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en-hale-archives · 3 years ago

Text

Me with You ~~

pairing ⑅ bestfriend!Jake x fem!reader

genre ⑅ friends to lovers, fluff, slow dancing, suggestive/smut

words/read time ⑅ 3.9k/12-19 mins

warnings ⑅ 18+ content, light cussing

synopsis ⑅ Jake is back in his hometown to spend time with his closest friend. During some fun and frivolous dancing, things start to heat up...

author's note ⑅ I’m really proud of how this story turned out. I'm not a huge fan of second person, so I wrote in first, but if anyone asks, I can copy and post again in second person. It's more fluff than anything, but it does get a bit steamier towards the end, so I’m just going to go ahead and put a warning.

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When the back door finally slammed shut and the cacophony of barks faded down the street, I could finally let out my sigh of relief that I had been holding in since this morning. I tapped on my phone. How many days had we been watching Mrs. Chen’s pets? And just how was I able to put up with hours of barking, the smell of fresh turd lying across the lawn, and dog walks till dark? Including their rigorous feeding times and bathroom breaks -- I’m surprised I haven’t exploded yet.

I had so much planned the minute they left my house, but instead, the sudden silence felt all too relaxing and I laid my head against the cold countertop. I could finally stop stressing, stop thinking, and stop worrying about reprimanding for chewing on my shoes or peeing in the house or the continued barking that never ended. I was free. I felt like I could’ve stayed laid on the countertop forever, drowning in the evening sun. Who knew watching five dogs would take such a burden out of a person. Jake and I had taken on the job of dog sitting for Mrs. Chen while she visited some family in Tokyo. We both switched off every other day; some of the dogs at my house and the others at his; until we realized it would be easier if he just spent the few days at my house as we co-doggy sat. He got up bright and early to take them on their walks while I prepared their highly detailed and specific meals. Then from there, we spent the rest of the day making sure they didn’t run off somewhere or cause too much destruction in the house. But alas, Mrs. Chen came back early from her getaway and picked up Toby, Caleb, Khao, Sofia, and Pickle on her way home. Although I was exhausted from watching 3-foot dogs all day, the pay was amazing for me, and it would help tremendously for all the online classes I was going to be taking next semester.

The warmth of the sun cast a comforting trance over my heavy eyelids, and soon enough I was fast asleep, standing in the middle of the kitchen with the soft sound of nothing surrounding me.

By the time I had fluttered my eyes open, I had realized I was now seated in my dining chair and a large black jacket was placed over my shoulders. I sat up and let out a yawn, wincing at the bright light coming from the tv and shaking my now numb arm awake. I must have been sleeping for a while because the evening sun had turned to pitch of black. The moonlight beamed through the window and danced along with the sways of the large oak tree out front. I stood up and walked over to the refrigerator in which I grabbed two water bottles and some leftover pasta.

I was sure that Jake hadn’t eaten since lunch, seeing as he only ate if someone sat food in front of his face. I dragged my feet up the stairs until I heard the slamming of a book and the fast typing of a keyboard come from the living room. I turned and looked behind me. Jake had settled his things on the coffee table and floor, large books, folders, and several amounts of crumpled up pieces of paper found their way around Jake, himself slouched up against the edge of the couch. He had changed clothes since the last time I had seen him, he now wore a plain blue shirt with grey sweats, his eyebrows furrowed as he worked hard on whatever he was getting at.

“Oh yes, I was starving!” Propping himself up on the couch, he took the plate of pasta. I placed the waters on the coffee table and settled comfortably on the couch beside him.

“I can’t say that I’ve ever seen anybody sleep standing up before. Look,” Jake took his phone off the charger. “I got a picture.” He pushed the screen in my face, and of course, there was my unconscious body laying on the counter, mouth open and all. I playfully pushed it back his way as his face lit up with a smile I was all too familiar with.

“What are you doing down here so late, it’s almost 12 in the morning,” I asked. Jake’s smile disappeared when he was reminded of the work he had been doing seconds before.

He let out a large huff of air. “Trying to get some words on paper but instead it turned into a paper massacre,” he jokingly replied, “sorry for the mess.”

“Don’t worry about it,” I replied, taking a swig of water. I was going to ask if he wanted to watch a late-night movie, or pull an all-nighter and talk endlessly until the sun rose, but I could tell by each passing second that Jake was worried about this, and he wanted the time he had now over the summer to work on his music. I wished I was motivated to work on my own music, but unlike Jake, I wasn’t in a globally popular boy band. My complicated best friend for over 10 years had been working his butt off since middle school. It was his annual time to sit back and relax while he had the time to, but instead, he chose to use that time to help watch a bunch of dogs with his hometown bestie. God, I loved him.

Jake pulled himself off the couch and right back onto the floor, leaving the rest of the pasta to me. He picked up his pen again and started scribbling down words as quickly as he could, trying hard not to forget the lyrics that had floated into his head. Until he stopped, closing his eyes for just a split second, and let out a powerful sigh. Crumpling up the sheet, he stacks it on top of the others in frustration and started frantically tapping his pencil against the table.

“Maybe it’s best to just try again in the morning,” I advised, taking a small bite of the pasta that was left by my side.

“How come I’m having such a hard time with this?” He gazed up at me frantically for a clue, as if I had the answer to fix a problem as big and as important as his was. I looked at his doleful eyes and the bags that were starting to grow underneath them. I couldn’t help but think, because I made you sit up and watch a bunch of dogs with me.

“Do you want me to see if I could come up with something?”

“If you want. But, hold on, I think my thoughts are coming back up.” He quickly grabbed another piece of paper, his eyes narrowed in concentration.

I tried my best to keep occupied by watching videos on my phone, but I found myself suddenly bored out of my mind. I laid out on my back and picked up one of Jake’s folders. Briefly looking through it, I couldn’t help but feel a bit jealous at the amount of fan art and letters, praising him and the other members. Followed with that were just more and more engene stuff, full of nothing but kind words and heartfelt messages. Part of me wished that I was able to travel with Jake and see the world like he was. How fun would it be to meet people that praised you? And how cool would it be to see that you had fans? I couldn’t help but plaster on a huge smile as I skimmed through some of the notes until I finally came to one with familiar handwriting.

Remember Me were the words written on the top of the paper in bold and bright colors. But the message written underneath is what caught my attention:

To the person that makes me the luckiest guy in the world, this song is for you. It’s okay if you don’t feel the same, but please just remember me -- it was Jake’s handwriting.

I didn’t feel like I was breaking any crime reading his stuff until this moment, but curiosity killed the cat, and right now I didn’t mind being a feline. I checked to make sure Jake was still busy, and he was, almost like he had teleported into his own world. I quietly turned back to the sheet and started reading. It was about a girl, presumably his crush I’m sure. She was someone important to him, someone who made him love so much that it hurt. But this was far from a happy song, in fact, it was terribly heartbreaking. She didn’t understand his love, she wasn’t able to interpret it like he wanted her to. But he confesses that he was scared of what telling her would do, worried that she wouldn’t feel the same. So instead, it was like he was apologizing, and asking that she forgive him for not being brave enough to tell her, and if he did ever get the courage to, for her to remember him even if she wasn’t able to love him like he wanted her to.

The song ends like how the title began, and I find myself flabbergasted at the beautiful mixes of rhymes and metaphors that read like a poem. This was the first of Jake’s songs that made me feel this way, like I had just finished watching a tragedy movie with Ryan Renolds starring. I blink back the tears that I didn’t realize were forming. How come he never told me this? We never kept secrets from each other, like ever. It never mattered the subject or the severity, we had always promised that we would be open and honest with each other. I wish I would’ve known this sooner, maybe I could’ve saved him from feeling this way. And what girl could it possibly be? I knew for sure I was the only girl he was presumably close to; but was there someone else?

I glanced down at Jake, who was still in a focused state of mind with the pencil in his mouth and mumbling lyrics softly under his breath. I tried picturing my bubbly Jake writing these agonizing words and miserably failed.

Jake looked up at me as if he could feel my gaze on the back of his head. “I think I’ve found the chorus, but it’s the rest of the song I’m not able to get, and how come it’s so hard to find another word that rhymes with severe? Beer? Sphere? Revere? Appear? Gosh, rhyming sucks some serious ass!”

“This song is beautiful.”

Jake furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. “Huh?”

“This song I found in your folder.” I glanced back at it in my hand. “Remember Me.”

Jake’s gaze leaped from my eyes to the sheet, and I felt his body tense. “Where’d you get that from?”

“I was just going through one of your folders. Did you accidentally get it mixed up in your fan folder? Cause this is -”

“Did you read it?” He interrupted.

“Yeah, and it’s perfect.”

Jake glanced at me for a split second before turning back around, obviously uncomfortable. “I was watching one of those Kdramas you love so much and it inspired me. Could you help me rhyme with severe now?”

I knew Jake like the back of my hand, so I knew continuing on with this conversation would get him upset if he’s clearly avoiding it. But, I wasn’t going to just let him off that quickly. “Jake, come on, you can tell me anything. Who is this about?”

Jake looked back at me with a hint of something in his eyes, something I’ve never seen before, and something I wasn't able to decipher. “Nobody, I was just feeling really inspired, that's it.” His tone had switched from calm to agitated.

I give him my I’m-not-stupid look and he comes back with his own you’re-being-delusional stare. “It’s seriously nobody, truthfully and honestly.”

“Okay, okay I’ll back off.” I could tell he was starting to get defensive, and when he got like that, it took him at least a few hours before returning to normal. I watched Jake's Adam's apple move up and down, a way in which I could tell he knew I was not convinced in the slightest. “Well, sometimes we go through things that can remind us of situations like that, but not necessarily in that same exact context, you know? It has to be amplified for that audience appeal.”

“Okay...but have you ever felt this way before? Not exactly like how it’s written, but maybe somewhere along these lines?”

I thought I was going to get another vague answer, or worse, an aggravated one. But instead Jake looked down at his pencil as he tapped it along his wrist. “...maybe, but I think everyone can connect to the words in some way. I mean, everyone feels some kind of heartbreak in their life, right?” Jake's answer was still pretty vague, but at least I was able to get something out of him.

“Okay, but you know you can tell me anything, like, anything ever because you know that you’ll never actually have to feel this way, right?” I said, maybe too much in a hurry.

“Of course I know that.” He replied, giving one of his awkward grins.

“And if anyone has made you feel this way, then you know you can tell me that too cause there a sucker to lose out on a perfect person like you.” I teased in a sing-song way, poking his shoulder hard. Jake chuckled and poked me back.

A weird silence grew in the room, and Jake went back to trying to find rhyming words. I tried getting back on my phone, but I knew I needed to say something to let go of the tenseness in the air.

“Hey, crystal clear rhymes!”

He leaned his head back and looked up at me. “Nevermind, I give up for tonight.”

I could see the stress that played on his face. “Don’t worry, you’ll figure it out.”

“Yeah, but by the time I do, it’ll be too late.”

“What do you mean?”

Jake pulled his knees up to his chest and spoke. “This was going to go on our album comeback that needs to be finished in the next four months. By the time I think of something, it'll be too late and I’ll have to wait until the next four months. But by then, I'll have forgotten. This always happens and I have no idea how the hell to fix it.” I couldn’t tell if he wanted my help or just a bit of comfort.

“Did you try asking the other guys to see if they had any ideas?”

“Yeah, but they’re working on their own parts, I can’t ask them to do this too.”

“I’m sure they’d be willing to help if you asked,” I assured him.

“I know they would, but I just don’t want to. I always ask them for help, I thought being away from the studio and being back home would help my brainstorming abilities.” He gave a weary chuckle that almost sounded like a groan.

“Well, maybe tomorrow will come with better results.” I did my best to give him some motivation, but I could tell I was failing miserably at that too.

Jake watched as a car zoomed past the window, a low bass sounding off as it zoomed away. “I bet it’s easier to just listen to music than to try and come up with it. I remember when I would just blare NCT all day long and jam out in my room. It seemed so much easier back then to come up with stuff than it does now. I miss it.” He took a slight pause before continuing. “ Did you know that song you read was the easiest thing I have written in my life? I remember writing too. I just had this super weird feeling in my chest one day so I basically locked myself in my room and took maybe two hours and just wrote a bunch of words down and connected them to sound like a song. For once my mind had just gone blank and I couldn’t stop thinking and feeling that song, like I knew what it was supposed to sound like, I knew what the lyrics were supposed to mean. I just knew everything. And I miss that feeling, that feeling of like- '' He broke off his sentence when he looked back up to my eyes. It seemed like he was talking more to himself than to me. He swallowed hard and looked back at the pencil still in hand.

“Well, I'm sorry you don’t feel free anymore. I wish there was something I could do to make you feel like that again-”

“No, please don’t feel like that. It’s just something that had just recently started happening, something I really just can’t fix…” His voice gets softer and softer the more he spoke.

“Have you spoken to your manager about it?” I asked. “He’s super nice from what I understand. And he’ll probably have better answers than your friend who can barely play the piano, let alone produce an entire song.”

Jake laughed before I had the chance to. “ See, now you're underestimating yourself. Remember that song from freshman year? The one about-- what was his name, Josh?” Jake teased. I grabbed a pillow and slammed it into the back of his head. “Oh my gosh, I thought we promised we’d never bring it up again!”

Jake chuckled and laid his arm on the couch completely turning towards me. “How about we sneak out and go get ice cream and try to not wake up your mom in the process?”

I suddenly jumped to my feet when I have the perfect idea on how to cheer up the gloomy Mr. Shim. “Or, we could do something even better!”

“Urgh!” Jake groaned.

I grabbed my phone and hooked it up to the speaker. I was going to turn on his hit song Drunk-Dazed as a joke, but Jake needed this break from his career, so instead, I crunk up Beyonce as loud as it could go without disturbing my mom who slept upstairs. I turn back to Jake and reach out for his hands, already moving my hips to the music.

He shook his head and threw it back onto the couch as if throwing a temper tantrum. “I literally dance for a living.”

“Okay but this will be different, I promise.” I grabbed the piles of papers on the ground and threw them in the trash, I then pushed the coffee table near the wall and piled his folders and books neatly on top.

“Come on, cowboy!” I grabbed his hands and helped him up. He was reluctant to get up, but he threw one last groan before standing on his feet.

“This will get the brain juices flowing again!” I told him. I go back to my phone and switch it to one of my favorite Beyonce songs that she covered, At Last.

I sang dramatically to get Jake to smile, and luckily, it worked. I placed both my hands over his shoulders and swayed us back and forth, still miming the song as overly exaggerated as I could. Jake still couldn’t help but smile, and it didn’t take him long to join me in the rhythm and sway naturally with me. I learned at our middle school dance that Jake had perfect rhythm. He was able to impress the rest of the crowd when he busted out moves from BTS. Everyone was impressed, including me.

Now we were on a steady roll. I accidentally stepped on his feet a few times, but it was fine seeing as I was wearing foam flip-flops and he was barefooted. After a while, the song switched and played another of my favorites that didn’t match our style of dance, but we still moved slowly to the beat. Jake tried twirling me, but since I have two left feet, I almost ended up hitting the wall each time and Jake laughed loud at my clumsiness. The moonlight from the kitchen had now switched to the window in the living room. It gleamed through and glistened on Jake like a spotlight, just like the ones on the stage did for him. In a split second, I was reminded that he wouldn’t be here forever, just like he wasn’t here for the past year. I tried to not let it settle on my face that I was scared to see him go again, so I played up on the fun we were having now. Jake looked like he was at ease; finally, since he’d been here, he looked genuinely happy and I wasn’t going to ruin that.

After another handful of songs full of laughs and giggles, we were soon sweating and taking deeper breaths than normal. Each song was different from the one before, but it didn’t stop us from sticking to our style of dance. Even with the simplicity of the moves and the slowness of the steps, I had to take a minute to relax. I hooked my arms around his neck and rested my entire body on his. I could feel Jake’s own sweat seeping through his shirt, But I didn’t mind the wetness that was now attached to my cheek. I thought he would act awkward and ask for me to pull away, but instead, he gripped tighter on my hips and started slowly moving me side to side. I let out a long overdue sigh, trying my best to match the steady breathing of Jake’s with my own. It was actually therapeutic: hearing his heartbeat in one ear and the softness of the music in the other.

I tried to continue our steady breathing together, but his had picked up a bit, almost out of nowhere. I felt the heat of his breath on the nape of my neck, and it made my entire body tingle in a way it never had before. After this sudden feeling, I realized just how close we really were. His leg hair tickled my legs, I could feel the bone of his foot connecting to mine, I could feel his thin waist against mine as well. I felt like I needed to back up, but instead, I couldn’t and continued to sway softly against him. A few seconds later, Jake’s hands rose a little higher, planting themselves on my waist and tightening their grip as if they were trying to pull me closer than we already were.

The sensation hadn’t stopped though, it clung to my body like my damp shorts did on my thighs. Sooner or later I felt pressure on the lower part of my stomach and thought for sure that Jake was messing around and wasn’t feeling what I was, which indicated that I needed to pull back before this feeling became too much.

This is so embarrassing. I thought. How could I let myself feel like this? How was this in any way okay? I finally pulled back, the sensation becoming too unbearable, and glanced up at his face. His pupils were large in a way I hadn’t seen before. His mouth was slightly open and a drop of sweat slowly traced down his forehead, onto his nose. That pressure I was feeling on my stomach had now doubled in force, and Jake's face had switched from calm and subtle, to alarmed and panicked...

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(part 2 possibly...?)

Thank you guys so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed it! Please, leave any constructive criticism you have on helping improve my writing!

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None of the images are mine, They all belong to their rightful owners :)

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iwadori · 4 years ago

Note

Atsumu dating Kita's younger sister (their manager). That's it. That's the request. Hope you like this prompt 🤞😅

Dating your brothers teammate (Atsumu)

Part One Part Two Part Three

Word count: 1.6K

Genre: angst, fluff

ATSUMU

You and Atsumu started dating a month after Kita introduced you in your first year

You’re now in your second year and still going strong

However, no ones knows about your relationship since Atsumu said you being the manager and him being the setter it will affect the team dynamic?

You start the day off, seeing a message from your boyfriend,

‘Tsumu: Mornning babe, can’t wait to see you today!

You don’t respond, you are Atsumu have been at odds for the past few weeks as you feel like you guys should make your relationship public. Not even public per se, but you definitely feel it shouldn’t be hidden away especially with it being nearly two years of you being together.

Of course, Atsumu disagreed. He felt like at this moment you and him revealing your relationship to the team will just mess up the ‘dynamics’ or whatever that’s supposed to mean.

You get ready for school eating the breakfast your grandma made you and conversing with her and Kita before you both headed off to school together meeting Aran on the way.

You had an early morning practice and you didn’t mind it. To be honest, you love being around the team you were all a little family, you having a good relationship with all the guys.

This morning, the guys were all practicing different sorts of skills Kita was helping some of the gives with dives and receives and the rest doing other things. You were helping Osamu, Suna and Atsumu with there serves.

Regardless of your public or private relationship status with Atsumu, you the twins and Suna were all good friends. You did have a slight inclination that Osamu and Suna knew of the relationship with you and Suna but just didn’t bring it up.

At the end of practice, the usual fan club was there waiting for the twins and the other guys to flirt and talk with them. As you are their manager, you did get some slight hate and jealousy from the other girls in your year but you didn’t pay no mind to it.

When leaving practice, Atsumu (who usually walks with you to your class) gets stopped by a girl who seems to have something important to say so you politely step to the side (still in ear shot though.)

“Miya-san” she said a bit nervous as her finger were shaking “I have this letter I would like for you to read.”

He took the letter and said “Thank you, and you can just call me Atsumu” he smile at her.

“Thank you Atsumu, I hope to hear a response to you soon” she says about to walk away “Also, just to clarify you are single right?”

“Yes yes of course” he assures quickly making you annoyed “Why did you ask?”

“I assumed you were dating your manager, you seem pretty close”

“Oh her” he laughs and you already start to walk to your lesson leaving him behind “we’re just friends”

This makes the girl smile as she leaves, Atsumu turns to where you were standing shocked that you were completely vanished. He did think back to the conversation you had a week ago about your relationship status which did make him kind of sad for you since he did understand your reasoning he just wanted to you atleast wait it out till nationals is done.

He finds you at lunch, and to him it seems you don’t have a problem with him at all as you were being your usual smiley self interacting with him and all of your friends. So he assumed everything was fine (which it wasn’t of course.)

The next day at practice, when it ended the same girl came back again this time with friends and instead of approaching Atsumu they decided to approach you.

“Hi you’re the manager right?” one of them asks.

“Yup I have been for the past couple years.” you say

“Oh and you’re definitely not dating any of the guys on the team right?”

“I don’t see why it’s any of your business, but no i’m not.” it pained you to say this but you did agree with Atsumu to say you weren’t dating to people and as much as it pained you to say this you couldn’t break your ‘agreement.’

Once the girls leave, you start to softly cry because you don’t want to have to hide your relationship anymore. Atsumu enters the corridor and sees you upset and rushes towards you, “Hey babe what’s wrong with you?” he asks

“Nothing ‘tsumu just go back to practice” you murmur

“No i’m not going until you tell me whats wrong?”

“it’s just that girl that confessed to you yesterday and her friends approached me about if I was dating anyone and i-”

“what did you say, he told them no right?” he interrupts

“Is that all you care about? Wether I keep our relationship secret or not ..” you say slightly raising your voice

“Well I would appreciate if you don’t go round telling the world that you’re dating me gosh Y/N” he shouts a bit

“I’m not even fucking doing that, I havent told a soul and that’s all because of YOU”

You’re screaming match has alerted the team (who you didn’t notice) and they all stood around you watching before Kita steps in “Y/N are you okay??”

“yeah i’m fine bro” you say preparing to leave with tears still in your eyes “I just got into an argument with a friend”

Before you leave the corridor you look back at Atsumu and catch all the guys attention when you say “Also Atsumu, happy anniversay ‘babe’”

“I KNEW IT!” shouts Osamu but Suna nudges him telling him to ‘read the room.’ Kita slowly approaches Atsumu and punches him in the face “I don’t care what you did but you made my sister cry so you better go fix it you dick”

Atsumu nodded and clutched his face, “Also I think it was pretty evident that you guys were dating.”

