. Except for the lack of swaying, people might have mistaken them for slow dancing.

“Now might not be the time,” Tony says into Peter’s neck, warm breath fanning over him. “But I texted you a few times, oh, a decade and a half or so ago, and you never got back to me. Like, what gives?”

Peter shakes his head. Tony pats his back, right between his shoulder blades, and hums—a warm sound that reverberates through Peter’s entire body. “I’m only kidding,” he admits. “Water under the bridge, Pete, I hope?”

Pete. God. He pulls back, a hand on Peter’s shoulder, and there isn’t any hope that Peter will be able to school his face. None at all. He must look tortured, on the verge of tears, years of regret that he will never be able to reverse. So much pain, and some anger too, because Tony became the man that Peter wanted, only years, years late.

“Want to walk with me?” Tony asks. His eyes flicker to Ned. “That okay, Leeds? Pete and I will go and see the locker that Thompson used to shove him in. Pay our tributes.”

Ned exchanges looks with him, unsubtle question written on his face. Peter smiles shakily, nods. “Just don’t check to see if he still fits.”

Tony keeps a hand on his back, escorting him out. The warmth sinks right through Peter’s shirt, down to his skin and deeper still, to his bones and his aching heart. This might be all he gets, the last interaction with Tony, the last touch, the last looks. What he gets tonight will have to hold him over for the rest of his life.

Tony leaves behind his security while they walk down the hallways, shoes soft against the tiled floors. It smells the same, and if he weren’t just a little taller, he’d be seeing everything exactly the same. Remembering it. The squeaking thunder of shoes as students filled the hall, the slamming of locker doors, the raucous discussions and laughter.

When he glances over, Tony is staring at him, a soft smile on.

“What?” Peter asks when Tony’s smile blooms.

“Just—you couldn’t have made it easy on me? Became hideously unattractive, or something? God, Pete, you haven’t changed at all.”

“You have,” Peter says. His mouth has always worked a little faster than his brain.

“The crow’s feet? They’re my curse.”

“That’s—that’s not what I meant. Come on, Tony,” Peter says, bumping their shoulders, feeling twenty years younger. There are butterflies in his stomach again. Maybe between AP chem and Shakespearean Literature, he’ll catch a glimpse of Tony in the hallway, a split moment that could make his entire day. “You know you look great.”

“Yeah?” Tony asks. He sounds sincere. “Not going to lie. It feels damn good to hear you say it.”

“So modest,” Peter teases.

“That’s one thing that hasn’t changed,” admits Tony. He stops to rest against his old locker, leaning against it. These days, he wears tinted glasses, but they are off and hooked in the breast pocket of his suit. He’s styling his hair differently these days, but it works for him. Everything works for him. “Tell me what you’ve been up to. How’s California?”

“It’s—” awful. Lonely. “—great. I’m making security software for companies who want to stay ahead of cyber-attacks.”

“I keep up with your work.” Tony’s expression is unbearably tender and fond. “It’s impressive, but I expected no less from you.”

“Tony,” Peter whispers. “Tony, I know this is years too late, I know that you’re successful and happy and there’s no reason to bring up the past. But I just need to say that I’m so sorry. I’m sorry that I didn’t have more faith in you, in the man you could be. You were—and I just—left. I’m so sorry.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” asks Tony. He pushes away from the lockers and comes to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with Peter. “I’m not holding any grudges. I was a fucking mess in college, Pete. And for many years after. The things you caught me doing—I’m ashamed to admit that was only the half of it: the drugs, the drinking. You were the only thing that kept me together—”

“I know,” Peter laments. “And then I just left you—”

“It wasn’t your job. Come on, where’s the smart man I knew? You should know this. You can’t make a person change a moment before they’re ready to, and you’re not obliged to wait around in the meantime. Keeping me together wasn’t your responsibility.”

Peter’s face crumples. It’s more than he expected to hear after all these years—he was so afraid that Tony would be angry, would blame him, would rub in his face how far he’s come and how it is no thanks to Peter. The relief he feels at knowing Tony forgives him (or doesn’t think there’s anything to forgive) almost staggers him. But that’s only half the burden Peter carries.

“I wish I’d held on longer,” he admits. He can’t even look at Tony, the warm solidi presence by his side. He stares down at their shoes, dark and shined enough that they can see their faint reflections in them.

“I’m glad you didn’t. I was hurting us both. I wasn’t any good for you.”

“And now?” Peter asks.

“Now what?”

“Now, are you good for me?”

Tony turns until he has one shoulder braced against the lockers, all of his attention on Peter. No questioning that it’s a heady thing, a physical, tangible feeling, being under those dark eyes. He shivers all over with it, skin prickling, craving—“What are you asking, Pete?”

Peter shakes his head. He can’t say it. Can’t be rejected, even though he deserves it, after the way he rejected Tony all of those years ago. Tony reaches out and Peter flinches even though Tony is the gentlest man he knows, never raised anything more than his voice to him even in their most heated arguments. Warm fingers brush his chin, coax his head to turn and make eye contact.

“My therapist says that communication is key,” Tony says, the corner of his mouth drawn up. “Ironic, considering that I barely spoke a word to him for our first three sessions. Talk to me. We were no good at this back then, and we’re too smart for that. Let’s be good at it now.”

“You’re right, I just—I. I follow your work, too,” Peter ends, lamely. His eyes are wet, lips trembling even as he smiles. “I always have. I can’t stop.”

Tony groans. He reaches out for one of Peter’s hands and laces their fingers together. It’s been too many years—they don’t fit the way that they used to. But maybe that’s a good thing. Maybe this is something that they will have to relearn. That they will have the chance to relearn. Tony brings Peter’s hand up and presses his lips to the knuckles, facial hair brushing the skin. It’s the most chaste, platonic affection, but it takes Peter’s breath away. Then he turns Peter’s hand over, wrist up, and presses a kiss to his pulse. Surely he can feel it hammering away under his lips.

“You want me, Pete?” Peter nods, eyes closed to savor the way Tony’s lips brush his skin as he speaks. Then all at once, they are gone. When he slits his eyes open, Tony is watching him, serious. “I don’t want a fling. I don’t want a one-night stand. You were my one that got away—and unless you don’t want this—I’m not letting you go ever again.”

“How, Tony?” Peter whispers. “I live in California, you live in New York—”

“We’ll take it slow,” says Tony. He’s always been quick on his feet, and the picture he paints for Peter is everything he needs to hear. “Texting. Phone calls. Skype. And if things go well—and I want them to go well, Pete—I’ll fly to you or fly you to me and we’ll go out for the weekend. And if things go very well—and I want them to go very, very well—”

Peter laughs. “I get it, I get it—”

“Then we’ll figure things out. I’m flexible. California doesn’t have a SI headquarters yet, which I’ve always personally thought was such a shame. You could come to New York, too, if you want. Lots of companies here are vulnerable to cyber-attacks. I’m willing to stage a few myself, if it means you’ll have work—I’m joking, honestly, only a joke. God, I’ve missed that look on your face.

“And if New York doesn’t sound good? Pick a place. Any place. We can meet in the middle. We can leave the country. If it goes well.”

“And you want it to,” Peter finishes. He presses his palm to his mouth to smother his smile, but it’s no good. There’s no hiding it. “I want it to, too.”

They kiss, and it’s better than coming home. Peter’s home is an empty, lonely thing. This is warm, and soft, and so tender that it makes him ache from his chest right down to his groin. He brings up a hand to smooth over Tony’s cheek, down the curve of his neck, over the soft collar of his dress shirt. Tony coaxes his mouth open, licking softly and sweetly. He tastes faintly of some brown liquor, scotch or whiskey or bourbon.

All at once, their kisses change from a sampling to the desperation of two drowning men. Peter feels surrounded, overwhelmed in the best way. All of his senses are alight, signals jammed by the interference of Tony: facial hair and liquor and cologne and soft silk ties and the hot bulge below Tony’s leather belt, the one that presses against his own because Peter’s hips jut forward gently.

“I missed you,” Tony says when they come up for air. “I missed you, I missed you, I missed you so fucking much.”

Peter whines. He grabs at the lapel of Tony’s suit to urge him closer. Tony turns them so that he can press Peter into the lockers of their youth, bracing one thigh between his open legs and rutting against him, tilting his head to mouth hotly at his neck. Peter gasps, keeps his eyes half-open to watch the other end of the hallway and make sure no one comes looking for them.

“Missed everything about you,” Tony says. His voice is wrecked, and Peter thinks he might be on the verge of tears. When he pulls back, he sees the slightest redness around Tony’s eyes, the sheen of unfallen tears. “Look at me, Pete. I need to say—I didn’t do any of it for you. You know that, right? My sobriety, my therapy. It wasn’t for you. It was for me. Because I was tired of being the kind of man who let other people down. Who let himself down. I didn’t think I had a fucking snowball’s chance in hell getting you back, you know that right? If this goes south between us again…and I don’t want it to, but if it does? It will hurt like hell. But I will be okay. I want every day you spend with me, every phone call we share, every meal, every glance. I want it all to be because you want to talk with me, dine with me, look at me. Does that make sense?”

Peter nods. He reaches up to rub his thumb tenderly against the soft skin between Tony’s eye—it comes away only a little damp. “How could it be anything else?”

They kiss again. It’s fifteen years overdue. The library fines they must have accumulated would be incredible. They’re insatiable, eighteen years old again, spending their ‘wedding night’ in a motel 6 with candles that Tony bought at the local dollar store, ones that make the room smell like fresh cotton linens and that cast the room in a whole yellow glow. It wasn’t the first time they’d made love, but God it had been good. They’d nearly burned the room down, in more ways than one.

“Tony,” Peter groans, cock aching. He wonders about the car in the lot that belongs to Tony, whether the seats go back far enough for them to properly enjoy themselves. He thrusts his hips, desperate it a way he hasn’t been for anyone or anything in years. “Please,” he asks, not knowing what he’s asking for.

“You know I have you,” Tony says, biting at Peter’s throat. “You know I always have you. Come on, come here.”

Tony tugs him gently down the hallway. The first classroom they come to—AP Chemistry, or at least it was 20 years ago—Tony tugs on the handle and it opens. They duck in.

It’s still a chemistry classroom, the lab tables neatly arranged in rows. There is the faintest scent of cleaners and chemicals, a sinkful of glassware that some student didn’t put away. Tony and Peter had shared this class, Peter sitting at the front and Tony at the back. They don’t choose either of those lab tables, instead settling nearest to the door, unable to make it any further before Tony hoists Peter up onto one of the black, glossy tables.

“Can’t get enough of you,” Tony says, pressing Peter back so he can untuck his dress shirt from his slacks, push up the undershirt and mouth at Peter’s abs. They aren’t as defined as they were twenty years ago, but Peter is proud that there is still definition left, and plenty of strength beneath that. “God, you’re perfect. Still so perfect after all this time.”

“Tell me you’ve got a condom, lube, something—”

“All of the above, baby, be patient with me.”

Peter sits up abruptly. He threads his fingers through Tony’s hair and pulls gently until the other man gets the idea and leans back, their eyes meeting. “I’ve waited long enough, I think.”

Tony softens. Peter hasn’t seen such a serene, fond expression on his face since they were married. This side of Tony doesn’t exist in the tabloids. It fills up all the empty parts inside of him that gaped for so many years. But there’s another empty part of him that he’d like Tony to fill. ASAP.

“Undress,” Tony says firmly. “Just what’s necessary. Don’t want to get caught with anything more than our pants down, do we?”

“Don’t want to get caught at all,” Peter says snidely, opening his belt to leave it hanging at his sides while he unbuttons and unzips his dress slacks. He wrenches both down just as far as he needs to, rolls so that his stomach is pressed against the chilly lab table. He feels a moment of shyness, anxiety, but then Tony is pressing a reverent hand against his flank, rubbing soft skin with a tender thumb.

“God,” Tony says, wrecked already. “You’re a gift. I don’t know if I deserve you, Pete, but I’m willing to spend the rest of my life trying.”

“You can start by fucking my soul out of my body,” Peter says pressing his feverish cheek against the lab table. He’s smiling though. He’s missed this so much, the banter, the connection. The sound of Tony’s belt is loud in the room, the rustle of fabric deafening to Peter’s senses which feel dialed up past their limit. Tony reaches out to pull a stool from under the lip of the lab table, gently lifting Peter’s leg up to fold and rest on it. In this position, he’s spread wide open, the perfect cradle for Tony to fuck up into.

The first touch of Tony’s lubed fingers has Peter groaning. Tony has always been good at this, and the years have only given him more experience. He is gentle but relentless, massaging Peter’s rim, pressing in with a single twisting finger, then two, the stretch making Peter gasp and press back, urging Tony in to the knuckle. Tony fucks him with his fingers for several long minutes, leisurely, like they have all the time in the world. Peter knows not to rush him; this is Tony’s favorite part. Taking someone apart. Turning him into a leaking, whining mess.

“Think you’re ready, Pete?” Tony asks. “Think you can take my cock?”

“I know I can,” says Peter. “But are you ever going to give it to me?”

Tony spanks him lightly after pulling his fingers free. Then there is something larger, blunter, hotter at Peter’s opening and he lets himself go soft, opening up. It’s been so long since he’s bottomed for someone, but he remembers what to do. He’s so relaxed that he can’t even groan, just lets all the breath slip out of him as Tony presses in, gentle but insistent, until he’s bottomed out.

“How do you feel even better now than you did all those years ago?” Tony asks through his teeth. He leans down to bite at Peter’s shoulder through his shirt, just the soft press of teeth. Peter whines, panting, squeezing down around the cock inside him just to feel Tony jerk and bite harder. “Are you ready, Pete? I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Ready, I’m ready, give it to me—”

Tony does. God, he does. He remembers just how Peter likes it, too, soft, long, deep thrusts that the younger man can feel so deep it’s in his fucking throat. Merciless, Tony thrusts into him again and again and again, pressing firmly along Peter’s prostate, every inward thrust accompanied by a jerk of Peter’s cock where it’s dribbling onto the tiled floors.

“You want to work your cock, baby?” Tony pants. “Or you want me to? Feeling lazy?”

“You, you,” Peter gasps. He’s not feeling lazy—he’s feeling alive and awake and invigorated and like he’s liable to explode at any moment—but he’s also desperate to feel those rough hands on him again. Tony is obliging, reaching around to wrap his fingers around Peter’s cock and begin jerking him off in the same way he does everything: thoroughly, leisurely, efficiently. “God, yes, thank you, please Tony—”

Tony groans. “Keep talking like that and I’m going to blow my load in you, baby. You want this over so quickly? Huh?”

“Thought we were just getting started.” Peter can’t help it. He’s laughing, grinning, giddy with it. “Give me your cum, sir,” he says, playing on Tony’s old kinks. “You can impress me with your stamina next time.”