“Wait they were dating?” said Aran

You were in your room, scrolling through old pictures of you and Atsumu and looking at the presents he was going to give him for your anniversary still crying. You hear a knock on your door “Granny, I’m not hungry right now” you shout. But the door opens anyways “Granny I said I wasn-” you pause when you see a bruised Atsumu ‘Kita’ you think making yourself smile at the thought of your brother coming to your defence.

“Y/N, i’m sorry baby for trying to hide our relationship and not seeing how wrong it was until it was knocked into me... literally” he says cautiously sitting on your bed “ I’ve always wanted to be able to show off to the world but I just couldn’t cause I thought Kita would be mad and I genuinely thought it would mess up the team dynamic, however I’d rather have Kita be mad at me and the team loosing nationals if it meant getting to date you”

His words make you swoon and to add on to your fawning he whips out a wrapped up box giving it to you. When you open it, you see it’s a necklace with both your initials on it “ Happy anniversay babe, this has been one of the best years of my life.”

You silently hand him your presents, murmuring a quiet “Happy anniversary.” After seeing your presents, he gives you a big deep hug whispering mutiple thank yous and compliments into your neck making you smile.

“So does this mean we’re in a public relationship? right?” you ask making sure you were on the same page.

“Of course!” he exclaims “Also check your phone”

You look down at your phone seeing a bunch of notifications all tagging you in one post that was from Atsumu on instagram. It was 8 pictures of him and you and a caption that read *insert long romantic sappy paragraph that I’m too lazy too write since its 3 am :3*

Your heart was overwhelmed with love for Atsumu, you spent the rest of your night cuddling and watching movies and before you went to sleep you told him you loved him.

Waking up the next morning, you thought it was all a dream to be honest. Because there was no way that Atsumu did all that right? You go downstairs and are shocked at the sight you see, Atsumu and Kita both sitting down eating breakfast together “What are you doing with my boyfr-” you stop yourself from finishing that sentence,

“Its okay Y/N you can say boyfriend, I have given your boyfriend the talk I just had to make sure that he knows that if he was ever to lay a finger on you that he would definitely get a bi-”

“Ughh nii-chan you’re being so embarrasing” you say pulling Atsumu back upstairs hearing Kita’s laughter in the backround.

You and Atsumu, stay together and it wasn’t much of a suprise when your relationship was public to the rest of the school and that girl that wanted Atsumu she ended up with Osamu anyways (it does makes sense since they do have the same face afterall.) Kita enjoys his days embarassing the both of you whenever you’re at your house. But you don’t care since you can finally show off to the world how great your boyfriend is.

Authors Notes: I don’t know if you wanted it to have angst in it but I hope you enjoy? Might make this a series so if you want anymore characters Request them and I’ll write for them too

#haikyu #haikyu angst #haikyu fluff #haikyuu x reader comfort #haikyu headcanons #haikyuu-fluff #haikyu x reader #haikyu scenarios #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu x reader #atsumu scenarios #atsumu x you #atsumu angst #atsumu x reader #atsumu fluff #atsumu headcanons #signedwithane😌

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fruitoftheweek · 3 years ago

Text

Little Cherry Book:

Chapter 1: Who is She?

Chapter 2 Here/ Chapter 3 Here

I guess this is a Switch!Spencer (mainly Sub! Spencer)X reader fan fiction this is my first fan fiction I’ve written since middle school so bare with me and feel free to message me constructive criticism. This will probs be multiple chapters but I just couldn’t get this idea off of my mind so here we go! And yes this season 1/2 Spencer because he is just the cutest!

Pairing: Spencer Reid X reader

Plot: Doctor Spencer Reid has heard of little black books, but that pales in comparison to what he has just found in the BAU’s elevator. A sweetly scented notebook filled with salacious journal entries illustrating the writer's sexual fantasies. He doesn’t know what it is about this book but all he can think of is finding its owner.

TLDR: Spencer finds your kinky notebook and uses super sleuth skills to find you.

Series TW: 18+, smut, degradation, piercing, choking, knife play, mommy/daddy kinks, spanking, exhibitionism, Will update as time goes on

Chapter TW: Cumming in pants, Hinting at sex, exhibitionism, no panties, Language, General 18+, Hinting at future kinks

Word Count: 2,439 (gah damn)

𝒯𝒪 𝒲𝐻𝒪𝑀 𝐼𝒯 𝒞𝒪𝒩𝒞𝐸𝑅𝒩𝒮:

𝒟𝑜 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝓇𝑒𝒶𝒹, 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓂𝓎 𝓈𝒶𝓀𝑒, 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇𝓈. 𝐼 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝒷𝑒 𝓌𝓇𝒾𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓂𝓎 𝓃𝒶𝓂𝑒 𝒾𝓃 𝒸𝒶𝓈𝑒 𝒾𝓉 𝒸𝑜𝓂𝑒𝓈 𝒾𝓃𝓉𝑜 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝓇𝑜𝓃𝑔 𝒽𝒶𝓃𝒹𝓈. 𝐼𝒻 𝒾𝓉 𝒸𝑜𝓂𝑒𝓈 𝒾𝓃𝓉𝑜 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓇𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉 𝒽𝒶𝓃𝒹𝓈, 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒸𝒶𝓃 𝒻𝒾𝓃𝒹 𝓂𝑒. 𝐼𝒻 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝒾𝓃𝓊𝑒, 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓈𝒽𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝒷𝑒 𝒸𝓊𝓇𝓈𝑒𝒹, 𝒷𝑜𝓉𝒽 𝒾𝓃 𝒶 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒸𝒽𝓎 𝓌𝒶𝓎 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓂𝑒𝓃𝓉𝒶𝓁𝓁𝓎. 𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝒷𝑒𝑒𝓃 𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝑒𝒹.

As Spencer read these sentences, he paused. Not for the warning of so-called curses, there was no scientific evidence for such things and Spencer knew magic was just science with a trick of the eye, but for the vehement warning making him feel intruding on whoever had left their journal in the elevator.

It had caught his eye as he stepped into the elevator on his way out of the office. As someone who had lost plenty of books in his days roaming the halls of the BAU, he knew how frustrating it was to not know what happened at the end. As he picked it up, he noticed the cover. It was old, bound in aged cherry red leather, yet too small to be more than a pocketbook. He had found your message while searching for a name to return the book to, and simply reading the first page already felt prying.

Alas, one sentence enticed him “If it comes into the right hands, You can find me.” Where his hands the right ones to come into? The probability of that could be found easily by calculating how many people got on and off of this specific elevator that day, no, in the past hour, with the hustle and bustle of people leaving for the day. Spencer could and he would calculate it he wasn’t so distracted by the message and his voracity to solve this mystery.

Tentatively, he flipped the page, finding a handwritten table of contents. This book had obviously been very important to the reader if they had taken the time to write in page numbers, detailed headings, and chapters. The table was nearly full of chapter titles in scrawled cursive lettering. His eyes stopped on the first chapter title. “Male Needs” with shakey lettering. He could tell by your handwriting that you grew more confident in your journaling as the chapters progressed, the hesitations in your strokes growing few and far between.

As he flipped the page once more he had reached the next floor and a large group of people bustled into the elevator. Spencer shied away from them, not just because he had an aversion to contact with strangers and their germs, but because of the sentences, he had read underneath that first chapter “I do not need a man, a man needs me. Yet, when I am with a man, I have needs. Needs that most men can’t fulfill. I need a man that eats pussy like it’s the only way to quench his thirst-“ and with that Spencer slammed the book shut, earning some confused looks from the others on the elevator. He should have heeded the warning because now all he could think about was the fact that this was your nervous entry and as your confidence grew, it was bound to escalate from there. He wasn’t sure if it was his flustered mind or the heat growing deep from inside him that made him feel dirty; not because it scandalized him, but because these were someone’s fantasies and he had intruded in their secrets and soiled them with his mind.

Ding! He had reached the ground floor and that was when he decided to leave it alone. He couldn’t bring it to the lost and found as it would be more likely to end up in the wrong hands there and your secrets would be for someone else to find, not that he even knew who you were.

On his drive home, he tried to think of anything else besides the book. His lunch, Garcia’s new item she added to her collection, how to get back at Derek for putting salt in the sugar container, but his mind kept wandering. It didn’t help that the notebook sat tauntingly on top of his satchel as if saying “Open me, you know you want to. You want to know who I am. You can find me.” There was no way that it had been there for that long as the janitor was on duty today and he had been on the elevator two hours ago on his way to clean the top floor. Since Spencer had left a little later than most people that meant there were multiple elevators full of people who would have noticed. He knew it wasn’t so but part of him felt as if you had left it there specifically for him to find. Like it was made for him. He quickly shook off the thought and went back to who it could be. He wanted to return it without reading any more. You clearly would miss it but he couldn’t imagine you wanted others to know about what lay in those folded corners of your book and your mind.

As he walked up the steps of his complex, he clutched onto the notebook with all of his strength, he feared that he would look down and it would have disappeared, he wanted to keep your deepest secrets safe as if they were his own. He was only able to relinquish his grip when he shut and locked the door to his apartment. He set it on the table as he got prepared for the night. By now he had limited his pool to 54 women who were regularly in and out of the elevator at that time of day which was a cut down in comparison to the 860 roughly women in that building on any given day. But that number still wasn’t small enough. He had to minimize the sample size even further. That was the only reason he reopened to the table of contents, right? Not because of his own morbid curiosity and definitely not because of the heat burning in his stomach.

He looked down at the page numbers, still too nervous to look at the titles, and saw that each entry was a page long consisting of 23 entries and one with a title but no page numbers. Not chapters as he previously thought but entries giving lascivious details into what he had not yet mustered up the courage to read. He was still unable to look at the titles in fear of what he might find. If graphic depictions of female oral sex were displayed under “Male Needs”, what possibly could lie ahead.

For now, he studied the handwriting. Cursive, not often used by many younger women, was often associated with antiquities and traditional values but he noticed something off. There was a very specific curl to certain numbers. Every even number had a specific extra curl or flourish to it and the zeros had a line through it like a “do not enter” sign. This went directly against the hypothesis that you were an older woman that the cursive provided; as many older women who wrote in cursive stuck to the rules even when it came to numbers. She wasn’t old enough to even be Hotch’s age but she appreciated the charm of the past. 'Who is this girl?' Spencer wondered. He was able to narrow it down to about half of his previous lot, excluding the women on his team. He had seen them write enough to know their handwriting inside and out. And while Garcia’s had similar flourishes to yours, she never crossed her zeros.

Spencer knew that he would have to read at least the chapter titles to grasp a better understanding of your handwriting and who you could possibly and as his eyes scanned the page, for the first time in a while he was actually reading slowly; putting all of his focus into each word and what order they were in. Unfortunately, his focus was his downfall. His face became so hot that he felt as if you could see steam coming off of it.

Table of contents:

Male Needs

Praise

Degradation

Mommy

Daddy

Work

Exhibition

Choking

Collars

Breeding

And that was all he could take. Ha couldn’t look at the thirteen and a half more entries, even this much knocked the wind out of him. He didn’t have much experience with women and certainly not enough to understand what all of those words necessarily entailed but he knew that whatever it was keeping his internal fire roaring with heat.

While he hated snooping, he knew he would need more information. He chose the chapter that sounded the most mundane out of all of them, "Work." ‘What was more normal than work.’ he thought, but he was so sorely mistaken.

"Work:

"Before I move on to exhibitionism, I have to talk about work. Yes, I would love to have sex at work where I and my partner are one step away from getting caught, I haven’t done that yet. I want to tell you what I have done. Almost every day I go to work wondering if the others can tell that I’m not wearing underwear.”

His heat spread from his face down until it pooled in his loins and his cock became hard imagining this mystery girl walking the halls of the BAU with a breeze in her skirt, nearly exposing the secret that lied beneath. Had he sat next to you when you were partaking in this activity? What would he have done if your skirt bunched up your thigh as you sat, exposing the tan lines where your underwear should be. Would he be able to see you in your tight work pants with no pantie lines and be the only one who truly knows your secret?

“I kinda want to be caught someday by Him. I wonder what he would do. Would he tell me off for being unprofessional? Would he take me to that storage closet 3 doors past Garcia’s office, just far enough away that he could teach me a lesson for being naughty at work?”

He felt so dirty, inserting himself into the fantasies of a girl which he did not even know that he almost glanced across the use of Him, capital H.i.m. He wanted to indulge in his imagination that in some way or another that the “Him” in question was in fact the man reading this with trembling hands and an impossibly hard cock. He couldn’t stop himself from imagining situations in the storage closet that he regularly used as a reading nook when he needed time away from the others.

He rested his head on the pages of the book, hoping somehow that his dirty thoughts would be transplanted from his head and back into the pages so that he could stop thinking about you. His efforts were thwarted as this action meant that he could spoil himself in your scent that enveloped the book. As if you had wrapped it in the deepest most vulnerable part of you to hide it away from others. You smelled of bergamot, patchouli, and musk but deeper than that, you smelled like sweet, tart berries and honeysuckle in summer. There was something else that he couldn’t put his finger on at first but it was intoxicating all of his senses. It was saccharine, heat, and sex all combined in one. When it clicked, it no longer felt as if his head was pressed against a book but as if his he sat kneeling on the ground with his cheek resting in your inner thigh, your hot sex waiting for his indulgence, “like it's the only way to quench his thirst” echoed in his brain. The scent was your natural pheromones beckoning him closer with the promise of a treat.

And that was it. That was what sent him over the edge. The purest embodiment of your scent had him cumming, hot in his pants.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You sat down at the edge of your bed after a long day at work; shucking off your work clothes to get as comfy as you could in your PJs as a way to unwind from the day. You went to grab your lip balm from your bag and noticed that the front pocket of your bag had been left open. You instantly panicked, searching everywhere for your little red book. The one that kept the key to your deepest secrets and darkest fantasies. You tore your bag apart, knowing that you had it at the end of your workday because you took it out of your desk drawer and tucked it back into its home in your bag. You cursed your carelessness for not double-checking that you zipped your bag before leaving. With your forgetfulness, you knew it would happen one day but you didn't realize it would be this soon.

There was an odd mix in your heart and your stomach. Part of you felt your heart drop through your ass thinking that it had ended up in the wrong hands, part of you had butterflies thinking about someone knowing the deepest parts of you, intimately in your own words. You had the assurance that your name was nowhere to be seen in the book but you also knew that you worked with people who analyzed people's dark desires for a living. While none of your fantasies involved murder, they were like precious gems that you kept locked away in your heart. You couldn't dare imagine what would happen if it came into His hands. While you were the youngest at the BAU, only by a few months and you weren't even part of the group because you were still tentative, you couldn't put your dirty thoughts into the innocent head of the pretty boy genius. It was almost more worrisome than if SSA Hotchner or Gideon found it and you were fired. The idea of tainting someone so pure...

You had to literally shake your head to clear your thoughts. Imagining His face tinged red in innocence reading through your lewd writing had your head in a tizzy. Imagining Doctor Spencer Reid sifting through the pages with lightning-fast fingers, stroking down the pages of smut as you had imagined him stroking down your thighs so many times before. You decided to bury your head in your pillow, hoping that would calm your mind enough to slip into slumber.

Unfortunately for you both, your efforts would be fruitless and you would both go to sleep unknowingly thinking of each other.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter 2 Here/ Chapter 3 here

And that's Chapter one. Hope y'all like it. LMK in my messages and all that <3 have a great week!

#Spencer Reid smut #Spencer Reid imagine #Spencer Reid x reader #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst #criminal minds smut #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #sub spencer #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid #sub!spencer #mommy kink

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andypantsx3 · 4 years ago

Text

if i could keep cool | 4

pairing: Todoroki Shouto / Reader

length: 20,322 words / 6 chapters

summary: A villain attacks Shouto Todoroki’s apartment and kidnaps what he apparently believes to be Todoroki’s secret lover. The bad news—for both you and the villain in question—is that you’re just there to clean the place. That’s how it starts.

tags: romance, reader-insert, accidental sugar daddy shouto, misunderstandings

warnings: aged up characters, eventual smut

There was no other word for it. Todoroki was a menace.

Though his schedule seemed to return to something approximating normal, he was still in the apartment often enough that you began to anticipate him being there. Even when he wasn’t, however, he made life difficult enough for you by leaving behind gifts, with progressively more disappointed notes if you didn’t take them. You didn’t know how it was possible to convey that flat tone in the shape of his letters, but you could practically hear it as you read them over.

Worse, he seemed to know exactly which of your weak points to exploit to get you to want the gifts--leaving you several more books, a bag of the really nice coffee beans from the coffee shop you’d told him about, and a sinfully soft scarf as the weather turned colder. When you continued to ignore the insane amount of money he seemed to think passed for a tip, fresh vegetables started cropping up on the countertops with notes that said things like I’m not going to eat these, if you don’t take them they will be wasted to guilt you into compliance.

A month into it, an entire grocery order started showing up every Thursday shift. My refrigerator is full so don’t try to stuff any of this in there, his note commanded.

He was a master of manipulation, it seemed, and to what end you didn’t know. You made mental notes to not mention any further likes during your conversations, but when he was there, Todoroki’s conversation was so easy and so natural, he continued to pull all the details out of you with ease.

So things you really, really liked kept turning up. And as you talked to him, Todoroki was turning into a thing that you really, really liked as well.

It was overwhelming.

The final straw was a Friday afternoon when you hit up the fancy coffee shop just outside campus. You walked in with the extra money you’d saved up not buying your own groceries, and the vague idea that you would get a head start on an upcoming paper. And then, the barista very obviously glanced between you and a sheet of paper taped to a corner of the register, and refused to let you pay for your order.

“Your order is free!” she chirped cheerfully.

You stared. “What?”

“It’s already taken care of!” she said, and immediately, a cloud of suspicion settled over you.

“What’s the occasion?” you asked.

She smiled. “The occasion is someone already paid for you!”

You glanced around the coffee shop, but you could find nothing but a few unfamiliar students purusing books or churning out work on their respective laptops. You turned back to her.

“And if I were to walk into this coffee shop tomorrow, would the occasion also be that someone already paid for me?”

She nodded. “Yes! All your future orders are paid for, please come as often as you like!”

You gaped at her, and she cheerfully stuffed your coffee into your hands. Then you glared down at the white paper cup accusingly, and it stared back at you, looking like one half of a certain menace’s hair color.

Oh, he was in for it.

You stalked over to a table and whipped out your cell phone, shooting off a message so fast your fingers practically burned.

todoroki what the hell

To your surprise, you received a reply almost immediately.

It’s Shouto.

Like hell it was.

first names are for friends, not psychopaths. did you really pay for all of my future orders at the coffee shop?

Is this your first time there this month? he answered. Where do you usually go?

You stared at your phone. He’d done this a month ago? Also, no way you were telling him your budget spot where you picked up lukewarm bean water when you couldn’t afford four dollar americanos. The last thing you needed was for him to buy them out, too.

You got to your feet, marching back over to the barista.

She smiled. “Back for something else?”

“Yeah, how do I cancel the all my orders are paid for thing?” you asked. “Can you just delete whatever info he left you and charge me from now on?”

She looked you up and down. “Are you sure?”

You nodded. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

She stared, then leaned in to whisper. “You do know who paid for all your orders, right? Are you actually sure you want to cancel?”

A migraine started in your temples. Had Todoroki actually come in here himself to give his information? Was he trying to get you caught up in the secret lover bullshit that was still swirling in the media?

“I’m extra sure,” you smiled, then went back to your table, satisfied.

No sooner than you had dug out your laptop, though, when your phone buzzed. You looked down at the name on the screen and paled. Todoroki was way easier to deal with via text when you couldn’t hear that low, smooth tone directly in your ear. His face and his voice were absolutely fucking mind-melting, and it would be hard to maintain your stubborn stance even in the face of just one.

Still, though, this was the last straw.

“How many times do I have to tell you that friendship is free?” you hissed quietly as you picked up.

“They told me you tried to cancel,” he said flatly, and your head whipped up to glare at the barista accusingly. She smiled.

“Todoroki--”

“Shouto,” he said.

“Fine, Shouto,” you said, “It’s been a month and maybe I let you get the wrong idea by accepting all of the vegetables and everything, but this ends here. I told you that it doesn’t cost anything to be friends with me, and you had better stop apologizing. It’s not that I don’t appreciate it, but--”

“Then do,” he said simply.

“What?”

“Then just appreciate it,” he answered. His voice was somehow even lower on the phone and a shiver went down your spine, despite your frustration with him. “Just accept them. Why is it so bad if a friend gives you things?”

God, he was such a rich boy, wasn’t he?

“Shouto, I do appreciate it,” you said. “But I don’t need any of that. And I know that you know this isn’t necessary--I highly doubt that you are buying Midoriya all of his weekly coffees or draping Bakugou in soft scarves. All you need to be friends with me is to just hang out, the same way you do them.”

Shouto was quiet a moment. “Hang out,” he finally said, slowly, like he was tasting the words in his mouth. Then, “Are you free right now?”

“W-what?” you managed.

“You don’t have class right now, right? Your last lecture just let out.”

You were surprised that he remembered your class schedule. Just how much had you told him?

“Uh, yeah?” you asked.

“Good, stay where you are. We’re hanging out,” he pronounced the words like they were foreign on his tongue, then hung up.

You stared down at your phone in shock. He wanted to hang out with you? Like, outside of his apartment?

There was no arguing the two of you got along relatively well, now that the threat of your crazy fandom and the weight of his mistake no longer hung over your relationship. You talked easily enough the one or two times you saw him during any given week. But so far your interactions had been somewhat limited, confined to the familiar space of his apartment and limited to the time that you had to be there. You texted a little outside of that, but you’d never just casually hung out.

Then the weight of his words really hit you. He was coming here? To the coffee shop? In full view of your entire campus? Was he insane?

You ran through a mental checklist of things in your bag that could be used to disguise him but came up short. You didn’t know exactly what he planned to look like when he put in an appearance here, but you were not interested in fanning the flames of the secret lover garbage that was still all over twitter and splashed across the glossy pages of the magazines at the grocery store.