Peter thinks that’s what did it: next time. Tony’s hips roughen, thrusting harder as he nears his end, and Peter clenches his muscles to squeeze around him. When Tony cums, he wraps a gentle but possessive hand around Peter’s throat, the other hand milking Peter’s cock for all it’s worth. Peter wishes they weren’t using a condom so he could feel the hot rush of cum—but there will be time for that. Time for everything he’s been wanting again all these years.

Even after Tony’s hips slow, he stays deep inside while he jerks Peter off. Taking the hand off of his throat, Tony reaches down to cradle Peter’s tight balls and that’s it—he’s gone, spurting all over the lab table, another stool in front of him, the floor. It lasts forever, Tony holding him through the wracking spasms of his body. It’s the best orgasm he can remember having, alone or with anyone else, in years.

“Thank you,” Peter whispers. “Thank you.”

Tony turns him around, hair disheveled, sweat at his temples and softening cock still out between his legs. “What for?” Tony asks, smirking. “For the hand-job?”

“That too,” says Peter, laughing.

They clean up—thoroughly, since neither of them are interested in leaving cum behind on 12th grade chemistry desks. By the time they stumble out of the classroom, they are re-dressed, hair combed, looking (except for the flush in their cheeks) like all that might have happened in Classroom 110 was just a lengthy, tender conversation.

“Do you want to get out of here?” Tony asks. When they pass his body guard standing where they left him, the guy is struggling to keep a straight face, though he follows them without a word. “I’m thinking…Indian cuisine.”

“That place at 99 Hudson Street? Is it still there?”

“God yes, I’d have left this city years ago if otherwise.”

And in the morning when he wakes up tangled in the sheets of Tony’s bed on the penthouse floor of Stark Tower, the news has pictures of them sitting cozily in Tamarind restaurant eating lamb kabobs with bell pepper crusts and sharing tindora poriyal.

The headlines read, Reunited.

#starker #divorce #high school sweethearts #twenty year reunion #tw: addiction #tw: overdosing #cagewrites #longfic

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kpopisthereasonihavenolife · 6 years ago

Text

Jeon Jungkook/Reader [F]

Genre: Sports AU, Highschool, Fluff, Poor Description of Tennis (I’m sorry lol), Pinning, Idiots to Lovers

Warning(s): None

Words: 9.4k

Summary: You’ve grown up with the boy across the street your whole life. Even in high school, you were the first person to be called to rope in his tactless or rambunctious actions. It gets worse when you get an appointed as Student Council President and now you’re forced to babysit and handhold the Tennis Team’s Ace Server: Jeon Jungkook. There’s a reason he’s always causing you to show up; even further why he only seems to listen to you.

a/n: this is my contribution for btsboulangeries Aug. 2019 au prompt lol. Sports!

“Y/n, can you come to the gym?” You sat at your desk, reading whatever book you had picked up from the library when a member of the student council came and called you out of your room. Murmurs echoed through the classroom like a loud rumble of thunder. You didn’t even need an explanation as to why you were being called to the gymnasium out of seemingly nowhere. It was always the same story with you and with him.

You got up with a tick in your brow as you marched to the door and silently told the student that you were on your way. You felt like you were bunching up your uniform with each annoyingly-charged stomp of your foot. You walked down halls, and downstairs to the gym where the squeaking of shoes and shouts along with dribbling balls echoed from inside.

You stopped in the open, metal doorway as you way a small group of boys, shed of their school blazers- in all there obnoxious yellow glory- as they scampered around the gym courts. Scattering back and forth dribbling a basketball, it wasn’t your average game of passing time basketball. Instead of two teams competing, it was more of a revolution charging against one body who was smugly hoarding the ball and the stealing court.

“Jungkook!” You screamed, cupping around your mouth so it could be heard over the sound of the intense sports balls game. The game almost instantly halted. From the crowd of overly sweaty and heavy breathing teenage boys popped out Jeon Jungkook. A prodigy of anything and everything ever and a boy seemingly gifted by whatever God decided to play favorites. His face that was once slack and sweaty broke into a grin that remained just as sweaty.

Jungkook was the little boy that you were forced into meeting with when you moved into the city of Busan when you were 4. Your parents were firm believers of getting to know your neighbors and when they learned that the lovely couple across the street had a son your age, they just had to make you two meet.

You wouldn’t call yourselves childhood friends, it was more like when you were 4 years old that’s when your indefinite job of babysitting the only Jeon began. You were always trailing behind him, scolding him for being reckless or trying to be his voice of reason because he clearly always decided to ignore his conscience. You’d run after him- considerably slower- in your sundress your mother dressed you in and your bright pink crocs. He’d be dressed in his small jersey and shorts with shoes as he zoomed ahead of you to the park.

He’d climb trees that in comparison were like 6 story buildings while you stood on the ground at the base of the truck, pleading for him to come down before he loses his fight with gravity. He did a few times, breaking his arm once and ankle another time- yet he still kept climbing bigger and bigger trees because the lesson was just never learned. That wasn’t all that Jungkook had going for him though.

He was completely different when he was around other girls. He would get shy in his kindergarten class that you two shared. He would stick to your side or shift behind you when he was approached by a girl who wanted to play with him. He would keep his words short and actions shorts as his little body shifted in shyness. It was the only times you were able to act as a shield to him.

He would also seem to put on a ‘big kid’ act when you were picked on. You were often teased for reasons you still didn’t know. You weren’t really all that different from all the other little girls in your class, but you were just a hot target on someone’s radar. It was timed at recess that they were teasing you or kick rocks at you while you sat picking small flowers. They even made you get stuck on the seesaw once, keeping your seat high into the air as they stayed on the opposite seat, keeping it down as you nearly cried. It was way higher than you thought when you were 5.

Jungkook would start petty, childhood fights with insults as high as ‘poo head’ and ‘infected brat’ and defended you when he saw it. He’d tell the other boys off and would take you to the grass when you cried and pick flowers with you until you would feel better. There was one day when Jungkook walked you from your bus stop, holding your small hand in his own and told your parents that you needed at least 3 cookies to smile again.

The next day, Jungkook had come and given you a flower whistle to wear. He told you to blow it when you were being teased again and he’d come and chase the meanies away. You still had that whistle hanging in your bedroom beside your bed on a nail shared with the dreamcatcher Jungkook got you when he heard from your parents you had been having nightmares.

Jungkook and you from then grew up and somehow developed a love-hate relationship. You would get on each other’s nerves constantly, but you would still lend him your notes when he got behind or when he needed a ride to and from practice, you’d be the first to offer it. In return, he’d always do favors for you like buying your lunch for a day or hooking you up with free tickets to whatever team he’s playing for the season. Not that you cared that much for sports.

When he saw you standing cross-armed in the gym doorway, he immediately abandoned the ball, bouncing it off to his side before he ran over to you. The immediate relief the other boys had was almost tangible as they immediately divided up into proper teams for a friendly match. When he stood in front of you, he stood close enough you could feel the heat pushing off his body in waves.

He was a sweaty, smiley mess as his dark, dampened bangs stuck to his forehead and his sideburns were matted down to his cheeks. Hair messy in a tussled, brown birds nest. His collared white-uniformed shirt was wrinkled, his sleeves rolled up to his forearms as his blazer lay among the rest in the bleachers. Tie probably with his blazer, as he was now lacking one. He definitely should have changed into his gym clothes instead of sweating up his uniform.

“Good morning, Butterfly,” he greeted. The nickname is a long-standing one since you two were 7. He and you went out butterfly catching in the summer when the two pairs of your parents met up for some random BBQ. You being the only one of the pair to not catch a single one as Jungkook had easily captured at least a dozen in his mesh trap before releasing them that same afternoon.