You shot to your feet and threw your bag over your shoulder, then ran out the door, dashing for the campus shop that sat just outside the student center. You blew through the door and dove straight for the apparel section, grabbing the least heinous hat that looked like it would cover most of Shouto’s distinctive hairstyle while also drawing the least amount of attention to its wearer. You also helped yourself to a plain pair of sunglasses that would probably be kind of inappropriate in the fall weather, but would go a long way in hiding his eyes and that scar.

Why did he insist on having so many distinguishing features? Would it kill him to have dark hair and dark eyes like most of the rest of the earth’s population?

You threw the items and a wad of bills down on the register counter, then paused. A few small, slightly-wilted looking bouquets of flowers sprouted from buckets just beside the register in the colors of your university. You didn’t know what the colors or type of the flowers were supposed to mean, and they probably didn’t give off exactly the message you wanted to send, but Shouto had gotten you flowers as the first gift he’d ever given you…

You grabbed the least wilted looking bunch and threw them on top of the other items.

The cashier rang you up with all the urgency of a sloth, and you tapped your foot nervously as you waited. How was Shouto getting here? How long would it take him? Would he be at the coffee shop already?

You stuffed the flowers into your bag, then launched yourself out of the campus shop like a rocket, catching that mop of red and white hair just outside the entrance to the coffee shop. You put on a burst of speed and managed to jam the baseball cap down over his head before he pulled open the door. He turned to you in surprise.

“Y/N,” he said.

“Yes, hi, hello,” you managed while also trying to ram the sunglasses onto his face.

He let out a small huff of amusement. “What are you doing?”

“What you should have done before coming here, you absolute wackjob,” you said, finally managing to slip the shades over his high-bridged nose without poking his eyes out.

Shouto let you manhandle him to your liking, until his face and hair were mostly hidden under your university merchandise.

“Okay, you should be good now,” you said, looking him over. He still stood out, honestly, too tall and outrageously handsome, even covered up as he was. The sweater and well-fitting jeans he’d chosen would still draw anyone’s gaze straight to his trim figure, but it would have to do.

“We can’t go inside, though, you’ll look too shady with the cap and glasses,” you said. “We need to go somewhere outdoors.”

He stared down at you, one eyebrow lifted over the top of his sunglasses. “It’s fall.”

You thought for a moment.

“How do you feel about izakaya?” you asked. “There’s a street-side one not far from here that’s mostly outdoors. They’re good, and I think they’re still open.”

He nodded. “Do you go there often?”

You eyed him. “Oh no. If I tell you places I go, you apparently buy them out. The whole point of you being here is to prove that buying me things is stupid when we can just hang out.”

The corner of his mouth twitched like he was being told a joke you couldn’t hear. “Lead the way, then,” he said evenly.

You pulled him down a few blocks, expertly navigating your way through the winding city streets. You would never admit as much to him, but this place was one of your faves for good beer and cheap yakitori, and you could probably easily find your way both blindfolded and drunk. Shouto followed you easily, a tall, silent warmth at your back.

There were few people at the izakaya when you arrived, considering it was still a little early for dinner, and no one gave the two of you a second glance when you pulled back the curtains and helped yourselves to pair of stools in the corner of the stall.

“Okay, you have to get a beer and yakitori first," you said. "You can do whatever you want after, but the first round has to be that. Just trust me.”

“No vegetables?” Shouto asked.

You laughed. “I know that’s my brand. And there are good veggie side dishes. But there is nothing like fresh, warm, cheap yakitori and a really good beer, especially on a cool fall day like this. I know what I’m talking about.”

A soft smile pulled at his mouth. “So you do come here often.”

You stared up at him accusingly. “If you dare throw a single dollar at them, you’re in huge trouble. I know where you live.”

He smiled down at you. It was easier to notice how boyish his grin was when the rest of his face was hidden by his sunglasses, and heat flared in your cheeks. He was just so damn good looking.

It suddenly dawned on you how forward you’d been with him, sending him sassy texts and putting your hands all over him when you were attempting to stuff him into your university swag. Your relationship had progressed somewhat since that first book he’d bribed you with, but honestly, this was completely new ground for you.

Your face burned hotter. You’d been so, so inexcusably forward. Had you lost your mind?

Shouto seemed to be thinking about the hat as well. “So, do I look like a student at your university?”

You looked him up and down. Aside from your school’s name emblazoned across his baseball cap, he looked nothing like a student, too put together in his dark sweater and jeans that probably cost more than your monthly rent. You wondered if he’d even been within ten feet of an instant ramen cup in his entire life.

“Uh, no,” you said. “You look like someone forced you to wear a hat they panic purchased and it just so happened to be the least horrible one available.”

A smile played about his mouth again. “What were the other options?”

You grinned. “It was this one or a proud dad of a college grad cap.”

He let out a small huff of amusement. You smiled, then leaned forward as the man at the counter came over to take your order, making sure to cut Shouto off before he could attempt any rich boy tricks. You put in an order for two beers and what was probably a concerning amount of yakitori, then turned back to Shouto and almost fell off your stool when he was much closer than you’d expected.

“Do you have a teleportation quirk I don’t know about?” you asked, internally panicking at his proximity. He was close enough now that you could feel the heat of him and catch the scent of his cologne, light and fresh and disturbingly good.

He smiled that boyish smile again and your heart suddenly forgot how to do its job, freezing in your chest. “It’s cold.”

You rolled your eyes. “You have a fire quirk.”

You felt the air grow a little warmer around the two of you. “I meant for you,” he said.

You were torn between relaxing into the sudden warmth and freezing up in embarrassment. It was beginning to dawn on you just how attentive and thoughtful he always was, and you wondered vaguely if the gift giving was actually just a really extreme manifestation of that personality trait. Maybe being an awkward rich boy with a weird way of making friends was just part of the issue.

Your heartbeat suddenly kicked into overdrive. He was already so overwhelming to look at, incredibly brave, such a good listener, and way too easy to talk to. You did not need to pile on other endearing qualities to the frankly alarming number of things feeding into what was quickly becoming the fattest crush of your lifetime. Did he have to be so good all the time?

A hand suddenly reached out, pulling you closer so that you were practically fused to his left side. You stiffened, resisting the urge to curl into the warmth pouring off of him in thick waves.

Not good, this was so not good.

“Uh, you don’t have to do that,” you said, tongue thick, like you were speaking through a mouthful of applesauce. “I’m wearing the scarf you got me.”

Shouto tilted his head, and though you couldn’t see his expression behind the sunglasses, something like satisfaction curled the corner of his mouth. “Good,” he said in his deep tone, “but this will help too.”

“Really, you’re my friend not my personal space heater,” you insisted, trying to squirm away from him. “You don’t need to do this.”

He flared hotter, and a strong arm went around the back of your chair, halting your escape. “I don’t mind,” he said.

God it was like he didn’t even know what effect he had on people. People, of course, being cleaning ladies with twitters full of zoomed in pictures of his abs. It was not good for your health to be this close to him, couldn’t he just let you sit ten thousand miles away from him where both of you would be a little safer?

The izakaya owner interrupted this train of thought, pushing two beers and a plateful of yakitori between the two of you.

You instantly seized on the distraction, bringing a beer to your mouth to give you a couple moments for your brain to turn on again. It was refreshingly cold, and the flavor was nostalgic, tasting like breaks after class with friends and late nights stumbling back after several rounds of karaoke and drinking. You wondered now if, in the future, you would taste it and think back to the one time you’d hung out with Shouto Todoroki.

“It’s good,” Shouto said, looking at you over the rim of his own beer.

You smiled. “I told you.”

Then you shoved a stick of yakitori at him. “Now eat this and tell me I was right about it too.”

His fingers slid along yours as he took the stick from you, calloused and warm. “...You were right about this too,” he said after managing a bite.

You felt yourself puff up. “Of course I was.”

He smiled and helped himself to the rest. With the food and drink absorbing some of your attention, you were able to calm down somewhat, and the conversation returned to normal, you doing your best to forget about the sinfully warm arm curled around your back.

Here, too, Shouto was absurdly easy to talk to, the new venue doing nothing to dull his charm or the easy way that he pulled information out of you with a few, short, well-placed questions. Over the course of a few hours, you worked your way through a few beers and several more side dishes, the conversation never letting up. Shouto was just as intelligent and thoughtful as ever, and he made you laugh with a couple of unexpectedly short tempered comments. Even the discovery that he was not as princely as he usually seemed just fanned the flames of your crush.

It was only when the people around you began to shuffle off of their stools and pack up that you realized how late it had grown, and that you’d spent the entire evening hanging out and talking.

Shouto helped you off your stool when you stumbled a little, the number of beers you’d consumed suddenly making themselves known. “You’re more of a lightweight than I would have guessed by the conversation,” he teased.

You looked up into his face, realizing that he’d shed the sunglasses at some point during your conversation and you hadn’t noticed. Had anyone else noticed? No one had come over asking for an autograph. Maybe he was so unexpected at a place like this that the hat had been enough of a disguise.

You blinked, realized you’d been staring. “Nonsense, I’m a pro. I’ve put in many more beers at this place.”

Then your eyes narrowed at the slow movement his hand was making along the counter, what looked suspiciously like a stack of bills underneath. That little shit.

“Are you trying to distract me?” you demanded, grabbing his hand and stuffing the money back into it. “This is on me. I haven’t paid for groceries in weeks, thanks to somebody.”

Shouto smirked, looking strangely pleased with himself. His hand curled around yours, and his other came up to take your free hand. It was only when he’d transferred both of your wrists into one large palm that you realized what he was doing, plopping down a handful of bills on the counter quickly with his free hand, then pulling your backpack over your shoulder and tugging you away from the izakaya before you could make a scene. You’d been thoroughly outmaneuvered.

“I’ll take you home,” he said, steering you back out into the street. “Give me your address.”

“Shouto,” you whined, “this whole evening was supposed to be about proving you don’t need to spend money to be my friend. We were supposed to hang out.”

“We did hang out,” he pointed out, looking down at you from under the rim of that ridiculous baseball cap. “Your point was very much made.”

It was a testament to how tipsy you were, probably, that this warmed you. You forgot your annoyance with him almost immediately. “Really?”

He huffed a laugh. “Really. Now give me your address so I can take you home.”

You did and he plugged it into his phone. Then he led you along with one hand curled around yours. You spent the whole walk musing on how warm his fingers were in yours, how much larger his hands seemed than yours. Why was even his stupid hand so nice?

It was only as Shouto walked you to the door of your apartment that you remembered the last thing you’d gotten for him in the campus store. You quickly unzipped your backpack, shoving the bouquet of flowers at him.

“For you,” you said, pressing them into his chest. “You got me those flowers. These ones aren’t as nice, but I thought that you should have some too.”

He stared down at you, something strange glinting in his eyes. “You got me flowers.”

“Do you not like them?” you asked nervously. Was it weird to give a guy flowers? It was probably weird…

“I like them,” he declared, and a genuine smile flickered across his mouth. His eyes looked a little brighter, and his gaze was growing more intent by the second. “Now, you should probably get inside before I forget my manners.”

Forget his manners? You stared up at him in confusion.

He looked down at you for a long moment, and then he was suddenly very close, his face dipping down to yours.

“Get inside,” he said quietly, voice deeper than you’d ever heard it. “Please.”

You nodded, swallowing. You had just enough presence of mind to turn and unlock your door. Shouto guided you gently inside with a hand on your back, and then stepped back outside, smiling.

“I’ll see you on Tuesday,” he said.

You waved. “See you on Tuesday.”

You watched him make his way back down the street, only closing your door when you saw him turn the corner and disappear out of sight. Then you sank down against the door frame, heart feeling like it was going to beat straight out of your chest.

Shouto was the most overwhelming man on this earth. You were in such big trouble.

#shouto todoroki x reader #bnha #todoroki x reader #fanfic #boku no hero academia #bnha x reader #shouto todoroki

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cheri-translates · 4 years ago

Text

Headcanon - Fights with the guys

[ this Ask was wheelbarrowed over from @cheri-cheri ]

Hello~ Angst is inevitable with such a prompt, but I hope the fluffiness at the end makes up for it! (´･ᴗ･ ` ) Lucien isn’t here because I’m not familiar with his character :<

[ Gavin - spending too much time apart ]

It begins with a pang of disappointment when a date she’s been looking forward to for weeks gets interrupted halfway by a phone call

With that, Gavin gets whisked away abruptly for a month-long mission

During the first week, she cheers herself up with a reminder that Gavin is doing something noble - keeping the streets of Loveland City safe.

During the second week, she consoles herself with the knowledge that this isn't the first time Gavin has been uncontactable for a long period of time. Shouldn’t she have gotten used to it by now?

During the third week, doubt creeps in. Despite him telling her in advance that the mission site could lack a proper signal, the heaviness in MC’s chest gets weightier with each unread message and unanswered call.

She doesn’t know if her boyfriend is dead or alive.

She doesn’t even know where he is.

During the fourth week, she’s frustrated. She's frustrated at the STF, at Gavin, and at herself.

She’s frustrated that this isn’t the first time the STF has deployed Gavin on missions at short notice, as though he’s simply a tool ready to be wielded at any moment.

The frequency of missions over the past few months suddenly skyrocketed. It’s the main reason why she was looking forward to the date before he left - she wanted him to get a proper rest.

She’s frustrated that there doesn't seem to be anything she can do about the situation.

She's frustrated that the days without him pass by so painfully slowly.

She’s frustrated that-

“MC, I’m back.”

The fight is a quiet affair.

It might not even be considered one, since MC is the one doing most of the talking. She pours out everything in her heart, and how she’s very, very tired.

She doesn’t know if she can continue being in this relationship if she's going to be the only party in it.

Gavin listens quietly.

Then, he takes out two plane tickets from his pocket

The reason why he was deployed on so many missions recently was because he actively volunteered for them. That way, he would be able to clock in enough hours to take her on a long, undisrupted vacation

He intended for it to be a surprise, but didn’t expect that his actions would make MC upset instead

Aside from this, they also try to make future time apart more bearable:

When Gavin knows that he’d be embarking on a mission where remaining contactable is an issue, he would write a bunch of letters beforehand and entrust them to Minor, who would secretly place one on her office desk every morning

The letters vary in length. They could be entire pages filled with a somewhat clumsy yet heartwarming documentation of what went through his mind on certain dates they had together...

Or a simple: I love you. I’ll be safe. I can’t wait to come home.

MC finds out very easily who Gavin’s “messenger pigeon” is, and she forces Minor to hand over the entire box just in case he loses it or decides to take a peek out of curiosity (which he already did)

Meanwhile, MC leaves tons of voice messages in Gavin’s phone for him whenever he needs a pick-me-up.

They could range from her reading works from Byron’s Poetry Collection, or a clip of her playing the piano...

Or a simple: I love you. Be safe. I’m waiting for you to come home.

[ KIRO - the fatigue of a secret relationship ]

Initially, MC thought that having a secret relationship with a world renowned celebrity would be as thrilling as what’s typically depicted in TV dramas

Whenever they go on dates outside the studio or their homes, Kiro has to disguise himself with various props

e.g. wearing an ugly wig, donning oversized sunglasses, peppering his face with fake freckles, and even changing the tone of his voice

While it was funny the first few times, it gets exhausting after a while.

It’s mentally exhausting to always be on the look out for paparazzi and discerning fans at the expense of enjoying the date and each other’s company

It’s emotionally exhausting to see gossip magazines speculating about Kiro’s relationships with gorgeous women in the entertainment industry

It’s exhausting when her mind wanders afar off, leading her to ask:

“Are you... ashamed of me?”

The fight is one akin to daggers to his heart.

“Of course not! Miss Chips, why would that even cross your mind?”

Kiro explains that he’s more than capable of renting entire restaurants, and even the entire amusement park so he can remove all his stuffy props and be with her without worrying about the fans

But at the same time, he wants their relationship to be as normal as possible.

Because when he’s with her, he doesn’t feel like Kiro the celebrity. He’s simply a boy in love who wants to go on normal dates like any normal couple would

He doesn’t want MC to get tied down by having every social media post and every move scrutinised by the public.

But MC has considered all of this. And she's ready to shoulder the relationship with him - both the good and bad.

Eventually, when the time is right, and after much discussion with Savin and the PR department, MC and Kiro go public with their relationship

He starts doing livestreams more often where he does cute couple activities with MC, in the hopes that his fans are won over by her just as much as he is

It turns out that MC wins his fans over a little too much

Sometimes, they even ask Kiro to step aside and let MC take over his livestream instead QAQ

[ SHAW - good intentions gone wrong ]

“I’m grabbing dinner with Minor and Gavin. Want to join us?”

“Eli and Gavin were telling me about the new dishes in Lynn’s Kitchen. We should drop by sometime.”

“That tin of biscuits? Gavin gave it to me. Help yourself to them!”

...

For some unfathomable reason, MC has been bringing up his brother in their conversations every day over the past two weeks

When he sees MC putting on Gavin’s ginkgo bracelet before heading out, he finally snaps.

“Since you’re always going on and on about Gavin, why not date him instead?!”

The fight is one he wishes he could take back.

“I’m not... You’ve got it all wrong! Gavin’s been wanting to meet you, and I-”

“You don’t know anything about me.”

MC flinches at Shaw’s harsh tone.

Then, she averts her eyes, hoping her tears wouldn’t spill out

“Yeah, I clearly don’t.”

And she runs out of the apartment, and into the storm.

After chugging down a can of iced Cola, Shaw more or less cools down

In the process, it dawns on him that MC does know many things about him that he’s never shared with anyone else

She’s caught the nostalgic gaze in his eyes when he talked about the little guardian who held his hand from the moment he first started walking

The little guardian who had fathomless patience for his endless ‘why’s

His very first best friend, and someone he could rely on.

And how the little plane from so many years ago wasn’t the only important thing he left behind that day.

And right now, he’s close to losing another important person.

Ignoring the dampness on his face, he grabs his phone and calls MC, before realising that she left her phone in the apartment

So, he sends his first text to Gavin.

Together, they manage to locate MC, who’s drying herself off in the rehearsal room of Live House.

“I’m sorry.”

Shaw’s apology is soft, but it reaches the hearts of two people.

Before Gavin turns to leave, Shaw calls after him.

“Thanks. Your bracelet was of some use.”

Of course, Gavin will never tell him that he doesn’t actually need it to find MC

“Cough, no problem.”

Although the estranged relationship between the brothers requires much more than a stormy night to mend, having dinner together is a promising start.

Just want to put it out there that it isn’t confirmed if Shaw and Gavin are brothers. It’s a very sensitive topic within the CN community where a sizeable portion of the players believe they aren’t, and the players aren’t afraid to tear you down if you believe otherwise LOL

But for me personally, I love the idea of them being brothers!

[ VICTOR ]

I couldn’t think of any major things they could fight about aside from his sharp tongue. But that’s painfully cliché so I shall just leave you with two petty reasons why they would argue instead:

Whenever MC visits Souvenir, she doodles on the serviette while waiting for the food. She eventually makes it a habit to draw really awful caricatures of Victor and laughs over them with Mr Mills. Victor gets all pouty because he can hear their laughter from the kitchen but is missing out on the fun :<

Victor decides to test MC one day, and gives her a pudding from a convenience store instead of his. MC does taste the difference but doesn’t say anything because she thinks Victor is just having a bad day. On the other hand, he gets irritated because HOW DARE SHE mistake this low-grade jiggly thing for his perfect pudding??

#cheri tries to write

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neverdoingmuch · 4 years ago

Note

I just really love Two Person Love Triangles and Identity Porn. So, maybe a You've Got Mail AU? Or a superhero AU when one of them falls for both the masked hero and the secret identity?

because i love both of these aus i’ve written both!! but they’re pretty long bc i wouldn’t be me if i didn’t plot out an entire fic so the superhero au is here.

as for the you’ve got mail au, i went off and watched the movie for the first time and i am delighted by your taste anon,,, the au works so well!!

(okay for some reason tumblr won’t let me indent my bullets so idk how to fix that so big rip)

so we have lan & sons books, a company that prides itself on providing cheap books for everyone to read. think less evil corporation and more we wanted to provide easily accessible books for all people and ended up getting really rich off it

mr lan dadman was meant to be in charge but he ran off and lqr stepped up until lxc was old enough to take over and now lqr just kinda assists lxc when he needs help and does some other work

lqr is definitely the old guy who had a letter thing with this one woman who was enchanting but instead he was chatting to cssr and she was shameless

anyway lwj works as *random high up job that joe fox has* and his best work friend (and real friend) is jin zixuan

jin zixuan is the heir to some coffee franchise and the two families have a deal which is why you have the cafe inside the bookstores

we gonna give lwj some friends

as for wwx, his mother owned a bookstore, the burial mounds (why did she name it that?? idk she probably told bssr that she wanted to call it that as a joke and bssr tried to call her bluff so she ended up having to call it that a la suibian)

anyway he grew up with his mother and grandmother and they left the store to him (idk what happened to them?? maybe they just retired and are now travelling the world while wwx gets to have the bookstore)

now for the actual plot!!

lwj and wwx met on omegle an instant messaging site and now exchange emails. wwx goes by yiling patriarch and lwj goes by hanguang-jun bc we want that flavour

so they’ve been emailing for years and they never share any personal information - wwx knows that hgj has a pet rabbit but not hgj’s name or his job

as for the significant others?? idk let’s pretend they don’t exist.

wwx’s best friend nhs, who writes a column for so-and-so, always just comes over to his place and now he’s semi moved in and wwx isnt really sure why he’s here but he is.

lwj just vibes bc i can’t see him putting up with a patricia unless his uncle forced him to. even then he’d probably just be ~mysteriously~ gone while she’s home

maybe he has a really annoying pa who thinks its his job to come over and like make him breakfast. it’s su she,, it has to be

so wwx goes into work one morning and wen ning is waiting outside as he always is, ready for him to open and then like ten minutes later wen qing comes in and lastly granny wen comes in

why do they work together?? idk?? granny wen and bssr were close and so the wens and wwx kinda grew up as siblings? yeah i like that let’s go with that

so when cssr decided to go travelling wwx gets left with her store and he kinda knows how to run it but also he doesn’t have enough staff so he ends up hiring the wens (except granny who’s mostly there just to hang out with her family)

bonus: a-yuan always come to the shop after school and wwx gets to recreate the childhood he had with his mother with a-yuan. when the store closes wwx and a-yuan just twirl and twirl until they get too dizzy to stand up and then they lay on the floor and discuss their favourite book they’ve read this week. it’s very sweet

okay so the next day lwj gets to babysit his cousin/uncle/nephew/idk-how-they’re-related-person lan jingyi who is like eight or something?

they go out and hang at a festival and lwj does not buy him a goldfish bc i was very stressed by the way they treated the goldfish in the movie but he does get him balloons and a stuffed toy and plays all the games with him

eventually they’re walking back and see that the small bookstore near the new lan bookstore is hosting a story time so they go inside

lwj walks in and he’s immediately taken by the atmosphere of the store bc that place was absolutely beautiful and then he hears this voice and follows it around to the back of the store to see the most gorgeous man he’s ever seen in his life sitting on a kinda too small chair with a princess hat? cone? thing on top of his head

he’d planned to stay for like one story and then take jingyi home but he ends up staying for the entire book and it’s definitely not because the guy reading the book smiled at him once or twice

after the story time ends, lwj is reluctant to leave so he ends up letting jingyi pick a bunch of books and looks at a few fancy first edition books with wen qing

and maybe his mother used to love collecting books - the old ones with the yellowed pages and beautiful pictures - and that’s why lwj helps out with his family business,, bc he wants everyone to be able to have books like that (never mind that all their books are like mass produced and lack any sentimentality & the staff dont actually care about the books)

anyway he sees wwx help jingyi pick out books and lets him borrow his handkerchief when he sneezes and lwj’s like oh nooo he’s good with kids too so now he has to talk to him

so he goes up to buy the books and wwx’s telling jingyi about how much he likes daisies and lwj just blurts out “can i ask what your name is?” and wwx blinks but then smiles and is like i’m wei wuxian, but you can call me wei ying, and i own this store. what about you? and lwj is like wangji, you can call me wangji

wen qing takes one look at lwj and the way he’s staring at wwx and goes you’re going to come back aren’t you and lwj is trying so hard not to just run away so he just ignores her but then she mentions something about lan books and he’s Panicking and jingyi almost says that he’s a lan and lwj just kinda guides him over to a table and then goes back to flirt talk with wwx

anyway wwx ends up going on this big tangent about books and what they mean to people and the whole when you read a book as a child it becomes a part of your identity and who you’re going to become the way nothing else does (and lwj remembers his mother and her books) and then he apologises for going on and lwj is mentally going marry me, but he ends up calling wwx and his mother shameless

but it’s okay!! wwx & cssr are proud of it!

and then yada yada lwj buys the kinda expensive books and ends up awkwardly shepherding jingyi out of the store

cut to the next day when the lan book store opens properly and lwj ends up telling lqr about how he met wwx and lqr is like >:/ the son of that shameless woman,, how terrible,, it’s okay he won’t be a problem for long bc they’ll be driven out of business. which isn’t the response lwj wanted but lxc seems supportive enough if a bit concerned about how it would work with them as business enemies

business is already bad for wwx and it’s barely been a week since the lan store opened and he’s pretty bummed out but hopeful that maybe it’s a fluke

then nhs invites him to some fancy dinner with him bc wei-xiong they’re all so boring and smart and have opinions, please don’t make me have opinions so wwx gets dragged along

he ends up talking to lwj at the bar bc how could he not talk to the man who’s standing in front of all that fancy alcohol and getting some fruit juice. (he’d get water but lwj has had to put up with su she all evening so he needs something stronger)

anyway they chat and it’s pleasant but then after wwx gets approached by someone who’s like wow im surprised you’re talking to lan wangji and wwx is like lan?!

cue their passive aggressive argument around the food table complete with caviar and a turkey knife.

now bc it’s lan wangji,, instead of making scathing comebacks he just makes like factual and to-the-point statements that end up being really bitchy (or does he intend them to be that way? it’s a mix of both of them tbh but in this case he’s definitely being bitchy on purpose) and wwx is spluttering bc that boy does not stand up well against hot and mad people

nhs ends up coming over and defusing the situation but wwx makes a point of stealing the rest of the caviar off lwj’s plate before leaving

lwj ends up ducking out early as well to avoid su she and emails wwx that night at like 9:45 bc the guilt of being so rude kept him up late and yllz is like oh no that’s so sad ): but impressive! i wish i could zing people,, my brain just turns off the second i need to make a comeback

creative liberties,, wwx is good at teasing but not being genuinely mean? lets go with that

anyway now we get the delightful montage of wwx hiding behind cheese displays and lwj walking out of coffee stores with a newspaper covering his face as they try to avoid each other

when wwx gets in the wrong line at the supermarket lwj comes over and kinda glares the checkout woman into submission and gets her to let wwx use his card which wwx is really conflicted about bc why would he help me?? and once again angry lwj = hot lwj

a few weeks later wwx ends up asking hgj for help bc business isn’t getting any better but refuses to give any details and i refuse to have lwj watch the godfather so lwj just straight up messages him and is like tear that bitch apart

and so wwx decides to tear that bitch apart and asks nhs for help. nhs, fan of the arts and small businesses and local culture, is 100% down for it and writes a scathing article about lan books and how they’re destroying all the aforementioned things nhs cares about

it ends up getting a lot of traction and people show up to protest and wwx even goes on television

lwj ends up seeing the news coverage on the matter while he’s at the gym with jzx

jzx is 100% the guy who goes to the gym just to apathetically walk on the treadmill while lwj jogs

he sees the interview with wwx and lwj is like he’s not this nice in real life and jzx is like you met him?? and lwj is like mn. then jzx is like i bet he’s not as hot and lwj is completely silent but his ears are bright red and that’s how jzx knows that wwx is just that hot

also?? lwj goes on tv and says like three words and he’s kinda annoyed how the news decided to spin that but he also said like three words so what did he expect?

but, despite all the publicity, sales don’t get any better so wwx is like fine can we meet in person and lwj is like sure

he brings jzx along bc he doesn’t know the way there, it’s not because he’s nervous and kind of in love with yllz, it’s because he doesn’t know how to get to the cafe. (it’s two blocks from his apartment)

anyway jzx is like oof man it’s seems like yllz is wwx but he is that hot so not all is lost and lwj is like yikes no not happening im not going in but he also feels bad about standing wwx up so he ends up going in and sitting down in front of wwx

and lwj is like wei wuxian, all this publicity will do nothing to save your business and wwx is like lan wangji who do you think you are (or however that scene goes) but instead of lwj being asked to leave wwx decides he’s not gonna chicken out first so they end up spending like two hours having the most aggressive cup of coffee and chat he’s ever had

lwj is exhausted but he also refuses to give up

but then wwx spits something about how lwj is some cold, heartless suit who doesn’t actually care about or appreciate books so how can he possibly dare to think that he’s better than wwx and that hurts bc lwj had thought that he’d been doing exactly that so he leaves

anyway the next morning wwx is moping around the bookstore bc he didn’t get stood up, he swears. am i not cute enough he moans to wen qing and she’s like your hgj doesn’t know what you look like. but what about my personality? is that cute enough? and wen qing eventually manages to grit out that yes it is cute enough

wen ning comes in and is like are you okay? you got stood up? that’s good! your date might have been the rooftop killer xue yang! he got caught last night! and wwx is like i wish, i just got stood up like a chump

so they ignore each other for a few weeks bc wwx is very hurt and lwj doesn’t know what he’s going to say but wwx ends up caving and emails hgj about how guilty he feels and how even though wwx probably means nothing to lwj, he’s worried that maybe he did hurt lwj and also please hgj i still want to talk to you

now hgj never says a lot, he’s always really succinct and direct but this time he takes the time to write a proper apology. it’s not an explanation bc he doesn’t want to give this up, even if the yllz he thinks he loves is the wwx that he hates, but it is an apology

the next day wwx goes to lunch with granny wen and finally dares to ask her whether it would be okay to shut the store down. he doesn’t want, of course he doesn’t want to, but he doesn’t think he can afford to keep it open. granny just tells him that it’s okay and that if the time has come, the time has come

we don’t have to worry about wwx breaking up with anyone, so he just goes home and asks nhs if he can have some space and nhs quickly packs his stuff and goes home. as he stands in the doorway with his last box of stuff he tells wwx that he’s sorry and wishes he could help more and wwx sends him this tremulous smile but manages to hold it together until nhs leaves and then he cries and cries

the next day he goes back to work and tries to stay bubbly and cheery even as he sees all of his shelves slowly being emptied and people who haven’t stepped foot in his store in six months are telling him what a shame it is and how they wish it didnt have to come to this and wwx is internally screaming

he manages to stave off any actual screaming but when he closes up that day he ends up going to the children’s section of lan bookstore and just as he had thought, none of the staff care about the books, none of them know any books and he ends up recommending a series to some young mother

lwj, who’d spotted wwx and come over to see if whether he was here to pick a fight, comes to the awful realisation that maybe wwx is right about his store lacking heart

he goes home that night and su she tags along even though lwj just wants space and the elevator breaks. he’s sitting there on the ground listening to his neighbour talk about reconnecting with family and the elevator button pressing dude talks about getting engaged and su she is just there whining about his job and the inconvenience and lwj goes fuck this. when the elevator starts working again he grabs his rabbit and goes back down to the ground floor, ignores su she’s shouts, and goes back to his childhood home

wwx gets stuck closing his store down. he looks around at the shelves and tables he’d grown up with and sees his childhood and a-yuan’s and countless moments he’s had with people he’s loved and realises he’s going to lose it all forever. he grabs the bell, the last thing he has left of the store and closes up for the very last time

in the meantime, lwj is living the high life. he hangs out with his bunny, gets to read pride and prejudice for fun and actually manages to get all the way through it and then his brother comes to visit

apparently he’d broken up with jgy bc he was gold digger-esque and had decided to run off with someone richer and lwj is like oh thats so sad ): anyway nmj is right there and he fills your heart with joy and lxc is like have you ever had someone like that? and lwj immediately thinks of wwx and is like fuck

his first order of business is to buy wwx’s shop bc it broke my heart that she didn’t get it back in the og movie and he starts filling it with books again. he buys ten copies of his mother’s favourite books and places them on the shelf by the door and then he sees a book that reminds him of jingyi so gets some of them and he sees a book covered in daisies and thinks of wwx. and slowly, slowly he’s building up his own library, his own store, and this time every single book means something and for once lwj looks out across the floor with pride and satisfaction

his second order of business is to apologise to wwx for being a dick. he buys some daisies and goes to his place and comes in and cooks soup for wwx. lwj apologises and tells him it wasn’t personal and wwx is like that’s not true, it was personal to me and it’s personal to a lot of people and lwj understands that now. he remembers the way he’d filled wwx’s store and left his own touch and bared his heart through each of those books and he understands. he doesn’t actually say this and just tells wwx that he wants to be friends

lwj considers coming clean about being hgj but he knows now that he definitely loves wwx and knows that wwx currently hates him but damn is it hard not to say anything when wwx is telling him how much he loves hgj

anyway he’s like organise a meeting again with hgj

i’d say it’s ooc for lwj not to come clean but this is the man who pined for x decades and just didnt tell wwx that his son was alive so like not ooc at all

so lwj decides he’s going to woo wwx as best as he can and organises to meet up with yllz and then goes and meets with wwx and they end up going to hang out and for some strange reason, even though wwx keeps getting stood up, he doesn’t seem to care too much. he keeps agreeing to meet hgj and when he doesn’t show is more than happy to spend the rest of his day with lwj

and slowly, they start to get closer. wwx takes a sip of lwj’s coffee and lwj buys him daisies. wwx brings him an interesting book and lwj tells him about his mother. they chat freely about hgj and lwj is happy for the first time in a long time

eventually lwj organises the final meeting. wwx is really confused about the place he picked but he’s hopeful that maybe this time hgj will show. after wwx and lwj’s farmers market date ends, lwj ends up asking wwx if he could love lwj and wwx is like you put me in such an uncomfortable situation. ie stammering and blushing and eventually going oh no ill be late and running off

anyway a couple hours later wwx finds himself standing outside his old bookstore and he refuses to look at it bc he doesn’t want to see what it’s become but then, through the open door of the store, a bunny hops out and over to wwx

lwj comes running out after it calling out its name (bichen?? flopsy?? rabbit?? one of them) and wwx looks up and is like oh,, it’s you, i’d hoped it was you and he’s all teary and lwj has a handkerchief that he’d embroidered himself (with gentians of course) and he’s like dont cry yllz and then they kiss and it’s beautiful

bonus: lwj takes wwx inside the store and shows him everything and explains the meaning behind every book that they’ve picked and then wwx does cry for real bc there is definitely an entire two walls dedicated just to wwx

do they open the store as a bookstore again and work together? does wwx end up writing books?? idk up to you. i like the idea that they open the store for story time and sell children’s books but lwj still works with lan & sons to get some heart in their stores and wwx works on his own books in his spare time

#Anonymous #mdzs #modao zushi #mo dao zu shi #wei wuxian #lan wangji #wangxian #cql #the untamed #asks #thank you so much for the ask i had a lot of fun making this!#let me know if you'd like anything else!!

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demauryss · 5 years ago

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sail the wildest stretch; 1/6

Summary: Lucas is in a mess. His roommate is his ex-crush. He gets years worth of hairfall if he thinks a minute too long about his philosophy class. His penis-drawing talents are just out of the ordinary. And the cupid assigned to his case is a hair breadth short of committing his murder.

But it’s okay. As long as he has to worry about Eliott Demaury getting to murder him first.

or, cupid8776 has a lucas problem. lucas has an eliott problem. and they are not as unconnected as one might think they are.

enemies to lovers/matchmaking au.

ao3

chapter one: april thunders may blunders

(next)

Dear Lucallecoeur456,

I’m extremely disheartened to announce that your request filed under letter no 654lgb has been denied. According to my records, it is your tenth letter in the past five months which is getting rejected. Personally, I feel saddened as you’re the only person assigned to me who’s over eighteen and still hasn’t found a match. I’d be able to help you better if you consider the following points while writing to cupidint.com next time:

While forming the letter, please consider typing in a computer before you write it down by hand. Or just consider inscribing neatly. You’re the reason our Server turns into a whimpering mess when it transcribes Coup de Foudre - assuming it’s what you write because frankly, your handwriting is garbage – as Coup de Foutre.

Please refrain from using acronyms in your letter. Writing ‘brb’ every time you deviate from a thought does not make you look good. Especially when the abbreviated form has the same number of syllables as the original word. Even better, just totally refrain from straying from an original thought only to come back to it after five pages. Makes me feel like I’m walking through a maze as I’m reading your letter.

While we’re on the topic of refraining, also stop drawing pictures of dogs when you’re asked for what you’re looking for in a partner. I know they are cute, but they can really not be an ideal partner for you.

Consider saving your satirical remarks for the real life. Our Server isn’t smart enough to detect sarcasm and thinks you are being serious when you describe a trash can in the space specified for explaining your qualities.

If you would ponder over these suggestions then I believe I’ll be able to find you a match and it’ll make both mine and your life a lot easier.

Yours truly,

Cupid8776

(They/Them)

The day Yann gets his letter, it’s everywhere on the news. local loner boy, Lucas reads somewhere, having qualities worse than the loner boy from gossip girl has a match. There’s a post circulating on twitter which goes friendly neighbourhood pretty man is officially off the market. And another after reading which makes Lucas wants to wash his eyeballs with hydrochloric acid: hot, tall, model-like being ready to dick down some pink canoes. it’s a trip you’ll never forget!!!

It doesn’t help that Lucas suspects Basile’s fan-account for Timothee Chalamet to be behind half of these posts. Especially the last one. And it also doesn’t help that Yann’s latest letter is currently getting glued to the roof of their bunk bed, right where Lucas would sure be made to stare at it for the rest of his puny life in the lower bunk.

“You’re a fucking prick,” Lucas grits out as he smothers the liquid and ugly look to the back of Yann’s letter. His hands are slimy, and Yann’s fucking face is smiling at him from the small chair he’s perched on. “You don’t even have the fucking decency to do it yourself. Can’t believe I ever thought that I like you. Fucking unbelievable.”

Yann tuts, low and too sure of himself. His face is glowing. His eyes are crinkled. And he desperately needs a punch in one or both of these areas, “You’re being dramatic, you know that?” Yann gets up from the chair, a marker in his hands. If it were up to Lucas he would have used that same object to ruin Yann’s pretty pastel pink blanket. The asshole deserves that and even more. Muttering some more curses, Lucas goes back to the task at hand – pasting the paper in smooth cursive writing courtesy of Cupid5644 on the roof of his bunk bed. Yann looks towards him in the middle of drawing a tally across the four small lines marked on the cupboard above the handle. His face is glowing. He desperately needs a punch or kick to dull that fucking shine. “Besides you signed this up for yourself. So shut the fuck up.”

Lucas groans, resting his head against his pillow, the letter he just pasted staring down at him in all its glory. “This whole thing is ridiculous Yann,” Lucas starts, hands crossed on his chest, “I still believe it’s a world-government scam meant to lure people in for their assassination later. Like, can you believe even Sully from 231-9 has a match. There’s no way you can expect me to believe the System is genuine.”

Lucas looks over to Yann who’s now leaning against the cupboard, scrutinizing Lucas from afar, “Are you sure your reason for not trusting them has got to do with that and not with the fact that in the past three months, each one of your request has been rejected with no guarantee of you ever finding a match?”

“Fuck you, Yann,” Lucas scoffs, turning his back to Yann, his front to the wall. Let Yann believe whatever he wants. It doesn’t affect Lucas, nor does it have any ring of truth to it. Fucking douchebag. Let his match turn out to be some astrology-loving, Harry-Styles-listening, ravenclaw-ass-fanatic. She’ll leave Yann’s Scorpio ass in seconds.

He hears Yann’s footsteps before Lucas feels him crouching behind him, Yann’s finger poking the back of Lucas’s shoulders, “Hey now,” he sounds apologetic, Lucas will give him that, “Life isn’t all about that jazz; your match or partner or whatever. Don’t worry about it. At least you haven’t fallen for their scam yet.”

Lucas laughs as he turns to Yann. His face is glowing. Lucas has changed his mind. The former Yann might deserve a slap in the face with a brick but this Yann deserves all the Kit-Kats Lucas has stashed under his bed. Cupid8776 will have a field day if they found Lucas’s current train of thoughts. Shocking, Lucas can imagine the magnitude of their gasp, Lucallecoeur456 does have a heart after all. Who would have thought.

Lucas smiles at Yann as he extends his arm for him to take. “C’mon now. Basile will have both of our heads on a plate if we waste another second.” He gets up, stepping into his shoes as Yann walks out of their dorm. Something crunches under his foot – Lucas’s blunder; his newest message from Cupid8776. He had thought maybe Letter No 654lgb – lonely gay boy, for clarification – would finally tire them out. But apparently, that wasn’t the case.

Yann had laughed for ten minutes straight when he had read the letter. “Your cupid is going to commit mass murder one of these days. And I think you’re going to be the first.” Lucas had shook his head at Yann’s analogy; he isn’t that horrible. He sighs as he bunches the paper into a ball and bullseye’s it into the trash can – the one he’d described in his letter. Cupid8776 has a big storm coming next.

So here’s the thing in quite simple terms.

The world’s currently under the secret matching agency Cupid International. Before that it used to be SoulsBound, with the tagline where we find your soulmate for you. But then the name changed to Cupid Int. after getting involved in one too many scandals which Lucas remembers vividly; bold headlines on the front page of several newspapers: Soulmate leaves Soulmate for another, better Soulmate #SoulsBoundFails. And Soulmate doesn’t buy eco-friendly products. Puts the planet at risk #FixItSouls. And another, much dangerous and serious than the rest, which still gives Lucas nightmares to this day: Gryffindor finds out Soulmate is a Slytherin. Says even pet stones can tell they’re not compatible #FuckSoulsBound.

These outrages demanded an instant name change, so SoulsBound transformed to Cupid International; with a union of specially trained cupids from all over the world designated to find your potential match anywhere on the planet after you turn eighteen. The changes were justified and a long time coming, Lucas would say, as for him the term soulmate warranted a much deeper, not an ephemeral meaning; which couldn’t be forsaken for anything. But the soulmate that they suggested were anything but that.

And that’s what brings Lucas to the now: the thought that why people hassle so much for getting their letters to Cupid International as soon as they turn eighteen. Why instead of trying the conventional dating method - which has been getting much recognition as of late - they relied on some unknown person’s (or spirit? Who even were Cupids?) judging of whom they’d be compatible with. But then he guesses it has something to do with the fact that the conventional method is for people the Agency has dubbed hopeless – whose matches they still couldn’t find after years of research and rejection. Lucas is halfway turning into one of the people what with his letters of rejection piling up in the trash can.

But that’s not it. The Agency has more success than its scandals, which puts Lucas off. His grandparents met through the former SoulsBound. His neighbors that have been married for over forty years when he started university met through that. Yann’s parents met through that. Everyone he knows has some kind of emotional success story regarding SoulsBound/Cupid Int,.

And then his father had gone against the system and met his mother through the conventional dating method. Look where it had brought them now.

And here’s a thing in even simpler terms.

Lucas hates Cupid International with a passion which burns his sternum and makes his stomach coil in disgust. And it has nothing to do with the way he has told Yann how he thinks the whole System is a government scam. But it has everything to do with the way how Cupid8776 has denied all forty of Lucas’s letters sent in the past nine months of him being eighteen. It makes his heart boil in his blood when he thinks about how he’s turning nineteen in three months and he still has no fucking chance of ever being matched with someone. Which sucks because out of all the remaining 6,999,999,999 people in the world, there still isn’t someone with same interests as him.

Which is cool. Fine even. Lucas isn’t petty about it. And definitely an ass. No. He’s anything but an ass about it. Because you see. He keeps in contact with Cupid8776 when he’s not writing to them on the specified days of the week. He asks them about their health, their lives. If they have someone special in their life. If they took their dog to a walk. If they’re remembering to stay hydrated.