“It’s past noon,” you quipped as he just shrugged. “Can’t you just sit down and read a book or something? Do you always have to stir something up? You know I’m trying to study and focus.” You tapped your fingers on your bicep of your still folded arms. Jungkook swung his left leg over his right ankle and tucked his hands behind his head.

“Oh yeah, you’re running for something in Stu. Co., yeah?” He ticked his brow with a questioning waver in his voice, unsure as to what position you were actually aiming for. You were already part of the student council and if all went well, you hoped to be the next president with elections right around the corner. It wasn’t just the student body vote that decided your fate, but your GPA and scores in classes. You’ve been in class, the library or home with your nose in a textbook for weeks trying your damnedest for that seat.

“You know I’m running for president and your constant annoyances around the school aren’t helping.” You seemed genuinely upset that you were once again pulled away from your tasks as time dwindled. You sighed as you rubbed your forehead, feeling that nagging of a nasty headache coming on. You had a text in Trig. that afternoon not to mention the first half of a Science Lab that was literally half your grade for the semester. Time away from your books and sheets were tally marks equivalent of failure in your pessimistic mind.

“Hey,” Jungkook’s voice shifted as he stood back properly and dropped his arms from his head. Voice lowered as his face shifted from cocky and grin-split to one of what one might see as apologetic. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know it kept you that busy.”

You just held your hand out towards him to stop any further apologies or excuses. Shaking your head, you took a breath and tried your best to wave it off.

“Nonetheless,” you began again, looking back up at him, “I’m in the middle of studying, so please don’t make me chase you down again. At least for the next hour.” The conversation concluded with Jungkook agreeing to your terms- probably because of the short term agreement of an hour- and you turned to get back to your classroom to make up for your precious wasted time.

When school ended that day, you groaned as you walked to the library to see it packed with student after student. No empty tables, chairs or private coves left that would bring you any sort of comfortable study time. You completed the public library, but it was so far and you road the public bus to school today because your parent’s needed the car.

You felt a tap on your shoulder as you left the library and saw none other than the Jeon Jungkook himself. After school in the library hall and not in the locker rooms for tennis practice where he should be.

“If you need a place to study, you can sit on the bleachers at practice,” he offered. His voice heightening at the end of his statement to morph it into a semi-questions.

“Study at your tennis practice. On the bleachers.” He nodded. “How am I suppose to work with you-”

“I won’t cause problems or distract you, I swear!” He promised. “I’ll literally just walk you and then practice like you aren’t even there. Plus, some good ole vitamin C couldn’t hurt, yeah? And if it gets too hot, there’s a bench not too far from the bleachers under some trees for some shade.”

You ended up giving in as he was soon dragging you towards the track and field area that had the tennis courts directly next to it, separated only with a tall wire fence. The same fence you know Jungkook had climbed and jumped in the dead hours of the night for some sneaky tennis training in his rookie freshman days.

Slamming your back chock-full of books and notes down onto the cold, metal bleachers, you cracked open a book and got to work as Jungkook ran to the small lockerroom house to change.

Tennis was a lot more intense than you originally thought. It was probably 40 minutes into practice before they actually started grabbing racquets and practicing serves and returns. The upperclassmen would purposely falt the court and wait to see if one would call it out. They’d slacken the net line or watch for wrong stances in the players.

When the team finally split into teams of doubles, Jungkook was the server of his team. He had always been the first pick as a server for his powerful slams. And since servers were servers through the entire game, it was an Ace for the team competing. His stances shifted from open to closed and between flawlessly like a dance routine. Skidding and jumping around the back of the court while his teammate stayed in no-man’s land by the net.

Returning the ball with powerful underhand swing and the occasional overhead slam, he did a fairly good practice match. He kept track of every ball he hit out or each time he skimmed the net and when he was switched out with another team, he would run that number in his head as exercises. If he got 4 out, it was 4 sets of squats or 4 sets of swings of his racquet.

You found yourself watching practice more than focusing on your studies. It was interesting and more attention-grabbing than you thought. You only focused solely on your work when Jungkook caught you watching with interest as he took a break to take small sips of his water. Sending a shit-eating grin your way along with making his hand open and close like a butterfly, you stuck your nose back in your book. Even turning your back on him and the courts for good measure.

He lied when he said he wouldn’t be a distraction.

“So, who was the girl?” Jungkook, out of breath from practice had just peeled off his sweater tennis jersey when a teammate of his marched up to him. He turned to the inquisitive member to see his Captain, a certain almost smug look on his face. Jung Hoseok was the top player of the tennis team like he had tennis embedded into the routes of his DNA. Jungkook took his towel, rubbing the sweat off his neck as he stood shirtless in the locker room like half of his team did as they waited for turns for the shower.

“You mean Y/n?” He questioned as she turned to sit on the stone bench, leaning against his shut- but unlocked- locker. Taking a quick swig of his water bottle. Hoseok plonked himself beside his golden teammate and friend with excited curiosity. Jungkook just sighed. “She’s a friend of mine, we’ve known each other since forever.” He took another drink before he remembered something. “She’s running for student council president,” he tacted on as Hoseok seemed to recall seeing some posters or something with her name on it for the upcoming election ballot.

“Oh yeah, I think I knew that.”

“Would you vote for her?” Jungkook asked tentatively. He wasn’t interested in student council anything, to be honest, but you did. So maybe he could dock you a few votes or just spread your name around.

“I dunno man, I don’t do votes through friends. I don’t usually get involved in student council issues. Not my scene,” he shrugged. Jungkook cupped his chin in thought, thinking of the best possible course of action to try and persuade his captain into putting a single tiny checkmark next to your name when voting comes around.

Hoseok watched the younger student sit in the privacy of his head and his thought. He bit back a smile, rolling his lips over his teeth as he sucked in a breath. Jungkook was a popular kid, attracting all sorts of attention and was his star player. He could always throw him a bone to help his friend. You looked studious enough as he watched you occasionally as you were always scribbling away on whatever topics you were jumping between. It was rare for Hoseok to see Jungkook tunnel vision focus on one person and their student council vote, something Hoseok knew the younger really didn’t care for.

Hoseok heard a shower shut off before someone was calling him. “This one is all yours, Captain!”

“Rock on!” He called back as he stood from the bench and stretched, his stomach flattening before he lowered his arms and stretched them over his sweat glistened chest. “I’ll vote for her,” Hoseok said as Jungkook looked up to him. Hoseok looked down at his sitting figure and slapped a smile on his face. “She was cute enough to earn a vote from me anyway,” he added with his thumb and forefinger under his chin.

Jungkook ended up chasing his Captain into the showers and throwing his bar of soap at him, earning a high squeal in return. Jungkook almost may or may not have dumped his half-full bottle of ice-cold water over the shower divide right onto Hoseok head. Making the boy scream in at least three increasingly different- almost feminine octaves- Jungkook booked it out of the locker room.

“Jeon!”

You had just finished packing up your bag with tucked away papers and folders with the books you couldn’t afford to fit into the prison that is your bag held to your chest. Stepping carefully down and off the metal bleachers, you crossed the courts to leave, the team now all vacated. You were hardly off-campus when cars from the team members started zooming past you- car way too flashy to be high schooler’s cars.

After three had passed you, it wasn’t long before number four rolled up. Instead of going past like the reason, this one pulled close to the curb of the sidewalk and stopped. You in turn also stopping as the passenger side window rolled down revealing the driver.