He makes sure to send in an email every week, even if all he gets in reply is a monotonous Dear Lucallecoeur456, I’d appreciate if you would stop sending me non-work related messages. This email is reserved for work queries only. I’d also appreciate if you would use the time you took in composing this message on your request letter as I’m sure it would be more useful than this. Yours truly, Cupid8776 (They/Them) every single time.

So that’s what he does every time, much to the cupid’s dismay. He spends more time drafting his grocery list than the letter. Spends more effort in drawing stick figures of his enemy than correcting mistakes in the letter. Takes more interest in Cupid8776’s private affairs than his own. And still complain every fucking time why he hasn’t found a match yet.

But like he said, it’s fine. He’s fine.

The first damper on Lucas’s already damped mood comes a little after one. When a pretty fucking important experiment is turned in incomplete. The second comes in the shape of a person. And it’s much significant than the other.

Lucas has just crawled out of a brutal microbiology lab, his clothes tattered, voice bruised from screaming at his group members who don’t even know how to work around a fucking microscope. One would disrupt the lens and the other would somehow mess with the resolution. And then Lucas would curse his life and begin the whole fucking experiment just for the thrill of it, really.

So it goes without saying that after seven unholy tries on the experiment, it had been left incomplete as they ran out of time. Unfinished experiments aside, Lucas was fucking exhausted. He could feel the tired in every cell of his body as he walked from the class to the cafe in the campus where he’d agreed to meet the boys. Now not only was he about to drop down any second, he was also fourteen minutes late.

“You’re so early, Lu,” Arthur drawls out, dull, “Couldn’t have come even earlier if tried.”

Lucas shakes his head and plops down loudly on the bar stool in between Arthur and Yann. He dumps all of his stuff on the ground, wincing as the muscles in his neck scream in protest. “I’m sorry,” Lucas sighs, reaching over Arthur to hit Basile on the back of his head who appears to be sleeping with his head resting on the curve formed by his arms which are folded on the counter. He jolts up, eyes wide, as he looks around the café with hand rubbing where Lucas hit him. “This fucker left me on my own in the lab. It was a nightmare, honestly.”

Arthur smiles his head as Basile pouts, “What was I to do, man? Daphne asked for my help, I couldn’t say no to her!”

Lucas shakes his head, looking over to Yann as he nudges his shoulder. Yann motions towards Basile, “But you don’t have a match, right? Where does Daphne come from in all of this?”

A proud smile takes over Basile’s features. Lucas finds it funny how the words Daphne and match in the same sentence makes the sadness and the sleep to literally dissipate from his face. “I know that, Yann. But to answer your second question, I sent an email to the cupid and he reassured me that I’d find a match in the next attempt so.” Basile shrugs like it’s no biggie, when to Lucas, in definitely is. “I’m hoping it is Daphne.”

“Here’s to fucking hoping,” Lucas’s attempt at muttering is intercepted by Yann, who looks at him weirdly. As if in a question. Lucas shrugs, no biggie. He also finds it funny how Basile’s cupid is replying to his emails reassuring him about the whole fucking ordeal, while Lucas’s cupid can’t be bothered for anything. Lucas gets this: Cupid8776 definitely has something against him.

They place their orders for their beverages: coffee for all of them except Lucas. He goes with cardamom tea. It’s when the café’s beginning to fill up with people getting freed from classes that Arthur speaks up. “But like, you haven’t met the person before right? What if they have the emotional range of a lentil?”

Out of the four of them, Arthur was the one who cared the least for the System, even less than Lucas did. He hasn’t sent a single request to Cupid International, saying he isn’t the one for dating or love. And Lucas respects all his choices. He looks up, affirmation on his tongue. But then his eyes fall over Arthur’s shoulder, in between the barricade of tired students blocking the door. And he thinks, he thinks – holy motherfu-

“Speaking of lentils,” He takes a sip of his tea, meeting the boys’ confused stares, “Here comes one, heads-up.”

And it’s just that – how Lucas spots him and a murky grey takes over his surroundings. Metaphorically speaking, of course. Something weird settles in his stomach as his friends look over to the ill lentil as a smile blooms across his ugly face. Fucking traitors.

“Eliott!” One of them shouts. It’s probably Basile. It’s definitely Basile with the way he’s waving his hands in the air. Lucas would have probably knocked them off of the face of the earth had it not been for Yann seizing him by placing both of his hands over Lucas’s shoulder. Lucas inhales deeply as Eliott walks over to their little settlement of barstools and idiots, a bounce in his step as he plays with the strap of the bag over his shoulder. Lucas looks anywhere but at him as he comes to stand next to Basile as he yells excitedly, “Good to see you here.”

“You too.”

Lucas just about murders Basile with nothing but his mind as Eliott’s shirt comes into his line of vision. And as Lucas looks up - goes against the well-being of his eyes - his eyes take a quick sweep of Eliott’s tall figure. Nothing out of the ordinary. He’s currently smiling warmly at Basile, then at Arthur. It’s when that his eyes fall on Lucas that the previous warmth in them is sucked out of them, like a vacuum, and they harden like stones as Eliott looks at him. And Lucas thinks he’s probably remembering the latest stick figure drawn on a piece of paper which Lucas had hit him with earlier as he was bent over an old, tattered book in the library.

“Have a seat, mate.” It’s Arthur. Double fucking traitor. Lucas should consider getting new friends. (But then, he thinks quite sadly, who would ever befriend him if not for these completely insufferable idiots?)

Lucas watches, stomach in knots and million things on his tongue, as Eliott’s face softens as he turns to Arthur. He smiles, “I have a class soon so I should get going.”

Basile murmurs something about it being a bummer. Arthur tells him that they’ll see him around. Lucas doesn’t know a bummer or what that is but he knows the look Eliott gives Lucas over his shoulder as he leaves – he knows the menace which is coiled in the white of his eyes, the absolute anger and disgust he’s reserved for Lucas comes pooling out in that instant, and Lucas almost washes away with it. Fucking pretentious asshole.

Lucas swallows his heart beating in his throat as Eliott disappears from his sight. Un-clenches his hands which have formed a fist without his knowledge. He turns on his stool, passes Yann a smile who’s been weirdly quiet during that encounter, watches as Basile’s contemplative face comes into his line of vision. And curses whoever put him in this situation: A Thinking Basile is not a Good Basile.

“Do you know apparently Eliott still hasn’t found a match either? Which is odd, since the guy’s a deity. I mean, just freaking look at him!”

Arthur side-eyes Lucas as he nods his head in agreement. Lucas should seriously consider getting new friends. The ones he currently have differ largely from on certain matters. And it fucking sucks that they know it too. “Yeah,” Arthur is saying, “he’s pretty. And nice too.”

‘Nice’ my fucking ass. Lucas shakes his head, finishes his cold tea in a second, and picks up his bag which he dumped to the floor. It is common knowledge that Eliott Demaury is good-looking. He’s the person everyone in their uni flocks up to. He’s also pretty fucking amazing at everything he does. Which only irks Lucas more. He gets up, adding onto Basile and Arthur’s conversation with a silent Yann in tow.

“I’m gonna head to the bathroom,” he speaks to no one in particular, not really expecting the three people to stop their oh-so-important conversation about Eliott Demaury to pay him any attention. Shaking his head, he runs through a crowd, past a sulking worker, stressed students and mahogany colored back door to an alley o sheltered light and soft breeze.

Lucas breathes in deeply. His bag makes a sound as it plops to the ground. Closing his eyes, he focuses on calming his heart down which is beating so erratically Lucas has trouble keeping his mind on one place. If he could just wrap his hands around that fucker’s ne-

“Fancy seeing you here,” Oh fucking hell. Lucas fires off every curse he could think of in his heart. There is an off feeling in his stomach as he opens his eyes to Eliott’s hooded figure sitting off to his right, a cigarette placed between his lips. Lucas has to look down to place the full expression on his face, and it thrills him a little. (The act of looking down at him, for once. Not the clever smile which is placed on his face.

“Well, how’s your day doing?”

“Oh, it’s you.” Lucas shrugs his shoulders like it isn’t taking a great deal out of him to plaster the absolute fake smile on his face. “I was wondering why suddenly all the clouds turned grey.”

Even though he’s standing five to six feet away, Lucas doesn’t miss the brie fall of Eliott’s smile. But it’s coming into place faster than Lucas has the chance to feel good about the whole ordeal. He watches, against his will, as Eliott takes a long drag of his cigarette, the end of the stick burns brighter in glowing red embers before he blows white puffs of smoke in the air. He’s just so –

Lucas bites down on his lip to prevent the stupid thoughts from slipping out. Eliott watches him with (feigned) interest.

“Ahh there he is,” Eliott straightens his back. Even though he’s sitting on the steps to the side and Lucas is standing, it still – somehow – feels as if Eliott’s looking down on him. “I was wondering where the meanie in you has wandered off to.”

He didn’t just call Lucas a meanie. What the fuck.

Lucas heaves in a sigh. Wills his heart to stop hammering. “You wouldn’t know a thing or two about that, now. Would you?”

Lucas notices the little shake of his head, the light which falls over his face making it look like it’s dropped the sneer which has now become a part of his features whenever he’s around Lucas. And Lucas should revel in the thought of getting Eliott to show his real colours, but it grates on him regardless.

Eliott rubs his thighs over his jeans. Lucas traces the motion with narrowed eyes. And when he speaks, it’s to a completely different wave.

“You know, when someone asks about your day, you reply and then ask the question back. It’s called having a conversation, you know?”

Lucas bites the inside of his cheek, words already spilling out before he has a chance to assess them, “And what part of me actually looks like I would want to have any conversation with you?” Just. Who does he think he is? Pretending to be nice and all that. It doesn’t mean Lucas would forget when yesterday he doused Lucas’s workplace in some sticky as hell material which ruined not only his assignments which he spread on the table but left a permanent damper on his mood.

There’s a tilt to Eliott’s lips, his eyes bright and every bit gauging Lucas with the way they’re trained on him. The structure in his chest gives a painful squeeze.

Lucas doesn’t like it. At all.

“I should have known,” Eliott says with an air of nonchalance that has Lucas’s insides firing up in anger and – “You’re not one to have a conversation with.”

“Glad to have that sorted, then.” Lucas decides for the same tone Eliott chose earlier. He turns on his heels. And with Eliott’s eyes digging holes in his back, he returns through the same door he came out of earlier.

So here’s another thing in the simplest of terms. Lucas isn’t fond of many things in his life. He hates the System, his philosophy professor, Sully from 231-9. But what he hates even more than all of these things is the fucking lentil Eliott Dick Demaury.

There’s a dull buzzing seeping into his bones as Lucas walks towards consciousness. His limbs are still heavy with sleep, his eyes glued shut as he pats around his pillow for the vibrating device around him. He picks the phone up around a yawn, voice groggy as if he hadn’t used it in years.

Well, he hasn’t used it in hours. So. There’s that.

“Hello?” He croaks out, snuggling his face into the pillow under his head.

“Lucas Lallemant! Why are you still sleeping?”

The voice, filtered through the static, still compels Lucas to bolt upright in the bed, eyes now opened wide as he rubs away the sleep with his hand. “Mama!” He wills his voice to sound as if a trail of drool hadn’t had been drying at the side of his mouth. “You’re still up!”

His mama chuckles a little, as Lucas is left to smile sheepishly. Her voice comes clear now, “I would have called you at crack of dawn and you would still have said the same thing. Besides, don’t you have to go to your shift in half an hour?”

Lucas frowns, and then gets out of the bed. He finds Yann gone, his bed properly made. That’s why Lucas was able to sleep that much, considering Yann has reserved a distinct hatred for Lucas’s sleep.

His limbs are heavy as he changes out of the moth-ridden (not exactly, but its appearance justifies the statement) shirt he slipped into before his nap. “How have you been, Mama?”

“Great,” his mother speaks on the other line. There’s a brightness to her voice which lessens as well as increases the cut of homesickness lodged inside the muscle of his heart. Lucas doesn’t let himself dwell on the sudden sadness which grips him. Instead he focuses on the smile he can hear in his mother’s flowery tone, “I’ve been spending a lot of time in the garden these days. You know the plants Willow got me? They flowered yesterday and they’re so beautiful Lucas!”

Lucas smiles as he picks up his bag lying by the door.

She hums on the other line. “And Dr. Noelle changed my medication. We’ve switched to lighter pills instead of those heavier ones that always made me drowsy and loopy. She said I’m doing better so no need for the heavy dosage.”

There’s something like relief travelling with the air he inhales right to his heart. The sun is bright as Lucas makes his way outside. “That’s good, Mama.”

His mother launches into details about stuff about her new medication like the schedule and the amount of pills she’s required to take each time. Lucas walks out of the campus, listening intently to his mother’s retelling of the shenanigans happening in the various clubs she has joined now that she doesn’t feel so drained anymore. Lucas tells her about his classes and life in return.

“Oh, yesterday in the cooking club, Nadine switched Hira’s container of salt with baking powder. It was quite fun to watch them two bickering afterwards. And there’s a betting pool going around the club about how much time they’re going to take before they get together.”

Lucas shakes his head, a smile pulling up on his face as he crosses the road, “Mama, you should help them sort out their differences instead of enjoying their fights!”

Lucas can hear her shaking her head. She continues, “We should, but it won’t be fun anymore. Besides, I do like some slow burn if I say so myself.”

“You’re spending too much time on the internet,” Lucas muses, “Next thing I know you’ll tell me that you’re reading fanfictions.”

His statement is met with silence. Suspicious silence. He has a minute to be terrified at the prospect before he’s breaking out in laughter, “What the fuck, Mama!”

“Language, Lucas!” She chides, but there’s a smile in her voice which grips Lucas’s heart. Even though he’s kind of wary about the stuff she must find on the web, Lucas knows she can fend for herself.

“Anyways,” she steers the conversation to another direction. Lucas goes with it. “You’re coming on Saturday, right?”

Lucas nods, “Yeah Mama. I’ll try to make it on Friday if the boys haven’t got something planned already.”

The store comes into view, so Lucas says his goodbye into the phone. “I need to go, Mama,” Lucas swallows down the bile which rises in his throat. He misses her so damn much. “I love you.”

“Love you too, honey.” The lines drops, and Lucas is let to chase away the sudden sadness he feels. For a minute, he stands there outside the store, his heart beating with a pang of homesickness. But then he forces air into his lungs, clears his mind, and goes inside the store.

The store is blissfully silent when Lucas enters through the door. There’s a faint smell of lavender still left from the candle Mika must have burnt earlier. Lucas drops his bag behind the counter before he picks up the various records and CD’s piled on the counter and places them in their racks. He starts making his way to the store room for the stuff which was shipped earlier. Might as well get a head-start if he’s early.

The store’s owned by Mika’s aunt, and Lucas works part-time here. It’s a vintage record store; the business is okay. He had earned a full scholarship in the university, but needed a job for the basic necessities in his life. Mika offered a job – and the wage was enough to pay off his expenditures. It is okay, better even. Except – except for the –

Lucas ends up walking face first into a rock-hard chest. His nose gets squished against a set of solid pectoral muscles, the cartilage singing with pain. There are hands grabbing his forearms; stale cigarettes and citrusy bubblegum taking up a better half of his brain. If it hadn’t been for the way the systems operating his reflexes have trained him to be repelled away as soon as the scent hits his nostrils, Lucas is a hundred percent sure he would have delivered a leg straight into the dick in front of him.

“Hey,” there’s an iciness which Lucas feels even though he’s overtaken by the pain in his nose. Lucas looks up, up; and here he is – the dick in all its ugly glory. Lucas tries not to fall on the spot.

“Lucas Lallemant is early? Am I dying or is it really happening?” Eliott cocks his head to one side, lips tilted up a fraction. Lucas smiles back sarcastically. What if he is late to almost everything in his life? That’s none of Eliott’s fucking business. Forcing the very delicious image of Eliott choking to death in his sleep to a dark corner of his brain, straightens his shoulders to stare at Eliott square in the eyes. He’s sad and he’s tired. So he doesn’t have any energy to deal with Eliott today, “Please crawl to whatever grimy hole you’ve crawled out of this time, Demaury.”

Footsteps follow his as he spots up the cardboard box holding the new records in the store room. Mika told him to stack them once he gets the time. He’s picking it up when the slime-covered asshat opens his mouth, “What are you doing?”

Lucas sighs, “Operating a spacecraft.” He moves towards the box, hearing Eliott’s footsteps falter behind him. “What does it look like?” Lucas picks up the box, but Eliott isn’t up to giving it a rest.

“Actually, leave it there. You’re on dusting duty today.”

The fuckin- “What?” Lucas turns on his feet. His stomach is doing weird somersaults. He crosses his arms across his chest and looks at Eliott, whose eyes are narrowed as if he’s examining Lucas. It’s like he’s plotting Lucas’s murder. And Lucas – he has a flashing thought. That would be the highlight of Eliott’s life, no?

He shakes himself into the present. And then gets the words out with great distaste. “Mika told me to stack them so.” He turns around once again, moving towards the box, only to be stopped by a hand on his shoulder. Lucas shakes it off quickly.

Eliott stands off to one side, his face in its perpetual state of frown around Lucas. “Mika left me in charge,” he says, leaning his wait on the door as he looks down at Lucas. He won’t be intimated. No.

Eliott’s eyes flick to the box Lucas has picked up as he turns around, heart and head set in determination despite the initial bout of anxiety and something else which still sings inside him somewhere. Eliott almost has a foot of height in Lucas, and if that isn’t enough to make Lucas flee to the mountains, there are parallel lines drawn on the skin his forehead. His eyes are green, the one which reminds Lucas of moss gathered on stones settled to the ocean bed. Solid. Firm. Steady. Lucas wants to reach out and slap that look off of his face. Preferably with a chair. He raises an eyebrow; a challenge.

Something like light flashes on Eliott’s face, giving Lucas a look into an annoyed feature before turning neutral again. Like the plants viewed from the askew perception of water floating above the surface, Eliott’s eyes turn infinitesimally greener. “You’ll dust off all the records in the A to M section. Or if you’d rather I tell Mika about the time you scratched one of his Stevie Wonders vinyl, I’m down with that too.”

There’s no wonder in the way the box previously in Lucas’s hands retains its original place. No. Definitely not him getting intimated by that giant goo of citrusy smelly being with his head too far up his head. Eliott’s face transforms into one of his ugly smirks; the one which is belittling and totally hateful towards Lucas. Lucas just about launches his self upon him.

“If we’ve figured that out,” Eliott straightens his body, his eyes have that weird sparkle that they always gain whenever they see Lucas miserable, which is just about every fuckin time Lucas comes in contact with Eliott. “I also would like if you could hurry up. We don’t have all day today.”

Lucas bunches his hands in fists to his sides as Eliott walks out, all pretentious and glad as he is to have the final word. He blesses Lucas with one final boastful look over his shoulder, the green now as bright as day.

It’s no biggie, Lucas thinks. He can easily refuse. There must be atleast a thousand records in the A to M section. Well, not a thousand but you get the gist. And Céline has been in Léon for the past week to attend her brother’s wedding. Which means the records wouldn’t have been dusted for years. Not only would Lucas have a stellar day cleaning them, but his terrible allergy would cause him immense pain. But the scratched vinyl and Mika’s wrath after knowing about it would cause him a direct ticket to his grave.

So with heavy steps and an equally heavy heart, Lucas stomps over to the racks holding the worn out records covered with dust. There’s something tingling in stomach. He swallows down the feeling, and pushes Eliott out of his mind. That fucking asshole. No wonder he hasn’t got a match.

He goes towards to the record player he persuaded Mika to get for the store. Eliott had brewed a shit storm when Mika had agreed. His ‘Music would be distracting’ was countered by Lucas’s ‘What kind of a music store would it be if it had no music playing?’ and in the end, Lucas had watched a brooding Eliott triumphantly as Mika brought in his uncle’s record player the next day. And so it beings him a great deal of joy as he places in a record in the player that Mika has given his permission to be played in the store.

The records in front of him glisten with the reason Lucas would be walking out of the store with his eyes on fire and respiratory track on a lock down. Elton John croons in the background as he takes out the sticky notes from his pocket (they come in handy when the situation is like this, okay?), tears off a note. Eliott doesn’t, thankfully, surprisingly, bother him once as he gets to work.

It’s to a violet and pink merging together that Lucas looks up to when he makes his way out of the store. Even though his eyes are stinging, and his throat feels like the surface of a cemented wall; all rough and scratchy with cheeks stained with the water his eyes won’t stop producing, Lucas still looks up as a bird takes flight into the setting sun, a silhouette of the fucking time and energy Lucas lost removing years’ worth of dust off of records and cursing the asshole parading the halls with a stick in his ass.

Lucas doesn’t know why Eliott has made it the mission of his life to make Lucas’s life hell. And he also doesn’t know why Eliott’s like warm, soft sunshine when faced with anyone other than Lucas. Hell, if Céline had been the one asked for the task, Eliott would have stepped right up as the fucking gentleman he is to offer to do it himself. And it is funny how once he’d spot Lucas, his face would twist like he’s sucking on a sour lemon or something. Lucas doesn’t get that. He can’t.

With a sigh heaved out of his super congested nose, Lucas starts walking back to his dorm, his bag slung over his shoulder. He had been thankful for Eliott’s absence as he was walking out. It gave him a chance to stick the drawing which he made onto the first page of some deep shit book Lucas knows Eliott keeps in the drawer of the counter. Eliott was nowhere to be found, and Lucas was left with the proof to reinforce his theory. He firmly believes that besides being a fucking dick, Eliott Demaury is also a ghost which keeps appearing out of the blue and then disappears as if it hadn’t been there before. And Lucas is quite okay with that. The role suits Eliott in more ways than one – but it’s also sad Lucas’s won’t be able to get the pleasure of murdering Eliott if he’s already dead.

A rain droplet falls from the darkening sky over Lucas’s head. It lands cold in the center, making Lucas quicken his pace as he rounds the final corner near the dormitory. Yann would already be there, and Lucas can pester him all night to get him some chicken soup.