“I’ll give you a ride!” Jungkook who sat inside, leaned over his middle console shouted over the humming of his car. Contrast to his teammates, his car wasn’t looking as shiny and new but it wasn’t a lame car by any man’s standards. It ran, got him from place to place and he acted like it was his unborn kin. He even named the freaking hunk of aluminum.

You just rose your brow towards him in the shelter of his car. He reached over and unlocked the passenger door, unlatching it and pushing the door a few inches open. “Come on,” he sung. “We live across the street from each other.” You sighed, giving in to his persistence as you slid in.

The ride you were expecting to be quiet since it was only a ten-minute drive max was shockingly filled with conversation as Jungkook wasted no time in chatting as soon as you shut the door. Opening with topics of school activities to random weekend plans that all somehow lead to him bringing up the election. You looked skeptically at him, knowing he couldn’t care less about school affairs like student council.

“Who are you even running against anyway?” He didn’t even know that?

“You don’t follow school functions at all besides sports at all, do you?”

“Nah.”

You sighed. “Kim Namjoon is my competition.” Jungkook whistled. “It’s not like I’m expecting to win. Honestly, I’d be happy with the vice-chair if all else.” In reality, you halfway expected yourself to lose. Namjoon was a legend in both academics and his popularity that only seemed to keep skyrocketing. He was handsome and clever, even if his physical activities abilities were closer to zero.

He can recite the alphabet backward but make that boy run a 100-meter dash and it was all over. He’d tap out at meter 50 on a good day. His coordination left much to be desired. At least being student council president didn’t include the task of being active in sports. He’d be doomed.

“Don’t settle for less when you don’t have to,” Jungkoo told you. “So what- Namjoon is competing- big whoop. You’re smart too.”

“Are you cheering me on?” You jested as he returned a shrug.

“Uh, duh. I feel obligated as your longest-standing friend to be objectively on your side.

You placed a hand on your chest. “I’m flattered,” you spoke with equal amounts of flattery and sarcasm. He returned with a halfhearted ‘harharhar’. “Really though, I’m willing to rack in some votes with my election posters.”

“You’ve made them?”

“Absolutely not.” Jungkook just shook his head. He pulled up at your house, sat by the curb as you unbuckle your seatbelt. Picking up your bag off the floor by your feet, you opened the car door. Jungkook rolled down the window as you stepped out and shut the door behind you. He leaned over the middle console again.

“Hey, Butterfly~,” you looked back at him over your shoulder. “I’m pretty damn artistic, just so the general public knows.”

“What, so I’m the general public now?”

“Well, considering your uber large communication circle-”

“Just say you want to help me with my posters and go.” All he did was shoot you a shit-eating grin as he sat back up and moved to pull his car into his own driveway across the road. Getting out and grabbing his bag from the backseat he heard you calling him. You were standing at your front door. “You coming or not you brain-dead jock?!” You shouted, cupping around your mouth.

Jungkook sprinted across his yard, the street, your yard and up to your door to stand at your side in record time. Rolling your eyes at his gleaming smile at being allowed to help, he followed your back inside the house. You called out into your home to whatever parent was home at the moment that Jungkook was with you.

You avoid any distracting conversations that would pull Jungkook away, you scaled the staircase that was almost immediate to the front door, Jungkook following behind you. In the safety of your room, you put your bag on the floor of your closet and ran back and forth between your closet, desk, and bookshelf for random things you just threw on your bed. As you did so, Jungkook stood around, looking at your room.

He’s known you a long, long time but he can’t say he’s ever really had the time to look around and get a feel for your room. Your room was an extension of you, coated in your favorite colors, hobbies, interests and was a perfect summary of your life until this point. Posters of bands and of your favorite movies were cluttered on the wall (some even tacked to the ceiling). Framed photos of your family members sat on your desk by your shut laptop and 3 different hex-boxes. One filled with pens, another with markers and the third with pencils. Your bed was tall enough to hit Jungkook’s thigh with the boxspring supported mattress and a dark wooden bed frame. He curled his lips over his teeth to keep from smiling at the bubblegum pink bedspread lay across it.

He walked to your bed when he noticed that one dreamcatcher he bought you. It was a gift because he knew you were having bad dreams and knowing you were being scared by yourself sucked, he wanted to help. He smiled when he saw that small, metal whistle he gave you as a kid to help with bullying.

“I can’t believe you kept these,” he turned, gesturing to the dreamcatcher-whistle pair on the wall. You looked at him before you looked at the two items then returned to taking a package of 15 poster boards and slamming them onto the floor in a giant ‘schwoop’.

“Of course I did, you gave them to me,” you said so nonchalantly, yet that one sentence made his heart lurch.

“Oh, I see.” He cleared his throat. “So, gifts from me are special, eh? I’m flattered,” he sang as he joined your floor-seated body down on the carpet. Half an hour later, you were sat in awe at the almost caricature sketch of you that Jungkook had drawn.

“Holy shit!” You yelled, a smile breaking on your face. “That’s awesome, I didn’t know you could draw!” He tutted as he sat straighter, obviously delighted from the praise.

“It’s a gift, what can I say.” he smiled as he simmered down. “Honestly, it’s a skill I don’t flaunt around because I don’t draw often. It’s more of a stress relief ability, you know? Like how people doodle on notes or homework to help them remember or concentration on stuff.” His sincerity was instantly replaced with the same ego he put on on the daily. “I get enough attention from my flawless performance in sports already. It’d be just so suffocating to also be idolized as an artist.” You swore his nose grew four feet in boastfulness.

“I can see it now,” you started, deciding to feed into his parade. “Jeon Jungkook: prodigy of the Arts and Sports Balls. Does the talent ever end?” You spoke in a faux-Shakespearian baritone.

“Now, you’re getting it!” Jungkook and you worked on your posters for hours before your mother offered you both a seat at the dinner table before you both starve. It was nice having Jungkook over again, and you never realized how much of a friend he actually is. He and you have always been in a sort of frenemies relationship. Now, though, he was just a friend. He felt like your best friend; the best friend you’ve been fortunate enough to have since you were 5.

No way in hell you’d tell him that though. His ego would inflate so much he’d explode like a damn party balloon.

It was 8 pm when you decided enough work was done and you could relieve Jungkook of his artist duties for the evening. Honestly, he’s done enough art on most of the posters that you could probably finish them up yourself. You should really pay him for his efforts and time. Maybe slip a $20 in his wallet when he’s not looking because you know he’d outright refuse money from you.

He picked up his bag and hoisted it on his shoulder as you walked him out of your room, careful not to step on the posters and down the stairs to the door. The two of you stood on the front porch talking a moment in the sliver of remaining dusk.

“If you want, I can take you out for Chinese or something to say thank you for your help today,” you offered. You really did want to pay him back, and if he wouldn’t accept money then he’s got to say yes to a free meal. And Chinese? He’s weak against the offer of it; saying no was almost taboo.

He leaned into you, a grin painted on his flawless, dumb face. “Are you asking me out on a date, Butterfly?” He teased with a wiggle of his eyebrows that almost made you laugh. You just smiled and played along, throwing your hands up.

“Well, if you don’t want to-”

“I never said no!” He quickly saved. He just trotted back to your door as he left your porch to his own house. When you marched back up to your room, you started cleaning up your poster mess when your phone went off, the piece of technology sitting on your bed.

It was Jungkook texting you, only his contact name was Dreamcatcher.

Dreamcatcher: So, when’s our date?

You wanted to ask back if he really thought it could be a date before you stopped yourself. Why on earth would you even care if he thought it was a date or not? You floundered before you sent him back saying it could be tomorrow- if he wanted. Your face felt hot when you got the okay from him back.