He makes it to his room just as the rain starts pelting on the ground. Lucas kicks off his shoes as he enters the room. Yann’s hunched over the study table, half asleep from what it appears to him. It’s when a particularly loud sneeze bursts through Lucas that Yann looks up.

“You look like a vampire,” Yann snickers as he looks at him. Lucas doesn’t need to look in the mirror to see what mighty image he’d be painting with red eyes and pink nose and tear-stains on his cheeks. He drops his bag, takes off his wet clothes and jumps into the bed in his boxers. Muffling his face into the pillow he lets out a groans, “I hate that asshole so much.”

“Whom do you not hate?” There’s a smile in Yann’s voice. Lucas chooses to ignore it. He sighs, turning on his back and staring at the abomination he glued to the roof of his bed earlier.

“That’s not the point, Yann,” Lucas exhales, “He knows I have a dust allergy. But still he fucking blackmailed me into dusting the records. It’s like he was getting me back on something.”

“Well, you do keep making those drawing of him,” Yann stops just as Lucas sits up. He scoffs, “Whose side are you on Yann? I can’t believe he’s bewitched you too.”

Yann shakes his head. He looks like he’s regretting every of his decision which brought him here, to this second, with a Lucas with a quarter of his brain working. Fucking Eliott Demaury and his fucking charm. Lucas doesn’t get what’s so special about it.

“-and then I had to walk in the rain,” Lucas continues, sighing into his arm. There’s a light pitter patter which is reaching Lucas’s ears. Lucas would have been able to take in the sandy smell that must be wafting in the air if his nose hadn’t been so congested. It’s Eliott’s fault. All of it. “Fucking pretentious asshole,” Lucas mumbles.

Lucas turns his head. Yann has his contemplative face on, “Don’t take it the bad way Lu, but don’t you think you’re kind of hung up on him?”

Lucas sits up, shocked to his very core. With a gasp he splutters like a fish out of water, “I’m not!”

Lucas doesn’t know where Yann is getting these terrible thoughts. Lucas won’t fall a prey to that. Fuck. Yann doesn’t seem fazed. It’s like he’s done this every other day of his life. What, Lucas doesn’t know. “If you ask me, or Arthur, or Basile, it kind of seems that you are, Lucas. You bring him everywhere, you know? Even if the situation doesn’t call for it, you’ll somehow make it so it has something to do with Eliott. And I think that’s where your fault lies: You give him too much thought.”

And that is…..totally not wrong. Maybe partially, but – Lucas does bring him everywhere with him. And that’s totally on Lucas. It’s maybe the reason he’s so miserable half of the time. He gnaws at his bottom lip, then, as in afterthought, speaks, “Well, then, fuck the rain, I guess?”

Yann’s face lights up as a chuckle passes his lips, “You know what they say Lucas: April showers May flowers.”

Lucas looks at him from the corner of his eyes, “More like April thunders May blunders but whatever floats your boat, I guess.”

And like expected, Yann starts shaking his head, exhaling heavily. The sound makes Lucas grins and he looks up just as Yann clicks his tongue, “You’re a hassle, Lallemant.”

“What do you mean? I’m a delight to have around.”

Yann clocks his head to the side, eyes narrowed, “Listen, I know atleast one person who would greatly differ with your statement.”

Lucas sighs, plopping his head back on the pillow, “Yann, you and I both know that Eliott hates my guts, so.” He shrugs. It’s common knowledge now. And wasn’t Yann just lecturing him about giving Eliott to-

“I was talking about your cupid, actually,” Yann has a terrible looking thing crawling into the fibers of the cells constituting the skin Lucas so badly wants to punch right now. The corner of his lips hitch up a fraction before he gets up from his chair, slinging his leather jacket over his shoulder. “I’m gonna go out for a smoke,” Yann says, a smile crinkling his eyes, “You sit here and think about him, okay?”

He’s out the door in a second; the pillow Lucas throws at him landing on the ground after harshly colliding with the door.

Fucking assholes.

[email protected]

Dear applicants,

Requests for the new sessions have been opened. Kindly take out the prints of your forms from cupidint.com. Please make sure to send in your requests to your designated Cupid before Friday. Any and all requests received after the deadline will be rejected.

Yours truly, Cupids

Lucas stares at the bright flashing and too depressing email displayed on the computer screen. There’s a dull throbbing behind his left eyebrow, his eyes are burning, and Yann still hasn’t returned with the food Lucas messaged him to get for him a few minutes after his departure.

His eyes move from the screen severely damaging his brain to the ugly yellow form Lucas keeps stashed in case of emergencies. His pen rests on top of in a bit slanted. Lucas hates the very sight of this form; apart of tree wasted for nothing. He remembers the many papers like this he sent many times before, and still end with fucking disappointment. What or who is to say this time won’t be the same.

With a dejected sigh he picks up the pen and presses the clicker. Might as well sign up for another disappointment. It is as he starts reading What would you pick to describe yourself as? Please pick one of the choices and is in the process to bang his head against the table cover over the answers that his phone pings with a notification. He unlocks the device, squinting at the light flooding his burning eyes. His stomach coils in on itself.

Eliott D 💩

céline will be back on friday

so it’s your duty to dust the records till then

also, you draw terribly. thought i should let you know

Lucas stares at the words with a newfound hatred which now boils beneath his skin and rises up like a tide ready to consume all of him. But if that happens Lucas would so something extremely petty and stupid. Eliott won’t let him live, and besides, Lucas is above that. He turns his phone off, and with a bout of energy coming from somewhere inside him, underneath his sternum, he picks up the pen and, because he’s inspired, starts drawing penises everywhere there’s a blank for answers he’s supposed to write. The letter’s going to be rejected anyway; Lucas might as well go down with dignity.

This is it, Lucas thinks, when Cupid8776 finally gives up on him. Ha. Lucas would finally be free of their trap.

(And, because he’s inspired, he also takes a picture of the penis, lines them up with the various shots of the stick figures currently accumulating in his photo library, and sends them all to Eliott D (Poop Emoji). In response to his last message, Lucas provides: i don’t think i’m terrible. i’m getting better at drawing your portrait, see and presses send.)

Lucas folds the letter into an envelope and is on his way to mail it. And when Eliott replies back with a chain of messages including some very gruesome you are fucking annoying and extremely threatening crawl back to the whole YOU have come out of, psychopath somewhere between that, Lucas doesn’t feel any remorse.

Like he said, he’s above that.

#elu fic #skam france #stws #elu drabble #skam france fic #lucas lallemant #eliott demaury #elu #penned #stws c

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didsomeonesaydaddydraco · 4 years ago

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Quiditch World Cup | Draco Malfoy one shot

Hey you! Thank you for being here. I really hope you'll enjoy reading this imagine storie about Draco Malfoy. If you have a story request, feel free to message me, giving me the most important details. (e.g.: your name, hair and eye colour, a few words about what you have in mind).

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- You know, you might be known as the stone cold Slytherin Princess at Hogwarts, but you shouldn't be acting like one at home - my brother looked at me from across the dining table and tried to throw a piece of bread at me. Our Mom glared at him as a warning to behave at the table, but didn't say anything. She was too busy trying to follow dad's storytelling about his last trip with his friends - Would it really be that terrible to come to the Quiditch World Cup with me?

- You know that I'm not the biggest fan of that game - I rolled my eyes and continued playing with my salad. Summer outside of Hogwarts was a nightmare. At least for me. Our parents being gone for most of the time due to their jobs, I was left with my brothers for weeks - Besides, I really should be preparing for my fifth year.

- Oh bullshit - this time he aimed right, and hit me straight in the face with a slice of tomato. I automatically reached for my wind, but when I remembered that Mom banned magic during family time, I changed my mind and throw a handful of salad at him.

- Kids - Dad warned us again - Stop with this childish behaviour right now. Both of you are grownups if I recall it correctly. If you expect your Mother and I to treat you such as, I truly believe the least you can do in return is not playing with food like a bunch of toddlers.

- Sorry Dad - we both apologised.

- Y/N - Dad looked at me - You are going to the World Cup with Elvin and you are bringing Rune with you. Your Mother and I have a lot of work, besides, it won't kill you if you spend some quality time with your brothers.

I didn't argue back. I knew that he had the last word in these kind of questions, so I just finished my dinner is silence and went to my room. Before I went to sleep, Elvin and I planned our visit to the Quiditch World Cup and told Rune about it. He was so cute with his adorable smile and excited voice. He hasn't been to any World Cups before and being only 7, he was over the Moon when he realised he might going to see some real magic tomorrow. We might had been a pureblood family, but our parents were rather strict about wizardry at home. They wanted us to have a normal childhood as long as we could. Well, at least until we turned 11, and first Elvin that 4 years later I received our letters from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

*Next day at the World Cup*

Elvin and I held Rune's hand as tight as we could so he couldn't slip away and get lost in the sea of wizards, witches and other magical creatures. We stopped a couple of times to have a little chat with our friends and introduced Rune to them. He was happy to finally be at an event for the magic world. Elvin was happy because he could see his beloved Quiditch matches. And I was devastated because I had to be here. At some point, I left the boys behind and went on my own way to wander around the small village where the fans had their tents. When I thought my day couldn't be worse, I caught a glimpse of a very blond hair. Fortunately I could disappeared before he could see me.

Or at least I thought so.

- Are you hiding from me, Princess? – his tall frame appeared right in front of me and his signature scent of cologne mixed with peppermint hit my nose. I rolled my eyes, but failed to hide the small smile on my lips.

- I think we both know it’s impossible for me to hide from you, Malfoy – I stepped away before anyone who had known us from Hogwarts had the chance to caught is together – Somehow, you always find me..

- Oh yeah – he smirked down at me – But you could successfully hid all your letters…or you just didn’t want to send me any with your owl?

I pinched the bridge of my nose. Draco and I were the Slytherins’ IT couple. Well, the only problem was, we weren’t dating. Only shared a couple of night together, sneaked out of the Slytherin Dorm rooms when everyone was asleep and made out in the dark corridors of the School, or at our favourite spot, at the Astronomy Tower. We both agreed on one thing. We keep our relationship a secret from everyone.

- Was I supposed to send any? – I asked with a playful tone, but when he kept a straight face I sighed – Draco, we made a deal. We have fun, but no deep feelings. Besides, my brother would have found the letters. You know how gossipy he can be and we don’t really want people from school to find out so…

- You know – he took a step closer – Now I get the Ice Queen nickname – his voice was cold and it cut me like a knife – I have known you since our first year at Hogwarts. All these years, you swore that you didn’t care what others think or talk about you. But suddenly, when it comes to being in a relationship…no, no wait. Not go that far. When it comes to show any kind of emotion apart from being sassy, cold or mean, you suddenly care about those things. But I tell you something, Princess. Maybe you should get off of your high horse, put away your damn pride and realise that having feelings for someone is not something you should be ashamed of.

- Malfoy – I tried to say something, but he cut me off by pushing something in my hands.

- Or you would be ashamed being with me? – his voice was filled with pain and I saw the usual dangerous flame in his eyes fading away. He turned on his heels and left me there alone. It was the moment I realised, quite a few of our schoolmates gathered around us and tried to pretend like they weren’t eavesdropping.

Draco Malfoy wasn’t afraid to talk back to me. He wasn’t afraid to get into a heated argument with me. He wasn’t afraid to confront me. He wasn’t ashamed of hiding his feelings. And he was right. All these years, I tried to be someone they thought of me that I was, that I completely forget who I really was. I wanted to keep my reputation as the Slytherin House’s Princess, and I thought I could only do that if I turn off my emotions and turn into ice. I had no regrets, apart from one. I hurt the only person who could saw through my act.

- Oh for Salazar’s Sake – I looked down at the thing Draco had pushed into my hands. It was his Quiditch jersey, with his name and number 07 on it. It smelt exactly like him. I forgot there were friendly matches beside the stadium. Of course he was going to play. He loved that stupid game.

- Everything okay? – Elvin and Rune finally find me – Were you really fighting with that Malfoy boy…wait, is that his jersey?

I only smiled faintly at my brother, who was clearly confused. I speed walked towards the much smaller ring, where two teams were already warming up for a game, checking their brooms and talking about their new strategies. Elvin was running after me with Rune in his arms so he didn’t lose him again like last summer.

- What are you doing young lady? – he asked with concern in his voice when he saw me stripping down my shirt and replacing it with Malfoy’s jersey. By this moment, he totally lost control of the events happening around him. I bet he regret dragging me with him today.

- Trying to make the right thing for once in my life – I flashed him a smile and jumped over the cordon which separated the viewers from the players. There were a couple of minutes before the start of the match so I had to be quick.

Draco and his friends were standing the other side of the field, chatting and warming up. I felt nervous and I was afraid of throwing up in front of everyone, but I had to get over it. I shouldn’t care what people think or say. A sudden foreign feeling went through my body and I started to run towards that arrogant asshole.

- Malfoy – I shouted his name and he immediately looked at my voice’s direction. He had a confused expression on his face, but when he realised what I was wearing, he started to run towards me as well. We met at the middle of the field and when I reached him, I pulled him in for a kiss by his shirt. I missed his lips on mine. I missed his hands pulling my as close to his body as possible. I missed feeling his heartbeat against my chest. I missed feeling him smile during the kiss.

- You look really good in my jersey – he whispered in my ears and placed a soft kiss on my shoulder as he hugged me tightly – And not to mention, my name suits you very well, babe.

I laughed and shook my head at him. Arrogant asshole.

- Just for your information, I would never be ashamed of being with you – a played with his platinum blond hair at the back of his neck – Sorry for being a bitch. I hate to say it out loud, but you were right. I had to get off of my high horse. I need a man who can put me in my place sometimes.

- Lucky for you, I’m quite good at it – he winked at me.

- Speaking of it – I stood on my tippy toes and kissed him again, but this time with even more passion but not as quick – This is for a good luck – I placed another small kiss just under his ears – And if you win this game, you can get even luckier tonight.

That night, we both get lucky. They were incredible on the field and we were finally working on our relationship. Gossip flew around Hogwarts quickly, so when we get off the Hogwarts Express, everyone was talking about that day at the Quiditch World Cup. And the first night, we walked into the Great Hall with pride, determination and most importantly, with each other. Hand in hand. And in love.

#draco x reader #draco imagine #draco malfoy #one shot #harry potter #quditich #harry potter imagines #hogwarts

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a-slut-for-leon-kennedy · 4 years ago

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Marble Hornets reaction #5 totheark edition!

Ok so like I said in the last post, I missed all totheark videos cause I totally forgot about them. I managed to find a timeline of the entirety of Marble Hornets. Idk how reliable it is, but I’m trusting it for now. The timeline is here: http://marblehornets.wikidot.com/comprehensive-timeline

Regards: This was posted after Entry #9 was uploaded but before Entry #10. There isn’t much here just a lot of //// and the word “closely” at the end.

Operator: This was posted after Entry #10 was uploaded but before Entry #11. “Lakes in stillness will take every life of the night” I think that’s what it said in the text on the video. Apparently this is missing audio from Entry #10?

Deluge: This was posted after Entry #11 but before #12. No idea what it’s saying. Sounds like “It was” to me. And then “Watching you” in text. So.. “It was watching you” ?? Apparently some of the comments are saying it says Alex backwards but there are a lot of confusing takes.

Impurity: Uploaded after Entry #12 but before #13. “Begin” with a ton of 0′s. This is binary right? I used to communicate with my friends through binary so I’m pretty sure that’s it. There are flowers and a storm? It’s kinda pretty tbh. A screen of 0′s with letters in some spaces. “There was more” is apparently what it says? Also a comment pointed this out but it says “The operator” right before the flowers cut out.

Exit: Uploaded after #13 but before #14. Apparently someone filmed Jay when he went to get the battery from Alex’s car. I believe this was happening when Alex had a run in with the Operator and we saw the symbol in clear view for the first time. The flashing words are “Rat He Ore Top” which is actually an anagram for The Operator. At least I’m pretty sure. I didn’t refer to the comments for this one. Then at the end it says “Where is the Ark” Is the ark the red building or is my memory wrong?

Program: After #14 but before #15. The letter S? Or is that some type of symbol for something? The comments aren’t really helping with this one lol. Bunch of binary again. “Bleed more” is this referencing Alex with his bloody face or the bloody sink in the house??

Advocate: After 15, before 16. “Tick Tock” I bet creepypasta fans freaked out over this. Unless Clockwork hadn’t been created at that point? I can’t remember. I know it has nothing to do with her at all but I thought it was funny. Also is that Brian's face? Tons of binary and I think someone in the comments said that some of it translated to “7″ which, apparently, is the entry this clip of Brian is from?? Not sure if its true but it’s worth mentioning.

Addition: Uploaded after #16 but recorded during the entry itself. Someone recorded Jay’s coughing fit during the video. Rude. Idk what it was saying but the comments say its “Alex, Brian” just slowed down. It’s what Jay was yelling in the entry. It also says “See you” at the end.

Signal: After 17 but before 18. It says, “Can’t wait till we’re alone together. Then I will tell you something new, something cold, something sleepy, something of cease and of peace on the long bright curve of space. Banish them- refuse to speak, leave them. Go upstairs to your room. I will be waiting for you. I will surround your bed. Close the windows so that none will never again be able to enter” I heard some of it but I got the rest from the comments. It also says “Come back, find me” at the end. Also the clips in the video are from the show Night Gallery, particularly the episode “Silent Snow, Secret Snow” from 1966. Credits to Hawdknoah on YouTube for figuring that out. I have no idea if it’s true or not cause I didn’t fact check this but I’m choosing to trust it for now.

Messages: Now this was uploaded before entry 19 but took place after the events of entry 19 and the next totheark entry. It says, “Tell us. You have been keeping secrets. Smile for the camera.” And I’m guessing that’s a pic of Tim at the end. A hint to Tim being Masky?

Imma stop here since I haven’t watched Entry #19 yet so I can’t continue with totheark till I’ve watched it. I’m going in order for everything (In order as in of the upload dates.)

I have no idea how much of the information is correct or not. These are just my observations and commentary on it. Hope y’all enjoyed tho.

#marble hornets #tim wright #alex kralie #brian thomas #jay merrick #creepypasta #slenderman #the operator #masky #hoodie #proxies #proxy #totheark

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basiccortez · 5 years ago

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Defenseless Ch. 2

synopsis: CJ Jackson, looks like she has it all. Fancy car, fancy house, name brand clothing. Her parents, top boosters to Beverly, with money to make all sorts of situations go away. As well as the Jackson family looks put together, past secrets haunt them. With the new transfer student catching the eye of CJ Jackson, can old friendships be fixed. Or are somethings just meant to stay broken. "I told you, as long as I live, no one would know."

word count: 5.2k

pairing: Jordan Baker x OC (CJ Jackson)

warnings: talk of drugs, talk of addiction, talk of a juvenile being in trouble, teen drinking, language, high school boys being high school boys.

"Maybe, we shouldn't have kept her in that school."

"Chris, we talked about this. The best way for her to contain a normal life is by staying there."

"You didn't hear her cry today, Pauline." She could hear his heavy sigh, "That baby has lost everything, and you know how teenagers can be. I don't want to lose her anymore than we already have."

"I can email Mrs. Riley, and tell the boys to be on the lookout for her. You know Colton won't let anything slip."

CJ heard her dad's loud laughter from the spot she sat. She sat on the dark staircase behind the kitchen wall listening to her parents talk. After she had come home from her terrible dance rehearsal, she had hid in her room all night doing homework and listening to music.

"Oh I know," Her dad said, "Cobe won't let anything slip either. Carver has some pull with the football boys. Roman will help too."

"What more of an Army does one girl need." Her mother said.

CJ smiled weakly, thinking of all the boys in her life. Cobe, the eldest Jackson boy, was a senior, and a soccer star. He ruled the field much like he ruled the school being the student body preside. And, holds the title like if he were the king. Every booster presentation, he wore his best suit and tie, cleaned his shoes, and had his waves done perfectly. The whole Jackson family thought he would go to Stanford or Yale, his dream colleges, but he caught them all off guard by joining the Army when he turned 18. Their mother was pissed, and didn't talk to him for 2 days. Pauline sat down with her oldest, scolded him for not telling her, but listened to his side, and supported him.

Colton and CJ were twins. Colton being the older one, and not letting CJ live that down, at all. They both had the biggest brown eyes, ones that looked like pools of honey when the sunlight caught them. Colton's main focus was basketball, and everything basketball. There were times that he wished he was named after the great Kobe Bryant. But Cobe always reminded that he should've been born first. Colton was yet to commit anywhere, wanting to wait until after his junior year. He was praying for UCLA or LSU.

Carver was the youngest Jackson sibling, being a sophomore, and an amazing tight-end, getting his dad's football talent. Even as a sophomore, he had offers already, but much like Colton, he was waiting until senior year. Carver, even though as athletic as the other brothers, was also involved in other things. Music was his passion, growing up with old "cook-out" music- as their father would say- lead him to wanting to be a music major. Carver's room was littered with vinyl records, concert posters, and 8-tracks. CJ and Carver could spend hours arguing about the main message behind Tupac's Dear Mama.

Roman was the last boy in CJ's life. He, unlike the other boys, was not related to CJ. Roman was also on the football team, and played defensive end. He was a junior like CJ and Colton. Roman had basically lived in the Jackson house, being best friends with Colton, and dating Carver. Roman and Carver had been dating for almost 2 years now, and no one knew besides the Jackson family.

Carver was out to the school, and everyone couldn't be prouder of him. Carver wasn't afraid to be who he was. The boys on the football team accepted him. But Roman, was fearful of what his parents would do. He grew up in church, and hearing his mother curse about the pride parade every year in Beverly Hills. He was terrified about what his football friends would say. Yeah, they accepted Carver, but that didn't stop the whispers in the locker room when Carver would leave.

"He was totally starring at your junk," "If he tackles you, he might get hard" "Don't catch the ball like a fairy" "I don't wanna be the only one in the showers with him," "We should get rainbow uniforms" "Maybe he would do better on the cheer team"

All the siblings had heard the whispers and rallied around Carver. CJ was Carver's biggest fan, and biggest fighter. She had taken Carver to his first pride parade when he was in 8th grade. It broke Carver when CJ was sent away. He would visit her every weekend, and send letters nonstop. He was thrilled when she came home early. But like everyone else, he had a reputation to uphold. So even he turned his back on her at school today.