You had a date with Jeon Jungkook.

It was Saturday and as much as he didn’t want to, Jungkook had to go to weekend tennis practice. They had a game coming up, so Hoseok wanted to squeeze in as much practice as he could. If Jungkook had it his way, he’d skip altogether and get to the part where it’s just him, you and Chinese food steaming in front of him.

Instead, here he was. Lugging himself out of bed as Hoseok honked outside. He offered to pick him up since his house was right on the way and Jungkook wasn’t going to pass up the chance to save on gas money. So, with a mess of hair on his head and a wrinkled jersey and his duffle with his tennis uniform and shoes and racquet, he was out of his house and in the car with his captain.

“Good morning there, Kook.” Jungkook just groaned at him, tossing his duffle in the back as he slouched in the seat. “Someone’s grumpy in the morning,” he laughed as he ruffled Jungkook’s already unsaveable mess of hair. As hoseok pulled out, Jungkook looked up and could see you from your window. Moving to see better, you had pulled back your curtains (probably to see what dickwad was honking so early in the morning). You looked tired, and as you saw Jungkook in the car looking up at you, you waved.

He smiled and waved back before Hoseok was on the road.

“That’s Y/n’s house, ain’t it?’ Hoseok voiced as he pulled to the end of the road to turn. Since school grounds are closed on the weekends, the team meets as the public courts. “You told me she leaves across the street from you, but I didn’t think it was literal.”

“Yeah, it’s her house.” Jungkook sat in his chair, pulling down the sun visor and flipping open the mirror to try and pat down his hair. “How long do you think practice is going to run today?” Hoseok tapped on his wheel a few time, thinking about the answer.

“Hmm, dunno. I would like to be done no later than noon.” Jungkook looked at the radio, the clock showing it to be just past 8 am. Jungkook nodded.

“Yeah, okay. Noon is good,” he said more to himself than to Hoseok. Pulling out his phone, he sent you a text. Telling you that a lunch date would be perfect if you were up for it since he wanted to be done around noon- and also bidding you a good morning because he's a gentleman. He smiled- giggled even- when you texted him back.

Butterfly: It’s way too early to be this excited over Chinese food. Yes, a lunch date is fine with my incredibly jam-packed schedule. Sweat out all that testosterone hitting those sports balls, Jock.

“It’s 8 am,” hoseok started, pulling Jungkook from his micro-conversation with you, “what are you all giddy about?” Jungkook sat back, smiled as he bit his lip and bounced in his seat.

“I have a date today.��

“All right, wrap it up!” Hoseok shouted after he blew his whistle slung around his neck as his team members fell to the court exhausted. Contrary to his squirrel-like innocent face, Hoseok was absolutely ruthless when it came to pushing his team to get the results he wanted. Drilling them on basics until their arm flew off or testing their reflexes by lining them up and bombarding them with back to back intense tennis serves. Some freshmen swore they’d see Hoseok’s face behind a flaming tennis ball in their nightmares.

A rightful description to be fair.

Even Jungkook who had been training on the team with him since he became captain last year still got winded from Hoseok’s drills. No one could say they were fruitless though, they always brought results one way or another. That was his whole goal after all.

Jungkook lay on the tennis court, eyes closed as he had his mouth open like a fish as he took deep, shaking breaths. Exhausted and coated in a gross layer of sweat, he wanted nothing more than to shower in the public locker room. Some members had already lugged their wobbly, jelly bodies to do just that- aiming for a cold shower just to get their body moving again. The sun was high as Hoseok sighed in content.

“Finished by noon, just like I wanted.” He put his hands on his hips when he saw someone standing behind the mesh wire that surrounded the court. He smiled as he waved to the person in question. He cupped around his mouth as he shouted to them. “Hiya, Y/n! You’re looking cute today!” Jungkook’s eyes shot open when Hoseok mentioned you. He shot up from his lying position on the blue court as he whipped to see you.

Jungkook looked at you with his mouth hanging open, Hoseok laughing as he slapped his thigh at his friend’s reaction. He wasn’t expecting you to show up at the tennis courts, so his open mouth reaction wasn’t uncalled for per se. Yet, there you stood in a Jungkook’s favorite pair of jeans and a tee-shirt with a bowl of ramen on it. Your small purse with your wallet, phone and probably a bottle of ibuprofen hanging low at your waist.

Meanwhile, Jungkook sat a sweaty, stinky tennis-abused wreck. It didn’t stop him from smiling and hopping up to go greet you. Standing in front of you on the other side of the fence. “What’re you doing here?” He smiled as he asked.

“Why else? A Chinese food date is calling our name, and I don’t know about you why I would kill for some crab rangoon right about now.”

“Oh, worry not, we’ll get them crabs.” You laughed as you were soon ushering him off to shower and change. Hoseok caught him in the locker room and took his chances to tease him again.

“She’s looking pretty cute,” he told Jungkook. Jungkook already knowing this obviously. “I didn’t know she was your date, I’m almost jealous.” Hoseok continued as he stripped off his jersey shirt, Jungkook doing the same as he stepped into one of the showers. Jungkook didn’t reciprocate most of Hoseok’s chides, however right before he left, he grabbed his friend’s shoulder. Now fully dressed in jeans, a white shirt and his duffle with his hair slightly dripping from his shower, he smiled almost menacingly to his captain.

“She’s cute, but she’s off-limits, Captain.”

“Right,” Hoseok replied with a shiver and risen hands. “Message received.”

Jungkook made his way outside and ran from the courts, pushing the fence gate open as he met with you who was sitting against the fence in the small patch of grass before the court. Jungkook, helping you up, he was soon asking where you two were going to eat as Hoseok watched from the locker room’s door. Smiling because there was nothing more natural than you two and Chinese food.

You ended up taking Jungkook to a rather new Chinese buffet that opened just over a month ago. He was shocked and almost refused you foot the bill for it yourself since- let’s be real- buffet prices per person are steep. You wouldn’t yield and proceeded to hush him as you both stood at the counter, ready to be seated for two.

Slid into a booth by a window that showed the street, you were both served your beverage of choice before the two of you were jumping up and loading up your first plates. You lost track of time between eating and talking with Jungkook. Cracking stupid jokes, making everyday conversation and bringing up who was whose favorite teacher in school- as well as bonding over the one teacher everyone loathed for their cut-throat teaching practices.

Jungkook flinched and the guilt crept up his neck when the bill was slipped to you with the recycled line of ‘no rush, take your time’. You swiped the black book with your receipt inside and slide your card in with it, closing it back up and setting it back on the table edge for your server to return to take it and efficiently drain your bank account of money.

“How bad was the damage?” He asked, arms crossed on the table with a stack of plates at his side; his Coke half drained of its second refill.

You just shook your head. “It wasn’t awful,” you waved and dismissed, but you had to be lying. The food was good, the service and catering weren’t something to sneeze at and the place was brand-spanking-new for Christ’s sake. It surely wasn’t as cheap as you were trying to make him believe. “Don’t worry about it,” you told him, leaning against the table with a smile. “I told you I’d treat you for your work on my posters. Now, we’re even.” Jungkook just sat in a huffy pout as you just laughed at his whining.

The bill was taken, returned and you signed off on the buffet’s copy of your bill before you were taking back your card, your copy of the bill, shoving them in your purse and standing up. Jungkook following as you both left the restaurant with good reviews of the new place to eat.

You both stood on the street corner, people buzzing around going to and fro. You stood at a traffic light, waiting for the light to change and allow you passage across the road. Jungkook knew that the plan was to actually walk home since nothing else was planned. He had a different idea, however. Before you could start walking when the red hand switched to a blue walking person, Jungkook grabbed your hand and dragged you off backward away from the crosswalk.

“What are you doing? Home is that way?” You pointed behind you as you got dragged through people. Jungkook stopped only when there was an opening between suits. He smiled down at you, still holding your hand.

“I know. I’m just being selfish now,” he chuckled.

You rose your brow. “Selfish?”

He nodded in confirmation, hand squeezing around yours and shaking it in confirmation. “Yup. Selfish. Let’s not go home yet. Let’s walk around some. Shop, get some tea or something.” You had no particular plans for the day, so you had no reason to object. You solely convinced yourself that the reason you nodded your head and why you allowed Jungkook to tow you around after eating was that you had no other plans. It definitely wasn’t because you may accidentally have a crush on him. No way.

The two of you spent all afternoon shopping around from store to store, not really purchasing anything, but just eye shopping was a joy with the two of you in each other’s presence. Jungkook was glad that you were enjoying yourself as much as him (he made sure to always ask about every hour to see if you were still having fun). He didn’t tug you around so that you wouldn’t have fun. You didn’t get out much and had a small circle of friends, even if he teases you about how many people you know.

Knowing people and having friends are complete differences, and Jungkook felt like he was the culprit behind it. He was always the one to disregard rules or stir up trouble since primary school. You were the only one able to control him and before he knew it, he acted out solely for that purpose. He knew that someone would soon fetch you and he would be muzzled by his tamer. Because of that, and Jungkook’s popularity, you made more enemies than friends. He was selfish though, he wanted your attention and the best way he got it was by acting like a blundering fool.

Now, with the past two days you’ve spent with each other, maybe that could change. He was certain that now, he could call you without causing a ruckus. He could walk beside you and laugh with you as a just himself, not as someone who was just taking another lecture about being responsible in stride. He wanted nothing more than to walk beside you.

“Jungkook!” You called to him as you both stood in some women’s clothing store you were practically drooling over every time you both passed the window. He decided to make it the last stop of the day since it was getting late and you both needed your rest. Jungkook has another early morning practice he dreaded. “Look, isn’t this ring neat? It’s supposed to be anti-negativity.” You chuckled as you showed him a simple, dark grey ring. It looked like it was somewhere between metal and stone, and was simple to a fault.

“Do you believe in that anti-negativity, anti-stress stuff?” He raised an eyebrow. You cupped your chin.

“Well, I don’t not believe in it. It’s not like I’d wear it and expect to be positive just because it’s on. It’s a dual effort, or maybe I see it as more of a type of mental cushion. A mind over matter type of deal.” Jungkook nodded as he picked it up from your palm.

“How much is it?”

“Just a few dollars. I think I’ll get one, just for chuckles.” You told him as he nodded again and trapped the ring in his hand. You gasped as you tried to snatch his hand to get the ring back, but he just held it above his head, a grin on his dumb face as it was far out of your reach. He even pushed on your head to keep you that much further away from it. He was soon walking to the desk where he placed it down. You peeked around his back, seeing what he was doing. “Jungkook?” You asked as he just quietly hushed you.

The ring rang up as $3 something and you nearly slapped the $5 Jungkook handed the clerk. He just pushed your hand away as she broke the change to hand back to him. When it was all said and done, Jungkook took the ring from the counter and called for you two to be going home. You chased after him in a fit of wanting answers.

When you both got outside, he slipped the ring on your finger and pat your hand.

“You didn’t have to buy it,” you mumbled as he just chuckled. He lifted your hand and kissed where the ring sat.

“I don’t have to do a lot of things, but that won’t stop me. You know that” he sent a wink at you as you stood speechless. He laughed at your red face as he began to tug you home at his side. His hand holding yours that held your new ring.

“Are you going to my tennis match this weekend?” Jungkook who was once against loafing over at your home asked as you sat at your desk, scribbling down your math equations. You turned in your chair to look at him lying on his stomach on your bed, comic open in front of him.

“I was planning on it. Why?” He smiled. Abandoning the comic and placing his cheeks in his hands, elbows pushing into your mattress. You recoiled slightly at the look on his face. “What’s with the face?”

“You’re going to support and cheer me on, right?” You rolled your eyes as you just turned back to your work. He flopped onto his back as he stared up at your ceiling. “I really hope we win, I have a whole celebration planned out if we do.”

“Oh, and what celebration plan is that?” You asked, not stopping writing the next step of your equation.

“It’s a secret,” he sung.

“That’s not fair, why’d you bring it up then!” You stopped, turning around again- feeling cheated. He craned his neck to look at you, his face upside down and his bangs falling to expose his forehead onto your mattress.

“It’s a secret because it directly involves you!” He cheerily told you with a giddy smile.

“I don’t have to buy you Chinese food again, do I?” He shook his head, rolling back onto his stomach and planting his chin in the bed.

“No. You don’t, it's free of charge celebration for you.” That was all he was going to tell you as you just returned to work and he was soon nuzzling his face into the bedspread. It smelt of your perfume. The scent calming, the repetitive scratching of your pencil in your book and the silence and comfort of your room and your presence eventually made the tennis player fall asleep.

You were shocked at the surprising lack of conversation from the boy behind you. When you turned to investigate, you smiled warmly at his sleeping figure surrounded by the pink of your bedspread. The color complimented him somehow. Quietly lifting yourself from your desk chair, you padded over to sit gently beside his body on the bed. You pet at his hair as he moved to push his cheek further into the mattress.

“You’re spoilt,” you chuckled in a whisper. You leaned to kiss the cheek that faced upwards towards the ceiling when your mother called for you. Not yelling back to her in fear of waking the overworked tennis player, you silently came to your mother’s call downstairs.

Down the stairs, your mother stood in wait. Drying her hands on the front of her apron.

“Oh my, where’s Jungkook?” She asked.

“He conked out on my bed. I’m gonna let him sleep for a while. What did you need?” She seemed to remember why she called you in the first place. She had experimented on a new pie she hadn’t made before and you were volunteered as the taste tester. You didn’t mind really- her baking was usually pretty tasty.

Half an hour, two pie slices and a kitchen clean up later, you trotted back up the stairs to your room. Walking in and seeing Jungkook laying on his side, but awake now. He groaned at you to show he actually perceived your presence; to which you just shook your head at.

“Have a pleasant nap?” He groggily nodded along your bed as you moved to sit beside him again. He crawled to plant his cheek on your thigh, sighing contently. He’s been a clingy sleeper ever since you two were children. If you two were to take your afternoon naps in the same vicinity, he’d always end up clinging to you then too.

“You smell nice,” he slurred.

“Probably like the pie mom made.” Jungkook just hummed and you both stayed in comfortable silence. The sun kept teasing the horizon, signaling the nighttime and you tried convincing the sleepy boy on your leg to get up and go swagger himself back to his own home. He kept denying you of this, however. “Jungkook, you need to go home.” He just shook his head for the umpteenth time. Soon, someone knocked on your door and your mom peeked her head inside. Smiling seeing Jungkook half asleep on your lap.

“Darling, dad won’t be home until late tonight. The poor man got roped into another double.” You nodded as you gestured to Jungkook’s head.

“Alright, but can you tell him he needs to go home and sleep? He won’t listen to me, but you’re an authoritative adult.” You mother just giggled.

“Jungkook, dear. You’re more than welcome to stay the night.” He lifted his head as he nodded pathetically. “I’ll call your mother and let her know then, sweetie.” Then she back out of the room.