"It'll all work out for her, she's too strong to let anything break her." Pauline said coming up to her husband. She wrapped her arms around his waist and pressed her cheek to his back, "Where are they anyway? It's too quiet."

"CJ is around the corner." Chris said and CJ froze. "You've been sitting on those stairs since you were a little girl. Can't believe there's no ass print in the wood yet."

"Chris!" Pauline said laughing. CJ let out a laugh and stood up from the stairs. She walked into the kitchen in her baggy basketball shorts and a loose t-shirt, that was probably one of her brothers, "Hey baby girl." Pauline kissed CJ's forehead, as she walked over to the oven to get dinner out, "Cauliflower steaks- request from Cobe, with asparagus, zucchini, mushroom sauce. Pasta salad and mac n cheese for a side. Apple pie for dessert, request from-"

"Me! Ain't no more goofy ass fake ass-"

"Finish that sentence, Colton, I dare you." Mom said giving Colton her famous glare. Colton shut his mouth real quick and kissed his mom's cheek as he came and grabbed a water out of the fridge, "Boy! Go shower too! You stank!"

"Smell of success, momma!" Colton said lifting his arms up, and showing off the pit stains on his red t-shirt.

"Ugh! Who the hell let the skunk in?" Cobe said coming down the stairs and smelling Colton.

"You think you got jokes, Pres?" Colton said walking over to his older brother.

"At least he don't smell like an onion." Carver said, Roman tagging along behind him, coming into the kitchen.

"Y'all all smell!" CJ said laughing. All the boys looked at each other, before all running over to CJ.

The girl squealed and took off running from her brothers. She ran towards the opening to the living room, but Cobe ran around the other side and blocked her. She quickly turned towards the dinning room, where Carver was waiting for her. Carver ran towards her, and CJ turned around running towards the kitchen again, where her dad was ready to catch her. She dodged past her dad, and was quickly picked up in strong arms. She fought against them until she was thrown into the pool.

"Ah!" She screamed as she hit the cold water. She came up from the water splashing, and laughed as she saw all 4 men, plus Roman laughing on the pool side, "Y'all think y'all funny?"

"Oh we real funny." Colton said.

"You children!" Pauline laughed coming out of the kitchen. She threw her dish towel over her shoulder and crossed her arms. All 5 males turned towards her and froze, "Y'all done with the games?"

"Yes ma'am." They all answered at the same time.

"Good. Cobe, you're gym bag does not live by the front door, pick it up. Colton, I know I didn't raise you to smell like a garbage can, hit the shower. Carver, see that table in there, set it. Roman, you can help him. Mr. Jackson, that salad ain't gonna make itself." Pauline said, and all the boys went their instructed ways, "And you," She said looking at her daughter who was soaking wet in the pool, "Dry off and get clean."

The next day, The Jackson siblings all arrived together in their shiny white Jeep Wrangler. Colton parked the car next to Roman's black Tahoe. CJ used to joke that Roman looked like security detail for a famous person driving that black SUV around.

"Morning, Jacksons." Roman said to the bunch as they got out of the car. Roman gave a head nod to Carver. Carver rolled his eyes and slammed the door shut.

"You going to Mrs. Riley first?" Colton asked his younger sister.

"Have to every day." CJ answered and Colton sighed, "Go on, I'll be fine."

"Mom said to look-"

"I know what mom said," CJ cut off Cobe, "But I can handle myself."

"You can eat lunch with me and Alana." Cobe offered to his sister, who just scrunched her nose up.

"If there's anyone that I hate more than Emily Pierce, it's Alana Kadee." CJ said and pulled her bag over her loose t-shirt, "I'll be fine. Besides, I have him." CJ smiled seeing Spencer waiting behind her group of brothers, "Bye."

The boys watched as CJ pushed through them and over to Spencer James, who greeted the Jackson girl with a wide smile. The two of them walked into school together, and could fell all eyes on them.

"We trust him?" Colton asked the guys.

"He a good guy, little rough on the team player shit, but he's good." Roman said.

"As long as he don't do pull a Jordan Baker on her, I'm fine with it." Cobe said and the guys agreed. "Ain't no man gonna hurt my sister again."

CJ had battled her way through Anatomy, composition, and physics by the time the lunch bell had rang. Spencer waited outside of the girl's classroom and walked with her to lunch. Spencer talked about practice and a pool party at the Baker household. CJ was quiet and let Spencer vent practice and how it went.

"So how was it hanging out with the steroid set?" CJ asked, as she picked up a piece of her sushi.

"Are you serious?" Spencer asked the girl.

CJ laughed and shook her head, "I'm kidding. I used to mess with them and say that."

Spencer laughed and studied the girl before asking, "What happened between you and them? They know you, but they act like they don't wanna know you."

CJ took a deep breath, she knew this would come up sooner or later, "We used to be close, and then things happened. They became football stars and I became the. . .social pariah of Beverly High school."

"Man, shut up you're cool." Spencer said.

"Okay, yeah, says the new guy." CJ joked, "It's shocking, I know, but no one is eager to hang out with juvie girl, post detention center."

"Juvie? Elaborate."

"I just went down a bad path, things happened out of my control." CJ shrugged, "Parents paid a big time lawyer to help me out, and here I am. 75k and 90 days later. I'm fine now, just 90 days of parole."

"Is it?" Spencer asked, looking into her honey brown eyes.

CJ was about to answer, when a tray was placed loudly down on the table. The Jackson girl looked up and saw Cobe swinging his leg over the lunch table bench. Before CJ could protest him sitting there, Roman pulled up next to her. Carver sat his stuff down on the other side of Spencer, and Colton decided to nestle himself right in between CJ and Spencer. CJ rolled her eyes and leaned forward to still talk to Spencer.

"Spencer, meet the other, uglier versions of me. Cobe, Colton, Carver, and Roman- the adopted brother." CJ said introducing the boys.

"Nice to meet you," Spencer said politely, greeting all of the boys.

"Welcome to Beverly, I'm Colton, older twin, basketball star, black belt."

"He's lying." "I'm not lying." The twins said at the same time. CJ glared at her twin brother, as a familiar female voice started speaking.

"Spencer?" The voice asked, "Oh hey Jackson brothers, and Roman."

"Hey Layla," Carver answered the light-skinned girl.

"I'm throwing a party at my place tonight. It's just a small team thing, to celebrate the start of the season, and I was hoping you could make it." Layla spoke. CJ looked down at her food and picked at it as she was talking. Cobe could feel the tension rolling off of his younger sister's body, and wanted to yell at Layla for even approaching them.

"Yeah, for sure. We'll try to come by for a bit." Roman answered for the boys. Layla smiled at him and looked at CJ.

"Great," Layla said to the table, "Bye CJ." CJ looked up at Layla as she walked away and didn't say anything. The boys all looked at CJ who just rolled her eyes. Colton watched Spencer, as his head followed Layla as she walked away, and gave him a look.

"What?" Spencer asked.

"A, she's taken. That's Asher's girlfriend, okay?" Colton said.

"And B, those parties, I'd stay clear." CJ spoke up.

Spencer agreed, but there was a look in his eye that gave away his true intentions. The lunch bell rang, dismissing the teens back to class. CJ said goodbye to the boys before heading to Mrs. Riley's room for a check in and get her community service project. Her project was based out of Crenshaw Community Center. She'd be tutoring elementary and middle school children in Science.

When dance practice rolled around, CJ was determined to take her spot back. CJ was the first one dressed and in the gym for practice. It gave her enough time to turn her phone on and go over the Countdown dance, like it was supposed to be done.

Jordan could hear the music from down the hall as he walked Hadley to the locker room, "Are you late?" He asked his girlfriend.

"No. . . it must be Emily practicing. No matter how hard she tries, she will never be CJ good. That girl is amazing, the way she can move. Looks just like her mom when she's dancing." Hadley spoke.

"Yeah. I remember all those dance awards on her walls." Jordan smiled remembering going to her competitions, "I should get going," Jordan kissed Hadley goodbye before walking down the hallway towards the music coming from the gym.

Jordan stood in the doorway in awe, watching the way CJ flawlessly moved around the space. She was completely lost in the tempo of the song playing. Her body was telling a story, and so was the song she chose. Jordan could see the pain that was coming across in her movements. The way it looked like she couldn't catch the beat, but she was perfectly on time.

"Just don't give up, I am working it out. Please don't give in, I won't let you down. It messed me up, need a second to breathe. Just keep coming around. Hey, whataya want from me. Whataya want from me?"

Jordan couldn't help but feel guilt listening to the words. The song was picked for a reason, and CJ knew it. He watched as she flawlessly leaped into the air, and land it perfectly. Her turns were executed without any hesitation and with full control. When the music finished, she ended on her knees, her chest moving up and down rapidly as her eyes were closed, trying to slow her heart rate.

Jordan didn't know if he should clap or say something, before he could move he heard clapping from the other side of the gym. CJ opened her eyes and briefly glanced at Jordan before looking to where the sound was coming. Spencer James walked into the gym, a wide smile on his face, and CJ stood up from the ground. Jordan left as Spencer started talking to the girl. He headed down to the football locker room, trying even harder to forget about CJ Jackson.

"That was. . . amazing." Spencer spoke to the light skin girl.

"Thanks. I listened to a lot of music in juvie, and this was one of my favorite songs. It spoke to me." CJ said and her eyes drifted over to where Jordan was standing.

"Well it was amazing." Spencer said.

"It was," The pair was cut off by a familiar annoying voice breaking into the gym, "Excuse me, Spencer is it? You need to leave, closed practice. And CJ, next time you want extra ''practice'' run it by the captain first." Emily said to the two.

"Show more later?" Spencer asked CJ and the girl smiled, watching Spencer walk off.

"I don't know what you're trying to do, but you will never hold the captain spot again. You might have been the best dancer in the conference, but not anymore." Emily sneered to CJ. CJ took one step getting in Emily's face, and could feel the girl uncomfortable by the sudden conforntation.

"The only person who won't be holding a captain spot anymore is you. And trust me sis, it's not me who needs the extra practice. The mess you call a dance, is a shit show and you know it. It's a Beyonce song, and you ain't it sweetie. You are more like. . ." CJ paused looking the ginger girl up and down, "Chanel West Coast, and I'm Nicki Minaj. No competition at all."

CJ pushed past Emily, and grabbed her water bottle as the rest of the dance team started filling in the gym. Emily walked over to a group of girls and yelled at them to start stretching. Mrs. Williams came into the gym and set down her clipboard and called all the girls together.

"We are learning a new dance today, and CJ will be teaching it." Mrs. Williams said. CJ smirked as she felt Emily's glare on her back, "So let's get ready. Spread out."

"Chrisy?" Her mother spoke, knocking on her bedroom door. CJ sat up from the blankets she was buried under and paused the Twilight movie she was watching, "No plans tonight? It's a Friday night."

"These are my plans." CJ said pointing to a half naked Taylor Lautner on her TV screen.

"Half naked werewolf boys aren't a plan." Pauline laughed and walked over to sit on her daughter's bed, "I know that there is a team party at Layla's tonight."

"I know. I knew I probably couldn't go anyway."

"Your curfew is midnight, on the dot, no later. Colton will drive you and Dad will pick you up."

"Mom, are you say. . ."

"You have been through enough. Your Dad, Mrs. Riley, and I talked, we agreed that going to a team party with your brothers was okay. As long as you promise you can pass a drug test tomorrow morning."

CJ jumped up from her bed and hugged her mother tightly. Pauline smiled and hugged her daughter back. It was the first time in months that the two have hugged each other like this, in a happy moment.

"Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!" CJ squealed.

"You're welcome. Now get dress, child, you look a mess. And no Jackson child of mine will be looking a mess." Pauline said smiling at her daughter. CJ smiled at her mother and then jumped up towards her closet. CJ invited her mother to stay and help her get ready for the party.

Pauline, her mother, was a retired Dallas Cowgirl dancer, and now an editor for Vogue. Pauline had met Chris Jackson after the Chiefs had played the Cowboys, and it was love at first sight. She had grown up in east Oakland, and had come from nothing. She danced to put herself through college, which she ended up getting her degree in Dance. She worked hard for what she wanted, and wanted people to know that. She expected the best out of her kids, and wanted them to always put their best foot forward.

CJ let her mom fix her box braids, pulling them half up, half down. She wore a baggy black Aliyah t-shirt with a stripped long sleeve underneath it. Her jeans were loose with more hole then there were jean. She pulled on her crisp white air forces and smiled at herself.

"Beautiful." Pauline smiled and kissed her daughter's forehead, "Remember, midnight. Colton's downstairs waiting for you."

CJ nodded and headed downstairs where her twin was waiting. CJ and Colton made their way to the lime green 1972 camaro, which was Colton's baby. He only brought it out for important events such as parties, homecoming, dates, and prom.

"Scratch the paint, and you're dead." He told his twin as she opened the door to the car.

The party was in full swing when they arrived. The door to the Keating household was wide open, and you could hear the music from down the street. Teens were on couches doing bong hits, shots, making out. Red solo cups were in almost every teen hand. Splashes could be seen as the glass doors to the outside were pulled back.

"Hey Colt!" A half naked JJ said as he came up to the twins, "CJ, my girl." JJ tried to hug the twins but they both pushed him back seeing as he was soaking wet.

"Leave it to JJ to make me feel somewhat welcome." CJ said to her brother. He smirked and threw his arm over her shoulder.

"You are welcome, you always have been. If they don't accept you, you don't need them. Now come on, I guarantee there is a Sprite tropic berry with your name on it."

At some point during the party, the siblings had broken away from each other. Colton was probably in some room with one of the many girls at the party. And CJ sat alone, her feet swinging over the side of the deck, as looked at the California hills. It was peaceful for her, she hadn't seen the lights of the city like this in a long time. The view of Layla's house had been one of the many things she liked about it.

"You lost?" Jordan Baker said standing behind her. CJ sighed and didn't say anything, but swing her legs back to the side of the deck, and stand up. She brushed herself off and started walking away from Jordan, "Where are you going?"

"Away. I know when I'm not wanted somewhere." She said to the QB. Jordan sighed and grabbed her arm stopping her in her tracks. CJ tore her arm away from his grasp and looked at him, "You dumb or had one too many concussions?"

"CJ. . ."

"Your parents made it pretty damn clear what they expect from you and Olivia. And that's to stay away from me. So why don't you do that." CJ sneered.

"CJ, Jesus Christ, would you just stop!" Jordan said trying to stop her again, "I wanted to say sorry, and just talk to you."

"Sorry? You wanted to say 'sorry'? Sorry isn't going to suffice. What would've been the epic sorry would've been telling the truth that day, but you couldn't do that."

"CJ I-"

"It's fine, Jordan. Now leave me alone." CJ said and turned on her heel, and trying to get as far away from that party as possible. She knew she shouldn't have been there, but she thought, maybe if they were all drunk they'd forget about the mistakes that were made last year.

CJ woke up with the worst possible headache that she could have. And she hadn't even been drinking. Her parents had woken her up bright in early to go to the scrimmage game. The boosters were invited, meaning her parents. So CJ sat on the cold bleachers with her green cardigan on, shivering in the cool morning. She watched her mother hand Carver and Roman each a water bottle and a snack. Cobe was busy introducing the boosters to the football coaches and showing them the additions to the football stadium.

"Why am I here?" CJ asked her mother.

"Learning how to be a football wife." Pauline joked, causing the young girl to laugh, "I will never understand why women spend so much on botox and fake boobs." Pauline glanced over at JJ's mother, who had just gotten her 2nd boob job done.

"Cause black don't crack, but white sure do." CJ said and Pauline shoved her shoulder laughing, "Let's go Carvy!" CJ cheered watching her younger brother run on to the field.

"That number 11 looks rough." Her dad pointed out, coming to sit by his wife and daughter, "Thought that was supposed to be wonder boy, looks like under boy to me."

CJ looked at Spencer, who was getting the snot beat out of him. He looked awful, and completely out of it. CJ wondered what had happened when she left the party last night. Every play that was made to Spencer, he messed it up in some way. Each time the offense would walk off the field, he looked beat and tired. At the end of the scrimmage, Spencer walked off the field looking defeated. Carver had made his way over to were his parents and sister were standing.

"Nice work, young man." Chris said patting his son on the shoulders, "Almost as good as me."

"I am as good as you."

"What's up with that James kid?" Pauline asked her youngest.

"No clue, but dude reeks like a party bus. Him and JJ must've had a competition last night." Carver said looking over at where Spencer was now talking to Jordan and Asher, "Or those two did something."

The Jackson family turned and watched a heated argument breakout. Spencer threw his helmet down and lunged towards Asher. CJ gasped and took a step forward, but Chris put his arm out in front of her, stopping her movement. The family watched Billy Baker came and controlled Spencer, and the assistant coach take Jordan and Asher away from the spectacle. CJ looked at the rest of the boosters who were also looking at the show in front of them. Cobe was quick to catch CJ's pleading glance to get them out of here, and somewhere else.

"Alright, let's go see where the best team, my team, the soccer team is practicing." Cobe said and the boosters followed him out of the football stadium.

"Billy was pulling for this kid and I have no reason why." Chris said watching Billy talk to his son.

"Maybe the Bakers should worry about they're own kids, seems like they can't control them." Pauline said and Chris nodded in agreement, "Let's go, the boys should be about done."

"I'll meet you guys at the car." CJ said and her parents agreed. CJ waited a moment and then walked over to where Jordan was. He was the only football player left on the field, "You do that to every new player?"

Jordan looked over at the Jackson girl and shrugged, "You don't get it."

"Oh I don't?" CJ questioned and walked over to Jordan, "Cause it looks like. . . you're being a huge dick."

Jordan sighed and set his helmet down on the bench, "You don't see the way he looks at Spencer. Like. . .he's the son he's always wanted."

"J, you know that's not true." CJ said using the nickname she had given him. Jordan couldn't help the butterflies that arose in his stomach when she said that, "Look where you are at, right now. Beverly Hills High School. Where do you live? In the Hills. What car do you drive? A 2019 camaro convertible. What does Spencer have?"

"I know. . ." Jordan says hanging his head in shame, "You're right."

"Your dad is trying to give a kid a chance. Your dad was much like Spencer, growing up in Crenshaw and someone gave him a chance. He is doing that to Spencer. You don't get it, because you have always had that chance."

"When did you get like this?" Jordan said looking at the girl.

"Like what?" CJ asked.

"Reasonable." Jordan simply said.

"I spent 90 days in a detention center. I was lucky, someone gave me a chance. If someone who's dad wasn't a retired football player and who's mother wasn't a editor for vogue who couldn't hire the best attorney in their county did the same thing I did. . . they would've gotten jail time instead of 90 days in juvie." CJ answered.

"Why didn't you take the plea? Why didn't you want a defense?" Jordan asked her but CJ just turned her head, "Why did you even take the blame anyway?"

CJ sighed and looked in Jordan's brown eyes, "You know why."

"But do I really? CJ, you wouldn't have been sent to-"

"Jordan." The two teens looked over to where the call came from. Laura Baker stood off the side, her arms folded in front of her. CJ took a step back from Jordan and looked down at her feet. She could feel the hate radiating off of Laura Baker. If looks could kill, CJ would be dead by now, "Why don't you go hit the showers. Now."

Jordan nodded and grabbed his helmet before walking off the field. CJ watched him leave and turned on her heel to head to her parents' car. Laura stepped in front of CJ, cutting off her path and looked down at the teen.

"What are you doing here? Do you needed reminded about the terms of your parole, Miss Jackson?" Laura asked the teen.

Before CJ spoke her mother spoke for her, "No, she doesn't, Laura. The best thing you can do is stop talking to my daughter before we have another issue on your hands."

Laura looked at the Jacksons before moving out of the way. Pauline led her daughter to the waiting black range rover, and where her husband stood. Chris opened the door for CJ and his wife. CJ looked at Laura one last time before her dad pulled out of the parking lot.

#all american #all american cw #all american imagine #jordan baker #jordan baker imagine #jordan baker x reader #spencer james #olivia baker #asher adams

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envydean · 5 years ago

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It’s been a pretty quiet year from me fic wise, I published 26 fics this year (a total of 87,575 words), but I also posted my first serial posted “long fic” (it wasn’t very long as long fics go, but it was long for me), I took part in the Destiel Harlequin and the Trope Celebration. A lot of my writing wouldn’t have been without the @writersofdestiel discord who are a bunch of awesome and encouraging people. In the background I have been working on my longest fic yet which I’m excited to share hopefully soon!

But onwards to this past year! Fics are ordered by date written from oldest to newest.

Angel On Stage | Destiel | T | 1,597 Castiel is the new dancer at Balthazar's club, and Dean gets to watch his practice show and accidentally falls for the guy.

A Time Between Moments | Destiel | T | 591 There’s that time, just moments after they’ve crawled back into bed after washing off their orgasms, when their breaths are just evening out... they lay apart, each on their side, facing one another. Blue meets green, in that time in between moments.

Bluebells | Destiel | T | 6,188 Dean's magic has been steadily running out ever since he moved to the city and his weary body is begging for a vacation. Bobby's direct orders to do so have him heading to the White Mountains to soak up some much needed earthly magic and along the way he picks up something else out of the storm.

Nothing More | Destiel | T | 707 The words sit in Dean’s messaging app, waiting to be sent. One hand is wrapped around a glass of whiskey and the other hovering over the send button. Happy Valentine’s Day

Chocolates at 9am | Destiel | T | 1,201 Dean gets in early to place a rose on his assistant's desk under the guise of a secret admirer. Except that it turns out the admiration is both not so secret and mutual.

Shiver | Destiel | E | 1,267 The ice is cold as Cas slips the cube between his lips and sucks until the harsh edges have melted. He holds it between his teeth as Dean squirms beneath him, cuffed to their double bed with a towel beneath his hips.

Back On The Tracks | Destiel | T | 1,012 Dean and Cas go back to their old boarding school to attend their daughter's track and field day and end up competing in a three-legged parent's race.