“No- wait. Mom!” You looked down at the boy smiling winningly up at you. You just lightly smacked his forehead with your fingertips. “Spoilt jock. You did that on purpose, didn’t you?” He just rolled his eyes, wanting to get comfortable again.

As Jungkook pretty much remained rooted to your bed, you showered and changed into a loose PJ crop off and sweats (foregoing the shirts matching pair of shorts as a whole). Your mother brought some shorts and a tee for Jungkook to wear as he lay under our bubblegum blankets.

You stood at your desk, straightening up as Jungkook watched you. You flicked off your desk light as he spoke up.

“You’re sleeping in here, right?” He questioned as you looked over your shoulder.

“Duh. It’s my room. I’ll just make some palette on the floor with some pillows or something.” You shrugged as Jungkook shot up, shaking his head in protest.

“No! You can lay in your bed with me. I’m not kicking you out of your bed.” You just crossed your arm. “Come on, Y/n. Please?” You flinched as he clearly wasn’t against pouting to get his way. In the end, you caved.

Shutting off the light and moved to lay in bed next to him. Your back facing him, you felt him shift in the bed before he slung an arm around you- true to his koala sleeping habits.

“Is this okay?” He wanted to make sure you weren’t uncomfortable.

“It’s fine, Jungkook. Go to sleep.”

“Okay. goodnight.” when he was sure you were asleep before he was, he turned you around- knowing not even Armageddon could wake you up. He lifted and pushed your hair behind your neck and shoulder as he looked at you. He was sleeping not long after.

It was the afternoon of the tennis match. Jungkook was more fired up than usual, prompting Hoseok to ask if someone sparked him or something recently. Nothing specifically came to mind. He’s practically been freeloading at your house all week long- something about being good luck for his game? You didn’t even try to start to understand him and his logic truth be told.

When before game practice started, it was obvious to anyone that he was pacing himself. Not wanting to wear himself thing before the game actually started. He was instructing his members and strictly speaking with the teammate he’d be placed in doubles with.

When the rival team showed up on the court, they were already well disliked. Their held high attitude irked the home team, making Hoseok more compelled to have his team crush them under their bigoted egos.

Throughout the series of games to be played, 2 sets in total (one for the senior players and another for the newbies), Jungkook would be in a double as well as a single. The doubles would start out the matches as they would end in one on one sets- no doubt wreaking of testosterone.

When the court spectators began arriving, Jungkook was drilling his serves when you slid into a vacant bench spot at the front. Dropping your purse at your feet and pull your phone out. If someone thought you weren’t going to take pictures of Jungkook playing- they were so wrong. You were hoping to score a perfect serve photo at least on time to hand up on your wall next to your dreamcatcher.

When he saw you, he smiled delightedly that you even showed up at all. You had told him so, but a part of him was still worried. He ran to you as he was a tad breathless from the practice beforehand on top of his jog over.

“Ready to play your best?” you asked him.

“Hell yeah. Don’t fall for me too hard,” he said with a twirl of his racquet. Hand on his hip and an air of confidence that wasn’t very egotistical per se, but very much adding to his tennis boy charm. You rolled your eyes as you whisked his away back to the court.

You were probably too invested in the games once they started. Getting especially riled up when Jungkook played. When his double match began, his first serve had you- and a few other school go-ers- up and pumping at the sheer force he slammed the ball with. Always serving perfectly without losing a serve or getting called for a foot fault. His first serve was always met with perfection and flawless follow-through.

His gameplay was a conversation of power that was released the moment he returned the ball by slamming it into the face of his racquet. He even pounded out a few kill shots, the rival team unable to even whisk the ball with their racquet and scoring a point because not once did his ball bounce out of court lines. Of course, his teammate did well also. Placed by the net at the forecourt, he poached the ball to Jungkook any chance he got for some great offensive power.

Jungkook and his teammate won his game with a 40-15 score.

Through the other games in the first set, there were back to back deuces and a few love games as well. The rival school may be arrogant, but they had game in them. Jungkook just barely finished his water when his single match was announced. It was the final game in the second set, so this would finish off the sport entirely for the day before an overall winning team was announced.

His approach to his game was different than his double. As he stood at backcourt, he seemed to look at every corner and draw out where his opponent may return or backhand the ball at or away from him. The umpire was more than accustomed to calling faults and outs by now. Taking into account that the field of playing for singles is far narrower than doubles- the sidelines make his width movement and return planning a bit tricky to get a feel for.

Honestly, by the time it was all over, and he served his final overhand- his main goal to was land a putaway in the sweet spot of his racquet. How he actually managed to pull that off, he wasn’t sure. It all happened in a fit of adrenaline and when the game was called, all he did was cheer in a sheen coat of sweat and gasped breathes.

A 30 to nothing game: 30-Love.

After all was said and done, the home team was just barely able to claim the victory for themselves, Jungkook was whisked away in a flood of sweaty tennis men back into the locker room to shower. You were ready to head home and expect him to barge into your home (again) when your phone buzzed.

Dreamcatcher: Don’t go home yet. I have to celebrate with you!

Sat on the hood of his car, you wait. Waving or saying hello to leaving tennis members who saw and passed you. You congratulating each one you could for their victory. It was only dark when Jungkook came jogging up to the car, putting his duffle on the hood beside you.

“Congrats on your win, jock.” He smiled triumphantly.

“You doubted me and my skill? No one is better than me with a racquet.”

“Hoseok is,” you countered.

“He is invalid to this argument specifically,” he chuckled as he climbed onto the car hood with you, the team pretty much dissolved now except for a few freshman stragglers who were waiting on rides back home to pass out most likely. “Honestly, having you watch was a big motivational push. I can’t look lame when you’re watching me.”

“You’re a high schooler who chased a yellow ball around a court, smacking it back and forth and drowning in sweat. You always look lame,” that was a lie and you both knew it. Even though that was exactly the case, Jungkook was probably cooler back there than he’s ever been in your eyes. He knew that just as well as you did.

“Jealous?” He teased. You rolled your eyes at him. “Oh, you ready to hear how we’re going to celebrate?”

“Isn’t that why I waited for you on your car, dummy?”

He snickered as he snapped in front of your eyes, making you go cross-eyed for a moment. “Close your eyes.” You looked at him skeptically. “What? You think I’m going to draw on your wit a marker or something?”

“You would, wouldn’t you,” you sneered.

“Just close them.” You caved as you did as you were told. Your eyes were closed for a maximum of a few seconds before they flew open when you felt Jungkook kissing you. Holding behind your neck, it was like he was turning even kissing into a sport. And you were sorely losing. When he pulled back, he laughed- literally- into your face. “You look like a glow stick,” he chided. You burned and just flounder back at him.

“You’re blushing just as much as me! Loser!” You whacked at his arm, but with hardly any force at all. He laughed again, gripping his stomach. When he settled you were holding your cheeks, trying to mentally will them to cool downJungkook grabbed your chin and turned your face with his index finger to face him again.

“Our celebration is another date, but this one is on me. As a serious gesture of how much I legitimately want you to recognize me as someone who feels a hell of a lot towards you.”

“I think I can recognize that just fine,” you muttered as he chuckled at you. “How about a date, but maybe if you consider maybe considering me as someone who likes you too?” He placed his forehead on yours, puckering at your nose and making it tingle before you pulled away from him and sneezed into your arm. Him laughing at your sensitive sneezing before you unleashed a tirade of wimpy socks to his arm.

He caught them easily enough before he was gearing up to kiss you again. “I think that’d count as a direct kill shot, Butterfly.” With all this good luck recently, who knows. Maybe you actually can win that student council election.

-END-

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