Naps for Dogs and Men | Destiel | T | 1,500 The golden retriever has been coming to Castiel's house for several weeks, taking a nap and then going back on his way and Castiel finally sends a note to his owner.

What Do You Wish For? | Destiel | E | 1,500 Dean, Cas, and their senior high school friends are on their annual camping trip. The sun has set and Cas wants some space to reset himself after a lot of socialising and Dean joins him.

Sexy Nine | Destiel | E | 1,500 Dean's excited that his package from Sexy Nine has arrived, only when he goes back up to his apartment, he gets stuck in the elevator and calls the fire brigade after maintenance doesn't answer. He certainly gets more than a rescue out of it when one particular fireman recognises the shop's symbol on the box.

Privacy On The Top Floor | Destiel | E | 5,008 Dean Winchester visits his husband's workplace with a duffle bag of kinkiness. It's private up on the top floor where Castiel resides in his position as CEO and he doesn't shy away when Dean ties him down and brings him to the edge again and again and again...

Teardrops For You | Destiel, Charlie & Dean, Charlie & Castiel | T | 1,500 The accident killed her and left Dean alive and emotionally broken. He's a disgrace. His best friend is dead and he can't even cry for her.

No Man's Waters | Destiel | T | 21,092 When Castiel is cast out of his territory for disobeying orders for war, he’s left to perish in No Man’s Waters, the treacherous depth between the Garrison Territory and the Huntsman’s Territory. Nothing survives there, and Castiel is barely holding on to life when one of the Huntsmen Merfolk comes to his aid.

Raspberry Jelly | Destiel | M | 1,729 After Castiel walks in on Dean wearing a pair of panties and grinding against Cassie Robinson, an awkward (tired-brained) conversation happens that almost ruins their friendship - until it doesn't.

Christmas Sweaters In June | Destiel | T | 1,500 “Love,” Cas says suddenly in his ear. It makes Dean’s heart jump and his lungs constrict. “Wha-what?” Dean stutters, head turning to Cas whose eyes are still fixated on the screen. “L-O-V-E. Love, it’s the one you’re missing from this round.” Dean looks back down at his screen and sees Cas’ finger linking the letters together. “Oh,” Dean breathes.

Pump It Up | Destiel | E | 1,577 Dean's laid out on one of the beds in the club as Castiel walks around him, soft touches to his skin but little else. He's been told not to move and he's trying so hard.

A Mark For You, A Mark For Us | Destiel | E | 1,462 Sam takes Claire and Emma for the week while Dean and Cas have some time off and they decide to spend the first day of their vacation in the shower and in their bed, marking each other up now that they don't have to hide it.

Intoxicated | Destiel | T | 1,443 Cas finds Dean drunk in the fourth bar he searches after Dean sends some worrying texts to him. Dean has surpassed his flirty, chatty self and fallen headfirst into feeling utter desolation. It leaves Castiel to pick up the pieces.

The One Where Castiel Impersonates A Police Officer | Destiel | T | 5,294 (Supernatural Trope Celebration) When Castiel finds a police badge lost under the cushions of his local coffee shop, something compels him not to take it back right away and instead he uses it to make his good deeds which includes asking a man to move his car - a man that is, in fact, a police officer.

Touch | Destiel | E | 17,167 (Destiel Harlequin Challenge) After Dean’s injured during a scene with an inattentive and, in hindsight, abusive dom, Dean decides he’s done with being a sub for anyone. Then he meets Castiel in a bar and he helps Dean out. Dean can tell from his years of being a professional sub, that Castiel is very much a Dom. They spend a casual night together and only meet again when Dean crawls back to Purgatory and finds Castiel there. Only, Castiel isn’t looking for any sub, he’s looking for a domestic discipline relationship. Dean’s been a sub for too long to deny that it’s something he’s thought about in the past and he tentatively decides to give it a try on the basis that it’ll be casual sex only, but it’s not long before that begins to change.

Up On The Rooftop Greenhouse | Destiel, Michael/Dean | 5,017 Michael Shurley is Dean Winchester's true mate. Except, Dean has been in love and dating the Winchester house gardener, Castiel Novak, for nearly three years and Dean doesn't want that to stop. He needs to find a way out of the impending wedding before it's too late, especially when Michael shows his true colours.

A Game of Cat and Cat | Destiel | G | 1,638 Dean hasn't been a fan of Castiel ever since he was brought home. But something makes Dean want to win him over and he decided a gift of a mouse would be a good way to start.

If Castiel Was A Cake | Destiel | T | 2,017 Castiel comes home to a stressed Dean baking a lot of cakes. So, he decides that a gathering of friends is the best way to keep Dean's mind off everything and it comes with a bonus extra Castiel has been waiting on for years.

The Dare On Your Lips | Destiel | T | 1,540 Dean Winchester has had the biggest crush on Castiel, but believes that Castiel isn't interested. Then on one drunken night, Dean is dared to kiss Castiel.

The Baton | Destiel | E | 1,672 (part of the one thousand and ninety-four days verse) Dean's exhausted but Castiel comes back with a surprise which is bound to get them tossed in solitary if they're caught. It's a promise of a good time, and Dean can only hope he gets an orgasm out of it too.

As The Mistletoe Hangs | Destiel | G | 857 Dean has a new tradition when the boy next door - his best friend - comes knocking on Christmas Eve.

#writersofdestiel #destielfanficnet #spncreatorsdaily #destiel #fanfiction #supernatural #envydeanwrites #hollyblue2 #my writing

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karliesbuzzcut · 5 years ago

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Kaylor´s Throwback Thursday: October 18th, 2018

Hello and welcome to the our second edition of KTBT. Because many of you asked for it, today we are putting on our fanciest gowns and travelling back to Karlie Kloss’ wedding.

To understand everything that’s been going on, we need a bit of historical context. Taylor Swift has just arrived in Perth, Australia, for her Reputation Tour and therefore, didn’t attend the wedding. The wedding per se seems to have been kept secret, although there were rumours about something going on.

Also happening around this time: Jamal Khashoggi, a Saudi journalist, was assassinated at the Saudi consulate in Istambul. What does something so horrible have to do with Karlie Kloss’ wedding? I’m not sure but TTB brought it up.

TTB’s confidence in herself is almost admirable. Not only to @ Karlie, Taylor, Tree, Penni and Karlie’s sister on her thoughts but also to use “stunt” as an adjective. Stunty... nice. By the way, that super official document she links also states that Josh was born on the 00 of June. Just thought you’d like to know that.

But I’m getting ahead of myself. I’m sorry, I’m just too excited. Let me set the scene for you. It’s October 18th, 2018. Apparently Karlie had been “stunting” hard for a few days now... when the bomb drops. TTB receives a buttload of messages and do you want to know something? The messages aren’t even that exciting. I think the most interesting thing of going through those messages was noticing how Kaylors have clung to the same mantras they use today. You know what I mean, the “Karlie looks miserable!” “I have a second cousin who had a wedding and her wedding didn’t look like Karlie’s wedding so...” “You can tell it’s just a business deal from the way Karlie smiles”.

Anyway, what do you think happened the very next day? Spade stopped by, of course. TTB Spade can smell weakness on Kaylors and knows that nothing fixes the problem quite as well as some vague sentence. This time it was an answer to the question “When do you think we will receive the first Taylor Swift and Karlie Kloss friendship candid?” Which they simply answered with a direct quote from Call It What You Want “I recall late November, holdin’ my breath / Slowly I said ‘You don’t need to save me / But would you run away with me?’” Because why come up with your own shit, amiright. Either way, the legend says that if you’re very quiet at the end of every November, you can hear a disappointed Kaylor cry.

Soon after, TTB followed up. You can read the message yourself, I will post it here, but I can also summarise it for you in the form of a Haiku.

It did not happen.

My sources told me it’s false.

Hollywood PR.

If you pay attention, you can notice TTB’s very own stages of grief. First, she “threatened” Karlie’s parents (“All eyes on you Kurt and Tracy��). Then there’s denial (to be fair, there’s alway denial). And then, she resorted to guilting her subjects.

I mean, I just love that she keeps tagging Kimby here. “Kimby, your sister’s marriage is forcing people back into the closet. You better do something, Kimby... NOW KIMBY👏!”

And then TTB made a little test? I’m adding this post here, not because of it’s quality but because I’m a little bit confused by it. She listed a bunch of facts like the dress’ designer, the bridesmaids’ dresses, the cake’s brand and Jewish symbolisms. And I guess all of that is supposed to lead us somehow to the wedding not being real but to me it reads as “I watched a wedding once on TV, what is this?”

But let’s take a break from TTB and move on to thabrokegirl. She was definitely working through some feelings. I tried taking a picture of her entire manifesto but it didn’t fit my screen. I did select the best parts though.

The first one was mostly for my own amusement, not gonna lie. TBG goes on about how weird it is that it took 6 years for Karlie and Josh to get married. And here I am, older than Karlie, with a boyfriend I’ve been dating for almost 9 years... finding out today of all days, that I have problems... like commitment issues, this was never in the stars for us because it would’ve happened already. 😳

I don’t know how many Gilmore Girls’ fans I have in the audience tonight. But there’s an episode in season 7 where Lorelai is struggling to write a very important letter. She’s advised to write whatever comes into her head, to which she responds that it’s a bad idea and I cite:

Because my brain is a wild jungle full of scary gibberish. "I'm writing a letter. I can't write a letter. "Why can't I write a letter? I'm wearing a green dress. "I wish I was wearing my blue dress. "My blue dress is at the cleaners. "'The Germans wore gray. You wore blue. ''Casablanca'. "'Casablanca' is such a good movie. "'Casablanca.' The white house. Bush. "Why don't I drive a hybrid car? I should drive a hybrid car. "I should really take my bicycle to work. "Bicycle. Unicycle. Unitard. Hockey puck. Rattlesnake. Monkey, monkey, underpants."

And it is that stream of consciousness that thabrokegirl perfectly depicted on her piece.

Meanwhile, FemmeTay is surprisingly very chill about this.

Finally, there’s TallCurlyGirl, who made me regret the fact that I wasn’t around during her prime. After all, she wasn’t a shipper - she was just a regular tall curly girl burdened with the superpower of reading Taylor’s and Karlie’s minds and who -therefore- had the responsability of sharing her findings with the whole world... up until she got bored Karlie and Taylor broke up.

Please enjoy a vintage selection of ‘I Have Sources™’ which -as most things Kaylor- have aged hilariously bad:

My favourite part is PR people shitting their pants and calling Tree for help 🌝...

What was your favourite part?

*5 second silence while I look at your with dead eyes*

I like that part too!

#kaylor #karlie kloss #ttb #ktbt

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greyias · 5 years ago

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FIC: Smoke and Mirrors - Chapter 16

Title: Smoke and Mirrors Fandom: SWTOR Pairing: Theron Shan/f!Jedi Knight Rating: T Genre: Pre-Relationship, Slow Burn Synopsis: Something’s rotten on Carrick Station, and Theron won’t rest until he finds out what. But picking at the frayed threads of suspicion quickly unravels a conspiracy much larger than even the Republic’s top spy can handle on his own. (A mostly canon-compliant retelling of the Forged Alliances storyline, as seen through the eyes of Theron Shan.) Author’s Notes and Spoilers: See Chapter 1.

Chapter Index: 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | Crossposted to AO3

As far as targets went, Rian Darok was proving to be an exceptionally dull one. The contents of his schedule turned out to be incredibly mundane, as it just consisted of meetings with other SpecOps officers. Once he returned to Coruscant, there had been a brief hope that would uncover the proverbial smoking blaster. However, it seemed to lead to just more meetings, and an interminable amount of time spent in front of a data terminal searching for nothing of interest whatsoever.

The low-profile made sense, though. If Darok had a hand in what happened with Tython, that kind of thing would have taken a lot of time to plan out. Theron had tried scrubbing through the man’s personnel files on his breaks, but it was spotless. There was zero indication that Darok was anything but a loyal citizen of the Republic, and had no reason to collude with the Empire. In fact, he probably had more reason than most soldiers to hold a grudge. In fact, according to his personnel record, he probably had more reason than most soldiers to hold a grudge. He was the sole survivor of an Imperial attack on the Dorin’s Sky while it had been serving in the Nanth’ri System...

The location gave Theron pause, and he stared at Darok’s file. The galaxy was a big place, and seasoned veterans would have served all over the map, but that particular system was familiar. Wasn’t that the same system where Revan had fallen to an Imperial strike team? That same funny feeling that had been haunting him since this whole thing had started crept up again, starting at the base of his spine and slowly crawling its way up, until every hair on the back of his neck stood on end. It was circumstantial at best but… it was odd how connections to Revan kept popping up. First with Jensyn, and now Darok.

If he didn’t know better, he’d almost suspect they had some little secret club. Of course, that didn’t make much sense. Revan was dead, and all of these connections were just… coincidence. Funny. The timing of the attacks on Tython and Korriban were supposed to be coincidences too.

He glared at Darok’s file, but it didn’t yield any further insights or secrets.

The Tython investigation was beginning to wrap up, and Trant had begun to redirect resources. The Analytics Division was moving on from post-mortem reports to dig into the data that Theron had managed to extract from Korriban during the strike team’s raid. Of course, that wasn’t sitting well with Theron either. His data was clean, he knew that, but the intel that had started all of this mess, the one that they’d raided Korriban for had yet to be turned over to the SIS yet.

The last time Theron had asked the Director about it, the face that Marcus had made would have been almost comical. Almost, because a lot of people had died for that data, and now it was apparently lost in some military bureaucracy. Theron considered calling in a favor from dear old dad, see if maybe he could grease the wheels. But that might call too much attention to the fact that Theron was very interested in the origins of all of this.

So unless he wanted to try and involve more people in his crazy conspiracy chase, it was best that he not attract to much attention. He still hadn’t found any proof yet to sound an alarm, just a bunch of odd coincidences and interesting pieces of trivia with nothing to connect them all together. He stared at the terminal in front of him, absently tapping his finger on the keys.

Highwind had reported that Darok, or some men under his direction, had been unusually interested in the Jedi’s library. Theron pulled up the official investigation into the Tython attack. He tried to scan through the findings, but only found reports on destruction, compromised terminals, and some missing artifacts.

With a glance to his surroundings, he slipped out the private datapad he’d been conducting his own personal investigation on, and did a quick check on the current whereabouts of The Defender. It appeared that she’d been called back into duty to help mediate a dispute of succession for House Barnaba in the Tapani sector. He tapped the bezel of the datapad, wondering if it was too soon to say anything, considering he hadn’t uncovered anything yet. The nagging thought about the Archives wouldn’t leave him, so he pulled up his empty inbox, and began to compose a message:

To: Greyias Highwind From: Theron Shan Subject: Nothing Noteworthy Yet

I wish I could say I’ve found something, but it’s been a slow two weeks since I last wrote. The life of a SpecOps commander is apparently very mundane most of the time, filled with meetings, meetings, and more meetings. And when not meeting, apparently they’re in front of a terminal cruising the HoloNet. I’d say your taxes at work, but you don’t really take a salary do you? Still, you get that fancy ship, so I guess that’s something.

I’ve been knee deep in this investigation on Tython. There’s a lot of data on damage inflicted, suggestions for beefing up security, how security failed, and what was taken. It’s a lot, is what I’m saying, and I’m still sorting through it. I keep thinking about our mutual friend and the library though, and what might have been so interesting there. Just trying to find some correlation between that and what we’ve gotten from Korriban.

Just to keep busy mind you, since our buddy is boring me keeping such a low profile. You ever hear anything interesting about that before your trip to Barnaba?

He stared at the letter for a few moments, recalling the previous communication he’d received, and added one last bit:

I also feel the need to let you know that as vast as they are, the SIS databases aren’t all-knowing. There’s a lot of entries on famous pieces of jewelry around the galaxy, but nothing about this bracelet you keep bringing up. Still want me to keep looking?

Satisfied, he sent off the letter, and stowed the datapad away for now. He’d have to wait for answers, and in the meantime, had to close out the official report on Tython.

When he’d mentioned that the intel side of his job was boring, he wasn’t kidding. There was a lot of snooping, and occasionally some fast-paced running, but there was a lot of waiting that wound up happening between discoveries. The first one came in via official channels, an intel request from Darok on "Isotope-5 Proliferations and Deployment in the Empire". Theron was pretty familiar with the contents of that already, and it made perfect sense for the colonel to be requesting it considering the devastation wreaked by the Iso-5 bombs on Tython.

The second one came to him as he was getting himself another cup of caf from the community carafe, although the sudden arm flung around his shoulders made him nearly spill his drink. Theron at first thought he was being assaulted, and it was only his quick recognition of who the arm belonged to that saved its owner from having his face shoved into the wall.

“Shan,” Jonas exclaimed, “why haven’t we gone out again?”

“Because you’re still banned from the Dealer’s Den for cheating?”

“I do not cheat!” Jonas proclaimed loudly, then leaned close. Theron felt something being slid into his pocket and heard a quick whisper. “This qualified as weird for me. Mind telling me what you’re up to?”

Theron shot him a glance and shook his head minutely, and then made a show of elbowing him away. “You might be right, I hear there might be a crooked dealer there.”

“I don’t like to accuse people of cheating without proof,” Jonas said carefully. “Being wrong about that’s almost as bad as cheating itself.”

“As I said, I just heard, never confirmed.”

Jonas pressed his lips together in a thin line, a little concern surfacing through his cheery facade. “I’ve got to run to Denon, I don’t think I’m going to be able to make it for a rematch at Dealer’s Den for a while.”

“That’s too bad,” Theron said casually, “I wouldn’t mind having another go myself.”

“I’m not a fan of drinking alone, Shan. Gets rather lonely. You really shouldn’t either.”

“I’m touched by your concern for my social life, Balkar, but I’ll be fine.”

“I’m more concerned about that face jumping in front of more incoming fists. Or maybe getting a vibro-knife in the back. Bar fights can easily get out of hand.”

“Funny how that doesn’t stop you from getting into them when I’m around.”

“That’s because we’re both there,” the joking edge from Jonas’s tone was rapidly fading away. “I’m just saying, it’s not a good idea to take on heavy hitters without someone backing you up.”

It probably had been too much to hope that Jonas wouldn’t get some clue of what Theron was doing in his off time after their last drinking session. It was clear that his occasional partner was not going to let this drop, and if he kept the conversation going too long it was going to attract attention.

“What if I took a date?”

“I might get jealous if you start running around on me with another drinking partner. Does he have a good right hook?”

Theron shrugged. “Hers is better than yours, that’s for sure.”

“Her?” Jonas’s eyebrows shot up, intrigued. “This the same girl we talked about last time?”

“Could be.”

“Well, in that case I guess I’ll allow it.”

“You’ll allow it? What are you, my keeper?”

“When you’re being a careless idiot? Yes,” Jonas ground out. “You don’t always look both ways before leaping into oncoming traffic.”

“I’m always careful, and I’m never an idiot,” he corrected.

“You still leap into traffic, though.”

“Have to get across the street somehow. Crosswalks are boring.”

“You’re the worst sort of pedestrian.” Jonas shook his head, and then fixed Theron with a hard, serious look. “Just watch yourself, okay?”

“Don’t I always?”

“No,” he said, “that’s why I’m saying it. Don’t make me find another drinking buddy, Shan.”

“I already told you, we’re not bud—”

Jonas cut him off with a glare, and the usual retort died on Theron’s lips. He crossed his arms in front of his chest and let out a sigh. “Fine. We’ll get another round next time we’re both in town. Happy?”

“Ecstatic,” Jonas said flatly. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a date with the least chatty person in the Denon system. Can’t be late for that.”

“Have fun,” Theron intoned as his fellow agent left as quickly as he came, leaving Theron alone with his caf.

He glanced around, sipping from his mug and making his way back to the data terminal he’d staked out. As he sat down, he fingered what had been slipped into his pocket, marking out the familiar shape of a data chip. Considering the ruckus Jonas had made, it would be best to look at it in the relative privacy of his apartment.

The rest of the hours dragged by, as he found it hard to focus. His eyes kept straying to the chronometer at his station, as his mind kept straying to the data chip and Jonas’s ill-concealed concerns. He’d tossed Highwind’s name in the conversation to get the other man to back down, but he still wasn’t sure exactly what role the Jedi should play in all of this. She’d provide ample muscle if he needed to make a show of force, but he still had to wonder about her reliability.

She’d been all too eager to throw in with him to uncover the truth behind the attack on Tython, but enthusiasm didn’t earn any extra points with him. If anything, it only puzzled him more. He’d expected a far more grizzled, no-nonsense Jedi from what he’d read in her dossier, and he’d seen some hints of a more battle-hardened personality emerging when she was leading the strike teams. There almost seemed to be a different person that emerged when the pressure wasn’t on. He wouldn’t describe that as normal, because she came across far too earnest and almost compassionate to a fault. When he tried to mesh those observations with her record, including the curious gaps and sparse mission details that smelled of a coverup—he was just left with more questions.

Theron didn’t like questions, as it meant he was lacking intel. And not having the right answers could get him killed in the wrong situation. It was hard to say if this was one of those cases, as he tended to lean on the more paranoid side of things. It still bugged him, though. He preferred to know exactly what and who he was dealing with. Maybe if he’d known more about Darok before taking on the Korriban op, things would be very different right now.

His eyes strayed back to the chrono, watching as another minute ticked by at an agonizingly slow pace, and he tried to calculate the time that had passed since his last missive to The Defender. The previous replies had come in rather quick, but he was already nearing seven days without a response. It didn’t bother him exactly, as it was obvious that there were more important things for a Jedi Knight to be doing than checking her inbox constantly. And considering the six-month gap in her dossier, her being out of contact wasn’t exactly an abnormal occurrence.

Maybe after he looked at whatever Jonas had dug up, Theron would check in on the HoloNet and see what was happening in the Tapani Sector.

Just out professional curiosity. That was all it was.

#swtor fanfiction #theron shan x jedi knight #Theron Shan #Jonas Balkar #Female Jedi Knight/Hero of Tython #oc: greyias highwind #otp: adorkable #brotp: spyboys #brotp: theron shan & jonas balkar #SoR Fic O Doom #smoke and mirrors #swtor #fanfic #greyfic

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